#the way i laboured for so long over this shall not be spoken of

[charbroiledchicken]

remix of "the smallest man who ever lived" and "drivers license" with some added orchestral/instrumental elements.

credits to taylor swift and olivia rodrigo for the original songs

[thebadboyfanclub]

You Bled For Them, You Decide Pt.1 (Daemon x Reader)

Once again this was challenging but so fun to write, I hope you guys like as well. Enjoy!

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Daemon Targaryen or else known as “the rogue prince” had inherited the free spirit of his mother, for years he traveled as he lusted over two things, war and women. He loved his life and new found freedom after the… sudden death of his lady wife Rhea. The night after Rhaenyras wedding he fled and in a spur of the moment finding refugee in Pentos, the prince of pentos welcomed him with open arms as soon as Daemon landed with Caraxes and even threw a celebration in his honour.

That’s where he met her, (y/n). She was the daughter of a gemstone and dragonbone merchant, she stood next to her father when Daemon first laid eyes on her, her hair dark and long, her (y/e/c) eyes pierced with through his heart and made him feel like he was thrown to the flames, she held the moon and stars in those hues of hers, her lips tempting him as she bit them, her body was barely covered by a dress, it was normal for the women to dress with light materials due to the heat of the city, it did wonders for Daemons imagination. As the breeze went through her the herbal scent hit him like a brick. She was sent by the Gods for him

“It was like fate had struck me”

He would often say. It wasn’t long until he married her, her father was delighted when he saw Daemon Targaryen asking for his daughters hand. (Y/n) had prayed for their union right after that night, she could sense that this was the man for her, the man that would stand by her side until the end of their days.

Daemon spend his days and nights in her arms, the only thing that dragged him out of the bed was his dragon, other than that he spend it pleasuring his wife. Oh what a sight she was when she trembled under his touch, he held her tightly as he took her through the roads of pleasure, the servants would blush and ran away as they would couple wherever and whenever, the study room, the gardens, the bath, even up in the air while Daemon road his dragon, (y/n) rode Daemon.

It wasn’t long until (y/n) was with child, Princess Alyssa was first, (y/n) gave birth by herself in the garden with the help of her husband under a full moon, she did not trust the maesters. Not long after that came the triplets, prince Aevor, princess Eraessa and princess Aerella that were born by the help of their father in their bath on a cold rainy day, (y/n) always felt at home when surrounded by water. On the triplets first nameday (y/n) gave birth to prince Victor, unfortunately (y/n) laid ill with fever for two morrows after that birth, Daemon never left her side since he feared that he would suffer the fate of his father and brother, of course a little while after (y/n) was surrounded by her children and husband as she pushed out a daughter Johanna.

“We have been summoned”

“For what my love?”

“Laenas funeral, she died during childbirth, she commanded her dragon to set her on fire”

(Y/n) rubbed on her growing belly at the news, she had never met Daemons family yet her heart ached for the woman, every woman had feared of childbirth, all of them were willing to take the risk for their kins still their hearts skipped a beat when the labour pains began.

Daemon saw the pain in his lady wives eyes, he took her hands to place kisses on her knuckles as a way to comfort her, they didn’t have to speak about it, the eyes said everything that needed to be spoken.

“Do you want to go?”

“My brother pleaded, he wishes to be introduced to our children”

“I did not ask about your brother, I asked what do you want”

Daemon was thankful for his wife for countless reasons, one of them was her patience with him and the way she made him feel important, all his life he spend yelling to be heard and now he had someone that he could whisper to. Daemon kissed his wife on the lips softly as a way to say thank you to her, he was never good with words so physical touch was his way of showing gratitude.

“We shall leave on the morrow”

-

(Y/n) rode on her husbands dragon as she held on to him tightly, she could see why Daemon and her children loved riding so much, the peaceful feeling mixed with the power it brings, it was addicting to say the least.

After the family landed the first one to touch ground was Daemon who was careful enough to assist (y/n) by holding her waist until her feet are steady, (y/n) rushed to the eldest daughter Alyssa whom was holding little Johanna, her hatchling was way too small and she was far too young to ride, Alyssa had volunteered as to being the one to hold her sister for the ride.

(y/n) took the babe in her arms and she quite envied how it was the only one that was dressed in white clothing, (y/n) had to prepare an all black dress in just a few hours which had been a struggle given the fact that her babe was due any minute now.

“How was she?”

“I believe she slept the entire way, she seemed to stir awake as we were landing”

Alyssa always felt the responsibility for her siblings, her parents had embedded in her brain “family sticks together” that they would repeat almost every day. (Y/n) turned back to her husband with their daughter on her hip, Daemon was already greeted by his brother, king Viserys.

(Y/n)s courage seemed to waver for a moment as she did not make a step to approach the two brothers, they had never been introduced since the couple had eloped in pentos and resided there for their entirety of their wedding.

“(Y/n)”

Daemon spoke softly, his hand reaching out for her. (Y/n) pushed every bad thought aside and made her way to her husbands side with their daughter, as she stopped king Viserys smiled brightly, his eyes immediately focusing on the little girl.

“Gods be good, how old?”

“She is almost two, her name is johanna after my mother”

“Beautiful, congratulations brother you have been blessed with a wonderful family. May I hold her?”

“Of course… your grace”

(Y/n) did not quite know how to address him, alas she passed Johanna to king Viserys who beamed with joy as he held her. Johanna was not a difficult child nor did she cry a lot, she seemed quite comfortable in her uncles arms.

“My apologies I completely ignored your lady wife and we have never been introduced. What is your name?”

“I am (y/n)… your grace”

She introduced herself as she took a small curtsy, well as low as her condition allowed to do so without falling down. technically pentos was a free country yet the soul of the ground she was now stepping on was under the Targaryen legacy so it was almost obligating. King Viserys laughed lightly at (y/n)s uneasiness, at first he was furious at his brother running off to marry a nobody, as the years passed and caught wind of how Daemon was content with his family and had brought so many children with the woman, his heart soften.

“You needn’t bow dear, we are family. I have heard tales about your choice in the matter of giving birth”

“My mother gave birth to twelve children, she always said how nobody knows better than the woman”

“Your mother was fearless but some assistance would never hurt”

“If my time comes while I give birth to my children then there is nothing a… man can do, it is something above our powers and so far I have been victorious”

“I assume there is no greater force than the force of a mother. Let us join the others, it is almost time for the ceremony”

In pentos they spoke bastard Valyrian so (y/n) could somewhat understand what the man was saying as he send his niece away to the afterlife. (Y/n) clung on to her husband for comfort as the ceremony brought her worry and sadness, being surrounded by unfamiliar faces that grieved in a ceremony of a woman she never met brought a certain discomfort to (y/n).

Daemon gave his wife’s hand a squeeze as he leaned down to place a kiss on the top of her head, Daemon feared for her life every time she was to give birth, he was never a religious man yet internally he would pray to the old and new gods for a safe delivery.

“Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.”

Before (y/n) could comprehend what was said and the reason behind those sly remarks when the man gazed at a woman who had her arms wrapped around two boys the ceremony was interrupted by a baby crying in the near distance, her ears perked up at the sound of her youngest daughter wails. Alyssa tried to shush the babe to no avail, the child was begging for it’s mother, (y/n) fleeted her husbands side to soothe her baby and to also make it stop crying while the ceremony is taking place.

“I’m sorry mother”

“It’s alright Alyssa, Johanna is probably hungry, aren’t you my little sunshine?”

The babe settled as (y/n) rocked Johanna in her arms, she did not try to go back in her place, they had already brought enough attention to them for now, she remained close to her children who all surrounded her, it was quite the scene as 5 children build a wall around a woman that looked nothing like them.

Alyssa had her grandmothers eyes, one was violet and the other green, the triplets had silver white hair but all had different colour eyes, prince Aevor was a spitting image of his father, princess Eraessa had green eyes and Aerellahad violet, Victor had inherited his grandfathers black colour and Johanna seemed to match her sister with violet eyes and a few strands of black hair intertwined with her silver hair.

All of them looked like Targaryens which had caused a stir in everyone’s hearts along with judgement, there she was a woman that had no correlation to the Targaryen bloodline or any type of royal bloodline yet her children looked like what true born heirs should be.

“How is moon and my stars?”

Daemon would call his family that at the explanation of the moon and the stars were the only way you could find home while sailing or riding dragons. Daemon cradled his youngest daughter in his arms to ease the weight his wife was carrying, she was already burdened with a child in her guts she mustn’t hold another.

“Father can we go explore please?”

“Of course, Alyssa please escort your siblings, make sure they are safe”

“Of course father”

As the kids scurried away little Johanna was the only one that remained, she was too young to go with the others. (Y/n) turned to her husband with a disapproving look

“Alyssa is a child my love we mustn’t put such responsibility on her”

“She is our first born and she is perfectly capable of protecting her siblings, you coddle her”

“Would that be so bad? To keep my child safe and allow her to enjoy her adolescence?”

“Alyssa looks like our mother, she always spoke of how we could never get rid of her and it is only natural that she chose you to make her way back to us”

Daemons brother interrupted the quarrel as he approached them, a blonde haired woman who (y/n) assumed was close or maybe a year younger next to him, she was the one that the man was staring at when he spoke. What made (y/n) question the woman’s approach was how she took in her husband, it reminded (y/n) of a hawk inspecting its prey.

Daemon was amazed when he first took in Alyssa’s appearance, it was only fair that the babe got his mothers name, under the light of the full moon he swore to sacrifice everyone to keep his family safe.

“Mothers spirit could not be stopped by death, sometimes when she gets frustrated I swear it is our mother hiding behind my daughters eyes”

“Alyssa might have your mothers name but she is her own person and she will write her own story. Such expectations are a heavy burden for a young girl”

(Y/n) interrupted, she understood her husbands love and devotion to their family still she was also a mother and she wanted her child to have a quiet and happy life, to live without a target on her back, Daemon was driven by ambition, (y/n) was driven by compassion.

Viserys smiled fondly at the young woman, he detected the powerful urge of the mother spreading her wings to protect her young ones. The woman on his side kept looking at Daemon, (y/n) doubted that she even heard any part of the conversation, she also could feel that the woman was waiting to be greeted or for her presence to be acknowledged.

Daemon brought his wife closer to him by a gentle grip on her waist, sometimes he would forget that his wife had a backbone of her own and was not easily persuaded when it came to such delicate matters, he had fought wars and seen the worst in people, still he took a step back when it came to his wife. Their dynamic worked only if both of them made the effort, Daemon was the protector when it came to the outside but indoors (y/n) had the final decision.

“You bled for them, you decide”

Daemon had once muttered to her, it was a sign of respect from him, he was forever in her debt for the continuation of her sacrifices to expand their family.

“If I didn’t know any better I would say your wife has dragons blood in her dear uncle”

“Pentos is a free country my lady, we have fought for our freedom, allow me to say we have our own fire that burns bright”

“(Y/n) this is my daughter Rhaenyra, my heir”

“Pleasure to meet you princess”

“Likewise, is this your child?”

“One of them yes, her name is Johanna, I believe the entire trip and ceremony tired her out”

(Y/n) cooed at her baby girl as she petted the girls silver hair, Johanna had leaned into her fathers shoulder with her eyes half closed, poor thing was fighting against slumber.

Rhaenyra felt a pain in her heart as she looked at the couple, Daemon had never been so gentle with Rhaenyra or anyone for that matter, now he didn’t even spare a glimpse in her direction as he was occupied with gazing lovingly at his wife, she felt jealousy boil in her heart thinking she was supposed to be the one in (y/n)s place.

“One of them?”

“Yes, the gods have been quite generous, we have 6 children now”

“Such… great news”

She mumbled. Rhaenyra was stunned, 6 children. Daemon had never discussed the matter of children in the past, now he fathered 6 kids and another one was on the way. Rhaenyra felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as her heart beat so fast she could swear that it was going to come out from her throat.

“Excuse me”

Rhaenyra managed to grumbled as she stumbled away from the couple, she could not believe what she had witness. Rhaenyra did her best to keep her composure until she was out of sight, not only has her first love moved on and has a happy family -something that she was robbed from- he had now unintentionally blown her cover and paraded his Targaryen featured children for everyone.

Part two

Requests are open!

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 5

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” | Bite

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Contains: lady whump, magical restraints (cursed jewellery), suicide mention, magical forced contraception, forced labour, captivity, reference to dubcon/noncon sex as well as consensual sex

WC: 910

Docile as a lamb

As always, the maidservant tried to conceal the garish bites and bruises on her skin. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” she said, not for the first time. “They don’t hurt.”

As always, her friend—her only friend, a fellow servant with wispy yellow hair and kind golden-brown eyes—prodded her with a tone gently teasing, yet with an expression full of sorrow and concern. “I should hope not.” She carefully, tenderly positioned the maidservant’s hair so it partially masked the marks. “Otherwise, I’d fear that  . . .” She paused. “That whoever you’re using to make me jealous hasn’t the faintest idea what they’re doing.”

The prince, the maidservant thought bitterly, had known exactly what he was doing.

She sometimes wondered if he knew or cared that the girl who shared her bed was, many nights, more than a mere friend. If sometimes he took petty revenge by branding her the way he did. “We should be off,” she said, trying not to let too much gloom creep into her voice. “Shall we go?”

Her friend sighed, letting the topic drop, moving on to lament the dawn of another long, ordinary, mind-numbing day of work.

Or so the maidservant thought.

After supper, when work was done and she was ready to tumble into her cot, nestled against the warm, welcome body next to her, a knock sounded on the door of the servants’ quarters.

A guard, trimmed in smooth leather and glinting steel. “You’ve been summoned,” he said, jerking his head. “Come with me.”

Of course, the prince made her wait. Not in his bedchamber, but a counsel room—hollow stone, dark and windowless. Stomach twisting with nerves, she stood with her head bowed, wondering what he wanted.

Had she displeased him? It took very little, most days. Spoken out of turn? Left a stain on a priceless silk tunic? Did it have to do with his secretly harboured jealousy that he was not the only one she bedded? What if it had nothing to do with her at all, but her brother? Had he tried to kill another guard? Escaped his chains? Tried to flee?

The possibilities swirled relentlessly through her head, biting and snapping, until the prince finally appeared.

She dropped to her knees when she saw he was not alone.

“You see?” the usurper prince crowed to his mother. “Obedient as a little pup. Docile as a lamb.”

The maidservant bit her tongue.

“It certainly seems so,” said the queen, her voice harsh and suspicious. “Look at me, girl.”

Despising herself for proving him right, the maidservant obeyed.

It had been a long time since she’d laid eyes on the queen at such a close distance. There she stood: the woman who had ordered a whole family slaughtered and then stolen a crown still steeped in royal blood. Jealously, the maidservant observed that unearned power suited her well: her locks were glossy hazelnut-brown, streaked with elegant grey, and she was resplendent despite the late hour in a gown of silver and cream velvet, trimmed in dainty pearls and hand-stitched lace. Her cold moonlight eyes, matching her son’s so perfectly, swept over the maidservant, cruel and unimpressed.

The sharp, disapproving line of her mouth twisted ever so slightly. “How can you be sure she won’t run? Or squawk?”

In a few surefooted strides, the prince stood beside the maidservant, jerking her roughly to her feet with a hand on her elbow. “Get up.” To his mother, he said, “Please. Give me some credit. I’m good at what I do.”

As if she were a puppet, built of long-dead timber and manipulated by fine, invisible strings, he lifted one wrist, showing off the tiny charm hanging off her bracelet-shackle.

“This one keeps her inside the palace boundaries.” Fondling carelessly the one at her throat, making her wince as the chain cut into her skin, he added, “And this ensures she cannot reveal her true name.”

Despite the mistrust clear on her face, the queen smirked. “And the others?”

“Oh.” He snorted. “So she can’t kill herself.”

“Ah, yes. I forgot that was a necessity with this one.”

“Both of them,” said the prince, and the maidservant watched, numb, while the two of them laughed.

He didn’t explain, or perhaps didn’t need to, that the charm in question also prevented her from harming not just herself but anyone else, even in self-defence. Even if her life depended on it.

Nor did he bring up the last charm, the one she both loathed and was grateful for, which meant there would be no unwanted bastard heirs growing inside her as long as the cursed ornaments remained.

“Please, Your Highnesses,” she said, twisting her hands and staring at the floor. “Why . . .” She paused, thinking better of her phrasing. “How can I serve you tonight?”

There it was—that slow smile she hated more than anything in the world. It crawled over the prince’s face like an infestation of insects, dreadful and sinister.

“Not tonight, little lamb.” She blanched, fearful of whatever malevolent promise those four words held for her. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow—the festival. The ball. “I—But—?” She choked back a protest. “Your Highness?”

Surrounded by strangers—visitors and courtiers who would look right through her. Unable to plead for deliverance from this hell. Unable to even whisper her own name.

“That’s right, pretty thing. You’re going to make yourself useful, finally. Really earn your keep. I have a job for you.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

31st December >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

The Holy Family 

(Liturgical Colour: White: B (2))

Either:

First Reading Genesis 15:1-6,21:1-3 Your heir shall be your own flesh and blood.

The word of the Lord was spoken to Abram in a vision, ‘Have no fear, Abram, I am your shield; your reward will be very great.’ ‘My Lord,’ Abram replied ‘what do you intend to give me? I go childless…’. Then Abram said, ‘See, you have given me no descendants; some man of my household will be my heir.’ And then this word of the Lord was spoken to him, ‘He shall not be your heir; your heir shall be of your own flesh and blood.’ Then taking him outside he said, ‘Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants’ he told him. Abram put his faith in the Lord, who counted this as making him justified.

The Lord dealt kindly with Sarah as he had said, and did what he had promised. So Sarah conceived and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the time God had promised. Abraham named the son born to him Isaac, the son to whom Sarah had given birth.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading Ecclesiasticus 3:2-6,12-14 He who fears the Lord respects his parents.

The Lord honours the father in his children, and upholds the rights of a mother over her sons. Whoever respects his father is atoning for his sins, he who honours his mother is like someone amassing a fortune. Whoever respects his father will be happy with children of his own, he shall be heard on the day when he prays. Long life comes to him who honours his father, he who sets his mother at ease is showing obedience to the Lord. My son, support your father in his old age, do not grieve him during his life. Even if his mind should fail, show him sympathy, do not despise him in your health and strength; for kindness to a father shall not be forgotten but will serve as reparation for your sins.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Either:

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 104(105):1-6,8-9

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Give thanks to the Lord, tell his name, make known his deeds among the peoples. O sing to him, sing his praise; tell all his wonderful works!

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Be proud of his holy name, let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice. Consider the Lord and his strength; constantly seek his face.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles, the judgements he spoke. O children of Abraham, his servant, O sons of the Jacob he chose.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

He remembers his covenant for ever, his promise for a thousand generations, the covenant he made with Abraham, the oath he swore to Isaac.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Or:

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 127(128):1-5

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways! By the labour of your hands you shall eat. You will be happy and prosper.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine in the heart of your house; your children like shoots of the olive, around your table.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Indeed thus shall be blessed the man who fears the Lord. May the Lord bless you from Zion all the days of your life!

