#slaying since the dawn of time

[bluberryfields]

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crowley + outfits

[jyoongim]

~BLOOD & BLISS~

Human!Alastor x wife!Reader

Themes: 1930 based! Human!Alastor x wife!Reader, domestic life!fluff, smut, slow burn plot, devotion, slight manipulation, mention of children, pregnancy,  blood, murder, secrets 

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Chapter three chapter five

Chapter Four

“Oh darling look at you! And here I thought you wouldn’t give me grandchildren” your mother laughed as she hugged you.

Your mother had invited you and Alastor over since you had sent her a letter about some exciting news you wanted to share.

You didn’t know whether to take her comment as a compliment or insult.

”Why ain’t your husband with you? I know that man ain’t have you travel here all alone in your condition” she frowned displeased.

”Momma you know how busy Al is. He’s been trying to catch up on work so he can take time off for the baby” you pouted.

She sucked her teeth, before a smile dawned her face

”well that means we can go shopping! Have you decorated the nursery? Do you have a nursery? Oooh honey why don’t you come home when you have the baby? A newborn is a lot of work” she was ranting and you sighed, rubbing your heavy stomach.

”Momma im perfectly capable of taking care of my baby.  I’ve read all the books” your mother gave you a funny look

”books? Oh girl those books ain’t gonna help you. You need experience. Youre a first time mom, you have no instincts in raising a youngin ”

You pouted. You felt like a teenager being chastised.

You knew your mother meant well, but sometimes you had to stop her ‘good intentions’.

”Ill be fine. Alastor’s gonna be there and Im sure we can figure it out. Aint that what parenthood all about?”

She hummed “If you say, now lets head to town. I want my grandbaby to have the best!”

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You fanned yourself as you finally sat down. The summer heat was not kind to you as your mother had dragged you to every shop in town.

The two of you had finished up shopping and were now at a little restaurant. You smiled in thanks as the waiter sat a glass of cold water in front of you.

Your mother cooed as she looked over several items she had bought.

You think she was more excited than you and you were the pregnant one.

”Momma I think you overdid it. There’s no way the baby is gonna wear or use any of that” you mused, sipping the water.

She waved you off.

”so…how has Alastor handled the news?” She asked.

You blinked “he’s very excited. He says he don’t care about the gender, but he’s taken to thinking it’ll be a girl” you giggled.

”haha a girl? Oh no you’re definitely having a boy darling” she laughed.

You titled your head in confusion.

Your mother smirked “Your belly is big and low and you’re not even halfway through your term, that means you’re having a boy. ”

She continued “Most men want a boy on the first go. A scrappy boy is the jewel of every man’s pride”

You rubbed your stomach, smiling “Well it don’t matter im sure hell adore the baby no matter what”

She hummed and picked up the newspaper that was on the table.

The headline read ‘fifth body found in canal’

”Such a shame the authorities can’t find killer. Those poor souls. This is the fifth body that’s been found and practically in your backyard. You really need to careful dear” she said grimacing.

You weren’t too worried. All the victims were random, but they weren’t pregnant women. “I don’t think the killer is slaying harmless pregnant women momma”

She shrugged “Can never be too sure dear”

———————————————————————————

Alastor whistled as he cleaned the kitchen. Bright red water filled the sink as he wronged the sponge. You would have a fit if you saw the state of your kitchen and Alastor couldn’t have an upset wife.

You had went to visit your mother, thinking it was time to tell the woman that the two of you were expecting. You had wanted him to come along, but he thought it would be better if the two of you spent some time together.

So he took the time to go hunting. It had been a while since he had a good hunt and he had a taste for deer meat.

Once the kitchen was spotless, he discarded what he didn’t need into a bag. He headed down to the cellar with the rest of the trash.

He tied the bag and reached for the other one.

Hauling it back to the kitchen, he turned on the radio to listen to some tunes as he prepared to cook. You should have been coming home in a few hours and he was sure you would be hungry. It was rather hot today, so instead of slaving too much over the stove he opted for a simple stew.

He pulled the meat out of the bag and began to cut it.

He pulled a pot from the cabinet and filled it with  onions, carrots, and a little water were added into the pot as he cleaned the meat.

As the pot boiled, he plopped the meat in a pan to cook it down.

The kitchen filled with the smell of herbs and meat as he worked.

He added some seasoning to the meat and transferred the chopped meat to the pot.

He turned the heat low and let it simmer.

He nodded in satisfaction and took a look at himself. Disgusting

He was covered in blood. He sighed and went upstairs.

Light red swirled down the drain. Alastor rolled his neck, a soft pop was heard and he sighed in relief.

Once finished in the shower, he gathered the dirty clothes and headed out back in the yard.

He waved to the passing neighbors as thee fire crackled, a pleasant smile on his face.

Once the fire died down, he headed back inside to check on the stew.

He stirred it and turned it off.

He fixed a cold sweet tea and took a seat at the dining table.

His mind wandered to you. He wondered how you were fairing in this heat. He was sure you were ready to come home and relax. Your mother was a handful.

Your pregnancy was coming along nicely.

You had rounded out and now you sported a big belly. His cock twitched in his pants. He couldn’t believe how insatiable  he had become since you had become pregnant. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

You had transformed beautifully. You always seemed to be glowing, though you swore it was sweat. You had become incredibly sensitive, your mood swings putting you both through the ringer.

You had voiced your concern about your image as you had filled out nicely, gaining weight from the baby you now carried. You couldn’t fit any of your usual form fitting outfits, opting for loose dresses.

Alastor reassured you that you looked beautiful no matter what. He enjoyed a little meat being on your bones. 

You were softer and he loved every minute of it.

His eyes traveled to the pot, he wondered if you had ate. He really wanted to see how you would react to the meal he prepared. While you love his cooking, the baby was picking, which resulted in you being sick a lot.

The buzz from the hunt still rippled through him as his lips curled in a smile.

yeeesss how would his little wife enjoy the meal he prepared for her?

He made a mental note to take out the trash later but for now, he waited for you to return home as he opened a book about parenting. 

He should ask you what color you wanted the nursery….

——————————————————————————-

Your mouth watered as you came through the door “What did you cook Al it smells really good”

Your husband chuckled as he closed the book and walked over to you. You were trying to beeline it to the kitchen, but your husband wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to yours. He grinned as your stomach created a space between the two of you, running an affectionate hand over the bump “Well hello to you too my dear. How was your mother? I see the two of you went shopping” His eyes took in the amount of bags you brought back.

You huffed “Yea Ma would have bought out the entire store if I let her, i tell you I think she’s more happy about a grandbaby than when we got married”

Alastor coaxed you to the couch, smiling as you sighed as he massaged your aching back. He pressed soft kisses to your exposed shoulders “I didn’t know if you had ate already, so I made a stew. Let’s hope the baby like it. I read that warm foods were better than the ice cream you’ve been sneakng” he snickered as you pouted.

”Just relax a bit and Ill make you a bowl”

You smiled at him “I want crackers too!” You called after him.

Alastor returned with a steaming bowl of stew. It smells so good and your stomach growled in hunger. “I tried a different meat but I hope you like it my dear”

You thanked him and rolled your eyes as he picked up the spoon and held it to your mouth. You blew on it softly before chomping on the spoon.

Your tongue tingled as you savored the flavor. 

The meat was softer than you were use to, maybe pork or a different beef?

Whatever it was it was good!

”Mmmhmm this is so good. The texture of the meat is a bit off but its really good Al” you complimented.

He beamed at you, pearly whites glistening at you. “Im happy you like it and you didn’t throw it up im proud baby”

You quickly finished the meal and showed him everything your mother bought for the new arrival.

Alastor smiled in content as you happily showed him the baby wares; clothing, toys,and other gadgets. Seeing you so excited filled him with an unexplainable feeling. His hand caressed your belly as you ranted.

”Did you know that there’s a killer on the loose?” Your sudden question brought his attention back. Your face was filled with worry.

Alastor tensed, but relaxed “We had gotten a few reports down at the studio but no real leads. Why do you ask dear?”

You placed your hand over his that was on your bulging belly. “I-Im just concerned. I mean we do have a child on the way and i dont really feel safe walking the streets in this vulnerable condition. My mother suggested we move into the summer house.” You looked down, Alastor kissed your forehead “Im sure well be fine. Besides it seems the killer has a little mortals. No woman has been harmed. So dont fret my dear” he assured you. 

You sighed, he was right.  There was no need to worry.

“I would never let a soul hurt you” he whispered against your forehead.

You hummed and started giggling as he nipped at your ear “Al!!!”

You tried to wiggled away, but your husband softly pushed you back on the couch, being mindful of your belly.

”Now why dont I show you that I am more than capable hmm?” He grinned down at you.

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@nightshadelm@th3-st4r-gur1@southern-bayou-beau@yourdoorisunlocked@alishii@nettaw@simphornies@jellibean2018@purplecatsandhearts@missgurlsstuff@alastor-simp@alastorsgirl48@dasimp777@hazelfoureyes@thewinchestah@catherine1206@peachedtvs@luzzbuzz@markster666@preciousbabypeter@dennsfz@nanami1chu@chewbrry@smoky000@karolinda007-blog@alastorsaries@altruisticalastor@evedenn@alastors666creampie@siiv3r@yunimimii@popamolly @okay-babe@catmunist@wonderlandangelsposts@certifiedcrybabyyy @theangeliclibrarian@ilikemyteawithmilk@boney-horse@blubugg13@zombiesnips-blog@rulesareshadesofgrey@doggone-devil@amurtan@yuzurixx

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Lies, truth and being back in Oldtown

Otto Hightower x wife!reader

warning : Otto slayed episode two (and I'm his biggest lover for it), fluff, kissing, little hurt/comfort, drinking alcohol, grandpa gets a time out with his wife, no use of Y/n, but they are THE player pair

Summary : The young prince's death a tragedy, Aemond's impulses devastating, Alicent's nocturnal activities sinful and in this mess of his own bloodline Otto is dismissed from the office of the Hand but with a personal victory and his supportive wife by his side…of course another dismissal screamed a couple of free time in Oldtown.

info : Otto was always good looking, he just got too good in the second episode and grandfather needs some time off. To be honest this is not my best worl I had an idea but my hands and mind were like ,,No we do it like this" and yeah it comes a little different. Happy reading and thanks for all the support.

masterlist

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The fire was no longer burning in the fireplace, the night was over and the day had long since dawned, a day full of emotion and excitement after the events of the tragedy that had taken place.

Westeros had lost a prince, the heir to the throne of the young King Aegon who had invested so much in his son.

For the first time it was something that made him cheerful and happy, his wife the queen had found a grip on reality, the dowager queen had smiled again when she saw the little prince and his uncle was at least satisfied that his brother was doing well.

It was a brief period in which all seemed well and the hand and his wife had at least a moment's peace and quiet in front of the family who were getting on their last nerve.

But in the Hand's tower room, the couple who had spent the night with good conversation and a little wine were also slowly stirring, unaware that so much more would happen that day.

At least her husband's dark eyes were on her sleeping form, darting back and forth over the papers and writings he'd had to take care of in the early hours. Pleasant as you are my star, he thought as he looked from his sleeping wife to the empty wine bottle, thinking back to the evening he'd come back to late at night and to his chagrin had to take care of business that his grandson or daughter were unable to do due to the death of Prince Jaehaerys.

His own great-grandson the little prince was a child without a care but he didn't have much to do with him, he was a busy man and his wife had a much better hand in family matters.

Not that he didn't grieve, there were hours when he would throw himself into his work and his wife would hug him, sighs coming from his lips…but there was no time for real grief at a time like this.

One thing they both knew was that in the beginning it had been excellent at keeping Aegon in check, one thing they were both sure of, it was because of them that everything here was running smoothly, that the city had not yet ended in chaos. ,,You're pulling such a worried face again," he suddenly heard her voice and saw that she had woken up from her sleep and had put the blanket on her upper body as she sat on the bed and watched him go about his work.

A knowing smile came to his own lips as he grabbed the hand brooch and came over to her, the face of a woman his age smiled softly and slightly tiredly at him, light wispy hair hanging on her head and yet it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

She was his lady, the mother of his two children, the great grandmother of the royal family and the only thing the green ones had left as a loving heart.

A woman he had married out of duty and politics but a woman who showed him that knowledge wasn't everything, how important it was to get things with ties while behind her stood her own powerful house and she was so much better interpersonally that he saw she was a player of the game in her own right.

,,The prince's death and Aegon's escape are troubling, I can't do everything," he admitted and pulled up a chair to sit in front of her, his hands taking hers in his and stroking the small scar she had gotten from her grandson when Aegon had thrown glasses through the small council and injured her, causing the hand to make a loud word and the king to withdraw.

But she straightened up, still thinking about him, she pressed a light kiss on his lips and took the golden pin from his hand, ,,I take care of the family and you take care of politics… pieces are set you just have to lay them right" she reminded him of the words and saw a knowing smile on his own before he squeezed her hands one last time and disappeared from the room with his papers while his wife, his shadow, his back wheel, his teammate got ready to go see if she could do anything with her family.

No matter how this war started she knew that the royal family were a bunch of mismatched people her own family was completely dysfunctional which was not least her fault and the fault of the throne it could have been different but things had happened and you had to make the best of it.

Lying in bed for a moment the smell of Otto a mix of paper, leather and wine made her smile at the conversations they had had emotional, devoted but most of all they were conversations about the tension in the bridge it was as if something was going to blow up at any moment.

Because this wildfire several hundred years later was the loud talking and shouting that could be heard in the corridors of the halls. The green golden dress of the royal grandmother was still wet with tears a few hours ago when she went to her daughter, the widow queen burst into tears, confessed her sins and sought refuge in her arms before they prayed together, it seemed as if she had at least caught her daughter.

Getting close to her granddaughter Helaena was always a little more difficult but she talked to her and tried to convince her with insects and help her, which at least ended in a little play with Jaehaera and Helaena seemed to have at least some support.

Aemond, on the other hand, had disappeared and she suspected to find her grandson in the brothels she had heard about a long time ago. But now she ran faster and faster as she heard the screaming and cursed inwardly that she hadn't been the first to find Aegon.

She hadn't noticed anything from outside, she had just been with her family and god knows what had happened again. Rushing into the room, the open doors alone made her nervous and she was met with a scene of chaos.

,,What's going on here?" she asked as the guards hurried to close the door before she stood between her husband and grandson, knowing the stunned look in her husband's eyes and Aegon's who only seemed more stubborn.

