#saluting my goat

[shironezuninja]

Within brief intervals/milliseconds in between clockwork routined computer tasks, I can concoct small scenario like daydreams in my head. A part of my childish school girl fantasies during the day was Deadpool feeling too sick to do Story Time at Disneyland, and Wolvie had to fill in for most of the reading. I kinda also envisioned DP tripping onto the ground from his usual skipping motions as he headed towards the stage area in the park.

[ivelovedhimthroughworse]

Happy Inktober Goatober!

@foolofabookwyrm-activated made the perfect prompt list for 2022.

Day Fourteen - Professional

Day Thirteen - Music : Link

[from-past-the-stars]

H-Hang on..! W-Where did all these NEW people come from?!

[gachaparadise]

*head in hands* why is it every time i'm randomly like yeah i'll get back into AK it's time for a sad goat time.

[colie-nne]

Hello! So happy to see that ur back! Could I request Lewis with a Russell!reader. It can either be a SMAU or a regular fic, ur choice. With the general idea that they a private but not secret relationship, but the running joke is that George pretends that he’s clueless.

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader | instagram au

summary: what george feels about his sister dating his teammate.

warning: none

requested: yes | no - REQUESTS ARE OPEN

a/n: another lewis hamilton post that will have a part 2. Next to this will be a valiente part, so stay tuned and feel free to message me about anything.

y/n.rssll

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 812,891 others

y/n.rssll 2 years with my precious gem. to more loving memories with you x

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user awwwwwww!!!

lewishamilton cheers to us for two years

y/n.rssll cheers to us, babi user lewis is babi? i love that

carmenmmundt yes to the sweetest couple!

georgerussell63 am i not sweet to you? y/n.rssll at times, yes. but carmen is mine now so shoo. Thank you georgerussell63 ...

user im waiting for the sibling banter in the comment section

Daily F1 updates

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Daily F1 updates George Russell's reaction to a tweet asking about his reaction to his sister and teammate Lewis Hamilton's 2-year relationship.

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user he's proud guys, you hear that?

user George not having a clue about long his sisters has been with lewis is such a george thing to do

user no but why did time fly so fast

user ikr, it feels just like it was yesterday that Lewis accidentally hard-launched their relationship user and it has remained iconic to this day

lewishamilton and y/n.rssll

liked by y/n.rssll, landonorris and 1,102,927 others

lewishamilton with y/n.rssll ♥️

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y/n.rssll beach day with the bae😘

georgerussell63 what is this y/n? y/n.rssll it's called being in love and having an anniversary George georgerussell63 oh I know what that is y/n.rssll really? so you do know that Carmen spent the weekend over at mine right? georgerussell63 what? user ahhh the Russell sibling's banter😌

user y/n has a tattoo now?? OMY

y/n.rssll it's a temporary one, just wanted to see what it looks like on me.😇 landonorris exceptionally stunning, mate y/n.rssll well thank you, kind sir carlossainz55 so when are you getting one? georgerussell63 she isn't

user always the no face photos, i'm living for it though

f1

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and 1,832,021 others

f1 Lewis Hamilton wins the Austrian Grand Prix!! See some of the behind-the-scenes celebrations!!

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user the looks of content in lewis' face after seeing y/n run up to him is heartwarming

user y/n is certainly the goat wag and you can't tell me otherwise

y/n.rssll HE IS BACK AND READY TO FIGHT!! onto the next race my love

y/n.rssll

y/n.rssll after-race beach days are always the best. (will post more because georgerussell63 kept pestering lewis)

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user the 2nd pic is everything

georgerussell63 i was pestering no one

y/n.rssll talk to the back of Lewis' car, Georgie 🤟🏻 user that was a low blow, y/n you can't just do that to your own brother y/n.rssll sorry not sorry

user if you understand the root of their sibling banter, I salute you🫡

alex_albon looking amazing Lewis!

georgerussell63 shut it, mate. respectfully user not Alex joining y/n's side

lewishamilton

liked by y/n.rssll, landonorris and 1,042,885 others

lewishamilton i do think it has gone for too long. isn't that right y/n.rssll?

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y/n.rssll i totally agree with you 😌

user i don't get this but LEWIS IS HARD-LAUNCHING AFTER TWO YEARS OF FACELESS PICS!!

user the way they look at each other is magical!!!

user where can I get my own Lewis?

user george has been quiet since lewis made this post.. what is happening?

[has-the-gavle-goat-burned-yet]

Watching the livestream is wild, the horns are mostly gone and the birds have started on the face. I think if they destroy the whole head before the city does something, I’m calling it a win in my book

I completely agree Anon. I plan to continue the watch going until it is burned or officially taken (because of the birds or otherwise). Whatever the official fate of the goat I personally count half eaten by birds a win and salute the birds for their service.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Hazband 2: Band AU

Buckle Up, Buttercups. This is gonna be looooooooooong.

-"Insider Bands" playing on VH666 streaming services on a computer monitor / TV screen sitting on the desk against the far wall-

Charlie: (laying on her belly on her bed and chewing her nails like a cartoon goat chews through a field of grass as she watches the TV)

Riff Rascal: Alright, dudes, dudettes, non-duders, and rock-aholics! That was Simple Plain's newest single "Why Are We Kids?!". Coming up next, our guy, our big shredder, our big bad-

????: Dammit, Riff!!!! Just get on with it!!!

Riff Rascal: Yo, sorry, boss lady! Coming up next, we have our expert in all things metal and shredding, Axel Steelgrave, conducting a super secret, super exclusive interview with one of Hell's latest and greatest! Stay tuned!

Charlie: (whines and plasters her face into the comforter) Fuck! I really messed up! I shouldn't have released that album, guys! What if Vaggie doesn't like girls outside of the metal scene?! Then I'm just the creepy, stalker, pop diva who messages her on Sinstagram every once and a while! And likes all of her posts! And comments on each picture! And-

Razzle: (trying to finish polishing Charlie's hooves after a full pedicure and hoof care) Baap?

Charlie: So? It was only ever mentioned once in a tabloid that she was once in a poly ship with a man and woman before. Nothing set in stone. Who listens to tabloids anyway? She said she was a lesbian in her last interview with Angel Metal Monthly.

Dazzle: (brings up a wide array of nail polishes) BaaaAaaAp?

Charlie: Yes! She messages me back almost immediately after every message I send her, but that doesn't mean the's interested in me. She hasn't been online in a week! (rolls over and flops onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm) Not since Katie Killjoy did that whole news segment on my new single music video and album.

Dazzle: (painting Charlie's hooves in a deep red hue called "Wicked Sinister") Baaaaaaap. BaaaAAaaap. Baap. (clicks his hoof in a way that's supposed to look like a sassy finger snap and blows heated air over the paint)

Razzle: Baap! (scowls) Baaap. Baaa. Baap!

Charlie: Thanks, Razzle. No, Dazzle. I really don't think this is some kind of rebound. I really started liking her during the Battle of the Bands gig over at the Jackpot Hotel and Casino. She was the first person who didn't openly laugh at me being there even though I was the only pop singer there.

-VH666 blares back with a heavy metal guitar riff-

Axel Steelgrave: Hey, good evening, everyone. How's it going? Tonight, we have a very special guest. (camera pans out to show Vaggie sitting next to Axel in an interview chair) Lead singer, guitarist, and rocking girl, Vaggie the Steel Vagina from Fallen Angels.

Charlie: WHAT?!?!?!?!?! (crocodile death rolls around in her excitement and falls out of bed, completely wrapped in a burrito, and worm crawls over to the TV) RAZZLE!!! DAZZLE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

Razzle: (salutes) Baap! (grabs the remote and turns up the volume)

Dazzle: (sad bleats as he looks at the mess of nail polish everywhere) baaaaaap.....

Vaggie: (trying not to snarl at the name) It's just Vaggie, Axel.

Axel Steelgrave: Oh, sure. Sure. Well, thank you so much for taking the time to come and see us. Not gonna lie. We were shocked to hear that you were coming out with a new single so quickly.

Charlie: (plasters her face to the screen) New Single?!?!?!?!?!

Vaggie: (blushes slightly) Well, I figured after hearing the Princess's new album and call-out, I should work on a reply.

Angel: (from behind the camera man) You wouldn't have had ta write and record a whole new song and music video if you just sent 'er a video of you jacking it all week! I've never heard dat vibrator work so hard in its life! I swear I smelled smoke last night!

Charlie: (squeals, gasps, and shrieks all at once and falls backwards)

Vaggie: (jumps up from her seat) Angel! What the Fuck?!

Axel Steelgrave: Well, well, well, I guess that answers my next question. I take it this new single is going to be good news for the Princess?

Vaggie: (still steaming as she sits back down and tries to compose herself) I know you have the video on hand. Why not play it and let the fans see for themselves?

Axel Steelgrave: I couldn't have said it better myself. (to the camera) With that being said, let's take a look at a sneak peek of Fallen Angel's new single: "Dear, Charlie - For Somewhere Better".

-Video cuts to some random point in the music video where Vaggie is standing in black leather skirt that has the leather ripped into strips in a hoola-skirt style, black halter tank top, thigh high leather heeled boots, and black fingerless gloves, holding and shredding a guitar. Angel is a pink, fabulous gay disaster on drums while one set of hands works a keyboard.-

Vaggie: (singing) We'll ignite. Still dreaming wide awake. On the hunt for "Somewhen brighter". Pull me close now, and I'll dream until my dying day. Till we create a new "Somewhere better". The promise of a life. Like a thousand suns inside my broken heart. I can see through your eyes. And embrace the flame that guides me through the night.

-Video Cuts back to the interview-

Axel Steelgrave: (freaking out excitedly) Wow! That's quite the statement! Good on you, Steel Vagina!

Vaggie: Vaggie.

Axel Steelgrave: Before we end this exclusive, is there anything you want to say to the Princess in case she's watching?

