#hopefully to be used for a winter embroidery

[dilatorysloth]

Bullfinch / Domherrar (studies for embroidery)

If you’re reading this, show me some art you’ve made.

If you haven’t made any art, make some now and show it to me.

[cdragons]

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao.  Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī.  Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros.  Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 6 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 6th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

Over the course of the ensuing weeks, your certainty only grew worse: you were developing feelings for Lord Shouto.

You sent another letter to Camie, ashamed to tell her that not only had you continued the scheme against her express wishes, but now you were falling for the worst person possible. She wrote back, heartbroken to hear it, demanding once more you put a stop to things before they went too far.

But you couldn’t help yourself. You would never again get time with Lord Shouto–you wanted to revel in it as long as you could.

You reassured yourself that he meant to marry the princess–a rumor that was only growing stronger as the season crept onwards with no hint of a proposal to anyone from his corner–and he meant only to use you as a deterrent to the other scheming misses and matchmaking mothers crowding the parlors and assembly rooms of Musutafu.

You hoped that once your own scheme was uncovered he wouldn’t hold it against you–would understand that you’d liked spending the time with him, but had never desired to trap him in any sort of romantic understanding.

Lord Shouto made things so much more difficult for you by continuing to be so horribly good. He was kind and attentive, and so unexpectedly funny, you couldn’t help but fall harder.

He sought you out many times a week, taking you for several more promenades, insisting on a dance at every ball, and even took you riding in the park. He even let you take the reins when you’d reached an emptier stretch of road where no one might see you driving, showing you how to steer his set of bays and smiling that gentle smile when you got the hang of it and urged them to go faster.

He called several times more, bringing another bouquet of flowers for you–tiny bright jonquils tangled with orange winter cherries, and hedged with short-trimmed ferns–that you managed to squirrel away into your tiny bedroom without the Utsushimis seeing.

He was on your mind so constantly that you found yourself ducking into the haberdashery on an afternoon Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui had invited you out. An idea seized you as you had looked into the window, and you found yourself drawn over to the small selection of handkerchiefs for sale.

You didn’t have much in the way of spending money, sending most of it back to your family, but you had just enough to buy a linen square bordered in a dark blue. Miss Ochako and Lady Asui watched you almost too knowingly as you did.

You worked late into the night that evening, tucked up in your bed with embroidery thread and a book you’d ferreted out of the late Mr. Utsushimi’s study propped open in your lap–a Greek primer, with a tiny section on Ancient Greek. You found that their phonetic system did not align quite so neatly with yours, but you made do, stitching the closest approximation of Lord Shouto’s name in the Greek alphabet–how it might be spelled had he found himself there.

You hoped he would find it fun, and not too silly���-and that he would understand that you had liked him enough to think of him, even when your deception was uncovered.

Giving to him was another matter, however, as you found yourself too shy and girlish on the several occasions you saw him next. It stayed tucked away in your reticule, burning at your wrist.

You finally resolved to give it to him at a dinner party at Lady Cathleen’s, where you might hopefully be able to flee to the other end of the table and not speak to him for the rest of the night. Caroline had informed you that tables were set according to rank, meaning the Utsushimi family would find themselves at the foot of the table, with Lord Shouto all the way at the head.

In preparation, you donned the most secure of Camie’s gowns—which was not saying much—but you felt better for the more protective, higher neckline, the muted blue of its color which would draw little attention your way, for it almost bordered on the drab palette of married women or spinsters. You knew Camie had chosen it for the contrast it would draw to her largest, sparkliest choker of paste jewels, which you carefully ignored in favor of her smallest pendant.

You would be as well hidden as you could manage, at the other end of the table, and with any luck Lady Cathleen would dress her table with elaborately tall candlesticks and floral displays you might duck behind.

In fact, once you thought of it, you were almost certain you could hide Lord Shouto’s gift at the table itself, that you might not have to confront him in person with the full force of both your stupidity and your regard for him. You wouldn’t even need to witness his expression upon its receipt.

It was with that thought that you stuck to the edges of the drawing room as guests crowded into Lady Cathleen’s estate, drawing as little notice as you could. You requested the restroom as soon as you were able, instead sneaking off towards the dining room to scout out Lord Shouto’s place.

Except—as you scanned the head of the table–his place card was nowhere to be found. You knew he was coming–Mrs. Utsushimi hadn’t shut up about it, and besides that, Lord Shouto had told you as much himself. Brow furrowing, you wandered around the table.

A little shocked thrill went through you to see his name next to Camie’s, towards the opposite end of the table he should have been. Camie’s name also had managed to come unmoored from the Utsushimi block that occupied the end of the table, several seats away from Caroline and Mrs Utsushimi.

You wondered at the specificity of the mistake, and then a thought occurred to you.

Well–if there had been a mistake, it only made sense to use it to your advantage.

You quickly tucked your gift under Lord Shouto’s place card, very carefully that it might only be seen once he’d moved it. And then you took your own place card away and carried it down the table to Caroline’s spot. You’d just managed to replace hers with yours when a low voice carried across the room.

“I suppose I should be less surprised to find you in another deserted room.”

You froze, arm still outstretched over Caroline’s seat, your eyes darting up to the entryway. Lord Shouto stood there, looking as preternaturally handsome as ever. The candlelight glinted off the white of his hair, burnishing it gold, and the shadows danced in the hollows of his cheeks, the divot under his full mouth. He was dressed in a dark gray dinner jacket, a cravat tied immaculately at his throat.

He took a step into the room, a white eyebrow raised.

“Lord Shouto,” you said hoarsely, quickly whipping Caroline’s card behind your back. Perhaps he hadn’t seen what you’d been up to. “I—it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then you are not rearranging Lady Cathleen’s seating placards?” he asked in his smooth baritone. He continued into the room, circling the table to you.

A hunted feeling crept over you. “I–it’s funny it should look that way…but I, um…”

Lord Shouto drew closer, leaning in, and a gloved hand touched the place card in your fingers, tugging it gently from your grasp. He glanced down at it, a tiny smile touching his mouth. “You’d not been about to seat Miss Caroline next to me, had you?”

His gaze darted over to the middle of the table where his placard sat, like he’d already known there’d been some mistake with his placement.

Hot embarrassment burned its way through your veins, and you snatched Caroline’s place marking out of his hand. “As a matter of fact, the only empty spot is next to you,” you said, attempting to make your way around him to put it down.

“And that would not be because you had already moved another place card, would it?” Lord Shouto asked mildly, stepping in front of you so that you almost headbutted his chest. You backpedaled wildly, almost tripping over the hem of your gown.

“I—what proof have you?” you demanded, trying your best to sound as though you hadn’t just done exactly that.

Lord Shouto’s smile widened, a rare sight, and it sent a lick of heat right down your spine. You clutched a chair, aware of how stupid it was that a smile was about to send you into a swoon.

Those long fingers reached out and pulled Caroline’s place card from your grip again, and Lord Shouto produced your own, switching your places once more. “The proof that I asked Lady Cathleen to seat me here, with you,” he said simply.

A horde of butterflies exploded in your chest again, and your face went hot.

How could he say things like that so easily? An ask like that was a clear declaration of his favor–something you very much did not deserve, all things considered.

“Your Grace,” you said, in protest.

Lord Shouto’s smile flashed white in the candlelight, a clever half-moon. “It was you who doubted I might reign in my presumption by the end of the season. You should be pleased to find yourself proven right.”

Pleased didn’t quite cover the breadth of emotion you were feeling–embarrassment, guilt, and pleasure all warred with one another in your chest.

“Really, I was doing you a favor,” you insisted, gesturing at Caroline’s place setting. “She is a great conversationalist, and very pleasing to look at.”

“As you have said perhaps hundreds of times,” Lord Shouto acknowledged. “It is just as well I can look at her from across a table.”

You frowned up at him. “I am beginning to think you do not mean to find a wife, as you’d hinted.”

Lord Shouto bent his head so he could lean closer, and your hip bumped the table as you stepped back, nervous with his sudden proximity.

“Then you did take my meaning that day,” he said, his voice low.

Your skin prickled at the layer of intent in his tone.

“And I am only trying to help you now,” you told him. “You’ll get very little mileage out of me as your dining companion, considering I cannot wed.”

“Cannot,” Lord Shouto murmured, as if turning the word over in his mouth.

“Caroline can, however,” you continued as though you hadn’t heard him. “And I understand she is a very desirable match. She’s acquired several admirers, you know, and you won’t want to dally. There is a Mr. Awase who is very keen.”

“You say it as though you are not a desirable match,” Lord Shouto said.

His words were like a thunderbolt, striking through you. The very idea of you as a desirable match!

You laughed, but Lord Shouto’s face did not change, and he pressed even closer, close enough that you found yourself trapped against the table. Lightning zinged in your veins as you registered the heat of him over you, your blood singing with the thrill of a man so close.

“You do not believe so?” he asked. He was close enough that you could feel the exhalation of his words on your mouth.

Your head swam with the ridiculousness of the question, and the press of him so close. You scrounged around for an appropriate ripost, but then Lord Shouto’s face drew even nearer.

Your breath seized in your chest, and you stared silently up at him, heart racing.

Outside, a loud laugh sounded, startling you, and you jumped, almost smacking your forehead into Lord Shouto’s nose.

He dodged neatly, smiling ruefully and stepping away. But there was a light in his eyes like he was strangely satisfied–as though he’d confirmed something.

“We should go, lest we are discovered here, and your reputation compromised,” he said. “You should take your leave first.”

You could tell he meant to prevent you from switching the place settings again once he was gone, and you squinted at him suspiciously. He looked far too pleased with himself, and his smile seemed to grow a fraction wider. It was your observation that his eyes slivered into little crescents when he truly smiled that finally sent you stumbling out of the dining room, your heartbeat tripping over itself.

You found your absence had gone unnoticed when you arrived back in the drawing room, though Lord Shouto’s entrance was intently noted by every single set of female eyes. Several fans came out, flapping back immaculately coiffed curls, and Lord Shouto’s face went politely blank.

You stifled a laugh at his expense.

Eventually you were let into the dining room and you found yourself at Lord Shouto’s side once more. Lady Cathleen’s eyes flickered interestedly over you and tried not to look too strange or suspicious under her attentions.

You were pointedly studying the table linens with avid interest when you felt Lord Shouto stiffen beside you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him draw the handkerchief out from under his place card, and you found you couldn’t lift our eyes to his face, too anxious of his reaction. You adopted a sudden fascination with the centerpiece to your opposite side–until a gloved hand touched yours in your lap.

You startled, almost knocking over your water glass, fingers reflexively seizing on the hand that had touched you.

You glanced up at Lord Shouto as his own fingers tightened on yours, and found him smiling that tiny, private smile of his. His gaze was almost molten in the candlelight.

“I see rearranging the place settings was not your only objective,” he said. There was a touch of pleasure in his voice, so rich and low. The sound made your blood fizz like a bottle of champagne had just been poured down your veins.

