#you can't stop change anymore than you can stop the suns from setting

[princeoftrashy]

Another project I did for class! I made the image of the desert dunes very quickly, as I needed something to put the quote over. There are many imperfections, but let's hope it adds to the charm 😂

[justmymindandstuff]

Can you do Aemond x f!reader? And the reader being a lot like Helaena (I'm projecting lol, I want an autistic reader basically). Just fluff between them, maybe newlywed?

Learn to Love you - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

summary: Aemond tries to understand his new wife, but you are too much like his sister. He can't get through to you. One evening he tries it with direct confrontation and is rewarded with a glimpse of you and hope for the future. After this evening his wife is not a complete stranger anymore.

words: 2.818

warnings: softAemond, a bit angst

a/n: based on the request above. Unfortunately it didn't turn out quite as fluffy as it should. I hope you like it anyway :) I'm not autistic myself and don't want to hurt any feelings with the portrayl of the Reader. I based her on Helaena in the show.

Gif not mine// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // AO3 // not proofread// requests are open

Aemond moves quietly through the halls of his home. The Red Keep slowly goes calm. The sun has already set, and most have retreated to their private chambers. Aemond is tired and longs for his own chambers and his bed. He had spent the evening a little longer than usual talking with Ser Criston. The sworn shield of his mother and he had trained together in the courtyard in the morning. Criston had discussed a few improvements with him. If his sore muscles would allow it, Aemond would try out the improvements tomorrow. But before he can retreat for the evening, he still has a task to complete. He still has his evening visit with his wife to attend to.

His marriage is not really how he imagine it would be. It's been almost a week since you two got married. You've known each other for 10 days. When you arrived at the Red Keep and he saw you for the first time, he had been relieved. A pretty face and a friendly smile had greeted him. Aemond tried to get to know you and realized that you are more than just a pretty face. You are nice, polite, smart, well-read, but strange. Often you drift off into your own world. Captured by your thoughts. You will be in a place where Aemond cannot follow you. And he quickly realized that you can't stand it when he touches you.

During your wedding ceremony, you didn't touch him more than necessary. The touch of your lips almost triggered a panic attack for you. You tore your hand away from his. Aemond would have liked to hold your hand a little longer. On this night, he did not dare to lay with you. This didn´t change over the last week, so you are still a maiden. Not that Aemond has told anyone, and as far as he knows, you haven't said a word either.

Maybe it's because he is a stranger to you? Aemond doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't like the situation. But he also doesn't know how he should change it. His usual solution, Vhagar, will definitely not work here.

He tried to seek advice from his brother. I don't know. With Helaena, it was different. I knew her well before we got married. For your wife, you are just a stranger. Aegon is right but Aemond didn't know how to change that.

So he went to his mother. Give her time to get to know you.

Both pieces of advice only led him to visit you every evening and try to get to know you. However, you mostly sit there in awkward silence and do not look at each other. You still feel uncomfortable in his presence he knows this.

Arriving at your chambers, he takes a deep breath once more and steps inside. The room is still lit by a few candles. He closes the door and watches as you pace restlessly in front of the fireplace.

"You are later than usual." you say, stopping in your movement. Now that Aemond is here, the unrest fades a little. Still, it bothers you that he doesn't come to visit you during his usual time frame. It's actually almost time for you to call your maids so they can help you change and you can go to sleep.

“I apologize for being late.” Aemond says even though he doesn't understand why it bothers you. Have you already gotten your hopes up that he won't come today? You look at him for a moment and then nod.

Without saying a word, you sit down in the armchair by the fireplace where you sit every evening. Aemond takes off his sword belt and places his weapon next to the door. He had considered that it might make you nervous that he carries a sword with him. So he puts down his weapon every evening before he sits down with you. Fortunately, you know nothing about the dagger in his boot.

Aemond even had a dagger made for you as a wedding gift. A beautiful weapon, with a gracefully curved handle and on the blade, just before the hilt begins, is a small dragon embossed that is inspired by Vhagar. Aemond hasn't had the chance to give you this gift yet. He knows that you need to get to know him better in order to understand the thought behind it. You should always be able to protect yourself, in case he might not be able to someday.

He shakes off the thought and sits down in the other armchair next to the fireplace. You don't look at him, but into the flames. Just like every evening. When you start to speak in a quiet voice he almost flinches.

"Why are you later than usual?" your hands are playing with the fabric of your skirt. You haven't changed for the night yet. You´re never when Aemond comes into your chambers. Even your hair is still braided into tight braids. Aemond feels like a visitor in his wife's chambers.

"I discussed my training with Ser Criston. There were a few problems this morning," he replies honestly.

Your face shows no reaction as you respond. “Are you hurt?”

Are you worried about him? No. Why should you? He is a stranger to you. But he still worries about you even though you are a stranger to him. After all, you are married. He wished he could read your thoughts.

"No, I am not hurt. Even though I don't really want it, Ser Criston is always a bit cautious during training with me." he is trying to ease your worries. If you are worried. Again, he tries to read your expression, but your face remains still. Your only reaction is that you turn your head to look at him. The fire in the fireplace casts warm light on your profile and your skin shimmers almost like gold. Once again, Aemond notices how beautiful you are. You look at him, and your gaze prompts Aemond to continue speaking. "I don't want him to hold back because, in a serious situation, my opponent won't hold back either."

"Which serious situation?" you still ask in a quiet voice.

"I don't know. If my family is in danger." and then he adds quietly. "If you are in danger."

The corner of your mouth twitch slightly and you almost smile. Then you turn your gaze away again and look into the fireplace. Aemond suppresses the urge to reach for your hand in your lap. Silence spreads again between you. The uncomfortable silence causes a hot burning sensation in Aemond's gut. Still, he can't take his eyes off you. You seem a bit sad. He decides that it can't go on like this. Aemond has to swallow and gathers all his courage to speak again.

