#is the gold imbedded into her skin

[awkwardarmadildo]

real

and i thought it wasnt possible for her to get MORE stunning

[thatonetargaryen]

Pretty in Pink

Ambessa x Reader

Part Two of: Pretty in Pink

Synopsis: Fear of the unknown weighs heavily on your mind as you are captured and taken by the enemy’s ruthless General—Ambessa Medarda. You are sure you will be destined for a life of pain and humility. You are pleasantly surprised, however, when you find out the General simply likes to see you pretty in pink.

cw; afab!reader; princess!reader; reader is drunk; mentions of alcohol consumption; not proofread; Ambessa being a lil infatuated with you; men and minors dni

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for original prompt. Hope you enjoy 🎀

Taglist:

@fruitfulfashion

@m-281

@ivorydevil

@lostintimeandmusic

@trizxyp

@pearldaisy

@sunnyvoodka

@ricejucie

@5675nnnnn245

……

The blaring sun was high in the sky as you practically stumbled off the ship. You squinted your eyes as you placed a hand over your eyes.

The fact that you were drunk off your ass was obvious to everyone watching. You reeked of ale and your hair was in a tangled mess. The guard escorting you off the ship kept a safe distance—in case you decided to throw up yesterday’s remains.

You and your three ladies-in-waiting finished three full bottle of Noxian ale that you stole from the top deck. Not knowing when you’d see each other again—you decided that you all would share one last drink. Well…more than a drink.

Despite the searing headache and vertigo you had—signs of a major hangover—for once in days, the last thing on your mind was where you were and why you were here. Right now, all you needed was a cold shower, a cup of hot tea, and a warm, comfortable bed.

Ambessa watched you from a distance as you stumbled off the ship. News from the guards that three bottles of ale were missing was brought to her in the wee hours of the morning. Now, the culprit—or culprits—were clear to her as they all drunkly attempted to hold themselves up. She didn’t know whether to be offended, angry, confused, or just plain amused. Or maybe all of the above.

One thing became clear to her through—pink was definitely your color. The light pink dress you wore complimented your skin and your e/c eyes. Your h/c hair, though messy and tangled, flowed down your back as your light skirts blew in the wind. The soft pink that tinted your cheeks added more fuel to her fire as she continued to study you. Maybe she could make them pink for an entirely different reason…

She shook her head, her grey coils moving effortlessly with her head as she tried to shake those thoughts from her head. She gestured to one her many servants waiting for her command. “See to it that she has comfortable quarters. Get her a bath…she desperately needs it.”

The servant nodded grimly. They walked over to you as you practically leaned on the guard beside you. She grabbed your forearm and pulled you towards her, “Please follow me, m���lady. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

You looked at her for a moment. A belch came from the depths of your throat, and you laughed as you held your chest. The servant grimaced and turned on her heel, not waiting for you to follow her.

You continued to quietly laugh as you were led into the castle by the servant. You studied it in awe as you gazed upon the intricate details and carvings of stone imbedded into it. Your castle was not even a quarter of its size. If it were grand from the outside—imagine how it looked on the inside.

You continued to looked at it as you mumbled under your breath, “Gods….”

…..

You could hear the servant in front of you audibly huff as you struggled to follow her. She was mumbling something inaudible, but you couldn’t make it out. Instead, you stared at the many hallways you passed in awe.

The hallways varied in colors—but they were limited to crimson, gold, and hints of silver. They were adorned in various paintings, statues, and sheer drapes with thick golden rope. There were hollow mannequins of armor, which scared the shit out of you when you first saw it when you walked in.

You stopped when you got to one painting after climbing a ridiculous mountain of stairs. It was one of the woman who took you, Ambessa Medarda. Behind her stood what had seemed like a younger version of herself, a young woman with dark brown kinky hair braided into a bun with striking green eyes. Beside her stood a young man slightly taller than her with short tendrils of black coils and full lips.

You stared at the picture for a moment, studying it, before slurring to the servant—“Who’s that?”

The servant stopped her hasty walking, and turned to you. With a mix of annoyance and hesitation, she walked over to you and looked at the painting you were talking about. She pursed her lips before speaking.

“It’s her lady with her two children, Kino and Mel Medarda. The painting was done years ago….”

You stared at it in awe, connecting the dots in your mind. “And where are they now?”

The servant was broken from her trance as she looked back at you and shook her head. “It would do you good not to pry in her lady’s business. Come on, you reek of ale.”

…..

The next few hours were a blur for you. You vaguely remember being thrown into a hot bath, being scrubbed from head to toe—even under your fingernails—and your hair being detangled, washed, and brushed. You remember your freshly washed and dried hair being braided into a loose braid down your back. A sheer nightgown was put onto your nude body, and they finally let you sleep.

The bed was like sleeping on clouds. It was luxurious compared to the one you had used on the ship. That hard, stiff mattress was long forgotten as you sunk into the cool, silk sheets. With a sigh, you were out like a light.

You woke up a few hours later. You yawned as you stretched your limbs and hummed as you took the time to appreciate the best sleep you had in days. You rubbed your eyes and breathed in the lavender lotion they smothered onto your body.

The door to your chambers was abruptly opened as a servant made their way into your room. No knocking, no ‘May I come in?’…..They just bombarded into your room.

Then again….this wasn’t really your room.

In her hand was a plethora of extravagant dresses. They practically engulfed her frame as she struggled to hold them, and she looked over the mountain of dresses to look at you.

“May I put these on your bed?”, she said, breathing heavily.

You shot up from the bed and made room for the dresses, “Of course. Help me help you.”

You took some of the dresses from her hand and carefully placed them on the bed. You stared at them in awe. Each one had a different design, some lighter than others, while some were heavier and more delicate than others. But they all had one thing in common.

They were all pink.

You looked to your right as the servant set the rest of the pink dresses down. “Who are all these dresses for?”

She gestured towards you. “They’re for you, m’lady. From her lady Medarda.”

Confusion made its way onto your face. Dresses? For you? And why are they all pink?

The servant broke you from your thoughts, “The lady Medarda wants to see you for tea. I’ll help you get on a robe and such.”

Your heart dropped at her words. The last person you wanted to see was that woman. You toyed with the cuffs of your nightgown as you spoke softly, “Now? Well, let me get ready and I’ll…”

“There’s no need. She said just the robe is fine.”

You grimaced, not feeling comfortable at being in her presence with just a robe and sheer nightgown. The servant threw the robe over your shoulders, and led you towards , or what you assumed to be, Ambessa’s quarters.

When you got there, there were no guards stationed at her door. The servant knocked and announced her and your presence through the grand double doors.

“Come in.”

The servant pushed open the doors. It was dark outside by now, and the only source of light in the room was the fireplace. The chamber itself was grand, grander than any you’d ever seen. It was probably twice as big as the one you were given, and the bed was huge and adorned with gold and crimson silks. Despite that, it looked as if hadn’t been slept in.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you entered the room. Ambessa Medarda sat at an intricately carved wooden table near the fireplace. She was adorned in a sheer crimson robe and you quickly darted your vision to avoid the sight of her visibly large chest. Her grey coils fell down her shoulders as she looked towards the servant. “Leave us”, she said sternly, leaving no room for argument. The servant slightly curtsied before scurrying out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Now it was just the two of you. The tension in the room was thick, and the fire did little to prevent sweat from collecting on your brow.

Ambessa gestured towards the char opposite from her, “Why don’t you sit, child?”

You sighed as you walked over to the chair. You took a hesitant seat as you studied the contents on the table. There were two porcelain tea cups that sat prettily on the table. In between the two sat a kettle. Ambessa leaned over the table and poured you a cup of tea, “This should help with the hangover.”

You froze at the mention of the hangover. How’d she know you were drunk? Stupid question. Everyone knew you were drunk earlier today, and the remnants of your hangover still weighed heavy in your mind as your head slightly spun. Your cheeks reddened at the mention of it, and you struggled to find your words. Instead, you muttered a small ‘Thank you’.

Ambessa chuckled at your reaction. She leaned back in her seat as she sipped her own tea. She set down the cup and looked towards you, “You know…if I were captured by an enemy—the last thing I’d think to do would be to get drunk. Stupid drunk at that.”

You stayed silent as she continued to speak, “And to steal not one—but three bottles of ale and think we wouldn’t notice. Bold, little one.”

You continued to stay silent as you took in her words. You slightly shook your head as you looked into your lap. “You wouldn’t understand….”

Ambessa’s grin faltered as she barely heard your words. “What?”

You looked up, but not into her face. “My ladies in waiting took the ale from the top deck and for that I apologize. But the fact that we got drunk, I cannot. I have known those ladies for as long as I can remember, and with everything that’s going on…we didn’t know if we’d see each other again. So we decided to have one last one with each other….the ale wasn’t really planned, though.”

Ambessa hummed as she poured another cup of tea. “Hm…How sentimental…..”

She looked up at you, her golden eyes burning into your face. “…but that ale is expensive, what if I had decided to punish you for it?”.

You looked her in the eyes right back. “Then it would’ve been worth it.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. She looked as if she were searching for something in your gaze. Finally, you looked back down at your now cold tea as you took another sip.

“I wouldn’t have brought them here, y’know…”, Ambessa muttered softly.

You furrowed your brows, not catching her words, “Hmph?”

She spoke louder, her voice taking up the room, “I wouldn’t have brought those ladies here if I would not have let you see them. I brought them to be of company to you. Why would I bring them if not for you? I have enough servants kissing my arse already….”

You sat back, surprised at her words, though you ignored the last part. You nodded at her words as a small smile graced your lips at the gesture. “I appreciate that….”

She stared in awe at your soft smile, and bit the inside of her cheek as she nervously stirred her tea. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this about, well….anyone. She cleared her throat, “Did you like the dresses?”

You nodded. “They were very beautiful and, well….pink. Why are you doing all of this for me? My ladies, the beautiful room….and now the dresses. I love it all, but….”

You looked at her, and the moonlight from the window illuminated her face. She spoke softly, softer than you expected her to, “Princess, I didn’t bring you here for the intentions of hurting you, as you might’ve already concluded. The circumstances are…tragic, being given away to save you and your kingdom. But the main reason I wanted you was for a distraction. An escape from everything. The court, the nobles, the endless amount of work that I have yet to attend to, the wars, the treaties….it’s a lot. And it’s taken me years to admit that to myself. Now that I’ve finally faced the music and realized that it is all too much, I decided to take you in. I need someone to care for, someone to worry about not because I have to but because I want to. Someone to…dote on, to put it into simple terms. You’re a princess, after all, you should be used to it.”

Her words left you speechless. You felt a mixture of relief knowing you would be safe and not tourtured—but slightly confused on what being ‘doted’ on meant. You were a princess, yes, but being doted on by one of the richest women in the world was an entirely different thing.

You ran your hands over your thighs, now feeling a little more comfortable knowing her intentions. “So you’re basically going to pamper me?”.

She smiled at your words, “It’s more to it than being pampered, child. All of your needs will be taken care of, and anything you want I’ll try my best to get. Of course, you’ll need to carry yourself accordingly in front of the court and at gatherings—otherwise, I don’t ask much of you.”

You thought back on the elaborate dresses she bought for you, and you couldn’t help but ask, “Why pink?”

She shrugged her shoulders as she drunk the last of the tea, “Why not?”

……

The next few weeks were more than pleasant. You had become accustomed to your new life rather quickly. The constant pampering and gifts—who at first you thought were annoying—were now something you looked forward to. Dare say, even expected.

You had also gotten used to court life in Noxus. There was always something new, with rumors and gossip spreading like wildfire. The hottest topic seemed to be you at the moment.

The pretty princess ,Y/N, from a small, unknown kingdom—taken from her home as a sign of peace between Noxus and Castile. No one knows what Ambessa really uses you for, but every time they saw you, you were adorned in a beautiful pink gown and jewels worth whole manors. Whether the gown be simple and light, or daring and elegant—you never failed to look gorgeous.

The nobles didn’t really like you at first, not seeing much gain in becoming your ally. However, when you and Ambessa were once spotted having tea in the gardens, it seemed as if everyone wanted to become your friend. You gave them all tight lipped smiles and short greetings—knowing their true intentions.

Your relationship with Ambessa grew as well. The two of you would talk over breakfast or lunch, sharing the latest talk in court. As she got to know you better, you opened up about your past, and in turn, started rambling about her son Kino. Sometimes, you had to tune out her words and simply admire the structure of her face as her brows furrowed on the topic of her son. When she called you out on it, you denied it with a heavy blush on your face.

Your ladies started to notice the small thing you had for Ambessa, and started to tease you every chance they got. They’d make small jokes, or bump your shoulder when they caught you watching her train. You denied the allegations to no end, but you both knew there was something deeper than what was spoken.

One thing that couldn’t be denied was the blossoming of something new. Something that would last for years to come, and you both looked forward to it.

Your tough, sweet General, and her beautiful princess—pretty in pink.

……..

Hope you enjoyed. 🎀

I need ideas 🙏🏾

[l0vel3tterl0ver]

Melvika Headcannons: Domestic Night Routine Edition

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Content Warning: Domestic fluff, cuddling, non-sexual intimacy, established relationship (wlw), mentions of smoking and alcohol, SFW

wc: 1281 sorryyy

🎶Promise Me- Kiana Ledé🎶

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Before Bed…

- Mel will always have candles or incense lit. If Sevika smokes, sometimes she’ll do it in the room. Sometimes Mel gives her that “Uh uh.” look and she’ll take it on the balcony. But Mel secretly loves how the scents will mix and linger on Sevika—patchouli, tobacco, amber, and a hint of vanilla~

- Mel will play classical music or jazz on her little record player. Sevika always complains “You gonna play that racket again? They don’t even sing.” But she always seems more calm after Mel puts it on, especially with jazz.

- Sevika always showers first, because Mel will take an hour in the bathroom. She has one less arm and way less products than Mel (barely any); anything more than 20 minutes for her is excessive. But this way works for them.

- Mel likes walking into the bathroom after Sevika showers because it’s already warmed up for her, and she can still smell Sevika’s soap in the air.

- And Sevika can listen to Mel hum to the music in the shower as she gets dressed.