His hand shifted, his wrist resting on your thigh, and your breathing went shallow at the feeling of a man’s hand where it had never been before.

“I–you might think it’s silly—” you groped for something to say.

“I can think of no gift I have ever liked more,” he said.

The praise flooded through you in a warm wave of pleasure, and your ears went hot. “I…should like if you would think of me fondly, after this season,” you said.

Lord Shouto’s brows creased, and that full mouth pursed a little in thought. You tried very hard not to think of kissing it.

“You say that as if you do not plan we should ever see each other again,” he said carefully.

A hot stab of panic lanced through you when you realized you’d almost hinted at the dissolution of your scheme. You searched for some response.

“I–there is only one objective to the season,” you said. “After a match is made, I’ll have no reason to return to Musutafu, unless my husband’s estate is at a close enough remove.”

“I thought you did not mean to marry?” Lord Shouto asked. You almost jumped again when a server reached between the two of you to serve the first course–a pale soup swimming with carrots and rice.

Fuck, that was right. You had said you’d not meant to make a match. “Do not worry, Lord Shouto. You are safe from any attempts on your virtue.”

But Lord Shouto did not look at all reassured by this. “Then you do wish to marry?” he asked.

You did not see a way around answering truthfully. “I–well, yes, eventually,” you admitted. You had at least had hopes at one point, before meeting Lord Shouto, before understanding that no other man might ever measure up. Gentry though he might be, you’d never felt as light-headed, as happy, as surprisingly comfortable in another person’s presence.

You had not meant to feel quite like this about him.

“One day, I should like to,” you said, trying not to sound morose. One day, a long time from now, perhaps you would have enough distance that you might once again find the prospect of another man palatable.

Lord Shouto’s gloved thumb smoothed over your knuckles, and you realized you’d still been gripping his hand. You reluctantly let go, but he seemed to feel no need to move his hand.

“One day and the end of this season sound rather distant from one another,” Lord Shouto said.

You stared into your soup to avoid having to look at him, guilt settling heavily in your stomach. “It is complicated,” you said. “All there is to know, my lord, is that I plan this should be my last season in Musutafu. And that I should like you to think of me fondly, as I shall think of you. For all that you seem to insist on dwelling in darkened rooms, you have been a bright spot in this season.”

You pointedly studied the silverware, wanting to start in on your soup to halt conversation, but found that you could not remember how Caroline had instructed you to dine. Was it outward in, or inward out?

Your hand hesitated over the silverware, and Lord Shouto’s finally rose from your lap to press gently to the outward-most spoon.

“It’s this one,” he said, leaning in. “Outward in.”

That smile was back on his mouth, and it felt both private and conspiratorial, somehow. Like you shared a secret, though the only secret you had, really, was the one that he absolutely could not have known.

“Of course…” you said primly, like you’d just momentarily forgotten. But your heart warmed a little with his assistance and you couldn’t help the smile that wormed its way across your face in answer. “Thank you.”

Lord Shouto’s eyes seemed to linger on your mouth for a long moment, before he murmured, “Anything I may give you.”

And for a minute, it sounded like he meant more than just help with the spoon. Like he was offering something much larger, much more secret.

But of course that was nonsense. You waved him off, answering in turn. “You are kinder than you know, Lord Shouto. I will remember that too, always.”

You started in on your soup, feeling Lord Shouto’s eyes lingering on you still.

But for the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just had a conversation with him whose parameters you did not truly fathom.

That Lord Shouto knew something he couldn’t.

But it wouldn’t matter, with the season so close so its end. You would just have to last a few more weeks.

[thewriterthatghostedyou]

The Dragon and the Wolf

Chapter 4

Heyyyyyyy sorry for the delay everyone! I’ve been busy with work and setting up my bearded dragon’s enclosure (his name is Caraxes). But here is chapter 4, I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warnings: non con acts, I used the google translate equivalent for High Valyrian so hopefully it’s right but who knows tbh, black mail (kinda), mean Aemond, and vouyerism kind of?

Divider by @zaldritzosrose

The rest of the day went fairly smoothly after your brother’s match with Aemond. He went on to fight a few more rounds before getting knocked off his horse by Prince Daemon. Jacaerys also lasted a bit longer before losing a match against the Baratheon lord.

Aemond did end up reappearing for another match or so, but he too was bested by the Rogue Prince who ended up being this tourney’s winner. Aemond never once looked in your direction.

While the men fought below you, you found plenty of time to converse with the two princesses and even with the Queen. You found out that Princess Helaena enjoyed insects and embroidery and while you were not particularly fond of bugs you did enjoy the same craft. Princess Rhaenyra spoke to you about her dragon, Syrax and you listened intently as she described what it was like to fly across the skies.

When the festivities ended, you found yourself walking besides Helaena through the Keep. “I particularly enjoy the gardens.” Helaena answered when you asked her where she preferred to spend her time.

“Then you will have to show them to me tomorrow!” You chirped with a smile. The Green Princess was a kind soul and you found that you enjoyed her presence. “Will you be attending your father’s feast tonight?”

The princess shrugged slightly. “I’ve never been very good with that many people. I only plan to stay as long as I need to.”

You nodded as the two of you stopped in front of your door. “Of course. In any case I look forward to seeing you again, my princess.” You gave her a small curtsy that caused her to blush slightly.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please just call me Helaena.” She shook her head and tried to pull you back up.

You nodded again. “Well then I will see you soon Helaena.”

The Princess nodded excitedly before hurrying away to her own chambers. You heaved an exhausted sigh thinking about the night ahead of you.

Adianna and Ursa worked as quickly as a winter storm to prepare you for the feast that was in a few short hours. You were grinning from ear to ear as your hair was elegantly pinned up and you were helped into a beautiful white gown that had flared sleeves and a gray belted chain.

After the two women left you twirled impulsively in front of the massive floor length mirror in your room. You felt pretty. You weren’t usually a fan of the Southern style, opting instead for the traditional furs that the northerners were known for but twirling in this dress made you rethink your sense of style.

When you met up with Cregan, you gleefully took his arm before heading to the main throne room. The once intimidating room had been transformed into a welcoming dining hall with extra lit candles and rich decorations lining rows of tables. In between the rows in the middle of the room there was a wide space where many of the lords and ladies were mingling together to the soothing melody played by a nearby group of musicians.

Craning your neck slightly, you were able to find Helaena at the front of the room seated near her husband who seemed like he had already begun indulging in the available wines. She gave you a sweet smile before her attention was pulled away by her mother.

On the other side of the table you noticed Rhaenyra and her children all seated besides each other. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as Jacaerys flashed you a quick grin.

You felt even more at ease when you were unable to find Prince Aemond in the crowd.

“You really like him. Don’t you?” Cregan followed your gaze back to Princess Rhaenyra’s oldest son who had risen from his chair and attempted to pass through the crowd.

“I do. I think.” You shrugged, red in the face. “From what I’ve seen of him he is kind and honorable. Someone father would have approved of.” You squeezed Cregan’s hand reassuringly as the Prince got closer.

“I agree.” Cregan nodded solemnly, saying nothing else as the Prince appeared before you two.

“Lord Stark, lady Stark.” The two of you bowed slightly to him as he continued. “I’m so glad to run into you here. I was hoping to ask your sister for a dance.” He gave your brother a hopeful smile.

“Of course.” Cregan released your hand from his side returning the reassuring squeeze you had just given him. “My sister loves to dance.”

“Well I must confess I’m not the most skilled on the dance floor so you may have to lead the way, my lady.” You giggled quietly before taking his outstretched hand.

As he led you through the crowd a lively song started and you soon found the two of you swirling around the floor along other couplings. “My brother doesn’t respond well to being lied to, my prince.” You laughed as the two of you performed a particularly skilled twirl.

“Whatever do you mean?” Jacaerys gently grasped one of your hands before placing his own hand on the small of your back. A teasing smile graced his face as he led you into a slower dance as the song changed.

“You are a wonderful dancer. Something my toes are very grateful for.” The two of you swayed softly to the rhythm, forgetting everyone around you as you finally had a chance to get to know each other.

“My late father, Prince Laenor, was an exceptional dancer.” He said softly. “He taught me the basics when I was younger. We would dance in front of the hearth before bed and my mother would scold him for riling us up but smiled as she did so.”

“He sounds like he was a wonderful man.”

“He was.” Jacaerys replied. “He would have liked you. I know that’s completely strange to say, we barely know each other and yet successful marriages have been made on less.” He gave you a hopeful look and you nodded excitedly. “What I’m trying to say is-“

“Nephew.” You recognized the low voice as Aemond appeared behind you. “My lady Stark.” You gave him a polite bow while Jacaerys glared at him.

“Prince Aemond.” You came crashing back to reality as he held out his hand.

“I hope you do not mind if I steal the lady away for a dance.”

Jacaerys rolled his eyes at the statement. “The lady Stark and I were actually in the middle of-“

“Wonderful.” Aemond grabbed your hand tightly before pulling you away from the brown haired prince.

The taller man finally stopped on the other end of the floor before placing his hand in yours and the other on your hip. Similar to what Jacaerys had done but lower than the first man. “As much as I appreciate the invitation to dance, my prince, Prince Jacaerys was-“

“Your brother fights well.” He said, sharply interrupting you before you could protest. The two of you went through the motions in a waltz-like dance as he spoke.

“Thank you, my prince. You fought valiantly as well.” You found it interesting how the man in front of you only had one eye and yet you could still feel his stare boring into you as if there were two.

“I was told you are a fan of the histories.” Aemond continued, turning you so your back was to him.

“Indeed I am.” You didn’t know where this stilted conversation was going and hoped that Aemond would also see this and finish the dance in silence. Unfortunately the man continued on.

“It’s interesting.” Aemond scoffed as you caught another glance of Jace during a twirl. “I was under the impression that the Starks of all people would be the least likely to wed themselves off to a bastard.” You blinked at his treasonous words and huffed at his sudden switch in demeanor.

“You are lucky that no one heard that.” You whispered harshly. “A man lost his head today for saying such a thing.”

Aemond grinned at you as you finally seemed to take interest in his conversation.

“Well I had no other option seeing as you avoid any other conversation topic. Tell me were you always this closed off or is it my eye that turns you away?”

You rolled your eyes at him incredulously. Of course he would blame your disinterest in him on his eye. But to be honest, you didn’t find his handicap disgusting or revolting, it was more the personality behind it that soured your opinion of the blonde prince.

“I’m disappointed that you think so little of me, my prince.” You wondered how long this song would last and prayed that it would end soon so that you could return to the brown haired prince. “It is not your scar that sours my opinion of you or any other superficial attribute, it is what’s behind that scar I do not like.”

Aemond flinched slightly but you continued before he could speak. “I have only met you twice counting this dance here and now and both times you have been selfish and arrogant. I should not be surprised, you are a prince so perhaps you have never been kept from something you wanted, never told no. Well, allow me to be your first.” The song ended and you stepped back from him, shock showing in his eye.

