#some roses have steel thorns

[ladystoneboobs]

ya ever think about how the lannister sibs all have big secrets kept from each other, like huge life-altering experiences? jaime's is the most obvious, the most talked-about, with the full story of his kingslaying and everything he endured from aerys leading up to it. it's clear enough to me that brienne was the first he opened up to about that, including either sibling. they never asked, but unlike ned stark and the rest deriding him as kingslayer, their lack of curiosity is no offense in itself bc as tywin's other children they would never judge him for turning his cloak purely out of family loyalty. ned's assumption of jaime's motives is directly tied to his judgment of jaime, but it's the judgment that rankles jaime so. choosing your father's life over a king's is hardly the worst crime in itself. how can he explain all the other reasons without prompting when its not just about his crime but all his trauma too? is there any basis for that in his relationship with cersei, who always relied on him for comfort and consolation but seems less adept at providing the same to him? or even with tyrion, his only real male friend for years, but also his baby brother, the one he was meant to protect and take care of, who was only 10 at the time of the kingslaying? even to fully share all with tyrion years later, both adults, could be something of a role reversal, forever shattering tyrion's image of him as the strong invulnerable golden big brother by revealing his own broken inner child. jaime can't break out from those sibling roles and patterns, so neither can ever understand that part of him, never knowing the early life he had at court without either of them with him.

and tyrion, who trusted jaime more than anyone in the world before learning the truth about tysha, still could not confide in him freely even when all that trust was still intact. jaime must have heard some story of what tywin did to tysha to feel the need to confess his lie, but he def didn't hear it straight from tyrion bc imo there's no way he could still think confessing would help anything if he understood how scarred tyrion was by what he witnessed and esp not knowing that tywin ordered him to participate at the end. tyrion could reveal all that to bronn when they barely knew each other but not to his beloved brother, his first and best friend. how can the most abused child explain all his unknown abuse to the golden child, the big brother meant to protect him who couldn't always do so? how does he even begin to reveal the deepest trauma that happened to him when jaime wasn't in the room, esp when the story does start with jaime apparently trying to help him by fixing him up with tysha?

and then there's cersei and all her secrets. she always turned to jaime for consolation, or at least when he knew she needed it, but how many times did he not know? how personally could she confide in him as they grew older and their paths diverged? we know the first big secret was maggy the frog's prophecy, her first big scare, which came on the cusp of puberty, an experience she couldn't share with her twin bc he would prob just laugh and make a joke of it. in their first real scene together, in bran's pov, he mocks lysa's motherly fears and likens her to cersei. ("I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." He laughed.) then he makes light of her marital discord, ("And whose fault is that, sweet sister?"), having no idea of the depth of pain she'd suffered from robert, beyond his infidelities. he later blames her for being robert's queen, not his, only thinking of how she managed to arrange his kg post, that power to forever tie him to her in secret, never grasping her lack of control in marriage, that "a queen is only a woman after all". in her pride it was hard to reveal all she'd suffered as a woman, but she also couldn't rely on jaime's response if he knew of her abuse, knowing he would kill robert and get himself killed too, only making her and their children's lives more precarious. she couldn't trust him to listen about securing the throne before dealing with robert or that as robert's victim it was her right to decide such matters, to choose his fate, not jaime's place to avenge her without her say-so first. all bc they were both too stuck in their idea of jaime as her sword, nothing more, with jaime determined to protect her and tyrion, always a bodyguard before he ever donned a white cloak.

something something tywin did his best to play his children off each other and the most effective thing he did to divide them was by setting jaime up as the golden child and family protector. the designated lannister sword only pointing at threats outside their house. a knight serving his family whose protection was always limited, who could never protect them from the person who first hurt cersei and tyrion and made them who they were at a distance from him, bc ofc he couldn't fight his own father, much less slay him with a sword.

something something maybe the reason that joff+marg+loras was a surer recipe for kingslayer stew than robert+cersei+jaime is all down to that tyrell lack of abusive structure. not that loras cared more about marg, was more willing to kill for her than jaime was to kill robert, but that there wasn't a chance of marg hiding her misery from him if/when her husband abused her in their shared household. it's not like he understood her to the point of mind-reading but when their previous royal marital household involved her bearding for his boyfriend then they prob had a pretty good basis of open communication. in that sense, the lannicest twins with all their sexual and physical intimacy still had less emotional intimacy than the tyrell queen and her kg brother.

[krasnayavedma]

❝ You're so much like your mother. ❞

@billyktothemax !

[fushitoru]

the season of thorned roses ⸺ a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies

notes from the author: im aashi, and this is my first series on this app :p for anyone who would like to know, this does end with a happy ending. ty for reading!

masterlist | drabble | fanart

chapter index

01 ⸺ the debutante

you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

02 ⸺ the aftermath

after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

03 ⸺ the manor

you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

04 ⸺ the game

satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

05 ⸺ the fall

gojo comes up with a strange yet tempting arrangement, but the accident that follows it may cause epiphanies for the both of you. (11.8k)

06 ⸺ the house party

you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton. (7.4k)

07 ⸺ the rebound

after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

08 ⸺ the lake

both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

09 ⸺ the embers (soon!)

drabbles/headcanons

01 ⸺ gojo walking in on geto at a brothel (nsfw, not canon)

02 ⸺ gojo when you're pregnant

03 ⸺ more on geto!

[ragingbookdragon]

She sighs as she pauses mid step in the garden, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she says, “I need not a guardian to simply walk amongst my flowers.”

The crunch of gravel beneath a blackened, steel boot echoes in her ear as does his deep voice with, “Many wish to harm you, My Queen.”

She turns, looking at him; he’s as steadfast as ever with the long-sword strapped to his back, his hands tucked neatly behind him. “Simon, I am in my garden, hidden behind the walls. I assure you, an assassin is not waiting to kill me here.”

“And I am here to make sure that does not occur,” he replies, taking another step towards her. “Knight Captain Jonathan did express complete scrutiny.”

“Am I a child who needs to be watched every waking moment?” she can’t help but feel a bit of annoyance. It’s been like this ever since the Knights came and replaced the King’s Guards. But she had to note, Knight Captain Jonathan and his subordinates did a phenomenal job of protecting her and keeping order.

“You are the Queen of the people,” he answers. “One that is genuinely loved and cared for. It has been many a century since they have seen a royal who truly cares for them. Who has stripped her elegant robes for peasant clothes and worked the fields beside them.” Beneath that blackened, steel mask, she can see the whites of his eyes full of admiration. “The land would fall into ruin if you died.”

She practically glides when she walks, a perfect portrait of grace, and comes to stand in front of him. “So, you only protect me for my people?” she takes in the white skull stain on his mask, supposed to frighten his enemies but she finds it comforting. “Or is it for gold? You do have a hefty pay.”

Beneath his mask, his eyes narrow and he doesn’t bother to lean forward as he reminds her, “Do not mistake my me for some hired thug. You are more to us than a Queen.”

“Am I more to you, Simon?” she asks.

“It would be unwise to answer such a question,” he tips his head up. “Your Majesty.”

She sneaks her hand to his waist, takes his dagger and walks to a rose bush beside them; with precision he should be worried of, she cuts a rose and wicks the thorns off before she walks back and replaces the knife. A delicate crimson flower she brings to her nose, gently inhaling the floral scent before she sticks it in the crook of his chest plate.

“I do believe it’s time for my evening bath,” she murmurs, and walks past him. “Come, Simon,” she orders, but her words hold no true power, simply a request. “Lest I am assassinated in my own garden as I walk back to my chambers.”

He gently touches the rose and lets out a humored sigh through his nose as he follows in suit behind her gliding. “Perish the thought, My Queen.”

[salialenart]

“you may learn that some roses have steel thorns”

Surprise collab with @vazdelart for House Tyrell Week

Happy Birthday @highgardenart 🏵️

[thewulf]

Works and Requests

Oh man I knew this day would come, I finally have to make seprate masterlists for some fandoms, this main post is too massive now! Masterlist's below the cut <3

If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up

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Top Gun Masterlist

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Harry Potter Masterlist

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank

Accidentally in Love ‎♡✿‎ ‎

Always & Forever Part 1 | Part 2 ♡✿‎ ‎

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Igniting Affection✿‎ ‎

Steve Randle

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Adorably Clueless ✿‎

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Treat You Better✿✦

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Cassian

Frosted Steel✿✦

Rhysand

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A Realm Reborn✿✦

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The Price of Protection♡✿‎

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Different | Part 1 | Part 2 ✿‎ ‎

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Works In Progress (WIP's)!

Steve Randle x Reader - Request!

Sirius Black x Reader - Request!

Legolas x Reader - Request!