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Second Reading Hebrews 11:8,11-12,17-19 The faith of Abraham and of Sarah.

It was by faith that Abraham obeyed the call to set out for a country that was the inheritance given to him and his descendants, and that he set out without knowing where he was going. It was equally by faith that Sarah, in spite of being past the age, was made able to conceive, because she believed that he who had made the promise would be faithful to it. Because of this, there came from one man, and one who was already as good as dead himself, more descendants than could be counted, as many as the stars of heaven or the grains of sand on the seashore.

It was by faith that Abraham, when put to the test, offered up Isaac. He offered to sacrifice his only son even though the promises had been made to him and he had been told: It is through Isaac that your name will be carried on. He was confident that God had the power even to raise the dead; and so, figuratively speaking, he was given back Isaac from the dead.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation Hebrews 1:1-2

Alleluia, alleluia! At various times in the past and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time, the last days, he has spoken to us through his Son. Alleluia!

Either:

Gospel Luke 2:22-40 My eyes have seen your salvation.

When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, – observing what stands written in the Law of the Lord: Every first-born male must be consecrated to the Lord – and also to offer in sacrifice, in accordance with what is said in the Law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.

Now in Jerusalem there was a man named Simeon. He was an upright and devout man; he looked forward to Israel’s comforting and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death until he had set eyes on the Christ of the Lord. Prompted by the Spirit he came to the Temple and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the Law required, he took him into his arms and blessed God; and he said:

‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised; because my eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel.’

As the child’s father and mother stood there wondering at the things that were being said about him, Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘You see this child: he is destined for the fall and for the rising of many in Israel, destined to be a sign that is rejected – and a sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the secret thoughts of many may be laid bare.’

There was a prophetess also, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well on in years. Her days of girlhood over, she had been married for seven years before becoming a widow. She was now eighty-four years old and never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. She came by just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Or:

Gospel Luke 2:22,39-40 They went back to Galilee, to Nazareth.

When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord.

When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[jaskier-cult]

Different not Normal

Different Not Normal [OR; Blue Moon Eyes]

AO3 link here!  (Might write a second part! Leave a reply if you’d like to see that). 

Madeleine Caillebotte of Armeria and Alfred Gabriel Pankratz of Lettenhove were married in August under an arch braided with buttercups.

Both noble families were in attendance to witness the arranged marriage that would solidify the union between Armeria and Lettenhove, which were now trading partners and past long-time feuding neighbours. Her Lady Madeleine wore a baby blue dress that hung with a golden lining. His Lord Alfred bore his father’s ceremonial sword at his hip, adorned with jewels of far off lands.

Young and terribly in love, the nobles kissed under the arch.

Three months later, they fell pregnant.

It was a joyous occasion when Madeleine Caillebotte of Armeria, now countess of Lettenhove and newlywed wife of Alfred Gabriel Pankratz, discovered her pregnancy.

They were complimented by their noble peers and people alike when it took little effort on Madeleine’s part to fall pregnant. They were praised by their healers and midwives when the pregnancy was smooth and easy. Madeleine practically glowed. The pregnancy milestones hit like clockwork. And when the nine-month mark hit, she went into labour.

That’s when complications arose. 

The countess fell faint with painful contractions. Labour lasted a consecutive twenty-six hours. The midwife and healers were late. The babe was delivered without help.

Her babe is stillborn.

It would have been a girl.

But there is was no use in what would have been, or naming the stillborn, because there was no fruit for their labour. The babe is buried in the back of their garden with an unmarked gravestone, for mourning.

A few months pass before the two nobles try again, still and love and wanting for a child.

Again, they fall pregnant easily. Celebrations are twice as boisterous as before, putting stock in the second chance the gods had given the Lettenhove noble family. Their would-have-been firstborn is forgotten in the wake of a new expected babe.

When the nine-month mark hit, complications arose.

The delivery is difficult. Labour lasts for sixteen hours and counting, shorter than the last pregnancy, but more painful. Madeleine almost loses too much blood, the babe is breeched, and the countess passes out during labour, unable to keep up pushing.

Her babe is stillborn.

It would have been another girl.

Tears are shed for another would-have-been babe, but there was no use for naming, because there was no fruit for their labour. The babe is buried in the back garden alongside the last with another unmarked gravestone, for mourning.

The nobles try again, hopeful.

This time they do not have celebrations. They do not accept favours from neighbouring noble families, they do not throw a party, they do not announce it to their lands. Instead, this time, they visit as many healers and mages as possible, and pray to the gods every day and night in hope for a healthy born babe. Their prayers must be heard, because the pregnancy is once again easy. Madeleine practically glows. It’s even easier than the first two times.

But then the nine-month mark hits, and complications arise.

The babe is stillborn.

Another girl.

Another unmarked grace.

Again, they try. And again, they fall pregnant. And again, the babe is born at nine months to the second and is stillborn. All are girls and all are buried in unmarked graves.

The gravestones line up on the Lettenhove estate.

Six stillborn babes and nothing, and the Pankratz family is desperate.

Tension runs high. Arguments and fights break out amongst the once lovers, so happy with their arranged marriage, now angry and bitter. Fingers are pointed every which way for who is at fault for the problems with fertility and birth. Madeleine breaks down sobbing in another man’s arms for comfort, a secret between the countess and the young minstrel presiding in their manor. Alfred leaves for hours and drinks away the sorrows in the bottom of a bottle when he laments over the loss of children and an heir. At the end of the day, both always go back to one another, but the relationship is tenuous and wearing thin. Courting offers from close noble families lay at the viscount’s desk every morning.

Then the viscountess begins to panic.

If Madeleine can’t produce an heir for their estate, she knows she will be killed or divorced, with nothing to her name. She was the fifth-born daughter of her family, only used for political gain, and has no place back at her home estate. She must bear a child, and there’s only one thing she can do.

It’s early spring, and in the middle of the night, Madeleine sneaks out and runs to the forest.

The viscountess knows she should not be in the forest, especially not alone. Predators prowl at night, and not of the natural kind.

But in the middle of a field of wildflowers, she prays.

“I need a babe,” she cries. “I’m tired. I want no longer. I need a babe.”

Someone must hear her, because she gets an answer.

A creature unlike anything she had ever seen before steps into the moonlight.

Black henbane and bloodroot flowers curl under their toes and their eyes gleam silver. They look human in a way one would if they saw a human once-upon-a-time and had attempted to replicate the image from a dream. They’re tall and willowy, and their skin is flushed pale under the moon. Their ears curl and their teeth are sharp. Something dances with their fingers.

They’re very much human, but Different. They’re Different in a way a Normal would know, even if they didn’t know they knew.

But despite this, the countess isn’t scared.

Madeleine is entranced.

“Who are you?” She demands.

Lettenhove was not known for its Differentness. They were more Normal than most parts of the Continent, and that was something the Pankratz family took pride in. They had a scarcity of monsters and magic. Or, they were supposed to.

“I can help,” the creature says, and their voice is deep and smooth. “I can grant you what you yearn.”

“But why would you help?” She says.

“I can do it, for a price.”

Now, the countess isn’t stupid. So, she becomes wary. She had long heard about the give and take of chaos as a child, through the ballads and tales wandering bards would spin.

“It’s simple,” the creatures assured her. “I will give you a child – I will give you back what you have lost – but I ask this only in favour for the first. I only ask for what you do not have, but for which you don’t know you want.”

Madeleine laughs. How can you take what someone does not have?

The creature is a fool.

“My name is Breuganaifìrinn,” the creature says. “And you shall but kiss me for destiny.”

She’s dragging him into a heated kiss before he can finish.

<><><><> 

Julian Alfred Pankratz is born Different.

He is born to the viscount of Lettenhove under a full moon that is blue. A blessing, some said. An omen, others said. Whatever they said, they were hushed into the shadows and secrets, for the viscount would not have his son spoken poorly of among peasants.

It’s winter, and he is born under the first snow on the thirteenth. A late winter.

And his mother, Madeleine, sweat shining on her brow, takes the little babe in her arms after hours of hard labour. Pride swelled in her chest. The pregnancy had been unbearable, and they thought they had lost the babe many times. But now in her arms is her sweet little Julian. He has a thick tuff of soft brown hair, almost golden in the dim lantern light.

And Julian is red and icky, but he is perfect. He is too quiet and too still, but he is perfect. He is small and thin, but he is perfect.

But then he opens his eyes, and Madeleine’s breath catches.

His eyes are blue.

His eyes are the moon.

Her little Julian is no longer perfect.

<><><><> 

Julian Alfred Pankratz is soon handed to his father, when the healers and midwives deem the babe strong enough. As consequence, his father is the second person to see his blue eyes.

The midwife ushers the viscount into the room once the babe is taken from his mother and hastily washed in a basin of water and wrapped. The viscount kneels by his wife’s bedside, eyes wide, as he takes in his firstborn son. Little Julian, who was too still and scared the healers, quietly gazed up at his father with his blue eyes.

He opened his mouth for the first time.

And he wailed.

And he never stopped making noise after that.

And instantly, Alfred Gabriel Pankratz was smitten.

<><><><> 

Julian hates the colour blue.

His eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so he hated the colour blue.

When they made eye contact, when she looked down at her firstborn son, every time his mother’s expression would tighten. Her lips would become pursed, her eyes would darken, and she would look at Julian as if he had done something wrong. As if he was disappointing her.

But Julian tried so hard to be perfect.

He sat still at the dinner table, he didn’t fuss when he was dressed, he listened when told what to do, and he never complained or wailed after the first spanking his mother gave him.

But still, it wasn’t enough for his mother.

He was enough for his father.

His father would praise his blue eyes. The estate staff would praise his blue eyes. A far cousin once said that she was jealous of his blue eyes, because all she had was brown.

But that was all Julian wished for, was brown eyes. He wished so dearly to have the brown eyes of his parents – to have the warm fondness lingering in his father’s eyes, or to have the vibrant woodsy brown of his mother’s eyes.

But Julian had blue, so he hated the colour blue.

<><><><> 

There was a common saying – “a face only a mother could love” – that seemed to apply to Julian. It applied because it was ironic. It was ironic because everyone but his mother seemed to love him.

<><><><> 

Julian is gifted a younger brother when he is yet old enough to talk. When he has not yet learned of his wanting for love, for Normal.

His mother and father try for another child too soon and fall pregnant almost too easily. The pregnancy is smooth, almost too easy. The midwives hold their breath as the viscountess goes into labour, expecting the same ill curse of stillborn babes to continue haunting the Pankratz family, but they’re pleasantly surprised. A healthy babe is born, a boy, that is named Hanson Alfred Pankratz. The spare to the Lettenhove estate.

Madeleine has done her duty to the viscount; an heir and a spare.

Hanson is born in early autumn, in September, on the thirteenth.

Hanson has blonde hair and beautiful brown eyes.

He wails as soon as he takes his first breath.

He’s pink and squirms and shakes his first.

And he’s perfect.

<><><><> 

More siblings follow, one after the other, all pregnancies easy and glowing. One babe each year, nine months to the second. The years are filled with bountiful harvest and good economy. The noble family thrives. After Hanson there’s Edmond, with dark brown hair and rich brown eyes. Following the first three sons, the Pankratz family is blessed with a healthy girl, whom they name Isemay Caillebotte Pankratz.

Isemay is the spitting image of her mother, Madeleine. Soft brown hair and woodsy brown eyes, and she has a cute little button nose, too. The first daughter is soon gifted a younger brother, another boy, called Oscar, who could be her twin they look so alike.

Two more babes follow, making a total of seven children.

A lucky number.

A blessed number.

Pricilla Caillebotte is born next, another healthy girl, who sports the same blonde as her older brother Edmond, and the natural brown of her father’s eyes.

Carellus is born within the same year, Priscilla in January, her younger brother in late autumn. He looks like his older sister’s twin, with slightly lighter blonde hair and sprite brown eyes.

All Pankratz children have brown eyes.

Except for Julian, the firstborn.

Julian is the only one with blue eyes.

<><><><> 

Julian grows up yearning for his mother’s love. All he wants is to feel her touch him without flinching, to see her look at him without contempt.

He wants to hear her tell him she loves him.

His mother tells him a lot of things, but she never tells him she loves him.

She tells Julian that he must be a proper noble boy. She tells Julian his infatuation with music and flowers and nature are bad and wrong and Different. She tells him to hide his Different nature. She tells Julian that he can be fixed, if he would just let her help him get rid of the Differentness.

She tells Julian he was born Different. He didn’t have a choice in the matter, but she could fix him. His mother doesn’t tell him anything else, but she doesn’t have to.

He knows he is Different.

It doesn’t have to be drilled into him everyday.

He is Different in a way that he blends in well enough, is almost impossible to spot out of the masses, but with which the Normal know something is off. Humans know he is not One of Them, even if they don’t know they know.

His blue eyes make sure of that, an inhuman feature on an otherwise human boy.

<><><><> 

Before any of his siblings were born, Julian is but a mere six months old when his teeth finally start to grow in. His father, Alfred, is simply delighted to play with his rascal son. He loves to indulge in Julian’s incessant need to chew on everything to alleviate the pain of his growing-in teeth. He’s hitting all his milestones perfectly, and the viscount could not be more pleased with his firstborn son.

His mother watches with unease.

When his teeth fully grow-in, they’re sharper than Normal.

But not sharp enough to be Different.

So, Madeleine leaves it be.

Until years later, when he’s six with six siblings, and he starts losing his baby teeth.

Fangs grow in.

Horrified, his mother takes to filing them down in secret.

It’s a messy procedure to do alone, but Madeleine Pankratz is not a foolish woman. She knows how the gossip would spread amongst her servants and ladies in waiting. She knows how the secret of Julian’s Differentness would escape their estate. She does not know how the viscount would respond to knowing his perfect firstborn son is not so perfect after all.

So, she grips her crying child in an iron hold, and she takes a file to his teeth.

This follows Julian all throughout his childhood, and he wishes he could stop his canines from growing in sharp every month. He wishes his eyes weren’t blue. He wishes he was Normal not Different.

Poor little Julian cries and screams and thrashes as his mother forces him into a dark room to file them down every month.

“Hurts, ma!” He cries every time.

He cries even when he is eight and is old enough to know that his Differentness is not okay. Is old enough to know he must do this to make his mother love him, no matter how much it hurts.

His mother holds him tighter.

Julian’s head vibrates with unease and pain as the file scrapes along his canines.

They’re filed down too low and there is blood, and it’s Julian’s fault, he’s told. He didn’t cooperate, he was too difficult. The metallic tang feels familiar in his mouth in a way that his newly shortened teeth do not. His mother holds him closer, not tighter.

“I love you, Julian,” she says. “I only do this because I love you.”

It’s the first time she tells him she loves him.

As far as he can remember, at least.

But for some reason, Julian feels his chest constrict painfully.

The admission did not feel as good as he wished it to be.

<><><><> 

Julian is eight, and his fangs are filed down, when he runs crying to the gardens of their estate. He runs and runs until he collapses underneath the biggest tree they have, where the estate gardeners do not bother with upkeep, where he can sit in shade and cover. And Julian tries so hard to be quiet. He doesn’t want his mother to find him; he does not want to hear that she does this because she loves him. It hurts too much to hear.

And as the firstborn son of the viscount of Lettenhove cries beneath the old oak tree, buttercups grow under his feet and dandelions blow in the wind.

His mother, who followed him, turns pale.

And she is terribly reminded of the black henbane and bloodroot caging the graves in the back.

<><><><> 

Julian hated his blue eyes.

They were too blue, too bright. They caught too much attention. That was all anyone ever saw when they looked at Julian, were his blue eyes, his Differentness.

And all he wanted was to be noticed for being Normal.

To try and distract from his blue eyes, Julian used clothes as another, more overpowering form, of attention-grabbing. He took to wearing brightly coloured garbs. He would wear everything from blood red to deathly purple. He would wear ridiculously gaudy clothes to drown out the bright blue. It didn’t work. He wore drab clothes, cloths and fabrics to make him look pale and gaunt, but still his blue eyes shone. He would style his hair just so, so that it hung over his face and shaded his eyes. He would do anything he could to stop others from noticing his blue eyes.

It never worked.

The more over-the-top the clothes, the more colour he drowned himself in, the more attention his eyes seemed to draw.

They would glow.

They would shine.

His blue eyes would do anything to draw attention to themselves, and Julian hated blue so fervently.

His mother’s lingering looks of discomfort and hate stayed, and Julian hated blue with his very being.

Blue ruined his life.

<><><><> 

Julian’s siblings were a grab-bag of friends. He loved them all very dearly. As the eldest, he felt responsible for them, felt a protective urge for his younger brothers and sisters.

All were close in one way or another, especially the three eldest brothers – Julian, Hanson, and Edmond – but none of them truly understood Julian’s struggles. His brothers and sisters grew tired of his lamenting over his blue eyes and teased him about being vain, about trying to draw more attention to his blue eyes, when that was the last thing he wanted.

They all had brown eyes and would scoff when he expressed jealously.

They didn’t understand his hate of blue because they all had the love of their mother.

Sometimes he didn’t think she was his mother.

<><><><> 

Of all the colours, though, Julian found solace in one.

Yellow.

Yellow was the colour of the gold his mother cherished so deeply. The colour that would drape across her collar and wrists and ankles in a beautiful fashion.

Yellow was the colour of the bright dandelions and buttercups that would grow, only for him.

Yellow was the colour of the sun and happiness and everything good.

Yellow had never done anything wrong.

And Julian loved yellow with all the love he didn’t waste on blue, because in his mind they were opposites; blue and yellow, one made of destruction and one made of light.

<><><><> 

The first time Julian dressed in yellow, he wanted to cry.

The colour he loved so much could still not drown away his blue eyes.

In fact, the bright buttercup yellow of his doublet made his eyes stand out even more. He tried gold and amber and dandelion, but his eyes were bluer than blue. And his mother still hated his eyes.

His eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so Julian hated the colour blue.

<><><><> 

One day, his younger sister suggested he try wearing blue.

Priscilla, the second youngest Pankratz, was rounding out to be a problem child. Where the other girls were learning how to be proper noble ladies, she was following her big brother Julian around their estate like a lost puppy.

Everything he did, she wanted to do, too.

Priscilla wanted to learn how to sew flower crowns like her brother Julian. Priscilla wanted to learn how to wield a rapier like her brother Julian. And when Julian’s interest in music was discovered, Priscilla wanted to follow him with a lute of her own.

Separated by five years, they were still thick as thieves. In line with his first two brothers, Hanson and Edmond, Priscilla was Julian’s favourite sibling. She was wild like he was, but held all the Normal that Julian was lacking, and he felt better when he played with her. Like somehow, he could blend in with the Normal just a little bit longer, because she didn’t care that he was Different.

And though Julian loved his little sister, the mere thought of touching a blue doublet made him physically shake with hate and anger and disgust.

Still, he indulged her, if only because she looked so hopeful.

“This will go perfect with your bright eyes,” Priscilla says.

Priscilla will use any number of words to describe Julian’s eyes. She will use descriptors like bright eyes and big eyes and beautiful eyes.

