#i think i am too old to treat it a stepping stone

[ariadneslament]

This is how quants were seen in the 1960s.

I could relate to this, except it was me instead in lingerie chanting "Eureka!"

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

yes! love me some mortal x immortal??/god type couples, i think they're cute. It's always sad though when they realize one will outlive the other, unless they do some magical stuff to make the human live just as long or if maybe the god person turns into a human.

I think it'd be so cute for nymph reader to accidentally slip up again before her and marcus officially meet, but she's not quick enough to disguise herself or hide again before marcus sees her so he chases after her and then it's like love at first sight ❤️

Hi, sweetie.

Your idea inspired me to write this…. You can take this as a prologue to Nymph. I thought Marcus could be younger (maybe Javier Peña style?). I hope you like it.

Warnings:  fluff, some nudity, not much going on, mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph. [prologue] l General Marcus Acacius

Nymph [masterlist]

For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. He had to, because his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful. 

All the glory of Rome, with all its provinces, with its cities of marble and gold, were nothing compared to what appeared before his eyes.

A being. A woman. Light and luminous like the rays of the sun, so different from what surrounded her, and at the same time seeming to fit there as if she had been created for this place.

He shouldn't be in this place. Marcus immediately felt as if he had sneaked into a temple where men were forbidden to stay, or as if he had spied on something that was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.

That day his legs carried him to these areas outside the camp. He didn't know why, as if the warm wind was pushing him for fun into the thicket of the forest. And when he stood behind a large and old oak tree, he saw the silver surface of the lake and her in front of him.

Beautiful as early morning, naked, sitting on the shore of the lake with her face turned towards the sun. He should have retreated and forgotten about it, but he couldn't help himself. 

He took a step forward, very quietly so as not to scare the woman away, but when he passed a blackberry bush, a wild bird got scared and flew out of the branches with a screech.

The girl heard this and immediately stood up abruptly. In the full sunlight, he saw her naked figure, standing proudly, although fear flickered in her eyes. She was like one of the statues in the temples.

Marcus raised a reassuring hand, approaching "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

She didn't say anything. She only gave him an angry look and reached for the flowing robe that was lying on the nearby stones. The soft material wrapped around her body, hiding the beauty of her body from his eyes.

"Are you a goddess?" he asked.

You looked at him over your shoulder. "If I were a goddess, you'd be dead or blind for daring to watch me bathe, mortal." you mocked him.

"So maybe you're a mermaid?" He was already close to you.

The light robes glowed with their own light. It was hard for him to believe that you were real.

"A mermaid?" you laughed. "You really don't know much about the world, but you're sweet." you turned to him with a smile on your face. "I'm a nymph, soldier."

He watched you carefully. Brown, gentle eyes looked at you with reverence. Dark hair, strong body and sun-kissed skin. You've seen many men, this one was really handsome.

"My name is Marcus." His voice was pleasant, low and warm. "I'm Marcus Acacius. I command the Roman troops stationed nearby."

You nodded. "You're everywhere. Even here." you gave him your name though, and he repeated it as if he wanted to check how it tasted on his tongue. "You are not the General of these troops. You are too young." 

Marcus frowned dark eyebrows, arrogance flashing from his eyes "I am over thirty years old."

"Still young." you smiled gently and approached him "I am older than the oldest oaks of this forest, than the lake you are looking at." your hand moved over his chest hidden behind his clean, black armor "I knew the heroes of your myths, I served the gods you worship. You are still young, Marcus."

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every move you made, every grimace, every smile, he wanted to remember it all. His heart was beating hard in his chest, you had to feel it.

"You mortals are truly funny." you continued, your hand sliding to the hilt of the sword at his side. "You confuse sirens with nymphs, you blame gods for your decisions, you call monsters those who weren't."

"Who do you mean?"

Your amused gaze traveled to his handsome face. "Like Medusa."

Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned. "That Gorgon? She was a monster with snakes instead of hair."

"She was a beautiful woman. Neptune possessed her in my lady's temple, which is why Minerva was angry. It was a sacred place." you replied, and although your words were strong, he didn't see the anger in your eyes. You were amused by the naivety of this soldier. "Don't judge a woman for the actions of a man, even if he's a god. She had every right to fly into a rage. Rome does the same, and you serve it. Remember the wrath of Medusa, Marcus."

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A warm hand rested on yours. Marcus tilted his head slightly.

"If you want to disarm me, you have to give me something in return." he said, a small smile appearing under his dark mustache.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Oh, really? What's that?"

"A kiss. One small kiss." His soothing voice penetrated your heart. "Prove to me that you're real."

You considered his words for a moment. Your sisters had often told you about how sweet and handsome mortals tried to charm them just to possess their bodies. Marcus seemed different to you though. You didn't know why, but you liked him.

"That's a big ask." you said, lifting your chin proudly.

"That's also a request from a little boy, as you called me."

You shook your head in disbelief. His impudence was captivating. Finally, you nodded. With your free hand, you reached for his smooth cheek. The skin was warm, you felt his breath on your lips, you could almost hear his heartbeat. 

But it wasn't you who gave Marcus a kiss, it was he who stole it from you, pressing himself into your lips as if he wanted to taste the forbidden fruit at all costs. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer so that you wouldn't accidentally slip away from his lips. 

Warm, soft lips caressed yours, and as soon as you parted your mouth, Marcus took the opportunity and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss.

Your legs almost buckled under you. You'd never experienced anything like it. Your body gave in to each kiss, wanting more and more. The solid hilt of the sword in your hand provided your only stability. 

Eventually, however, Marcus had to draw his breath. It was at that moment that you drew his sword in one fluid movement and took a few steps back.

"You are too careless for a Roman soldier." You declared, raising his sword towards him.

"You can stab me with it, my sweetest." He replied, his eyes shining in ecstasy. "My life is complete now, I can die."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"My life is a blink of an eye to you. To me, you are equal to the gods."

He noticed your eyes widen, your chest heaving in a sharp breath. The blade trembled, too heavy for your unskilled hand. Marcus caught it and pulled you to him.

When his hand rested on your cheek you let go of his sword, which fell softly onto the grass. His touch was warm, gentle, tender. For a moment you thought that he couldn't be mortal, he had too much power over you.

"How can I live without being able to taste your lips every day?" he asked "Do something about it, or I'll go mad..."

"Your life is a blink of an eye to me..." you whispered feeling his lips brush the corner of your mouth "I'll have to live until the end of the world hungry for your warmth."

You let him experience the taste of your lips again. And Marcus seemed insatiable with you. Strong arms held you tightly, protecting you from sinking to the ground. It lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours. 

Marcus spent the whole afternoon with you, talking and listening, laughing and feasting his eyes on the sight of you. His heart was filled with feelings he couldn't name. 

However, his life called him to fulfill his duties to the Empire. He reluctantly reached for his sword.

"Will you be here tomorrow? I want to see you again."

You looked at him with tenderness. "I will be. And I will wait for you."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He kissed your hands with reverence, feasted his eyes on your sight one last time, and then disappeared into the darkening forest, leaving you full of feelings unknown to you.

"My dear child..."

A familiar, calm voice floated to you from nearby. You felt a warm breeze and soon Minerva, your lady, stood by your side. Her armor gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun.

"I didn't think mortals could be like this." You said, staring at the place where Marcus had disappeared. "No one warned me about this..."

"A great future awaits him. His destiny must be fulfilled." the goddess spoke gently.

"Marcus will do great things. Many lives are already tied to him..." your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes "My lady..."

Minerva looked at you softly, her eyes full of infinite wisdom. No one and nothing could hide from her.

"Take this from me." you whispered, with each word your heart shattering into pieces "Take from me what doesn’t belong to me. Take him."

"Do you know what you are asking, child?" Minerva's face was gentle but determined "You don’t know his full destiny. This mortal loves you, his heart is pure. He will come here tomorrow, for you."

"My lady, we are not destined for what we both desire... And I don't want to watch life slip away from his eyes. Please..." tears were already running down your cheeks, but you didn't feel ashamed, it only proved what you felt "Please make him forget about me and take him out of my head too. It was a beautiful day, but I don't want to take away what is destined for him..."

"Are you sure? Will you deprive yourself of this love?"

You nodded. This decision was painful, but you couldn't do otherwise. Marcus was supposed to have a bright future, full of victories and glory. There was no place for you there.

"Let it be so, child." the goddess's hand, hot as the sun's rays, touched your cheek, Minerva leaned down and her lips brushed your forehead "Forget it, it is my will. Let this feeling fly away from you if it is not meant for you. And tomorrow, when he opens his eyes at dawn, he will no longer remember what happened here. May destiny be fulfilled." 

When the first rays of sunlight crept lazily into the camp tent, Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched on the bed. A strange feeling of emptiness and loss filled his heart. He had the impression that he had lost something precious, something that he would never get back.

nymph. [1/2] l General Marcus Acacius

taglist: @ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal

@missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Neon Moon

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Rhysand’s sister grapples with a one-sided mating bond that has yet to snap for the Shadowsinger. When a drunken night brings the two closer together than ever, Azriel is made aware of a circumstance that could change the course of her life.

This is a one-shot that is able to be read as a stand-alone fic.

This is also a prequel to Wicked Felina and elements of this prequel will be involved in the remainder of the series. Wicked Felina Part 5

Warnings: Sexual content, alcohol, language, age difference concerns

Y/N - 19 Years Old

When the sun goes down on my side of town, that lonsesome feeling comes to my door.

Pretty moans echo through the walls of the House of Wind only broken by an ocasional deep groan.

I roll over with an aggravated sigh, pulling an overstuffed pillow across the back of my head, covering my ears. Not that it will do any good. Curse being High Fae and the exceptional hearing that comes with it.

I lay awake, taking deep breaths, trying to sink into the starry depths of my mind but Azriel’s hook-up of the week lets out a particularly loud cry of pleasure before her moans are muffled by what I assume is a gloved hand and a low reprimand.

I roll my eyes. He may as well chide her with a warning of “Shh, don’t wake the baby.” by the way he treats me.

Never mind the fact that I am an adult now. I have tits for cauldron’s sake, nice ones at that. I wouldn’t be wearing this oversized, ridiculously soft knit sweater if I didn’t.

And yet he still views me as a child.

It’s cruel to think that on my eighteenth name day, a golden thread snapped. Tethering my soul to him… and yet, he has no clue. That, or he does, and has no intention of acting on it, refusing to view me as anything other than the little sister of his best friend.

I’ve got a table for two, way in the back where I sit alone and I think of losing you.

So I grin and bear it. And if I happen to wear clothing a bit too cheeky when he is around and other males inevitably gawk at my exposed skin, thus prompting the overprotective bat to shuck his sweater off and toss it to me, and then I spend the rest of the night drinking him under the table? Well, that will have to do for now. So, I wait for the day his soul is ready to seek mine.