- When Mel comes out, a cloud of steam always follows her, the scent of her fancy soaps quickly fill the room.

- Before Mel is dry, before she even touches herself, she always offers to apply anti-chafe salve on Sevika’s arm where the metal plates are imbedded into her skin.

- Sometimes she won’t ask, she’ll just pick up the jar and Sevika will get into position on the loveseat at the end of the bed.

- When the air is profound like this, they won’t speak. Mel will still hum, and she will take her time massaging Sevika’s scarred skin around her plates.

- They often look into each other’s eyes, exchanging silent remarks like “Does this feel alright?” and “Thank you.”

- The best part of it all? When Sevika gets to watch Mel do her night routine.

- She will gladly sit back on the chaise and read while Mel props a smooth brown leg up on the stool to her vanity to rub her butters and creams all over her body.

- Sevika loves when Mel wears this one midnight blue silk robe. It compliments her mahogany skin and gold armor perfectly, she always looks lavish and delicious in it.

- “Are you really going to watch me apply cream to my legs?” Mel would say incredulously, stopping mid stroke on her propped leg. She’s luminous, her blue robe hangs open almost down to her navel, her full cleavage exposed.

- “Yeah. Now less talking, more rubbing.” Sevika replies, a smirk on her mouth hidden behind her book as she watches Mel with sniper eyes.

When it’s Time to Sleep…

- Sevika loves to play in Mel’s hair, or graze her metal fingers over Mel’s back.

- One time, Mel missed a gold cuff on one of her locs.

- Sevika, knowing that she removes all of them before she sleeps, gently coaxed it off while Mel slept. Mel smiled tenderly when she awoke the next morning to find Sevika gone and a single gold cuff on her side of the bed.

- When Mel sleeps on her chest, Sevika always practices her restraint with her mech hand by seeing how carefully she can twirl the ends of Mel’s hair.

- It was a subconscious habit she wasn’t aware she’d picked up.

- One night, Mel stirred as she slept on her chest. When Sevika looked over, her mech hand was pulling her hair. She instantly felt bad; defective.

- Sometimes it had a mind of its own. She’s been practicing ever since.

- Only got caught once when Mel’s hair got tangled in the joints of her metal fingers, and she had to wake her up in the middle of the night so they could cut it.

- It was NOT a pretty sight.

- But Mel can’t stay mad at Sevika; she actually thought it was kinda sweet.

- Now whenever Sevika doesn’t initiate, Mel will plop Sevika’s mech hand on top of her head to scratch her scalp.

- “Do I need to fire you? Hop to it.” Mel scolds. It’s always met with a sarcastic “Yes ma’am” or “As you wish, princess.” from Sevika. Puts her right to sleep every time.

- Speaking of sleep, Sevika generally doesn’t do a lot of it, even less when she’s with Mel. Although the Medarda Manor is heavily guarded, Sevika takes pride in staying up to watch over Mel while she sleeps.

- If something were to happen, or if someone were to break in, at least she can be awake and be a last line of defense between Mel and any potential danger. She loves watching Mel sleep.

- Not just to ensure her safety, but also because she’s so freaking cute.

- Sevika will never tell her, and it doesn’t always happen, but Mel talks in her sleep. Murmurs really, but it’s always with the same attitude and inflection as if she were wide awake.

- Sevika loves to watch her eyebrows scrunch or her nose twitch, it’s fucking adorable.

- Sevika knows that sleep is a luxury. In Zaun, you can never get too comfortable, your reflexes have to always be on and sharp. Only someone of such a high status that could afford to be so guarded could sleep so easily, so unaware and relaxed.

- But Sevika liked it this way. She liked when Mel was relaxed, not stressing about the politics of the day or the issues of tomorrow. She liked that Mel felt comfortable enough with her to fall asleep, to dream. Even though Mel was definitely a spoiled princess, Sevika didn’t mind. Mel was her princess.

- They definitely cuddle, no matter what Sevika says.

- And Sevika is definitely the little spoon as much as Mel is.

- Like come on, Mel was on Jayce like a backpack after they banged. She loves to express her affection through physical touch, and Sevika is touch-famished. She loves the feeling of Mel’s skinny little fingers tickling and caressing all over her.

- If Mel does fall asleep on her chest, Sevika loves to reach down with her flesh hand and hook Mel’s thigh over her.

- Mel is more often than not wearing some kind of silk nightgown or négligée, most of them custom made with slits on either side to let her gold armor show through.

- Drives Sevika fucking crazy.

- She loves to kneed her flesh hand into Mel’s strong thigh when they lay like this.

- Sevika can’t fully describe the feeling she gets when she runs her hand over Mel’s armor.

- It feels almost too intimate, closer than being inside her or kissing her.

- Happy? Special? Sevika didn’t know, but it definitely made her feel good that she got to touch Mel this way; that Mel let her touch her this way, that she wanted her to.

- When Sevika does sleep, and it’s a deeper sleep, she snores like a lumberjack.

- Most times Mel finds it endearing or blocks it out, but some nights she can’t take it and Sevika wakes up with a smack upside her head or a pillow over her face.

- “Were you actually gonna smother me?” Sevika asks groggily, rubbing her eye and blinking up at Mel as she straddles her with her pillow in the air.

- “Still considering it.” Mel says as she slides off of her.

- If it becomes too much, Mel will make her a special Noxian sleepy tea, one her older brother would make her when she had nightmares as a child.

- Sevika hates it, and will only drink it if she mixes her whiskey into it.

- Mel lets her, because sleepy bed-headed Sevika holding a tiny tea cup and saucer makes Mel’s heart swoon.

-

I need them together so bad.

[silveragelovechild]

I’m continuing to watch Foundation. Is it odd to primarily watch it for its art design and visual effect? I also like some of the characters. It’s probably best I have not read the novels. Part of me doesn’t care what happens in the long term (and I’d probably chafe if I knew how much it departed from the book series). FYI - There’s a link below to VFX from the series.

Season 2 follows two versions of Harry Seldon. One of them is an AI inside the Vault on the planet Salvor Hardin. There’s a second version of Harry as a holographic projection generated by something called the Prime Radiant. Via an unexplained method, this version was given a new human body. (So that 2 episodes later they could show him slowing being drowned.)

In all honesty, I’ve lost interest in both Harrys. I also have become tired of Gaal, and Salvor, her adult daughter. Both are about the same age (mid 20s) due to the use of hyper sleep at different points in their lives. Gaal is always worried she’s doing the wrong thing, and Salvor is usually angry and/or distrusting. After while both these character traits get boring.

I do like is Lee Pace as Emperor Cleon, aka Day. I like the two other clones, Dawn and Dusk. As a way of protecting the dynasty 3 versions of Cleon exist at any one time, via cloning. They discovered ann unknown enemy tampered with the cloning process and none of them are exact clones of the original.

I especially like Day’s Majordomo Demerzel, the last sentient Robot of her kind (they’ve reference Azimov’s robot laws which she says she is no longer bound by). According to Wikipedia Demerzel is an evolved version of a character from his Robot novels. She’s played by Laura Birn, a Finnish actor, and is very good. image0.jpeg

After a neatly successful assassination attempt, Pace/Day decides to end the clone dynasty and marry to start a genetic dynasty. This threatens Dawn and Dusk as they would no longer be necessary. The woman who Pace/Day has selected to marry, suspect he killed her family. She’s willing to marry him but doesn’t want to have his children. She’s concocted a plot to have children with Dawn (who is 20ish) without letting Pace/Day know. She calls it a “fucking bloodless coup”.

I also really like Bel Riose,the gay general (Ben Daniels) and Glawen Curr, his lover and second in command (Dino Fetscher). It’s interesting to see a loving intimate gay relationship in a scifi setting. I wish their storyline was expanded.

They’ve recently introduced a Han Solo type character by the name of Hober Mallow. He has gone on an undercover mission to bargain with Spacers.

Spacers are a genetically created beings necessary for FTL space travel. They have an incredible design - tall and slender with a golden glow and what looks like gold circuitry imbedded in their skin. They have fun names like She-Bends-Light and She-Is-Center.

Here’s a link to a VFX reel.

[turning-through-the-never]

"Have you ever experienced phantom sensations?"

The question comes from the aging kaldorei to Xylaes' left, who has been inspecting his replanted arm with discerning eyes the same gold as her half-moon spectacles, secured around her neck with a fine chain. Other than these, her garments are plain and severe, the robes of some sect of kaldorei scholars.

"I beg your pardon for the imposition," she excuses herself in the sort of precise Common that accompanies the speech of those whose first language distantly predates the Common Tongue's invention, still examining the arm. "I am considering pursuing a study of such amendments of the flesh, and yours seems... an outlier." She favors him with a flicker of eye contact and a quirk of the lips, and returns to addressing his arm. "Of course, if it is a subject of sensitivity, please have no qualms about telling an old woman to mind her own business," she adds with a little hmhmhm of muted laughter.

((Sorry this took a bit!))

It wasn't the most comfortable topic to talk about, and most honestly never asked nor perhaps even noticed. The majority assumed the black metallic cuff around his bicep was simply a tattoo given it appeared to nearly be imbedded into the skin, and the discoloration between arm and the rest of him wasn't that noticeable - unless one were looking too hard.

He had noticed her looking, but assumed that's all it would be until she spoke. He should probably wear longer sleeves at all times to avoid this. Both brows raise as he shifts to better face her, debating whether or not he should simply admit to being uncomfortable speaking of it, or entertain her with a rather wild story. She seemed polite enough in her approach, at least. That and 'amendments of the flesh' was far more polite sounding than the reality of it all.

"If I got a gold every time someone referred to me as an outlier I'd be a rich man." He gives her a charming smirk. "It's not my favorite subject, but I'm willing to entertain."

[etherealjellyfishgirl]

“silva silva vigilans ad nos venit. Nascetur solo et putrescet et vita evigilet novella silva evigilans novella virgulta”

she awoke in a clearing of flowers at the foot of a large, tall tree

A soft heart beat pounded inside

or wait was that her?

She couldn’t tell…

the tree was emanating warmth

She gingerly stood up, looking up at the tree

this was her home now

she knew

———————————————————————— ————————————————————————

she pulled her hood over her head as she walked into the market

She would only go to the nearest village for food if it was important

and it was a cold cold winter and the forest was slumbering

so the village market was the only choice

She stopped at the nearest stall and carefully collected some of the food in her basket

she felt the venders eyes watching her

Her hair was long and black her eyes emerald green her skin as pale as snow

“haven’t seen a las like you around here before are ya new?” The vender asked

“y-yes” she answered softly handing over some money she had

It was a lie of course

a young woman took her in ten years ago as her daughter

But then her so called family kicked her out due to “black hair being of the devil!”

“Oh! Where you from young one?” The vender said curiously

“I uh live in a far away village…” she muttered

“Hm not much of a talker I see?” The vender inquired

“yes” she said talking her basket of food and walking away

As she walked towards the forest she saw a church…

the only stone building in the town

with gold and iron imbedded around it and a stained glass window of their savior

she scoffed

if only they knew how much the forest did for them

ungrateful idiots

———————————————————————— ————————————————————————

she sat outside her small hand made cottage

watching the creature watching her

A dark creature wich looked like it was made of trees

its eyes bright white eyes reflecting fire light from the candle next to her

It had horns made of twigs and vines

much like her own

though hers were like a deers

her ears twitched as she heard it move

a soft crunch of leaves

She watched it as it scurried off into the forest

Grabbing her candle she stood up and walked inside

———————————————————————— ————————————————————————

steady, steady, NOW!

she shot and the arrow pierced through the rabbit

it fell limp to the ground

she carefully walked over and picked up the carcass

Suddenly she felt a pain in the forest

a horrid strong pain

not of the rabbit

but of the trees

she ran to the source

the clearing

the mother

She slid into the flower field

When she got their it wasn’t the mother…

it was a small child

maybe twelves years younger than her

she was eighteen years of age

She was small with black hair

she wasn’t born of the mother…

she was human

“young one?” She whispered worriedly

The girl was most likely thrown out due to her hair when it changed from blonde to black

which was odd and she didn’t understand

she carefully checked the girls pulse

dead…

poor poor girl

she went and grabbed a shovel and berried the girl by the tree

one day she’ll be reborn…

———————————————————————— ———————————————————————————————————————————————— ————————————————————————

THATS ALL FOR NOW!!!! IF YOU WANT MORE MINI STORIES OF SILVA ILL WRITE MORE BC WHY NOT?!!!! ALSO IMA MAKE HET A MOOD BOARD A PLAYLIST AND DRAW HER MORE! ALSO THIS TOOK AN HOUR TO WRITE!

i decided against using her name unless you ts out of story for reasons such as

she technically doesn’t have a name lol

(Also if the Latin is bad sorry I used google translate)

[ridley-ships]

S/I introductions Part |:

I

Hunger Games & Finnick Odaire

Her name is Ambrosia Locksong and she has diamonds imbedded in her cheekbones. Her hair is dyed silver, her skin dusted with flecks of gold. Her impossibly long eyelashes framed impossibly bright emerald eyes.

She smiles like a fox and there’s a sapphire in her right incisor. The light catches her just right and she is epitome of ethereal beauty. She walks between real and unreal. Between playfulness and aloofness. A dream like figure made of jewels and longing rather than flesh and bone.

She is, in her very essence, a blindingly beautiful lie.

II

Supernatural & Lucifer

His name is Nicolas Winchester and he feels like the patron saint of run down gas stations. He’s seen them all. They are his one destination. His one purpose. He travels between them with the hum of the beat up motorcycle between his legs.

His pockets are stuffed with herbs and gum and animals bones and lottery tickets. Sun glasses stay on and so does the leather jacket.

He was a two plus two kind of guy. Regimented and controlled. He had no bad habits other than the cigarette between his lips and the devil on his shoulder.

[coffincoven]

"ugh. jealous." juliet grabs his fingers, running her own finger tips over his skin. she's frowning while she does it. she wished she had hands that were long and elegant. she got short fingers.

her own fingers have rose gold rings and almond shaped acrylics. this week they are painted pale pink with glitter imbedded in the tips. quite the opposite compared to sam's.

juliet drops his hand, propping her skin her hands as she pouts. "you have piano player fingers, hand model worthy. so not fair."

