#even dressed in the worst fashion in existence

[idnull]

i'm watching L3gion (2017) and d@n stevens must have gone to the same dialect coach as hugh l@urie because he sounds exactly the same

[luna-azzurra]

World-Building Tips

Make Your World Feel Real

Your story's world should feel like it exists even when the characters aren’t in the room. Think about what your characters eat, how they dress, what kind of slang they use, and what’s considered "normal" in their society. You don’t have to include every tiny detail, but just knowing this stuff will help your world feel richer and more immersive. Does everyone have breakfast or skip it? Is fashion important, or do people not care? Little things like that will make your world come to life.

Set Rules for Magic or Tech

If you’ve got magic or futuristic tech in your story, you need clear rules. What can and can’t magic do? What happens when someone pushes the limits of your technology? The worst thing you can do is let magic or tech become a convenient fix for every problem. Readers want to know there are consequences, limits, and logic behind it. If a character can suddenly do something that breaks all the rules, it pulls people out of the story. So, keep it consistent!

Geography Affects Everything

Where your story is set can influence everything about how your world works. A city in the mountains might be hard to reach and isolated, so they’re super independent and maybe even suspicious of outsiders. A coastal town, on the other hand, could be a hub of trade with tons of different cultures blending together. Think about how geography, weather, and natural resources shape not only the setting but the way people live, what they value, and how they interact with others. Is your world full of deserts or dense forests? Does the ocean provide food, or are the people more focused on mining or agriculture? Geography shapes culture, so use it to your advantage!

[onsomenewsht]

Jazz for Peanuts

About the time your daughter shows her attitude

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1.1k

》 All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.

Deciding to have a kid with Leah is a no-brainer choice, probably the easiest you ever made in your life.

Never been more sure of anything in your life.

She’s exactly the person you pictured growing a family with. Loyal, passionate, caring. Ready to win any fight for the ones she cares, the ones she loves.

The process of having a kid with Leah, however, is anything but easy.

Months of consults, check-ups, exams. Months of doubts and insecurities. Months of waiting out of your power. And for a control freak as the footballer is, those were the worst.

When it finally works, it’s the best feeling ever.

The English captain is over the moon, you’re pretty sure you never saw her happier – you know, you were right by her side when she won the biggest awards of her career, when she promised you forever in front of the most important people in her life.

It’s the best feeling, until the reality of pregnancy hits you like a wall.

It’s up and downs. It’s morning sickness and weird cravings, it’s kind kicks that reminds you there’s an actually living being inside you and painful reminders it’s growing and moving. It’s waves of emotions, all at once and all the time.

It’s a process and you’re glad more than anything that you can go through it with Leah next to you.

Finley comes into your lives loudly, immediately asserting her character and determination.

She surprises the nurses with big, curious eyes and even more impressive lungs. She shows her interest in Amanda’s hair with strong pulls, the same hands that, oh-so-gently, have your hearts wrapped in a thigh grip.

She grows so much and so fast that you end up questioning if such a tiny human being could shape time as she pleases.

Scrappy kicks turn into dangerously fearless tiny steps, and now she runs around the house like the miniature version of an athlete training for some mad competition.

Tiny onesies with animals and Arsenal’s badges turn into colorful and sparkling dresses she wears just a couple of times before she moves on. Now, she apparently inherits her mother’s fashion sense.

Sleepless nights spent crying turn into tantrums over underappreciated lunches, and now she negotiates her screen time like an unfair trial.

Finley is growing into a really determinant, stubborn kid despite being barely tall enough to get on the car seat on her own.

She’s witty, smart, and definitely too cute.

Leah looks at her with a light in her eyes that sparkles just around your daughter, a light that didn’t even exist before Finley.

You may have made her from scratch. Your own organs may have had to find new positions to let her space, but she has your wife’s flame burning inside. It’s something that never fails to amuse you, as annoying as it is sometimes.

Like right now, stuck in North London’s traffic with an inpatient Leah and a bored five-year old daughter in the back seat.

“Finny, my life, can you please stop kicking me?”, the blonde asks, voice over the edge in a way just a kid could get fly over their head.

“I’m not kicking you, I’m kicking the back of the seat”, she argues, as a matter of fact.

You hold a scoff just to not be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Of course, the traffic light turns red exactly when the car is about to run over it, making the defender drop her head in frustration.

The real challenge is fighting the urge to remind Leah you had, indeed, predicted it.

She had to watch the last minutes of Arsenal’s game, so sure it couldn’t be a problem to delay the drive to your mother’s house. And now you’re stuck, traffic laws and any kind of universal rule against her.

You place a comforting hand on her thigh, trying to be a supportive wife.

“Mama, I’m hungry!”

“I know, we’re almost there��

“Not if mom keeps driving this slow”, your daughter mutters, loud enough to be heard by Leah.

“I’m driving as fast as this idiot in front let me”, she grumples in the exact same way, earning a discrete slap for her words choice, “What? You shouldn’t be allowed on the road if you could be faster by walking, it’s not safe”

“Can I have the candies mama hide under the seat?”

Traitor.

“Finny, keep playing with Bear”, you change the subject, avoiding Leah’s raised eyebrow to divert the little girl’s attention to her toy.

“You could let me starve? That’s not really nice, mama, you always say sharing is caring”

A backstabber, your own daughter.

The English defender is the one trying to suppress an amused laugh now, guessing she’s not in the position to piss you off more, “Finny, it will ruin your appetite, granny made your favourite pasta”

“My appetite is already ruined. It’s taking so long granny’s gonna be dead when we get there”

“Finley!”

“What? You’re pretty old, and granny is even older! She keeps saying she’s ready to reunite with grandad anyway”

You need to have a serious conversation with your mother about the things she says in front of a smart kid that soaks up knowledge like a sponge.

Right now, though, Leah must be the proper adult as you’re trying your best not to burst laughing.

It’s inappropriate, the way you’re both reacting at the witty remarks of a five-years old girl who needs help to brush her teeth but apparently has no issues at roasting her entire family.

You can’t let her realise how clever and funny you think she is. It’s going to make her unstoppable - and insufferable.

Finley shows every sign of listening and understanding the lecture on being patient and gentle with her words that you and Leah are trying to give her. Two adults more troubled with getting a grip on themselves than with their kid’s attitude.

You just know she’s going to use it against you at the first opportunity.

“Fine, I’ll play nice”

It seems to get better after that.

The slowest car ever been on the road finally makes a turn and allows your wife to goose the engine, mother-in-law reassured over the phone for the second time.

Your daughter is calmer, still kicking the back of the seat, but reassured either granny or her are going to die anytime soon.

You, on the other hand, are debating if you could get through it all over again, knowing this is what your life with Leah and Finley looks like.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“How long?”

And, just like that, peace is over.

“Five more minute”

“You sure?”, the kid asks your wife, doubtful but innocently enough.

“I said five more minute, Finny”

It’s coming, she is preparing for the final blow.

You know it’s coming.

Finley waits a moment, then screams, “Siri, start a five minute timer!”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Juice Stains

Summary: A day alone with the babe. What could go wrong?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: because @secret-third-thing's this post inspired me to have eris washing socks lol you can all thank her for inspiring me 🤭

anyways, enjoyy!!

No one told Eris that giving a two year old child a glass of juice would result in him cursing his own existence.

His wife had gone to visit her friend in summer court, only just getting the chance to leave Amelia in his care since her birth. Eris had forced her to go himself, practically spewing a speech to get her nerves to calm.

Oh how he regretted that now as he rubbed the tiny fabric against itself in his hands, the water constantly running proving to be of no help against the stubborn stain of the orange juice spilled on the sock.

And the culprit of this crime? She was happily laughing away as she watched her father suffer for her actions.

Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Eris sighed, wondering how the hell Y/n handled situations like this. His back was screaming in pain, his fingers cramping after long moments of clutching at the tiny sock of his daughter.

The stain simply refused to come off, only adding to the list of things Eris was frustrated about as he leaned back, trying to straighten his back and get rid of at least some of the pain, his eyes wandering around the room.

It was a mess, and that was putting it lightly.

On the bed lay the heap of little clothes Eris had been looking through earlier to dress his little princess after her bath, wanting to pick the most comfortable and fashionable outfit suitable for someone so important.

On the couch and in front of it lay Amelia's toys, thrown around in the fit of rage she'd been before he handed her the juice.

Which, somehow, looked like the worst decision he'd made in his life.

The glass lay abandoned on the floor next to Amelia, who was chewing on her mitten like it was the tastiest fabric in the world, juice still pooled on the floor, slowly spreading.

Releasing a breath of frustration, Eris wrung the sock in his hand, then turned and stalked over to where Amelia sat, the mitten half hanging out of her mouth, her hand covered in saliva from when she had been trying to eat herself.

Cannibalism?

Eris knew it was ridiculous to think that, but how was he to shut his mind down when he was too tired to even blink?

"Come on, its nap time." He muttered lowly, leaning down to gather Amelia in his arms, who offered him a toothy grin for his suffering.

Despite her making him work so much, he could not stay mad. Hell, he could not even bring himself to be irritated or fault her for his tiredness. She was too adorable for that.

As he slowly set her down on her back on the fluffy mattress, uncaring that she was laying diagonally on the bed, he let himself smile at her.

"Are you happy after making daddy work so much?"

She squealed as he buried his face in her neck, giggling and trying to push him away when he tried to bite at her cheek.

"You deserve that punishment, you know that right?"

Her eyes twinkled back at him, and he sighed, settling down next to her, his body from the knee down hanging off.

"I'm resting a little before mommy returns. Remind me to clean up before then, will you?"

He patted her back, gently humming a tune to get her to sleep as she babbled out an answer he was too tired to even try and decipher. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, even though she was the one who should have been sleeping.

No, she stayed awake, talking to herself and playing with the wet sock he still had in his hand and giggling at the wet splat the material made when she slapped it onto her father's face.

She did not, in fact, wake him up before mommy arrived.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo

@sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

@starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat

Eris Vanserra Taglist: @fell-in-luvs @azrielsmate3 @tele86 @caraaaaugh

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Annual Amorous Asks!

A random collection of OC asks on the topics of love, romance and relationships. From the sweet to the (mildly) spicy to the slightly strange...

How does your OC feel about pet names? Might they rather enjoy them with a partner, but find them excrutiatingly embarassing if used in public?

Does your OC remember their first crush? Would they ever admit to it now?

How much use would your OC be at helping a friend choose their wedding dress (or suit)?

Is there someone your OC has met who they would find physically attractive, if only their personality were not so repulsive? (Or that they find attractive and really wish they didn't...)

Do they enjoy reading romance novels or watching romantic dramas (or even romantic comedies)?

How important is it to your OC that a prospective partner is of the same social class or level of wealth?

What gift would they be most delighted to receive from a suitor or lover?

Does your OC need to be in love with someone to consider having sex with them? Or are the two things completely seperate for them?

What setting would they consider the most romantic to spend time with a partner? A beach at sunset? A private box at the theatre? An opulent ballroom? A private garden? Or something else entirely?

Has your OC ever experienced unrequited love? What is their relationship with that person now?

Has your OC ever read (or otherwise engaged with) a guide to romance and/or lovemaking? Have they had a chance to put this learning into practice?

What was the worst advice your OC has ever received on the subject of love and relationships?

Does your OC find other people's love lives interesting - or even compelling - to learn about? Or would they really rather not know?

If your OC were to dress up to show themselves off to their best advantage, perhaps for an existing partner, or in the hopes of attracting positive attention, what might they wear?

Would your OC be happy to be given flowers by an admirer or partner? What would be their favourite to receive?

Your OC is asked by their lover or spouse to write them a love poem. How do they respond?

Would your OC ever be confident in making the first move? Or do they prefer to wait for the other person to do so? If they are in a relationship then who made the first move in that instance?

What was your OC most surprised to find out about themselves in terms of sex and/or romance? Or perhaps what will they be surprised about in the future?

Is there a couple who your OC views as having a particularly healthy or admirable relationship? Would they hope to emulate this kind of relationship?

Does your OC cry at weddings? Did they cry at their own (if they've had one?)

How does your OC feel about virginity? And their own in particular? Is it something to which they attach moral or spiritual weight? Or is it a meaningless social convention to them? Did (or would) their first lover know about their virginity?

How would your OC respond to someone falling in love with them if they did not, or could not, reciprocate? Would they let them down gently and with kindness? Or would they sneer at them?

How well would your OC manage in a long-distance relationship? And for how long?