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader - Request

Who I Write For:

Top Gun: Maverick & 1986

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Bob Floyd

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

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Any other pilot upon request!

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A Court of Thorns and Roses Universe (ACOTAR)

Azriel

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Any High Lord really

Any other upon request!

[starsandink13]

The White Crow Game Chapter 9

"This is ridiculous," you sighed, looking down at the tiny key in your hand. You glanced at your haggard reflection in the polished window and let out a heavy sigh. Damn, I look way worse than I thought.

You stared into your reflections' eyes for a while before taking a deep breath.

Here goes nothing. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself for whatever may be in the garden. You thrusted the key into the glass and twisted it counter-clockwise. The window swung open as a bright light came from it, nearly blinding you. You put a hand over your eyes to shield out some of the light as you entered.

White enveloped you for a brief moment, leaving you dazed for a few moments with a slight ringing in your ear. After a minute you slowly regained your senses. When your vision cleared, you hitched your breath as you took in the lush scenery in front of you.

The garden sprawled in every direction as far as you could see with trails of stone pathways scrawled in various directions like gray veins. Moonflowers bloomed like small full moons, entangling themselves among black thorned vines and phantom-purple roses. Red poppies bloomed like droplets of blood among the dark foliage. Tall weeping willows looked like elongated fingers grazing the ground. The wisteria trees looked mourners in widow veils as a soft wind ruffled them ever so slightly. A black spiked fence that was almost the height of the mansion itself with dark ivy wrapped around it like serpents. The full moon was in full sight, the moonbeams gave the gardens a heavenly yet eldritch glow to them.

The beauty of it nearly made you forget about the game until you saw statues of Corvin with crows perched on his shoulders and snakes coiled by his feet among the foliage.

Come on, keep your head in the game! You shuddered at what happened back at the gallery, readying yourself for whatever trap that Corvin had laid out. You glanced at a statue before walking towards where the pathway splintered into three directions: left, middle, and right. You licked your teeth, every muscle in your body clenching with dread. You pulled out the fire poker and pressed forward on the middle path. The only sound was of your footsteps on the cobblestone pathway and the occasional cawing of an unseen crow.

The otherwise lack of sound was dreadful, you knew that this was only the calm before danger. Each step you took made it feel as if your feet were made of stones. You gripped the fire poker tighter, your sweaty palm made it harder to hold on. Each sound and movement made you on edge. You stopped when you saw a white sheet of paper among the roses and leaves. Hesitantly, you brushed aside the leaves and took it. In neat cursive handwriting was the following:

Meet me at the pond. I have a surprise for you there!

Yours truly,

Corvin

You closed your eyes and shook your head, crumpling the note in your hand. Let me guess, another death trap?

You gave a look over your shoulder to make sure that you weren't being stalked before storming further into the garden. Occasionally, you passed underneath a stone arch that was covered in moss and draped with vines. The perfumed air became stronger, clinging to you like a lusty lover. Your head became hazy, you felt weightless as a white mist began to creep through the garden like thin, ghostly fingers. You shivered as a cold wind blew through the gardens, making your cheeks fluster. You stopped when you heard the rustling of branches and leaves.

Snapping your head in the direction of the sound, you saw white scales slithering among the bushes. A bead of sweat dripped down your neck and you clenched the fire poker tighter. You took a small step away from the bushes and readied your weapon. The rustling became louder and you slowly raised your poker in the air.

"Oh (Y/N), I wonder wherever you may be..." Corvin's voice echoed out all around you. "I certainly hope that she saw my note."

You turned your head around, trying to look for where the fairy was in vain before letting out a growl of frustration. You took another step back from the bushes before continuing, making sure to look behind you every now and then. The mist was becoming thicker, making it difficult to traverse through the gardens as it casted a ghostly veil to everything, making it look even more otherwordly. Your trepidation was becoming stronger; it was squirming and thrashing in your stomach and made you feel as if pins were being stuck into you. It felt like you were walking for eternity; forever trapped in a labyrinth of vines, roses, and mist.

In the horizon, maybe another thirty feet or so, was a vast pond with glittering black waters and a gazebo with black roses and morning glories wrapping themselves on the columns. However, there was no sign of Corvin to be seen.

"God damn it..." you growled and walked up to the gazebo, sticking your head into it. There was still no Corvin.

"Corvin!" You yelled out, half-expecting the fairy to appear out of thin air with a taunt.

You were about to call out again, when you felt a set of eyes staring into the back of your neck and heard a small hissing sound.

Something was behind you.

Slowly, you turned around to see a the largest white snake snake you ever saw mere yards away from you. It was coiled up, readying to strike. Its red and gold eyes shined with a predatory light. The serpent hissed at you, baring its venom-tipped fangs. You screamed, clenching your eyes and slashed at the air with your poker. You heard a low chuckle and opened your eyes to see Corvin looking at you.

"Got you, didn't I?" He smirked and took off his coat and hat.

You glared at the fairy and clenched your teeth, trying to smother your urge to strike him with in the jaw.

"So, how do you like the gardens so far?" He asked and sat down on a bench in the gazebo, stretching his arms over the back of it with one leg crossed over the other. "It took me forever to find the perfect hydrangeas to line this pathway and that's not talking about how much it costed me to commission those statues."

You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest.

"You know, I was quite surprised that you remembered the rules." He said. "I would think from your exhaustion and desperation you would have forgotten about the terms and taken up his offer."

You didn't speak.

Corvin looked up at the sky and inhaled the fresh night air. "It really is a lovely night."

"You done?" You spat.

"Done with what?"

"Gloating."

"I wasn't gloating, my dear. Just merely teasing you."

"Same thing-- and I know what you're up to," you pointed a finger into his chest.

"And what would that be? Haven't I been transparent with you?" He yawned.

"Stop playing stupid. You know exactly what I am referring to!" You growled.

"My dear, you do realize that there are multiple ways to achieve something, yes?" He stretched out his back and neck. He took off his hat, coat, and waistcoat before unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt: revealing a sculpted and toned torso.

"Tonight's so nice," he breathed. "There's very little that could compare to the cool night air on your skin."

Your fists tightened as you bit your lip.

"Except for the feeling of your touch," he continued. "Whether it'd be as something as sweet as a kiss or as painful as a bite: Not even the finest silks nor furs in existence could compare to the feeling of you."

"Are you admitting to being a masochist?" You spat.

"Only if it's you," he responded with a wink.

"Gross," you shuddered, prompting a hearty laugh from him.

"My, as scathing as usual." He sighed. "Enjoy a small break from all of the excitement and the night air for a bit with me."

You rolled your eyes and spun around to exit the gazebo, only to run face-first in an invisible wall.

"Hey!" You exclaimed and slapped your hand against it. "Get rid of this now!"

"Only if you take a break," he said.

"Oh come on!"

"Then you will have to stay here until you do so."

Growling, you sat down a foot away from him and folded your arms close to your chest. Corvin gave you a smirk before pulling a colorless lock of hair behind his ear.

"You know, I feel like there's something missing here," he put his fingers to his lower lip. "Oh I know."

Candles suddenly appeared and floated above you in a circle. Their tiny flames flickered and danced, casting a warm white glow. You looked to see that a small table with a bottle of red wine and two crystal glasses were in front of you. Corvin opened the bottle and poured it into the glasses. He handed one to you and raised his own glass before taking a sip from it.

"This is your third drink. Are you drunk?" You looked at him in disbelief.

Corvin laughed. "No. Fairies can't get drunk. It's why so many of us love drinking games; it provides an excellent opportunity for us to toy with humans. It makes them tell secrets they would never say, makes them make rash decisions that come with grave consequences, make them show who they truly are underneath their sober facade. In vino veritas as the ancient Romans say."

You took a sigh and shook your head. "Anyways-- the forms that you can take are that of a raven, a snake, and a humanoid, right?"

"That's not all of them." He responded and took another drink. "Like I said, us fairies can take many forms. Some a bit more charming than others."

As Corvin said this, he transformed into a giant white fox with red eyes. His lips curled into a smile with shining teeth that looked like little blades. He lowered his head slightly and towards you.

"What's wrong? I thought you liked foxes." His ears drooped down and frowned.

"Not if it's you," you spat.

"So mean," he responded and stretched out his back, his tail shivering before sitting down again.

"Why do you have the gates so high?"

"To keep any unwanted visitors from trying to enter," he answered. "You'd be surprised given my reputation among my kind that there's a few cheeky ones that will try to trespass."

"Was that puppet of you one of those trespassers?"

"Don't think about that thing. It's already been dealt with. Focus on us instead."

"By 'us', you mean 'you'."