@coffincoven​ said “you have lovely hands. do you moisturize?” 

“do i—what? moisturize?” 

a little amused, he stretches out his hand. his fingers are long, slender, and tattooed—a cross on one finger, a rose on the inside of another, and a fairly ornate looking crown on a third, mostly covered by a ring. 

they’re alright, he thinks. he’s never really thought about them as lovely. he’s never thought about moisturizing either. 

“no. i just got lucky, i guess.” 

[a-regular-ol-pill]

hey heyy i just found ur blog and i already love it! i was wondering if you could make an aamon x reader x gusion nsfw oneshot? (f! reader please)

thank you so so much<33

"Tell us, tell us that you want it."

Mobile Legends; Bang Bang

Pairing; Aamon, You | Gusion, You | Aamon, You, Gusion

!! NSFW 18+ !!

Requested? Yes.

Small note for requester; I'm glad you found my blog and love it! In this one, the reader will be having... a hard time adjusting much. If you get what I'm saying. ;)

Want to request? Click here.

Word Count; N/A

Second Person Perspective.

Pronouns used for reader; 'She', 'Her', etc...

Prompt;

"Working as an armorer has some traits. Getting a lot of praise, and gold, working with higher-up's that offer you enough benefits. Making the two Paxley brothers love you— wait, what?"

Making firm armor for the Paxley brothers has always been a weekly routine. Show up at the shop, greet them, small chat, and sometimes stay over for dinner if you feel worthy enough to dine with them. Most of the time, you do end up eating at the same table with the Paxley's, seeing as your fine work of weapons and armour helped increase the chances of victory in battle.

The common thing about the weekly routine in the Paxley's, was that— you were offered the invite from the eldest brother. Aamon, who was; Currently the one that runs everything in the House Paxley. You weren't sure who informed him about your craftsmanship, but you were damn grateful for them. You earned a lot of gold, and was able to feed your siblings from then on.

One question you needed an answer to was; 'Why are they treating you like you're family?' —Hell, the routine was the most loved you've ever felt, outside of whenever you hung around with your siblings. Though, the feeling of love was different with your siblings, and different with the Paxley's. Different in a way that you can't explain. It was more prominent with the two elder brothers. Aamon, and Gusion.

The way they looked at you— the way they thanked you for everything that you did.. It always left a funny feeling in your stomach. When they look at each other after you felt that feeling, it made the feeling worse. They were communicating telepathically— with you having no way to figure out what they were thinking.

Hell— Even when you weren't looking, you could feel them staring holes into whatever part of your body they're looking at. After a few more incidents that you felt uncomfortable, you decided to skip week when they requested you. Instead— you decided to test your limit, and take care of your little sibling while working in an armory shop.

Bad idea. You barely remembered how things escelated, but now— You and your sibling are covered in thick layers of charcoal dust from when you were transferring it to the furnace. A few passer-by's took a glance, and immediately rushed your sister out to look for a water source. Having been affiliated with those passer-by's before— you let them walk your sibling and decided to clean up the place before the shop owner came back.

"I do not want to be yelled at.. again." You said to no one in particular, grabbing a bucket and rushing to the water hose that was imbeded into the ground. Your fingers and hands made quick work in filling up the bucket, and you ran back to the shop. Little do you know, a certain brother was watching you— On his way to call his brother so they could possibly pry answers for you.

Of course, you were blissfully unaware, having been able to enjoy the cleaning because of the soft sponge and firm duster that was provided in the back closet. Half-way through cleaning the whole shop, a small thud on the entrance made you glance up from your hunched over position— You were confused when you saw nothing but a small reflection from the mirror that faced the anvil.

After the long pause, you were suddenly aware of how uncomfortable the dust felt on your skin. Grabbing the; now empty bucket. You were about to rush out to wash off the dust, until you were pushed back. The pain in your face made you reach up to rub it, while you heard footsteps. "Oh, what happened to you?" You froze at the sound. Why was Gusion here? Were you gonna get in trouble for refusing his brother's request?

Well. All your stress went away when your hands were pulled back from your face. Your self conciousness rising after you felt a hand on your nose.

"Are you alright? I didn't mean to hurt your beautiful face." Aamon leaned close to your face, unaware that you could feel his hot breath fan over your face. "We should help her clean up, Gusion."

You tensed up, clean you up? Why would the formal Aamon use words like that?! Unless of course— he purposely did that. Which wasn't far from the truth. Aamon knew what he wanted from you, but unfortunately for you— You don't. After awhile of Aamon helping you relax your face, you heard a soft thud— and water splashing near your dust covered boots.

"Careful! It'll be a waste of water." Aamon scolded his brother's ignorance for the water. Which Gusion laughed at, for no apparent reason. "Come on, open your eyes, we're not mad you weren't in the house." Gusion's light-hearted voice eased you to do as he said. Eyes meeting with the one and only— Duke Paxley.

"You're not..?" You asked, shivering at the feeling of cold water running down your back. Suddenly, you were well aware that Gusion was behind you— probably judging you because of your slouched posture. You hoped not.

"Of course we aren't, you know. Aamon literally watches you while you take care of your siblings— Like a creep." Gusion laughed, lightening the stress to your tense body. This was something you admired about them— Aamon eases your feelings, while Gusion eases your body. They were like polar opposites that get along so well.

"Don't tell it like that, I do watch her. But only because I'm interested in how she handles kids." Aamon argued, one hand leaving your face to hand you a cup, and push the bucket of water near you. That's when you realized that he wasn't sure if you were comfortable in him cleaning you up. Even though he was the one that suggested it.

You grabbed water with the cup and used it to wet your hair. Gusion pulled back a little, waiting for the water to stop befor resuming to clean up your back— Aamon just watched, eyes travelling to wherever, like when he did back at the house. "Mhm, as if you aren't thinking about living a life with her, have kids, even." You choked on your spit at what Gusion said.

You even looked up at Aamon for confirmation— and the look on his face confimed what Gusion said. "Seriously..?! You're joking right?" You asked, desperate for a refusal, but only a laugh escaped from Gusion's lips. A part of you hoped that it was true, but another was afraid— Really afraid. They were nobles for lord's sake! They'd be looked down on if you dare try to have an ounce of romatic relationship with them.

"Won't you be shamed on? Why would you admire me? An armorer for the whole palace!" You argued, brows furrowing together once you saw a disappointed look in Aamon's face— Which was terrifying, he rarely ever show his emotions. And this? Him making that kind of face? It was usually a sign that he'll punish someone.

And that someone, was you. "Clean up first, love. We'll show you how much you're worth." Love. Oh fuck— You're absolutely gonna ruin their reputation if things escalate. Probably ruin your family's reputation as well..

Your mind being all over the place became the reason as to why you were confused as to why you were suddenly on the dinner table at the Paxley's house. A towel wrapper around your— still slightly dusted outfit. The revealing skin was now free from the uncomfortable feeling, but only the revealing ones. "When did we get here?" You asked, Aamon walking you to upstairs— you had suspicions as to what he and Gusion was planning, and you hoped they really don't do it.

"By my powers of course. I'm the best at being swift after all." Gusion proudly stated, walking forward and admiring your water dripping face. It made your face heat up— especially after your eyes locked together. It was impossible not to look away, knowing fully well that if you try to move— Aamon will be quick to hold you down.

There's the same tension that made you feel something in your stomach. Even worse now that you can't get away from them. Suddenly, an excuse popped up in your head— just before all three of you could enter the room infront of you. You spoke up, in a panicked voice; "My sibling, they're with a family friend of mine. I need to pick them up and bring them home!"

You needed something. Something to stop them from ruining their family's reputation. "I already sent Eren to pick them up. No need to worry." Aamon reassured, your attempt at stalling— ultimately failing as the door was opened by Gusion. Who, by then; Already figured out how stressed you were, and nothing could comfort you. Unless they both prove to you how much you're worth.

You kept trying to subtly move away from Aamon's hold, though— it was a useless effort to do so, considering that both of them figured everything out by now. Your insecurity could be fixed, and it will be fixed after this day. "Relax, you're safe with us." Aamon whispered. Your eyes scanned around the room, and after realizing who's room it was— Your heart stopped.

"Are we really gonna do this in your room? The maids keep cleaning this, it'll be a shame if they clean up everything that happened after this." Gusion asked, visibly annoyed because of the maids cleaning up... whatever happens later. "You should know that I request the maids to not clean my room. I have more privacy than you. Young man."

Gusion huffed at his brother's answer, opening the door to the bathroom— You assumed. Then was corrected after you saw the formal bath in the side. Along with a curtain and a sink. It all looked clean, and untouched. You don't deserve to be there, let alone wash yourself clean from your dust..

Aamon and Gusion shared a look as the older helped you to step inside the already prepared warm bath. "Are you sure Eren picked my sibling up? No one informed me!" You asked again, knowing already that it would be a lost cause. They had a mission to achieve, and they had no plan to stop theirself for achieving it.

"'Course he did, my sweet big brother talks about you all the time." Gusion turned away and ran out the room, avoiding his brother's scolding after he left. Your heart started to beat from your chest, endless thoughts circling your mind. It seemed like they had feelings for you. Aamon could have liked you more, but Gusion might be steering away his focus on him to Aamon to.. possibly hide his feelings.

Hesitantly, you took the towel away to wash your dusted outfit. Forgetting that the eldest brother was there with you. Until you felt a hand tug on your shirt. "Oh! I'm- I'm so sorry, I forgot-!" You exclaimed, about to put the towel back on, until he pulled your back to his chest. Free hand reaching up to run his slim fingers through your locks. "Don't be ashamed."

The soft gravel tone in his voice next to your ear made you move away subconsciously. But god damn, it sounded so hot.. "How can I not be? I don't deserve to even step inside your room. Let alone, your bathroom." Your question made him chuckle, a hand coming down to rub your stomach, in a way you felt so comfortable.

"Lets take your clothes off, you don't deserve to be dressed in such filthy clothes." His offer made your heart stop, your knees suddenly buckling when his hand grazes your cheek. His touch was alluring you to submit to him. His hands moved to your neck, down to your button up shirt, he unbuttoned it slowly, one by one, until he reached the very bottom. "Aamon.."

Something about you saying his voice triggered something in his chest. In a second— your clothing was stripped from your body, and the next. You were bent over the tub, slim fingers teasing you through your underwear. Your head hung low, stiffling the noises that was threatening to come out from your mouth.

Aamon admired the way your back arched, his curious side becoming more visible while he became more bolder with his actions. His nails grazed the tip of your nub, making you cry out from the sudden stimulation. The sound you made, he wanted more of it. More of your whines, more of your small begs— he wanted more of it.

Without realizing it, Aamon set you down on the sink and pulled off your underwear. Eyes shining, like he was looking at desert after seeing your damp pussy. "Aamon- I beg of you-." You gasp out, head tilting back whilst his tongue made contact with your outer lips. The taste made him feel so intoxicated— made him need more of your taste.

He figured, the best way to do that— was to continue stimulating your poor, untouched core. His head dipped down to taste more of you, nose rubbing againts your clit as he lapped his tongue over your pussy. Your stomach churned, and snapped at his every action. It made you feel so good.

Little do you know; Gusion just came back from drinking some water downstairs. Listening in on your pretty little whines, his brother was making you feel good. Aamon had already unraveled your outer lips to taste you even more. Your legs shaking from the continuous stimulation from his tongue— Oh how left out Gusion felt when you cried out after Aamon slipped his tongue inside you.

He was the one that convinced his brother to finally make a move on you— He deserves to be part of the fun! Hell, he was sure that he was the one that developed feelings for you first. So, without shame, he went inside and basked in the view. You with your eyes closed shut, thighs clamping around his brother's head— eating you out to the point where your legs had already given out.

The sight was absolutely gorgeous. If only he could blackmail his brother.

"He's eating you out so good, right?" Gusion asked, a smirk rising up from his face upon seeing you tense up, and your face redden from embarrassment. Though, the embarrassing feeling was one you couldn't feel. You were on the brink of your orgasm— crying out even louder when two digits slipped into your wet pussy. Adding to the pleasure that Aamon's tongue was already providing you with.

"Are you gonna cum? Cum all over the eldest Paxley brother's face? Do you think you deserve to do that?" He asked, stepping over to you and grabbing hold of your hair. You cried out again, thighs clenching as you tried to stop your inevitable orgasm. Although, doing that just made Aamon desperate, licking up and trying to suck the cum out of you. "N-no! I-I don't deserve to!" You choked out, hands flying to tug on Aamon's hair. Begging him to stop.

But, it only took Gusion's lips sucking on your neck to make you cum. Crying out, and eyes closing shut from the pleasurable guilt you felt as Aamon rode out your orgasm. "You taste so divine." Aamon groaned out, lapping over your pussy one more time, before standing up and glancing at his brother. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cum." You muttered, tearing up as you moved your hands to cover your face.

"What did you say to her?" Aamon asked, eyes narrowing at Gusion, who raised his hand in defence. "I just asked if she deserves to cum on your face. Promise!" The younger said, amused when Aamon started to pepper you with soft kisses on your neck. The act of affection soothed you— But it wasn't enough, Gusion's words really stung. Though, you didn't deserve to be guilty.

"Don't listen to my brother, you deserve to cum, since I was the one that made you do that." Aamon whispered, hand reaching up to cup your face. With how soft his hands felt, you forgot the words that Gusion— rudely said to you earlier. "Come on Aamon-ey, I deserve a bit of recognition from bringing you two together." Gusion spoke up. A teasing smirk; Still visible on his face.

"I'm not about to make you ruin her innocence." Aamon argued, holding you close as him and his brother argued. "Ohh come on~, just this once. Please? For your little brother?" Gusion whined, earning a sigh from his older brother. "I... I'm okay with him joining." You spoke up, to hopefully ease the visible headache that Aamon was feeling.

That settled it— without wasting a second, the two of them brought you to the bed. Aamon under, with you sitting on his lap. And Gusion situated behind you. "You prepped her, you go first. But I won't promise that I won't enter her after you do." Gusion peppered soft kisses onto your bare back, admiring how soft your body felt when he squeezed his palm on it. Upon closing your eyes, you heard the shuffling of clothes, and felt hands looping under your thigh to hoist it up.