Has your OC ever discovered they have a turn-on or kink to which they had previously been oblivious? How did this become apparent to them?

If your OC is single do they find it difficult to relate to their friends who are married or coupled? If they are in a committed relationship then do they find it difficult to relate to their single friends? What makes them exasperated/jealous in either instance?

Does your OC enjoy holding hands? Or are they too awkward to do this in public? Or possible too clammy?

Does your OC keep their eyes open when kissing?

Has your OC been planning their wedding since childhood? If they've already had their wedding(s) then did it live up to their dreams?

Has your OC mastered (or mistressed) the art of undressing in a seductive fashion? Or is it a slightly awkward performance?

How easy is it for your OC to keep the conversation flowing with a prospective partner on a date? Or if they are in an established relationship, do they still find plenty to talk about?

If your OC is in a relationship then what do they suspect they do that most annoys their partner? Are they correct in this belief? If they are single then what do they worry might annoy a prospective partner?

Is your OC a confident dancer? Would they enjoy dancing with a lover or partner? Even (or especially) in a public setting?

Does your OC consider themselves to be as handsome or beautiful as their partner? Does any perceived imbalance in this regard trouble them? If they are single then are they looking for a partner who is more, or less, attractive than themselves? Why is this?

Is it usual for others to develop a crush on your OC? Are they usually oblivious to this? If not then how do they manage such things?

Would your OC be any use in providing advice on love or relationships to friend?

Has your OC ever had a holiday fling or short lived romance whilst visiting a foreign place?

Would your OC ever attempt to cook a romantic meal for a partner or prospective partner? How successful and/or funny would this end up being in reality?

How important is it to your OC that their partner or lover has a good sense of humour?

Does (or would) your OC enjoy just cuddling with a partner or lover? Or would they intend (or at least hope) that this would lead to something more sexual?

What was the best advice on love and relationships that they ever received? Who provided this?

What has been the hardest lesson your OC has learned regarding love and romance?

Does your OC believe that more attractive people have easier lives? How much has this played (or not played) a part in their own experiences?

If a hypothetical fairy godmother were to visit your OC, then what would they need to alter with magic in order to help them win the hand of their handsome prince/beautiful princess (or beautiful prince or handsome princess for that matter)?

Does your OC have a sense of occasion? Or do they tend to dress and behave the same regardless of where they are or who they are with? Does this make it more or less likely that they will be seen positively by others? If they have a partner then what are their views on this?

Is your OC likely to hog the bedclothes and/or take up most of the bed?

Does your OC have views on combining food and sex? Sensual and pleasurable? Or messy and unnecessary? Or a waste of perfectly good food?

When was the last time your OC cried because of something in their relationship or love life? Or lack of either of these if they are single?

Is your OC a "gentleman" (or female or ungendered equivalent) when courting? Do they do things such as holding doors and pulling out chairs for their date? If they do not then do they expect the other person to do these things for them? If they do actually do them, will they keep this up once in an established relationship?

Would they be willing to try something for a partner that they either are not terribly into or that they are unsure they would be into? Are there some definite boundaries in this regard?

Does your OC believe they are easy to love?

Does (or did) your OC enjoy "the chase" or being "chased"? Or do such things appear to them like silly games? Or even as an unequal and unhealthy basis for a relationship?

Would (or does) your OC make a good "wingman" for their friends socially?

Has your OC had to unlearn any cultural or societal messages about love and relationships as they have got older? Was this difficult for them?

Does your OC get excited for others when they find love?

To what extent does your OC view their own parents (if they knew them) as a good model for how a relationship should work?

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

ToA Fic Recs!!!

Tag List: @itscharliebabey

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!

I probably forgot a LOT but these are the ones I tracked down via bookmarks and frantic searches upon realizing they Were Not bookmarked rip 😔

AND ALL ORGANIZED!!!! :DDD

OneShots

Apollo & His Kids

A Heart Heavy With Memories by @summerbummin

After reclaiming his godhood, Apollo visits his children often, and on one of those visits he tells them about their mortal parents. He shows them memories of their time together. And ends up reminiscing a little more than he bargained for.

How I Met Your Mother(s and Fathers) by NebuchadnezzarII

Around the Cabin Seven table, Apollo tells each of his six children how he met their parents.

Through The Son's Eyes by @literallyjusttoa

A journey through Asclepius' relationship with his dad, from Ancient Greece to modern day.

demand nothing less (than transformation) by tissuebocks

Dad is quiet for a moment, stroking her hair. Then, with a surge of his usual flamboyant excitement: “At what time is your date?” Kayla blinks. She pulls back a little to look at Dad. He’s still a little blurry from the tears, but she feels much calmer now. “He’s picking me up at six. …Why?” Dad’s eyes—cobalt blue—sparkle. Literally. “We’re going to dress you to the nines.” (or: apollo loves his daughter. he also loves fashion. even better is when the two intersect.)

@tsarinatorment

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Naomi Solace is performing at a black tie event, and neither her son nor his boyfriend know much about formalwear. Day 2: Black Tie Event

Fatal Flaw

Every demigod had one, and every demigod had their trial where they had to face it head on and hope they had the strength to defeat it before it defeated them. Day 24: Injuries Beyond Healing

A Right To Emotions

Apollo had abandoned his son when he needed him, and the worst thing was that he’d never realised until Nico told him. Day 30: Forgiveness In A New Day

Childhood, Or A Lack Thereof

Demigods grow up too fast. Day 23: How long does youth last for?

Memories of Sunflowers

He first met his dad in a field of sunflowers. Day 2: Alone in a Sunflower Field

Shuttered Heart

Apollo loves fiercely and his losses hit all the harder for it. It's a trait his children inherit.

Daughter of Archery

If there’s one thing Kayla knows, it’s archery. Day 17: Perfection Is A Must

Apollo & Meg

Movie Night by @falconfrost

Meg and Apollo attend a midnight horror movie showing. Everyone likes clowns, right?

yesteryear by @m-arnie-xx

yesteryear (noun) — last year or the recent past, especially as nostalgically recalled; often a period in the past with a set of values or a way of life that no longer exists. Or, There is eighteen hours, thirty-five minutes, and nine seconds, between when Meg last sees Apollo, and when Artemis sends a sign to Camp Half-Blood to tell them that he has survived and defeated Python.

lesterlicious by apopcornkernel

yazz_ • 1 week ago This dude is straight up LARPing as the god Apollo or something 4.7K likes REPLY View 25 replies

Meg & Apollo's Highly Limited Roadtrip Playlist by Curioser

Fourteen hundred miles. Four radio stations. Two friends trying hard not to kill each other, or to acknowledge the fact that in less than a week, they may never see each other again. And Lizzo. So much Lizzo.

visions of beasts by UKULELEchildren

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the dark haze. A vague smudge of purple appeared. His cloak. “No.” I whispered. “You’re dead.” What would Meg have visions about?

Apollo & Olympus

Beneath the Rhododendrons by Lepidopterrain

Carefully, she slipped past the hyacinths that had popped up around the bush like a small protective wall. They'd been the only reason she'd looked down at that spot really, and noticed the flash of gold curls amongst the pinks, reds, and purples of the rhododendrons. Artemis let her fingers linger on the petals of one of the small little guardian flowers, just for a moment. She'd never been sure if her brother had noticed just how little control he actually had over hyacinths, for a flower that was supposedly 'his.' She suspected Demeter and Persephone knew, if anyone. But neither goddess had deigned to talk of such matters with Artemis. Perhaps for the best, Artemis wasn't really sure what she would've said if they had tried to bring the subject up. There's a very good chance she wouldn't tried to shoot one of them and then escape while they were distracted. Emotions weren't her forte. She was grown enough to admit it. 

@tsarinatorment

The Older Twin

Apollo could lie all he wanted, Artemis was the older one. She’d never felt that as keenly as she did now. Day 26: Missing You

Third Strike

Zeus loved Apollo, once. His favourite son, his golden child. His greatest threat. Day 19: And So The Sun Sets

Ancient Greece

A Sun's Forgiveness by @hazardous-lightdas12

“Mortals die Artemis,” Apollo whispers. “Their lives will forever wax and wane. Like the moon. The ebb and flow of Uncle Poseidon’s waves. But us. We are eternal. You must remember that.” Her brother sounds like he has said the words to himself too many times. – Apollo does not scream when the lightning bolt strikes him. -- Alt Summary: Fathers make mistakes sometimes. Hippolytus’ father has made the teensy, easily understandable and forgivable mistake of beheading his son due to unproven and untrue allegations. Artemis grieves. Apollo tries to make everything all better, and somehow ends up making everything worse. . Zeus is so good at daddying! Admetus worries about the logistics of cow-herding

Of ravens and songbirds by Cassiethewriter

The godling whimpered and fought, and Python refused to let the hiss of frustration fall out. “Quite understandable, too.” He said, coils growing tighter and making the godling cough again. “Poor fair Leto being hunted by the issued Hera, the Queen of Olympus and the only child raised by Rhea. You heard of Leto’s suffering from day one, and sought to bring justice to it. Very brave and god-like.” Python snorted again. “But I’m afraid this is where you myths start— and end. Right here, right now. Like a moth to the sun.” Or, The battle with Python.

Phoenixrising007

Party On Olympus (gone wrong)

Mother’s hand was holding onto him firmly. Probably to stop Hermes from running down the hall and around the finely carved pillars decorating the sides of the palace. Despite the fact that if he were a mortal he would not even be walking yet, he already got himself into trouble recently.

Puppies (and why they can fix anything)

"Aww look at the puppy!” He raced forward, voice an octave higher than usual. As is normal when speaking to such an adorable creature.

Apollo & His Lovers

Naomi Solace

thinking about it, had a breakthrough by @thesungod

“I’m Naomi Solace!” “Okay?” “The singer?” Fred shakes his head, a smug smile on his lips. “Never heard of you.” “As Long As The Sun Shines? It was number 1 on the billboard for like, a month!” Hating herself, she starts mouthing the melody. There’s no way this asshole doesn’t know her stupid song. Naomi Solace meets an arrogant, young producer that she really wants to kick in the balls. Unfortunately, he seems to know what he’s doing.

Solar Powered by @curseofdelos (:D Glad to see you reblogged this hehe here's a tag :3)

Apollo, god of music, was how he had introduced himself. Naomi had assumed he was joking, and he didn't correct her. She had dated musicians and poets before. They all had an ego, and those same words would not have felt out of place from either of her exes. She merely downgraded Apollo from potential boyfriend to potential fling, and didn't think twice about it. Now though…. Now her son could heal wounds with a single touch, and her world was tipping on its axis.

Daphne

Plaything of the Gods - Daphne's Story by @the-primordial-archivist

When Apollo finally decided to wear a crown, it was her leaves that topped his head. But it wasn’t just he who wore her branches. Winners had her leaves on them too. Laurels. The symbol of victory.

Hyacinthus

You make a fool of death with your beauty (and for a moment, I forgot to worry) by @ukelele-boy

Sometimes as a god you lose track of time. With all his prophetic powers, Apollo never saw it coming.

His Flowers byshotar1s

Meg notices her servant, Apollo, is quieter than usual. Oh, the flowers in his hands explain why.

Frey

I Woo The Asgardian Hipster God by ladanse

"Another time, in a Stockholm tavern, I met this god who was smoking hot, except his talking sword just would not shut up." -The Hidden Oracle, Rick Riordan

(sidenote: WE NEED MORE FREYPOLLO)

REVOLUTION

Conversations (regarding a certain half-brother) by Phoenixrising007

Walking out of the council meeting Ares did his best to make sense of what just happened. Apollo was there. Back just like Athena said he would be. She won the blasted bet. Again.