A sigh crossed the eldest's lips as Aegon put his hands on his hips and smiled, ,,Grandmother, I did my wife a favor and with Lary's help let the ratcatchers down," as he admitted his actions that hit her like a wave of bad wine at the wrong time at the wrong moment.

Her look of utter bewilderment went to her husband who looked at her the same way and shook his head, ..Aegon you hanged all the ratcatchers?" the elder asked her grandson and put a hand on his shoulder which he pushed away after a moment when he realized she wasn't on his side and went to Criston who was still standing in one place.

,,I am the king, I have done right and avenged my son," he countered, making sweeping movements and defending himself, not realizing what he had done on a larger scale, ,,You idiot, you have enraged the people, the foundation, do you understand that?" Otto asked, ignoring the warning of Cole, who stood by the king and pointed his hand at his grandson.

In his emotional state, Aegon didn't quite seem to want to understand that he had avenged his son and that was what mattered, ,,So what? I am the king the crown sits on my head by my father" said the Targaryen and his grandmother hid her head in her hands for a moment as she gathered herself and Otto slowly placed her behind him.

It was done, Aegon in his grief not seeing what he had done, the players of the game of thrones were no longer in control of their own game and the king began to move himself.

It was an abyss that opened up and they realized that they could no longer get through to him, ,,Is that what you think?" was the last question Otto asked his grandson before this abyss became something unstoppable as he dismissed Otto from the office of the hand.

It had happened again her husband lost the office of the hand in a situation that couldn't have been more nerve-wracking and the family's upper management had to find themselves without a place in the castle and a few hours later in an empty room of the hand.

,,He's a fool," she murmured, stroking her temple to quell the pain that threatened to rise in her head as she felt his hand on her shoulder and he held her close, ,,He's a dog let off the leash," he added, and they both knew that once they left the castle, they would be "free," but their family would perish. It was a feeling that the whole board game would turn and the family could no longer be properly protected.

It was a decision they couldn't change, and the feeling of his kiss on the top of her head only slightly loosened the knot in her heart. ,,What will they do without us?" she spoke her thoughts, feeling the temptation he was pulling her into, but he had no answer either, an answer that did nothing to ease her pain and grief, even as they made their way back to Oldtown by coach and ship.

But as soon as they saw the great Old Town, the tower of her husband's house, the fire burning inside and were greeted by Otto's brother, the atmosphere seemed to have changed.

It was calmer, you were hardly tense and even if you were always surrounded by worry like a draft of air, it seemed as if you could think more clearly again without being surrounded by city walls.

A city with a tower, the main seat, and large rooms in which noble couples found themselves looking out onto the balcony over their homeland, their hands joined together and drinking goblets of wine, ,,As if the blessing of the seven would calm you down," Otto murmured, placing the goblet on the railing of the balcony and looking out over the city where he had grown up and where his children had spent years.

,,We needed this blessing," she admitted, stroking a strand of hair behind her ear that had been blown away by the wind. She could feel his bend and knew that he was upset at how much he had been going back and forth now that they no longer had direct access to decisions.

They really had to play the backseat family members and even Alicent didn't seem to have a breakthrough anymore. ,,Yes, a break, my dear, is probably what we need," he finally gave in anyway and pressed another kiss on her, which she returned briefly, however much she loved him Lust was not what she felt on this day, rather a need for something palpable to help her.

She let her gaze sweat until she looked up into the sky, the infinite cradle, and drank her cup with one last draught. ,,We may have lost turns, husband, but there is something we can use to protect what we have created," she reminded him and grabbed his hand, pointing to the sky and the two of them looked up at the dragon in the sky with their youngest grandson on it.

She saw the same knowing flash in his eyes as in hers before his hands wrapped around her body, it had been a long time since she had seen him so unsettled. He didn't show it often that he was worried, he probably hated himself at that moment but he had a drive a cunning in him that she knew together they would save her house from its own destruction they hadn't given up their places yet, ,,Together the chosen pieces move on to a new one my star and we will be victorious" he added with a slight smile.

