#i tried to make the stones look like a sky but again. i drew. so small sjdbdjskjd

[antlered-prince]

Was looking for this ask button for so long. Now, you have wrought this on yourself, but i have had an idea for these fae, just not sure which one would appreciate the gift most, so you get to decide! I have gotten a bit gothic about it, so fair warning. Blood, Bone and Concepts crystalized ahead! Two things are given to the Gifted: A ring, a simple enough looking thing, all white with red crawling vines that curl and border a set of lapis lazuli stones, which are pressed into the ring, three on each side, while a soft but firm red leaf flower sits atop the middle, with the center being inlaid with a gem of Blue. or so it seems at first, but for those to whom the gift is intended it rings (heh) with deeper Truth. The letter included also explains it as well, written in elegant but simple script. "This ring is made of Bone, freely given and carefully crafted, molded through time and patience into a band, a circle of eternity, joined forever in a single unbreaking piece. The inside is slightly concave, with one part slightly more flexible with the right amount of pressure. Once pressed the band can slide on and off with ease, but if not, then it holds fast, a natural prevention for theft and unknowing loss of the gift. With it, you shall always know how truly I treasure your company, like the very bones in my own body, I can scarce be without it. The crawling red veins like vines creeping throughout are Blood made, warm and softly pulsing vermillion, scarlet and carmine, curling in soft twirls. They give the ring warmth, a living sensation, soft but noticeable, a constant pulsing comfort, beating to a heartbeat that may not always be near you. The veins coalesce into the firm red leaves, gently curled and firmly placed. At times, they seem to sway in an unseen breeze. They are the depth of my affection, as steady as a heartbeat and as vital as blood to life. The gem, of unknown nature and origin..is Blue. Not just a sapphire, not a blue emerald, nor is it Azurite. It is Blue, the very nature and concept of Blue as I perceive it, as colour, as a mood, as a thought and a feeling. My very idea of Blue, taken and crystallized into a single solid form, lovingly placed within the leaves. You see it shifts and flows through so many shades, every one a Blue I have experienced, and will experience, a constantly evolving and fluid Blue, from the rich shades of a flower, the light dancing off a butterflies wings, to the haunting blue of clouds in a thunderstorm at sunset, to the near endless blue of the midnight sky. This, purely so that you may see some of the world as I see it, and will continue to see it. That there may be shared understanding between us, always. This gift, freely given of myself, has only one requirement to its possession. That it is worn and cared for, that's it. Whether upon a chain, on a finger, enlarged to be a choker or minimized to be a earring, only that it is worn, and that is cared for, and enjoyed, and cherished for what it is. A gift of oneself to another, an offer for companionship, the nature of which we may decide on together. You are also free to reject this offer and this gift, with no repercussions. Freely given, with no expectation of a return gift or gesture. A simple showing of kindness and affection. I do hope you enjoy it. From, An Admirer" Welp that was a lot, I don't know where my brain went but it had a damn good time making this. I hope its not too weird of a presentation. I envision the ring is kept in a soft wooden box, smoothed and warm coloured, and rests on a bed of crushed dark grey velvet. Hope whoever receives it enjoys it! and we come to the ask Who would enjoy this gift?

I accidentally drew it, so small so it's a lil pixellated sbdbdnnd

But honestly, I don't know who wouldn't enjoy such a thoughtful gift (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

[slashingdisneypasta]

General Kai x ReincarnatedLover!Reader || Drabble

Ah! Me actually doing something I said I was gonna do on the day I said I was gonna do it??? I am so proud of myself XD 😅😅

Plot: Kai has come to reclaim you- pity you have no idea who the heck he is, what he’s talking about or…  well, you do have an idea what he wants. BUT WHY? This doesn’t make any sense.

Warnings: N/A  

Dedicated to the Anon who had this great idea!! ^^ Its rough but I hope you like it 😅

He’s terrifying.

He’s so terrifying, that when he first crashed down- from the sky- into your rice paddy, destroying a whole field of crops, you had tried to run! You took one glance at this behemoth of a bull, with glowing emerald eyes, double sided blades attached to long, powerful chains, and a devilish grin on his face, aimed at you, and-

You tried to run. You turned around, very nearly getting a mouth full of mud as you tripped, but instead catching yourself with a hand, pushing yourself back up and forcing yourself forward. Over the sound of your pounding heart you had heard him chuckle at what you assume he considered a feeble little escape attempt, and the sound was like thunder cracking across the sky during a storm. Not quite so loud, but deep enough to feel it, and otherworldly, and- it sent fear shooting through your blood stream. If I can just get out of his sight, you had thought. It would be fine.

But that was not apart of his plan.

The blades that were in his hands were faster than you, racing ahead of you, crossing over each other and jamming deep into the ground. The chains surrounded you, you stopped- and then he started to pull.

You tried to get out of the way and escape but he was stronger, the blades drug through the muddy ground fast back toward you and then they were on you. They tripped you, causing you to fall into the mud, hands and knees covered in the stuff, as he drew you right back to him in no time at all. It wasn’t a fair fight, you felt weak, and terrified.  

“Heh… “ When you were back beneath him, while you’re feeling even smaller then before on the wet and dirty ground now, he crouched down and leaned his monstrous arms around both sides of you and yanked his blades back out of the ground. Spirits- this man was only wearing a loincloth! And- ugh. Your nose had scrunched up, turning pointedly away from his face and cringing into yourself. His disgusting, clotted hair smelled. When he didn’t pull away fully right away though like you thought, you turned back to his face - now mere inches from your own as he stared at you, assessed you, glanced all over you, - with wide eyes. Your lips part, at this monster in front of you still looking all-to-amused, meaning to ask what he wants, but he beats you to it. “Hm… you really don’t remember me, do you?”

Your eyes widened even more if it were possible. “I… I don’t know you.” … Should you?

Finally he pulls back and stands up again, leaving you with some space once again so you can breath, and you watched him look around at your thoroughly destroyed fields and the stormy sky surrounding them; Breathing heavily. Thinking.

As he breathed out, he emitted visible air from his nostrils. “Nah… I guess not. It has been five hundred years… ” Your mouth fell open once again, wishing to ask if he’s absolutely positive- but he once again cut you off before you could speak. This time with his eyes, those lime green, glowing orbs - green eyes on a bull? That made you nervous even more than his huge frame did, - flickered back down to you again… and he looked fond.

… Which was not the kind of look you wanted to see on someone so powerful, who claimed they knew you. Who could easily just take you.

“Yes, I’m positive, little one.”

~

“I- I… didn’t ask.” You say now, eyes wide. How did he know you were thinking that?

“Yeahh, but you were thinking it.” He shrugs, casually rolling those boulder-like shoulders. It moves his entire body, the jade stones hung on his belt clanging against each other at his hips. “You may not know me, but I know you.” He smirks, eyes once again flickering up and down your body still knelt in the mud. “Trust me.”

“… You’re crazy- “

“Crazy?? Ha… Okay. Yeah. Maybe I’m a little crazy.” Nodding, he shrugs his shoulders once again and gives another deep chuckle- a short one, this time. “But that’s what the spirit realm’ll do to you, I guess.”

Blinking, and wondering why on earth you have ended up in this insane situation with the delusional, ludicrously over powered loin-cloth bull, you push yourself up to your feet and wipe your hands on your already ruined pants. You’re still uneasy, but the bull doesn’t seem to be trying to hurt you just this second- just your crops he’s still trampling- “The spirit realm??... “

He makes a sound like mhm, grunting, and seeming to take your questioning tone as an opportunity for a little bit of casual chit chat. “Yep. 500 years… “

… You don’t believe this crack story for a second. “Uh- “

You’re cut off by a great big sigh, and look up in time to watch him roll his eyes just as deeply. “I know, I get it- you don’t believe me. And hey, that’s okay. Doesn’t change anything… You, little one, are still mine. And we’ll find a way for you to remember. If we don’t… you’ll just have to fall in love with me again. Eh? Not so hard.”

At this your jaw actually drops, taking a step back from him. “Yours??” Love???

“Yep.” He nods, refusing to back down, and popping the ‘p’.

“No- “ You try to get away again immediately, turning to walk away, but this time he doesn’t even let you get two steps; Throwing his hand, with a double edged sword in his grip, directly in your way. Eyes widening, you back up from it, following his arm nervously up to his face. “I think you have the wrong person.”

“In a manner of speaking, I do!” He quickly agrees, surprising you- but then his eyes narrow, and you feel unbearably small before him. “… Different body, sure. But I know you… and your Chi?... “At this his eyes take an even brighter glow and you watch him breath in deep, his chest rising until it falls again. “That’s the same… “

“Are you… “ Pausing, you take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your tone, eyes closed as he calmly watches your every move- calmly, because he knows you cant do anything. You can’t escape. “A- are you… “ Damnit. “… suggesting… r-reincarnation?? And- and we… ” You… and him?? This massive, terrifying monster right in front of you right now??

An intimate smirk crosses his face then, eyelids half-hooding on you and eyes glowing brighter once again. “We… yeah… And I’d really like to get back to that, so come on- come with me. Willingly. And we’ll figure out howta get there, together.”

“If… “You start, heart beating heavily in your chest as you give the beast an uneasy once-over. “… I say no?... “

“Well, then I’ll take you unwillingly! Hah. That’s not gonna be fun for you- I suggest the willing rout.

… Oh I’m Kai, by the way.”

[chysgoda]

September 09 Lend an Ear

Another Way: Linkpearl Conversations

Timeframe / Spoilers: beginning of Stormblood

Bel has a conversation with Unukalhai after Hrasvalger assigns a second task.

“They figured out you lied about where you were going.”

Bel flinched away from Unukalhai’s linkpearl greeting. Kal was just enough old than her (technically he was thousands of years older, but effectively only a few years older) that all of the adults in their lives would expect him to not let a little sister run off into the wilds by herself. She cleared her throat, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have put you there.”

“It’s better someone knows where you are in case something goes wrong or you run into some kind of… trouble,” Kal sighed. “How is it going?”

“I’ve figured out how to do some of the jumps with just my regular aether, not dragon aether. And Master Matoya’s not-”

“Bel,” Kal tried to interrupt but she just kept going.

