#moral high horses too

[guzhufuren]

most americans are so fucking annoying. i hate your imperialist colonialist ass country deeply

[a-s-levynn]

About those new masks..

So i saw this take a few times already and i have some thoughts. Obviously it's paraphrasing but you'll see these a lot similar to this if you scroll in ST spaces since yesterday:

"These new masks have too much personality, they said the people behind the music is uniportant but they now have this new personalized look instead of the uniform sleek minimalist one and it is the direct opposite of what they are saying. These new looks do not fit Sleep Token"

Let me preface this: I'm not going to explore specific reasons why people might hate on the masks because... No i refuse to go there, but i will talk about the issues i have around this a bit.

No.

If you are hating on the new masks so much so as to cry about that "this is not what they supposed to be about" you are missing your own point. You are in fact shooting the opposite direction. You are no longer in it for "just the music" but you are very much caught upon the "everything else beside the music." You got distracted. You putting the blame on them instead on yourself for loosing your own point.

There is no moral highground in this whole ordeal. Please respect yourself enought to try not to look utterly stupid if you frothing about something you visibly misunderstood. Do not hide behind excuses. Do not put this on the artists. Own up to the fact that you simple don't like it.

Admit that it's your opinion purely; because ultimately the artist creating their own art will understand creative choices behind their creations more than you ever will. No matter how far you try to bend backwards.

The masks fit Sleep Token because it is Sleep Token who decided to have them. End of story. You can hate it all you want but it is still part of the shabang now. And don't try to mask your distaste over visuals with shouting about the artist not understanding their own ideology.

If you are so hung up on how they look like, more than what the music still is, than stop and think for a second please.. You have it backwards. If you really truly only care about the music, what it is about, what it gives you, than you are not going to give a shit what they are wearing on stage.

Maybe in a passing few sentences but otherwise you are not going to be worked up about it to the point you sent hatecomments to the artist who made them.. It is shameful.

Besides i hate to break it to people but they already had their personalities with their outfits just not this strongly. III had the random whacky shit. IV had the hint's of this comfy leisurly punk-ish techwear whatever going on besides the fancy stuff the past a months since the summer. II had a slightly sleeker but maybe sort of tech-ish look which is now reflected (in my opinion) much more strongly with this new look (which sorta reminds me of a stylized oni or something tbh and that is extremely in line with their older far-east inspired thematics visually, just saying).

They are not handing you the "we are unimportant" part anymore. They are not spoonfeeding it to you. Not in the way they had before at least. They presume you are mature and smart enough at this point to get it. To get to the conclusion that it is unimportant what they look like. And allow them to still have fun with it.

Or just they are being cheeky and went for something that would shake up the people. I don't know, i don't know them or anyone close to them. I don't have answers. But they are trying something new an it is perfectly fine.

Also which would have come off so much differently if Vessel is 100% btw. Be honest, if they would have been able to perform to their fullest abilities, far less people would be so loud over this.. This was just an unfortunate turn of events and when shit hits the fan it usually never just one dose. And my heart breaks for the boys for all this.

Besides, people were so loud about hating that "they looked the same" and "so hard to distinguish" and "easy to replace because of this" ... now they have personalized masks and looks and the same people cry about the exact opposite they did before..

Also it just occured to me that this is basically the same as the lightshow upgrade. It gives you something to look at at the rituals. The new looks are visually interesting, and with the lighting setup they have now they are gonna look like some seriously fun nightmare creatures btw. I love that already.

So all in all i don't know, i don't really have a point here i guess, but the boys are in such a no win situation right now and i hate the fact that people are shitting on them just because they don't fit their idea of "an anonymous collective" anymore. Which is reddiculous and sad because nothign has changed.

It never was about being a blank page. It was about being human. It flies over so many peoples head but the anonymity part isn't about not being a person under there. It is being about that person not having a name. It doesn't matter if the person has a personality or not. What matter there is that no name.

There is no definitiveness. It gives an open invitation for anyone to step into that person but first you need to recognise that there is a person there. And there is no doing that if there are no traces of personality. Or humanity if you will because personalities makes us humans. Don't make me hold a philosophy lecture here on what it means being human please.

It does not matter who that individual it is by tagging a name on them. But it is extremely important that there is a person there. Otherwise there is no connection point. If there is no person there is nothing to understand. But it does not matter how that person looks like. It does not matter what the person wears. Or what that person is called. What matters is that it is a human being. And as such you can understand it. Our at least you should be able to.

Regardless of the design of a mask.

[unlikecharlie]

every comment or post that I see yelling about sympathy, empathy, and reminding us that those people are humans with lives and families only makes me wish they're dead even harder. matter of fact, I hope they all suffer as much as possible and then go to hell and suffer even more. there

[rhobi]

when i hear anyone making pro-censorship sentiments to movies cuz said movie contained, i dunno, sex scenes they didn’t like, or character kissing, or misusing the worse ‘consent’, or other fundamentalist christian ideaology they may or may not be aware they’re spewing, a part of me always wants to direct them to the very interesting read of pre-code hollywood and the hays code overall and then tell them to get their heads out of their asses

[archive-double-knots]

i might be a lil more fighty rn than usual lol

[alchemiclee]

seeing people debate if sparkle is good or bad for even existing as an evil character in star rail reminds me of the time someone on here was throwing a fit and policing people over enjoying evil characters or tragic fictional stories, either writing them or consuming them. they insisted anyone who writes or enjoys evil characters or tragic events is living their evil fantasies vicariously through fiction since they can't legally be evil irl. they think any fiction that isn't all happy rainbows and sunshine is morally and ethically wrong and bad for existing, and you're a horrible person if you make or enjoy it. it's so goofy silly (in the bad way) and the sparkle discourse reminds me of that bad take when people try to shame others for enjoying her lmao I bet that one person would literally pass out if they saw someone say they like sparkle.

I hate discourse and try to ignore it, but sometimes I accidentally read it and it's so hilarious. I also I want to try to figure out the psychology behind the things people say. like how did your brain even do those gymnastics! you should enter the brain Olympics! you have a good chance at gold.

anyway, I enjoy sparkle as an evil character that breaks up the monotonous goody two shoes, barely morally grey, or slightly grumpy hoyo characters that are still generally likable/loved. it's a fun change of pace. even if she's unbearable and makes me want to punt her ass into the penacony dream sea lmao

(note: this post isn't made to invite discourse. it's just me talking to myself. do Not discourse at me. I do not consent to it. thanks)

[homunculus-argument]

There were probably some medieval asexuals that were absolutely insufferable on their moral high horse about it. Like "this modesty shit easy - I haven't lusted over any man ever in my life and only fuck my husband out of duty from God and only so that we have children. I am so much better than any of you hoes."