"You are not happy."

This time you turn not just your head towards him but your whole body. He is surprised when your gaze meets him and you look directly into his eyes. Rarely can you hold his gaze. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you think. It takes a moment before you respond.

"No. No, it's just that it's hard for me. My father brought me here, and this is a strange place for me. All the people around me are strangers. I miss my family and my home. Everything I knew was taken away from me. I was used to everything at home. I had my routines and everything. It's hard for me to adjust to all these new things around me. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

Aemond is surprised by your words and needs a moment to truly understand what you have said. Guilt overwhelms him. It is his fault that you were kidnapped from your home. Because you had to marry him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Now it is him who cannot withstand your gaze and he looks at his hands.

"I don't blame you." once again, you surprise him your voice is now a bit firmer. "It wasn't your decision to marry me. Just as it was not my decision to marry you. That was agreed upon by our parents." you sigh. "You are not happy either. And that is my fault. I know that I'm weird."

"No! I don't find you weird."

You laugh softly and at the sound Aemond's heart skips a beat. He is looking at you again, he wants to hear you laugh once more.

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not lying. I don't find you weird. You remind me of my sister."

Your eyes start to shine. "Hel. I like her a lot."

He feels a slight tug at his heart. Aemond knows that you usually spend your days in the company of his sister Helaena. He has seen both of you walking in the garden a few times or engrossed in conversation while eating. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Helaena.

"Yes, I know. Do you spend a lot of time with her?“

You nod. "Yes. I enjoy being with her." "What are you doing all day?"“ Aemond is clinging to every strand. Everything is better than this uncomfortable silence between you.

"Oh, very different things. Sometimes we read together, or she explains something to me about insects. Sometimes I read one of my poems to her. Or I’ll give her one to read."

Aemond is captivated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"You write poetry?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not knowing this about you, but Hel did. Your cheeks are slightly turning red, and for the first time, Aemond feels like he can read your emotions from your face.

"Yes, among with other things. I also enjoy reading poetry. My favorite poet is Marcus Hill. He writes incredibly well. My poems are not even close to being that good. But I don't just write poems, I also write short stories. This helps me organize my thoughts better. But I like most writing poems.“ you speak a little faster than usual, which reveals your excitement to Aemond. He can't help but smile at the sight. Now that you are passionately talking about your interests, you are even more beautiful.

Suddenly you jump up from your chair. Aemond's hand instinctively goes to where his sword's hilt usually is. In the next second, it becomes clear to him that there is no danger, and he relaxes again. You didn't notice anything because you turned away immediately and took a few uncertain steps through your chamber before turning back to him. Uncertain, your hands begin to play with the fabric of your skirt. You take a deep breath and then search for his gaze for a second before looking away again. Aemond leans forward a bit, tense with anticipation. Finally you start to speak. "Would you like to… I mean just if you want? You don't have to." You stop yourself, take a deep breath and gathering your thoughts. "Would you like to read one of my poems?" you ask softly.

Aemonds heart skips a beat and a pleasant warmth spreads within him. "Yes. Very gladly."

You nod, turn back around, and walk to your nightstand. You pick up a book with a leather cover and open it. Aemond notices from his seat that it is stuffed with written pages, and almost every book page is filled with your neat handwriting. You rummage through the loose papers and then pull out a page before you close the book again and carefully place it back in its spot. You are coming back to him.

"I wrote this on the day of our wedding," you say, handing him the sheet of paper. In that moment, your fingertips brush against his. The touch is so fleeting that Aemond is not sure if he might have just imagined it.

He turns his gaze away from you and directs it to the folded paper between his fingers. He wants to open it to read your poem, but before he has really moved his fingers, your hand shoots forward and holds his hand firmly. Aemond skin tingles and he lightly closes his hands around yours.

"No. Please don't read it here. That would be too embarrassing for me. Please read it later and tell me tomorrow what you thought," you say quickly. Aemond looks up again and directly into your eyes. He saw you that close for the last time on your wedding day in the sept. A shiver runs through his body and he can only nod. You also nod and allow him to briefly squeeze your hand before you pull back and sit down again in your chair opposite to him. He already misses the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

Aemond folds the paper with your face completely again and then puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Suddenly, this piece of paper is his most precious possession.

"Now you know something about me." you notice. Aemond can't gauge whether the fact bothers you or not. He hopes it  doesn´t. Before he can ask, you are already speaking again. "You like sword training. I could watch your training?” you suggest.

Aemond thinks about the training courtyard. About the loud clashing of the swords striking against each other, the sreams of the knights, the swearing and the rough manner of speaking among men. And then he thinks of you, his gentle, fragile wife. Sometimes the gentle background music that plays during dinner is too loud for you. You would hate it.

"No, this is not a suitable environment for you, my Lady. The men do not know how to behave in the presence of a princess." he explains.

"Oh."

Aemond sees how you stiffen a little again and turn your gaze back towards the fireplace. The fire is almost out. Aemond is afraid that the closeness he has found today will slip away from him again, and as a result, he starts to speak a bit too quickly.

"But if you want, I can join you on your walk tomorrow?" he is momentarily afraid that this will disrupt your routine, but you look at him again.

"Yes, that would be nice. I always take a stroll through Queen Alyssa's garden after afternoon tea."

Aemond must suppress a smile. He is, of course, well informed about your daily routine. Even though he hasn't really been able to talk to you until today, he has always kept a close eye on what you're doing. "I am happy to be allow to accompany you." his gaze falls on your hands folded in your lap, and once again, longing pulls at him to reach for your hand. "When we go for a walk. Would you allow me to hold your hand then? I know you don't like my touches. But...