"And yourself as well," Corvin returned back to his human form. "I'm thinking of having another gazebo, probably placing it on the far right corner on the tallest hill and have a ring of lilies surrounding it. What do you think?"

"I don't care," you responded. "You can do whatever the hell you please with this garden after the game."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," he said and looked out to the pond.

"Anyways," he cracked his back and with a wave of his hand, the glasses, bottle and table disappeared into thin air. "You can leave now if you want to."

"Shame. I was starting to enjoy our talks," you responded sarcastically.

"Oh really?" Corvin fluttered a hand over his heart.

"Of course not!" You rolled your eyes.

The fairy threw his head back in laughter and slapped a hand over his knee. "My dear, you're just... so much fun. There's nothing that could compare to you!"

"I'm so flattered," you scoffed, "Now I'm really starting to go."

"Alright then, I'll see you-- wait, don't!" He yelled.

You turned your head to him with a quizzical and annoyed look.

"I can't believe that I forgot to show you the surprise," he let out a small groan of annoyance and grabbed your wrist, dragging you back into the gazebo. Before you could protest, he pulled out a crimson box with a moon-white ribbon wrapped around it from his coat. You looked up at the fairy with a raised eyebrow.

"Open it," he said with a smile.

You stared at his face, studying for any signs of hidden and intentions before the box for several seconds, you looked back at him and shook your head. "I have to get going. Now."

"Please open it, I promise this isn't a trap." He insisted.

You resigned with a sigh and pulled the ribbon off. With shaking hands, you slowly pulled off the lid, anticipating for the worst to come. Inside, was a pair of fine silk gloves the color of freshly-spilt blood and pearl buttons.

"It's something for you to remember me by," Corvin smiled.

"Is that an admittance of defeat?" You put your hand on your hip.

"Oh how you wish," he chuckled. "Besides, isn't it nice to receive a gift by a paramour so that you always have a small part of them no matter where you are?"

"Is that what you think of yourself?" You scoffed.

"Of course, why else wouldn't I?"

"I can think of many, many reasons."

"Such as?"

"I think you know why," you spat.

"And I can think of many reasons why you should consider me your paramour," he responded. "The gloves are one example, and so is turning your life around for the better another one."

You glared at him and clenched your jaw.

"And those are just the start of them," he put a hand on your shoulder. "There are so many more that I can give."

"Like a migraine?"

Corvin smiled wider and gave you shoulder a slight squeeze, "Or maybe a kiss..." he breathed huskily.

You tightened your fists. "No. And certainly not from you."

He frowned and let go of you before putting his coat back on. "You certainly know how to ruin the mood."

"And so do you," you spat back.

"I at least try to make it better," he huffed and straightened out the front of his clothes before putting his hat back on. "I'll leave you to your own devices now."

As he walked past by you, a pen dropped from his pocket. You were about to call out to him, but by then he had disappeared into the mist.

You looked at the pen and picked it up. It was a red dip pin with gold accents, embedded into it was his symbol of the eye and crescent moon. The faint smell of absinthe and smoke came from it that you suspected must have been some of his perfume rubbing off onto it. You stuffed the pen into your satchel and gave one last glance over your shoulder before leaving.

The mist had receded a bit, making it easier for you to see your way. You walked briskly back to the mansion, not wanting to find whatever lurks or has managed to break into here. After walking for a while, you noticed that you were in a much different area than before. Here, the foliage was thicker as nature had decided to reclaim a part of the garden. The mist was also denser than before. The darkness was much stronger as well, due to the overgrown trees blocking out most of the moonlight. Your sense of dread heightened and a harsh chill ran up your limbs.

It felt as if countless unseen eyes were trained on you. You could almost hear the tiny, demonic snickers coming from the darkness. You shivered, feeling as if phantom claws grazing were at you as you trudged onwards, praying that you would see the mansion soon. You held your poker closer, readying yourself for whatever may stalk you through the cover of darkness.

A raven let out a low, mournful croak as you waded through the tall grasses and untamed bushes. Your skin felt as if tiny insects were crawling beneath; almost all of the light was extinguished, leaving you in almost complete darkness.

That's when you felt it-- the same overwhelming sense of dread that you felt back at the theater. You almost immediately crumpled to your knees, planting the poker into the dirt for support. Gasping for air, you shakily stood up and walked away as quietly as you could. However, the overwhelming primal fear inside of you grew stronger. It festered its way deep into you, filling every last bit of your being with terror.

Keep moving until you can't feel it anymore. You clenched your jaw and held the poker out in front of you like it was a sword. Every sound to your ears sounded like thunder, from the crunching of the grass beneath your feet to the ravens' croakings.

You froze when you saw a thin, silvery line that stretched from one tree to the other. It was a massive spiderweb that hung all the way to the ground, brushing against the rocks and tall grasses. But what disturbed you the most was the several human-sized and shaped cocoons. They were still writhing and letting out muffled, screams of pure terror.

You put a hand over your mouth and held the fire poker closer to you. Your heart rate spiked; every part of you was screaming for you to run but you remained planted to the spot. The horror inside you grew ten-fold as a spider twice your size and as dark as night crept down the web. Its back was towards you: revealing the black underbelly of the beast.

The spider approached one of the screaming cocoons and pierced into it with its chelicerae. The victim inside screamed louder as the venom was injected, shaking violently before being reduced to pathetic sobbing. Slowly, the victim stopped moving and the spider began to feed by sucking out the liquified corpse inside.

Your stomach churned and you ran away from the arachnid as quietly as you could. Your nausea became stronger the further you ran, the bile rising in your throat became more sour. You ran until you stopped to vomit behind a bush. You gagged and groaned heavily, holding onto a tree for support. When the last of it was out, you shuddered and wiped away the last of your vomit with your wrist, heaving.

Something dusty-white dropped from the tree next to you. You snapped your head to see a cocooned victim, their head was turned to you: revealing a withered face that was little more than jaundiced skin stretched over bones. Their face was contorted into a permanent, soundless scream of fear and agony.

A cry of horror came from your throat and began to run. Something large and heavy rustled in the trees above you-- and moving fast. Your terror spiked and you ran even faster. Beads of sweat ran down your face and soaked the neckline of your shirt. The thing landed to the ground with a loud thud that sent up clouds of dirt and leaves upwards.

You look behind you to see the black spider facing you. It had a humanoid head with white fangs in place of its jaw. All of its countless, black soulless eyes on were trained on you, shining with a predatory hunger. The spider lunged at you and you turned to the side-- barely avoiding being crushed underneath it.

The arachnid let out a hiss and you scrambled away from it. Your breath came out in short huffs as the spider continued to pursue above you. Branches snapped and fell underneath its heavy weight. You ducked as a webbed-up corpse fell behind you and hit the ground with a dry crunch. Keeping your head low as you ran, avoiding the silk threads that suddenly appeared.

Your foot snagged over a gnarled tree root-- and you fell onto your stomach. Your poker clattered a few feet away from your hand. Pain shot through your torso and you let out a hiss through your teeth. The spider dropped down, its ravenous eyes were staring into yours. You screamed as the spider reared its head up. The moonlight caught a glint of its venom-coated fangs.

You scrambled away in time to avoid getting bit and grabbed your poker. You stabbed the spider in its jaw as it was about to ready another attack. The arachnid let out a piercing shriek and you jumped onto its back. The spider rammed into a tree repeatedly, but you still held on. Your heart hammering in your chest as you readied your poker for another blow.

Come on, come on! You wheezed, your sweaty hands making it difficult for you to keep your grip. The monster banged its side into another tree. Your body jolted and you nearly lost your grip. You clenched your weapon tighter and thrusted it into the air like it was a sword.

With a scream, you plunged the poker into its back. Black, oily blood gushed out of it and the arachnid let out a shattering screech. It whacked harder against the tree, making branches snapping into the ground.

Grunting, you pulled out the poker and stabbed it again, deeper than you did before. The spider let out another shrill cry and battered harder and faster than before against the tree. The force of it made you fall off its back but you still held onto the poker. You screamed and stabbed it in the eye. The arachnid threw itself backwards, tumbling onto its back and exposing its stomach.

Without wasting another second, you plunged the poker into its stomach. Twisting it deeper and deeper until you couldn't any more. Glittering, black blood spurted out before it began to ooze out of its torso. The arachnid gave one last weak cry of agony before convulsing, curling its legs inwards, and going stiff.

You watched in amazement as the dead spider dissolve into itself, leaving behind a fragment of a marble mask. You prodded at the fragment with the poker to get a better look at it without picking it up. It was of someone's right eye and eyebrow, the edges of it were jagged as if it had been snapped off. Hesitantly, you picked up the fragment and put it into your satchel. Hopefully it would be useful later on.