@tsarinatorment

The Sun

Apollo plays the role of an idiot well enough that often, it’s forgotten that he’s one of the most powerful gods - and one of the most wrathful. #140: Setting Heaven on Fire

Seven Days and Seven Nights

A warning, a storm, and Will’s world gets flipped upside-down. Day 11: Storming

MultiChaps

Secrets of the Sun by @sierice and beta'd by @ukelele-boy

“No, that kid is too similar to me… way too similar... Almost like he’s…” Apollo’s eyes widened. “Like he’s you from the future?” Persephone finished. Dionysus asked incredulously, “You don’t seriously think that right? There’s no way you would ever dare to look like that!” --------------------------  This is literally just a Trials of Apollo reading the books fic. Hope you enjoy!

time eats all his children by IzzyMRDB

There is something sickly in the passage of time. Time is a rot. A disease or a plague, a festering in your very being that blurs the past until it is tainted with the present. Until the present is tainted with the future. The Greeks were well aware of this sickness, for all their depictions of time, while divine, were also rotted. AKA Apollo is the god least touched by the passage of time, yet the one most affected by it. There's so much of the present that he could change. AKA Time Travel with Post-TOA Apollo

Flowers For Apollo by @soleil-in-retrograde

As far as Lester Papadopoulos was concerned, he was seventeen years old and lived at home with his elderly mother just outside of Tampa. He had a(n older? younger? twin?) sister who visited regularly and a baby sister(?) in California who called him her dummy and would help out with his mother's garden when she visited and he was teaching piano to. He also had a myriad of cousins who went to a camp up north he wrote constantly. He didn't know what he wanted to do with the life stretching in front of him. ----- The God Apollo has a bad habit of not telling people when something is wrong. It doesn't help he doesn't quite remember until it's too late. It's not his fault.

Over The Palisade by @aeithalian

This was an old dream. He’d had it many times before. Jerry, standing before the Roman Senate.  Mars, waving his hand. A lyre, appearing on Jerry’s arm.  Jerry’s prophecy: “Crowns will fall to ash.”  Jupiter, standing between the new augur and a towering statue of himself.  Apollo, standing between his father and his son.  Olympus, Apollo on his knees, trembling, electricity jumping over his arms. A stranger’s face, dark and stony. He says something, but the words are quiet.  The doors of the Palace of the Sun. Chained shut.  Or: Apollo has been missing for two and a half years, and there may or may not be an impending apocalypse.

Sunrise by IcyDreams_and_FieryWishes

At 10,000 years of age, Apollo falls to Chaos. With the last of his strength, he sends his memories through the fabric of Space-Time. At 1 day of age, Apollo refuses to let the story be the same as last time. Vi Va La Revolution. SkyFall: Season 1, Arc 1- The Rising Sun. In which Apollo lives through his early life, forming alliances and rewriting mythological history while striving to keep his siblings and family safe from threats outside and within their home. Will he succeed? Or will Fate prevail once more? One thing is for sure, Apollo remembers. And he will take his vengeance.

@tsarinatorment

THE MUST-READ Eclipse!!!!!!

According to the prophecy, Will has to go to on a quest to Tartarus. According to Apollo, that isn’t going to happen, even if it means he has to break the Ancient Laws.

The Stolen God is a ToA/MCatGoA crossover!

Python is defeated. The prophecies are restored, and Nero has fallen. Apollo has not been seen since. His trials are over; why isn’t he back on Olympus?

@flightfoot

Memories of Godly Selfishness

Chapter 1: Apollo and Meg watch Apollo's interactions with the demigods (and Grover) in Blood of Olympus and the Singer of Apollo. They don't like what they see. Chapter 2: Apollo, Meg, and Percy watch the fight with Otis and Ephialtes in Mark of Athena. Apollo gains new perspective on gods’ relationships with demigods. Chapter 3: Apollo, Meg, and Annabeth watch the final battle against Kronos and the aftermath, with a surprise guest later on. Chapter 4: Apollo and Meg watch “Welcome to Camp Half-Blood”. Apollo gives a long over-due apology. Chapter 5: Side Story - Satyr School: Apollo teaches some young satyrs. Chapter 6: Apollo, Meg, Thalia, and Will watch Thalia's and Luke's encounter with a certain son of Apollo.

A Convergence of Apollos

Percy had been hoping for a quiet afternoon celebrating Grover's birthday with him. Then Apollo arrived, and their peaceful afternoon got a lot less peaceful. It got even weirder when two kids popped out of thin air who both seemed to know him.

@falconfrost

Apollo & The Aftermath

The Roman emperors and Python have been defeated, the oracles reclaimed, and Apollo restored to godhood. He's having somewhat of a hard time adjusting to being back among the gods, which is understandable after his six-month grow-a-conscience speedrun. But something else is rotten in the state of Olympus, and before it can really feel like home, it's going to require some serious renovation.

The Tail of A Pollo

The hunt for the Teumessian Fox hasn't been going great, but thanks to a new prophecy (of sorts), it looks like Apollo may be key to aiding the Hunters of Artemis in the beast's defeat. In like, a super badass, heroic way, of course. Actually, on second thought, maybe just imagine the monster's defeat in your head. You definitely don't have to read this. I'm certain you get the gist of it already. You can simply exit this tab real quick, no biggie. Have a lovely day!

Bad Sons by @thesungod

Hades turned to the demigods that were still kneeling. “I need to speak with Will Solace,” he said to the shocked room, in the tone he could have used to say “I came to ask if one of you could lend me a pen.” “Alone,” the god added after a moment, staring right at Nico. Or, Will and Nico go on the stupidest quest ever. And it’s all Apollo’s fault.

Curioser

Fall of The Sun

Five times Apollo fainted and one time he didn't.

The Trials of Apollo: The Forgotten Acres

When their truck breaks down on the way to New York, Apollo and Meg get a few days of downtime in a refuge called the Forgotten Acres. While there, Apollo confronts a decision he's been putting off for weeks, and finds that it's one of the hardest choices he's ever had to make.

RavenWingDark

Kill The Sun

Even restored to godhood, Apollo still wants to be around his friends and mortal family, even at the risk of Zeus'...dissatisfaction. This is the four times Apollo got away with helping his demigods and the one time he didn't.

Mourning Sun changed my brain chemicals

Percy has the Chalice and all he has left to do is hand it over to Ganymede. Then he notices Ganymede might not be the only one being mistreated by Zeus. Apollo's at brunch, too.

Series

the grace of gods is a grace that comes by violence by @californiannostalgia

Were I That Burning Star, the first fic in the series, is an absolute Must Read imo

An old panic gripped me—the breathless fear of being forgotten, being lost. Would anyone remember me when I was gone? Would someone think to lay a flower down on my grave and say some fond nothings like, “Was a pretty cool guy, that Lester,” while wiping off a single dramatic tear rolling down their cheek? Oh, who was I kidding. So what if no one remembered? There wasn’t much I was proud to be remembered by anyway. After defeating Python and bringing down Nero, Phoebus Apollo reclaims his godhood. He is glorious once more. But for some reason, he can't quite make himself go back to how things were before. (A Character Study of Various Gods, including but not limited to: Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and maybe Zeus)

Gods' Eye View by @flightfoot

Carefully, I picked out Apollo’s string. It glowed vibrantly, as the strings of all divine beings do. Mine most brilliantly of all, of course, though Apollo’s always seemed to be trying to outshine it. I firmly grasped hold of it, matching its own glow with my own. Slowly, I exerted my will, my power, pressing my radiance against the manifestation of Apollo’s, slowly increasing my light until it overpowered his. Yet, it resisted me, its glow strengthening, refusing to surrender. I grit my teeth. “I am Zeus, King of the Gods, and your father. Submit to me.” ----- Zeus tries to turn Apollo into a mortal. It does not go as well as he expected. That only incenses him further.

The Hidden Oracle+1 spin-offs by @garecc

Artemis falls to earth with Apollo in the hidden Oracle. Flames streamed off her body as she fell. Features sibling banter, protective Artemis, and far too many headcanons. ON AN INDEFINITE HAITUS.

rip hiatus😔

Memories of Dust and Gold by @moodyseal holds lots a variety of fics!

Companion Fics

The Healing Sun by ReadTheBooks. Companion to Eclipse

You are Asclepius. You are 9 and just want to help people. Your father is kind, and warm, and you love him dearly. Or, a look at a relationship hindered by loss but persevering through love. Asclepius and Apollo throughout the ages.

Other, But During ToA

A Single Drachma by @tsarinatorment, podfic by @stereden

Alone. Injured. Hunted. Michael doesn’t know where he is, but he knows he’s running out of time, and he’s only got one shot at calling for help. He’s got to make it count.

In Dreams by @m-arnie-xx

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo. He was too arrogant, too vain, and flirted with her and her fellow hunters incessantly. He always appeared in their camp at the most inconvenient times, offering archery tips that no one wanted and being a persistent source of annoyance to Lady Artemis near constantly. Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but sometimes, when Zoe asked a Hunter how they knew something they couldn’t have possibly found out by themselves, and they told her about their dream, she would look up at the sun, and she would wonder… or Zoe did not get demigod dreams… until she did.

Hunger Games AUs

Bloody Eclipse by AmeliaAndreas3

The Sun Must Go On by @please-help-this-little-lesbian

The Golden Gates by SAM_42

Still The Mockingjay Won't Sing by SunnySky_11

The Copollo Masterlist - Collection of Ao3 & FF.net fics of Apollo & Commodus </3 Trainwreck beloved

And of you'd like, my fics:

The Works of Apollo - Canon Compliant Fics!

Alder's Mess of ToA AUs - AUs!

Adventures in (Grand)Parenting: Featuring Koios - My obsession with Koios spawned this!

The Crew of Dodona - Pirate AU! Random fic ideas written whenever the itch strikes!

[starry-bi-sky]

every day i am reminded that Malachi from MCD is 900 years old and this fact is never brushed up on again. This kid was alive at the same time as Irene and there are no remnants of it. His only interactions with the outside world were travelers that he proceeded to scare the shit out of and chase out of his mansion.

This kid was alive during the existence of a monarchy. I am not fully convinced he would've known the modern language by the time he meets Aphmau and co. Imagine the culture shock he experiences upon leaving his castle for the first time!! The difference in fashion, in dialect, in *technology and magic.*

Play the cards right and Malachi might not even be aware that there is no longer a monarchy. He could've died before the end of the war and was just never made aware of it because by the time it ended, everything was already abandoned.

This "Irene the Matron" thing is totally new to him! Imagine his parents were nobility -- I can't currently remember what their status was but considering they lived in a castle I am going to say that they could've been nobility if the worldbuilding was good, and at worst were lords, -- his only knowledge about Irene could be from overhearing his parents complaining about her popping up and stuff.

The possibilities are endless.

THE DIFFERING RELIGIOUS BELIEFS. There's no mention of other pantheons prior to Irene! This could very well be the result of the fact that Irene became the new major religion, but Malachi could talk about gods nobody's heard the names of in centuries.

Can you tell i am so very normal about worldbuilding

just GOD, THE POSSIBILITIES.

we don't even know what region Malachi's originally from. That alone effects things like his customs, way of dress, culture, etc!!!!

[hmshermitcraft]

It was ridiculous for Grian to have a crush on High Prince Mumbo, of all things. He was just a lowly avian servant, his royal highness probably didn't even know he existed!

Well, they didn't at first. But then Mumbo's betrothed, Princess Ariana of the Avian kingdom, was killed after attempting to assassinate her husband-to-be, and the royal family needed a way to cover up the incident.

Being the only other parrot avian in the castle, Grian was quickly bundled up in stolen dresses more expensive than anything he'd ever worn, married to the man of his dreams under false pretenses, and now has to pretend to be someone he's not to avoid a war.

At least Mumbo seemed rather apologetic about the whole thing.

Grian's sorry about the whole 'fiancee trying to assassinate you' thing as well, so they even out in their misery.

And, hey, it's not the worst. Mumbo sets up a private wing of the castle for them, some excuse about wanting space for his new family. All the staff who attend to them are briefed on the situation, so it means Grian can at least be himself there.

Not that he minds being Ariana he discovers. The woman might have been a murderous traitor but hey! She had a good fashion sense. Grian also takes naturally to public events - it's a lot easier when you're already playing a character. He can be whatever people expect him to be. It helps Mumbo too, the guy wouldn't know how to get through a social situation with a script. One of the many reasons Grian loves him.

The only time Grian faltered was when he was chatting with some nobles and caught Mumbo watching him, the softest smile on his face.

He nearly melted on the spot.

[healix17]

Whispers, Gazes, Mutters and Mumbles

For the sake for my Autobots.

Only for my Autobots...that's all.

That's why I'm doing this, right? Just for them.

He took a deep breath before stepping in.

Optimus walked towards the 'alter' made of gold and glass crystals.

The room was very well-decorated with roses made of the same matching combination of glass and gold, the translucent crystal window reflected his perfectly polished and flawless blue and red armour.

All optics were on him, he heard their gossips and whispers —Mostly KnockOut and BreakDown's.

The Autobots sat on the left, while the Decepticons on the right.

Even the humans—Jack, Miko, Raf and June—watched them through a small screen held by BumbleBee sort of like a video call.