"You look so stunning." Aamon whispered, stroking his huge cock and lining the tip of his cock below your hole. You held your breath, biting your lip while Gusion lowered you onto his brother's cock. The pain you felt was more pain than your first open wound. It felt like an eternity of your walls— clenching around Aamon's cock until you reached his pelvis.

Hell, Aamon could barely hold up in ruttig up into you when your walls were clenching so tight around him. It was nothing he had felt before, and neither did you feel something like that. You felt full— Figuratively and Literally. "So tight.." Aamon groaned, squeezing down on your hips as you leaned down. Desperate to feel comfort from his warmth.

Though— what you did only allowed him access to your soft and tender stomach. He started caressing it, admiring you like a beauty in the newspapers. Your tight felt warm for him. His eyes rolling back after feeling your panting breath. "That's it... you're taking me so well." He whispered to you, nearly moaning out when your hips shifted. Clenching around him once more.

"You both look so fucked out.." Gusion grinned, holding his bare cock out and rubbing it againts the back of your hole. You shivered at the feeling and clutched onto Aamon's shoulder. "Let me just... squeeze right in.." With every word, Gusion eased himself into your already occupied hole. You and Aamon cried out, the tight sensation becoming too much for Aamon, and the stretch making you feel like you're being ripped apart.

Aamon noticed your struggle, hand reaching down to rub your clit in soft circles. Helping you lube up his brother's cock with your slick. "Too... much." You choked out. Tears filling your eyes and falling down onto Aamon's chest. His eyes grew soft at that, pulling your face close to his and kissing you. Gusion also helped to ease your pain, massaging your back and pressing soft kisses to it.

You felt warm at their touch, and eventually adjusted well enough until you could shift and not feel uncomfortable from it. "There, feeling better?" They asked you. To which you replied with a nod. Aamon pressed even more kisses to your face, with Gusion following up with soft kisses on your spine. Gusion was getting impatient, and tried a small thrust. A small whimper leaving your lips at the action.

He tried another, and groaned when you clenched around them both. Aamon watched your face contort into a desperate one, he tried his own thrust. A louder moan coming from you while doing so. "You have her spot, I'm only an addition." Gusion chuckled, watching as his brother try to hold back a groan at the feeling of your tight walls.

"You're so good to us.." Aamon whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into you, increasing your moans of pleasure, and turning you into a whimpering mess. With his movement, and Gusion's thrusts— It made you feel amazing. And, while Gusion just groaned and continued to apply pleasure from himself, Aamon rutted up into you, trying to hit that spot repeatedly as he could.

"You deserve this, everything we're giving you." He added, rubbing his thumb over your clit, you moaned. Closing your eyes shut as you felt your orgasm creep up to you. It seems that they wanted to reach that with you as well— Gusion's thrusts started to become uneven, and faster, chasing his own. While Aamon started rutting into you, humping your tight walls and kissing you.

All it took was for his finger, and both of them to moan your name to make you cum— It was the best feeling you've ever felt, and you lost yourself in the feeling. Falling into a subspace as they reached their peak inside of you.

You don't remember what happened after that. All you know, was that they spoiled you, and basked you in the comfort, and love you deserve. <3

I hope you enjoyed reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it! Take care of yourself. <3

[artingabout]

The Queen’s Thief themed nook-book made as a gift for @meganwhalenturner​

Behind the scenes:

My materials:

ae woodene booke

much paper in many layers and shades

craft knife

scissors

foamy-tape-stuff (technical term)

acrylic paints

brushes and roller

pens & coloured pencils

PVA glue

faux gold leafing

resin

metal ruler and cutting mat

milliput

fimo

wire

craft foam boards

card

black tissue

wooden dowels

chalk

This one, I’ve been planning for a while. Originally I was going to do a standard book nook, but then remembered these gorgeous wooden books I’ve had just lying around waiting for a purpose and BEHOLD!

Because I can never keep things simple for myself, I wanted to try different craft styles for each section so I’ll go through them one by one.

Phase 1 was challenging because it’s the shallow left side. I decided to do one of the iconic scenes that stayed with me long after I read the books for the first time in cut paper, because it would let me play with layers and the illusion of depth while also... y’know. Paper. It’s thin.

First off I made a background to add some perspective and depth to the box, so it looked much deeper than it is.I painted on a sky effect and then dug out this gorgeous paper that has a kind of marble texture to it and made the buildings.

Next I did a base sketch of the faces to get the sizes right and snipped out Gen since he has more layers because his arm is foreground.

I didn’t remember to take a picture of the paper I textured for his skin tone, but basically various shades of pinks/reds/browns/whites applied to watercolour paper in erratic layers to get some texture and depth. It’s sort of visible on the hand (which was the first piece I cut out and it strikes me as ironic that it’s the piece I kept losing because I was working on my living room floor 😅)

For Attolia, I picked different papers/cards to use, specifically a rather nice handmade off-white paper with dark red rose petals imbedded in it to serve as her alabaster skin with the smudge of blood.

Nothing says love like floating heads, amirite? I added some layers to Attolia’s hair and coiled the strands of the ringlets around a cocktail stick to get the curls. The crown and earring are both faux-gold-leaf card with slivers of resin as rubies. So much gold-leaf everywhere. SO MUCH. Details were added with a fine-tipped pen and some shading with coloured pencils.

The layers. So many layers. I think Gen has about 15 separate pieces to him. For his sleeves, I added some texture by using a rubber patterned stamp and copper ink, then splatted paint all over it :D

And to add even more depth to a 1cm deep space, I used thick double-sided foam tape (I have no idea of technical terms. Foamy squishy stick string) to elevate them off the background. A wee glimpse of it is visible just under Gen’s collarbone

Phase 1 complete!

Phase 2 was another beast entirely. Originally, I was planning on doing the scene from The Thief when Gen steals Hamiathes’s gift, but realised that would mean an image of Hephestia that looked very much like the image of Attolia I had already done. Plus I was planning to use The Return of the Thief’s cover which is also red, so I wanted to do something less red.

Pheris was kind enough to give me some beautiful descriptions of the half-built temple of Hephestia in TRotT and I love me some forced perspective :D And naturally, I had a slightly deeper box to work with this time (omg a whole 2-3cm! Luxury!) so of course, it had to be 3D.

"I studied the Great Goddess, shining in the darkness. The treasury was new, but her statue was much older; the wood from which she was carved showed through the gold leaf. The pillars supporting the dome were tree trunks, smoothed of their bark and inverted, so they were wider at the top than at the ground"

First up, the Goddess herself. Fimo on a wire armature with a throne made of balsa wood . Since the statue is described as old with wood showing through the gold, I figured she could look a little crudely-carved and rough. Also, she is smol and I have sossige fingers.

I cut dowels to size to serve as the inverted-tree-trunk pillars and add an illusion of depth. My art teacher would be so proud.

The altar was the easiest piece of the whole thing: chopped up foam board, some card for stability, cut and shaped and decorated with milliput to add the Hephestial Mountains, coated in black tissue to give a nice strong black base to paint. I used drybrush to get a nice stone effect (see a bit further down)

And conveniently, the entire background of the scene is black, so I added the dome for More Optical Illusions! Because hey, if it worked once, do it again :D And also started layering up milliput for the tree-pillar bits.

And the last and messiest step before fixing the pillars and everything in place. Gold. Leaf.

The last bits to get done were the pillars, which I fixed in with milliput and glue.

Once they were set and painted, I glued everything in place and gave Hephestia her orb and behold, phase 2 complete!

And both sides together.

Finally, phase 3 - the cover. To keep things (relatively) simple, I went with the blood-red cover for Return of the Thief. Gave it a nice red basecoat, sketched on the design in chalk because lol, who uses tools to draw lines? Not me!

No in-progress pictures because I did it all in one run while listening to a webinar.

And as a special treat, more gold leafing!! I love the shininess of the figures on the cover of the book and thought “hey, that’s a sensible option that won’t leave you finding gold bits in your kitchen for days!” :D

Note to self: do not do this on wood again, it is very very likely the leaf will cling to the wood and require some repainting. This is a lesson. Do not forget (this memory will self destruct within 10 seconds of leaving this post)

For comparison before I did some touch-ups because of the stupid leaf going rogue

And behold, it is done :D

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Jaskier x female reader where the reader is a princess who during daylight, is condemned to be a bear, after being cursed by an evil sorcerer At night she become a human again. Which the curse can only be broken by a man (who would be Jaskier) who pledges his heart solely to the reader (something like true love’s kiss). Please and thank you!!!

Bruin

jaskier x reader

masterlist

Warnings; mentions of witcher killing, mentions of death and angst, curses, nudity, some fluff, implied smut

“G-Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice shivered, as he saw a great mountain of brunette fur, wading through the long grass, heavy breathing exhibiting from its wet snout. “There’s a bear!”

“If you’re that scared, try to speak quieter.” The Witcher’s speech remained monotone, as he continued walking, leaving the bard to catch up with his hardy footsteps. “We need to leave before nightfall, that is when the true monster is unleashed from the bruin vessel.”

“You kill monsters, we’ll be fine.” The bard waved off, though he was terrified, and Geralt was all but convinced with his dismissal. “We will, won’t we Geralt?”

“It’s bad luck to remain out here at night, it’s an old wives tale, however, no one survives the night out here. Not after the disappearance of the princess of Arafell.” Jaskier remembered that tale, he had even seen the princess at a banquet once when they were both young in age.

Neither of them had the opportunity to converse with one another that evening, it was the night she had ran away. and he certainly had regretted never asking her dance. Before that though, they had often strode through the gardens hand in hand, conversing on the beauty of the petals that veiled around the stems, and she, unlike most people, listened to his descriptive forms of poetry. Back then, he had been shy, and not to mention, she was of sought after royal blood. That evening was the last that anyone from the kingdom had ever been seen, after the slumber of eternity wept over their souls. One thing he severely remembered though, was that she loved dandelions.

The princess had ran away, leaving the king and queen in search of someone that could find her, and thus they hired a private sorcerer to complete their wishes. But instead of seeking out the lost girl, the old man took the gold and the lives of old, wallowing the land in distress that clambered into a delving of madness.

A shout bellowed from the bear, and Jaskier found him to “How long will it be til we reach the borders?”

“The bad luck will loom over us Jaskier, we will not make it out of here in the span of the next countless hours. There will be a moon in the sky, but perhaps we’ll be able to seek out cover in the old guard’s tower.”

“Where are we Geralt?” The brown haired poet feared to be met with the answer “What makes you think that we’ll survive the night?!”

“This is what remains of Arafell.” Stated the white haired hunter, as he continued to plod through the thick foliage beneath his dark boots. He stepped on the dull green life form, not encouraged to pursue any further into the depths as he heard the destination that they were travelling through.

“Arafell, great.” Huffed the irritating bard, clutching his lute as he spoke the haunting name. “There’s no need to be afraid, when you’re in the land of torn bodies, because the witcher is by your side. He’ll slash and dice, protect the mice, from the darkness that falls from above. The people are dead, I am filled with dread, in the land of Ar-afellll.”

“Stop singing.” Whenever there was any fault present in their adventures together, Jaskier had a tendency, wallowing similar like a pie without filling to sing. It shrouded Geralt with epitomised frustration, his betrothed follower sure knew how to pull his strings, it was as though he were a moral lute, a practice run of socialisation for the noble’s son.

“Sorry.” Apologised the traveller, with a shrug encompassed by a spark of coldness affecting his posture. There was a breeze, filled with the pinching of icicles in the air, and it clawed through his clothes, clashing with the meat blanketed warmth of his bones. “It’s just- we’re in bloody Arafell, or what remains of it, and you are so calm. Have you maybe perhaps forgotten what happened here?!”

“No. I was here when it queen Ara and her kingdom fell. And that bear has lurked every inch of these demolished castle lands searching for scraps, and if you cannot tell, it is almost night fall, and she has come up sufficiently short of anything, for all these decades.”

The listener frowned, bears did not live so long. It was a curious prospect, it remained loyal to these grounds, although it was empty. There had to be a reason why, a pattern that supposed why it, or she as Geralt had divulged, remained to lurk in the midst of the overgrown forestry. And then another thought (yes, Jaskier had the ability to do that despite what his protective travel mate may have wondered), hit him, like a bolt of lightning.

“Um, Geralt, where is the bear?” He gulped, hearing the rustling of the thick foliage metres behind them. The moon scourged the sky with its global presence, inducing another shot of ambient fear through Jaskier’s veins. “It was-“

“Shut up a moment.” It was almost impossible half the time to silence Jaskier, but this time, he actually obliged the command. Geralt drew his sword, the one that glistened a predominate silver and was made from the compound, clutching the handle in his vice and skilled grip, as his feet took him closer to the imposter that was imbedded within the weeds.

“Oh.” Jaskier covered his eyes, he couldn’t look as Geralt pointed the weapon at the beasts throat; a whimper escaped it as Geralt took a step back, alerting his companion. “Kill it Geralt, it’s a bear, it’s going to kill us.”

“It was a bear.” Geralt elaborated as he watched the beast transform and lose its course coat of brown fur, turning into a less monstrous beast. It was only a girl, with unruly and wild hair that was matted in all directions, her face contorted into fear. “Of whom are you, my lady?”

“A witcher.” It trailed from her lips as a whisper, her tone alerting Jaskier that it indeed was not a bear, rather it was a woman, laid on the forest ground, in nothing but her own layers of skin. His eyes widened for a moment, until he earned an elbow in the rib from his friend for his long and convicted ogling. “I have only heard legends but...

“You speak english?” Jaskier wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, hinting at his subsequent misunderstanding of the situation. “but you were a bear?!” This was all growing more confusion with each passing second, there were too many angles of the world.