You shook your head slightly before making your way towards the exit. ‘I just need some air.’ You thought to yourself trying to ignore the anger rising within you.

Keeping your face relatively neutral so as to not attract the attention of the other partygoers, you forced your way out into the cool night air. Perhaps you would check out the gardens that Helaena had spoken so much about.

As your feet carried you further and further away from the revelry, you paused slightly hearing several heavy footsteps behind you.

You tried to turn around, but gasped as your head hit the wall with a dull thud and you found yourself eye to eye with an angry Aemond Targaryen. “Our business is not yet concluded, lady Stark.” He grinned at you as you blinked at him in shock.

“My prince-“

Aemond shushed you quietly, keeping a firm grip on your upper arms as he pushed you further into the stone wall. “I would be more quiet, lady Stark.” One of his hands snaked across your body before grabbing the skirt of your dress and beginning to pull it up. “We wouldn’t want anyone to stumble across us in such an… improper position.”

“Aemond please… I’m- I’m a lady I can’t-“ You whispered harshly. You tried not to focus on the feeling of your skirts being shoved up by his long fingers and prayed to any god that would listen that he would stop.

“I know I know.” He cooed softly pulling your small clothes to the side. “I won’t take your maidenhead tonight. I just want a taste for now.” His fake sympathetic tone made you start to shake as he brushed his fingers lightly over your mound. He said he wouldn’t fuck you tonight, but his promise for the future made fat tears roll down your cheeks. You regretted ever opening your mouth as his touch invaded all of your senses.

“Gods you’re divine.” He buried his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply as he rubbed your clit in a way that made your legs start to buckle.

You didn’t feel pretty anymore, you didn’t feel as hopeful as you had been when you entered the feast. All you felt was disgust as your core became slicker.

“Good girl.” He soothingly whispered in your ear as his fingers slipped into your heat and you fought to stay quiet. “Ñuha sȳz riña.” (My good girl) The High Valyrian rolled off of his tongue easily but you had no clue what the man had said, only hoping that it wasn’t as cruel as the act he was performing now.

You moaned involuntarily and felt him smile against your neck as he twisted his fingers deeper inside hitting a spongey spot that made you see stars. “Gōntan ao really pendagon i’d ivestragī bona nādrēsy emagon mirre hen bisa?” (Did you really think I’d let that bastard have all of this?)

“W-what are you-“ Your eyes were half lidded as you heard him whisper into your neck before peppering it with small kisses. He shushed you again and the dam you had built finally broke.

You let out a breathy moan as evidence of your arousal coated the Prince’s fingers.

“Good work Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf). You gasped as he removed his fingers from your core and pulled them from under your skirts to reveal his glistening fingers. “I will let my mother know that you have accepted my proposal of marriage.”

“What?” You sputtered out, breaking out of the stupor he had placed you under. “I have done no such thing!” You took a deep breath to keep yourself from yelling. “You assaulted my virtue, I would never marry you.” You cringed as Aemond shrugged before sucking your spend off of his fingers.

“Then you will have to explain to your brother and any potential suitors why we were seen together performing martial acts.” He dried his fingers in a crease of your gown before grabbing your chin tightly and angling it upwards. You felt ice spread through your veins as you made eye contact with Lady Redwyne, a lady even you knew as a gossip. The older woman paled before raising a hand to her mouth and running back into the ballroom.

“It is interesting, really. For someone so adept in social situations that Lady Redwyne always steals away to that very balcony a few hours into the feasts.” He released your chin and patted you softly on the cheek. Before walking towards the main room.

“You set me up.” You whispered brokenly. Feeling more tears fall as you realize that everyone would know about this by the morning. House Stark would be disgraced. Your brother would be disgraced and it was all your fault. You wished you had tried harder.

“I did. You left me no other choice.” Aemond paused and gave you another searing look. “Of course the Lady may be persuaded to keep this particular piece of information to herself if the Queen were to ask and provide compensation. Something that I would be all to happy to arrange for my future bride.” He gave you an expectant look, waiting for you to crumble.

Your hands trembled and you shoved them behind you, trying to appear braver than you were. “Fine.” You conceded with a defeated sigh. “Please make this go away.”

You didn’t look up from the floor, didn’t want to see his smug face but you could hear it in his voice. “As you wish Ñuha zoklītsos.” (My little wolf.)

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag list 🏷️

@dixie-elocin

@shari-berri

@ka1afbr

@sepherinaspoppies

@gorlillaglue25

@indycaelumskywalker

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7 linked here

Chapter 9 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, blood, description of sewing up skin

The weather took an unpredictable turn, sheets of rain cascading down on the castle where the sun shone hours earlier. If this was any other afternoon you would’ve welcomed it with open arms but the Scouts were out on their expedition, deep in Wall Maria. Everyone knows it’s too dangerous to evade titans, much less fight them, in conditions like this. You tried to quell your worried heart by throwing yourself into your newest project. You were using Levi’s leftover winter pant fabric to create arm warmers for yourself. When you were done cutting the pattern and got your pieces ready to sew, you felt a dull ache in your chest as you realized this quite possibly could be the last bit of Levi you’d ever have. You did your best to quiet your thoughts as they helped nothing, focusing on your hands as they pushed fabric under the sewing machine. With that part over, you decided to embellish your new accessories with embroidery. You opted for the Scout Regiment symbol on the back of the arms so hopefully you could wear them as part of your uniform. The fronts look bare without anything so you added a small bunch of bell flowers. You noticed they were growing everywhere this time of year and to you they represented beauty and hope in times of despair. There was a slight chill that came with the storm so you put your newly finished work to use, relishing the warmth they brought you. As you went to the dining hall for dinner, you overheard a messenger that came riding in from the expedition, but you could only capture a few words here and there from your position as an eavesdropper.

“We… rain and thunder… sitting ducks out there… waiting for the weather to let up… too dangerous… not coming back yet.”

You let out a gasp. They were supposed to be back tonight but it sounded like they were having to wait out the rain. After hearing that, you weren’t hungry anymore. You spent the rest of the night in your room with a stomachache.

When Levi felt the first drops of rain land on him, he couldn’t believe the bad luck. The weather was supposed to be clear for the rest of the week, why was it fucking them over now?

“Erwin. What are you thinking?”

The commander kept an unreadable face while his horse galloped forward. “We gather the troops under the trees for shelter. We need to bring these supplies back into the wall, there’s no leaving the carts behind. It’s a gamble we must take.”

Levi wordlessly fell back, sending out a messenger and shooting off his smoke signal to show the change in formation. When all of the squads reconvened in the cover of the forest, Levi started feeling a headache coming on. Not only had they already lost some soldiers to titans taking advantage of the confusion of the regrouping, the rain was even worse and visibility was limited. They had to wait for a break in the weather and haul ass back to the walls before it stormed again. The black haired man’s thoughts roamed to you. He figured you were probably enjoying the stormy weather, watching the rain pelt your window as you sipped on a warm drink.

Actually, he scoffed to himself, she’s probably worried sick about us. Her and that big heart of hers.

Not that he was complaining—his own heart was guilty of caring too much as well. For his comrades, the people who relied on him to keep him safe, you. You had wormed your way into his heart with your kind smile, witty humor, and strong work ethic. Levi had an innate desire to protect people, especially those he cared about, but as his crush on you developed into stronger feelings over the months, he was sure that if a titan even dared to look at you with its disgusting eyes that he would chop it up and make it suffer, the same way he annihilated the one that killed Isabelle and Furlan. Levi shivered as the memory of their mangled bodies came to the forefront of his mind. Their deaths continued to haunt him, a constant reminder of his failure to keep them safe. He swore to himself he’d never get close to people again but he failed miserably at that. He was too empathetic and terribly compassionate. Erwin, Hange, his squad members, and now you, were all people he had let infiltrate his ironclad heart and he just hoped none of them were stupid enough to get themselves killed.

The thunder and rain had finally let up as nighttime washed over the Survey Corps. The horses and carts were prepared once more and everyone was ready to get out of there as soon as possible. Even Levi was getting creeped out by the lack of titan activity in the forest. Was it because it was so dark earlier? He didn’t know and didn’t care to stick around and find out. As the brigade left the confines of the forest, multiples of fast, pounding footsteps were quickly coming in from behind them, deeper in the trees.

“Carts! Head to the wall now!” Erwin directed most of the squads to follow and give them cover in case of other titan attacks. Meanwhile, Levi and his squad, along with Hange and a few others, stayed behind to take care of the abnormal titan that showed up with other titans trailing behind it. The smaller titans were easy enough to deal with but the abnormal seemingly kept calling for more reinforcements. Every time someone tried to take down the abnormal, a swarm of smaller titans protected it. Soon, the squads were at risk of being overwhelmed. Exhaustion had creeped into their bones from flying around and slamming into trees with their ODM gear. Levi heard the screams of his fallen comrades which only fueled him to move faster, slice stronger. He was flying from tree to tree, cutting napes like crazy, when he finally saw an opening to take down the abnormal. He quickly gained momentum, throwing himself from the branches and spinning mid air, cutting a hole in the back of the abnormal’s neck and it sank down. As he zipped through the air, taking down the rest of the titans, another unseen abnormal had taken refuge in the trees, waiting to strike. It saw Levi with his sights set on a smaller titan and took the opportunity to jump on him. Levi saw movement out of the corner of his eye and yanked himself into some tree branches in hopes of avoiding a collision with a type of titan he’d never seen before. This one was able to climb trees and had sharp, almost claw-like nails. He stared in horror as he heard Hange squeal in delight at their new discovery.

“Ahh! That’s so cool!” they yelled, gleefully slicing into a nape of a 8 meter while trying to catch a glimpse of the enigma that had joined the battle. Levi couldn’t care less about the titan, he just knew he couldn’t let it escape. It was surprisingly fast and agile, much like him. Its long arms reached out and swiped at him. He was able to evade most of the attack but he felt the skin of his arm open up as blood gushed from his newly acquired wound.

“Tch. You ruined my fucking shirt,” he grumbled, thinking about how he’d have to bring you his clothes to get fixed. This damn titan needed to get taken out now because it could climb the walls and wreak havoc, hurting people inside. It could easily kill the Scouts surrounding him if it was able to injure him (a rare occurrence). It could easily kill you.

He couldn’t lose you.

Levi went into berserk mode, spinning up the titan’s arm and slicing it to shreds. To anyone witnessing the sight, it looked like a tornado of blades had descended upon the forest. The head of the titan landed on the ground with a thud and Levi wiped the blood from his blade.

“Ugly piece of shit.”