Y/N - 21 years old

He’s watching her again. He always does. She dances through the room like petals on a breeze, enamoring the crowd with vivacious conversation as she skirts throughout those gathered in the room. How will I ever compare to the radiant and lovely enigma that is THE Morrigan? I shouldn’t feel bitterness toward my cousin and yet I do. I get why people flock to her, she’s kind and lovely, strong, somehow both approachable and unobtainable. She’s a total pain in my ass busybody cousin-acting-as-older-sister I never wanted.

I requested that the band play Azriel’s favorite song tonight. The one time he’ll loosen up and let himself enjoy a moment. It has become a routine, our dance. The one time that he holds me a little closer. The one time I can pretend he sees me as the mature female that I am and not the child I was.

But tonight, the song plays, and it’s Morrigan in his arms, not me. It’s not the first time he’s chosen her over me. When she’s here, I don’t exist.

I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t watch this.

I spend most every night beneath the light of a Neon Moon.

I turn to leave, exiting the hall, winding through the crowd of pompous nobility from all courts. The garden. I’ll find solace in the garden, beneath the glittering stars, among the fragrant blooms. Sneaking down a quiet corridor and out a shadowed alcove, a guard opens the door for me and the warm, lavender scented breeze greets me like a friend. My steps fall swiftly, distancing myself from the evening revelry. As I wind down a path of blooming roses, a loose stone causes my sole to slip, bracing myself for the fall and the sting of rock to my palms. Instead, I am shocked to feel warm, strong arms catching me. Looking up at my savior, a few long golden locks of hair fall over the concerned, emerald green eyes staring down at me.

Y/N - four months later

“Shit, Shadowsinger. You look like you could use this more than me.”

The start of a grin tilts the left corner of his lips upward as an incredulous laugh slips from his throat. Reaching a scarred hand toward the bottle of my brother’s finer wine and swiping it from me.

Azriel’s hazel eyes assess the bottle, giving a raise of his brow. “Looks like you’ve done a number on this one already.”

“I never do things halfway.” I tease. Giving a nod toward the wine that was indeed half-empty. His dark brows rise again as I unveil a second bottle before he could remark on it. “Some Spymaster you are. You should’ve know I’d come prepared with the best selections from Rhys’ secret-” The playful jest is interrupted by the tickle of a shadow trailing up my arm and spiriting the second bottle right out of my hand, eliciting a pout of my lower lip.

“Hey, now that’s just greedy.”

The handsome planes of Azriel’s face illuminate in the twilight, causing my heart to stir. Perhaps it’s the way the night shrouds him in ominous twilight, or the way his shadows sit strewn across his shoulders but I know tonight was hard for him.

Mor had shown up to dinner as radiant as ever, a red dress clinging to her delicious curves, some male she’d picked up at Rita’s on her arm.

Now if you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely

I should leave him alone but I can feel it in my chest. Stoic and broody? Yes. A lonely soul? Also yes.

And damn, do I know I deserve better than to be the female that will never be chosen first? Yes. And yet, he’s my mate and more importantly, my friend.

“Scooch over,” my arm waives in a correlating gesture. “This grass is dewy and cold and this dress is far too thin. Your leathers can handle the chill, I’m stealing your warmth.”

With a small shake of the head, a lock of raven hair falls over his forehead, Azriel scoots, exposing the vacated patch of grass for me to sit on. “Gods, it’s still chilly.” I complain as I swipe one of the bottles back from the Shadowsinger.

“Nobody asked you to come out here.”

“And yet here I am.”

Azriel eyes meet mine, a small flicker of emotion passing behind them. “Yes.” He whispers fondly. “Here you are.”

I ignore the blush threatening to redden my cheeks and fire back at him. “Your breath smells like a vineyard. You’d already gotten started on the drinking without me?”

Recognizing the rhetorical question for what it is, Azriel presses his lips to the bottle, tilting his head back as he takes a long swig of the bittersweet wine. My breath catches as a harsh swallow bobs his adam’s apple. Heat pools through me and I quickly turn away, searching for something, anything to distract from the effect he has on me.

To watch your broken dreams, dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon

Shadows dance around us, like figures on the wind, weaving in and out of the moon’s luminescent rays.

“Y/N…” I turn to face him as a scarred hand reaches for me before seemingly thinking better of it and pulling back. “I didn’t dance with you at the ball.”

It’s my turn to laugh incredulously. “That was months ago Azriel, why bring it up now?”

That peculiar flicker of emotion crosses his eyes again.

“I’m sorry.”

I pause, taken back by the apology. Had he known how much it hurt to see him dancing with her? Thinking on it, I can’t seem to grasp whether it is better or worse that way.

I freeze, grappling with emotion as he ruffles his hair with a scarred hand, dragging his palm over his face. “Y/N. The conflict that wars within me, it’s… .”

Confusion conveys on my features and I resist the urge to dive into his mind and read exactly what he’s thinking. “What?” I ask as his sentence trails into a void of lost words.

He shakes his head as if he’s already pushed whatever he was about to confess aside. Hurt washes through me and I begin to turn away. A broad, calloused palm grasps my wrist. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” He leans closer, his wine addled breath mingling with my own, only centimeters separate his lips from mine.

I think of two young lovers running wild and free. I close my eyes and sometimes see you in the shadows.

I’m certain he can hear my heartbeat as it roars through my ears. My eyes flutter looking into his heavy-lidded hazel and onyx eyes. His head tilts, low voice barely more than a rumble.

“You’re everything.”

Azriel inhales, his gaze searching mine in a silent ask of permission, preparing to close the hairs-breadth of distance between our lips. Suddenly those lust-addled eyes go wide, nostrils flaring, and he abruptly pulls away, swiping my bottle of wine as he withdraws his hand. “You don’t need any more of this, Y/N. Go to bed.”

My mouth gapes slightly, processing what just happened. “What?”

“It’s late and I have to leave for a mission for your father in the morning.”

He stands straight, stretching out his tall body and those glorious, broad wings, stiff from sitting on the ground.

My heart is crushed, once again. The words that could change it all sitting on the tip of my tongue.

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate.

But his feelings for my cousin still run strong and we have centuries ahead of us. I refuse to be in second place.

Azriel extends a tanned arm to me, eyes now softened, a slight crease between his brows as he takes me in. “Come on, Y/N. Let’s get inside.”

Taking his extended arm, we walk in silence through the grand entryway of the House of Wind, winding down the corridors within, stopping at my room, I murmur a rushed “goodnight.” before escaping behind the shield of my door, to the quiet lonesome solace of my room.

I sense Azriel’s presence outside my latched door for several moments before his steps pad down the hall opening the door one down from mine, into his room.

No telling how many tears I've sat here and cried, or how many lies that I've lied telling my poor heart he’ll come back someday.

Azriel

Azriel couldn’t take it. The way the walls closed in around him. Sleep was always just out of reach but tonight, he felt the weight on his chest in a crushing embrace.

If you lose your one and only, there's always room here for the lonely.

He’d spent the past few years dicking around, ignoring the shift he’d felt toward Y/N. For fuck’s sake, she was Rhysand’s little sister, barely an adult. She’d always gravitated toward him in her childhood. Looked up to him. And he cared so deeply for her, like a little sister. And then soon after her eighteenth birthday something began to shift in his chest. Something that he felt so incredibly wrong for feeling - and yet something he’d buried deep within begged him to accept that it was right.

He was a bastard for it and latched onto his feelings for Mor even harder, despite the fact that they’d simmered down in previous years. And then Y/N had changed her demeanor toward him and he knew- gods, he knew she wanted him but he couldn’t do it. Rhys would kill him for it if her father didn’t first. It was so wrong.

And it had gotten harder and harder recently. He’d brought females home, spent more time around Mor when she’d visit, anything to push her away without actually owning up to what his feelings were.

And then Mor had shown up on a whim tonight with some male that she’d picked up gods knows where, he couldn’t even fall back on clinging to her, leaving him forced to face how strongly he felt toward Y/N, so he’d indulged in booze and snuck out to sit beneath the moonlight and drown in his own pool of self-pity.

To watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

When she’d found him, any semblance of willpower was gone. Y/N was a goddess beneath the moonlight. Kind, strong, intelligent, and so damned beautiful and, out here, it was just the two of them. So, he’d finally given in. One kiss, one kiss would help him see how wrong this was. And yet as he leaned in, all he could feel was how right it seemed to be.

Until he’d inhaled, taking that final breath of courage to close the distance. That’s when he smelled it, the shift in her scent. Her scent was there but there was something somewhat familiar and earthen intertwined a scent so light and sweet, almost like roses. A scent that was not her own, not of her.

She was pregnant. He had no idea by whom but the realization sobered him up entirely. He swiped her wine and panicked. Did she know? Should he say something? Instead, like the older brother figure he’d once viewed himself as to her, he escorted her into the house and told her to go to bed, ensuring to keep the alcohol out of her reach.

Gods, he didn’t know what to do from here

He spent the rest of the night flying, taking in the stars and the moon as they shone brightly above, ethereal just like her.

He’d go on his mission this week, and Y/N and her mother would travel to the war camp that her father was at to visit him, and when she came back he’d talk it all out with her.

Yes, he’d support her and love her however she needed to be, whether it be as a friend, as chosen family, or as something more. It would all work out. It had to.

Come watch your broken dreams dance in and out of the beams of a neon moon.

————————————

Although this is a one-shot, it is also the prequel to Wicked Felina, you can read Part 1 here.

Tags

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Wicked Felina tags: @glittervame @julesofvolterra @saltedcoffeescotch @candyjaypoppins @st4r-girl-official @nocasdatsgay @gxdsmonsters @honk4emoboyz

[viktoriaashleyyx]

This is a pro Tamlin, anti Rhysand self insert revenge fic. All characters belong to SJM, but she wasn't treating them right. Tam x reader, Tam x Rhysands Sister (OC), First person narrative. This will also reference Elucien and Neris in the future but we aren't there yet. Contains slight violence, poisons, broken bones. Also profanity. I'm not sure what else to tw if I miss something let me know. This is my first fic. I honestly don't know how to find word count, but it's roughly 4 pages on word docs. Criticism welcome. Rhysands Sister is back and she's pissed. Rhysand gets his ass whooped and Tamlin gets shown love. Enjoy.

Ch 2. Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10

Tarquin BC

Chapter 1:

I crash landed on a stone surface. A balcony of sorts? It was well built if it was, considering how long I've been falling, I'm shocked I didn't crash right through it. I know now that making a deal with the gods is a lot like making a deal with a damn djin. 

“Who goes there??” A booming male voice barked. I could hear swords drawn. Fuck where am I? My ears were still ringing, vision blurred, and chest heavy from the impact. I blinked my eyes open to find a winged male looming over me. Another illyrian? Have I finally made it home? Fuck, then that means I am in the night court. Damnit, 7 fucking courts in Prythia and I just happen to land here. At my brother's court. 

This ones expression shifted from threatening to complete shock as his gaze landed on my eyes. “Sky?” 

At my brother's court and at his fucking house, Freya has a sick sense of humor. I slowly sat up, ignoring the hand the illyrian extended to me. 

“Your wing!” He gasped. So thats what that throbbing pain was. My wing seemed to have been snapped in the fall. “You need a healer, go get Madja” he commanded the other brute. 

