#sapphire flames snippets

[midnightsapphire]

here’s a small snippet of my Hades x Persephone au with Aemond! I’m having so much fun writing this but I need help coming up with a title :c any help would be appreciated! 

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Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider of the largest war beast in all of Westeros, Vhagar, Prince Regent, Kinslayer. The list was growing endless as Aemond cast his single eye along the burning castles of Harrenhal, the orange flames that cast a glow against the blue sapphire he no longer felt ashamed of hiding away behind the leather eyepatches. He let out a victorious laugh atop his beast as his arms spread as wide as the wing’s of his dragon, relishing on the victory he had achieved for the crown, for his family, for his king. 

He watched as the people screamed, pleading with him to show mercy as they watched their homes, their fields, their livelihoods be swallowed in a gust of orange as Vhagar swept low enough to breath her hellflame along their borders. Aemond made note of their fear-stricken faces, the curses thrown at him, the bodies falling with every moment. 

Dare he say he relished in the destruction that followed his shadow. 

It had been long after the death of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm’s Delight, the Half-Queen no longer. The entirety of the Black’s reign whipped off the face of Westeros, a shell of an alliance that was never to be spoken in the King’s presence should they wish to keep their tongues, generously speaking on their part. The rule of Aegon the Second was rocky, but wholly accepted as the reign of the “true king” rose with Aemond’s assistance in allying themselves with the most powerful houses, keeping their own close and ridding the world of those that opposed them. 

“My brother, you’ve graciously returned!” Aegon slurred, his hefty cups of wine spilling with every word as he waved his hands graciously at the sight of his armor cladded brother, covered with soot and grime from the grueling fires that once again found itself on the ground of the Riverlands. Aemond bent the knee to his brother, casting his winged helmet at his side as he bestowed a sealed paper to his brother, that unceremoniously pushed the whore off his lap as he snatched the paper, lilac eyes skimming over it’s words as he felt a sickly smile grow on his face. 

“The fools had finally bent the knee.”

“They had no knees left to bend when I had stepped foot on their lands.” Aemond confirmed as he stood tall once again at the foot of the throne, his head held high as he glared at the whore that laid at Aegon’s feet, letting out a soft gasp and diverting her gaze away from the glimmering sapphire that ordained his face. 

“Perfect, they should remember with fire and blood who is truly meant to rule the seven kingdoms.” Aegon snickered as he stumbled upon the throne again, leaning his cheek along the top of his fist as he swallowed more swigs from his chalice, narrowing them at Aemond’s from above the rim. 

“Take it. Harrenhal.” Aegon spoke seriously, his head tilting as he eyed his brother. The ever dutiful son, the golden child, the one their mother clearly favored when he had bestowed the head of Daemon Targaryen after their fitful fight above God’s Eye, effectively ridding the world of the Rogue Prince and his blood worm, Caraxes. “You.. always had a knack for ruling, a taste for duty. Take it as it is, the barren wasteland. A gift from one brother to another.” He said with a brush of his hand. 

“It is no longer of any service to me when you have stripped the land bare of its forests and homes. Consider it.. your very own little underworld.” 

Thus he had become Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider of the largest war beast in all of Westeros, Vhagar, Prince Regent, Kinslayer, Ruler of the Underworld.

[lexisartblog]

Title: An Ornate Palace

Fandom: DC: Nightwing/Deathstroke x Captive Prince (C.S Pacat)

This piece was a special gift for @shrikethegremlin - we had a lovely time discussing their Captive Prince SlaDick Au!

Thank you for sharing your amazing writing with me, my friend! 🥰

A very special treat! Shrike has given me permission to share a lil snippet!

Check under the cut!

This fortress could be nothing more dissimilar than the grace of the Greco-Roman fortifications they'd left behind.

The place was ornate, heavily embellished. It was all dark wood carvings and archways draped in velvet. The halls they were led down were stone, lit with flaming sconces. Finally, they arrived at a sturdy door, and one of the two attending guards pushed it open.

Inside was warm. Silk couches were carelessly strewn with pillows. Light refreshments of cheese, bread, and preserved meats were artfully arranged on a silver platter, on a table above a thick rug. A fire crackled in the ornately carved hearth. But these things were background noise to Slade, who had eyes for only one thing.

“Richard.”

He was dressed in the subdued and severe styles of this land's court, a subtly expensive brocade jacket with intricate lacings and fitted silk pants. But his ears were studded with gleaming sapphires, sparkling in the firelight, making the blue of his eyes almost unreal. A delicate gold circlet rested around his neck, and something that looked concerningly like gold cuffs adorned his wrists.

"My Dove."

- Written by @shrikethegremlin 🥰💝

[vesleezyon]

the hunter.

—aemond targaryen x original oc

just a snippet from the first chapter of my fic on ao3. literally in its fetal stages im writing the third chapter rn 😭

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

—takes place while Prince Aemond and Princess Viena are eleven, so just innocent fluff here :) plsssss lmk any opinions pleaseeee I wanna switch up the style to be more renaissance-ey but we will see

Preparations for the afternoon's feast are in full swing. The castle is crowded with lords and ladies from all corners of the realms, dressed in their best, smiling and greeting the Princeling as he rushes by them. Aemond gives them cordial nods and curt hello’s but nothing more, making his way to Viena’s room before Rhaenyra could sequester her away.

At last, he sees her. She turns the corner in a soft turquoise dress, adorned with flowers and hummingbirds beaded into the bodice, chiffon draping from her shoulders and skirt. Dainty, heart-shaped diamonds and delicate sapphires hang in her dark curls, pinning her braids into pretty little twists.

She scans the crowd and her eyes are led to him like a moth to flame. “Aemond!” She screams, breaking into a sprint, and he runs to meet her halfway. They throw themselves at each other, bursting into laughter as they nearly fall to the floor. “What’re you doing here?” She asks him, gently pulling away and taking his hand in hers.

“I was looking for you.” He answers plainly.

“Well, I’m not doing anything fun. My mother wants me to go out to the courtyard to listen to the music with my brothers.” She whines, rolling her eyes.

He chuckles. “Since when do you follow orders so easily?” Aemond challenges, but Viena looks over her shoulder and points to the two kingsguard following behind them.

“Since they’ve been babysitting me.” She says, looking back at Aemond. “I can’t do anything on my own anymore. And I used to sneak away sometimes, but I guess they’ve… adapted,” she shrugs, looking up to the lords and ladies as they greet her and Aemond. She gives them that pretty little smile, a polite nod, all the while squeezing on Aemond’s hand.

Aemond felt his heart flutter at her touch. “We’ll find a way.” He whispers, and she scoffs.

“I know we will. Just you wait. I have a surprise for you, remember?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Aemond nods, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I haven’t forgotten, Princess. I have a surprise for you, too.” He says, watching her face light up with excitement.

“Really? What is it?” She asked eagerly, but he shook his head.