Vaggie: (Face falls briefly as her eye widens and a blush colors her face) Oh.... (shakes her head to compose herself, looks into the camera, and makes a telephone gesture) Call me~

Axel Steelgrave: (laughing) Alright! You heard it here first, folks. "Dear, Charlie" will be available on HellTunes tonight at midnight. Thank you all so much for tuning in. And, as always, stay rocking.

Charlie: (finally managing to unravel the blanket and sitting on the floor with a bright red blush) C-Call.... Her.... She wants me to call her... (jumps up and down like a teenager in a bad "not another teen movie" while holding Razzle and Dazzle's hooves) SHE WANTS ME TO CALL HER!!!! (pauses) How?! I don't have her number!

-DING!-

Charlie: (dives for her phone on the floor and opens a new Sinstagram message)

FallenAngelVaggie: Hope you got a chance to watch "Insider Bands" tonight. Talk to you later? Maybe over coffee? XXX-XXX-XXXX

Charlie: (takes a deep breath) SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Vaggie: (leaning against the wall of the VH666 studio, holding her phone against her chest, and taking a long drag of a cigarette)

Angel: Hey! I thought you were quitting! (yoinks the cigarette and plops it between his lips)

Vaggie: Dammit, Angel! I said I'd be done once my case is empty! (digs in her pocket and pulls out an angelic steel cigarette case) It still has four left! I haven't even lit up in nearly six months!

Angel: I know! Proud of you for that. That interview rile you up that much that you gotta wreck six months of hard work?

Vaggie: Ugh! (slams her back into the wall) You think Charlie got the message?

-squeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Angel: (looks up at the sky towards the Morningstar Mansion where it looks like fireworks are going off on one of the balconies) Oh, I think she got it~

[acourtofthought]

242 Reasons Why Lucien is the GOAT of the ACOTAR Series

“I’m Lucien. Courtier and emissary.” He gestured to me with a flourish. “Your eyes are like stars, and your hair like burnished gold.”

Lucien smirked. “Apologies, Feyre.”

I finally found Lucien astride a black gelding, grinning down at me with too-white teeth.

“I admire your balls, Feyre—I really do. Or maybe it’s stupidity

“A valiant effort,” Lucien said with a smirk.

Lucien snorted but didn’t say anything else

“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

Lucien remained sitting on the blanket and lifted the bottle of wine in salute. He took a slug from it as he sprawled on his back and gazed at the green canopy.

He sighed, looking skyward before he studied me warily, that metal eye narrowing with unnerving focus.

I wondered—wondered if being emissary also meant being spymaster.

“I didn’t keep my mouth shut when I should have, and was punished for it.”

“Well, thank the Cauldron that you didn’t. Cleaning up that mess would have ruined the rest of my day.”

He winced. “Shit, Feyre—I’m not that old.”

Lucien huffed a laugh. “Not as good as Tam, but I know how to handle my weapons.”

“Would you like me to teach you how to wield a blade, or do you already know how, oh mighty mortal huntress?

Lucien sighed as he looked me over. “Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?”. “Do you ever stop being such a prick?” I snapped back. But Lucien grinned at me. “Much better.”

The face of Tamlin’s emissary—more court-trained and calculating than I’d seen him yet.

In lieu of a pretty breakfast table by the window, a worn worktable dominated the space, covered in various weapons.

It was there he sat, wearing only a white shirt and trousers, his red hair unbound and gleaming like liquid fire. Tamlin’s court-trained emissary, but a warrior in his own right.

“I had to go sort out some hotheads on the northern border—official emissary business,” he said, setting down the hunting knife he’d been cleaning, a long, vicious blade.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, smiling with feline delight.

Lucien never cared about it, never expected to be crowned High Lord, so he spent his youth doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t: wandering the courts, making friends with the sons of other High Lords”—

he’d already made many friends across the courts and had always been good at talking to people.

Lucien told her to go back to the shit-hole she’d crawled out of. She took his eye as punishment.

The metal eye narrowed on me while the other remained wary, unimpressed. “Yes?”

The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d given me before. “I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.”

He reached for something at his side and tossed it to me. I had to fight to stay in the saddle as I fumbled for it—a jeweled hunting knife. / I’d never held one so finely crafted, so perfectly balanced.

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin.

“Idiot!” he yelled at me, then glanced behind him toward where the other faeries stared. “Useless human fool.” Without further word, he slung me over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes.

I found that he was running—fast. Faster than anything should be able to move.

I could have sworn that Lucien was sleeping upright, fork in hand.

Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright.

“Faerie pig!” I yelled, and Lucien howled, almost tipping back in his chair.

“Well, I’m late for something incredibly important,” Lucien said, and before I could call him on his outright lie or beg him to stay, the fox-masked faerie vanished.

Lucien, claiming that he had miserable emissary business to attend to,

Lucien, mercifully, appeared like Lucien. I didn’t ask whether that was because Tamlin had informed him to put up a better glamour or because he didn’t bother trying to be something he wasn’t.

“I see,” I lied, not quite seeing at all. Lucien chuckled, sensing it

He used the dagger to clean his nails. “I’ve been busy. So have you, I take it.”

Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head.

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien whistled as I came down the stairs. “She looks positively Fae.”

“Unfortunately for you and your neck,” Lucien countered, “tonight’s just a party.” “Do you lie awake at night to come up with all your witty replies for the following day?” Lucien winked at me.

“So there’s singing and dancing and excessive drinking,” Lucien chimed in, falling into step beside me. “And dallying,” he added with a wicked grin.

“Remember the last time you ignored my warning?” He poked me in the neck, and I batted his hand away.

“I also remember you telling me how witchberries were harmless, and the next thing I knew, I was half-delirious and falling all over myself,” I said, recalling the afternoon from a few weeks ago. I’d had hallucinations for hours afterward, and Lucien had laughed himself sick—enough so that Tamlin had chucked him into the reflection pool.

His auburn hair burned like hot metal, and his russet eye smoldered like a bottomless forge.

“Cauldron boil and fry me,” he muttered,

“Idiot,” he said when he looked at my face. “Drunken idiot.”

I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me. “I’m trying to eat,” Lucien said

Lucien lead me to the window, where he pushed me against the velvet drapes. / The tang of magic shoved itself up my nostrils. Though his sword was pointed at the floor, Lucien’s grip tightened on it until his knuckles turned white. Magic—a glamour. To conceal me, to make me a part of Lucien—invisible, hidden by the faerie’s magic and scent.

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. “Watch your filthy mouth.”

Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us.

“You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.” The color leeched from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground.

Lucien stared him down for a moment, spat on the ground, and stormed up the stairs.

“Well, at least we don’t have to lie to you anymore. Let’s clean you up a bit.”

“Fixed—as pert and pretty as before.” He smirked at me.

“Her name, Emissary?” Amarantha asked of Lucien. But Lucien only glanced at Tamlin before closing his eyes and squaring his shoulders.

“I thought you would have learned your lesson, Lucien. Though this time your silence will damn you as much as your tongue.” Lucien kept his eyes shut. Ready—he was ready for Rhysand to wipe out everything he was, to turn his mind, his self, into dust.

Then, shattering the silence like a shooting star, a voice—Lucien’s—bellowed across the chamber. “TO YOUR LEFT!”

She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

He unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulders.

“It’s why I couldn’t come sooner,” he said, his throat bobbing. “She used her—used our powers to keep my back from healing. I haven’t been able to move until today.”

The brutally scarred face beneath was still handsome—his features sharp and elegant.

“Tam!” Lucien cried over the chaos. A sword hurtled through the air, a shooting star of steel.

Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.”

Lucien had gifted both to me—the dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her downfall, when I’d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well look good if you’re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he’d said.

Last week, I’d finally asked him if she’d set her sights on him, and Lucien had merely given me a look, snarling softly, before stalking off

the right hand of a High Lord and another High Lord’s son.

“I didn’t lie,” Lucien said tightly. “I technically did fall off my horse.” He patted his mount’s flank. “After one of them tackled me off her.”

I am the first one the others look to—I set the example.

“I was forced to watch as my father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.”

“Please,” Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. “The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our honor.”

He assured me that he hated the gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself,

Lucien intervened calmly, “I already have my sources looking into it.”

Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, “If we perhaps trained her in secret—”

Lucien muttered something that sounded like a plea to the Cauldron.

Lucien took a deep breath that sounded a lot like: “Here we go.”

Lucien cleared his throat. “She meant no harm, Tam.”/ Lucien held his gaze. “Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.”

Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless—

“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly. "There's only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.

They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien. Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?

We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place—. Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance...

His red hair was tied back, and there wasn’t a hint of finery on him: just armored leather, swords, knives

Lucien, beside Tamlin, again put a hand on his sword. “Stop this.”

“That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.

As Lucien took off his jacket, kneeling before Elain.

“She is no such thing,” she said, and shoved him again. Lucien didn’t move an inch.

Perhaps you’ll get a handsome Fae lord as your mate, too.”

Lucien’s answering growl was nothing short of feral.

Lucien spun toward me, and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place.

But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily.

His gaze on me. Face hard. As if he’d seen through every lie. As if he knew of the second tattoo beneath my glove, and the glamour I now kept on it. As if he knew that they had let a fox into a chicken coop—and he could do nothing. Not unless he never wanted to see his mate—Elain—again.

It was Lucien who answered, studying my painting as if it held the proof I knew he was searching for.

Lucien remained leaning against the door across from mine. His room. I didn’t doubt he’d ensured I now stayed across from him. Didn’t doubt that the metal eye he possessed was always turned toward my own chambers, even while he slept.

“She’s going to spin a story that you’ll want to hear,” Lucien warned. / Lucien halted me with a hand around my elbow. “You’re smarter than that.” I studied the broad, tan hand wrapped around my elbow.

Lucien breathed, “Where is he keeping her?” / “Tell me anyway. List all of them.”. “You’ll die the moment you set foot in his territory.” “I survived well enough when I found you.”

Lucien only nodded. But I felt his gaze on my back, fixed right on my spine, as I headed downstairs

Lucien answered, “If you expect our gratitude, you’ll be waiting a while, Ianthe.”