And some other local goodwife would get sick of this and go "well obviously you don't have time for cock, Maergaret, since you're always too fucking busy choking on your own vanity and pride!" and have a smackfight that progresses into a full-on two-woman brawl in the town square. People gather around to watch this until a clergyman shows up to remind everyone that not only is this kind of brawl between good christians definitely a sin, it's also a sin for everyone who's watching to place bets on who's going to win.

[snekdood]

i just feel like if you cant debate someone w/o insulting them then you're kinda just using it as an outlet for all of your asshole-ness

[zhukzucraft]

=> Joel: Do what must be done

You are doing what must be done when you are very rudely interrupted by a short shouty man,

Bdubs: Hey. HEY!!! Stop that. What do you have against horses anyways! They are beautiful creatures… and don’t even drop anything worthwhile - just leather!!! You wanna' know where else you can get leather?! Cows! They drop beef too!!! All horses drop is sadness and a pained death scream…

The horse you were punching lets out it’s final neigh in a melodious cadence,

Bdubs: See?!

Joel: Music to my ears-

Bdubs: Don’t tell me you enjoy that sound?! No sane person enjoys that sound!!! It’s horrible… like you. You’re horrible.

Joel: Well, would you look at that, it dropped a leather. Don’t you need three of these to craft a saddle? 

Bdubs: ...maybe

Joel: Do you want it so you can make one and ride a horse in the SINGULAR DIRECTION that isn't immediately blocked off by blummin' water!?

Bdubs: ...

Bdubs: ...I don’t want your dirty horse leather!!! I refuse - on moral principle!

Joel: Fair, you need all the high ground you can get-

Bdubs: ARE YOU MAKIN’ FUN OF ME?!?! You’re shorter than I am.

Joel: Only if you count the hair, lad. It constitutes at least a third of your height.

Bdubs proceeds to make some kind of unintelligible grumble and starts punching the two cows you saw earlier, looks like he does want leather after all. 

As for you, while you would love to finish off the job you started, Bdubs did raise one good point: horses don’t drop food… begrudgingly you pause your equestrian extermination in favor of sheep slaughter.

However you don’t get that far on mutton mutilation before your communicator goes off a ton of times. You keep getting interrupted…

As Doc’s message goes off you lock eyes with Bdubs’ uncomfortably large ones. Those things are uncanny... Well, it looks like neither of you are paired with the cyborg goat man.

But since you two were so close to where he fell you decide to check up on (read: tease) one of the servers newest members after he made such a ruckus in chat.

It turns out his soulmate was right there at spawn, and it just happened to be the other newbie. What are the odds of that?

Bdubs: Pssht, what amateurs. Don't they know it's traditional to check soulmates with the ol' fashioned punch test?

Joel: Punch test?

Bdubs: Yep. Like this-

Joel: What was that for?!

Bdubs: I told you, a punch test. 

Joel: That’s not what I meant! Why so many times!?

Bdubs: I had to be extra sure that I wasn’t soulbound with horse punching' scum like you.

Joel: …

Bdubs: HEY, OW! EXCUUUSE YOU!!!

Joel: Sorry, double checking... I had to make extra sure I wasn’t soulbound with a stupid horse lover like you.

Bdubs: …yooouuu-

Joel: at least now we definitely know we aren’t linked, 

Bdubs: For goodness sakes. If I was linked with you, I might’ve just ended my series right then and there!

Joel: Just to take me out with you!? You are an idiot. 

Bdubs: To save myself from suffering. Not everything is about you! 

Joel: Yes it is.

Bdubs: No it isn’t.

Joel: Yes it is.

Bdubs: No it isn’t!!! And to prove that, I’ll stop talking to you!

=====>

Start Over -- Go Back

[revehae]

Could you do something from dream 00line + mark bullying, dub con and non con? 🥺

well… this is basically what you asked! i changed it up just a little bit tw // noncon, forced oral (m receiving), gangbang

“come on,” jeno groaned playfully, grip on your hair tightening. “that’s not how you used to do it.”

you whimpered weakly, the muffled sound sending a tiny tremble through jeno’s cock as he kept your warm mouth around him in spite of your protests. not that you could expect anything less from him. he was never afraid of forcing you into something you never wanted. 

jeno had never seemed afraid of anything, now that you thought about it. you still remembered the risky exploits they made you tag along on. how could you not? it was only some years ago, back when they would force you to please them in the boys’ locker room. 

haechan laughed, both at jeno’s encouragement and the miserable look on your face. he always did like seeing you suffer. “you want her to gag on your dick like a virgin?”

jeno shrugged. “call it nostalgia.”

“guys, come on,” mark said, as if he was trying to put a stop to this. but you knew better. time after time of being disappointed, getting your hopes up thinking he would make them leave you alone, you learned years ago that mark was hardly any different. “aren’t we a little too old for this now?”

haechan rolled his eyes in annoyance. “jesus christ,” he sighed. “will you ever get off your moral high horse?”

“he can do whatever he wants. he can leave, if that’s what makes him happier,” jeno said, in spite of knowing mark wouldn’t go, the same way you did. he yanked your hair harder, forcing your mouth further down onto his cock until you were damn near suffocating. “i’m not stopping until she gags.”

jaemin laughed out of nowhere, having been quietly watching the entire situation unfold. “maybe she’s had practice since then, jeno.”

“you mean, our little slut has been whoring herself out to other guys?” haechan chimed in, snickering. the thought amused him. no guys used to ever come near you, like you were the most unfuckable thing in the world. you were obscure and unnoticed. 

jeno felt you pushing at his thighs like you used to do when you desperately needed to come up for air. “in that case, what’s the fucking problem? why are you being so difficult?”

your eyes winced closed when jeno slapped your cheek, the burn of his palm sizzling on the side of your face as you jolted back. your eyes watered, and before you could bother to recover, jeno was forcing his cock back inside your throat, thrusting his hips. 

that was when you finally and inadvertently gave him what he wanted, gagging around his cock and scraping at his thighs for mercy that he wouldn’t give you, keeping your mouth on him by your hair. 