The other titans were taken out and the soldiers all rode back to the wall on their horses, having to leave behind the slain bodies from the battle in the trees, but Levi kept the collected Scout crests from their uniforms to give to their families. When the rest of the units were all safely inside the walls, no casualties among the squads that protected the carts, Levi let out a sigh of relief. They made haste to the castle, ready to make up for lost time spent in titan territory. Levi searched for your face among the crowd that had gathered to meet the returning group back at the base but you were nowhere to be found. He frowned, even more so when he felt his wound seeping blood again. He needed stitches but he hated going to the infirmary. The smells and sounds of agony were too much for him. He would normally do it himself but this didn’t seem like a one man job. If only he knew someone that was good with a needle…

You awoke with a start at the sound of voices. You looked out your window and saw the Scouts had returned, gathering in the courtyard while butterflies were gathering in your stomach. You saw a few carts filled with supplies, which meant their expedition was a success, but then you spotted a cart filled with bodies. It was extremely difficult knowing people had died, but you knew they didn’t give their hearts in vain. You didn’t mean to be inconsiderate at a time like this, but you truly hoped no one you knew well was lying there, covered in a white sheet. You slumped against your table, head in your hands, when you heard a small knock at your door.

“It’s me.”

Your head shot up as Levi opened the door slowly. Your smile faded immediately when you saw he was dripping blood and looked pale.

“Levi! Go to the medic!” you said, but he shook his head and threw you a first aid kit.

“I’m not going to the shitty infirmary. It’s disgusting in there. I need you to sew me up.”

Your hands were shaking as you grasped the kit in your hands. You were a seamstress, not a doctor. You’ve never sewed skin before, you didn’t know how. Actually, that wasn’t all true. You had perused Hange’s books and read how to do it, but it certainly wasn’t the same. You opened your mouth to protest but his eyes held such an intense pleading gaze that you couldn’t turn him away.

“Here, sit on the bed. I’ll try it. If I fuck it up you have to promise me you’ll let me take you to a real doctor.”

He grunted and you took that as his word. He had thankfully taken off the ODM gear but his harness and everything else was still attached. You handed him a towel to press on the wound while you went to work on getting the straps undone so you could properly assess the wound under his sleeve.

“Is it okay if I undo everything?” you asked beforehand, not wanting to make Levi uncomfortable. He was quiet but nodded in agreement so you got started. The last time you were this close to him, nimble fingers working your way around his body, was when you tailored his pants. You would’ve appreciated this closeness any other time if he wasn’t risking bleeding out in front of you. Levi, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying himself. He hated to think he was being a burden on you but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t loving the little touches you laid on him while disassembling the top of his uniform. He usually hated physical touch but you were so gentle with him that his body couldn’t possibly deem you a threat. When his jacket and top harness were off and stored neatly on the floor, you took off his cravat and laid it on the bed so he could breathe a little better.

“Now for the fun part,” you said under your breath, doing your best to pull up his sleeve to see the gash but it was too tight to pull up to his shoulder.

“Shirt’s gotta come off, Captain,” you said nonchalantly. You realized what you said and immediately felt embarrassed.

“Buy me dinner first, brat,” teased Levi, a strained huff of laughter exiting his throat at the same time as a groan of pain. You hurriedly took over the task of peeling off his shirt, averting your gaze from his chest the best you could. You offered him another towel for modesty but he refused, not wanting to dirty any more of your belongings. You busied yourself with threading the needle, making sure to not blatantly look at the insanely sculpted body that was staring you in the face out of respect for him. You had more important things to do than ogle your crush’s muscles while he was injured.

“Are those new?” Levi gestured to your arm warmers.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I repurposed the leftovers from your winter pants to make them. And, of course, added my own design touch.”

Levi’s heart skipped a beat.

You took a seat next to him on the bed again, ready needle in hand, as he removed the towel. The blood had stopped running down his arm but it left the area slick.

Okay, I can do this. He’s just a big shirt with a hole you need to mend. You’ve done this plenty of times, y/n.

Your hand was shaking as you brought it up to the wound. Levi watched you intently with slow blinks, like a cat.

“I’m going to start now. Tell me if I’m hurting you too much and I’ll stop.”

One last deep breath and your needle punctured his skin. He barely reacted as you began sewing him up, stitching broken skin back together like he was a giant doll. You did your best to keep the lines nice and straight since he’d have these scars for a long time. You thought maybe he would look away but he never took his eyes off you. In fact, Levi thought you looked more beautiful now than you ever have before. You were so concentrated, deep in thought, with your brows slightly furrowed, all while helping him not bleed out—it was the perfect recipe for him to fall in love. He wouldn’t go so far to call this love yet, but the way your breath fanned over his skin to make him develop goosebumps had him guessing it was pretty damn close. Or maybe it was the way you were literally wearing his clothes. Sure, they were repurposed, but the fact of the matter was you two had been connected by threads in so many different ways now. You mended his cape, used his clothes scraps for your own personal items, stitched up his skin. He didn’t believe in fate or any of that nonsense but there was definitely some sort of symbolism happening with the two of you.

“All done. Did I do okay?”

Levi inspected your work. Neat, clean, and precise, just as expected. “You did well. I’m proud of you, you didn’t even cry once.”

“Aren’t I supposed to say that to you? You were the one with their arm barely attached to their shoulder,” you joked. Levi rolled his eyes and went to get up but let out a small hiss, sinking back into the plush mattress.

“Can I help or do you want me to leave you alone?” you asked, not wanting him to get frustrated with you fussing over him.

“It’s fine, I got it.” He tried to get up again but was still in pain. His lungs hurt and he felt nauseous. You rushed to his side, clearing the bed of the mess so he could sit up against the headboard.

“I’ll get a doctor. You wait here.” You rushed out of your room before he could protest. That damn abnormal titan’s hand collided with his chest when it sliced him and he must’ve been running on adrenaline until now so he hadn’t felt its effects. A few minutes later you entered with a doctor. She examined him and determined he’d broken a few ribs, prescribing him with pain killers and a healthy dose of bed rest. Levi wasn’t thrilled with the news.

“I’m not resting. I have too much to do,” he said angrily, trying to stand up once again. The doctor quickly left the room, not wanting to be swept up in Levi’s tantrum.

You pushed him back on the bed by the shoulder. “No you don’t, mister. You’re resting, doctor’s orders. I don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore. If you want to get back to work, you have to recover fully and I’ll make sure you do just that. Now wait here. I’m getting you a damn shirt.”

Chapter 9

A/N: just wanted to give a big thank you to everyone who’s read not just this series, but all my work!! I truly appreciate any likes, reblogs, and comments you guys leave me, it makes me smile to know people are enjoying my writing! Series writing is something I’ve never dabbled in before but the chapters seem to flow well and I feel like I’m doing alright (if not please let me know lmao). Also my requests are open if you ever want a one shot, drabble, headcannons, etc. Thanks again, I love you all so so much!! <3

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent

[asheepinthenight]

Hi Dani! I love Talon's End so much! I love the writing and Hawk and Shea and the Siblings and Isla and Erich and not so much mom, but I still love her and it's amazing.

Question: How would you describe the usual human clothing of the region? I'm trying to draw my MC (helps with getting to know the character) and I'm not sure of what clothing she'd wear.

Thank you and take care! <3

That's a super good question! I got a little carried away, but hopefully this is at least kind of helpful!

TL;DR: Women mostly wear dresses; men mostly wear trousers. Regardless of gender, clothes tend to be light and loose in style without a lot of ornamentation. Currently though, elegant, ornamental hairstyles are in, and many people are growing their hair out to take advantage of that. Hair length isn't particularly culturally dictated or gendered. Clothing colors usually reflect the seasons' colors in nature, but only members of high society (like MC's family) are really expected to have whole ensembles of the "proper" colors. For those curious, robes aren't at all common due to their association with mages.

Details under the cut!

The area where MC and their family live is relatively diverse, so fashion there has been influenced by a variety of different cultures. Maressea is on the warmer side of temperate with a fair amount of precipitation, so during warm weather, clothes tend to be light and not have too many layers--but coats, jackets, and capes to ward off the rain are common. Even when it's warm, sleeves, trousers, and skirts are usually long, but they tend to be more loose and flowing. During the winter, heavier fabrics are a must, but the styles are relatively similar to warm-weather clothes. Colors are an important part of styling, though. The colors of an ensemble should generally match the colors seen in nature during a given season. This is obviously pretty expensive and, therefore, a thing people will be judged by if they're considered a member of Society. But in situations where no one could reasonably afford multiple dyed garments for every season, people still often use seasonal colors for ribbons, handkerchiefs, and other small items. Even among the nobility, garment patterns and shapes are often relatively simple since the mundane aspects of fabric arts were only revived in the last century. Those who had the knowledge to revive things like lace-making and detailed embroidery are highly sought after, and their services quite expensive.

Hats aren't a big thing--unless they're necessitated by weather--since elegant, complex hairstyles are having a moment (the vibe but not necessarily form of fancy wedding updos). Historically, there hasn't been a major tendency toward long or short hair, regardless of gender, but long hair is stylish due to greater options for the aforementioned elegant hairstyles. (Not quite Hawk-length, though!) Hair accessories like ribbons, combs, and gemstones are common based on what a person has available to them.

Women are usually expected to wear dresses, and men are expected to wear trousers. But some avant garde women (including Sabine) have started wearing trousers at informal events (and formal events, if they're feeling extremely spicy). Some men have begun wearing dresses as well, but it hasn't taken off as much just yet. Robes are sometimes worn, but it's very rare since they're associated with being the garb of mages--not the most popular thing these days. So Hawk's gift had the double sin of being a robe AND not being a seasonally appropriate color.

[pebblysand]

Are you working on any new projects that you feel like sharing with us

Love castles and you

Never gonna give you up never gonna turn around and dessert u

hey anon! apologies for the delay here. this is a very sweet anon that made me smile when i got it, so thank you ❤️.

regarding your question though... i suppose: not really? i don't know. it's complicated. to be fully transparent, i've not written a word since the end of castles. i know that for you it might feel like a long time because objectively, it has been five weeks, but for me, i just haven't had that much downtime since then. i spent almost four weeks in france post-publication, most of which were holidays where i wasn't working (at my IRL job, i mean). this was so peaceful and restful and nice but also so outside my usual routine that i didn't have much time to think about writing (or to really let the end of castles sink in, for that matter). i wrote 23 in about a month, and 24 over a weekend, so looking back, it all feels like one big feverish dream i haven't really had time to digest, yet. i came back to ireland just over two weeks ago and i don't know, i guess i've been... crashing - a bit? 😬

it's not bad. like, trust me, you don't need to worry about me - i'm alright. i've been distracting myself with going to london a couple weekends and have loads of other trips planned between now and christmas, which i am very much looking forward to and should keep me busy. i've been doing a lot of podcast-y things, i'm getting reacquainted with my friends who i've sadly neglected for far too long (hopefully they don't hate me too much, haha), and with life in general (i've been going running more consistently, i've done embroidery - lol 😅 - i'm thinking about signing up for pottery classes - the works, you know).

if i'm honest, on a deeper level though, i've been finding that i'm not quite sure what to do with all the time that is now on my hands. my anxiety skyrocketed early last week, which i know is just my brain slowly readapting to this new, post-castles normal, but which still very much sucked. i am worried about my dog's health and my mum's health, and loneliness in my thirties. i'm worried about my plans for next year, i am worried about whether i'll be capable of writing original fiction, and i am worried that now that castles is finished and that the post-completion around it has stopped, everyone will forget about me and no one will read my works anymore. again, 🙄 ugh.