The apprehension disappeared for a moment before he placed his hand on her cheek and pulled her into another kiss. In every game, you had to give yourself a time-out to hit even harder on the next play.

~~~~~~~~~~~

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

@xionthelostpuppet

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 16)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3,157

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15)

Notes: okay i forced myself to finish this part so it's a little shitty and not at all edited.

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Day 195 Part 2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The forest goes completely still.

There are no moanings of zombies in the distance, no rustling of leaves on the trees. Even the wind has silenced with your words.

Surprise shocks the group around you. Nesta’s eyes narrow into a piercing glare. The untrust is clear in the way that she readjusts the knife in her hand, and Azriel shifts next to you, his intention to block her path to you should she lunge. Cassian looks like he could growl.

The man at her side flicks his russet gaze to his lover, a frown of concern on his face. He looks like he’s ready to step in front of her as well, but if you know her from any of the stories Feyre had told you, she’s much too stubborn to allow that to happen.

Her eyes are cold and calculating as they flick back and forth between yours, staring you down.

The zombie that they must have been taunting suddenly lurches from behind a large oak and you gasp a little, but Nesta doesn’t do so much as flinch. Instead, she keeps those sharp eyes pinned on you, Azriel, and Cassian while her companion turns to take care of the undead being stumbling behind them. It’s missing both of its eyes, a thick slash leaking black blood across its forehead and into its unseeing sockets. The smell that follows it has your stomach churning, your quick snack from earlier threatening to make a reappearance.

It’s kind of incredible, watching how easily the copper haired man slays the zombie, all while Nesta guards him from the three of you. She has the utmost confidence in him, that he will keep her safe, and she doesn’t need to turn away from who may potentially be the bigger threat, whether she knows it or not.

The man kills the zombie with ease. One quick jab of his knife into the base of its skull has the undead falling limp to the forest floor with a crunch that you’ll never get used to. The man grimaces a little when he wipes his knife clean on the calf of his pants, then returns to Nesta’s side, awaiting her lead.

No one speaks, and it’s a little unnerving. The sun has already started its descent into night, and there isn’t going to be much time for you, Azriel, and Cassian to find shelter for the night if things here don’t go well. Nesta had mentioned something about the middle sister, Elain, but you don’t hear a thing, so she must not be around. Is she with others? Have Feyre and Rhysand made it to Eryef before you? 

“Right?” you blurt, because no one’s speaking. “You’re Feyre’s older sister. Have they made it to you?”

“They?” Nesta questions and you deflate, knowing that they haven’t.

Cassian places his free hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

“Who are you?” the man next to her asks, and you watch his gaze dart to where the sun hangs low in the sky. He doesn’t seem to tense at its position, so you glean that wherever they’ve taken shelter must be close. No one wants to be caught out here after nightfall if they can help it.

“I’m (Y/N),” you offer and gesture to the men with you. “And this is Azriel and Cassian. I’ve been traveling with Feyre for a while now, and we joined forces with these two and their friend, Rhysand.” 

“Then where is she?” Nesta bites and you want to flinch, to duck away from the accusation lining her tone. It is your fault that your group has split up now, that you’re too far away for the walkie talkies to work. 

Neither you, Cassian, nor Azriel have an answer for her.

“She’s with our friend,” Cassian tries to console, because Azriel’s gritting his teeth so hard you think they might crack. He’s in a defensive position, and doesn’t like the way that Nesta is speaking to any of you. “They went back to our van but we couldn’t stay in the house we found because it was…infested. We left a note telling them where we went, and if they follow that, they’ll find your directions pointing to Eryef. When they get close enough, we can contact them on the walkies but as of this afternoon, they’re still out of range.”

“Rule number one of the fucking zombie apocalypse,” Nesta spits, “Don’t split up.”

You swallow roughly, fighting the pricking stinging your eyes. You know this and yet you’d been so stupid. The three of you should’ve waited for them to come find you, surely you could’ve survived in that house a few more hours—

You gag at the thought, turning away from the group. Cassian moves a few paces away with you, leaving Azriel to deal with Feyre’s sister and her counterpart as he tends to you. It makes something warm in your belly, the way that they fall back so easily into their roles; Azriel the menacing force, Cassian the caring charmer.

“You okay?” Cassian murmurs, his hand warm as he rubs your back. He keeps glancing over his shoulder, weary of the newcomers and how Azriel is going to handle them. He’s not very trusting, and everyone’s about to find that out the longer he’s left alone with them.

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiping your mouth. Nothing had come up but the motion seemed necessary. “I’m fine.”

He’s not all too sure that you’re fine but he ushers you back over to the rest of the group when you seem steady enough. He’ll ask you again later, when you find some privacy.

The group opposite you watches as you return. Azriel’s harsh stare keeps them from asking any questions. 

“Where is Eryef?” Azriel asks simply. Nesta blinks.

“Why should we tell you, when you don’t even have my sister with you?” she asks, raising a brow. A flicker of emotion crosses through her pale blue eyes but you can’t make out what it is.

“Surely you didn’t think painting a sign with the name of your safe haven would go unnoticed by everyone besides Feyre,” Cassian adds. “Do you turn away all of those who come seeking help?”

Her eyes narrow once again but it's her companion who answers the question.

“No one has tracked us down before.”

You share a look with your men. It’s not unusual to not have run into many humans out here…at least trustworthy humans. Maybe they’d run into the same problems as your little group, meeting those who wanted to kill. Or maybe their camp is so well hidden that no one really takes notice of it at all.

“Well, now you’ve got us,” Azriel states, “And we know Feyre, have a way of communicating with her should they be in range, so you either show us to Eryef or tell us to leave, because the sun is setting fast.”

The authority in his tone has you shifting on your feet, warmth dancing in your veins. Where this attitude of his had been an annoyance to you when you first met Azriel, now that it’s directed at someone other than you, it’s kind of hot. It also makes your stomach swoop when he speaks like this to you and Cassian during the intimate moments you share.

The copper haired man makes the decision for the both of them, in what seems to be much to Nesta’s dismay. 

“You can come with us to Eryef, but if Feyre and your little friend don’t show within two days time, you’re out.”

And yeah, that seems fair enough.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Eryef isn’t just a house, it’s a mansion.

Located within the confines of a gated community, you’re not sure you would’ve been able to miss something like this had you and your men come across it. The large, gold gates keep others out while expressing just how much money went into doing so. The streets are lined with brick, some loose in areas from lack of keep up during the apocalypse. They’d make for great weapons, should you need any, and it was smart thinking on Nesta and her companions' part, you think.

Inside of the gate house is a zombie who bangs on the window when you pass. Nesta hadn’t warned you about it, and since you’re traveling in the front of the group so that the two can keep their eyes on you, you startle, stumbling over your feet.

Azriel steadies you with a hand around your bicep, giving you a gentle squeeze to which you nod in response, letting him know that you’re okay. He shoots a sour look over his shoulder but Nesta is as stoney face as ever.

“We kept him alive in case anyone tried coming this way,” she explains, slipping through the gate, her hand tucked in her companions for help. He takes on the role of shutting the gate behind him and securing it with a padlock and thick chain. “Showing them that this place is as infested as the others will keep wanderers away.”

“Is this place infested?” Cassian asks, checking your surroundings as you all walk, the scraping of the zombie in the gate house getting softer as you move through the streets.

“There used to be a lot more,” is all Nesta says, taking the lead. She tosses over her shoulder, “But keep an eye out, just in case.”

“We spent some time trying to corral the monsters,” the man with the freckles explains. He seems a little more open to your presence, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the front Nesta is putting up or if he’s trying to get on your good side for an eventual backstab. “Cut off the arms of some, jaws of others,” he grimaces and your stomach churns. You slow your pace, not liking what you’re hearing. “The ones roaming around inside shouldn’t be able to harm you, but it’s not a guarantee.” 

So instead of killing the zombies infesting this once pristine neighborhood, they’ve mutilated them further? The thought makes you sick. You’ve seen some things since the end of the world, been through worse, but this…this is new.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly. You don’t have the highest hopes that he will answer.

His russet eyes soften as he answers you. “Eris.” 

“Nice to meet you, Eris,” you offer a gentle smile. “I’m (Y/N), and this is Cassian, and Azriel.”

Said men keep you tucked between them as you follow Nesta and Eris to wherever they’re staying. You let your eyes wander across the houses you pass. It’s like the world has gone frozen around you. There is no movement inside, no sign of distress from any of the homes in the community. 

You wonder if any of them had been like the situation you found at the last house you thought was safe. The family trapped in the basement.

You feel a bit queasy as you think of what happened down there, the horrors you saw when you opened that safe room.

You shove the thought from your mind the deeper you wander, down roads of loose brick. The houses only become bigger and bigger, looming over the streets. Some of them are even surrounded by their own fences, though this doesn’t seem like the kind of place one would be wary of their neighbors, only about the money they’d once been drowning in. 

Now, you see the fence around the houses as a second line of defense.

You pray that Feyre and Rhysand make it here safe, because if you can add to your group, get them to trust you enough to let you stay, you think one of these properties could be the place where Cassian might be able to start his garden. 

You can tell that he’s thinking the same thing because of how bright his hazel eyes are. He’s alert and drinking in everything that he can, and you can see the gears turning in his head as he envisions his own paradise, his own place where he can keep you and Azriel safe. His gaze is warm when they settle on you and a smile tugs the corner of his lips.

The thought sends butterflies off in your stomach. Enjoying the warm feeling, you delve into better thoughts while following along. You’re so lost in your head that you hardly even notice the group coming up to what you think is the biggest house you’ve ever seen.

Craning your neck back, you take in the large, forest green house. There are columns of wood on the expansive porch, wrapping around the side of the mansion. There are a few rocking chairs creaking softly with the wind, and it looks picturesque, the thought of sitting out there with a warm cup of coffee on an autumn day, Azriel on one side of you with Cassian on the other—

“Welcome to the Woodland House,” Eris says, unlocking the door with a set of keys. You suppose it’s not uncommon to have a set of keys for a mega mansion in the middle of the apocalypse, but you do wonder where he found them…if they were sitting out on the counter or if he took them from a zombie's pocket. 

You follow the pair inside. It’s like entering another world. Despite the home's large nature, the inside is warm and welcoming, so different from what the world has come to.It makes your chest ache. 

The furniture is oversized and cozy, mis-matched pieces that make the entire space look lived in. There’s a stocked fireplace in the living room with a large woodpile beside it, ready for the long winter. 

“We’ll speak more after dinner,” Eris tells you when his tour comes to an end. Nesta had darted off up the stairs while Eris offered to show you around. Nesta had thrown over her shoulder that it was pointless to do so because you will be gone if her sister doesn’t show up, but Eris only rolled his eyes in response. “This is where you’ll be staying for the next few nights.”

You brace yourself as he opens the door to the basement of the house. You tense a little as you stare down the stairs, brought back to the last scene of the large home you’d been in the basement of. Eris must mistake it for something else because he’s quick to continue. “I know how it must look, but you’re still intruders in our home and we must be careful. If I could put you somewhere else I would,” he promises. “When Feyre returns to her sisters we can give you something that better suits your needs.” 

“It’s alright,” Cassian answers, his thick hand falling to the small of your back in a comforting motion. You release the air caught in your lungs and follow Azriel down the stairs. “Thank you for your generosity, Eris.”

He smiles, looking pleased. “Of course. Dinner will be in one hour. See you then.” 

He shuts the door softly behind you and you’re tense, waiting for the click of a lock, trapping you inside, but it never comes.

Your shoulders droop with relief. Cassian is already halfway down the stairs by the time you and Azriel have shared a look and turn to follow.

“Holy shit,” Cassian breathes, “This place is fucking insane.”

It is. It’s a fully furnished space and it’s the size of another house. You almost don’t want to step off of the last stair into the carpeted cream carpets with your dusty shoes. It looks so soft you think if you lay down you’d be asleep within minutes.

There would be no need to do that, though, because in the middle of the room sits two large sofas that look like clouds. There’s a large screen and projector for movies and if this place had power it would be the place everyone would hang out at. You just know it.

Exploring further, drinking in its luxury. There are two bedrooms and an office, all fitted with pristine furniture and so clean that it feels like there’s no apocalypse happening outside of these walls. 

It seems like Nesta and Eris have been here since the beginning, unless they’d managed to take over this mega-mansion and keep it from being looted, defended, and stocked. You suddenly wonder if there are more to their party.

It’s a safe haven, if Feyre and Rhys can make it here.

On a whim, you find yourself digging through drawers and searching through offices, the bedrooms, trying to find anything you can for an insight on what is going on here. Who owned this house? Where are the signs of humans? 

You pull open one of the closets, shoving the winter coats out of the way but also taking note of them for when the summer winds down and the winter sets in. You’ll need warmth, especially if they don’t allow you to stay. You’ll have to speak with Cassian and Azriel about what you’re all going to do, how you’ll manage to get away with some extra necessities.

Getting down on your hands and knees you crawl further into the space when your gaze snags on a cardboard box shoved as far into the corner as it can. You drag it out, sitting back on your haunches, ripping open the flaps.

It’s memorabilia from what seems like another life.Trophies and sports ribbons, a signed baseball. There’s an old science project, a replica of the planets in space. 

Digging further, your fingers brush a picture frame and you pull it out, examining the family. It was taken in the great room upstairs, the loving parents behind their seven smiling sons. One is getting his ear pinched by the father, a twist of pain on his face and you frown eyes moving up to the culprit, the vile person who could treat their son this way—

Beron. 

You’d recognize the face of the man who wanted to eat you anyday.

The frame falls from your grasp with a crash. 

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Cassian asks urgently, as both of the men dart to your sides. Bile sits high in your throat and your breathing is short, shallow because you’re under the roof of what is his home. “Sweetheart?” 

You can’t speak. Your heart races in your chest and your hands tremble even when Cassian pulls them into his strong, reassuring grip. 

Azriel shoves the fallen frame away from the photo that’s loose, glass clinking loudly throughout the basement. He stands, staring at the picture, his fingers clenched so tightly at its corners that it begins to crumple under his unbridled rage.

You squeeze your eyes shut as Azriel shows the photograph to Cassian. You can’t look at it again, can’t see those hateful eyes staring back at you, taunting you—

“Oh, fuck.” 

Oh, fuck indeed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo@kemillyfreitas@5moremin@dream-alittlebiggerdarling@waggel36 @bionic-donut@queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamer@reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24@poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020@jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi@ochiolism@secretly-here@harrystylesfan2686@i-am-infinite

[amxrany]

!! CHAPTER 7 / DIASOMNIA ARC SPOILERS !!

I am literally crying right now guys but let's get through this (Part 3):

We see Meleanor perish right in front of our eyes just like how Prince Philip slayed dragon Maleficent

Lilia, Baul and our main gang are now travelling underground but then a hole forms above and the Knight of Dawn falls through, more collision happens which causes the Knight to save Lilia and everyone is just confused like why is the enemy suddenly saving them???? Until they get a look at the Knight's face

(I swear ya'll when I saw this for the first time I was laughing so hard cuz I understand how Silver feels since I'm also a carbon copy of my dad but in female form)

That's when Silver realizes that the Knight was his biological father, and he was related to the Silver Owls who caused Malleus and Lilia to suffer, WHICH ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATES HIM NOOO BABY

The darkness starts swallowing Silver, but Sebek and Yuu jump in to save him which lands us inside of his heart, and we have to fight the darkness from within. Silver realizes that the Knight of Dawn also carried the same ring he carries today, as he wanders into the darkness he wonders if Sebek hates him after finding out his origins 😭. That's when he says he should stay in the dream DON'T BABY WE STILL LOVE YOU

We then witness a series of old memories that will end with us crying for mercy over this found family

Next: Part 4

Previous: Part 2

[ivestas]

Hello. I saw your post and would you be up for doing a bit on a reader who cares little about themselves but cares deeply for the team?

love deterrence

Summary: You care about the 141 more than yourself to a worrisome degree. 

Tags: platonic!141 x soldier!fem!reader, mentally ill reader (implied), headcanon format, reader implied to be young, unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: ANON... THE MOMENT I SAW THIS I DROPPED EVERYTHING. the requests I get r always top tier, BUT THIS IS S +. also my bad for this being price/soap/ghost-centric, theyre the characters im most confident in writing---and, also also, SEND REQUESTS. you guys are so slay w reqs its actually insane