“-all that bad it’s like being with aunt Shtola if she was ancient. I was in Anyx Trine-”

“Bel…”

“- when a clutch hatched. I wish I could hear the Dragonsong. It was so exciting that they let me be there when the hatchlings broke through-”

“BEL,” Kal shouted into the linkpearl. Bel wrapped her tail around her shins and hunched into her knees. She really did not want to answer the question he was going to directly ask now. “Did Hrasvalger help you?”

Bel shifted uncomfortably against the broken masonry she’d been using as a back rest, “He said he’d help now, but I have to earn it by rebuilding the blessing of light myself.”

She could hear the very very long breath Kal drew in and then let out before speaking, “he wants you to find a way to recast a spell set by HYDAELYN?”

“I’m asking for a lot-”

“You’re really not.”

“Mom was able to!”

“Art’imis’s blessing hadn’t been completely destroyed and she had Midguardsommer guiding her.”

“It’s still possible.”

“Bel, did he actually say he would DO something after this?”

Bel fidgeted with the end of her tail, “He’s a dragon of the first brood Kal, it's his rules in his house.”

“I know how this goes, Bel. If you don’t get him to commit to some kind measurable action he’ll just move what you’re working for out of reach again and then give you an even more impossible task.”

There was a very quiet resignation in her brother’s voice. She wondered what life had been like when Elidibus had been Kal’s guardian. “I’ll make sure I have a real promise next time.”

“I should have told everyone where to find you when you told me that he wanted you to remove Hydaelyn’s blessing in the first place.” She could hear foot falls on stone as he began to pace. “You’re vulnerable now. What happens if Ravna is summoned and you get caught? Or if someone else finds you?”

Bel knew that ‘someone else’ really meant the Ascians. Which was a topic they didn’t discuss unless they KNEW no one else could hear them. The mix of nostalgia and low grade paranoia tended to put others off. OR draw unwanted concern since Kal still referred to the Emissary as ‘Master Elidibus’ and she still attached uncle to Lahabrea.

“I’ll be okay once I rebuild the blessing, Kal” Bel said softly. “I’ve seen the array around mom with the Echo. I can puzzle it out from there.”

“That’s not going to save you from the lectures everyone here is going to give you.” Kal said flatly.

“Yea I expected to get that no matter what.” Bel sighed, she was definitely going to get it from all sides after this. “Thanks for listening and helping.”

“I can alway lend you an ear, Bel. Please stay safe.”

Bel leaned back against the masonry again and looked up at the washed out blue sky. After a moment she pulled her soul stone out of her coat, from the pocket next to her heart. Bel held it up to the light. There was just the very faintest hint of a blue green color in the crystal.

She’d learned more, but this was still a very long way to go.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 9: Lend an Ear

It was a cold night out in Empyreum as Esredes began to make his way home from a bar outing with friends, smiling to himself as the idle joy of the evening stayed with him through the streets. The wind was blowing and the snow was coming down lightly, but though he drew his coat closer to himself, Esredes didn't particularly feel the cold seep through him.

That was, until a familiar sight made him stop in his tracks. Sitting on a bench just up ahead was a hunched over figure Esredes had come to recognize anywhere by now. Another Elezen man who held his head in his hand while covering his face, both elbows on his knees and a flash hanging from fingers that threatened to let go of it entirely. His eyes were unfocused on the stone in the ground, and most tellingly, he didn't have a coat on. The sight felt so uncannily like history repeating itself to the harrier, that he couldn't help but be seized by momentary panic, fast-walking over to stand directly in front of the bench. "...Alvere?" His coworker didn't even look up at him. His gaze fixated on his boots and his face twisted into a petulant frown. "What." That single word was slurred, and his voice came out drier than normal, barely audible even more than usual. Perhaps Esredes had a complicated relationship with the Inquisitor and unresolved feelings, but each time he saw him like this, in these pathetic and vulnerable states, all he could feel was his heart aching and the protective urge to correct the problem take hold of him. "Alvere." He put his hands in between his legs and bent down to try and make eye contact. "It's snowing. Do you have a place to sleep tonight." Alvere still didn't look at him. He looked away to the right. "Yes." "So you're not out here again because you're homeless. I was worried for a moment. ...Something else just as bad must've happened." "Not homeless yet. Maybe. Don't know." He shrugged only one shoulder, shaking off the snow from it. "...Good eyes." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.' "What do you mean don't know." Esredes sighed. "You'll probably go to your office again, but worst case scenario, you already know where I live. What's going on, Macaire?" Ever since Alvere had told him his middle name, Esredes felt like using it in select circumstances. "Do not call me that." His eye finally snapped up to Esredes as he snarled that out, his pupil wide and colored by the red around it. "Why." "Why what?" "Why do you care?" The man continued to slur out, the copper in his mouth more than pungent from Esredes' relative distance. "What confessions have you?" Spoken like a true Inquisitor, before he looked to the flask and took another drink. Esredes opted to watch him do so for a moment, letting the air linger in silence. "Because you do." He said. "And because she did, but that wasn't enough by itself."

He took a seat next to Alvere on the bench. "You look like you've aged twenty years in one night. Talk to me. Tell me something." "Something." He said with a bitter edge, smushing his head against his cheek in the least elegant fashion. Esredes smiled a little, but Alvere continued. ".... Told you once, I envy you. Meant it. Would trade places in a heartbeat, if you wouldn't go nuts as an Inquisitor." Esredes glanced off at the darkened sky. He let Alvere's words linger over him for a long moment, stewing like in a pot of boiling water.  "...I don't blame you." He finally said. "Everything I have is going to wither and leave me to die alone just the same. But witnessing a rose's beauty even in its short life isn't fun. And I know you'd take the hell of the shadows for what it's worth in stride." He looked back to him. "Why do you feel lonely again, Alvere?" ".... I tried to make buuz. Wanted to make it. Share it. Liivi taught me." His lips wobbled, his shoulders curved in, and he sunk. "That's the uh... the dumplings, right? Like the noodle place had." Alvere nodded his head vigorously. "Sounds delicious. What happened?" Esredes scoots a little closer, tilting his head at him. "Made them. Not perfect, but good. Good filling. But... no one tells you, your house isn't yours. Kitchen isn't yours. Ruining people's night because cooking's their job, and you wanna make buuz." He gripped that flask tight. "I didn't get to eat them." Esredes squinted. "...Someone got upset you wanted to make food for people?" Alvere nodded, wordlessly. "That's... you make food all the time. That's just what you do. That's your thing. One of your things. A lot of people cook. You do it because you love it. It doesn't matter whose job it is." "Her kitchen. Not mine." Alvere's jaw tightened, and he grinded his teeth again. "...I got mad. Forgot. Called petulant." He nodded vigorously again, staring at Esredes with a look bordering on devastation. "It was one night. Just wanted buuz. But she- claimed she could make them better. Because, paramour. Maybe she could, but not mine. Liivi made those. Showed me. Liivi might be dead and that is all I have. Buuz. I didn't get to eat them."

A fat tear fell from Alvere's eye. Esredes' expression grew into an ever more concerned frown, and there it was. That ache in the heart. That natural pulsation which longed for that the world said wasn't allowed to be. "...That's just baffling." He offered to his words. "I don't cook. I don't know shit about cooking. And even I can tell how much cooking means to people who do it. Two people don't make a dish the same way, regardless of quality." He inched closer to Alvere. "...Tell me about Liivi?" "Xaela. Good warrior. Was Arliana's bedwarmer, though, never told him that. He loved her. She didn't." He frowned, looking down. "First friend, after... everything. Then he went home, after Arliana. Said he'd come back." "And he never did." "Liivi does not lie." "I don't know much about the ways of Xaela. Maybe he has a lot of tribal obligations on top of trying to process her wickedness. He could be dead, but that's also not necessarily the only explanation. A lot of dead people in my life end up showing back up in the strangest ways." "Mhmn." Alvere bowed his head, staring at the flask. And then, he let it go, and it fell into the snow. "Always make an extra buuz. Even if it goes to waste. Wanted Majalis and-" His breath caught. "...Vallenaux. Wanted them to try it. Was gonna spar him. Owe him one. After dinner. I was hungry." "Why didn't you get to eat it? Alvere, have you eaten...?" "Not hungry." "Just please try to get something in before the end of the night?" Alvere didn't answer him. "Or else I'll draw a shitty portrait and hang it in your window?" Esredes smiled. That got a snort out of the other man, followed by a hacked-out laugh. "Scare you?" Had it scared Esredes, the war-torn man, to see a painting of Alvere in his All Saints costume hanging outside his window? "You can't prove anything." "Heh." Alvere lifted a hand to his throat, massaging it. "It scared you." "How much gil did you spend on painting yourself in a costume, Alvere."