Lucien seemed to be trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

I could practically feel the snide remark simmering in Lucien.

“My emissary knows the wall as well as any sentry.”

“I have an old friend at the Dawn Court. She’s skilled at tinkering—blending magic and machinery. Tamlin got her to craft it for me at great risk.”

I was fairly certain that only centuries of training kept Lucien from leaping over the table to rip out Jurian’s throat.

“The gap in the wall is right up here,” Lucien was saying, sounding about as thrilled as me to be in such company.

Brannagh studied how closely I stood to Lucien; how he shifted slightly to shield me, too.

Lucien sat against a nearby tree, folding one booted ankle over another. “Whatever you’re planning, it’ll land us knee-deep in shit.”

“I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.”

“I did it for you, too, you know.” Cold, hard words. “I went with him to get you back.”

But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlor. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.”

“This situation is terrible,” I said, and it was the truth. A low snort.

And despite Jurian, despite the sneering royals, a corner of Lucien’s mouth tugged upward.

I gave Lucien a subtle, pleading look, and he barely hid his smirk as he sauntered over to me. Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse.

Ever the courtier, he bowed back.

He flat-out refused to participate. I replaced him in the Rite, but …” I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court.

I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it. Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

I kept close to Lucien, who was inclined to indulge me.

Lucien answered on the second knock. “I heard you—what’s wrong.” He scanned me, russet eye wide as he noted my disheveled hair, my sweaty nightgown. / I swallowed, a silent question on my face, and he nodded, retreating into the room to let me inside. Bare from the waist up, he’d managed to haul on a pair of pants before opening the door, and hastily buttoned them as I strode past.

“What did you dream of tonight?” he asked quietly./ Lucien rose, stalking to me. / Lucien paused half a foot from me. He didn’t so much as object as I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against his warm, bare chest. / Lucien loosed a heavy sigh and slid an arm around my waist, the other threading through my hair to cradle my head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.” He held me, stroking soothing lines down my back

His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight.

His silence was heavy—sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. “I’m sorry,” he said

It’s why we avoid bargains unless it’s necessary: even the scholars at the Day Court don’t know how it works. Believe me, I’ve asked.” “For me—you asked them for me.”. “Yes. I went last winter to inquire about breaking your bargain with Rhys.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I—we didn’t want to give you false hope. And we didn’t dare let Rhysand get wind of what we were doing, in case he found a way to interfere. To stop it.”

“You didn’t stop him.” “I tried. I begged him for mercy. He didn’t listen. He couldn’t listen.”

“Even if they’re now our allies,” I mumbled, “I still hate them.” A snort. “Me too.”

“Autumn Court males have fire in their blood—and they fuck like it, too.”

Then at us, their eyes widening further as they noted Lucien’s cruel beauty.

Lucien stared him down. “We accept no tribute from the human lands. Least of all children.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, well aware that Lucien carefully watched from the shade of a nearby oak.

Lucien had gone to the stream to get more water

Lucien woke me the next morning with a hand over my mouth, warning gleaming in his russet eye. I smelled it a moment later: the coppery tang of blood. / Lucien slid from the tent, limbs loose and ready to shift into a defensive position. He’d been trained, he once told me—at the Autumn Court and at this one. Like Rhys, he usually opted for words to win his battles, but I’d seen him and Tamlin in the practice ring. He knew how to handle a weapon. How to kill, if need be.

Lucien laid his own cloak across the remains of the two young women.

“They are our allies,” he growled at me, at Lucien, both of us seated in armchairs flanking the mantel. / “And you should have left it alone for me to deal with.” Tamlin heaved a jagged breath. “Not retaliated like children.” He threw a glare in Lucien’s direction. “I expected better from you.” / “You sent the Bogge after them!” Tamlin roared. /Lucien had tracked it down—and we’d lured it, carefully, over hours, back to that camp. Right to where Dagdan and Brannagh had been gloating over their kill. / Lucien cleared his throat. Stood as well. “Tam—those humans were barely more than children. Feyre gave the royals an order to stand down. They ignored it. If we let Hybern walk all over us, we stand to lose more than their alliance. The Bogge reminded them that we aren’t without our claws, too.”

He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. / My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking— The doors burst open. “What have you done,” Lucien breathed, and Tamlin’s face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. / “Let’s get you cleaned up,” Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room.

the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

But Lucien was there. Her focus wholly on me, on taking from me the beauty I’d burned from her, Brannagh did not see him winnow until it was too late. Until Lucien’s sword refracted the light of the sun leaking through the canopy. And then met flesh and bone.

“I’m going with you,” he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. “I’m getting my mate back.”

“I know a place,” Lucien said, walking toward the cave that would take us to his home.

I let Lucien lead the way,

“It doesn’t lead anywhere. It curves away in the back—it’ll keep us out of sight.” I let him go inside first nonetheless.

Flint struck, and I found myself gazing at a makeshift camp of sorts. The candle Lucien had ignited sat on a natural stone ledge, and on the floor nearby lay three bedrolls and old blankets, crusted with leaves and cobwebs. A little fire pit lay in the sloped center of the space, the ceiling above it charred. No one had been here in months. Years. “I used to stay here while hunting. Before—I left,” he said,

“It’s too risky to eat,” I admitted, evading his question. Lucien was having none of it. “I knew. I knew you were lying the moment you unleashed that light in Hybern. My friend at the Dawn Court has the same power—her light is identical. And it does not do whatever horseshit you lied about it doing.”

His eye seemed to simmer. As if being in his own lands set that molten ore inside him rising to the surface, even with the damper on his power. “Glad to see the mask is off, at least.”

“You have the gall to question my priorities regarding Elain—yet what was your motive where I was concerned? Did you plan to spare me from your path of destruction because of any genuine friendship, or simply for fear of what it might do to her?”

His woods, by blood and law. He was a son of this forest, and here … He looked crafted from it. For it. Even that gold eye.

he waded into the stream, boots off and pants rolled to his knees, and caught one with his bare hands. He’d tied his hair up, a few strands of it falling into his face as he swooped down again and threw a second trout onto the sandy bank where I’d been trying to find a substitute for fishing twine. / Lucien picked them up by their tails, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He might very well have, right here in this stream. “I’ll clean them while you start the fire.” I

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.” He eased to his feet with a groan, his unbound hair glimmering as the midday sun overhead set the blood and wine hues aglow. “I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.” A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

of all the sounds that Lucien so carefully sorted through while he kept watch.

he removed his cloak and added it over my blanket.

“Father,” the one now holding a knife to my throat said to Lucien, “is rather put out that you didn’t stop by to say hello.” “We’re on an errand and can’t be delayed,” Lucien answered smoothly, mastering himself.

he saw the sweat beading on my temple, my upper lip, as my blood heated. A slight bob of his chin was his only sign of understanding.

“Run,” I gasped out, but Lucien was already at my side, a steadying hand under my arm as I burned that flame hotter and hotter. It wouldn’t keep them contained for long, and I could indeed feel someone’s power rising to challenge mine. But there was another force to wield. Lucien understood the same moment I did. Sweat simmered on Lucien’s brow as a pulse of flame-licked power slammed into the stones just above us. Dust and debris rained down. I threw any trickle of magic into Lucien’s next blow. His next. / Lucien and I brought down the cave ceiling.

I’d been wearing my cloak, but … he’d indeed given me his. He shivered against the cold as we dragged and clawed our way up the mountain slope, and did not dare stop.

“Tell me about her—about Elain,” Lucien said quietly.

“And then I’ll ask your mate how he survived it—knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male’s bed.”

“You left us.” Us. Not Tamlin. Us. The words echoed into the dark,

"You fit into the Spring Court as little as I did, Lucien. You enjoyed its pleasures and diversions. But don’t pretend you weren’t made for something more than that.”

“Run,” Lucien breathed. / “Faster,” Lucien ordered. “Don’t look!” he barked as I began to turn my head to see if they’d followed. He lashed out a hand to grip my elbow, steadying me before I could even register that I’d stumbled. / “Zag,” Lucien panted. “We need to—” He shoved me aside, and I staggered, arms wheeling. Just as an arrow ricocheted off the ice where I’d been standing. “Faster,” Lucien snapped, and I didn’t hesitate.

Behind him, cut off by his brothers, Lucien had drawn his own knife and now sized up the other two.

I think Lucien shouted my name.

“Which one?” I asked carefully. Mor swept her attention over Lucien once more. I almost pitied Lucien for the weight in her gaze, the utter judgment. The stare of the Morrigan—whose gift was pure truth. Whatever she beheld in Lucien was enough for her to say, “The town house. You have someone waiting there for you.”

Lucien survey our surroundings.

But their watchful silence was indication enough: let him decide his own fate. At last, Lucien looked at me. At us. He said, “There are children laughing in the streets.” I blinked. He said it with such … quiet surprise. As if he hadn’t heard the sound in a long, long time.

“I see you brought home a new pet,” she said, nose crinkling with distaste. / Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply / Amren smiled slightly. “Already trained, I see.”

Lucien, to his credit, didn’t back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed into my mind.

Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I’d interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, “There is a longer story to be told, it seems.” Smart answer.

Lucien weighed my offer—and the three males monitoring his every blink and breath. He only nodded. Another wise decision.

“And you love him. And he—he truly does love you.” Lucien dragged a hand through his red hair. “And all these people I have spent my centuries hating, even fearing … They are your family.”

And yet there she was, acting more like a cranky old aunt than anything.”

But Lucien was standing in the doorway. And from the devastation on his face, I knew he’d heard every word. Seen and heard and felt the hollowness and despair radiating from her.

“I would never hurt her.” A bleak sort of honesty in his words.

We were almost to the door, Cassian already in the hall, when Lucien said to me, “Thank you.” I didn’t dare ask him for what.

"set up the handsome one as High Lord of Autumn"

“What did you do with yourself this afternoon?” “Slept,” he said. “Washed. Sat on my ass.”