"No. It's not your touches that I don't like.I don't like touches from anyone, regardless of who." you clarify things quickly. "But yes. I will allow it. I know about it know, so I can prepare myself for it. If I´m prepared I can hold your hand.”

This time Aemond cannot suppress his smile. A pleasant anticipation for tomorrow fills him and he feels as if he has made a significant step forward in his marriage today.

The ringing of the bell in the great sept makes you both flinch. Startled you look out the window, then you get up and walk through your rooms. "I have to call my maids and go to bed.It's already past my usual time."

Aemond quickly gets up as well and nods. Bad conscience about the fact that he disrupted your routine today weighs on him. He turns to the door and goes to his sword belt to put it back on. As he just fastens the buckle and turns to leave, you turn to him once more.

"Thank you, Aemond. Our conversation was good for me. I enjoyed it very much. I´m looking forward to our walk tomorrow and I'm curious to hear what you think of my poem."  and then you smile directly at him for the first time.

His heart starts to race immediately, and Aemond is sure that he has just fallen in love. Unconsciously, he places his hand on the pocket where he has put your poem. Then he returns your smile.

"Yes, I also enjoyed it very much. Good night, my Lady Wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, my Lord Husband.” you respond still with a smile on your face.  

Aemond nods briefly and then leaves your chambers. His steps are light, and he intends to speak with the steward first thing tomorrow morning so that he can arrange for the poet Marcus Hill to be invited to the Red Keep as soon as possible.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's supposed to be writing. The guys, they all agreed they'd each come to practice armed with two whole new songs they could pick from to add to their set list at the Hideout. And he's got his pen, and he's got his most recent trusty Composition Book, and all his lyrics are fucking bullshit about golden tanned skin and honeyed eyes and tracing constellations in freckles and moles, pathetic lines about being twisted in bed sheets, and the hopeless love he found himself in.

For the fifth time in an hour, he rips out the offending page, crunches it into a tight ball, and throws it across the room.

He can't write about Steve Harrington for the rest of his life; spend his nights aching for the boy who established himself as a fixture in Eddie's life and then just disappeared.

The worst of it--the very worst--is that Eddie knew better. Steve was never his, not in any real way, no matter how many times they fucked. He's Steve Harrington. Straightest guy in Hawkins. Popular. Rich. Whole fucking life laid out for him on a silver platter. And Eddie fell for him. It's the Munson curse, he supposes; always wanting what you can't have.

It started the way these things usually do, "got any weed?" and "come back to my place, Harrington" and "I got this stupid job at the mall, meet me there?" and lying "hey, guys, can't make band practice, gotta help Uncle Wayne" and "Munson, I really want--can I kiss you?"

In every other fantasy Eddie's ever had, it ends there. Steve gets his kiss and they never see each other again. But Steve Harrington--he's full of surprises. It catches Eddie off guard, makes him want, makes him trust. Because it's not just kisses. It's hands and mouths and "anything you want, Eddie. Let me make you feel good."

Maybe it wouldn't have hit so hard--maybe Eddie could've stopped from falling--if Steve hadn't been so good. Bitchy, sure, but genuine and kind. Had this whole gaggle of junior high kids he babysat, like what the fuck. Would hang out with Wayne and shoot the shit about whatever sports nonsense was on tv. Harrington never was as mean, as spoiled, as superficial as Eddie suspected.

Then Starcourt. That's when it all changes. Steve stops coming around then, in the aftermath. It hurts, but Eddie tells himself it's for the best. Now, he knows it would have been.

Two weeks with no contact, and Steve shows up at his door in the middle of the night. Eddie winces at the healing bruises and cuts on his face, can't imagine how much worse they were to start. He steps aside, lets Steve in, plans to say that he can't be whatever they are anymore.

Steve kisses him. It's a hot, needy thing, wild with teeth and tongue, nothing like before. Eddie is helpless to it, helpless to the way Steve grinds against him, already hard. He should slow it down, check-in that Steve is in the right headspace for this, but Steve is moaning low in his throat and Eddie can't think.

They're in Eddie's bed and Steve says, "fuck me, Eddie?" and Eddie says "are you sure" because he can't stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes (beautifuly bitchy), says, "I need to feel you inside me, baby."

How can Eddie say no?

Eddie's never done this before, but it doesn't matter. It's everything--Steve is everything--he could ask for.

The next morning, he expects Steve to be gone. Thinks they'll never see each other again. But he finds Steve in the kitchen, in his boxers and Eddie's Iron Maiden shirt, making eggs and talking to Wayne like it's the most normal thing in the world.

The next month and a half are the best of Eddie's life. He and Steve spend more time together than they do apart. Nights at Eddie's trailer, in Eddie's bed. Days lounging at the Harrington pool and driving around the nothing that surrounds Hawkins. Sometimes they'll stop in the middle of nowhere, climb on top of the van, and just--be. Steve takes his shirt off, and Eddie traces their names in the sun-soaked freckles, thinking maybe he really gets to have this, have Steve.

It ends as quickly as it started. One morning in September, Steve is cupping Eddie's neck, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss, saying, "sorry, baby, gotta get home for my parents. I'll see you later tonight, yeah?"

Except Eddie doesn't. Eddie doesn't see Steve that night, or the night after, or the night after that. He stops coming around and all Eddie is left with is a broken heart and these piss poor excuses for songs.

He rips out the latest page, waxing lyrical about the wonders of August, and time slipping away, and the boy he'll never forget. Crumples it into a ball and bats it into a pile of junk accumulated in the corner of his room.

Eddie needs a break.