His brow knit together at the question. ".....Don't remember. Got plenty of it." His smile fell away. "...too much." A tightness thinned his lips, and his hand fell away from his throat. Esredes' smile dropped. "...Alvere?" Alvere was staring at the ground again, his fingers touching the missing finger on his hand and then digging into it. "Do I look like a Lord? Lords do that. Drop gil on a prank. Too much gil." "Alvere, I brought three friends and myself to an overpriced seafood opening and got shitfaced drunk. I'm making a point about how much -effort- you put into that." "Wanna be shitfaced drunk. Just normal drunk, though. Hard to sober up from shitfaced, and Laudine will worry." "I'd rather you don't wake up with me sleeping on the futon like I had to experience. So let's pride your self control, all right? Majalis and..." He hesitated. "Majalis is a very flexible person, from what I've seen of him. I think he'll understand." "Not drunk because of Majalis. Like Majalis. Though waiting." "What?" "Hmn?" "Though waiting on what?" "Oh. For him to hurt too. Or leave. Or both." "Ah. I see." Esredes looks out at the street, sighing. "...Yeah. I know that feeling all too well. It's the worst, isn't it?" "Mmn. Tell you, they don't wanna hurt you. Knowing it will." His lip began to wobble once more, and his face tightened up. "Im so tired." "You should be. One thing I notice in the process of being left constantly is, it's not always you. People who hurt cut themselves off from everyone but make you out to be the problem when you're not. And I know it's not, that simple, with people like us. But... you do learn to at least better spot, when it's a transaction and when someone actually sees you. Even if they can't see all of it." Alvere's expression shifted, and he wrapped his arms around himself. "...It hurts." He said it so softly with his ruined voice. "But my hurt doesn't matter." Once more, Esredes felt that painful, hurting ache. "...I think it matters." He said. "Why do we talk to each other instead of trying to kill each other, Alvere? How did all of that start?" "Dunno. Still think you'd try to kill me, so. Dunno." "It's because you were visibly hurting." Esredes said. "You were -feeling-. You were being a person. You were being more than you were allowed to be. And that had significant meaning. It's something I look for, to figure out who people really are." "... I don't get it." "I'm trying to say that was the point you demonstrated being human. By hurting. There were other, smaller ways before- but it was significant. It's easier to connect to peoples' fabrics if you know how they hurt. ...In the emotional sense, I mean." "... I hurt a lot." Alvere was somehow the stupidest and most intelligent person in one. Even drunk. "You do. Mutually. We both know it's all the worst for people like us. We've said so many times by now. We couldn't have come to that understanding if you didn't hurt." Alvere's gaze went to the ground, and his arms tightened further around himself. "...wish it'd stop. I try. I try and try and try and it's never enough. Lied to. Mocked. Bullied. Feared. Hated. Sick of it. Tired." "I hear you. It's been like this your whole damn life, and it never stops. It just keeps changing form. And you're allowed to accept, that it feels like gods-damned shit. But for what it's worth, I know you're trying." I care about you. I hate to admit it, but I do. "You don't always get it right, but you have grown. So much. From each mistake. In a way that I personally find... hopeful. Hopeful on a scale that extends beyond you." "Don't say that." Alvere bowed his head. "I will fail you." "Why do you think so?" "Always do. How it goes. Im used, or, I fail them and they leave. Expectations too high. Failed as a Lord. Failed as a lowborn. Knight. Only good at being an Inquisitor. What has that earned me?" He gestured out ahead of them. "Lies. Lies, and lies, and shit."

Esredes squinted. Oh no. He suddenly knew what this was about, and it wasn't just buuz. "...What happened to Majalis and Vallenaux? After this incident?" Alvere opened his mouth to talk, but abruptly snapped his jaw shut. "Did they just... leave?" "... yes. Met with Vallenaux, later. Or earlier. Don't know. Later than buuz. Before," he gestured to the flask still lying in the snow. "Did something happen?" Alvere just pressed his lips together. "...I see. You had the same reaction." Alvere just frowned.  "I can't bring myself to like that man. He is driven by impulse. I have told him, time and time again, to think, to stop making everything about himself, to stop getting people hurt. And that was so long ago now, and yet, nothing has changed. Nothing. And constantly crying and apologizing won't fix the cycle being so endless." Alvere looked away. ".... him and Reinette. Apologies, but not for me. His hurt." "He got emotional, didn't he? Rash, and emotional, and he cried and said it was about you, but it was about him and what -he's- been through?" "....Not entirely." He stared down at the ground. "....Confessional. After seeing the buuz thing. Told me he did not wish to hurt me. Lies." Alvere's shoulders sagged again, his expression haggard, worn, and far too old for his years. "Always." "He told me too." Esredes offered. "You're not alone on how this one feels." Alvere shot Esredes a look immediately. "You knew?" "I tried to ask him a couple simple questions. And he confessed. And I tried to tell him about all the people who were being hurt by this. But does he truly listen? No." No, of course not. Why would he listen? A man who denounced Esredes years ago suddenly wanted to talk to him again, as if he didn't know who he was, and he turns out to be a fake. A random man from the Shroud impersonating the original who died a while ago. Alvere's entire expression crumbled. "I trusted him." The words came out softly. "Was gonna make buuz for him. A friend. My friend." Next came a choked sound, clawing its way out of his throat. "He knew- he knew what happened. Told me anyway. Couldn't... couldn't keep it for one more day. Then didn't wanna hurt me? Didn't want to hurt me?" His laugh was a horrible, choking sound, and he buried his face in his hands. The sight made Esredes frown. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Alvere vulnerable, of course. The last time he'd sat out on a bench like this, he had been kicked out of a house. There was the time he told Alvere his beloved had seen the best in him even after finding out his true, shadow Inquisitorial nature- that had made him truly break the first time. And just as he did those times and more, here he stayed, trying to find the right words to say to his drunken coworker. "...Yeah." He settled on. "Complete bullshit. That's all he's full of. Bullshit. He's some unknown anomaly from elsewhere choosing to be someone he isn't. There is nothing to him. There can't be. And for that, I can't feel bad for what happens to him. He's nothing. And it's not fair you have to suffer for your trust like that. Not at all." Esredes reached a hand out... and lightly patted his shoulder. Alvere let out a sound like a sob and leaned into the touch slightly, his frame trembling.  "Not nothing. Was a friend." He dug through his hair, tugging at the strands. "It hurts. Every time." Esredes went ahead and rested the hand on Alvere's shoulder, to which the man leaned in harder.  "...You're allowed to just let it hurt." He said next. "Who wouldn't? I didn't like him, so it didn't hurt as much as it did piss me off. But it hurt in a very different way, instead." He let out a low and pained sound from deep within his chest. "I can't. If anyone else... petulant. Childish."

Esredes moved his other hand to Alvere's far shoulder and gently pulled him into a lean against himself, looking out at the buildings of Empyreum as the man slumped into the half-embrace without hesitation. "We're not operating by the rest of the world's rules in this moment." He said. "We both know what we are. Forget about everyone else. Just be, for a while. Whoever Alvere is, be him." Alvere was still digging his fingers into his hair, face unseen. "I don't-" he tried to say, but his voice cracked and he fell silent. It lingered over both of them for several moments before the word could be forced out. "-Know." "I figured you don't." Esredes said. "In a lot of ways, I don't really know who Esredes is either. If he really exists, if he died with that knight, so on. It's hard to figure out when so many pieces of you die and haunt you, others get smashed together or painted over for everyone's viewing pleasure." He paused for a brief moment. "I don't imagine Alvere is the man you keep mourning. But I don't think he's all those shards of glass people stabbed you with and embedded into your skin, exactly, either. He's still forming a mirror out of shards of glass, for now. But he's trying to form, and that counts for something." Esredes patted his shoulder twice, watching as Alvere's body shook and shivered. A pained sound came out of him like that of someone sliding a knife into his belly. "I cannot bear it," he said. "I sympathize." Esredes said. "For as fucked up as I am, I don't know what it's like to go through what you did." He patted his shoulder some more as he spoke. "I don't truly change. You... hold on to some things, no matter what. And by gods, it's not an easy fight. Especially alone. But I've said it before and I've said it again. By the gods, I want you to win, Alvere. I desperately want you to be strong enough, in the end. So, I mean it. Just feel. Don't think too hard about it." "Stay." The word was barely audible from the other man at this point. "Please." "I'm not leaving." Esredes held Alvere a little tighter. "I will stay right here, until you want me to take you home. All right?" With a nod, Alvere leaned into that partial embrace and fell completely silent, his hands still covered his face. Something told Esredes he wouldn't get to see it again tonight.

But he made a promise to him, and he kept it. He stayed with his shivering coworker until he could manage to get him up from the bench, retrieving his flask in the process. Since that night, neither had spoken of it again since. Esredes wasn't sure how much of it Alvere remembered at all, or if he'd truly registered any of his words- but he didn't try and ask, either. He'd simply opted to leave that moment at its place in time.

Perhaps they were a harrier and an Inquisitor, even if they had both once been Temple Knights. Perhaps they fought, and argued, and yelled at each other, threatened to leave only to find neither could, and found some new understanding in the hesitation. But each and every time the other showed themselves like this, all of it washed away and didn't matter.

They always stayed with each other, in that unspoken, small world shared between the monsters the world shunned away. That, at least, they had between each other, and always would, as long as they kept trying to make things work.

[saibugslegacy]

Enjoy Our Time

Hogtober Day 7 - Natsai Onai

Word Count: 607 Characters/Relationship(s): Ambrose Varyn, Natsai Onai Setting: 5th year, non canon, Poacher camp Genre/Tags: Refernces to Sebastian being a dick, but mainly best friend combat shenanigans

“I am never taking you out of the castle again!” Ambrose shouted to be heard over the troll.

“I should be telling you that!” Natty laughed. “You seem to be quite popular with trolls.”

Ambrose was too busy rolling out of the way of a club to retort. He threw a an empty poacher cage at the troll, hitting it right in the nose. The troll stumbled and fell to one knee. Natty unleashed a barrage of spells while the troll was stunned. It was clearly hurt but it still ripped a chunk of stone out of the ground.

Ambrose drew the Ancient Magic around him into himself and launched himself across the clearing in a streak of light, just in time to tackle Natty out of the way of the boulder. Ambrose turned around and channeled the Ancient Magic now into the Troll’s club, it tried to tug it up but Ambrose held it down until the Troll gave it a brutal yank. Ambrose let go at the last second and the troll hit itself in the head, knocking itself out quite efficently.

Him and Natty had been exploring the Highlands in hopes of finding a Poacher camp where they had managed to wrangle some thestrals. Thankfully they’d found it, but not before a very angry troll did. The troll was making light work of the last few dark wizards, leaving Natty and Ambrose to finish it off.

But now the fight was over. Ambrose shook out his legs a little. Doing that streak of light thing always made them tingle, like they’d lost blood flow.

“You okay?” Ambrose checked.

“Thanks to you,” Natty said. “Are you?”

“Peachy,” Ambrose rolled his shoulders too.

He went over to the thestral cage which was much bigger than any Poacher cage Ambrose had ever seen. He made sure he was out of the way before casting alohomora. The htestrals charged out of the cage, trampling what little was in their path before taking off into the sky.

“Would you like to talk about it?” Natty asked.

“Talk about what?” Ambrose replied. “Come on, the Poachers usually have some pretty useful things laying about.”

Ambrose started rifling through a chest while Natty headed into the tent nearby.

“About whatever argument you had with Sebastian,” Natty called. Shit.

“Who says I had an argument with Sebastian?” Ambrose chuckled nervously. That was awful. Natty didn’t even dignify that with a response. Ambrose sighed.