You were a soldier—a good one at that. 

Thorough in your assignments, fearless on the field, and reliable. Truly, it’s something any enlister would seek out. 

That was Price’s initial thoughts—everyone else’s, really. You liked to get shit done and you were determined to always, always see through a mission’s completion. 

It was a trait that, at first, wasn’t noticeable, but it intensified the longer you stayed with the 141. 

Many things increased the longer you were with them: you went from formal to friendly, quiet to outspoken, frigid to warm... you grew comfortable. They each took notice in their own way—with Soap being the one to constantly reciprocate and encourage in his own way; despite his loud character, he was subtle in pushing you out of your bubble.

Even Ghost encouraged you... in his own way. 

“You look like you wanna say something, spit it out, kid.” 

It was hard not to warm up to them, and vice versa; the team was as tightly knit as they come, and you could confidently say that you’d trust your life in their hands...

...but, you’d much rather they worry about you last.

And that was when Ghost was the first to notice your recklessness on the field when it came to them; the moment you heard one of them was in danger, you’d be quick to finish the area in such a careless manner and rush to them—and many, many times he’d berate you about it. 

“Kid, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put.”

“But—“

“No fuckin’ ‘buts’, you shut up and listen, understand?!” 

“...yes sir.” 

But you always disobeyed. At one point, Ghost demanded Price to put you on temporary leave because of how worrisome it was getting—you’d listen to every single order and follow through in quick succession, but the moment it came to your safety, you just..?

And that’s when it clicked to Ghost: you didn’t care. It was their lives over yours, and something about that just pissed him off. 

(Maybe it was because he understood the feeling, and he hated knowing that you felt it too. You were young, you shouldn’t feel that way—not now, not ever.)

Price would catch on later around the same time Soap did—although the two certainly weren’t dumb, it’s just the mere fact that they didn’t understand the way Ghost did—they’ve had their mental pitfalls, but not the abject depression that pushes one to feel so little about themselves. 

They’d find out much later—you’ve become sneakier in protecting them, something that Ghost still catches from time to time but can’t butt in since you were so damn clever with it—and it was when an enemy tossed a bomb in your and Soap’s direction that your nature dawned on him. 

You were quick to toss the bomb back, and not only did you do that, but you shielded him from the blast by throwing yourself onto him despite the fact you were smaller than he. 

Luckily, the blast didn’t harm you, only leaving you with a few scrapes and ringing ears. 

But, the moment he got back up on his feet, you were fretting.

“You okay, Soap? You’re not hurt, are you—?!” 

“Lass, worry about yourself, I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure?” 

It was like talking to a brick wall: terribly frustrating.

Price, having been a few feet away and had shielded from the blast, saw the spectacle and almost laughed. 

It was ridiculous to him—you threw yourself, but you’re worrying about the muscle-bound soldier? 

He didn’t like soldiers who tried to play hero—especially soldiers who were hardly grown. Especially soldiers who seemed to lack care for themselves.

So, Price would start sneaking in sentiments of care: complimenting you outside the field, (”You made that, sergeant? Great job, it looks wonderful.”) trying to hear you communicate your own interests, things about you. 

Soap already does that, and Ghost soon follows too, though slowly. He wasn’t good at praising—his compliments were always so awkward, no better than his fucked up jokes that he cracked at the worst times. 

Price always made sure to give you the best cots, Ghost would give you a portion of his food because...

“I’m watching my weight.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, sergeant. I’m watching my weight.” 

“...you’re literally a soldier—“

“Just eat the food kid, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Soap was the only direct one—the other two didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, but Soap was, well... Soap. 

“Look, kid, lass, you need to start lookin’ out for yerself.” 

“I am already, don’t worry—“

“You stood in front of Price when you thought there was an enemy sniper.” 

“He’s the captain! I gotta protect him!” 

“You could’ve just told him—listen, I don’t like using threats, that’s the L.T’s thing, not mine, but if you continue to treat your arse like a meatshield, I’m gonna make sure you’re put on leave again, okay?” 

It becomes a struggle after that: you felt overwhelming guilt for feeling guilt, for being ‘selfish’, or feeling guilty for taking risky actions in order to protect them because you know they’ll feel bad. 

It’s a perpetual struggle that you didn’t know what to do about, and it’s at the worst time you broke down. 

You and Ghost were cleaning up the mess hall since Soap won a bet against him, and when you picked up an extra plate more than Ghost, you began overthinking.

Was this gonna piss off Ghost? Were you going to make him feel bad? Were you doing this for yourself or for him? Why did you do that—should you give him the plate? What should you do? What’s the right thing?

As much as the guys tried to ease your mind, I think they did the opposite: and, at that moment, you couldn’t stop the tears.

That made you even guiltier, especially when Ghost noticed. 

But, all he said was “talk.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and with that allowance, you spoke. 

It was incoherent: a babbling mess of “sorrys” and admissions of guilt for shit he didn’t even know one could feel guilty for—you shook, moments would jump where you would collect yourself for a few seconds before bursting once more. 

Taking the dishes from your hands, he set them back on the table and engulfed you in an awkward but strong hug. He didn’t trust himself to say anything right, but he hoped—prayed—that you knew the sentiments. 

And you did—you reciprocated immediately, burying your face into his bulletproof vest; heaving, shaking, breaking. 

He was then at a crossroads: you were unstable. Guilt like that—this faux selflessness that was really something more tragic—it only leads to one thing, a thing he couldn’t bring himself to name. 

So, the same night when he was sure you were asleep, he went straight to Price. 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Ghost?” 

“The kid—she can’t stay. She needs to see a professional.” 

Price sighed. “You don’t think I’m tryin’? Been trying to reach a psychologist—therapist—whomever. Laswell’s said she’s workin’ on it, so we’ll see.”

“But she can’t stay, this type of job, it’s not good for her mind.” 

“That’s up to her. You can’t just kick someone out—it’s ain’t that simple.” 

Ghost opened his mouth, ready to spit back, but Price cut in, stern. “It’s up to her. I’ll make sure she sees a professional at least bi-weekly, but you can’t force a leave on her.” 

Ghost settled with that, though not completely satisfied. 

When you eventually do see a professional, you get a little better—you recognize the patterns, the triggers, the reasons. It’s easier to dissemble the mess that your mind is and just understand. 

Although you’re a little more careful now, more thoughtful about your own body, there’s always a level of protection you place on them that they know is irremovable: it’s care. 

And they reflect that care right back at you, both in and out of the field. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[voiceoftheskeptic]

stp au idea im thinking about: save the sacrifice

on the path to new and unending dawn, TLQ makes the decision to slay TSM, but hero realises - since he's the one doing the narration, he has the power here. he can save her from TLQ. (especially since TLQ doesn't really want to slay her, and since they're in TSM's heart, her feelings of wanting TLQ to be happy help hero's influence.)

Hero slays TLQ, believing that the Princess will reset the construct. She does in her grief, essentially diverting them to the loop ending. Since there's no longer a Narrator, Hero has to take on his role instead, meaning he's the only one to remember. He guides LQ to try and save TSM from herself and him, while working within the confines of the construct. But there's still Echoes tucked away in there, and they still want her dead.

"Right now, you're in a cabin. There's a basement here, and a Princess has been held captive as a sacrifice here for a long time. Your job was originally to sacrifice her, hence why you've got a knife in hand, but... you have to save her. Earn her trust, and save her instead. Please."

Voice of the Executioner: No. She has to be sacrificed, that's why we're here. We aren't the judge or jury, her fate's been decided, we just have to get it done.

some of the voices might get new names too based around this idea with heros/executioners perception of them, these are all WIPs though!!

Skeptic: Voice of the Detective

Contrarian: Voice of the Thorough

Smitten: Voice of the Justice

Opportunist: Voice of the Juror/Balance

Hunted: Voice of the Skittish

Paranoid: Voice of the Apologetic

Broken: Voice of the Recompense

Cold: Voice of the Gallows

Stubborn: Voice of the Revolution

[pastaangelceo]

i love opportunist

it so cute when he thinks he's so sly or whatever but everyone sees right through him idk where this was said but on TV Tropes it says he "genuinely thinks the other voices view him as a friend". i lowkey dont know where they found this but ill believe them since. i think its silly he's so cute and dumb and so stupid boy

also he's so bad at being evil… like, he's kinda funny in princess and the dragon

its cute how he misses the GIANT X on her chest. he literally stabs like, the side of her chest? yeah thats what that is also sorry if the image is abnormally big uhh idk why its like that... anyways, how does one even fail at hitting that? maybe she was like moving when he did it idk though if she was or not this image is from the. gallery its also funny when cold scolds him for missing. cold is also cute all the voices are so adorable and cute awwwwhh my favorite ending is actually the new dawn one. i like it cause all the voices are happy (besides smitten but he'll get over it) and have a whole world to themselves <3 <3 yayayyayy aww but anyways about opportunist

noticing things but when you stab happily ever after or when you hold princess and the dragon's hand (ik patd doesn't make much sense to call her but its the title so whatever) he says these uhh words yeah

i dont really know what to say about them? i sorta just put stuff out there and hope someone stumbles across it and puts my thoughts into words

ah, and in wraith he's also cute. i like him in wraith. i like him in all chapters he's in! its like with paranoid, i also like paranoid in all his chapters i kinda wish opportunist got a chapter with skeptic though. (idk if it has to do with liking his chapters but yeah) or with contrarian. he might have one with contra though idk also not about opportunist but its so cute when people nickname contrarian "connie"!!! ive seen people do it before and its so so cute <3 <3

anyways kinda on topic again but he seems kinda high in wild ngl its kinda like how in moment of clarity and (in the later parts of) apotheosis they act weird & off… in wild the voices aren't really themselves, if that makes sense? or maybe they are. and im stupid. they still seem high though; at least oppo does

its also nice when he's happy. or excited (if you could call it that). it mostly happens when you listen to him and stuff like that and its so cute!!!!! awwwww

awwhwhwwhwwhhhhwww thank youu i love you so much oppo <3 <3 OMG he's so cute idk if its because its 2am right now or what but he's making me so happy he's also cute when he's annoyed. he's cute all the time whatever

i also took like two of those "which voice are you in slay the princess??" quizzes… and i got opportunist on BOTH somehow i dont know what that says about me but its probably nothing good! thats ok though it'd also explain why i like him so much. but anyways bye

[strixcattus]

Every Ending is a Bad Ending: A Slay the Princess Analysis

I've had this in my drafts since... February. Since the Pristine Cut is in less than a week, and will add an entirely new ending to the lineup, I figured it would be best to get this finished, polished (or at least casually looked over), and posted beforehand.

Slay the Princess is a game that makes zero judgement about which ending you choose to pursue. Sure, some characters may make their own standpoints clear, but aside from the "Good Ending" (and we all know what that ending really means and is) there's never an official indicator if you've reached the "proper" ending, because there is no proper ending. There are six different endings (Stranger variants and And Everyone Hates You notwithstanding—they can be folded into the others), each of which has its own nuanced set of implications and each of which is given an equal amount of care from the developers.

And each of which, when you take the time to think about it from every angle, kind of sucks. A lot.

None of this is a judgement on the game itself. I like it, actually! Every ending forces you to make some form of sacrifice in the name of another priority, which keeps any one of them from being cast in a light as "the best ending." (While there are definitely endings that could be cast as "the worst ending," they're still narratively interesting and there's no shame put on achieving them.)

I. The Good Ending

This is the ending the Narrator wants you to pursue, though it's hardly an ending compared to the others. You've really only got one chance to pursue it—once you've met the Shifting Mound, it's too late to go back, so the Good Ending inevitably means a truncated run.

It also means a couple other things, which are worse. First and most obviously, it means the same thing as A New and Unending Dawn—you've killed the concept of death and transformation, and with that ended both of those things, forever, at the Narrator's behest. His world will persist in stasis ad infinitum, and whatever fragment of the Shifting Mound is within you, whatever change and meaning it preserves, the world will be changed drastically, and it's entirely possible that not all the people within it will think that's for the better. But this is a topic for A New and Unending Dawn.

Besides, the player—which is to say, the Long Quiet, not that he knows he is the Long Quiet, the one on the opposite side of the screen from you, the one experiencing all of this—doesn't know any of that. He doesn't know anything. He's just following orders, and now he's received his reward.

His reward is, as the Narrator tells him, eternal, boring bliss. And so it is—if he perceives what the Narrator says as true, then it will be. He'll be happy, and nothing else, for all eternity.

Doesn't bode particularly well for what's happening in places that aren't the cabin, but I said that was going to wait.

The player's awareness, in effect, ends. Sure, he's going to remain alive for eternity, but nothing is going to happen with that life. He's given up his agency, the possibility for experience, and everything else that might make up the definition of life on a more philosophical level.

Which brings us to a point that's going to crop up in different ways throughout this post. Slay the Princess is a game with more than three characters.

The player is not alone in the cabin, but given enough time, someone else might be.

The Voice of the Hero, your only companion who seems to be unilaterally on your side, is stuck in this cabin with you, and he isn't as happy about it as the Narrator tells you you are. He doesn't believe the Narrator's words, even if you choose to, and so he isn't affected by them as you are. He isn't happy, eternally. He doesn't lose his self-awareness to the now-meaningless flow of time, even though you do. If you choose to set down onto the Good Ending, you can hear him pleading for you to get up and take back your choice, but you can't actually act on his words past the first decision point. You've given up your agency, your self, your possibility to change entirely.

Hero is still there. He's still aware, and he will be for eternity. He'll get to experience time in a meaningful way, his only company an Echo (who may or may not fade, and even if he doesn't he likely won't be very good companionship in the face of a dull eternity) and someone who has completely given up their personhood.

This ending may or may not be apocalyptic for the world, and it may or may not be horrifying for the Long Quiet, but there's no arguing that it isn't torture for the Hero.

II. There Are No Endings

This was the first ending I got, and I will say I felt forced into it. Not by the game itself, necessarily—just knowing what the Princess was, and what killing her would mean, I felt as though the only proper option was to allow her to continue on. Death is an essential part of the workings of things, and transformation as a whole is even more crucial—though, even if all the Shifting Mound represented was death, my actions wouldn't have been any different. The game made no judgement—the only things forcing my hand were my own beliefs.

The exact implications of killing the Shifting Mound and ridding the world of death, I'll save for the ending where that actually happens. The general idea is, it's not desirable. The Narrator's world is going to end, and the healthiest way for the cosmos to go on is to allow the Princess to be what she is and create a new world in the shadow of the old.

For the Narrator's world, this is obviously not ideal. It ends. But there's going to be a new world created when it does, and that world will flourish as it was meant to, and when it dies a new world will be born, on into eternity. The progression of the cosmos is the same as it was before—which is probably the best way for it to be, compared with your other options.

For the Long Quiet, though... this isn't the worst experience he could be having. He could be effectively nonexistent. He could be actually nonexistent. Compared to that, a thousand dawns and a thousand sunsets, each containing a thousand more, with your other half by your side isn't all that bad.

But you're alone. Yes, you have the Shifting Mound by your side, but she's the only companionship you'll ever get for the rest of eternity. I'd like to call some attention to a few of her lines throughout the game at this point, just to highlight why I consider this ending to be just as bad as the next one on the list (though, to be sure, they're not necessarily bad in the same ways or for the same people).

"It doesn't matter if there are. People are too small for us. You and I are the only things that interest me."

"There is a warmth and sadness in me at the thought of people. Fresh tears on a winter's day. They are not like us. They do not last."

These are a couple lines from the fourth time you enter the Long Quiet. Depending on how well you've treated the Princesses you encounter, the Shifting Mound's dialogue changes, but there's always an underlying implication that you and her are more important than people.

If you deny the Princesses their freedom more often than you grant it, you get the first variation (of which there are two versions—the other has her calling people "frail and impermanent"), where you have the chance to ask her if she thinks there will be people in the worlds beyond the Long Quiet. She immediately dismisses your question, saying that people do not interest her.

If you grant the Princesses their freedom more often than you deny it, you get the second variation. Here, the Shifting Mound is the one to ask you what you think you will find, and one of your options is to say that you think there's supposed to be people. Her line above is her response to that. She's more sympathetic towards people, but still describes them as unlike you and her. Even at her kindest, she still believes the two of you to be greater than people—and to be fair, you are—but she never seems to care about people in quite the same way the player does.