He flies into the living room, snatches up his keys from the floor by the coffee table, and flees his house and all those memories of Steve. It's not like he has anywhere specific to go, so he drives around town, with his windows down and his music up.

His tires screech as he rounds the corner to the video store and arcade. He's not planning on stopping, but honestly, maybe a few rounds of Space Invaders is exactly what he needs.

The van hasn't even come to a stop in the parking spot when his eyes fall on Steve Harrington. He's standing in the middle of the parking lot surrounded by a gang of kids (including some of Eddie's new little sheepies) and Robin Buckley. Steve wears a sunny yellow sweatshirt, tight jeans, and his hair is perfectly coifed, falling in an elegant wave. His hands are on his hips, mouth and brows pinched stern. He's gorgeous, perfect.

It's an assault, an attack, Eddie's entire body shakes as the months they spent together crash over him. He has the van in reverse before he consciously thinks to do so, flooring it out of the space hard enough to burn rubber.

The noise, the speed, it draws the entire group's attention to him.

His eyes meet Steve's.

Time stops and so does he, idling in the middle of the parking lot. For a second, one moment in time, Steve's face falls. His mouth loses that grumpy pinch, his eyebrows drop, his beauty transformed by grief, by fucking longing.

Steve takes a step forward, and Eddie hits the gas, van screaming out of the parking lot. He watches the group shrink in his rearview mirror, sure that he imagined the sorrow in Steve's face, anyway.

They're nothing to each other.

Never were.

By popular request: Part Two

[inside-lees-mind]

I've been so obsessed with Rock Lee for the last few months after getting into Naruto and I'm so glad someone's taking requests for my favourite ninja! If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to see you write Rock Lee helping reader stretch before a work out but since reader isn't really flexible or is just not all that active, they make a lot of, ahem, suggestive noises while stretching. Love your work, can't wait to see more!!

Rock Lee Helping Reader Stretch

Warnings: Suggestive, borderline NSFW. It’s implied.

Basically: You make noises while stretching that Rock Lee’s horny brain can’t ignore.

Recently, your joints and muscles have been killing you. Maybe your half ass stretching routine wasn’t doing the trick, you figured. Even though you knew change had to happen, you just didn’t know how to stretch your muscles out properly for the extensive training you do with Lee.

Usually he shows up earlier than you, so you don’t see him stretching, but you know he’s keen on making sure he stretches properly so he’s probably stretching for a while beforehand. So you decide to show up 40 minutes before you usually would, seeing him just now setting up to stretch and warmup.

He’d clearly been out jogging prior to this. And in your mind, you know he’s done a runners stretch so isn’t that enough? Why does he need to stretch again? (Him and Gai would both scream at you for this way of thinking)

“Hi Lee.” You greet him with a small smile, already exhausted from the training you haven’t even started just by looking at his energetic, muscular self. Somewhere in your mind, you’ve managed to convince yourself that you’re winded from the walk to the training grounds, and that Lee is not the reason your breath catches in your throat.

You’ve seen him like this for so long, I mean, you’re on the same team as him now. The only 4 person squad, 5 if you count Gai sensei. You’re so close to all of them, and that’s been normal. Perfectly normal. But recently, your eyes linger on Lee just a little too long.

“Oh hey y/n! I didn’t see you there!” He smiles, the white of his teeth flashing at you in the sun line. Sometimes you wonder how he’s so positive, but then again, you don’t mind it so much anymore. He literally glows though, you swear on it.

“Can I ask you a favor?” You ask, suddenly a little nervous. Your palms are sweating. You try to ignore that.

“Of course! What is it that you want to ask?” He asks, enthusiastically. His smile is almost infectious.

“My joints and muscles ‘n shit are killing me. Can you help me stretch? I don’t know what I’m doing wrong…” You move your neck like you’re trying to get out a knot or something.

Lee agrees, and decides to start simple. He has you put your arms behind your back, your hands joined together, and tells you to stretch them back as far as you can. Then do the same with the front.

After that, he has you do a similar thing with your hands joined over your head before moving down to the ground to stretch out your upper body best. Then your shoulders, elbows, and neck all separately. Then he has you get on the ground to stretch out your back.

And maybe he didn’t think too much about the position, but have you stretch your back up and lower yourself down also meant your ass was up in the air as you arched your back. You realize how embarassing the position is, and what you don’t notice is the way his cheeks flush and he pries his eyes away from your body.

“U-uh great! Let’s do legs!” He says rather quickly, helping you to get into as low of a splits position that you can, before having you lean forward. To get the best stretch, he pushes down on your body a tiny bit. And before you can stop yourself, you let out a moan.

His hands still against your back, and your eyes go wide as you freeze too. Soon you feel him move away, telling you to switch sides. And he repeats the same thing on this side. Much to your disdain, an even louder moan accidentally slips from your mouth. Curse yourself for not being able to be quiet at a time like this.

When you finally sit back up, he’s staring at you. You can’t help but gulp down any salvia you had in your mouth. Then you notice the way his hands are covering the front of his pants. When he notices where your eyes shifted, his blush intensifies and he starts stammering.

“I-I am so sorry! I didn’t mean— you were just—“ you cut his rambling off with a kiss, crawling over closer to him. You situate yourself on his lap, his hands darting out for your hips. The kiss doesn’t break until you’re both desperate for more air than you can get with your mouths connected. Before your mutual panting even halts, he smashes his lips back onto your desperately. And at this point, he’s boldly getting handsy.

You can feel the desperation and lust through his finger tips and they find their way around your body. Any curve, dip, anything, he feels for it. And soon he’s laying back on the grass, panting as a string of saliva connects the both of you even as you part.

The look in his eyes told you that what was about to happen at these training grounds should not happen at the training grounds. Your eyes told him you didn’t care the least about that, however.