“Don't bother” I dismissed, standing up slowly. I pulled a small glass vial out of my pocket, a healing potion, I always kept a few on hand, never know when you're gonna need it. I downed the bitter red liquid as I've done a thousand times and grabbed the dagger off my hip. I put the handle in my mouth and bit down on it as I grabbed my own wing and straightened out the bone. I held it right for about a minute until the potion worked its magic. It hurt like crazy but I was careful not to show these idiots, the fear and shock on their faces was satisfying if I am being honest. 

“I'm guessing you are Azriel and Cassian, though I can't tell which is which” I admitted, trying to seem just polite enough to leave. 

The one next to me spoke first “I'm Azriel, he's Cassian” okay, Azriel short hair, Cassian long hair “this is Mor and Amren and she is Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court” 

“So my brother is dead?” I had hoped my excitement would come off as concern. 

“No, no, they rule together, as equals” Cassian spoke

“Got it” this conversation is dragging. I need to leave. 

“It's so nice to meet Rhysands sister, we thought you were dead, I'd heard so much about you” Feyre gushed, “Rhys is out on important business at the moment but he should be back soon.” I had no use or interest in this small talk. 

“How old are you?” I looked at her as if to study the young thing in front of me. I was never good at pleasantries. I spent a good while in isolation and I tend to just blurt out the questions on my mind. 

“I am 21” Feyre replied sharply, yep I angered her with my lack of class. 

“Ew, 21 years? Ugh, my brother always did like them unreasonably young.” I'm just gonna keep going with it, hopefully she'll throw me out. 

“My age is not a disability” Feyre snapped. 

“It's adorable that you think that.” I'm in too deep. Oops. “Anyway, I am sorry I crashed into your home, I had little control, but I would like to leave now.” 

“You will apologize and bow to your high lady.” Cassian growled. Azriel stepped in front of the door. 

“She is not my high lady, I am not a citizen of your court, in fact, I am starting to feel like a prisoner.” It's not lost on me that I have bore the title of Queen, multiple times. In both cases I have dismantled the monarchy entirely, setting up a system in which the people vote on who leads them. Her title meant nothing to me. I bow to those deserving, not the one who rely solely on birthright. But she doesn't need to know this. I have more important things on my mind than to argue with a child "I will request one more time, you move and allow me to leave.” 

“Or what?” Azriel snapped. Unmoving. 

I did not want to show this much of my hand just yet, knowing this magic is not native to Prythia. But, if they want to twist my arm, so be it. A swirling purple circle opened up under me and I fell though, closing it quickly behind me. Portals were my favorite magic to do, in more cases than once it ensured my freedom.

Landing softly on my feet, I took in my surroundings. Cool air, rolling green hills, and the sounds of birds chirping in the distance, the Spring court. I was finally home. I eventually spotted the manor I spent so much of my time at as a child. Mother didn't make me train with the illyrians as she did my brother because she feared the treatment I would receive, also by the time I came along she had befriended the ladies of the other courts. We would spend weeks here at times, the children would play together and the mothers would discuss adult things we didn't care about. One of those things being alliances, and what better way to encourage an alliance between Spring and Night than by an arranged marriage.

I didn't mind them encouraging me to play with the cute blonde shapeshifter. He was kind and silly and only a couple years older than me. The other kids, mainly Autumn boys, were rough and volatile, and I just had no interest in what they considered fun. When I would get flustered by my wings knocking things over and getting in the way, the youngest Spring boy would remind me how beautiful they were, or how powerful they made me. The few times he would get a chance to practice his fiddle, I would dance and twirl, even if it was just the arpeggios. He was the 3rd born, and I the second and a girl, they didn't expect either of us to become High lord. 

The manor was about a mile away, I shot up another portal to the door, I was tired after all and, if I'm being honest, a little excited to be back.

When I reached the door it was broken in half and wide open. I creeped inside, cautiously. It looked to be abandoned. Dirt and dust coated the walls and floors, priceless artifacts shattered and books thrown from the shelves. I noticed claw marks in the furniture. “Please just be alive, after everything, I can’t be too late.” I whispered to myself. My heart sank as I looked around. 

Further into the dilapidated manor, I heard muffled voices coming from the kitchen. “Get out.” a tired weak growl. I ran to the entrance and just as I rounded the corner I saw my brother's boot kick in the chest of.. Tamlin. He began spitting up blood. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” I hissed at my brother. 

Rhysand whipped around towards me, Tamlin looked up from the floor, eyes wide. 

“You're alive??” Rhysand darted towards me and I shoved him to the ground, rushing to Tamlins side. I knelt down beside him, held his head up from where he laid on the floor and pulled another glass vial out of my pocket. 

“It'll be bitter but swallow” I commanded gently. He didn't argue, he took the healing potion and I kissed his forehead as I laid him back down gently to address my brother. 

I stood tall. Nothing but pure rage in my violet eyes toward my brother. I always hated how much we looked alike. “THIS is the ‘important business’ you told your wife you had to take care of?” 

“I thought he killed you, he hurt my mate.” Rhysand admitted, no remorse. 

“And I finally make it back home after 300 years in exile to find you kicking mine” I state through gritted teeth. 

Rhysands eyes narrowed “your what?” It was obvious he wanted me to retract my statement, not going to happen. I didn't waste my time away, I knew I was more powerful than all of Prythia, I had to be, in case I had returned to Amarantha still terrorizing the place. 

“You heard me.” I maintained his gaze. In a split second he lunged for me and I reached my hand out into the small portal that appeared to my side. I grabbed one of the curved blades I was gifted by the warriors I previously trained with. These blades were specifically enchanted to drip poisons into the wounds they create. This one? Bloodbane, or as Prythians call it, “Faebane.” I slashed him across the face in a controlled move, just enough to leave a scar and allow the poison to sink in. 

He screamed in pain and looked back up at me. My eyes fell entirely black and cracks formed across my face as I spit my curse at him, lifting up his chin with my sword to make him look me in the eye “IF YOU, OR ANY OF YOUR LACKEYS, ENTER THE SPRING COURT BORDERS AGAIN, ALL OF THE AIR WILL BE DRAWN FROM YOUR LUNGS, AND IF YOU CANNOT GET OUT BEFORE YOU PASS OUT WE WILL FEED YOUR BODIES TO THE PIGS.” I relaxed, my face returning to normal. “Now get out.” A portal opened below him and he fell, leaving him only halfway up the steps to the House of Wind. 

I turned my attention back to Tamlin, he had sat up, the healing potion having done its job, looking up at me with a million different emotions on his face, shock, fear, concern, confusion and relief. I sat down next to him, draping my legs over his. He embraced me like I was going to disappear any minute. “You're alive. Or I am dead, I do not care as long as I have you in my arms again.” he sighed as we just sat there on the floor. 

I awoke the daemati powers I hardly used as I pressed my forehead to his. A gentle knock on the walls of his mind, and he allowed me in. I shared the memories I held dear for all these years, of us playing in the fields of Spring, the days he would spend with me in the gallery his mother gifted me, watching me paint, the mischief we would get into and the giggles we would share. His face relaxed into a soft smile as I kissed his cheek.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@ladythornofrivia asked to be tagged❤️

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

fave evermore lyrics for it's anniversary?

where do I begin when I am in fact on waves out being tossed by how much I love this album????

And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step / And I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be forevermore

OK I'm going to go song by song for the rest haha

I'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night / Rough on the surface but you cut through like a knife

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door, November flush and your flannel cure / "This dorm was once a madhouse," I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me" / How evergreen, our group of friends, Don't think we'll say that word again / And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls that we once walked through

ETA how could I have forgotten!!! "She would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head," they said

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

I won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins / Took this dagger in me and removed it / Gain the weight of you then lose it / Believe me, I could do it

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my Merlot on his mouth, that ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given is just shit we're dividin' up

Showed you all of my hiding spots, I was dancing when the music stopped / And in the disbelief, I can't face reinvention

Haunted by the look in my eyes that would've loved you for a lifetime

When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

It's never too late to come back to my side / The stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to? / And if this is the long haul how'd we get here so soon?

And the old widow goes to the stone every day / But I don't, I just sit here and wait / Grieving for the living

I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

Spring breaks loose, but so does fear

So yeah, it's a fire, it's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it

Now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon / With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con

Actually I always felt I must look better in the rear view

The autumn chill that wakes me up, you loved the amber skies so much / Long limbs and frozen swims, you'd always go past where our feet could touch

Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me / Watched as you signed your name Marjorie, all your closets of backlogged dreams and how you left them all to me

Don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled / I'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles

um all of evermore but

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong / Writing letters addressed to the fire

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost / Sending signals to be double-crossed

In the cracks of light I dreamed of you / It was real enough to get me through

Matches burn after the other, pages turn and stick to each other / Wages earned and lessons learned but I'm right where you left me

I swear you could hear a hair pin drop right when I felt the moment stop / Glass shattered on the white cloth / Everybody moved on, I stayed there

When the words of a sister come back in whispers that prove she was not in fact what she seemed / not a twin from your dreams /She's a crook who was caught

That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it's time to go

He's got my past frozen behind glass, but I've got me

[aha-chuu]

That event though,,,,,

So Kaveh wins and refuses the money because of all the baggage attached, which Alhaitham already kinda knew about cos it's the whole reason he's involved. Anyway they're still roommates.

But mostly.

Kaveh takes leftovers home

Alhaitham expects him to do this

All his friends know he keeps talking about Alhaitham

Alhaitham worries too - all that stuff about Kaveh's dad and the guilt comes up and Alhaitham keeps trying to shut it down!

Kaveh thanks Alhaitham!!

Alhaitham is a teasing bastard who wants three thankus, please 🥺

Kaveh invited Alhaitham to dinner too, his treat

Alhaitham got all "uhh yes um yes that no no thanku" babe do you want him to take you on a date. Is that it.

Rn I'm getting a lot more pining vibes from Alhaitham but he's too tsundere to actually get any of it across, plus he quite likes whatever the fuck they have going on rn. Meanwhile Kaveh is trying to fuck off, sort of, except every time his friends ask him if he's okay he doesn't tell them so there's literally no opportunity for him to move out which sounds like he doesn't actually wanna move out tbh.

Like, he gets the prize money and he is a person of integrity so he doesn't take it. But some people characterise Alhaitham as weirdly abusive (which is wrong, just incorrect) but if he were actually like that then Kaveh would be surely desperate enough to take some of the money just to rent a new place?? Or at least take Cyno's money when he first offers, or accept the research funding so he can get more work - but Kaveh isn't desperate at all to leave.

If you read Kaveh's character stories, you know he mostly just feels guilty about putting Alhaitham out. But Alhaitham likes Kaveh living with him!!

They are very much still bickering old married couple who have divorced twice etc, but I do think this event is a stepping stone to a slightly more overtly stable dynamic. Kinda like how Diluc and Kaeya went from outright malice to something more understanding. We'll almost certainly see more Alhaitham in Kaveh's hangout event, so I'm sure more groundwork will be laid there.