"A person. A set of eyes witnessing from one perspective. I think that you are more like me than you are like a person."

She says this the first time you meet, but until you're awoken to your true nature, from your perspective you are more like a person than you are like her. You fear death and experience each iteration of the Construct from your own perspective and no other. And even when you reach the mirror, and remember that you are more than a person, you still remember being one. It's not clear she does the same.

Remember, at this point you're certain that you've witnessed, four times now, the only people you've ever been able to fully trust die. You don't have the option to avoid it. At my first encounter with this line (for context and clarity, it was one of the "It doesn't matter if there are" lines), I was thinking of the Voices when I mentioned people—because that's what they are, by her definition. Singular perspectives capable of death. And she shuts them down, insisting that they do not matter.

To be clear, it's not my intention to and I would never bash the Shifting Mound. Maybe at one time I would, and maybe some of my initial feelings are still preserved in my writing here—I wouldn't be able to tell. But I've grown past resentment on this point—I'm simply outlining the way in which the Shifting Mound seems to view people other than her and the Long Quiet.

What, exactly, does this all mean from an objective perspective? I've only been talking about subjective views on the Shifting Mound so far. Maybe your perspective is different from mine. What's really going on?

Let's start with the world side—moreso recap, but it's been a bit of digression and I think we could use one. As I said earlier, this is probably the best outcome for the world. Yes, it ends. It had to end. There is no good outcome for the Narrator's world—it's either end and be reborn, or persist in a manner I'll save for the next ending.

This might be the best-case scenario. Existence persists in a healthy manner. The cycle of death and rebirth continues. Everything is okay, generally. Life retains meaning. Countless worlds are born and live full lives.

But you? You are alone with someone who does not grasp the value that you place in the people within those worlds. She values that which spans the cosmos—you, and her, and the worlds you create. She does not pay attention to what goes on within them, but you do, because you've lived it.

Or maybe you're willing to embrace godhood and leave behind people. I'm not, but I'm only one person and my opinions are not paramount. The Long Quiet does seem to care about people enough that he always has the option to bring them up, and he's experienced living as one, but that's not enough to base a full argument on. Maybe the god of stasis can change his mind. So let's talk about something that definitely does happen.

Those Voices? Your friends? The collective of people who have been by your side this whole time? Yeah, they're gone. They died at the mirror. You know this.

She is a creature of perception, and you are perception itself. She becomes that which people perceive her to be—which is why you cannot alter her once you awaken. You're not a person anymore.

But you are still perception. The world is that which you perceive it to be. Her vessels are within her, empty—even during your final confrontation, their words (notably, her referring to the Apotheosis in third person) show that they are not speaking, but she is speaking through them. Whether or not they were always a part of her, she sees them as nothing more.

Were your Voices nothing more than parts of you? It doesn't matter anymore. You perceive them as gone, dead at the mirror, and so they are. You are alone, forever, with her.

Maybe you're happy like that. Maybe you looked at the choice between her and the Voices, and decided you'd rather have her. But the Voices are dead either way. They don't even get to persist in a space away from you.

And if you aren't happy, well. You'll have an eternity to try to change that.

III. A New and Unending Dawn

Here's the big one—the full 180 from There Are No Endings. The Narrator's second chance, and this one is, let's face it, probably better for the Long Quiet from an objective standpoint. He's not wasting away alone in a room, and none of the Voices are left stranded as they watch the only other thing they know fade into nothing.

In fact, this is one of only two endings where you don't have to leave behind the voices—either in them persisting while you fade, or in them dying while you persist into eternity, or in you leaving them behind forever. This time, you get to keep them by your side as you rule your eternal kingdom. Hopefully they're not too mad at you.

This is probably one of the better outcomes for the Voices and the Long Quiet, though it's definitely not ideal. You've still been forced to kill your other half, and even though you may have deemed it necessary, it's not a great experience.

And you have no idea what that means for the world.

Sure, you know what you just killed. The concept of death. The Capacity to Change. Transformation, or most of it. Without her, the world will persist for an eternity, and so too will the people within it. There will never be an end of the world. There will never be a new dawn beyond your own.

Or will there be an end of the world? There certainly will be a change in how it functions. Will the small piece of Transformation within you be enough to preserve change and meaning in what is left behind? Most of the Voices seem to have positive reactions to the new iteration of the world, though none of you have actually seen it yet. You don't actually know how things are going to work, only that you have the power to perceive them this time. A step up from the "Good Ending."

Let's go back to the Good Ending for a second. I did say we were going to.

Remember how it goes? You're trapped for eternity, happy, forever. And, to be sure, this partly stems from your own perception. If you believe the Narrator when he says you're happy, you'll be happy. The Voice of the Hero doesn't, and so he isn't, and he has to watch you fade away.

But the fact that this can happen, that it is in fact the Narrator's ideal ending, does not bode well. Is this a fate that awaits some of the people in your new world? Will some of them end up fading away, unable to die or to find meaning in a world that cannot change aside from "happiness forever?" You can't say this for sure, but you also can't deny it for sure.

Eternity is not friendly, or at least it has the potential to hurt quite a bit, even if that isn't guaranteed. The one solace is that, at least, the people you've doomed to it will not be alone. They may miss those who died too soon, and they'll have eternity to continue doing so, but they will not be alone.

Whatever you've done, everyone will get to suffer it together. Forever.

IV. Just as You Once Were Nothing

Let's take a break from the standard endings and consider the implications of what happens when you abandon the Shifting Mound entirely. You refuse to perceive her, and since she is shaped by perception, in your refusal you deny her an existence. Eventually, you run out of time to make any sort of amends, and the two of you persist by sheer force of (your) will until you give up and you both fade to oblivion.

This is probably by far the most uncertain of the endings—every ending carries with it the question of what will happen to the world, but this one adds the question of what will happen to you. What exactly happens after you fade? Do you return to your prior existence as an unconscious cycle? Is this effectively the same as slaying the Princess? Whichever it is, the one certainty is that you won't be around to see it.

Most likely, you and the Shifting Mound's annihilation is a bleaker future for the outside world than any other ending. With her gone, the capacity for death is eliminated, but the player also perishes, taking with him the fragment of the Shifting Mound that was meant to ensure that life would persist in some meaningful form. The entirety of Transformation is wiped out, as is the entirety of the Long Quiet.

What, exactly, is the Long Quiet? It's never stated. He is the other half of the cycle of life and death, the counterpart to the Shifting Mound. She is a creature of perception, and he is the one who perceives. She is that which enables death, and he is that which has the capacity to end it. She is the Shifting Mound, the Ebb and Flow, the Capacity to Change, and he is the Long Quiet, the... capacity to not change? She is Transformation, or most of it, and he holds the rest within whatever he is that isn't transformation.

The two of them, combined, form the whole of existence. And without either, it seems likely that a true end of the world will arise, one beyond which there is not and will never be a new dawn. The exact object of the Narrator's fears made manifest.

Suffice to say, this is not good for anyone. At least the player doesn't have to sit with what he's done, unlike in the previous ending.

Or maybe you aren't annihilated. Maybe you just lose consciousness and become a mindless cycle again. There's no way to know anything except that the Long Quiet, as he is, is now dead.

V. And? What Happens Next?

That is the question. I gather that this is considered in the court of collective opinion to be one of the better endings, and it's easy to see why—I myself, when I first reached it, commented that "as far as I'm concerned, this is the good ending." But there's still a lot left uncertain, and there's still a sacrifice you have to make.

When you leave the final cabin, the Shifting Mound is gone around you, replaced by a starry sky similar to the one in the Construct. You never get to see what lies beyond the door or to get any clues as to what happened to the outside world.

I don't think there's any strong evidence to the idea that you've somehow harmed the world itself by abandoning your godhood. The Princess states that she is separate on some level from the Shifting Mound, and killing Her is a choice you have to intentionally make. But is it unchanged? And will you and the Princess ever get to see the world you chose not to sacrifice?

These questions don't have answers. Maybe the concept of Transformation gets on just fine without a mind behind it—whatever cycle the two of you once were certainly seemed to. Maybe it's altered, somehow. Maybe the Shifting Mound's personhood manages to persist without her heart, even. There's no way to know and not even the barest evidence to support any theory, so I won't consider it any further.

But when you step outside the door, where will you end up? The world outside the Construct is typically represented with color—the green new growth in the Networked Wild's peek behind the curtain and "There Are No Endings," or the orange star in "A New and Unending Dawn." All you get in this ending is a colorless night sky, identical to what you'd see if you were still in the Construct. Are you still there, trapped with no way out now that you and the Princess have both given up your godhood? It's possible. It's also possible that you do have a way out, a way back to the world you've never been able to see clearly.

You don't know, though. You've given up your right to knowing what will happen next. And that's not the only thing you've given up—your Voices, or at least the one or ones you know are still there, remain in the cabin, while you leave them for whatever happens next.

You're just as alone here as you are in There Are No Endings. The only difference is that in that ending, you know exactly what happens to the world and to you.

VI. You're on a Path in the Woods...

...and at the end of that path is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin is a Princess.

You're here to slay her. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.

This one is a bit different from the rest. It's... not really an ending at all, but the refusal of one. You're pushing your resolution further down the line in the hopes that another you will know what decision to make... or that they'll keep choosing to perpetuate the Construct forever.

There's just as much uncertainty here as in And? What Happens Next?, though it's loaded in different places. You know exactly what happens to you, and the Princess, and even your Voices—this is one of only two endings, alongside A New And Unending Dawn, where you get to keep them with you.

What you don't know is how things will resolve in the end, or even if they ever will. For all you know, you could be somewhere in the middle of a never-ending cycle. And, you know, maybe you're okay with that. But what if a future you makes a choice you aren't okay with?

And what happens to the world in the meantime? The Narrator's world is still dying, and Transformation is still alive. Her being in the Construct isn't going to solve anything—if it would, you wouldn't need to slay her. Maybe the world will die if you keep doing this over again forever. Maybe it already has, and that's a new, worse wrinkle for the endings where you follow through with the Narrator's plan.

Maybe the world will die, and a new one will be born. Maybe the world will die, and a new one won't be born. Maybe you're somehow keeping the world in stasis until you make a choice. Maybe it doesn't matter to you, because you'll never see the world if you keep on like this.

But the things you can see? You, and the Princess, and your Voices, and even the Narrator? You're all still alive and well, and no one has to be left behind, and you will continue to be for as long as you keep choosing to reset the Construct.

You just have to keep forgetting, and to keep refusing to choose a true ending.

Conclusion

In conclusion, every ending in Slay the Princess forces you to make a tough choice and to choose something to sacrifice in favor of whatever you've decided to prioritise.

The Good Ending is one of the most straightforward, and in fact you gain very little aside from the accomplishment of the Narrator's goal—you sacrifice your chance at knowing what's really happening and leave the Voice of the Hero to an eternity alone.

There Are No Endings forces you to sacrifice your Voices and your connections to people, in order to keep the cycle of life and death intact and live an eternity of guarantee with your counterpart.

A New And Unending Dawn sacrifices the Princess and the cycle of life and death, in order to give an unknown vision of eternity to the current world and to retain all your Voices alongside all your memories.

Just As You Once Were Nothing is another ending with heavy sacrifices and minimal or no gains. You give up your Voices, your chance at knowledge, the Princess, and even your own life, and there's no way to know what happens once you fade.

And? What Happens Next? sacrifices your Voices, though in this one you at least know they're alive, and your knowledge of what awaits you post-ending. But it allows you to refuse both the Narrator's desire for eternity and the Shifting Mound's dismissal of people, and to retain the Princess and, presumably, the cycle of life and death.

You're On A Path In The Woods... is the one ending where everything you can and will see, you keep. What you sacrifice here is nothing material, but rather the ending itself, always refusing to move forward.

Every ending forces you to give something up, though some sacrifices may seem more worthy or less devastating than others, and perspective colors them all. But there is no "happy ending" to be found here, no way to have an objectively good outcome, and that is by design. Every ending is a bad ending, and that's one of the things that makes this game so great.

[narcoticwriter]

I'm Finally Breaking My Silence.

I can't take it anymore. Someone has to know about this. It's been years since the realization dawned on me and years since I've kept my lips sealed, but I can bear it no longer.

It makes no fucking sense how the tall Genshin women have heels.

This is a meme, but I'm also on something else entirely. Maybe it's delusion.

I don't care if it's for the fanservice, I don't care if it's hot, and I certainly don't care if people like it because it makes no sense whatsoever.

I don't know how people can run around in varying landscapes and roads on heels. I don't know how the heel itself would survive such treatment. And I don't know how the wearer, no matter how skilled, would not trip and fall on their ass.

Some instances can be afforded more forgiveness than others, but this will not stop me from compiling a list of how I feel about them individually and as people:

Actual Insanity -

Beidou: The Alcor is a wooden boat. One day, that heel is slipping through a small hole in the floor, snapping off, and sending her careening across the starboard. Someone's going to laugh. And then they will be tossed into the brine before being pulled back out and promptly begging for forgiveness. I cry.

Jean: The Gunnhildrs are masochists. The pain is worth it for Mondstadt, as always. How does she do it, running around everywhere and carrying the Knights of Favonius on her back? There's no way that she doesn't kick off the boots while sitting at her desk when it becomes too much to bear.

Dehya: When she says that she wants to slay on the battlefield as much as her looks, I did not think that the shoes would also be a thing to consider. And in sand? Are you mad? Those heels are sinking. No wonder her burst cancels when she jumps. Imagine having to rework your precarious footing every single time.

Yelan: This sick woman unironically likes it. She probably enjoys the sensation of pain every single time it becomes borderline pleasurable. It doesn't help that she looks forward to it being treated too. Herbalist Gui is getting really sick of having to wrap her feet in gauze after slathering it with medicinal foot cream.

Rosaria: I don't know if she's capable of caring anymore, actually. She doesn't seem to process this the same. The woman has an aesthetic to commit to and she doesn't do anything halfway, including her fit. She says she doesn't get drunk, but you know damn well that it and the nicotine numb the pain.

Eula: Anyone who says that they can do reconnaissance work and wear those things is lying, and Eula Lawrence is no exception to this rule. To add insult to injury, she also has spurs on them. Spurs on those beasts of shoes. Respectfully, she needs to twist her ankle and be put on bedrest for the day, so she can think about it.

Candace: I can't believe that this mentally brought me to my fucking knees. How dare you? You live in an area that is mostly sand and dust! You go out in the night and kill things! You're constantly out and about taking care of things! WHY ARE YOU IN SUCH HIGH HEELS?!?

Shenhe: (head in hands) I don't even know if she knows that this isn't normal to wear. I'm going to Cloud Retainer's domain and demanding that she be put in something that makes more sense. She lives in the mountains for Archon's sake! She may not act entirely human, but trust me, she is one at the end of the day.

It Makes Some Sense -

Kujou Sara: She's won, actually. Geta are allegedly much more comfortable to wear than heels. She slays, stays stylish, and isn't suffering while doing so. Good for her, because this is one of the only wins she has in a long, long list of L's, mostly attributed to Yae Miko if you take the time to really look at it.

Lisa: Is she really going to be running around all that much? No! Because she has her little helpers to go around and do things for her. And even if she has to go around by herself, she does so at a rate that isn't breakneck speed. Also, I personally believe that she has some potions and enhancements to help out with it.

Ningguang: She barely gets a pass. Barely. I personally don't believe she takes that walk around the pier every day. It's every other day at the most consistent. At every other function, you can trust that she has a seat and that she's not on her feet. She can afford to have such accommodation.

