#good lord I needed an ice bath

[dayntee]

Normally, I’d agree with folks it’s weird a romanced Lavellan shows up so fucking late to the party when everyone knows where and what Solas is doing at the end of Veilguard.

However, my new headcanon is that my Lavellan was 100% on time. Unfortunately (? maybe fortunately), the moment she rolled onto the scene was also the *exact* moment Solas proclaims “Let us see if they have heard tales of the Dread Wolf,” and nukes that huge pack of Darkspawn like it was nothing.

If I needed a moment after that, she definitely did.

She immediately turned around to catch up later, or that conversation was going to go very differently.

[wordbreaker]

The Red Wolf ★ Prologue

For centuries, the Gods⏤Old and New⏤have flipped coin after coin to decide the fate of the Realm. Now that all seems lost, for the Dead are too strong, the Long Night, too thick, the Winter, too cold, it is now men's turn to play this terrible game. May the Red Wolf bend Time and Blood, Fate and Death before Winter comes and swallows the Dance of Men.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x GOT!Snow!FemReader* & Aegon Targaryen x GOT!Snow!FemReader*

*Y/N does have a given name at some point in the story, being a bastard and all.

Word count: 5.2K

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief allusion to SA

Note: In honor of Season 2 dropping in a few hours... Enjoy a good ol' time-traveler fic from yours truly. As always, English is not my first language. I do apologize if some typos and grammatical errors managed to sneak into this.

HIDDEN BEHIND the few battlements where bodies were not yet piling up, you whispered a prayer to the Old Gods⏤your eyes closed to avoid seeing the battlefield that had become of your childhood home. Desperation made people do funny things. Stupid, naive things, like praying. The Gods had abandoned you long ago, for what kind of Gods would destroy their creation in such manner?

The Long Night had plunged Winterfell into a bath of fire and blood, with the singular smell of Death emanating from it and turning stomachs inside out. You had been soaking in the puddle of your own vomit for several minutes. 

It was too much. Too much for you. Death was coming for them all. An unstoppable Death. A Death that walked, that fought, that killed without ever tiring. 

You tightened your grip on your sword, Endbringer, forged from the blade of Ice, the last memento of your father, Lord Eddard Stark. It would not be long before you joined him. He and Catelyn and Robb and Rickon. The Stranger had feasted on the Starks without mercy. Soon he would taste your frightened flesh. Would you find them on the other side? Or did Hell reserve a particular place for bastards? 

A roar pierced the deafening din of the battlefield and the ringing of your ears. Up there, far from the burning barricades and piles of bodies, Jon, your twin, was riding Rhaegal and burning the White Walkers. 

But Death always came back. 

Winterfell, seat of the North, was ablaze with dragonfire. The irony would have pleased the rhapsodists, had they been there to sing the fable. 

The bards will sing no more when Westeros is but an open grave, a voice whispered to you. You buried it⏤along with everything else⏤under the smell of burning flesh and the clash of swords. 

You stood up on wobbly legs. A white strand of hair blocked you vision but you did not care, for nothing could be clearly seen anymore. The smoke from the dragon's fire, the bodies throwing themselves on top of each other, the Dead leaping into the courtyard, the cannonballs flying over the ramparts, the arrows whistling through the air, the buildings exploding. It was all chaos. You dived in it head first, sword in hand. 

You had lost sight of Arya an hour earlier. Your little sister was probably fighting for her life in the corridors. You prayed for her. You prayed for Jon, who was fighting the Night King. You prayed for Theon and for Bran. Most of all, you prayed for Sansa, imprisoned in the crypt, perhaps the only place in the North where the dead did not yet walk. 

Your thoughts drifted to your father, whose remains lay among the women and children, the weak and the new, the Ancestors and Descendants. As foolish as it sounded, seeing him reborn, even for a moment, in the skin of a White Walker, would give you the courage to fight. 

The Old Gods knew you sorely needed it.

You shut out your memories and stumbled to the entrance of the tower. Above your head, arrows pierced the wind and stuck into the ground made of flesh and blood. Enemies, allies, the dead, the living, all merged into one agonising, shapeless mass. Miraculously⏤perhaps the Gods had heard you⏤you managed to reach the tower and immediately rushed down the stairs. You stepped over the fallen bodies, for Death had already stained the stones of the castle, and counted the remaining steps. 

It would only take a few minutes to reach the lower rooms. 

Of Winterfell, you remembered everything. Seven years had not been enough to erase the precious memories of your childhood. It had gone too quickly, tainted by the horrors and scheming of the South. For a long time, you had wondered what had killed your carefree spirit. 

You had first thought your childhood had been crushed along Bran's legs but⏤forced to flee King's Landing at a mere four and ten because you were seen not just as a bastard but as the bastard of a traitor⏤you had soon realised the truth. 

Your innocence had died the day Jon Arryn had been murdered, for Death brought naught but bad omens and destruction. 

The Starks had gone South and, in doing so, had sealed their doom. 

You longed for the years before Robert Baratheon had visited and destroyed everything you knew and held dear. You⏤eager to forget the ravaging war⏤closed your eyes and let yourself be basked in what had been and would never be again. 

Sheltered by the porch at the entrance to the Great Keep, Vayon Poole, Maester Luwin and Father were discussing the affairs of the people. You, seven years younger and sitting next to Arya and Sansa, were trying to embroider a flower without pricking your fingers and lamenting over the fact that you could not join the boys who, further down in the courtyard, were practising their swordplay with Rodrik Cassel. Bran was still walking. Robb was breathing and Theon had not yet betrayed them. Familiar faces were everywhere: Hodor, Mikken, Farlen, Hullen, even Gage the cook. House Stark was alive, far from the shenanigans of the Lions and the capital that had damned them. 

In the distance, a frail voice mumbled tales from another age. 

Old Nan would always knit far-fetched stories.

Except they were anything but. The Long Night had well and truly begun again and, in its darkness, it would swallow up everything you loved: your family, your friends and your people, if they were not already walking with the dead. 

A growl echoed through the corridor. You raised Endbringer, ignored the trembling in your hands and continued forward⏤to stop was to die, you told yourself. In silence, you plunged in the darkness of Winterfell's corridors. You squinted your eyes, trying to make out a silhouette, a noise, anything, but the dead entangled on the floor remained dead. 

For how much longer? you thought darkly. 

Another growl, close by. You swallowed and turned. Two sparkling blue eyes were staring back at you. Shivers ran down your spine. Your hand trembled around your sword⏤your lifeline and perhaps your only chance of escape. You thought of Old Nan and, with only fear and adrenaline for a brain, attacked. 

The White Walker let out an inhuman scream, somewhere between a shriek and a hiss. 

The sound of Death. 

It was tolling your bells. 

It put so much force into its blow that you had to take several steps back when you parried it. For a brief moment, you wondered whether Endbringer would resist. Was Valyrian steel mere iron in the face of Death? 

Your years of combat training seemed to disappear. No reflexes, no tactics, just your survival instinct to guide and defend.

You did not stand a chance.

The pack survives, a voice whispered to you. But where was Sansa? Arya? Jon? You were the only one in the corridor⏤a Lone Wolf against Death. 

You raised Endbringer and brought it down hard on the Other's shoulder. It split the air and the putrid remains of flesh. Its arm fell to the ground, but it began to twitch and reached for your ankles. Its fingers snaked to avoid your heavy sole and came dangerously close to your heel. 

A kick and the arm disappeared further away, entangled in a pile of bloody limbs, but you knew it would be back, disturbing as that thought was. 

Exhaustion made you heavy and slow. Your blows grazed the creature in front of you without ever bringing it down. Death never wavered. It delivered blow after emotionless blow, the only evidence of the soul that once resided in its body being those two big blue eyes, too bright to be the work of the Gods. 

A guttural howl split your throat. Then came a stabbing pain, which burned through your flesh and blood. 

The Other had thrust its sword into your shoulder. 

You felt the blood trickle down your collarbone, colonising your flesh and armour. 

Then you heard it. Above you, a desperate voice screamed.  

Dracarys. 

You stumbled to the wall and snatched the nearest torch, throwing it at the White Walker. Immediately, the creature writhed in an agony that might have been pleasurable had you had time to admire it, for you seized your only chance of survival and, ignoring your heart pounding against your temples, ran. 

You ran and never looked back. To look back was to die, you repeated to yourself. And you, Y/N Snow, were not done with Life yet. 

Death would have to wait.

The thick walls of Winterfell were not enough to drown out the shrill cries of the dragons. They shook the centuries-old walls around and above you. The smell of burning flesh tickled your nose and stirred your stomach. The terrible smell reminded you of funeral pyres. 

Winterfell was nothing but a pile of rumble and dead, you realised as you passed the disjointed body of a young soldier, too young to fight. You prayed to the Old Gods to spare your twin, your other half, and continued your journey to the lower halls. You passed the library, stepped over more disfigured bodies and made your way through the burnt carcasses of the Others. Everywhere, fire and death embraced in a touch that gave you goosebumps.  

The journey from the tower to the halls took an eternity. Fear and fatigue slowed you down, as well as the weight of your armour on your slumped shoulders. 

Your body was giving up. 

At the turn of yet another corridor, you finally came across a small room, which you hastened to enter. Glancing around, you realised it was meant to be used by servants. The mattress still retained the shape of a body, which was probably no longer breathing. 

A sudden howl ripped through the corridor and startled you. Someone banged on the door but you threw yourself against it and held it shut. With a trembling hand, you closed the latch, then the chain, and kept your shoulder pressed against the wood. 

"Help me!" someone screamed. "Please! There's too many! I've got a wife... A boy… My boy… Please! Have mercy! Let me in!"

Already, the cries of distress had mingled with inhuman gurgling. You turned your head and closed your eyes before sliding back against the door and bringing your hand to your trembling mouth. 

Valar morghulis. 

You soon lost track of the minutes, as you weaved your agony through the darkest hours of Westeros.

Other soldiers pounded on the door, but all died at its threshold. Their bodies, still warm, rose up immediately, animated by an evil and ancient force. You ignored their nails scratching against the wood and the inhuman growls that shook it. Blood stained the stone-floor and snaked its way up to you, further staining your already-crimson armour, but you kept your eyes and lips closed. The black behind your eyelids was only slightly different from the Long Night, but it gave you an illusion of protection you could not refuse. 

With a trembling hand, you wiped your face, bathed in tears, blood and mud, but the wounds on your cheeks remained open and your tears, wet. The ringing in your ears continued to torment you. 

"Pull yourself together, damn it," you whispered angrily. 

But already your vision was blurring. The adrenalin had left your muscles, leaving you paralysed with pain and fear. Soon came the sobs that shook your shoulders and tore at your lungs. 

At last, your body and mind were coming together to cry out their agony.  

A whistle pierced the din of your sadness and put an end to it. You raised her head, frowning. You turned and, just in time, avoided the axe that suddenly slashed the door. 

You screamed.

The blade disappeared, leaving a hole large enough to see blue eyes, and came down on the wood again. A hand reached into the hole and tried to grab you, but you threw herself to the floor and crawled away. You clung to the mattress. Behind you, the growling intensified and sent shivers down your spine. No human could make that noise. 

The walls of the room closed in on you. 

The Old Gods had exhausted their mercy. 

It was time to die. 

The axe whistled through the air and lodged itself in the mattress⏤a mere centimetre away from your hand⏤scattering strands of straw and bits of flesh on the floor. 

How many men had lost their lives on that blade? How many throats slit? Decapitated heads? How many mutilated bodies? 

Your hands fluttered around your belt. Your fingers brushed against all the weapons within your reach without ever grabbing one. You looked up. The door wouldn't hold for long. The White Walker was pounding on it relentlessly. 

You grabbed the dragonglass dagger Jon had given you⏤I won't be there to protect you. Come back to me alive, he had told you, unaware of the years you had spent defending yourself alone in Westeros. Trapped in the cold at the Wall, how could he have known? How could he understand what had happened to you? 

You shook off these thoughts and took a deep breath before standing up on trembling legs. The biting north wind blew through your armour and chilled you, but the sweat dripping down your back still clung to your skin. 

You had to leave, but where? Your childhood home, reduced to a graveyard of endless rebirth, was falling into ruin. Soon, the White Walkers would have invaded every room and soaked the stones in blood. How many of your brothers in arms had already joined the Night King’s ranks? 

On the other side of the door, the Dead was going mad, his movements, more abrupt. You clamped your hands over your ears and curled up on the floor. You let the dagger drop. Your breathing quickened. You were going to die. Like all the others. 