But she never just says blue.

He steps out from behind the divider and does a twirl to amuse his sister. He’s wearing a cerulean blue doublet with matching trousers, accented by red and yellow. He feels awful. But his sister’s breath catches, and her brown eyes go wide. Her expression is pale in shocked awe.

“You’re beautiful,” she says, breathless, like she’s seeing him for the first time.

He turns to face his mirror.

His blue eyes blend in with the doublet, making them shine twice as bright, and the yellow and red are stark in contrast. He looks unusually pale in the get-up, his freckles more prominent, his hair darker than the blonde it had started to grow into.

He doesn’t see what Priscilla sees. All he can see are his eyes, too blue.

Julian rips the doublet off in anger, upset with everything and nothing, and his sister never asks him to wear blue again. She never mentions the word again.

Priscilla may not know the reason behind it all, because Julian sees the love she holds for their mother and would never forgive himself if he ruined that, but she learns to avoid blue. Because Julian’s eyes were blue, and his mother hated his eyes, so he hated the colour blue.

<><><><> 

One day Julian woke up and realized he didn’t want to be himself anymore.

It was a startling realization. It hurt too, like a sudden wound, and for over an hour he laid in his bed and stared up at the ceiling with impossibly blue eyes, heart hollow and aching. He didn’t want to be himself, but he didn’t want to be anyone else. More specifically, he realized, he didn’t want to be what his mother so desperately tried to force him to be.

He was Different not Normal.

He was born like that, his mother said. It was wrong, she said. He needed to be right, she said.

But she never told him what was right, only what she wanted him to be. And for years, his entire life, he tried to meet her expectations. He tried so hard for her love.

How fucked up is that? He thought, for the first time.

<><><><> 

That was the day Jaskier was born.

[ofdragonsdeep]

14: Commend

An acquaintance sits in a dismal gaol, and Ar'telan makes a courtesy call.

(Spoilers for SB, ShB sort of)

The sharp tang in the air of the Lochs accompanied Ar’telan on his walk across the great stone bridge to the capital. Beneath him, the vast expanse of the salt lakes stretched, now narrated by the hum and clang of machinery and hammers in the saltery at its edge. The rest of the land, though, still seemed like a skeleton resting where the beast had died, signal fires flickering to mark where it had fallen. The sparse forests of zelkova trees, stalked by manticores and ghosts, the bone-white fish which stalked the lakes, the uneasy fog that settled over the place, all of it added to the sense of decay.

The druvas had been cleared from the bridge in recent days, and so his only meeting was with the guards on the gate. In the many moons since Ala Mhigo’s liberation, the guard had been taught fast vigilance, both against the threat of primals and of Garlean incursion. He was so well-recognised that he was barely bothered on his way through, only a cursory check to ensure he was not an enemy of the state walking in under wicked glamour.

There were any number of attractions within the walls of the capital to captivate a traveler’s attention. A small Ironworks outpost still worked on the question of the Weapons the Garleans had made to throw against both their traitor and their unruly territories, ready to ferry a would-be warrior to the main camp. Citizens played Triple Triad by the aetheryte, eyeing him as he passed to see if he would be amenable to a challenge. The palace, now the seat of a more democratic form of government, offered the chance to reconnect with old friends. And the Royal Menagerie, with its fields of beautiful flowers, suggested a chance for reflection on things long gone and events to come.

Ar’telan ignored all of them, instead walking down the terracotta streets until he was within the mountains the city backed, the guards on the door offering an uneasy nod of acknowledgement as he passed them. Under the rock, the uncomfortable pulse of the sky was easier to ignore, and the thoughts he carried with him were easier to find.

The royal gaol, repurposed into a place to hold the many prisoners of war that had not been killed in the war for liberation. Some of them resented their captivity, some of them would have betrayed their birthplace to the Empire without a second thought. Some of them longed for redemption, cells lying empty as they laboured in civil service under strict watch. And some…

He was not the man he had been when he had first been down here. He took a moment, centred his aether. For all the hell that Hades had wrung from him, he had learned a little, though he was not sure if it would be enough. For all they called the Resonance an artificial Echo, it was a strange beast only alike in the broadest strokes. But perhaps it would do the job.

The cell was still sparse, despite the time that had passed between Fordola’s initial confinement and now. Her clothes were nicer, less rough hemp, but the collar around her neck - dormant without a mage to activate it, but still abhorrent in its purpose - served as an unkind reminder of her station.

“You,” she said, her voice level. He nodded to her, and there was a moment of absolute silence. Her thoughts were a concealed mystery, but her feelings felt loud behind her wall, amplified by two Echo-likes in proximity. She did not flinch.

“I had hoped they would be treating you better, by now,” Ar’telan remarked, and Fordola scoffed, though it was clear she was still confused by the situation that had found her opposite the man who had put her here to begin with.

“Kill a few primals, slay a few beastmen. It doesn’t matter to them,” she said, venom in her voice, but it was tired poison now. “Why are you here?” It was a question, not one he could come up with an answer for, not an easy one. Now that the danger had passed in the First, he did not think it would be long until something surfaced to demand their attention, but for the moment they stood in the lull.

“I wanted to be sure you were ok,” he said, offering a tiny smile. “It’s my fault you’re in here, after all.” Fordola scoffed.

“I put myself in here,” she disagreed. “You and I both know that. Maybe it would have been easier if I hadn’t taken their devil’s bargain, but under it all I’m still the Empire’s Butcher.” Ar’telan sighed, sitting down against the wall opposite her cell door. They had been here before, more than once, and she never warmed to him - not that he expected her to, nor would ever want her to, unless she wished it - but every time things changed.

“Has it eased?” he asked her, and she winced at the question.

“What does it matter to you?” she demanded, even though both of them knew that he had taken every effort to shield his soul from her resonant eyes, to stop her from reliving the horrors in his past just this once.

“They don’t care to ask about it, do they?” he surmised, and she made an irritable noise. “I have-”

“I don’t need your help,” she spat. “And I don’t want it. You think they don’t relish in me seeing the hurt I’ve caused them?” Ar’telan held out a hand, a tiny spark of aether gathering in it. The Light suffused it, shimmering in the darkness of the prison complex, still there despite his victory over it. As she moved forwards, he snuffed it out.

“Perhaps I do not want your sympathy either,” he said, and she recoiled, surprise in the coil of her limbs and a scowl on her face. “It does not have to be a competition, or an exchange of pity. It does need to gain either of us anything, for good or for ill. It has been many moons since the war ended, after all.” Fordola made an irritated noise.

“Then I will consider it,” she said, a compromise he had not expected to achieve with her. “Bah, you’re both as bad as each other. At least it’s easier to tune you out than the boy.” Ar’telan stifled a laugh at that. He knew a little of Fordola’s work with Arenvald and the summoners working with the Flames, dealing with summonings out in Thanalan. Echo was Echo, even by a different name.

I wonder what Hades would think to that?

“I will give you time to think on it,” he said, pushing himself to his feet as she retreated back to her pallet. “Duty calls me back here more often than most would like, I think, so I shall call in when I can.”

“Don’t rush on my account,” she muttered, bitterness still in her voice.

---

It had been Arenvald that told him the story.

The young Scion was ever excitable, and he had been brimming with pride as he had relayed the story of their fight with Ifrit, holding back the Tempered servants who had summoned it, helping to rid the land of the scourge of the summon for just a little longer. It was a different story to the one that Jajasamu had relayed - a bitter man angry with himself for misjudging the convict, and the threat they faced, feeling lesser in his need to stay back from the full brunt of the primal’s fury. Ar’telan wondered if it would have helped them to know of his first fight with a primal, in the same summoning circle at Zanr’ak, blood drawn from the stone of desperation.

He had asked how Ar’telan felt. Ar’telan had offered a reassuring platitude, acceptance of duty and necessity, and he wasn’t sure that he had been believed.

---

The first time he had gone to see her had been after the war was over. When the Qalyana summoned their goddess into a council hall and he had held the line with Arenvald and Fordola, and she had thrown her blade to the floor and walked away. Rejected the idea of death, and shunned the idea of redemption.

The guards had tried to dissuade him as he walked past them into the gaol. He had stood in front of her and neither had spoken a word, her mind overwhelmed with every bitter memory in his mind, every wound the fight had inflicted, everything he mourned. She had looked up at him, hand over her resonant eye as if it would stop the flood, and asked him how he coped.

“I don’t.”

---

The second time he had been met with less protest, at least from the guard. Again he had sat himself outside her cell, her mouth shut in stubborn silence, his hands in his lap lest she think he want to dominate the conversation. The Echo had shown him, when they had been enemies yet, what had happened to her father for the crime of making do in an impossible situation. She waited for him to use it against her, but he did not. In truth, he already had - keeping the secrets close to his heart as he told Lyse that he did not want her to be executed, to the idealistic woman’s surprise. When had it ever been black and white, under the boot of the Empire? He had seen what happened to the people who resisted. Visited the graves of the soldiers, heard the stories of the collateral damage weeping in a half-empty village.

Maybe it was selfish. In the days since, when he had pleaded for mercy for those driven to awful, cruel things, when he saw them crumble in the cell, when the people demanded blood and received it, one way or another, he had thought it might be. The blasted fields of Bozja haunted him still, the memories of a broken Queen and Misija’s choices - one way or another, they were always chosen, even if the perpetrators convinced themselves there was no such choice at all. But still he had begged mercy, that if she had to face the headsman’s axe then it would be after fair judgement. He had stood and watched people break upon the battlefield, and known, innately, that there was no judgement that could be fair.

“You got nothing better to do, warrior of light?” Fordola had spat eventually. “I don’t need the theatre of your head to make my day worse. Got plenty of that already.” Ar’telan had shrugged.

“I thought you might like the company,” he replied, and she scoffed at him. Was the wound too fresh, he had wondered? Of when they had faced off on the field of battle, her resonance overwhelmed by Urianger’s siphon, her choices rendered meaningless in the dust?

“You know how many I’ve killed. Surely there’s better company to keep than me.”

“You know how many I have killed, too.”

She was quiet then, for a long moment, before shaking her head.

“Thought it didn’t count, for you. Killing the Empire. They’re the enemy, aren’t they?”

“As we were yours. The choice is the same. That I am on the side of the victor doesn’t make mine right, and yours wrong.”

“Was that why he wanted to fight you, then? Zenos, I mean.”

The question had caught him off-guard, but eventually he had managed to offer a shrug.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I presented an opportunity to him - a potential for challenge. If I could reach him and face him, then he would need to work to overcome the obstacle. It made him try - think, persevere, strive. It made him feel. I understand it in theory.” Fordola had sighed, shaking her head slightly, though not in disagreement.

“It’s all mad. All of it mad,” she had decided, and Ar’telan had not been able to disagree.

---

The fog had lifted when Ar’telan walked out into the streets of Ala Mhigo, the sun twinkling with the last few moments of the light before it set. It wasn’t perfect - what ever was? - but it was something, and he would let that be enough. If one day she would be able to accept what had happened to give her the gift, if she would go from stony to acerbic, if she would leave the cell and be allowed her freedom, then his plea to Lyse all those moons ago would have meant something.

He did not carry Arenvald’s hope, that she would heal, forgive herself, move on. He had been in the chamber where Krile had been held, where they had stamped the gift into the giftless through brute force. He had felt the aether, the dozens of souls whose lives blazed in her Resonant light. She would never forgive herself for making that choice, and to ask it of her was too much. All you could do was see the death that lined your path forward, and make do.

She would not think it the same, he thought. That the people he had killed - conscripts and volunteers and natives, all equal at the end of the day, on the other side of the Warrior of Light - were the same as the ones that she had damned when she had accepted the experiment. They did not see the world the same way at all, not any more. She was bitter and hard like stone, retreating inward at the cruelty. His mask was passive, the smiles genuine, the burden accepted if only to make sure that no-one else ever had to walk the path that he had. But she yet had room to heal. There was space for her and the souls that walked with her, for better or worse, guided by the hand of the Resistance until they trusted her to guide herself.

And when the day came, Ar’telan would welcome her with a smile.

[sixmapleleafs]

father material // frederik andersen (part 3)

Sitting on your bathroom floor crying with the positive test in your hands, you thought that was the most terrifying moment of your life. Then when you went into labour you changed your mind. However, you realised that actually this was the most nervous you had ever been about anything, you were sat in the waiting room with Amelie in your arms as Freddie sat quietly beside you. The appointment you were waiting for would basically determine whether or not everything you’d been doing since Amelie was born was right, if she’d gained weight and was healthy then all your literal blood, sweat and tears were worth it. And if not, well then you were pretty sure you would feel like a failure.

Freddie noticed that you were acting different as soon as he knocked on your door, you’d scrambled around the apartment all morning changing both yours and Amelies outfits three times because it just didn’t feel right. You knew people would judge you for being a young mother but you never thought their opinions would bother you this much. The drive to the hospital was quiet, Freddie tried to make conversation but your answers meant that it didn’t lead to much.

You still hadn’t spoken about the kiss you’d shared the night before. Auston and y/f/n had come home after their date night, bursting through the door seconds after your lips had separated. Freddie left shortly after and you’d gone to bed still blushing. But currently you couldn’t think about anything other than your daughter. Sure, she seemed fine, good even, but you weren’t a doctor and there was a nagging voice in your head saying that you had been doing everything wrong. You couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing nervously as Amelie stared up at you, it was like she could tell that you weren’t yourself today.

You looked up when you felt Freddie’s hand rest just above your knee, stopping your movement and giving your leg a gentle squeeze. “Are you ok?” He whispered as to not draw attention to you. You nodded giving him your best attempt at a smile but he saw right through you.

“Amelie Y/l/n” the nurse called as she stepped around the corner. You shot up from your seat, adjusting Amelie in your arms as Freddie grabbed the carrier and diaper bag from the floor. You followed the nurse down the hallway until she opened the door for you, “the doctor will be with you in just a minute” she said with a smile and you thanked her before she turned back towards the waiting room.

Freddie set the baby carrier and diaper bag down on the floor, the light thud echoing throughout the quiet room, “hey” his hands ran down your arms causing you to look up into his eyes “I’m sure everything will be fine, you’re doing an amazing job”.

“What if I’ve messed everything up? Or I’ve been doing everything wrong the whole time?” You said, your voice wavering slightly which you blamed on the post partum hormones.

“You haven’t messed anything up y/n, Amelies perfectly happy and I’m sure the doctor will tell us she’s completely healthy as well, there’s no need to worry” he said his hands rubbing your upper arms in an attempt to comfort you as best he could. Amelie let out a little squeal from your arms and Freddie laughed a little before saying “see even Amelie agrees with me”. You smiled a genuine smile for the first time that day before the doctor entered the room.

“So sorry for the wait, it’s been a crazy day” she explained as she quickly scribbled something down on her clipboard. “How are we doing today?”

“A little nervous” you said honestly and she laughed.

“Nothing to be nervous about” she said as her eyes quickly moved to Freddie’s large frame, “I’m glad to see you brought a friend”.

“Actually this is Amelies father” you said blushing a little.

“Ah wonderful” she exclaimed and Freddie moved to shake her hand. You’d explained your situation to her during one of your appointments when you first got pregnant, and she’d been extremely supportive throughout everything.

“Freddie” he said as they shook hands “it’s nice to meet you”.

“Dr Foster, I’m happy to see you two found your way back to each other” she said giving you a small wink as she turned to place her things down. You giggled a little at her actions, she really was more of a friend than a doctor at this point. “So shall we see how little Amelie is doing?”

The appointment went well, Amelie had gained weight and even grown a couple centimetres. You almost cried when Dr Foster said that she was a perfectly happy and healthy baby, you smiled so hard that your face hurt and you practically jumped into Freddie’s arms to hug him. Dr Foster laughed as you brought her into a hug too, before lifting Amelie off the scales and into your arms. You had to answer a few more questions about Amelies eating and sleeping patterns, Freddie stood quietly behind you taking in as much information as possible.

Then you moved onto how you were doing, Dr Foster made Freddie wait outside with Amelie whilst she gave you a physical exam before she quickly finished up some paperwork and said you were free to go. She gave you a wink as you said goodbye and you laughed when Freddie gave you a confused look.

“Everything ok?” He asked as you walked out of the paediatric department.

“Yeah all good, just a check up” you explained as you led him towards the parking lot. He nodded, turning his attention to your daughter when she started to fuss in the baby carrier he was holding. He quickly soothed her and placed the pacifier she’d dropped back into her mouth and you smiled at how good he was with her.

“So y/f/n said you have a game tonight” you said after a few minutes of silence.

“Yeah we’re playing the blue jackets, it should be a good game. What about you? Do you have any plans?”

“I think y/f/n wanted us to do something together so we’ll probably have a movie night or something”.

You continued your conversation as Freddie put Amelie into the car and you placed the diaper bag beside her before climbing into the front seat. Freddie dropped you both off at home since he had to get ready for the game tonight, y/f/n greeted you at the door with a smirk and you rolled your eyes preparing for the interrogation you knew was coming.

-

When you woke up the next morning you were confused when you realised Amelie wasn’t crying, you jumped out of bed and almost had a heart attack when you saw that her crib was empty.

“Y/f/n?” You practically screamed as you ran out of your bedroom. “Y/f/n?” You yelled again when you didn’t get a response. Amelies cries always woke you and y/f/n never took her in the mornings so you were freaking out.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” You heard Freddie’s voice from behind you and you turned around so fast you almost fell over. He was stood in the doorway with a muslin cloth thrown over his shoulder, his hair was messy and he was just wearing a hoodie and sweats.

“Amelies not in her crib” you said so quickly he almost didn’t understand you. He smiled softly and you looked at him confused.

“It’s ok, she’s in her bouncy chair in the kitchen” he explained.

“Wha- how?” You were so confused as to what he was doing here in the first place.

“I got here early so when I heard her start to cry I took her before you woke up, she was helping me make you breakfast well I guess brunch” he said motioning towards the kitchen. You followed him as he continued, “I figured you don’t get to sleep in very often so I thought I’d let you sleep a little longer”.

You nodded as you bent down to see Amelie, who was in fact sat in her bouncy chair in the corner of the kitchen. Freddie quickly rescued the eggs before plating up the food, it smelled amazing and you just stared at him dumbfounded as he moved around the kitchen. He smiled when he turned around and walked out of the kitchen with the plates in his hands, he returned quickly bending down to unclip the strap of the bouncy chair and pick Amelie up.

“It’s going to get cold if you stay there any longer” he teased as he started to walk out of the kitchen again. You followed him, sitting in front of your plate watching carefully as he placed Amelie down on her play mat gently so he could eat as well. You ate in a comfortable silence, it was actually really good and you were starving so this was the perfect morning overall.

“So how long have you been here?” You asked as you sipped your orange juice.

“A few hours, I got here around six then gave Amelie a bottle when she woke up, I hope that’s ok” you nodded as he continued, “then we played for a while before we decided to make you something to eat”.

“You didn’t have to get here that early” he just shrugged and smiled.

“I don’t mind, I would have just been waiting in my apartment until I came over anyway”

“I thought you had morning skate” you questioned, feeling bad that he’d missed something because of you.