Talking about and revisting that fight in the Undercroft was about the last thing he wanted to do just then. Maybe it would be good to get it off his chest, but he’d already been brooding about it for the last week. He’d talked to Ominis about it too. He was just tired of giving it, and Sebastian, so much of his attention.

“Honestly, not really,” Ambrose sighed. “Today’s not about Sebastian. I barely get to spend time with you these days so I just want to enjoy it.”

“Now that is something I can guarantee,” Natty promised.

Ambrose laughed and resumed to digging through the chest. He found the instuctions for an enchantment he could weave into his robes with the enchanted loom, along with a bag of gold he was more than happy to pocket. According to Everett’s last letter his only scarf had finally fallen apart so now Ambrose could buy him a new one. Ambrose may even be able to buy himself a pair of gloves. His fingers felt like they were going to fall off.

“Did you find anything?” Ambrose asked.

“I believe I did,” Natty replied. “Come see this.”

Ambrose came to her side and looked at the documents she was holding in her hands.

“Is that a letter?” Ambrose said.

“The draft of one,” Natty answered. “This letter was meant to be sent to Harlow about the thestrals that were captured. I may be able to use this to find where Harlow is hidden.”

“I think you mean we,” Ambrose corrected her. “You’re awesome Natty but I’m not letting you go looking for Harlow alone.”

“Good,” Natty smiled. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

[ajgrey9647]

wip wednesday: no lie, this feels a tiny bit like a trap, but...hm.

A Momentous Occasion – Drakkon, Red, Prime Tommy Oliver, Prime Jason Scott, Prime Billy Cranston, Prime Matthew Cook, Coinless/Red Sentry Eugene Skullovitch. It’s a holiday celebration with our quad and the throuple….

lol this is a little long but I'm excited to show you what I have on this one :)

“You know…all those years ago, when you first took a shine to me,” Eugene began softly, “I was utterly terrified of you even if I never showed it. Why me? What was it that drew you to me in a manner that wasn’t all rage and hate?”

Red looked thoughtful as he searched the recess of his old ‘canine’ mind, his dark eye staring at the deep veining in the wood of the picnic table. He vividly recalled the fury that consumed him whenever a Red Sentry was in his line of sight, those lucky souls only spared from his jaws if Drakkon was present to bring him to heel. That darkly blossoming emotion was oddly missing when it came to Skull and their interactions. 

“Do you remember that day? You crept up on me with that old Chinese finger trap, high as a kite and giggling like a schoolgirl…” Eugene prodded, giving the other man a gentle smile. “I truly thought I was going to shit my pants.”

The sentiment brought a mirthful chuckle from Red, his gaze coming back into focus as he looked up across the table at Skull’s mischievous face.

“I apologize for that… though it was my intention at the time to needle you, to keep you off balance,” he laughed. “Being a creepy asshole was something that brought me joy back then.”

The former pet tried to find the right words to answer Eugene’s initial question. It was difficult as he didn’t quite fully understand everything that was happening in his own mind in those terrible years. At the time, Red believed himself to be fully in tune with himself and his thoughts, never questioning the things that didn’t make sense or went against his delusional reality. 

But there was… ‘something’... that pulled at him whenever he looked upon the Red Sentry captain, even before their one-on-one conversations. From his place beside the cold slabs of stone that made up Drakkon’s throne, the gray-haired man found his eye drawn to the same guard over and over again. A tickle of a memory…somewhere in the tangled and tattered ribbons of his mind, his ‘Swiss cheese brain’ a source of constant frustration though he was never allowed to voice it.

“I’m not sure what it was about you that I found so appealing. Yes, you made me laugh and amused me, as I told you that day, but I feel like I noticed you before. An aura maybe? A feeling of safety, of protection? I knew red wasn’t your real color,” he frowned, brow furrowing. “I’m not sure what that means.”

Red’s response surprised Skull. 

“Interesting… how would I make you feel safe and protected? You were a literal living weapon in those days. And you were the one who eventually saved me. I was so sick that I’m sure I wouldn’t still be here if not for you nursing me back to health.”

Red was quiet as he cast his mind even further back, back to a time before ‘his’ memories began, to his ‘other’ self’s thoughts… CJ’s mind. It wasn’t as scary or as difficult as it used to be…not after CJ had unexpectedly surfaced and caught them all by surprise. The primary alter was a silent observer, an anxious child that the older man coddled under a protective wing. 

“I think a part of me…the part that was ‘Jason’...maybe recognized you, that you protected me once before…” he whispered, seeing the memory coming slowly to life. “You and Bulk did. At the Youth Center… When Tommy…errr Drakkon…was waiting for me.”

Skull’s eyes brightened at the reminder of his and Bulk’s heroics in those early days before their world went to absolute shit.

“Yes! That’s right! You remember that?”

Red nodded, smiling gently at Eugene’s excitement.

“Yes, I remember now. This is a momentous occasion, isn’t it? Can you believe how far we’ve come?”

The sky looked as if it were on fire, brilliant orange, red, and pink streaking the horizon as the sun descended, the vivid colors playing across the lake’s idle waves. Faint laughter and merriment could be heard from the other cabins as families celebrated the holiday festivities, punctuated by the occasional pop of an errant firework. Skull sipped his icy beverage, a virgin strawberry daiquiri, before responding.

“Definitely wasn’t on my bingo card,” he quipped. “Who would have thought I’d be sitting at a Fourth of July cookout and asking Lord Drakkon to slip me a hot dog?”

Both men snickered, neither missing the childish inappropriate innuendo that always seemed to shadow the Coinless orphans in this universe. Humor helped a lot in their healing, though it frequently gave Tommy, Jason, Matthew, and Billy pause when they happened to hear one of the off-color jokes or snarky commentary about what the older trio had experienced. Even after all their time together, it could be difficult to reconcile that such horrific trauma was being used as teasing fodder.

Red grinned at his friend.

“I doubt he’d imagined such a ‘normal’ interaction after our years in the palace.”

Eugene tilted his head in consideration of the other man’s words. 

“‘Normal…’ There’s another thing I never thought I’d see again… To get a second chance to live in a world that ours used to be and should have been right now,” he mused, his gray eyes sliding out across the water, appreciating the wealth of color this universe had to offer.

The action wasn’t unnoticed by the former pet and he reached out a hand to give his friend’s hand a friendly squeeze of camaraderie. 

“I never get tired of it either,” Red whispered reverently. “Not after being locked away with only black, gray, and brown to look at outside my window."

He favored Eugene with a teasing wink, nodding at his bright orange shirt.

"In fact, I think now what color rightfully belongs to you..."

A deep laugh sounded from where the grill still smoked near the deck as a shadowy figure worked to scrap it clean.

"Yes, Eugene. Resembling a giant orange creamsicle is much more in keeping with your style..." Drakkon razzed playfully.

[runawaymun]

WIP Wednesday Game

originally shared by @tanoraqui and it looks like a lot of fun, so I thought I’d get in on it :D 

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog (or new post w/ rules attached), post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

WIP LIST: 

1. Beneath a Boundless Sky 2. To Partake 3. Celrond Arranged Marriage AU 4. Gimme Sugar Baby 5. Beneath a Boundless Sky (SNIPPETS - out of order scenes) 

no pressure tags for: @creativity-of-death , @the-commonplace-book , @ellrond , @niennawept , @raointean , & @jaz-the-bard :) 

SNIPPET: (from Boundless Sky) 

Elladan wanted to put it down to travel jitters; to the closeness of the air between the trees (but he always felt at home among the trees… why didn’t he now?); to anything he could explain with sound and rational thought. But this was not a sound and rational thing: it should not be so cold in mid-July. Nor should the trees lean so close, the spaces between them feel so dark and sinister.

Elladan had hoped that the woods would not seem so fell in the rosy light of a new dawn. He had hoped in vain. The sun rose, but it was a pale yellow – cold and feeble. A chilly mist rose from the ground around them. No birds sang, save for crows calling in the distant north. Strange. They were resting in the shadow of Caradhras to be sure, but it shouldn’t be this cold in midsummer. It felt more like autumn, or even early spring. Elladan didn’t remark on it, though, and tried to keep cheerful for Elrohir’s sake. Elrohir had been out of sorts for months, now. Elladan had to be strong for him. This trip was only making things worse and they had such a long way to go before they could return home.

If they returned home.

It was easy to think like that on a morning so cold and gloomy as this one. Elladan forcibly shoved the thought aside. They would go home again. They would. They always did. 

The twins hurried to eat and pack up their bedding, then set off once more down the hidden road through the trees. It wasn’t so much a road as it was a series of markers. Here, a gash in a tree that edged them down to a ravine. There: a cairn of stones with a scrap of green cloth tucked between them, leaning northeast. Up there: a talisman of feathers floating in the wind. A broken branch set a specific direction, another fallen tree bearing a toolmark, a large boulder set just so upon another one. It was not an easy path —  especially not for the horses — but it was familiar to the twins, and so they had very little trouble following it and made good time. 

The farther they traveled, the paler Elrohir looked and the slower he rode. After a while, Elladan drew up his reins and asked: “What’s the matter?” 

“Can’t you feel it?” Elrohir said. “Can’t you feel something’s wrong?” 

Elladan pulled his horse in step with Elrohir’s and took a deep breath. “Something’s been wrong for a while.” 

“It is getting worse,” Elrohir hissed back.

He was right. 

[mortalfaerie]

like a thief in the night, pt. viii

aemond targaryen x oc

wordcount: 1.8k

description: the road to highgarden, part 2! some hurt/comfort for the journey, elissa takes on a new role for the greens.

warnings: description of a panic attack, blood (brief)

When the sun was high in the sky, Aemond pointed out a mossy structure on the horizon and lead the way over. It was, too their great fortune, an abandoned hunting shack - and though part of the roof was caved and moss overtaking the walls, it was assuredly empty and it was unlikely they would be disturbed.

“I can hear a stream,” he said, dismounting. “The horses need to drink - I’ll take them over, and you can get settled.

Elissa nodded and utilizing the convenient fallen tree beside Grindstone, managed to dismount herself without issue.

Aemond scrutinized her a moment. “Where’s your dagger?”

Elissa pulled back the coat to reveal where it was sheathed in her belt. Aemond smiled approvingly. “Clever girl. Keep it handy, just in case.”

