#there’s no where in the mountains to sail

[neriumquill]

Imagine if you will, that you have an older brother.

He's an admirable kind of brother, the same as your parents. He has an interest in the natural sciences and is a bit of a nerd, but he's a great brother. Alongside your older brother, of course you have your parents, a younger brother (who is practically an angel to everyone who has ever known him), a cousin who is sort of your sister (and also your brother's one true love or whatever), your older brother's lifelong best friend, and a servant girl who is practically family.

Life is easy. You live everyday with great pleasure in your native home where the icy-capped mountains are beautiful and the lake serene.

Of course, like any other human being, you experience a great tragedy. One day, your cousin-sister gets sick. In her kindness, your mother takes care of her but gets sick herself and dies. It's tragic... but it happens.

Afterwards, your older brother leaves for university, and you spend your life full of enjoyment. The only thing you wish is that your father would allow you to take leave and become a soldier. Unlike your older brother, you had no fondness for the academia and would rather go out and find glory in battle.

In this time, your older brother's letters begin to slowly dwindle, that almost two years have gone by since his last writing. It bothers you, but as you are just a youth, it doesn't bother you as much as it does your father, your cousin-sister, and your older brother's best friend (who eventually does leave to go to the same university as your older brother).

From your brother's best friend, you're informed that your brother has gotten ill, but at least his best friend is there to care for him. Gradually, your brother begins to write to your family again and all seems well.

One day, you go out with your family to enjoy the nature. You and younger brother go out into the forest to play hide and seek. You seek, but do not find. You return to your family, hoping your brother went back but he didn't. You and your family try to find him for the entire night.

In the morning, you find him murdered.

A part of you blames yourself. After all, you were the last to see him. Maybe you even proposed that game of hide and seek. Maybe if you hadn't lost him he'd still be alive. Your older brother is told to come back home, and while waiting for him, you find out that your family's servant (who your family has loved like their own) was the murderer.

It's all so strange and horrible, but her trial is set, and your older brother has come home. He is visibly shaken when you first meet him after many years apart. He's changed, but he's still your brother. He raves a bit to you about how he knows who the murderer is, but instead of the servant, he mentions some other fiend.

This thought is quickly swept away by the ensuing trial and execution of someone you once held dearly. Your older brother is so distraught. He has decided to stay home, but his misery is palpable and you feel sorry for him, your father, your cousin-sister, and yourself. Although, you try your best to be happy.

Months past, your older brother has returned from a trip to some neighboring cities. Your father has been casually mentioning the possible marriage between your older brother and your cousin-sister. Instead of agreeing immediately, as you thought he would, your older brother instead decides to go to England with his best friend. Which is really strange to you, but hopefully he comes back better.

A year nearly passes... your older brother's best friend is dead and your brother has been accused of his murder. Your father has to travel all the way to Ireland to save him. Eventually they return, and your brother is a wreck - though that's to be expected after the murder of his best friend. Still, he decides to go on with the marriage - and there is happiness in your household once again.

Though somehow, your ever unlucky brother sails away with his new wife... and comes back stating that she has been murdered. The news literally kills your father, leaving you and your brother alone.

The next few months are torture as you watch your brother turn into a shell of himself, further falling into the miseries that you have both suffered. However, somehow a part of you can tell that there's something deeper in his despair, though you can't exactly know what.

Then you hear from a magistrate about your older brother's ravings about that fiend... the murderer he'd once mentioned a long time ago. The talks of a madman.

Your older brother leaves, promising to kill whoever enemy he had conjured up in his mind.

He's gone for months... maybe even years.

He comes back dead, though not alone. His body escorted by a ship captain.

He has a tale to tell you.

Oh, btw, your name is Ernest Frankenstein.

[fxmmeangel]

.

[no-distance-left-to-run]

the nearer the fountain, more pure the stream flows hits so different in iceland

[butcharyastark]

silver and max are having vastly DIFFERENT days

[iviin-855]

Imagine you witnessed that stuff with hyena. Bunch of kids come into town, claim to be pirates, one has a bounty poster, but still kids. They say they are looking for an impossible legend and then get the crap kicked out of them. They don't even fight in return! What a bunch of jokers. But then later at night one of the kids returns and just. Just wipes the floor with the guy who beat them up with just one single punch. And you realize just how strong these kids have to be to be able to pick their battles like that

[wertyo102]

This post makes me think about a fictional world I was writing based on bio, earth science, and anthropology courses I was taking in university. I was feeling inspired basically every lecture and started writing ideas in the margins of my class notes, leading to the environmental features, species, and cultures in that world all being based around concepts from those classes. It was super detailed and I felt so proud of it but I never came up with a story to use that world for so it's just some random thing I've got notebooks & folders of information on that sits in my room. I guess it could maybe one day be used in an open-world game or something but idk 😅

reminder to worldbuilders: don't get caught up in things that aren't important to the story you're writing, like plot and characters! instead, try to focus on what readers actually care about: detailed plate tectonics

[hauntingblue]

Today I dreamed that I was in a ship with Anne and Eleanor and Anne got killed by her and I went insane with grief ajdjaksjk

[starsinlegions]

tag dump

[honourablejester]

I’m realising as I browse around that I really love lore when it comes to ttrpgs, games and game worlds. And by that I don’t mean I like to obsessively learn lists of dates and wars, and the names of leaders of factions, I mean …

I like learning weird, juicy details about the worlds of games. I like finding little nuggets that say things about the set-up and culture and assumptions of the world. I like finding fragments of ideas to hang whole story and character concepts off.

I love that in D&D 5e’s Spelljammer, the Astral Sea is full of the corpses of dead gods that you can fully sail up to in your ship. Just. Floating out there. Waiting for you to rock up to them.

I love that in Sunless Sea, the king of the drowned is the way he is because he fell in love with an eldritch sea urchin from space, and successfully married it. His niece is an angry sentient floating mountain whose mother is a goddess-mountain and whose father is a face-stealing humanoid abomination. This is fine and normal.

I love that in Starfinder, there are mysterious bubble cities in the surface of the sun that the church of the sun goddess discovered and cheerfully occupied despite having no idea who the hell built them or for what purpose.

I love that in Dishonored, the entire industrial revolution that has built the empire we’re in the midst of saving or destroying was built on the properties of whale oil harvested from eldritch tentacled whales that live half in the oceans and half in an eldritch void personified in the form of a weird-ass black-eyed shit-stirrer of a deity who was formed from a murdered and sacrificed child. And this is largely a background detail.

I love in the Elder Scrolls that the dwarves up and fucking vanished, as a race, at some point in history and absolutely nobody has any clue what happened to them or where they went, but their technology is so insane that ideas like ‘they time-travelled’ or ‘they erased themselves from existence’ are absolutely on the table.

I love that in Numenera, so many incredibly advanced civilisations have risen and fallen on this world that it’s absolutely littered with bonkers science fiction artefacts that have caused the current medieval-esque society built over top of them to develop in bizarre ways, and also you can find a mysterious artefact that absolutely baffles and delights your character, but that you the player will fully recognise as a slightly-more-advanced thermos flask.

I love that in Fallout, an irradiated post-nuclear apolocalypic hellscape, there’s a cult that worships the god of radiation as they have come to understand it, and they are mysteriously immune to radiation with absolutely no explanation whatsoever. They’re not ghouls, the usual result of fatally irradiated humans with some resistance, they’re perfectly normal humans who can somehow just tank rads all damn day. It could be a mutation, but Lovecraftian gods apparently do also fully exist in this setting, so it’s also possible that maybe they were on to something with this Atom thing.

I love that in Heart The City Beneath, there’s a mass transit train system that they tried to hook up to the eldritch beating god-thing buried under the city so that they could metaphysically chain the stations together more easily, which went horrifically and metaphysically wrong in entirely predictable fashion, and now there’s a whole order of train-knights who have to keep people safe from the extradimensional weirdness magnet the network has become.