“that’s it, babe,” jeno told you, looking down at you with a blend of scorn and amusement. “choke on it just like that.”

mark shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed. “jeno, dude. you’re gonna hurt the poor girl.”

jaemin crouched down beside you when jeno pulled out of your sore throat, having finally gotten what he wanted. “don’t be such a prude, mark. she can take it,” jaemin replied, looking at you almost dotingly. he pressed two of his fingers into the corners of your lips and forced them into a smile. “isn’t that right, baby?”

you shook your head, backing away from them until you crashed backwards into the side of the hotel mattress. when you started to crawl towards the door, haechan kicked your ass with his shoe, making you slump onto the floor for all of two seconds before you scurried onto your feet.

and nearly tripping over them, you made a beeline for the door. the same door mark was near, as if he was toying with the idea of turning around and heading out too. but rather than let you go, he gripped your arm. 

your eyes were stinging. you glanced up at him desperately, hoping that maybe he would show some remorse. “please. you said you were sorry. you promised.”

it’s not right, mark told himself, swallowing as he looked at the fear in your stare. after graduating, he told himself that he would be a better man and not a stupid boy.

and that was why on the last day of school, he took it upon himself to apologize for everything the four of them had done to you that senior year. he promised that he never meant for things to go so far, that he meant every word of what he told you, that he regretted everything he had done to hurt you. 

and even now mark wanted to make them stop, he really did. but that desire was outweighed by the one to feel you again, to lose himself in the heat of you as his thrusts became more and more restless. 

and a moment or three later, that was exactly what he was doing, all the while holding your smaller body down as his eyes fluttered closed, hypnotized by the sweet squeeze of your vice-like cunt. he became increasingly feverish with every passing second, unable to hear the thoughts that told him to be gentle. 

jaemin nudged haechan playfully. “you know, this is exactly how i remember it.”

“ah,” haechan replied with a pleasant sigh, a little smile on his lips as he watched mark fuck you mindlessly. “some things never change.”

[d4rkpluto]

𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢

paid natal chart readings are open :)

follow for more content!

♇ people with sagittarius ascendants are seen as people with charisma, humour and wit, they're usually seen with a smile on their face, even if they could have a planet like saturn, pluto or an asteroid like lilith in their first house, there is still a smug essemce they carry. sagittarius ascendant people are seen as those who are generous, noble and understanding, but they can also be people who are arrogant, mean and too straight-forward.

♇ their self-identity involves them being explorers, people who have devotion to something they think is higher than them, and being people who are moralistic. even if there could be other sag ascendants with low morals, the one with the high morals sometimes have a moral high horse. they sometimes see themselves as judgement, looking upon and over people and critiquing other people's behaviours. their self-identity includes them being people who learn what the world is trying to teach them, they usually see themselves students of the world.

♇ the impression they make on others is being people who move with the wind, even if they can be people who question what life is supposed to give them, at the end they usually have the status of "it is what it is" and continue moving on with life. the impression they make on others is that they are individuals who are enthusiastic, expansive and philosophical.

♇ on one hand, their personality includes them being people who are intelligent, comical and being individuals who are spontaneous, though they could have the characteristics of being mean, pretentious and having high stands for everyone around them.

♇ the planetary ruler of sagittarius being jupiter shows that you would sometimes be deemed as a lucky person, even if you might not feel lucky, to people who do not know you, they might think the world works truly for you. you being someone who is able to get whatever you want, this can attract jealousy from other people. with jupiter being the ruling planet of your First House, you are someone who might have something big about you? could be a body party or a personality trait.

♇ when it comes to the appearance, i have described in the ascendants and their beauty post, that those with sagittarius in the first house have fairy/elf essence, being people who "might" have a horse face structure, but it could also be deemed as a chiselled face structure, especially if they pucker their face, it is a motion they do a lot. those with sagittarius ascendants have darty eyes and majority of the time arent that tall, but their figure seems tall. they usually do have really nice legs, and sometimes it is toned, i have noticed that much sag ascendant women have big chests.

♇ their personal ambition involves them wanting to become a better version of themselves, or see themselves in a rank that is better or different than the one they live in now. they might devote themselves to a belief, or could be the type of people who want to move from where they current live, as stereotypical as it sounds, sagittarius ascendants do like to travel and do hope to travel the world and learn about cultures that are different than theirs. some of them also could have the personal ambition of becoming known to the point of worship.

♇ as it comes to strengths and weakness, people with a sagittarius ascendant tend to have the strength that means them being people who are aspiring, cheerful and wise, could be people who strive for personal-growth. on the other hand, when it comes to their weaknesses, they can be people who are rude, lazy, and might think they're better than other people around them.

♇ moving on, they project their personalities to be people who are helpful and fun, even though they dont care that much about what other people think, they still like to have the feeling that other people do like them. so like libra placements, they sometimes do tend to people please, especially if they have a libra midheaven. on the other hand, they could project their personalities to be people who are all knowing, could sometimes behave like they're a guru.

♇ when it comes to how they view the world, they view the world as something to conquer, they're like pirates with how they want to explore the world and seas. and they can be people who usually view the world as half full than half empty, even if they can get into depressive states, with the scorpio in 12h, the jupiterian essence aids them to come back to their feet and move on.

♇ the first house rules the idea of self-image, sagittarius ascendants think themselves to be people who are above others, especially when it comes to under-developed sagittarius ascendants, and this could sometimes lead them into being people who are offensive than others. seeing themselves as people who can do anything without any consequences. yet on the more good side, they have the self-image of being people who are cheerful, and could think of themselves to be people who are future-oriented, seeing nothing but what could be for them. being individuals who are enterprising and influential, another indicator to why they could sometimes think they're better than others. but people do usually tend to be inspired by everything they do.

♇ lastly, the first house converses about the impact they have on other people, and as i have mentioned in the paragraph before this one, sagittarius ascendants are influential people, example, adriana lima, paris hilton, kim kardashian and princess diana. the impact they have on other people is to want to live their life or want to conquer the goals and ambitions they have set for themselves. another way they could inspire people is because they live life to the fullest and appear as free. people would want to follow the steps they have done to live the same life.

pluto's masterlist

sagittarius in the houses masterlist

paid chart readings

pluto

[theminecraftbee]

alright, so, one more thing i've been thinking about during all of this, and apologies, because i normally try to keep my blog fairly discourse-free in the grand scheme of things. but.

there are hermitcraft fans who act irritatingly morally superior about this fandom. i think it's out of some impulse to try to distance yourselves from any other mcyt fandom. it needs to stop.

the worst behavior during the polls was from the hermitcraft fans.

period.

there were so many instances of hermitcraft fans accusing the other side of cheating, of hermitcraft fans making attacks on the character of their guy's opponents, i have heard what i HOPE are isolated reports of racism in the grian/quackity fight (it was genuinely impossible to keep up with the blog's notes that round without both going into a death spiral thanks to the horrible behavior of scar fans during techno/scar and also without losing track instantly of where we were due to the frankly insurmountable volume of notes, so i did not see it, but unfortunately i fully believe it). i have seen people receiving awful asks - saw people being accused of 'betraying' the hermitcraft side due to voting for quackity or techno, for example.