“Go,” she nodded. “Deal with horses, I’ll scope inside.”

He took Grindstone’s reins and went to follow the sound of the bubbling stream, and Elissa watched his disappear into the trees, mentally codifying the path he had taken - just in case. She shifted the pack on her shoulder and cautiously opened the ajar door.

It smelled damp and earthy inside, and She noted that the walls of the hut were not stone as she might have expected, but sod. However, the hay on the ground was dry, and likely more comfortable to sleep on than the stone floor. Glancing around, she gingerly peeled off her coat and tossed it over the hay, making a bed for herself. She sat down and tested it - and though it was far from where she had last laid her head, it would do, she rationalized.

She took the moment and reflected on the events of the past few days. Until then, she had been running on fumes - first the surprise of finding the prince breaking in, and then the fear and subsequent agitation with her captivity. Now, she wasn’t a captive but a conspirator, a fact which despite herself, gave her a degree of satisfaction.

And, her stomach twisted when she considered that which she had tried to ignore: her grandparents, the Lord, and Lady Swann. What did they think had happened to her? Did the council send a raven to make excuses, or were they worried sick still at having found her bed empty and she nowhere to be found? Guilt roiled in her belly, as all the dread she had been avoiding for days took the opening to attack her. She drew in a shaking breath and hugged herself. She willed herself desperately to still, to calm down, but only found the tremors worsening.

She leaned sideways and rested her cheek on the cold sodden wall, shuddering.

“Elissa,” the voice of her companion was low and laced with a mix of irritation and concern. Aemond crossed the distance to her in a few strides and crouched beside her.

She looked up at him and found his image blurred by tears. Upon trying to speak, she choked on a sob.

“Mother above,” he swore and pulled her into his side. Unthinking, she grabbed a fistful of his doublet and cried an awful, pained noise. She clung to him like she might drown if she didn’t, and though stiff at first, he relaxed his hold on her and brought his other hand to rub her back.

She keened dreadfully, her voice foreign to her own ears, and she shook until she had spent herself, falling silent with her face pressed against his now damp clothing.

Only when she had quieted did he speak again. “What has happened?”

Elissa rested her cheek against the fabric of his garment and hiccupped. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m here.” she croaked. “And my grandparents,” she gasped, “Do they know? What do they think happened?”

Aemond sighed. “They think you have taken ill, and that I brought you to King’s Landing so that you could be treated by the grand maester.”

“So they think that I’m dying?” she cried, her heart hammering in her chest.

“No, pet,” he said, pushing her back at the shoulder so he could look at her. “Look at me - my mother herself wrote to them to say that you were recovering well but must remain there for some time and that she would send for them when you were well.”

Elissa stared past him, sniffling.

“I should not have brought you,” he shook his head.

“I forced you,” she shrugged sluggishly. “S’not your fault.”

“No, I could have left you - don’t look so surprised, my lady, I could have disarmed you easily enough, but,” he sighed. “I was selfish. I craved company.”

Elissa met his eye then. “What?”

“Will you make me repeat myself?” he asked, cocking his head.

“No, I-” she shook her head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

He smiled faintly. “In the few days I have known you, I…” he weighed his words, “have become used to your presence. I even enjoyed it, at times. When you awoke and found me there, I caved and decided to take you with me, so we wouldn’t be parted.”

“But,” he laughed humorlessly, “I am also the one who took you from your family. I have brought you this turmoil, and for that, I am sorry.”

Elissa covered his hand on her shoulder with her own. They were still and quiet for a moment, and then she spoke softly, “I forgive you, my prince.”

“If you desire it,” he assured, “I will return you to Crow’s Nest. You need only say the word.”

She was tempted. Part of her screamed to take the chance, to run home to her grandmother’s arms and the safety of the manor house. But another part of her twisted inside.

“What will become of you, if I do?” she asked.

“My lady,” he sighed. “No matter what I do now, war will descend upon us. The council has already received word that Rheanyra’s forces are mustering. What I can offer you now is to bring you to your family before the worst of it has begun.”

“You don’t answer my question,” she prodded.

“I will fight for my family, and for the safety of my nephew’s claim to the iron throne. I am a Targaryen prince. It is my duty to fight the pretenders for my brother, the king,” he said, almost wistful. “I have always known that I would fight this war if it came, and now it has.”

Silence blanketed them inside the little hut. She held his gaze, committing to memory the softness of his regard for her, that he would offer to take her to safety and delay his mission.

It was that consideration that made her decision.

“I will not leave you, my prince,” she said with quiet determination. “Nor will you leave me, I hope. If war is indeed to come, let us fight together.”

“It is dangerous,” he chided, but she shook her head.

“I know, I am not a fool,” she interrupted. The tears were still damp on her face, and she wiped at them with a sleeve. “Rather, I am a clever woman, and my will is as strong as Valyrian steel.”

The corner of his mouth twisted upwards. “I believe that from experience.”

“Then take me. Use me and my skills. Teach me to be of use and I will serve you with fidelity.” She implored, her eyes urging. “They say a woman’s sword is her wit. Let me swear mine to your cause.”

“Skoros iā run,” he mused, “A lady knight. You would serve me with charm and counsel?”

“If you will have me,” she insisted.

“Hmm.” he nodded and offered a hand. “Your dagger?”

She felt for it and handed it to him. Not breaking her gaze, he unsheathed it and pressed the blade into his palm, drawing blood.

“Your grace!” she exclaimed, but he quieted her with a shush that was closer to a hiss. He took her hand and quickly cut it as well, causing her to flinch.

The blade clattered to the floor and she held his bleeding hand out. “Take it,” he commanded, and she did. “Lady Elissa of House Swann, do you so swear in the sight of the seven to serve the cause of my brother, King Aegon, second of his name, with loyalty and honor?”

Elissa straightened. “I do so swear,” she affirmed.

“Lest you become an oathbreaker, you will uphold this vow,” he added.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I will.”

“Then I accept you into my service as my counselor.” he ascended, withdrawing his hand. “And I name you my lady of wit.” he grinned.

Elissa looked at her hand, where her and his dried blood commingled. Looking back at him, she saw him do something unexpected, and lick his hand where he had cut it.

“A beast licks his wounds,” he murmured, seeing her confusion, “and there is wisdom to be learned there.”

She looked at her own hand, and then cautiously brought it to her face. It tasted metallic and heady, but it did assuage some of the burn from the wound. She heard a rip and looked to see Aemond tear a kerchief in half and hand her one piece. “Bind it,” he said, wrapping his own hand with the other section.

She did so, wrapping it tightly. “What does a lady of wit do?” she asked.

“I must convince noble families to ally themselves with my brother’s cause. You, with your lady’s sword, can aid me in charming them.” He paused and swallowed. “You are a comely woman, it goes without my saying - men heed the words spoken by a pretty mouth.” he added hastily, “I will be at your side, of course, and you will not be made to do anything that would impune your honor - but you would be an asset to the effort.”

“Then I will,” she agreed, “If you indeed think that I would make a difference in their decisions.”

“You will,” he insisted. “I know it.”

She looked away. “We must eat and sleep, then, to travel to Grassy Vale.”

“Indeed,” he nodded and pulled away, adjusting this doublet and shedding his coat to sit on it. And thank you, my lady,” he replied.

“For?” Elissa questioned, retrieving the bread from the satchel.

“Your belief in me,” he answered, “And for this cause. You are an honorable woman.”

“I need no thanks,” she said, and ripped a hunk of bread from the loaf, handing it to him. “I am with you now, your grace, your fight is now mine.”

Aemond accepted it and smiled softly. “It is more than could be expected of a lady in your situation. I will not forget this service.”

Elissa smiled. “Eat, my prince.” she said in dismissal, “You can sing my praises to your content on the road tomorrow.”

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing

AN: so I’m writing for Jenkins, flynn Carsen and Jacob stone now. In case anyone was wondering

I stormed through the library only to slam the book on the table in front of Jenkins.

“There’s your damn book Jenkins. Now can I please have a week off?” I snapped at the tall man before me. He raised an eyebrow at me before taking the book and walking off. “Jenkins! Dammit. Jenkins!” I called out as I turned to follow the caretaker.

“I wouldn’t today.” I turned in a circle and looked at Flynn.

“and why not?” I snapped. Flynn gave me a look. “Sorry. It’s been a day. Between that book and getting shot at. Not to mention…” I trailed off and Flynn pushed off the card catalog. “I’m pretty exhausted. I need a week off. Jenkins said if I got the book…” I looked over my shoulder. Flynn wrapped his arm around my shoulders and drew me away from the annex.

“he’d let you take the week off.” I nodded, wrapping my arm around Flynn’s waist. Flynn leaned his head against mine. “If Jenkins tries to send you out again, I’ll take it. Or I’ll make Ezekiel take it.” I laughed slightly as Flynn walked us towards the exit.

“and Jenkins will get pissed at you.” I countered. Flynn shrugged.

“what else is new?” He laughed. Smiling at him, I let him usher me into a car.

“you’re full of surprises Flynn carsen.” I laughed. Flynn smiled over at me before driving off. “So where are we going?”

“you want me to tell you? Or do you want to guess?” He looked over at me with a knowing smirk. “Or just enjoy the ride?”

“oh it’s a ride then.” I tried. Flynn laughed.

“Nice try.” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m not saying.” I smiled at him before looking out the window. “So this week off. What do you want to do?”

“thinking of coming with me?” I asked. Flynn snorted.

“not really. Just curious.” He said.

“sleeping. Probably visiting with friends for a bit.” I shrugged. “Maybe find a way to get to a beach for a bit.”

“sounds nice.” I nodded. “I wouldn’t mind meeting you on the beach.” Smiling, I looked back over at Flynn.

“I wouldn’t mind you crashing that part.” I admitted. Flynn smiled at me. “This is nice.”

“thought you’d enjoy it.” I looked out at the scenery that we passed. “You’ll really like this though.” I laughed as the Statue of Liberty came into view. “How does ice cream sound?” Flynn looked over at me, eyebrow quirked up.