“I’m cursed.” It was an easy consequence to admit, for the lady of the worlds already lived through them. “Each day, I am forced to pad about in the brute body of a bruin, a sorcerer brought by darkness himself to this dimension damned me to this abomination, his name was-“

“Lament.” From hearing that name, the woman on the ground was taken aback as the women, trying to prevail some decency, attempted to cover her breasts with her arms, as she crossed her legs over one another. “Your parents sent me to find you, lady. I came up empty handed in my search for you, there was no trail that I managed to find, nothing that would point in your direction. And that night, as I returned with short of nothing of any news of your whereabouts, Lament was there.”

“He killed them all, didn’t he. My family?” The answer didn’t require any verification from Geralt, the solemn, yet usual expression on the Witcher’s face was all the confirmation that she needed. “Of course he did, he’s a poisonous shadow, when he finds something he wants, he takes away its home, so that it can’t run back to the hearth whence it came from. I regret every running away from home...”

“Wait a moment.” This was all beginning to add up in some mind boggling way. Jaskier flitted his gaze aside for a moment as Geralt pulled a fine blanket from his luggage, knowingly seeing the movement out of the corner of his curious eye that she was pulling the material that conducted warmth over her shoulders, and across her sachet of flaunted skin.

"Shut up Jaskier." Instantaneously stated the bard, whom had returned his cerulean gaze back upon the y/h/c woman, depositing a composition of interest to her form.

"You're the princess of Arafell, aren't you. Y/n, it's you, isn't it?" Y/n's expression was one of shock; how did this man know of her identity? She understood how the witcher did, though with considering he was condemned with the duty of finding her. The brunette man was slightly familiar, and so he revealed why that was. “it’s Julian.” Jaskier held his hand to his chest, almost hurt that you didn’t recognise him, but it had been years, so many, none of which had been kind to you. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz.”

“Dandelion!” The reprised title spun from y/n's tongue, remembering the nickname that she had given the now gentleman all those years ago, when he was nothing more than a persisting boy that made her flash an unashamed laughter in the midst of poised quality showrooms of noble gatherings. "I remember you." She dwelled on the fact, if she weren't clothed in only a shrill and frayed blanket that was pebbled with small dots of soil, from where it had been laid on the ground, y/n surely would have jumped up and spun her arms around his 'sexy goose' neck.

"You've got to be kidding me, it is just my luck that the pair of you know each other." Geralt crossed his arms, shaking his sleek silver head, being deprived of attention as he spoke. "Is there any way to get yourself out to get you out of this prospected curse of turning into a bear, y/n?"

"To be betrothed to a man, confirmed with a kiss resonating true love, though, nobody with any sense would put themselves in that position for me, there is no wealth to my name anymore, nor is there relevance with my heritage, for there is nothing that remains, as you have confirmed for me. This man must certainly be one of a kind, for he has to pledge his loyalty solely to me, forbidding himself from ever being with another woman again."

The mention of a lack of sense reminded Geralt of one man in particular, and he was stood right beside him. But it couldn't have been Jaskier, of all people, and- Geralt found himself overcome with dread as the bard stepped forward, crunching his shoed feet into the withered grass, closer to the rediscovered princess.

"I have waited my whole life to see you again." Oh god, here he went, Geralt thought. "When we were younger, I was infatuated with you, and here we are, united again in a union. If my betrothal means nothing then you will remain in this shrine of gloom, but to me, it would mean everything to me."

"Y/N come on, have some sense, it-" There was lack of reason for Geralt to continue speaking, as y/n sprung up, the blanket flowing down from her shoulders, baring her body cold to the crisp air, as her hands clasped both sides of Jaskier's face, and pressed her lips to his.

The witcher cringed, turning away as the pair practically ate the other's face, like starved animals that had been distanced for many years, which in their case was true. "Do you know if the curse is broken, is there any indicator if so?"

A hum fell from y/n's mouth as Jaskier's hand traced the curve of her spine, causing Geralt to scoff. That was the only response he earned, and to a high stake, it disgusted him. "I think I'm just gonna let you two have some time to yourselves, I guess we will see in the morning if you're being mawled by a bear you flippant."

And thus he walked away, leaving the two to pursue their primitive instincts, under the blessed moon, and on the routed curfew on the dark and dead land of Arafell.

[solar-yatagarasu]

Yoru HCs by a Japanese American Pt. 3

Yoru saw the Tokyo Drift MV when he was little and decided to make it his entire personality.

he tries to be effortlessly cool and suave. most of the time, he just comes off as an ass.

Yoru also likes to collect things. he’s genuinely passionate about some of them, like sneakers and Pokémon cards, others are more just for clout (like his knife collection).

stop name dropping brands during missions, Yoru. you’re not as cool as you think you are.

he likes the whole racecar aesthetic and image, but he doesn’t care about cars themselves.

similarly, he is a fan of the Yomiuri Giants (the Tokyo baseball team), but it’s more because he likes the team colors and jerseys. it’s not like he hates baseball, because he can swing a bat pretty well, but he doesn’t really follow the baseball scene.

Yoru secretly likes old Japanese delinquent media with the protagonists having hearts of gold. he’s grown up watching shows where gangs customize their school uniforms with long black coats and pants and swing around nail-imbedded baseball bats.

"So much fuss over nothing. Someone get me a bat, I'll finish this.”

what a nerd.

he’s especially a huge fan of sukeban in media (Japanese girl gangs). the fact that they created their own groups out of spite for not being included in male-led gangs makes him so hype. he thinks the cropped tops and long skirts are an incredible fashion statement and likes to follow the same silhouette in his own outfits off-duty.

Yoru’s favorite character tends to be the “anego” (lit. “big sister,” or leader) of these girl gangs, the one who is levelheaded, commanding, and straightforward, but brutally defeats her enemies if her gang members are hurt.

Yoru has a large collection of stuffed animals that he won from claw machines. he has no idea what to do with them, and it’ll be a waste to throw them out, so they’re just scattered all over his place in Japan. he brings a couple to base, including his prized Gengar.

Yoru also likes cats. stray cats seem to be drawn to him. he complains that this is a burden rather than a blessing, but he always smiles when he gets to scratch a cat behind its ears, so he’s 100% lying.

Yoru is very particular about hygiene and detests those 5 in 1 bottles that often show up in men’s hygiene sections. he’s really into haircare and skincare as well. even if he looks dead tired, his skin is always glowing, which many of the other Valorant agents envy.

one of the biggest parts of the culture shock Yoru has when going to other countries is the perception of baths. to Yoru, soaking in a bath is a daily necessity after a shower, while to many others, a bath is a luxury. Yoru will rage about this to anyone who’s willing to listen.

it’s not like he’s obsessed with baths, but he just misses bath culture in Japan. Yoru can get terribly homesick.

Yoru also doesn’t like getting dirty. he carries around spare pairs of disposable chopsticks, so when he eats snacks like chips he won’t run the risk of getting crumbs all over him.

at first, the Valorant agents think it’s a little strange, watching him walk around picking out chips from a bag with chopsticks, but then they quickly realize how resourceful this is.

they’re a little mad that they haven’t thought of this, actually. Yoru constantly gloats about this.

on base, Yoru has a pair of lacquered chopsticks. they’re a polished dark blue with intricate golden leaf and carnation patterns twisting up the sides.

when Yoru washes them and leaves them out to dry, it’s an unspoken rule that no one is allowed to touch them but him.

on Jett and Sage’s birthdays, Yoru gifts them each their own pair of lacquered chopsticks. it’s a surprisingly thoughtful gift that they love.

Yoru HCs by a Japanese American Pt. 1

Yoru HCs by a Japanese American Pt. 2

Yoru HCs by a Japanese American Pt. 4

[kkeidawrites]

That Night

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Loki x African!goddess reader

I see that there is not a lot of Loki x reader stories which I think is weird, so I decided to write a couple of my own. And nobody is gone stop me either. So enjoy this first chapter to an upcoming mini series!

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A party was perhaps always being held in Asgard. Whether it was Thor returning home, another battle won, or Hell they had a party just because. It was quite a bore with the constant partying and the people that would attend made things even more boring.

The dancers would shake their hips the same way and the dishes the servants would serve were always be the same. Nothing was new. Nothing peaked my interest.

The whispers about me never ceased, being the adopted son of Odin, the infamous Loki, God of Mischief, still chasing his father’s tailcoats for the throne. Loki, the forgotten son. The son with no legacy. Bah, it was all the same. I should turn everyone here in the hall into gremlins.

I sat on a plush sofa, pretty much on my own, since nobody would want to sit by the trickster Loki. It’s fine, not like I had that many friends anyway.

A jester preformed a trick making the crowds express gasps of excitement and claps rang out in the hall. I rolled my eyes, I will never understand how people can be so interested in this.

I did not want to attend this worthless banquet in the first place, but my mother bless her soul, is a very persuasive woman and I unfortunately fall for it every time. Now, here I was, dressed in green almost black robes and armor that had some pieces of gold imbedded into it.

Swirling the wine in my cup, the familiar sound of heels clacking against the polished marbled floor made my eyes look up.

The black dress reminded me of the stars in the galaxy, it caressed her dark skin and hugged all the curves on her figure. Her hair coily and I bet if I had the chance to touch it it would be as soft as a lamb’s wool. It covered the side of her face and I didn’t have the chance to get a good look at her, but, just from how she carried herself, I knew she had to be beautiful. Probably for the best I didn’t see what she looked like, who would turn their interests on the God of Mischief? She held her head up high as if she were the queen of Asgard herself.

As she walked into the banquet hall, her pace was quick as she approached my mother who was standing with her normal group of nobles and who in turn brought the beauty in a warm embrace. She smiled in greeting to the woman as she spoke to my mother. The way they spoke made it seem like they have known each other for years.

Taking a swig of my wine, I averted my eyes elsewhere. She was probably another noble that was only here to attend the banquet then return to wherever she had came from to brag about her time on Asgard. There were many of Gods and Goddesses who took advantage of our kingdom to try and take over. I scoffed at the thought, every time that someone would try and take Asgard would only return to their realm in pieces, how others think so little of Asgard when we indeed are the best.

The clacking of heels broke me from my thoughts and my mother calling my name made me look up to see both my mother and the mysterious woman. Damnit, I hated being right, she wasn’t just beautiful, she was gorgeous. A vision. I gulped at how beautiful she was and I saw my mother flick her wrist up to tell me to stand up and present myself. I stood up from the couch fixing the front of my robes.

I looked her over, shamelessly and my eyes lingered on her chest until my mother cleared her throat to avert my eyes to hers. She tilted her head towards the woman and I cleared my throat, placing a hand on my chest to bow my head in greeting.

“Good evening mother, as always you are the most beautiful in all of Asgard.” I say. My mother waves away my compliment, bashful of my words and puts a hand on the woman’s arm.

“This is Mawu, she is the Goddess of the night, of joy, and of motherhood as well as the ruler of Midgard’s wisdom and knowledge. You have met her mother, Nana Buluku a couple of times.” Frigga says.

I roll my eyes at that. I had met that woman thousands of years ago, I cannot remember what she looked like. The beauty, Mawu, looks me over then raises an eyebrow at me.

“He is your son?” She turns to mother.

“Yes, my youngest,” Frigga says with pride in her voice and I can’t help but, give a small smile.

“Mm, he is tiny.” She looks me over one more time.

“Need to eat something, these fruits and cheeses are not enough to help him grow.” She states and I became baffled at her declaration making my mother laugh and I frowned in annoyance. What is it with women and wanting their men big and muscled? I am plenty strong with my lean figure.

“Allow me to take him back to my realm and he will return with a stronger body,” Mawu tells mother. Frigga waves her hand in my direction.

“I tell him to eat more but, he only nibbles on the food we offer him.” She sighs and I roll my eyes once more, taking a large sip of my wine then using my magic to make my cup disappear.

“Mother, did you bring your friend over here just to spite me?” I asked her, putting my hands behind my back and a clench in my jaw.

“No, of course not, my love,” she smiles and then moved Mawu closer to my person. The woman took a few steps away from me.

“I wanted you two,” Frigga points between us as she continues, “to get to know each other better.” She says making both of our heads turn to look at one another in shock then back to Frigga’s grinning face.

“You cannot be serious.” I say as Mawu crosses her arms.

“Quite serious my son, Mawu will be staying here for a couple of weeks as her mother has asked me to oh, how do the midgardians phrase it? Ah, yes “get her ass out of the house”. And so, she will be staying in the royal quarters for the time being and I want the two of you,” she points between us again. “To get to know each other better. Have a pleasant evening.” Frigga finishes and turns to return back to her group of allies. Mawu scoffs in disbelief and leaves my side to leave through where she came in.

Subconsciously, I followed after her, her heels clicking quickly against the floor, she was clearly upset. She wasn’t the only one upset. Get to know me better? Just what is mother planning? And why was I following her?

Mawu’s POV

I had stopped in the middle of the long hallways of Odin’s castle and turned my head to an open door where a balcony was located. I laid my hands on the balustrade and looked at the cotten candy skyline, as it slowly turned to night. Here on Asgard was hard to tell if it was night or not, they had no moon to go off of and the stars that were apparent determined different coordinates.

I sighed and leaned my arms against the balustrade leaning my head on my wrists. A couple weeks of being in this realm will be challenging. I’m not used to taking such long breaks like this, I just hoped that the Earth will still be there for me when I return.

I was set up. Mother told me that it had been a while since I last been to Asgard, to see Lady Frigga especially and she thought that a visit would be nice. How easily I was tricked by her and Lady Frigga. Don’t get me wrong I loved Lady Frigga as a second mother, but, the thought of having to trick me into staying here for a long duration of time really unsettled me.

Sighing once more, I closed my eyes as I felt the wind blow into my face. The breeze blowing against my hair that resembled a cloud. Using my powers, I conjured up a small ball of light that allowed me to see the children of Earth. It was a particular group of children that I had been watching over for a while. Perhaps from their great grandparents up until the new generation, I think I’ve lost count.

I watched as all the children played and the adults that I once looked after when they were children tended to their own brood. I smiled sadly. These children were my children. Even if I didn’t birth them, they were mine. A child, a little boy named Abioye, smiled and I felt my bottom lip quiver.

Swiping away the image, I felt a few tears rush down my cheeks. Quickly wiping them away, I took a deep breath and then looked down at my shoes. They were beautiful but, so constricting, I pulled them off my feet and stretched my toes, sighing in bliss.