“Turns out it was optional” he explained and you nodded. Amelies cries tore your attention away from how domestic this whole thing felt. Freddie was up at the speed of light and you followed behind him.

“She probably needs a diaper change” you said and he nodded. You took her into your room to change her as Freddie cleared the table, you checked the time for the first time that morning seeing that it was almost eleven. Looking in the mirror you cringed, your hair was a mess and your pyjamas were simply a hoodie and some sweats, you ran a brush through your hair quickly before going back into your living room. “All done” you announced and Freddie reached out to take her from you. It was just then that you realised how sore your boobs were, figuring you needed to pump since you hadn’t fed Amelie since last night you excused yourself again.

As soon as you were done you poured the milk into the bottles and placed them in the fridge like you usually did. Freddie had kept Amelie entertained whilst you were busy, showing her pictures of his teammates on his phone and explaining who they were even though she was too young to understand.

“And that’s your uncle Auston” he said as you walked around the corner, “you probably know him already since he’s dating aunty y/f/n, he’s probably woken you up a few times like he did when I first met you”. You smiled as you watched them interact. “Now this is my mommy, she lives in Denmark which is very far away. But she wants to come and see you as soon as she can and she’s going to bring my brothers and my sister as well as my dad, so you can meet all your family from Denmark. Ah, here’s a picture of me with all of them, there’s your uncles and your aunty and then your grandpa and there’s daddy in the middle” he looked up when noticed you were stood in the doorway.

“Sorry I didn’t realise you were there” he said blushing a little, you laughed and assured him it was ok.

“I have to do some laundry and things, are you ok to watch her?” He nodded and you got to work cleaning up the apartment a little before moving onto laundry. By the time you were done it had been almost two hours, you smiled when you saw Freddie laid on the couch with Amelie asleep on his chest. Upon further inspection you saw that Freddie was asleep too. It must of tired him out today, it was his first full day of being a father really. You pulled your phone out to take a picture of the two of them before heading to the kitchen to get a bottle for Amelie, she was due to wake up any minute for a feed.

When she woke up you picked her up gently so you wouldn’t wake Freddie and sat in the armchair so you could feed her comfortably. Freddie woke up shortly after and you spent the rest of the day just watching tv and get little things done around the apartment. The sun started to set and Freddie suggested ordering pizza so you didn’t have to cook, you agreed instantly and you both feasted whilst Amelie had her final nap. You teased him about how pizza probably wasn’t a part of the teams approved diet but he just laughed you off. You ended up playing 21 questions whilst you waited for Amelie to wake up, unknown to you Freddie just wanted to get to know you better and even though it seemed childish he thought it would be a good way to learn more about your life.

“I was going to give her a bath tonight, do you want to stay or you can go if you want- I mean you don’t have to-” you rambled on as you settled Amelie in your lap once she woke up.

“I can stay, I don’t want to impose but I should probably learn right?” He said rubbing the back of his neck like he was nervous. You nodded and told him to follow you into your en-suite bathroom which had a tub. You handed Amelie to Freddie before turning the taps on to fill the tub with a small amount of water, you grabbed the baby shampoo and body wash then set up the baby bath seat after the water was ready. You explained everything to Freddie as you did so and he nodded.

“Then you just place her in the seat so she doesn’t get full covered in the water and it’s very important that water isn’t too hot because babies have very sensitive skin” you said as you placed Amelie into the water. “You also have to be careful not to get her belly button too wet because it’s not fully healed yet”. The water splashed a little as Amelie moved her feet and you made funny faces at her which seemed to excite her even more, you grabbed the little rubber duck and gave it to Freddie. “She normally likes the little ducky” you told him and he started to play with her. You showed him how to wash her hair without getting the shampoo in her eyes and then quickly washed her body before instructing him to get the yellow bath towel that had a duck on the hood to wrap her up in. Once she was all wrapped up in the towel you took a few pictures to send to your mom and a few with Freddie in them too.

“Could you...um...maybe send them to me so I could send them to my mom?” He asked hesitantly.

“Of course, do you want any others of her? I’ve got loads” you said smiling warmly.

“Yes...please my mom wants as many as possible” he said his smile matching yours. After you’d got Amelie into her pyjamas and she’d fallen asleep you and Freddie made your way back to the couch, your mind instantly went back to the last time the two of you had been in this situation but you quickly pushed those thoughts aside and opened up your camera roll.

“So which ones do you want me to send you?” You said scooting over so you could show him, you tried to hide the blush that covered your cheeks as he rested his arm behind you so you were pushed up against him completely.

“Is it bad if I say all of them?” You laughed but shook your head, you couldn’t blame him your baby was fucking adorable and your own camera roll was 95% pictures of her. “I only have this one” he said showing you his lock screen which was in fact a picture of Amelie, she was sat in her bouncy chair sleeping and she looked adorable.

“That’s so cute, when did you take it?”

“This morning, she fell asleep whilst I was making breakfast” he said smiling and you realised how close you really were. His face was inches away from yours and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

“Um I’ll just airdrop the ones I have then or maybe we can make a shared album for pictures of her” you suggested quickly turning so he couldn’t see how much of an effect he was having on you. You didn’t want to admit it but you were starting to fall for him, everything from the way he smiled to how good he was with Amelie made it hard to see him as just her father. But there’s no way he could feel the same, right?

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter Five: Daisy Darling

Forever? Masterlist

Ashley wasn’t keen on the sticky and sweaty British summer, and it wasn’t much easier being thirty four weeks pregnant. Her regular scans had shown that the baby was developing at a more regular rate, she was still smaller than average, but she was a healthier size now. Ashley only had three weeks left at work before her maternity leave started, she was pretty much prepared, Harry had helped her put the cot together before he left for filming in France, which was an absolute relief. She was spending her Tuesday morning the way she did every week, eating her way through a packet of biscuits, with the help of Toby and Roman when he walked past her desk of course. “Ro! please save me from myself, finish these biscuits off please! I beg you!” Ashley called across the office as she noticed Roman leaving the studio. 

He made his way over to her desk, “Okay if you insist,” He took the biscuits from her, and began munching on one, “Do you fancy a brew?”

“Alright then, I’ll come with you actually.” She stood up from her desk and waddled over to the small office kitchen. 

As she leant against the counter in the kitchen Ashley felt a sharp pain in her stomach, she winced gripping onto the counter. “You alright?” Roman asked, pouring milk into their mugs.

“Yeah it’s probably just braxton hicks,” she assured him, but then she felt a pop, that told her these weren’t just braxton hicks, “Oh shit Ro, I think the baby’s coming.” 

“Oh God, what do you want me to do? Shall I call Harry?” He flustered, dropping the teaspoon on the floor in panic.

“No, he’s in France filming, it’ll only worry him,” she whispered, breathing through the pain, “My phones on my desk, I need you to call Gemma and tell her to meet me at St Thomas hospital, and ask if she can get my hospital bag on the way.” Roman ran off to her desk trying to find her phone and gather her things, she started panicking remembering that the doctors said it was extremely important for her to get as close to full term as possible. She began to tear up thinking about how Harry wouldn’t be there, they both knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be there, but he was meant to be on a filming break in the week of her due date, but this wasn’t what either of them had expected, “I’ve got your stuff, I’m going to drive you, I don’t want you getting a cab by yourself, Gemma’s going to meet us at the hospital.”

The journey to the hospital felt like a lifetime, as Roman pulled into the drop off point, she saw Gemma waiting armed with a wheelchair and her baby bag. Roman jumped out the car, helping Ashley out of the car and into the wheelchair, he exchanged thank yous with Gemma, wished Ashley well and left the two of them to find their way to maternity. “I’m scared Gem,” Ashley whispered to her.

“Hey, we’re going to be strong together aren’t we? We’re going to get through this, us three girls.” Gemma assured her as she wheeled her into maternity.

“You two alright there?” A passing midwife asked.

“Her waters have broken, she’s thirty four weeks, she was at work when it happened so this isn’t the hospital she’d usually be at, that’s alright isn’t it?” Gemma replied on Ashley’s behalf.

“That should be absolutely fine, we’ll have someone send your notes over, right let’s get this show on the road.”

Ashley has been changed into a gown and was now lying on a hospital bed, waiting for the midwife whilst she breathed through her next contraction. “Hello, I’m Dr Stevenson, I’ve been sent your notes from your usual hospital and I’m aware the baby is a little smaller than we’d like.” the Doctor explained as she entered the room, “I've spoken to Maggie the midwife who checked you over and she said baby is breech, meaning she’s foot first, and due to her size we think it’s best to do an emergency cesarean section, we don’t want to put her through the stress of natural labour.” 

“Is she going to be okay?” Ashley asked.

“Trust me, this is the best thing for both of you to keep you both safe, the nurses will be along soon to prep you for theatre.” Dr Stevenson explained before leaving her be.

“It’s happening Gem, it’s really happening, she sighed.

“Do you want me to call Harry?” Gemma asked.

“No, I’ll tell him when she’s here.”

Ashley lay on the operating table, Gemma sat beside her, wearing scrubs as she stroked her hand through Ashley’s hair. The surgeon had made the first incision and was doing her very best to keep the baby safe. “Not long now Ashley, we’ll have her out soon.” Dr Stevenson assured her, “She’s here, we’ve got her.” Dr Stevenson held up the tiny baby, cutting the umbilical cord and taking her over to the side.

“She’s not crying, she’s meant to be crying, what’s going on?” Ashley cried, her voice wavering with anxiety.

“Sometimes the little ones need a helping hand, Dr Stevenson’s just warming her up.” A nurse explained.

“Come on love, stay strong.” Gemma whispered, stroking Ashley’s hair, the painful silence was interrupted by the baby’s high pitched scream, “She’s okay Ash, she’s a fighter.” 

“Is she alright?” Ashley asked Dr Stevenson.

“We’re going to take her to ICU, to minimise risk of infection, and make sure she’s stable, the surgeon will stitch you up and then you can come down and see her.” 

It had reached the early hours of the evening, golden sun was streaming through the windows of the hospital, Ashley lay in bed, the majority of the anesthetic had worn off now. “How are you feeling?” a new midwife asked, checking Ashley’s notes.

“Good, thank you.” Ashley replied.

“If you’d like to I can take you to see your baby.” 

“Yes please.” with the help of the midwife and Gemma she got into the wheelchair successfully as they took her down to the intensive care unit. 

“Here’s your little lady, I’m afraid you can’t hold her yet, but you can put your hands in and she’ll clasp onto your finger, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Hello beautiful, did it get too boring in there petal?” Ashley reached her hand inside the incubator, letting her baby hold onto her finger, “We’re going to have to give you a name little lady, how does Daisy sound? I think it suits you perfectly. It’s a scary world out there Daisy darling, but we’ll get through it together.”

Gemma entered the room, armed with cups of tea, “She’s perfect Ash, you did so well in there.” Gemma whispered, handing Ashley a cup of tea.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of it. If you need to get home I’ll understand, I think I owe Harry a call.” Ashley told her.

“Alright then, I’ll see you soon, if you need anything, let me know.” Gemma replied before quietly leaving the NICU room.

Ashley pulled her phone from the pocket of her dressing gown, dialling Harry’s number, who picked up almost instantly, “Hello movie star, how are you?” 

“I’m good, it’s been busy today, I’m back at the hotel now, how about you?” he replied, sitting on the end of his hotel bed.

“Pretty uneventful,” she grinned, “Someone’s decided to say hello to the world six weeks early.”

“Wait, you mean-”

“My daughter was born at 2pm today.” She told him.

“Are you okay? Is she okay?” Harry asked frantically, “If you need me to come back early I can.”

“I don’t need you to do that H, she’s little so they’ve put her in an incubator, just as a precaution, until she’s stronger.” Ashley explained, Daisy still clutching onto her finger.

“You weren’t on your own we’re you?” Harry worried.

“No, Roman drove me from work, Gem met me here and stayed with me throughout, she’s gone home now though.” Ashley explained.

“That’s good, have you given her a name?” 

“Daisy, Daisy Alice Hanson.” Ashley replied, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she admired her newborn baby.

“I miss you, I’ll be back mid august though so I’ll see you then.” Harry explained.

“We look forward to it, at least by then you’ll be able to hug her, at the moment she can only hold onto my hand.” 

“Well I look forward to my first hug from her, and you of course.” Harry replied.

“We’re so lucky to have you Harry.” Ashley told him.

“Trust me, I’m the lucky one.”

The following morning Ashley stirred from her sleep thanks to the sound of familiar voices beside her bed, she opened her eyes to see her mum Linda and Anne sat beside her. “Hello love, how are you?” Linda whispered.

“Stiff, I’ve been in this bed for a solid twelve hours, I’ve been wheeled everywhere,” Ashley told them both, shuffling to sit herself up properly, “Anne, you have raised two absolute angels, Gemma was incredible yesterday, and speaking to Harry on the phone last night made my heart feel so full.” 

“I’m just glad to see you’re alright sweetheart.” Anne told her.

“How was the journey down?” Ashley asked them both.

“It was good, we got the train down, and we stopped off on the way to get some bits for you and the baby, I imagine all the baby grows you’ve got are going to be a bit big at the moment so we bought you some premature ones.” Linda explained.

“That’s lovely mum thank you, would you both like to meet Daisy?” Ashley asked.

Ashley wasn’t wrong when she said she was stiff, she had managed to change into a hoodie and joggers, but walking was a bit difficult at first. She led Anne and Linda into NICU, “Mum, Anne, this is baby Daisy.” She showed them the incubator where Daisy lay sound asleep, a tiny hat covering the top of her tiny head.

“She’s beautiful,” Linda whispered.

“Perfect.” Anne agreed.

“I’m already so in love with her, I can’t quite believe she’s finally here.”

One Week Later

“I’ve got some good news for you Ashley.” The midwife told Ashley who was sat feeding Daisy, who was now strong enough to be held, “The doctors think Daisy’s made enough progress in the last week for you to take her home.”

“Really? Do you mean today?” she asked.

“We’ll have to do a few checks beforehand, but I don’t see why not.” She explained.

“Hear that Dais? We’re going home today.”

Once the doctors had done their relevant checks, they agreed that Daisy was healthy enough to go home, Ashley placed a peacefully sleeping Daisy into her pram, her fingertips just about poking out of the sleeves of her baby grow that was way too big for her. “Right my love, it’s time for you to face the big wide world.” Ashley pushes the pram out to the waiting area where Gemma was waiting with all the bags.

“You ready?” Gemma asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

[narniaandplowmen]

My lute be still for I have done.

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 2608 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

Part 1 of Half a Century of Poetry

Three months after The Mountain, Jaskier is a one-day journey away from Oxenfurt. There, one night before he enters the city to become a professor, he writes and performs his final song.

Jaskier couldn’t perform. It had been three damn months  and he still couldn’t perform. Oh sure, he tried, and he did manage to get through some songs without being hindered by sobs ripping their way up from the core of his heart. But he couldn’t perform.  He couldn’t even get through the first few chords of Toss a Coin without his throat closing up and forcing him to change to a different song before even opening his mouth to sing the first line. Sure, he had tried singing the very few songs in his repertoire that did  not  speak about the Witcher and his heroic deeds, but every single song somehow circled back to Geralt. Geralt, who had, in no uncertain terms, told him it was better if Jaskier were dead. If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.

He had attempted to sing Fishmonger’s Daughter, but that only reminded him of their first meeting and Parvetta’s betrothal feast. Even the songs he had written for Countess de Stael were unplayable. He couldn’t fool himself. He knew that, even though the songs described the long soft hair and gorgeous eyes of a maid unaware of her own beauty, he was really describing a certain long-haired, yellow-eyed self-conscious Witcher. And even if he did manage to fool himself, the instrument he held was, on occasion, more than enough to make his heart break into even smaller pieces, if that was even possible. The lute was a physical reminder of their first adventure, of the compassion Geralt had shown even when his life was threatened. And yet Jaskier could not manage to part with it, could not even conceive of selling it. It was, after all, some sort of reminder that Geralt had, once, cared. Had, once, put Jaskier’s life above his own. Once.

It had been three months. Three damn months and Jaskier felt pathetic. He had hoped, dreamed, wished, prayed that by now he would be over it, his broken heart would be healed even the tiniest bit, but now that winter was fast approaching, he had to accept the fact that it would not. Instead of nagging at Geralt that he was getting so cold, that he needed the Witcher’s body warmth -  ‘I am a mutant, my skin is cold,’ Jaskier could hear the words as if Geralt was standing next to him - he was camping in a forest alone, with nothing but his thoughts to distract him from the biting cold and his chattering teeth. Tomorrow, he would be in Oxenfurt. Tomorrow, he would be surrounded by hundreds of people, welcomed warmly and, hopefully, offered a teaching position, like the university had done every time he travelled through town. Where he had always kindly refused, he would, this time, graciously accept. Jaskier had prepared his excuses well: he would tell them he was too old to travel the road, he would speak of the ‘importance of giving way for a new generation’, he would complain about his knees hurting if he walked too much. And then, maybe, hopefully, nobody would question that he was not following the white-haired Witcher anymore. And if they begged him to play… If they begged him to play, he would refuse. He would, Jaskier had decided, claim he was rheumatic. State that playing hurt. It would give an excuse for his sombre state, for his tears if he did play, for his choice to leave the Path he had always spoken so fondly of. Jaskier the Traveling Bard, the moment he entered Oxenfurt, would cease to exist, replaced by Professor Pankratz.

 But that wouldn’t be until he entered the city. So now, in the dark loneliness of the forest, Jaskier grabbed his lute and played.

  My lute awake performe the last

Labour that thou and I shall waste:

And end that I have now begonne:

And when this song is song and past:

My lute be styll for I have done.

 Jaskier remembered how his parents had disapproved of his career path. They had been elated when he had announced he wanted to go to Oxenfurt, but this happiness was short-lived once they had learned that their son was not planning on studying business, or politics, or some sort of scientific program. Wanting to study the seven liberal arts had caused multiple huge fights. Most of them were now, so many years later, a vague, negative blur in his mind, but he remembered one thing vividly. During one of the final fights he had had with his parents before they allowed him to go, he had stood in a windowsill on the third floor, holding tight but hovering one foot over the empty air below, yelling that he ‘would rather DIE than give up music’. And now, as he played, he knew that giving it up would cause his death as well. He breathed out a small laugh. Die of heartbreak, a marvellously poetic way to go. How else was he expecting to die? Old, surrounded by friends and family? Children and grandchildren around his bed as he used his last words to say something wise? No, that had never been an option. He would cease playing and die, as he once, so long ago, when he lived in happier times, had joked: a broken-hearted man.

  As to be heard where eare is none:

As lead to grave in marble stone:

My song may pearse her hart as sone.

Should we then sigh? or singe, or mone?

No, no, my lute for I have done.