That, and all the fantastic little details you can stumble across. There’s a biotech augmentation in Starfinder called an angler’s light that gives you a little angler-fish bioluminescent antenna on your forehead, and it was developed by asteroid miners who needed light but also both hands free for work. In Dishonored there’s a festival that everyone pretends is outside of time so nothing you do during it can be held against you. There’s a god of snuffed candles mentioned in a single line from Heart The City Beneath who has pacifist cannibal priests, and that is literally all the information you get on him.

While things like the history and geography and timeline of a world do also fascinate me, I’m not really here to memorise stuff like that. I’m here to find weird little nuggets of information and worldbuilding and delight in them. Give me funerary customs and weird myths and oddly specific circumstances and baffling little objects and absolutely bonkers cosmological implications. Give me the corpses of dead gods, and aesthetic movements with highly specific backstories, and bureaucratic fuck-ups of titanic scale, and mysterious things that seem to break all other rules of your setting with absolutely no explanation because people in-universe have no fucking clue how they work either. Why are the Children of Atom immune to radiation without ghoulifying? Not a clue, but Confessor Cromwell has been cheerfully standing in that irradiated pond that kills the player character with about 10 minutes of exposure for the last year and he’s still absolutely fine.

I just. I really love lore. I like my settings to have some meat in them, some juicy details to dig into, some inexplicable elements to have fun trying to explain. Particularly that last bit. I feel like a lot of people when building worlds feel like the rules have to be absolute and everything has to have an explanation, but nah. Putting some weird shit in makes everything immediately feel bigger, more real, because we don’t have even half an idea of how our world truly works, there’s always something we just don’t fully understand yet, and you can put that in a fictional world too. Some mysteries, some contradictions, some randomness, some weirdness. There’s a line, obviously, this depends on execution, but a little bit of mystery really does help.

Lore is awesome. And weird lore is even more so. Heh.

[teaboot]

How do Canadian schools teach about indigenous Canadian history and culture? -a curious USAmerican

In my experience we learned about colonization at the same time as we learned about the formation of Canada. At first it was "European settlers came and pushed out the indigenous population", then in the higher grades we learned more about the how and the why.

For example, how carts full of men with rifles would ride around shooting Buffalo, then leaving the meat on the ground to rot, because "a dead Buffalo is a dead indian", which was so fanatical it almost wiped out wild Buffalo entirely

Also how Canadian settlers were lured in with beautiful hand-painted advertisements for cheap, beautiful, fertile land that was unpopulated and perfect, if only you'd sail over with your entire family and a pocket full of seeds- only to be met with scared, confused, and angry lawful inhabitants already run out of ten other places, and frigid winters, and rocky, forested, undeveloped dirt.

also, smallpox blankets, where "gifts" of blankets infected with smallpox were intentionally given out

And treaty violations- Either ignoring written agreements entirely, or buying them out at insanely low prices and lying about the value, or trading for farming equipment that they couldn't use because they weren't farmers.

Then in the first world war, where they told indigenous peoples here that they'd be granted Canadian citizenship if they enlisted

To Residential schools, which was straight up stealing kids for slavery, indoctrination, and medical experiments

But we also covered the building of the Canadian Railway in which Chinese immigrants were lowered into ravines with dynamite to blow out paths through the mountain for pennies on the dollar

And the Alberta Sterilization Act, where it was lawful and routine procedure to sterilize women of colour and neurodivergent people without their awareness or consent after giving birth or undergoing unrelated surgeries

But I'm rambling.

We kind of learned Aboriginal history at the same time as everything else? Like. This is when Canada was made, and this is how it was done. Now we'll read a book about someone who lived through it, and we'll write a book report. And now a documentary, and now a paper about the documentary. Onto the next unit.

And starting I think in grade 10 our English track was split between English and Aboriginals English, where you could choose to do the standard curriculum or do the same basic knowledge stuff with a focus on Aboriginal perspectives and literature. (I did that one, we read Three Day's Road and Diary Of A Part-Time Indian, and a few other titles I don't remember.)

There was also a lunch room for the Aboriginal Culture Studies where Aboriginal kids could hang out at lunch time if they wanted, full of art and projects and stuff. They'd play music or videos sometimes, that was cool

And one elective I took (not mandatory cirriculum) was a Kwakiutl course for basic Kwakwakaʼwakw language. Greetings, counting to a hundred, learning the modified alphabet, animals, etc. Still comes in handy sometimes at large gatherings cause they usually start with a land recognition thanking whoever's land we're on, with a few thanks and welcomes in their language.

And like- when I was in the US it was so weird, cause here we have Totem poles and longhouses and murals all over and yall... don't? Like there is a very distinct lack of Aboriginal art in your public spaces, at least in the areas I've been

My ex-stepfather, who was American, brought his son out once, and he was so excited to "see real indians" and was legitimately shocked to learn that there weren't many teepees to be found on the northwest coast, and was even *more* shocked when we told him that you have Aboriginal people back home too, bud. Your Aboriginal people are also named "Mike" snd "Vicky" and work as assistant manager at best buy.

If you'd ask me, I'd say that the primary difference is that USAmerica (from what I've seen, and ALSO in entirely too much of Canada) treats our European and Aboriginal conflicts as history, something that's tragic but over, like the extinction of the mammoths, instead of like. An ongoing thing involving people who are alive and numerous and right fucking here

But at the end of the day, I'm white, and there are plenty of actual Aboriginal people who are speaking out and saying much more meaningful things than I can

So I'm just gonna pass on a quote from my Stepmum, who's Cree, that's stuck with me since she said it:

"You see how they treat Mexicans in America? That's how they treat us here. Indians are the Mexicans of Canada."

[noideabutsims]

Donut Co.'s Sidewalk Chalk Creations

Who's ready for a celebration of creativity and childhood wonder? Donut Co. is thrilled to be joining the Simblreen festivities for the first time ever, and we're bringing a mountain of fun with us! Simmers, get ready to unleash your inner child and turn your Sims' sidewalks into a vibrant explosion of color! Donut Co.'s Sidewalk Chalk Creations are here, bringing the joy of outdoor play right into your game.

These aren't just drawings, they're portals to a world of imagination. Watch your little Sims hop scotch through a rainbow, set sail on a pirate ship adventure, or simply giggle with glee at a friendly smiley face. Each chalk creation is a burst of pure joy, guaranteed to add a touch of whimsy and childhood charm to your Sims' neighborhoods.

So, ditch the dull concrete and let your Sims' creativity shine! Donut Co.'s Sidewalk Chalk Creations are here to transform your Sims' world into a celebration of art, play, and the simple joys of being a kid. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All images have my reshade on*** I messed up and forgot to take photos without the reshade on this time guys. Ive been on a time crunch trying to get these finished, and i simply forgot. It really doesn't change the color that much, so it is very similar in game! Really sorry again guys! If you are interested in my reshade, or want to see how much it changes the color - you can find it here: https://www.tumblr.com/noideabutsims/763209634729345024/remember-those-days-reshade-preset-guess-what?source=share ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Has 50 swatches New mesh If you cannot see all the swatches, place it down and then change the color swatch!