Robb was dead. Rickon. Father. Uncle Benjen. Catelyn. Was Arya still alive or had she abandoned you too? What about Jon? What was the point of staying alive when everyone else was dying? 

Another knock rattled the door. You jumped and stepped back, but your shins collided with the mat. 

You did not stand a chance. 

The door burst open. 

The wood exploded in deadly splinters. 

The White Walker pounced on you. 

An unparallelled smell enveloped you. You screamed and struggled. You clawed at mouldy flesh, struck fragile bones and tore off dirty rags. Blood beaded on your fingers as you deflected a blade from your throat, which the creature's rotten teeth lunged at. You pushed against it with all your might. 

The Other fell to the ground and stopped moving. 

Your breathing was all you could hear as your heart raced. For a second, you thought it was over, but the White Walker suddenly stood up and crawled towards you. 

Death never tires. 

You tried to fight it off, kicking it wherever you could reach: on the head, on the shoulders, in the neck... but the creature kept moving. Axe in hand⏤when did he get it back?⏤its skeletal arm split the air and scraped your ankle. You fell to your knees screaming and, in a desperate move, plunged your dagger into its accursed blue eye. 

The creature exploded into fragments of ice. A few of them grazed your face. 

You swept them away with a wave of your hand. 

Down here, caught between your Ancestors and the Dead, victory had a bitter taste. You limped out of the room and wandered through the corridors, which you did not recognise. Winterfell was becoming unknown before your eyes, ravaged by Death and the despair of the unlucky Survivors. 

Several times, lone White Walkers blocked your path. You managed to get rid of them, but never escaped unscathed. Their dull blades always pierced your armour and flesh, leaving you aching. 

It was not until you reached the west wing of the castle that the screaming stopped and, at last, the calm of the North enveloped you in its thick cloak. The silence made you shiver. How it contrasted with the din of war... It was almost terrifying. 

Finally, at the end of a staircase, a new door. 

You wasted no time in entering and barricading the room. You slid the wooden palisade into its notches and stepped back, frightened to see a new axe appear. 

When you turned round, you gasped at the awful sight the Gods had painted for your eyes. The fireplace at the back of the room lit up a pile of tangled bodies in one corner. The shadows played and illuminated the severed arms, the decapitated heads, the men turned into trunks. Nothing on the canvas was complete; everything had to be put together to become human again. 

You staggered back, nauseous and swore before pressed one hand against your stomach. The other covered your mouth in a last-ditch effort to save you but the smell of decay, so characteristic of death, delivered the fatal blow. You turned your head and bent down to vomit your guts out. 

"A Wolf far from her pack," a seductive voice said. "Snow seems to have numbed the blood."

 You spun around and squinted but could only make out a red cloak. The flames swirled and licked at its ends, but always left the fabric intact. The stranger stepped forward and revealed a familiar face, a worrying face. Her eyes sparkled, hiding secrets that made you shiver. Stories of New Gods and diabolical powers, everything you hated⏤for you were a child of the North and the North prayed to nameless Gods. 

You placed one hand on Endbringer's pommel, sat down against the wall⏤opposite the bodies⏤and wiped your lips. The steel of your armour was an icy kiss against them. You relished in the sensation and remained silent. You no longer had the strength to answer riddles. You no longer had the strength for anything. 

You just listened to the Living and the Dead killing each other, head against the wall, eyes closed to ignore reality.

Minutes passed, until finally you grew tired of the sound of swords and the agony of men. You opened your eyes and immediately met the gaze of the red witch. Melisandre, you remembered. Ser Davos had said that name with such that you could not have forgotten it even if you wanted to. 

You jerked, your armour digging painfully into your ribs, and cleared your throat, but the witch's gaze never wavered. 

In the distance, a man screamed for his life. You winced and finally broke the silence. 

"I hear the clamour of battle, the cries of pain, the prayers shouted over the blows of swords, but the Night does not give way and the Dead still march. We won't win," you murmured. 

You met the witch's eyes but quickly looked away, towards the fireplace where the flames were still dancing, untouched by the torments of men. 

"Can't you ask your Lord to save us from this hell?" you mocked.

"The Lord of Light does not interfere with destiny," replied the sorceress, who chose to ignore your blatant irony. "The New Gods weave everyone's prophecies and they have seen just to–"

You scoffed. Your chapped lips stretched into a smirk. You shook your head and laughed. Your lungs hurt like hell but the hilarity made the pain sweet. 

"The Gods," you giggled. "Old... New... Seven or one... The Gods abandoned us to our fate a long time ago. Perhaps this is our punishment... to die here without even the comfort of Faith. Our shroud shall be neither prayer nor forgiveness, only the putrid smell of death and the warm bodies of our fallen brothers. Isn't it time to just give up?"

"Why aren't you out in the courtyard then? Among the corpses, looking for Death you so desperately seek? Why are you hiding in this room when your sister and twin are fighting hard against it and heading off to their destiny?"

You looked up at the witch.

"Arya?" you whispered hoarsely. "Did you run into Arya? Is she alive? What of Jon? Why is he here? Wasn't he riding Rhaegal just a few minutes ago?"

The witch sighed, suddenly so human, as terrifying as it sounded, and knelt down in front of you, who watched her with teary eyes. The red-haired woman took your hand and clasped it in hers. Her cold skin sent shivers down your spine, but you made no attempt to free yourself from the embrace. 

"Rhaegal is no more. Even dragonfire is no longer enough against the Night King. The darkness is already feasting on his scales."

You pressed your hand against your chest. A nameless agony seized you and tore at your heart. Poor beast, you thought. 

There was a time when dragons would only fly from verse to verse in the history books you loved dearly, the ones recounting the fables of the Targaryen dynasty. How many times had you told their fables to Arya, when your sister could not yet read? 

Dragons had danced in your imagination throughout your childhood.  

Then, miraculously, they had danced over Westeros, brought back to life by Daenerys Stormborn, whom your father had spared. You had not believed the tales at first and had regretted it when the dragons finally danced over Winterfell.  

Tonight, dragons no longer danced. Like everything else, they were dying. A tear rolled down your cheek. You wept for this majestic creature, who had also fallen victim to the War of Men. 

"No one is immune to the vicissitudes of fate, Rhaella, not even dragons."

You blinked, frowned, and tore your hand away from the witch's grip before grabbing Endbringer.

"My name is Y/N," you corrected, your voice sharp. 

"Are you quite sure? Didn't your twin tell you? Of his discovery? Of his destiny? I've told you. No one is immune to his vicissitudes," the witch repeated. "Not even you." 

"I don't understand..."

The witch moved closer and took one of your hair, wrapping it around her finger. You clenched your jaw but made no move to interrupt her. Don't struggle or it'll be worse, a snarling and masculine voice whispered. You closed your eyes and tried to bury the painful memories that were clawing to the surface. Hands on your body and in your hair. On your lips and cheeks. Under your dress... 

"Did you never wonder where that colour came from? Such white…. You don't see hair like this in those parts. Even your grey eyes, no doubt those of the Wolf, can't hide the warm blood that runs through your veins. Your twin was luckier in that respect, I must admit."

You violently shook yourself off and stood up, your eyes raging, vile memories once again buried deep.

"You do not know what you’re talking about, witch," you spat out the last word. "Flames make your head spin. My father was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King. My mother was but a whore whose true name was lost when that cunt Joffrey Lannister killed my father. Stop this nonsense, or I'll not hesitate to kill you."

"And this fiery rage, this bloodlust? Does it come from the Quiet Wolf, whose honour and calm cost him his head?"

You growled and grabbed the woman's hair. You drew your dagger and pressed it against the woman's milky throat, ready to draw blood. Would it be the singular colour of flames or the common red of mortals? 

The witch grabbed the dagger with her bare hand and deflected it. Her fingers remained intact. No blood spattered against the flesh. You blinked, but the skin remained white, immaculate. 

Impossible, you thought. 

"I can show you. The truth, first. Your destiny, then."

You did not understand at first. It was only when the witch moved towards the fireplace that your eyes widened. You sheathed your dagger and took three large steps back. Your back hit the wall with the sound of steel and for that you were thankful. 

"I have no use of your false God."

The witch ignored you and pulled a coin from her cloak before turning to face you once more. It looked like a Gold Dragon, worn and battered. 

"Perhaps you would prefer to play a game, then. A game the gods have been playing for centuries, long before you were born."  

The witch threw the coin at you. You caught it by reflex and turned it over to look at it. For a while, you caressed it and enjoyed its rough surfaces. The dirt, which the endless passing of hands had collected, masked the King's head, but you knew it was neither that of Robert Baratheon nor of Cersei Lannister's Bastard. Frowning, you began to scrape the coin with the tip of your fingernail. It first revealed a notched crown, then a lean neck, long hair and, finally, a name.

A familiar name, engraved just below the royal silhouette. 

A series of shivers ran down your spine as your lips formed the cursed name. 

AERYS II. 

The Mad King.  

"What are you waiting for? Flip it," Melisandre asked. 

You opened her mouth, ready to insult her and demand her to stop jesting, but growls cut you off. You turned around. 

In the corner of the room, bodies were stirring. 

The coin was soon forgotten. 

You unsheathed Endbringer, but the sword had lost its frightening glint. It was a miracle of the Gods that it did not slip from your weak and trembling hands. You could feel the burns and wounds that lacerated your palm and weakened your grip.

"What's going on?" you asked as panic ran up your spine.  

Fear had already taken hold of your soul and made your knees buckle. Your stomach churned but you swallowed down the nausea. 

"The Dead are waking up," the witch simply said.

You could not find the strength to scream. A feeling of despair crawled through your body and numbed your mind. There was no respite from the horror. How much longer would they have to fight? How much longer before everything died and was reborn as something evil? 

The flames in the fireplace were still dancing. You glanced at the witch, but she was muttering unknown words, her hands clasped around her necklace. 

She wouldn't be of any help, you realised. Already, legs and hands were emerging from the hill of flesh. They charged at you. You stabbed them with your dagger and ran to the fireplace. Growls rose up behind you but you ignored them and buried your fear deep inside before glancing over your shoulder. One of the Walkers was already hopping on one leg in your direction. Melisandre still hadn't woken up from her lethargy. 

You did not have much time. 

You turned back to the flames, which seemed to whisper incantations to you. They glowed brighter, twisting in a hypnotic dance and brushing against your armour. 

Dracarys, they screamed at you. 

You did not think, for there was no time, and plunged your hand into the fire, grabbed a burning log and turned to throw it into the pile of Dead. You clenched your fist and watched as the flames engulfed the rag of one of the bodies before spreading to the rest of the pile, turning it into a pyre.  

The Dead began to sing out their agony. 

You begged them to shut up but they never did.

Several creatures managed to escape the deadly embrace of the flames but, each time, you were there to stab them with your dagger or sliced them with your sword. You defended yourself for what seemed like hours, throwing torches and firewood at the crawling corpses, stabbing the few spared with your dagger and even decapitating the rare bodies that were still whole. 

The Dead stopped singing after several long minutes and, at last, the pile of bodies came to rest. This time for good, you hoped. A naive thought, really. 

Down here, the Dead never stayed silent for long. 

You turned frantically towards the witch. 

"We must lea–" 

Air ran down your spine. You met Melisandre's wide-eyed gaze, fixed on a much lower point, and followed it. A blade was protruding from your armour. Not your dagger. Not Endbringer. A rusty, broken blade. You frowned and looked up at the witch. 

"What is–"

"Do not speak," she ordered. 

You touched your lower abdomen, suddenly dizzy. A warm liquid stained your fingers. It was only when you brought them into view that you realised what it was.

I was blood. 

Then came the pain. 

Everywhere. 

Unprecedented. 

"J... Jon..." you hiccuped. A wet cough shook your lungs. Drops of blood stained your lips and the witch's porcelain face. "I want... Jon." 

Before your frightened eyes, the witch picked up the coin from earlier and placed it in your palm. She closed your fist and enveloped it in hers. You watched her do it, eyes blurred by the pain. Your body was already giving out on you. It was cold, too cold… 

Winter is coming, your father said. 

My father is dead, you replied.

"Āeksiō ōños." 

A voice pierced the fog that was gradually inhibiting all your senses. You blinked. 

"W-what are you...?" you managed to whisper between coughs. "... doing?" 

Your breathing quickened. Your knees buckled. You tried to free yourself but the witch dug her nails into your hand. 

"Stop!" you screamed, terrified. 

"Āeksiō ōños. Āeksiō ōños. Āeksiō ōños!"