having said that, here are my plans for the short, medium, and long term:

SHORT TERM (BETWEEN NOW AND DECEMBER)

i don't want to start any "big" project between now and december, tbh. i need to sit and breathe and recharge (see above). i could however ever see myself doing one or two short-ish things (under 10k), that i could get done over a weekend or something. in that list are:

the aoife one-shot (follow-up to the fault in faulty manufacturing) (likelihood: 90% - i've been meaning to write this for age, it haunts me. my only issue is that i'd love to write it for paddy's day but since the beginning of the year will probably be busy with other things - see below - it might be my winter project)

maybe a fic about pansy parkinson's side of the amycus story, possibly tying into chapter 22. (likelihood: 50% - i literally just had the idea for this this afternoon but i kind of like it. i've been fascinated with the concept of pansy parkinson lately, so we'll see.)

for reasons that i don't want to explain yet, i'll probably need to have a really good 3,500 words original fiction story written by march 2025. i should probably get started on it this autumn. (likelihood: 35% - i know me and i will probably be procrastinating this as much as i can because it's not "fun" and feels like a chore)

MEDIUM TERM (JANUARY TO SEPTEMBER)

there's literally an endless list of stories i'd like to write. some of them might be written next year, some of them might never get done. the current list includes:

HP Harry/Ginny Muggle College AU (likelihood: 20% - i love the idea of it but idk about the execution)

HP Harry/Ginny FWB AU (likelihood: 40% - this one i'm more interested in. could be a sort of AU of castles but could also stand alone)

Peaky Blinders Ada Character Piece (likelihood: 70% - i need to rewatch the show, but i really like that one. i already have a few paragraphs of this i'd written somewhere)

Peaky Blinders May Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - same as above, i also have it already started somewhere. i do feel like i'm more interested in Ada than i am in May right now, but we'll see)

The Good Wife Will Character Piece (likelihood: 60% - i've been meaning to write this for, like, 10 years. i just need to brave a full rewatch which, ugh)

HP Malfoy Character Piece (likelihood: 25% - idk. same as the college AU. i like the idea, but no idea about the execution. just marginally more interested in this one cause it's a character i've not explored before)

HP Harry/Pansy AU (likelihood: 10% - i've found a fantastic fic for this pairing already in existence, so that has satiated my need to write it, i think.)

Silk Martha/Clive Children AU (likelihood: 10% - it's a beautiful fic... in my head)

HP Hermione Character Piece (likelihood: 40% - i know you all want this one but honestly i'm not sure what i would have to say. it's a hard one because i would love to write it, i find hermione a very interesting character, but it also needs to narratively bring something that isn't already in castles. like, i don't want to repeat something people already know. so, we'll see. i will write it if i find an angle for it. i was going to write it as an ode to friendship - like: the long-standing nature of she and harry's friendship, the way everyone always focuses on romance when actually, platonic friendship is also very important to us as humans - but i think i already sort of blew that angle with Lily and Naran now. so, again, we'll see.)

Black Sisters Piece on Female Rage (likelihood: 20%. i had a very, very specific idea for this back in 2023 and i never wrote it. i'm thinking of revisiting)

having said that, i also know that January - March 2025 will really be the moment i'm planning on easing back into writing more frequently, but also the moment when i'll have to focus on original writing for a while (again, reasons i can't explain). so, write that 3,500 words short story, and outline a larger project. so, not sure i'll have much time for fanfic at the start of the year.

LONG TERM

there will be a book. i have an idea. i have characters. i need... an outline, and a plot, and all that stuff. i would love to outline january 2025-march 2025 (as said above), then to slowly start writing it as life allows. i think fanfic will remain my outlet, my "fun" thing, the thing i "cheat" on my main project with haha. we all need those.

i will keep you updated on all this as it happens, and i hope (hopehopehope) you stick around ❤️.

[jennifersblog-en]

Would you rather call it cottagecore or self-sufficiency? A short essay on rural life and self-reliance.

Good afternoon!

I originally intended to write about cottagecore, which is pretty much what surrounds me in this rural region. However, I have a love-hate relationship toward these social media aesthetics, which are first and foremost photography aesthetics and themes with ugly names. This said, in a context of domestic abuse, I mostly count on myself for many of my needs. It is true that self-sufficiency and food self-relience tend toward the Cottagecore sub-culture, and it is tempting to go in that direction, but it would be first and foremost lying to myself, and then to others. Therefore, I prefer to face my own reality by talking about my life journey, rather than to sweeten my speech.

I prefer to be clear, in a situation of abuse, when somebody else is controlling the budget and poverty is a reality, complete financial and material autonomy is more than a fantasy, it's a need.

Facing reality: you don't need to aim for complete self-sufficiency 

In fact, to be honest, you'll never make your own medications. What is complete self-sufficiency? A myth.

This said, my aim is to improve my self-reliance, which relies on a few hobbies, such as gardening, and I invite you to do the same.

Although my production of food is far from being all-year-round, or even enough for canning and preserving, my first attempt has provided me with fresh fruits and vegetables almost every day of Summer. In terms of fruits, I have only grown strawberries and raspberries, as well as the old apple tree planted decades ago by the late owners. I have grown a wider array of vegetables, such as tomatoes, peas, snow peas, and yellow and green beans. A little bit of my protein intake came from lima and borlotti beans, and I had five fresh herbs to choose from. My biggest failures have been my onions, garlic bulbs and radishes; they were disappointingly lost to rot and drought before harvest.

Overall, this was not bigger than a balcony garden, which proves that you don't need a lot of space to feed yourself if you aim for a percentage of your plate, rather than the usual message of the internet, which is complete self-sufficiency.

Growing food can be the cure to food trauma and insecurity

If, like me, you've been traumatized by food shortages and a lack of financial freedom, growing your own food can be the necessary cure, and at relatively small costs.

At the very least, you'll control some of the food you'll have later in the season. If you're lucky, you can make preserves, or meal-prep and freeze.

Baking and bread-making

This is something I was already doing, and there is something special about having a dessert or a slice of fresh bread, still warm from the oven.

All winter long, I try to do something inspired by the Swedish fika concept, and use these months to plan ahead for Spring.

Needle arts are far from dead

From cosplay to insta-worthy embroidery, the needle arts are far from dead, despise their temporary rejection at home, as shopping malls and hypermarkets became my own parents' stress-relief and boredom-killing hobby. From a personal point-of-view, their consumption habits were far from my values, and I have come back to sewing and knitting to supply a percentage of my wardrobe. I've also tried to make very simple jewelry.

The initial cost is not always cheaper to make your own, because you will possibly choose a thicker, high-quality fabric, that will hopefully last longer, which is where you can really save. 

I often like to remind myself that this is not child labour, but my own labour; and it makes a world of a difference from a moral standpoint.

♫ These boots were made for walking, and that's just what they'll do ♬

When I have decided to get back in shape, I didn't have the financial means to pay a subscription at the gym. However, did you notice the free sports you can start doing today? 

I have started walking almost every sunny day, and it has greatly improved my cardio-vascular health, as I was enjoying the scenery and leaving my problems at home, behind a closed door.

When bad weather forces you to stay inside, there are still many Youtube channels to watch, and I have even found a few workout television shows on major channels. They tend to be at 6am, though, and they have to be recorded to watch them as a hobby, instead of a morning chore.

Which comes to a conclusion: dis I really ever intend to write about the Cottagecore movement and its photography aesthetic, or simply about real life and self-care? I'd say the latter, for this is what feels better, and always will.

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 23

We have made it into Velaris but the Solstice showdown will happen in the next chapter. This one came to a logical place to stop, so hopefully chapter 24 will be with you in a few days.

When the morning came for Nesta to depart to the Night Court, her stomach twisted itself into a knot. Eris had arranged the whole thing for her and had drilled her thoroughly on every detail of the arrangement that he had hammered out with Rhysand. Eris would winnow her to the Hewn City where one of them would escort her to Velaris. She would stay one day and one night, returning to the Hewn City the following morning. If they were a minute late, Eris had soldiers ready to infiltrate Velaris.

Of course, Eris wouldn’t rely singularly on Rhysand’s promises. He was far too cautious and meticulous for that.

Niamh would remain in Windhaven – a fact Rhysand hadn’t been made aware of – and she knew exactly where the wards were that protected Velaris. Part of her espionage had been to test where they were weakest and she had done exactly that. For all of her outlandish behaviour, Niamh was brilliant at what she did. Ashur, the male from the army who had escorted her – and worked as Eris’ double in appearance when necessary - was to be posted at the weakest ward with a small number of Eris’ most loyal soldiers. Nesta had been informed of the location in case she needed to flee from the city. Her darling husband had been militant in her understanding the maps he’d had drawn up. She realised that he had maps of both the exterior and interior of the Hewn City gathered from memorising corridors and rooms on every visit to the place too. Niamh was helping him to compile detailed maps of Illyria.

Eris had also sought out Azriel in private to ensure that if Nesta was to face any sort of misery that he would take her out of the situation and return her to Orla’s cottage. The deal was inked on his skin. A black whorl shaped like a dagger ran the length of his left forearm and Azriel would have a matching one. Even when Nesta had pressed him on what he had exchanged for Azriel to make a deal with him, Eris refused to answer, only saying that he was willing to pay it.

He was not happy that she would attend the Winter Solstice celebration. His expression was distant often as he likely mulled over every possible situation that could occur. Nesta knew it was worse for him because he couldn’t be there. He hated not having control. He hated the idea of chance and fate more than anything. His mood had been irritable, snapping at servants and guards as he lived up to his reputation of cruelty – though never to Nesta. Eris hadn’t tried to plead or convince her not to go. In fact, he even helped her pack for the one night to steal an extra few moments with her.

Long fingers folded a grey gown with a square-cut neckline into the bag. He brushed against the embroidery stitched into the soft fabric.

‘I had a dress made for tonight. I hope that is fine.’

Eris turned his head towards her. Worry laced his expression but he gave a nod. ‘Our finances are shared. You may buy what you wish.’

The dressmaker had presented the gown yesterday whilst Eris was away with the army. She pulled it from the wardrobe to show him now. His eyes softened as he took in the dress. It was very much Autumn. The burgundy velvet would be snug to her chest and the skirt was a heavy, cascading thing that she needed to pinch to raise when she walked. Delicate flowers had been stitched to it using golden thread and they were connected by snaking vines. It matched the tattoo wrapping around her ring finger that symbolised their marriage. The dress could not have been more of a political statement declaring her allegiance.

‘I will wear it for you when I’m home,’ she said, stepping close to wrap her arms around her husband.

‘And this is home? You can call the Autumn Court home?’

‘Yes,’ she stated. ‘But mostly, it’s this. This is home.’