All of our CC can be found by typing " Donut " into the search bar! Name: Donut Co.'s Sidewalk Chalk Creations Buy Mode Description: Transform your Sims' sidewalks into a canvas for creativity with Donut Co.'s Sidewalk Chalk Creations! This collection of colorful drawings brings a touch of childhood magic to your Sims' world. From playful rainbows and whimsical swirls to bubbly masterpieces and pirate ships setting sail for adventure, these chalk creations are bursting with fun. Add a touch of joy to your Sims' neighborhoods and let their sidewalks become a testament to the power of imagination! Will be releasing more content soon! stay tuned! ❤️ (NOT affiliated with EA or Maxis in any way! We just make CC!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ DOWNLOAD: Curseforge: https://legacy.curseforge.com/sims4/build-buy/donut-co-s-sidewalk-chalk-creations Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/113944702 Google Drive: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1vD2RbSTGbBskNtiCpNjhvdHSqIVggEVB/view?usp=sharing ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Due to financial issues and our promise of never paywalling our content; We have to ask that you guys download on our curseforge if you are willing and able. Just using their site to download makes us be able to have at least a small income that helps us when things get tough - however no matter where you download; we genuinely appreciate every download regardless!! If you can, you can find our curseforge here!: https://legacy.curseforge.com/members/the_lady_gaia/projects @alwaysfreecc

[rainingriversofyou]

“Like a roaring star, he thundered down the long shoot, and Manon moved with him, meeting each gallop of his powerful body, each step in time with the beat of the wyverns locked in the belly of the mountain. Abraxos flapped his wings open, pounding them once, twice, gathering speed, fearless, unrelenting, ready…

Fast as lightning arcing across the sky, he plummeted toward the Gap floor…

Down into hell, into eternity, into that world where, for a moment, she could have sworn that something tightened in her chest. She did not shut her eyes, not as the moon-illuminated stones of the Gap became closer, clearer. She did not need to. Like the sails of a mighty ship, Abraxos’s wings unfurled, snapping tight. He tilted them upward, pulling against the death trying to drag them down. And it was those wings, covered in glimmering patches of Spidersilk, that stayed strong and sturdy, sending them soaring clean up the side of the Omega and into the starry sky beyond.”

—Heir Of Fire

“First Flight” Artist: @madschofield

[acotarxreader]

Mirror

Rhysand x Reader and Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: You were gifted with the ability to mirror other fae's magic with a simple touch and your free spirit nature leads you to cross very close to the borders of a hidden city, where your future best friends and soulmate snatch you out of the sky to protect their border.

Warnings: ANGSTY AF, a lil fluff, action, mentions of injury and breaking bones, silly Rhysand, high drama

Inspired by Tolerate It & My Tears Ricochet by Taylor M.F Swift

A/N As voted for by you friends! (Kinda fitting you choose the taylor inspired fic when I'm off to have her change my life lol) Okee this is a long angsty buddy. I used the timelines from this website and I hope that translates well.

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

1692

You had met your three best friends including your soulmate by pure luck of the Cauldron. Lost along a long mountain road, you wandered through the hills of a stretch of Night Court long-forgotten, as the Spring snow settled. You moved through the overgrown coastal trail, the shadows of the trees allowing you to shield yourself from the elements as you used your ability to shapeshift into the ease of the eagle cutting through the air. 

A bloodcurdling roar left your hooked beak, plummeting through the canopy of trees, using a strike of power to change to your Fae form, the arrow split through your upper arm where a wing had once flown. You rolled as you hit the ground, absorbing the force and pushing it away again, splitting the soil. You lay for a moment looking up at the night sky you had just cut through, gaining your bearings, your skin fusing around the arrow and pushing it out of your skin without your intervention. You sat up at the sound of light feet crossing the undergrowth before forcing yourself to stand, a hand hovering over a blade strapped to your leg. A knife sailed through the air, darting past your head, missing you by millimetres to sink into an oak tree. 

“Look, I’m not super into this covert ambush nonsense” You called out, your voice bouncing off the flora. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes lightly before spinning on the ball of your foot, releasing your knife from your thigh through the air, the sound of sharp groaning your reward. You followed the path of the blade to find a young Illrian, one wing pinned to an ancient tree, blue syphons shimmering to match his hazel eyes. 

“Damn, I’m rusty, I was aiming for your shoulder” You mused quietly, Azriel’s eyes scrunching before he reached for the blade, only to have you do it for him, freeing his flesh. The act of freeing someone you intend to hit confused him. His hand went to cover the spurting blood, a glow seemingly radiating from your energy, Azriel wishing to bask in it for the rest of his days.

You outstretched a hand to pull him to his feet, Azriel entirely confused but equally enchanted. He contemplated taking it until you spun back away from him to send your knee up and into the stomach of another hazel-eyed Illyrian. 

Cassian took the brunt of your knee but was mostly unshaken, stretching to catch your throat with crushing force. You managed the lightest of light laughs through your shrinking windpipe before flexing your fists. Cassian suddenly felt your neck seemingly harden against the strength he exerted on you. Your muscles almost looked to toughen in his grip before he released a single drip of pressure on you, enough for you to winnowing to behind him, sending your elbow into the back of his head with a crunch. Azriel’s shadows shot forward the action causing an obvious smile to decorate your face, the Shadowsinger’s eyebrow raising as he attempted to stand again as you dodged his dear smokey friends, only one crossing your hand. 

Rhysand flew into your side as Cassian reached the ground, the two of you rolling briefly, matching your winnowing course with unrelenting precision. You felt a grin grow as a slight stream of blood sprang from your forehead, mirroring the one from Rhysand’s lip. An onyx shadow darted from one of your flexed fists, knocking Rhysand backwards from on top of you, his wings splaying to rebalance. Azriel jumped to pull Cassian back to his feet, not quite sure he had truly seen what he had from your fists. 

“Oh, another High Lord’s son” You half laughed as you managed to stand to put space between you and the three warriors. 

“Who are you!? Who sent you!?” Rhysand barked, his two brothers now flanking him, syphons gleaming in the moonlight. 

“I’m just out for a leisurely trip through the Night Court, your Lordship” Your opal eyes shimmered briefly, stunning the three for a microsecond, your smile daring them to play with you. “No such thing as leisurely in the Court of Nightmares” Cassian matched the tone of his brother, the voice that boomed through legions. 

“You don't think I actually believe that?” Your amusement had Rhysand seething as Azriel studied you carefully, his shadows leaping to his ears with the rapid relaying of information, his eyes widening. 

“Enough” Rhysand’s hand raised to turn you into the same mist that decorated the hillside, Azriel suddenly leapt in front of the son of the High Lord of Night, causing Rhysand to flinch. 

“Stop, she’s mirroring our magic!” You licked your bottom lip before a deep smirk etched into your face, the three males not releasing their fighting stance. A matching expression painted Rhysand, his violet eyes reflecting sharply. “Rhys! Don’t go into her hea-” Azriel’s warning wasn’t fast enough, Rhysand sank to the ground with a thud, his hands gripping his head with white knuckle force as he screamed out in pain he hadn’t felt in decades, not since his shields had been reinforced beyond breaking. You stood, head tilted, unblinking and beaming at the sight, one fist in a ball. Cassian dropped to his brother’s side, trying to think of any possible way to relieve even an ounce of Rhysand’s pain. 

“Stop!” Cassian shouted, feeling a whole new level of useless, Azriels eyes unable to pull away from yours. Rhysand forced his eyes open, the violet glinting before dimming ever so slightly. You released the hold instantly at the sight. Plum flushed across Rhysand's face as Cassian helped him to stand again on trembling legs, oxygen flooding his starved muscles. 

“Should have listened to the Shadowsinger” you mused. 

“Who sent you?” Azriel tried again, your eyes fixating on Rhysand.

“No one sent me, I'm just passing through” You brushed the dirt from your tumble with the High Lord's son from your sleeves, the mark of the arrow healing to a scar. 

“Wh-at do y-ou want?” Rhysand rasped out, Azriel's shadows slowly slipping towards you, darting back to their master with a simple glance from you. 

“I just want to continue on my travels” You looked between the three, sinister smiles now long gone, your truer gentle demeanour taking shape, your shoulders relaxing. 

“Where are you from?”

“Look, I'm not on trial here, I'm just passing through-”

“-My Court”

“-Your Father's Court” You tease, a glint crossing Rhysand's eyes, he pulled from Cassian's grip, striding closer to you. 

“Rhys-” Rhysand only lifted a hand to silence his two brothers' caution. 

“Remarkable” he did a small circle of you, your hands now relaxed at your side, ready to flex if necessary.  

“And so what? Are we to really believe you have no goal on this side of the Night Court?” Rhysand continued.

“I'm just trying to see the world” 

“Remarkable” within arms reach of one another the both of you stilled your movements. 