In your grip, the coin caught fire. The flames devoured the Mad King's head and, with it, your palm. You screamed, feeling your skin getting torn apart by the fire. Nausea turned your stomach. You choked on a mixture of blood and bile and staggered backwards, but the red witch did not let go. 

"Obūljagon se jēda se ānogar. Kostagon se mele zokla lilagon isse vīlībāzma se ērinagon toliot vējes. Lord of Light! Come to us in our darkness. Cast your light upon us. For the night is dark and full of terrors!" 

Everything went up in flames. 

When you opened your eyes, the dead were no longer singing. An entirely different cacophony resounded. Swords and screams deafened you. You tried to speak but your body, numb, remained motionless, your mind, confused, your lips, closed. 

Had the Long Night ceased? 

The lights were blinding. 

There was no light in Winterfell.  

Nausea turned your stomach in waves. Too weak to lift an arm, you let yourself drown in it and choked on your vomit before closing your eyes.

"...ko...b…sa?"

Someone was talking to you, you realised, but you did not have the strength to find out who. 

"Skoros aōha brōzi issa?"

Your voice faded in your throat. The metallic taste of blood colonised both your palate and tongue. You coughed, the wet sound hurting your chest, and tried to sit up but could not find the strength to do that either. 

"Stomach... Blood..." you managed to stammer out before everything went black. Again. 

[danikamariewrites]

Could you do skin care headcanons with the bat boys? I don’t know why this popped into my head but it did and I’m not complaining lol

A/n: I feel like they’re each so different with this stuff lmao

Warnings: none

Cassin

Cass just uses regular soap and a face cloth for his daily routine and it’s so frustrating bc he has nice skin

It’s definitely not smooth and soft but blemish free for sure

Az and Rhys have been wondering for over 200 years what his secret is to his skin care routine bc every time they ask he just teases them by saying “you wish you knew.” And skip away

The truth is he started stealing products from Rhys

Cass used Rhys’s bathroom at the town house one time and knew he immediately had to keep using this stuff bc of how good his skin felt after

He didn’t buy his own though, he decided messing with Rhys would be better and started stealing products if Rhys had a duplicate of it or Rhys never used it

It drives Rhys insane and he still hasn’t figured it out but Az did and he still hasn’t told on Cassian

Rhys

Rhys has a 12 step skin care routine with 100 other products that help with something

He also uses sunscreen and lip balm with spf

He definitely has one of those jade rollers, a gua sha stone, and ice face roller that he uses religiously

I also think Rhys would use under eye patches to help the bags under his eyes. He’s always up late and everyone exhausts him so he needs the extra help

Rhys also has extra fluffy face towels bc why not have them match his regular towels

When he does find out Cassian is stealing his stuff they get into an argument that Feyre and Azriel just love watching bc it’s not a conversation either of them ever thought a High Lord and General would ever be having

Azriel

Azriel’s skin is perfect and with minimal effort

He has a 3 step routine of face wash, prep serum, and moisturizer

Az started off using some of Rhys’s stuff while figuring out what worked for him or what he wanted to use

I think Azriel is a very routine person and he hates having it messed up

If he’s on missions it’s fine if he doesn’t do his full routine but he just makes up for it when he gets home by taking an extra long bath and scrubbing his face

After missions Az does face masks to relax and it’s always a detoxifying one

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: things are picking up now xx

masterlist

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

Waking up on a Friday was also the toughest thing to do. At least, it had become an issue ever since Sadie realised that the 5th day of the week usually meant the last one at kindie before she got to spend the next two days at home. In fewer words, the two year old had learned the concept of a regular working week which is a feat considering her father blatantly disregards the sanctity of a Monday to Friday work week in favour of a messier approach. Y/N was almost sure his motto was screw work-life balance; nevertheless, Sadie made it incredibly hard to bathe and dress with all her excitement with what to do over the weekend, specially since Steve was around.

She finished brushing and braiding Sadie's hair, straightening her uniform so she wouldn't get yet another passive aggressive note from the PTA mums complaining about tidy uniforms - as if it was possible to get a 2 year old to be tidy. The two went downstairs with Sadie running to the breakfast table once she saw some donuts laying around which she was sure to only eat the pink icing of and hand Y/N or Bucky the donut itself.

There was something ... off. Bucky was silently buttering a slice of toast and Steve was staring into the further wall which Y/N knew was not that interesting.

- Who died? - Y/N asked as she sat down.

- It's Friday morning, Y/N. Sorry if we're not singing Kumbaya my lord. - Bucky replied, taking a bite of his toast.

- Thank god, you can't hold a tune. - Y/N smirked, helping Sadie place a napkin on her lap. - We're gonna need to get Sadie a new uniform, by the way.

- A new one? - Bucky looked up from his plate. - Swear we bought her that one a few months ago.

- We need to get the winter uniform. She doesn't fit the one from last year and it's starting to get chilly.

- Take the AMEX and buy it today. - Bucky fished through his wallet before handing Y/N the gold card. - Oh, get her one of those lunchbox thingies. I saw some kids with them the other day.

- Hm, now describe such lunchbox thingie, Sergeant.

- What do you mean? The thingies the kids carry along with their lunchbox for soup or water. The round thing.

- A thermos? Why would Sadie need a thermos?

- Yeah Bucky, she's a 2 year old not a college student. - Steve said, handing Sadie a donut. - She doesn't need one.

- Y/N get her one. Get one for yourself too, you eat soup right?

- I have a thermos, thank you.

Sadie, as expected, ate the sprinkles and frosting off the donut and handed the half eaten donut to Y/N. She excused her from the table, kissing the top of her head and sending her on her merry way to wash her hands and get her backpack, leaving Y/N to bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen. Bucky followed behind like a puppy, carrying some leftover pastries and fruit to put in the fridge before they ended up with fruit flies.

- Are you going to Columbia today? - he said, opening the fridge nonchalantly.

- No. I'm going to come back home after dropping Sadie. I have some online meetings booked with some experts in the UK and France about some topics in my PhD and the library didn't have any available private rooms.

- I'll ask Steve to come down with me to the office then.

- That's not necessary. - Y/N loaded the dishwasher with the plates, looking at Bucky, taking a very good look. He didn't look as put together as he usually did. His hair, usually wavy yet gelled into place, was messy and he wasn't wearing his suit yet. - I'll just go to my bedroom.

- You can use my office. - was he trying to get on her good graces once more? - The internet signal is better there.

- It's your office, Sergeant. I'm not gonna use it.

- I absolutely hate it when you call me Sergeant. - he shut the fridge, leaning against it. - Look ...

He sighed, his eyes not meeting hers.

- I'm sorry. - those words came from his lips very slowly, as if it pained to say them and if Bucky were being honest it pained him to say them. Bucky wasn't sorry but that didn't mean he wanted Y/N to hate him forever. - It's not my place to interfere with your relationship.

- I know. - she shrugged. - If you think your opinion of my love life interferes with it in any way, you're wrong.

- I'm just trying to look out for you. There's a lot of wolves in New York.

- I'm not a country bumpkin, Sergeant. I know how to look after myself.

- So ... are you and Chris Davis dating then?

- That it none of your business, Sergeant.

- It actually is. - he smirked. - You see, you are my employee, he is my employee which means if two of my employees are dating they should tell HR.

- You're not HR, you're the CEO.

- Maybe I multitask, how about that?

- That would be illegal and a conflict of interests, Sergeant. Besides, why are you so interested in my relationship? Are you bored of yours?

- He's just not the type of guy I would picture you with.

Of course not. Bucky had always considered Y/N would end up with someone ambitious, someone who'd crawl and give blood, sweat and tears to get what they wanted. Chris Davis, although not a complete dunce, was not that. He was smart but he wasn't innovative - what he was good at was packaging old ideals to newer audiences. He didn't come up with new marketing ideas, nothing that hadn't been done and when he did it was usually under the guide of an executive. He wasn't his worse employee but he also wasn't his best and Bucky wanted Y/N to have the best.

- Clearly. - Y/N dried her hands. - As if you have a good track record of relationships.

- Is this about Anna? Are you still pissed off because of Anna?

- You can't treat people like crap and then expect them to forgive you.

- I know but you have to understand that me and Anna ...

- You are a father first, Sergeant. You can't potentially hurt your child because you're so blinded by this stupid notion of "a real family". You and Sadie are a real family, you don't need Anna and you can't force her. If Sadie was any older she could've gotten very hurt.

- I know but if it had gone well ...

- Bucky. - Y/N interrupted him. She didn't want to be mean, she didn't want to be hateful about a woman she'd never met, specially the woman who birthed Sadie. - If you think the woman who left a baby in front of your door and has never attempted contact would suddenly change your mind, you're naive.

- You wanna know what's funny? - he moved away from the fridge to get closer to her.

Y/N almost took a step back. She didn't like being close to Bucky, it was always weird for her. Bucky, despite being her boss, was an attractive man, an attractive and imposing figure and she sometimes would find herself divided between fear of what he would say and fear of what she usually did at night when she thought of him.

- I don't think anything is funny about that situation.

- Anna would've liked you. - he said before turning around, almost happy that he'd gotten her a bit speechless for a while, happy he got to be the dominant one for a bit. - And you would've liked Anna.

- I doubt I'd like any woman who would willingly sleep with you.

- She didn't like any woman who would willingly sleep with me either. - Y/N rolled her eyes, not really understanding what Bucky was trying to get at. He was always like this, jumped over bad moments looking for some peaceful solitude in an off hand joke or confusing statement. - Are we gonna continue being mad at one another?

- Who said I was mad at you?

- Fine, if you're not mad then take my office upstairs for your meetings.

Before Y/N could reply something regarding his very flawed logic who wouldn't win him any debate, Sadie came walking through the kitchen, dragging her backpack through the floor and her yellow raincoat so Y/N could help her onto the plastic garment.

- Hey squid. - Bucky lowered down to her help, taking over Y/N to help Sadie into her raincoat. - Do you want a thermos?

- What? - she looked at him eyes wide, probably not knowing what a thermos even was. The red head looked at her au pair, looking for clues about what her dad was talking about. Y/N just smiled and shrugged. - Yes.

- See? Told you she wanted a thermos. - Bucky picked her up to kiss her cheek, directing his voice towards Y/N.

- She doesn't know what a thermos is, Bucky. - Y/N took Sadie from him.

(...)

When she returned from dropping Sadie off, buying her an overpriced uniform and a thermos which she would probably only use by the time she was 12, she found an empty house. Bucky had made good on his promise, leaving a note telling her Steve was with him as well as where to find the key to the office. The office was usually locked due to Sadie, according to Bucky, having almost gotten hurt. If Bucky's dramatic retelling was to be believed, when Sadie had started to walk she'd manage to get into the office and grab a stapler which she was keen on using until Bucky caught her. However knowing Bucky and knowing 2 year old Sadie who still struggled to reach the handles of doors, she reckoned he was overreacting or probably saw something similar in one of those "scare the parents" TV shows.

Nevertheless, the office/study had been locked and Y/N had never had been inside, yet once she got inside, it looked like what she expected Bucky to have as a work space. It was white, bright and minimalist with a few knickknacks from when he had been stationed in Italy and some first version novels which had undoubtedly came from his mother. His desk was deep mahogany, neatly kept with all contents at a 90 degree angle.

She moved to seat on his chair, putting her laptop on the middle of her desk and logging into Zoom. She waited for the right time, her eyes hoovering over everything in his desk from the gold pens, to the tape and the photo frames. He had a big photo of Sadie when she was a newborn followed by a few others, yet what called her attention were two gold circled frames - one with a photo of Sadie and Y/N when she had first started to work for them and one of Y/N and Sadie at Christmas.

She didn't allow herself to dwell much on it, she had meetings to get to. Besides, this was nothing big. It was just a photo of his daughter that he liked which Y/N happened to appear in. She had bigger fish to fry now than wondering about Bucky.

(...)

The work day wasn't any better for Bucky. Steve was being, well, Steve and to describe Steve is to describe someone who likes playing both sides to get to a decision which everyone is happy with. He knew he shouldn't have brought up the stuff about his wife, Steve would never try to break a relationship, heck he wouldn't even think it. Nevertheless, now Steve and Y/N were upset at him - maybe they can unionise and start a little "We hate Bucky", maybe they'll get branded thermos.

- Sergeant Barnes? - his assistant knocked on the door. She was pretty, very pretty and Bucky was almost certain they'd slept together ... almost. Yet today not even the pretty assistant could sort his mood out. - Christopher Davis wants to talk to you.

- Christopher Davis? - oh yes, the best way to make his day, seeing Chris Davis. - What does he want?