Anyway yeah it's good, really very good. Kaveh is a great character on his own but their ship also exists and is very cute - I also am not certain, but to my knowledge they are the ship that has had the most dialogue in game together? Except a few traveller ships but, you know, that's 49.9% Paimon, 0.1% traveller.

I hope you all liked the event too! I wonder if there are secret locations to find everyone in after the fact?

[darkcrowprincess]

Lunter Beauty and the Beast AU; except: Luz is the Beast; Hunter is Belle and Phillip doubles as Gaston and Belle's father.

*Luz looks like her titan form, but her face is more beastly*

The rain starts pouring when Hunter finally lays eyes on his titan beast from the bottom of the stairs. He is so happy to see her again, but happiness is so fragile when people are cruel.

"LUZ!" Hunter screams in warning, fear in his whole being at what his eyes see before him. Luz the titan beast gets distracted by Hunter. Happy to see him. "You came back!" She calls down to him from the stairs of the crumbling old tower.

Unknown, from behind his uncle comes at her with a knife. A knife he stabs quickly into her back. She screams and howls in pain at the cool sharp blade. Hunter screams with her. As if he's getting stabbed too. Their connection so deep he feels her pain. Rain beats down harder on the ground. Beating like the sounds of drums. A flash of lighting so close makes everything light up for a few seconds. He sees the cruel look on his uncles face.

"This is what comes from loving monsters Hunter, but don't worry this time I'll save you from her. I wont fail you like I failed my brother Caleb."

"Leave her alone!", screams Hunter.

Belos pulls the knife out of Luz's back. Bits of her clothes, titian fur, and blood clinging to the knife as he pull the knife out. Than quicker than you can see plunges it again into her other shoulder.

"Stop it!" Hunter screams. It echoing around the condemned parts of the castle.

Luz's titan face hisses in pain, whines coming out of her mouth. Belos grabs Luz by a horn on her head. Holding her up so he can put the bloody knife to her throat.

"Come with me now Hunter and I promise to make her death painless."

"N-no please Uncle," Hunter begs.

"Now Hunter! I wont ask again." Belos hisses cold and cruel. The sky lights up again, causing his unles face to appear monster like and cruel. He looks less like a man and more of a monster.

Hunter goes to his knees pleading and begging, "Please Uncle, don't!"

"Pathetic," Belos speaks coldly. "You'd beg on your hands a knees for this beast?!"

At that, the titan beast has come back into Luz. She is tired of this poor excuse of life treating Hunter this way. Her eyes open wide and her pupils go slit like in anger.

As if some powerful strength has sparked deep inside to help ignore the pain. Luz growls, angry and determined. "Leave him alone!" She than sinks her sharp titan teeth into his wrist. Breaking through the skin and muscle. Belos( on the consequence of being just a mortal man) yells out in pain, dropping his only weapon, his knife. It falls down into the darkness. Luz than using the last of her strength judo flips his weight over her back, than completely off of her and lets him go. Belos realizes whats happening too late. Luz using his weight to flip him out the window of the tower, and letting gravity do the rest. The last thing Belos hears on this earth is the titan saying, "I am not a beast!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Belos yell echos outside in the rain as he falls to his death. His body becoming smaller and smaller, till he disappears into the deep darkness. Never to be seen or heard from a again.

Luz stares at his form out the window. Breathing heavily. Hunter stares at her in shcok. Luz's titian eyes turn down to meet his. They hold eye contact for a few seconds. Than Luz eyes roll back into her head and she faints to the cold ground of the tower. This causes Hunter cry out in fear and finally move. 'No, no please.' Hunter thinks.

Hunter runs up the wet stone steps. Almost slipping several times. After what feels like a million years, he's at the top of the tower.

Luz is on her back, blood slowly pooling on the wet cold stone. He can already smell the blood, even as the rain drops mix into it. Turning the cruel red lighter mixed with the water. Hunter goes to her and kneels by her side. The blood staining him, yet he doesn't care. He only cares for her.

"Luz? Luz!" He carefully lifts her head onto his lap. Running his hands over her fur cheeks. She's breathing heavily. She opens her eyes a little to look up at him. Its a struggle for her to keep them open.

Hunter tries to smile at her in comfort. But its a wobbly smile. Tears mixed with rain drip down his face. "Luz!"

"H-Hunter, you came back?" Luz smiles weakly up at him.

"Of course I did! I-I promised didn't I." Hunter

Luz leans into his touch. His hands cradle her. "At least I got to see you one last time." She says that faintly, as if shes loosing the energy to speak.

"Don't say that! P-please don't say that. Just hang on!"

Why are words so hard? Hunter has so much more to say, but the words wont come. They stay stuck inside, just like everything else. He is powerless. Just like every other moment of Hunter's life. He couldn't save his parents, and now he can't save Luz. She's dying!

At that Hunter leans closer to her body blocking the rain from dripping down onto her. The iron smell of blood mixed with earthy wet rain is stronger. Gentle as can be, he leans his forhead against hers. At the touch her eyes open to stare at him. Her eyes are filled with pain but also love.

Luz than sighs, her eyes close. She stops breathing. She. Stops. Breathing.

Hunter feels as if he has gone deaf. He can't hear anything, except a long unstopping high pitch faint sound in his ears. The kind you get when your eardrumbs have popped. Hunter doesn't feel the raindrops falling on him anymore. Or smell anything. He's gone numb. The only thing he sees is his Luz. The only thing is Luz. Faintly without realizing it he says, "I love you." Its a desperate, at the brink of breaking completely confession.

******

Unknow to Hunter, Luz's yellow rose in its glass home loses its last petal. Just as Hunter says I love you the petal falls. Its falls among the other petals. Than with in the petals start glowing. A bright light. It is not the end. In fact the curse has broken.

*******

As Hunter tells Luz I love you. A bright glowing light starts to shine in her chest. It slowly grows bigger and bigger. Eventually Hunter starts to notice the light. He backs away from Luz in shock. The light sparkles and shines. Like millions of little stars hugging the she beasts form. Soon the light spreads and completely covers her.

*and that's all I have for now for this. Like literally that's all I could think of. Maybe later I can change it. But right now I'm just too frustrated with it. I'm just going to post it as is for now. Sorry*

[the-kingshound]

My Hound’s POV for the Mordred saying goodbye after being given jewelry that belonged to the Hound prompt. I’m not entirely happy with it, but I would be writing a whole-ass multi-chapter fanfic to do so.

Warnings:

My Hound is currently unnamed as I am indecisive, so his name is never mentioned here. When you see a they/them/their used in a place where a singular could be, it’s for Arthur as my Hound is he/him.

Slight suicidal ideation in one line, only hinted at and not outwardly said. If you want to avoid it, it’s in the same paragraph that starts with: “He had never thought he would live past the age of perhaps forty”.

My punctuation sucks.

Work Below:

“I don’t want this! I want you!”

The words nearly break his resolve. For a long time, he had merely been moving through the motions, doing as his parents wished and obeying without question even if something broke in him with every new order.

He thought that it would be the same when he came to Camelot, trading one set of rules and expectations for another but, it wasn’t.

He hadn’t expected to find love in the spouse he’d been arranged to marry, one whom he had only married to end a war and yet, he had. In that man he found love, in their castle he had found family that he never thought he would have and a child that he had never expected but would never give up.

He was the King’s Hound, he would do anything for Arthur, to protect Arthur and Camelot.

There was one who held even more of his loyalty than Arthur, however, and it was the seventeen-year-old boy breaking down in his arms, clutching a ring that they had both picked out together, knowing the boy had a matching one himself, kept safe in his room as he had long since outgrown it.

His hope was that Mordred would eventually grow to wear this one, that if he ever had a child of his own, he would take that child sized one back in his room, tell the story of the day they spent together, sneaking away from his responsibilities and Mordred’s lessons for a single day, when they stumbled across a jeweler and he had decided to treat the child to something that would tie them together, to show him that even when he was gone, he was still there.

The rings weren’t the best quality, at least not for royalty, but they were theirs and held memories far more valuable than anything the best jeweler could have crafted with the rarest stones and metals.

The rings had reminded him of his home, of Ireland and the landscape that he could still see when he closed his eyes, the sound of the ocean hitting the base of the cliffs and the smell of the salt in the air. The music and art and food, all the things he had shared with Mordred in hopes that he could eventually show the child his home that he missed dearly, even if he would never return to it to live out his days.

He wanted to show it all to Mordred and could only hope that those left behind will do so in his place.

He didn’t want to leave this child behind, didn’t want to cause the heartbreak that he could already see forming without having stepped away yet.

Arthur had given him a new purpose and so had Mordred, each in their own ways.

Arthur had tried to convince him to not go, to stay and he would figure something out that wouldn’t end in the death of their spouse. It had been an hour of arguing back and forth, of trying to convince Arthur that there was no other way. There was no time. There was nothing they could do but allow him to protect them one final time or leave Camelot to slaughter.

He knew, too, that if he allowed his own heartbreak, his own fear of leaving them to show, that Arthur wouldn’t hesitate to try and sacrifice Camelot for him. Foolish, kind-hearted Arthur who sometimes struggled with the kind of choices a king had to make.

One life for thousands. It should have been an easy choice. It was a foolish thing to think the life of one outweighed the rest and Arthur would never forgive himself for their lives lost.

He would never forgive himself for this, either. It’s why his loyal Hound was the one to make the final call, to make the choice that his kindhearted husband would have chosen wrong on, if he saw how this choice weighed on his consorts’ mind and heart and his consort wouldn’t survive having so many lives sacrificed just so he could live.

It was the kind of foolish thing that had made his love for his spouse grow over the years. That kind, foolish heart was something he never had himself, something he had never had others show to him before. Not since some of his siblings, anyway, and even with them it was different to the devotion than what Arthur provided him.

Yet, it wasn’t enough to keep their spouse from making the final decision for him, just as he sometimes had before during their… huh, he hadn’t realized how little time it had truly been since he had married Arthur and came to Camelot.

Mordred was eleven and he is only seventeen, now. A mere six years had felt like so long surrounded by people who held no blood relation to him and yet felt as if they had grown up together instead of being on opposite sides for most of their lives due to Uther and the war.

He felt himself clear his throat absentmindedly, trying to keep tears at bay. Mordred’s begging for him to stay was almost enough to make him do just that. If this child saw him breakdown, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take from Mordred before his resolve broke completely.

He didn’t want to leave; he didn’t want to die. He had something worth living for and despite how long the last five years had felt for all the happy memories that had been created, it was too soon.

He had never thought he would live past the age of perhaps forty, if he were lucky. The use of his magic during the war and these past years, the injuries, the assassination attempts, his own crushing hatred of himself at times… living long was never in the cards for him, one way or another if he were to be honest with himself. Back when he thought about this more, however, was during the war. Before he had something worth fighting to stay around for.

He took a breath and pulled away from Mordred, holding his face in his hands just as he had done when he had given his child the ring.

“I love you, a Stóirín.”

He placed a final kiss on top of Mordred’s head and dropped his arms from the teenager, clenching his hands into fists at the broken sob the child let out when he broke contact.