“What Court are you from?” Azriel met Rhysand's side, your examining of one another breaking. Cassian remained further back, waiting and watching, the strong sense something had been borrowed from him still sticking to his skin. 

“I'm not from a Court per say, I am tied to no land, no home” the two brothers share a brief glance before returning back to Cassian to form a huddle. You didn’t feel it necessary to go into your heritage, The Middle frightened most into another attempt on your life at the mention of it. 

“We should just direct her back”

“As if she'd go Cassian”

“How'd she even get this deep in the Court?” Azriels shadows felt heavy with the lack of information they had on you.

“We’ll figure out that later, she's too close to…you know where to allow her to keep going onwards” The three whispered to one another as you rocked back and forth on your feet, hands finding their home on your hips.

“If the ‘you know where’ is Velaris-” the three males face shot towards your almost bored tone “-I have no interest in exposing your little city, like I said, I'm just trying to see the world” That was all you remembered. Shadows swarmed you with such precision in overwhelming volume it caught you entirely off guard. Their control swaddled you with some air of comfort before pulling you through the space they occupied, Rhysand's tendrils curling around your mind compelling you to sleep, unable to fend off the power of the three combined without formal training. 

–

“What are we going to do with her?” 

“I’m not sure Cassian but she knew about Velaris somehow and we need to find out” Rhysand whispered his reply while looking at your body flop down in the chair they had strapped you to. 

“She said another High Lord son to you Rhys and she was shapeshifting, what if she’s from Spring?” Cassian circled you, matching Rhysand’s pacing, Azriel watching pensively from his comfortable shadowy corner. 

“It's hard to know what she meant. I’ve never heard of someone with her abilities”

“Do we tell your father?” Azriel replied, slipping from his corner to join his friends standing in front of you. You groaned slightly as a shadow traced around your ankle. You rolled your chin along your collarbone, managing the strength to force your head into equilibrium once again, eyes still weighing heavy.

“We don’t tell him unless necessary, he’ll destroy her for this ability” Rhysand squatted down to reach your eye level, a hand landing on knee, rocking it gently to bring you around. The sudden loud banging of doors above the basement had Rhysand standing again.

“I think he knows” Cassian looked to his brothers. Sure enough the High Lord of Night had felt the energy shift even when you were kept deep within the bowels of the House of Wind. The door banged off the hinges as pure power stormed into the small chamber in the shape of his father, Cassian and Azriel standing to attention. 

“Who is that?” he bit, no reply from the males as he stalked closer to you. 

“Who brought her here?” he barked, Rhysand moving to lift his hand only to have Azriel get there first, forever defending his brother. 

“You bring a stranger to my city? I’ll deal with you later” Members of his own inner circle arrived on the scene. 

“Wha-t is happen-ing?” You whined out, eyes adjusting to the light as they widened to the audience in front of you. 

“How did you know where to find it?” Rhysand’s father’s tone dripped with cold as you looked towards Rhysand, a somewhat sympathetic look gracing his face. 

“I’m just passing through” You practically yawned out, hands working their way out of their bounds from behind the chair out of view of your spectators. 

“Well, I’m not sure how much you’ve seen, only that it’s all too much” He leaned inwards as he spoke mere inches from you. Your foot slid along the floor to touch against his foot, his head looking down at the action. He grasped your throat then, forcing a similar pressure Cassian had applied. 

“You-You just took something from me” The slithering feeling of your tendrils dancing around the High Lord’s head had him dropping the force he held on you. 

“You gave it” The thud of your bounds hitting the floor was all you needed, balling your hands together behind you and pushing deep within the High Lord’s head.

“Watch her hands!” Cassian shouted, the room's guests all overwhelming you, Rhysand fighting through your shields once again to send you to sleep as you kept a grip on his father's mind preventing him from misting you. 

-

The next time you woke up you cried out into the dark room. Through blurry eyes you found one of your hands nearly completely crushed, with both of them pinned down flat on a table in front of you with metal bindings, unable to flex. You roared out until your skin tinged blue in mourning.

“Ple-please don-t struggle” The almost quivering voice had you lifting your head towards the darkness. Azriel stepped out into the strip of light the rising sun had provided, his face marred with its own punishing wounds. He had tried to stop the cruelty shown to him from being projected at you. You attempted to move your hands once again, the metal seemingly tightening around you more, causing your lungs to rattle air out in pure pain. Azriel rushed closer to you, dropping to your level as you gritted your teeth, vibrating against the restraints that bound you to the chair. 

“They tighten when you move, the High Lord-he did that, I-I tried to stop him” he managed, your glare heating him, his shadows beginning to swirl around you, their cooling nature giving the smallest drop of relief. One graced past his ear before he nodded, it then flying to the base of your wrist where the knot of locks lay, beginning to attempt to free you.

“We’re gonna try to get you out, tell them you overwhelmed my powers, I’ll deal with whatever that brings” The shadows span frantically, the subtle sound of the lock clicking meeting your ringing ears. You hauled your hands back to your lap, face contorting in anguish. Azriel retrieved a wrap from within his jacket, spinning it like a web around your brittle bones, your eyes tracing over the deep fissures that decorated his own hands before beginning to work on the bindings at your back. You stood as they hit the ground, Azriel hesitating slightly to rest a hand on you to steady your step. 

“Please tell me you’re okay?” He looked down at your marred hands, unable to keep the curiosity to himself. 

"My-my hands" the voice that left you didn't belong to any part of yourself you had met before, your destroyed digits cracking through your heart. Azriel took no further hesitation in holding you into him, no longer caring if you took every cell of power from him, only wanting to provide you some shelter from a similar fate he had faced

“Az, I think I agree we gotta get her ou- oh” Rhysand stood in the doorway, violet eyes illuminating the room, almost pulling you into them. 

“We tried to-to stop him” he repeated Azriel’s earlier plea, your eyes looking back to your withering digits. 

“Cassian, the one you tried to coldcock earlier, will meet us with a healer” Azriel spoke softly again, Rhysand moving towards you.

“Just stay out of my head” Rhysand offered with a smile, trying to take the edge of the air out of the room. He nodded to Azriel who left the room to alert the Night Court that you had escaped. Rhysand wrapped an arm around your waist, your brain screaming at you to not trust him, your heart deciding it was worth it. 

—-------------------

1700

You looked down at the long table in the long-forgotten room deep within the House of Wind, your fingers traced over the deep holes in the table, their slightly crooked nature catching in the divots. The War had ended and soon this table would be used to begin to forge a new path to peace. After the three had freed you, you met them at different intervals over the years, Rhysand requesting your help at various stages, saving them on a few occasions in the trenches of the War that ripped through Prythian. 

“Oh, I was coming in here to get rid of that table” Azriel said from behind you, a smile growing across your face as you turned to him. 

“I think we should keep it, let it remind them what they did to me before they saw use in me” Azriel nodded, the war ageing him to almost unrecognisable from the twenty-something-year-old who had helped shoot you down in the woods. 

“Poetic my love” Rhysand called out from the doorway, equally aged by the horrors of war, he planted a kiss on your cheek, Azriel averting his eyes at the action, ignoring whatever twinged through him. You weren’t sure when Rhysand had gone from your enemy to your ally to your partner. Somewhere between him providing you with a place to plant roots in the depths of the Night Court hidden from his father and you saving him from being blown to bits in the ditches of war maybe. 

“We should move this table upstairs with the other things going to Hewn City” Azriel suggested, wishing to take his mind off the both of you, Cassian entering the room with his usual ease. The three gathered around the gigantic table, attempting to lift it. 

“YN, help Azriel with his end” you nodded to Rhysand’s instruction, Azriel fighting the urge to glare at him.

“YNN, please be careful of your hands” 

“I will Az” You smiled softly at him, Rhysand pursing his lips briefly at the action.