“I can’t tell you. But you’ll get it at dinner. I promise.” Despite her protests, some of the lords caught her attention as they pass and greet her, quickly distracting her.

Oh, Viena. She shone like a star among these nobles, her charming smile and that enchanting spirit making her a cherished little delight, just as her mother was at her age.

Hand in hand, giggling and whispering to one another, Viena led Aemond into the courtyard. The music is loud and lively, Viena skipping her steps in rhythm as they bounce down the steps. The courtyard was a riot with color and sound, the bands playing cheerful melodies as the nobles chatter loudly over each other.

Viena’s laughter is infectious. The expectations to be prim and proper were forgotten in her presence. They spent their day lounging in the shade, playfully pushing and pulling on each other and calling it dance, screaming with laughter while they weave through nobles and play chase. Together, they’re more than Prince and Princess. They’re children.

As the golden hues of the afternoon rolled in, the servants wove through the crowds ringing the dinner bells. Aemond and Viena sit knee to knee, seeking refuge from the summer sun under the leafy embrace of a bushy oak tree. They share a shortcake between them, gossiping and giggling with each other quietly. Despite the crowds of people surrounding them, they felt alone in their own little world.

Their solitude was serene until Jacaerys and little Luke found them, insisting they come in for dinner. Jace pulls her up off the grass and, despite her whining and dragging her feet, coaxes all the children inside.

Still brimming with energy, Viena squeezes Aemond’s hand while chattering all the way. And he listens with a smile and occasional laugh, because despite talking about nothing particularly interesting, he delighted in hearing her voice. To him, she sounds like the morning birds that woke him, with the gentle coo of dragons woven into her tone. She was the sound of home.

Their family waits for them near the entrance to the ballroom. Viserys, already tipsy and wobbling on his feet, beamed with pride as his little grandchildren round the corner. Viena let out a joyous scream, releasing Aemond’s hand and sprinting into Viserys’ arms.

The King let out a hearty chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her. “There’s my devilish little girl,” he says, giving her a warm squeeze before pulling back to look at her. “You look lovely. The little belle of the ball. Did you choose this dress, Rhaenyra? Such exquisite beading-“ He goes on, turning his attention to Rhaenyra.

Aemond, ignoring his mother’s watchful eye, grasps Viena’s hands and guides her into their proper place, front and center. They enter together, sit together, and leave together. It’s assumed that, despite the hardships, they’d spend their lives together as well.

Aemond reaches into the pocket of his tunic and pulls out a small, decorated wooden box. The craftsmanship is simple yet delicate, the shapes of dragons and fires carved into the wood. “I have your surprise,” he whispers, offering her the gift. “Happy early name-day, Princess.” He said with a tender smile.

Viena tilts her head at him and her eyes soften. She releases his hand and takes the box, giggling as she carefully unlatches the top. When she opened it, her giggles halted, replaced with a sharp gasp and a face glowing with delight. “Oh my—Aemond! Where did you get this?!” She screams, pulling the necklace out of the box with a gentle hand. Sapphire teardrops hang from a silver chain, the gems glimmering in the evening lights.

“It was made for you.” He says, trying to maintain a stoic and nonchalant demeanor but failing as a wide grin spreads across his face. Her joy is more contagious than a plague, and she hopped from foot to foot, bubbling with glee. “I made the box myself. You’ve always got all this jewelry scattered around and-”

Before he could finish, Viena tossed herself at him, cutting him off with a burst of laughter. “I love it! The necklace, the box, all of it,” she gushed, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing him.

Aemond holds her gently, his heart swelling with pride. He knew she’d adore it. Who knows sweet Viena better than he does, after all? “I’m glad you do.” He murmured.

Viena pulled away from him, a bright smile glowing on her lips as she held the necklace out to him. “Can you help me put it on?” She asks.

His body softens. He nods, “Of course.” He says, taking the necklace from her. She turns and pulls her curls into her hands, careful not to ruin her braids as he gently fastens the chain around her neck. Then, he wraps his hands around her wrists and watches her hair fall down her back, heart shaped diamonds glimmering like stars in the darkness.

Viena touched the necklace with a certain softness that made Aemond’s heart flutter. “Does my hair still look okay?” She asks, looking over her shoulder to meet his soft eyes.

Aemond’s eyes fall back to those curls, the braids, the sapphire pins and heart-shaped diamonds. Doesn’t she realize? “It looks perfect, Vi.” No part of her would ever look any less than flawless in his eyes.

Her smile widens. “Thank you.” She says, turning to face the doors again. “I really do love them.” She tells him, her hand finding its proper place in his again.

She deserves nothing less, Aemond thought, but before he could voice the sentiment, Alicent laid her hands over her son's shoulders. She whispers to the children that it’s time for them to be announced, asks if they’re ready, to which they both eagerly nod.

The lords and ladies of Westeros have found much joy in watching the young royals grow up together. Aemond’s modest and courteous demeanor lent him a certain charm, especially when his cradle-mate who, in her spirited exuberance, flits about like a little bird, stirring delightful disorder wherever she graces.

Together, they’re harmoniously leveled. They’re the sun and moon locked into a celestial dance, the oceans and earth united in a timeless waltz, ice and fire congealing into a magnificent spectacle, one soul reborn and split in time by just one day. The grand doors swing open before them, a respectful hush falling over the dinner guests. The herald’s voice rips through the crowd, announcing their names with a tone of reverence. Prince Aemond Targaryen, and Princess Viena Velaryon.

Even as the names of their esteemed family were proclaimed, all eyes were on them. Viena squeezes his hand, lingering close to him. The whispers around them fade into nothing as Viena leans into his ear, forging a path through the throngs of nobility.

“Did you see how drunk Aegon was already? Such a slob. I meant it when I said he’s a pig.” She whispers lowly, forcing Aemond to betray his stoic expression and giggle as they make their way to the great table.

“Shut up, Vi.” He mutters back, trying to maintain his composure.

“What? I’m just saying. He’s probably drunk more than a braavosi sea lord already.” She whispers, her tone playful, “And my mother worries about me embarrassing the family. Unbelievable.” She scoffs, lifting her dress slightly to follow him up the steps.

Aemond’s grin widens. Some call her mean and nasty-mouthed but Aemond thinks she’s honest. She tells the truth as it is, a trait he’s found hard to find in anyone but her. Her irreverence has always had a strange way of lightening his mood, reminding him he isn’t alone in this world.

They take their seats at the center of the table, side by side. Viena’s quiet whispers, telling him her every thought and observation, granted a sense of comfortability to the grand occasion. In a room full of people watching him, she still managed to make him feel like they were hidden away in their own corner of paradise.

The room was alive with laughter and chatter as the music swells into soft, smoother rhythms as the night wore on. Meals filled with exotic foods were served, as well as simpler dishes the children could stomach a bit easier. Viena and Aemond got to sip an expensive wine, which made the Princess especially giggly.