and for a fandom that likes to act like it's better than the other guys, well. the dsmp fans were generally very well behaved in comparison. (shoutout, for example, to quackblr - i saw maybe one or two possible instances of bad behavior, but for as intense as you all were, you all were normally mostly just retaliatory towards whatever energy was thrown at you.) it wasn't supposed "outsiders coming in" that was doing this bad behavior, either.

folks, you can't blame the dsmp when the problem is inside the house. you can't blame twitter users when you're doing it here. you can't blame the reddit when you're the ones throwing the first death threats.

get off your high horses. we're all mcyt fans. we're all having the same fun. get off your high horses. you can hardly claim we're entirely all "unproblematic" when keralis accepted a sponsorship from the wizard game and xisuma periodically gets another round of getting shouted down over something he said on xisumasays. get off your high horses. you can't claim we're the accepting, good behavior fandom, unlike those other guys, when you're the ones causing the problems.

now, as always, i'm sure this is a law of large numbers thing to some extent. as technoblade, wise as he is, said: sometimes when you get a large enough group, you're going to have a few serial killers. but for the amount that hermitblr likes to act better than Those Other Minecraft Fandoms, and those Other Fandom Websites, it wasn't those guys that made me cry.

to be clear, the majority of you have been well-behaved. but there's a persistent tendency in this fandom to act strangely morally superior to other fandoms. and, y'all? you aren't.

you just aren't.

and the sooner you acknowledge that, the less likely this is to happen again, because once you admit that yeah, we can be toxic too? that's when you can start actually looking at yourself and trying not to be.

anyway, sorry again to make this post. i don't want to be a downer, hence why, outside of the official mod statements of "chill the fuck out", i didn't make this until now. (it also helps that i wanted to wait until i was no longer furious, upset, and death spiraling.) i have seen a lot of the best of this fandom over the past two weeks! i've just also, unfortunately, seen some of the worst, and feel the need to make this statement because it's just... been eating at me.

i don't want this to continue to be a trend. i think we can do better. do so.

[ericsprincess]

until you overflow

nc-17, Na Jaemin/Reader, historical au, queen!yn, war prize!jaemin, mildly dubious consent, cunnilingus, penetration, breeding kink

~~~

You need an heir. 

~~~

“I already SAID, I am NOT going to do this now,” you spoke through your gritted teeth, holding yourself back the best way you could to not smash your fist on the table out of anger. The atmosphere in the room was tense, and yet the scene was all too familiar for everyone. 

"B-but you need an heiress! Your highness, the war is over so now we should focus on important internal affairs, one of which is ensuring the succession!" scuttered one of the ministers, a capable, but also an extremely annoying woman with a particular penchant for bureaucracy. One of those people who never knows when to stop, whether they mean well or not. 

“The war is over and we should focus on repairing what it ruined first, don’t you think?” you replied sarcastically, but the minister as if she were deaf to your tone. 

“But..what if something happens to you? We need to have the security of an heiress! The people need it, it will boost the morale of the entire nation too!”

And this was already going on for 20 minutes. For the third time just this week. 

Thankfully, this useless exchange was interrupted when one of your highest advisors, an ancient noble lady, an advisor of your mother before she was yours, stepped out, essentially ending the bickering. 

“Your highness, there is still the..new war prize. You surely know which one I mean,” the advisor bowed deep in front of you. “He seems very strong. He could give our queendom many heiresses. It would silence many mouths, not only about the ones talking about you, but also those that are raising concerns about his future and purpose. Please consider that.” she spoke and retreated back amongst the others.  

Of course you knew which one she meant. Ever since the moment he was brought by your army, and as a part of war prize paraded around the capital to be finally thrown to kneel at your feet, he’s been the talk of the entire country. There were many captives brought in that day, but this one, as if he had put the spell on our entire country. All the men and women alike were marveling at his beauty, mouths hanging open with fingers pointing at that one, do you see that one? as the procession of soldiers and captives and carriages full of gold was passing through the capital city towards the Queen’s Palace. People soon started spreading eyewitness accounts and half-truths as well, even sharing made-up stories how he was so strong and raging that he almost fought off an entire squad of your soldiers before he was captured, how they had to bring him bound in thick iron chains and muzzled, a beautiful, but rabid beast. 

Most of that was not true. As far as the generals’ report that was handed to you said, he was ambushed while he was quietly traveling on his horse alone on a forest path, and went willingly, with a smile. He just let himself get captured, even shooting a joke or two, greeting his captors goodnaturedly like old friends. However, under his plain clothes, your soldiers found out he was armed up to the teeth.

They tried to interrogate him, but even after hours, no one was able to figure out where he came from and where he was going. He spoke with an accent not native to the conquered kingdom, so he clearly wasn’t a local citizen, but refused to prove his ties to another country to avoid being taken as a war captive. Nothing about his clothes or things he had on him specified anything. He provided his name when asked, but it was a simple, plain name, very common in any country around, so no one even believed it’s real. 

So they just followed the orders and just like any other captive, they brought him to the palace to have his fate decided there, and most court people half-expected you would have him publicly executed, as a statement and also just to simply get rid of the potential threat. They threw him at your feet, and he didn’t beg for his life as everyone expected he would. He raised his head from where he was kneeling, dirty with hands tied behind his back, but said nothing and only smiled at you, before dropping his head back down. The crowd gasped at the audacity of him daring to even lay his eyes on their Queen and immediately started whispering, everyone expecting you would immediately order your guards to have his head cut off, bloodthirsty atmosphere rising in the hall.

But you didn’t want to. You have learnt years ago, by necessity, to have no qualms or hesitation about ending an unworthy life, but something drawn you to him. You couldn’t tell what, but you didn’t want to kill him, at least not before he would give you an actual reason. You didn’t want to waste his life, just for the fleeting enjoyment of the masses. You wouldn’t have admitted it, not even to yourself at that time, but you were also intrigued.

You couldn’t decide and you ended up stalling, staring at the back of his head that was hung between his shoulders, with his forehead almost touching the cold marble of the throne room as he was slumped on his knees. The throne room was completely silent, everyone waited with bated breaths for the verdict.

Then a sharp pain in your rib woke you up from your stupor. You startled and looked at the source - your closest court lady, who was until now only standing at her usual place by your right hand, entirely bored, has just elbowed you to bring you back to earth. 

She leaned over to you, covering her mouth as she whispered to your ear. 