Nesta slipped a hand beneath Eris’ shirt to rest against the thud of his heart. She meant her words. Autumn had seized a place in her heart. In a court where everything was in eternal decay, it had made her bloom again. He had made her bloom again.

‘You don’t want me to go today, do you?’

Her eyes tracked the bob of his throat as he swallowed. ‘How can I want to send my wife into the wolf den?’

‘But you haven’t tried to stop me.’

Eris brushed his lips across her brow, so gently that the motion nearly undid Nesta. ‘Because I have a wife as stubborn as I am. You want to see your sister. I want you to see her – just not in that court, but I won’t try to dissuade you because you know what you’re walking into. I trust you.’ His hands curled around her shoulders and Nesta was grateful again for the constant warmth that seeped from him. ‘I am scared that you’ll return and they’ll have hurt you.’

It was a fear of Nesta’s too. In their own den, the claws would come out. Being close to Cassian also filled her with a sense of dread.

‘I’m stronger now – and that’s not my cage any more. I have a home to come back to. A golden light waiting for me.’

‘And a husband who will be sick with worry every minute you’re away.’

She pushed back a wayward tuft of auburn hair.

‘What a lucky thing I am.’

The gifts that she had purchased from the market had been safely stored at their cottage to keep curious servants’ eyes away. They made a brief stop there. Or, planned to. After being practically joined at the hip with Eris for months, a night completely apart felt like losing a limb.

Nesta pounced on him in the lounge, pushing him down onto the couch and tearing off his clothes before Eris could even make a noise of protest. Not that he would. He had been as insatiable as her in their frenzied state.

‘They’ll scent me on you,’ Eris half-heartedly complained as Nesta raised her skirts and pulled her underwear to one side.

‘Let them.’

He held her skirts for her so she could sink down onto his length with a satisfied groan.

‘This is what you wanted?’ He drove his upwards, forcing her to take the full length so she tipped forwards, gripping his shoulders.

They set an urgent pace. It wasn’t about pleasure or being soft, only Nesta’s desire to be filled by her husband before a night apart drove her. She had to have him – and Eris was always happy to oblige.

‘Harder,’ she begged as her arms wrapped around his neck.

Eris finished inside of her, but Nesta remained on top – still fully clothed – as she took in shards of breath to calm her erratic heart. She also wanted to savour the last few moments close with her husband.     

They put themselves back together in a hurry though Nesta’s cheeks were still flushed pink from the sudden exertion.

‘The second we step foot in the Hewn City, they will know exactly why we’re late.’

Nesta smoothed her hair from her face with a wicked grin directed towards her husband. ‘Don’t you want the whole world to know that I am yours?’

‘The whole world doesn’t matter. There’s only one person I care for, and as long as she knows that I’d carve my heart out of my chest before I see her come to harm, that is all that matters.’ Eris laced his fingers with Nesta’s then brought her wrist to his lips and placed a kiss against the veins running beneath her pale skin. ‘Let’s go to hell, my love.’

***

There was not one aspect of any of this that Eris found appealing. He hadn’t needed to ask Nesta to keep his court’s secrets private, she’d always vowed that not a single word would leave her lips. It meant that would keep the mystery of Velaris a secret too. Her loyalty was a gift the Night Court had never earned. Even her presence on Solstice was a blessing too great for them to be granted.

Despite the water-tight plans put into place, once Nesta entered the wards of Velaris, Eris was completely blind. He wouldn’t know anything until she was returned to him. If that didn’t happen then he would wage war. Nesta was a part of Autumn now and even Beron might enjoy leading the charge against Illyrians.

No, he was running away with his fear.

Nesta had chosen to go there. She had chosen to try and appeal to Feyre’s reason because her heart was good. She gave her sisters more than they ever deserved. Feyre was the reason that Nesta had been stolen from her bed and forced into the Cauldron. Feyre was the reason why Nesta had been tangled up with the Night Court where she was manipulated into their dirty work by threats to recruit Elain instead. They had trampled on her until she could no longer get back up alone. He had been there to reach out his hand and offer Nesta a lifeline.

If Nesta returned damaged again, Eris would not be able to hold a rational thought in his mind.

‘Shall we go?’

No. Stay here, he wanted to say. Stay with me.

It wasn’t just the thought of Nesta being with the insufferable Night Court that made his stomach feel like lead, but the idea that Nesta might decide she missed the place and was using the visit as a means of escape from him and the Autumn Court. Nobody would choose to be part of Beron’s family.

He managed to nod and her fingers entwined with his, tangling like the roots of a tree. She would come back. They would make a future together.

‘I love you, Nesta.’

The austere expression she so often wore melted to a soft smile. ‘Eris.’

A thumb brushed against his cheek. ‘I love you too.’

Although Nesta’s winnowing had improved drastically in recent weeks, travelling that distance with two of them and a heap of presents would drain a portion of her magic. There was not a chance that Eris was sending Nesta to the Night Court without her magic fit to burst. They hadn’t yet worked out how deep her power ran, but if Eris had to put money on it, she could challenge Rhysand and likely win even without five centuries of training. Nesta’s power could be a dangerous thing, but it liked her. Despite her fear, her power fluttered about her, always bending to her will without the firm hand that should have been needed to curb it. It worried Eris sometimes – not that he’d given voice to it. He’d seen enough children with the ability to wield fire in his own court burnt to a crisp when their magic overruled them. As strength increased, its user had to rise above it to keep it quelled. Nesta, with no training, should have had no control, but her stolen magic never seemed to want to do anything except stick close to her. It should have wanted to cause chaos, to run riot in a world where it would bring high lords to their knees, but the magic either loved Nesta enough to stay – or it was afraid of her, the female who clawed out the heart of the Cauldron to keep for her own.

The words she had said on their return from the market were haunting him. She surely was high-fae, but sometimes, he had to wonder if his wife was something other. Something more. Something greater.

At the sight of the palace of nightmares, Eris held Nesta a little tighter. This was the place where Morrigan felt Nesta belonged. He hated her for the remark. Mor couldn’t step foot in her home without trembling and believed that Nesta deserved to be condemned. Nesta who’d lied that she wasn’t crying when they came across an injured bird in the forest. Nesta who always stopped to talk to children in villages and remained in a temple until it was empty to say a quiet word to the Mother.

Nobody stopped them on their march to the meeting room. Either sentries had been forewarned of their arrival or Eris’ presence in the Hewn City had become a regular thing that it wasn’t challenged.

Every step towards the obsidian room made the noose around Eris’ neck pull tighter.

He never thought he’d be a male so clingy to his wife. Moreover, he never thought he would have a wife he particularly cared for. A night without his wife seemed incomprehensible. But Nesta wasn’t just any female. She was his equal, his everything. Beyond her intelligence, her heart, Nesta at her very core was just… brilliant.

The previous night had been spent with Orla and Maceo trading stories and Nesta had laughed at one of the old tutor’s anecdotes so hard that she shot a mouthful of cake out of her mouth, spraying crumbs across her lap and the floor. He’d never seen her in such disarray before that his own stomach ached from laughing. When they’d returned to the Forest House, they couldn’t look each other in the eye without one of them snorting and erupting with laughter. Perhaps that was why Eris was so bereft at the thought of being apart from Nesta. She wasn’t just his wife, she was his best friend, the one he could always rely on to bring a smile to his face. 

On entry to the room, Eris noticed that Rhysand had already breached the first step of the plan. He had anticipated that Morrigan or Azriel would have been selected to retrieve Nesta. He had been insistent that it not be Rhysand alone, knowing Nesta wouldn’t like it. They were greeted by six faces. The only ones absent were the heavily pregnant high lady and Amren.

Nesta bristled at the sight of them gathered around the table, but Elain gave her a placating smile from beside Lucien.

‘You’re late, Eris,’ snapped Rhys. He inhaled then his eyes flared. ‘And now I know why.’

Realisation flittered through the room as they breathed in the scent of their recent coupling. He felt the temperature raise in the room from Nesta’s scorching cheeks as she too realised that everybody now knew that not ten minutes earlier, she had thoroughly been enjoying her husband.

To take the onus from her, Eris shrugged. ‘Have you seen my wife? Be thankful I didn’t take her on your throne, Rhysand.’

If Nesta could have killed him then, she might have. Silver flames swirled in her eyes as Eris realised that was the completely wrong thing to have announced to the Night Court.

‘Would you believe me if I said, I was glad to be exiled,’ said Lucien, offering Nesta a lifeline to cling to.

‘Is that the only way I can get away from him?’ Nesta asked, her lip curling into a devious grin.

Mor rapped her fingernails on the table. ‘Can we go?’

Hate simmered in her eyes when they met his own. Eris couldn’t help but give her a gloating grin as an arm went around his wife’s shoulders for a farewell. Mor would never let her malice go. She clung to it rather than face the truth that had chased her for centuries; leaving her in the woods was the best thing he could ever have done for her. He knew it. She knew it. But Morrigan preferred to run with the lie.

‘These are solstice gifts.’

‘I can take those ahead to the House of Wind,’ said Azriel, already reaching for the bags.

Nesta’s eyes flashed with alarm. ‘I’m not staying in that house.’

‘We thought you’d take the opportunity to see Gwyneth,’ said Rhysand in a tone that fought hard to remain placid.

Eris could feel the tension already threatening to snap Nesta’s body in two. The house had been a friend to her, she’d once said, but it had also been her prison.

‘My wife is not being put into the place you once caged her in.’

‘Caged her?’ Mor scoffed.

‘Caged her,’ Eris repeated. ‘Nobody can make it down those stairs. Nesta cannot fly and she cannot winnow if you have the place warded. She is not staying in a place that she cannot leave without assistance.’

The giant bat in the corner took a step forwards. He tilted his chin slightly as he appraised Nesta. ‘You can winnow?’

The others paused, awaiting her answer. Nesta dipped her chin once, but avoided looking at Cassian.

‘Yes. Eris taught me.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘I will find a room above a tavern. I’m not staying at the House of Wind.’

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘We’ll have a room prepared at the river estate.’

‘You could always share my bed,’ suggested Elain, with a kind smile towards her sister. ‘It’s large enough and it will be like when we were children whispering into the night.’

That seemed to loosen part of the tension that Nesta had been clinging to. ‘I’d like that.’

Lucien stood and rubbed his hands together. ‘Excellent. Why don’t Elain and I winnow you to Velaris while the others go ahead?’

On his birthday, Eris would send his brother the biggest gift he could find for trying to ease Nesta’s discomfort not once, but twice. He hoped Lucien would continue to be there for his sister-in-law throughout the evening.

 Azriel took Cassian with him then Morrigan followed with an inscrutable look in their direction before disappearing from sight. Rhysand remained, a conspicuous eye cast over them as they said their goodbye.

‘Just one night,’ Nesta murmured, stroking a hand against his cheek.

‘The longest night of the year,’ he complained. ‘If you share the bed with Elain, you cannot blame Safera for snoring, you know that?’

Eris was rewarded with a click of the tongue from his wife and a hurried glance over her shoulder to check if anybody else had overheard.