After their fifth course of desert, Viena and Aemond excused themselves to dance, running off before Alicent or Rhaenyra could tell them no. They sprinted and jump down the steps, their laughter echoing through the room as joined the nobles swaying on the floor below.

They lock hands and jump and spin, playing more than dancing. They apologize gently as they bump into lords and their ladies as they sway on the dance floor. Their mothers could never guess where those two get all the energy from, but if they were honest, it’s a relief to see them choose youth over duty. It’s a luxury many children in this family aren’t granted.

Viena leans in close to his ear. “We’ve got to go now. They’re not watching. Come on.” She whispers urgently. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed his hand and dove into the crowd, running past the exit and slipping into the servants’ passage without being spotted.

She’s always so quick to disappear. Her insatiable desire for adventure is the root of all her trouble, he thinks. Mayhaps the root of all his, too. It doesn’t matter. He jogs to keep up with her as she pulls him through the narrow corridor.

“Where are we going?” He asks.

“It’s my surprise for you.” She answers, navigating the winding corridors with ease. “Did you think I forgot?” She asks.

Viena leads him down all kinds of steps, all kinds of twisting turns and winding passages that easily scramble his sense of direction. These tunnels are dark and damp, save for a few torches hanging here and there, but Viena acts like she’s running through the lines of her palm. She’s ecstatic, bouncing and skipping, brimming with energy as Aemond struggled to keep pace.

“Okay, we’re close.” She whispers, turning to him as the corridor opens into a cave. “Cover your eyes.” She says, walking backwards and releasing his hands. She’s smiling ear to ear, biting her lip, and the sapphires on her neck glimmer in the soft torchlight. He chuckles and covers his eyes with his palms, hearing her giggle and hop behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders and guiding him through the cave.

Slowly, he began to hear the crashing of waves against the rocky mountainside, then the stone give way to sand under his shoes. “Where are we, Vi?” He asks, curiosity piqued. She giggles and pushes him a bit faster.

“Not yet! Don’t look yet!” She exclaims. She brings him out onto the sand, the cool night air hitting his face with a soft chill. He could smell the salty sea from where he stood, furrowing his brows as he listened to Viena run to stand in front of him.

She tilts his head upwards towards the sky. He hears her shuffle in the sand, then sigh with contentment. “Now open your eyes,” She says.

Aemond removed his hands, going still as he stared up at the sky above him. The heavens stretched out above them, laying out an intricate kaleidoscope of stars, their lights shining against the inky darkness. The moon, full and luminous, casts a silver glow onto the waves and leaves its reflection dancing with the water's wake.

“Vi… this place is…” he trails off, realizing he didn’t have the words to tell her how beautiful this is. His vocabulary simply was large enough to capture the wonder he felt.

“I dreamt of it. That I was here with you.” She says, watching the stars fade in and out between the soft clouds. “I didn’t want to come looking for it without you.” She skips ahead of him, kicking her shoes off.

His eyes fall to the back of her head. Diamonds hang in her curls like heart-shaped stars, sparkling in hues of pink and blue as she kicks off her shoes and sinks her toes into the soft sand, staring up to marvel at the night sky. She never knew the night could have so many colors, gems of blue and brilliant white painting the sky above them.

“The stars almost look like sapphires,” he says, following her out onto the beach, tearing his gaze away from her to look at the stars.

She giggles and nods. “They do, don’t they? It’s so beautiful. Please tell me you like it.” she pleads, turning to him with eyes large as the moon.

He looks down at her with a softness that only she could pry from him. “I love it, Viena.” He tells her earnestly, watching her grin grow with satisfaction.

“I’m glad.” She replies. “Happy late name-day, Aemond.”

He stares at her as she turns to the ocean, lifting her satin dress above her knees and pressing her bare feet into the wet sand, her shoulders shivering as the cold sea rises to tickle her toes.

Her curious eyes follow the tiny fish and tadpoles fleeing through the shallow water, wiggling her toes to startle them when they’d get close. She’s adorable, making him smile as he inches closer to the water’s edge.

“Do you remember the stories I used to tell you about the constellations?” He asks, watching her nod as she curiously wades deeper into the salty sea, the water now lapping at her bony ankles. “Do you remember the Hunter?”

She looks aimlessly up to the sky, drawing in a sharp gasp. “Can you see it!? Oh, you have to show me! Show me!” She squeals, jumping back to the shoreline and standing with him.

He looks down at her with a grin, holding her shoulders and turning her away from him. He took her hand and told her to stick her pointer finger out, listening to her laugh as he guided her to point up at a row of three bright stars.

“See those three in a row? That’s his belt.” He says, and knows she’s seen it once she gasps.

“Where’s the rest of him?” She asks.

Aemond slowly guides her finger to trace the three stars. “Follow the line of his belt, Princess. To the left is his arm holding the bow, to the right his other arm is drawn back, ready to release.” He softly explains, her big brown eyes following her finger, tracing the stars, grinning ear to ear.

A silence lingers between them as Viena slowly outlines the constellation, finding his head and legs on her own. She holds his hand at her side, too distracted with the stars to notice him staring at her.

Devilish Princess Viena. She’s more beautiful than a hundred starry skies. Without her, this cove would be a desolate and lonely spot with no worth to him. Such sentiments, he knew, would fall short on her innocent ears. His mother would say he’s too young to harbor such thoughts, but he couldn't help it. He cannot control his emotions no matter how he battles them.

He couldn’t tell how long they spent there. Long enough that by the time they returned, the party was long over and the guards were scouring the castle for the Prince and Princess. She’d tried to sneak as much as she could, but Ser Harwin stopped them as they crossed a hallway trying to slip into the servant’s passage.

Before Harwin could take her away, Viena reached her hands into her hair and pulled a heart shaped diamond from her bed of dark curls. A section of hair came loose, falling over the side of her cheek. “Here.” She offered, holding the thin hair pin out to him. “Happy late name-day, Aemond. I’m sorry it’s not the best.” She says.

Gently, he took the hair pin from her. The edges of the diamond turn pink and blue in the soft candlelight. Ser Harwin rested his hand on her shoulder, making her turn her head to him before Aemond could catch her eye.

He watched the diamonds and sapphires glimmer between her dark curls, clutching her gift tightly in his fist. “I like it, Vi. Happy early name-day.” He returned, and she turned back to him as Ser Harwin began to pull her off. She gave him a smile and reached her fist out to him. He touched their knuckles and earned her giggles.

“Tomorrow, my Prince.” She bidded, yawning as Ser Harwin hoisted the small girl into his arms.

“Tomorrow, Princess.” He replied.

Nobody came to retrieve Aemond and guide him to his room. No one ever does, and he figures that’s okay, because he’d never run off like Viena would. She needs it more than he does, of course.