- He says it'll be a quick word, Sergeant Barnes. Should I send him in?

- 5 minutes. - he sighed, closing his laptop. Maybe making Chris Davis squirm would make his day, yet again, he was sure the "We hate Bucky" club would not enjoy that. Besides, it was hair washing tonight for Sadie and last time he tried, he had ended up inside the bathtub.

Chris Davis walked into the office, the mere sight of him ignoring Bucky. Did Y/N seriously find that attractive? He was so bland, so boring, the only interesting thing about him was that he was rich and Bucky was almost certain he only finished his PhD because his godmother is Professor Anderson. Nevertheless, here he was, taking a seat in one of the chairs of his office without even asking. This is the guy who gets to see Y/N naked? Life really is unfair.

- What do you need Davis?

- I know this will probably be crossing a line but I was wondering if you could let Y/N have the weekend off.

- What Y/N? - he cocked a brow at him.

- My Y/N.

- My daughter's au pair Y/N? - Bucky rested against his chair, looking down at the man in front of him. - Why?

- I was thinking of taking her to the new restaurant downtown but she said she was busy with Sadie. I wouldn't ask but it's really hard to get reservations and I got one and I would love to take her.

Oh, this was fun.

- Y/N has always had the weekends off. She doesn't work weekends unless she wants to, specially not this weekend which I'll spend at home. Besides, she doesn't have a fixed work schedule.

- Oh ...

- Maybe fix your communication issues with her before you come and waste my precious time, Davis. You can go now.

(...)

Having meeting after meeting had really wasted all energy Y/N had and to congratulate herself for not crying when someone suggested another alteration to her project with a thick French accent, she decided to cuddle against one of Bucky's many small yet cuddly cashmere blankets in the couch of the living room watching Gilmore Girls. She was close to snoozing off when the front door opened and closed. It could be Bucky, Steve or a burglar but she was much too tired to actually check.

- Oh, Y/N, do I have some gossip to share with you. - Bucky. It was Bucky and it was the first time she'd heard him say the word gossip. That couldn't be good.

He walked with a douchey smile to stand in front of the TV, sitting on top of the coffee table and staring at her, just waiting for her to question him on it and she was much too tired to avoid playing his game.

- What? Someone you fucked got pregnant?

- Someone came into my office asking about you. I didn't know that you were gonna be busy with Sadie this week. Isn't Steve taking her to Coney Island?

- What?

- You're using me and my kid as an excuse not to go out with Chris Davis? - he chuckled. - What? Is he a bad lay or something?

- Oh shut up!

- Small dick?

- This is highly unprofessional. - she turned around to face the couch.

- And sleeping on my couch isn't? C'mon, tell me, Y/N. Are you tired to pretend to orgasm or have you just figured out he's just bland.

- You're such a child! - she got up, folding the blankets so she could get away from her but he kept going after her. - Why don't you go pick up your daughter?

- Steve has her. I wanna know more, I thought everything was okay in the Y/N-Chris relationship. Is he one of those guys who cries when he cums? Is that it? Is he a crier?

- Why won't you shut up?

- Or maybe he can't find your clit. You know, he can barely find the copy room sometimes and that's way bigger.

- He is perfectly fine, I just don't want to hang out and I didn't want to hurt his feelings but because you can't lie to save your goddamn life I know have to go.

- He's taking you to Le Coucou, you may want to brush your hair before you go. The poor thing fought so hard to get reservations but obviously you prefer to eat buttered noodles with Sadie.

- I have been to Le Coucou.

- I know, I took you there. - he smirked. - And here I was thinking you'd soon start bringing your boyfriend around.

- I don't want to go. I'm tired, I need to wash Sadie's hair tonight and that will take time and I am not in the headspace to get ready.

- I'm sure Chris would love it if you came in with a soaked white t-shirt.

- You're a dick, Bucky.

Before Bucky could continue with his teasing about it, Y/N's phone started ringing. She grabbed it from the counter and put it up to her ear as she saw Sadie's school number. Bucky watched, mostly hoping it was Chris so he could tease her some more but as the colour drained from her face, he realised he wasn't. She put her phone down and looked at Bucky.

- We have to go. - Y/N looked overwhelmed, looking around fo something. - Sadie has appendicitis. They called an ambulance and she's going to the New York-Presbyterian Hospital.

- Shit. - Bucky rushed to grab his keys.

- Where's her toy, where's a toy? - Y/N started throwing pillows around, looking for Sadie's cuddly toy.

- Y/N, let's go.

- NO! - she screamed at him. - She's scared and when she's scared she needs her toy and I knew, I knew she was a bit off when I dropped her off and I should've known better and I ...

- Y/N. - he held her shoulders, stopping her in place. - I'll go find her toy, get the car going and drive there.

- But yo ...

- I'll get a cab. Now you go and stay with her, I'll meet you there with the cuddly toy. Go.

taglist: @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx @stinkerbelle007 @maybefoxysouls @blackwood-bodecker-housewife

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite scully moments from s5

in episode 1, we see the tomato poster on her wall, and i love it so much <3

shortly after, she has a confrontation with skinner:

“and what about your lie, agent scully? what does it lead to?”

“the truth- about the men behind what happened to me, about my abduction and the tests, about being exposed to something against my will, about being put on a table and having something implanted in me and then having my memory stolen, only to have it returned along with a disease that i was given” <- the way skinner was concerned for her safety but she took it as a challenge, getting angrier and angrier throughout the scene- OOOH, it was just SO good!

and when she finds that she was exposed to the mysterious substance from the ice core, she says “if my work with agent mulder has tested the foundation of my beliefs, science has been and continues to be my guiding light… now i’m again relying on its familiar and systematic methods to arrive at a truth” <- YES!!!!! SCIENCE!!! coming back to what has saved her over and over again and has been the basis of her life's work!! and the admission that her beliefs have been challenged by the things they've found!! i love this quote so much!! i want to analyze it forever!

in episode 2, mulder arrives at her hospital bed while her cancer is worsening, explaining his theory that the microchip he found will cure her. bill gets mad at him for suggesting something so ridiculous. she diffuses the tension by saying that everyone has their hearts in the right place, but it needs to be her choice (very diplomatic; she's clearly the middle child) and then decides that she will move forward with the procedure, choosing to take a risk and choosing hope... trusting mulder... augh. the symbolism of it all...

in episode 4, scully arrives in mulder’s motel room with cheese and wine, ready to relax, with this killer line: “however, i must remind you, this goes against the bureau’s policy of male and female agents consorting in the same motel room while on assignment” (and then she is SO sad when he runs off to investigate something instead of enjoying hangout time, telling him he needs to work on his communication skills😟)

another bug fact moment with scully in episode 4 when she starts telling mulder about tick metabolism!! i love bug facts with scully!!

later, she's staring intently at the dead mothman and says “there has to be a scientific explanation for this” which is just so Her. (also, she shot and killed mothman with her amazing aim, which deserves its own shoutout)

the striped suit in episode 5......... good LORD!!!

in episode 6, she sees bill’s heavily pregnant wife tara and loudly declares “you’re HUGE!” which was SO cute

later, when she is worried that the phone isn’t working properly because she kept getting mysterious calls, she dials mulder's number. she doesn’t say a word when he picks up; she just listens to his voice. the intimacy of this moment makes me want to cry.

her episode 10 beach outfit! showing up to maine in a t shirt that says "maine", so you know she bought it before she even rolled up! renting that convertible! telling mulder that she is going to hang up now!

(i'm imagining how she was preparing for her trip and must have bought a shirt that says her destination on it, and it is SO funny/cute/nerdy)

scully episode 10 one-liners shoutout moment: “people say she’s a witch” “well, that’s not the first time for that accusation in these parts” and then later her dry remark on “new england hospitality” after someone slams the door in her face

she was SO dedicated to not getting involved with that dumbass haunted doll case. even though the local cops had no idea what they were doing and she had to walk them through it with baby steps, she kept saying “well! that sucks for y’all. let me go visit the beach now” and i was DYING. she was COMMITTED to that rest. and rightfully so!

bubble bath time with classical music and reading “affirmations for women who do too much” <3

jack the policeman takes her to get lobster and she is utterly shocked at the size of the creature, saying “that looks like something out of jules verne. we’re supposed to eat that?” <- NERD! nerd! i was blushing and giggling.

i’m barely exaggerating when i say that scully putting that haunted doll in the microwave might be the best moment of the whole show.

she also calls mulder and asks about the prevalence of evil dolls in occult literature, because she does not give a damn if this thing is a demon or a ghoul while she’s off the clock, she just needs it to leave her alone, and i respect that SO much

in episode 11, she’s very cranky to be woken up by mulder at 2:45 AM to poke around and investigate, and i don’t blame her!!

they’re trying to figure out what messages this dead hacker left behind when she points out the obvious (“anyone, uh, think to check his email?”) and the reaction from mulder and the lone gunmen is PRICELESS

(she also looks SO impressed when mulder figures out a series of random numbers is an ID for a shipping container. i swear she wanted him there)

her visible attraction to esther/invisgoth- i saw that tackling scene, the hand to the chest, the bullying (“what was your role in all of this? were you the bass player?”), scully's reaction to learning her name is esther, that face she made when esther asks “are you gonna take off my cuffs, or do i have to do this with my tongue?” ... scully. i know what you are.

and she is SO pissed off when esther takes her hostage- mulder calls while she's driving, and she picks up with the most flat and angry voice you can imagine: “where are you? it sounds like you’re driving” “you are correct, sir” 😐

but then esther starts sobbing in her car, and scully comforts her, putting her arm on her shoulder, as if moments ago there was not a gun to her face- because she is fundamentally a kind person and will offer a shoulder to cry on, even to this annoying, attractive goth lady who kidnapped her <3

(she also climbs onto a tractor trailer to tell a guy not to drive over the exploding bridge, which i thought was funny because she just gets right up there)

later in episode 11, she has to decide between killing this AI thing that will ruin the whole world or saving mulder, and she picks saving mulder with zero hesitation!!!!!!! and then carries him to safety!!! and tries to save esther, too!!!

there are SO many excellent moments in episode 12, but a special shoutout to: “first of all, if the family of ronnie strickland does indeed decide to sue the FBI for, i think the figure is $446 million, then you and i will most certainly be codefendants. and second of all… i don’t even HAVE a second of all, mulder! i’m in this as deep as you are, and i’m not even the one that overreacted! i didn’t do the (gesturing) with the thing!” <- scully being so mad she’s at a loss for words is SO funny to me!!!

she has to do an autopsy and lets out the saddest yeehaw ever recorded when her scalpel blade slips out (AND when she finds mushroom pizza in the dead guy's stomach, she thinks it sounds so good she orders some for herself... scully, you are so weird and i love you) 

then when she finds more pizza in the second dead guy, she immediately realizes mulder is in danger, and runs back to save him from a teenage vampire!!!!

when mulder renounces his belief in the extraterrestrial in episode 13, she jokingly says her work here is done and tells him to have a nice life <3

she also grows to be cassandra’s defender, sticking up for her despite her eccentric story of alien abduction after she notices the parallels between their experiences; she breaks her agreement with spender to leave her alone because she needs to warn her that if she removes the implant, she will get very sick (!! again!!! her kindness!!!)

scully IMMEDIATELY noticing that mulder is being weird as hell in episode 18, but not knowing it is because he is undercover, and straight up confronting him about it (“i expect you to give me an answer. i expect you to tell me the truth” <- YEAH, YOU TELL HIM GIRL!)

and her accusing the motel worker of giving someone else her keys so she could figure out where tf mulder went: “who are you?” “who am i? who is he?!” and of course “are you the wife?” “not even close” <- oh she was so mad she suddenly knew how to lie!!! i watched that scene three times and laughed each time!

she’s also MAD AS HELL when she gets brought before the CIA representative and skinner and it killed me: “what the hell is going on?” “i apologize for our methods. they may well have saved agent mulder’s life” “what about my life? i don’t appreciate being run off the road” <- STOP RUNNING HER OFF OF ROADS!!! she knows her value and she is worth more than that!!!

but when they ask her if she’s suspicious of mulder’s actions lately, she IMMEDIATELY denies it. she might think that he is up to no good, but how DARE an outside party accuse him of this?!? this cannot be! she will defend his honor!!