“Lady Mawu,” I looked up to see a male guard bowing before me. I straightened my back to address him.

“Yes,”

“Your quarters are ready for you.” He says. Nodding, I allowed him to lead me to my room. Peaking a look over my shoulder, I noticed a familiar pair of green eyes watching me. With a ‘hmph’ I turned my eyes forward and continued to follow the guard.

With Loki

That insufferable woman dare turn her nose up at me?! I scoffed in disbelief and used my powers to return to my mother in the banquet hall. Kissing her goodnight, I walked out another exit to my chambers.

Once I arrived at my room, I noticed the guard that guided the Goddess to her quarters and stretched my neck to see that he was leaving from the room right next to mine.

“You there!” I halt the guard as he immediately stopped and bowed to me.

“Did you just lead that moon Goddess into the room next to mines?” I ask.

“Yes, your majesty, it was specific instructions that your mother gave.” He says and I groan out in annoyance.

“Your majesty?”

“Begone. I have no more use of you.” I spat and the guard bows again, quickly leaving my sight.

Looking towards the closed door, I put my hands on my hips and nodded my head then entered my room with a slam to the doors.

Plopping down onto my bed, I placed my hands behind my head and sighed deeply. Mother was making things so difficult. What purpose did she need to give me someone to...bond with? I have managed to be on my own before what’s different now?

Sniff, sniff

Sob, whimper

I heard soft crying from the wall behind me and I got up from my bed and moved to the nearest wall, placing an ear towards it, to hear indeed crying on the other side.

I don’t know what it was but, her crying made my heart break a bit. Sighing, I removed myself from the wall and plopped back down onto my bed. Her sobs were slowly growing louder and I gritted my teeth.

Waving my hand, I allowed a small bunny to appear in my palm and allowed it to phase through the wall, I waited in anticipation of the small...I guess I will call it a gift.

With Mawu

She had changed into her silk nightgown and immediately her tears returned.

The sobs continued to fall from her lips as she laid across the large bed. Why she was crying? Unfortunately, Mawu has separation anxiety and the thought that she can’t be close to her ‘children’ broke her heart. Sniffling, she raised her head from the cradle of her arms and jumped when she saw a black lump sitting in front of her.

The large floppy ears twitched slightly as the pink nose sniffed. Sitting up, she got a closer look at the small being and she realized that it was indeed a black rabbit.

“Hello, there,” she coos as she reached a hand out to the rabbit. The cotton tailed furry snuggled into her awaiting hand and Mawu giggled at the feel of it’s nose.

“Where did you come from?” She asks as she picks up the rabbit and holds it in her lap. She scratched under its chin and felt the thump of the rabbits right foot popping her thigh in delight.

“I think I’ll call you, Irawo.” She tells the rabbit who thumps its right foot again in delight.

Giggling again, Mawu allowed the rabbit to play around on her bed and then caressed its head, liking the soft fur.

With Loki

The God of Mischief allowed a small grin to appear on his lips as he listened to the Moon Goddess’s giggles.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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End of Ch.1

Ch. 2⬅️

Ch. 3⬅️

What is up with tumblr and other places where Loki doesn’t have a lot of fanfics? I don’t understand he just as fine as Thor. But, anyway, I hope you guys like this first chapter to this mini story I’m hooking y’all up with! I love me some Loki so be sure to expect more of him and a black reader as well! Thank you all for reading and be sure to like, comment and reblog!

[wxldchxld]

The evening was quickly becoming unforgivably cold. A merciless, all consuming chill that ate away flesh and sucked the marrow from the bones until there was nothing left. Even the sunlight was frozen, stingily hiding its warmth away as it pulled back the few meager rays of light that remained, and bathing the snow-encrusted earth in shades of gold and burnt orange---a cruel reminder of a fire’s warmth.

But cold had ceased to bite at her years ago. She could remember with striking accuracy the day she had stepped off of solid land out onto the ice flows of the frozen north, walking until her feet were nearly black and her eyes felt like solid spheres of ice imbedded into her skull. She remembered placing her feet in the pawprints of the bear as it lead her further and further away from the world she knew---into a world of salt and ice where tree and rock were such a distant memory, part of her began to doubt they’d ever existed at all. Somewhere in that unforgiving wilderness, she’d found something new within herself. Bathing herself in the steaming wet blood of a seal, burying her fingers into its soft interior until they could move again, enough to pull the knife from her belt and cut away strips of gelatinous blubber. With each piece that melted over her tongue, she felt a little warmer. With each swallow of sweet, liquid iron that painted her face red, her teeth felt a little sharper.

She had laid on the ice that night, a hundred or so paces from her ghostly white guide, as the winter storm gathered in great, hulking clouds that flew silently across the sky like great, malevolent owls. Their feathers blotted out the light of the moon, and eventually even the shimmering dance of the aroura itself. And then they began to descend upon the earth.

Even if she had’ve been sensible enough to hide, there wouldn’t have been anywhere to offer refuge. She listened to the shrieking of the wind as it raced across the vast expanse of frozen plains, and watched, transfixed, as the world began to dissolve around her. But even the hardest gusts of wind barely shivered down her spine. 

Was this what death felt like? She wondered idly. Had she finally met her match? A thousand times she had fallen for the siren’s song of Nature’s call to her, but every time she’d walked away. She had never imagined this would be her end, hadn’t even believed it was truly possible. But never once did she have the urge to fight it.

Somewhere in that long, endless night, her thoughts had become as still and smooth as the world around her. She could not sleep, but at one point she let her eyes fall closed, and all sound faded away. When she felt the first few tentative rays of sunlight on her cheeks, she realized that she wasn’t dead, and she wasn’t cold.

She remained in winter’s frozen heart for the rest of the season, and all of the spring and summer. Instead of cricket songs and the buzz of honey bees, she listened to the lapping of waves and cries of sea birds. Instead of fresh, tart lemonade and sweet berries, she dove deep into the black waters for feasts of seal. She played among the pods of whistling beluga whales and wrestled with the walruses no matter how many times she lost. And when the late fall turned the writhing waters to solid ground, she ran with reckless abandon across the open ice until she could see the frozen outline of a forest on the horizon.

When her paws became feet once more she had no shoes to guard her feet from the snow, nor clothes to cloak her skin from the cold, and yet she hardly felt the chill. Bare and defenseless under the dancing display of the aurora, she walked unafraid for hours, until she cracked open the door to the safe house.

It’d taken time to learn to accept the fire’s warmth, to remember to cup water in her hands and drink, and to wrap herself in soft layers of wool and cotton. It’d taken even more time to convince her to travel south back to the world of men.

Beck pressed the toe of her boot against the opposing heel and stepped out of her boot. The freshly fallen snow quickly melted underfoot and soaked through her sock, but she wasn’t cold. 

She remembered.

[pastelwitchling]

Under the Sea bonus story! I had so much fun returning to this world and these characters. I just really wanted to write a little epilogue sort of chapter. If you enjoy reading at all, please comment and share, it always makes the world of a difference 💙

               Alex heard the laughter of dolphins in his ears, the rush of bubbles against his cheeks as fish swam past. He opened his eyes to treasure; stones of different colors and sizes covered the ocean floor, seaweed, coral, sea creatures of all kinds floated past.

               Once upon a time, Alex had feared the ocean as he feared nothing else. Now he knew he was safe in its waters, for the love of his life resided there. He felt hands on his hips, pulling him back against a warm chest, even under the cold water, and he laughed. He was safe, a bubble of air protecting his head down to the base of his neck.

               “Have you no decency?” Alex asked even as he tilted his chin up, giving Forrest more access to his skin.

               “I wish to kiss my fiancé,” murmured Forrest with a grin against Alex’s neck. “Am I not allowed?”

               “Not here,” he huffed, “where someone might see us.”

               Forrest turned Alex around, making him laugh. He held his face in his hands, the gold band on his finger cold against Alex’s cheek. Forrest’s long blue and gold tail swayed calmly in the water below them, but his voice was in a near growl when he spoke, “I care not who sees us. Let them envy me, for I am the one to marry the most handsome man in all of the oceans and on land combined.”

               Even under the water, Alex’s cheeks heated and he hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder. “Honestly . . .”

               “Don’t you dare look down,” Forrest whispered, tilting down so that his forehead pressed against Alex’s, the blue and gold in his dark eyes glimmering with an overwhelming fondness and love that threatened to kill Alex in the best way.

               As he neared, Alex’s mouth instinctively fell open, and he found himself closing the distance between them, eager to taste Forrest’s lips in his, when suddenly –

               “Oi! Can’t you keep your hands off each other for two bloody minutes?!” Kyle appeared, his green and gold fin swimming behind him. He grabbed Alex’s arm and tugged. “Stop hogging him all to yourself!”

               “Oh, leave them alone, Kyle,” Maria sighed dreamily. “They’re in love.”

               “They have their entire lives to be in love!” Kyle demanded. “I have only another short moment while Alex is a free man!”

               Forrest wrapped his arms around Alex’s shoulders, his smile in place, but his eyes dark. “And what exactly do you assume will happen between you and Alex?”

               “Don’t be such a stiff, Forrest,” Kyle rolled his eyes, tugging Alex, and therefore Forrest, closer. “I just want to talk to him. Without you.”

               “That’s simply not going to happen.”

               “Don’t you trust me?” teased Alex.

               “Implicitly,” said Forrest without a moment’s hesitation, and narrowed his eyes at Kyle. “It’s his wandering hands I don’t trust.”

               Alex laughed and kissed Forrest’s cheek. He nuzzled his neck. Even underwater, as fish tickled his feet and the world turned to a peaceful silence around them, Alex could still smell Forrest. Even down here, he smelled like the ocean.

                “Who knew,” teased Jenna, the white pearls in her hair making her look like an angel, “that Forrest could be so possessive?”

               “I did,” Kyle huffed, “since we first found Alex and he wouldn’t let any of us near him.”

               “I was being protective,” Forrest insisted. “Oh, enough of all of you. Come along, my love. We’ve been down here long enough and soon people will start to wake. We best get back to the surface so that I can change to my human form.”

               Alex nodded, but accepted the hugs from Kyle and the others first. Forrest had been right in that Kyle held on longer than the others, squeezing him tightly enough to make him laugh, and then he had his arms around Forrest again.

               “Hold on tight to me, my love,” Forrest whispered into the space between them. Alex remembered a year ago when Forrest had said the same thing to him before saving him from the cavern and returning him to his home. Alex had held on trustingly. Forrest had been his one small relief, even if he hadn’t really known him.

               Now, as they rose to the surface together, Alex was filled with laughter, his chest overflowing with love for the merman before him. When they broke the surface, the cold hit them first, but Alex clung to Forrest’s warmth.

               “Go on,” Forrest encouraged him, his lips against Alex’s ear. “I’ll be right behind you.”

               Alex nodded, and let go of Forrest. He swam to the shore, and walked up the rest of the way. As he stepped out of the waves, he saw the water change color, as though someone were shining a bright blue light underneath the surface, and he turned to find Forrest standing in the water, the waves lapping around his naked waist. His blue hair and the blue glow of his eyes were gone, and his still-glowing blue seashell nestled in his collarbone. Alex smiled. He loved this version of Forrest just as much, for the magic of the sea never seemed to leave him no matter what form he took.

               Alex reached for the hidden clothes he kept wrapped in a towel behind a boulder, and handed them to Forrest. Once they were both dried and dressed, they made their usual way up the far left stone steps to the street above.

               The marketplace was still mostly bare, but Alex spotted a merchant here and there, preparing their stall for the day. Some waved good morning to him and Forrest, some congratulated them, some merely ogled.

               “I hate when they stare,” Alex murmured.

               Forrest grinned. “They can scarcely ignore your beauty, darling. Don’t begrudge them for it. I can hardly resist staring at you myself.”

               Alex blushed. “That’s different! And it’s not me they’re watching, it’s you!”

               He laughed. “So you’re jealous, then?”

               “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, and kissed Forrest’s cheek for good measure.

               When the wooden sign for Le Gateau au Chocolat – Gregory and Isobel’s pastry shop – came into view, Alex and Forrest decided to race the rest of the way. They both reached the door out of breath with giggles. Alex had won by only a small margin. Forrest had been getting much better at using his legs.

               “Oh, Alex, good,” Gregory called from behind the counter. “I’ve decided to change the chicken to beef for tonight.”

               Alex faltered. “Isn’t beef expensive?”

               Isobel came in from the kitchens. She wiped her hands on her apron and put them on her hips. “Don’t you go worrying about that. We’ve taken care of it.”

               Alex looked to Forrest, suspicious. “You didn’t . . .?”

               Forrest leapt onto the counter. “Oh, I certainly offered. What’s the point of being a king with riches if I cannot spoil my love? But no, your brother and sister would not hear of it. This time.”

               “Stop it,” Gregory scolded. “We’re older, we take care of you, that’s how it works.”

               Forrest hummed, and his eyes brightened. “Until Alex and I are married. Then he’s all mine.”

               Alex caught Isobel’s amused look, and turned away, his face red. He cleared his throat. “Anyhow. What time’s the dinner?”

               “Eight,” Gregory pointed. “Do not be late, both of you. Oh” – he dusted some of the sand off Forrest’s jacket – “and try not to mention any merpeople, will you? The last thing we need is for Liz and Max to know the truth, too.”

               “They wouldn’t tell anyone,” Alex defended.

               Gregory and Isobel shared a look, and Isobel sighed. “We can’t risk Michael finding out, Alex. I love my brother, but . . .” she shook her head. “Ever since you announced your engagement, he’s been . . .”

               “He isn’t happy,” Gregory said. “Let’s put it that way.”

               Alex sat down, and looked at the band on his finger. A circle of gold with an aquamarine jewel imbedded in the center. He hated to admit it, but in the moments after his excitement at marrying Forrest had faded, Michael had come to mind. What he would think, how he would feel, react. He’d been anxious, and now he knew he was right to have been.

               “It’ll be all right though, won’t it?” he asked, hearing the plea in his own voice.

               Forrest’s smile dimmed. He never liked the mention of Michael, but he leapt from the counter regardless, stumbled, then came to sit in front of Alex. He took his hands in both of his and kissed his fingers.