 He didn’t understand where he had gone wrong. Jaskier considered himself quite a good judge of character, and he knew that this was not just one of the self-aggrandising statements he often made. His ability to read others, mirror them and appease their needs was the exact reason he had become so well-know, so well-liked, the ‘skilled negotiator’ and ‘stirring orator’ that had been welcomed by courts around the Continent with open arms. Sure, musical talent was important, but any successful bard’s true strength was his ability to appease in all senses of the word. So where had he gone wrong? What had happened? Had he truly not been able to correctly judge the nature of his and Geralt’s relationship? He knew, of course he knew, that Geralt could never see Jaskier as Jaskier saw him. It was abundantly clear that their friendship was just that, a friendship. There would be no hope for anything other than that. Yet, Jaskier had been pretty confident in calling Geralt a friend. Sure, the Witcher denied it with each passing breath, but Jaskier knew that Geralt knew that all those denials were lies, attempts to not get attached to someone mortal, no matter the fact that Jaskier’s half-elf parentage meant he would still live twice as long as the average human. Twice as long was nothing, nothing compared to the eternity a quick Witcher could live. So Jaskier hadn’t pushed. Sure, he had joked, on occasion, but never too much. Never to the point where it made Geralt uncomfortable. Their friendship was an unspoken thing, and that was fine. So what had happened for that to change? Jaskier briefly stopped playing to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Pathetic. If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands. What had he done to deserve such a death-wish? Jaskier knew he had a tendency to be a bit too much, too bright, too happy, too loud. Yet still, did he deserve this fate?

 The rockes do not so cruelly

Repulse the waves continually,

As he my sute and affection:

So that I am past remedy,

Wherby my lute and I have done.

 Jaskier turned to add more wood to the fire. Next to the small stack of wood he had gathered, a tiny violet flower bloomed. He reached out, picking it from the dirt and turning it around between his fingers. Violet. Yennefer. The Wish. He had stumbled across the sorceress a month after The Mountain and, instead of cursing him, or killing him, or laughing at his pathetic state, she had bought them both tremendous amounts of ale and they had spent the night - bonding? Yes, that was the only appropriate word for it, no matter how weird it sounded. It turned out that Geralt had not only ruined his relationship with Jaskier that day. He had also managed to make an enemy of the most powerful person on the entire Continent. Jaskier had been appalled when Yennefer, in a soft voice, had shared what had happened when Geralt had found the djinn. Jaskier himself could remember little of it, and now he wished he could still live in that blissful ignorance. The knowledge that Yennefer saved him was awful enough on its own, but learning about the wish made Jaskier want to vomit. Sure, he was an ‘unparalleled lover’, but he always, always made sure he had the full, complete and enthusiastic consent of his partner before undertaking anything. What Geralt had done was cruel, opportunistic and shameful. And, although he never thought he would say the words, Yennefer deserved better. 

 Proude of the spoile that thou hast gotte

Of simple hartes through loves shot:

By whom unkinde thou hast them wonne,

Thinke not he hath his bow forgot,

Although my lute and I have done.

 It had turned out that Jaskier had not just ‘stumbled across’ Yennefer. Instead, she had sought him out. The next morning, after some handy magic spared him from nursing the worst hangover of his life, Yennefer had revealed her plan of vengeance. As the woman spoke, Jaskier made several mental notes to never ever cross her. Still, he had refused. He understood the desire for vengeance, for payment, for retribution but, Jaskier had told Yennefer, Geralt had taken enough of his life. He didn’t want to spend more time chasing the white-haired Witcher. Besides, without them, how many friends did the man have left? Letting him rot in his loneliness was enough of a punishment. Yennefer had disagreed, of course she had. But she had left him with a ring. Turning the blue stone twice would signal that he had changed his mind, that he wanted to take revenge anyway. Turning it thrice would alert Yennefer that he was in great danger. Turning it once would signify he was thinking of her. Turning the stone once, he turned back to his lute and continued to play.

  Vengeaunce shall fall on thy disdaine

That makest but game on earnest payne.

Thinke not alone under the sunne

Unquit to cause thy lovers plaine:

Although my lute and I have done

 As Jaskier played, another memory forced its way up to the forefront of his mind. It had been at the beginning of their travels, sitting next to a campfire similar to this whilst discussing Geralt’s newest contract.

 ‘What happens if you don’t manage to kill it this time?’ Jaskier, in his youthful innocence, had asked. 

 ‘I die.’ The Witcher had said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. 

 ‘And when does it end? All this fighting and travelling? When are you done?’

 ‘When I die.’ 

 ‘Don’t you want to settle down? Maybe somewhere on the seaside? Retire? Find a nice cottage?’ 

 ‘Witchers don’t retire,’ Geralt had grunted, with a tone that made it clear that this was the end of the conversation. 

 Later, Jaskier had often seen the exhaustion on Geralt’s face. The man might have thought he hid his emotions well, but the opposite was true. He had seen him glance at old, retired couples. He had seen the mental exhaustion as the Alderman tried to find loopholes to pay him less. He had seen the longing, aching, yearning that Geralt never truly allowed himself to admit he had. So, when Geralt had come down from the mountain with a clear look of defeat, Jaskier had extended him a metaphorical hand.

  ‘We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.’ 

 But instead of a nod, or of Geralt’s characteristical silence, he had been met with those words. That deathwish. Take you off my hands. And here Jaskier was, away from the Witcher who would, apparently, rather have him dead than alive. And some bitter part of him hoped that Geralt would make his way to the coast, would get away for a while, and would, finally, realise that Jaskier had been right. But by then it would be too late, and maybe, maybe, some vengeful part of him whispered, Geralt would feel even a fraction of the hurt Jaskier felt now. 

  May chance thee lie withered and olde,

In winter nightes that are so colde,

Playning in vain unto the mone:

Thy wishes then dare not be tolde.

Care then who list, for I have done.

 Jaskier knew the idea of Geralt retiring was laughable, of course he did. A Witcher did not retire. He lived on, fought monsters, got slow and died. Most likely somewhere in a muddy swamp, slowly and painfully bleeding out as his mutations tried their best to heal him, but failing to do so. Probably whilst being eaten by a kikimore or something equally awful. In those last hours, would Geralt think of him? Of Yennefer? Of the child surprise he had left behind, he had never visited? Or would he, by then, have completely forgotten about any of them. Were they all just a breeze in the wind, a single grain of sand in the desert of Geralt’s life? A soft buzz on his finger signalling that Yennefer, too, thought of him, removed him from those thoughts. No, it could not be. Jaskier had to have meant something. Geralt had allowed him to travel with him for two decades, that must have accounted for something, right? Maybe, just maybe, Geralt’s last thoughts would be of him. Maybe he would regret his behaviour, and maybe, when they both arrived at Melitele’s Gates, they would be reunited at last, and all would be well.

  And the may chance thee to repent

The time that thou hast lost and spent

To cause thy lovers sigh and swowne.

Then shalt thou know beauty but lent

And wish and want as I have done.

 Jaskier suppressed a yawn and, after adding a bit more wood to the fire so it would burn through the night and checking that the fire would not spread, leaned back against the tree behind him. He would need his energy tomorrow to make it to Oxenfurt before the city gates closed. He carefully placed his lute next to him, softly humming to give his voice a proper cooling down. ‘This is it, my sweet,’ he whispered softly in-between hums. ‘No more carefree playing for you.’ He did not even bother to wipe away the tears from his cheeks. Tomorrow, Jaskier the Bard would become Professor Julian Pankratz. Tomorrow, he would have to go back to the days where he had to hide his playing from the world, finding spaces where nobody could see his fingers touch the strings as if they had found their home. So, in a sombre, soft tone, Jaskier sang the final verse of his song acapella, heard only by the insects on the ground and the grey owl in the tree high above him.

  Now cease my lute this is the last

Labour that thou and I shall wast,

And ended is that we begonne.

Now is this song both song and past,

My lute be still for I have done. 

[that70sbitchsstuff]

Is it just me or does anyone want to see a crossover between That 70s Show and the ranch. Like honestly I REALLY shkp Jackie and Rooster, I mean how can I not they would make the cutest couple. Imagine this, after season 8 Jackie breaks up with Fez, gets the hell out of point place and goes on a road trip to find something better, something new. Along the way she realised that she's basically broke and finds a small town named garrison. She arrives there at 6am and finds a bar named Maggie's with a help wanted sign, she goes in, walks up to the lady behind the bar and says... "Hey, look I'm just going to be blunt and say I'm normally not caught dead in places like these, but I'm really desperate and need a job and the sign outside says you need my help, so is there a manager I can talk to or something"Jackie said in a somewhat rushed and desperate voice.

The lady looks somewhat offended but also a little amused by Jackie's desperate tone, she didn't look like someone who was strapped for cash, in fact she look really young around 19 or 20. She had, her raven hair curled perfectly,her make-up done to a tee and she was certainly dressed to impress, in nee length leather boots, blue jeans tucked underneath and a clearly expensive red off the shoulder, only slightly baggy sweater and all of this to accommodated by a very pretty face with doll like features, she had big mismatched eyes one brown,one blue, full pouty lips, high cheeks bones but you could see that the girl was hurting underneath her innocent eyes. So the woman looked her up and down, raised her eyebrow, smirked and said....

"What in the hell makes you think ANYONE is gonna hire you with that attitude. Also do you even have the qualifications to work at a bar." The lady said in a thick southern accent. She looked to be in her late 50s or early 60s, her brown hair was short and curly and she had brown eyes and thin lips. She had on a pair of black Jean's, a denim shirt jacket and lilac tee-shrit that hung loosely around her body. In all honesty she looked a little bit like a hippie but she also didn't look like the type to take shit from anyone.

" Oh please" Jackie said offended, as she thought who wouldn't want to hire her."Firstly it's a bar, what 'qualifications' could I possibly need to-

"ok I'm gonna stop you right there" The woman said interrupting Jackie." I think we've been gotten a bit off track here and I'm on the verge of kicking your ass out of here. So I would like to know your name before I do that." She said very falsely sweet voice.

Jackie was taken aback, she was always so used to the 'customer is always right' motto. When she worked in the salon, the motto was practically engraved in to her mind. Her mother had also taught her to expect no less from employees or any kind of staff for that matter because their "basically our servants Jackie, we just dont have to pay them" her mother always said, to say that warped her young mind on how to treat people equally would be a understatement.

Her eyes widened a bit as she stammered out her reply, still a little caught off guard by the woman's bluntness" O-oh umm I'm Jackie, Jackie Burkhart" Jackie said confidently" And I'm sorry if I came on a little strong there, i just haven't gotten the hang of this 'job thing' yet. So what's your name." Jackie asked curiously.

The woman eyed Jackie curiously before giving her an answer.

"Maggie Bennett, and I am the owner of this bar".

After this exchange the two women quickly became acquainted with each other but cant help but be a little stand-offish. Jackie had learned that Maggie has been the owner of the bar for over 20 year which blow blew her mind but also that she was going through some martial issues and had two grown sons. Maggie had found out that Jackie was on something of a self discovery journey (something that Maggie envied) because of troubles back home. She had also learned that Jackie came from money and didn't have alot of job experience. This had helped Maggie in her decision in wether or not to hire Jackie but finally came to a conclusion......

"well kid your only 21, have had just three short job experiences and are pretty clueless when it comes to any manual labour other than fixing a car surprisingly." Maggie said in a toneless voice, which only made Jackie even more nervous. She knew she wasn't that experience but what she lack for in that she gained in determination.

Jackie looked at Maggie visibly worried now, even though she tried to calm her self down, she was afraid that Maggie was going to laugh her out of the building.

"Well...... you've got the job!" Maggie exclaimed happily but before she could anything else out, she had an arm full of Jackie Burkhart squealing happily and hugging the life out of her.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!" Jackie squealed gleefully and surprisingly she was really(excuse the language) fucking excited about this job. Because to her this will be her first job out in the real world, and yes you could argue that the cheese palace, the salon and working for that god awful woman who's name shall not be spoken (purely because I forget it), as real jobs but Jackie didn't because they were in that small town, that small town that took everything she loved, that small town that had been suffocating up until she left...she fucking hated that small town.

So she was excited about this new opportunity, this new chance to make something of her self to use her experience out in the rea-" wait, I have very little experience in these types of things, you even said it yourself self! why are you even hiring me". Jackie said curiously and a little self consciously, that was something was new to her.

"Well a number of reasons first one would probably be because you know how to make some pretty complicated drinks" That's right, Jackie remember telling her that she knew how to make alot of different drinks, not only from years of watching her own mother make 'special smoothies' but also from watching Mrs Forman make all different drinks." And well..... I'm low on staff and as long as you promise to not drink any of the alcohol, you can work here." Maggie said a little sheepish.

"Oh ok, well then I promise not to disappoint you and you dont have to worry about me drinking on the job, I'm more of a smoker than a drinker" Jackie said reassuringly"So when do I start."

"Right now" Maggie said "But its only 8AM dont bars usually open at like 6 or 7" Jackie asked confusingly.

"Oh honey not in this town, alcohol is kinda the only thing they have" Maggie said in a tone that was meant to sound jokingly, but something told Jackie that she was serious.

So for the next few hours Jackie worked as a bartender. She met all kinds of different people including some of the regulars. But it wasn't until 6PM when Jackie met the rest of the Bennett family.

Jackie had looked up from her place at the bar and saw three men walk in. The first one being an old man who looked to be in his 70s he full head of white hair and a white moustache, a khaki green button-up shirt and a pair of blue jeans with muddy boots. He had remained her of Mr Forman on account of him having a natural scowl on his face. The second man was tall and build, his face was very sculpted with refined features such as a builded jaw line, he had brown hair and a backwards red cap on, a blue and red check shirt with a grey shirt underneath, black jeans and a pair of muddy uggs that he could NOT pull off. He remained her of Kelso due to the goofy look on his face and the build of his body. The third man had her doing a double take, he looked so much like steven it was almost if he was right there. He had a full head of curly hair (although alot more tame than Stevens) and a bushy beard with squirted blue eyes, he had a light brown leather jacket with a red shirt on, navy blue jeans , with a pair of muddy cowboy boots? Seriously did these men not have any sense of fashion.

"Seriously I cant even shut a truck door right" the second man said flabbergasted. "I'm sure you could why you choose not to is beyond me" the first man replied patronisingly.

Judging by the tone of the conversation Jackie could only assume they were having a fight and honestly the old man reminded her so much of Red Forman that she was waiting for a 'Dumbass' or a 'foot up the ass' comment. Also both men had thick southern accent to them, like Maggie so she assumed they were from around here.

That was when the steven look alike spoke up." Hey, I'm gonna hit the bar. But in case you guys run out of things to fight about.." He paused as if he were about to reveal something important."Colt's Jean's cost 85 bucks" He said as he took his leave. His voice sounded almost like Steven's just older and had a southern accent to it.

As Jackie seen him approaching the bar she turned around and pretended to not have been ease dropping on their conversation.

I will post an update here and on fanfiction.net, hoped everyone liked it.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Lonely Paws

Genre: Smut, Cam boy AU, FWB AU, College/University AU

Pairing: Cam boy!Namjoon x Reader

Warning: sub!Namjoon, male masturbation, impregnation kink, Namjoon is bad at sex, pet play (wolf pup play... ah dinnae ken, is that a thing?), sweater paws, unrequited love, allusion to unsafe penetrative sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses!), exhibitionism, voyeurism, mild swearing/cussing

Summary: When a wolf pup carrying around a heart that is only sometimes loved is left alone, fantasy provided by the owner belonging to another forms a great escape to being appreciated.

Masterlist

Relationships are easily influenced occurrences, sometimes even so much so it is hardly possible to ascribe a certain status to it. Break-ups made undone only to become a steady rhythm of separation and reunion between two people, friendships flowing over into romance after bravely asking for a date yet acting so much so the same it makes one wonder when the connection deepened.

As became the case on the edge of the bed one night three years ago, tipsy on wine and whiskey but likely having ended up there anyway with the same wish even without booze. The same trust required to put into another for scary though rememberable first experiences, something we were not able to put into anyone but each other.

Sighing praise for wanton whimpers after tasting soft lips scented with grapes as bodies collided over and over, Y/N became the first woman to ever truly get exclusive attention despite the plethora of girls at high school and currently at university. Only her digits are allowed to run through ashy chocolate locks, caress round cheeks intentionally or without cause, wander lower and lower to stir up emotional storms that hold no significant meaning to anyone but a wisened spirit.

A mere sex buddy.

But, fortunately, also something of a more important nature.

Her pet wolf.

Because beneath a learned consciousness studying philosophy mainly out of pure interest but also due to not knowing what else to do, goes a persona seeking refuge in the ability to please others over digital highways while having a certain steady direction in the shape of a gorgeous owner.

As is the case during one’s youth, many new experiences are explored mostly out of curiosity and sometimes simply for shits and giggles. Porn is a discovery which combines the sentiments, the former becoming more and more dominant after filming a personal pleasurable session while continuously muttering the name of the wonderful woman who has put a boy in love in the friendzone and eventually putting it online afterwards. The desire to get to know the sensual field grew even more after seeing the positive comments, finding a sense of accomplishment in them.

Acknowledgement.

Something that has never followed the sex with Y/N, who always returns to Jisung, a young producer she met on a holiday in Malaysia. Thus, the strangely deep yet shallow friendship repeatedly ascends and descends, acquiring and losing statuses.

Fortunately, howbeit perversely and sadly, a form of recognition came one day during the cleaning of the bedroom in the house shared with six other men with whom a brotherhood has been established. Save to say, none of them knows what their trusted companion does as a job on the side to make ends meet. 

The pretty lady was cleaning under the bed when fingers traced out the fluffy shape of the recently acquired stone grey tail plug, which was gifted by a long-time viewer after proposing to try something new.

‘Uhm, Joon? What’s this?’ The toy in hand, the secret crush looked questionably at a mortified face caught in a war between Truth and Lie.

Choosing for the righteous side with a soft-spoken voice because it seemed the only way to save a precious unrequited love. ‘I- I can explain. Can we talk for a bit?’

And that is how the revelation of the weekly cam shows came to be, though the detail of doing it out of an urge to be seen as a lover was kept hidden and has been up till now.

 ‘So you do this as an extra source of income?’ This is all she was allowed to know. The truth, albeit the censored version. The familiar voice heard speaking in tones that should be preserved for the busy boyfriend yet were heard by a pup sounded questioning, although there was a weird preluding tone in it as well. 

‘Y- Yes. I hope it doesn’t-’ The attempt at gaining an estimate of the damage the information would inflict upon the sturdy friendship was cut short by a paradoxically misplaced inquiry. 

‘Who’s your biggest patron?’ A question that fully showed the identity of the strange emotion floating beneath the surface just a second earlier, hand clenching the freshly washed navy bedding as teeth gritted in curious animosity directed toward something unknown.

Or, rather, someone. 

Jealousy.

Y/N had actually turned emerald in envious despair.

Which was incredibly out of place for the love of a man for a gorgeous best friend had been unrequited until then. Until the sun sets in the west. However, failing to see that among the sheets the reality is different, fierce protest came against the then deemed absurd demeanour. ‘Does it matter? Y/N, it’s not as if we- ah!’

Out of the blue and as fast as lightning, a familiar small palm held many times while mindlessly fucking or on the rare occasion of genuine lovemaking - at least it was sincere for one party - enveloped denim heated with shameful images of what could be done with the discovered toy. Especially when surrendered to the woman who inherently belonged to another. ‘Nobody claims my wolf for themselves.’