A low hissing sound came from behind you. Whipping your head, you saw an even larger white spider crawling down the tree. Its red eyes were on yours and its fangs were bared. The spider dropped to the ground and readied itself into a pouncing position.

You screamed and raised the poker at the spider, thrusting your poker at its head. As you were about to pierce its brain, a hand shot out and grabbed it.

"W-what?" You gasped and a familiar chuckle came from the spider.

You watched as the spider's head slowly transformed into the top-half of Corvin. "Now is the part where you say that I'm the worst, isn't it?"

You scoffed at him and yanked your poker out of his hand, nearly falling onto your back in the process.

"Why the hell are you here?" You demanded, pointing the poker at him.

"I wanted to see what you would do in this part of the garden," he answered and stretched out his back. "Granted, it is rather easy to get lost in if you aren't as familiar with the layout as I am, which is where most trespassers meet their end."

"Lovely," you sighed and took a seat on a bench with moss creeping up its sides.

"But those that survive their encounter with the spiders...well, they have to deal with me," he chuckled and fully transformed into his human-like form. He adjusted the front of his coat and took a seat beside you.

"Did you say spiders? As in plural?" You blinked.

"Yes," he nodded his head. "They were a gift from my cousin, the fairy king, for my four-hundredth birthday. I've had them for quite a while."

Upon hearing this, you stood up and briskly walked away from Corvin.

"You know, you're going to end up lost again." He called out. "So unless you want to run into another spider or something else in this mist, you'll need me to guide you back to the mansion."

You closed your eyes and exhaled an annoyed groan. "Fine. Lead the way."

Smirking, he linked your arm with his at the elbows. "Just a precaution," he said when you gave him a withering glare.

A feeling of disgust crawled down your back and you swallowed back the impulse to gag. You could only hope that Corvin was merciful enough to make it as quick as possible or wouldn't talk as much. Unfortunately, he saw this as a perfect opportunity to irritate you further.

"I see you forgot your gift from me," he said with a small sigh. "Luckily, one of the statues was so kind as to retrieve it. Make sure to keep it safe from now on. I spent so much time trying to find the perfect fabric and the best tailor for it."

You didn't respond to him; instead clenching your hands tighter, earning a coy look from him.

"My, are you starting to warm up to me?" He winked.

You bit your lower lip, barely registering the sting of it or the taste of blood. Why can't he shut up for one minute?

The two of you walked through the misty path as he continued to talk, trying to pry you into responding. The mist became stronger than before, making it feel as if you were walking through a cold, gray wall. You shivered slightly and pulled your jacket closer to yourself.

"Would you like my coat?" Corvin offered.

"No," you spat and kept your eyes forward, not wanting to make eye contact with the fairy.

"No need to be so stubborn," he and held your hand tighter. "It'd be a shame if you died from the cold when you're making quite a lot of progress-- especially compared to the other humans that have been here."

"I'm not going to die from the cold," you scoffed.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he continued. "The weather in places that border between the two worlds can get rather unpredictable. It could be the middle of summer and suddenly, you're caught in a blizzard or it'd be a sunny day one minute and the next a terrible thunderstorm is coming down."

"I will be fine," you said through gritted teeth.

"Oh well," he sighed, "At least I tried to warn you."

You didn't respond to his comment and continued looking forward, hoping that you were near the mansion already. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus if there was at any point a clue that you missed regarding the location of the front door key.

"(Y/N), what are you thinking about?" The fairy cooed. "Our wedding?"

Despite the urge to elbow him, you focused on the locations you have been. You were pretty sure that you didn't miss a clue, but you weren't entirely certain. Especially given his love to make you revisit places that you have already been to.

"Or maybe you're thinking about the many years that we'll spend together."

Your shoulders shook as you clenched your eyes. Maybe he hid it in the kitchen or one of his many parlors or a--

"Or perhaps you're planning on how many--"

"Will you shut up!" You snapped.

Corvin smirked at you and pulled you closer to him; the top of your shoulder was brushing up against his bicep, suddenly reminded of how much taller he was than you. Your skin broke into small bumps and you looked down at the fire poker. After walking through the mist for what felt like an eternity, you finally saw the back of the estate.

"Such a shame that it has to end so soon," Corvin clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Well anyways, I hope you enjoyed our little romantic stroll as much as I did."

With a hard yank, you pulled your hand out of his and pushed against the double doors. They remained shut despite pushing against them with all of your weight.

"Oh yes, they're locked," Corvin chuckled and pulled out a key from his breast pocket. He walked by you and unlocked the doors. "After you, my dear."

You glared at him and entered the estate without another word.

[sweepingboy]

"General Ming Guang is doing palm reading!"

Gods surround the ruler of North giggling and shoving each other like a bunch of teens. They're hooting and hollering as they listen to old Pei's fortune telling, teasing each other. Sex, love... It seems that some topics will always bug people no matter how many centuries they lived.

Mu Qing rolls his eyes at them but keeps watching from his seat across the table as Pei Ming masterfully flirts with young goddesses clearly abusing his palm reading excuse as he brushes his lips against their delicate hands. They blush and squeak and look at the deity oh so hopefully.

Mu Qing came in terms with his fate long time ago - always in a rush he had no time to fool around. He took his vows, sharpening himself like a sword. A blade that had passed the fire of the forge and the icy waters, the singing steel praising the scarlet drops on the grim metal. Protecting attacking - he has a duty, he chose it himself 800 years ago.

He feels a tug in the ribcage as Pei Ming grabs Xie Lian's hand.

" Ho-ho!, Your Highness! I see a long and happy marriage" Ming Guang winks "death won't be enough to set you apart!" The prince blushes and laughs awkwardly placing a hand over his chest where, Mu Qing knows, the diamond ring is hidden. He clenches fists under the table the bandages digging uncomfortably into his skin.

Quietly he gets up and leaves.

Gentle wind plays with his hair as he stands in the shadows of the garden feeling like a shadow himself; frozen in his power he watches the life passing leaving him behind.

"General Xuan Zhen," familiar voice calls "may I have your hand?"

Mu Qing sighs in annoyance as steady footsteps approach him "I'm not interested, Ming Guang."

"Xuan Zhen," the other general teases " is this how you treat your elders?"

Mu Qing scoffs at him, while Pei Ming smiles charmingly. Exasperated, he lifts his hand and starts taking off the bandages slowly, arranging them into a neat roll as he does so. Inch by inch he reveals areas of burned skin - some pale pink, healing already, some still aggressively red. At least they aren't wet with ichor he thinks. He hated feeling moist cloth against his skin.

General Ming Guang takes his hand carefully.

He traces the lines gently - Mu Qing thought they wouldn't be visible at all remembering how tight was his grip on the red-hot hilt of Zhanmadao but they are even more defined like that, long curves against the puffed flesh.

"Your heart is covered in thorns."

"How original."

"Shush! You're listening to me now, young man!" "It's hard for a living creature to get through the thorn bushes."

Mu Qing rolls his eyes "It's not how you read a palm."

"Many people see it as cruel and dead" the god continues patiently "but I can see that this heart has bled enough. General you have lived many troubled years without warmth - but you know what cold is because you have something to compare it to" the younger god listens to him, as calloused bog fingers dance over the creases of his skin "This stubborn heart will do anything for those it cares about. It will endure pain, reproach, misunderstandings. I like that little guy."

"My dear Xuan Zhen," Pei Ming's thumb is gently massaging the center of the palm "you carry the most beautiful rose in your chest. A lover worthy of you should be willing to prick himself dozens of times to see it's bud. And you must be ready to let it bloom when the time comes."

"If the time comes." Mu Qing whispers.

Pei Ming calmly looks him on the eyes "When. The Heavens are full of brave men."

"Thank you general" he says quietly " I will treasure your very accurate detailed prediction."

"Sure. Want me to do your horoscope too?"

"Please spare me that honour."

Pei Ming laughs and hugs him with one hand and Mu Qing can feel a small smile forming on his lips.

[luimagines]

A Steel Thorn

Another commission!

This is the companion piece to A Glass Rose, which you can read right here.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

“The battle’s not done.” You say through gritted teeth. You don’t want to look at him.

“My Jewel-”

“Go.” You say, coughing. He thinks he can see some spittle of blood shot from beyond your lips. You merely roll over to block his view from the worst of it. “You’re needed.”

“You need me.”

“Go.”

The Fierce Deity growls. He won’t leave you. Not like this. He must atone. He must make up for his sins in blood. But his and his alone.

Unless this was a punishment from the heavens and you were to pay with your one blood.

The thought enrages him and he finds himself reaching for his sword once more. He’s blinded by the injustice. He sees only red.