His face was indeed controlled, but—a hint of surprise twinkled there. Wariness, too, but … surprise.

Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them. He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

Lucien considered. “Can I offer my unsolicited advice?” / Lucien studied my mate, then me. “I assume Feyre is going.” / “Are you planning to hide her powers?” / Lucien studied me again, and it was an effort not to squirm. “My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you.” / Lucien jerked his chin to Azriel. “That’s the information you need to gather. What my father knows—if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly.”

Rhys swirled his wine once, set it down, and said to Lucien, “You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow.” Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger—who only nodded at him. “I’m at your disposal.”

He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows, “After lunch, we’ll meet.

“You trust Lucien.” Rhys angled his head at the not-quite question. “I trust in the fact that we currently have possession of the one thing he wants above all else. And as long as that remains, he’ll try to stay on our good side. But if that changes … His talent was wasted in the Spring Court. There was a reason he had that fox mask, you know.”

“He’s not a bad person—he’s not evil.” “He certainly isn’t.”

Too thin. She must not be eating at all. How can she even stand? The thoughts flowed through his head, one after another. His heart was a raging, thunderous beat, and he didn’t dare move from his position a mere five feet away. She hadn’t yet turned toward him, but the ravages of her fasting were evident enough. Touch her, smell her, taste her— The instincts were a running river. He fisted his hands at his sides.

Azriel seemed like a decent enough male

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta’s vacated one. “There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.

Her eyes were the brown of a fawn’s coat.

“I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.” And a whole lot of nothing. He’d told the shadowsinger all he knew—of his surviving brothers, of his father. His mother … he’d kept some details, irrelevant and utterly personal, to himself. Everything else—his father’s closest allies, the most conniving courtiers and lords … He’d handed it over. Granted, it was dated by a few centuries, but in his time as emissary, from the information he’d gathered, not much had changed. They’d all acted the same Under the Mountain, anyway. And after what had happened with his brothers a few days ago … There was no tinge of guilt when he told Azriel what he knew. None of what he felt when he looked toward the south—toward both of the courts he’d called home.

He fought against the bristling rage, the irrational urge to find the male who’d claimed her and shred him apart. The words were a rasp as he instead said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

He paused right between them and said to me, to Nesta, “She needs fresh air.” / “We’ll judge what she needs.” I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.” Then he walked away.

“Mother above,” Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair.

Lucien had offered to make himself useful while we were gone by reading through some of the texts now piled on the tables throughout the sitting room.

But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.”

It wasn’t just about what he thought—it was the … feeling. I sensed no ill will, no conniving. Only concern for her. And … sorrow. Longing

Cassian had come off the roof at some point to join Lucien in the sitting room, the books from the wall spread on the low-lying table between them

It felt like days ago. I rested my head against the embroidered back of the chair and watched Lucien take a seat on the rolled arm of the nearest couch. “Long day?” I grunted my response.

He weighed my tone, and crossed his arms. “Let me do something. About Elain. I heard—from my room. Everything that happened just now. It wouldn’t hurt to have a healer look her over. Externally and internally.” I was tired enough that I could barely summon the breath to ask, “Do you think the Cauldron made her insane?” “I think she went through something terrible,” Lucien countered carefully. “And it wouldn’t hurt to have your best healer do a thorough examination.”

“Please tell me,” Lucien said when I crossed the threshold into the foyer. “What the healer says. And if—if you need me for anything.”

Madja didn’t deign to answer Nesta until we were at the bottom of the steps. Lucien was already waiting in the sitting room, Mor still lingering in the dining room. Both of them rose to their feet.

Lucien muttered something about not needing to be monitored, and we all looked at him with raised brows. He just lifted his hands, claimed he wanted to freshen up, and headed down the hall.

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “What—what was that?” “It—it was a tug. On the bond.” / Then Nesta was standing in the threshold. “What did you do.” The words were as sharp as a blade. Lucien looked to her, then over to me. A muscle feathered in his jaw. “Nothing,” he said, and again faced his mate. “I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.” Elain sidled toward Nesta, who seemed to be at a near-simmer. “It felt … strange,” Elain breathed. “Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib.” Lucien exposed his palms to her. “I’m sorry.”

“And I got to Elain’s end of it when she ran off.” “Did you sense anything?” “No—I didn’t have time. I felt her, but …” A blush stained his cheek.

Lucien’s attention slid behind me, to the various letters on different styles and makes of paper. That golden eye narrowed. As Tamlin’s emissary, he no doubt recognized them. “Let me guess: they said yes, but picking the location is now going to be the headache.” Mor frowned. “Any suggestions?” Lucien tied back his hair with a strap of brown leather. “Do you have a map?”

Lucien had indeed given us an initial location, and several more when those were struck down. But that was to be expected, Lucien had said, as if he’d arranged such things countless times. Rhys had only nodded in agreement—and approval.

Especially since Lucien had left before breakfast for a library across the city to look up anything in regard to fixing the wall, a task I’d been more than willing to hand over. I might have felt guilty for never giving him a proper tour of Velaris, but … he seemed eager. More than eager—he seemed to be itching to head into the city on his own.

Lucien, stationed by the front window, turned from watching the street. Monitoring it. A sword and dagger hung from his belt. No humor, no warmth graced his face—only fierce, grim determination.

“I’ll go.” Lucien was staring at Elain as he spoke. We all looked at him. Lucien shifted his focus to Rhys, to me. “I’ll go,” he repeated, rising to his feet. “To find this sixth queen.” / “What makes you think you could find her?” Rhys asked. Not rudely, but—from a commander’s perspective. Sizing up the skills Lucien offered against the risks, the potential benefits. “This eye …” Lucien gestured to the metal contraption. “It can see things that others … can’t. Spells, glamours … Perhaps it can help me find her. And break her curse.” He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here. I’ll fight if you need me to, but …” He offered me a grim smile. “I do not belong in the Autumn Court. And I’m willing to bet I’m no longer welcome at h—the Spring Court.” Home, he had almost said. “But I cannot sit here and do nothing. Those queens with their armies—there is a threat in that regard, too. So use me. Send me. I will find Vassa, see if she can … bring help.” / “You will be going into the human territory,” Rhys warned. “I can’t spare a force to guard you—” “I don’t need one. I travel faster on my own.” His chin lifted. “I will find her. And if there’s an army to bring back, or at least some way for her own story to sway the human forces … I’ll find a way to do that, too.” My friends glanced to each other. Mor said, “It will be—very dangerous.” A half smile curved Lucien’s mouth. “Good. It’d be boring otherwise.”

Lucien had indeed been studying all those maps lately. Perhaps at the quiet behest of whatever force had guided us all. My mate added, “Thank you.” Lucien shrugged. And it was that gesture alone that made me say at last, “Are you sure?” He only glanced at Elain, whose face was again a calm void while she traced a finger over the embroidery on the couch cushions. “Yes. Let me help in whatever way I can.”

I asked Lucien, “When do you want to leave?” “Tomorrow.” I hadn’t heard him sound so assertive in … a long time. “I’ll prepare for the rest of today, and leave after breakfast tomorrow morning.” He added to Rhys, “If that works for you.”

Cassian had given him free rein yesterday afternoon to loot his personal cache of weapons, though my friend had been economical about which ones he’d selected. The blade, plus a short sword, plus an assortment of daggers. A quiver of arrows and an unstrung bow were tied to his pack.

“You know precisely where you want Rhys to take you?” I asked at last. Lucien nodded, glancing to where my mate now waited by the front door. He’d bring Lucien to the edge of the human continent—to wherever Lucien had decided would be the best landing spot. No farther, Azriel had insisted. His reports indicated it was too watched, too dangerous. Even for one of our own. Even for the most powerful High Lord in history.

“It was time,” Lucien said quietly, giving me a squeeze. “For me to do something.”

Rhys extended a hand to Lucien. Lucien studied it—then my mate’s face. I could nearly see all the hateful words they’d spoken. Dangling between them, between that outstretched hand and Lucien’s own. But Lucien took Rhys’s hand. That silent offer of not only transportation.

Their gazes locked and held. / Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness.

“I—heard the rumors and assumed Lucien Vanserra would be residing there after … what happened.” She still didn’t look at Tamlin, who remained silent and brooding. “I managed to contact him a few days ago—asked him to send samples. He did—and did not tell you,” she added quickly to Rhysand, “because he did not want to raise your hopes. Not until I’d found a solution.” No wonder he’d been so eager to head alone into Velaris that day he’d gone to help us research. I shot a look at Rhys. Seems like Lucien can still play the fox. Rhys didn’t look at me, though his lips twitched as he replied, Indeed.

The Lady of Autumn’s favorite son—not only from Lucien’s goodness. But because he was the child she’d dreamed of having … with the male she undoubtedly loved.

His power is flame, though. They’ve mused Beron’s title could go to him. His mother’s family is strong—that was why Beron wanted a bride from their line. The gift could be hers.

Other than the fact that Lucien might be Helion’s sole heir.

“Lucien,” I breathed. “Who?” Drakon’s brows narrowed. “Oh, the male with the eye. No. He met up with them later on—told them where to go. To come now, actually. So pushy, you Prythian males.

Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he’d run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain’s hands.

“Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.” A faint smile bloomed on Elain’s lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, “I heard—what happened. I’m sorry for your loss. All of you.”

“I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “And don’t be surprised if Vassa corners you as soon as the ships are sorted. And the sun sets.” “Is she really—” “Yes. But your father, ever the negotiator …” / “The human queens are still out there,” I said. Maybe I’d hunt them down. “Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.” Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” He cut me a wry look. “You’ll get along just fine.” I nudged him in the ribs. But Lucien again looked at that singed grass, and his blood-splattered face turned solemn. “He was a good man,” he said. “He loved you all very much.”

Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien. He noticed it. “I heard you made the killing blow,” he said.