Jack and Raf wore a black suit and tie while June wore a navy-blue dress and Miko wore a white dress with pink gradients at the end.

Blue, red, yellow, gray, green and purple optics—and eyes— were all over him.

But he didn't care, no he was used to people staring at him. His optics were only focused on those crimson reds staring back at him.

Primus, he could never get enough of that—now polished— silver armour.

A purple cape slid behind his back, fashioned with a matching purple Decepticon insignia pin. Optimus also wore a similar cape except his was red and fashioned with an Autobot insignia pin.

Both wore Laurels matching their optics and painted on designs on their armour, representing their past, present and future.

The main reason for their conjunx ritus—or how humans would call it 'marriage'—was for the purpose of bringing peace amongs both factions and the others in between.

And although Optimus preferred just a simple 'peace arrangement', the others however had different ideas of the word alliance, for they expected them to be Conjunx Endurae. And it definitely didn't make both the leaders happy.

But after some courtesy and convincing they both reluctantly agreed.

Megatron couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions: awe, intimidation, passion, and fear. Optimus was everything he had ever hated and desired rolled into one captivating package.

"Good luck sweet rims." KnockOut whispered with a wink as he watched Optimus nervously take the steps towards Megatron.

The red medic couldn't help but bite his bottom lip as he waited for drama to unfold.

A part of him wanted Drama, consisting of the ritual ending horribly and a huge fight breaking out, but he also wanted some sweet romance.

And he wasn't alone, although a majority wasn't excited but fearing the worst.

Optimus ingnored the whispers and gazes of the others and continued walking towards Megatron flushed, it was pure chaotic reading their expressions and emotions.

"You look nice." Megatron whispered to him and extended his hand, a simple yet tender gesture.

"So do you." he smiled brightly at him. The guests looked at them with joyful tears and excitement—although some of them were crying due to envy— they had waited for an alliance for eons, now it was the day it came. It felt so unreal.

A worried expression on Megatron's face formed as they walked towards the suppose 'alter'.

"Is something wrong?" Optimus whispered "You look troubled."

Megatron couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a warmth spread through his circuits at the sight of Optimus.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions within him as they stood before their guests.

"It doesn't matter, we aren't supposed to look so gloomy." His words were out-of-character and surprisingly carefree "Shall we?" His voice shifted to calm and unfazed.

Optimus took his hand, this was truly an unforgettable moments of joy.

Together, they walked down the aisle towards the altar.

As they stood facing each other, hands clasped, Megatron couldn't help but feel a mix of fear and desire.

He had never felt this vulnerable or this alive in his entire existence.

Optimus could feel the tension in Megatron's grasp, mirroring his own nerves.

He took a deep breath and looked into those fierce, fearless optics. This was it—the moment they would seal their fates together.

"Don't overthink it too much Pri... Optimus." Megatron whispered to him "It'll will only make it worst."

Megatron's voice was surprisingly soft, almost tender. It was a side of him that Optimus wasn't used to seeing—or hearing—anymore. He looked up at Megatron, feeling a strange mix of emotions: gratitude, fear, and something else...could it be love?

Optimus questioned his own thoughts at this point, with a small shrug, his face plate flushing slightly. "You...we could have done this earlier," He said "It would have saved hundreds of lives." His grip on his hand slowly tighten "But why now?"

Megatron lifted his other hand gracefully to cup at Optimus's face, looking him dead in his eyes with his answer. "Because I've needed to see you smile, to see you be at ease. Once again, " he replied, leaning in once again. "I wanted to see you cheerful again, I didn't want you let go of your own emotions just because of me..."

There was a sudden pause between them. The words stuck up their throats.

Megatron wanted to continue, to reassure him....to look after him once again.

But he stayed silent...

Waiting for his reply.

"I...thank you," Optimus breathed out, taken aback by the sincerity and caring in his words. It was a side of Megatron he longed to see again, making him feel vulnerable and loved at the same time.

"Well let us continue." Optimus said with a chuckle "Before the crowd gets too over Zealous."

"Zealous, huh? You're right," Megatron murmured, his gaze distant for a moment as he seemed to be lost in thought. "I am...possessive. I don't like sharing what's mine with anyone else. But with you..."

He wrapped one arm around his sleek waist pulling him closer, his other hand intertwined with his' making it seem as if they were actually sharing a sweet moment.

"But with you, I don't feel the need to be possessive," he continued. "Because I know that you're mine, and I'm yours. And that's all that matters." He leaned in close, their faceplates almost touching. His clawed hand hesitantly cupped his chin, locking gazes with him.

His words too sweet to be true, yet not too bitter to be false.

The crowd faded away into a colourful blurr, as the others either drank or danced so they didn't even notice the collided Prime and Warlord—Except for Ratchet who gave them a venomous look.

Megatron followed his gazed and smirked slightly at the thought of the grumpy medic's disapproval. "I think he's just envious," he murmured, nuzzling Optimus' cheek-plate. "You know, for not being the one to catch your optic."

"He'll get used to it," Optimus said sheepishly. Megatron Turning his attention back to Optimus, he deepened their kiss, symbolising their offical bonded sparks.

The dark-plated mech purred softly into the kiss, his hands sliding down Optimus' around to grip his waist even tighter. As they pulled apart for air, he smiled widely at the other Prime. "I'm glad we could share this moment together,"

"It seems we've sparked more than just a simple alliance, haven't we?" he said, nuzzling closer to him.

"Indeed we have." Megatron chuckled.

"Guess they're getting along." They could here the Autobots and Decepticons whisper.

"I thought this was going to end horribly"

"Huh, suprise they even agreed to this."

"Aww...I expected drama."

"We're witnessing history being made right now!" The mutters and mumbles were endless.

"Ohhhh.......They're so cute together."

"Pfft...I was hoping for sparks to fly."

"C'monnnnnnnn can you guys kiss again!?!I need to take a good pic!!!"

Megatron chuckled softly as he watched the others whispering around them, his arms draped possessively over Optimus' shoulders. "Let them talk," he stated simply.

For once he finally saw him. His Optimus.

The mech he cared for the most. The mech who was truly worth fighting for. The Optimus he loved. It was a complete blessing to be with him.

The bright crystal roses with the structure build of glass and gold platings reflected their beautiful collided selves.

The translucent windows and crystal decor made the scene look unrealistic.

Megatron smiled down at his lover, seeing the look of adoration there that he had been craving for so long.

It was illogical, on how they came to this point, especially when it all began with him just wanting to claim territory.

But now...

Megatron leaned in closer, their faces only an inch apart. "Let's have the whole world know who you belong to, shall we?" Megatron asked with an expression full of confidence.

"Yes, let's make it official," Optimus replied, nuzzling his cheek into the other leader's hand before they faced each other once again, hands locked in a firm grip as they exchanged their sacred vows in front of all of Cybertron.

They both opened their spark chambers in unison, the 'clank' causing all the attention of everyone to be with them once more.

"I Megatron, Lord High Protector do hereby pay heed to this alliance. Though it may last forever or be temporary, I vow to be your High Protector as long as you would be my Prime." He said that with absolute full flirtatious confidence, as if he wasn't nervous. Although he actually wasn't bothered by this.

Optimus took a breath, he couldn't frag this up, no he couldn't.

"And I, Optimus Prime, accept your vow as my Lord High Protector," he replied, his own tone echoing the same confidence as he spoke his part in their ceremony. "Should our alliance be temporary or forever binding, I will serve and protect you with all my might."

And before the others could even blink their optics and eyes, a bright soft blue light filled the entire room.

At the moment of their sparks' connection, Megatron felt a jolt of energy surging through him. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a feeling of wholeness and completeness that made him realize just how much he needed this bond with Optimus.

The blue light bathed their faces in a warm glow, and Optimus couldn't help but feel his heart swell with love and happiness. The energy coursed through them, filling every corner of their being with a newfound joy and pride as they officially became one.

The light grew brighter and brighter until it was at a blinding level.

It went to a point where the others had the cover their optics to make sure they wouldn't because blind.

Even through the screen the humans had to cover their eyes with their hands, even closing them wasn't enough.

In a momentous event that ended the ages-old rivalry between Autobots and Decepticons, Megatron and Optimus Prime united in matrimony amidst the grandeur of Cybertron.

Surrounded by their comrades, their friends, from every corner of the universe, allies and former adversaries alike gathered to witness the historical event, a representation of power to love to transcend even the deepest of individuals.

Even the fraging DJD was here.

As they sealed their bond with a resounding clang of metal, the echoes sounded throughout Cybertron, indicating a new era of peace and solace for all Cybertronians.

"Woohoo!!!" A small medic applaud. Followed by the others.

"Heck yeah!!!"

"Bout damn time!!!"

"I took more than a hundred pictures glitches!!!"

"I'm telling my future sparklings about how I witnessed history!!!"

The sound of applause filled the air, so did their complements.

"Tooooooo....The Dance floor!!!" Another bot said. They couldn't make out who it was due to the colorful mess of the crowd, but they all followed.

Megatron huffed out a smile before pulling his lover into a small circle to dance along with the music.

The melody of the music filled the air, they just move with every sweet melody. All the attention of Drunk and dance-y Mechs and femmes were on them but they continued.

SoundWave was good at picking songs.

A million dreams, Rewrite The stars, Can't help Falling In love, Despacito.

Just to name a few.

A smile spread from their face plated from one cheek to another as they moved alongside the melody and beat.

The rest of the night faded away into a blurr, but it was indeed an unforgettable time.

Please read this before y'all say anything:

1. I only discovered the existence of Conjunx Ritus only like three weeks ago so I'm still doing my research.

2. I'm sorry if it's rusty, I got alot of undone assignments, and haven't posted in a while, so I'll probably edit/fix it later.

3. If it's illogical, read point 2 again 🥲.

Vote :)

[groovebunker]

cc x fran fic masterpost

been meaning to do this for a little while - indulge me so i can pin it.

ongoing work

it's all there in black and white [teen - 5/?]

when newspaper editor maxwell sheffield wants to introduce an advice column, he pairs veteran political reporter cc babcock up with his newest hire, fashion columnist fran fine. the only problem? cc wouldn't take her own advice at gunpoint. oh, and she hates fran's perfect face and stupid laugh and general existence. there is that. aka the agony aunt au.

chapter one -- chapter two -- chapter three -- chapter four -- chapter five

i only liked a lot of things before i knew (the way i love it when you touch me now) [explicit - 1/2]

cc admits she's never been with a man who got her off. fran's nothing if not persistently helpful.

chapter one

can't reach the moon up above, don't dare touch the fire [explicit - 1/?]

cc's never been sure how to want things. fran's determined to show her how.

chapter one

i burn for you (you don't even know my name) [explicit - 1/?]

when fran lets a beautiful blonde take her home from the bar, she doesn't expect to see her again. neither, it turns out, does the blonde.

chapter 1: i don't got a single problem with provocative

what would you do?

what would you do (if they never found us out?) [explicit - 11/11]

after what was supposed to be a one time thing in the wine cellar, cc and fran find they can't keep their hands off of one another. but it's only because neither of them can get maxwell. right?

i. how it started -- ii. furious -- iii. do you trust me? -- iv. beautiful -- v. missed you -- vi. promises -- vii. i'm glad you're here -- viii. i've got you -- ix[a]. only bought (you) this dress so i could take it off. -- ix[b]. needing -- x. what would you do if they ever found us out

what would you do (the vignettes) [explicit]

i. the smoke gets in your eyes -- ii. while you were sleeping -- iii. it's good to be home -- iv. special -- v. it's been a while

eight oh five [teen]

cc asks fran out for dinner. it's not the worst idea she's ever had.

anything for you [explicit]

when cc reveals a fantasy, fran does her best to make it come true.

it's alright to need a little help sometimes [explicit]

fran needs some help to switch off when everything gets a little too much. cc's got some tricks up her sleeves.

the latke-verse

i like you (a latke) [teen - completed - 1/1]

fran doesn't want to show up to her ma's chanukah party alone. cc's fed up of seeing her sad since she got back from paris. no ulterior motives here, none at all. aka the fake dating chanukah fic.

seventh time is (hopefully) the charm [teen - completed - 1/1]

cc gets some help with valentine's breakfast.

won't you?

won't you just let me pretend that this is the love that i want? [teen]

there's a lot of things cc and fran never talk about. until they do.

won't you just show me the love that i need? [teen]

cc's never been good at being needed. unless, obviously, fran needs her.