Raiden Shogun: If her body wasn't a puppet that she made for herself, I would absolutely put her in the other category. She absolutely made sure that she wouldn't feel pain while wearing those things and it shows with how she's able to move like she does in combat.

Yae Miko: I won't call it foul and say that since she can shift into a kitsune form, she's not going into this category, but provide the proof in other ways. Do you really see her going anywhere in a hurry? Precisely the point. She could probably get away with people carrying her places.

[AAAAAA] -

Arlecchino: I have no words for the atrocity that is those heels. None at all. If I think about them too much, I'll start frothing at the mouth, and not in any good way.

Conclusion - My heart weeps prematurely for Clorinde and Navia. Fontainian fashion can kiss my ass. I mourn their feet.

[mogamuncher]

“You're on a path in the woods. And at the end of that path, is a cabin. And in the basement of that cabin, is a knight. You are here to slay him. If you don't, it will be the end of the world.”

Please accept my meager shitty art as we come back for part three of the "Moga fuses her hyperfixations together" saga! Aka: Slay the Knight AU!

Here's what I think Emilia and Subaru would look like, in true STP fashion I imagine both would never be referred to by name, instead being The Knight and The Frozen Bond (hah, get it?)

I made Emilia a little scary (and kinda Satella-esque), but that's mainly because from what we see in The Princess and The Dragon route, The Long Quiet is just actually fucking scary, so having Emilia be similarly intimidating would be fun.

Though I do think her personality would remain the same in this au, mainly because she's nice enough that she would naturally play mediator to the the voices, but malleable enough that she could just end up going with their whims when pushed enough.

Now for Subaru, I actually wanted to give him a definitive outfit that would kinda function like the Princess's dress, something that is a constant in every design but changed to fit the theme, the recognizable trait that showcases that no matter how fucked up these forms get they're still the same person

That's kinda why the little cape is there, it's supposed to be a significant design choice that can be warped with future forms

For the official lore, I like to think that it's still actually very similar:

The Frozen Bond, the manifestation/god of stasis, consistency, the chilling frozen in time allure of stagnation

While Subaru would be something like The Returning Cycle, the manifestation/god if constant change, perspective and identities splitting depending on choices, the constant cycle of time

Together they'd make the cycle of life and death, in a sense, and since Echidna in canon was trying to find a way to reach immortality, it is only fitting that she would split them apart and attempt to pit them against the other, as to goad Emilia into killing Subaru, this ending the concept of change, making it so that there is no means of which others can die.

But that's what I have for the moment, now, let's talk about some more ideas I have for the IF Barus

The Prisoner, my beloved

I rewatched someone playing her route and it dawned on me when The Shifting Mound described her as a vessel, but she's oddly a lot like Slothbaru

The idea of someone cautious to the point of stagnation, content to let the world pass her and remain in inaction, I mean, that's literally what Sloth is shown to be in the og series. That's also inherently what Slothbaru did when he took Rem's hand and ran away, leaving everyone else to die, but gaining a happy life for himself

Prisoner is like an Slothbaru that can't take Rem's hand, content to let the world pass him by for the sake of self preservation, but stuck in one place without the chance of running away, he can only wait and see because he's inherently passive, as he thinks he has no other choice

The Adversary, however, is the funniest one I think

Someone mentioned in the last post in the tags that Adversary is kinda Smolbaru coded, so I went back to read the arena fights in arc 7 and y'know what? They're correct, they're absolutely right, The Adversary is very much just Smolbaru

Which is funny, because The Adversary is supposed to be bigger and stronger than usual, though maybe it's either just that his personality is Smolbaru and his appearance is still intimidating, or we go all in and have Smolbaru just absolutely kick Emilia's ass with his bare hands in this one

Either way, I love it, also this is the route where Priscilla (Voice of the Proud) would show up, so having an Arc 7 Baru here would be a nice touch

Ok so I'm about to sound unhinged, but the Grey's

What if they were Natsumi.

Now, look, I have no evidence to back me up on this, I'm going off from pure vibes alone, but like what if

Honestly, it would be fun to have most of the Deadbarus be in some way or another Natsumi coded, though that would be fused with the Baru that lead to their routes in the first place (like Arc 1 Baru for the Burned Grey and Slothbaru for the Drowned Grey)

I mean, look at The Wraith and The Spectre

Imagine if the Spectre was more akin to Natsumi in her purest form, since the Spectre is actually surprisingly chill and nice about this whole thing, and then if you attempt to leave him there, you get the Wraith

A withered rotten version of Natsumi, falling apart at the seams and determined to hitch a ride and finally leave

In more confirmed Barus; Wrathbaru as The Witch and The Thorn, Greedbaru as Happily Ever After and Arc 1-2 Baru as The Damsel, The Nightmare would be Gluttonybaru and A Moment Of Clarity would still be Gluttonybaru but with more Louis/Rui elements

Again, I accept suggestions, and tell me if you want me to make more art for this AU, maybe I can draw more Barus and also the voices, who knows?

Edit: good news gang, I actually did in fact write this! The first chapter of this au is out here!

[loverhymeswith]

hello🙈 i’ve been thinking about a mini story based on “exile” by taylor swift with one tommy shelby… former lovers. shelby sees her at a party with a new beau and gets jealous (“i can see you starin honey, like he’s just your understudy, like you’d get your knuckles bloody for me”) it’s a back and forth dialogue type song IDK i think it would be slay

Exile

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: A familiar figure stirs up feelings you'd rather not face

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mention of drugs.

A/N: Thank you Anon! I love this song and it fits Tommy SO well. Also, I wrote this on a beach. No idea how the setting ended up being NYE. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta read and the ending ❤️

I've added my existing taglist but please note this is not part of the Let’s Be Alone Together universe.

Him

It's fast approaching midnight at The Savoy Hotel. The dawning of the new year is almost within reach. Tommy Shelby drains his glass of champagne, wishing for whiskey instead as he slowly scans the room.

Tickets for the party tonight had been akin to gold dust, a chance to rub shoulders with the upper echelons of London's elite. But Tommy would rather be anywhere else in the world. 

Preferably, Birmingham.

He'd take a bottle of homemade gin, tucked away in the quiet familiarity of Charlie's yard in a heartbeat over this stuffy champagne-fueled ballroom. But no one ever said success was easy.

Tommy had come here tonight for one reason and one reason alone. If his plans to move into the world of politics had any chance of coming to fruition, he would need to mingle with the privileged crowd. To learn their weakness. Their darkest secrets. To take advantage of the liquor loosening their lips.

He's managed to withstand maybe a handful of hours at best before growing tired of all the posturing and arrogance, the not-so-subtle self-aggrandising and the congratulatory back slaps.

Looking for a way out but willing to settle for a distraction, his gaze continues to drift along the sea of tuxedos and expensive dresses.

Unexpectedly, he falters.

These days, it takes a lot to catch Tommy Shelby off guard - between France and his more recent ventures, it would be fair to assume he had developed nerves of steel - but off guard is exactly how he feels when his attention lands on the beautiful woman standing by the bar.

He'd recognise her anywhere. Sometimes, he thinks he searches for her in his dreams. 

Tommy feels the muscles in his jaw clench before he's able to compose himself. A foolish sign of weakness that he can’t afford to display. Not here. 

But it's difficult. A test of his usually unwavering resolve. Because she's not alone. 

There's a man. Younger than Tommy; tall, dark-haired, and slim, the old-money practically oozing off him. Any closer and Tommy would be able to smell it.

Tommy grabs another glass of too-sweet champagne from a passing waiter. Something to occupy his hands, and just in time. Old-Money's arms are wrapped around the woman's body, a possessive gesture and one he recognises well.

Once upon a time, she spent her nights in Tommy’s arms.

Five whole years might have passed - evidently long enough for her tastes to change - but it feels more like five minutes since she walked out of Small Heath and out of his life, a hastily scrawled note declaring she'd had enough.

Three simple sentences. One for each year they had been together. At the time, Tommy had replayed the words over and over until they no longer held any meaning, but liquor and bloodshed had long since turned those memories to slush.

It all boiled down to his plans for the future. Her fear of the potential enemies and danger which those plans might beget.

Whoever said that love would conquer all?

Tommy doesn't taste the sparkling wine as he tips the glass back, draining it in one mouthful. 

The champagne just won't do. He needs something stronger to take the edge off, but his path to the bar is blocked.

Biding his time, Tommy watches the couple. In fact, despite the sourness growing in the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to look away.

Old-Money leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispers something that even Tommy’s lip-reading skills cannot decipher. 

What is plain to see, however, is her lack of amusement. She tenses, discomfort evident in the clench of her jaw and the tightness of her shoulders. Her laughter, when it comes, is forced, never reaching her eyes.

A lightning bolt of unfiltered rage burns through Tommy’s veins, dulling his remaining senses like Arthur’s cocaine, but he quickly tempers it down. It’s not his problem. She's not his problem. 

She's not his to defend.

Not anymore.

Her

It's almost midnight. Ever since your arrival at The Savoy, your attention has been drifting to the clock on the wall. Waiting for the bells to chime and free you from this misery.

The party had been his idea, your date for the evening clearly operating under the assumption that money makes a man more attractive. An assumption which couldn't be further removed from the truth.

Though The Savoy might be the hottest ticket in town, everything about tonight makes you miss Birmingham - Small Heath, to be precise. New Year's Eve at The Garrison. The excitement. The unpredictability. 

The Peaky Blinders.

Your stomach involuntarily flips at the intrusive thought. You've come too far now to be thinking about the Shelby brothers. All memories pertaining to your former life belong firmly in the past.

Ignoring another pompous comment from your date, you glance up from your drink, desperate for an escape. Perhaps you can slip away in time to avoid the awkward but obligatory midnight kiss.

That's when you see him. 

A ghost - a demon - from your past, seemingly conjured into existence by the power of your thoughts alone.

The very same piercing blue eyes that have long haunted your dreams now stare you down, unblinking, from across the room. His full lips are drawn into a hard line.

Thomas Shelby.

Despite your brain knowing far better, your traitorous heart still flutters.

He looks good. Too good. 

Unfairly good.

The expensive dark suit is sinfully cut to his powerful body and his once-severe haircut has been allowed to somewhat grow out. 

Clearly, he's come a long way since the days of bruised and bloody knuckles. In the presence of polite society, he looks like he belongs.

The last five years may have been kind to your former fiancé, but with a start, the realisation dawns that the same can't be said of you.

Because five years later you still haven't recovered from the incurable affliction of loving Tommy Shelby.

Despite what some might say, you hadn't walked into the relationship blind. You'd known the head of the Shelby family for long enough to accept that a life together would be full of surprises, and not all of them good. But for love, you'd given him half a dozen chances.

Honesty. 

That's all you'd ever wanted. To be treated as his equal. His partner. To not be kept in the dark about decisions which could potentially put you both in harm's way.

Yet still he'd schemed and plotted. Twisted and manipulated. Deceived. He had told you it wasn't lying. That for your own safety, he was simply withholding the truth. As if that somehow made it ok.

Inevitably, after three years together, your patience reached its limit. Making good on a promise to yourself, you'd left, starting a new life for yourself in the capital, far away from the demons of Watery Lane. 

But you'd been foolish to believe that any amount of miles could repair the damage done to your heart. Arguably, damage of your own making.

His name has followed you like an ever-present shadow. His handsome picture staring back at you from newspaper articles. Even in black and white, those beautiful eyes just added insult to injury.

And now he's here in the flesh.

Tommy's stare is unwavering, but he makes no move to come over. Still, it's only a matter of time before he seeks you out. After your cowardly way of leaving, it's easy to imagine he has some choice words for you, but you’re not ready to speak to him. Not here, where manners and decorum are all the rage.

Willing yourself to break eye contact, you notice a side door to your left. Relief washes over you. Freedom or at least a small reprieve. Anything is preferable to this form of slow torture.

Him

Tommy watches her leave - a recurring theme, it would seem - her hurried exit presumably on account of his unexpected presence here tonight. She definitely spotted him amidst the crowd and she did not look pleased.

He should let her go. She's not his problem. She's in his past.

Isn't she?

A minute passes before, not entirely of his own accord, Tommy finds himself following in her footsteps. He's always been inexplicably drawn to her. Apparently, even heartbreak isn't enough to change that.

When he finds her in the lobby, her back is turned but she whips around as he murmurs her name.

"Tommy."

The earlier surprise he saw flash across her delicate features has been replaced by a  carefully rehearsed indifference. One he recognises all too well. 

She's at pains to pretend his presence isn't affecting her. A feeling to which he can certainly relate.

"I didn't expect to see you tonight," she adds when he doesn't immediately respond. "I didn't think this kind of thing was your scene."

He doesn't miss the accusation in her tone. 

What she really means is why are you here?

Slowly, Tommy inclines his head, lest she notice the falter in his gaze. Impossibly, she's even more beautiful than he remembers. It's surely a cruel twist of fate that brings her here tonight. Just when things were looking up for him. Just when he thought he'd put the past to rest.

"Likewise," he agrees. 

"Business or pleasure?" She wonders aloud before scanning the lobby, keenly on the lookout for another escape route.

The words, driven by a lingering hurt, fly from his lips before he can check himself, his attention not so subtly shifting to the blonde woman entering the lobby. "There's no reason it can't be both."

Her

Of course, he followed you. It's a problem you could really do without. You're walking a thin line just by talking to him. Experience tells you there's only two ways this will play out. 

Wondering whether there's any possibility of getting away unscathed, you offer him a polite smile and gesture towards the blonde woman now loitering in the corner. "Well, I'll leave you to your… pleasure."

He studies you carefully, his sharp features set into a cool mask of apathy, but you recognise the hurt hidden behind his icy eyes. 

The hurt which you caused.

"I'd tell you the same, except I doubt your friend knows how to pleasure a woman. You looked miserable back there." 

Despite the sentiment, there's no trace of concern in his cruel words.

"My choice of date for the evening isn't up for debate, Thomas," you tell him curtly, despite silently agreeing with his observation.

"Nothing ever is with you, is it?" he muses, his lips slightly pursing.

And there it is. 

Clearly, he's not going to let you get away until he has aired his grievances. 

Perhaps you owe him that courtesy at the very least.

Dropping your own mask of indifference, you take a step towards him and take his warm hand. To your surprise, he doesn't resist.

"I had to leave, Tommy. You were never going to turn things around. You were never going to change. But for what it's worth, I am sorry about leaving the way I did. I should have been better. I should have been braver."

Tommy shakes his head, keeping his tightly guarded emotions at bay. "You left without warning. You never even heard me out."

"Without warning? God, Tommy. How can you stand there and say that? How could you possibly have missed it? I left you so many signs."

Tommy looks away, his eyes rapidly searching for something just out of sight. The only indication he's feeling anything at all. "I guess I never learnt to read your mind."

"You never learnt to listen," you fire back. "Or communicate at all for that matter. Would it have killed you to be honest with me? To tell me what you had planned?"

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "I was trying to keep you safe."

The realisation that he's never going to change his tune stings more than it should. You drop his hand. "I wish I could believe that." 

The truth, in your eyes, is that he never trusted you. He's never trusted anyone. How could you be expected to give your heart over to a man who would never let you into his own?

There's a beat of silence. Enough time for you to regret letting this conversation play out for so long. Nothing good can come from digging up the past. You should go your separate ways before any further irreparable damage is done.

"Was it worth it?" Tommy asks finally, a bite of frustration slipping through his calm facade. "Leaving everything behind for this?" He gestures around. "Are you happier now?"

"Yes," you lie, but your resolve is rapidly weakening under the intensity of his blue gaze.

The door to the ballroom swings open and a small gathering of revellers spills into the lobby, saving you from admitting the very thing you've been afraid of. 

That leaving Birmingham had been a mistake. 

Tommy reaches for your arm, tugging you away from the crowd and into a recess by the cloakroom. As a result, the two of you have infinitely closed the distance.

His chest, broad and still so inviting, is now inches from your own; his calloused hand is still wrapped firmly around your wrist, his thumb pressed against your pulse point.

Can he feel how fast your heart races?

"For all your talk of honesty, you won't face the truth yourself, will you?" He sighs lightly, something like disappointment coating his words.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You scoff, feigning ignorance as a last resort.

Before he can respond, a loud cheer erupts from within the ballroom, saving you once again.

"That's midnight," you murmur just as Tommy glances down at his elegant gold pocket watch.

"Midnight," he agrees, his eyes flicking back up to your own. "Happy New Year."

You stare at him for a long moment, taking stock of his defining features. Long, dark eyelashes, the kind that would ordinarily be wasted on a man - but not Tommy; razor sharp cheekbones and a jawline to match. Crystalline blue eyes you could so easily drown in.

