#mini fic 5

[fanaticsnail]

I shared this w/ deerling before she’d deactivated. I’m sososo happy for her! she will always be loved n missed! But, I never got to hear her thoughts! And I thought you might humor it too!

I’m not sure if you’re familiar w/ the song Imitadora by Romeo Santos? A week or so ago I was hyper-fixated on it n it made me think about law. Growing up when the Donquixote pirates would have galas and such celebrations, would he watch Rosi dance w/ partners and just praying on his downfall? He needed something, some type of material to tease & embarrass Rosi w/ to get his lick back. But honestly? the only thing he picked up from observing Rosi dance was the way he danced.

I’m not very familiar w/ the correct type of dance that should be associated w/ this song, and anyone please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong! But the most common one I’d found was bachata, which originated in the Dominican Republic. I know you’d already written something in your series for Bachata, but just hear me out!

Law, after watching Rosi dance during celebrations when he was younger, would have to had learn something and picked up the basics at the very least. Now, I raise you this food for thought. Would Law be a good partner? Would he be rusty? Or maybe just outright refuse and dismiss it? Would he be embarrassed? Or would nostalgia wash over him when you offer, take him by the hand and pull him towards the floor? A bit more willing w/ alcohol in his system. Hand on the small of your back, one knee slotted between your thighs your palm falling to the nape of his neck n fingers threaded through the soft wisps of baby hair a bit before his nape n finally falling into the music. Now! Would he experiment w/ all of the fancy dips and twirls he’d remember Rosi do? I like to think he’s more seasoned n cocky even going as far as trying something on the fly!

Sorry for the ramble! I love your writing andhope to see your thoughts if you humor this!!

-🪼

Hello my love! I have so many thoughts and fics written and coming up for this particular concept. I love the thoughts, 🪼 Anon!

1. Donquixote Rosinante can dance.

This man can absolutely dance. He dances Flamenco, Tango, Salsa, Bachata, Conga, Rumba, Cha Cha: anything that involves hips swinging, feathers flying, legs intertwining, and passion igniting. This is the only time he is absolutely not clumsy. He was also taught the marines waltz while in basic. Donquixote Doflamingo, however, can not. He thought it was a waste of time.

2. Imitadora Romeo Santos

I am not familiar with the song, but now that I've listened to it on repeat a few times, Rosinante dances Bachata to this song. Hips flush against yours, one hand on your lower back while the other is expanded to the side in the hopes you'd take it to spin. Always with a smile on his face, twirling between the rapid brush of drums on the snare, tapping his feet while dragging his toes. He loves it, and makes it known my whispering the lyrics without vocalising them.

3. Bachata

I love Bachata. When my host-sister came back to my country for a visit, she took us all out dancing Bachata on the beach - something that I would love to take up on the regular. It's sultry, romantic, playful, everything you want wrapped in one dance. I see Luffy, Ace and Sabo dancing Bachata - and Rosinante also excels at it.

4. Law and Dancing

Growing up in Flevance, Law's cultural dances would be something similar to the folk dances in Austria and Germany. There is no way he wouldn't grow up learning these dances with Lami. Watching his parents engage in social events, letting loose with their colleagues, some of his happier memories would be watching them in the warmth of each other's embrace and slowly swaying to a waltz. Hearing a 3/4 rhythm beat on the den-den shoots him back to that moment: his parents love for one another swelling his heart and having him yearn for a fragment of the past.

5. Rosinante and Law Dancing

Law would gruffly pout in the corner at these social events, far before Rosinante had bothered to pay him any mind. He hated the events, especially when Doflamingo ordered him to dance with Baby 5 as "an aspect of his training". Once they opened up to one another, baring Corazon's secret mission with the marines, Law paid far more attention to his guardian protector. Watching in earnest as he demonstrated his skills by engaging with partners.

6. Law past the time skip

This man wants to dance. He would never admit it to anyone, but he wants the opportunity to keep a part of his heritage alive and pass on the knowledge of his cultural dances to anyone willing to listen. After Dressrosa, he is far less pent up and full of wrath, and wants to express it through dance. He is so rusty, he forgets a few of the steps, and will need reminding.