[gaybd1]

I wanna hear about Sokka killing Ozai…👀

Yessss Sokka Kills Ozai is based on this post and the concept has been lodged in my brain ever since…

Here’s a snippet and I’m giving away wayyyyyy too much but I’ve gotten a lot of asks about this lol so here you go

“S…Sokka?”

That was the first thing Zuko saw as he turned the corner into his father’s dimly-lit cell, a place he’d only been a handful of times.

When the guards alerted him to a break-in at the prison, he hadn’t been expecting… this.

Sokka just slowly blinked back at him. He clearly hadn’t been expecting Zuko.

Zuko’s eyes widened as he took in the blood staining Sokka’s torso, spattering up onto his face and into his eyes. The sliver of light reaching in from the lanterns in the corridor fell across the left side of Sokka’s face, illuminating the crimson and sapphire of the blood around his widening eye.

He didn’t know whether to find it beautiful or horrifying.

“Sokka, you’re hurt…” he said numbly, not even able to try to process what happened.

“It’s… not mine…”

Zuko followed Sokka’s gaze down to his feet, noticing for the first time the knife the other boy held, and the shadowed mass at his feet.

The flame in Zuko’s veins turned to ice as he finally begun to piece together the scene in front of him.

“Sokka…” he whispered, stepping closer.

The light caught the white of Sokka’s teeth as he broke into a wide grin.

“You’re safe,” Sokka breathed, voice shaking a little, yet still full of relief and… pride? “He can’t hurt you again.”

Zuko closed the distance between them, ignoring the body of his dead father at their feet, and wrapped his arms around Sokka. He couldn’t be sure who was steadying who’s shaking. He couldn’t have any feelings about his father right now- he didn’t even know where to begin, honestly. But he knew the gravity of what Sokka had just done.

And he never should have had to.

[itsmaybitheway]

Hi loveliess!!!! Thank you @suseagull04 @magicandarchery and @theprinceandagcd for the tags!!! Hope everyone is surviving their week and enjoying the snippets that’s being shared around <3<3<3

This weeks snippet is from the next installment of my What-If series that’s hopefully gonna be published this Saturday. What-If Alex had stumbled upon and read Henry’s journal the first night he spent at Kensington?

Lying down on his back, for a good few minutes, Alex just stares at the ceiling, thinking about how Henry must have spent nights looking at a similar ceiling in despair. The walls of his golden gilded cage.

The image of a Phoenix stuck inside a cage pops into his head, piercing sapphire eyes and golden feathers, shackles holding him in his place. The words he just read echoes in his head “If he does get close, if he sees me, if he loves me, I’m afraid I’d let him burn me and everything else. My palace, my crown, my title, myself.” He watches as the regal, majestic bird in his head bursts into flames, turning into ash, all the ash pouring out of the cage and onto the floor. From the pile, a tiny bird reappears, eyes just as blue, just as deep, free.

Alex wants to set Henry on fire.

And as always tags with no-pressure attached!!! If anyone sees this and wants to share open tags to you, pls @ me so I can ready what everyone’s cooking!! @affectionatelyrs @agame-writes @anincompletelist @anchoredarchangel @cha-melodius @cricketnationrise @clottedcreamfudge @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @gayrootvegetable @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @indestructibleheart @i-am-freyja @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @msmarvelouswinchester @ninzied @priincebutt @sherryvalli @songliili @three-drink-amy @wordsofhoneydew @zwiazdziarka

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

Wind tore through the trees, playing a hateful melody that cursed their names for the heinous act they’d just committed. Cerulean flames shot upwards from the summoning circle, dancing with the shadows born from its hellish light, and a deafening caterwaul of demonic screams accompanied the mass of distorted flesh and bone that manifested before them. When the conglomeration of disembodied parts took proper form, it left in front of them what was basically a color-inverted Black Hat, as was expected. Soft, large feathers poked out of the ribbon tied around the being’s silky white top hat, its body adorned with a pristine white suit. A royal blue brooch was pinned at the neck of its shirt, the same kind of sapphire-looking jewel that stood atop the scepter it held in its hand. One could almost call the creature angelic. Not the gentle, dainty brand of winged and haloed humans that one might find in a children’s book, but rather, the cryptic, horrifying kind of beauty found in biblical monstrosities, cramming its way into an ill-fitting humanoid form. Yet, there was nothing holy to be found in those eyes. Nothing at all to be found in them, in fact. Hollow, soulless eyes bore their way through Claire, their passing stare leaving a crawling sensation behind as though bugs were squirming beneath her skin, desperate for escape. It was only when its gaze fell on Long Moth next, that book in his hands, that any sort of interest crossed its face, however fleeting it may have been. Even worse was when the thing spoke to her superior in some sort of twisted eldritch tongue that grated on her ears, damn near making them bleed in the process.  Clearing his throat, Long Moth took a hesitant step towards the creature. “You are the being that’s known as White Hat, correct?” Recognition passed through White Hat’s features when its summoner spoke. It repeated itself, this time in a language the heroes could understand.  “How may I serve you?”

WELP, DIDN'T END UP GETTING CHAPTER 1 DONE BY OCTOBER LIKE I WANTED, BUT I FINALLY FINISHED THESE STUPID DRAWINGS I'VE HAD AS WIPS FOR MONTHS, SO I'LL THROW THIS OUT HERE AS WELL AS SOME WRITING SINCE I STILL TECHNICALLY OWED NOSY ANON A PROPER SNIPPET LMAO

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Romantic Snippet Tag 💖💖💖

tagged by: jumping on @oh-no-another-idea 's open tag! (I remember being tagged for this game ages ago but I can't remember who or find the post for the life of me. if you tagged me here it is!)

tagging: Open Tag for whoever wants it! and soft tagging @winterandwords | @theimperiumchronicles | @italiangothicwriteblr | @space-writes | @ink-fireplace-coffee | @sleepyowlwrites | @words-after-midnight

I have thousands of words worth of angst for my babies Raven and Sapphire, but I'll be nice and give you some fluff I have instead from Draft 0 for Sleeping Beauty's Bodyguard:

“Did you always want to be a knight?” “For a while. I wanted to protect myself and my family from bullies, and knights seemed like people that could do that. I didn’t sign up to be your bodyguard though…” “Do you ever wish you hadn’t become my bodyguard?”  “Sometimes-” Sapphire’s face fell and he quickly added. “-but other times I wouldn’t change it for the world. You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, but… also the most happy and excited to live. I haven’t known a lot of people that were excited to just live.” “Why do you think I hate my parents' overprotective tendencies? They’re scared of me dying, I’m scared of spending all my time surviving rather than living. I want to live my life.” “Why are you excited to live?”  “Oh, there’s so many things to be excited for. Clear nights like this where you can see the whole sky. The festivals, and dancing and seeing all the lights at them. The feeling of the breeze blowing through your hair. Sunshine. Flowers and flower crowns. That feeling when you think you could take on the world.”  Her eyes flicked to his hands and heat crept up her neck. “Someone braiding your hair for you with care.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and looked at the flames of the campfire dance across the logs, mesmerized. “Listening to stories about magic and the gods. Splashing in a creek and not caring about getting wet. The sound of crickets at night. Fireflies…”  She added, “I’ve never seen them, fireflies… but I’ve heard of them, seen pictures. They light up all on their own and only come out at night, and if you're gentle you can even catch one.” She turned to Raven. “Have you ever seen one? A firefly?” Raven smiled a little, leaning forward and watching the campfire. “We have them all the time back home, there’s lots of big fields just outside our village- one behind our house. That’s where fireflies like to be, especially at night. They only come out after the sun goes down, and they don’t start showing up until summer, when it’s warmer at night. When me and my siblings were small, we used to catch them and keep them in jars that my ma’ma had- she did make us release them after a few hours, but at least releasing them was the fun part. It’s like holding fire- the sun, moon, and stars themselves in your hands.” She said softly, “Maybe you could show me one day.” He couldn’t help his smile getting bigger as he looked at her and his heart fluttered. “I would like that.”

[witchvvolf]

WIP INTRO: Sea Angel

Hey, I just woke up... so have a wip intro!

disclaimer: this is an original work, and any sort of plagiarism will not be tolerated.

Genre: Adult literary fiction (?) again i don't know. anyways, take it.

Synopsis: Ryland sets eyes on Thalia and Pru, and cannot escape how enchanted he has become.

Setting: somewhere in Portland Maine

Trigger warnings: violence, blood, animal death, cannibalism, drowning, death

The vibes: the light house flashing over the docks, crashing waves, thunder storms, the scent of sea salt, girl that smell like britney spears, glitter, the scent of bleach in the bathroom, microkinis, chrome, vanilla ice cream, bare feet in the sand, chapped lips, sapphires, long nails, snake skin, tide pools, dancing at the club, eating ice cream on the sidewalk

click me for the pinterest board! and click me for the playlist!

Snippet from the first chapter in Thalias perspective (which is unnamed) below the cut!

Tw for mention of vomit

Thalia hardly registers the touch of fingertips brushing her skin through her sweat drenched curls as she retches into the toilet, her small body trembling as she blinks back the tears in her eyes. “You shouldn’t have had so much to drink, girly,” says a voice above her. It’s deep, melodic, soft and luring. She can hear the sound of a lighter sparking a flame to life and within some seconds, the stall is full of cigarette smoke. As if it didn’t smell bad enough in the bathroom. Her bare knees pressed into the tile, the powder blue heel of her nine inch pleasers dug into her bottom. She got the fucking memo, tasting the bile in her mouth, wiping the tears of mascara from her cheeks. Thalia lifts her chin, a pout on her full lips, stained a berry red, brown eyes framed by faux wispy lashes. “Blonde looks good on you,” the fingers in her hair retreat, the green chrome shining like snake skin in the dim bathroom lighting. “Thanks, Pru,” Thalia mumbles, wipes her lips on the back of her left hand and reaches to flush the toilet when she would usually do so with her foot. Pru leaves the stall first, the heavy door slamming the stall next to it. Pru is taller than her, especially in heels, paying the club a visit on her off day to see how the new Swan was fairing. She was beautiful in a way that wasn’t textbook, her features sharper, especially those eyes of hers. The cigarette hangs between her lips, glossed a cherry red as she watches Thalia wash her hands in the sink. Thalia was still getting used to this lifestyle, leaving the mascara trails to dry on her cheeks—because some guys liked that, right?

lmk if you wanna be added to a tag list or something. otherwise, mwah!

[allthegodstars]

Sapphire Flames Snippets

Little Snippet:

The Harris County Institute of Forensic Sciences occupied a nine-story building on Old Spanish Trail. Its blocky lines, rectangular windows, and orange brick practically screamed that it housed some sort of government agency. 

I maneuvered our Honda Element into the parking lot. It used to be our surveillance vehicle, but last year Grandma Frida decided to rebuild it from wheels up.  Now the Element sported a new engine, a reinforced suspension, and custom dampers for enhanced shock absorption. The windows were bulletproof, and the new glass had both the safety glazing and a polycarbonate layer on the inside, so if someone did shoot at us, the windows would crack but hold together. And most importantly, the Element was now equipped with B5 level armor, which meant it would stop most handguns and shotgun blasts.  It could have been armored enough to withstand a sniper shot; however, Grandma Frida reasoned that our best chance of survival was getting away fast, and armor was heavy, so she stopped at B5 and added a reinforced floor and run-flat tires. 

Unfortunately, even Grandma Frida had her limits, and steering was a bit sluggish.  I was used to it by now and I aimed for a parking spot in the middle row.

“So, what’s with you and Alessandro Sagredo?”  Runa asked.

The steering was sluggish, but the brakes worked perfectly.  I jerked forward, and my seat belt slammed me back.

“Nothing.”

“Aha.”  Runa pulled on her own seat belt.  “That’s why we screeched to a stop halfway into the parking space?”

“My foot slipped.”  I gently eased forward and brought the Element to a smooth stop.

Last night, after Bern carried Rutger into the guest bedroom and Runa settled in on inflatable mattress next to him, I went back to my office, rescued Alessandro’s picture from my desk drawer, and brought it upstairs to my bedroom. He looked so carefree, caught in a magic moment somewhere sunny and warm.  When I looked at the picture, a disquieting, unpleasant feeling squeezed my chest, not pain exactly, but a kind of discomfort. I stood in my bedroom and wished with everything I had that I was there, in the sun, with a backdrop of green mountains and Alessandro and I were going somewhere.  Together.

It was stupid, and childish, and it would never be.  I hid it all inside, put the picture on my nightstand, and went to bed.

“So, you’re just going to go with ‘nothing?’” Runa asked.

“That’s right.”

“Your sister said you met during your trials.”

Sistercide was not a word, but it would be after today. “Yes.”

“Yes what?  Is there a story behind that?”

No. He didn’t follow me on Instagram, and he didn’t take my breath away during the trials.  And he definitely didn’t show up under my window after trying to convince me to go for a drive.  

 “We met during the trials, and my sisters haven’t stopped trolling me about it for the last three years.  There is absolutely nothing between me and Alessandro Sagredo.”

Strictly speaking, there was 5,561 miles between our warehouse and the Sagredo estate near Venice, Italy.  A commercial flight with one stop could get me to Venice in thirteen hours. 

“Your cheeks are turning pink,” Runa said.  “Are you imagining there being nothing between you and Alessandro?”

***

On Rants, Well Deserved Nature Of:

As I’ve pointed out four times now, this entire incident has been recorded by security cameras. The footage will show that Ms. Etterson and I were attacked without provocation and we defended ourselves as is our right under Article 3 paragraph 1 through 4 of the House Protection Act.”