I said to him, “So where now? Off with Vassa?” I wondered if he’d heard of Tamlin’s role—the help he’d given us. A look at my friend showed me he had. Someone, perhaps my mate, had informed him. Lucien shrugged. “First—here. To help. Then …” Another glance at Elain. “Who knows?” I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.” He saw all of it, but nodded graciously. “It would be my pleasure.”

Tamlin just shook his head, loathing simmering in his green eyes, and walked past. Not a word. I looked at Lucien in time to see the guilt, the devastation, flicker in that russet eye.

But Lucien remained standing with us as Tamlin found his place in the sitting room to our right. Did not glance at his friend even once. Lucien wasn’t foolish enough to beg for forgiveness.

I didn’t dare look through the ruined doorway to where Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain’s side

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae healing

Another tidbit that Lucien had told us.

Send Lucien then. As our human emissary.

"Where's our dear friend Lucien?" "Off hunting for dinner."

"You brought presents". "It's Solstice tradition here, but isn't it?"

An uncontrollable instinct - for a male to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair

Somehow in living with Jurian and Vassa in the manor, he'd run into Elain's former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

The corded muscle of his forearm shifted beneath the fine silk of his sapphire jacket.

"He is a good male", I repeated.

He raised his fist to the door, but the wooden slab pulled away before he could touch it. Lucien’s scarred, handsome face appeared, his golden eye whirring. “I thought I sensed someone else arriving.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

“Easy,” Lucien said. Cassian snarled. “Easy,” Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten—

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing.

[dixdixbby]

Recently did a rewatch of Mutant Mayhem so I thought I’d put down some things I didn’t notice on my first watch through:

The little band-aid on baby Super Fly ☹️☹️☹️

The “15 years later” kinda resembling the 2007 movie logo (coincidence?)

The tape on Raph’s belt buckle and the stickers on Mikey’s chucks I LOVE those details

“Drake is the GOAT of all time” is such a cleverly stupid line lol

“I love being young and free to go places!”

Triceratops on the side of a U-Haul = Triceratons reference (or foreshadowing??? 👀)

Mr. Beast cameo

“That’s not a cat, it’s actually a rat!”

Mikey vocalizing while doing his flips

“How many people has the red one stabbed? Does he need therapy?” LMAOOOOO

Got a picture of the Mona Lisa on the locker next to April’s. Mona reference probably?

Bad Bernie looks kinda like a mouse

Making Leatherhead Australian was the best decision actually

“Cowabunga! I just made that up :D” love the continuing the trend of Mikey getting some of his catchphrases from Mondo

“Oh my god, I’m gonna win a daytime Emmy”

“Don’t cuz me right now, man 🤨😒”

One of the TCRI guys nodding along to their rendition of “Butter”

They wanted Ice Cube to curse so badddd

The parallel between the scene of Raph throwing the ninja star and him shooting the gun

“The Mercedes no!!!” “That was a Prius, it’s ok.”

Donnie doing the AoT salute as he explained the Titans weakness is such a minor detail but I love it so much

Mikey saying “yes and” right after being told to improvise

“Anxious but highly informed teen reports”

Alex Hirsch voiced Scumbug because of course he did

87, 2012, and Rise Splinter in the credits~

MOUSERS LETSGOOOOO

[myballsitchaurghouchie]

Your goats design makes me ascend to the 4th dimension thank you for blessing us with their presence

YESSS I'M GLAD. IT IS MY PLEASURE !!! SALUTE EMOJI

[pilesofpillows]

First Comes Marriage (We're Already in Love, Keep Up) || Attoye Excerpt

Attoye Week Day 3: Fluff/Comedy

A/N: Peeks in... Hi, it's been a minute 😅 I do have updates to deliver and I will get there, I promise. For now though, here's a quick snack from one of my Attoye Week fics...

A snackie for @attoye-week

This is the premise and I know the title is long, but it'll make sense later 😂

Attuma stood at the edge of N’Tando’s property, taking in the sprawling expanse of Okoye’s family land. Herds of goats, sheep, and horses grazed behind deceptively frail-looking fences. A round house sat on top of one of the hills, simple in its outward appearance, but Attuma knew better. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. It was strange, this disquiet coursing through him. His feet felt rooted in place, yet his soul felt like an untethered island drifting in the sea. Attuma did not get nervous. His assurance in who he was had carried him through many of life’s highs and lows. Even on the eves of great battles, Attuma remained steady. 

But this was not battle. At least not one he was familiar with. 

As if sensing his nervousness, Iktan grabbed his hand in both of hers, squeezing slightly. “Ko'oten, nacom. K ilej wa Chaac ka Bast u séen kaxa'antbil ti' le eek'o'obo'. [Come, general. Let us see if Chaac and Bast have met in the stars.].”

Attuma chuckled, “Yaan ti' leti'ob [They have]. No other could compare. You will soon see.”

“Then let us go and meet your wife, General,” Iktan smiled.

Attuma nodded and gave a low whistle, calling his múuch to attention and instructing them to wait at the bottom of the hill while he and Iktan spoke with his love’s father. Hopefully, the man would not reject the gifts or his proposal. 

N’Tando greeted them with a wide grin, waving as Attuma and Iktan made their way up the hill. Attuma waved back, a small smile lighting his face at the baby goat in the man’s large arms.

“Molo, General Attuma! This is a surprise!” N’Tando said jovially, shifting the small animal in his arms to give him the Talokanil salute. 

Attuma’s smile widened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, returning his salute with the Wakandan variation. Ignoring Iktan’s surprised glance, he asked the elder Wakandan if he had a moment to talk.

“Of course!” the man answered, leading them toward the house. “Let me get this one settled with his mother, and we can speak inside. I should warn you, though, Okoye isn’t here. She mentioned a new trail she wanted to hike, out in the thicket.”

A quick sigh of relief left him, and Attuma silently thanked Chaac for the serendipity of this moment. It would be awkward to ask permission to marry Okoye in front of her. If she was traipsing through the jungle, there was little chance of interruption. And when she did return, she would likely be wearing one of the sinfully tight outfits she called workout gear. The gods were indeed smiling on him today.

Attuma could picture the maddening amount of rich, brown skin that would be on display, glistening with sweat from her exertion. The deep cleft of her breasts pressed together by her top. The sumptuous curve of her behind outlined perfectly in skin-tight shorts. His thoughts nearly ran away with him when Iktan cleared her throat, drawing him back to the present.

“That is fine,” Attuma replied, clearing his own throat. “I did not come to speak with Okoye.”

N’Tando’s smile faltered as he released the goat behind the fence. A brief look of confusion graced his face, but he shook his head and pressed on. “Well, no matter. Let us go inside.”

As they entered the main living area, Attuma was once again fascinated with the ingenuity of the Wakandan people. The outside and upper level of the house was simple. The hut was round with a sloping thatched roof, appearing simple and innocuous. The upper level was the same, a modest living space with a small kitchen and two bedrooms. However, a hidden panel in the kitchen revealed a set of stairs leading to an underground structure every bit as advanced as Okoye’s sky-high home in the Golden City. 

N’Tando invited them to sit at the table in his dining room, offering them drinks of water before taking a seat across from them.

“So, General, what brings you here today?”

Attuma felt the same nervousness from before take hold of his tongue, sticking it to the roof of his mouth. Being nervous was not unthinkable; this was a monumental moment. But his silence was quickly making it awkward.  He gulped and removed his rebreather to take a drink of water. 

Sighing, Attuma looked Okoye’s father in the eye. “I would like to introduce you to Iktan. She is an atanzahab. A matchmaker. She has divined matches in my family for three generations.”

N’Tando once again looked confused but smiled at Iktan. “It is good to meet you, Iktan. I am N’Tando, son of N’Jabulo. I imagine you must be very good at what you do to have the General’s trust.”

Iktan smiled warmly. “I do nothing but consult the gods on behalf of those who seek to join their souls eternally. But yes, I do consider myself quite good.”

N’Tando laughed at that, loud and boisterous, and Iktan joined him. 

Okoye’s father was a joyful man, always ready with a bright smile and an easy laugh. He took pride in his work and in his family, unafraid of making difficult choices or confronting hard truths. When Okoye had introduced them the first time, Attuma feared the man wouldn’t be receptive to the one directly responsible for his daughter’s demotion. However, N’Tando greeted him like an old friend and commanded him to help wrangle the goats back into their pen. Attuma had done so, half-shocked by the ease with which the proud man accepted his presence in his daughter’s life. The one time Attuma questioned N’Tando’s approval, his love’s father had answered simply. “You make her happy.”

Attuma fully returned the sentiment. He’d been captivated by her battle prowess on the bridge, enchanted by her ferocity when they’d faced each other aboard the Wakandan Sea Leopard, and enthralled when she’d demanded to be taught water combat after the alliance between their people was formalized. When they’d begun sparring regularly, trading combat techniques and family remedies, Attuma found himself falling more and more in love with each passing day. They built trust, stone by stone, laying an unbreakable foundation of friendship. And eventually, when the formidable woman allowed him past her defenses and into her heart, he knew. 

There would never be another for him. Okoye brought a joy to his life like he had never known. A light and warmth to his soul he’d never felt. 

As their laughter died, Attuma straightened in his chair. “I have brought Iktan here in hopes that we can begin the conversation to formalize Okoye and I’s courtship.”

N’Tando was silent. 

The man’s blank stare sent a trill of panic through Attuma, and words began to pour from his lips in a rushing tumble of air. “I realize she has been married before, but I still wished to follow tradition. It is why I brought Iktan. I was not sure of Wakandan traditions, but still, Okoye deserves the respect of a proper proposal. I asked Aneka and she mentioned an exchange of aalak’, so I brought goats raised in a small village by the surface dwellers near Talokan. I brought other gifts as well, hand-plucked pearls, and even a fertilizer that my chiich created for your squash and melon plants.”

N’Tando sat back and crossed his arms, stroking his beard. “You have come to ask if you can marry Okoye.”

Attuma nodded, “Yes. It is my belief that our destinies have been twined since the moment she spilled my blood.”