[starryeyedjanai]

counting the days till i'm coming home

steddie | explicit | read on ao3 chapter 1 | chapter 2

Eddie gets up properly after laying there for a little while, thoughts still firmly placed on Steve.

He doesn't know what it is about him—he’s only met him once, and briefly. But he can't get him off his mind.

He thinks about going back to the lake, but feels like that’d be weird and a little desperate—jerking off thinking about him is one thing, but showing up day after day hoping to get a glimpse of him feels pathetic.

He did say he’d be at the lake a lot this summer, but Eddie still doesn't end up going back to the lake for another two weeks.

He and his band practice in the meantime, with little else to do in Hawkins over the summer. There’s supposed to be a new mall being built, but it’s not opening until next year, so they’re all stuck doing the same shit they always do during the summer—going to band practice, going to Skull Rock to smoke if they don't want to cram into Eddie’s living room, hanging out at Gareth’s house to watch movies.

It’s all the same shit and Eddie can feel himself sinking and drowning in the mundanity of it. Nothing ever changes around here.

Maybe that’s why he goes back to the lake.

Maybe it’s because he’s dreamed of Steve every night since meeting him, that same cryptic I’ll find you repeating over and over and over until Eddie can't take it anymore.

So he finds himself at the edge of the lake again, in his swim trunks and a loose shirt, hoping to see Steve again.

It’s right after dusk, the sun just having set, so he doesn't know what he expects, if he expects Steve to still be here if he came here at all today.

But being out in the open during the day felt scarier than this, he thinks, as he lifts his shirt over his head and places it on the ground beside him.

There’s no one here—he can't hear the sound of anyone in the water, and he can barely see anything at all, the moon hidden by the clouds right now.

But Steve said he’d find him.

And somehow Eddie believes it.

Something deep inside him believes that if he dives into the water, Steve will hear it and come looking for him.

So he does.

The water is cold as he dives headfirst into the water. When he comes up, the sound of the water sloshing is loud in his ears, almost as loud as the blood rushing past his ears as he remembers the whispers about a lake monster.

Some part of him always believed it, even though he’s never seen it, even though it’s impossible. So his heart beating this fast betrays his nerves about it somehow being true.

But Steve was here, and Eddie’s assuming he didn't get gobbled up by a monster.

Now that he’s in the lake though, he doesn't know what to do.

He treads water for a minute before swimming further out. He’s never been the most confident swimmer, though he did start taking swimming lessons at his old middle school because they were mandatory, but he moved out here to live with his uncle in the middle of the school year, so his lessons were incomplete.

And here in Hawkins, there aren't really many places to swim with a supposedly monster filled lake being one of the only bodies of water around.

But he can tread water and keep himself above the surface so that’s all that matters, he supposes.

He stops in the center of the lake and wonders what the hell he’s doing.

Did he really think Steve would hear a splash in the water from whichever one of these houses is his parent’s lake house and come join him? Did he really think he’d lose his virginity tonight, out here in the water with no protection like an idiot?

He really didn't think this through.

And with the temperature dropping and no sun shining on him to keep him warm, goosebumps prickle across his skin as he treads water in the center of the lake.

This was such a stupid idea.

He starts back for the docks and gets about halfway before something wraps around his ankle and calf and yanks him under the surface of the water.

His scream is muffled by the water, but whatever’s grabbing him lets go and he surfaces, breathing heavy and whipping around to find the culprit.

Steve's head pops up in front of him and Eddie blows out a harsh breath before wading closer and smacking him on the shoulder.

“You asshole!” he says, his voice more shaky than he’d like to admit. He must have had both hands around his leg because it felt like something was snaking up his leg. His thoughts of the lake monster must have really spooked him.

“Sorry,” Steve says, but his smile says otherwise. “You were leaving and I didn't want you to go.”

“So you thought you’d pull me under the water like a maniac? Where did you even come from?” he asks, trying to get his heart hate under control.

Steve shrugs and says, “I told you I’m always here.”

Something niggles in the back of his mind, the same way it did when Steve said he’d find Eddie if he ever came into the water. The goosebumps return to his skin as the words wash over him.

“When you say you’re always here,” Eddie says in a slow voice, but he can't get any more words out because he realizes how stupid he sounds.

There’s no way.

Steve is so close now, and Eddie can see the way the moonlight reflects off his skin. There’s something eerie about it, the way it glitters almost.

Eddie wades backward, putting more space between them, trying to aim for casual as he kicks his feet, knowing Steve could out-swim him no contest.

“You told me about a monster in the lake,” Steve says and Eddie nods, captivated by the lull of Steve's voice.

“And you said nothing had ever happened when you were in the water,” Eddie says, his heart in his throat.

There’s no fucking way.

The smile on Steve's face feels wicked almost. Eddie's hands clench into fists under the water.

“I told you nothing happened to me,” Steve clarifies, wading closer again, until only a foot of distance is between them.

Eddie's eyes close as he lets out a shaky breath.

When he opens them, Steve hasn't moved any closer.

Eddie realizes he’s shaking.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Steve says, and the sound Eddie lets out is close to a sob.

“I don't know if I believe you,” Eddie says, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that somehow, inexplicably, the boy before him is a monster. Does he shapeshift into something else? Is he some kind of a humanoid that drags people under the lake and eats them? Every thought running through his head leads to him dying cold and alone save for the monster before him.

But the expression on Steve's face turns sad, his mouth turning down as he looks at Eddie.

Steve wades further back again, faster than humanly possible, putting distance between them. “I didn't mean to scare you,” he says and Eddie can barely hear it over the ripples of the water. “You can go if you want. I like you and I don't want you to be scared of me.”