“Do you mind Cass?” He shrugged his shoulders, offering his hand for you to hold briefly before removing your hand to flex it, the bones creaking in the action as your strength felt as though it doubled. You caught hold of the corner adjacent to your partner, your new strength aiding the three.

“Does it hurt mirroring?” “Sometimes it hurts my brain-” you laughed to Azriel next to you“-it really is a matter of tactics, the last fae I touch and choose to mirror pushes out the last power I mirror away from me” he nodded in understanding before Rhysand and he winnowed together with you, Cassian and the table. 

The landing came with a hard thud, the gigantic ancient table weighed down with centuries of cruelty. You groaned as you released your corner, hands contorting in a spasm. Azriel released his section, almost instantly meeting your side.

"YNN, come on let's get a soak made up" "She's okay Az, it happens to her all the time, she has to get used to working through it alone if she is to return to the battlefield alongside us" Rhysand reprimanded the Spymaster for his close proximity to you, his own arm wrapping around your waist in an almost possessive nature. Azriel's eyes searched yours as you held the weaker hand in the other, the spasm unending, releasing another painful breath from your mouth.

"Start tomorrow" Azriel bit, looping his arm through your elbow, taking you from the High Lord's grasp to seek out Madja.

"I'll go Az, you take the table" Rhysand slipped his arm back to your waist, half pulling you back into him, the pain taking your attention away from the tension-filled air.

—-------------------

1800

“It's our home my love, surprise!” Rhysand pulled his hands from covering your eyes, they lit up instantly at the sight of The Town House. You turned to hug him so tightly he thought his ribs may crack. 

“I can’t believe you” you laughed hysterically before practically skipping up the driveway. Roots you never thought would grow from your heart that was born to see the world sprouted through Velaris. 

"I've never had a home like this Rhys" A small flow of salty water threatened the rims of your eyes before they fell parallel to your smile.

“I love you YN” the roots sank deeper with the words.

—-------------------

1850 

“YN? I thought you and Rhys had plans tonight?” Azriel asked from the entryway to the Town House, you sat alone at the dining table, candles sinking to the end of their wick.

“Oh Hi Az, eh yeah, he got- he got called away” Your soft voice was tinged with tears that threatened to fall, the plate of untouched food adjacent to you now stone cold. You stood, taking the plates into the kitchen, scraping them off before sinking them into bubbly water. 

“Oh, sorry to hear that” you just hummed in agreement to him as you polished the plates.

“The House looks great,” he offered quietly.

“Thank you for noticing” You saw a tear fall from your cheek into the suds, you lifted the ornate plate from the water, something seizing in your hand as you did, the plate falling to shatter into a thousand pieces as your hand cramped.

“Fuck!” You shouted, kneeling directly down into the shards, gripping your contorting hand with the other, the tears now freely flowing.

“YNN! Hey hey it's okay!” He met your side, his hands tracing over yours gently. You looked up to meet his eyes as they attempted to coax you through your unsteady breaths. His thumbs traced circles around your palms, massaging the seizure until it gave in. Azriel pulled you back to your feet, ceramics crunching underfoot as he brought you into the living room.

-

“You did not” The laugh left you loudly at one of Azriel’s happier stories from his time at Windhaven involving pulling Rhysands trousers down in front of the whole camp. The two of you sat on opposite ends of the loveseat, curled up in the warmth of the Town House. 

“True story, Gods, we got up to some trouble” he smiled down at his lap and then beamed to you.

“You must have your own stories YNN?” “Not really” You shrugged.

“C’mon now, you travelled a lot before we met you, no great stories?” “None that I can share in the company of gentleman” His foot slipped to tap against you playfully before bending back up to his chest beneath his blanket. 

“Rhy’s thinks I talk too much about that time” You shrug.

“I want to hear every story, at least twice-” You rolled your eyes at his genuine smile "-Do you miss travelling? Flexing that wonderful power of yours?” “I think, I think I was looking for something back then, I thought I found it” You looked at hands as they flattened out as straight as they could.

"What you found was trouble" Azriel grinned and you nodded in agreement.

"Do you enjoy mirroring?" His head tilted, his greatest interest was your greatest asset.

“It can be difficult now, I think I returned too quickly to it after...what happened but Rhys needed me in the war and...I'd break myself for him"

"You already have YNN, you owe him nothing, we owe you everything, if a return to exploring the world is what you want you should have it" He watched you inspect your hands as he had for centuries since his own battle wounds.

"I just want to be happy Az" A single tear fell from your cheek to meet one of your scars, the fissure in your skin like roots in a tree.

"I want you to be happy YNN-" You looked to his sincerity, it enveloped you in kindness "-and if that means never mirroring again, then so be it" "Mirroring Rhys sometimes is the only way I feel close to him” You admitted, curling your fingers back, a full fist still not easily achieved by the hand that was totally crushed.

“It gets easier-” he gestured to your wicked scars “-dealing with the cruelty of others but... No one YNN, and I truly mean no one, should get to treat you with anything other than love” You just nodded softly in reply, the sound of a click of a lock sending your head in the direction of the doorway.

“Rhys!” You leapt from the couch, sweeping away any trace of tears, Azriel hating how easily you compartmentalized it all away in front of Rhysand. You ran into the arms of your partner, a battle hero's welcome as he seemingly brushed you off like a little kid.

“I’m going straight to b- Az? What are you doing here?” “Just keeping YNN company, I’ll see you both tomorrow” He didn’t allow for further questioning, dissolving into shadows. You fixated your stare on the space, Rhysand brushing past you and straight up the stairs. Alone in the living room that you had painstakingly decorated for the two of you. You looked around, a small shadow you created leaking from a fist you managed to ball together before you outed the light. 

—---------------------

1900

“YN could use her abilities” “YN deserves rest Rhy’s, she is eager to travel to the continent” “I won’t risk her abilities Az-” Azriel’s head tilted slightly to the misspoken word “-Her, I won't risk her” 

“But you’ll risk her to expand your border?” Cassian spoke with his own concern similar to Azriels. Rhysand rolled his shoulders, brushing off the question before standing from his chair.

“Needs must”

“She's not your weapon!”

“But she is my partner!” Azriel sat further back in his chair in shock, Rhysand hadn’t spoken with such sharpness since he tried to convince Azriel to allow his father to handle your future centuries ago, his darkest secret. 

“Enough” Rhysand walked to look out the window down to you in the courtyard of the House of Wind, happily stretching in the sun. 

“Are you going to go out to her? She doesn't know you've returned from your trip yet, she misses you” “No, I have more important things to attend to right now, she’ll wait for me” He dismissed himself from his own meeting, flashing out of the room.

“Green is not your colour Az '' Cassian laughed from the table as Azriel found himself watching you from the window, sinking into shadow to join your side in the sun.

—----------------------

2158

“Rhys! Take me with you, please!” “No YN. Enough!” He pulled the tie around his neck until the knot sealed delicately. His eyes met yours in the mirror as you sat on the bed behind him. 

“I-I never get to be around you much anymore” You admitted, your head dipping as Rhysand turned to face you. 

“YN, this will be a boring political ball that Hybern’s emissary is hosting, you’re not missing anything” “I’m missing you” You looked up, the glint in his violet eyes you saw so many years ago had not been seen since. His hand traced along your cheek with such tenderness you hadn’t felt from him in so long.

"You'll wait for me" The words hung between you as he kissed the top of your head and walked out the door without looking back. 

—-----------------------------------

2201

“Wait YN! Hear me out!”

“NO!” you span on your heels, allowing Rhysand to bounce back from you before pushing him away further into the chest.

“YN, I don’t want to hurt you but-” “But! Exactly! You are! Fifty fucking years I waited for you! And what's the first thing you say to me?! She’s my mate! And now you’re going to go and get her and bring her here! To our home!” Rage-hot tears flooded your face, every nerve standing on edge at the feeling of this cosmic betrayal. 

“What do you want from me YN, I just-I just love Feyre!” Rhysand caught your wrists as you went to hit him further, equal despair painting his face. You felt yourself tense in his grip, a very old injury still reminding you of how you got here.