‘Anything. Anything at all. You know what to do,’ he said, bringing Nesta’s fingers to touch the horrid Night Court tattoo on his arm.

Nesta kissed him softly. ‘Until tomorrow, my love.’ 

***

The gifts had been artfully arranged beneath a tree but there were no signs of anybody except Elain and Lucien when they winnowed to the river estate. They heard Rhys’ footsteps aiming straight towards the stairs where Feyre was resting, Elain explained. As her pregnancy developed, she struggled more with the weight of her bump. Her ankles were swollen and she’d had another bout of morning sickness that rendered her bed ridden for the last couple of days.

‘Pregnancy sounds like hell,’ said Nesta with a shudder.

Lucien gave her a sidelong glance then a smile twitched on his lips. ‘So, I shouldn’t expect to be an uncle anytime soon?’

‘Your father breathes down our neck at every opportunity that I should be pregnant by now and questions whether it is me or Eris who is faulty.’ Not caring about Elain’s wide eyes, she continued. ‘Your brother, Uther, offered to mount me in Eris’ stead.’

‘Mount you?’ Lucien choked.

‘Good heavens, they make you sound like a prize breeding mare.’ Elain had covered her mouth with her hand, but Nesta noticed that she gave a quick glance towards Lucien to measure his reaction.

A blur of shadow assembled in the corner as Azriel made an appearance. He gave a tight smile.

‘Settled in?’

Her bags remained where he had left them, neatly placed beside an arm chair.

‘Would you be able to take me to visit my Valkyries?’

He gave her a much warmer smile than any she’d seen that morning. Azriel extended his arm for her to take. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

Returning to the House of Wind brought a strange sense of dread to Nesta, but mingled in was a jittery excitement. There were many memories attached to the house, and not all of them were bad – though many were.

When they landed on the roof, there was already a small crowd assembled. Her heart soared as she took in the sight of the many priestesses who she had once trained alongside.

‘When I told Gwyn you’d be coming for Solstice, well, word spread,’ murmured Azriel as he tipped her upright

Her heart leapt as Nesta realised that they were all here to see her. Not to train, just to see her.

For nearly an hour they stood chatting happily in the cold, catching up on what had happened in the months since she’d saw them last. It hurt her to hear that the training had dried up, and these poor females had no variety in their life. Each day followed the same procedure of working in the library then dining together, attending a service, and returning to their rooms. The library was a jail as much as it was a sanctuary. Nesta understood it. She had once feared about leaving the safety of the House of Wind and re-joining society because it had variables she couldn’t control. She hoped one day that her friends would find the courage to grow again.

Once they had returned to the library to celebrate the Winter Solstice, two remained opposite Nesta. Gwyn and Emerie eclipsed her with an embrace. For a while, they remained there, arms wrapped around each other back in the place where it all began.

‘I miss you both terribly.’

Emerie gave a smile. ‘I think if your husband had his way, we’d both be living with you too.’

Eris would move mountains for her if he thought it would make her happy. She was lucky, Nesta knew it.

‘I have Solstice gifts for you both.’

Mugs of hot chocolate and warm fruit cake with a thick wedge of icing appeared courtesy of the house that they dug into while they exchanged presents. Nesta could have invited them inside to the warm, but part of her knew that Cassian was inside with Azriel and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Gwyn had made them both beautiful, little friendship bracelets with a matching one for herself. There were charms on them that Gwyn claimed were wishes which would fall off when the wish was fulfilled. Emerie’s was green, purple, and gold. Her own was crimson and navy blue with silver thread criss-crossing through it. And Gwyn’s matched the teal of her eyes with white and blue to compliment it. They held their wrists together, showcasing the beautiful bracelets.

Of course, Emerie had bought books for both of them. Gwyn’s was a tame romance about a doe-eyed girl falling for a quiet and brooding male who worked for her father. Nesta flipped her book over. Hers was decidedly less tame. It would certainly give her some ideas to explore with Eris when she was home.

‘I don’t want to go,’ she lamented, pulling them both in again to embrace. 

A fine layer of snow was settling as it began to fall from the sky. Flakes settled in her friends’ hair and their noses were turning pink from the cold. It was time to say goodbye, no matter how much it hurt her.

‘We’ll see each other again soon,’ Gwyn vowed, taking the words right out of Nesta’s mouth.

Unable to speak against the lump in her throat, Nesta nodded. They would. It wasn’t a permanent goodbye.

On cue, Azriel appeared on the roof. Following behind was the hulking figure of Cassian. Her pulse gave an unwanted leap as she recognised his swaggering walk.

‘You ready?’

Nesta blinked at him. His hazel eyes were on her, a summons that Nesta struggled to turn away from.

‘I-’

‘I meant Emerie, sorry.’

‘Then perhaps you should have looked at Emerie when you asked your question,’ she muttered.

Emerie dipped her chin in confirmation then swept Nesta and Gwyn into a final hug. ‘Happy Solstice to you both.’

Carefully, Cassian lifted Emerie into his arms whilst avoiding touching her wings. It seemed uncomfortable for them both to have to make the journey to Illyria together, but the alternative was Cassian flying Nesta back into the city. She loved her friend, but Nesta couldn’t offer to trade places.

After saying another goodbye to Gwyneth, Nesta let Azriel fly her into the heart of Velaris. All of the shops were closed. Even the bustling market was empty. It was strange to see it so devoid of life. Eris hadn’t let her leave the bedroom without ensuring she had also packed gloves, a hat and a scarf like an overbearing mother hen, so she wore them now with her coat bundled tight around her.

‘I am going to head to the temple on the hill for a little while. I’ll be back well before dinner.’

‘Should I meet you?’

The shadowsinger had a good heart.

‘No, I can find my way. Thank you, Azriel.’

Life poured from the temple as many went to celebrate the Mother and thank her for another year of life on the longest night of the year. Nesta had never been to this building. It felt wrong to enter a temple without Eris too since he had been the one to introduce her to Prythian’s goddess.

There were similarities to the Autumn Court temples, but the one in Velaris was more opulent with gilded frames surrounding the ancient artwork and a golden lectern that a priestess stood at speaking to the gathering.

Nesta slipped in without a sound, occupying the end of a bench near the back. Part of her wished she had dared to enter a temple when she had been lost and adrift in Velaris. It would have been the anchor providing stability. But, another part of her knew that she wouldn’t have been ready to accept the fae part of herself. She wouldn’t have allowed the Mother into her life when she’d been so bereft about what had been left behind. Eris had opened the door to a future inch by inch until Nesta was ready to accept that she was fae and this was her life now.

As bodies filed out ready to celebrate at their homes, a few glanced her way. Their eyes lingered on her, likely doing a double-take when they thought it was the high lady sat quietly in the service.

She waited until only a handful remained saying their own private prayers to step forwards and find a quiet corner to whisper her own to the Mother.

The idea to say a prayer to her own mother and father barely took shape before Nesta rejected it. They didn’t deserve her words. Her thoughts shifted instead to her sister who had barrelled into a mating with a male she’d known for mere months and who now stood at the edge of a cliff about to teeter over.

‘Please protect her,’ Nesta whispered as she lit a candle with her own silver fire. ‘Keep her safe.’

Beyond Feyre, Nesta worried over all of the females she cared for – the ones in the library whose lives had become stagnant through fear, Emerie alone in Illyria, Elain still figuring out her power and her new world, and her mother-in-law forced to live every day with a tyrant.

It was growing dark when Nesta finally left the temple. Her heart was heavy, but it felt as if something greater was helping her to carry the weight. She tipped her head towards the thick clouds, letting a dusting of snow land on her cheeks as she whispered another thanks to the Mother for helping to her to find the love of her life.   

@embersofwildfire @this-is-rochelle @fanboy7794 @owllover123 @rarephloxes @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @sv0430

[the-technicolor-whiscash]

I did order all of the paraphernalia necessary to construct my simulacrum of a mercury spacesuit however I was not making the helmet myself because fuck me do I not know how to work with plastic so I ordered a helmet separately which I'm gonna paint to suit my needs. For the silver fabric I'm using a silver spandex intended for dance costumes bc it looks just like the original fabric but with a stretch and a little more breathability and what I'm gonna do is chop up a set of long johns to create a sort of template and then sew it onto the long johns. I've got zippers and nylon strapping and all that for the rest of it and then for the neck piece since it's got that big metal ring, what I'm actually gonna do is use an embroidery hoop that is hopefully bigger than my head and I'm gonna paint it to look like metal. The boots I'm gonna take a lesson from NASA promotional images themselves and literally just spray paint an old pair of boots silver. I've gotten some plastic drainage valves to use for life support valves and a thing that measures water pressure for the pressure valve on the arm. And for the gloves I've got some just regular silver winter gloves that I'm gonna cut up and throw some extra fabric and shoelaces on them. Yknow. Normal stuff.

It's not gonna look exactly like a mercury suit but considering what I have to work with, I think if I can get the sewing done right, it's not gonna look half bad. The one thing I haven't decided is if I'm gonna get a name patch with my own name on it or the name of an astronaut. Either way I'd have to either buy it off Etsy or make it so we'll see I might just be too lazy to bother

[softmick]

tag game thursday

once again i’m late on tag game tuesday (and other things) because i just cannot tuesday (and other things). so here’s a picrew that i was tagged to do and also wayyy too much about me! 

super big thank you to @catluvver118​ @mybrainismelted  @krystallouhoo​ @energievie​  @ardent-fox​ @lingy910y​ @such-a-barbarian​ for tagging me

ayyyyy.

Name meagan.

Whereabouts in the world are you? southern usa.

Do you have any pets? two! an orange cat named chunk and a tabby named scrappy (they are actually both chunky).

What do you do for work? i am blissfully unemployed.

Favorite fruit? i’m gonna say strawberry but it might be mango.

A pet peeve of yours: when people leave carts all over the parking lot or put them back sloppily.

Are you a fast walker or a slow walker? usually fast.

How do you usually wear your hair? side part, down.

Sunny days or rainy days? i need both, but generally prefer sun.

What time do you usually go to bed? it varies wildly because i am bad at taking my meds and performing self-care. 11pm-3am?

what time do you usually wake up? 9am-12pm (see above).

if you were a cartoon character, what would be your everyday outfit? in the summer a black tank and jean shorts. in the winter a black tshirt and gray sweatpants, maybe a jacket.

Something you’d like to learn: so many things. scuba. better writing. fluent spanish. embroidery. time management.

And finally, tell me something that made you happy recently: i had a really good birthday yesterday!