won't you just give me the love that i long for? [mature - 2/2]

neither of them are sure how it's so confusing to be able to have what you want. until it's not.

chapter 1 -- chapter 2

won't you just show me the love i've been missing? [explicit - 4/4]

sometimes, you have to go back to where you started for anything to change.

chapter 1 -- chapter 2 -- chapter 3 -- chapter 4

should be over all the butterflies [mixed ratings]

a series of vignettes set in the won't you universe.

august two thousand and nine: the fence -- two thousand and six: crossword -- two thousand: the beginning -- two thousand and three: the first time -- two thousand and seven: look after her -- two thousand and eleven: no such thing as bad thoughts -- two thousand and fourteen: how did you know? -- two thousand and seventeen: i wish you hadn't -- two thousand and four: told you that i loved ya -- two thousand and seventeen: not a stupid woman -- two thousand and sixteen: taste of home

autumn came, december went [teen]

five times fran finds photos she isn't expecting. and one time cc does the same.

i hate to say it but...

you wish it was me (don't you?) [teen]

Niles fixes her with a death stare from the front of the church when the priest asks if anyone knows why Max and Fran should not be married. As if she’s going to interrupt. As if she’s going to ruin the happiest day of Fran’s life.

but i told you so [explicit]

fran's been frustrated lately. luckily, cc's always been a selfless woman.

now we stumble over all our dreams come true [explicit - 1/2]

fran makes an impromptu trip to new york and finds herself looking up at a familiar apartment block on the upper east side. but it doesn't mean anything. it can't mean anything. not after five years. it shouldn't mean anything at all.

chapter 1: it always leads to you in my hometown

one-shots (for now)

trick or treat (or: how cc babcock learnt to enjoy halloween) [mature]

c.c. does not like halloween. fran's absolutely not going to stand for that.

fran fine, sweater thief [teen]

five times fran wears c.c.'s sweater and one time c.c. turns the tables.

wise men followed the star (the way i followed my heart) [explicit]

when the phone rings at 11 on christmas eve, fran doesn't expect cc on the other end.

i want your midnights [teen]

c.c. does leave maxwell but that's not the only reason she runs away from the sheffield house. when she and fran end up at the same new year's eve party, can she convince herself to stand still?

i still see it all in my head (burnin' red) [teen]

soulmate au: the world is black and white until you see your soulmate for the first time. or: how red becomes c.c. babcock's favourite colour.

three minutes [teen]

fran finds someone unexpected on the other side of the table when val accidentally takes her to lesbian speed dating. unexpected but not necessarily unwanted.

black coffee morning on the east side [general]

fran's not sure what cc stands for. but she's absolutely going to find out. or: the one where fran's a barista and cc's a very beautiful stranger who drinks freshly brewed black coffee and blushes a lot.

canine teeth in the side of my neck [explicit]

cc's really thought about her halloween costume this year. fran reaps the benefits.

too darn hot [explicit]

when the ac goes on the fritz at the house, fran deals with it in her own way. and then cc has to deal with that.

an idea that i was slowly sinking [explicit]

fran knows that she'll never be enough for cc, not until she gives her the one thing she can't bring herself to surrender. or: the toxic vampire!cc x familiar!fran au we all deserve.

in from the snow, your touch bought forth an incandescent glow [explicit]

fran's been trying to befriend cc since the moment she met her. only befriend her. what happens when the worst storm to hit new york in decades leaves them snowed in, alone, at the sheffield mansion?

spaced out on sensation [mature]

fran gets stuck in the middle of nowhere, at the mercy of the mysterious blonde who runs a guest house. and if there's something about her that seems not quite right, then fran's not sure that's entirely her business.

who the fuck is cc babcock anyway? [teen]

some men truly cannot be helped when faced with fran in a mini dress. which isn't to say that niles doesn't try.

[itsclydebitches]

Cinder is a lot more sexualized then the male parts of Salem's inner circle

Like tyrian is shirtless sometimes but that does not feel as...drawn attention to, as say, the lingering shots of Cinder's butt or thighs. Or her wearing short shorts and high boots you know what I mean?

I do, anon. RWBY got a lot of attention back in the day for its anti-upskirt technology, but that doesn't give it a free pass for all the other ways you might (and it does) sexualize the cast. I've never been inclined to give RWBY too much shit in this regard because it is pulling from media with a LONG history of such designs and cinematography - it feels unfair of me to act like RWBY is uniquely responsible for such problems when I'm simultaneously willing to overlook, say, the 90's "gag" of Yusuke flipping up Keiko's skirt - but there's nevertheless a voice in the back of my mind constantly asking things like, "Why are so many of the girls fighting in heels?" and "Why are they dressed like they're going to the club and not the literal TUNDRA??" I'd kill for the whole cast, but the girls in particular, to get a re-design that focuses on fashionably compelling practicality, rather than sexy fanservice. (Though Ice Kingdom did a good job overall, particularly for Ruby.) Sure, RWBY didn't give us panty-shots, but one of the first characters we're introduced to is literally designed like a dominatrix.

If we're talking about outfits though... I'd say Emerald gets hit the worst out of Salem's minions. Yeah, Cinder is definitely sexualized in a more general sense as the tall, white (that's not a coincidence), long-legged beauty who sensually conjures fire as she prowls towards the heroes, camera focused on her hips swaying. But Emerald?

She suffers from the same problem Yang has. AKA, if your woman isn't classically beautiful (like Wiess and to a different extent Blake), or cute / child-like (Ruby, Penny), but is instead going for a sporty, comparatively masculine-esque vibe... then they've got to show a LOT of skin. RWBY makes it sexy by just denying them clothes. You're entering dangerous battles on the daily? You want to protect yourself? Too bad. The audience needs a midriff and cleavage and your whole arms to stare at. Shorten the skin-tight pants so we can see some leg too. Oh, Yang has to have long pants because she's heading into the coldest Kingdom in Remnant? Never mind that, cut a strip out to show her thigh.

"But Clyde, the girls don't need to wear armor because of aura--" then why the hell does Jaune bother wearing that heavy-ass suit? Is it weight training? Does he just think it makes him look cool? ...or does it exist in case his aura breaks and he's allowed to wear more protective gear because there are different gender expectations attached to his design? The aura argument is just a modern rehashing of the Supergirl sun argument: using made up lore to "justify" getting your women characters into skimpy outfits, despite the men rarely being held to the same standards.

Tyrian is actually an interesting exception here and if I were less tired I'd think through this argument more, but something something as the "crazy" character he's allowed more leeway in breaking those expectations. Also the open shirt shows off his scars, which likewise help sell how dangerous he is. With the exception of characters like Cinder and Nora - whose injuries are Important Character Moments the audience gets to see play out - scars are surprisingly uncommon in Remanent. Or, again, they're severely downplayed so as not to interfere with that classic beauty design (like Weiss', or even Yang who gets a perfect cut when losing her arm). So when you see a character with giant scars spanning the length of his chest, an open shirt drawing deliberate attention to them... that makes you go, "Oh shit. What's he been through to scar like that in a world where most people make it out of fights with no permanent damage?"

[lightlycareless]

saw this and immediately thought of naoya after discovering y/n’s favorite pokemon.

Heya!!!

First of all, thank you so much for sending this adorable ask omg hahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa it's literally perfect because I always write that Y/N is like, obsessed with Gengar 😂 so it wouldn't be surprising that she had something like this.

And secondly, I apologize for taking a while to come back to you! I tend to reply to asks in the order they come, or which one is easier for me to write at the moment, either way, I'm still grateful for your ask ❤️❤️❤️

I hope what I wrote is enough to make up for the wait :> happy reading!

warnings: none. fluff. naoya is jealous OF A PLUSHIE.

Naoya absolutely hated getting you that Gengar.

He was all for it though, at first at least. Because to him, this represented nothing but an easy way to gain more of your affection, his mind envisioning something like this (let’s say he took you to a date to the fair):

“I win Y/N a plushie. It’s her favorite plushie. She’s happy I got her the plushie. She kisses me for winning her the plushie. She marries me because I got her the plushie. We have kids because I got her the plushie.”

A win-win situation, right?

Well, up to the kissing part it was—because as soon as you grab Gengar, it’s like Naoya completely disappeared from your life.

There’s not a single moment you’re not with it, whether keeping you company by the couch when watching a movie, in the backseat whenever driving to the city, waiting by the futon while you come out of a shower… or even dressing it up with silly hats and hair clips, because why not.

However, the worst part wouldn’t come from any of those things. No��as frustrating as they were, Naoya was still capable of tolerating them, to some degree at least.

The bane of his existence would appear the moment he realized that not even when laying next to you after a long day of work did that stupid Gengar leave you alone!

Breaking his heart when you’d cuddle the damn plushie instead of him.

That’s when Naoya really began to have issues with it.

It got so bad, that he even considered getting rid of it—have it magically disappear, imply that maybe one of the staff members accidentally threw it into the trash, or you forgot it somewhere, highly possible since you essentially take it everywhere you go!!

And Ranta, as always, would be the voice of reason, telling him that doing such a thing was nothing short of highly inappropriate, and if you get to know the truth, his relationship with you would be critically affected.

“So??? It’s not like she’s actually going to leave me if I do that, you know?!” Naoya would cry, genuinely believing his words… but Ranta’s worried face quickly made him reconsider. “…Right?”

Well, that’s something he doesn’t want to figure out.

Thus, proof of his devotion to you and commitment to the relationship, Naoya decides to handle things like adults and bring up the issues he’s been having with your precious Gengar to you.

Learning the innocent reason why you were so attached to it…

“—I always wanted one, since I was a child. But my parents said no, because I already had too many toys. And I never saw it again… until that day at the fair. It’s like I went back in time to being a kid.”

In other words, you were doing all the things you would’ve loved to do if your parents had gotten you the Gengar. Besides…

“You got this for me without even asking, how could I not cherish something so romantic?!”

Naoya naturally feels like absolute shit when you tell him the truth—internally scolding himself for even considering getting rid of it in the first place!!         

So, after giving you a thousand apologies in forms of kisses, Naoya, in true Naoya fashion decides to also make it up to you by gifting you even more plushies of the same character—different sizes, different models, it didn’t matter, he just wants you to have them all.

Leading you to put a stop to him, because it was straight up ridiculous at that point!

Either way, this happening would go down as a funny story you’d be more than happy to share with your children when the time comes, slightly embarrass him by showing off his highly protected softness, if he hadn’t demonstrated the same to them by then…

Or maybe set up that Gengar “shrine” you always wanted to do just to spite Gojo, show him which franchise is far superior through your devotion, and rub it in his face.

He’s no longer a competitor when it comes to overindulging anymore, and Naoya is more than happy to give you the upper hand.

I actually have a huge Gengar my cousin got for me last year in my birthday. was it worth it? yes. have people expressed their... consideration to steal it? yes. will I protect it with my life? I'm already training my cat to join me in this crusade. lmao

anyways, I hope you like this little snippet :> Naoya always has to take it to the extremes, but he's learning to be better, and it's safe to say that at one point, it's all well-intended 🤭

thank you so much for sending in this ask! take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[sprunkimortality]

could we perhaps know what everyone thinks of Simon? :O

Oren: "He's my bro, brah. Always rooting for me. We're homies." Raddy: "A little too happy-go-lucky for me. I'd say it's probably fake, but somehow the guy keeps provin' me wrong." Clukr: "Ah yes. Simon has shown me time and time again that there are delegated times when I don't need to view anything in a critical perspective. In simpler terms, he taught me how to…have fun, per se. He was our main inspiration in creating Mr. Fun Computer and Fun Bot." Fun Bot: "Simon knows how to keep up on the dance floor! It's almost impressive!" Vineria: "Simon's got a bright aura. I let him talk to my flora babies at home. They vibe with him too."

Gray: "…Simon's nice." Brud: "Me friend! Simon friend! He play tag with me!" Garnold: "He's the whole reason why our children exist. I owe it to him for being just an awesome guy! And for helping Clukr destress himself sometimes. He really needs to do that." OWAKCX: "Simon…! Hoohoo, oh, I- I can't thank him e-enough! He- he's the r-reason why I'm n- not starving, a- along with V- Vines. E- Even though I- I stole from th-their food, he…h-he forgave me. H- he was nicer to me than anyone I've m- met outside of S- Smalltowne…" Sky: "I don't get how a grown-up can be more like a little kid than me. But Simon's not exactly a bad guy. A little lame at worst, but he treats me nice. Plus, he plays games with me whenever he comes over to babysit me. I know I'm a grown-up and I don't need babysitting, even though Dad says I'm still pretty young, but that's literally the only reason why I deal with him being my babysitter."