He turned on his heel and moved forward, his sword hanging heavy on his hip and making him wonder if Excalibur was currently trying to comfort its wielder as he broke down within the castle, surrounded by his other loved ones, though none of them would be able to take away this hurt.

He heard a scuffle behind him, the sound of someone being grabbed and he knew it was Mordred being restrained by the knights who had followed him out of the castle when he had gone running for his other parent.

His breath hitched at the sound of Mordred demanding to be let go, of his hoarse voice calling out to someone he would never see alive again, if his body was even able to be recovered at all, and refused to look back.

It was only after he was far enough away that Mordred wouldn’t hear the choked sob, that he let himself break down a little, and only a little. Just enough to keep him focused when he finally met his end, enough to allow him to smile when those who dared threaten his home, his family, his child and damn them to hell with him. For them to realize that they wouldn’t touch a single person from Camelot and all that planning, years of laying in wait and gathering their forces, would be gone in a single night.

He took a steadying breath, fire igniting in his eyes with his goal in mind.

Their deaths would be quick, if only to minimize the chances of his failure, but it would be agony as they had never experienced.

Yes, they would see why he is the King’s Hound.

[countrymusiclover]

26 - Land Lords meet Sea Lords

Part 27

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila

Robb’s pov  - at House Tully

It had been a months long journey but we had finally arrived at House Tully after we leaned my mothers father had died and we attended his funeral.  I had been letting my men rest inside the castle until we knew for certain we would have the aid of House Velaryon to take Casterly Rock from Tywin.  “Do you think she’d take a ride with me on horseback if I asked her?” I questioned the young girl who is my wife’s handmaiden too. 

She shakes her head, tucking hair behind her ear before we saw the heavy chamber door get pushed and my mother entered the room causing Chezney to begin to leave. “If you want her to believe you have changed you’ll need to do something more.  And I don’t feel it is right for me to help you figure out how to fix your relationship with her when I am supposed to be on her side and be angry with you.  Which means you should stop being a child and grow up - um forgive me for shouting, Lady Stark. I - I should go.” 

“It’s quite fine.  I must speak with my son alone.” She nodded her head in my direction directly. 

Chezney attempted to step away from the table but I gently grabbed the fabric of her cloak holding her. “Lady  Chezney is a close advisor to me now.  So whatever you have to say can be said in her prescience too.” 

“Your grace, I..” Chezney trailed off. 

My mother sighed heavily crossing the room taking a seat at the table before we both sat down across from her waiting for her to speak. “You should have kept your word to Walder Frey.  He is a dangerous man to cross.” 

“I haven’t crossed him.  We made a new arrangement that you saw that day.  The girls that are sleeping in our camp will hopefully be wed into the noble houses among our men.” 

She scowled at me. “You think a plan like that doesn’t sound foolish.  Arranged marriages are the way of the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“This is about Haelesa isn’t it, Lady Stark?” Chezney began to figure out the conversation. 

“I know she seems important to you-“ 

I cut my mother off meeting her gaze. “She is important to me.  I love her, mother.” 

“You’re father didn’t love me when we married.  He hardly knew me or I him.” She sighed looking up at the sky for a brief moment. “Love didn’t just happen to us.  We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone, for you, for your brothers and sisters.  It’s not as exciting as secret passion in the woods.  But it is stronger, it lasts longer.” 

Putting my hands together on the table I bring them up to my forehead groaning. “We’ve been over this, mother.  And I know the only reason you don’t like it is because she was originally the wife of the Kingslayer who you released from our custody and weakened our position.” 

“Robb, she is a fine young girl.  But she betrayed your trust when she didn’t tell you about the baby in her belly.  She clearly can’t be trusted especially with whatever children you have with her.  Stop treating your oaths so recklessly-“

Raising to my feet I slammed my hands down on the old wooden table and raised my voice shouting at her. “Enough of this, mother.  I am the heir of Winterell and the bannermen following me.  They named me King in the North.  You have no power here.  I value your experience and history with other houses but Haelesa is my wife and she is your Queen.  And you will follow whatever direction we give you!” Pushing myself away from the table I stomped towards the chamber door. 

My mother rose from her feet with a weak voice now at the harsh words I had spoken to her. “Robb, I’m - I didn’t mean to make you angry with me.” 

“So you were telling him he should marry a Frey girl in the hopes he’d love you more.  Brilliant work.” Chezney rolled her eyes, clapping her hands slowly together. 

The chamber door got thrown open behind me causing me to turn my attention to the Tully guard who clearly had information for me. “Your grace,  the  Velaryons have been spotted on the road.” 

“I thought they brought ships.” Chezney remarked behind me. 

The guard spoke again. “They have, my lady.  They’re on the edge of the waters that lead to Dragonstone, Kings Landing and-“

“Casterly Rock.” I finished his sentence knowing I needed to find my lady wife immediately. “Someone must find my lady wife before we go see them.” 

Chezney made quick footsteps past me and disappeared into the castle hallway. “I’ll go find her, young wolf.”  Rather than waiting I chased after her not caring what my mother thought was best at that moment. 

Haelesa’s pov

“Why did no one tell me they were coming here sooner?” Chezney and I were running through the hallways of the castle needing to greet the new army when they reached here. 

She pushed me where I nearly stumbled into the wall. “I just found out myself.  Otherwise I would have told you immediately.” 

“Haelesa! Chezney, wait - wait!” We both halted in our steps whipping our heads around to see my husband Robb running up to us almost out of breath where he bent his knees resting for a second to catch his breath. 

I aimed my index finger at the young wolf. “Have you been chasing after us the whole time?” 

“M - maybe.” He croaked out. 

Dropping my hand to my side, going over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Robb, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I told you we were in this war together.  Meaning when I ask your family to fight the Lannisters with me, we should be there together as a United front.” Once he had caught his breath he took my hands in his where we silently stared up or down at one another deeply. “You will always be my Queen, my better half, and my wife.  I know you aren’t happy with me and I’ll do whatever I can to make you trust me again.  And I’ll do better not to snap if you ever have anything else you’re afraid I’ll be angry about.” 

Clicking my tongue I lowered my gaze from his soft eyes unsure of what to say so I didn’t really address the conversation he was mentioning in his statement. “Let’s just appear as a united front like you’ve said.  My father’s loyalty determines if we get to keep our heads or not.” 

“Lord and Lady Stark, the Velaryon riders are getting closer.  They’ll be gathering in the great hall waiting for you two.” A guard pushed the two main double doors that were in front of us that led into the room he had mentioned to us. 

Keeping my hand in Robb’s hand we slowly went into the room seeing the large crowd break off into separate two large groups on opposite sides of the room.  Robb paused in his step seeing the bright silver hair and the Seahorse chest plate first before he saw my father’s face. “Robb, are you alright?” I questioned him, seeing his entire body stiffening. 

“That’s - that’s your father.  What - what if he doesn’t like me.  We could - we might lose the war if he doesn’t.” 

Squeezing his hand still intertwined with mine I made him look me in the eye when I used my other hand and grabbed his chin and turned it. “Hey, hey, look at me.  I’m right here.  You don’t have to be worried as long as I’m here.” 

“You’re right, Hael.” He muttered nodding his head before I dropped my hand from the side of his face. 

Shrugging my shoulders I snorted out a laugh having to tease him knowing it would calm his nerves. “You better make sure  Chezney doesn’t see you, the great young wolf is nervous.  She’ll never let you live it down, trust me.” He gulped thickly, focusing his gaze on Lord Monterys Velaryon. 

[shirefantasies]

Hello! If it’s not too much to ask, could you do a Hobbit/LotR matchup for me???

My name’s Liv, I’m non-binary (they/them, but occasionally she/her or he/him depending on the vibe). I’ve got curly brown hair in an anime boy type hairstyle, hazel eyes, and glasses. I usually end up dressing business casual for work, but I also like flannel shirts and band shirts paired with leggings or jeans. I LOVE reading and getting books (and I work at a library so it absolutely does not help my obsession lol), and I love Studio Ghibli movies and Old Hollywood horror films! I am also obsessed with history and am actually going to grad school for it! I’m typically a bit quiet and tend to really focus in on something, but when I’m comfortable with a person I love to tell them about stuff I really enjoy. I love listening to music, and at present it’s been mainly kpop and rock, and also Ghibli soundtracks. I do have really bad anxiety and depression, and it’s a bit hard to get me out of my head when I’m in a thought spiral. But people have called me sensible in the past when it comes to providing advice about situations other people are experiencing, even though I clam up a lot about my own problems and worry a lot about bothering people and being a burden. I absolutely adore cats and would love to get one someday! I also like collecting crystals and trying out new things to cook (like lately I’ve been trying out Korean and Japanese recipes).

I hope that’s enough to work with! And if not, or if I missed the window, that’s totally cool! Hope you have a good day!

You did not miss the window dear Liv, in fact I was quite excited to get this request because the matchup was so perfect in my mind 🥰 your match is…

Frodo!

Our dear hobbit first lays eyes upon you in the bookshop, of course. You're there poring over a history tome he's never seen touched, straightening your spectacles and flipping the page to the next war account. You peer up, glasses sliding a bit down your nose as your hazel eyes meet Frodo's and you give a small smile. He is so used to encouraging others to take the first step- maybe it's his turn. Approaching you, he asks you what your interest is in that particular history and ends up spending the rest of his time in the shop there with you.

From that he learns you weren’t even there for war histories, merely getting distracted on your quest for a book on identifying crystals from your collection. Helping you find it, Frodo asks if you frequent this town, hoping so for it is right outside the Shire and Bilbo tends to run the odd errand there. Sure enough, that is you home no less, and with a smile the hobbit suggests you might show him around beyond the shop sometime. The shock on your face is quite adorable as you agree and offer to take him to your favorite spot.

Said favorite spot being a nook at the end of the river hidden away behind a collection of wide green trees. “I come here to read,” you tell the hobbit, “if you ever want to join, you can. Just keep it a secret, alright?” You wink and Frodo thinks he might spontaneously combust. Join he does, though, bringing stacks of books from Bag End he thinks you might enjoy. He starts trading you old books for your library job for the stones you find or even goodies you’ve baked up. All of the Shire are positively foaming to meet this infamous Liv and get their hands on some of their exotic treats, but Frodo never gives up your little secrets…

It is behind those very trees where you share your first kiss, Frodo surprising you with a different offering: a rose quartz piece Gandalf had given him some years back. Arching a shy brow, you ask him if he has ever heard the significance of this stone, and flushing, he nods. As if tugged in by a string you two are moving in sync, lips meeting behind the cover of waving branches. Frodo’s hand snakes ever-so-shyly around your waist and you can hardly help smiling into the kiss. Heads may shake as he walks hand in hand with you down Shire lanes, but he’s a Baggins- what else do they expect? The smile of amusement and pride across his face has you shaking your own head, but fondly, lovingly.