Eddie doesn't know if this is part of his game—if he wants to chase Eddie before he kills him.

But he keeps his eyes on Steve as he wades backwards, closer to Rick’s dock where he jumped into the lake.

He doesn't come any closer, watching him with sad eyes as he pulls himself up awkwardly onto the dock, backwards so he doesn't have to look away.

He’s shivering as he pulls on his shirt, as he watches Steve watch him.

He only takes his eyes off him when he’s stumbling back onto the grass behind Rick’s house. He beelines it for his van and speeds the entire way home, putting more and more distance between him and Steve.

He feels every mile stretching between them.

His heart rate only goes down when he’s in his bed, after he’s showered and washed off all remnants of the lake off him.

His hair is wet against his pillow as he lays there and thinks about what just happened.

He doesn't know if Steve was just fucking with him, is the thing.

He could just be some guy who’s here for the summer and decided to have some fun at Eddie's expense.

Or—

He could be the lake monster everyone talks about.

He never told Steve that the monster supposedly pulls people under the water—they barely spoke at all when they first met.

But that’s exactly what Steve did—wrapped his hands around Eddie's leg and pulled him under the water.

He could have asked someone, he supposes.

But nothing about that felt fake.

And was it his hands? It didn’t feel like it in the moment.

The way the moonlight hit his skin felt wrong, the way he moved through the water felt wrong, whatever wrapped around his leg felt wrong.

The skin of his ankle and calf feels tender and hot now, as he lays there still shivering a little from the encounter.

When he falls asleep, much too late into the night, he dreams about Steve again.

[fernandoswarcrimes]

You’re Losing Me x Carlos Sainz

“Stop.. you’re losing me..”

Taglist: @morgan108 @diary-of-jj @shea-theodore @pitchandgrid @wifemase @hal3ynicol3 @alicerubyfloyd @nicanicksnica @formulafootballfan

Word count: 3.3k

To be added to the rest of the series click here -> 🌌

You say, "I don't understand" and I say, "I know you don't"

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

“I don’t understand what the problem is.” Carlos sighed, rubbing at his face in frustration. You’d been at each other’s throats for forty five minutes now, and over something so trivial. What had begun as him (forgetting to do the dishes? Change the laundry?) had spiraled into an outright argument over him not helping around the house, to him being out so late all the time now. “I know you don’t.” You had muttered, shaking your head with a sigh of your own.

“I can’t do this right now, I told Lando I’d meet him for dinner.” Carlos spoke, his curt reply signaling he was done with the argument, with the entire conversation. He grabbed his keys and walked out of the kitchen without another word as you stood there watching him go.

This is how things always went as of late—at least, that’s what it feels like. It’s always just another small bump in the road, one that you would get over. Always something that wouldn’t stop you from being happy again. Now, though, it seemed like nothing was going to fix things between the two of you. Small bumps are fine until you look back and realize there’s so many, the road is no longer driveable.

As you shut the kitchen light off and walk into the living room, you pause. It was one of yours and Carlos’s favorite rooms in the house because of how the light shone through the windows, illuminating the room in a soft glow when the sun set. Dusk was setting in now as you took a seat on the couch, the room falling into darkness as you sat there by yourself wondering if it was finally time to end it or not.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

It wasn’t even the big things that made you wonder. No, it was the stupid stuff. The small things you wished so badly you could convince yourself to put up with. You knew what the two of you had was special, could feel it in your very being, but it was beginning to not be love anymore. It was tiring, you were tired. Your mother always told you that you reminded her of a phoenix, always picking yourself up and mending your own wounds, never letting anyone help you because you could do it yourself. Times like these, you wish she was wrong.

You didn’t know why Carlos would rather sneak around and lie than just be honest with you. Maybe it was a pride thing. Charles, bless him, had been the one to accidently fill you in on what Carlos has been doing behind your back. He didn’t even mean to, but when he asked if you were at the club with Carlos last week because he thought he’d seen you with his teammate, it was the final blow. You weren’t at the club. You had been at home. You had been waiting on him because he told you he was stopping by his parents house. He had told you not to wait up for him. It started making you wonder what else he’s been lying about and how long he’s gotten away with it.

Every mornin' I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

It was five am when Carlos’s alarm went off, making you roll over and glare at him as he slept. Lately, it’s like you aren't even in a relationship anymore. You sighed as you got up, moving to the kitchen and knowing he’d get up in a minute to get ready for his morning run.

As you cooked yourself something to eat you heard him moving around in your room. The footsteps you’d once longed for around the house had become ghostly, the antithesis of what it once was. You dread the sound of them approaching.

It wasn’t like this came out of nowhere, you had sent him signals and tried talking to him to let him know that things between you needed fixing or changing but, he always brushed them off, brushed you off. You were starting to turn into a shell of yourself the longer you stayed in this relationship and dealt with everything alone.

“Love you.” He mumbled, nothing more than a force of habit, grabbing a water bottle and leaving. He knew that things weren’t okay. You knew he knew, and he knew you knew he knew, and on and on and on until the end of time. It didn’t matter what you both knew, though, because he wasn’t ready to admit that out loud that the love you two had was long gone now. The both of you were just going through the motions and with how shitty the season was going he wasn’t ready to lose the one semi good thing he had left going for him.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're running down the hallway

And you know what they all say

"You don't know what you got until it's gone"

The house was heavy sad and you were running out of options. The confusion and grief that came along with the thought of having to leave the man you loved for the last seven years was hard. Harder than hard. Some kind of word that hasn’t been invented yet, hard. You know that your pain and problems weren't easy to deal with, but hell—he isn’t exactly Mr. Emotionally Intelligent, either. It just made you feel guilty that you were feeling this way and maybe that was the reason Carlos was pulling away.