Almost imperceptibly, he shifts closer, large hands finding your waist with ease.

"Do you still believe in tradition?" He wonders, but it's a rhetorical question. You both know he doesn't need an answer.

Your last sensible thought before he leans in to kiss you: God damn Tommy Shelby and those ocean eyes.

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy

[child-of-the-nights]

hello! could u maybe write something for elrond where he gets injured saving reader and she shuts off and starts avoiding him because it made her realize she loves him and she panicked? maybe she's a widow like him too? if not thank you anyway <33

I love Elrond so much so of course! Have fun reading!

Warnings: injury, near death experience, battle (so expect killing as well), angst (with happy ending) -> nothing graphic tho

A/N: the reader is an elven woman in this oneshot but let me know if you would like something else ^^

word count: 1676 words

Elrond x Fem! Elf! Reader: Elrond gets injured and Reader avoids him

Although Elrond never enjoyed putting his people's lives in danger, he would never refuse to assist those in need if requested. That is how he ended up in the middle of a bloody battlefield where armor, weapons, and bodies were being flung around like nothing. He was skilled enough in combat to protect himself from the enemy's blades, though. No matter how many orcs tried to attack him, he easily defeated them.

The battle raged on, the sound of blades deafening those involved. Arrows sped through the air and soon struck their victim, whose cries were barely audible. The elves fought with unmatched skill and grace, and Elrond slowly led them to victory. By that time, the orcs were outnumbered, and the elven Lord had some time to look around and aid his kin.

Amidst the chaos, Elrond caught sight of you, a brave and spirited elven woman, fighting alongside your people. You were as competent as anyone on the battlefield, but it so happened that you became trapped, surrounded by enemies, with no way out. Elrond jumped into action and moved swiftly to get to you without even pausing for a second. His blades cut through your foes before they could strike you down. Once they were all dead, he took a glance at you, trying to check if you were hurt but before he could proceed, an awful strike hit Elrond. He stumbled back, clutching his side, his face twisted in pain. The sight of his injury sent a shiver of terror through you.

"Baw (No)!" you yelled as you circled around Elrond to slay the orc. Your opponent died because he couldn't get his sword out of the elf's body in time.

Even though you wished to help Elrond, you were unable to do so since your foes spotted the opportunity and approached him. He fought bravely despite having a serious wound, albeit his posture wasn't as steady as before. You held your ground and defeated as many orcs as you could before the enemy decided to retreat.

When it was safe to do so, Elrond fell to his knees and groaned in pain. You rushed to his side and helped him to find a comfortable position. Shouts could be heard from afar, but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

"Everything will be fine." with great effort, Elrond reassured you, his voice strained but filled with determination. "Mae carnen. (You did well)."

You tried saying something, but words simply didn't come out of your mouth. Some fellow elves came to their Lord's aid as you stumbled back to give them space. It only dawned on you just now that if you hadn't found yourself in this situation, Elrond wouldn't have been injured. Everything after the battle happened so fast, the elven Lord got safely brought back to Rivendell, where the healer's immediately began to work, while the rest of the elves slowly traveled back.

It didn't feel real to be traveling back to your home. It was almost as if you were seeing with your eyes but your head was blank. Seeing Elrond on the ground had left your face pale. Everything that had happened felt too familiar. It seemed like the day's happenings were right out of your nightmares—the nightmares about losing your beloved spouse. You started crying as you thought back to that terrible day. After they passed away, Elrond was the one who helped you recover because he knew how painful it was to lose a loved one—possibly the most precious of them all. Elrond was the one who took the time to help you heal by lending you his wisdom.

Your sobbing became more intense with each thought. You had come to a realisation as you reflected on the time you spent together, the comfort his presence provided you, and the coldness the separation brought you. You suddenly realized what you had been experiencing while around him. It was love. You considered yourself dumb for only realizing that at the last second, just as you might lose him. And you were genuinely horrified by that.

Weeks passed as Elrond received treatment for his wounds in the security of Rivendell. When you learned of his recovery, you felt both relief and anxiety at the same time. Overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions, you withdrew, avoiding Elrond's presence, afraid of what your feelings meant and the vulnerability that accompanied it. But, Elrond being Elrond, you knew he had noticed it. Since you two were close, visiting him while he was recovering would have made sense. And yet, since the battle, he had not seen you. You ached to be by his side, to console and comfort him, but you were unable to.

As Elrond slowly regained his strength, he sought out your presence. Every time Lindir came by to let you know that Lord Elrond had asked for your presence in the gardens, you would come up with an excuse not to go. You avoided him at every turn, anxiously waiting for him to pass through the corridor. You could see how his gaze searched for you in the halls, but you were nowhere to be found. Elrond became very concerned and yearned to know why you had been avoiding him. It was unlike you to act like this.

Determined to understand the cause of your withdrawal, he sought you out, finding you in the quiet solace of Rivendell's library. You had been reading a book, trying to take your mind off of the elven Lord. That was until a gentle tap on your shoulder turned your attention away from the book. Your stomach dropped as you realised who had disturbed you. He took a seat beside you, without asking you first.

"What are you reading, exactly?" Elrond asked with curiosity.

Suddenly forgetting what you were reading, you looked down to view the cover. "Oh, I just grabbed something off the shelves." You tried to avoid making eye contact as you shook your head.

Elrond grew silent, noticing how even now, you tried to run away from him. It broke his heart that you grew to resent him so. If he had to be honest, Elrond fell for you a long time ago. He never really showed it but he longed for someone who could understand his pain. And then you appeared at his doorstep, asking for support after the death of your spouse. At first he just looked at you as a friend, but those feelings soon grew. If you hadn't expressed your disinterest in dating, he would've said something sooner. But being the gentleman that he is, he respected your bounderies and tried to move on. The problem was that he couldn't.

"Please, mellon nîn (my friend)," he began softly, his voice carrying a mix of concern and vulnerability, "help me understand. Why do you avoid me so? What has come between our friendship?"

Those words stung. You sighed, unable to give him a straight up answer. But you knew Elrond valued honesty so you gathered all your strenght and looked him in the eyes. "I cannot express it, Elrond, for I fear if I do, history will repeat itself."

Elrond looked deep in thought, carefully deciding his next sentence. "I'm not quite sure I follow." he admitted.

You looked away, trying to hide your pained expression. "The battlefield, brannon nîn (my lord). It was my fault."

"It hardly was." he shook his head, slowly sliding closer to you. When you had not moved away, he reached out to grab your hand.

"You nearly lost your life, Elrond!" you yelled. "If that blade was aimed just a bit higher, you would've dropped dead! And it would've been because of me! Because I was incompetent enough, to let myself get trapped!"

"Please, do not think of yourself this way." his pained voice could be barely heard. Elrond's eyes widened in shock at what you were saying. He in no way had blamed you for his injury. "Any of us could've been in your situation. You fought well, you came to my aid when I needed it. Why do you put yourself down?"

"I just..." you sighed. "I can't lose you too, Elrond."

His grip on your hands became firmer. "Is this the reason for your withdrawal?"

You hesitated for a second, then nodded. Although it was difficult, there was a part of you that wanted him to be aware of your worries. No matter how hard you tried to turn it off, that self-indulgent part of you wanted to be comforted by him. "My feelings, they terrify me. It's as if acknowledging them would make my fears come true. After I lost... them, I didn't want to put myself through the pain of loving someone but on the battlefield I had realised that I had already broken that promise. You matter so much to me that I cannot even express it with words. I have fallen in love with you, Elrond. And it scared me."

Elrond took each of your words in carefully. He pondered on them for some time before giving you a nod. Elrond's gaze softened as his hand reached out to gently cup your face. "I understand your fear. Loss leaves deep scars upon our hearts. But shutting ourselves off from love only denies us the chance to heal. I, too, have felt the sting of loss, the ache of a heart once broken. Yet, here we stand, with an opportunity to experience something quite beautiful together."

His words shocked you. "You feel the same way?"

"Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart)." Elrond smiled at you.

Finally, when he whispered those words, you felt the warmth of his presence spread throughout your body. Elrond welcomed your hug as you threw yourself into his arms. Although your worries have not vanished, it helped a lot to know that someone was by your side.

[jack-kellys]

3 bc we are Choosing Violence today

well.

give me a number and i'm gonna say some real shit rn.

3. screenshot of an awful take or a description of the worst thing you've seen opinion-wise. [my tags say no hate is meant, btw.] [but also this is mild bro.]

i could say a lot of things! i could talk abt someone who sent me an ask saying that uksies "completely ruined the sprace dynamic" (racist and sexist, made a post abt it). i could talk abt a post that had said nothing had changed or was special abt uk's something to believe in even tho jack was entirely black and said "i know girls like you don't end up with guys like me” (made a post abt it) i could talk abt every post from the dawn of time about sunshine boy crutchie and the absolute damage andrew keenan-bolger accidentally incited with his/bway's take. but i saved two special instances bc someone else also asked for #3. ahe he hem:

there was an issue a while back where there was someone on tumblr saying that they don't headcanon the jacobs to be jewish, or something. in theory that'd be fine, everyone's entitled to their own cultural headcanons, but the jacobs' jewish identity and culture is something this fandom (& i) has been very adamant about and i’m gonna be frank. this was like……. the first if not only diverse headcanon/fact about newsies for like. a long time. and by that i mean popularized- i think latino jack kelly years later became popular but that’s like…. recent, oddly enough.

anyway the jacobs are canonically jewish, according to their names, their parents’ names, and the 1992 novel flat-out saying it. but this person’s reasoning, after a friend of mine cites the book’s statement, is "headcanoning characters with Jewish names as Jewish feels like stereotyping”. (i don’t have the post anymorrrre… might’ve been deleted)

and so like. this person. had to have been trying to cause discourse i’m sorry. what are y. the book is from DAVID’S POV, btw, like. he is saying they r jewish. the point of jack being irish in 92sies is that irish and jewish community tensions were high and so them working together is slay & cool. and since they do have jewish names, what you need to do is respect it, not make attempts to admonish yourself from not wanting to see them that way. what?? what the fuck. so that was a crazy fucking take. this fandom has history, and it’s important. like ur allowed to be new here, of course you are, but when these ppl who’ve been here a long time are trying to HELP YOU understand something and u say that shit. brother god help u lmao

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 3

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: suggestive, 18+, violence, and swearing

*masterlist*

a/n: thank you for reading! please lmk what you guys think! xx

Chapter 3

  The moment Night Court winnowed out, you and Thesan made a beeline to his office. You settled onto a seat and propped your feet onto his desk as he plopped onto the leather chair with a huff. Thesan took a moment to check on the wards before he spoke out loud.

  “Did you find out what they want? Rhysand was being such a hard-ass and gave nothing away. All we talked about were treaties and half the time-,” said Thesan as he poured himself a drink. “I was trying to get his interest away from the Golden Warrior.”

 You thought about telling Thesan about the library incident, but you quickly dismissed it. Despite the Night Court being sneaky bastards, you realized that they were a powerful ally you couldn’t afford to lose. If Thesan had heard about the other events, he would undoubtedly wage war. He and the other High Lords had spilled blood for less, so it was in your best opinion to keep your mouth shut.

“A few days after Amarantha was killed, they felt a powerful surge of magic coming from Dawn Court. We must have been so distracted when you came home, that the wards you put up vanished or relaxed. It doesn’t help that I’d been forgetting to wear my jewels and must’ve weakened my hold on my magic in that period of relaxation,” you told him. “When we re-did the wards on the Palace in preparation for the Night Court, we probably fixed the wards that have kept my power hidden.”

Thesan paled as his eyes grew distant in thought. “Shit,” he said. “Ever since you were young, I’ve always helped you dampen your power. I can’t believe I forgot about it—fuck, I’m so sorry Y/n.” Guilt and concern flowed through his body and before he could freak out about his mistake, you reached over and grasped his arm. His glow dimmed as he looked at your hand, “I’m so sorry, no one was ever supposed to feel your power.”

“Don’t forget that I’m a grown female and have successfully protected the Palace and our territory for almost fifty years. I think I’ve proved that I can hold my own,” you said. “Besides, I’m partially at fault because being half-High Fae makes it hard to control my powers.”

“I wished you never had to go through that,” whispered Thesan. You just shrugged at him and smiled. What’s done is done. There were things you never told Thesan, but he found out through the other Peregryns and his sparrows when he returned from Under the Mountain. Some Fae had used the absence of Thesan as an excuse to run rampant and do whatever evil they wanted. It was you who punished and executed whenever it was necessary.

Every single day he was underneath that mountain his first thought would be of you, wondering how you were faring without him, Callon, and the others. He glanced at the scars that ran parallel to your cheekbone, a reminder of those horrid claws that hurt you. When Thesan first heard the story of how the Bogge had slashed through your golden helmet, he shuddered. High Lords were usually the only faerie powerful enough to kill a Bogge but when you told him you managed to slay it, pride and concern filled him. He made sure you were a fierce warrior, but to kill a Bogge… the extent of your magic scared him. In a way, it was better that Amarantha had no idea of your existence. If she caught a whiff of your power and what you could do, there was a good chance everyone in Prythian and the Continent would be under her rule.

You removed the glamour from the necklace to reveal brightly glowing sapphires, the power thrumming and threatening to break free. “While we’re on the topic of controlling my magic—I think I need more jewels.”

Thesan swore as he took a piece of paper and wrote down instructions to Nuan, his best tinkerer, to make you a new necklace with more siphons. With a wave of his hand, the note vanished and appeared on top of Nuan’s worktable.

“It seems Nuan got the idea of storing my power in jewels from the Illyrians,” you continued. “Azriel told me they call them Siphons too; they use it a little differently, but they have similar functions.”

The High Lord of Dawn nodded, his thoughts filled with concern over you and your magic. You were the second-best healer in all of Prythian, ranked behind your cousin. The two of you possessed the power to heal, to stop healing, and to reverse it. While Thesan was a divine and all-powerful High Lord, what made you special was your ability to poison and plague. Thesan and your parents first discovered your dark abilities when you were about 10 years old. You liked to sneak around the palace and one day you overheard an adult insult your High Fae mother for marrying a Peregryn warrior and supposedly ‘staining the High Lord’s bloodline’. The fae started calling your father slurs and before you realized it, you lifted your tiny glowing hands towards the fae and wished a horrible death. You can still remember the screams as the fae’s insides started liquifying, blood coming out of every orifice. That was when Thesan and your parents realized how powerful and dangerous you were. There were evil beings out there who would love to mold a young and impressionable fae. Thesan refused to let his little cousin be taken advantage of, so he made sure you learned to control your powers and knew how to defend yourself.

***

Days passed and so far, there was no major news from Night Court or any of the others. Things were quiet and no shadows were spotted in the halls of the Palace. Nuan had made you a brand-new necklace with 5 large blue sapphires, the biggest stone was in the middle with the other slightly smaller sapphires flanking each side. Putting it on immediately helped the restless energy that thrummed through your body, you couldn’t wait for the day you no longer had to suppress your magic.

You’ve been having dreams that interrupt your sleep, some good and some bad. The nightmares varied, sometimes they were about the creatures or faeries you killed during Amarantha’s reign, your parent’s death, or Thesan dying Under the Mountain. They always felt realistic, so whenever you woke up, it would take a few minutes for you to gather yourself and realize that it was all a dream. The worst hyper-realistic dream you had was when you dreamt of the Bogge and how its claws kept slashing into your golden helmet until it finally reached your skin. You dreamt about fighting half-blind as blood had spilled into your eye. The pain was so real and visceral, that you woke up screaming and clutching the side of your face. Thesan and Callon heard the commotion and because all bed chambers were warded against winnowing, they sprinted to your room. Callon barged in brandishing a sword until he realized you weren’t in danger. He stayed to help calm you while Thesan went to the kitchen to make you molten chocolate.

You were doing some paperwork in your office when a large yawn split your jaw. Another yawn followed and you sagged into your leather chair. You almost wished it was one of your usual nightmares, but last night’s dream was different. You dreamt of a child that you’d never seen before. The room was so dark, it had to be a cellar of some sort, somewhere underground. The soft moonlight that seeped through a caged window was the only source of light. It was a little boy who couldn’t have been more than 8 years old, it was hard to tell because you couldn’t see his face. He was hunched in the corner holding his little hands to his chest. You could have sworn you saw wings behind him, but it was so dark you couldn’t be sure. That was all you remembered from the dream, but it was enough to horrify you. Who could do that to a child? From the looks of it, it seemed like he spent most of his time in that dark place.