But he can’t allow you to see it. This wasn’t a side to him that he wanted you to be privy to. Grabbing the hilt of the sword, he charges toward the main hoard that continues to make itself a threat to your wellbeing. He needs to make space. He needs to get away from you unless he wishes to commit a higher ransom than the blood already spilt.

The battle sounds continue and you know that they won’t last long, not if he was reason to be wrathful. You groan and grunt, pushing yourself up to the best of your ability. The blood has already begun to stain your outer layers. You can feel it slowly trail down your throat now that you’ve righted yourself.

You feel ill and sickly already. You feel both warm and chilled to the bone. You have to fend for yourself now that the Fierce Deity has left you to deal with eradicating the threat in its entirety.

You gulp- not surprised at the iron taste in your mouth.

It’s a bitter taste.

You hadn’t wished to show him the plight you’ve found yourself in. Only marginally aware of the cause of the injury, you had only come to think that he was right in the end.

He was much stronger, bigger, tougher, virtually indestructible. While here you are, only a step into the battle and taken down for the count.

Your shoulders work to maneuver through your side bag. You can’t reach for a spare weapon nor would it do you any good. Your hope for a steady and quick recovery is either a fairy or a health potion. You tried to make it a habit to carry either for the rare occurrence of your injury. You had always assumed you had to Fierce Deity to protect you.

And the one time to step away from his protection, you find your blood on the outside rather than where it belongs.

Your fingertips glaze over a bottle and you can feel your body sag with relief. You doubt it would be enough to heal you completely, but you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You pull the bottle out of your pouch and prepare to pop the cork off- only to find it empty.

Dread sinks into your stomach like a lead weight.

“My Jewel…” The Fierce Deity appears beside you once more without revealing his presence. “Your injury.”

You gasp, jumping and ducking to cover the severity of it.

You miss the way his face twists into hurt. He hadn’t meant to frighten you…ever. Would you allow him to tend to you? To mend what he has broken? Would you now forever only see him as a monster? A killer? Designed only to destroy?

When you had first met, you had tried to break that impression of the people around you- but here, in this moment, he had only proven the naysayers correct. 

The Fierce Deity gulps in a rare show of trepidation as the nerves run wild under his skin. “I have a fairy.”

You flinch.

He takes a breath and lets the fairy out of her trap. She flies and happily focuses on your injury. On instinct you uncoil and allow the magic to do its work to your body. The Fierce Deity has yet to relax even as you begin to heal.

You turn back to him with a bite to your lip and nervously likewise energy. You can’t hold eye contact and instead find yourself looking away before the fairy is even done attending to you.

Something within the Fierce Deity is telling him to fix it. To say something. Do something. But for the first time in the eons of his life, he can say that he hesitates.

“I’m ok.” You say at last, spitting out the remnants of blood from your mouth. You turn to him, finally, and open your arms for him.

His heart stills, not sure what would be the correct choice of action. But you whine and instinct and desire overcome what he would consider a more rational part of his brain. He scoops you up, trying to be mindful of the injury and holds you dearly.

 “My Jewel…” The words get stuck in his throat.

“You were right.” You say with resignation. “I’m nothing compared to you.”

He shakes his head. “You are my everything.” His grip tightens by a fraction. “How is it that I can hope to compare to you?... It would have been my fault if I lost you.”

“You got rid of the monsters-”

“And yet it was my blade that dared to strike you in the first place.” He admits.

You completely still and instead shift your eyes to look into his face. The Fierce Deity isn’t known to openly show his emotions often- if ever. Which makes the tears crawling down his face all the more gut wrenching.

“H-hey…” You reach up to cup his face. “I’m still here.”

“And if you weren’t?” He whispers. “I was meant to protect you.”

“And you brought the fairy.” You put on a brave smile. ”It’ll be alright, you’ll see. I should have just let you deal with the threat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

[burningvelvet]

one of my favorite excerpts from charlotte brontë's jane eyre (1847), taken from chapter 15:

"'You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you — and you mark my words — you will come some day to a craggy pass of the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master wave into a calmer current — as I am now.

'I like this day: I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield; its antiquity; its retirement; its old crow-trees and thorn-trees; its grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it; shunned it like a great plague-house! How I do still abhor ——'

He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance.

We were ascending the avenue when he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire — impatience, disgust, detestation — seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict in the large pupil dilating under his ebon eyebrow. Wild was the wrestle which should be paramount; but another feeling rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical; self-willed and resolute: it settled his passion and petrified his countenance: he went on:

'During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk — a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. 'You like Thornfield?' she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows. 'Like it if you can!' 'Like it if you dare!'

'I will like it,' said I. 'I dare like it;' and (he subjoined moodily) I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood.'"

[nestaismommy]

“What did Nesta even do”

“She’s so useless”

Yeah I’ll show you what she did

A Court Of Thorns and Roses

My hands slackened at my sides. “You went after me,” I said. “You went after me—to Prythian.”

“I got to the wall. I couldn’t find a way through.”

I raised a shaking hand to my throat. “You trekked two days there and two days back—through the winter woods?”

She shrugged, looking at the sliver she’d pried from the table.

“I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.”

-

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.”

A Court of Mist and Fury

I didn’t dare look at my sisters. Look at this house, that might very well be turned to rubble. I rasped, “There are good people here.”

The golden queen sweetly parried with, “Then let the High Fae of Prythian defend them.”

Silence.

And it was Nesta who hissed from behind us, “We have servants here. With families. There are children in these lands. And you mean to leave us all in the hands of the Fae?”

The eldest one’s face softened. “It is no easy choice, girl—”

“It is the choice of cowards,” Nesta snapped.

A Court of Wings and Ruin

Chapter 18

“By the end of this war, I want them dead. The king, the queens—all of them. Promise me you’ll kill them all, and I’ll help you patch up the wall. I’ll train with her”—a jerk of her chin to Amren—“I’ll go to the Hewn City or whatever it is … I’ll do it. But only if you promise me that.”

Chapter 30

“My sister, it seemed, had found nothing in her books about repairing the wall”

So I just said, “Rhys gave me a layout of the stacks. I think there might be more on the Cauldron and wall a few levels down. You can wait here, or—”

“I’ll help you look.”

Chapter 42

“It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means … telling them what happened.”

“You went off to battle for a court you barely know—who barely see you as friends. Amren showed me the blood ruby. And when I asked you why … you said because it was the right thing. People needed help.” Her throat bobbed. “No one is going to fight to save the humans beneath the wall. No one cares. But I do.” She toyed with a fold in her dress. “I do.”

Chapter 45

“Its queens sold us out,” Nesta said. She lifted her chin, poised as any emissary. “For the gift of immortality, the human queens will allow Hybern in to sweep away any resistance. They might very well hand over control of their armies to him.” Nesta looked to me, to Rhys. “Where do the humans on our island go? We cannot evacuate them to the continent, and with the wall intact … Many might rather risk waiting than cross over the wall anyway.”

“Armies take time to raise,” Cassian said. “You don’t have the luxury of sitting on your ass. You need to rally your soldiers now.”

Beron only sneered. “I don’t take orders from the bastards of lesser fae whores.”

“That bastard,” Nesta said with utter coolness, though her eyes began to burn, “may wind up being the only person standing in the way of Hybern’s forces and your people.”

“Beron shot to his feet, not bothering to brush off the dust, and declared to no one in particular, “This meeting is over. I hope Hybern butchers you all.”

But Nesta rose from her chair. “This meeting is not over.”

She stood tall, a pillar of steel. “You are all there is,” she said to Beron, to all of us. “You are all that there is between Hybern and the end of everything that is good and decent.” She settled her stare on Beron, unflinching and fierce. “You fought against Hybern in the last war. Why do you refuse to do so now?”

“You may hate us. I don’t care if you do. But I do care if you let innocents suffer and die. At least stand for them. Your people. For Hybern will make an example of them. Of all of us.”

“And you know this how?” Beron sneered.

“I went into the Cauldron,” Nesta said flatly. “It showed me his heart. He will bring down the wall, and butcher those on either side of it.”

She looked to Kallias and Viviane. “I am sorry for the loss of those children. The loss of one is abhorrent.” She shook her head. “But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at me. “Were it not for my sister … I would be among them.”

“Too long,” Nesta said. “For too long have humans beneath the wall suffered and died while you in Prythian thrived. Not during that—queen’s reign.” She recoiled, as if hating to even speak Amarantha’s name. “But long before. If you fight for anything—fight now, to protect those you forgot. Let them know they’re not forgotten. Just this once.”

Nesta remained standing. “The past is the past. What I care about is the road ahead. What I care about is making sure no children—Fae or human—are harmed. You have been entrusted with protecting this land.” She scanned the faces around her. “How can you not fight for it?”