7. Law and Sanji

Sanji knows some of these cultural dances. When the Supanova trio catch up and engage in social drinking, firstly: the Victoria Punk crew demonstrate some of their highland jigs, and teach them to Luffy. Luffy, in turn, teaches Killer how to Bachata. Given how large he is in comparison to Luffy - he would opt to teach "Traffy" in response. Law knows these dances, has seen these dances with Corazon, and actually enjoys relearning how to do this dance.

And to repay Luffy, he would offer to teach him a dance from Flevance.

Given how long it's been, he forgets a few steps and slips up with the spins: finding the follow position rather than the lead. With how poorly he seems to remember the steps, Sanji lets out a huff of exasperated cigarettes and opts to "cut in" for Luffy: immediately takes the lead position, and guides Law through the steps flawlessly. Law would become extremely overwhelmed and quite emotional afterwards, having to excuse himself as he takes a moment to remember what was lost to him. After paying his respects to his parents, Lami, and Corazon's memory - he would return and witness Franky attempting to impress Robin with a dance fit for the Cossacks.

8. Dancing with you

After the event with Sanji, you would go and ask the foreign captain if he was feeling alright. You, being the councilor and negotiator for the Straw Hats. Waving away your worries with a flick of his tattooed hand, the music would change into a reminder of the Bachata earlier. Offering to pay you back for checking in on him, he would lead you into a dance immigrating Luffy's earlier twirls and sways.

Demonstrating a particular motion Luffy didn't teach, a twirl that had your back to his chest, hips pressed flush against your ass, and knee slotted between your thighs in the same way Rosinante would catches your breath in your throat.

Feeling a little more bold with his control, he wouldn't let you leave the floor until he was completely satisfied with the way you moved with him. Having cheers from Luffy, and taunts from Kid, would spur him on to keep you in his arms and hum to the music. He remembers his friend, he remembers his parents, he remembers his sister, and he remembers his past through dance.

He also remembers how to flirt. And he enjoys making you blush while he's so close to you. Eyes half-lidded, lips spurring soft praise, speaking his native tongue with a combination of Corazon's to have you squeak out a "thank you" with a hot flush igniting your face.

9. Further notes

I am incredibly grateful you shared these thoughts with deerling. She was such a joy to this fandom and I'm so glad she found her happiness. I have no idea how long this has been in my ask box, considering it had been not working properly for quite a while. Thank you for blessing me with some dance headcanons for the favorites. I love the thoughts, and I hope you enjoy my take on them!

10. I know this isn't a fic, but I thought I'd tag you just in case you wanted to see.

@mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[spandexinspace]

Lyle finds Querl in the bedroom, drenched in golden morning sunlight and standing a little too close to the full body mirror. From what he can see he seems to be studying his own face, a task that the deep scowl it’s set in must make a lot harder.

"You good?" Lyle asks. The way Querl twitches but does not quite startle tells him he’s at least not too deep in thought. Or bewitched by some kind of mirror demon. It has been that kind of month, after all.

"Since when do I have freckles," Querl says in place of actually replying. He sounds annoyed, like he can't believe his skin would dare do this without his permission.

"I don't know. Don't you usually?" Peering over his shoulder Lyle tries to see what has offended him so greatly, but what he can see of Querl’s face in the mirror is about as unblemished as usually, an even tone of soft lime green.

"No."

“I’m not seeing anything.” Lyle closes the distance between them, loosely wrapping his arms around Querl’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder. Querl leans into his touch, the annoyance on his face softening slightly. Up close Lyle can see a faint trail of freckles over the bridge of his nose, a barely perceptible darker shade of green against his skin. But seeing them is a bit like trying to stargaze in the middle of Metropolis.

"Oh, those freckles. They’re pretty cute. But you are pretty cute in general, so that’s kind of a given." Querl snorts and grabs one of Lyle's hands, squeezing it gently. The way he blushes almost hides the freckles entirely.

"That doesn't change the fact that they're new."

"See, I have this theory about that. There's this thing called the sun — you might have heard about it before — and I’ve heard it shoots all this scary radiation at people who are exposed to it for more than four seconds at a time. For example, people who actually go outside."

"Unbelievable."

"I know, I can hardly believe it myself. So anyway, this radiation is really scary and your ski- don't roll your eyes — your skin wants to protect itself from it, so I think it tries to create a pigment that'll reflect the radiation away from your cells."