“it sounds nice.” I waited until Flynn parked before climbing out of the car. He walked over to the cart that was across the street and came back as I was climbing onto the hood of the car. Flynn looked at me in surprise. “What?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled. “Just didn’t expect you to climb up there.” Waiting until I was seated, Flynn passed the cones over to me before clambering up next to me. I handed his back and leaned back against the windshield. The street lights turned on as the sky darkened. “This is the only place I know in the entire city where you can see the stars clearly.” I turned my head towards Flynn as I ate my ice cream.

“really?” I looked up at the sky again. “I didn’t even realize that.” Flynn hummed. “I guess being in the city so long made me forget that there are pockets where you can see them. Made me forget to look up.” Flynn leaned back and looked over at me.

“that can happen sometimes.” He agreed. We settled into a comfortable silence. Even after we finished our ice cream, we stayed laid out on the hood of the car. “This is Jenkins’ car by the way.” I started laughing as I rolled onto my side to look at Flynn.

“seriously?” I asked, my smile growing as Flynn started to laugh. He nodded.

“yep. Took the keys earlier today.” He rolled onto his side to watch me. Flynn hesitantly reached over and brushed some hair off my forehead. I smiled softly at him before looking up at the stars again.

“we’ll have to keep this place in mind for our next date.” I said softly. My heart raced as I looked back at Flynn. He was opening and closing his mouth quickly and I started to panic. “Unless this isn’t a date. Or you don’t want to go on another date.” Flynn leaned forward and kissed me.

“I definitely want to go on another date with you. Just,” he laughed quietly. “How did you know? I’d been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks.” I blushed.

“I uh I was taking a chance.” I admitted. “I was hoping…then again I guess you were too.” Flynn nodded before kissing me again. I gently cupped his cheek. “You’re one smooth man Flynn carsen.” I teased.

“smooth?” He asked, blushing. “No one has ever called me that before.”

“let me guess. Nerdy, a dork, socially awkward?” I asked. Flynn nodded.

“I used to…” Flynn started. “I used to be a lot of things.” I nodded. “I’m still sort of…” it was my turn to lean forward and kiss him.

“that’s something to discuss on our next date.” I smiled at him. “For now, let’s enjoy the stars.” Flynn nodded before cuddling up next to me to point out the different constellations. He paused in his rambling to look over at me before kissing me and starting his stories again.

[softquietsteadylove]

Wow, wonderful Gladiator AU! What about a fight now? Gil fighting Kro? Kro is winning and he's doing cruel things to Gil and people are already celebrating. Thena couldn't bear to watch him getting hurt and she couldn't stand people not about talking about her marriage with Eros but them celebrating every pain Gil was receiving. Kro had already left Gil's unmoving body and is celebrating already, getting all the hype of the arena. Thena's on her tears still believing that he can still do it, she had her faith on him. Gil with his numb body looked at Thena's direction and she SMILED at him and maybe saying 'I love you' to him that he can clearly read on her mouth. That gave him enough power to shot himself back and attack Kro who's already celebrating.

"Champion! Champion!"

The crowd was cheering. Gilgamesh could barely pry his eyes open as the sounds of their roaring celebration intermingled with the blood in his ears. He blinked, half of his view being the dirt of the arena floor, dotted with his blood throughout. The other half was of the stands, and of the people of his own allegiance cheering for his massacre.

"Are you not entertained!" Kro held out his hands, laughing as he celebrated Gil's defeat, and his death that he would surely deliver once he felt properly adulated.

Gil tried to pick himself up, but he had no strength left in him, for once. He could barely even feel his extremities, actually. He did his best to move any part of him at all, but with movement came pain. There was no feeling if he was moving his arms or his legs or his head, just pain, everywhere.

"Is this your Champion?!" Kro cackled, picking Gil up just so he could toss him away again. His body tumbled, like a stone skipping on a river. "This is a ragdoll I shall soon dispose of!"

Gil groaned. At least the rolling and tumbling helped him realise he was indeed awake, and not deceased as of yet. He was indeed in scorching, searing pain, but that also meant that he could still feel most of his body. He tried to pick up his head again.

Thena.

He could see Thena. He blinked, although one of his eyes was slower to shut than the other, most likely from the pummelling. But he could see her--he could see here anywhere, from any distance. She was standing, clutching her hands together in front of her. She was worried.

Oh yeah, she hadn't wanted him to enter this fight. She had told him that she was too worried after the fights he had already fought. She had told him that she feared for his life. She had told him that Kro would kill him, and make her watch.

He tried to pick himself up again, but by all the stars in the sky, it was hard. It felt like he wasn't even trying to lift his own body, but trying to lift something much heavier from outside of his own form.

"Gil."

He couldn't hear it--no, that would be impossible. But looking at her, he could swear he could hear her saying his name, in that voice of hers that was like the rustling of flowers in the wind.

"Gilgamesh, please."

He really could swear he could hear her voice. Maybe he was closer to death than he thought.

"I love you."

He blinked. He could make no mistake. There was a lot happening, and he was quite sure he was closer to death than he had ever been. But he had seen those words on her lips, plain as the sun in her hair.

Kro was still celebrating, revelling in his victory. He hadn't even glanced back at him once since tossing him away. As far as he was concerned, Gil was already dead.

Gilgamesh kept his eyes open as he pushed himself forward. He grunted, knowing his chest would feel tomorrow as if he had let an oxen sleep right on it. But he pushed himself up with his hands, more conscious than ever of his heart hammering in his chest.

He would get to hear her say it to him for real, he was sure of it.

Gil drew his knees up, forcing himself to fight against the weight of gravity until he could sway onto his feet. He panted from the effort. Thena was right, Kro had every intention of killing him.

He turned, dragging himself closer. The crowd was still ignoring him, maybe waiting to see what pathetic attempt he would make when he was so clearly already defeated. He scoffed.

"That is my Champion!" Eros shouted from his throne sitting across the arena from Thena and Ajak's. "You shall be honored when I am leaving with my bride in hand!"

In hand--he talked about Thena the way he would a pheasant caught on a hunt. He looked at her like a slab of meat sliced just for him. Gil did not want to even imagine what the man's thoughts of Thena were like (undoubtedly disgusting).

"I am your new Champion!" Kro shouted for himself, still with his back to Gil. He turned to face the queen and princess, pointing, "I am your new Chamion!"

"No!"

Gil faced Kro head on. He could have attacked the monster from behind. It was probably a better idea, given he didn't seem tired out from their fight at all. But that was not the Gladiator way. And just because this beast had no honour, didn't mean Gil was without it.

"You!" Kro snarled, moving and hoisting Gil up by his chestplate. He shook him, letting his feet dangle. "You yet live?"

"I'm not done yet," Gil growled back at him, still all but gasping for breath.

"Oh, you are," Kro argued with a grin. He raised his fist, ready to deliver a punch that would truly kill him. "I shall make sure, this time."

Gil let out a more even breath. His shaking stilled as he watched Kro raise his fist. He had a habit of moving his head as he did, exposing one length of his neck more than the other.

Gil's hand moved quickly, bringing up the shred of metal that remained of the weapons that Kro had used to break and batter him. He gripped one in each hand, unminding of the pain in his palms from doing so. He crossed them through Kro, over and upwards, slicing across him cleanly.

Kro blinked before his skin split, over his eyes, his cheeks, his throat. It was quick--one minute he was standing, the next he crumbled to the ground, a thing of the past.

Gil stumbled back, breathing hard. He resisted the urge to lie down again and close his eyes. He looked up, first at Eros, who could barely believe what he had witness. He looked over at Thena, across the great distance between them. He smiled.

"We have our Champion!"

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 2 | Prompt: Cold without mercy

Pairing: Tevildo (non-bestial form) x Tinúviel 

Themes: Violence | Dark 

Warnings: Mention of nudity | Blood | Weapons use | Physical violence | Loss of tongue | Torture | Thralldom

Word count: 600+ words

Summary: Tinúviel is brought to Tevildo. She tries to sing and win freedom for her and Beren. 

Also available on AO3

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

Her song, sweet and enchanting and potent, wove a spell of silence, of wonder, of indescribable sorrow and beauty. The walls around her shook as if in fear. The earth beneath her feet trembled. Tinúviel sang still, bold and unafraid, her gaze on Beren first, then Tevildo, then Beren, then Tevildo again. 

His attendants yawned and closed their eyes. Others slumbered where they fell. Tevildo did not sleep. He rose to his feet and then rose again, this time changing, his bones cracking and transforming, his form taking the shape of a being as fair as the Blessed Ones, no less. Tinúviel hesitated. Her song faltered. Never before had she seen a lord in such a state of undress walking toward her, utterly entranced. Tevildo swayed, his eyes like glass. It is as if he is under her spell.

"Whatever you desire, mistress," he proposed, "I will gladly offer."

Tinúviel smiled and silently exulted in her victory. Beren would be free, and their nightmare would soon end.

If only she remembered her mother’s warning to never savor triumph until she had it firmly in her hand. Tevildo reached her, his feet bare against the floor. So lost was she in her singing and impending victory that she did not see the hand that rose and struck her without warning. The blow was swift and hard. It was as if Tevildo held nothing back. Tinúviel fell, struck dumb, her song silenced, her spell broken. A trickle of red tainted her fair skin. The others finally opened their eyes.

"Take her arms," Tevildo commanded. "And her tongue. This must seen to, and with great haste. We must not have her singing again."

Desperate and frightened, forced onto her knees, Tinúviel tried to speak and form new words for another melody. A clawed hand gripped her chin, talon-like nails cutting into her flesh. The pain is white-hot and silences her tongue. Something cold and sharp pulled at it. Tevildo still stood before her, smug and satisfied. He reached into his ears and drew out small blobs of wax. 

"Did you truly believe I was ignorant of you and your gifts?" He burst into laughter and threw them to the floor.

Eyes as gray as a starlight sky flew wide. His own flashed, now red, now green, now red again. They were harsh and pitiless, cold without mercy. He accepted a shimmering blade. Tevildo studied it and toyed with it, flipping it and whirling it, prolonging her agony. He then looked over his shoulder. 

Beren was by a column, on his knees, bound and shackled, his eyes bright with fear. "Do not do this, my lord!" He cried in anguish. "Please! I will make her leave. I will make her swear to never search for me again. Please!"

The pleas of the tormented cannot easily sway those who are dark of heart. Tevildo smiled and tightened his hold on the blade. He sets his eyes on the task at hand. 