Mr. Sun: "Our one and only Friendliest! He was always the golden heart of this town, ever since he was a Sprunkling! Ohh…this takes me back! I could cry!" Durple: "He's quite the character, that Simon! The beaming star of Smalltowne! He does need a better fashion sense though…he dresses like a toddler." Mr. Tree: "I remember when me and Mr. Sun first found him as a young Sprunkling…the poor thing was all by himself. No parents or guardians around, no. But he was smiling. Laughing with us without a care in the world. He was and always will be our starshine." Tunner: "Kid's got impressive optimism, I'll give 'im that! He greets me every mornin' when I start my patrol duty, and I greet 'im back. Actually, he greets everyone in th' mornin', now that I think 'bout it. Huh. Nice of him to do that."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He's the funnest Sprunki I know! He absolutely loves it when I boot up any of my video games. He doesn't care how old they are, as long as they're fun! I'll admit, I do get a little competitive when playing Pong with him, though…but that just means it's never boring! So, win-win for us!" Wenda: "I've always wondered why he's so big on friendship. I mean, yeah, good friends are important, but like…he makes it his whole personality, sooo…uh, yeah. But like, I don't hate him or anything. He's just a little goofy." Pinki: "Simon is the sweetest friend anyone could ever ask for! He's also a regular at my bakery, and he picks the same item; my delicious strawberry cupcakes, with extra sprinkles! Those are his favorite! It makes me flattered, heehee~!" Jevin: "Simon is a star that shines so bright, fearless of the dangers of the dark night. He is blissful as can be, you see. One may also say naive. And yet, he remains an inspiration of this town, with his beaming joy that screams so loud."

Black: "May I be frank? I'll just say it- I FUCKING HATE SIMON. Pardon my language, but he's just so damn ear-grating and…and corny! He talks to people like we're all children! Fuck Simon. I can't stand Simon. Look- h-he isn't an asshole, but…ugh. Being near him gives me a damn migraine." Saves: "Hmmm…the yellow one, yes? With the pointy horns? He's a sweet one…he loves it when I tell him my stories, or when we sit down and have tea together. Ah, I recall now. He was the one who gave me this…star-shaped earring. I don't know where the other pair is, but I cherish it nonetheless." Ciqu: "...my opinion on him is...mixed, for certain reasons. For one, allow me cite the property damage incident." Sprinkles: “He’s such a fun friend! I feel like I can connect with him and we have a lot in common!" Calvin: “He’s cool. He knows how to take a joke and he makes me laugh sometimes.” (edit 12/8/24: x need to stop forgetting Ciqu 😭/lh)

[asexual-spongebob]

Aliens Exist Characters Profiles: Get to know the characters. (Last edited: 2/19/25)

(Photo to be added.)

Zim:

Zim Vasquez or otherwise Zim is the main character of Aliens Exist. He is characterized with traits of show, Florpus and Pilot Zim. But he’s also a lot like common fanon versions of Zim.

He is 11 and later on turns 12. It is self-centered, sassy, flamboyant and destructive. Its always thinks it’s right and believes that it’s better then others. Xe does not take well to rejection. Which happens to be one of xyr worst fears. However, xe is really just kind of pathetic deep down. But this isn’t something xe is willing to showcase to anyone.

He starts dressing + being scene/scemo at the beginning of the second season, and changes his hair style a bit. He chose a surname to fit in better with the humans, and he chose Vasquez because it was the name of the street he lives on. (Vasquez Avenue.)

He likes watching Muzic Television. He also loves human fashion. It loves romance dramas and those cheesy romcoms and also sci-fi. (Just so xe can make fun of it.)

Species:

Alien, Irken.

Pronouns/Gender:

He/It/Xe/Agender

Romantic Orientation/Sexuality:

Biromantic, Bisexual.

Gir:

Gir is a main character in Aliens Exist. It characterized like its show and Florpus versions.

Its age is baby. But it acts like a young kid. He is very silly, yet also a bit fucked up. He loves waffles and sweets and is disguised as a green dog.

Dib:

Dibert “Dib” Membrane the secondary main character in Aliens Exist. He is characterized similarly to his show characterization, but also with some dashes of Florpus and (CANON. Not Fanon.) Pilot Dib.

He is 11 years old earlier on in the story but turns 12.

They are a very smug person, they constantly make smug remarks about Zim. They are also a bit nerdy and have a savior complex. They may come off as an asshole at first, but they actually do have a soft side. He just doesn’t show it around most people.

He only really shows it around his family, Keef, Bill, and later on Zim.

At first, he wants to destroy Zim. But later on, after a encounter with the infamous Mortos, he questions if this is something he really wants to do.

Their favorite show is Mysterious Mysteries of Strange Mystery and one of their comfort shows is Zcooby Doo. Their favorite installment is Zcooby Doo on Zombie Island. Alien Invaders is a close second though, and makes them tear up.

They listen to a lot of music, but mainly goth, emo and other alternative music. They also like Demon Lemon. And also Cavern City but don’t tell anyone that. Some of his favorite artists include: Deathtones, The Bottom Fronts, Yewberry Heights, Micheal Romance, The Disease, The Smithers, Demon Lemon, Cavern City, Dad Jeans, and some others. He also enjoys traditional Mexican and Latin music.

He’s surprisingly good at dancing and singing.

Mexican American

Pronouns/Gender:

he/they, trans + demiboy.

Romantic Orientation + Sexuality:

Biromantic + Bisexual.

Keef:

Keef Cooksey is a major character in Aliens Exist. He is characterized similarly to his show counterpart. He is 11 but later turns 12.

He is a sweet, loving and caring person. But despite that, he is clingy and doesn’t completely understand boundaries, even if he’s learning and getting better at it. They have problems regarding enforcing boundaries, abandonment, and rejection. They rarely get mad, but they aren’t someone you want to anger.

They are somehow Dib’s best friend, despite their opposite personalities. They are one of the few people who gets to see Dib’s more soft and sweet side.

Surprisingly, his favorite artist is Metallica.

White American, he’s originally from Georgia (state.) so he has a slight southern accent that comes out sometimes. He moved to Detroit when he was 9 though.

Pronouns + Gender:

he/they + demiboy

Romantic Orientation + Sexuality:

Unlabeled.

Gaz:

Gazlene “Gaz” Membrane is a major character in Aliens Exist. She is characterized similarly to her show and Florpus versions. She is 10 but turns 11.

She is a violent, short-tempered and cold person. But deep down, she can be nice and has a soft side. But she never shows it anyone, (well, other then [REDACTED]) she doesn’t want to be taken advantage of ever again.

She holds resentment towards Dib, but she secretly loves him deep down. Even if he hurt her without even realizing it. But that’s something she’ll never tell anyone. [REDACTED] may have lied to her about her true intentions, but Gaz secretly hopes that [REDACTED] will come back.

She loves video games very much, and she especially likes vampire piggy hunter. She adores pigs in general. She loves alternative culture and music, but especially goth. She considers herself a gothling. She loves Sorrow Division, the Disease etc. She also enjoys more punk music like Blue Night and Monokini Murder.

Mexican American

Pronouns/Gender:

she/her, trans.

Romantic Orientation/Sexuality:

Asexual, Lesbian.

Bill:

Bill is a major character in Aliens Exist. He is very different from his canon counterpart, and rather than being an idiot, he is actually smart. He is also not dismissive towards Dib. And believes him.

As the story goes on, he becomes a father/uncle like figure to Dib (and later Gaz.). Bill is one of few adults that Dib can go too. He views Dib and Gaz like the kids that he doesn’t have.

Bill is an agent under The Swollen Eyeball Network, is agent name is Agent Cypher as a reference to Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls.

He has a bitter relationship with [REDACTED] They were childhood enemies, but put their differences aside as teens and dated for a short period before becoming bitter exes. They basically act like a divorced couple later on.

He constantly wears sunglasses because he has Heterochromia (One of his eyes is blue, the other is green.) and is ashamed of it. His favorite artist is M.J.

Tak:

TBA

Mimi:

TBA

[littlestpersimmon]

Hey I saw on twitter that you went to Elemental and that it's bad. I was planning on taking my lil sister to it but I'd rather not if it has a bunch of racist shit in it (we're from Singapore). Is it like really really bad?

it's got that formulaic pixar/disney thing going on that the moment the fire girl, Ember, said "Elements cant mix" I legit, out-loud groaned because I knew where it was headed. Music was good, but thats about the only good thing I can unfortunately say about it.

The fire people were distinctly asian, from the way the dad spoke, the music when the fire people appeared.. and the way they were dressed.. and they arrived in a boat to a place that was vaguely fantasy america. The first scene with the fire family was the mom and dad telling this guy at the gates their names, and the ticket guy who was "earth" couldn't pronounce it, and just gave them english names, literally english names, and its played as a joke. The fire family goes around the city looking for an apartment to live in, and everyone shuts their doors on their faces- There was a weird apartheid vibe going on bcos all the other elementals got along, earth, air and water all lived in the same glowing city, while people who were fire lived downtown, and at one point, the camera kind of pans out to show you how wildly different the environment is between fire people and like. The rest of the elements- the racial divide is even more apparent when Ember is in the city outside the fire city bc everyone is colored with cool colors while Ember is often the only thing in frame thats colored warm. It's the typical story where asian culture, which is unfortunately homogenized in this movie, is presented as oppressive, painful, and nothing more than a prop that needs to assimilate to american values-

Ember goes with Wade, the water guy, into the water city, where everything is naturally hostile to her, Wade's family is racist towards Ember, and uncomfortable scenes like "wow, you speak the language so well" is played off for laughs;

Ember's family flees the fire country because of a nebulous storm cloud that is never explained or elaborated on, And the movie never addresses WHY people from the global south flee their homes, it presents the global south as being extremely hostile to the point that people are made to believe that the only option is a slightly less hostile world where everything is alien and people are naturally flippant and dismissive at best, and openly racist at worst.

Throughout the movie, Ember goes into Wade's world and meets people who call her slurs, walks into cities that are naturally dangerous for her to exist in, even in Wade's home she can't step on the floor because there's water everywhere, but its expected of her to just accept this as the way things will be if she is going to date a guy who is not a part of her world- The story ends with Ember leaving her family, and her family's convenience store totally gentrified- as it is with so many stories surrounding asians who immigrate- in everything everywhere all at once, with turning red, with shorts like Bao- The other side of "two worlds story" is never addressed, the side that is trying to grapple with a post colonial world is seen as old fashioned, filled with pain, antiquated and oppressive- The people who are functionally white in these stories are never once asked to unlearn their preconceived notions about the people they have oppressed. Why should they? - it is, fundamentally, a story of assimilation.

[achaotichuman]

An AU where tamlin (disguised as female) and rhysand fall in love tthen tamlins like wait i have to tell u something then rhys finds outs hes tamlin and undergoes a sexuality crisis

YES, I LOVE THIS PROMPT. Don't know why but this is giving me a Cinderella retelling vibe. Btw sorry for the late response anon, but here's how I think this would go down.

*Trigger Warning- Innuendoes, non-explicit mature content.*

The white trail of her dress was like an angel's wings dragging across stone carved from the mountains of Hell. Lace lined her arms and the top of her breasts. A long slit ran up the side of her thigh, revealing the same lace work hugging her legs.

Golden hair spilled down her back and shoulders, flowers and rings of gold weaved through those luscious strands. Her shoulders and collarbone deliciously bare, off the shoulder sleeves hung over the lace of her forearms. An angel indeed, left in the company of devils.

Rhysand watched her from his throne. His eyes locked in on those slender legs as they moved her through the crowd. The females eyed her, disgust twisting in their face, constricting their eyes and noses. Males stepped out of her way as she moved past them like fluid.

A powerful, or perhaps idiotic, decision to wear such garments, not a stain on the white silk. A symbol of purity, as if anyone from this Godforsaken city could be called pure.

She looked up to the throne set high above the people below it. Her eyes were of the deepest green, as if they had been sucked from the heart of a forest, flecked with gold like stars. Their gazes locked and for a moment, the world ceased to exist, everything turning to a black void and low drone of voices. Even though her head was tilted up to see him, Rhysand couldn't help but feel like she was looking down on him, like his existence was worth little more to her than whoever else wished for her presence in bed, or hand in marriage.