"Thank you, Lyle, I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Glad to be of service." He doesn't want to pull away, and Querl seems content standing there, studying them both in the mirror now. There’s a sense of contentment in the warmth of their entwined bodies.

"I don't think I'd realised how much I'd changed until recently," Querl eventually says, a small wrinkle settling between his brows.

"Compared to what?"

"A few years ago. Before the Legion." Lyle tries to nod, to no real use. He can imagine that'd sneak up on Querl, whose total awareness of his body often seems to amount to an annual semi-drastic haircut.

"Yeah, that's a bit of a change. I used to be taller than you back then, for one." To be fair to Querl, Lyle isn't sure when that particular change occurred either. He'd just woken up one day and been the shortest guy around again, and then he’d moved on with his life.

"I can't say I took particular note of that, but it would be logical, considering my increased height is one of many changes I have noted. Alongside, well…" As Querl trails off his gaze returns to his reflection in the mirror, like he’ll find the right words to say there. There are many differences of course, some that are probably too subtle for even Lyle to notice, but some things are obvious. He used to be so sharp, all points and protruding bones, like a baby bird that hasn't started sprouting feathers yet. Now there's a lean strength there and even a little bit of softness in places, by no means a massive difference in appearance, but the kind of difference that sees him rarely struggling to carry equipment by himself, or getting winded after two or so flights of stairs. 

And then there are parts that are visibly different. Like his arms. Or the way his complexion has taken on a more lively, verdant note and half the time he doesn’t even have dark circles under his eyes anymore. He looks good, not just to Lyle’s perhaps slightly rose-tinted eyes, but in a much more general sense. "I look much healthier. I feel healthier," Querl eventually notes, clearly taking a similar train of thought. 

"The things you can achieve when someone periodically tells you to eat, sleep and at least pretend to go outside, huh?" Querl grimaces, squirming in Lyle's arms, a token effort judging by the hand still firmly in place over Lyle's. "No need to be thankful." Querl sighs, but does look genuinely unsure for a second. 

"I am thankful for what you do… I just… I wish I didn't struggle this much in the first place."

"You're good. Nass happens and I don't mind."

"It's simple to say that." 

"Except I really don't! It's nice to be able to care for someone you love, even if it's just making sure they take care of themselves."

"That makes no sense."

"It does though. People feel like they've accomplished something good when they take care of others, thus: endorphins." Lyle angles his head upwards and presses a quick kiss to Querl's jaw. "Also, much more fun to bang someone who has the energy to bang back."

"Grief, Norg," Querl whines. His complaining would be easier to take seriously if he didn’t smile in that croaked way he does when he’s trying and failing to not find something funny.

"Apologies, my liege, I will refrain from making any reference to our nightly activities. And our daily activities. And-" Querl groans loudly and Lyle can't help but laugh. "But seriously, you're good. Both about the being reminded to do stuff thing and the freckles." 

"Thank you." He gives Lyle's hand another squeeze. "I'm not sure about the freckles though. Maybe I should just never go outside again." 

"Brilliant solution, but wouldn't it be a lot more convenient to experiment on yourself until you figure out how to get rid of them for good?" 

"You would do that, wouldn't you?" Querl rolls his eyes again, but presses his back into Lyle’s body in a way that in no shape or form feels like a complaint.

"What can I say, I work with permanent solutions," Lyle says, his voice just a little less steady than he’d want it to be. The sense of warmth he’s feeling suddenly feels like it both has very little and everything to do with his partner’s body heat, and he can’t keep his mind from drifting back to those freckles. He lets out a shaky breath. “Or,” he murmurs, raising his lips to Querl’s ear. “We could just see how far down they go instead.”

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

I made it to 30 songs (i do like plan to get to at least 50 maybe 100 if I'm feeling quirky) thank you so much @partiallypearl for recommending songs

[crystallizedday]

Quest – Rekindled (Part 1 of 5)

Level 31 – Easy

How did he end up like this?

Demongo rested atop one of these many KND-branded crates, letting his legs swing aimlessly as he surveyed the rest of the Huntor’s Crest campsite. For weeks, the only company he had were the various monkey minions that decided to make this area their little shelter, a sanctuary safe from the prying eyes of those DexLabs dolts. At the time, Demongo felt genuine relief to be in the company of those who saw him as a “fellow villain” rather than someone to apprehend or destroy.