It did not take long; the blade was finely forged and effortlessly sliced through flesh. Rivulets of crimson splashed onto the stone floor. Tevildo stepped back, pleased with his work, and drunk on both the desperate screams that cut through the air and the bite of copper that filled him with every breath he took. Something small and pink and soft sat snugly in the palm of his free hand. He decided to keep it as a trophy, a grim reminder of his victory this night.

This will certainly stand out against the others, he thought, amused.

"Have the healers clean her and then garb her in something pretty." Dizzy with the abrupt sense of his triumph, he sat back on his haunches and inspected his conquest. "I will escort her to the master and present her to him. I hear he is seeking a new bedmate, and who better than one such as her?"

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[whim-prone-pirate]

we're almost to the part where you're smiling

^^this is where i've posted it on ao3 :)

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims, Melanie King, Peter Lukas mentioned, Rosie Zampano mentioned

Maturity: Gen

Ships: Jon/Martin, pre-relationship

Setting: The Magnus Institute during season 4

Warnings: Light miscommunication (with a happy ending)

TLDR: martin has lonely powers that allow him to manipulate clouds. he tries to use them to cheer up a sad jon sims. it doesn't really work. but then it does!!!

Note: if this looks like it's formatted like shit, i'm sorry i don't know how to use tumblr yet🙁

———

Martin Blackwood has recently discovered that he is magical.

This isn't exactly true, but it is certainly what he tells himself—what would you call the ability to manipulate water?

Well. Not all water. But still a pretty big portion of it! Just... the water in the sky.

Clouds. He can manipulate clouds. And by manipulate he means make little shapes with them.

It's cooler than it sounds.

He doesn't know why or how it started happening—maybe he could always do it but never tried? But two weeks ago, after a... meeting with Peter Lukas, he was feeling bummed. So he made tea. For maybe the third time that day? Morning. The third time that morning. Maybe it's a problem, but there are bigger ones to fret over than tea intake.

Chamomile in hand, he stepped outside and looked up. It was a bit of a dreary day, but they had all been dreary recently. But, when looking at the clouds, he had never been able to part them—that is to say, he did, that morning. He looked up and where his eyes settled in the sky, the clouds split in a near perfect circle, revealing the sun in the center. A sun-ray rested upon Martin and a small mouse sitting by a lamppost. It would nearly have been poetic, if not for the way Martin went absolutely slack-jawed. The mouse must have found it quite comical.

So, in the coming days, he tried again. And again, and again, and again. It worked every time. So he tried to ramp it up, make it more complex. Instead of simply splitting the clouds, he began shaping them. But, what really set his powers in stone in his mind was when he raised his hand to the sky, squinted an eye, and drew a heart with his fingertip.

Meanwhile, during this time of experimentation, he noticed Jon in his office some days. Every day. Multiple times per day. Give him a break! Jon just looked so... down. Martin couldn't decide whether to bring him more tea than usual or leave him be. It ended up being a strange mix of both, surely confusing to both Martin and Jon.

What was Martin meant to do, honestly? Let this go on for weeks? Even longer? He wouldn't stand for it. So, naturally, when he saw Jon take a step outside in the middle of the day, clearly upset enough to not notice Martin sitting thirty feet away at a café, Martin thought to leave him a message. He tried to make it subtle, he really did, but he hasn't quite figured out the blurring and shading of the clouds yet... He wrote Jon's name with a huge smiley face and a heart. In the sky.

Maybe it wasn't his best plan ever, but he would swear he was trying to help.

Jon sat on the steps of the Institute and looked up with a calm, melancholy look in his eyes, which promptly shifted to a sharp and intense glare as his eyebrows drew together. As he wrapped his mind around it, he nearly fell back in a panic, before looking around the street frantically, back up at the sky, and so on.

Martin, certainly mortified, shielded his eyes and drew up his hoodie. By the time he looked back, he just barely caught a glimpse of Jon's foot falling inside the Institute as the door shut behind him.

Shocked and dismayed, Martin lay his head on the table.

———

After what could have been a half hour of sulking in shame, Martin tipped his waiter and edged back towards the Institute. He opened the door... walked across the foyer... down the stairs to the basement... it really was an ordeal just to put one foot in front of another.

It was just as bad as he had imagined.

Maybe worse.

"...promise you, I am being stalked by the Lonely, Melanie—where the fuck is Peter Lukas?" Jon spit Peter's name with acid and malice. Martin rounded the corner to find Jon leaning on Melanie's desk, waving his arms around animatedly.

"I don't know, Jon, Jesus fucking Christ. Have you ever considered that maybe paranormal things just happen to us? All the time? Typically without explanation or cause?"

Jon was steaming from the ears. Neither of the two had noticed Martin standing at the hallway entrance.

"Of course I have, Melanie, but it wrote my name. My name! How would you explain that? What the fuck would you assume if you found 'Melanie' on a wall in blood?"

"IT WAS ME."

Silence.

Heads turning.

Martin turned red. "...It was me. I write your name in the sky." Jon's eye was twitching. "I'm sorry," Martin squeaked.

"...What."

Martin opens his mouth for a few seconds and no sound comes out. "I... I can... move clouds? Kind of? When I'm bored, I draw things in the sky on cloudy days. I don't know why I can do it, but I— I saw you upset, outside, and I wanted to cheer you up, you know, I thought I could help... uplift you, or some shit, I didn't really think it through, and I saw you were scared and I felt so bad that I stared at the ground for thirty minutes before coming back and then you were yelling at Melanie and she doesn't deserve that and—" Jon hadn't moved. "I'm still sorry?"

"Oh. My. God." At that moment, Melanie did the unthinkable: she started laughing. "Oh, my God, Martin, what the FUCK."

"It's... not that funny," Martin said sheepishly.

"Oh, no, it is, I promise." She stands to leave, wiping her cheeks. "I'm gonna go tell Rosie." She saunters up the stairs and Martin and Jon watch her.

Slowly turning his head, Martin looks back at Jon.

Jon is smiling.

"Jon?"

Jon giggles a little and sits in Melanie's chair. "It was... a little funny. In hindsight."

Martin takes a moment. He laughs a little bit, too.

"I think I needed that, Martin. Thank you... for trying." He looks up at Martin, standing in front of him, with a small, fond smile.

Martin smiles back.

[davetheswat6]

He held the young demi-god by the wrist as they floated high above the heavens. The sky around them was barely blue. The demi-god stared at the goatlings holding him. The black short fur all over his body, the simple tan leathers and cloths that wrapped around his waist and shoulder. His hooved fingers and feet. The large, glorious horns on his head curved in a beautiful spiral while decorated in glowing golden etchings of the Goddess's writing. The massive geometrical "wings" of golden light that floated mere inches away from his back, keeping him up in the air. His eyes of the same color and glow stared angrily back at the Demi-god.

"YOU THINK THIS IS GOING TO SCARE ME?!" The demi-god shouted with arrogance in his voice.

"I'm very sure that dropping you from the heavens wouldn't do much."

"Then what are you gonna do old shit?" The demi-god spat in his face. He kept his eyes closed as he waved his other hand. Soon several arms of golden light appeared around the goatling before they quickly grabbed a hold of the demi-god

He let go of the Idiots neck and wiped the spit off his face.

"Firstly, I want to give you one last chance to apologize. Not just to me but to my wife." He spoke, his tone of voice shifted towards one of growing malice.

"FAT CHANCE! I deserve her! I'm the strongest demi-god in all of the lands! The goddess trained me!" He exaggerated with his flamboyant speech.

"Oh really now? The goddess trained you?" Joel asked in a sarcastic manner, feigning interest.

"Yeah! She did!" The demi-god responded, not picking up on his sarcasm. "So if you just let me go and let me have your wife I won't call her to smite-"

"Well she MADE me." Joel interrupted the young idiot. Hearing those words wiped the smirk off the kids face and replaced it with one of horror.

"She willed me into life. Raised me when my own people wouldn't, Taught me everything she knows, even the things she wouldn't wish upon others. She's taught me her holy weaving. And you? You dare claim that she's taught you? What did she even teach you? Mere soul weaving? I may be mortal but that doesn't mean I'm weaker than your sorry arse of a god."

"I-I'm so.. sorry.." the demi-god tried to plea.

"No. Not till I teach you a lesson the goddess wouldn't."

"A-And that is?" The demi-god sputtered out. His face was turning more pale by the second.

"How it's like to burn in Skial." Joel simply responded before grabbing the young idiot by the neck again, making the arms and his wings vanish and starting a decent back towards the ground before, with the young demi-god screaming for his immortal life.

As they fell, Joel called his wings back as he sped up. The wings shot back into existence and started pushing the pair towards the ground. As they drew near, Joel pushed the young demi-god in front of him.

They slammed into the earth with a mighty boom that shook the land. But they didn't stop there. They kept going tearing through the earth and stone until they finally reached an opening. A massive cave system thousands of miles below the surface. As soon as the cursed air of this cave touched them, dark blue flames burst out on the pair, the demi-god started screaming in pain but Joel looked completely unbothered by this.

"This, Is Skial. Know it well, because if you ever cross me or anybody I care about, I'll send you right back here." Joel spoke, the flames on his back gave him a deathly terrifying silhouette.

"YES SIR! I'M SORRY SIR!!" the demi-god screeched out in unbearable pain.

"Good. Now get out of my sight.", Joel then turned back towards the hole in the cavern ceiling that they made and threw the demi-god out of it.

It has been said “A man will do great and terrible things to protect his loved ones.” You’re a retired god about to educate a young upstart god why you were so feared by the others when he came after your wife.

[bewitchingbooktours]

The Blood of a King by Wells and Bruzzi #EpicFantasy

The Blood of a King 

The Rahmirion Chronicles

Book One

Wells and Bruzzi 

Genre: Epic Fantasy

Publisher: New Upper Books

Date of Publication: 4/25/2023

ISBN: Hardcover- 9798986771212 

ISBN: Paperback- 9798986771205   

Number of pages: 474

Word Count: 179,000

Cover Artist: Mert Genccinar

Book Description:

Victory was only the beginning.