“Is that so?” Sgt. Munoz’s eyebrows crept up a quarter of an inch.

“You have no cause to detain either me or Runa Etterson.  We have cooperated, and we have given our statements.”

“Ms. Baylor.”  He frowned.  “You wouldn’t happen to have an older sister, would you?”

That was just too much. “When Nevada encountered you, she was under a great deal of stress trying to keep us alive and save Houston.  She didn’t have a chance to note that every time there was an incident requiring a law enforcement response, you mysteriously appeared on the scene.  But I did.”

He watched me, impassive.   I kept going.

“You are attached to the House Response Unit of Houston PD, tasked specifically with handling incidents involving Houses.  Every member of this unit is assigned a number of families, in which he becomes expert. So, you know perfectly well that I have an older sister and that she is currently out of the country.  You know the names of every person in our family, their birth dates, and their magic. You probably know the exact nature of my powers, despite the fact that my records are sealed.  You are here because my last name popped up in your system. So please don’t insult my intelligence.”

***

When English Language Is Just Not Enough:

Warning: hilariously odd bad language ahead. Poor Catalina.

Bug served as Rogan’s surveillance specialist. Magically altered, he processed visual information at an astonishing rate. If anybody could find [Redacted], Bug could. He was also fanatically loyal to Rogan.

The moment we involved Bug, Rogan would know every detail of what we asked and why. Then Nevada would know, and, considering the usual colorful way Bug made his reports, there was a strong possibility that she would freak out. Bug found the vast array of curses available to an average English speaker completely inadequate and used every opportunity to add his own, which often amounted to a random collection of expletives that left you befuddled. I could just imagine the way that report would go.

“Hey, so you’ll never believe this dick fart thing: they want me to find [Redacted]. Isn’t that just pork balls? The gnome molester apparently stabbed somebody. Whore dimwit shit brain dungarees!”

***

A Simple Menu:

Since it was my turn to cook breakfast anyway, I headed to the kitchen.  Cooking was basically my and Mom’s job.  When Nevada lived with us, she was too busy keeping us fed and clothed. Bern and Leon usually made meat, preferably, steak, and they served it charred on top and raw in the middle. Grandma Frida came from the generation when things weren’t cooked unless they were slightly burned, and my younger sister, who was actually a decent cook, when she had to be, couldn’t be trusted to stay in the kitchen for the duration of the cooking process.  She’d start something and then end up outside texting to her friends or in the media room laughing at some show, while we raced to save the meal. 

I decided on a simple menu. I put two packs of bacon into two baking pans and popped them in the oven, mixed the batter for the blueberry pancakes, and called Nevada while chopping mushrooms for the egg, mushroom, and cheese scramble.

***

Just You Wait:

My cell rang. An unlisted number. Oh good. Ten to one, somebody wanted to sell me super-special medical insurance or inform me that the IRS was about to arrest me unless I dropped everything and bought an armful of gift cards at Wal-Mart.

I answered it. “What is it?”

“You’re tracking me,” Alessandro said.

Runa’s eyes went big.

“I am not tracking you,” I told him. Technically, it wasn’t even a lie.

“You’re having me tracked. I understand that I’m irresistible. It’s a cross I bear. But do try to have some self-control, Catalina. I’m embarrassed for you.”

He… Argh. “As I recall, I never had a problem resisting you.”

“I thought we agreed that you would drop this.”

“I didn’t agree to anything.”

“Catalina, listen to me. This is serious, the people involved are dangerous, and your well-being is important to me.”

Since when? “Why don’t you tell me more about it? Maybe if I fully understand the danger, I’ll stay out of it.”

“No, you won’t. You have no sense.”

“I have all kinds of sense.”

“This is your last warning, Catalina.”

“Or what?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to find out.”

He hung up.

“I have all kinds of sense?” Runa quoted.

“I was too mad to think of a snappy comeback.”

I glared at the phone. Insufferable ass. When I got my hands on him, I would pry his mind open like a tin can.  And then I would make him do a little dance, record it, and play it for him on a loop after I drained my magic off. Irresistible. I’ll show you irresistible. Just you wait.

***

A Pithivier:

Steps sounded behind me. I turned. Runa caught up with us. “Matilda said you would be out here. That child is odd.”

More like unsettling, until you got to know her. “She’s an animal mage. They are unique. Did something bad happen?”

“You mean in addition to everything else?  No.”

We both watched Shadow sniffing at cracks in the asphalt.

 “Whatever is cooking in the kitchen smells amazing.  What are we having?”

“Lemon roasted chicken with rosemary baked potatoes, chive butter, kale and brussels sprout salad with tahini maple dressing, and an apple pithivier.”

Runa gave me a long look.

“I cook when I’m stressed out. It sounds more complicated than it is. In reality, it’s mostly season things, dump them in a baking pan, and stick them in the oven.”

“What’s a P.T.V.A.?”

“It’s a French pie-cake made with puff pastry.  The traditional version uses rum and almonds, but nobody likes rum, so I make mine with apples.”

***

For more check notes.

[ilonaandrewsnet]

CONTINUE READING IN THEIR BLOG

Hidden Legacy #5 deleted scene 

[housebaylor]

Waiting for Sapphire Flames ~ promo for @ilonaandrewsnet

“Then I’ll leave you with this piece of advice,” Augustine said. “It’s free. Do not become involved in the Etterson case. I know exactly what you’re up against, and the price I quoted her was a gift. Sometimes when you search the night, you’ll find monsters in the dark. You’re not ready.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” I told him.

[allwaswell16]

sunday snippet

I was tagged to post a snippet by @sun-tomato @quelsentiment @kingsofeverything @littleroverlouis @thinlinez @crinkle-eyed-boo and another writing thing by @reminiscingintherain so here's some of what I've got for the pirate fic I'm working on for the @1daboficfest (p.s. how many paragraphs describing Louis is too many paragraphs? lol I'll probably need to edit this down at some point)

The sound of bright laughter turned Harry’s head, and he saw the third man who had entered with Captain Grim. At first in profile, Harry had a look at the tousled brown waves of his hair and the perfection of the set of his nose. Had Harry ever noticed a man’s nose before? He did not think so.

He appeared to be of medium build next to Captain Grim, and his open leather jacket revealed the hard planes of his chest beneath it. Faded denims hugged his muscled thighs and dark colored boots laced up to his knees. But it was in the way he held himself that Harry was left with little doubt that this man was an alpha even if he was nowhere near enough to scent him.

Harry had never made it his habit to stare at an alpha, but this one was unlike any other he’d ever seen. Slender yet muscled, graceful in his movements yet radiating danger. With a swift movement, he grasped a chair from the floor and flipped it upright. As he sank into it, he flicked the hair across his brow, catching the light that revealed strands of a golden hue from his days in the sun and looked up.