Chapter 49

“You come with us—to Graysen’s estate, and then travel with the army. If you’re connected with the Cauldron, then we’ll need you close. Need you to tell us if it’s being wielded again.”Not quite a mission, but Nesta nodded all the same.

Chapter 52

“I was kidnapped,” Nesta answered coolly, not one flicker of fear in her eyes. “I was taken by the army invading these lands and turned against my will.”

“How,” Nolan echoed.

“There is a Cauldron—a weapon. It grants its owner power to … do such things. I was a test.” Nesta then launched into a sharp, short explanation of the queens, of Hybern, of why the wall had fallen.

Chapter 56

“No, Nesta only made sure that Elain was dozing in her tent, and then offered to help cut up linen for bandages.”

“Faint color had stained her cheeks from the sun, and her forearms, bare beneath the sleeves she’d rolled up, were flecked with mud. Cassian slowly sat on the log where she’d been perched a moment before, groaning softly—as if even that movement taxed him. “Icing it usually helps, but wrapping it will just lock it in place long enough for the sprain to repair itself—”

She reached for the basket of bandages she’d been preparing, then for the pitcher at her feet.

I was too tired to do anything other than watch as she washed his wrist, his hand, her own fingers gentle. Too tired to ask if she possessed the magic to heal it herself. Cassian seemed too weary to speak as well while she wrapped bandages around his wrist, only grunting to confirm if it was too tight or too loose, if it helped at all. But he watched her—didn’t take his eyes off her face, the brows bunched and lips pursed in concentration.

“I helped with the wounded long into the night, Mor and Nesta working alongside me”

Chapter 62

“Your sister came immediately when I explained what we needed,” Rhys said.

“Nesta stood before the map, a fist of bones and stones clenched over it.”

Her eyes shifted beneath their lids, as if scanning the world. “I don’t see anything.”

“Go deeper,” Amren urged. “Find that tether between you.”

A muscle twitched on Nesta’s brow. Her hand bobbed. Her breath then came fast and hard, her lips curling back as she panted through her teeth.

A small noise came out of her—one of terror.

“Where is it, girl,” Amren coaxed. “Open your hand. Let us see.”

Nesta’s fingers only clutched tighter, the whites of her knuckles as stark as the stones held within them.

Chapter 64

“Nesta had stolen something vital from the Cauldron. And in those moments Nesta had hunted it down for us … The Cauldron had learned what was vital to her.”

“We’d landed inside of them, thanks to Nesta’s specifics. With a perfect view of the city of soldiers that sprawled away into the night.”

Chapter 70

“Nesta had known. She gaped up at me, terror and agony on her face, then scanned the sky for Cassian, who flapped in place, as if torn between coming for us and charging back to the scattering Illyrian and Peregryn ranks. She’d known where that blast was about to hit.

Cassian had been right in the center of it.

Or would have been, if she hadn’t called him away.”

Chapter 71

“It’s gone quiet again,” Nesta breathed, letting Cassian haul her into a sitting position as he scanned her face. Devastation and rage lay in his own. Did he know? That she had screamed for him, knowing he’d come … That she’d done it to save him?”

Chapter 72

Nesta stared toward that armada, toward our father fighting in it. “Use me. As bait.”

I blinked at the same moment Cassian said, “No.”

Nesta ignored him. “The king is probably waiting beside that Cauldron. Even if you get there, you’ll have him to contend with. Draw him out. Draw him far away. To me.”

“How,” Rhys said softly.

“It goes both ways,” Nesta murmured, as if my mate’s words moments before had triggered the idea. “He doesn’t know how much I took. And if … if I make it seem like I’m about to use his power … He’ll come running. Just to kill me.”

Chapter 74

Nesta rushed to him, kneeling.

Not to comfort.

But to pick up his Illyrian blade.

Cassian tried to stop her as she stood. As Nesta lifted that sword before the King of Hybern.

She said nothing. Only held her ground.

Nesta jumped back, clipping his sword with her own, eyes flaring wide. The king lunged again, and Nesta again dodged and retreated through the trees.

Leading him away—away from Cassian.”

“Nesta turned over, and threw out a hand.

White, burning power shot out of her palm and slammed into his chest.

A ploy. To get him close. To lower his guard.

Her power sent him flying back, trees snapping under him. One after another after another.”

“And even the Cauldron seemed to pause in surprise—surprise or some … feeling as Nesta looked at the king with death twining around his hands, then down at Cassian.

And covered Cassian’s body with her own.”

I’m not even done but I’m too lazy to complete

[ladystoneboobs]

The princess might even have considered Willas Tyrell, crippled leg and all, but her father refused to send her to Highgarden to meet him. She tried to go despite him, with Tyene's help . . . but Prince Oberyn caught them at Vaith and brought them back. -Arianne II, aFfC

suddenly, out of nowhere, intriuged by what this match would have been like if she'd made it to highgarden, bc every tyrell besides willas is racist toward the dornish. or at least mace and olenna def are and they blame oberyn for will's injury even tho willas himself doesn't. but maybe margaery and garlan could be happy for their union (loras can be kind of a dick so i'm just assuming he shares his dad's racism), a crippled reacherman and a headstrong dornishwoman against the world.

[krasnayavedma]

❝ No point negotiating, Aunt Wanda. They can say what they want — it's all bad faith. ❞

@inmutant !

[the-ellia-west]

HEY LOSERSSSS

Poll 1/2

This one is for Which WIP I should spend my time on (posting about) for the rest of this week

For TCOT you'd get a few scenes, a lot of progress updates, and I'd actually start getting back into EoW, you'd also get a ton of extra stuff. And if this gets enough votes, I may do a Character Q'nA because I'm bored

StF will get a bunch of Actual Scenes and for once, some actual character profiles, worldbuilding, ect.

J&R will all be hosted on @jakkon-and-rose-topic and have a few more scenes, some possible spoiler alerts, my plans for it as a series, and a ton of character dynamics and specific development to character Relationships we haven't explored yet

Then C4 will have me develop the stuff I do have written and show it to you. Actually make character profiles, maybe a map, and definitely some face claims I have for the characters because those are the most accurate face claims I have.

[Poll 2]

See mentions

@fanntasy131 @alnaperera @clever-naming-convention @pastellbg @smudged-red-ink

@ajgrey9647 @sl-vega @supersoakerfullofblood @jesusfreakspeaks @lunaeuphternal

@agirlandherquill @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @caffeinated-and-annoying-bard @somethingclevermahogony

@phoenixradiant @ryahisbored @latay7 @sunnyjustice @nkikio

@bigwipscholar @kia-is-poisoned @justalittlebuddy @sunflowerrosy @danielleitloudernow

@aalinaaaaaa @corinneglass @mysticstarlightduck @cupandquillcafe @rivenantiqnerd

@katwritesshit @darkandstormydolls @cybercelestian @thelazywitchphotographer @njnetails

@aesthetic-writer18 @kitteafountain @mjparkerwriting @bloodmoonloveletter @artsandstoriesandstuff

@wyked-ao3 @words-on-pa-per @blue-kyber @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @themortalityofundyingstars

@envycollective @urnumber1star @stars-forever @starmanbutitsregulusblack

I... did not know I had this many moots.... welp

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought #7: Thorns and Roses

previous · masterlist

content warnings: vampire whump, lady whumper, multiple lady whumpees, conditioned whumpees, defiant whumpee, hypnosis, manhandling,

Luke gently ran a hand over the front of his shirt, feeling the outline of the necklace there against his palm, completely hidden. Lillia gently buttoned up the last button, her eyes flitting up to his for a moment, before she stepped backwards.

He wanted to thank her again, his heart twisting slightly from the relief, but it went unspoken.

With Lillia leading the way, he was taken back to Ileana, who seemed to have seated herself at the wooden desk, her intense eyes pinning Luke to the spot as soon as he crossed the threshold.

“We’re finished, my Lady,” Lillia smiled sweetly, and Ileana rose to her feet, smoothly and gracefully, coming towards them. Luke steeled himself to the ground, watching as those pointy fingers gently carressed the bottom of Lillia’s chin, almost making her purr.

“Thank you, my darlings,” she cooed, giving Luke a slow once over. He was suddenly aware of how heavy his necklace was on his collarbone. The girls didn’t seem worried. Ileana’s lips spread into a sly smile, stepping up close to him and invading his space. She seemed to anticipate that he would take a step back, because her long, slender fingers suddenly snapped to his jaw, keeping him still. The sharp fingernails dug into his flesh, and he bit back a painful hiss.