After the destruction of the One Ring, Frodo is different. You understand. Both of you know intrinsically the feeling if a spiral, even the look of its onset, and what the other needs. Silence, space, a warm touch, weight, a distraction, an embrace. Whatever the answer, Frodo only cracks a smile in those moments when that sensible caring side of you he loves so much comes out. After all, it is amazing how giving you are especially during your own fights. When darkness is closing in, you are his reminder that there is light and good in the world, just like Sam. When depression takes you, he can only hope his approach is half as good, half as inspiring. Giving up is so tempting, but in the face of a loved one, both of you realize there is hope you cannot yet throw away. Even if it is something small as feeling each other’s lips upon your forehead again or the easy way your limbs tangle as you read together, life is worth fighting for. Frodo may have saved Middle-Earth, but you, Liv, saved him.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @joonies-word @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia | Reply/Ask/Message to join!

[creaturefeaster]

What is it like to raise birds? I really like birds and I would like to have as many as you but I have no idea if it is how I imagine it, even so, if I had some I would love them! I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes.

Owning and raising birds is a real treat. They are easy to understand if you're committed to learning, and are a really fun and healthy source of entertainment. Most of my childhood was me being a bedridden hermit, and getting chickens was the first and most vital step in getting me outdoors and moving more. It's amazing how much flock animals can change your life for the better.

Chickens are funny, easy to keep happy, and if you handle them right, extremely loving in their own way that makes it exciting to go out each day and see how they're doing.

Raising them from chicks yourself is the best way to ensure they'll be friendly and loving when they're older. It can be sort of scary when you have your first chicks, it's easy to think they're more fragile than they are, or that you're upsetting them, but baby birds just like to whine. Some more than others, but either way you learn pretty quickly that being consistent and easy-going with your attention is what birds tend to like.

Working with a calm hand and persistence, you will be rewarded with a fun hobby that comes with many benefits. Chickens are best for eggs and compost, getting rid of food scraps and old (but never moldy!) food turns into fresh eggs to eat and poop for fertilizing the land. Geese are great for maintaining wild plant growth, keeping grass low cut and invasive weeds at bay, and also produce a lot of feather fluff if you have use for goose feathers. Their eggs are also massive, though not as good for frying as chicken eggs. Ducks are great at keeping garden pests at bay, and can be super amusing as they're surprisingly fast paced and emotive animals.

They are very messy, though. Maybe not as much with chickens-- as long as they have a dry space they keep themselves pretty clean as long as you change their bedding when they need it. Ducks and geese however, which are waterfowl, can be much much messier. Ducks especially. They need a lot of water to be happy, and get it everywhere. This in combination with their poop leads to quickly dirtied water and muddy enclosures if you don't keep up with the cleaning. Every day I get messy and wet for their sake. I don't mind it, but it can be harder to manage in colder and wetter months.

It can be a bit of a hump to get past the grosser parts of poultry care, but once you get past that, and you have a routine, I think it's still a relatively easy thing to maintain, and is worth it for all the pleasantries the birds bring in turn.

Chickens do well with less space than a lot of other poultry, their comfortable square foot per individual radius is rather small, given they have room to run and can all get along. It is simple and easy to raise chickens in a suburban backyard. I am not sure if it works similarly for other countries, but look up your town ordiances for poultry livestock allowances, if in the USA. More towns allow backyard hens than you'd expect, depending on the square footage of your property.

Geese and ducks need much more space, they are roamers and need large spaces to walk, stretch their wings, and explore to stay happy lest they grow bored and agitated. Unless you live in rural neighborhoods, it is unlikely you can own waterfowl. And roosters; Many suburban towns that allow hens do not allow roosters, because they are noisy.

Quails are also another choice, if chickens are too intimidating or difficult to procure in your area. Many quails can live quiety and happily in an enclosure even inside, so long as they have proper enrichment. They can be a good and cute stepping stone to bigger birds like chickens or ducks.

Turkeys and guinea fowl are interesting in their own way as well. I don't have as much experience with turkeys, they're larger and sassier but they generally work well with chickens. Plus they make funny noises and are amusing to look at. Guinea fowls, kind of like geese, are really good watch dogs if you live in a place with hawks, eagles, or small predators. They are very loud and vocal, and can be somewhat assertive and protective of their flock. They're also really stupid looking.

But anyways, back to what it's like to have birds in general... If you're birdbrained you will feel at home when you are amongst your flock. If you aren't birdbrained, enough time around them will make you so. It will be a peaceful experience and the work put into them is always rewarding. Being able to sit with chickens, letting them jump up to you and eat from your hand, or petting and hugging a duck, or having a gaggle of geese follow you through a field in a slow line... it's like having a fun and obtainable experience to look forward to every day. :3

Oh, I was going to end it there but I actually have one more thing to add. This part of poultry care is the part people don't always like to hear/realise, but the biggest thing with poultry is: Do not raise what you are not willing to kill. Regardless of whether you raise birds like chickens for meat, eggs, or just as pets, you must accept that fact that at some point, you may need to humanely cull one. Unwanted males do not sell/rehome easily, and can become an issue to take care of if you aren't ready to cull. Sick hens do not always make it, and sometimes you have to decide to spare them the pain and put them down. Vets can sometimes help with this, but most of the time that requires an exotics expert, and can cost you much more than it's worth. Being able to cull your birds is also useful life experience and teaches proper animal respect.

Just, keep that in mind if you ever look into owning birds. You need to be strong for their sake, you are the one they depend on the most.

[quickdeaths]

mun meme

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍!

★  NAME:  Bryn

★  PRONOUNS:  she/her.

★  BEST EXPERIENCE: Meeting my girlfriend through RP has to be at the top of the list, and meeting some really great friends too. Just talking about the IC stuff, idk, I'm pretty happy with how things have been going recently?

★  PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: IMs are okay but discord is best! I am very chatty on discord sometimes, and the search function is really helpful for me when it comes to going back and finding old things. I'm also just on discord basically all day in some capacity, so I rarely miss things for long.

★  MOST ACTIVE MUSE: I can basically write any of my DR OCs at the drop of a hat, although Shinobu is the one who I am currently writing most, and have the easiest time writing because of that. I think for me, though, it's more "do I have energy/creativity to write right now at all" rather than if I have muse for a specific character or not - it's not usually the case that I struggle with a specific character at a time when I'm otherwise writing easily.

★  EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS: I started off on a forum in maybe 2006 or 2007, did some stuff on livejournal, had a cup of coffee at Gaia Online, and settled on Tumblr in maybe... 2012? 2013? I've done some things on discord (don't love it for RP) and google docs (it's okay) since then, and a handful of other places, but I think I'm just Here Now, like furniture.

★  RP PET PEEVES:  

I have talked about these all so many times so I'll try to keep it brief hahaha.

People who repeatedly drop threads without reaching out to say anything (this is my #1 pet peeve), and people who generally cycle "taking on too many asks/drafts, then dropping all of them, repeat."

People who habitually archive/delete and remake their blogs, especially if they don't make any changes to how they run things, who they interact with, etc. I see it as, like "bringing your bed to your new apartment and being confused as to why you still have bedbugs."

People who post tons of OOCs, as well as things like memes, starter calls, ship calls, etc. while having a massive backlog of drafts and inbox things already.

People who treat OCs/female characters/female OCs dismissively, or as stepping stone interactions.

★   PLOTS OR MEMES: Plots. I honestly don't like memes very much since I feel like they seldom lead to the kind of long-term interactions I like the most, but they're so entrenched on tumblr that I just kinda have to accept them. I would much rather talk to people and plot out loose thread ideas than send in a dialogue prompt from a movie I haven't seen and hope it gets answered and hope that that answer feels like something I can respond to and hope that my reply gets replied to and it's actually a thread. I like doing stuff that develops across multiple threads too, and plotting is much better for that.

★  ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: Not really, I don't think. There are pieces of me in all of my characters, of course, and there are superficial similarities sometimes in terms of like, hobbies or interests, but I think the characters who feel like they got more of me mixed into them are like, D&D characters, or characters from my other blogs.

tagged by: @more-than-a-princess also tagging because tumblr is a functional website and perhaps putting things on a new line is the only fix: @timesunder @shishigirls @saburaito @sunbreathr

tagging: @lunaetis @guidedhearts @amaidol @infintasmal @corrpse also tagging myself since that seems to be the only way to not have it break someone else's tag very cool: @quickdeaths

[shadows-of-almsivi]

For the writing prompt list: 18 & 15

18: Autumnal

The old ostler put out a notice for a horse trainer, when the Rorikstead crops were coming into their height. A small room for my boarding built into the stable, a meal and ten septims a day were, apparently, enough to buy me, to my own surprise. Still, it is only until the ostler’s son returns from some wedding or other, and I’d grown tired of sleeping on stony ground.

It’s been rather a delight for me here, truth be told, though the pay is poor and the work leaves my body numb with exhaustion. Horses are a fondness of mine, and even the meanest and foulest-tempered of the beasts passing through the ostler’s yards can kindle a little tenderness from me. I’m tasked to breathe a little spirit back into these worn-out old carriage drafts, to take wild-eyed Reach ponies and make them fit for the smallest child’s first saddle, and by and large I do succeed by some measure. Having no friends here to speak to nor inclination to find any, I spend all of my time with the horses, and the training goes all the swifter for the closer attention. The ostler seems pleased with my progress, as am I.

Is this what it would have been like, to have held more conventional employment?

The mare I’m working today is a lively young Chorrol Red, near leaping out of her skin with excitement to be out of her stall. I can feel, in the shiver of her flank against my calves, how badly she wants to canter headlong into the open field, kicking free the stiffness of those long and boring days in the stable. Her previous master ought to be ashamed, to have let such a high-natured beast molder away indoors before trading her to us.

Her hooves churn the dirt as she dances anxiously in place. The brass bells about her bridle and breastplate, the training-tack for horses prone to flight or nerves, chime at every restless step. I hold her reins just firm enough to let her feel me; I prefer the more subtle touch of directing from the knee, but she’s liable to bolt without the extra guidance. Her breed is known more for racing and courier work than for level-headedness, more spirit than sense perhaps. She sees open grass before her and nothing else, and I’d best not let her have her head or else she’s likely to throw me at once, or snap a slender leg on some hidden stone outcrop.

But still, how beautiful she is, how uncommonly fine for this place. That rich chestnut coat shines so lovely in the pale sun, bright as a new-minted copper flashing between a street-magician’s knuckles. Her restlessness is infectious; I find myself, too, looking over those rolling plains with sudden, aching longing. There’s a crispness to the morning air that would feel wonderful raking through my hair, a sluggishness to my blood from my days here that I can’t wait to shake loose. Honest labor has its sweetness, but precious little thrill has stirred me since taking up the old ostler’s offer.

Perhaps a sprint down the road to the bridge would let us both focus a little better…

15: Soup.

I’d had such hope for a good fish soup for tonight. I should know better than to think of cooking before the catch, it’s bad luck to fish with a certain recipe in mind. My nets came up in empty tatters, gnawed through and picked clean. I’d thought slaughterfish, of course, until I heard those bellowing, ugly barks from a ways past the shoreline. I was surprised to see one in a lake; Skyrim’s fauna continues to astound me the longer I stay here.