(and breaking into his motel room to fix his finger........)

doctor nerd moments in episode 18 as she looks at bacteria and says “it looks like a streptococcus!” and then realizes it cannot be that, because “strep wouldn’t be able to survive any kind of exposure to the environment” (and then her incredibly confident “my research indicates that it was almost certainly developed domestically"... yeah, dr. scully MD is ON the CASE!!!)

when mulder gets all pissy in episode 19 because he thinks skinner is sending them on a busywork trip, she sets him straight: “you’re saying ‘i’ a lot. i heard ‘we’” <- ONCE AGAIN: GET HIS ASS!

sticking by her guns in episode 19 and refusing to autopsy the body and fuel mulder’s delusions (until she later is forced to)

later, he’s being held in the hospital, and the nurse refuses to let her see him, so she bursts in with her gun just in time to save him from some evil bug creature!!!

she holds gibson’s hand in episode 20, comforting him and walking him back to his room after he underwent testing <3 and later she chats with him about how his powers work while he watches cartoons; he says she doesn’t care what other people think, and she promises that no one will hurt him </3

then she brings the data she gathered from the testing to the lone gunmen, tells them to analyze it “with an eye to the parapsychological”, AND gets the tea on diana. truly a woman of action!

[alornights]

⟢ sleepovers and treatments

➜ in which ! kyle enters the world of lush and beauty.

💌 ﹫kyle broflovski.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.

🍓 ⟡ notes — i need to get my lush life together tbh

kyle never was that interested in skincare or beauty if we're being real here, seriously guys, be honest.

of course he takes care of his hair but, very minimal.

so when he starts dating you and is invited for a sleepover at yours, he's beyond shocked at what he witnessed in your bathroom.

"Why do you have so much stuff." He murmured in disbelief, jaw dropped at the sight of your bathroom.

You laughed pulling out two face masks. "It makes me feel good, I feel accomplished and it makes me feel pretty."

He rolled his eyes, "I don't think you need all that though."

"Probably," You joked pushing him so he was sitting on the toilet, walking between his legs to start putting on his face mask, "But it's fun, it's cool, and it's trendy. And you feel like you aged down 50 years so I say that's a win."

"Oh really?" He questioned, his arms dragging you closer to him by your waist, giving you a kiss on your collarbone. "We'll see about that."

and see he did.

usually he would just, not do this. like he would just refuse.

but something about the way you just lit up whenever he let you do something had his heart melting.

so he let you put all kinds of products on his face, and tbh, took note of what might work, for research purposes ofc.

you even managed to get him to realize how bad his hair is and how he needs to bring it to its glory. lord knows how much he needed your advice on that one.

one of the main reasons he let you do this though, was because of how close you would get to him.

he loves you. which means he loves being around.

so the fact that you're so up and close to him most of the time sends butterflies to his stomach and almost gets him to giggle.

if you're standing while he sits, he'll let his hands rest at your hips to circle them or draw/write things into your skin.

extra points; he kisses any skin he sees to make you flustered.

extra extra points; you sitting in his lap so whenever he wants hell just start kissing your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

this whole ordeal lasts fucking hours. let's say you start at like 7, this shit will take up until 11 or 12.

why? either you two get distracted talking about gossip or kyle is being dramatic and refuses to do something.

"Do I have to?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow, watching you take out your nail equipment.

"Yeah, your nails are horrendous to look at. You have some hot hands, they can be even hotter with good nails." You explained with a smirk, "And it's not like I'm going to color them unless you want me to."

"... What colors do you have?"

ended up not doing any color nail polish sadly, one day you'll get him though. don't worry, time is unlimited.

"All this... for a bath." He uttered turning to you in shock seeing what you had laid out for him.

He tilted his head as he watched the bath continue to steam up. Looking to the end of the bath he realized there was a stool with a few things on it.

For one, his favorite drink was in a wine bottle. Ice and mini umbrella included. Then there was a radio with old classic hits playing, some grapes, a lit vanilla candle, and a bunch of different varieties of bath bombs.

All this, for a bath.

You simply smiled, "Welcome to the lavish life."

he will be doing this at home any chance he gets.

or he'll just go over to your place. either which works.

you tried for funsies to try and do his makeup and he simply refused knowing it would somehow get passed around.

but, he wanted to do your hair to see if he was any good (totally not bc he wanted to do it for you every day in case you didn't want to). and how could you deny your boyfriend?

you started off with braids and he was surprisingly good at it for his first time. a few mistakes but overall pretty good.

this is just a silly lil thing but i imagine the two of you listening to barbie, specifically can you keep a secret while doing your routine.

NO ACTUALLY I LIED, IT WOULD BE FABULOUS, SHARPAY EVANS. JUST IMAGINE DANCING TO THAT SONG IN FRONT OF MIRROR OH LORD. KYLE GOING ALL SASSY-

by the end of the night, he feels like a new man.

he's never, and in his words, "felt so clean"

"So...." Kyle murmured climbing onto the bed to lay his head on your chest.

You smiled immediately letting your hands play with his curls, "Hmm?"

".... When are we doing this again?"

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 15

Part 14

There is officially StevexCC in this. If that is not your jam, skip this part bc that's all that happens here.

Eddie and Steve lied together in bed, Eddie rubbing his back and Steve playing with Eddie's hair. Steve had said he could come down for the movie and the topic had turned to their opinions on different movies.

"You're gonna hate me, but...I've never seen all of Lord of the RIngs", Steve admitted.

"Now why would I hate you for that?", Eddie asked.

"Because you treat the books like a holy bible."

"All I heard was I get to see you experience the full trilogy for the first time someday. Which is the best present you can give me."

Steve raised a brow. "Better than me dressing up as a sexy character for you?"

"I take it back. If you dress up as Uhura or something, I'd adequately lose my mind."

Steve kept that bit of info in his pocket for later. Soon, the conversation veered back to what would happen tonight. Eddie had talked to his friends about it.

"I told them all about what you like and what you don't care for", Eddie said.

And just the idea that they were discussing him like that had Steve getting warm. He insisted on washing up beforehand though. It had been days and while he and Eddie were drunk on the scent, it wouldn't be quite as pleasant to other noses. At least how it was now.

Steve could've cried as he watched the water fill the gigantic bath tub. He'd seen it already, of course. But this would be his first time actually bathing in it. It was big enough to fit two grown men comfortably and that was just a dream for Steve.

He let out a purr as he got inside. Eddie followed and they took their sweet time washing each other. Of course, the touches lingered, and Steve wanted to take it further. He got hotter thinking of the possibilities of tonight. And Eddie could tell, so after a while, he changed his touches to something more chaste.

"You're being so good right now, sweetheart. I can tell you're saving it for later." Eddie rewarded him with a kiss and after soaking for a while longer, they drained the tub and got out.

Eddie kept it simple with a t-shirt and some sweats. Steve wore a pair of boxers he had packed, but topped it with a sweater Eddie owned. He looked himself over in the bathroom mirror when a thought came to his mind.

"Daddy...", he called out in a soft voice. "I have an idea..."

-----------------------

Grant was the first one down, seeing that Eddie and Steve were already taking up space on the couch. Steve's head was in Eddie's lap, Eddie's fingers carding through his hair. They looked the picture of comfort, especially with the blanket covering Steve's legs.

"Nice to see you both again", Grant said, taking the recliner on the side and putting his feet up.

"Nice to see you too", Steve said. "Thanks for scenting all those things for me", he added as Jeff and Gareth came down.

"Our pleasure", Jeff took the other side of the couch, letting Steve put his feet in his lap.

Gareth didn't reply as he sat down on the floor, legs stretching out under the coffee table. If Steve reached out just a little bit, he could touch the curls on his head. He kept his hand playing with a frayed thread on Eddie's pants though.

The movie of the evening was Fire and Ice. A decent flick, but one that Eddie had introduced to Steve already. So as his alpha stroked his hair, Steve found it very easy to slip. To let the final embers of his heat rise up for a final crescendo of the night. His hips shifted a little. He felt so empty. He needed... he needed...

Eddie's ears perked as he started to hear the tiny whimpers his baby was trying to keep down. He was trying not to come off as needy but that wasn't necessary. Just as Eddie had answered the call, he was sure the others would too. Eddie's hand moved from his hair, down his chest, to under the blanket.

Steve's breath hitched as he was simply cupped under the covers. It had been his idea to go completely pants-less for the evening, which was why they had to be first downstairs. Steve also insisted on putting a towel under himself, not wanting to mess up what was probably a very expensive couch.

Eddie held him for a moment, feeling the heat coming off him before rubbing slowly, prompting Steve to pull his feet off of Jeff's lap and open his legs. It was faint, but the scent of aroused omega began to waft through the room. Steve's lips parted as his pants got a little louder. Jeff was the first to take his eyes off the tv, able to hear clearly how wet Steve was getting under the blanket.

Steve turned completely onto his back to look up at Eddie from his lap, eyes pleading. "Daddy", he whispered, hips jerking as his clit was played with.

"You know baby, I think now's a good time to train the boys in taking care of you."

Steve nodded eagerly, slowly pulling the blanket off to reveal himself, turning his gaze to Jeff as he spread his legs even more. Eddie teased at his hole but didn't go in. He kissed the top of Steve's head.

"Remember to use your words, sweetheart. There's no mind readers here."

"Wanna be filled. I feel so empty", Steve whined.

The air got thicker with Steve's scent and Jeff started to palm himself through his pants. Eddie finally pushed a finger inside but he knew it wouldn't be long before Steve was wanting for more.

"Watch closely Jeffie", Eddie said as he sunk his finger in deep. When he pulled out to the fingertip, Steve's hips rolled with it and Eddie pushed back in.

"Shit", Jeff said as he squeezed himself.

"Didn't I tell you he had a pretty cunt?"

"So fucking pretty", Jeff praised, making Steve release a moan as Eddie removed his finger completely. Jeff moved closer between Steve's legs. He stroked his thighs before gently rubbing the folds of his pussy. Steve's hips started to roll again and Jeff bit his lip as he sunk a finger into his heat. Eddie cupped the back of his hand, guiding Jeff in how to finger Steve.

Steve reveled in the look of rapture on Jeff's face, knowing it was his body's doing. He looked over to where Grant was sitting and saw that he had pulled out his cock and was stroking it slowly. He couldn't wait to get it in his mouth. He couldn't wait to-

"Fuuck", his thoughts were cut off when he felt two hands on him at once. One was Jeff, thumb circling his clit as he fucked him slowly with two fingers. The other was Eddie, kneading at his chest roughly through his sweater. Steve's head tossed and he saw that there was only one that wasn't looking at him right now.

He reached a hand out to pet at the back of Gareth's head. His eyes were still trained onto the tv and to be truthful, Steve's vanity wouldn't take it.

"Gareth, look at me, please."

"...Is it really okay?", Gareth asked in a soft voice.

"He wouldn't be asking if it wasn't", Eddie assured him.

Slowly, Gareth turned his head and looked at Steve's face first. He ventured to move a little closer as Steve gripped the back of his head in a soft hold. Gareth's eyes roamed from his torso to his legs, watching as Eddie pulled the sweater up, showing up more of his body. He pushed his hand below the waistband of his pants, rubbing between his legs. Steve stroked Gareth's hair, almost in time with the way Jeff was stroking him.

With a bit of coaxing, Steve was able to bring him in for a very light kiss, just the barest touching of lips. Gareth didn't press and Steve was too caught in the middle of a moan as he felt himself getting closer. Then, just before Steve came, Jeff slowed his thrusting and pulled his fingers out. Steve let out a whine, about to complain when Eddie tugged at a nipple.

"I know Stevie, you wanna be filled. And I think Gareth is the one to do the job."

Gareth's eyes widened as he snapped his head to Eddie. "Me? Dude, I don't think-"

"Please?", Steve begged. "I need it, please."

Gareth's eyes looked between them both before landing on Eddie a final time. Eddie gave him a nod, assuring him that everything would be okay. He had only told Steve that Gareth had his reasons for being nervous. But Gareth would have to show him himself. Jeff got off the couch and sat on the floor by Steve's legs, giving him a good view of his cunt still. Gareth stood and pushed his bottoms down. Steve licked his lips as it was revealed to him.

He instantly understood why Gareth would be wary, but to Steve he was simply looking at a gorgeous t-dick that he needed to get inside him some kind of way as soon as possible. His jaw dropped a little and Eddie crooked a finger forward at Gareth, who stepped closer. Just enough to paint Steve's lips with the tip of his dick and just barely slip it inside.

They let out twin moans and Steve felt himself drowning, just as Eddie said he would. He could've cum like this probably, just from sucking Gareth off, but his alpha knew what he needed more and pulled him off by the hair.

"That's a good baby", Eddie praised. "Gareth, go ahead."