“Keep this one. We will put him to good use.” 

You rolled your eyes at her as she drew back, and she just shrugged. What? Sue me, she mouthed back at you before she resumed her bored expression. 

You sighed and irritatedly waved your hand to the right, signaling the guards to take him to the dungeons instead of beheading him right on the spot. The crowd groaned a little, annoyed that they couldn’t witness an almost poetic death of an exquisite beauty, but no one dared to raise a protest. They all knew better than that.

~~~

This is all entirely her fault, you were rubbing your temples two days later to stave off the headache, thinking about what to do about him, cursing your best friend and her one track mind. 

But she did have a solid point, and you are a benevolent and generous queen so you decided to put him where he would be appreciated the best and guarded the most - a royal harem, private only for you and your court ladies to use at your leisure. 

Despite his dubious and potentially dangerous origins, you weren’t afraid for the safety of your court ladies. None of them were here just for decoration - all highly trained professional guards and assassins, the loyal extensions of your power, you weren’t afraid of them getting hurt or letting him escape. Vice-versa too - if anyone decided to become some kind of a vigilante justice and lay a hand on the mysterious dangerous man who could be seen as a threat to the queendom, he would be well-protected. 

It really seemed to be the best solution.

A solution that would make everyone happy - you would have one less problem, the man would be out of prying and gossiping public eyes hidden well within the palace walls, the court ladies would get a new shiny toy and him…Well, no one cares about what he thinks or wants. 

But even this turned out to not be an issue, because as it was reported to you a month later, the new harem addition was settling into his new role well. Maybe even too well, as you have found out from the gossips and giggles between the court ladies. Apparently, not only he didn’t have any reservations about the kind of services that were expected from him, but also he provided them very willingly and enthusiastically. Seemingly impossible to tire out, he was always happy to let himself be used by any woman, even multiple at once! as you heard the whispers.  

The never ending rumors about his skills with his fingers or tongue were constantly making you blush every time you overheard. But not only that, part of why he was so popular was also how comfortable and desired he made the ladies feel. He seemed to always figure out very quickly how each woman wanted to be touched or talked to, or whichever kink she might have. He was also not shy about his own body or sexuality, but his own needs always took a back seat. He seemed to be born for this role, made to please the others. 

The only thing he was not approved nor allowed to do was penetration. He was not deemed fit or deserving to sire a child for your queendom yet, that was an honor and a privilege reserved for only few distinguished harem members that have been in service for a long time. But the potential was there and everyone acknowledged it. 

The beautiful, charming Probably Na Jaemin has quickly become the darling of the harem. Friendly with everyone, staff, servants, even other harem members liked talking to him and had nothing to say about him but high praise. 

No suspicious behavior was reported, no escape attempts, no strange questions, no forbidden items found hidden between his possessions. Na Jaemin seemed to be fully satisfied and content with his living situations and when the servants asked if there were anything he could be missing, he only asked whether there would be a teeeny tiiiny possibility of getting a cat, maybe? If it wouldn’t cause too many problems, of course?

This bastard is just having a vacation on my account, you fumed as you were stamping your Queen’s Approval seal on the request to purchase a ragdoll for the palace. 

Despite the continuous nagging and encouragement from your court ladies, especially your best friend, you haven’t seen him yourself yet. Actually, you haven’t seen anyone from the harem recently, because you were avoiding the entire palace wing by a mile. You wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but you didn’t even want to run into him in the corridors. 

And now you’re expected to consider him as a possible father of your daughters. And you didn’t even have any good reason to reject this idea outright. 

~~~

You have been tossing and turning in your bed for hours already and sleep was yet to come. The full moon has been shining into your chambers so strongly you could see everything even with the lights of. That must be the reason why you can’t sleep, you fumed as you were annoyingly shutting the curtains. 

And then you were lying down staring at the ceiling in complete darkness for one more hour. 

Okay. I give up. You said to yourself and climbed off the bed, picking up a robe, some slippers and a candlestick holder for some light to take with you. 

You left your room quietly and let your feet lead you while trying to not think about where you are going. You passed a few guards on your way, replying only with a curt nod to their deep bows. At the very least you could see for yourself that they are doing their job properly. 

You finally ended up in front of the door that was the target destination of your night trip. You put your hand on the handle and were just about to open it, when the door flew open and a young giggly lady ran out straight into your arms, startling you both. 

You did your best to not drop your light or burn either of you, while she quickly (and with complete horror) realized who did she run into, composed herself and started apologizing, bowing deeply and begging you for forgiveness. You just dismissed her with a wave of your hand and she didn’t need to be told twice - she bowed once more for good measure and disappeared into the corridor. 

Once the commotion calmed down you were free to look into the room. It was a normal harem room, nice and spacious, beautifully decorated with imported furniture and full of lights and candles, with a big bed in the middle. And just there, in the middle of the bed, leisurely spreaded on the finest silks your country could provide, was Jaemin. And what a sight for sore eyes he was - dressed only in light silk pants,so thin, you could almost make out what’s under them, with only his upper body on display, all in its tanned and muscular glory. Lying there, like a picture perfect example of debauchery, sweaty, used, and covered in lovebites and bodily fluids, as if letting himself to show you what he's there for.

He didn’t scramble off the bed to bow to you, which would be a punishable offense and he must have known. Instead, he let his head drop back on the pillow and with drowsy eyes, tired voice and wide smug smile he asked: 

“Your highness… How can I help you?” he drawled slowly, without any care about what’s proper and what is not. He seemed to enjoy being seen in such a state, especially by you. 

You clenched your jaw. You will not be entertaining this kind of behavior. You promptly turned on your heel and left his room, slamming the door behind you. 