Ugh…

He should have figured this place would be discovered eventually and by that accursed samurai as well.

As much as he appreciated not having his head immediately chopped off his shoulders, Demongo still felt disheartened to form such an uneasy alliance with these so-called “heroes.” Before he knew it, several SACT agents had made themselves comfortable at the campsite, setting up shops for any young soldiers in need of supplies. Of course, this attracted plenty of those irritating teenage nuisances, and now Demongo had to deal with them on the daily.

The demon was almost disappointed the samurai did not end him when he had the chance, because he could not stand having these children constantly come to him for something to do or to act as mindless messengers for Jack.

To see literal children gaze upon his weakened state with amusement or pity made Demongo so unbelievably enraged, even if he could not express it without raising concern from his “peers.” Sure, he still adorned his flowing cape, and he had just enough power to manifest the skulls that decorated his body. Even so, it was obvious something was wrong with how his usual burning blue flame had almost completely died out. Only a small tint of blue could be seen from the wave of smoke emitting from his head.

He felt colder

Weaker

Vulnerable

And he hated it.

Hopefully, it would not be long until his doppelgänger is finally caught and destroyed. He could not wait to regain his powers, retreat from this place, and never have to deal with these insufferable meat bags ever again. He relished the thought of soaring the skies again, finally free of this humiliation and torture.

He just needed to wait a little longer, surely…

He flinched as he heard footsteps coming his way, almost falling off the crate below him. He turned, relaxing as soon as he saw where those footsteps came from.

It was one of the soldiers… sort of.

This one was certainly no squabbling brat like the others. He was much older, and rather burly too. Faint scars adored his face, yet his expression remained patient and relaxed. In his arms were two pairs of large insect wings, the chitin festering with fusion matter.

The human let out a quiet chuckle. “And I thought the mosquitos from the Wilds were bad enough. It’s a miracle these things haven’t caused you guys any problems so far.”

Demongo was silent, not expecting this mere soldier to start such a casual conversation with him. He readjusted himself, crossing his legs and resting his hands in his lap. “Well, from my observations, these monsters are more territorial than anything. As long as we do not directly disturb them, they will have no reason to attack this camp.”

The human looked intrigued by that fact. “Huh. You know, that actually explains a lot. What else do you know about these things?”

Demongo smirked, amused by that question. “Oh, now where is the fun in telling you everything? It is much more satisfying seeing you humans learn how formidable these beasts are the hard way.” He snickered to himself.

The human did not seem to care about that remark. “Naw, I don’t wanna know that stuff for combat reasons.” He set the wings aside, letting them rest on top of one of the other crates. “I just like learning neat facts.”

Demongo rested his chin against the back of his hand. “Sure, you do…”

The human brushed any excess fusion matter off his arm sleeves. “It’s a good thing these suits protect against this stuff. I’ve seen what this ooze can do to a person. It is not pretty.” He crossed his arms. “By the way, how are you going to use those wings to fly? I’m not sure if handling that stuff is all that safe.”

Demongo pouted. “I’m insulted you think a being like me would be affected by this material. As a creature of fire, no toxins can harm me. Besides, fusion matter itself has unique properties I can harness. I am sure you have seen how large objects coated in this substance tend to float or sway in the air.”

“Huh,” the human uttered. “I always thought that was just… magic or something.”

“HAH!!” The demon shook his head. “I know magic when I see it. What you see in those infected zones is not magic. This substance is alien, unbound by any laws or science that dictate the properties of everything on this planet. It is no wonder that one so-called genius of a child sought my assistance in researching this material. Such a narrow-minded fool.”

The human thought to himself for a moment, lightly tapping his chin. His expression quickly lit up. “Ah! Is that why nanos float too?”

Demongo lightly clapped, his sarcastic demeanor still very much apparent. “Very good, human! You can make basic logical inferences! How impressive!”

The human was completely unfazed by the demon’s attempts to belittle him. “Huh. That’s pretty neat! That definitely explains why those skull bashers right next door from here can just nonchalantly float like they do. I always wondered how that worked. I’m guessing it’s the same for these wings?” He gestured to the insect wings he had placed down earlier.

To say Demongo was baffled to see such a blatant insult not even bother this human in the slightest would be an understatement. He had to ask. “How are you unbothered?! It is genuinely off-putting.”