‘Y- Your wolf?’ A slight squeeze awakened the submissive persona within that always surfaces when similar circumstances occur, reducing a baritone voice to needy whining. 

‘Yes, Joonie. Mine.’ A whimper fell from full stunned lips, paralyzed by the digits that had slipped past the rim of jeans and underwear to act upon the primal urges overtaking demeanour, enjoying the sensation of sinning soft skin encouraging release. A mischievous grin began to grow from the snarl on my new owner’s lovely face, continuing to contrastingly sweetly caress the right cheek before petting chocolate milk strands as the knot in the pit of the stomach kept building. ‘My beautiful honey wolf.’

‘Y- Yours.’ The acknowledgement was spoken in the broken manner which has always been a loved aspect of a boy in love and has never failed to make Y/N happy.

The priority of every pet.

Of every man loving their significant other.

To delight the person the heart belongs to. 

‘What’s that?’ Regardless of having heard it clearly, the statement allowing the enchanting mistress to claim full possession of a wolf boy wanted to be heard again if only for personal satisfaction.

The knowledge to be better than the biggest sponsor.

Because she was there first.

Always had been.

Always will be. 

‘I- I’m y- yours.’ It came out on a squeaky breath, the pooling heat below having grown painful and turned even more agonizing when being encouraged further. A kiss on the neck went paired with a careful lick, testing the waters to discover how much this alternative animalistic personality was truly liked despite every instinct urging to act and chase a release into blinding bliss. ‘Let m- me m- make you f- feel good.’

And it was liked. Very much so, judging by the firm grip on whimpering locks driven further to the edge by fingertips sneaking towards the most sensitive part and suggestive tone in the whisper that definitely changed the relationship. ‘Then put on your pretty tail, Joonie, and let’s see how good my wolf really can make me feel.’

Being driven too much to edge already, everything went blank when connecting unprotected after the swift disposal of clothes covering the lower body but not being allowed to recuperate before being forced into moving by the firm grip on the behind and thus left mewling in overstimulation.

However, it is the duty of a pet to satisfy its owner.

The duty of a wolf to satisfy its bitch.

So the warm orange afternoon carried on into lilac twilight, breathing laboured while trying to perform to the best of capability despite clumsy movements that at some point no longer were given feedback but gone along with and thin spurts of gratitude.

Luckily, the pretty owner did not seem to mind it just like the audience tuning in weekly to see a stuttering baby boy did not mind the transformation into a submissive wolf pup which is owned. In fact, it sparked encouraging perverse cooing alongside sincere comments about the innocent sweetness of the situation, praising loyalty and looks.

A bond that remains even when Y/N is absent, keeping up appearances of a normal friendship by readily agreeing to Jisung’s plan to go on a holiday together and thus basically forcing a pup to be left behind. Withal, the wonderful mistress has found a way to make her baby wolf remember who adopted it, who it should remain in service to despite a prolonged absence.

Everything is set up for tonight’s broadcast, the camera set up just at the right angle to capture any increase of sensual excitement illuminated by the few additional not too brightly shining ring lights kept out of the screen. The vague scent of peach hangs in the air among linen and figs, stemming from the liquid aid supporting the transformation from a man into a boy in unrequited love. Furry chocolate ears protrude from same-toned locks and match the fluffy tail gifted recently after visiting the hairdresser together to return from icy platinum to warm brown, quickly falling into sinful teasing - as has become a habit between us - whenever nobody was looking.

To complete the outfit or, rather, the lack of clothes, hands are buried in the oversized sleeves of the striped sweater that was also given as a present because I behaved so well.

No, not me.

The persona.

The pet within.

Indeed.

I.

Because I behaved and even trained to become a better lovable cub though the clumsiness shall never fade, no matter how many hours are spent on endeavours to improve performance. Notwithstanding, as long as nothing is said to indicate evident dissatisfaction, perhaps the way we are is the best despite being stationary.

Clearing the throat a few times to naturally fall into the cute demeanour concealed beneath a wise exterior, fingertips already slightly tease sensitive skin after pulling up an innocent picture of the beautiful woman turned into more than a friend. Slowly, sanity loses itself over the coy smile holding out a fork with a bite of homemade matcha cake, liking it only if she has made it. However, Reason can be prevented from getting completely lost in sensual limbo by stopping all movements before it starts to feel too incredible and fancy conjures an imitating spirit. 

A deep longing sigh escapes at the view on agitated desire, twitching with the need for more yet having to wait in unwanted refraining until tonight’s plan is put into motion. ‘Ok, here we go.’

For the last time, all equipment is checked as well as the connection to the streaming platform. All is well.

Time to begin.

‘H- Hey, everyone. I- It’s me, J- Joonie.’ As soon as the record button is pushed, the stuttering alternative personality who loves wearing oversized sweaters and knows only to obey in order to please takes over fully. ‘M- Mistress is a- away on a h- ho- holiday and I c- coul- couldn’t come with her.’

The first comments about what a shame it is and filled with wonder how Y/N, nicknamed Mistress for privacy reasons, could do such a thing start to flood the chat window. Seeing the pity makes a warm flush spread throughout that rises to caramel cheeks which are swiftly covered by a sweater paw as the other continues to hide the twitching longing beneath. ‘Th- Thank you for your k- kind words. I- It’s a- al- alright, though. My pre- pretty owner has l- left a m- me- message so I’ll re- remember who I belong t- to. It’ll b- be like she’s h- here.’

More viewer reactions, this time praising the adorable stutter and loyalty of a good wolf pup.

Appreciation.

Love.

All that the gorgeous best friend with benefits cannot fully give to the philosophical mind always walking on the sideline, close yet far away. Lies down on the other pillow in the two-person bed after ensuring the heart belonging to another is cherished despite not being owned outside of the agreed-upon relationship.

The lover is inherently and undeniably hers.

Both the man and the wolf.

I am Y/N’s.

‘L- Let’s have a l- look at wh- what Mistress sent.’ From the side, the silver iPhone protected by a transparent case decorated with pastel pink paw prints is retrieved and the messenger app opened, my beautiful owner’s last message being the video meant for tonight.

One hand is already firmly wrapped around hardened heated skin once the recording commences, trying to control the throbbing a little longer. Already sets a cheeky slow pace at the first second showing a beloved bare body of which every inch has been kissed, especially on the days when everything felt futile. 

Speeding up a bit when interest is perked by a fuchsia and twilight purple wolf dildo and the alabaster mess between spread thighs.

‘Joonie~‘ Ears perk up at being called by a familiar beloved voice, breathing accelerating and curiously tilting chocolate milk locks in anticipation of what will follow. ‘You’ve made quite a mess, haven’t you?’

A fake memory replays itself, repeating the moment of placing a wolf’s gratitude inside Mistress after tethering on the edge without being allowed to fall as nails etched beautiful long carmine trails over honey skin to mark territory. She looked more gorgeous than ever among the pale blue sheets, so much more wonderful than a common bitch.

And the mere thought of seeing it again fuels the growing and slowly becoming painful heat between muscled legs. 

‘I know you’re on your rut.’ Impatiently, the wanton hardened shape glides suggestively among the ivory sticky mess, wanting to act on primal desire again but also be a good pup and wait for consent. ‘And I wish I could be there to help you with it.’

‘B- But you a- are here, M- Mistress.’ The delirium already starts to take over fast as the pleasurable pace accelerates yet is not fast enough to completely lose control. The word would have to be given first for that to happen. A good pet waits and obeys, does not come undone before it is allowed. Nevertheless, that does not mean whimpering is not allowed. ‘Pl- Please, I wa- wanna fuck. Kn- Knot you.’

‘But let’s pretend I’m there with you.’

A familiar hand moves the artificial plaything, no, real heated sensual craving closer to where a thick unclear stream flows languidly to coat it in the fluid. ‘You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you? Rutting against my leg all day. Fucking needy.’

‘Y- Yeah.’ It could not be helped because to a barely human mind Mistress looked incredibly alluring and smelled so sweetly of summer figs. And a fortunate oversized clumsy cub was allowed to indulge in the temptation. ‘You l- look so pr- pretty.’

Feeling impatiently brave, an attempt is made at a bodily connection without being given explicit consent. However, the start is quickly nullified and punished with a firm squeeze below that coaxes out a whine hanging somewhere between pain and delight. ‘Bad boy. Did I say you could put your thick throbbing cock in?’

Lips purse into a pout, ears flat against the scalp as a fluffy chocolate milk tail hangs low, speaking softly in apology. ‘N- No. S- Sorry, Mistress.’

‘So impatient.’ Again, all that is allowed is agonizingly teasing gliding among the mess already made, restraint becoming harder and harder to maintain. ‘Not even wanting to do foreplay.’

Slender fingertips move to the most sensitive part which is swollen in agitated red bordering on plum, reducing speech to simple-minded whining not very shy of wanton sobbing. ‘B- But you, ah, d- don’t like th- that. Al- Always, mhm, use j- just lube.’

‘Are you getting desperate, Joonie? Leaking?’ The mischievous palm moves away to give attention to parts left in neglect, a pleased smirk on the mouth kissed many times before in the way it wants. ‘Shit, look at those veins, how thick you are. You’re a big boy.’

‘Y- Yes!’ The mere sliding continues, edging a gradually fleeting soul further to the edge of ignorant bliss. Henceforth, only simply repeating is practically all that is possible in the way of talking. ‘I- I’m a b- big boy.’

‘We’ll use your cum as lube, Joonie. Now- What a shame.’

Nonetheless, consciousness is kicked off into the abyss anyway.

A disappointed sigh obviously stresses the severity of the made mistake. ‘You really can’t behave, can you? Bad boy.’

Luckily, a floating mind can come down rapidly enough to offer sincere apologies for the misbehaviour, trying to nuzzle the neck to strengthen the show of remorse but being denied to do so. ‘I- I’m sorry, Mistress. I di- didn’t, n- no, w- w- wait! I- I’m sen- sensitive. P- Please. G- Give me a- a- ah!’ 

A novel assault on the part which is the utmost susceptible to touch quickens breathing to short shallow breaths, nerves being forced into overdrive by the hurtful overload of contact. ‘I thought you’d be better than this, but it appears I have to teach you manners again.’ A thumb presses hard against the angry reddened skin, tail swishing in sensual panic. ‘I don’t care if you can’t handle it, you’re going to put your dick inside me and keep going until your knot makes my stomach bulge with cum. So, be a good wolf and... and- fuck, Namjoon~’

Accepting the punishment like a good pet, ignoring the pain of overstimulated nerves, the bodily spell is established again after being helped in lining up. Clearly to the delight of my pretty owner, who hums in breathless satisfaction. ‘Fuck, I’m clenching your hard thick cock. Feel your knot already forming, pressing against my pussy.’

The connection is exploited as much as possible, reaching the point of utmost hypnosis when seeing the lewd outline of sensual craving create a little bump in a soft stomach. And that could become so much more if the wishes caused by the rut are seen to fruition, but only if Mistress wants them to be as well, of course. ‘Wa- Wanna give you p- pups, em- empty inside.’

To worsen the chastisement and please the gorgeous woman beneath, hips snap at a rapid pace in the chase to a second shot of white ignorance. Tail high and swishing back and forth in sexual agitated delight, fluffy chocolate brownie ears perk up to zone in on the background noise accompanied by the symphony of skin on skin and barely audible praise mingled with gasps while expanding the mess already made. ‘Listen to that. How slick my pussy is with your thick cum inside. You’ll definitely make me pregnant.’

‘Y- You’d look even pr- prettier ca- carrying our children.’ The mere image of creating our own little pack drives the frenzy for release, imaging Y/N’s stomach rounded and beautiful breasts swollen with milk for our cubs. Finally, we would have something to proudly call our own. ‘I- I love you, lo- love you so so much.’

Determined irises suppressing the equal desperation for blissful blinding make contact, nails digging into the back of the neck and the pain adding to the pleasure of being the sole one for a gorgeous woman. For my pretty owner. ‘You gonna knot me again, Joonie? Make me your bitch, your only bitch?’

The rapid sweeping of the full tail signals being incredibly close to the long-chased climax, a wonderful state of being only the marvellous woman beneath can push her pet to. ‘Yes. Yes, yes! Y- You’re my, um, hmm, o- only bitch. The only, ah, o- one I wa- want.’

The only one I want to bring me to this point.

The only one I feel safe with.

Only her. 

‘Oh my God, oh my God! Joonie! Shit, it’s so big.’ Familiar locks throw themselves into the pillow as a wolf’s gratitude slides in, laughing breathlessly in a moment of selfish pride, ears perked up. After all, a cocoa and honey wolf is the sole being which is allowed to do this, to be more of a lover than Jisung. 

Make Mistress’s belly swell with cubs. 

‘God! Yeah, stretch me open, big boy. Mmm, good pup. Love your cum flowing out of my pussy, the way you make my stomach bulge. Shit~ I love your wolf cock.’

‘Y- Yours. I- I’m yours. Only y- yours.’ Teeth bite down on the bottom lip, the barely aware mind utterly mesmerized by the show of pleased satisfaction. ‘You l- look perfect, M- Mistress.’

For a few seconds, the world slowly begins to turn as breath is regained and composure restored. Happy giggles fill the silence, soft caresses gliding over muscled arms in the aftermath and soothing the impact of the spell when it is nullified. 

‘Fuck, look at how open you fucked me.’ Gaze wanders downward, humming bordering on whimpering at the sight. Richly and languidly, a thick alabaster stream flows between thighs, increasing the arousing mess between them. 

A finger hooks beneath the chin, forcing a lock of gazes. ‘You’ll solely do this to me, understood? As soon as I’m back from my holiday, you’ll actually use me again as your bitch for the remainder of your rut and the ones to come. Do I make myself clear?’

The view causes a loss for words so that frantic nodding will have to substitute the strength of a promise that cannot be formed vocally. ‘Y- Yes, Mistress.’

The mirage fades away with the dawning realization there are comments on the screen, cooing at the fantasy of a lonesome pup which has its paws covered in a sensual mess.

‘R- Right, she isn’t h- here. Heh, how st- stupid of m- me.’ Voice reduces to whimpering, feeling the torn open gap that will not be filled. Left behind in the heart forevermore, even as a farewell is said to viewers sitting distantly behind a screen. ‘I m- miss her. But sh- she’ll be back. M- Mistress always c- comes back. Thank you f- for your kind w- words and keeping m- me company. Paw kissies from Joonie! Bye bye!’

But it is all just a fantasy.

The camera is turned off. 

Just like the belief I shall ever be Y/N’s.

Fully.

Exclusively.

A pillow shielding a deepthroat cup is placed between muscled thighs.

And the preferred method of slightly healing the wounded part of a philosophical mind very easily twisted into a simple animal is given into.

The self-made noise mingling with the lewd sucking takes away the meaning of the burning tears streaming down. 

Because all we have is this unrequited cruelty.

A wolf pup and its owner.

The truth untold.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Mistletoe Manor - Part 2

Summary: Christmas is the most important time of year for all those who live within Mistletoe Manor. From the staff to the Hawthorne family themselves, everyone works hard to ensure that the festive season is a success every year! We invite you to see if everyone can pull off another  magical Christmas at the manor this year.

Pairing: Park Seo Joon, Bang Yongguk, Brian Kang, Jung Daehyun, Jung Jaehyun, Lee Taeyong and OCs.

Genre: regency au / romance / christmas au

A/N: Becky ( @noona-clock​ ) and I wanted to create a magical Christmas for everyone and what  better way to do that than at Mistletoe Manor! Because of the nature of having several idols, we chose to work with OCs and we hope you love them as much as we do.

Mistletoe Manor will be posted daily at 10am NZST / 4pm EST daily.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Grace always loved her winter stay at Mistletoe Manor. She had gone every year since she was young, and being the only child within her family, having the three Hawthorne sisters to play with eased her yearning for siblings of her own. She and Cassie were close in age and thus bonded more naturally than she had with her younger cousins, though she equally held them close when she stepped out of the car that wound around the entryway to the manor.

“Oh Grace, I’m so glad you are here!” Evie exclaimed and whilst Grace chuckled, she was surprised by her avid greeting.

Josephine moved in with a knowing smile. “She’s been waiting by the window for you all morning, much have I. Though our reasons differ. Evie is hopeful you come with a new book or two from the city.”

“That I have indeed,” Grace announced and the middle sister grinned brightly. As the shy and somewhat overlooked Hawthorne girl, Grace had a soft spot for whenever she was blessed with a genuine smile from Evie.

She turned back to the youngest upon her arm. “And what is it you have to tell me?”

“How expectant, cousin. I haven’t even gotten you through the door and you are waiting for my firsthand gossip.”

“Considering Cassie is nowhere in sight to greet me, I assume she will be of topic?”

Joey grinned. “You know me too well.”

“And so do I,” the eldest announced once they were within the grand entrance of the manor. Grace smiled widely as her dearest friend stepped forward to embrace her tightly. When back at arm’s length, Cassie shot her sister a playful smirk. “She plans to tell you all about my woes.”

“Well, if you haven’t yet sent word of them, perhaps she should have already.”

“You’re here now; I can easily fill you in myself.”

“Always ruining my fun,” Joey breathed as the others giggled together. “Still, let me be the storyteller for our events with the festival thus far. It’s the least you can allow me to speak of!” Once settled in after her trip, and sharing lunch with the family, Grace was immediately thrown into festival tasks with the sisters. They planned out the stall layout for the market and worked on accepting proposals the townspeople had sent in for the event. It was well into the night after stopping for supper when Grace was reminded that she had not heard any of Cassie’s troubles.

“You haven’t even been here a day,” Cassie quipped as they walked along the hallway towards their rooms. She smiled at her cousin. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow? How about a walk on the grounds before coming inside to do more preparation in the morning? I will share it all with you then.”

Grace nodded, giving Cassie a kiss goodnight on her cheek. “I will hold you to it!”

And so, the very next morning after breakfast was seen to and both ladies were ready for the day, they stepped out together, Cassie hooking her arm through Grace’s, patting her forearm affectionately with her hand. “It’s lovely out.”

“Winter is not quite with us yet, you’re right.”

“Come, I wish to show you the changes we made to the back gardens.”

As they made their way around the estate, Grace and Cassie chatted about the happenings over the past few months they yet hadn’t spoken about on the telephone or through letters. The conversation stayed light for some time, Grace knowing her cousin was skirting around her issues. She would allow her to until she was ready to speak of them, knowing Cassie often needed time to process her wording.

Though, when Cassie finally started to open up, Grace’s attention had fallen short. Waving her free hand dismissively at Cassie, Grace gripped onto her lower arm. “C-Cassie?”

“I was finally telling you, and – oh.”

They stood watching the proceedings ahead of them in the field, the young man lining the log up before bringing his axe down upon it. Beads of sweat ran down his face, indicating he had been long at work; much did the pile of chopped wood to the side. Grace couldn’t help the way her mouth fell ajar at the performance before her and it wasn’t until Cassie giggled that she broke away from her reverie.