🩷❤️🧡💛

name: still meagan. :)

pronouns: she/her.

where do you call home? florida.

favorite animal: i love cats and sloths and cows and possums and manatees.

cereal of choice: i don’t really love cereal, but i’ll eat honey nut cheerios, honey bunches of oats, fruity pebbles, cinnamon toast crunch.

are you a visual, auditory, or kinesthetic learner? i’ve always thought that i do best with linguistic (reading/writing) but i’m questioning it now. probably auditory?

first pet? my family always had animals, but the first to really be mine was a gray tabby named peter pan.

favorite scent? if i had to pick one it would be my partner. but i have lots.

do you believe in astrology? horoscopes, no. signs as a tool for self-inquiry and reflection? sure. i follow a lot of astrology meme accounts. but my actual knowledge is very very basic.

how many playlists do you have on spotify/apple music? 16 in my library, but i didn’t make all of them!

sharpies or highlighters? highlighters!

a song that makes you cry: joanne by lady gaga. it was my grandma’s name and when i hear it i think about her and my aunt and my sister. all of whom have passed.

a song that makes you happy: hmm. any 80s pop but this is the first one i thought of was hungry like the wolf by duran duran.

and finally, do you write/draw/create? if so, use this as an opportunity to shamelessly (😉) promote yourself! all i have atm is on here tagged #mine 🤞but hopefully i’ll be posting something on ao3 this weekend!

💚🩵💙💜

Rules: pick five songs that someone else introduced me to that have made their way into my regular rotation then tag 5 people.

[drawnecromancy]

Meet the Writer tag!

Rules: Use this picrew to make yourself and answer the questions!

(tagged by @the-stray-storyteller C:)

Three fun facts about me:

Several of my friends have called me a vampire on very different occasions.

i like coffee !

I can sew :)

Favorite season:

Any where it's not too hot... so I guess autumn and the beginning of winter ? Although everything's gotten consistently hotter lately so I don't know.

Continent where I live:

Europe !

How I spend my time:

Oh Boy. Depending on the brain whims, it's either drawing, writing, crocheting, knitting, sewing, embroidery, gaming, watching videos, watching a wall for 5 hours, entertaining myself by making my OCs kiss in my brain and not writing any of that down, or, or, or. uh yeah there's a lot no wonder i never finish anything.

Are you published?

Nope, but I have one book I'd like to finish and hopefully publish traditionally ? Either way I'll attempt to put some written stuff online on my itch.io account this summer, altho i'm not sure whether that counts as self published or not.

Introvert or Extrovert?

Ambivert I guess ? I've been veering more into extroversion lately but boy i need my Alone Time and i Don't Like Going Out.

Favorite meal?

idk i like food

No pressure tag : i never know who to tag in these things so. i don't know just consider yourself tagged if you feel like doing it

[whennnow]

Embroidered Regency Reticule

June 24, 2019

[Image ID: a photo of a blue satin bag with white embroidery, two white tassels, and a white cord drawstring]

A year or so ago, on a trip to JoAnn Fabrics, I stumbled upon some nice fabric in the softest classic-Disney-Cinerella blue. The fabric was 100% polyester, unfortunately, but I had already fallen deeply in love with the color, and it was a decent price, so I caved and bought some. I knew immediately that I was going to make pieces for my Regency wardrobe with it, since it was already shaping up to be a very blue wardrobe.

I knew I wanted to make a reticule with it, for sure. Using my Pinterest boards as a starting point, I looked at common shapes and decorations. I eventually settled on this late 1790s-early 1800s bag from the Museum of Fine Arts Boston as a guide (I can't download a decent image of it, so I'm afraid the link will have to do). I wasn’t looking to replicate it, just use it as inspiration. I decided over the winter that this would be one of my semester sewing projects, to work on during my desk shifts or during other down time.

Materials-wise, I used less that a quarter yard of the polyester fabric for the outside, roughly the same amount of white broadcloth from my stash, some white cotton thread, most of a yard of white spiral cording, and two white tassels (though i picked up six total, and may have lost one somewhere). For tools, I had scissors and needles, of course, and a small embroidery hoop and my awl.

I drafted a simple shape on graph paper to use as a “pattern,” based in part off the example bag, and scaled to make sure I could fit my hand through the opening. Once I had everything cut out (two in the blue and two in white for a lining), I sewed the lining up and used colored chalk to rough out the basic shapes of the embroidery on one of the blue panels.

Now, looking back, this was an ambitious bit of embroidery for someone who has never really embroidered before, but it would have been a boring project if I didn’t learn something! I used a chain stitch for the vines and stems, and everything else is bullion stitches, satin stitches, and some knots of some sort. I really love the texture the knots gave the bit in the middle!

The embroidery took me most of the semester, so it wasn’t until after I returned home (and unpacked) that I finished it. I ironed everything, sewed up the sides of the blue panels, added the cord and tassels into the seam, put in the lining (easier said than done - it took me awhile to figure out and now I’ve forgotten how I did it), and added the drawstring and casing.

Then I took lots of pretty pictures of it because it’s very pretty, and because I was terribly pleased with myself. It even matches with my copy of Sense & Sensibility, which I haven’t finished reading yet.

I’m hoping I have enough of the fabric left to make a spencer, but we’ll have to wait and see. In other Regency news, I’ll have a short post up soon about what I’ve affectionately dubbed my “portrait shawl,” and I’ll soon (hopefully) be re-remaking my chemise. I’d also like to draft (or pick out a pattern for) and mock up my quintessential white regency dress, so I may do a post on the research I’ve done, the patterns I’ve found, and what my plan for it is.

Stay warm, stay safe, stay dry.

[Image ID: the same blue and white bag as above pictured with white leather gloves and a copy of "Persuasion" with a blue patterned cover]

[merryrogue]

Update: star quilt

Have you finished it?

Short answer - no, but I do have everything but the embroidery part done.

Long answer/update on where it is now….

Picked at it until it got hot that spring, and then gaurden things happened.

I brought it with me to our family trip in Maine that summer, and it was lovely! When it was a brisk maybe 70F with a breeze! (I did NOT manage to take pictures, dammit.) 

But once we got home and it was sticky 80F and matching humidity late august, it was awful to work on until roughly winter break, and that’s when we ripped the kitchen out. We finished the kitchen in July, so I left it until it was cooler. In that meantime the glue on the sticky sheets failed everywhere I had repositioned them.

So I had to lay it out and hand baste the sheets back on, which I did over Xmas break (2022). The ungodly amount of basting thread I have used on this thing. 

Once I did that, I was able to finish the hand quilting over the same break, which was lovely!! Step 2, DONE!

Unfortunately for me, the next bit is what 1) the most visible 2) the thing I have the least experience in. and I’ve gotten enough practice at this point to see that some decisions I made at first are… not going to work. I was doing the ‘arms' of the bigger stars as one long stitch, but if I want to be able to use this, those are going to catch on things and get pulled.

Do I care enough to rip them out? Not right now. Let me do the rest with smaller stitches and I’ll look at it then. 

you really, really need to have roughly a month solid of 1) cold weather 2) free time in one block or the wherewithal to keep a laundry basket’s worth of project laying around as a trip hazard for 3 or 4 to finish this at one go.

Unfortunately, I did not. The ADHD “get 80% done, then lose interest” thing is currently kicking my butt. 

BUT, I have doctor’s orders to stay home and rest tomorrow, (a random virus, not the famous one) so i think I’ll find something to listen to and work on that. Hopefully. 

Someone poke me at 8 EST please. Or suggest a podfic. warm fuzzy witcher (yeah I know) or a good mando culture building one. 

[deadlydemon]

Keeping a journal is good to see what motivated us in the past, as well. The idea with the 5-Minute Journal is to not think too much about it. Limit yourself to only 5 minutes to write something. No more or no less, some interesting stuff can flourish from limitations. And what does present Ms. Demon is excited about?

Well, our interactions rendered me some motivation to write again, and write I did - for longer than five minutes even! Tell me, anon friend, have you ever had this sort of moment in your childhood where, suddenly, you knew you were alive? In my friend's words, "when you stop being a NPC and become an actual player". I am trying to put that into words.

Present Ms. Demon is definetly excited about this year's holidays - and for me, it will start in about one week. I already have many plans in mind. I want to go to the beach, and to have a picnic with my friends, and hopefully a roadtrip to this very beautiful place, where we'll be able to have said picnic and swim in crystaline blue-green waters. I want to take more on my latest new hobbies, so I'll be drawing, watercolor painting, cooking and baking - and also embroidery, since I do have to finish this piece that I'll be gifting to my dad, though I'm most excited for the former ones.

I hope to write more, as well, since I'll have free time for it. I wish I would write something, probably a fanfic of some sorts, and publish it here, but I am not counting on it. I have been neglecting my plants, but that's a more complicated matter. I'm looking forward to not let them die, at least. I'd like to go back to my daily routine of waking up at five in the morning, though that only takes place when I've got my life together, and this last few weeks haven't been that case. I'd like to have my life in order again by december.

I will also be putting more effort in going to the gym - a butt doesn't really grow by sitting on it, I'm afraid. I also wish I could end this year being successful in a single pushup attempt, but once again, I am not counting on it.

Ahh, the sweet energy summer provides. Makes us all feel alive and absolutely restless for new experiences. Quite a contrast to winter, though it'll remain as my favorite season. I pretty much intend on harvesting the best of this summer burst of energy.

Well, that's a long answer. And what is present Stone-Faced Gargoyle excited about?

[grooviestsadpapaya]

Okay revisions!

So I’m gonna address some of the suggestions I got, they were all very good btw thank you!

We have some palate changes, rather than more greens the tones are warmer just to make them more recognizable.

More patterns on the pants and sleeves, they were kinda boring and I imagine that the Gerudo are a race that values arts, so boring clothes are a no go. Maybe their embroidery and designs are added on with time and as someone develops new skills there are more designs representative of that sewn onto their clothes.

Their shoes! I love them! I imagine the bottoms are made from Molduga tongue leather, since they are textured like that. They act like running spikes and stick to the sand so that these people can get around easier in the desert.

SCIMITAR 🗡🗡🗡🗡

Some things not present in the design that I will elaborate on in a future post:

The Gerudo use mainly satchels made from Molduga parts to carry supplies. I think I am going to make the Molduga more of a pivotal part in Gerudo culture since they are like the divine creatures of the desert. It is also canon that their organs are used for medicinal purposes, so I think it only makes sense that the Gerudo make use of every part of the beast.

The Gerudo have a gene that causes them all to be born female, and it is the same gene that makes them have four fingers. Because Ganondorf is male, he doesn’t have this gene and therefore has five fingers, a trait he inherited from his paternal father. The gene is dominant in Gerudo, hence why every other gene is recessed, making a male Gerudo incredible rare.

They have textured tongues so they are able to eat cacti! Unlike Hylians, who eat primarily meat and have vegetables and fruits as a minor part of their diet, meat is scarce in Gerudo Valley. When meat is not present (mostly in winter, when the Molduga are in hibernation) the Gerudo eat mostly cacti that have been cultivated in captivity, much like modern agriculture. Their rough tongues make it easier to eat without getting poked.

I might delete the other post with the old design, but I also might just keep it so that people can see my progress on this design. It’s been super fun! Hopefully I will come out with more ref sheets that I have been working on when I am tired of working on the comic. Please consider reblogging, this took a really long time and I would really appreciate it! You don’t have to of course but it does help me get criticism on improving my character design in the future.