And then, Harry was confronted with his face.

This pirate had a face that took his breath away. He was so much more than handsome, he was beautiful and yet still uniquely alpha in his features. The high cheekbones and angular jaw set off deep set eyes of the clearest blue, gleaming like sapphires. The man said something clearly in jest to Captain Grim whose lips curved into a small, affectionate smile, and Harry stared in wonder that Nicholas Grim must care about this man.

The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he threw his head back and laughed at something Captain Grim said in return, astonishing Harry at the change in his face from something strikingly sensual to something with much more humanity. But then, the god-like face returned back into place and Harry’s belly stirred with something other than fear.

His cheeks heated at the urge he had to be closer to this stranger. Harry looked away, his breath labored. This alpha was a pirate, a member of the most notorious crew of pirates. It seemed that the devil was too clever to always appear with flames and a pitchfork.

I'll tag @wabadabadaba @cyantific @thestylinsons @thedevilinmybrain @missrefridgefreetorator @beelou @scrunchyharry @haztobegood @sadaveniren and anyone else who wants to do this!

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

Tagging some folks who’ve shown interest!! @jayyy007 @autumnmoon21 @sunsetsofanemoia, @lynnie51 @what-the-fuckaroni @masquejj

And please do let me know if you’d like me to add you to a taglist for this fic, or message you when new snippets/the next chapter come/s out!!

Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word��

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Writing Snippet #5

Queen of the Harvest

*Vibe check: I listened to Warriors by Imagine Dragons while creating this one*

—————————————

Her city was surrounded.

The new queen sat on her throne, fingers brushing the oval sapphire hanging against her forehead as her advisors argued about what was to be done. Her golden hair stood in stark contrast to the dark wood of the throne, gleaming just as deeply as the the gilded heads of wheat carved into the back and sides of the chair.

She dropped her hand back into her lap.

“Could they not have waited for the mourning period to be over?”

Her quiet words brought a crashing halt to the debate.

“Your Majesty—” the Master of the Markets cautiously broke the silence, hands clutching the skirts of her dress.

But the young queen held up a hand. “There is no point going down that path, I know.” She turned to the old grizzled soldier standing near the throne.

“Master of the Watch?”

“Yes, my queen?”

“How many men do we have within the city walls?”

“Less than six hundred, Your Majesty.”

“Against how many?”

“At least five thousand, Your Majesty.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“I thought Prince Raiiyn was busy attacking the Southwest border. Is that not why we sent nearly our entire army to repel him? And yet, somehow he is here, in the heart of our land?” She looked around the room, her slender brows raised in question.

“Your Majesty, the Crimson Prince is indeed at the border with part of his army. It is one of his generals that now beats at our door.”

“How much food and water do with have within the city walls?”

The Master of the Silos stepped forward. “Enough to feed our people for over a year.”

“If we use the seed intended for planting,” muttered the Master of the Planting.

The Master of the Silos ignored this remark. “But with last year’s drought... the harvest did not yield much. Now that you are queen and the rains have returned, the wells should be...” he trailed off at the raw sorrow upon the queen’s face.

He bowed low, fingers to his brow. “Forgive me.”

The queen offered a small nod and pushed her grief away. “How long would it take our army to return?”

The Master of the Watch shrugged hopelessly. “If they could disengage without being pursued by the Crimson Prince?” His tone suggested just how likely that was. “Ten days? Twelve? The cavalry could be here in three days, but that would leave our army weak, and 400 horsemen would do little against the army camped outside our gates.”

“They have little by way of supplies. Our people took every scrap of food they could when they retreated to the city. We can try to wait them out. The odds of them breaching the gate—”

“Maing Soundolung!” The doors of the hall burst open and a soldier rushed forward.

“Maing Soundolung!” He gasped out as he bowed, fingers to his brow.

Her eyes narrowed in concern. He was addressing her not as the nation’s queen, but as ruler of the harvest. It was the first time the honorific had been used since the sapphire had been placed upon her. Something was very wrong.

“The southern gate is on fire.”

The queen pushed off the arms of her chair and rose to her feet. The entire council bowed, fingers to brows, as she strode through their midst and out the doors. The hall opened up directly onto the hill overlooking the colorful city, which was bathed in the light of the setting sun. In front of her, smoke billowed from the distant wall, flickers of red and orange gleaming through the haze.

She walked across the stone landing until her bare feet rested on the grassy slope that led down to the city proper. Silence reigned as she closed her eyes and felt the earth.

Finally, she spoke.

“The roots are half an inch long. Master of the Fields?”

“They can handle some rain, but not much.”

“Master of the Planting?”

“We have enough seed to replant nearly three quarters of the fields, but that leaves us nothing for next year.”

Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath. “Then we will pray it is enough.” The council bowed their heads as one.

Then she slowly lifted her hands from her sides, raising them towards the heavens. Black clouds formed on the horizon and drew closer as her hands continued to rise. Soon the sun was blocked by the dark boiling clouds.

Her palms touched above her head, and the skies opened. Rain poured down.

Water dropped from her lashes as she lowered her palms until her fingertips rested against the sapphire that adorned her brow.

She kept her eyes fixed on the angry flames that fought against the downpour.

They must have used oil.

“Signal for the guards to abandon the southern wall and have the townspeople retreat to the northern quarter.”

The advisors eyed one another but hastened to obey. A horn rang out in four quick bursts.

When the answering horn replied that all was clear, she split her hands. The rains slowed as she raised her right fist to the clouds and stretched her left down to the earth.

“Can you aim that carefully, Maing Soundolung?” The Master of the Market asked hopefully.

“I can try.” she replied, her quiet voice grim but determined.

In one swift motion, she spread her fingers wide. Thunder shook the air as bursts of lighting split the sky, striking the ground beyond the southern wall in angry streaks of light and power. The thunder rolled unceasingly as lighting struck again and again.

Rain streamed down her arms and dropped off her chin, but the Queen of the Harvest did not cease until a horn blast signaled that the enemy was retreating.

As her arms fell weakly to her sides, the air stilled and the clouds began to retreat.

The council stood, frozen in awe, as the queen looked out at the scorched strip of earth between her city and the vast enemy encampment.

To the right, a brilliant sunset had turned the sky blood-red. A sign of what was to come if she followed this path.

“How fast can you get a message to our army?” She said, voice steady but eyes wide as she took in the destruction.

“Our fastest messenger bird could be there by tomorrow. Are you going to call for the cavalry?”

“No. That would only result in a slaughter.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’m going to surrender.”

—————————————

She raised her hands to ward off the building protests. “I cannot fend off their attacks indefinitely without destroying the crops, and neither can our army keep the prince’s force at bay forever. If they take the city by force, they will show no mercy. If I surrender, I can negotiate the terms.” She swallowed, then continued. “He does not want this war to drag on either. They want to rule over Zea because they have no good soil of their own. They rely on our harvest as much as we do. He will accept—”

“You cannot negotiate with that monster!”