You woke up with a start and immediately turned on the faelights, you prayed to the Mother that this was some awful fiction your traumatized brain made up. If this little boy was real, your heart shattered for him. You didn’t get a wink of sleep after that, you kept the faelights on and waited for dawn to arrive.

***

The mysteriousness of Dawn Court was something that consumed Azriel’s thoughts, he reasoned that he couldn’t shake off that feeling of that dark dominating magic. If he was being honest with himself, it was you who his mind kept coming back to. He wasn’t sure why he kept thinking of you, was it your beauty or that incredibly confusing personality of yours? All his interactions with you made his heart flutter either from the smile you’d send him or from the anxiety that shot up when you were confrontational.

Rhys kept him busy with missions and he was more than thankful to do something that kept his mind off you. Whenever he was home in Velaris, that was when things were getting confusing for Azriel. To Azriel, Morrigan was the epitome of female beauty, someone who was strong yet elegant. He has spent 500 years fighting by her side, being her friend, and loving her. He was sure Mor knew that he loved her and unfortunately for him, she never acknowledged it. Azriel wasn’t surprised, how could someone like Mor who was Night Court royalty ever love someone like him? A bastard Illyrian?

Last night, Mor wore a revealing backless dress, Azriel would normally look away to avoid looking at her smooth skin but this time, Azriel stared. He was looking at Mor’s exposed back but not in a sexual way, he was looking because he noticed the lack of muscle and how different you were from Mor. The shadowsinger observed that you favored backless dresses and tops, there were the only things you wore during the Night Court’s stay at Dawn. It was hard not to glance at your body, you were athletic, strong, and incredibly feminine. You were so beautiful even Rhysand had taken his time to appreciate your powerful figure. When he first saw the sun-kissed skin and the dips near your shoulder blades and spine, Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. For a split second, he imagined what it would look like to see you arch and writhe beneath him. He remembered how his eyes widened and his heartbeat skyrocketed, he usually never thought of females he just met in such a lustful manner—or at least not immediately.

Azriel was shocked, he had never ever compared anyone to Mor. Feeling strange and annoyed that you were consuming most of his thoughts, Azriel drank multiple cups of wine and even let Mor convince him to join the rest of the Inner Circle for a night out at Rita’s. While his friends were dancing, Azriel sat by himself in their private booth, the music and drinks did little to distract him. His shadows swarmed around as he thought of how perplexing you were, how your sweet twinkling eyes could instantly turn cold and unnerving. He thought about sending his shadows to spy on you, but he stopped himself, you had the incredible talent of catching him when he was trying to be discreet. If you caught him one more time, he had no doubt you’d come for him in a violent rage.

He watched Mor and Cassian dance together; the Illyrian took Mor’s hands and spun her around as she threw her head back and laughed. It was a sound that Azriel loved to hear. The memory of Azriel holding you as he flew up in the sky flashed in his mind. You were happy and relaxed, your laughs sounding like the chime of bells. Shaking his head, the shadowsinger lifted the glass cup to his lips and took a long drink. Amber liquid burned down his throat and he sighed as he let the shadows entirely consume him.

***

You were eating breakfast with Thesan in one of the courtyards when one of your spies briskly walked toward you. Kerina was half Fae and half water wraith; she was one of your best and had a stern demeanor to her. Kerina bowed to Thesan before handing you her report papers, before you could thank her, she turned to address both you and Thesan.

“I have confirmation that Summer Court had sent 3 blood rubies to the Night Court. My sources are saying that they were addressed to High Lord Rhysand, Feyre Cursebreaker, and Amren.”

Thesan’s eyebrows raised but your jaw fully dropped.

“High Lord Tarquin sent out blood rubies? As in the death sentence rubies?” you exclaimed, wanting Kerina to confirm.

She nodded, “Correct. The water wraiths are telling me that two females had stolen something in one of their ocean vaults. If you need anything else, you know where to find me, my lady.”

Kerina departed and you were finally able to show your true shock to Thesan. You threw your hands in the air and the High Lord laughed.

“I can’t believe the sweet and handsome Tarquin sent Night Court those rubies. Whatever they stole… it must be so precious and important for Tarquin to declare them mortal enemies.”

Thesan looked at you with a sly smile.

“What?”

“I think you’re forgetting that Tarquin is still a High Lord, he may be young and a little naive but he’s the newest and youngest, he has to establish his dominance,” explained Thesan. “Besides, not everyone has had the pleasure to bed and be in Tarquin’s good graces.”

Last month, you had to personally deliver some documents and reestablish court alliances with Summer for Thesan. Since you had to hide your wings and suppress your magic, you became extremely restless. You wore the necklace, but it only helped for a few hours. Tarquin was a charming flirt, and it took him two days to convince you to sleep with him. The High Lord of Summer was attractive, and his personality was just as lovely, the only reason why you were hesitant was that you thought it wouldn’t be appropriate since you were Thesan’s 2nd. You quickly discovered that Tarquin did not mind at all.

You remember the energy in your body made everything feel like static, and the day your resolve faded, you returned Tarquin’s flirtatious advances. You kissed him and then you were suddenly sprawled on his expansive war table with the High Lord of Summer between your thighs. Tarquin took you on the table, his desk, and on the wall, right next to a large map of Prythian. Activities were moved to his bed chambers and that was where you rode him till—

“Ahem,” said Thesan as he cleared his throat. “Can you stop? I can scent you right now, it’s disgusting.”

Your eyes snap up at him, surprised that you had zoned out. Thesan was smirking and you threw a piece of a croissant at him. You wished you never indulged in what happened between you and Tarquin. Scowling, you shifted in your seat and gulped down some juice.

“He’s a good male, I wouldn’t be opposed if this was something you want to pursue in the future,” said Thesan. “I want you to be happy.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes for the second time that day. “You know how I feel about relationships. No, thank you. Besides, we agreed that it was a one-time thing that didn’t mean anything. We’re friends and will stay friends.”

Thesan shrugged. “One day you’ll take back everything you say about relationships. You’ll meet someone who is going to knock you off your feet, maybe one day you’ll be cauldron blessed and find your mate.”

You didn’t even answer with words, you just grunted in annoyance. You were never going to change your stance against relationships and romance. Your biggest secret, something Thesan doesn’t even know is you hoped you would never meet your mate. It would save you all the pain and effort of rejecting them.

Later that day you were sitting in your office with Kerina’s report spread out in front of you. Azriel hinted that there was something big happening in Prythian, so you had the spies do some digging and report anything strange happening in Prythian and surrounding countries. So far, there have been only menial land disputes and some horrible management of the dark creatures in the borderlands between Spring Court and the Wall. Looking through the papers again, you confirm nothing suspicious besides Summer Court sending the blood rubies.

Your thoughts drifted to Azriel the shadowsinger, it had been weeks since you last saw him, and you had yet to form an opinion on Azriel. Was he the most handsome male you’ve ever met? Yes. Was he a sneaky bastard who spied on your Court? Yes. To give him some credit, he told you some form of the truth when you caught him trying to sneak into the library but that was only because you threatened to end the alliance with Rhysand. Despite his spying, the male you talked with during sunrise was different. Maybe you saw a glimpse of the real Azriel, the personality he has when he’s at home and not working. As you sent in new orders to Kerina and the others, you couldn’t help but think of those cold and calculating hazel eyes.

***

A couple of months passed, and the sense of impending doom grew stronger every day. Reports of dark creatures roaming the border between Dawn and the Middle came in at a steady rate, there were enough threats that you had to go under your guise as the Golden Warrior to slay these creatures. You were a great warrior without your wings, but you were lethal when your feathers were out. You had to be careful not to use your powers because if Night Court was keeping tabs on your power signature, the others were too. The heavy presence of these creatures only confirmed your suspicions that something big was coming. Even though Callon was the Captain of the Peregeryns, you were still ranked above him, so you had them do extra training along with military exercises with the foot soldiers. Callon may be your cousin’s lover and he saw you as his little sister, but he was also extremely loyal to the Court and its hierarchy. If you told him to do something, he always obeyed without a question.

 One afternoon, you were going over some paperwork when you heard a bird chirping on the balcony. Looking up, Thesan’s sparrow was hopping on the banister and whistling as if it was speaking to you. Lifting your hand, the sparrow flew and perched on your finger as it watched you with intelligent eyes. The High Lord of Dawn was the only one who could communicate with the birds, but you knew this was Thesan’s way of summoning you.

You stroked its feathered head, “Tell him I’m on my way.”

It chirped back happily and took flight. You straightened out the papers on your desk before waving a hand to turn off the faelights. Darkness engulfs the room, and you gasp, the memories of your dream last night flooding back to you. It was the second time you dreamt about that dark cellar and the little boy who sat in it. This time you heard the crying and sniffles before you could even spot his dark form sitting in the corner. The dream was strange, just like the previous one, you couldn’t move and only saw what the dream wanted you to see. It seemed like you were sitting in that cellar for hours, it was only when the boy lay down when you saw the bandages. The boy was still faceless but under the dim moonlight, you saw his little hands wrapped in cotton, blood blooming under the white cloth. All you could do was stare in horror as the pain and exhaustion lulled him to sleep.

It took you all day to forget about the horrid dream and the sounds of his weeping. Ever since the first dream you convinced yourself it wasn’t real. This heavy weight fell on your shoulders the moment you woke up, even though it happened in your sleep, it all felt real. Deep down you knew that room and that child existed, you almost sent one of the spies to do some research, but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t waste any court resources, especially now that Rhysand had called for a High Lord meeting.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your head and swiftly made your way to Thesan’s office where he sat holding out a thick piece of paper to read. Callon was already sitting on one of the chairs and gave you a wave.

“Most of the High Lords agreed to meeting, so now the only problem is agreeing to where the courts will meet,” you said summarizing the letter.

He nodded before resting his hand under his jaw and sighed. He was still so tired of all the hell he experienced with Amarantha, all the news of unrest spreading across Prythian and Hybern gave him a constant underlying headache.  

“What if we offered to host the meeting? Here, in the Palace.”

He scrunched his face in annoyance because he already knew it was the best option. “Why does it have to be me?” grunted Thesan.

Callon made a face, but he didn’t interrupt, he wanted to give you a chance to assert your authority even though he disagreed with your idea.

“Because we’re closest to the middle and there is no way High Lord Kallias is going to offer to host,” you said handing the letter back to him. “Rhysand would have already offered but most of the courts don’t like him and all the other High Lords except for Tarquin seem like jackasses that won’t agree to host.”

Thesan frowned, “When did I become the friendliest High Lord?”

You snorted. “I wouldn’t say most friendly…maybe most tolerable? You’re the only High Lord in existence who has stayed mostly neutral in past battles and disputes. It makes sense for us to be the hosts, there's less of a chance these suspicious High Lords are going to think we’re going to double-cross anyone.”

Feeling the need to raise his concerns, Callon politely cleared his throat. “I don’t know—the security concerns… there could be fights that could level this Palace.”

“We have special wards to avoid magic and ensure fairness whenever all the High Lords come to gather but Callon’s right. I’m sure someone is going to find a way to break through the shields and cause all kinds of trouble,” said Thesan.

You glanced at the gleaming siphons around your neck and then at the two males. “This meeting needs to happen, and Rhysand knows it too, his letters feel so desperate. If a fight whether physical or magical breaks out, I’ll neutralize it,” you said gingerly touching the sapphires. “I’ll unleash my power if I have to.”

  Thesan’s frown deepened. “No—I don’t know, it’s too dangerous.” His rich brown eyes clouded with that overbearing concern.

Your jaw clenched as you stared at your cousin. “You promised me that I would get to decide when I would reveal my powers and the Golden Warrior. Now it seems like the perfect time with a potential conflict coming and someone’s bound to find out. If Night Court noticed, I’m sure the others did too.”

 Thesan looked at you coolly not wanting to lose his temper. You were right, it was only a matter of time before someone found out what you were. He was afraid of the repercussions you would get when people find out that you and the Golden Warrior were the same person. Thesan’s enemies were your enemies and with the added revelation of the Warrior, he was sure that list would double. He wasn’t ready to share how powerful you were, in fear of making that target on your back even bigger but Thesan knew it was no longer his call. He has kept you hidden long enough, it was time for you to spread your wings.

   “Okay,” he said quietly. “You get to call the shots with your powers from now on, you deserve it.”

 With a grin, you lunged at Thesan to hug him before you settled down to help him draft a letter to the High Lords.

***

 The preparations for the High Lords' arrival took all your time and energy and you slept through the night with no memory of the dreams you had. Despite dreamless nights, that dark cellar haunted your thoughts to the point you wanted to find that wretched place and rescue the child and burn it to the ground. Thesan had Callon and other Peregryns do over the security while you and other courtiers who were gifted with magic began enforcing more wards and shields on the Palace. This type of magic was so specific it took all your concentration as you learned from one of the older Fae how to properly enforce specific protective shields you’ve never used before.  When Thesan was available to help with the wards, he sent you off to visit the cities and ensure that Nuan’s compounds that defended against faebane were being produced efficiently.

 The Night Court was also doing their due diligence and making backup plans for their backup plans just in case it turned to shit in Dawn Court. Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand peered down at a map of the Palace and came up with many escape plans. Cassian and Rhysand were anxious about the visit, but Azriel was a little more concerned about the strange female that had been plaguing his thoughts. Shadows pooled over his shoulders and blocked his brother’s view.

“Uh, Azriel… what’s going on?” asked Cassian. “I haven’t seen you this anxious about a meeting before.”

Azriel’s beautiful features stayed neutral, but his crossed arms and taut muscles betrayed him. He didn’t want to admit that he’d been anxious to see you again, it’s been a long time since anyone has taken his mind off the torture of loving Morrigan. He found the last few months to be different. He still blushed every time Mor gave him attention. Like the time she brushed past him and squeezed his arm or when she propped her feet onto his thighs when everyone was lounging around the living room drinking wine. Then there were the times Mor would pull away or avoid his gaze, these moments would usually sour his mood for the entire day, but nowadays everything stung less.

[justafriend-ql]

times never let me go said: happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

(a mostly unserious post made entirely for my own entertainment)

this outfit

2. palm showing up at nueng's house and immediately inducing gay panic with the sluttiest soulmate-coded introduction possible until ourskyy 2

3. nuengdiao's gay little finger pointing (which happens at least 3 times in episode 1)

4. gaslight gatekeep girlboss

5. okay... 👀

6. local boy continues the age-old tradition of falling in love with a twink after seeing him play piano

7. (meeting ben) perhaps gay-on-gay violence is justified sometimes

8. nueng and palm flirt in the backseat. live chanon reaction:

9. update: gay-on-gay violence is definitely justified sometimes

10. phum taking a sec to call palm handsome before breaking a stool over his back (huh i wonder if that might mean anything)

11. okay... 👀 (pt. 2)

12. nuengdiao deciding to get wasted even though he's deathly allergic to alcohol because palm's talking to a girl (we love a messy!gay)

13. nueng standing up for himself when the homophobic principal and ben's dad insinuate that it was wrong for ben and him to kiss and telling them to punish whoever leaked the photo instead

14. "you're an adult now. you can eat whatever you want!!" slay thanks khun tanya :)

15. what if we were both boys... and we kissed on a rooftop at night under ambiguous circumstances... and it was episode 5...

16. our established couple besties wu and david <3

17. "your lips are burning and swollen" okay?? gay ass

18. gay beach wedding. enough said.

19. palm asking "is this how couples kiss?" after eating nueng's face like be fucking for real right now

20. male-male soulmates existing since the dawn of time and being an established part of mythological lore

21. palm: has gay sex one (1) time and immediately gets a tattoo of his lover's name

22. palm's face when nueng says he might confess his love to a woman one day lmaooooo

23. palm and nueng talking about how their mothers gave them the courage to be themselves and confess their love for each other

24. nueng: we need to show uncle kit that he can't mess with us. the plan: serve cunt

25. tanya immediately waking up from her coma when nueng says he wants her to see him with his boyfriend. true ally behavior!

26. WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO EXPRESS IT IN FRONT OF EVERYONE

27. message received

28. wow so glad it isn't like that anymore! oh wait...

29. (about to die) time to educate some assholes!!

stopping here because of the (deeply homophobic) 30-image-per-post limit, but feel free to add more below!! happy pride from p'jojo, palmnueng, and co. 🏳️‍🌈