But, regardless, curiosity does not fill the stewpot. No fish soup tonight, but my recipes adapt.

Tonight, then, it is seal.

I have heard horker is best treated like pork, and a seal shouldn’t be much different, I imagine. With this in mind, I selected a shoulder, diced middling-sized, and one fin to enrich the broth. The skin I set aside; its fur carries lovely marbled markings, and should be a fair trade for a new net at the tradehouse.

The raw meat was a deep red, less like an apple and more like wine, almost the same as the wine I poured into the hissing iron pot to steam and spit. Some cabbage I added next, some garlic, a little mora tapinella from the morning’s walk. Finally, a couple of bees, finely ground, just for alchemical safety-- I don’t believe the mushrooms’ poison to survive a long cooking, but you can never be too careful.

Now, the house smells quite delightful, and I can put my feet up for a while. The soup will want a few hours over a gentle fire, and I have some reading to catch up on.

[voolfman]

Bring Out the Deadman

Sctir fanfic multi-chapter fic posted on ao3 by voolfman

Chapter 2

“Guildmaster,” Kim Sunghan muttered, “I don’t believe this is the wisest idea.”

Yoohyun closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “May I remind you, my brother and I both have more enemies than allies, and I fear that publicly removing him during normal business hours will leave him open to stressful situations that could impede the progression of his health. Or if he is here too long, someone with enough ambition could actually kidnap him.”

“Sir, that’s not what I meant."

A chilly breeze ruffled his hair and his cloak, and Yoohyun worried whether this would be too cold for his brother to handle. "Then what did you mean, Sunghan?"

The second in command hesitated a moment before clenching his fists and squaring up his shoulders. "I don't think it's a wise idea to take in your brother. I know he raised you, and that you feel like it's your fault that he turned out like this. But at some point he has to take responsibility for his own actions and he can't blame his reactions on you. I won't lie and say that I condone your way of protecting him by ignoring him, or even say I understand it, due to all the help you gave me with my grandfather, of which I am very grateful for. I'm just worried that this is just another ploy by him to take advantage of you, again."

The young Guildmaster hung his head as he stepped closer to the edge of the hospital's roof. "Maybe he is, and maybe I'm a fool for hoping that hyung would want to help me repair the crack in our relationship. The crack that I caused in our decimated foundation-" Yoohyun activated his skill [Blue Willow Leaves], "but I believe he's being sincere. He did bring me back to life, after all. He could have chosen anything and any path with the Wish Stone." A small and ever so fragile smile graced his face as he and Sunghan made their way down to Yoojin’s room. "But he chose me."

Sunghan clearly wasn't sure how to respond to Yoohyun’s decision, as a few complicated emotions flashed across his stern features, but by the time they had arrived at Yoojin’s window, he had settled on a mildly concerned grimace that could be, if Yoohyun so wanted, interpreted as concern for the injured F-class who should really still be hospitalized for at least two more days. Even if the concern featured was, under no uncertain terms, not focused on the older of the two brothers.

Peeking in through the window before he entered, a confused wrinkle formed between Yoohyun’s eyebrows."Hyung, what are you doing? And what are you wearing?"

Yoojin turned around from where he was leaning against the wall and carefully re-packing his backpack. "Oh, you're here!" He said as he sheepishly pushed himself off the wall and slung the tatty old bag across his shoulder. "Just getting ready so I wouldn't slow you down. Ah, and it turned out, surprisingly, one of the nurses actually owed me one and lent me one of his extra pairs of scrubs, so that way I wouldn't look like an escaped hospital patient when I walk back to my apartment."

Sending him an incredibly incredulous glare, Yoohyun grabbed his brother’s crutches and handed them over. "You think you're going to walk back to your apartment?"

"Well, I admit it's more of a hobble-" he started to say as he shrunk into himself, getting his crutches under him.

"Hyung, you're not going back to your apartment, it's already been cleaned out and packed up. You're coming home with me." Having announced his plans he made his move to usher the exhausted man towards the window, however, Yoojin wasn't budging.

This time it was Yoojin's turn to shoot his brother an incredulous look. "What- why- what are you talking about? I can't do that!"

"Of course you can," he huffed az he crossed his arms and hiked up his shoulders a smidge. "You apologized and…and said you loved me."

"No, no- that's not-" his grip on the crutches tightened, and he looked off to the side. "You can't, Yoohyun. I- I treated you terribly. I've done some truly awful things… said some truly awful things. And I said those things to you. You shouldn't live with that. I can take care of myself- we can still see each other from time to time if you'd like, I'll never turn you away. But you can't, Yoohyun-"

Ever so softly, Yoohyun placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and made sure to get into his field of view. "Forgiveness is a two way street, hyung. When one side is cleared of the thistles and sins that prevented one from walking, it leaves the area with enough space to clear the other side. Please, Hyung, won't you let me try to forgive you as well?"

For a moment Yoohyun worried that he had either angered his brother or that perhaps he might try to tell Yoohyun that his younger brother was wrong and that he didn't deserve forgiveness, but instead Yoojin's grip on his crutches loosened and he released a long pent up breath before he dredged up a smile that Yoohyun hadn't seen since he was a highschooler. "Alright, alright I'll come to your place Mr. Smooth Operator-" he chuckled quietly as he ruffled his brother’s hair. "Is that how you impressed Miss Soyoung Kang?"

The younger's eyebrows drew sharply together and a dusting of pink graced his marble cheeks, "Miss Kang is a work associate, hyung, please do not spread any unfounded rumors."

"Alright, if you say so," Yoojin chuckled and he hobbled to the window. "Just remember if you have any questions-"

"Hyung!" He shouted before clearing his throat, "Let's just get you back to the guild, you're looking awfully pale."

Warily Yoojin took Sunghan's outstretched hand to crawl through the window as Yoohyun collected his crutches, but right before he crawled through the window, Yoojin smirked ruthlessly towards his brother, "That would be because the blushing boy beside me has taken all the color!"

Perhaps it was that he was in shock, but it seemed to Yoohyun that his brother slipped through the window faster than he should have been able to, or maybe that was because even though Sunghan didn't like Yoojin, he was having a hard time keeping a straight face at Yoohyun’s blush thanks to a certain older brother’s teasing, and took him out of the building swiftly making sure he wouldn't have to struggle. Whatever it was, Yoohyun grumbled to himself only a little as he ducked out of the hospital window and lowered all three of them down to the sidewalk.

"The car's a few blocks down the street, hyung do you-" he began to ask, but when he spotted the smaller man shivering as the breeze blew through the flimsy nurse scrubs, Yoohyun shrugged off his coat and dropped it on him. "Sunghan, run and bring the car back here."

"Yes, sir," he bowed and sprinted off towards where they had parked, leaving the two two alone in the darkness that lingers between the late night and the early morning. 

"Thanks for the coat," Yoojin murmured, breaking the ice.

Yoohyun shook his head, "I hardly even feel the breeze if it's this light."

"You call this 'light?' Hah, I must be weaker than I thought." 

"Hyung," Yoohyun finally broached after a couple moments of silence, "I would also like to apologize."

"Yoohyun, you don't-"

"Please hyung," he interrupted, "I shouldn't have just cut you put of my life without explanation. I know now that trying to make you hate me was the wrong decision to make. I should have, at the very least explained a little bit, but I was terrified of you going into those dungeons. Terrified of losing my only family member. Ah, Sunghan's here now. Let's go home."

Bonus:

Sunghan looked into the rearview mirror of the car, only to see Yoojin out cold and leaning heavily against his brother’s shoulder.

"He's out cold already," the young Guildmaster mused with a small worried frown, having noticed Sunghan's quick glance to the back.

"Well, we did just kidnap him. In the middle of the night. And from a hospital he was still recovering at," he checked ahead for any police officers before pressing down a little heavier on the gas pedal. His Guildmaster was a little zealous in matters regarding his older brother.

Yoohyun seemed to genuinely consider what Sunghan had said. "Make sure to have a healer on standby when we arrive."

"Yes, sir."

[joz-yyh]

Blight kisses!! Not Bigby covering Damian in smooches 💚

Tardif/Damian is cool as well! Thinking about it now, Damian has *very interesting* standards, boy is always seeking out for the danger, or is the danger seeking out for him? Who knows really!

him dating the most intimidating men in the Hamlet /hj

Love your art always!

They're exchanging vital life essence! It's necessary for survival. Stack those blight tokens boys! 

Yay, glad you like them too! Whenever I am faced with a difficult decision, I always choose both! Death itself covets Damian afterall. It's a revolving door of one seeking the other. Lol, imagine dating the grim reaper, literally a spirit almost everyone fears like it's no big deal. 

Thanks, I love you! 😭🙏💕💕💕 Sorry, it's not art this time, but here's more of my Bigmian Role Reversal AU~ (They're on a first name basis!) XD

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

“Um, my name's Bigby, what's yours?”

The creature idles there, as if it's never been asked it's name, having no need for words until now.

“Can you speak,” the monk asks gently, understanding of their language barrier, “it's OK if you can’t.”

An idea comes to light, the creature shuffling over to one of the large boulders that form a thick perimeter around its den. 

Long bloody nails draw a series of rigid lines, scrapes that Bigby can hear, but can't see taking place, poking his head around trying to follow along from where he's standing behind him. 

The carving stops, the wechuge's lanky hooves stepping aside to reveal the extent of his efforts.

There, etched into the gray rockface, is exactly what the little human asked for. 

- D  A  M  I  A  N - 

The monk sounds it out, one dark brow raised.

“Da-mi-an? Is that your name?”

The creature huffs, nods.

“Suppose it's nice to meet you. Um, so you want to be friends?”

The religious boy tries not to look as scared as he feels, because if this creature truly wanted to eat him (not for lack of trying), it would have done so by now, right? 

More carving ensues, continuing alongside his name.

- Y E S -

Bigby releases a breath he didn't know he was holding, his chest filled with relief. 

“Guess that makes it official. Friends it is.”

The unlikely pair fidget, unsure of where to take the conversation from here, standing there awkwardly until one of them figures out what to do next. 

Bigby is first, having the advantage of speech, fumbling nervously to fill the silence. 

He assures himself that this situation was no different than it would be if he was with anyone else, the same general rules for introductions apply, regardless if it was a cannibalistic beast or one of his fellow monks. 

“Well, since we're friends now, we should probably get to know each other better. So, uh, what sort of things do you like? I like tea and books.”

A pause while the wechuge chisels out his reply. 

- H U N T  M E A T -

This is not a topic Bigby wishes to die on, swaying the subject matter in another direction before Damian decides to hunt him for meat. 

“How old are you? I am 25.”

- U N K N O W N - 

“Oh, that must be hard, not knowing. Maybe, you're around my age?”

- O L D E R -

“How can you be so sure? Thought you said you didn't know? Maybe, you're younger.”

He's getting just a little sassy at being treated like a grade schooler, Damian tapping the word, ‘older,’ again in confidence.

Along with embarrassment, this exchange demonstrates the immediate flaws in such primitive methods of communication.