Which was timely since her laughter had travelled towards the labourer. He glanced up at them and put down his axe as a smile broadly widened out his lips.

Oh my.

“Jaehyun, it’s so nice to see you today. Is the weather good enough for it?” Cassie greeted, now not so subtlety dragging Grace along beside her. Whilst she had managed to snap out of her daze, Grace didn’t wish to get any closer to the gorgeous man.

At least, not right now.

“My Lady! It’s a lovely time to go for a stroll. And with a friend, nonetheless,” he replied, turning to Grace and bowing politely. She found herself curtseying numbly and Cassie stifled another laugh.

“Jaehyun, this is my fondest cousin, Grace. I’ll see to it that you give her a tour of the gardens tomorrow, will that suit?”

Jaehyun glanced between them both and then nodded happily enough. “It’d be a pleasure. Miss Grace, would you like to meet me after breakfast?”

“I – uh, well. Yes, that would be wonderful.”

“Jaehyun is the newest gardener here. I was going to show you his amazing work in the back gardens myself, but I feel it would be better to learn more from the master himself.”

“I wouldn’t stretch it as far as that, My Lady, but I welcome your praise all the same,” he replied with a chuckle and Grace couldn’t help but smile in return.

She should have expected a handsome face would accompany such charming words as well.

“Shall we continue on our walk, cousin?” Cassie prompted and when she looked to the woman at her side, Grace could see how much she was gleaming with delight. It was a Hawthorne trait and Grace groaned inwardly. She could only hope Joey wouldn’t catch wind of this.

The following morning, Grace was a bundle of nerves. She had chastised Cassie all the way back to the estate house, her cousin’s laughter piercing through her annoyance until she couldn’t help but laugh herself. There was no humour within her this morning, however. Smoothing out her dress for the umpteenth time, she flinched when she saw movement behind her in the mirror.

“Evie.”

“Are you alright, cousin?”

“I… could be better,” she answered, smiling exasperatedly, her reflection concerning her. If this was how she appeared now without even seeing Jaehyun, how would she possibly face him today and keep composed?

Evie grinned, rubbing at Grace’s upper arms gently. Cassie had let it be known the reason for Grace’s disappearance from this morning’s schedule and Joey’s teasing was still fresh in her mind. Grace knew that Evie would be much gentler in her approach. “Do you like him?”

“Well, I don’t even know him. Aside from that he’s rather talented with an axe.”

“You missed out on the summer here, cousin. It got so hot and he would often take-”

“I’ll not go if you continue in fear I might faint.”

Evie giggled. “So you do like him then.”

“He’s easy on the eyes, yes.”

“Hm, he’s not bad. Without a shirt on-”

“EVIE!”

Wringing her hands together as she walked outside, Grace tried to walk straight and proud. She wasn’t normally this affected by men; she had no desire yet to follow in Cassie’s footsteps down any aisle. Thankfully, she had more than enough to inherit from her family estate and there was no pressure to find anyone to share that with either. Further, although she enjoyed love stories almost as avidly as Evie did, Grace hadn’t ever entertained the idea that she could step into one.

An affluent woman and a gardener was definitely not one she had read, admittedly.

“Good morning!” Jaehyun greeted and she jolted with fright, the man rushing over to silently give his apologies.

Grace awkwardly laughed it off. “I’m fine, good morning.”

“Shall we go take a look then? I’m afraid there are not many flowers blooming as such but-”

“I like autumn colours,” she interjected and Jaehyun nodded, smiling again.

“So do I.”

As Jaehyun led Grace around the garden, she found herself relaxing into his company. He definitely knew a lot and she was fascinated by how easily he spoke of it to her as well. Jaehyun was comfortable to be around, and it showed when they began to converse about their personal lives too.

“I beg my pardon, I shouldn’t have talked about myself like that,” Jaehyun told Grace as they took a seat upon the bench in the middle of the back garden.

Grace shook her head. “It’s quite alright. I find it interesting talking with you.”

“Can we talk together more often then?” he asked earnestly, and then scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I uh, I enjoyed your company today, is all.”

“I’d be more than delighted to.”

Whenever Grace could, in between working with her cousins or the numerous outings they took, she would go out to find Jaehyun, satisfied to sit and write in her journal as he tended to the land. And whenever he would take a break, he would come over and sit beside her, trying to read what she had written down.

“I’m curious, will you ever share what you scribble down in here?”

“I most certainly do not scribble.”

“What’s that then?” he wondered and she glanced down at her book in confusion, gasping when he took it out of her hands and leapt to his feet. Scrambling up after him, she chased him around the field, shrieking when he would flick through the pages.

“It’s private! Jaehyun!”

He suddenly stopped, which Grace wasn’t quite ready for, colliding into his side with a soft thud. Although his face was already flushed from running, his cheeks deepened in colour as he glanced down at her. “You wrote a poem about me?”

“I –”

“No one has ever written about me before,” he murmured, his gaze casting back to the paper. “It’s beautiful.”

“There’s another,” she boldly told him, reaching up to take the book from his hand and flipped several pages over. Jaehyun scanned the cursive quietly as Grace chewed on her bottom lip anxiously. This poem was her favourite she had penned this year. It was full of hope for a future she had come to envision over the past month here at Mistletoe Manor. November had finally arrived, bringing forth the beginnings of festive cheer. And she hoped she would have a hand to hold within her own when the festival kicked off at the end of it.

“Grace,” he breathed, blinking slowly.

“Yes, Jaehyun?”

“Would it be improper if I kissed you right now?” he asked, turning his head just enough that it allowed her the opportunity to stretch up and position her lips in front of his. It flustered him and she giggled, somewhat breathlessly herself as her heart hammered in her chest. Jaehyun sucked in an unsteady breath. “Can I?”

“Yes,” she managed right as his mouth melded with hers, pressing softly into her. They stood there joined for what felt like all afternoon, smiling against each other, hands linking together once her journal was safely put away in her pocket.

As Jaehyun walked her back to the manor, hand in hand, he let out a soft sigh. “Will this be accepted by everyone?”

“Not everyone, but if you’re worried my cousins will be dismayed that I have fallen trap for your charms, then you can stop now. They have been rather persistent in telling me of their thoughts of you.”

“All agreeable, I hope,” he replied with a smile and then tilted his head a little. “And my charms? Why, I’m just a mere gardener. You are the one who enchanted me, Grace.”

“Is that so? I think it might have been your axe that started this all.”

“Huh?”

Grace shook her head, laughing lightly. “It’s nothing. But I hope this Christmas we’ll be able to announce we’re something.”

“May Christmas come sooner than planned then.”

_________________

Part 3

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[commissarjacobin]

Some Bible quotes that I found interesting from a Leftist perspective.

Prepare for a long one! And these are all in chronological order by the way, not listed by importance or relevance -

Quotes from Isaiah, 40-62:

All nations before him are as nothing; and they are counted to him less than nothing, and vanity.

To whom then will ye liken God? or what likeness will ye compare unto him?

The workman melteth a graven image, and the goldsmith spreadeth it over with gold, and casteth silver chains.

He that is so impoverished that he hath no oblation chooseth a tree that will not rot; he seeketh unto him a cunning workman to prepare a graven image, that shall not be moved.

They helped every one his neighbour; and every one said to his brother, Be of good courage.

So the carpenter encouraged the goldsmith, and he that smootheth with the hammer him that smote the anvil, saying, It is ready for the sodering: and he fastened it with nails, that it should not be moved.

Hear, ye deaf; and look, ye blind, that ye may see.

Who is blind, but my servant? or deaf, as my messenger that I sent? who is blind as he that is perfect, and blind as the Lord's servant?

Seeing many things, but thou observest not; opening the ears, but he heareth not.

The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness' sake; he will magnify the law, and make it honourable.

But this is a people robbed and spoiled; they are all of them snared in holes, and they are hid in prison houses: they are for a prey, and none delivereth; for a spoil, and none saith, Restore.

Who among you will give ear to this? who will hearken and hear for the time to come?

The Lord shall go forth as a mighty man, he shall stir up jealousy like a man of war: he shall cry, yea, roar; he shall prevail against his enemies.

I have long time holden my peace; I have been still, and refrained myself: now will I cry like a travailing woman; I will destroy and devour at once.

I will make waste mountains and hills, and dry up all their herbs; and I will make the rivers islands, and I will dry up the pools.

And I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them

Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old.

Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

The beast of the field shall honour me, the dragons and the owls: because I give waters in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert, to give drink to my people, my chosen.

Behold, all his fellows shall be ashamed: and the workmen, they are of men: let them all be gathered together, let them stand up; yet they shall fear, and they shall be ashamed together.

Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.

His watchmen are blind: they are all ignorant, they are all dumb dogs, they cannot bark; sleeping, lying down, loving to slumber.

Yea, they are greedy dogs which can never have enough, and they are shepherds that cannot understand: they all look to their own way, every one for his gain, from his quarter.

Come ye, say they, I will fetch wine, and we will fill ourselves with strong drink; and to morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.

For the iniquity of his covetousness was I wroth, and smote him: I hid me, and was wroth, and he went on frowardly in the way of his heart.

But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked.

Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as you please and exploit all your workers. Your fasting ends in quarreling and strife, and in striking each other with wicked fists.

Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke?

Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh?

Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the Lord shall be thy reward.

Then shalt thou call, and the Lord shall answer; thou shalt cry, and he shall say, Here I am. If thou take away from the midst of thee the yoke, the putting forth of the finger, and speaking vanity;

And if thou draw out thy soul to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted soul; then shall thy light rise in obscurity, and thy darkness be as the noon day:

And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.

And they that shall be of thee shall build the old waste places: thou shalt raise up the foundations of many generations; and thou shalt be called, The repairer of the breach, The restorer of paths to dwell in.

Behold, the Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save; neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear:

But your iniquities have separated between you and your God, and your sins have hid his face from you, that he will not hear.

For your hands are defiled with blood, and your fingers with iniquity; your lips have spoken lies, your tongue hath muttered perverseness.

None calleth for justice, nor any pleadeth for truth: they trust in vanity, and speak lies; they conceive mischief, and bring forth iniquity.

They hatch cockatrice' eggs, and weave the spider's web: he that eateth of their eggs dieth, and that which is crushed breaketh out into a viper.

Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works: their works are works of iniquity, and the act of violence is in their hands.

Their feet run to evil, and they make haste to shed innocent blood: their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; wasting and destruction are in their paths.

The way of peace they know not; and there is no judgment in their goings: they have made them crooked paths: whosoever goeth therein shall not know peace.

Therefore is judgment far from us, neither doth justice overtake us: we wait for light, but behold obscurity; for brightness, but we walk in darkness.

According to their deeds, accordingly he will repay, fury to his adversaries, recompence to his enemies; to the islands he will repay recompence.

And the sons of strangers shall build up thy walls, and their kings shall minister unto thee: for in my wrath I smote thee, but in my favour have I had mercy on thee.

Therefore thy gates shall be open continually; they shall not be shut day nor night; that men may bring unto thee the forces of the Gentiles, and that their kings may be brought.

For the nation and kingdom that will not serve thee shall perish; yea, those nations shall be utterly wasted.

For brass I will bring gold, and for iron I will bring silver, and for wood brass, and for stones iron: I will also make thy officers peace, and thine exactors righteousness.

Violence shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor destruction within thy borders; but thou shalt call thy walls Salvation, and thy gates Praise.

The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.

Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.

Thy people also shall be all righteous: they shall inherit the land for ever, the branch of my planting, the work of my hands, that I may be glorified.

A little one shall become a thousand, and a small one a strong nation: I the Lord will hasten it in his time.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound;

And they shall build the old wastes, they shall raise up the former desolations, and they shall repair the waste cities, the desolations of many generations.

And strangers shall stand and feed your flocks, and the sons of the alien shall be your plowmen and your vinedressers.

But ye shall be named the Priests of the Lord: men shall call you the Ministers of our God: ye shall eat the riches of the Gentiles, and in their glory shall ye boast yourselves.

For Zion's sake will I not hold my peace, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest, until the righteousness thereof go forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth.

I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, which shall never hold their peace day nor night: ye that make mention of the Lord, keep not silence,

And give him no rest, till he establish, and till he make Jerusalem a praise in the earth.

The Lord hath sworn by his right hand, and by the arm of his strength, Surely I will no more give thy corn to be meat for thine enemies; and the sons of the stranger shall not drink thy wine, for the which thou hast laboured:

But they that have gathered it shall eat it, and praise the Lord; and they that have brought it together shall drink it in the courts of my holiness.

Go through, go through the gates; prepare ye the way of the people; cast up, cast up the highway; gather out the stones; lift up a standard for the people.

Behold, the Lord hath proclaimed unto the end of the world, Say ye to the daughter of Zion, Behold, thy salvation cometh; behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him.

And they shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord: and thou shalt be called, Sought out, A city not forsaken.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

27th December >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

The Holy Family

(Liturgical Colour: White)

Either:

First Reading

Genesis 15:1-6,21:1-3

Your heir shall be your own flesh and blood

The word of the Lord was spoken to Abram in a vision, ‘Have no fear, Abram, I am your shield; your reward will be very great.’    ‘My Lord,’ Abram replied ‘what do you intend to give me? I go childless…’. Then Abram said, ‘See, you have given me no descendants; some man of my household will be my heir.’ And then this word of the Lord was spoken to him, ‘He shall not be your heir; your heir shall be of your own flesh and blood.’ Then taking him outside he said, ‘Look up to heaven and count the stars if you can. Such will be your descendants’ he told him. Abram put his faith in the Lord, who counted this as making him justified.    The Lord dealt kindly with Sarah as he had said, and did what he had promised. So Sarah conceived and bore a son to Abraham in his old age, at the time God had promised. Abraham named the son born to him Isaac, the son to whom Sarah had given birth.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading

Ecclesiasticus 3:2-6,12-14

He who fears the Lord respects his parents

The Lord honours the father in his children,    and upholds the rights of a mother over her sons. Whoever respects his father is atoning for his sins,    he who honours his mother is like someone amassing a fortune. Whoever respects his father will be happy with children of his own,    he shall be heard on the day when he prays. Long life comes to him who honours his father,    he who sets his mother at ease is showing obedience to the Lord. My son, support your father in his old age,    do not grieve him during his life. Even if his mind should fail, show him sympathy,    do not despise him in your health and strength; for kindness to a father shall not be forgotten    but will serve as reparation for your sins.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Either:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 127(128):1-5

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

O blessed are those who fear the Lord    and walk in his ways! By the labour of your hands you shall eat.    You will be happy and prosper.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Your wife will be like a fruitful vine    in the heart of your house; your children like shoots of the olive,    around your table.

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Indeed thus shall be blessed    the man who fears the Lord. May the Lord bless you from Zion    all the days of your life!

R/ O blessed are those who fear the Lord and walk in his ways!

Or:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 104(105):1-6,8-9

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Give thanks to the Lord, tell his name,    make known his deeds among the peoples. O sing to him, sing his praise;    tell all his wonderful works!

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Be proud of his holy name,    let the hearts that seek the Lord rejoice. Consider the Lord and his strength;    constantly seek his face.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Remember the wonders he has done,    his miracles, the judgements he spoke. O children of Abraham, his servant,    O sons of the Jacob he chose.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

He remembers his covenant for ever,    his promise for a thousand generations, the covenant he made with Abraham,    the oath he swore to Isaac.

R/ He, the Lord, is our God. He remembers his covenant for ever.

Second Reading

Colossians 3:12-21

Family life in the Lord

You are God’s chosen race, his saints; he loves you, and you should be clothed in sincere compassion, in kindness and humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with one another; forgive each other as soon as a quarrel begins. The Lord has forgiven you; now you must do the same. Over all these clothes, to keep them together and complete them, put on love. And may the peace of Christ reign in your hearts, because it is for this that you were called together as parts of one body. Always be thankful.    Let the message of Christ, in all its richness, find a home with you. Teach each other, and advise each other, in all wisdom. With gratitude in your hearts sing psalms and hymns and inspired songs to God; and never say or do anything except in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.    Wives, give way to your husbands, as you should in the Lord. Husbands, love your wives and treat them with gentleness. Children, be obedient to your parents always, because that is what will please the Lord. Parents, never drive your children to resentment or you will make them feel frustrated.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Gospel Acclamation

Hebrews 1:1-2

Alleluia, alleluia! At various times in the past and in various different ways, God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets; but in our own time, the last days, he has spoken to us through his Son. Alleluia!

Either:

Gospel

Luke 2:22-40

My eyes have seen your salvation

When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, – observing what stands written in the Law of the Lord: Every first-born male must be consecrated to the Lord – and also to offer in sacrifice, in accordance with what is said in the Law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.    Now in Jerusalem there was a man named Simeon. He was an upright and devout man; he looked forward to Israel’s comforting and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death until he had set eyes on the Christ of the Lord. Prompted by the Spirit he came to the Temple and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the Law required, he took him into his arms and blessed God; and he said:

‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised; because my eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel.’

As the child’s father and mother stood there wondering at the things that were being said about him, Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘You see this child: he is destined for the fall and for the rising of many in Israel, destined to be a sign that is rejected – and a sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the secret thoughts of many may be laid bare.’    There was a prophetess also, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well on in years. Her days of girlhood over, she had been married for seven years before becoming a widow. She was now eighty-four years old and never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. She came by just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem.    When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Or:

Gospel

Luke 2:22,39-40

They went back to Galilee, to Nazareth

When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord.    When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[divinum-pacis]

Readings for the Second Week of Advent

From Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition of the Bible (in the public domain)

Second Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 22:8-23

“And the covering of Juda shall be discovered, and thou shalt see in that day the armoury of the house of the forest. And you shall see the breaches of the city of David, that they are many: and you have gathered together the waters of the lower pool, and have numbered the houses of Jerusalem, and broken down houses to fortify the wall. And you made a ditch between the two walls for the water of the old pool: and you have not looked up to the maker thereof, nor regarded him even at a distance, that wrought it long ago. And the Lord, the God of hosts, in that day shall call to weeping, and to mourning, to baldness, and to girding with sackcloth: And behold joy and gladness, killing calves, and slaying rams, eating flesh, and drinking wine: Let us eat and drink; for to morrow we shall die. And the voice of the Lord of hosts was revealed in my ears: Surely this iniquity shall not be forgiven you till you die, saith the Lord God of hosts. Thus saith the Lord God of hosts: Go, get thee in to him that dwelleth in the tabernacle, to Sobna who is over the temple: and thou shalt say to him: What dost thou here, or as if thou wert somebody here? for thou hast hewed thee out a sepulchre here, thou hast hewed out a monument carefully in a high place, a dwelling for thyself in a rock. Behold the Lord will cause thee to be carried away, as a cock is carried away, and he will lift thee up as a garment. He will crown thee with a crown of tribulation, he will toss thee like a ball into a large and spacious country: there shalt thou die, and there shall the chariot of thy glory be, the shame of the house of thy Lord. And I will drive thee out From thy station, and depose thee from thy ministry. And it shall come to pass in that day, that I will call my servant Eliacim the son of Helcias, and I will clothe him with thy robe, and will strengthen him with thy girdle, and will give thy power into his hand: and he shall be as a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and to the house of Juda. And I will lay the key of the house of David upon his shoulder: and he shall open, and none shall shut: and he shall shut, and none shall open. And I will fasten him as a peg in a sure place, and he shall be for a throne of glory to the house of his father.”