The human just shrugged. “Eh. I’ve worked with a lot of villains during this whole invasion. Insults are kind of just how a lot of them communicate, probably because they can’t stomach being forced to work with others. I get it. Besides, as long as they’re not planning on hurting anyone, they all deserve some help now and again, like you.”

Demongo was at a loss for words. He could not understand why a human would go out of their way to help some of the most infamous criminals in the entire continent.

The human smirked, his tone shifting to match the demon’s snarky behavior from earlier. “Thought I was helping you just for the money and fusion matter, huh?”

“I…” Demongo tried to utter a rebuttal but could not think of anything clever to say. What could he say? The human already proved spouting any insult would simply be futile. He also did not seem to be as stupid as the demon once assumed judging from that drastic shift in tone. Why was he doing this? What could he possibly gain for this?

The demon had so many questions but ultimately chose one to commit to.

“What is your name?”

The human beamed, excited to answer. “I’m Damien! Damien Aster!” He held out his hand as a friendly gesture. “I already know about you, so there’s no need for an introduction unless you wanna do one.”

Demongo stared at Damien’s hand for a moment. He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Well, I sure hope you would know who I am! I have made quite the name for myself!” He stood, snatching up the large insect wings from one of the nearby crates Damien originally placed them on. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much work to do. These wings need some extensive modifications if I am to use them.”

Damien nodded. “That’s fair. If you need anything else, I’m always happy to help!”

Demongo clung to the wings just a little bit tighter. “I shall… keep that in mind. I have left the promised taros and fusion matter by the crate I rested on if you still wish to take them.”

Damien waved a dismissive hand at that offer. “Naw. Keep them. I’m good on taros anyway, and I’m in no rush to get any fusion matter for myself.” He turned, walking off toward the Firepits east of the campsite. “See you soon!” He dismounted what looked to be a fuse dissipator rifle from his back holster, readying it for whatever would greet him in the Firepits.

Demongo watched Damien walk away, pondering to himself about everything the human told him. He still had so many questions…

Bah!

He could afford to worry about all that nonsense later. He had work to do! These wings were not going to reconfigure themselves after all. He walked over to one of the many tents at the campsite, swiftly entering it so he could get to work right away.

He hoped these efforts would be worth it.

[offside-the-lines]

NicoJesp

study

:)

A request from my beloved, I hope it’s to your liking.

~

Jesper isn’t obsessed with Nico— he isn’t— It’s just, well, he learned early on that if he wants something, he has to work for it. So, he watches Nico, cataloging every word, micro-expression, laugh… and at night, when he’s lying in bed, he studies them and hopes they might reveal the secrets of the universe. The thing is, Jesper would’ve been fine in Nico’s shadow— he’s small and quiet, it would’ve been easy— because it would mean he was at least still in Nico’s orbit. But, when Nico wraps an arm around his shoulder and tucks him into his side, beaming his dimpled smile at him, Jesper is glad that Nico shines so bright he doesn’t cast shadows, instead illuminating everyone around him. And Jesper thinks, Yeah, I want to savor every morsel Nico has to offer.

~

Send me a player or pairing + a word, and I’ll write a mini fic about it. (I am running on quite a backlog right now so it might take me a while to get to your request).

Read other prompt mini fics!

[ladywaterfall]

I am once again fruitlessly looking for my own old post

[vampireposter]

so many games to play & crafts to make & stories to write. and yet i must also remain employed

[hold-him-down]

Yall what’s the consensus on the mini/five sentence fics?

[an-abyss-of-stars]

🌜Rhaemond Pirate AU🌛

The year is 1821, Westeros (I'll be modeling Westeros and Essos/free cities like England and the Americas, and the Caribbean Islands in that time period...might still include dragons and magic, but I'm not sure)

The Dance Of Dragons has already been won, Queen Rhaenyra and King Consort Daemon are already on the throne, Alicent and Otto Hightower died in the war, Aegon and Daeron may have escaped safely, now free to return should they wish to, but Aemond has long since been believed to be dead, since he was 12/13yrs of age.

Only...Aemond didn't die on his passage to Essos like everyone thought he had, his ship was taken upon by pirates. And in the last ten years he's been building a reputation, becoming the most ruthless, vicious pirate to ever sail the open waters, now known as the Dark Prince, a moniker he's earned by sinking ships, pillaging privateers, leaving and taking no prisoners alive... until....