You took on the way back to your quarters, fuming the entire time, but trying to not think about why exactly. 

~~~

It’s been a few days and you can’t sleep again. But this time, you are not trying to. You’ve been periodically alternating lying restlessly in your bed with pacing around your room. You might have checked yourself in the mirror once or twice. And now you’re back in bed, more nervous and anxious than you should be. You keep glimpsing on the clock even though it’s still a little bit too early - your instructions were clear - better later than to be seen. But you still can’t wait, you’re not sure if it’s just the anxiety or also maybe some anticipation. 

The heavy door to your chambers slowly opens, revealing your visitor - Na Jaemin, slipping through the door silently like a cat, closing them after himself without any sound. He’s wearing only a thin, almost translucent white silk shirt and some light linen pants - both entirely inappropriate attire even for slinking through the palace corridors deep at night. He is looking at you, his facial expression neutral, not exposing any of his thoughts. 

“Your highness,” he greets. He doesn’t bow. 

You nod in reply, but don’t know what else to say. Usually you wouldn’t be so shy or embarrassed, but none of your harem members unsettles you like he does. You could just order him around, but it doesn’t feel right, you don’t want it like that. The moment is so awkward that you don’t know whether to start laughing or not, as you are just staring at each other. So you decide to slightly break the tension by lifting the silk duvets in invitation. 

He doesn’t wait a second and swiftly joins you in your massive canopy bed, throwing half of the bedding off on the ground. He settles between your legs, laying down on his belly and pushes your nightgown up. With just a brief glance at your face to confirm his intentions he gets to work. He starts eating your pussy with the skill and talent of someone who, well, eats pussy as a profession - and it would have felt maybe too impersonal if he weren’t so good at it. He’s enthusiastic and he clearly likes doing it, with his eyes closed and occasional humming. It feels good, his tongue feels like it’s everywhere at the same time and the tempo is perfect, even more when he dares to slip two fingers inside you. 

It’s good, too good and you don’t want to come. Not yet, not before he does what needs to be done. But he doesn’t know that yet. 

You reluctantly grab him by his hair and unstick him from your pussy. He looks so beautiful, his eyes are closed and his face is flushed, with sweat gathering on his temples. His lower face is all wet and his lips are so red. He opens his eyes, slowly, blinking: 

“You don’t want to? Is that not why I am here?” he asks, looking surprised. You are not sure whether to trust it or he’s just pretending.  But you don’t feel like you are obligated to explain yourself to him. 

“Take it out. Put it in,” you order. 

“Oh, so it’s like that, is it?” his face transforms completely, his smug wide shark smile back on his face. You let his hair go and he gets up, keeling between your legs, towering over you. He starts to untie his pants. 

“Is that what this is about?” he asks, while grabbing you by your hips, pulling you closer to him so easily as if you weighed nothing. “I heard some gossip about an heir. So are you just using me for breeding?” he says, putting on a fake accusatory tone. How does he have the mental presence to pretend-pout while he’s literally pushing his hard cock inside, flashes through your head. 

He stops when he’s all the way in and leans forward over you, unmoving and staring right into your eyes, his unsettling smile plastered on as usual. 

“Yes.” you do your best to keep your voice stable as he starts moving. You relax and lift your legs to wrap them around his back to push him deeper. His movements are fluid and he’s gentle, clearly thinking of your comfort first, not just hammering in without consideration. 

“The royal court has found you a purpose,” you breathe out, closing your eyes. You drop your head back on the pillows. “And I am not using you, you should be honored.”

“Does the royal court not care about the father of its heirs being just a lowly pleasure slave? Maybe we are more equal than you think, you know” taunts Jaemin. You run your hands over his wide back, holding on for the dear life and he’s starting to fuck you more thoroughly, his tempo getting faster. Despite that, he doesn’t seem to get any winded, his stamina is solid and his self-control clearly impeccable, as he doesn’t seem to be affected in any way. But he is, you can feel him sweat, you can feel the slick wetness between your bodies just as well as you can feel how hard he is. 

“It’s-it’s not important,” you stutter between thrusts. You’re slowly getting there and it’s becoming hard to think. He’s going fast and deep and finally you can hear him getting out of breath. 

“Okay,” he breathes out. He lowers down so he can kiss you on your neck. “I’ll give you your daughters” he puts his lips close to your ear, his deep voiced whispers accompanying his final thrusts, as he loses the rhythm and cums inside of you, with your orgasm following right after, triggered by his and his words. 

You keep holding on to him tightly as you feel pumping his cum inside of you, both coming down from your orgasms. You’re enjoying this closeness and you don’t really want to let go, but everything is getting too hot and sticky, so you reluctantly let him drop on the bed next to you. 

You feel completely liquid but when you glance at him, he’s already recovered, with his breath back to normal and wits fully gathered. 

He grins at you. “Your highness~~ Were you satisfied with my services?”

Yes. “We will see that soon.”

He turns to his side and gets close to cuddle up to you. You don’t know what to do with your limbs, but let him do as he wishes. Which is sticking himself fully onto you like an octopus. 

“I was thinking, If it works out well, maybe you could let me make a few more babies for your court ladies, so the throne heir has friends to play with, what do you think?” he mumbles into your skin.

Fuck no. It’s not that you are possessive, not over a measly harem member, but something about this proposal rubs you the wrong way. You frown and start to fight your way out of his embrace to scold him from a more dignified position, but you’re stuck in an iron cuddle grip. And the more you try to wiggle out, the tighter it gets. 

“Noooooo? Does your majesty not like this idea~~?” he asks. “That’s okay then, we will just have to work eeeeeextra hard to make this one a twins,” he laughs, already scrambling up so he can get between your legs again.

And you can’t help yourself, and laugh with him.  

~~~

a/n: i like to imagine that this jaemin is actually a runaway youngest prince of some neighboring country who decided to become a hitman for hire, because that’s just so much more fun. he loooves killing people, but he really did need a vacation :) 

[mahtariel-of-himring]

When Elrond stepped upon the ship that was to take him, Galadriel, Gandalf, Bilbo, Frodo and a few others to Valinor he was nervous. So long had imagined what it might be like, and for some time even questioned if he would ever sail.

But here he was, stood upon their ship with the undying lands finally in sight after months of sailing across the unending ocean. He might be a mariners son but he certainly had no great love for boats, he didn’t have a problem with them, but the knowledge of not having ground beneath his feet still made him uneasy.

At their arrival many awaited them, to welcome the newcomers into the blessed lands.

High King Arafinwë, in Middle Earth better known as Finarfin, and his other children had come to welcome Galadriel.

Gandalf reunited with some old Maia friends of his and then escorted the hobbits that had joined them to a nice little cottage for them to spend their days in.

He himself recognized many of the faces in the small crowd. First he spotted Gil-Galad, who welcomed him with open arms. Then his beloved Celebrian, who pulled him into a hug the moment he saw her, she was much better now.

A few soldiers of Rivendell were there as well, happy to see their Lord again.

Elrond ended up settling in Tirion with all the others and moved into Celebrian‘s home. It was a nice house with a good view and easy access to the marked and other nearby shops and market places.

Tirion was flawless. The white towers with their pointy roofs, the elegant guards with their silver spears, the marked place with its various stalls and merchants.

He met many of his ancestors, some he got along with and some he didn’t.

The first he met was Turgon, it took half an hour for them to end up in an argument about the moralities of handling delicate situations within one‘s own city and when to help those in need.