Second Monday of Advent

Isaiah 24:1-18

“Behold the Lord shall lay waste the earth, and shall strip it, and shall afflict the face thereof, and scatter abroad the inhabitants thereof. And it shall be as with the people, so with the priest: and as with the servant, so with his master: as with the handmaid, so with her mistress: as with the buyer, so with the seller: as with the lender, so with the borrower: as with him that calleth for his money, so with him that oweth. With desolation shall the earth be laid waste, and it shall be utterly spoiled: for the Lord hath spoken this word. The earth mourned, and faded away, and is weakened: the world faded away, the height of the people of the earth is weakened. And the earth is infected by the inhabitants thereof: because they have transgressed the laws, they have changed the ordinance, they have broken the everlasting covenant. Therefore shall a curse devour the earth, and the inhabitants thereof shall sin: and therefore they that dwell therein shall be mad, and few men shall be left. The vintage hath mourned, the vine hath languished away, all the merryhearted have sighed. The mirth of timbrels hath ceased, the noise of them that rejoice is ended, the melody of the harp is silent. They shall not drink wine with a song: the drink shall be bitter to them that drink it. The city of vanity is broken down, every house is shut up, no man cometh in. There shall be a crying for wine in the streets: all mirth is forsaken: the joy of the earth is gone away. Desolation is left in the city, and calamity shall oppress the gates. For it shall be thus in the midst of the earth, in the midst of the people, as if a few olives, that remain, should be shaken out of the olive tree: or grapes, when the vintage is ended. These shall lift up their voice, and shall give praise: when the Lord shall be glorified, they shall make a joyful noise from the sea. Therefore glorify ye the Lord in instruction: the name of the Lord God of Israel in the islands of the sea. From the ends of the earth we have heard praises, the glory of the just one. And I said: My secret to myself, my secret to myself, woe is me: the prevaricators have prevaricated, and with the prevarication of transgressors they have prevaricated. Fear, and the pit, and the snare are upon thee, O thou inhabitant of the earth. And it shall come to pass, that he that shall flee from the noise of the fear, shall fall into the pit: and he that shall rid himself out of the pit, shall be taken in the snare: for the flood-gates from on high are opened, and the foundations of the earth shall be shaken.”

Second Tuesday of Advent

Isaiah 24:19-25:5

“With breaking shall the earth be broken, with crushing shall the earth be crushed, with trembling shall the earth be moved. With shaking shall the earth be shaken as a drunken man, and shall be removed as the tent of one night: and the iniquity thereof shall be heavy upon it, and it shall fell, and not rise again. And it shall come to pass, that in that day the Lord shall visit upon the host of heaven on high, and upon the kings of the earth, on the earth. And they shall be gathered together as in the gathering of one bundle into the pit, and they shall be shut up there in prison: and after many days they shall be visited. Then the moon shall blush, and the sun shall be ashamed, when the Lord of hosts shall reign in mount Sion, and in Jerusalem, and shall be glorified in the sight of his ancients. O LORD, thou art my God, I will exalt thee, and give glory to thy name: for thou hast done wonderful things, thy designs of old faithful, amen. For thou hast reduced the city to a heap, the strong city to ruin, the house of strangers, to be no city, and to be no more built up for ever. Therefore shall a strong people praise thee, the city of mighty nations shall fear thee. Because thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress: a refuge from the whirlwind, a shadow from the heat. For the blast of the mighty is like a whirlwind beating against a wall. Thou shalt bring down the tumult of strangers, as heat in thirst: and as with heat under a burning cloud, thou shalt make the branch of the mighty to wither away.”

Second Wednesday of Advent

Isaiah 25:6-26:6

“And the Lord of hosts shall make unto all people in this mountain, a feast of fat things, a feast of wine, of fat things full of marrow, of wine purified from the lees. And he shall destroy in this mountain the face of the bond with which all pie were tied, and the web that he over all nations. He shall cast death down headlong forever: and the Lord God shall wipe away tears from every face, and the reproach of his people he shall take away from off the whole earth: for the Lord hath spoken it. And they shall say in that day: Lo, this is our God, we have waited for him, and he will save us: this is the Lord, we have patiently waited for him, we shall rejoice and be joyful in his salvation. For the hand of the Lord shall rest in this mountain: and Moab shall be trodden down under him, as straw is broken in pieces with the wain. And he shall stretch forth his hands under him, as he that swimmeth stretcheth forth his hands to swim: and he shall bring down his glory with the dashing of his hands. And the bulwarks of thy high walls shall fall, and be brought low, and shall be pulled down to the ground, even to the dust. In that day shall this canticle be sung the land of Juda. Sion the city of our strength a saviour, a wall and a bulwark shall be set therein. Open ye the gates, and let the just nation, that keepeth the truth, enter in. The old error is passed away: thou wilt keep peace: peace, because we have hoped in thee. You have hoped in the Lord for evermore, in the Lord God mighty for ever. For he shall bring down them that dwell on high, the high city he shall lay low. He shall bring it down even to the ground, he shall pull it down even to the dust. The foot shall tread it down, the feet of the poor, the steps of the needy.”

Second Thursday of Advent

Isaiah 26:7-21

“The way of the just is right, the path of the just is right to walk in. And in the way of thy judgments, O Lord, we have patiently waited for thee: thy name, and thy remembrance are the desire of the soul. My soul hath desired thee in the night: yea, and with my spirit within me in the morning early I will watch to thee. When thou shalt do thy judgments on the earth, the inhabitants of the world shall learn justice. Let us have pity on the wicked, but he will not learn justice: in the land of the saints he hath done wicked things, and he shall not see the glory of the Lord. Lord, let thy hand be exalted, and let them not see: let the envious people see, and be confounded: and let fire devour thy enemies. Lord, thou wilt give us peace: for thou hast wrought all our works for us. O Lord our God, other lords besides thee have had dominion over us, only in thee let us remember thy name. Let not the dead live, let not the giants rise again: therefore hast thou visited and destroyed them, and best destroyed all their memory. Thou hast been favourable to the nation, O Lord, thou hast been favourable to the nation: art thou glorified? thou hast removed all the ends of the earth far off. Lord, they have sought after thee in distress, in the tribulation of murmuring thy instruction was with them. As a woman with child, when she draweth near the time of her delivery, is in pain, and crieth out in her pangs: so are we become in thy presence, O Lord. We have conceived, and been as it were in labour, and have brought forth wind: we have not wrought salvation on the earth, therefore the inhabitants of the earth have not fallen. Thy dead men shall live, my slain shall rise again: awake, and give praise, ye that dwell in the dust: for thy dew is the dew of the light: and the land of the giants thou shalt pull down into ruin. Go, my people, enter into thy chambers, shut thy doors upon thee, hide thyself a little for a moment, until the indignation pass away. For behold the Lord will come out of his place, to visit the iniquity of the inhabitant of the earth against him: and the earth shall disclose her blood, and shall cover her slain no more.”

Second Friday of Advent

Isaiah 27:1-13

“In that day the Lord with his hard, and great, and strong sword shall visit leviathan the bar serpent, and leviathan the crooked serpent, and shall slay the whale that is in the sea. In that day there shall be singing to the vineyard of pure wine. I am the Lord that keep it, I will suddenly give it drink: lest any hurt come to it, I keep it night and day. There is no indignation in me: who shall make me a thorn and a brier in battle: shall march against it, shall I set it on fire together? Or rather shall it take hold of my strength, shall it make peace with me, shall it make peace with me? When they shall rush in unto Jacob, Israel shall blossom and bud, and they shall fill the face of the world with seed. Hath he struck him according to the stroke of him that struck him? or is he slain, as he killed them that were slain by him? In measure against measure, when it shall be cast off, thou shalt judge it. He hath meditated with his severe spirit in the day of heat. Therefore upon this shall the iniquity of the house of Jacob be forgiven: and this is all the fruit, that the sin thereof should be taken away, when he shall have made all the stones of the altar, as burnt stones broken in pieces, the groves and temples shall not stand. For the strong city shall be desolate, the beautiful city shall be forsaken, and shall be left as a wilderness : there the calf shall feed, and there shall he lie down, and shall consume its branches. Its harvest shall be destroyed with drought, women shall come and teach it: for it is not a wise people, therefore he that made it, shall not have mercy on it: and he that formed it, shall not spare it. And it shall come to pass, that in that day the Lord will strike from the channel of the river even to the torrent of Egypt, and you shall be gathered together one by one, O ye children of Israel. And it shall come to pass, that in that day a noise shall be made with a great trumpet, and they that were lost, shall come from the land of the Assyrians, and they that were outcasts in the land of Egypt, and they shall adore the Lord in the holy mount in Jerusalem.”

Second Saturday of Advent

Isaiah 29:1-8

“Woe to Ariel, to Ariel the city which David took: year is added to year: the solemnities are at an end. And I will make a trench about Ariel, and it shall be in sorrow and mourning, and it shall be to me as Ariel. And I will make a circle round about thee, and will cast up a rampart against thee, and raise up bulwarks to besiege thee. Thou shalt be brought down, thou shalt speak out of the earth, and thy speech shall be heard out of the ground: and thy voice shall be from the earth like that of the python, and out of the ground thy speech shall mutter. And the multitude of them that fan thee, shall be like small dust: and as ashes passing away, the multitude of them that have prevailed against thee. And it shall be at an instant suddenly. A visitation shall come from the Lord of hosts in thunder, and with earthquake, and with a great noise of whirlwind and tempest, and with the flame of devouring fire. And the multitude of all nations that have fought against Ariel, shall be as the dream of a vision by night, and all that have fought, and besieged and prevailed against it. And as he that is hungry dreameth, and eateth, but when he is awake, his soul is empty: and as he that is thirsty dreameth, and drinketh, and after he is awake, is yet faint with thirst, and his soul is empty: so shall be the multitude of all the Gentiles, that have fought against mount Sion.”

[silmarillionwritersguild]

This February, we are taking our cue from Valentine’s Day and invite you to join us in a contemplation of love! Your prompts for this month will be quotes from the Legendarium that are all about love. But in Middle-earth as in our modern day and age, love can take many shapes, and romantic or sexual attraction are only two aspects of it. Tolkien’s characters experience different kinds of love: love of family, love of friends, love of a place, love of treasure, love of abstract concepts like duty or freedom … and sometimes, they may feel no love at all. We have made a list of quotes about love from the Legendarium, and you can select one - or several - that inspire you to write about that crazy little thing called love. It doesn’t have to be a love story; it just needs to respond in some way to the quote(s) that you’ve chosen. Although we are sorting the quotes according to their context, feel free to disregard that in your response! For example, you can use a romantic love quote in a platonic way, or turn a feudal reading of love into something romantic. February is also Black History Month, so we encourage participants to focus on characters of color or characters from cultural groups we don't hear from a lot in the texts. Participants are also welcome to combine our love prompts with SilmLadyLove’s Femslash February prompts. Fanworks for this challenge are due on the archive by March 10 in order to receive a stamp.

Romantic or ambiguous love

"[Melian] spoke no word; but being filled with love Elwë came to her and took her hand, and straightway a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word." ~ Of Thingol and Melian

"The love of Finwë and Míriel was great and glad, for it began in the Blessed Realm in the Days of Bliss." ~ Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

"Galadriel his sister went not with him to Nargothrond, for in Doriath dwelt Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol, and there was great love between them." ~ Of the Return of the Noldor

"But it is said that not until that hour had such cold thoughts ruled [Finrod]; for indeed she whom he had loved was Amarië of the Vanyar, and she went not with him into exile." ~ Of the Noldor in Beleriand

"[Gorlim’s] wife was named Eilinel, and their love was great, ere evil befell." ~ Of Beren and Lúthien

"And it seemed to Thingol that this Man was unlike all other mortal Men, and among the great in Arda, and the love of Lúthien a thing new and strange; and he perceived that their doom might not be withstood by any power of the world." ~ Of Beren and Lúthien

"But Gwindor sat in dark thought; and on a time he spoke to Finduilas, saying: 'Daughter of the house of Finarfin, let no grief lie between us; for though Morgoth has laid my life in ruin, you still I love. Go whither love leads you; yet beware!’" ~ Of Túrin Turambar

"His heart turned to Níniel, and he asked her in marriage; but for that time she delayed in spite of her love. For Brandir foreboded he knew not what, and sought to restrain her, rather for her sake than his own or rivalry with Turambar; and he revealed to her that Turambar was Túrin son of Húrin, and though she knew not the name a shadow fell upon her mind." ~ Of Túrin Turambar

"The Eldar wedded once only in life, and for love or at the least by free will upon either part." ~ Morgoth’s Ring, "Laws and Customs among the Eldar"

"’Love of Indis did not drive out love of Míriel; so now pity for Míriel doth not lessen my heart’s care for Indis.’" ~ Morgoth’s Ring, "Laws and Customs among the Eldar"

"And Ilúvatar spoke to Ulmo, and said: '[...]Behold rather the height and glory of the clouds, and the everchanging mists; and listen to the fall of rain upon the Earth! And in these clouds thou art drawn nearer to Manwë, thy friend, whom thou lovest.'" ~ Ainulindalë

"Now Hador Lórindol, son of Hathol, son of Magor, son of Malach Aradan, entered the household of Fingolfin in his youth, and was loved by the King." ~ Of the Coming of Men into the West

"Thus ended Beleg Strongbow, truest of friends, greatest in skill of all that harboured in the woods of Beleriand in the Elder Days, at the hand of him whom he most loved; and that grief was graven on the face of Túrin and never faded." ~ Of Túrin Turambar

"But when all was spoken, Manwë gave judgement, and he said: 'In this matter the power of doom is given to me. The peril that he ventured for love of the Two Kindreds shall not fall upon Eärendil, nor shall it fall upon Elwing his wife, who entered into peril for love of him; but they shall not walk again ever among Elves or Men in the Outer Lands.’" ~ Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath

Parental and feudal love

"Therefore when [the Ainur] beheld [the Children of Ilúvatar], the more did they love them, being things other than themselves, strange and free…" ~ Ainulindalë

"Nonetheless Ulmo loves both Elves and Men, and never abandoned them, not even when they lay under the wrath of the Valar." ~ Valaquenta

"Therefore those who dwell by the sea or go up in ships may love [Ossë], but they do not trust him." ~ Valaquenta

"Then Aulë answered: 'I did not desire such lordship. I desired things other than I am, to love and to teach them, so that they too might perceive the beauty of Eä, which thou hast caused to be.’" ~ Of Aulë and Yavanna

"The Vanyar [Manwë] loved best of all Elves, and of him they received song and poetry; for poetry is the delight of Manwë, and the song of words is his music." ~Of the Beginning of Days

"Greater love was given to Fingolfin and his sons, and his household and the most part of the dwellers in Tirion refused to renounce him, if he would go with them; and thus at the last as two divided hosts the Noldor set forth upon their bitter road." ~ Of the Flight of the Noldor

"But there were many who loved the Lady Haleth and wished to go whither she would, and dwell under her rule; and these she led into the Forest of Brethil, between Teiglin and Sirion." ~ Of the Coming of Men into the West

"For Turgon took great liking for the sons of Galdor, and spoke much with them; and he wished indeed to keep them in Gondolin out of love, and not only for his law that no stranger, be he Elf or Man, who found the way to the secret kingdom and looked upon the city should ever depart again, until the King should open the leaguer, and the hidden people should come forth." ~ Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin

"'Sit now there; and look out upon the lands where evil and despair shall come upon those whom thou lovest. Thou hast dared to mock me, and to question the power of Melkor, Master of the fates of Arda.’" ~ Of the Fifth Battle: Nirnaeth Arnoediad

"For Maglor took pity upon Elros and Elrond, and he cherished them, and love grew after between them, as little might be thought; but Maglor's heart was sick and weary with the burden of the dreadful oath." ~ Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath

"[The Elves of Beleriand] were admitted again to the love of Manwë and the pardon of the Valar; and the Teleri forgave their ancient grief, and the curse was laid to rest." ~ Of the Voyage of Eärendil and the War of Wrath

Love of things and places

"[Yavanna] is the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests long ago to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould." ~ Valaquenta

"Oromë loved the lands of Middle-earth, and he left them unwillingly and came last to Valinor; and often of old he passed back east over the mountains and returned with his host to the hills and the plains." ~ Valaquenta

"For Fëanor began to love the Silmarils with a greedy love, and grudged the sight of them to all save his father and his seven sons; he seldom remembered now that the light within them was not his own." ~ Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor

"But the Sindar had the fairer voices and were more skilled in music, save only Maglor son of Fëanor, and they loved the woods and the riversides; and some of the Grey-elves still wandered far and wide without settled abode, and they sang as they went." ~ Of the Return of the Noldor

"’But love not too well the work of thy hands and the devices of thy heart; and remember that the true hope of the Noldor lieth in the West and cometh from the Sea.'" ~ Of the Noldor in Beleriand

"And the Númenóreans answered: 'Why should we not envy the Valar, or even the least of the Deathless? For of us is required a blind trust, and a hope without assurance, knowing not what lies before us in a little while. And yet we also love the Earth and would not lose it.'" ~ Akallabêth

"Moreover [the Noldor] were not at peace in their hearts, since they had refused to return into the West, and they desired both to stay in Middle-earth, which indeed they loved, and yet to enjoy the bliss of those that had departed." ~ Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age

Absence of love

"Therefore all the more did [Melkor] feign love for them and seek their friendship, and he offered them the service of his lore and labour in any great deed that they would do." ~ Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

"The wedding of his father was not pleasing to Fëanor; and he had no great love for Indis, nor for Fingolfin and Finarfin, her sons." ~ Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

"There [Aredhel] was often in the company of the sons of Fëanor, her kin; but to none was her heart's love given." ~ Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

"For Manwë was free from evil and could not comprehend it, and he knew that in the beginning, in the thought of Ilúvatar, Melkor had been even as he; and he saw not to the depths of Melkor’s heart, and did not perceive that all love had departed from him for ever." ~ Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

"Of like mind with Galadriel was Fingon Fingolfin’s son, being moved also by Fëanor’s words, though he loved him little; and with Fingon stood as they ever did Angrod and Aegnor, sons of Finarfin." ~ Of the Flight of the Noldor

"Men have feared the Valar, rather than loved them, and have not understood the purposes of the Powers, being at variance with them, and at strife with the world." ~ Of Men

"’And this counsel I add: return now to your dwelling in the darkness of Nan Elmoth; for my heart warns me that if you now pursue those who love you no more, never will you return thither.'"~ Of Maeglin

"And however that might be, Idril loved Maeglin not at all; and knowing his thought of her she loved him the less." ~ Of Maeglin

"Therefore [Brandir] renounced his lordship, and all love for the people that had scorned him, and having naught left but his love for Níniel he girt himself with a sword and went after her; but being lame he fell far behind." ~ Of Túrin Turambar

"No love was there between Ar-Gimilzôr and his queen, or between their sons." ~ Akallabêth