~ magis postmodum ~

A/N 2: That's all for now folks... I'll see y'all next week sometime with a chapter of at least one of my WIPs that needs updating 😅

[marbearmarigold]

Phwale

My phan whale au as requested by at least one person

I don't know how y'all format fanfics on here so well I Salute You

Dan and Phil are two YouScuber whales enjoying their successful career and comeback, when a different channel pops up, hosted by two whales that look Exactly Like Them.

It had happened before.

When that channel first published, spawned was a more apt term, Dan and Phil found out from the YouScube home page. The two whales were huddled around Dan's blubtop, staring in disbelief.

"DanAndPhilCRAFTS?" said Phil, incredulously.

"We didn't make this, right?" Dan turned from the screen to look at Phil. He flicked his tail a little in stress. "I mean, we could have been deleriously drunk and filmed this...... and cleaned it up before morning..... and edited before morning..... and scheduled the post before... morning......."

"We did not make this."

"Then why are we in it? Why are we in this video?"

"I don't know," said Phil, "But we should probably watch it."

He reached over and pressed play.

They never spoke about it publicly, that year or the two following. Thankfully, the date of the upload meant that their audience assumed it was an April Fool's Day video, and that continued until today. For the most part.

There were murmurings of "crafties" of course, but they were few and far between. And since the channel hadn't posted in 7 years, Dan and Phil figured the dopplegangers had moved on, hopefully to other, more wholesome activities.

Which meant that this April 1rst hit them like an anchor.

"Oh my Neptune." Phil dropped his bowl of Kelpies onto the coffee rock in shock.

"What?" Dan swam over.

Phil showed him his shellphone, he'd been scrolling Twitter and found a screencap from YouScube.

"What?" Said Dan again. "Why? Why are they back it's been years!"

"I don't know."

They watched the video of course. It was longer than the other ones. It started out normally, as normal as a DanAndPhilCRAFTS video could be.

"Hello Crafties!" The opening line sent shivers down Dan and Phil's spines. Seeing a whale that looked like Dan speaking words he'd never said was always creepy.

They made their usual claims, that they'd been posting twice a day every day, even though this was the fourth video on their channel. They said their usual phrases: "soft and neat" "pro-tip" "mother" "Him". Their chaos beamed through the screen like sunlight through through the waves. "Don't cry, craft!"

And then....

And then it got even more sinister. The whales started filming outside, in a remote and deserted cove it looked like. They dissolved all four crafts in acid to summon Him. They went to an abandoned shipwreck covered in arcane and sinister symbols.

Dan and Phil watched all of this in horror, dread creeping up their tales. The comfort of their livingroom dropped away, they weren't in their home anymore, they were viewing themselves performing horrible acts.

They watched as Dan killed Phil. That had happened in the sea cucumber prints video, but this was more visceral. They could see the blood floating in the water, the pain in Dan's eyes as he swam to Phil's body onto the giant symbol in the middle of the deck.

Dan carved out Phil's heart.

Dan addressed the audience for the first time since they destroyed the titular slime.

"Hello crafties," He was out of breath, the sacrificial act clearly exhausted him both physically and emotionally. He took blood from Phil's heart and painted it onto one fin.

"Art.... is important."

He spread blood on his other fin.

"Soft..... and neat."

He began to do the same to Phil's fins, pressing the whale's own blood into his dead body.

"Creativity.... is nothing without friendship."

Phil's fin dropped to the floor.

"Don't cry...... Craft."

The last shot of the video was Dan and Phil, above the symbol, fin in fin. Alive? Dead? Something else? And a figure swam up behind them.

A mer-goat.

A Demon.

The water churned, white-hot, and the video ended.

YouScube auto-played one of their gaming channel videos, and the Dan and Phil sitting safe in their house were jarred back to reality.

Dan slowly reached over and clicked the airbar to pause it.

They sat in silence for a long time.

They didn't really need to speak. They knew what the other was feeling, and what the other would think about what they were feeling.

It had gone too far. The public would think it was a well produced April Fool's video. But they knew the truth.

It was real. There was a demon out there.

And Dan and Phil had to figure out what was going on at last.

"Well, Phil," Dan said, "Where do we go first?"

[dedalvs]

Treasure of the Castilian or Spanish Language

My good friend gave me this very small book that was a translation of some of the many thousands of entries from a Spanish dictionary written at the turn of the 17th century. The original was by Sebastián de Covarrubias Horozco, and the dictionary was described, at the time, as "a large work of…slovenly erudition". The translator included only a few entries (the book is 62 pages long), but, let me tell you... You're in for a treat.

Here are some entries from a monolingual Spanish dictionary from 1617:

AJO (GARLIC)

Garlic is so well-known that one need not describe it. Garlic is not a food for courtly people. The leopard abhors the smell of it; if the leopard's lair is scoured with garlic, the leopard forsakes it. Garlic rubbed against the trunk of a tree keeps caterpillars away.

ANDRÓGENO (HERMAPHRODICTIC)

Some say that women have three wombs on the right side and three on the left and one in the middle; some wombs create males, the others females, and the one in the middle hermaphrodites. And others attribute even more wombs to women, and many allow for none of this.

APIO (CELERY)

The symbol of sadness and weeping.

BERENJENA (EGGPLANT)

Eggplants are not beautiful. They taste insipid; they sadden the spirit; they cause headaches; their bad quality comes out in the face of he who eats too many, giving it their livid or dark green color.

C

It is a silent letter. It was called the sad letter.

COCODRILO (CROCODILE)

The crocodile follows the man who flees it, and it flees the man who follows it. It flees from saffron. The crocodile that follows the one who flees it and flees the one who follows it is a symbol of glory and honor. A crocodile surrounded by wasps need not be feared.

DIAMANTE (DIAMOND)

The diamond can be worked with no instrument except another diamond and the hot blood of a goat.

DRAGÓN (DRAGON)

For a serpent to become a dragon, it first had to eat many other serpents.

FADAS (FAIRIES)

Enchanted nymphs or women who pretend they cannot die.

GALLO (ROOSTER)

The rooster has a hidden virtue: when placed in the presence of the lion, it makes the lion run. The rooster always faces its beak to the wind—this keeps its tail feathers composed. Roosters grow livelier with garlic paste.

GIRASOL O TORNASOL (SUNFLOWER)

Salute this plant.

H

Its figure is formed of the light and the strong.

HIEDRA (IVY)

The copyist making a clean copy of my papers left this word between the lines, and many other words remained with it, forgotten, as I was so sick I couldn't write with my own hand or look over what was written in another.

HORMIGA (ANT)

Some ants grow wings to lose themselves.

JIRA (PICNIC)

To a certain friend it seemed that the word "picnic" may have come from the Greek word for "pig," because the day the pig is killed is a day of joy, and because of the many good morsels that the pig provides, and furthermore the whole house rejoices, even the children, who play ball with its bladder. The pig is the rich man who has poor debtors and grunts like a pig his whole life until he dies.

LAMER (LICK)

Sheep lick salt, dogs lick blood they find on the ground. To lick plates is proper to boys who delight in belly cheer.

LECHO (BED)

Delight in leisure grew, and men invented sleeping on the delicate feathers of the breasts of swans and other birds and on mattresses of cotton and wool, and even with all this the delicate can sleep no more than if they threw themselves on brambles and thistles because of the cares and passions pricking their souls.

LEÓN (LION)

The lion isn't as brave as they say. For the Egyptians it symbolized the heart, the sun, the earth, or he who subjugates others' hearts. It suffers from mosquitoes that bite its eyes; it flees from the sight of the rooster and the rooster's voice, particularly if the rooster is white. Why this is so is unknown. Nature provided that this most ferocious of animal be less prolific than the rest, in contrast with the fecundity of the fearful little rabbit. The lion cub ravages its mother's womb with its claws. The lion forgives.

MIEL (HONEY)

Common honey is nothing but dew that falls over the leaves of grass and trees that bees deflower and lick with great appetite, swelling in size until they are forced to vomit.

OSO (BEAR)

It is unwise for brave men who hunt these wild beats to wait and fight them face-to-face, since bears tend to be dangerous.

PULGA (FLEA)

This insect is made from dust and a little dampness.

Q

"Q" is mute, because it sounds like "c" and in a certain lazy way, like "k."

SANGRE (BLOOD)

Blood of the dragon: the true blood of the dragon is the blood that runs from the dragon that has fought with the elephant, which, atop the dragon, crushes it. The dragon tries to cling to the elephant's belly as there the elephant's hide is thin, and the blood that the dragon sucks out mixes with its own and becomes the true blood of the dragon.

SIETE (SEVEN)

There are books written only on this topic.

TÚ (YOU)

A primitive pronoun of the second person.

UFANO (SMUG)

Soaked in joy like the breadcrumb in liquid that loosens and puffs.

VIDRIO (GLASS)

That which pleases us most about glass is its transparence. If glass did not break, silver or gold couldn't compare with it. The Romans used glass clocks. The ancients drank from glass cups with great delight, as do those now for the joy the sight of glass gives us: if you fill it with water, it seems like a diamond, while red wine makes it like a ruby, and white wine, a balas burning with color, a quality that cups of myrrh, being like mirrored black stones, do not possess.

VIGÜELA (VIHUELA)

Very few have learned to play the vihuela since the invention of guitars. This has been a great loss, as the guitar is no more than a cowbell, an instrument so easily played, especially if strummed, that every stable boy plays it.

X

The drunk becomes an "x" because his weak legs cross. A very erudite man censors this letter.

YESO (GYPSUM)

A stone that glints like crystal. A poison. I do not understand how some young women peel the crust off the walls and eat it like icing.

ZUCIO (DIRTY)

Sweat keeps man from being lustrous.

***

This is but a selection. I've omitted the shortened definition of elephant, which was originally twelve pages long (this guy evidently revered elephants—and roosters. And goats. I omitted that one, too, as it was long). The translator is Janet Hendrickson, and you can find this book at ndbooks.com. It's an absolute treasure.