Luckily his second meeting went much better. His great grandfather, Fingolfin, was much more sensible and they got along quickly due to their shared knowledge on leadership and experience of hardships throughout their lives. Though the late High King did comment to his wife Anairë later about how he was sure he‘d bite his teeth out on Elrond eventually, comparing his stubbornness to someone else’s.

When he at last met Fingon it took the elf exactly five minutes to ask if he had been raised by Maedhros. To this day Elrond didn’t understand how he did it, for he himself wasn’t aware of the small details. Like how he did his hair exactly like the fëanorian had or that he held himself with something of Valinorian regalness he definitely didn’t pick up in Lindon.

But as time went on Elrond began to realize something.

Tirion was truly perfect.

Too perfect.

Everyone seemed to have collectively decided to ignore any pains and hardships experienced in Middle Earth or Beleriand and live their lives as if everything was perfectly fine.

When bringing this up to Gil-Galad he just said that they preferred it that way, even if it wasn’t perfect, not everyone had made the journey and seen war, and those who didn’t weren’t comfortable of discussing or displaying it.

The more time Elrond spend in the white city the lonelier he felt. It seemed as if he was the only one prepared to speak of or even mention anything of the things that happened to so many of them.

The more he realized that the more he felt out of place.

Because he wasn’t perfect, he was far from it actually.

He had gone through things most couldn’t imagine in their worst nightmares and had seen horrors he wished he could forget.

He had seen his city attacked, had been kidnapped, even though that did turn out positively in the end. Had witnessed war and bloodshed from young on, had served as Herald and later taken on the mantel of Lord. He had seen so much that he just couldn’t ignore.

So one day he mounted his horse and rode out of Tirion. He didn’t have a destination or any idea where he was going but he just kept riding until he was exhausted.

When he looked up he saw a large city with high towers, but no pointy roofs were atop them, instead there stood guards. The walls weren’t made of white stone and marble but steadfast and resistant cobblestone and tall pillars.

The front guards let him in after he explained his situation, and the moment he stepped through those gates it was as if he had entered another world. No excessive jewelry was worn, but rather detailed braids and head dresses or simple circlets.

Scars of all types were openly portrayed instead of covered up and hidden as if they were sometimes to be ashamed of.

Elrond saw elves with walking sticks and missing limbs and crippled bodies. They were warriors, they were survivors, they were the ugly but real truth, and it felt so relieving too see them.

He had no idea where he had ended up in, but he already knew it was much better than Tirion.

No one was putting on a fake mask of perfection and instead just acted as they truly were.

Elrond walked through the streets, talked with some of the locals and listened to their stories.

He heard everything from ex soldiers to healers like him to guards and even some escaped thralls of Angband.

It was so much better than the flawlessly perfect white city. It wasn’t fake.

Elrond ended up in what seemed to be a throne room. At the end of it stood a elf, dressed in a long robe, his hair littered with many braids and a elegant silver hammer in hand.

His eyes were of piercing grey and his hair as black as the night, but his gaze familiarly gentle.

Elrond knew before he spoke.

Elrond knew before he looked up.

Elrond knew before he stepped closer.

Elrond knew before he even acknowledged him.

He knew where he was, and he knew he would stay.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War

Summary: A warlord!Rhys x Tamlin's sister!Reader AU where Hybern won the War centuries ago, ravishing Prythian and leaving the splintered Courts as nothing more than pockets of travelling war bands. Based loosely on the vibes from War by Laura Thalassa.

Content Warnings: (Each chapter will be tagged accordingly for violence, drinking, and Eventual smut) Canon typical violence, Rhys leans heavily into morally gray, kidnapping.

Author's Note: Trying something new with a first person POV, let me know what you think :)

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

“Don’t come back unless you’ve brought food.”

It’s been days since that order, the rumble of my stomach the only indicator of passing time. The changing forests, the dying grasslands, the marshes, it’s all been a disappointing blur. All my traps are empty and untouched, some frozen in place as winter approaches. My father used to tell me stories of the Courts, how they were ruled by High Lords with the power to keep perpetual seasons. That was before the War, before Hybern and his General Amarantha ruined everything with the Cauldron, all for some human slaves. Father had liked to talk about the “good ole days” every night around the fire; he could spin pretty tales for hours, but that’s all they are these days. Stories. And stories don’t keep your stomach full.

I trail the deer through a stinking muck of a bog, mud and slimy water seeping in through the holes in my boots. The sludge is bone chilling, my hands shaking around my bow; teeth chattering so loud I have to clamp my mouth shut to avoid making too much noise. I need this kill and I need it fast. 

The deer stops to eat a bit of moss and I take a few more careful steps forward to get a better vantage point, cautious of where the ground sinks deeper beneath the murky water. Slipping and twisting an ankle in this mud would be dangerous, but it’s not an injury that makes my steps cautious. There are plenty of kelpie around these parts, I feel their beady little eyes watching me under the cover of a quickly approaching fog. All I need is one misstep and those spindly, webbed hands will drag me under for a quick meal.

Better a kelpie than the Highway Men I’d managed to dodge getting this far out of my brother’s territory, I suppose, but I’d rather avoid both of them if possible.

Once I’m sure of my footing, I notch an arrow to my bow. This is not the ideal place to kill it, but the rumbling of my stomach might just be too damn loud to give me another chance if I wait for it to pass out of the bog. How many days has it been since my last meal? Four? Five?

I pull the arrow back, the weathered feathers brushing my hollow cheek. 

The deer’s head jerks up, ears turning to listen to something beyond the fog and I hold my breath. The ground beneath my boots begins to rumble and the deer bolts before I can take the shot, disappearing into the gloom. A loss to mourn later, because that rumbling can only mean one thing: Horses, and a lot of them, moving right in my direction. 

I slide my bow over my shoulder and run back the way I’d come, mud sucking at my every step, slowing my progress as I try to get back to the treeline at the edge of the bog. The wet land is covered in dead and living trees alike, some as old as time, still reaching towards the sun like the ruined hands of a corpse, some fighting its inevitable demise. It’s too cold these days for the living to still have leaves, so even if I wanted to stop and climb one, I’d have no place to hide. I might as well stand there and wave my arms and alert every horseman to my location.

Still, the branches are helpful for leverage, and I grab onto the low ones and haul myself along, hoping to find shelter higher up the basin’s edge, where the water has not claimed as much. There’s plenty of underbrush there to shield me. 

The first horse appears through the fog, dark as a shadow, it’s echoing whinny chilling in the previous silence. A hooded rider sits atop the giant animal, a giant sword sheathed between his massive shoulders. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I hiss to no one as I crouch the best I can in the open air. 