Swallowing thickly, Gareth moved to get on the couch, settling between Steve's legs. He hovered over, lowering his hips slowly. When he finally made contact, they both let out a sigh and Steve was already undulating, trying to get more.

"Slow down, angel. Let Gare set the pace", Eddie said. He glanced up briefly to see both Grant and Jeff stroking their cocks as they watched Gareth and Steve rock against each other. He got a little dizzy himself, thinking about Steve letting one of them take his mouth. But for this first time, in the privacy of their home, he wanted Steve to be as loud as possible, with nothing muffling the beautiful music he was making with his body.

Eddie could tell the moment Gareth slipped his dick inside because Steve let out a choked moan and Gareth started to fuck him in earnest. The wet schlick sounding between them drowned out anything coming from the tv. Steve's arms went around Gareth's neck, pulling him to lie right on top so that he could nose at his neck.

Steve was so gone, he didn't know that Eddie had beckoned Grant over to be closer until he was already there, jerking himself by Steve's head. Just as he thought how perfect that it would be in his mouth, his orgasm crashed through him and he felt Gareth's cock pulse inside of him and moments later, Grant's cum painted his cheek and nose. It was so much, it was almost enough, it was almost-

"J...Je..f", Steve tried to speak through panting but it was difficult when his mind was so deeply clouded by pleasure.

Thankfully, somehow the meaning got through and he felt Jeff's fingers on his tongue, the alpha giving him a taste of the cum right from his cock. With that, he had the scent marking of all three on him and his omega felt sated. If he wasn't officially pack before, he was now. And Steve never felt more at home.

Hoo boy. It was hard to write this part one-handed but boy howdy we got it done!

Part 16

Tag Team CLOSED

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie  @sllooney  @starman-jpg  @oxidantdreamboat  @xxbottlecapx   @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast  @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds  @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord  @beckkthewreck  @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx @lilpomelito @goosesister @libraryofgage @aresthelostboy @royjaimie4eva @silenzioperso @she-collects-smut @lost-wondering-souls @eddielives1986 @marklee-blackmore

[katyacannon]

10 Tips for Coping w/ PMDD

But first, what is PMDD?

~ Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) is a severe form of premenstrual syndrome (PMS) that includes physical & behavioral symptoms that typically resolve with the onset of menstruation.

1. Dealing with depression - focus on distraction, clean your space, watch a movie, try to stay out of your own head for the time being.

2. Dealing with anxiety - do whatever you need to do to feel safe, just be sure to communicate with those around you, for example sometimes I lock myself in my closet for a bit. Doesn't have to be that extreme, do what works for you.

3. Dealing with insomnia - work out just before resting, turn off all devices at minimum an hour before you go to bed, try drinking tea, and avoid caffeine. also know that laying awake in bed is better than staying up active, it's better to get some sort of rest than none at all even if you're not asleep.

4. Dealing with irritability - journal to find the root of what's frustrating you, or if it's too upsetting, focus on distraction again. Get out of your environment for a few minutes, give yourself space to breath and time to react while heightened.

5. Dealing with brain fog - drink lots of water and get lots of fresh air, and write notes to help aid your memory. Make limited plans, or plans for the future, while dealing with episodes and remind yourself that it's okay to take breaks and come back.

6. Dealing with pain - warm baths, and practicing low impact movement like yoga, walking, dancing, or swimming can help. Also experiment with what sort of diet helps minimize bloating for you (avoiding inflammatory foods and finding nutrient dense foods you enjoy is a good place to start). I highly recommend turmeric tea for lessening bloating and increasing joy, here's my recipe -

Turmeric Tea

+ 2-3 tsp turmeric powder

+ a dash of black pepper

+ 1 tbsp lemon juice

+ agave to taste

+ 1 cup of green tea

+ separate cup of ice

= add ingredients to the cup of ice in the order listed above, stir, and enjoy!

7. Dealing with distorted self image - challenge cognitive dissonance within yourself, point out inconsistencies and remind yourself of your worth. I promise you, you are valuable and worth it.

8. Dealing with impulsivity - move through the impulse rather than act on it, sit with the discomfort of holding back and focus on something else, do not allow your mind to spiral closer towards the impulsive decision, allow yourself to find comfort in the resistance.

9. Dealing with suicidal ideation - focus on sensory awareness and distraction, as well as the gray areas of life rather than the extremes you may feel are weighing you down. Hold an ice cube until it melts, lay on the ground and stare at the universe staring back at you. Know that there's still time.

10. Affirmations for people with PMDD -

♡ I am safe, secure, and protected

♡ I am not alone in my struggles

♡ I am in control of my thoughts

♡ I will ask for help when I need it

♡ I have already survived my worst days

♡ I can embrace life's uncertainty

♡ My emotions don't define me

♡ My pain doesn't define me

♡ My struggles do not define me

♡ I know this pain will subside

" For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. "

- Jeremiah 29:11

[roselyn-writing]

Ardin Kayuel.

Full name: Ardin Martin Kayuel

Nationality: Italian.

Skin tone: Porcelain.

Hair colour: Grey and white colour.

Eye colour: Grey-Blue.

Accent: Italian.

Face-claim: Luca Marinelli (his VA too)

Languages: English, Italian, French.

Age: 90 Y.O. 7th of May (1111, In Virginian time & year).

Favourite food: Pizza, Bruschetta, Pasta, (Pretty much Italian cuisine), Vanilla gelato.

Least/Hate: Pineapple Pizza (Don’t ever ask him why).

Hobbies:Playing cards, practicing his magic, collection gems, Playing Harmonica/ Armonica instrument, Listening to italian music. Singing Opera, listening to opera.

Aesthetic: Italian, Music, Opera, Food aesthetic, Grey and Silver aesthetic, Good luck four-leaf clover plant.

Favourite colours: Sky Blue, Grey, Silver, White, Black.

Clothing: Roman Robes, Clothes, Black jeans, jackets, casual outfits.

Weapons: none, atm.

Magic: Virginian magic, Manipulate Luck and probability. He fires colourless/invisible blasts and spells; some could say he use telekinesis too. He also steals people luck; resulting in their demise, (No luck no life).

Titles: The Luck Incarnate, Il Dio Di Fortuna (The God/Lord of Fortune)

“I do not need luck because I’m luck itself.”

_________Ardin Kayuel quote.

Ardin’s Lore

Born in the majestic city of Zolin’Tarah. Ardin’s family worked in the mines. They managed to profit off it. Digging out rare and expensive gems and crystals. Selling it to the people who want to buy it. Ardin’s father worked as a miner too to honour his father legacy as the greatest miner ever.

When, Ardin was born, His family's social and financial status was great, it changed for the better once Ardin was born.

His father; Archie was the happiest father ever as his wife, Miranda. They loved Ardin and took care of him. They saw him as their world, They took care of him, They taught him and raised him well.

But, Good things never last, The majestic and Great city of Zolin’Tara was attacked by the Giants — Known for their cruelty and unmercifulness. They breached open the heavy and magnificent walls of the city. Breaking it as if it were nothing.

Then, They killed the people and stocked their bodies for food. The once majestic city bathed in blood and the corpses of its people, Little people managed to escape and among them is Ardin.

His parents, Shielded him and sacrificed themselves so their precious son could escape and live.

After Ardin and a few people who escaped. They sought refuge in the nearest city. Its name is Mika’Asla, There, He vowed he would kill all the Giants, In his heart; There is such unweightable hatred for the Giants.

He met the infamous Giants Slayer, Maghda Saliem, He was inspired by Maghda to kill the giants and wipe them from the face of Virginia.

Once, He was collecting herbs for dinner, Some giants found Ardin and they charged at him, intending to kill him.

Ardin ran away. He managed to run as fast as possible but the Giants were relentless, They intended to kill him. He passed the safest rope bridge, The people named it ‘The Safest Route’

He looked over his shoulder; The giants were still behind him. Desperately, He flicked his finger. One of the ropes that holds onto the wooden blank. Loosened itself, Making the Giants fall and meet their demise.

People saw this. They were astonished and shocked. The bridge never fell and it was a good thing it fell because if it weren’t the Giants would enter the city and kill the people. Then, The people knew that Ardin manipulate luck and fortune.

They named him ‘II Dio Di Fortuna’ which means the entity of luck in Virginian language. In another incident, The Giants also tried to attack Ardin and nearly entering the city, Ardin used his luck magic to move the icy texture of a big ancient mountain, causing an avalanche and drowning in the Giants under the frigid and merciless ice; killing them in the process.

The people of Mika’Asla, Started to see him as a god and they started to worship him and venerate him. Initially, He refused to be seen and treated as a divine being. He was humble and kind. He helped people by doing many things, Mainly, Healing the people, and Finding their lost items and possessions. Saving them from disasters, using his magic to make the lands fruitful and rich, so that they can cultivate it, He is protecting the city from Giants and other threats. And many, many, incidents that the people started to see him as a god.

Years later, He killed many many Giants and other deadly creatures to protect people and his beloved city, Pride, Arrogance and Vanity started to creep into his heart, slowly polluting his mind and affecting his kindness.

He started to become arrogant, prideful. Seeing himself above all people and creatures. Despite all this; The people still love him and worship him.

Finally, He was humbled by Aliyaa, She managed to beat him. She didn’t rely on her magic and gifts unlike him, She relied on herself and her skills.

He apologised for being an arrogant and prideful person, He saw the error of his ways.

He vowed to do better and change. To find redemption; he decided to let go of the past by apologising to people, Declaring that he is not a god or a divine being. He is but a man who was bestowed upon such powers.

The people understood Ardin, They accepted his apology and forgave him. They even thanked him for having the courage to apologise.

Then, Ardin left Mika’Asla city, He decided to join Aliyaa and the others, so that he could find the redemption he seeks.

In Earth-World or simply Earth, He works a physics Teacher in a school. The same one Eevie works as a an English Teacher.

This is Ardin lore! Hope ya like it! 🖤🖤🌹❤️😊.

[corrunuptia]

@yellowfingcr

♚;  

                                           footsteps hurried behind great wooden doors. the crackling of the flames along the stone walls. the wind howling fiercely, biting cold at this time of year. all of these sounds clear like ice over a pointless cacophony of speech.

‘ we need act swiftly, commander francis. ‘tis well known now that unrest in yharnam is building. the bridge to cainhurst should be closed with all due haste, to avoid insurgents stoking the lower classes. ’

‘ and leave us without the grain and foodstuffs that sustain us through winter? let us not act foolishly and mobilize precious troops in fear of mere rabble- ’

‘ then are we to wait for a revolution, like crabs in a boiling pot? ’

the argument goes on and on around the long table. annalise sits at one end, head resting on her hand, her attention entirely elsewhere. her ministers quabble ceaselessly - why, if she does not stop them, she fears they could continue going until they both died of old age. she then reconsiders this fact: if they keep her locked in this parley hall one more hour, she will have them both killed.

of course, there would be unrest in yharnam. mere mortals, partaking of a holiness they do not deserve, playing house with the children of gods. they are fools to the one - even the creature that brought to her the delightful blood that awakened the great powers of her line. for what devil or witch was ever so great as the first queen herself, whose burning ichor flowed in these veins, the great mother of phtumeru? to think it was that filthy betrayer who brought it before her.

annalise’s disinterest begets the attention of the young lord annenkov, son of the present lieutenant of the same name. 

‘ your highness, far from me the thought of ordering you, but your thoughts on this matter would be appreciated. i simply wish to make certain your silence is not interpreted as permission to go on forever by our eloquent debaters. i am certain we all have better things to do today, yourself chiefest of all, ’ he smiles. 

proud little swine, she thinks to herself. a good looking young boy, all too ambitious for his own good in a nation where indulgence is one's right and one's death. she remembers the young lord asking her for a dance at the grand ball where he made his début, drunk with blood and the elation of her attention. she thought she had crushed his confidence under her heel sufficiently that night, but it appears it wasn’t enough. she sighs, redressing in her chair and dismissing the boy’s comment with a wave.

‘ thou wouldst do well to teach thy son some manners if he is to be welcome at our inner court, lieutenant annenkov. thy loyal service has afforded you many rights, but our patience comes at too high a price for even thee.’

a delicate hand comes to rest on her forehead, ruffling ash blonde hair.