“Much better,” she hummed, jerking his head to the side and inspecting him. The pointy nails were going to leave crescent shaped dents on his skin, he was sure. “You look far more appealing when you’re not caked in dirt, aren’t you?”

Luke huffed through gritted teeth, face twisted into a snarl. He tried to say something, demand she get her filthy hands off him, but her grasp just tightened, squishing his cheeks. It was like he was a child, and humiliation and resent stabbed at his chest.

“Ah, ah,” Ileana purred, her eyes narrowing. “I have plenty of other humans to take care of before the end of the day. Why don’t you be a good boy and get some rest? I’m sure it’ll be much easier to take everything in if you’re well rested.”

Luke gave another sharp grunt, twisting his fingers into her wrist in some attempt to get her hands off him. The pressure was making his jaw throb, like it might snap out of place, blinking back the automatic tears that stung his eyes. He could feel his neck being forced into place, twisted up at an awkward angle, and it was hard for him to look anywhere but her eyes. When he screwed his shut, Ileana gave him a hard tug. A gasp tore from his throat at the stinging pain, eyes flying open.

“I said,” the vampire murmured, and Luke was suddenly falling through tunnels of blinding red. “Why don’t you be a good boy, and get some rest?”

Luke’s breath was suddenly caught in his throat, and when Ileana’s fingers released him, he found he couldn’t quite look away. His head was going all fuzzy and heavy, his thoughts were battling for control, and his expression, wide eyed and tightened, was staring up at her. Ileana leaned forward, flashing her fangs as she smiled. He couldn’t even move back.

“That’s right,” she cooed, her voice dripping with honey. It felt like it was wrapping Luke up snugly, coiling him against her whim. “I am sure it’s been such an exhausting day for you. All you should focus on is getting some sleep. Anything of importance will be discussed later.”

This wasn’t anything like Justinian’s compulsion. This was all consuming, sinking into each limb and each shred of muscle, making them completely hers. He didn’t want to believe her, knew that she shouldn’t, but all he could think about right now was the comforting embrace of sleep. How heavy he felt. How exhausted his mind was.

Her silver hair fell past her shoulders as she brushed her hand through his own hair, the feeling tugging at something in his brain. Telling him to obey, telling him this was right. The hand slid to his cheek, and Luke didn’t even realise he was leaning into the touch. Ileana’s vibrant eyes flickered across his face for a moment, as if studying him, but she leaned back, satisfied.

Luke could only remain stood where he was, planting to the spot. He was surprised he wasn’t swaying with her snake-like movement.

“It’s refreshing to feel someone try and fight it,” Ileana hummed absentmindely, sweeping a hand under her chin as she glanced towards the three girls, all of them swiftly looking away, as if they hadn’t been intrigued by Luke’s reaction to the compulsion. Maybe they were expecting him to break out of it. He was trying, he really was.

“Lillia, Brooke.” The two girls lifted their heads obediently. “Could you take him to a room, please? Straight to bed.”

They both nodded their heads, and Ileana stepped back to her desk, letting her girls deal with the rest. The blonde stopped in front of Luke, his vision all fuzzy and his eyelids droopy. His mind could only just process the feeling of her gently taking his hand, and Brooke guiding him by the shoulder. His feet seemed to move smoothly, effortlessly, as if he wasn’t controlling them at all.

Well, he supposed he wasn’t.

His tongue felt too heavy to say anything, and everything was spinning instead.

Beside him, Brooke shifted. Lillia was still holding his hand, helping to guide him through the corridors. Her brows furrowed.

“Lillia…” She murmured, and the blonde girl looked at her, blinking her eyelashes. She tilted her head in curiosity, then glanced down to their hands. She unlinked them, pink lip twitching with a subtle smile.

“Sorry,” she breathlessly answered, her eyes switching to Luke. She slowed a little, making sure his pace was consistent. “He can still walk okay, right?”

Of course I can, Luke wanted to say. Nothing came out. Their conversation was a little fuzzy, and hard to follow when all he wanted to do was drop down on something soft and sleep all of this grogginess away. Brooke hummed, staring at him.

“Yes,” she finally said, shifting her hand from his shoulder. “I suppose he’s not used to a pureblood’s compulsion. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone fall under it so quickly. Not even you.”

Lillia blushed, her brows furrowing in embarrassment. “That’s different.”

They turned a corner.

“Well, regardless,” Brooke continued, but there was still a hint of amusement in her tone. They stopped by a door, and Lillia fished for a key of sorts, inserting it into the lock. She gave it a hard twist, and it creaked open. Luke felt like he was hit with vertigo when they finally stepped inside. “It must have been some life. Living out there, I mean.”

It was a bedroom, it seemed. Not too large, but extravagantly filled. If Luke had been in his right mind, he might have taken a moment to observe. Instead, he felt an overwhelming tug towards the bed, Ileana’s silky voice weaving between all of his thoughts again. There was a moment of silence, before Lillia spoke. Her voice, this time, was a breathless whisper.

“Oh, Brooke,” she murmured. “I feel sorry for him.”

“Lillia, come on,” Brooke sighed. “We’ve tended to so many other humans before this. Why are you so upset?”

Their words were fuzzy, going in and out. He could barely follow it.

“Because…” She paused, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “Out there, it was probably safe, right? He could have lived a life without having to deal with all of this. We got lucky and yet…the things that we went through. What you went through. Out of everyone, he could have been the closest to ever living a normal life out there. How often do you even think he saw a vampire?”

Luke’s chest stabbed once, then twice. The realisation of this conversation was going to barrel into him in the morning. Whenever that was - Luke didn’t even know what time it was right now.

“Should I feel guilty?” Lillia continued, her voice breathless. “Do I even have that right when we’ve done this to so many other humans?”

Brooke suddenly cut in. “Don’t let Ileana hear you saying things like that.”

“She’s been too distracted with Cali,” the blonde murmured softly under her breath, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. Brooke’s eyes didn’t falter from hers, until suddenly, she was smiling slightly.

“Our Lady has her attention elsewhere, and so you move your interests towards the first guy you see?” She teases, her smile suddenly becoming coy. “And you say I’m the jealous one.”

Lillia’s cheeks went bright red. “It’s not like that. I just want to know more about what’s out there. About him. That’s all.”

Luke felt a faint touch on his arm, and just like that, everything was a blur again. His thoughts didn’t even register it this time, lost in the fuzzy sensations that were engulfing him. He felt something comforting beneath him, making him sink further under. He wanted to open his mouth, wanted to say something, but nothing was working. There must have been a slurred murmur on his tongue, because Lillia suddenly paused, grasping the bedsheets.

She glanced at Brooke. “He’s fighting it.”

“It won’t matter,” the other girl simply responded, tugging the bed sheets up instead. “He’ll just have a headache in the morning. Let’s hurry back.”

Luke’s curls splayed out on the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. Lillia and Brooke were simply two blobs in his vision now, fading into a black void as his mind slipped away, drifting off into a peaceful, undisturbed slumber. He didn’t even hear the door close.

. . .

Luke did have something of a headache when he woke up.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but ironically, it was almost as though he’d slept like the dead. Tingles reverberated in his skull as his eyes fluttered open, almost on command. He was lay flat on his back, seemingly just how he’d been left, the soft sheets cool and comfortable over his body.

Luke’s hand flew up to his temple, giving it a tense massage.

Regardless of the tingling sensation through his skull, Luke hated to admit how refreshed he felt. It was almost like the perfect sleep, and it irked him to know he’d been sleeping away so easily while Ten was somewhere out there all alone.

As if on a schedule, there was a click from the door.

The lock, Luke realised, lifting his head to watch as it swung open, and Lillia stepped inside. She was balancing a tray on her hand, a sweet smile spread across her face. Her hair was styled today, curling slightly at the bottom, half up and half down. Luke must have had a scowl on his face when she approached, because her smile faltered a little bit.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asked, placing the tray down on the bedside table with a small clatter. There was a plate of food, something foreign to Luke, and a glass of water. He eyed it wearily, sitting up. “You may have a headache.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, feeling the pleasant stretch in his back as he straightened up. No pain. It was as if the sleep had completely rejuvenated him. Lillia was watching curiously, and also knowingly, eager to get her two cents in.

“I love sleeping under compulsion,” she giggled, as if she could read his mind. Luke sent her a hard look. “I feel amazing when I wake up. I don’t get nightmares like Brooke, but I still ask my Lady. She’s always happy to oblige.”

Luke’s mouth was dry. “Right. Your Lady.”

Ileana - if the silver haired vampire was going to compel him into behaving, then Luke needed to get out of here as swiftly as possible. At least with Silas, there was some petty arrogance in being able to deal with any physical beating he threw his way. He’d hated the feeling of losing all of that power, so much more consuming and powerful that Justinian’s had been.