Prince Mayson Karrok of Astymere grew up hearing countless stories from the night of his birth. Whispers of murder and betrayal; of war and destruction, all at the hands of an emperor who wanted him dead before he could take his first breath. A night meant to being a peaceful conclusion to the Endless War would become known across the world as the Night of Knives. The scar he bears on his chest is a reminder of just how lucky he is to be alive. 

But over a decade after his father, King Henry, killed that emperor and destroyed his empire, Mayson finds himself fighting to find his own way, fueled by the desire to both follow in his father’s footsteps, and to break free from his shadow to forge his own path. 

Unbeknownst to Mayson, his father set in motion a chain of events that would come to rule his destiny. When he is forced to choose between love and duty, will Mayson have the will to do what is right? For he’ll need all the strength and support he can muster as enemies begin to surround him, both from outside Astymere, and from within.  

Amazon

Excerpt

Henry reached out to touch the doors, and the more he fought it, the more the voice of the Raelian emperor mocked him. Tell me, Henry. Does the boy look like you? Does the proud blood of the Avaari flow within him, or has your whore given him too much of her mark?

“Silence,” Henry said, turning from the doors to break the illusion. He nearly stumbled upon a line of burnt skeletons strewn across the floor. “One more word and your death will be slow, I swear it. You will curse the day you first drew breath.”

The illusion had been broken, but the voice remained. I wish to know the face of my enemy, Karrok. When we come together at last, I wish to know it well.

“You will never touch him! Do you hear? You will never lay your hands on him!” Henry swung about, striking at the source of the voice, but it came from within, as slippery and foul as pond scum. The Beast will have his day, Karrok. You know it. One by one, those you hold dear will fall under his might. Your wife, your mongrel—even your precious Rahm shall be consumed by the Second Flame. But first, they shall all weep for you. You shall mark the beginning of the end.

The voice dragged Henry back into his false vision, forcing him to once again see the devastation he could not prevent. The windows blew apart around him as fire rained from the sky, drenching the White City in blazing destruction that consumed flesh, stone, and steel. It seemed like minutes before Henry finally took control of himself and stood before the emperor on his balcony, overlooking the growing inferno, listening to the sounds of screams. Tiberian’s hands were outstretched, his arms spread wide. His smile was filled with what Henry could only describe as pure, unhinged madness as he gazed upon the burning city and laughed. Even after Rahmirion took Tiberian’s head from his shoulders, that smile remained—and the emperor’s laugh could not be silenced.

“Nooooo!” Henry bellowed into the empty corridor. The vision was gone, and so was the voice. Those words stayed with him for nearly twenty years, but he had never heard them so clearly. He had tried to forget the look of glee on Tiberian’s face as fire bled from an otherwise clear sky.

About the Authors:

JONATHAN WELLS, lifelong fantasy and sci-fi lover, has been making up stories for as long as he can remember. Some have been scribbled on scraps of printer paper, others were left to just rattle around in his head. And that is exactly how this novel came to be.

The seeds for this epic fantasy were first planted in his 12-year-old brain, a day-dream world where he could wander off when school became too boring. After ten years, the daydream had taken on such a clear shape, with a linear plot and fully fleshed out characters, that he decided it was time to give it a proper “birth.” 

After showing rough sketch of one of his characters to college roommate, DENNIS BRUZZI, his friend “wanted in,” and the rest is history. Dennis, a proven storyteller through his work in journalism and video production, is taking pen to paper for the first time in the fantasy realm. An avid reader and a fantasy enthusiast, he is ecstatic to have worked with his longtime friend to bring this unique and expansive story to life.

“And The Blood of a King is only the tip of the iceberg,” promise Jonathan and Dennis. There are eight more books planned in this epic fantasy series.

https://www.wellsandbruzzi.com    

https://facebook.com/wellsbruzzi/ 

https://instagram.com/wellsandbruzzi/ 

[luxmaeastra]

This party was going to make him cut again. He exhaled watching Rhysand and Tisiphone enjoy the attention. The way she eased into conversations, the way they complimented each other.

Romulus turned away running down the steps to the gardens. It wasn't as clastrophobic out here. He thankfully didn't run into anyone he had to charm.

Why would he? Till recently Rhysand didn't know how to do that himself. He seemed to have settled with the expectations of his future. Romulus looked to the lights strung up in the trees.

Once he'd thought this would all have been his. He was the stronger one but apparently the Void hadn't agreed.

Tisiphone thought he prayed because of some change of heart. Or worse, that he actually gave a damn about her.

He moved through the grounds, deeper in the mazes. It was too early for the couples to be fucking in the bushes. But he was sure he wouldn't be alone for much longer. They'd all come out here, maybe even Rhysand and Tisiphone.

Though it seemed their act was more for show than anything else. But everytime he brought that up he was the rude one.

"You're thinking very loudly again Romulus."

He turned and looked down. He leaned against the pillar. Iphigenia didn't turn to him staring up at the sky, she went back to the reflection pool in front of her. Her fingers moving as she sketched the piece.

It had been art that had even made her talk to him in the first place. Romulus exhaled and fell onto the stone bench next to her. He tried to hide his wince at the hardness of it.

"Where are the cushions? Did Casimir steal them again?"

"I took them off. I - I wanted to be uncomfortable to sketch this."

He glanced at her and then to the sky.

"Is this where you tell me how death is uncomfortable and life should be a metaphor for our eventual journey to the Void?"

She shot him a coy smile and drew charcoal on his nose.

"It would be but you seem to already know the words. Why are you out here anyway? The decadence finally growing rotten?"

He snorted.

"Says the one in a dress that would feed a village of lesser fae for a year Iphigenia."

She shrugged and looked down at the dress.

"Appearances as my father would say. Do you not like it?"

He pretended not to notice the slight embarrassment in her voice. The way the air seemed to tell him more than her words did. Did she want him to like it? Did he want to like it?

"Why does my opinion matter?"

He scowled and flicked her ear.

"Is your father looking for a match for you now?"

He looked the dress again before he stood moving to stand on the rim of the pool. He walked around it purposefully. He knew how much she hated when he messed with her viewpoints.

"The dress is nice. It just isn't you."

He finally settled. He stood across from her. On the other side of the pool. His hands in his pockets as he looked to her. He looked away to the house behind her.

"I think you could do better than me anyway. If he asks just tell him I'm not the Golden Boy Rhys is. I don't think I've ever seen him so much as take Lighting Dust."

Always so hard upon himself, did he really see himself in such a light as he was painting himself to be? She was sure many of his family would disagree with the self-deprecating opinion he had, however that really was not her place to challenge or counter.

No, they had only known each other a short time, but she was still sure she could scent his intent. She could feel him when he wasn't there, she missed him when he wasn't at the camps.

Even as honest as her scowl seemed as he disrupted her view, she continued to sketch, adding in the new focal point. No clear features, but his presence was illuminated by the moon that hung over them. No one would be able to tell who the mystery male was, but she would know.

"Father would hardly listen to my words, he would view any means to get a better standing better than anything," she finally spoke as she looked up once more. "Though I feel your family would view me as a stain, my family's blood not worthy."

She placed her pencil down upon the pad, leaning back a little to stretch her back from where she had been crouched over. "Anyway, who is to say what is worthy of me? Maybe I like the idea of you."

[daisiesanddaffodils3]

Willow Maid (Yandere!Daemon x Reader) p.3

Author’s note: I livvvveeee. Sorry about the long delay in making this, this month is very hectic for me, between my uni responsibilities and some interviews. But I’m here now :D. I’d like to say a quick thanks to everyone who’s been liking, commenting and sharing my work. It’s extremely flattering and it’s nice to know people are enjoying it.

Warnings: Usual yandere warnings, Daemon is a hot silver warning, toxic behaviours and slight physical abuse. 

You awaited in your small stone chambers, so foreign to such buildings like this, such people. Shock coursing strongly through your veins, each pulse of your heart pumping more cold blood, your muscles stiff and your eyes unmoving. That vision would not leave you. That man on his harrowing beast, how they filled the sky, turned your once luscious forest into nothing more than a smoking corpse, how they towered over you, flashes of red and black. Each time you blinked the vision was there. So, you did not blink.

Not even when the door slammed open.

You could not look at him, dared not. But you heard him stalk to the other side of this strange enclosure, where on a wooden construction was some queer clear material, with an even more bizarre liquid inside. Without a fault in his step, he poured it into a smaller receptacle and took a large sip. It was only then he acknowledged you.

“Y/n?” - he made a slight humming sound - “It’s a beautiful name”.

Part of you felt a pang in your chest, some perplexing feeling, like the woman had wronged you. You had never spoken with anyone, shared anything with anyone, and the first time you did, they told the man who destroyed your home and forcibly took you. In truth, you didn’t know the word for what you were feeling. 

His footsteps drew close to you, and his warm hand cupped under your chin to make you look within his deep violet eyes. “Why, sweet thing, didn’t you tell me?” You hated looking at him. In your eyes he wasn’t someone like you. No. He looked like that scaled beast of his - “Hm?”. His face twisted in displeasure; your pretty e/c eyes looked miles away… that wouldn’t do when he wanted you here. 

The finger at your jaw grew stiff, squeezing until you could swear you heard your bones creaking. Your eyes focused again on his and you whimpered “You never asked”. 

Suddenly the pressure was gone, and he looked at you in disbelief, then he laughed - a positively deranged one. Like you had said the funniest thing he’d ever heard.

His bout of hysteria calmed for a moment, he looked at the drink in his hand and then threw it harshly into the wall, bursting like a bloody raindrop on the dark rock. It’s explosion ringing in your ears as you fall off the bed, to huddle close to yourself. His breathing is short and haggard, like when he collected you from that forest floor. 

“I am the prince” - soft like a lover’s whisper - “I don’t ask for anything”. 

‘Prince’ had no meaning to you, but still you nodded and tried to keep your soft whines to yourself. 

Finally, he looked to you again and softly cooed, “You must be tired” - stepping towards you and lifting you into his arms - “It’s time for us to rest.” Shocked still, all you could manage was to softly grab on the front of his riding leathers as he lifted you onto the bed, under the coloured sheets before stepping back. You closed your eyes as you heard some of his clothes fall to the ground before he slipped in the bed behind you. 

Everything was so hot, the sheets, his skin as it pressed against you - but you were so drained. You let your eyelids drop as you fell into a dreamless sleep.