So you did what any normal person would do, you called your mom and asked if you could come stay for the weekend. You needed to get away for a while, clear your head and figure out what you needed to do for yourself and there was no better place to do that than home. You packed a weekend bag and left after Carlos headed to Baku. The time you spent with your mother was eye opening. She had given you advice that you oh so badly needed to hear.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you this way?” she asked you, nudged a cup of tea an inch closer to you. “This is not the way someone who loves you should treat you.”

She was right, it wasn't how you were supposed to be treated. So it was no surprise to hear from Carlos when he got back and noticed you were gone, you’d left him a note on the fridge but apparently that wasn’t good enough. He didn’t realize all the things you usually did for him until you weren’t there to do them. Like help with laundry, cooking dinner and cleaning. Of course his mother raised him right but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t a guy who got comfortable with how things were.

My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)

My heart won't start anymore (Stop 'cause you're losing me)

You didn’t go to a lot of races, had your own career and your own life that was more than the title of girlfriend, but Barcelona was one you always attended. Things hadn’t gotten any better, but you still wanted to be there to support him—even if you knew it was going to be the last time. You stood next to Blanca, listened to her gush about her upcoming wedding, about the flowers and the dress and the table runners. You didn’t have the heart to tell her you’d have to miss it.

“Have you two got your outfits together yet? I know my brother can be pretty forgetful sometimes” Blanca asked, looking over at you with a happy smile. You did your best to give her a smile back, Carlos hadn’t mentioned it, but you didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I’ll remind him tonight, I’m sure you’re going to look absolutely beautiful.” You meant that, even if you aren’t going to be there to see her in person.

As Carlos pulled the car back into the garage after the race it was almost routine, he’d get out, take his helmet and stuff off before walking over and giving you a hug. You hang on a beat longer than normal, soak it all up—his hair and his smell and his skin and his arms. “I’m going to go grab my things,” you mumbled, motioning him to his waiting family before moving off to go grab your things. You didn’t plan on standing around for any longer than necessary. Each passing moment is nothing more than another opportunity for your heart to break.

How long could we be a sad song

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party (You're losing me)

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

Your relationship, if it can still be called that, seems to long outlive its expiration. You don’t know how much longer it can go on like this, all the uncertainty. It felt like nothing but a sad song stuck on repeat, something that you couldn’t come back from. There had been times where the both of you got this way in the past but you were able to bring the relationship back to life but this time?

This time things were too far gone.

You had given him nothing but endless empathy everytime Ferrari screwed him over, everytime the media pulled quotes from their ass, everytime someone twitter blamed him for someone else’s mistakes. It was always you there for him. You were the only one fighting for him, right front and center when he had a bad race or when strategies didn’t work out, everything.

Yet, it was for nothing.

“Don’t ignore me Carlos, please,” you said softly, but the crack in your voice is clear. You’re at a party��Lando’s, drug here against your will, against your better judgment. You knew he needed to let loose, but all you wanted was to talk to him. You knew you had to instigate, that he’d ignore you all evening if you didn’t.

He was still losing you.

Everybody talks about the seven year curse. You never saw it coming, even if it was staring you square in the face.

1. You stop being curious about each other

First, it was the little things. No more questions, no more answers. You didn’t spend your time telling him about your favorite breakfast foods and he didn’t spend his time asking. Years came and went, and you thought it was endearing that there weren’t questions, that it was proof your relationship was strong. He knew you like the back of his hand, you’d told yourself.

2. You start keeping secrets from each other

The secrets, though, that’s a new development. A few months ago, he never would’ve sat at the table with his phone face down, never would’ve leaned away from you when he typed or managed to spend time with Lando even when Lando wasn’t in town.

3. You’re spending less meaningful time together

It’s hard to spend time with someone who’s never around, who never wants to be around. That’s all there is to say about that.

4. You start taking each other for granted

It was no secret Carlos had taken you for granted. Everyone knew it, they could see it anytime the two were together. You were at his beck and call, his personal chef, his maid and his housekeeper and his butler. His trainer and his assistant and whatever else he might possibly need.

5. You don’t discuss your goals anymore

You stopped wondering if he would ever propose two years ago. Well, you told yourself you stopped wondering. Everytime he asked you to go out or suggested you dress up nice or acted even the slightest bit weird, you were bouncy at the idea of him on one knee.

6. You’re drowning in criticism

What was harder than accepting you were never going to be his wife, maybe, was coming to terms with the fact that everyone else wanted it more than you. Seven years is a long time. It hung over both of your heads like a storm cloud of implication. You wondered if he ever planned on marrying you, or if the last seven years have been nothing but fun to him.

And lastly

7. You have no fight left

If you still had any fight left in you, you wouldn’t be googling the seven year curse while he silently sat at the other end of the sofa. You remember the moment you lost it, that last little bit of fight and fire. You remember it easier than you remember what it felt like to be in love with him.

You had shaken your head as Carmen sent another article of some “close friend” talking about how the media was portraying you as a pathological people pleaser. It hurt. Sure, you knew marriage wouldn’t fix everything but it was the fact you didn’t feel wanted or appreciated anymore that finally broke the walls down like a wrecking ball.

Carlos looked over at you watching you shake your head and pocketed your phone. “What’s that about?” He asked, he could tell something was bothering you and he had an inkling of what it could be, but, he wasn’t going to bring it up. If he did, that would make things real.

“Nothing, just… just Carmen sending me another article. I wouldn’t marry me either, you know? Since I’m such a pathological people pleaser,” you looked at him, waiting to see what he’d say. But when the room fell into heavy silence and he just continued to look at you, all you could do was give a curt nod and purse your lips as you got up off the couch and walked upstairs. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore if he wasn’t going to fight for the relationship you two had.