[cyber-corp]

Part 2: Dave

Oh shit. The coolest guy alive. A briefing of what he does in Act 2;

This here is Dave Strider, and he doesn't have any time for funny names.

After briefly contemplating bleating like a goat ironically and pestering John about the sick ass juice he found, he makes some sick beats on his sampler (which is another really cool way that HS uses its medium).

He allocates his katana to his Strife Specibus, nearly takes a SWIG of the juice (but doesn't because of monster piss, curse you Egbert) and then captchalogues the sword, spilling the juice on his copies of the SBURB Beta in the process.

He decides to hang them out to dry, before they get stolen by a RAMBUNCTIOUS BIRD.

After accidentally throwing his word out the window and ridding his copy of the beta in the process, Dave decides to venture into his brother's room to get his copy instead. He chills with Lil Cal for a bit.

He guesses the password to his brother's computer, and goes on Plush Rump, his brother's successful and ironic website.

Cal has mysteriously appeared behind him, Dave gives a nervous fist bump, and he moves towards the "kitchen". By this point it's very clear to the viewer that someone is moving Cal around to screw with Dave. He captchalogues a variety of things during this time, including box of fireworks, shurikens, some nunchucks, a "wheeled ride", a battery pack, a jumble of unbelievably shitty swords, some red spherical salutes, and a whirling blade pitcher. Jesus.

However, Dave notices a note from his brother on the hatch to the crawlspace, a very obvious reference to a certain horror franchise. He makes a fort on the turntables, pulls the cord, and gets absolutely smothered in puppet ass.

Luckily, he bursts out of the pile like "The One" and reads a note from his brother, telling him to go to the roof and to bring Cal along. So he does just that, but really coolly and sickly.

(this goes fucking hard)

We don't really get much of Dave in Act 3, but the glimpses we do get are of him getting absolutely knackered by his bro.

"bro just kicked my ass" indeed. In the aftermath, Dave mourns the tragic loss of Cal, shoves the beta into his sylladex, and tells Rose he's going to install it, which he will.

We get a brief lil' flashback on Dave's famous shades, the ones worn by Ben Stiller in the 2004 retro-mania remake of Starsky and Hutch. They were gifted to him by John, as a way of getting out of his bro's shadow and being his own cool guy.

In present day, Dave gets a troll message on Pesterchum, from a guy who definitely types like a total tool (but I feel they'll definitely come back later).

And then, with the help of Rose, Dave successfully installs the beta. Shit is now taking place.

The last point in Act 3 we see (presumably) Dave install SBURB and help Rose in her own sticky situation, before he gets swarmed by more birds. How ironic.

Homestuck is becoming increasingly difficult to read because you can never pick a favourite character. But Dave is definitely up there. His overall chill vibes are admirable. His fight scenes, although his ass gets whooped every time, are insane. I really hope we get more of him in future.

On the topic of Rose (and John I guess)

She helps him out, John gets a prophecy and a sick new hammer, her house nearly burns down, she has a weird mutant cat thing named Vodka Mutini, her old cat becomes a Kernelsprite and gets saved by it, and then possibly blows up in the house's meteor explosion. I don't know. Maybe.

John does more RPG stuff, gets some new drip, and at the end of 1149 jumps through a portal, where Act 3 ends.

I feel like John and Rose are the best duo so far. Any time they interact, either through SBURB or Pesterchum they bounce off each other's conversations like nothing. It's very fun!

I'll talk about these three later.

[planetwaving]

tagged by @seconddoubt to list my 10 favourite albums, thanks jo 😁

in no particular order:

1. blonde on blonde - bob dylan

2. the band - the band

3. band on the run - wings

4. definitely maybe - oasis

5. harvest - neil young

6. darkness on the edge of town - bruce springsteen

7. last time around - buffalo springfield

8. tallahassee - the mountain goats

9. glass houses - billy joel

10. loose salute - michael nesmith

honourable mention goes to every monkees album... i couldnt pick and then there was no more room :')

tagging @ninetimesbluedemo @imeminemp3 @transgenderbobdylan @appleisms and @chicken-delight :))

[skyyknights]

Ao3 | @zelinkcommunity | check ao3 for my notes!

“Hylia!”

The curse left Zelda’s mouth before she was fully aware of having thought it. With further exclamations stringing through her mind, she tore open one of her desk drawers, flinging extra quill pens and seals aside in a frantic search for her ink blotter.

“Never where it needs to be,” she muttered, ripping open another drawer. She wasn’t usually this violent, but spilling ink on an important council document provided ample excuse for aggression in her opinion.

“Everything okay, Princess?”

She jumped slightly at the question, glancing up to see Link poking his head through her study door. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” she answered, finally locating the blotter and quickly working on cleaning up the spilled ink.

He hovered in the doorway, one brow arched in skepticism as he eyed her scowl. “You, uh, sure about that?”

Zelda sighed, surveying the remnants of the ink splotch staining the parchment. Link always saw through her somehow; it was always better to just be honest with him upfront. “Not really. I accidentally bumped my inkwell and splashed ink on an important document. The council is going to have my head.”

“I’m sorry.” He scratched the back of his head, looking thoughtful before breaking into a mischievous grin. “Hey, if you want, you can blame me for it, say that the clumsy goat herder spilled some ink like the hick guy he is.”

Zelda laughed, taken by surprise at the suggestion. “I might just do that, honestly.” She frowned. “You’re not clumsy, though.”

He wrinkled his nose adorably, leaning one arm on the doorframe. “Debatable.”

She rolled her eyes at that before suddenly remembering herself. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you want to come in?”

“Nah, thanks though.” He flashed her a smile, brushing a strand of bangs from his eyes. “I was just coming past on my way to rebandage Epona’s leg when I heard you thumping around. Just wanted to check if you were okay.”

She felt a flush crossing her cheeks, not that his concern was anything new. He was always this sweet to everyone, but her especially. It just took her some getting used to the idea that the legendary Hero was so friendly and personable and caring and—

Zelda cleared her throat, snapping herself out of her thoughts. He was still watching her, cornflower blue eyes soft. “I see,” she said slowly, busying herself with setting the ink blotter aside. “Well, yes, I am fine. Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Link responded with a smile. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then. Let me know if you need anything!” He started to pull the door shut.

Something inside of Zelda was resistant to the idea of him leaving so suddenly. “Actually,” she called out, searching in her brain for some excuse to keep him there a moment longer.

Link paused, gloved hand gripping the door’s edge as he looked back at her. “Yes, your Highness?”

“Can you—” She drew a breath, eyes darting around her office. “Um, my desk. Would you mind helping me move it?”

He was already stepping into the room, a bit of mud flaking off of his boots as he crossed the floor to her. “Sure. Where to?”

“Oh, just over by the window. It’s a little dark over here,” Zelda said. A lie— it was perfectly well lit where her desk was currently situated, but she couldn’t ask him to move her desk without a reason.

“All right,” he said with a shrug. He took hold of one end of the desk, and she stood at the other. They lifted the desk and carried it over to the window, setting it down gently.

“Thank you,” Zelda said demurely. “Now, go attend to poor Epona. I’m sorry I delayed you.”

“It was no trouble,” Link answered cheerfully, giving her a mock salute before walking to the door again. As he stepped out into the hall, his belt snagged on the door handle. One of the leather pouches on his belt slid off and fell to the floor, the flap falling open.

Link didn’t appear to notice, pulling the door shut behind him, and Zelda paced over to the pouch, intending to pick it up and go into the hall to catch him and return it. She knelt on the floor to grab the pouch, pausing upon seeing that a clutter of parchments had spilled out of it, each neatly folded into thirds and sealed with wax.

Zelda wasn’t usually the type to pry into other people’s business, but something about the parchments piqued her interest. She paused, fingers lingering just above the topmost one, before biting her lip and picking it up. Flipping the paper over to see if it was addressed to anyone, Zelda was astonished to see her own name scrawled just above the wax seal in rather messy handwriting.

What?

She dug through the rest of the pile and discovered that the rest of the folded parchments were also addressed to her. Zelda sucked in a breath, thinking for a moment— she wasn’t fully comfortable with opening Link’s personal belongings, but at the same time, these were addressed to her.

She might as well, right? They were technically hers, after all.

She chewed her lip for a moment longer before breaking the seal on the first parchment and unfolding it. To her surprise, it was a letter, written in the same messy Hylian script as was on the front flap. Zelda scanned the scanty contents with a sense of growing disbelief.

Princess,

Have you ever had pumpkin soup? I have, both from Ordon and a yeti. Maybe someday you can meet him; he made some really good soup. I ended up fighting his wife, though. She was evil. Because of one of them mirror shards, actually! She’s fine now, don’t worry. In case you wanted to know.

—Link

She read through a few more trivial letters about food and the dogs and cats in Castle Town before reaching one that was a bit more serious.

To Your Highness,

It’s been a strange kind of day. Spent most of it weeding out more of the monsters like usual, but then when I got back you invited me to a council ball happening earlier tonight. I felt pretty dang awkward walking in. Everybody turned and stared at me and started whispering. “It’s the Hero,” I kept hearing people say, but they were wrong. I don’t feel like much of a hero. I mean, I lost Midna and everything, and I couldn’t even defeat Ganondorf without your help. So am I a hero? Really? I don’t think so. I hate when people look at me and that’s all they see, because it’s not true. But I think I’m the only one who sees that. It sickens me to hear myself referred to as a hero. Because I’m not.

Sorry to get deep on you. It’s not like you’ll read this anyway. Just wanted to get it off my chest, I guess, and you’re the only person I’d ever want to tell it to.

—Link

Link? Not a hero? The idea was preposterous. Of course she had helped him in one of his battles against Ganondorf, but in the end, Link was the one who dealt the killing blow in a fight without aid. And he hadn’t lost Midna. She left.

She chose to leave.

He blamed himself for that?

Zelda sighed and picked up the next letter. She’d have to talk with him later about the whole self esteem business, not that that was an area in which she herself was particularly skilled.