‘ though impertinently, the young lord brings a fair point. we do not wish to spend overlong in circular discussions with no end in sight. ministers, we ask that thou maketh thy point more efficiently, should this issue arise again. how long ago hath either of thee visited the city, we must ask? the one whose thoughts we should hear on the matter is not ye, nor ourself this time. ’

annalise turns to her left. in the corner of the parley hall, nearby the great stained glass window that bathed it in green and blue, an outsider had been allowed to sit. ministers and officers alike had voiced much discontent, surely leading to the guest's silence, but annalise would not hear their complaints. this was her court, after all, and if she wished for a dog to sit on her council, so it would be - a cur would at the very least have no eyes for the throne; better than some of the rats that already spoke at the table, hungry for scraps of her power.

‘ lady heysel, thou hath sought asylum here from yharnam not too long ago, yes? if there is aught thou knowest of the situation there, we would much like to hear it. do not be shy overmuch! we have allowed thee to attend our court for this very reason.’

[nyxvamps]

Children of The Rivers of The Underworld:

All:

- one of their children’s powers, like many children of the underworld, is manipulating darkness and shadows. such as shadow traveling or making them tangible.

- they are usually less likely to attract monsters and other beings that can sense demigods because of this sense of danger that they put off. not only do they have more ‘dark’ powers, their godly parent is also a more dangerous and cruel being to mess with than an olympian god or goddess.

- they don’t usually make it to camp half blood because of this and they are more likely to live in the mortal world unbothered or staying with their godly parent in the godly society within the underworld.

(i had some trouble thinking of things for some of the rivers so if yall have any ideas, feel free to comment them)

Styx:

- the children of Lady Styx are naturally stoic and no nonsense. they prefer honesty and genuinity within their relationships

- on that note, they are some of the most trustworthy friends you will ever have because they always keep their word.

- they can hold a grudge like no other. they will never forget the wrongs you’ve done to them or others

- be careful when making promises with these people because sometimes, they can actually hold you to your word no matter what you do to get out of it.

- they can also tell when someone is lying or making false promises. you can’t get away with anything with these guys.

- they remember everything. from big life changing moments to that time you tripped getting out of your car 3 years ago.

- they can easily bath in the styx itself without pain but it does not effect them the same way it would other beings. it doesn’t make them invincible against outside attacks permanently it it can make them very hard to harm for a short amount of time.

- they can do this to themselves without the styx but it only lasts minutes at most. very good for moments when you need to avoid getting hurt at just the right moment.

Cocytus:

- the children of Lord (?) Cocytus may be some of the most dangerous when pushed to use their full powers.

- yes, pain and misery can be next to impossible to deal with, but when you feel grief, this all encompassing grief, it can make you give up. and that’s when you know it’s over.

- these children can make you feel grief for things you know you would never do or see. people you haven’t even lost. opportunities you never had. it will take over your every thought and drive you to nothing.

- coincidentally, they are really good at hiding their own grief and feelings when necessary. they are also, really good at

- they also have control over cold and ice. some say that this river was like a cold river of ice and their children have expressed that in their powers.

Phlegethon:

- the children of Lord Phlegethon are some of the most unpredictable when it comes to personality and morals.

- as the river burns out impurities from the body, these people tend to want to ‘burn’ impurities, or injustices, within the world around them. now there is no set list of what is considered unjust because everyone has their own moral codes so these children could become the world’s greatest hero or its most greatest villain.

- they have control over fire and it tends to move like water.

- now it can act like normal fire. burning things, cooking, heating, etc. or it can be used to heal. just like the river does. it is painful but it works almost as good as having the actual water from the river there.

- they can bring you physical pain with the blink of an eye. it starts with initial eye contact but afterwards they just need to keep you within a certain distance.

- they can make mental pain happen as well. think of a time when it was like your heart hurt from being so sad and depressed about an event or interaction and then times that by 100. it will make you wish for death.

Acheron:

- The children of Lord Acheron have great control over negative feelings. as the river of misery, they can bring forth these horrible feelings in others.

- they themselves tend to have neutral, somber personalities. while they themselves might not feel misery, they know exactly how it feels and how it makes others feel

- they can ruin your mental state so quickly. looking into their eyes as they activate their powers is a sure way to become so depressed and distressed that you see no reason to live anymore.

- these children tend to have some control over winds and air currents. (the river was known as the ‘windy river’)

- they can also put off an aura that makes those in its range feel horrible. it can be both physical and mental.

Lethe:

- The children of Lady Lethe actually have very good memories. it’s just sometimes that information escapes them or they can be oblivious sometimes.

- they can cause forgetfulness in others, usually for short periods of time. it takes a lot of personal energy to make it permanent

- they can make people forget certain things instead of their entire memory. so if they did something stupid infront of you, it’s gone in seconds.

- they’re the type of people that will remind you of things (names, events, appointments) you keep forgetting even when you don’t remember telling them about certain things.

- the lethe does not work on them at all. for it to work they would need to be submerged and consume the waters. even their mother does not know why

- lethe children tend to have dreams of the past often. as the lethe is where the dead drink to forget their pasts, sometimes those memories appear in the dreams of her children.

- children of Lady Lethe can also alter memories. it can be challenging but they could potentially alter what you remember of past events and interaction.

[star-dust-stuf]

The Beatles period comfort hcs

warnings: mentions of blood, vomiting

a/n: again, me being a hopeless romantic may it spread through the scrolls of tumblr bcs why not?! Not my gifs, as always, enjoy loves!

Gogi

oh nawww!

it would break his heart to see you in such a situation

he never wants you to feel as though you can’t talk to him about it and never wants you to think any lower of yourself

he always brings you blankets and a heating pad

he’d help you in the bath, make the cramps go away

he understands the pain and knows it’s absolutely horrid

baby tries his best to fill you up, keep you hydrated

mood swings, he goes on with them never gets mad if you tend to start a fight or if you just need a good cry

dear lord this man is over the moon for you, rubbing your belly through your cramps

singing his song to you, soft voice and slow guitar “here comes the sun and I say, it’s alright”

he can’t help but be a bit snappy when you ask if you’re fat “babe, it’s okay to feel that way, you’re bloated!” or “eat whatever the hell you want!”

“here, squeeze my hand, love��� he’s never been around real pain before, seeing you in it breaks his heart and he tries anything to help you relieve it

queue the clap for baby gogi because girls, admit it he is the painkiller

Ringooo

he’s so proud when you make it through each day

he’s never really seen anyone in any physical pain so if he’s a bit shaken up to see you crying in a ball, tell him it’s alright

little bean has it bad for you, so bad he wishes he could take all your pain and put it in a jar

he may not look it, but man’s would beat up anyone who’d make fun of you for your period or say that it can’t even hurt that bad

he hums to you through the nausea and if you do end up puking, god this man

he rubs your back, tummy, puts your hair up, *crying*

he makes you comfy, sings you tunes and hums louder through each aching cramp

“keep a hold of my hand and just breathe.” *screams*

he makes sure you’re hydrated and fed well. he understands if eating is the las thing you want but he got you chocolate ice cream… so

“I’d like to be- under the sea” he sings as he rocks you in his arms, your in his lap and just being there makes you feel ten times better

cramps are not fun and he knows, he knows because of that face you make

he laughs when you make jokes “do you need anything, love?” he’d ask “a gun” you’d reply

he lets you play with his fingers and his rings as his hand rests on your belly

high expectations and that’s ok, pain isn’t worth the shame keep on, keep on

Jon

he is your sunshine, your only sunshine

he knows it’s that time when you walk out of the bathroom with a giant ‘diaper’ on

“come here sunshine, get warm!” He snuggles you, makes you feel loved

this man- this man is the reason you don’t mind having a period anymore, he makes it less sucky

he makes you a warm bath to sooth your aching body, he sits outside the tub, hand in yours

hes the type of guy to put your pad in your underwear before you get out, few it’s just too much work!

If you are having bad pms let me tell you, he’s head over heels

pms, he knows it’s all mixed up inside and he comforts you even if it all comes out in clumps

he sings to you of course “i love you, yeah yeah yeah, I love you”

sleeping with pain sucks so he lends himself for your body pillow

throwing up is the fear, but he’s there, coaching your breathing, holding your hair back, putting a wet cloth on your neck

you play with his hair as he puts his head on your stomach hoping the pressure will help the cramps

top it with a cherry, kiss him

Paulie

bby is so good with that time of the month

he gets you anything, anything! pads, tampons, hot water bottle, blankets, snacks

he knows what you’re thinking, “am I fat?” he’d go absolutely crazy

“eat whatever, and how much you want!” he’d make sure you’re hydrated too

he also sings to you, of course, nice and soft, he knows you have a headache, “oh darling, please believe me- ill never do you no harm”

he makes you a warm shower, or bath if you prefer, he helps you in and out

he’s the kind of guy to light some candles, perhaps do some yoga if your feeling it teaches you some tricks to help the pain

he’s not squeamish, if he sees some blood where it shouldn’t be he won’t get mad at you “darling, it’s out of your control, don’t cry!”

in a snap of a finger he has you spilling your feelings, he doesn’t want you to bottle it up, it will only make your mood swings worse

feeling nauseous is the worse, he understands but he keeps you busy, focusing on something else, like playing with his hair

if out of the sudden you just grab his hand, leg, arm he lets you do whatever to cope

baby loves you and is always there

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

"A welcomed chill"

Pairing: Arien x Tilion

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Temperature play (Ice/Cold) | Fingering | Kissing | Explicit language | Dirty talk | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word count: 1.1k Words

Summary: a. After having been separated for so long, Tilion and Arien reunite in Valinor once more. 

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume. 

Arien shivered. The ice left a damp trail as it glided down her belly, melting first to water and then slowly turning to steam from the sheer heat radiating from within. Tilion reached into the bowl beside him and picked up another fragment. 

"More?" He probed, weighing the misshapen ball of ice in his hand. It was bigger than the one before it, clear as spring water, and smelled of cold mountain air. 

This one should last a little longer, he thought. 

Arien licked her lips and nodded. "Please."

He obliged. Placed it between her breasts and dragged it down, past her ribcage and lower still, and she trembled, welcoming the icy chill. Her eyes found his. Molten silver darkened with each moment, with each tremble and quickening breath. 

"I have missed you," he whispers. 

"And I you," she replies without hesitation. 

They have been apart for too long. Far too long in her own mind. Now the darkness that threatened to dim the new lights was gone, captured, and imprisoned within the void. They were free. Their role as protectors was no longer needed. They returned to the world they once walked in and found their way to each other like they did, many an age ago. Now they were here, within the heart of Valmar itself, alone in the chambers they once called home. 

Tilion watched as the ice slowly melts over golden flesh. The water bubbled, then hissed, then turned go steam before it was gone altogether. Tilion did not reach for more ice. He dipped his head, and ran his tongue over her heated flesh. It was as sweet as he remembered it. Then he stopped, and used his touch instead.

His palm wass cold. Not as cold as the ice, but cold all the same. It drifted over soft curves and lush hips, over skin that had been bathed in the heat and glory of the sun. He explored still, silent, and in wonder, unable to put into words how beautiful Arien was. 

"You stare, my lord." Ripe little lips curved into a most wicked grin. "Is there something about me that draws your eye?"

Tilion flushed. Then smiled. "Everything about you draws the eye. Have I not told you this before?"

"Never. You wound me, my lord."

"Tis a most grievous mistake, sweet lady. One which will never be made again."

"Good. Or else I shall have to chastise you the next time you give offense."

"And here I thought chastising was my province."

Arien laughed. It is a bright, golden laugh that brings back memories of a time spent running through lush fields beneath starlit skies and resting beneath the golden leaves of Laurelin. Memories of that laughter were all that kept Tilion aloft sometimes. He did not know how much he had craved to hear that laughter again until now. 

"Indeed." Arien agreed. "Continue, my lord."

Tilion smirked. He continued to touch her, drinking in the breathtaking glory of her body: the fiery golden hair, the eyes that held quiet flame, the tapered hands, and elegant fingers that would, at one time, knit around his own. 

And now that time has come again. Tilion leaned down and kissed her. His finger slipped into the wet heat between her thighs. Arien whimpered, and arched her back. Her nails dig into the sheets and the featherbed beneath them. 

"There," she whisperd in his ear. "Touch me there. Right there. Oh."

Tilion drove into her, again, and again, and again, his kisses drowning out her cries. When was the last time they kissed like this? Touched each other in such a manner? 

Before the darkening, Arien thought. That was when. 

Tilion could not come near her after that, not after she was tasked with guarding the sun. The heat from the new light and the heat she carried within simply mingled and grew from the sheer proximity alone. Anything, or anyone, who dared to come near would be scorched and blackened. It had grieved her deeply, to be so near him and yet so far apart. 

Now it is over. Thank Eru for that. 