Then she turned away, she turned away and every nerve in his body burned for her to look at him again.

What was this strange, heady feeling? Rhysand tilted his head, watching as she walked back into the crowd, unable to disappear from view, as she was a sliver of light in the sea of black and deep Night Court purple.

'Are you staring at her?' A familiar laughing voice boomed in his head. Rhysand allowed the smallest of smirks as he cast his eyes in the direction of his friend and General.

Cassian grinned back from his place beside Azriel, stationed close to the throne but not close enough that they overshadowed him.

'There are many 'hers' here tonight, Cass, enlighten me on which you speak of.'

'Oh, don't be so formal, High lord. The pretty one in the white dress, everyone's lookin at her.' He murmured it in such a low tone Rhysand had to suppress the urge to snap.

'Careful Cass,' Azriel murmured through the mental bond, 'Rhysand's already called first bite.'

'There is no first bite, Azriel.' Rhysand replied smoothly, 'Though it is a... proud choice to wear such clothing.'

'A cocky choice more like it.' There was Mor, Rhysand was wondering when she would but in with her opinion, 'To wear robes like that when our Court uniform is solely black, blue and purple is insulting at the least, an act of defiance at worst.'

'Calm yourself, Mor. She hasn't done anything as of yet.' Rhysand drawled.

'Apart from looking like an angel with her wings cut off.' Cassian said.

'Get back to work you three.' Rhysand ordered, shutting out the tones of his friends before resuming his former position, sitting on an oversized throne being bored as all Hell.

Rhysand scanned the ballroom again, watching the waltzing taking place before him. The deep, low tones of the music in the air hummed like background noise, nothing more than decorative festivities meant to give the people an opportunity to move their bodies in a fashion that wasn't simply standing around.

Music had never been the Hewn City's strong point. Such artistry was better off in Velaris, where good people could actually be found.

Rhysand sighed, if the Darkbringer's army wasn't so powerful he would have had Azriel and Cassian bring the foundations of this place down and allow the wicked cruelty festering down here to be crushed. That's all these people deserved after all.

Too lost in his own bored musings, Rhysand failed to notice the swift, silent steps coming for him until she was standing directly before him.

Rhysand near jolted but forced his body to remain calm. Up close she was even more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

Her arms were toned and muscular, her waist clipped and hips flaring out to show off curvy thighs. For a moment the urge to grab them squeeze pricked his mind.

"You are standing before the throne, yet you are not on your knees?" Rhysand hummed, his voice deceivingly kind.

The female before him wasn't stupid and he figured that out quickly by the hardened glare she gave him. But it was clear to see she lacked fear of consequence, because the first words she spoke to him were, "Do you always just sit on your ass on this throne, or will you actually mingle with your own people?"

Rhysand opened and closed his mouth, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

"I beg your pardon."

"My pardon is granted; now will you answer my question?"

Rhysand stared at her, unable to form a coherent sentence that did not entail yelling his indignation. So, he opted for a gentle brush of his talons against her mind.

Finally, she narrowed her eyes and took a slight step back on instinct, remembering how dangerous the male before her truly was.

"Are you drunk, lady? Or perhaps do you lack self-preservation? You stand before my throne, asking insulting questions and assuming you give pardon to me?"

She tilted her head to the side as if she was truly pondering his question, "It has been mentioned that I lack any real self-preservation, but I like to call it a lack of tolerance for entitled self-serving Night Court royals."

Rhysand couldn't help it, he snorted, a quick, genuine sound. He had no idea how it even slipped past his defenses. Her lips quirked up in a slight grin, counting his reaction as a win on her side. He quickly coughed into his hand trying to cover the sound but that only seemed to serve to amuse her more.

"What is your purpose in antagonizing me, lady?"

"I am not antagonizing; I am asking a genuine question. Are you going to sit on your ass for the whole party, or will you join the festivities?"

"I'd hardly call this," He gestured to the stiff, tense dancing- if one could call it that- taking place below them, "Dancing."

She glanced at the people behind her, then she looked over him again. Her green eyes so sharp as they swooped up and down him like a predator's watchful gaze.

Even though she was but another Hewn City citizen that he could have tortured and executed if he wished for it, Rhysand couldn't help but feel as though he was not the one in control.

"Perhaps the people would be more responsive if their ruler joined them instead of sitting up so high above them." She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg as she waited for his reaction.

"Who are you to tell me how to rule my people?"

She grinned at his scowl. A grin with bone white teeth and sharp, gleaming fangs. Between that glowing smile and the way those gold specks in her eyes seemed to shine brighter, Rhysand felt his world shift from one side to the other and it was dizzying.

"I am the person telling you to get off your ass and come dance." She said.

Rhysand blinked his violet eyes; she blinked her green ones back.

"Are-are you asking me to dance?"

"No."

"No?"

She took his hand in her own. Her hands weren't soft and dainty, no, they were calloused and firm. Hands like his. Hands that were used.

She tugged and Rhysand, adding horror to curiosity, followed her silent order. He stood up.

The High lord was marginally taller than the female before him. But he was surprised at her height regardless. In a good set of heels, she would surely surpass him.

She was playing some game, doing something to him that Rhysand couldn't figure out.

"Asking would insinuate you had a choice to dance or not, you're dancing with me, that's final." Her cheeky pink tongue slid across her fangs, red spread across Rhysand's face. A strip of blotchy red that undoubtedly did not escape her cunning eyes.

Sucking in a breath, Rhysand tried to find the will to rebuke her. But before he even got a sentence out, she was pulling him down to the dance floor.

Looking out at the sea of people. Rhysand watched as jaws dropped and eyes widened. Even the music from the orchestra faltered for a moment as eyes went to the feared High lord of Night being half-dragged by a strange, beautiful female in a dress of pure white.

When Rhysand's eyes snapped to those watching they quickly resumed their ministrations. Pointedly not making any eye-contact with the Lord or the mysterious lady.

Once in the center of the room, she spun on her heel and put a hand to his shoulder, forcibly placing his hand on her waist. Then she smiled up at him. A beautiful display of pearly whites with a sweet gaze.

"Well High lord? Show us all what talents you keep hidden while you're sitting on the throne."

*** "What do you mean she can't be found?!" Rhysand yelled, Azriel didn't so much as flinch, Rhysand did notice the slight roll of his eyes.

"I mean no one can find her. Like she just," Azriel gestured to nothing, "Disappeared into the night air, and from what I've gathered, no one had ever seen her before."

"What does that mean?" The High lord hissed, knowing very well what that meant.

"It means your little crush wasn't from the Hewn City, somehow she snuck in there. Which means she could be from anywhere."

"Impossible. It's impossible to leave the Hewn City or enter it without my permission." Rhysand stood up from his chair, walking away from his desk and towards the large window behind him. Looking out over the view of Velaris. Soft evening sun was upon the world, casting tall shadows over the ground and filling the air with a soft cool breeze. The scattered lights of the city looked like stars on Earth.

"Even if she somehow snuck in as you say, she couldn't have left. The security is to tight."

"I don't know what to tell you Rhysand, she danced with you then disappeared."

"Impossible." Rhysand repeated shaking his head.

Her waist in his hand had been like heaven pressed against him. Looking down into her eyes are they moved, spun and turned had been a religious experience. Nothing in the world compared to her long fingers travelling up his neck to brush the underside of his chin. No drug in the world could ever get him higher then when she had let him spin her away from the ballroom.

"Hello, Night Court to Rhysand!" Cassian smacked the side of his head. Rhysand reeled around and went to punch him right in the throat, but the larger male caught his arm before he could get close.

"Give it up, Rhys, it's been a week. The girl's not comin back." His General told him.

"You don't get it, Cass. She..." How could he move on from that. From the heady feeling of her hands on his body, travelling to find any skin not protected by his clothing. Nothing could compare to her heavenly voice whispering back-handed compliments and jokes about him stepping on her toes.

"Cassian's right, Rhys. Let it go. Who knows? Maybe you'll find her again. For now, we have other priorities." Azriel insisted.

With a strained groan, Rhysand turned back to the window and put his hands to his head.

They were right, of course they were right.

But how could he focus on other things when he could only feel her lips on his skin when he led her out into the dark, empty hallways, away from the ballroom?

***

He dreamt of her. He dreamt of that night. Of her dress flaring out, brushing his legs as they danced. He dreamt of her laughter, a honey-sweet sound in the midst of so much darkness. He dreamt of her knowing smile, and the expression on her face. As if whatever game she was playing, she had won.

He dreamt of whispering in her ear. Turning up his charm, trying, near desperate for a chance as she seduced him within an inch of his life.

He dreamt of her hands wrapping around the collar of his shirt and her telling him to make it worth her while.

Pinning her against the cold wall. Rhysand buried his nose into the crook of her neck. She laughed and buried her fingers in his dark hair, pulling until he looked back into her eyes.

She smirked, a glint of danger in her eyes. Quicker than his hazy brain could think, she jutted her head down and nipped his neck, leaving a small bite mark. Rhysand near lost his damn mind. Roughly grabbing her hips he shoved her more forcefully against the wall. His own head going down onto her neck. Leaving darkened bruises on her pale skin.

She clicked her tongue, "So rough, needy, are we?"

"Gods above."

"The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins." She murmured in such a seductively low tone; Rhysand may have lost a part of his mind to her in that very moment.

Trying to keep his thoughts on one track. Rhysand moved his hands up and down her thighs, bunching her skirts in his hands. Her breaths turned heavy, and her face went a splotchy red. Rhysand felt a smirk matching hers curling on his lips.

"You're right. No one's here to see how the Lord of Night plays with such alluring delights like you."

"All talk. No play." She drawled.

"Not one for foreplay, darling?"

"I'm one for proving you know how to wield the thing between your legs, darlin."

Rhysand loosened a near feral noise. But as he went to push back her skirts to reveal what was between her legs, the loud ringing of the stroke of midnight rang true through the Hewn City.

She sucked in a breath and drew back from him, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Is something amiss, lady?" Rhysand asked, trying to keep the hot, heady feeling of the moment but concerned for her reaction.

"Midnight." She whispered.

"Yes, lady." Perhaps she was on a curfew, that was true for a great number of females in this City, "Do not worry over any curfew, I will grant you-"

"No," She sharply pulled away from him, forcing his hands off her, "No, no, I have to leave."

"Lady, I-"

"This was good," She smiled, it was girlish smile that he hadn't seen before, almost an apology for her hasty escape, "This was good, but I must go."

Then she was sprinting down the hall. Dress following her like a cape. Rhysand watched her, stunned into immobility.

He looked at the place she had just been, then a vital thought crossed his mind. He didn't have her name. Without another thought, the High lord of Night found himself racing after her.

"Lady! My Lady, wait!" He called out, but she didn't slow. Grabbing the edge of a corner she whirled around and was gone from Rhysand's eyes.

As he rounded the corner and stared down the dark hallway. She was gone. Disappeared into thin air. If it weren't for her floral scent clinging to everything he was, he would've convinced himself she was never there.

***

Rhysand dug his spoon into the tasteless porridge before him. Flinging small scraps onto the table. He pointedly didn't look at any of his family.

After Rhysand set his cup of near empty coffee on the table with an unnecessarily loud clang, Mor growled, "Rhysand, what is your problem?"

"Nothing is my problem, Morrigan." He hissed back, finally looking up to meet her equally hateful stare.

"He's lusting after the angel he saw two weeks ago in the Hewn City. Mad he can't find her again." Cassian dobbed on him. Grinning as he swallowed his own breakfast.

"Angel? You mean the girl wearing white?" Morrigan rolled her eyes, "She was arrogant for wearing that. It was practically bridal wear."

"She looked like a Goddess on Earth." Rhysand cut her off.

Morrigan levelled him with a hard stare, "Rhysand, leave the shitty poetry for Tamlin."

Azriel nearly choked on his coffee as he started giggling, his shoulders shaking. Rhysand growled at all of them, "I don't understand how no one has seen her since. Azriel, instead of laughing, how about you go and make sure the sentries at the Hewn City aren't skimping on their jobs?"

Azriel held up his hands, in an 'I'm innocent' manner, "Don't snap at me. I have checked every nook and cranny. Skewered every sentry for information. No one saw her enter, and no one saw her leave."

Cassian hummed in a low tone, "There could be a weakness in the Hewn Cities defenses allowing people to enter and leave as they please."