“We're going to run out of stone if you keep answering my questions like this.”

The resourceful monk muses for a moment, finding a patch of soil and a stick nearby, Damian watching him curiously. 

“Here, come draw it in the dirt.”

Chains rattle as the tortured beast kneels down, residing next to the human, an illustration taking shape as the monk draws a stick figure with horns.

“That's you,” Bigby explains. 

If the wechuge had eyebrows, surely they'd be quirked at such simplified depictions.

“And this is me.” 

Another stick figure, the two appearing to hold hands in camaraderie with twin smiles on their faces. 

The wechuge shifts, capturing their height difference more accurately by redrawing himself with longer legs. 

“I get it, you're tall, I am short,” he sighs, not the crucial point he hoped to convey, but taking the critique nonetheless.  

“What should we talk about next?”

As Bigby embellishes his artistic vision, adding flowers, grass, and a sun, a red glow emanates from Damian's bloody claws.

It instantly grabs the monk’s attention, watching as symbols appear, what looks like runes scorching the very air around him, bright and smoldering like a branding iron.

“Wow,” says the mystified monk, “I didn't know you could do that.”

Usually, only acts of divine intervention display themselves this clearly, which leads him to his next inquiry, “It doesn't drain your energy, using magic like that?” 

More runes manifest, translating into words he can recognize. 

¬  N O  ¬

“Can I touch it?”

He's already reaching out, fingertips tingling, passing through their ancient figures despite the hellfire they're crafted from.

“What else can you do?”

The words come pouring out of his mouth before he can stop himself, utterly fascinated because it was a rare thing,  finding one with powers like himself. 

Damian is more than happy to oblige, vines growing from the center of his palm, creating winding sprouts and tiny leaves, a tiny flower unfurling at its peak.  

“So pretty.”  

The monk smiles, mindful of his touch, tracing out their shapes. The roots are strong and coarse, the petals soft and delicate, as close to the real thing as he can get. 

“Thank you for showing me.” 

He leans a little closer to Damian, the monster fixated on him, returning the bloom back inside his ghastly flesh, freeing up his hand to write. 

¬ YOU ¬

“Me,” the monk sounds surprised. “Oh, is there something you want to ask me?”

¬ WHY HERE? ¬

“You want to know why I was in the woods? I was summoned. A nearby parish said they had urgent need for me. I just hope they're alright.”  

Suddenly, Bigby is burdened by guilt, knowing it was Damian’s fault he never arrived, but still seeking solace in the creature's rags, worried for what tragedy befell those crying out for help.  

[shrooms-nd-lu]

I DID THE THING

THE FIRST PART OF IT ANYWAY

LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

Should a nine year old, let alone a nine year old dragon prince, be sneaking out and running through the streets of castle town without supervision during the middle of festival season? Probably not, but Link didn’t really care. That was the point, actually. He’d been stuck in that tower for the last two years and he was sick of it. His parents worried for nothing. He’d be fine because Auntie Cia would never know he left. Nobody was going to recognize him: it has been two years since he was last seen by the public and he was growing rapidly. Besides, he was wearing the big blue scarf he stole from his dad’s closet like a cape. His wings were tucked safely beneath the soft fabric and out of sight.

As soon as he felt the fresh air on his face and the cobblestones beneath his feet, he took off running. He loved to run, and he’d missed it dearly. The tower was spacious, but it didn’t exactly come with much space to run. Giggling to himself, he bobbed and weaved through the crowds, just basking in the warmth and joy of it all. The music, the laughter, the people. He bought some spiced meat on a stick from a nice old lady who patted his head and told him he was a very smart young lad for counting his change so easily. It was the best thing he’d ever tasted, way better than anything the royal chefs ever made. Probably because this snack came with a heaping side of rebellion.

He’d been wandering aimlessly, munching on his treat, when he was suddenly pushed to the ground. His head came into contact with the stone street and tears sprang into his eyes. Big hands reached under his cape to his pockets. He screamed, terrified they would spot his wings.

“NO! Get away from me! Please leave me alone!”

It was pointless. These people didn’t care. They held him down and took his coin purse from him. That… wasn’t what he expected. He’d thought for sure they knew who he was. What he was. That he would be sold off to a circus or something like Auntie Cia always said would happen. That they might pluck his scales. But they… just wanted his money?

“Do you guys not have enough to eat?” He tilted his head to the side, confused. “Would you like to share my snack?” He went to hold up the uneaten half of his meat on a stick, only to realize it had fallen on the ground. Tears came to his eyes again. His snack was ruined.

He was too busy crying about the pain in his head, his ruined food, the fear of being discovered, and from being surrounded by strangers with dubious intent to notice that they had started jeering. One of them raised up a foot and was getting ready to step on him when another little kid ran up, shouting and brandishing a wooden sword.

You were small and your weapon was a child’s toy, but you clearly knew how to use it. With surprising agility and skill, you managed to compensate for their compatible lack of strength. You advanced, forcing the two thugs back with your glorified wooden stick. One of them opened their mouth to say something, but you cut them off.

“I’m a knight’s kid.” You glared, “as good as I am, how much trouble do you think you jerks would be in if I screamed for help?”

The thugs looked between each other, contemplated their life choices, and left.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Cowards. Hey, are you okay?” You turn to look at Link, who looks up at you with wide eyes. The pain in his head is almost forgotten. Almost. You’re really pretty and cool and strong and where’d you learn to fight like that???? He’s sure he must have stars in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Link nods, but the action causes him to wince a little. He suddenly remembers his headache. You wince in sympathy and pull a small potion out of your bag. “My parents like me to keep these on hand in case of emergencies. Drink. It’ll make you all better!”

Link takes the potion and drinks it. It tastes awful, but he can feel its effects the second it’s on his tongue, so he downs the whole thing. You smile.

“There, see? All better.” You offer him a hand and help him stand up. “Where are your parents?”

He frowns, deciding what to say. “Uhhh… they’re at home. I’m by myself.” You nod, considering that.

“This part of town is dangerous. You shouldn’t be here if you don’t know how to fight.” You return your toy sword to its toy sheath at your waist as you speak. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to the festival. I take it you’re not from around here.”

Link has the sense not to answer that as he follows you back to the festival. The two of you pass through a crowd and Link slips his hand into yours. You look at him, surprised.

“My parents always say that I have to hold hands in big crowds so I don’t get lost.” You chuckle and swing your joint hands between the two of you as you walk.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about getting lost as long as you’re with me! I swear I’ll protect you… uh. Shoot! I totally forgot to ask your name! I’m y/n.”

Link smiles at you, “I’m Link.” He answered without thinking. He hopes you won’t figure out he’s the prince. He doesn’t think you’d do something so mean, but he really doesn’t want the first friend he’s had in two years (except Falcon, his pet eagle) to try to sell him off for his scales.

You beam back, “well, Link, I, y/n, hereby swear to protect you from all harm that might come your way! You can trust my word because knights always keep their word, and I’m gonna be one someday! Just you wait!”

Link lets you gently tug him through the festival. They stop at most of the game stalls, which he insists on paying for with the coin pouch you returned to him. He stops suddenly at one stall, an archery game. He’s staring at one of the prizes: a pair of matching necklaces, each shaped like half of the triforce. It looks like the two charms connect to make a whole triforce shape. It’s cute.

“You want that, Link?” You look at Link, smiling amusedly. Link nods.

“Yeah. I’m gonna try to win it!” He pays the person behind the booth and picks up a bow and six arrows. The prize he wanted was level four. Link would have to break four of the six glass bottles in order to win it. The problem with this was that he’d never held a bow before, which you could tell the second he picked it up. He struggled to even nock the arrow. You did your best to talk him through it without making him feel bad, but there wasn’t much you could do from behind the “safety line” the game master insisted you respect.

Link didn’t hit a single target. Tears sprang into his eyes again. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to give you half so we’d have something to remember eachother by but I failed.”

Your heart breaks. You angrily reach into your wallet and pull out some money of your own, “want me to try? I’ve been taking archery lessons since I was old enough to hold a bow.”

Link shrugs, dejected, “I dunno. It seems impossible. That bow is so heavy.”

Before he’s done talking, let alone looks up, you have already stepped up to the shooting line. You lift the bow. “I see what you mean. This game is definitely rigged.” You glare at the man behind the booth.

You shake it off and nock your first arrow. This bow is heavier than you’re used to, but you’re bound and determined. You aim carefully, willing your arm to stop shaking from the strain. Your first arrow misses. “Gah! Fudgesicles!” You’d heard your parents and the other knights saying that when stuff went wrong. It felt good.

The second arrow missed, but it grazed the side of the jar. You grin to yourself; you’ve figured it out. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth arrows fly. They all strike their intended target. You destroyed four jars, you get the fourth-level prize. With a petty grin to the gamemaster, you took the two half-triforce necklaces from him. Your expression softened as you handed both necklaces to Link. He pushes one of them back toward you, his expression morphing from awe to confusion and hurt.

“No. I wanted to share.” You grin again, amused as you turn around.

“Mhmm. That’s the plan. Help me put it on?”

“Oh.” Link says, dumbly, as he clasps the necklace around your neck for you. You turn back around and smile at him.

“Your turn. Turn around.” He complies and you help him into his necklace.

Beaming, the two of you run around the festival. You dance for a while, try some new snacks, and play a couple more games. Link’s face lights up like a fireworks show when he tries cotton candy. You’re astounded he’s never had it before. Itś not like itś hard to come by, and his family is clearly wealthy judging by his clothing. You give him a bit of a sideways glance, but decide not to question it. He’s sweet enough and seems harmless. That, and nothing bad’s gonna happen to him in such a large crowd. He could be a runaway or maybe he’s just not in the city much. Maybe his parents are strict and thought he was too young to attend such events before today? It didn’t really matter, anyway. You’d made a friend and you were having fun.

…you spoke too soon. You’d let go of his hand because the two of you were jumping around in time to some music. Everything was fine until the royal guard showed up in a huff. They were asking a lot of strange questions, but you couldn’t really hear them. You recognized Sir Jack, the Nimble and Quick. He was nice to you, mostly. Sometimes he gave you little treats, but usually he didn’t seem to know what to do with you. You were so distracted trying to figure out why Sir Jack was even there — he was a member of Queen Cia’s guard, and he rarely was sent away to complete tasks — that you didn’t notice your friend had gone missing. You ran up to Sir Jack and hurriedly explained you’d made a friend but he’d gotten lost, and this was probably your friend’s first time out at a festival. Sir Jack just patted your head and said he’d have the other knights keep an eye out. You were still worried, but there was nothing you could do about it. Sir Jack brought you home and stayed to talk to your parents. You tried to eavesdrop but they were in the other room and they weren’t speaking in the common tongue. Your Hyrulean wasn’t bad, by any means, but Sir Jack’s accent was funny and he spoke fast. You caught your name, a word that sounded suspiciously like “Prince,” and “friend.” He sounded worried. Whatever it was he was talking about with your parents, he stressed it had to remain top secret.

What in the world was going on?

- glitter ✨

ITS SO GOOD

Thank you glitterr