The queen turned her head to look at the Master of the Fields. “He is a prince, a not a monster.”

“The Crimson Prince is a demon!”

“Prince Raiiyn is a Tyger. If heightened senses and reflexes make someone a demon, then what does that make me?”

She gestured to the burnt earth behind her.

Her advisors did not speak, but the soldier who’d first brought word of the attack stepped forward. “It makes you Cerelia: Soundolung, Queen of the Harvest, Singer of Storms, Protector of Zea.”

He bowed, one hand to his brow, the other raised as if to touch hers. As he straightened, his burning eyes met hers. “It makes you our queen.”

She inclined her head, touching her sapphire, symbol of her role and conduit for her power. “Then as your queen, I must do what I can to protect our people. From starvation and enemy soldiers alike.”

“Your Majesty,” the old Master of the Watch was regarding her with sorrowful respect. “Surrender... you know the cost?”

She turned back towards the hall, where the doors still sat open, the last light of the day casting streams of light on the throne of gilded wheat.

“I know the cost.”

[amalthea9]

High Fantasy Setting with Hornblower Cast Members. (And one self insert and an OC) -Character sheets of a sort- PART 1

It all started MONTHS ago with me watching Ioan Gruffudd as Lancelot. Then, re-visiting a song called “Warrior” by the Phantoms while walking to work. Then a flood of images in my head of Jamie Bamber in rogue attire, Paul Copley as an archer, Paul McGann casting spells, and most vividly, Sean Gilder as a shapeshifting GIANT wolf going berserk on orcs.

Do I have actual chapters of adventures for this group? of course not, I have too many drabbles and snippets I already wish to write ARGH! Somewhere I have a google doc with some random interactions though.

But after sharing this with my dear @ariel-seagull-wings we did have a lot of fun imagining little scenes and dialogue. And created origin stories for some of the characters! Even OCs! A healer witch named Amalthea to pair with Gilder the Wolf Shapeshifter, and Lira, a bard coupled with Copley!

I don’t want to overwhelm people with too many big images, so I’ll separate these out and title them by parts, linking back to each previous one.

I named the characters all using the actor’s last names. Frankly it was easier and each last name, with the exception of McGann, sounded like names in a fantasy tale. XD

I’m rambling now. 

Here’s Part 1 : Gruffudd and Bamber, becoming a couple thanks to the suggestion of @ariel-seagull-wings !

And I do have their love confession dialogue scripted!!

WOOHOOO!

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

One night at the fire, Bamber sits next to Gruffudd. Bamber quietly comments that Amalthea should tell Gilder how she feels. Gruffudd comments that it isn't that easy, because she’s afraid of rejection from Gilder not feeling the same way. Bamber nods thoughtfully, knowing that fear too well. Bamber shyly asks if Gruffudd has ever wanted to tell someone how he felt but couldn't. Gruffudd says yes softly, staring into the flames. Bamber says he has the same problem, staring into the flames also. There's a silence, until Bamber asks Gruffudd what he would say, if he could, to that person he loved. 

Gruffudd: *wonders where this might go but decides to play along*  I would tell him how much I love his laughter, and cheekiness. 

Bamber realizes Gruffudd said ‘he’ his heart skips.

Gruffudd quietly continues, feeling as though this might be the only way he can confess to Bamber his love. 

Gruffudd:*quietly continues* his bright and confident smile when he’s beaten an enemy, makes my heart beat faster. And how his eyes burn...like sapphires when happy…

Gruffudd goes quiet now, unsure what else to say or do. 

Bamber decides to take the chance and talk about the man he loves, with a pounding heart. 

Bamber:*smiles softly* I love his laughter too. And how he moves when he fights. It...makes my heart pound. And… I always seem to get lost in his dark brown eyes…

Gruffudd and Bamber look at each other at that moment. And both are now smiling, seeing in the other’s eyes the love for the other.

Bamber: *giggles softly* well… I’m afraid that was the best I could manage at a confession of love! 

Gruffudd: *chuckles warmly* Same here.

Bamber: *looks at Gruffudd’s lips and then back into his eyes* Well? Aren’t you going to kiss me now, Gruffudd?

Gruffudd: *smiles lovingly at Bamber and cups his cheek* Yes, Bamber.

[elsinore-rose]

this is something i’m writing with shay, and since we do hope to post it ONE DAY WHEN IT’S DONE i will just give you a little tiny snippet here:

It's her mom's fault.

Really. It is. Marion Lavorre has always been overprotective, always sheltered Jester more than was necessary, always overreacted to things — like when Jester was a child and snuck out up onto the roof of the Chateau for a better view of the New Year's fireworks, or when she was thirteen and dropped a tree frog into the visiting Marquesian ambassador's wine goblet, or when she was eighteen and trapped Lord Robert Sharpe on her balcony wearing nothing but a girdle — 

True, Jester had fallen and broken her arm that first time — and yes, the ambassador had been so furious that she'd called off the trade deal Mama was trying to negotiate — and, all right, Lord Sharpe had sort of threatened to do unspeakable things to Jester and ended up having to be arrested and stripped of his title and caused a scandal whose repercussions are still being felt in Nicodranas to this day — 

But it's not like Jester meant for any of that to happen. She just...has a knack for getting in trouble.

It doesn't mean she needs a bodyguard. 

"What do you mean, death threats?" She stares at her mother. "Who would want to kill me?"

Marion lets out a tired sigh. "We are not entirely sure yet, my sapphire. That is why Magister Widogast is here. Until we know who is behind these threats, and what kind of attack they have planned, we cannot be too cautious."

I bet we can, Jester thinks miserably as she glances at the strange man standing at Mama's side, his hands clasped politely behind the back of his long coat.

"No offense," Jester starts, which is usually a pretty good indicator that she's going to say something offensive, "but he looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Besides, we have plenty of guards crawling around, why would having one more help?"

She crosses her arms, trying to look haughty and in control. Fjord has told her she just looks like a brat when she stands like this, but Fjord doesn't know anything. This is her princess pose. Intimidating, powerful, and slightly troublesome — perfectly crafted after time spent staring in the mirror.

In response, this Magister Widogast, whoever he is, extends a hand towards Jester, palm up, and snaps his fingers.

Flame erupts around his hand. 

Marion coughs. "Magister Widogast is an accomplished mage, Jester. He is here to ensure that you are safe from threats of a more...arcane nature."

The flame winks out. His hand, from what Jester can glimpse before he tucks it behind his back once more, appears completely unscathed.

She refuses to be impressed. While Magister Widogast had summoned the flames completely silently, they hadn't been huge or anything. Jester shoves down the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at him, or maybe use a foul gesture. 

"So as long as it's an arcane wind, he should be totally fine," she mutters.