"Which means you both check again. From top to bottom, side to side, I don't want one household, one corridor, one room unaccounted for."

"Yes, Lord fell in love after one dance." Cassian taunted as he stood from the dining table. Looking at Azriel, he jutted his head to the door and the Shadowsinger nodded. Standing up he gave Rhysand a warning glare, before he followed his brother out the door.

Only Mor and Rhysand were left in the room. Not for long as Morrigan stood up, picking up her plate before she looked down at Rhysand.

"That female was in the wrong for wearing a white dress. Don't waste your feelings on such women." Mor warned him, before disappearing as well.

Rhysand never got the chance to tell his cousin, that the cocky, self-assured attitude that female had was half the reason he was going insane for her.

***

A year passed and Rhysand never saw the female again. But he didn't forget that night. It repeated in his head over and over. He examined every word, every expression, every shift of her lips or eyebrows. Every movement of her dress shifting on her body. He didn't forget. Couldn't forget. In his hottest fantasies he sought out the feeling of her skin under his fingers, in his darkest nightmares it was her warmth he was drawn too.

Over and over, he spun himself in circles. Trying to forget and move on, but lulled back into her memory like she lived in his head. Always finding him, never letting him leave. At times Rhysand wanted nothing more than to comb through every household, every road, every path in Prythian just to hear her laughter in the distance. Other times he wanted to rip out his mind and meticulously pick her memory out of his head, just so he could focus on something else without her smile lurking in the corner of his thoughts.

Cassian and Azriel had long accepted he was going to take a good long while to get over her. So, they resorted to simple teasings and rolling their eyes. Morrigan was less inclined to entertain his pining. Snapping at him whenever his mysterious lover came up. Becoming colder and more reserved. He didn't know whys he was so affected by her. Why she hated the idea of this woman just for wearing white.

He supposed it should've been considered an insult for her to wear such as color when she had nowhere near the authority. But Rhysand couldn't bring himself to care.

He wouldn't see her again, that he was starting to convince himself of. Finally, on solstice when he went the whole day without thinking about her, Rhysand thought he was ridding himself of her.

Then he was invited to a solstice celebration, hosted by Helion.

They all went. Everyone did. Even the other High lords. The Day Court palace had been transformed into a party, decorated with gold and lights that swirled in his vision. The drone of voices filled the air. The smells of good food and wine enticed Rhysand to fall away from his entourage not long after they arrived. Blending into the crowd. Rhysand found a male offering drinks to all, he took a glass and sipped on the delectable liquid whilst observing the party from the outskirts.

People danced, spinning around, twirling, pushing and pulling. Music was in the air, blending into the mix of laughter and chatter.

"Don't have a throne to sit your ass on," Every part of Rhysand's body was set on fire as he heard the voice that haunted his dreams whispering in his ear. He couldn't even turn as a too familiar hand slid down his chest, "So you're standing out here, avoiding everyone."

Rhysand finally forced his eyes to turn, and there she stood. His memory did her no justice, for she glowed with an alluring nature that his mind could not capture. Those golden curls were decorated with the same flowers and golden rings as before, except tonight a pair of striking antlers stood out like a crown.

Instead of that heart-stopping white dress, she wore something very different but equally as royal, equally made Rhysand wished to tear it away. A suit of dark emerald, green, a pressed white shirt underneath a waistcoat decorated with striking golden embroidery that swirled in the shape of flowers. A long jacket made with the same material as the waistcoat covered her arms and slid around her waist. Rhysand wanted to rip it away and place his hands on her waist once more.

"It's you." He breathed, unable to say anything more.

"Miss me, High lord?" She murmured, voice falling into that seductive low tone. Rhysand went weak, becoming nothing but putty for her hands.

Near shaking, Rhysand took both her hands in his. Gently pressing a kiss to each finger, he whispered against her skin, "Dearly."

She took in a breath, when he looked up, he saw her green eyes were soft. Her face ethereal, warm in the light, divine like a Goddess.

"I missed you too." She admitted.

"My darling-" He started, then she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Come with me somewhere... private." She said, looking out at the sea of people.

His blood started racing. Heat warmed his cheeks. As much as Rhysand wanted to take her against the floor where they stood, he found a different desire was battling his sexual ones. The urge to pull her close, breathe in her scent and forget the rest of the world existed was getting stronger by the minute.

She held onto his hands tightly. Then she moved, dragging him along behind him like she did when she took him off the throne. Rhysand went more than willingly. She kept them in the shadows of the party. Not a soul paid them any attention.

They found an empty balcony. She all but shoved him out then closed the curtains and the glass door.

Finally, she tuned back to him. Oh gods, if she looked beautiful in the warm chandelier light, she looked bewitching in the silver of the moon. Rhysand nearly dropped to his knees. In that moment, if the female before him told him to martyr himself in her name, he would've and he would've done it smiling.

How did one person he met a year ago have such a hold over him?

"Darling." He meant to purr the word, but it came out broken, desperate, near begging. He planted his hand on her hips and pulled her close. Pressing his nose into crook of her neck like he had in his dreams an unaccountable number of times, "My darling."

She slid her hands up his chest and Rhysand felt higher than the moon itself. Felt like he was amongst the stars themselves.

Then she pushed him away. Rhysand panicked for a moment. Fear took hold of him, strangling him till he couldn't breathe. Fear she would run away. Fear he would never see her again.

"Wait-" he started. Then she grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, keeping him at an arm's length but not letting go. It eased only a sliver of his worry.

"Rhysand," She murmured. Oh, gods his name on her tongue was like being handed a slice of heaven itself.

"Yes, my darling."

"I... you have to forget me." She told him.

Everything spinning his world came to a crashing halt, "My... my lady, I-"

"Forget me, forget everything about me. This cannot be." She told him, beginning to let go of his collar. Beginning to let go of him.

He was quicker than her this time. This time he didn't let her leave him. He took hold of her waist and pulled her back to him.

"What do you mean it cannot be?"

"I cannot be with you, you not with me. It would never work. It... we can't."

"We can." Perhaps she was already engaged? A forced marriage maybe? Or was she worried about someone low-ranking being with a High lord.

"Rhysand-"

"It will work, I will make it work. I will kill any that need to be killed. I will fix anything that needs to be fixed. I will get on my knees for you if that's what you want, please just... don't leave me again."

Tears pooled in her eyes; Rhysand desperately wanted to get rid of them.

"There is something about me you must know Rhysand." She said.

"Tell me, whatever it is, I can handle it." He insisted.

She huffed a laugh and lightly shook her head, "You will hate me once you know it. You will hate me and you will make my life hell for it. I would rather you just forget me."

"No. Never." He nearly shuddered, what could she know that would possible invoke his wrath?

"You are going to hate me." She told him, not a question, a factual statement.

"Tell me anyway." He said.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Stepping away from him she forced him to let go. He felt the need to reach out, but held himself back.

Then in the blink of an eye, she changed. Her suit changed as well to fit the new body it held. Her torso became longer. Her shoulders filled out the shirt more. In a second she was taller, almost exactly his height. Her jaw become more carved, slightly broader. But her eyes, hair and skin stayed the same.

Rhysand felt his mouth fall open as a ringing in his ear drowned out the background noise of the party.

Tamlin pointedly did not look at him. He looked out over the view of the Day Court. Rhysand's eyes could only look him up and down.

"I'm sorry Rhys." Tamlin murmured. His voice deepened, but still rich like the sweetest of honey, "I'm sorry."

How...

"I wanted to escape for one night. I went to the Hewn City, it was the only place completely and utterly removed from Prythian. I saw you and I... it pissed me off how high and mighty you looked. I didn't know how far it would go."

How did...

"I had to go back at midnight, lest Lucien and Andras send out a search party looking for me. But I... I couldn't stop... thinking about you." He whispered the last three words like they were cursed.

How did Rhysand never know?

Everything about Tamlin had remained Tamlin in his female form, except having a more feminine look and high-pitched voice. His personality remained precisely the same. The same sarcastic, dare-devil attitude. The same cocky, self-assured air about him. The same cheeky smart cunningness.

"I'm sorry for leading you on, but I-"

Rhysand laughed; he couldn't stop it. It burst from his throat like a tidal wave. He nearly doubled over. Tears springing from his eyes.

Tamlin's face turned from shock to indignation and finally mild amusement. He crossed his arms and waited for Rhysand to collect himself.

"You done, yet?" Tamlin drawled. Rhysand forced himself to take in a deep breath, controlling himself.

"Yes." Rhysand said.

They both looked at each other. This was the first real one-on-one interaction with each other since... since that night all those years ago.

"Do you hate me?" Tamlin whispered, "Not just for before but... for this?"

Rhysand barely heard the question, too busy watching the way a hair fell from its place to frame Tamlin's face.

"I..."

Did he?

He should. He had to. He had to feel angry for this. For being led on like this.

But he couldn't. The fire he had felt when Tamlin appeared in female form just minutes prior still burned, in fact... it was getting hotter.

"I don't know." Rhysand said.

Tamlin gritted his teeth, not liking that answer. He turned on his heel, striding away from Rhysand. He opened the glass door and called over his shoulder, "Well when you figure it out,"

Tamlin turned just enough to look Rhysand in the eyes, "You know where to find me."

Tamlin tossed the curtains open and they were faced with the Inner Circle staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths.

Tamlin just gave them a cocky grin and a wave before he strolled away. Heading for Lucien and Andras who called him over, oblivious to what had just occurred.

***

No one had spoken to him. And Rhysand didn't speak to them. Once they got home, he beeline for his office, shut and locked the door. They all assumed he was humiliated. Embarrassed at having been obsessed with the male he claimed to loathe.

Rhysand sat in his office for days. The shadow twins brought him meals. Neither speaking, just walking through the walls to hand him whatever they had prepared, then they left.

They all assumed he was thinking of ways to murder the male that had made him insane for a year.

They were all so far from the truth.

Rhysand sat in his chair, staring out at his city, wondering how Tamlin was still stuck in his mind.

He half-expected to at least be only thinking of Tamlin's female form. Still obsessed with how she looked.

But no, his mind wouldn't let him think of her, he could only think of him. Could only think of Tamlin's laughter, Tamlin's smile, Tamlin's face. Tamlin dancing with him. Tamlin touching him. Tamlin beneath him-

Rhysand scrubbed his face with dry hands. Trying to rid his mind of those thoughts.

He shouldn't think like that. He was a High lord for the God's sake. It was his Cauldron-given duty to marry a female. Fuck a female. Put an heir in a female. And give the Court their next High lord. All with a female.

What kind of reasoning was that? He shouldn't be thinking like this because it wasn't him. He didn't... males simply didn't think like that. It was... it wasn't.

What was he trying to convince himself of? Didn't he preach about Velaris being a safe haven for all that wanted to do as they wished with their bodies, give their love to whomever?

Everyone else could do what they wanted. But he couldn't. He wasn't like that. He just wasn't.

Right?

Right.

Tamlin's eyes appeared in his mind's vision and Rhysand nearly flipped his desk.

Slamming his head back against his chair, Rhysand groaned loudly.

He stared up at the ceiling, thinking the untouched white would distract him. It only served to make his mind wonder back into dangerous territory. Tamlin with his hand on Rhysand's shoulder. Tamlin nipping his neck with his sharp teeth. Tamlin grinning as Rhysand went down on his knees-

"God's above." Rhysand whispered.

'The Gods aren't down here, High lord. No one but the devil is watching our sins.'

Instead of a female's voice murmuring, it was Tamlin's. Rhysand lost his own breath for a moment, eyes shuddering closed.

Rhysand forced his eyes open. He forced himself to stand up, roughing brushing himself off. He looked out at the view of Velaris.

Hands trembling. He roughly threw open the window. Wings appearing on his back as his wards dropped. He fell into the wind and shadows of Night.

'Do you hate me?' That torturous voice whispered in the cavern of his memory.

"No." Rhysand spoke into the night as his wings snapped out and he shot up into the clouds.

"How could I ever hate the best thing that ever happened to me?"

The twins would go into his office the next morning with breakfast, and they would find an empty room. Mor would be frantic, and Cass and Az would search Velaris from top to bottom.

But they wouldn't find him, because Rhysand was going to the place his mind and heart had been stolen too.

Rhysand was going to Spring.

Rhysand was going to Tamlin.

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was very fun to write!

By the way this is what I imagine Tamlin's dress in the Hewn City to look like. Found this image on my Pinterest feed.

And here's the inspiration for Tam's suit at the Day Court party.