“YOU USED TO LOVE ME!” the roar left you in a blind fury, never had you raised your voice at Rhysand but never had he betrayed you so deeply.

“I can’t make this better! I want to but I can’t, please” he found himself crying now too. You stopped pulling against his hold, two sets of wild eyes landing on one another for what felt like the first time in a long time. 

“You don’t love me, Rhysand. You tolerate me, tolerate me for everything you used to love me for” A fresh set of words like knives fell through the space between you.

“YN-” “-Tell me now, tell me If it's all in my head. Even on my worst day, did I deserve this, All the hell you gave me? Because I loved you, I swear I loved you until my dying day and all you do is TOLERATE ME! TELL ME OTHERWISE!” Once the last voice crack had Rhysand averting his gaze from you as you shook your head, slipping your wrists from him. 

“I can’t tell you that” you backed away from him and the words you always knew but never thought you’d hear.

“I really hope she’s everything you need her to be” The words broke him further through your rattled voice, rage turning to mind-numbing sadness you hadn’t felt since hearing of his capture. You took steps back from him in the foyer of the Town House, seemingly unable to lift his heavy limbs from the marble.

Your feet nearly separated the cobblestone road as you trudged along, passing fae trying not to gawk at their almost High Lady. You stopped once your toes touched the wall protecting the city from the Sidra. 

“YN?” Azriel called out from the end of the bridge as he crossed, quickening his pace to you with your lack of reply. 

“Hey hey what’s going on, more plate smashing?” You huffed slightly into his chest through your tears at the absurdity of the memory. 

“I’m leaving Az” you muffled through the soft fabric, his tough hands finding your arms to push you back from him, deeply inspecting your opal eyes, hands still heating your sides. 

“Leaving? But-but we only just got Rhys back-” Your head dropped to his feet instantly, pushing the rising vomit in your throat away.

“YNN, please tell me, just tell me how I can fix it?” 

“Bring me back in time and leave me to keep flying away” You stepped fully from his grip, his shadows swirling around you, now mingling with the ones you created. You took the deepest breath, pushing a smile through your muscles, tears outlining them. 

“Bye Az”

“YNN, please where are you going?” He pleaded, your arms slipping from his grip,

"Anywhere I want to, just not home" You dissolved into shadow, leaving the Illyrian with his wings dipping to the floor.

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

Okeee friends what do we think?

P.S Did you catch that only Az calls reader YNN? hehe. Also, I have part two written and she's based on Who's Afraid of Little Old Me and My Tears Richochet so if you think that's something you'd enjoy please let me know hehe

[velnoni]

100% down with demi Ford and interested in relationship headcanons!

Ford x Reader Relationship Headcanons

I'm so happy for this ask, I haven't received any in ages. Also thank you for agreeing, here ya go! This is gonna be a long one.

He's a very busy fella, catching up on old and creating new experiments after saving the world with his family. Would like to say you guys met as acquaintances when he picks up a job at the local college in Gravity Falls. He doesn't like freeloading off of Stan even though it was originally his home.

Being real here, the last thing on his mind is a relationship, let alone a romantic one. It's not that he's against one, but there is so much he missed out on after being trapped in portal.

With the kids returning home, Ford & Stan trying to fix their relationship, it'll dawn upon him that while Gravity Falls feels like home, it doesn't at the same time. Just like when he first arrived, he'll feel isolated and lonely, a figment of the past.

Having someone to speak to, even a work buddy, would be a healthy step for his to explore relationships outside the family. You two having the same lunch breaks and holding up small conversations help ease away the trepidation in his stomach. He's very apprehensive towards you at first but if you show interest in his work, he'll open up a bit.

Will ask you for help with modern technology. Some of his students gripe with him for not using his email. He appreciates your help and hopes not to be a burden. You're impressed by his use of vocabulary and learn new words every week.

Goes without saying, but he has mountains of trust issues. Trouble sleeping, eating, etc can affect his mood, so sometimes you might have pity on him and bring him something sweet to drink/munch on. A silent gesture, and at first, he wonders what your game is. "Can't help a friend?" After that ensues the endless nights of wondering if you two truly are friends, if this is something worth investing in. He never excelled in the social department as much as he hated to admit it and will go to Stan about it. Might even ask the kids on the next face time for advice.

He's nervous at the idea of having a friend, the last time he was used and it nearly cost the life of humanity. Never again. Stan suggested the first step to hanging out outside work is to ask you to go drinking. Ford was pessimistic at first but Stan's logic didn't sound too bad (for once) and after he asks you and you accept it became the occasional thing to go drinking at a pub where the beer is bad and finger food was edible enough.

He finds himself looking forward to hanging with you outside work, the two of you indulging your day to day and past stories. You could always tell he was hiding something or perhaps hesitant about the nature of his past...but eventually he shows you the abnormalities of Gravity Falls. At first you were bewildered at the reality, but as time passed you would indulge with Ford in his studies. Sometimes planning hikes on the weekend or setting up traps to catch gnomes and find out what's under their hat. He wasn't keen on the idea of taking you to more dangerous expeditions.

You enjoyed watching old series with him. According to Ford he had a lot of media to catch up on, sometimes Stan would keep you two company. Was upset to find out Micheal Jackson passed away.

Of course you'll meet Stan, who takes to shooting his horrible jokes at you in attempts to make you laugh. It works and Ford questions your sanity. The dynamic between you three is refreshing.

He was visiting your home with a gift of chocolate and his favorite book of the month, you couldn't help but wonder what the occasion was. When Ford tells you about his plans to sail with his brother over lost time, he bit his lip. "The way you talk about Stan is like you haven't see him in forever." That elected silence from him before Ford sighs. "It's a long story." You assure him you have all the time in world. And that's when he tells you everything. There were moments of long silence when certain things became too rough to speak on but you had patience.

In the end, the two of you sat in your living room, Ford with a solemn expression on his face and his eyes distant. As you digested all the info you were given you asked if you could hug him. He was surprised but consented. He didn't realize how much he needed it.

"Do you miss him?" Ford looks at you and then at the TV. It was a long time before he answered. "I miss the person I thought he was. I thought he was my friend." You know, you know that very well and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'll never let someone take advantage of me again." You were proud of him.

Funds from his job at the college and the Mystery Shack helped in the creation of the Stan O' War II. It was bittersweet seeing Ford and his brother off, asking him to write to you when he could. He promised and to that you smiled. He found himself fond of that smile. Not perfect, not happy or sad, but keen on the acceptance of reality.

You get to see his expression when you gift both Stanley and him echo flowers. You explained you did your own research and thought these as perfect gifts. These flowers could repeat any sound around them and they glowed a beautiful shade of cyan blue at night.

It wasn't often Ford wore his emotions on his sleeve but he couldn't help but become teary eyed much like his brother who was feigning dust in his eyes. It had been so long since anyone was so...nice to him. He felt like he didn't deserve it sometimes.

You two become pen pals as he and Stan sail the world and he won't consider romantic feelings unless Stan asks him one day.

If you two invest in a romantic relationship it would be after they return from sailing the world and it would be extremely slow. But you're both willing.

That's the end of this headcanon! If you want more of a romantic take, asks are always open! Reblogs & likes are always appreciated!

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that take place in a small town, rural area as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🏡 I'll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt

(E, 122k, childhood friends) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not

🏡 Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k, lighthouse) As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

🏡 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule / @baroness-elsa

(T, 93k, magical realism) Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🏡 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🏡 ocean tides you home (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(M, 88k, Eroda) Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

🏡 Into the Weeds by kair0sclerosis

(M, 87k, secrets) Following the whispered words of a stranger, Harry Styles finds himself in the small town of Peri Ridge. It’s a town nestled within overgrown forests, raging rivers, and ominous mountains- full of unkept secrets, the aura of freedom, and lost people seeking to be found.