There are many warbands in Prythian these days. Some are Hybern’s men. Some Amarantha’s. The rest are what remains of the Courts. Those of us with enough magic to prove useful have been known to swear fealty and garner protection from them, but that means you get the privilege of fighting and dying for those entitled pricks who think they are owed the land their ancestors once ruled. From this far, I can’t tell who’s colors they bear, but without the, usually oppressive presence, of my brother’s own men I’m not likely to have a safe encounter. Better to wait it out and let them pass.

The first rider doesn’t see me through the fog, a small blessing that I take full advantage of by inching forward. The treeline is so close. If I am lucky, if the Mother is still out there listening and looking out for me, I can hunker down and wait.

A second rider appears through the fog, faster than the first, racing along the bog’s edge until it makes it over the ledge of the basin and disappears. The cry of their horses sound like ghosts howling in the wind. A third and fourth rider follow. I can hear even more of them, the rumble of their caravan making the ground shake, but no more appear as the fog thickens. 

A shiver runs down my spine, but still, I press forward. I’ve dodged plenty of males like this in the past, I can do the same now. I just need to be smart. And lucky.

Neither of which I am, apparently. As soon as my boots touch more solid ground, another horse appears, this time, from within the safety of the treeline I’d been so desperate to get to. The rider atop this one is as large as the first, face completely obscured by a black hood with three stars perfectly poised over his forehead, the bottom two falling where his eyes should be. 

I freeze, mind reeling back to a time years ago, when those stars had come bursting through camp, only bloodshed and destruction behind them. My hands shake at my sides as I slide backwards into the muck, slipping, barely maintaining my balance as the midnight black horse rears, hooves pawing at the air. I’d heard that terrifying whiny before too, right before my father’s head rolled out of his tent. 

My stomach rolls, bile rising in the back of my throat. This can’t be happening to me! They promised to stay away.

The rider gets his horse under control, large, gloved hands yanking hard on the reins, deep voice barking orders in the language I know belongs to the mountain men in Illyria, but had never been permitted to learn myself.

My heart hammers in my chest as I get back on my feet, head whipping back and forth trying to find a way out.  

“What’s your business here?” The rider demands, voice deep, gruff, muffled by a scarf over the lower half of his face.

“My own,” I snarl, reaching for the hunting knife at my hip. This is no one’s claimed territory, save for maybe the kelpie I hear skimming the surface at my back, I have every right to hunt here as anyone. “Now let me pass and I’ll be on my way.”

The rider swings out of the saddle and the ground shakes as his boots touch the ground. A dark mist leaks from his shoulders, shadows swirling around the sword hilt peeking out from between his shoulders and… I’d been mistaken about his size, it wasn’t just his shoulders, it was a pair of wings. Wings that had been tucked tight while he was  riding but now stretch out behind him, the leathery membrane pitted and scarred from years of battle. If I’d had doubts about who this was before, I don't now. Though I’d only seen him in glimpses that night, Tamlin had talked enough about the rival warlord over the years for me to be able to put two and two together.

A lump forms in my throat. Rhysand is even taller up close, the top of my head barely coming up to his chin. “I have nothing of value.” I’m not wearing our colors, I’m not sure if they would have helped or hindered me here, but my best bet is to just play dumb.

From the incline of his head it looks like he’s eyeing my knife, but I can’t be certain. There is some kind of enchantment over his hood, obscuring his face from view. “What’s your name?” 

“No business of yours,” I retort, tightening my grip on the knife. 

“So hostile,” he purrs. “I mean no harm.”

“Says the male with the sword.”

“If I wanted to hurt you, I would have.”

“I’m flattered,” I drawl. “How kind of you to deem me worth a modicum of decency as you block my exit.”

He takes a step forward and I take a step back, right to the edge of the water, where that damn creature hisses out a chuckle, knife poised and ready between us. He’s not wearing armor, a well placed blow could still kill him, I want him to think twice before moving any closer. Though, I suppose I must not look that imposing, considering our size difference and the sheer amount of muscle underneath that dark cloak. 

He sizes me up silently for a moment, hooded head intently fixed on the hand gripping the knife. Then, with speed enhanced even for High Fae, he’s reaching forward and grabbing my wrist as I stumble back and slam right into a tree.

It’s instinct: The punch I throw with my free hand, hitting him square in the throat, even as my heel comes down on the top of his foot. He grunts like it hurts, but doesn’t move, doesn’t let up on the grip he keeps on my wrist.

“Where’d you get this scar?” He drags a finger over the top of my hand, where I’ve got a scar shaped like an eight point star. 

“Get off me!” I shout as I try to wrench my hand free of his grip.

If his men hear, they don’t come running. There is no one here to save me--not that there has been anyone to save me in a long time anyway.

He’s wearing gloves, but with the hand not maintaining a vice on my wrist, he pushes the leather back enough to reveal a matching scar on the back of his own hand. 

All thought eddies from my mind. 

This can’t be real.

He takes the knife from my hand as if it was being held by a toddler, but much to my surprise, he slides it right back into its sheath at my hip. The move lets him lean in, large body hovering over mine. I still can’t see a glimpse of his face beneath the hood. 

“You’re my mate,” he says, voice a reverent whisper.

Mate. My heart hammers in my chest at the word, as if something beneath my skin is coming to life at the realization. The power that lies distant and untouched with me stirs, a large beast poking its head out of the den after a long hibernation. Having a mate is most women's dream--was my own, once upon a time, before the world went to hell--but not like this, not him. My world had gone to hell because of him. 

The Mother truly hates my guts.

“I’m not your anything,” I snarl as I get a hand on his broad chest and push. He’s nothing but solid muscle beneath my palm. When pushing gets me nowhere, I make a fist and hit him a good couple times. “Now let go of me, you brute!”

He chuckles, low and rich, as if this is all very amusing. “No. It’s not safe out here. You’re coming with me.”

I’d rather be eaten by the kelpie. “The hell I am!” But before I can find a way to fight him, as useless as my attempts have been thus far, he wraps a strong arm around my waist and all but tosses me into the saddle.

I reach for my hunting knife again, but a gloved hand hovers over my own, even as his other arm snakes around me to grab the reins. “Easy, mate,” he purrs in my ear. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

Despite myself, that voice, so close to my ear, his body warm and solid behind me, a shiver runs down my spine. “You’re fucking kidnapping me, you bastard!” I snarl, because there’s no way I’m just going along with this. “And I’m not your mate! I don’t even believe in mates.”

“You will,” he assures as he kicks his horse into moving back into the fog.

________________

Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future updates :)