               “Everything will be perfect, my love,” he promised. “I’m certain he will come to this dinner with kindness and happiness in his heart. He will be happy only that you are happy.” He hesitated, then, “You . . . are happy, aren’t you?”

               “Oh,” Alex breathed, and wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders tightly, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I love you more than I can say. I’m sorry, my darling, I don’t mean to imply any different.”

               “Really, Alex,” Isobel assured him, “you’ve no reason to worry about Michael. I’ll make sure of it.”

               Alex sighed, resting his head on Forrest’s shoulder. “I just want everything to be perfect.” He played with Forrest’s fingers. “You’re a king after all, you must have standards.”

               “I do,” Forrest nodded. “Absolutely. If it’s not Alex, then I will not have it.”

               “Oi, keep your distance, you two,” Gregory warned with his wooden spoon. “We have customers coming in soon, and this is no pub!”

               Forrest had Alex’s face in his hands, and was nuzzling his nose. He whispered, “I don’t see any customers now.”

               He took Alex’s lips in his own, one hand reaching into his hair, the other cupping his neck. Alex whimpered in the back of his throat, and Forrest tilted his head to deepen the kiss, their mouths slotting perfectly together, Forrest’s tongue sliding against his own.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s chest, and then Gregory threw a rag over their heads. “Were you not listening?” he snapped. “Your engagement dinner’s tonight, can you not contain yourselves?!”

               Forrest pointed at Alex’s face, incredulous. “Have you seen him?”

               Alex hid his face in Forrest’s shoulder, embarrassed, as Isobel laughed loudly.

                 “Which looks better?” Liz asked, holding up a deep green dress, and a bright red. “This one? Or this one?”

               “I think you look beautiful in both,” Alex said cheerfully. Forrest sat next to him, eagerly shoveling down the biscuits Gregory had given them to have after lunch. Every so often, he offered Alex one, Alex shook his head, and then he ate the entire thing in one bite.

               “Mmh – yes,” said Forrest. “Beau—ifful.”

               “Oh, you both are useless,” Rosa sighed from where she sat on the counter. “Obviously, the red is terribly unsuitable.”

               Liz frowned. “Is it?”

               “Yes!” she took a biscuit from Forrest’s plate. “This is an engagement dinner. The red should clearly be saved for the wedding!”

               “Do you think so, Alex?” Liz asked.

               “Er – actually –”

               “What’re you asking him for?” Rosa huffed. “You know he’s too nice to tell you the truth!”

               Liz opened her mouth to argue when the front door swung open. Max smiled at them.

               “Good afternoon, all!” He ruffled Alex and Rosa’s hair, and kissed Liz’s cheek. “Afternoon, darling.”

               “Did you see the suit I put out for you?” Liz said in lieu of a greeting.

               “Yes, darling.”

               “Don’t you dare wear it until the dinner.”

               Max’s smile widened. “Yes, darling.”

               “We have to look our best for Alex and Forrest,” she said. Then she mumbled something incoherent to him and they glanced at Alex, as though afraid he’d heard. Max merely nodded in response.

                “Honestly,” said Alex, leaning against Forrest’s side. “You don’t have to go through all this fuss. It’s just going to be a small, comfortable dinner.”

               Liz put her hands on her hips. “Then why did Flint order a new navy-blue coat for the occasion?”

               “Did he?” Alex blinked, and flushed. Since their last voyage, he had feared for his relationship with his brother, the distance the truth about their mother’s death may put between them. He had seemed happy to be invited to the engagement dinner, but Alex had feared it had been an act. To know he cared this much, it gladdened Alex’s heart more than he could say.

    ��          Rosa scoffed. “Well, I won’t need any help preparing. I know exactly what to wear.”

               “Yes,” Liz said testily, “but will you know how to behave?”

               “Oi!” she argued. “Don’t you start with me, it’s Michael you should be concerned about!”

               Liz shot her a sharp look, while Max turned a nervous smile on Alex and Forrest. Forrest had stopped eating.

               “She’s joking,” Max assured them. “Michael’s really happy for you, Alex.”

               Forrest smiled, but it was polite and cold, not at all what Alex was used to. “I trust he will be on his best behaviour.” Then he grumbled, “If not, I’ll throw him into the middle of the ocean.”

               Alex hooked his arm around Forrest’s and kissed his shoulder. “Are there any more biscuits left for me?” he murmured.

               Forrest’s eyes lit up at once, and he handed Alex the largest he had. “I saved it for you, my love!”

               Alex laughed, his heart and the atmosphere of the shop lighter at once.

                 Forrest insisted on watching the sunset before dinner, but Alex had not needed much persuasion. Once they’d excused themselves from the shop, they made their way down the street, Forrest’s arm hooked around Alex’s. There was a time he had clung to him to walk, but now he stayed close for the sake of staying close itself. Forrest played with his fingers, and Alex kissed the back of his hand.

               “Congratulations, dears!” Mrs. Valenti called for what felt like the millionth time, as she liked to congratulate them whenever they passed by. “Isn’t it so exciting, Mr. Higgins?”

               “Eh?” Mr. Higgins chuckled good-naturedly. “Yes, yes, terribly happy for them!”

               Forrest’s eyes lingered, once again, on the frozen fish in Mr. Higgins’ market stall, but at a kiss to his cheek from Alex, his eyes brightened once again.

               Instead of going down to shore, they sat on the brick wall that overlooked the ocean, their legs dangling over the end. The sand below was soft, so there was no fear of falling. Nonetheless, Forrest kept a tight arm around Alex’s waist, and Alex felt safe.

               The sky turned to rose and violet and gold as the sun fell behind the ocean’s surface. Alex asked if Forrest had seen plenty of sunsets before.

               “I try to,” he confessed, “but there’s quite a risk of being seen by sailors, even so far out at sea.”

               Alex shuddered as he thought of Forrest tied to a ship’s mast, at sailors who were happy to harm him because of what he was. He burrowed deeper into his side and nuzzled his neck.

               “I will never let anyone touch you again, sailor or otherwise,” he promised in a whisper.

               Forrest kissed the top of his head. “And I will protect you with my life.”

               “Will I ever see your underwater kingdom?” Alex asked.

               Forrest laughed. “Certainly,” he said. “I will have a room prepared where not a drop of water would dare to enter.”

               Alex closed his eyes and let the sun’s warmth bathe them both in gold. “I don’t fear drowning with you at my side.”

               “And you never shall have to,” Forrest told him, his hold tightening and promising a king’s protection.

               They kissed in the setting sun until their lips swelled. They kissed until Forrest’s hand sought out the hem of Alex’s shirt, and Alex realized that if they did not stop soon, they would not stop at all. Then all those walking on the street behind them would have a true reason to stare. They kissed until Alex started to want nothing more than to fall to the sand below with Forrest in his arms, and forget the engagement dinner entirely. To prove their love another way.

               Then he took Forrest’s wrist and pressed their foreheads together, the two panting, and pulled them both to their feet at the first signs of the evening stars. They went hand-in-hand, laughing, back to the pastry shop.

               Alex told Forrest about the gold coat he’d asked Liz for him to wear, and Forrest told Alex about the deep blue ocean flower he’d acquired for Alex’s coat pocket.

               Then a voice cut through their conversation like knife through ice.

               “Alex,” Michael said with a nod. “Forrest.” His eyes fell on Alex and Forrest’s intertwined hands. “Am I too early?”

               His voice was subdued, and Forrest’s eyes had darkened.

               “Good evening, Michael,” he said, his grip on Alex’s hand tightening. “Not at all. Please, come in.”

                 “Are you nervous?” Forrest asked from where he sat on the edge of Alex’s bed. Alex watched him through the mirror’s reflection.

               Alex pulled on his coat and took a seat beside him. He interlocked their hands. “Are you?”

               Forrest smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Only that you will change your mind.”

               Alex raised a brow. “Do you truly imagine my heart so fickle?”

               Forrest’s grip on his hand tightened. “I imagine that there is no one who can love as you can. I know it. It is for that reason that I cannot help but worry. He was your first love.”

               “And you are my last,” Alex told him. “That carries far more weight, in my opinion.”

               Downstairs, they could hear the muffled clinking of cups and plates as the sky turned dark and stars peeked out. In the distance, the waves lapped against the shore softly, a comforting reminder that there was always somewhere they could escape to, somewhere where the troubles of land could not follow.

               Forrest said nothing for a long while, then, “I do not want to see you harmed.”

               “I could only be harmed by losing you,” Alex promised him. “I am marrying a king, it is you who has far more prospects.”

               Forrest scoffed half-heartedly. “I will tell you what I’ve already told your brother; have you seen you?”

               Alex burst into giggles, his face warm. He felt the soft touch of Forrest’s lips to his cheek. The laughter faded as they pressed their foreheads together, Alex’s eyes closed as he breathed Forrest in.

               “Stay close to me,” he whispered.

               Forrest nodded once, his lips brushing Alex’s. “Forever.”

                 Dinner had started off well. Alex and Forrest descended down the staircase to the shop where a long table sat and fairy lights had been hung up. The table lay covered with platters of beef, cheese, fruit and bread. Glasses of wine sat at every chair. Isobel and Gregory had truly outdone themselves.

               Liz sat between Max and Rosa. Beside Max was Michael, Isobel, Gregory, and Flint. Forrest pulled out Alex’s chair for him, making him blush, and kissed the top of his head before taking the seat beside him. Alex did not dare glance at Michael.

               For the most part, they shared in their stories, and though Forrest could not share many of his own for fear of exposing himself, he seemed quite content to listen to Alex’s versions of his bravery and kindness.

               “I hear you were responsible for helping to save Alex,” Michael told Forrest, for he had but one of the many different stories of Alex and Forrest’s first meeting. He bowed his head once. “I sincerely thank you.”

               “I could not see anything happen to him,” Forrest said, smiling at Alex. “It was love at first sight, you see.”

               Alex hoped Michael would not respond, but then he said, “Yes, I understand the feeling.” He was looking directly at Alex, his gaze pointed as though he was trying to share a secret message with him.

               Then Forrest took Alex’s hand and kissed the aquamarine bracelet he’d given him so many months ago on the shore. “All right, darling?” he whispered, and Alex nodded, the smile returning to his lips at Forrest’s eyes on him.

               “Goodness, Alex,” Liz sighed. “I do love that bracelet. Forrest made that for him,” she told Michael, “did you know?”

               “Purely for selfish reasons,” Forrest confessed. “I’ve always wanted to see Alex in aquamarine. He looks so beautiful with it, doesn’t he?”

               “Where did you get that?” Flint murmured. “Bottom of the ocean?”

               Gregory nudged Flint with his elbow, but the five of them were already laughing at the private joke.

               “Honestly, Forrest,” grinned Isobel, “do you care about anything but Alex?”

               Forrest hummed, eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” he asked, genuinely confused when everyone save for Michael started laughing, “Is there anything else to care about?”

               “I would think someone of your position would have plenty,” Gregory thoughtlessly said.

               Rosa frowned. “What do you mean, of his position?”

               Gregory’s eyes widened and Alex tensed. Forrest, after all, was a king. He had plenty of concerns, yet the others at the table did not know that.

               It was Isobel who chuckled nervously and said, “Well, you see, Forrest is very wealthy. He has so much to tend to back in – er –”

               “Paris,” Gregory quickly finished. “Because, as you all know, he is from Paris. Isn’t that right, Forrest?”

               “Certainly,” Forrest nodded. “I am from Paris.”

               Everyone returned to their meat and potatoes when all of a sudden a loud CLANK! drove all other conversation away. Michael had roughly set his fork and knife down.

               “Is that why you chose him?” Michael asked, breaking the heavy silence. “Because he’s so much wealthier than I am?”

               Alex was staring, brows furrowed. He set his utensils down delicately. When he spoke, his voice was cold to his own ears, something fierce and protective overwhelming him. “I beg your pardon?”

               Michael scoffed, shaking his head. There was nothing humorous about it.

               “Michael,” Max warned, but Michael was already seething.

               “I thought it was odd,” he said. “You’d known him for such a short time, yet you fell in love so quickly. Is that why, Alex? He could take better care of you than I could?”

               “Michael,” Isobel hissed, “enough.”

               “Is that why you wouldn’t even give me another chance?”

               Forrest stood at once, but Alex took his arm. He’d never seen Forrest’s glare so full of anger.

               “I will thank you,” Gregory said darkly, “to mind your manners, Michael.”

               “I’m sorry,” Michael said, crossing his arms on top of the table, his eyes on Alex. “I’m sorry that I’m the only one who will acknowledge that there is too much about Forrest that we don’t know. I’m sorry if I’m the only one who wishes to make certain that Alex is not throwing his life away at the first man to offer him comfort after heartbreak.”

               “No, you’re right,” Flint said, slumping in his seat. “I’d much rather my brother stay with someone who hurt him.”

               “Please,” Alex said quietly, and the table turned silent. He raised his chin and held Michael’s gaze. “Forrest saved my life in more ways than I could say. I did not know of his wealth until I’d already loved him, and even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

               “Alex –”

               “You are a guest,” Alex told him sternly, “in my home. Forrest is my fiancé, and I expect you to treat him with respect.” His shoulders fell, his tone turned pleading. “I want you to be a part of my life, Michael. Please don’t make me push you out of it.”

               Michael stared back for a long moment, his jaw clenched. Then he stood, murmured an apology, and left.

               Forrest wrapped an arm around Alex’s shoulders, keeping him close. He pressed soft kisses to his ear, his cheek, his jaw as Gregory and Isobel made quick work of returning the rest of the table to cheerier conversation.

               Later that night, Alex woke in bed to find Forrest’s side empty. He sat up, looking through the house, and softly called for Forrest in the shop. When he did not find his fiancé at home, panic began to rise in his chest until he forced it down. His father could not harm Forrest any longer, yet Alex knew he would not rest until he saw his love’s face again.

               Realizing there was only one place Forrest could be, Alex quickly threw on a coat and his boots, and made his way down to the shore. There, with his knees pulled up to his chest amongst the waves, sat Forrest, staring out at the ocean. His blue seashell glittered at his neck.

               Alex hesitated, then came and sat beside him.