🏡 (Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 86k, Northern Exposure au) Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

🏡 Full Moon Dreaming by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 43k, soulmates) Louis has given up hope of dreaming of a person, resigned to living a life devoid of that kind of all-consuming love for another and receiving the same in return. But when a new neighbour descends on Louis’ beloved Hanson Bay and moves into the other beach house, could all that be about to change?

🏡 The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, HTTYD au) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

🏡 Something About Liminal Spaces by @kingsofeverything

(E, 34k, age difference) Searching for inspiration for his latest book, and hoping distance will help heal his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson heads to the village of Piha on the west coast of New Zealand’s north island.

🏡 It's the Climb by @lululawrence

(NR, 25k, Hannah Montana au) Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer.

🏡 It's Coming on Christmas by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 23k, girl direction) When Harry Styles gets a call from the caretaker of a bakery in a small town in Vermont, she jumps at the chance to get out of Boston and run her own shop.

🏡 Naked & Proud by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

(E, 18k, songwriter Louis) In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

🏡 Between the forest and the field by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 16k, meet cute) the one where Harry recently moved to a village and his shy dog picks Louis' dogs to play with at the dog park. A fluffy cottage core AU.

🏡 Won’t Let You Down by noellehenry / @noellehenry-original

(M, 15k, inheritance) In a matter of weeks, Harry’s world turns upside down. Suddenly he’s the owner of a farm and B&B, gets involved in illegal trading of unlabeled bottles and has to deal with his everlasting crush on his sister Gemma’s best friend, who has returned to Woodville…

🏡 You Tilted My Hand by @taggiecb

(G, 12k, photographer Harry) Harry Styles arrives in Avonlea, Prince Edward Island for his first day of a coveted and prestigious summer internship at the Avonlea Chronicle. He's quick to realise that he's out of place in the little band of journalists as he's an art major and they didn't choose Harry to be part of the team!

🏡 Babe, There's Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 8k, witch Louis) Louis is a hedge witch, who lives a lonely, solitary life. He's quite happy with his shop in Door County, selling New Age magics to the tourists. 

🏡 Warm Chilling by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(G, 7k, neighbors) Louis moves into a cosy cottage in the English countryside with his dog Clifford to look after his great-aunt's animals.

- Rare Pairs -

🏡 Grundy County Incidents (series) by @haztobegood

(T, 10k, Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw & Zayn/Liam & Niall/Greg James) 25 years, 7 friends, 3 relationships, 1 rural county

🏡 Something Good (And I Don't Just Mean Your Chips) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(T, 9k, Harry/Nick Grimshaw) Nick's uncle's will left his seaside cottage, his fishing boat, and all the contents of both to Nick. Coming off the back of months of very poor life choices, a brand new start in a Yorkshire seaside village seems the last remaining option for Nick

[novaursa]

The Queen's Choice

- Summary: On your way to Essos, your love for Torrhen wins. You turn your dragon North.

- Paring(s): sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen (one-sided), targ!reader/Torrhen Stark

- Note: This is one of the possible endings of The Broken Crown where Y/N goes to Torrhen instead to Essos.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana @sunset18rose

The cold wind of the Narrow Sea bites against your cheeks, a stinging reminder of the decision you've made. Beneath you, Tesaerix beats her great wings, slicing through the air with a ferocity that matches the turmoil in your heart. The horizon blurs into the pale sky, Essos beckoning you with the promise of escape, of freedom from the entanglements of your brother’s desires.

Yet, the further you fly, the more the fire within you flickers and wanes. Aegon had no right to make such decisions for you. To demand you be his. Your heart clenches with the memory of Torrhen Stark's solemn eyes, the gentle strength in his voice when he spoke of the future you were to share. The love that had grown between you, warm and sure like the spring thaw breaking Winterfell’s long-held snow.

You inhale sharply, the freezing air burning your lungs as a sudden realization strikes you. You don't want to run away. To Essos, to anywhere. It is the North you crave, the embrace of a man who would not seek to conquer you but cherish you as an equal. Your hands tighten on the reins as you make your decision.

“Tesaerix, turn north,” you command, your voice firm. The dragon responds with a deep rumble, shifting her course abruptly. The sea below shifts from the steel-blue of the Narrow Sea to the darker shades of the Shivering Sea, the air around you becoming sharper, colder.

Your heart thunders louder with each beat of Tesaerix’s wings. You imagine Torrhen, standing in the courtyard of Winterfell, his dark hair swept back, his gaze fierce and unyielding. Would he welcome you after all that has transpired? After Aegon's insult, his claim on you?

No, you tell yourself. Torrhen Stark is no meek southern lord to bow and scrape. He will understand why you have come. He must.

When the first glimpse of the North appears beneath you—the stark, snow-capped peaks of the mountains—the ache in your chest lessens. Soon, the sprawling gray walls of Winterfell come into view, smoke curling from the chimneys like a warm, beckoning hand. You draw a deep breath as Tesaerix lets out a piercing roar, announcing your arrival.

Below, you see movement, a flurry of figures rushing about in alarm. Tesaerix descends in a wide spiral, her wings stretching out like great sails, catching the icy wind. You spot him then, Torrhen, rushing out from the gates, his head tipped back, eyes wide with disbelief.

He’s clad in dark furs, his shoulders squared, his face a study in shock and something else—something that makes your heart squeeze painfully. He shouts something, though the wind snatches his words away before they can reach you. The men around him are bristling with weapons, though none dare raise them as you land.

Tesaerix’s talons scrape the frozen earth as she settles, her breath fogging the air as she lowers her head, allowing you to slide down. Your legs are unsteady as they hit the ground, but you keep your gaze locked on Torrhen, your heart pounding in your throat.

He is already striding towards you, his eyes blazing. “Y/N,” he breathes, stopping just short of reaching for you, as if he can hardly believe you’re real.

“Torrhen,” you say, his name a whisper on your lips. You search his face, looking for any trace of anger, rejection. “I…I couldn’t go. I couldn’t leave you.”

He lets out a breath you hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with relief. “You came back,” he murmurs, and then, in a surge of movement, he pulls you into his arms, crushing you against him. The furs of his cloak are soft against your cheek, his body solid and warm as you melt into him.

“I love you,” you confess, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I want to be with you, not as a queen forced into another’s bed, but as your wife. Truly.”

Torrhen pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. “Aegon won’t allow it. He—”

“I don’t care,” you interrupt, your voice fierce. “Let him rage. I will not be his plaything. I am no prize to be won or lost in his war.”

His expression softens, a look of such tenderness crossing his features that your breath catches. “You would stay here, in the North? With me?”

You nod, your throat tight. “If you’ll have me.”

He smiles then, a slow, warm smile that banishes the last of your doubts. “I would be a fool not to.” He presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cold air. “Welcome home, my love.”

You close your eyes, letting the words wash over you. Home. Yes, this is where you belong, here in Torrhen Stark’s arms, beneath the great walls of Winterfell. No longer a pawn in Aegon’s game, but a woman with a future she has chosen for herself.

And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel truly free.

The great hall of Winterfell is filled with the low murmur of voices as Torrhen’s bannermen gather around the long table, their expressions a mix of apprehension and resolve. The flames in the hearth crackle and dance, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, but the warmth does little to dispel the chill that hangs in the air.

Torrhen stands at the head of the table, his hands braced on the worn wood, his gaze sweeping over the men who have served his family for generations. His decision to take you in as his own has stirred more than just concern among them; it’s sparked a fear of what may come.

“She is Aegon’s queen,” Lord Cerwyn says, breaking the silence. His voice is steady but edged with worry. “By taking her into your home, you risk the wrath of the Dragon himself. What will happen when Aegon and his sisters come to reclaim what he sees as his?”

The murmurs grow louder, the men shifting uneasily. Torrhen straightens, his gaze hardening. “Aegon made a promise to me,” he says, his voice carrying through the hall. “He pledged Y/N to me in marriage, to bind the North to his cause, to ensure peace between our people. He broke that promise when he took her for himself.”