She shivered again, her nerves tingling all at once. Tilion had drawn back. He was putting yet another clear piece of ice to use. He turns to look at her, his eyes now clouded with lust. Arien nearly howls from the loss of his touch. 

"The chill is wonderful, to be sure, but it is not enough. I need you," she pleads. "You. All of you. Please."

Tirion chuckled softly. "Far be it from me to deny you, especially now, when we are finally together after many an age apart."

His mouth opened over hers. His lips and tongue were as sweet as she remembered. Tilion kisses with heat and wildness and deep yearning; it leads to her unraveling, to fresh arousal pooling between her thighs. Her hands tremble even as they guide his cock inside of her. Her legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. They are as smooth as silk to him, as warm as a fiery sunrise. Tilion made a whimpering sound when he was sheathed within her completely. He took a moment to gather himself and breathe. He then moved, gently at first, and tenderly.

She feels so fucking good. With each clench and flutter, with each sigh and mewl, he spiraled and slowly lost himself in her flesh. So fucking good.

"Does this feel good?" He asked. A familiar pair of arms slid around his waist. Nails raked down his back; the pain left only heightening his arousal. His groans were husky. They vibrated softly against her throat and served to magnify her own pleasure.

"Yes." Arien trembled every time he rolled his hips against the insides of her thighs and sank himself into her core. The cold coming off him was now stronger. It jolted her and ignited the white-hot sparks that she had hungered to feel for longer than she could even remember. "But I want you to fuck me harder. Harder, my lord. Please. Please."

That is enough for him. Tilion was relentless now, his cheeks clenching with each thrust. Arien moaned, bucking and writhing beneath him. The heels of her feet dig into his back, pushing him deeper, urging him to go even harder, and faster. Tilion gladly obliged, rising to his knees and taking her with him, taking her higher and higher until the world went dark in her eyes and dissolved all around her. She cried out his name. The sheer desperation of it stunned him and stole his breath. He jolted, his fana pulled taut like a bow string. Tilion could not hold on any longer. He yielded, burying his face in spills of thick, fiery hair while he splintered and emptied himself inside of her. 

Arien felt like she was drifting, like she was slowly floating back to the earth on a gentle current. She sighed in contentment and opened her eyes. Tilion was still there, holding her; the cold radiating off him was now gentle and soothing. He shifted and laid her back in bed. He then lay beside her, his arm draped lazily over her belly. 

"Let us stay here a while," he entreated. "And not leave anytime soon."

Arien consented. She did not want to leave his side. "Nothing would please me more."

Tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[screampied]

so many smut fics end w like oo round 2 ?? haha suggestive everybody asking for pt 2 but like where is the aftercare !!

& i feel like i dont see enough like realistic aftercare which is like whatever its literally hot anime men i could do a whole thing abt specific jjk men aftercare ok what im saying is like really aftercare most the time breathing & like feeling sticky

whispering too but its not like oh u did so good love monologue its just like lazy kisses & whisperinf & not being able to talk & when u do its like i love u or just oh my god or fuck then having to go piss so u dont get a utility idk im being annoying im going to bed if i die before i wake pray the lord my soul to take 🫧

aw i feel you :’) aftercare’s rly the icing on the cake, i need to write aftercare headcanons one day for the men 💓💓💓.

trueeeee !! i feel like each individual character would be so sweet with aftercare. praising you, pampering you afterwards, cleaning you up, taking you for a nice warm bubble bath omg my heart aches. ur not being annoying 👹 aftercare is just as important and i agree <3 !

[bitter-limelight]

This was supposed to be a day 1 prompt but I absolutely forgot I had it WHOOPS

More tidbits from a Regency AU

---

First snow at the manner was coming quick, and this was the first time Daniel saw the preparations from this side of its great walls. Growing up the son of the stable hand, winter meant stacking gay along barn walls, breaking ice in the troughs each day, changing the blankets over the horses, being send to help the groundskeeper clear off large banks of snow should the master of the house need to leave. Hard work for anyone let alone a boy as slight as Daniel, a boy as prone to fits of delusion and screaming and forgetting where he was,  but now everything was different.

It had been only four months since Marius had ordered Daniel inside, 4 months since he'd found him nearly nude by the banks of the river, shirking his job and his father's crop to steal berries by the cool water. Four months since Daniel learned to tend Marius at his side as his personal valet, and not much under four months since he'd found Marius in his room and in his bed. Four months since his life changed entirely, and despite the chill in the air,  he had never felt so warm. On the inside anyway; on the outside he was feeling the winter snap as much as anyone. 

He watched the groundsmen carrying in straps of split firewood and begin to fill the bins by each hearth with them- it was among Daniels job to direct which rooms would be shuttered for the season and used only when necessary and which needed to be ready for show. Light, airy summer curtains were changed out for heavy lines velvet drapes, in the masters customary deep red, and the carpet covers of the same color were being brought out to protect the pale rugs from fireplace soot. Daniel himself has spend the day in his Masters private rooms taking care of these tasks, wiring out his warmest wools and furs on the balcony to rid them of storage must, laying new blankets on the beds. He oversaw the ordering weeks ago of candles and oil  as the days grew short but the houses needs did not dwindle, and he made sure the lanterns were cleaned from residue and sparkling like new. Finally he was checking windows for any cracks or splits in the wood. He found none; Marius kepts his staff well paid and they in turn kept the home in good repair. 

On the horizon the sun lowered, and all afternoon the sky had hung heavy with the threat of snow. The cook was convinced it wouldn't be cold enough; a slushing, miserable rain, she said, maybe a freeze after midnight, but not snow yet. Daniel found himself a little disappointed by this; it was only two weeks out from Christmas and he wanted it to show already, damn it. 

Daniel and most of the others worked clear through supper, losing track of time easily in a world that grew dark well before 5pm, and he swore to himself as the mantle clock in Marius' room chimed 8. Marius wouldn't be long now, not this time of night when he had been up at 5 that morning to ride into town. He kept watch out the window for his horse, smiling when he saw his master arrive, and set the water in the fire to hear for his bath. 

Ten minutes later Marius was at their door, and Daniel was immediately in his arms. 

“Haven't even gotten the door closed yet, my love,” laughed Marius, the rumble in his voice tired but so obviously happy to be home with his boy. Daniel smiled, pulling him inside and closing the white panels doors behind them. 

“As though you haven't kissed me in the kitchen just feet away from being caught,” he teased, standing up tall to kiss Marous full and hungry. “How was your visit?”

“Dull and exhausting as ever,” groaned Marius as Daniel began to undress him, sliding his jacket off his broad chest and shoulders. “Another man who hopes I would take an interest in wedding his daughter.”

“Well you are quite a talk, you know, my Lord, being 40 and unwed,” Daniel pointed out. Marius huffed.

“You know it is not the company of young women I prefer, Daniel.”

“No, only young boys,” he laughed, poking fun at the 21 year difference in their age. Daniel was grown, but so had been Marius when Daniel was even toddleing, something he both gently teased him for but which also drove him wild. He loved the lines at Marius' blue eyes and the wrinkle between his brows when he was concentrating, the gray streaming back from his temples through his blonde curls. Daniel couldn't get enough of him, and took pleasure in touching him as he undid the buttons of his waistcoat, then undid his tie and collar. His lord was a well built man, and he made no move to hide his admiration as he opened his shirt and trailed his hands down the firm curves of his chest and over the hair of his stomach. 

Marius sighed appreciatively as Daniel reached the front of his breeches, his interest showing despite his tiredness. “Well? What are you waiting for, boy? Undress me, bathe me.”

“With pleasure my lord,” Daniel whispered back, and off came Marius’ pants, his drawers, his stockings, and Daniel was proud of the roaring fire he had going, strong enough that Marius didn't shiver despite standing bare in his room. “Come.”

The bath was hot under Daniels work, several kettles of boiling water added to cold from the pump to make a wonderful place for Marius to rest. His gratitude was evident as he stepped in, the warmth soothing muscles sore from a long ride and a longer day.

Daniel drew a chair up and set to work immediately, taking a shaving of soap to begin down his lovers well muscled back. “It's to snow tonight,” said Daniel, lavishing his hands over his shoulders and neck as well.

“Don't worry my love, I will keep you warm,” said Marius, and Daniel flicked the back of his ear. Marius was nonplussed, and laughed. “Well what sort of master would I be if I could not keep my lover safe from the show and the cold and the frost?”

“Frost is beautiful at least,” said Daniel for black of anything else to say- flirtation was still new to him, and felt forbidden, even in the safety of their rooms. “The patterns of it across the windows always looked like lace to me. And now here I wear lace that is spun just as delicate.”

Marius leaned back in the tub so Daniel could wash his chest, and smiled. “And you wear it as beautiful as every bough of the trees and every crystal cut window pane,” he swore to Daniel, who could only blush as the chill creeped in closer outside. 

[eileenslibrary]

Leave A Traveler’s Path

Pt.7

Warnings: not really and warnings needed just a soft day with Krall, and some nudity but not sexualized, past trauma/angst, reverse comfort, and mention of sexual intimacy 

     You awake to Krall running his hands up and down your side running over your hip to your stomach before pulling you flush against him “good morning my dear” he says. You turn over to face him, you look up to see his hair in a messy man bun you smile “you should put your hair up more often” you say hoisting a leg over his hip, he smiles before leaning down to kiss you “we should sneak out and go bathe before everyone else wakes up” he whispers to you. “Sounds good” you say remembering the activities of last night, sitting up to grab your pack, Krall follows sitting up behind you back still flush against you “here take one of my shirts” he says handing you one of his blouses. You take the fabric from him throwing it over your nude form, he throws on a shirt and pants and grabs some things before helping you up “ready?” he asks, you nod before following him out of the tent. 

     You walk down to the creek, you sit on a rock dipping your toes in to feel the cool water “how is it?” Krall asks stripping once again grabbing the soap and hair brush “cold, but I have you to warm me” you say looking over your shoulder at him. He chuckles before wading into the water until it was to his hips “you comin’ in?” he asks raising a brow “yes just let me adjust for a moment” you say lifting the shirt up and over your head before throwing it to the side. Krall wades over to stand between your legs “what are you doing?” you question as he dips his hand in the water. He looks at you before gently rubbing your leg with the cold water on his hands “oh lord that’s very cold” you say your voice going to a higher pitch when his hands trail to your thighs, he chuckles before dipping his hands back into the water, his hands move to your back as he begins rubbing up and down, then to your shoulders, over to your stomach and chest, to your upper arms, down your forearms to your hands, up to your neck. He then holds your cheeks dipping into a tender kiss with your face in his hands “I’m gonna get in now” you say before sliding off the rock into the cold water shivering slightly. Krall guides you into his arms as he sits on a ledge in the creek, he pulls his hair from the bun before running the brush through it “here let me” you say grabbing the brush from him. You slowly untangle the knots until you can run your hands through it easily, he lathers soap onto you both before running the cold water over your shoulders. 

     You both watch the sun slowly rise you trace over a scar on his neck he breathes in harshly at the feeling. You look at him “are you okay?” you notice tears in his eyes “I’m fine just remembering” he says putting his hands on your hips pulling you closer, you put your head in the crook of his neck kissing up and down his neck gently. Tears escape from his eyes running down his cheeks onto your shoulder, he buries his head in your neck “let it out” you say stroking his back gently he tightens his grip around you sobs escaping his lips, you hum a lullaby to him. “I’m so weak” he mumbles you pull him as close as possible “you’re not weak Krall” you whisper “I could have prevented it (Name)” he whimpers “I could have been with my clan if only I stopped him” Krall sobs into your shoulder “who?” you ask “my brother” you gently cup his cheek “what did your brother do to have you so devastated” you say wiping some tears that were rolling down his cheeks “he was the reason I was in the ice” he whispers “he gave me that scar”. You pull him into your chest “but Krall you have built a new clan and family for yourself, and I know I can’t relate but what I’ve seen from you is nothing but strength and a good leader for your friends who travel with you. “You are an amazing leader whether you think or not” he pulls your head to his and kisses you “what have I done to earn you in my life”, you both finish washing up dress and head back to camp so you both can cook up breakfast for the group.

You both cook up some bacon and toast, the group falls into silence. you and Krall look at each other he grabs your hand bringing up to his lips letting his tusks brush against your knuckles, you chuckle quietly before sliding closer to him. Before long you’re packing up and heading out, Krall sits behind you his strong arms around you as he guides the beast. You lean back onto his chest “you okay?” he asks “yeah just trying my best to be comfortable” Krall chuckles before telling the beast to start trotting. 

You all stop for camp heading to bed after dinner, in the middle of the night you awoke to commotion. . .