My Princess,

I wish I could tell you.

But I’m not brave enough.

I don’t know if I ever will be.

—Yours always, Link

Just what exactly did he mean by that? Zelda flipped the letter over to see if anything else was written on it, but the back was blank. She huffed in frustration, dropping it and reaching for the next in the stack.

Zelda read through the rest of the letters quickly, hoping to find some clue as to what Link had meant in the previous one. Instead she found herself discovering a new, vulnerable side of the hero. Some of his missives were full of characteristic humor and wisecracks, but others were deeply personal, appealing to her more sympathetic and human side. In many of them he spoke of the nightmares that had begun to plague him upon completing his quest, nightmares she had known nothing of until now. Once, he even mentioned having nearly snapped during a formal dinner. It was like my sanity abandoned me, he wrote. I could’ve turned to the man beside me and killed him right there.

But none of the letters surprised her so much as the last one.

It began much less formally. Whereas the others opened with polite addresses such as “To the Princess” or “Greetings, Your Highness,” this one was personal.

Dear Zelda,

It sure feels terrible to call you that. I could barely bring myself to write it, but at the same time, I want to write it again and again and again. Saying it would be worse, I already know. Because then I would never, ever be able to stop. It’s a name as lovely as you are…oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I’m not good with words. Never have been. I’m sure you’ve already picked up on that, but you would’ve known it better if you had ever read any of these. Not that you ever will, and I don’t mind. But I would like to say I’m glad I met you, even though it hurts sometimes. It hurts to look at the suitors flocking to your throne, begging for your hand. Dancing with you at balls as I lurk in the corner like the shaggy, dusty, goat-herding farm boy I am. Hero of Twilight or no, I’m not a suitable choice for you and I never have been or will be. So I’ll keep standing silently in the corners watching and protecting. I don’t mind, so long as you’re safe. And as long as I’m around you will be.

I think this will be my last letter, not that you’ll ever know or care, and I prefer to keep it that way. If anyone finds these, your suitors will have my head. And…I can’t risk you finding them, either. I know I’m the Hero of Twilight or whatever, but I’m too scared to let you see any of these. I don’t think I could ever face you again if I knew you had read them. And I know you’re never going to, so…I might as well say it here, since I’ll never be able to say it out loud. Zelda, I love you. I think I might have always loved you, ever since I saw you in the wreckage of your castle, alone and mysterious by the window as rain fell outside. Even in wolf form, I was head over heels. And I still am. Every interaction with you only makes it stronger. Which is why I know I’ll have to end it sometime, one of the reasons this is my final letter. But to fully end it so I don’t cause you any discomfort…I’ll have to leave. I can’t risk being in your presence and falling even farther than I already have. Nor can I let you feel uncomfortable because of my feelings. I’m a goat herder. I’m not fit for a queen. Even if you were Hyrule’s most lowly person, I still wouldn’t deserve you. You’re too great and beautiful and smart and kind for me. So, someday once you’ve found someone and have someone else to watch out for you, I’ll leave. But I can’t yet.

I can’t bring myself to part with you.

But don’t worry. I will someday. Someday, when I get my act together.

But farewell for now. (Not that you’ll ever see this).

Love (it is such a relief to pen the word!), love, love,

Link

The parchment fell from her hands, and Zelda slumped backwards in her chair, eyes blown wide in shock.

He—

What?!?

In a flash she was on her feet, scooping all of the letters into her hands before sweeping from the room. Epona— earlier he had mentioned something about Epona. Which meant there was only one place he could be.

Zelda practically sprinted out of the castle, skirts flying around her in a most undignified manner as she darted through the courtyard and towards the palace stables. Her heart was pounding nearly out of control as she halted by the slightly open door. Zelda drew a long breath to steel herself, smoothed down her hair, and pulled open the door, stepping into the warmth within.

She found Link kneeling in the aisle between stalls, wrapping one of Epona’s fetlocks in a roll of bandages and murmuring softly to her. His Ordonian accent, the one he always tried so hard to hide around Zelda, filled the barn aisle with a gentle twang as Zelda stared at his back, the letters gripped in her hands.

She cleared her throat once, twice, before he finally twisted to look at her, dirt smudged on his nose and cheeks. “Oh,” Link said, eyes opening a bit wider in surprise. “Hello again, your Highness. Can I do something for you?”

Zelda had never been one to beat around the bush, and she didn’t intend to begin the habit now. “These letters,” she blurted, holding said parchments at arm’s length and staring him directly in the face. “You wrote them?”

The color drained from Link’s face as if she had just informed him Ganondorf was alive. His jaw dropped, and he stammered, the roll of bandages sliding from his fingers as he fumbled for words.

“You were never supposed to see those,” he said finally, voice strained and desperate.

As if anything could wipe them from her memory.

“Yes, well.” Zelda cleared her throat, not relenting in her stare. “They— fell from your pouch, and I was going to bring them back to you but I saw my name on them, so…”

Link slid his gaze away from her, chewing his lower lip with teeth she couldn’t help but notice were slightly pointed. (Not that she was looking. Far from it).

“Would you believe me if I said someone forged my name?” he said abruptly after a moment, cheeks flushed with humiliation as he got to his feet.

“No, I would not.” Zelda dropped the stack of letters onto a wooden saddle stand and took a step closer to him. “I want to know what they mean.”

Link’s eyes widened, and then he squinted and tilted his head, surveying her critically. “Well, you read them, didn’t you?” he asked hoarsely, seeming briefly hopeful that maybe she actually hadn’t. At her nod, he deflated slightly and plopped onto a nearby hay bale, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling, “Then…it should be pretty obvious what they mean.”

Zelda’s lips parted as she processed what he had said. If that was true, then…what he had said in the last one—

I think I might have always loved you—

“You…” She paused, drawing a breath as his eyes flickered up to her in mild alarm. He probably thought she was about to execute him given the concern shown in his letters. “So you— love me, then?”

Link turned red to the tips of his ears, dropping his gaze again. “And here I was worrying I was being too open about it,” he muttered, kicking a clump of dirt with one boot.

“What?” She stared at him, stepping forward and settling herself next to him on the hay bale. He swallowed, darting a glance at her, his entire body tensing. “Link, what do you mean by that?”

“I…well, just that…I thought everybody could see I was in love with you,” he answered feebly, shrugging and twisting a piece of hay between his fingers. “I figured maybe I was being a little too…” His brow wrinkled. “…Indiscreet, I guess. I, um, I hoped nobody had noticed, but I wasn’t sure and— well, now you found the letters so it doesn’t even matter anymore—”

Zelda’s head was spinning out of control. She turned away from him, staring at the floor and trying to think. Trying to process. But it was next to impossible when the utterly adorable Hero of Twilight himself was seated beside her, their legs sinfully close to touching, only mere moments after she learned that he was in love with her.

That he had always been in love with her.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I know it was too far,” Link said miserably beside her, trying and failing to keep his accent under control. “But if you want, you never have to look at me, ever again. You can…throw me in a dungeon or banish me or cut off my head or do whatever y— mmphf!”

His words were abruptly silenced as Zelda seized him by the collar and pressed her lips to his, kissing him in the dusty shafts of late evening sunlight. He stiffened against her, clearly not having expected that, but after a moment passed and she didn’t move, she felt him soften and relax, returning her kiss with just a fraction of the wolf behind his eyes. One of his hands came up to cup her cheek, his calloused thumb brushing over it, and Zelda fairly melted, lost in the scent of hay and earth and sunlight that eternally clung to him.

After just a moment she released Link, his collar wrinkled by the intensity of her grip, and sat back, suddenly sheepish. She, the future queen of Hyrule, the one her subjects always described as stoic and unfeeling, was sheepish.

She quite liked the feeling, actually.

It took her a moment to realize that Link was staring at her like she had just transformed into a Bulblin. She knew she should apologize for catching him off-guard like that, but at the same time, some small bit of mischief inside her said otherwise.

Zelda met Link’s speechless gaze with the smallest smirk growing on her face, tilting her head just slightly. “Just for the record,” she said coolly, placing a finger on his lips as he started to open his mouth, “my name is Zelda. Not ‘Princess.’ Not ‘Your Highness.’ Just Zelda.”

He stammered, cheeks redder than the Gerudo sun, and swallowed. “So you’re not going to banish me?” he whispered finally, bangs falling into his eyes.

She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at his oblivion. “Are you really that thick-skulled?” she said fondly, tapping his forehead with one finger. “I thought it was apparent that I loved you, too.”

“Um…no?” He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I thought you were just…being nice…” He coughed, shoulders sagging slightly. “And honestly, even if you had been really obvious, I wouldn’t have thought it possible that you could be in love with me. I mean, I am just a backwater goat herder, you know.” He gave a halfhearted grin, but she could tell he felt bad about the fact.

“And? So what? I’m an orphan who let my kingdom fall to the enemy. I wouldn’t care if you were a pig farmer, okay?” She paused, a smile spreading over her face as a new thought occurred to her. “And honestly…I’m glad you’re a goat herder. Your accent is really cute.”

“Wait.” Link stared at her in mortification, his cheeks flooding with color. “You know I have an accent?”

“Of course I do,” she laughed, bumping his arm with hers. “It’s super adorable, actually. But you’re always trying to hide it.”

“I—” Link was silent for a moment, processing. She could almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Well, it’s honestly more embarrassing that you know I was hiding it.” He licked his lips, shoulders creeping slightly upwards. “Do you really think it’s cute?” he said in a small voice, darting a side glance at her.

“Extremely,” she assured him, patting his knee.

The grin that covered Link’s face at her response was like sunlight itself. She basked in its rays as he scooted closer, his hand moving up to cup her jaw.

His breath was hot against her cheek as he whispered, face alight with love, “May I?”

She let herself fall into the depths of his eyes, leaning towards him with one hand pressed to his chest. “You may,” Zelda breathed in reply.

So he kissed her like the wolf he was.