“But you swore fealty to him,” Lord Manderly interjects, his thick brows drawn together in a frown. “You bent the knee, denounced your crown. To go against him now would make you an oathbreaker.”

“Aye, I swore an oath,” Torrhen replies, his tone unwavering. “But it was Aegon who broke faith first. He swore to honor our alliance, to make Y/N my wife, not another conquest for his own ambitions. It was not I who severed our agreement but him.”

A heavy silence falls over the hall as his words sink in. The truth of it is undeniable, but it does little to ease the tension. The men exchange uncertain glances, each weighing the cost of defiance against the honor of their lord.

“And what will you do when Aegon comes north with his dragons?” Lord Glover asks, his voice low. “Will you fight them? We’ve seen what those beasts can do. Harrenhal, Storm’s End… there’s no fortress that can withstand their fire.”

Torrhen’s jaw tightens, but his eyes burn with determination. “We will do what we must to protect our home and our honor. If Aegon thinks he can take her from me, he will find that the North is not so easily subdued.”

Lord Umber lets out a bark of laughter, though there’s little humor in it. “And do you think we can stand against them like Dorne? Hide in the mountains and strike from the shadows? We are not made for such warfare.”

“No, we are not,” Torrhen agrees, his gaze steady. “But we are not without our own strength. Unlike Dorne, we have a dragon of our own.”

The mention of Tesaerix brings a murmur of surprise, heads turning towards the open courtyard where the great beast rests. Her presence, a golden and cream colossus with blood-red eyes, is a stark reminder of the power she wields.

Lord Cerwyn’s brow furrows. “And you think one dragon is enough to face three?”

Torrhen’s mouth sets into a grim line. “It may not be enough to defeat them, but it is enough to make them think twice before they bring war to our lands. Aegon may have his sisters, but Y/N is no less fierce, and Tesaerix will fight for her as fiercely as any of their dragons would.”

Lord Bolton, who has remained silent until now, leans forward, his pale eyes glinting. “And if they come not for war, but to treat? To offer terms?”

Torrhen’s gaze does not waver. “Then we will hear them. But I will not send Y/N back to him like a piece of cattle. If Aegon wishes to negotiate, he will find that the North does not forget broken promises.”

The men exchange looks, and though there is still doubt in some eyes, there is also a flicker of resolve. Torrhen’s words, his determination, have stirred something within them.

“And if he brings his fire and blood?” Lord Manderly asks, his voice grim.

Torrhen’s eyes harden, his stance unyielding. “Then we will give him the North’s cold fury in return. He may be a dragon, but we are wolves. And wolves do not bow so easily.”

There is a long silence, the weight of his words settling over them. Slowly, one by one, the bannermen nod, their faces set in expressions of grim determination. They know the cost of defiance, the danger that looms on the horizon, but they will stand with their lord, as they have always done.

Torrhen straightens, his gaze sweeping over them, a fierce pride in his eyes. “Prepare the defenses. Send word to every holdfast, every village. If Aegon means to bring war to the North, he will find we are not so easily conquered.”

And with that, the meeting is adjourned, the men dispersing to carry out his orders. Torrhen watches them go, his heart heavy but resolute. He knows what is coming, the storm that will soon break over them all. But for now, he has you, and he will not let any force in the world tear you from his side.

No matter the cost.

The sky above Winterfell is a tumultuous gray, clouds churning like the restless sea. Torrhen stands at the head of his gathered bannermen, his face a mask of calm resolve, though you can feel the barely contained fury radiating from him. You stand by his side, your chin lifted, hands clenched at your sides. The wind tugs at your cloak, whipping the fabric around you like a banner.

Across the courtyard, Aegon sits astride Balerion, his face etched with fury. On either side of him are Rhaenys and Visenya, their dragons coiled like serpents, eyes glowing with predatory intent. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and the palpable threat of fire.

“You dare,” Aegon’s voice booms across the courtyard, cutting through the frigid air like a blade. “You dare defy me, Torrhen Stark? You shelter my wife in your halls, defying your oath of fealty?”

Torrhen does not flinch, his gaze locked on Aegon’s. “You broke your oath first, Aegon,” he says, his voice steady. “You promised Y/N to me as my wife, to seal the alliance between our houses. You shattered that promise when you took her for yourself.”

“I am the King of Westeros,” Aegon snarls, Balerion’s wings flaring slightly as if in response to his rider’s rage. “She is my queen by right!”

“Not in the eyes of the Old Gods!” Lord Cerwyn shouts, his voice ringing out clear and strong. “Under their gaze, your union is nothing but a mockery!”

The roar that tears from Aegon’s throat is almost inhuman, echoing off the walls of Winterfell. Visenya and Rhaenys exchange a glance, their faces unreadable, but there’s a tautness to their expressions, a wariness that hints at their uncertainty.

“I will not be questioned by a pack of northern curs!” Aegon roars, his eyes blazing as they settle on you. “Y/N, you are my wife, bound to me by fire and blood. I command you to come to me now.”

A shiver of fear runs through you, but you stand your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. You take a step forward, your voice ringing out clear and strong. “I will not go with you, Aegon. If you try to take me back to Aegonfort, I swear I will hurl myself from the highest tower. You will not have me as your queen, not ever again.”

A stunned silence falls over the courtyard. Even the dragons seem to pause, their massive forms shifting restlessly as if sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Aegon’s face pales, his fury momentarily giving way to something almost like desperation.

“Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying,” he begins, his voice lowering, almost pleading. “You are mine. We can—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice as cold as the northern wind. “I was never yours. I was a pawn in your game, a prize to be claimed. But I am done with being used. If you think to force me back, you will find only my lifeless body when you return to Aegonfort.”

Aegon’s expression shatters, rage giving way to something raw and broken. He glances towards Visenya, as if seeking support, but her face remains impassive, her hand resting lightly on Dark Sister’s hilt.

Rhaenys shifts uneasily on Meraxes, her eyes darting between you and Aegon. “Brother, this is madness,” she murmurs. “There is no victory to be won here.”

“You would make yourself a martyr?” Aegon spits, his voice shaking. “For what? For him?” His gaze flickers to Torrhen, filled with contempt and something else—something that twists in your gut, a pain you wish you didn’t recognize.

“For myself,” you say quietly, your voice steady. “For the right to choose my own fate.”

The silence stretches, a taut, fragile thread that seems ready to snap at any moment. Aegon’s hands are clenched so tightly around Balerion’s reins that his knuckles are white, his chest heaving as he struggles to regain his composure.

“Aegon,” Torrhen speaks, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “You can’t force her to love you. This is over.”

Aegon’s eyes blaze with fury, but the fight seems to drain out of him, his shoulders slumping. He looks at you, truly looks at you, and you see the understanding dawn in his eyes, the realization that this is a battle he cannot win.

“You would leave me,” he says, his voice hollow, empty. “For him.”

You meet his gaze steadily. “I already have.”

For a moment, he seems about to argue, to rage, but then his shoulders sag, and he looks away, defeated. Visenya murmurs something too low for you to hear. Rhaenys’ expression is soft, almost pitying, as she watches her brother crumble.

“I won’t forget this,” Aegon says finally, his voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “The North will answer for this betrayal.”

Torrhen steps forward, his face set in an expression of unyielding resolve. “The North is ready, Aegon. We will defend our own.”

There’s a long pause, and then, without another word, Aegon turns Balerion away, his sisters following suit. The dragons take to the sky, their massive wings beating the air as they rise into the gray sky, the sound of their departure a dull roar that echoes long after they’ve disappeared from view.

Torrhen’s hand finds yours, his grip warm and reassuring. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your body trembling with the aftermath of the confrontation.

“He’s gone,” Torrhen murmurs, his voice low. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, though the weight of what has just happened still hangs heavy in the air. Safe, yes. For now. But you know this is not the end. Aegon may be gone, but the shadow of his anger, his betrayal, lingers still.

But as you look up at Torrhen, at the fierce determination in his eyes, you feel a spark of hope.