Princess Rhaena, having just celebrated her 18th birthday, was to sail on a tour to the surrounding nations and countries. Seeing and greeting various suitors, Lords and Princes who might make a suitable husband for her. The journey was almost finished, she'd felt her trip to be a waste as she didn't find any of her suitors all that interesting. The waters had been calm, the forecast had been clear...until...a black ship with black sails that had a sapphire-blue three-headed dragon on it sailed upon them...

Rhaena wouldn't remember how she'd managed to survive, but her ship would be reduced to burning chunks of rubble sinking into the ocean. Every other occupant and crew member that had been on the ship with her, would be slaughtered and mutilated.

To send a message.

But not Rhaena.

When she awoke, she'd find herself on the dreaded yet notorious ship known as the Goddess Of War, captained by a violent sadistic madman who only had one eye...the Dark Prince...Aemond Targaryen.

He won't let anyone else touch her, his new prized possession is worth far more alive than dead. And he wants his revenge against his elder sister and his uncle to last...or so he keeps telling himself.

For, what's the worth of a Princess to a pirate? At what point does one's leverage, one's captive...become something they want more selfishly than any treasure they've ever captured...

[skitskatdacat63]

Finally returning home from the war(being abroad for a month+) today. I am *not* excited for the transit journey I'm about to have to endure. It's funny tho cause all I can think about is just "man I wanna go home and redecorate"(I bought a billion posters)

[druidgroves]

ok so the rewrite for blp is actually happening this time but before that happens i have to write a whole mini fic that takes places before the main fic. im outlining it rn & i'm so excited to write bc i think i've kinda narrowed down the themes i really wanna touch on & develop more !

[shi-daisy]

Storytime

Day 5 and I'm writing more sad stuff. I'll be honest I was stumped for this prompt until I remembered one of my oc's was a historian and also Tamlin's half-sister, and so now we have slight angst and family fluff, plus implied Tamcien because that can't be left out. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek2023

Tamlin Week 2023- Day 5- History/Isolation (Takes place during Chapter 4 of A Court of Threads & Daisies)

Storytime

Ever since his sister's ashes had been moved to a grave he'd seen the Ambrose family visit it daily. Ophelia would spend hours talking to it, Asteria watered the flowers around it and even if they visited Andras more often, he and Lucien had spoken to the stone with Daphne's name on it.

He'd yet to see Tamarand visit the grave since the day it was set. Until tonight.

Tamlin went outside to check for shadows. Since Nesta came to join them he'd been extra cautious to keep Azriel's little minions at bay. Mother knew the Night Court wouldn't have mercy on any of them if they knew they helped Nesta hide from them. He wasn't going to let them destroy Spring again.

There were no shadowy spies in the garden, and he intended to go back inside until he saw Tamarand kneeling on the ground in front of Andras and Daphne's tombs.

"There was no reason for such senseless cruelty, and many a fae now condemn the actions of the cruel Winter family but hindsight is a virtue only we possess, and so millennia ago this action was allowed and excused-"

"Tamarand?" Tamlin called out to him as he reached him. His brother was startled, his wolf ears twitching along with his tail. His emerald eyes like Tamlin's glowed in the dark of night, illuminated only by the moon.

"Oh, evening brother!"

"What are you doing here? You should be sleeping."

"I know. I shall head to bed once I'm done reading to Daphne. She always liked to review her materials before sleeping..."

Tamlin sat beside him. "I'll stay with you until the story is done."

Tamarand smiled brightly, as his sleepy eyes filled with joy. "Thank you! I'll be brief, I promise."

The High Lord cleared his throat, going back to the pages of the tattred history book. "Now where were we...oh yes!

The moment the current High Lord of Winter fell ill, his youngest son was locked up in the deepest darkest cell of the dungeon, and a mask of iron was placed upon his head. His older brothers hoped this would weaken him so much that the magic would pass onto one of them instead of him."

Tamlin remembered skimming through such a portion of Winter Court history. His mother insisted he should know a little about every court for diplomatic reasons. The story of the masked man resonated with him deeply to this day.