               “Are you upset with me?” were his first words.

               Forrest frowned. “What in the soundless seas for?”

               “The dinner,” he said. “I told Michael I – I wanted him in my life.”

               A smirk tugged at Forrest’s lips. “That is no secret, Alex. I’ve known it since before I met you. Don’t you remember?”

               Alex did. Forrest had told him that that was when he had first fallen in love with him; when he’d heard Alex speaking of Michael to the stars.

               “Forrest,” he said, “I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. Stronger than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

               Forrest chuckled. “You dove into the ocean to save me, Alex. I don’t question your love.”

               “Yet you’re here,” he said, his chin on Forrest’s shoulder, “instead of in bed with me.”

               Forrest turned to him, kissing his nose. “I fear the mess of my thoughts might’ve troubled your sleep.”

               “I am only troubled when you are not there,” he murmured, and kissed Forrest’s shoulder.

               “You will never regret me?” asked Forrest.

               Alex clenched his jaw. “You are a king. I am a mere human. What could I possibly offer you?”

               Forrest cupped Alex’s cheek fiercely, his hold tight. He let his hand fall down Alex’s jaw, his neck, and settled on his opened coat collar. As he leaned in, he whispered the words, as though he was shocked Alex did not know the answer already.

               “You.”

               Before Alex could say anything else, Forrest kissed him. Their lips pressed together again and again, and when Alex felt Forrest’s tongue slide against his own, a moan escaped his lips. When Forrest began kissing down his chin, his neck, Alex looked around to make certain that no one was watching. But then this was the middle of the night. He didn’t think anyone would be awake for hours.

               The waves turned suddenly warm as they washed around Forrest and Alex, as their kisses deepened, as Forrest’s fingers undid the buttons of Alex’s coat and gently pushed him onto his back. The kisses turned rougher, more eager, and Alex felt as though they would never move away from one another again.

               Alex released a breathy moan as he ran his hands up Forrest’s naked back. He imagined them, lying nude on the beach, Forrest thrusting into him, licking a line along his neck, the cold quickly turning to heat so thick that Alex couldn’t breathe and was happy to suffocate.

               He ran his hands down Forrest’s bare cheeks, urging him in deeper. He was so in love he could hardly stand it. This man, bathed in moonlight and showered with drops of the ocean, was to be his husband.

               Alex took Forrest’s face in his hands and kissed him as he’d never kissed anyone before. Forrest was all his, the beautiful merman of blue and gold belonged to him. He never imagined, that year ago when he’d first embarked on his father’s voyage, that he would find such joy. When he’d fallen over the ship’s edge and his world had changed forever.

               The ocean waves hit the shore with a gentle shushing sound, protecting Alex and Forrest from searching eyes. They were safe here, Alex was safe here. With Forrest, with the ocean, with the life he’d been given when it seemed he’d been destined to drown.

               “Hold on tight to me,” Forrest told him. And so Alex did.

[thomas-gay-panic-lightwood]

hey guys i wrote the Thomastair wedding, enjoy!

——————————————————————————

Thomas’s heart was thrumming against his chest, beating so fast he felt as if it might climb through his throat. He was staring at Matthew through the mirror who was attempting to make Thomas’s hair look presentable. His mind was full of thoughts all leading to one person. Alastair. He thought of all the things he loved about Alastair, his laugh, the way he would butt his head into Thomas’s shoulder as a sign of affection. The way he would have to stand on his tippy toes to reach Thomas’s lips for a kiss. He even learned to love his stubbornness and constant need to be right about everything. Thomas recalled the nights where he would fall asleep while embracing Alastair in his arms, listening to his sweet, sultry voice read to him in Farsi. Thomas knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the ebony haired boy but fretted that Alastair would get cold feet and cancel last minute. James had assured Thomas that that wouldn’t happen, but the seed of doubt had been planted and no matter how hard he tried not to worry, he still did.

He remembered the first time they said I love you to one another. Alastair had scaled a wall up the side of Thomas’s house in order to get to his balcony. It was pouring rain and Alastair’s hair was matted to his forehead, his white shirt clinging to his slender body with water causing it to turn transparent. As he opened the door Alastair practically threw himself onto Thomas and kissed him fiercely. Alastair mumbled the words “I love Thomas, I love you” against his mouth. Thomas repeated the same words in Farsi to him, “ashegh et am Alastair, ashegh et am.” Alastair had pulled away from Thomas’s mouth abruptly at that and stared at the taller boy with a wide, genuine smile on his face and his eyes started to pool with tears. “I didn’t know you could speak Farsi” he had said while the tears broke free, streaming down his face and staining his cheeks. Thomas had brought up a hand to the side of the dark-haired boys face and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “Cordelia has been teaching me, I wanted to surprise you.” Thomas had confessed. The memory brought tears to Thomas’s eyes, and Matthew flicked a concerned gaze to him.

“If I had to marry Alastair, I’d cry too.” Matthew said while patting Thomas’s shoulder. Thomas swatted his hand away while laughing. Matthew constantly joked around about Alastair, but Thomas could tell he was genuinely happy for him, it warmed his heart thinking about how far Matthew has come.

“Is there really a need for this many brushes, Matthew?” Thomas questioned, gazing down at the ten hairbrushes sitting on the vanity before him.

“This is the Angel’s work, dear, you can't expect me to only be able to use one brush, can you?” Matthew said while working a comb through Thomas’s unruly hair. Thomas shook his head humorously and looked out the window near the vanity. It was snowing, a perfect winter wedding Thomas thought, just as they had planned.

After what had felt like an eternity of Matthew working on Thomas’s hair, Thomas got up out of his seat and looked into the full body mirror across the room and met his own gaze. He was wearing an ivory suit imprinted with golden runes and a deep gold vest to match. He took a deep breath and turned to the rest of the Merry Theives and asked, “What do you think?” James beamed and Christopher actually heard what Thomas had said for once and got up with a wide smile and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s torso. Thomas embraced the smaller boy, resting his head atop the other’s.

“I think I did a pretty good job if I do say so myself.” Matthew said as the two broke apart.

Thomas strode over to the blonde boy, closing the distance between them both before wrapping his arms around Matthew in a tight embrace. “Thank you. For everything.” Thomas whispered; his voice muffled into Matthew’s shoulder. When they pulled away, Thomas noticed that a stray tear had fallen from Matthew’s eye and Thomas brought up his thumb and wiped it away with a smile as Matthew sniffled. Thomas then turned to James who was still beaming and brought him into a hug as well. As he did, he heard the door click open and saw Cordelia leaning in the door frame with a warm smile on her face. She was wearing a deep bronze gown made of silk and her hair as tied up into a bandeau, although a few thick red strands were attempting to fight its way out of it.

“It’s time.” She whispered and gestured for the boys to follow.

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Thomas and Christopher were standing at the door into the ballroom at the London Institute. Christopher reached out his hand to Thomas and he grasped it firmly while the shorter boy whispered motivating words to him. Thomas had asked Christopher to be his suggenes right after Alastair has said yes to his proposal, and Christopher had been delighted. Thomas couldn’t think of anyone better to accompany him down the aisle.

Thomas took a deep breath as the doors opened to reveal the large ballroom. It was a small gathering, but in the chairs that faced the alter he saw the faces of those that he loved. His beautiful parents and aunts and uncles, even Aunt Charlotte traveled from Idris to be here this evening. Classical music played through the unmanned piano, thanks to Magnus who was also seated in one of the chairs, as the boys stepped into the room. Gold and ivory ribbons adorned the walls and hung from the chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. Witchlight candles shone brightly on the walls and along the aisle. At the altar, Uncle Jem stood under a high archway adorned with various flowers and to his left, off to the side a bit, stood Matthew and James smiling gleefully. The two boys along with Christopher were wearing black suits with golden bowties around their necks. Lucie stood a little to the right of Jem and was wearing a dusted blue pastel chiffon dress and holding a bouquet of yellow roses that looked like a pale gold.

As Thomas walked down the carpeted aisle, he saw his mother holding back tears and failing miserably as they fell down her cheeks. Gideon was sitting next to her, massaging her shoulders and whispering something into her ear. Thomas greeted them with a smile that they both returned. Sophie wasn’t the only one crying, he caught sight of Uncle Will wiping away the tears from his eyes as he watched Thomas walk up onto the altar. Christopher joined the other boys behind Thomas as he looked out into the crowd that all bore the runes to proclaim their witness for this event. He felt his nerves streaming through his veins, he felt lightheaded but more with excitement than anything else. He saw Anna and Ariadne seated in the front row next to Aunt Cecily and Uncle Gabriel, both couples were holding each other's hands. He caught sight of Sona who was wearing a lovely red satin gown and she gave him a warm smile. Next to her was Tessa who was trying to comfort Will while he sobbed quietly while gazing up at Thomas, the sight warmed the groom’s heart. Magnus Bane was adorned with blue jewels from head to toe and looked awfully a lot like a pirate, but in a good way, looking amused and thoughtful.

As Thomas gazed down the aisle, he saw Cordelia and Alastair approach the doorway. Thomas’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of his beautiful groom. Everything else in the world stopped in Thomas’s mind, the music, the hushed whispers, everything, it was just the too grooms gazing fondly at one another. Cordelia was guiding Alastair down the aisle, smiling at all the guests while holding a bouquet of pale gold roses. Thomas started crying immediately, tears slipping down his face. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that he was standing here about to marry the love of his life, to be tied to him in the most intimate and loving way.

Alastair wore a suit of the same complexion as Thomas’s, ivory imbedded with gold runes. It stood out strikingly against his deep skin tone and dark hair. Thomas was even more sure that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man that he had been earlier, if that was even possible. Alastair was inclining his head towards their guests as Cordelia smiled at them gleefully while they walked down the aisle. As soon as Alastair walked up onto the alter across from Thomas and Cordelia moved behind her brother next to Lucie, Thomas felt no nerves pricking his skin. Any doubts left him in that exact moment and he knew that what they were doing was real and he would never be happier than he was right now. He grasped his groom's hands and gazed into the dark eyes that he had memorized by heart. Warmth and comfort expanding over his bones and skin as he was looking into the soul of the man he had loved for so long.

“Greetings.” Thomas heard Uncle Jem’s voice echo throughout his own head. “Tonight, we gather here to witness the bond between two souls who have cleaved to one another. Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs will become intertwined not only with their hearts but as well as their lives.” After that statement Alastair’s eyes filled with tears, but none fell. “Alastair Carstairs. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?” Thomas was giddy with excitement and not once did his smile leave his face.

Alastair grasped Thomas’s forearm and started tracing circles over the ivory fabric, where his tattoo was residing under. He often did this to sooth himself or Thomas and Thomas’s heart lurched at the small movement. Memories swarmed his mind, one sticking out more than others, their time in Paris, when Alastair had made that movement for the first time. “I have found him.” Alastair said. “And I will not let him go.” Thomas had never felt so joyous than he did in that moment.

“Thomas Lightwood. Hast thou found the one thy soul loves?”

Thomas reached up his hand and cupped the back of Alastair’s neck, rubbing his thumb across Alastair’s delicate jawline. He breathed in sharply before announcing, “I have found him. And I will not let him go.” Thomas saw a small tear trickle down Alastair’s cheek as the dark-haired boy gazed up towards Thomas, eyes full of admiration. It took everything in him to not pull Alastair into his embrace, it was almost painful.

Jem inclined his head. “Now it is time for the exchanging of runes.” Jem handed Alastair a stele as Thomas pushed aside his jacket and rolled up his sleeve, baring his upper arm. Alastair grasped Thomas’s arm with both hands, one on his forearm tracing circles over his compass rose tattoo, the other on his bicep in attempt to steady his hand.

“Love flashes out like fire, the brightest kind of flame. Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.” Alastair spoke the Shadowhunter vows in his soft voice while tracing out the rune of Thomas’s arm. Thomas’s gaze never left Alastair as he drew the seal upon him. “Now place me as a seal over thine heart, as a seal over thine arm: For love is strong as death. And so we are bound: Stronger than flame, stronger than water, stronger than death itself.” Alastair finished the rune and withdrew his hands and handed the stele to Thomas. Alastair removed his arm from his jacket and pushed his sleeve up to give Thomas access to his upper arm.

Thomas inhaled as he placed the cool tip of the stele against Alastair’s skin and begun to speak. “Love flashes out like fire, the brightest kind of flame. Many waters cannot quench love, nor can the floods drown it.” Thomas shifted his gaze briefly over to Alastair’s dark eyes to see them gazing right back at him before continuing. “Now place me as a seal over thine heart, as a seal over thine arm: For love is as strong as death. And so we are bound: Stronger than flame, stronger than water, stronger than death itself.” Thomas pulled back and looked down onto Alastair’s face which was gazing at the newly drawn rune. They both fixed their jackets and went to grasp one another's hands.

“And now for the rings.” Jem spoke. Christopher stepped forward with two rings, both Carstairs family rings, etched with the symbol of a castle. Thomas had decided to carry Alastair’s name as Will had complained that there were too many Lightwood’s already, and Thomas was more than happy to take on the name. Christopher placed one ring in each of their hands. Alastair reached out and grasped Thomas’s left hand, running his thumb subconsciously across Thomas’s palm before sliding the ring onto his finger. It fit perfectly, as Shadowhunter rings always did. Thomas then reached for Alastair’s left hand and delicately placed the ring on the ebony haired boy’s slender finger. Jem closed the Shadowhunter Codex that he had in his hands and announced, “Alastair Carstairs. Thomas Carstairs. You are now married. Let us rejoice.” At that, Thomas couldn't wait a second longer and leaned down and met his lips to Alastair’s and he wrapped his arms around his husband’s body. Alastair kissed him back fiercely as the crowd began to clap in congratulations. Thomas’s heart was thumping excitedly inside his chest as the boy’s pulled apart, resting each other's foreheads together.

“Ashegh et am Alastair,” Thomas whispered. “Ashegh et am.” and Alastair pulled the taller boy into a tight embrace.

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I hope you enjoyed! I don’t have the impaccable talent of writing that CC bares but I tried my best!

Thank you to @ariadne-lightwood for the lovely idea!

@kvzafrilla