He recalled something one of the girls had said - a pureblood. Luke was out of his depth when it came to the intricacies of vampires. He didn’t even know a pureblood was a thing, or what it meant. Though, he could guess turning wasn’t the only way to create a vampire.

“Can I have some water?” He asked, pointing to the glass. Lillia winced, nodding her head as she collected herself. She’d been staring at him again.

“Of course,” she smiled, handing him the glass. She went back to the tray again. “I have some medicine for your headache, too.”

Luke took a sip. It was cool and refreshing on his dry tongue. “I’m not taking medicine.”

“But it’ll help.”

“I’m not taking it,” he firmly repeated, and Lillia flinched back. A silence spread through the room as he drank his fill, eyes flickering over to the food. The blonde looked a little fidgety now, and Luke suddenly regretted snapping the way he had done. A quiet sigh slipped past his lips.

“What’s that?”

Motioning to the food, he watched as Lillia followed it, her eyes brightening back up again.

“That’s right,” she beamed, giggling softly. “You have probably never seen something like this, have you?”

She carefully plucked the tray up, placing it on his lap. It was warm through the duvet, almost pleasant would it not be for his current situation. He had been ready to protest, but begrudgingly clamped his mouth shut after feeling a sting of regret for snapping at her when none of this was her fault. He made a disgruntled noise, but didn’t protest. Lillia looked almost pleased to tell him all about the food, which Luke stared at with hard eyes. It was circular shaped, steam rising from the surface. Something golden and thick was smothered all over it, glistening over the spongy substance.

Luke frowned hard.

“They’re pancakes,” Lillia giggled, observing his expression with glee. “Just try them.”

Luke didn’t protest when the fork was pushed into his hand, the knife in the other. After a moment of, as Lillia claimed, etiquette, since apparently it would be messy to eat with his hands, he was cutting into a small bit along the edge, soft and easy to glide along the blade of the knife. The girl suggested scooping up some syrup, she called it, and so he did.

He eased it into his mouth. Luke wasn’t exactly worried about poison; if they wanted him dead, he would be dead already. No, he was here for something far worse.

The first thing he noticed was the taste. His jaw instantly stilled, nose wrinkling slightly. It was an overpowering taste, and he promptly stared at Lillia, who looked like she was struggling to hold in a laugh behind her hand. She snorted, her eyes crinkling with a laugh as he continued to slowly chew. It was like paste, a little soggy with the syrup, and so sweet.

“It has a lot of sugar,” Lillia giggled, trying to get herself together. A part of him might be able to forget he’d been kidnapped by vampires if Lillia was by his side. “The syrup is a little sickly. You’re just not used to it.”

Luke prodded the sponge. It wasn’t bad - just not what he was used to.

“You need to eat, though,” she continued, having calmed herself down a little bit now. She tucked some hair behind her ear. “My Lady wants you to be as healthy as possible.”

“It’s…” He took another bite. “What is this?”

“Pancakes,” Lillia smiled. “They’re very nice. You can have them with all sorts of toppings. Maybe I shouldn’t have started with syrup.”

Luke grunted. He tried scraping as much of the syrup off as possible, before continuing to eat. Even if it didn’t taste amazing, his body was clawing at any chance to get some food into his stomach. He wondered just how much food the kingdom had access to when his people had been starving out in barren lands. Absentmindedly, his eyes trailed to the window.

“Can you do me a favour?” He began, glancing at Lillia as he ate. The girl’s spine straightened, beaming from head to toe.

“Happy to help.”

He motioned to the window. “The window.”

Lillia followed his gaze, rubbing her hands together. “You would like some fresh air?”

Her voice was a little tight, her throat bobbing. She looked back towards Luke, her blue eyes softening with that same look of sympathy again. A part of him recalled the conversation she and Brooke had had when he was under Ileana’s compulsion. Lillia and the others served their “Lady” like obedient pets, helping to prepare their own kind to be sold off to the same creatures that enslaved them too. Luke doubted she didn’t have a choice, but she seemed rather complacent in her role.

“Yes,” he answered. He paused, adding a small: “Please?”

The girl rubbed her neck. It seemed like the windows were meant to be kept locked shut, otherwise she wouldn't be hesitating as much as she was. After a few quiet moments, she seemed to relent. Judging by the fact she had let him keep his necklace, Luke had been expecting it.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Though, we must make a leave when you’re finished eating. My Lady is feeding, but she expects us to be on time.”

Luke dismissively nodded her head. Finished with his plate, Lillia leaned forward to take it, placing it on the bedside table once more. She watched him as he slipped out of bed, feeling a little fuzzy headed as he rose to his feet. His socked feet hit the floor, taking a moment to steady himself. Once Lillia deemed him okay to stand, she began moving over to the window, one that she opened with a key attached to a necklace around her neck. She eased it back under her clothes once done, as Luke silently picked up one of the silk napkins (was it a handkerchief? Luke didn’t care to know), cradling it in his palm.

Lillia unlatched the window, huffing as she pushed it upwards. Luke’s eyes darted to the door, murmuring a silent apology under his breath as he pressed the cloth over her mouth and nose, pulling her back against him. Lillia’s squeal was swallowed by his hand, her scared flails pinned by Luke’s other arm as he kept her close, preventing her from making too much noise.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry for knocking her out like this, but he didn’t want to say anything that the vampires, especially Ileana, might overhear. He was probably pushing his luck thinking he could do this without being caught. Lillia went under more swiftly than he had expected, her body going limp within a few minutes. He ever so gently set her down on the floor, her face relaxed and eyes closed. He made sure she was still breathing properly, setting her down modestly on her back.

Luke felt bad, but his survival was paramount. He had an eleven year old kid to look for. Stepping up towards the window, he leaned out, taking in the ground below him. It was clear, as far as he could see. He felt confidence spark in his chest as he swung his legs over, determined to make a swift getaway.

Everything Tag List: @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires @thecyrulik

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 9

TW: Violence, blood, worry, bruises, choking

"What is the point?" Villain hisses, fingers tightening with a subtle threat at Hero's throat, leaving scattered bruises all over their neck in ugly shades of purple and brown.

"Of what?" Hero rasps weakly, playing the fool and gasping for air. They refuse to meet the villain's steel-hard gaze, trying their hardest to pry their fingers off of their neck.

The criminal aims a cruel kick to their ribs with their knee, force just shy away from causing a fracture. The crime-fighter lets out a wince, and the villain sharply tilts their chin up, forcing them to meet their eyes.

"You're going to kill yourself! Running back and forth between the agency and I, like some frenzied animal, trying to reach the unattainable," they snap, the muscles of their face contorting into an expression of pure, unbridled fury.

But behind the reinforced concrete wall of anger, their eyes still hold a look of hurt, a sign of something the villain had tried so hard to bury deep within their being, to obliterate and destroy, shattering it like a flimsy piece of glass.

Yet, the hero was willing to pick up the pieces, to prick their fingers on the thorns in Villain's rose garden, just to hold them close.

Wrenching their nemesis's hand off their throat, they push them away, still trying to be gentle. A damned fool, as always.

"It's not 'unattainable', Villain. I want to be a hero, to save people. And I still want to love you. You don't have the right to tell me how to live my life," they answer softly, gently resting a hand on their shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

The villain pushes their hand off like it was burning them. "You don't get it, don't you?" they say, tone disbelieving, shaking their head and laughing humourlessly.

"No," the hero says pragmatically, "I don't."

Villain let out an almost animalistic snarl, letting their fist collide with the crime-fighter's nose, drawing blood. "The desire I experience for you, these flames that I cannot put out, licking my heart and burning it blackened is not the one from the sonnets and the romances, Hero. It is the one from tragedies, torn apart and yet so incredibly close together, like a tapestry woven with the twisted threads of a cruel, beautiful fate."

"Then maybe," the hero says sharply, all the softness from their gaze gone, "I would gladly handle the heat of the flames." They pull the criminal close, kissing their jaw, leaving them dazed and at a loss for words, face flushed scarlet.

"But, it's wearing you down," the criminal attests, still breathless.

"Sweetness," Hero says softly, "I need to you to trust that I can do this." They cup the villain's face with their hands lovingly.

With a tenderness they don't think they deserve. . .

But, they nod at the hero fervently, eyes as wide as saucers, not saying a word because it didn't seem like it would make any difference.

They want, more than anything, to believe Hero, to register the kind words, to lose themselves in the feeling of being loved. But the sugar-sweet moments would always have a bitter taste; the villain's past, their fear of desecrating the hero trailing them like their own shadow. But Hero had always told them that their story didn't have to be a tragedy because it was theirs to rewrite.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump

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