He'd grown fonder of it when he was alone in mannor for two years. Sure, he was unmasked now, and even with he curse his mask didn't cover his entire head nor did it burn to the touch, yet he was glad to be free of it all the same. The space was also wider, instead of a cell he had a mannor to roam, and yet...it felt just like the makeshift tomb this ancient Winter Lord was trapped in.

"This didn't come to pass, for when their father passed the magic quickly made its way through dark, and stone, and steel and iron, fueling the man who was to be the true heir of the Court of Winter.

Nothing can stand in the way of the Court's magic and neither could this cruel trap. Upon being turned High Lord and freeing himself, the masked man broke apart the object of his torture, waltzed up to his older siblings and turned them all into ice statues. Fatricide is one of the few things that can permanently make one tainted to not earn the High Lord magic so the masked man did to his siblings as they did to him, and left them alive yet isolated.

To this day those ice statues can be seen in the gardens of the Winter Court castle. No one knows if they still live, frozen in time, forever to pay for their cruelty.

If there is a lesson for the future generations to learn of this is perseverance. One could feel as trapped and alone as the masked lord once felt, but in time he was rewarded with what was rightfully his and he was able to take his vengeance and rule his court. Things can improve, once you break away from your mask..."

Tamlin was sure the last line didn't come from the book, as his younger brother wrapped his arm around him and let him rest his head on his shoulder. He appreciated it, the affection, the unwavering fate in him, it was all much more than what he deserved.

The graves were undisturbed, nothing but chilly night breeze could be heard as they stood ready to leave.

"If they ever come back, for you, for Lucien for me, even if the come back for Nesta...I'll turn them into statues, perhaps not of ice but of wood. Think they'll look nice out on the gardens."

Tamlin chuckled. "You don't need to do that. I'm the one they're after. It's not a loss if they take me."

"Tamlin, of course it is. We love you and none of us will leave you to fight the night alone. Don't forget that.

Now let's go back in, mama will scold us if we catch a cold. Plus Lucien must be missing your presence."

Tamarand left before he could retort that claim. With one last bow at his friend and sister's grave Tamlin went back to his room.

Like Tamarand predicted he came back to a sleeping Lucien subconsciously seeking out his presence while in slumber. He settled back in and was immediately cuddled.

From and empty mannor that he roamed alone to a house full of family members and loving friends he indeed was repeating the history of the ancient Winter High Lord. He wouldn't rule again nor did he want to, as his sibling was doing a magnificent job, but he would not complain if one day there were statutes outside made of oakwood that bore resemblance to a particular Court of Dreamers.

For now, he was content to settle for freedom and love.

[plutokoo]

thinking of making the enemies to lovers college au into a mini series instead

[tbtgtr-incorrectquotes]

Aerys au in the Ask Game

1. Daenys does have dragon dreams but they’re all about 200 years in the future so she doesn’t bother telling anyone.

2. Jasper and Jeyne are political allies and cousins. The only reason their relationship looks so perfect is because they put effort into appearances.

3. Visenya and Rhea are close and it makes Daena jealous so she tries to get close to Hera.

4. Aerys is more violent than Naerys as societal convention dictates Hubert and Visenya inherited said temper although

5. Aemma II and Baelon both marry outside of the Vale because they refuse to spend a second more in that family.

[kaidabakugou]

our husband is indeed still away at war, i finally finished playing god of war ragnarok and after 4.5K of word building and storytelling i can finally get started on writing the smut scene for this fic

and all in one night too?!?😅

[backhurtyy]

🤬👻 bestieeee

🤬: Is there a WIP that you hate?

i have a couple of ATLA wips that i’ve fully just grown to hate. one of these is a sequel to right on the target, wide of the mark and i hate it because i just can not get the tone right. it’s like i lost sokka and zuko’s voices for it, and they sound so silly? and also there’s just so much exposition that i’d have to provide or just skip to bridge the gap between rotwom and this, so i just… ignore this wip now lol

👻: Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

i’ve been working on a last of us fic that’s a 5+1 about ellie calling joel dad, and i’ve been putting off the +1 because i’m really intimidated by it. like they’re definitely going to be out of character, it’s a big conversation about what they mean to each other, neither of them are the best communicators, and it’s just a very emotional and cathartic scene. so it’s definitely very intimidating to me, even though i know exactly where i want it to go and it’s the last scene i need to write in this fic

(wip game)