Sure, you may have been a people pleaser, but that’s just who you were. You liked helping, liked making people happy. But the one thing you wanted most of all? You only wanted Carlos to see you, to see that you’ve been there for him through everything. Not as a complacent stand-in girlfriend, but to mean something to him like you used to back when.

And I'm fading, thinkin'

"Do something, babe, say something" (Say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (You're losing me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing" (I got nothing)

"To believe, unless you're choosing me"

Two weeks had gone by and all you could think about was begging him to do something, to say something, anything, to you about how he was feeling. Give up his pride to show he still cared and loved you like you had loved him. It was his choice to make, you couldn’t force him to love you. He had to choose, all he had to do was choose.

But when he didn’t, you took it as a sign. Stop kicking a dead horse, pick yourself up and get on with your life. If he won’t then someone else will. Slowly but surely, every time he left for a race you’d pack up more things and ship them to your parents house. It took a bit longer than you figured it would but when you’ve spent seven years living with someone you realize just how much of your life is grounded in one place.

Once you had gotten all that you had, you stood in front of the dresser mirror looking at the necklace that you had on, remembering the memory of Carlos giving it to you when you both were teenagers. Your fingers play with it and it brings tears to your eyes to reach behind your neck and unclasp it. This would be the first and last time you ever took it off since being gifted it. As you held it in your hand, all crumpled and ready to be tangled, it made you realize that this was real, you were taking the step and finally walking away like you should have when all of this first started. You grabbed your bag off the bed and sat the necklace down on his nightstand knowing he’d find it whenever he got home. Taking one last look around the room you walked out and closed the door behind you, leaving the house key on the kitchen counter as you passed.

A necklace and a house key. The only implication that you were ever here, that you never would be again.

You're losing me

Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me

Stop (Stop, stop), you're losing me

I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore

Carlos didn’t realize it until it was too late. He had unlocked the front door and the house was eerily quiet and cold. He frowned, set his bags down and realized you must’ve gone out. He checked his phone to make sure he didn’t miss a text from you letting him know, but there was nothing. No text, no call, nothing. It confused him even more as he shut the door and walked further into the house.

He paused when he entered the living room, everything looked normal until he sat his hands on the back of the couch making him pull his hands back in confusion, the fluffy blanket you always had laid there was gone. That made him look around the room even closer, quickly noticing the books and candles you had on the coffee table were no longer there. The pictures above the fireplace were gone, every single trace of you ever being in the house was no longer there.

He skipped half the steps on the way up the staircase, through the hallway and into your room; empty and cold, like the rest of the place. He moved over to the closet swinging the door open, his breath catching in his throat when he saw your side totally bare and empty. The dresser drawers matched.

But he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, laying on his nightstand. As he walked over the tears started pooling in his eyes as he picked the item up, it was the necklace he had given you when you both were sixteen. He had gotten it for you, wanting to show how much he loved and appreciated you. Holding it now just signified how much he had fucked up. You had never taken it off, no matter how many fights you two had gone through over the years. Never. Not until now.

You had given him so many signs that he blatantly ignored or brushed off thinking you would always continue to be there for him despite him acting the way he was.

And now?

The relationship that was so full of love had died and he couldn’t find any way to bring it back to life.

He finally lost you and it was completely his own undoing.

[whereserpentswalk]

Because of certain advantages that they give, a lot of 21st century companies actually encourage their workers to become various types of monsters. Witches can cast helpful spells. Werewolves are bigger and stronger than humans in their wolf form. People infected with fae "madness" often have physical abilities other people don't. Demons don't eat or sleep and don't physically injure easily. And the list goes on. Monsters are still very marginalized, and the people who own these companies would never think to become one, but they're seen as the ultimate workers by many, the perfect dehumanization. Most people still don't want to become monsters for many reasons, but that's not the same as what companies want from people.

Your roommate is a musician, she's semi successful, specially as a singer. Legally her employer can't request she become a vampire but they're heavily pushing for it, she's ultimately free to do what she wants, but they make sure to let her know becoming one is what she needs for her singing career to take off. She's twenty three right now, every year she ages she's considered "less appealing" to audiences, but if something were to happen to make her stop aging entirely every music producer in the city would suddenly consider her a more valuable asset.

Eventually she orders some vampire venom, the stuff that makes people turn when they survive a vampire bite, online off of the grey market. She's weirdly excited for it. She has one last night of eating solid food, enjoying her favorite meals before she can't anymore. Every time she has second thoughts she asks you or one of her other friends to stop her, because it's not like she's exactly going to have a job if she doesn't do this. She takes some time at the meusum to learn a bit about vampire culture. Watches the sun set incase she's not able to see the sun when she changes. She asks you if you want to have sex with her, because so many vampires are asexual she knows this could be her last time for that too. You ask her what she think she'll miss most about humanity, she says she doesn't know, vampires are so diverse she won't know what she'll lose or gain. Then she falls asleep for the last time as a human, and lets the venom flow through her blood.

When she wakes up you hear a horrible noise. See, vampires are very diverse, immortality and bloodsucking is all they really have in common. And while a lot of them are very human like and sometimes even considered more attractive than humans, others are fully monstrous looking, and very alien to humanity. Sadly, she ended up becoming a subtype in the latter category. She's barely recognizable, her hair was bleached white, and her eyes pink pupiless orbs like a rat's, and her skin so pale you can see veins and organs underneath. She lost so much weight in the transformation you can barely, going from having an hourglass body type, to being so skinny you can see her ribs. And most disturbingly of all, her mouth has twisted into a perfectly round and always open hole, with rings of sharp fangs, just like a lamprey's, her upper and lower jaws are permanently fused, she'll never sing or so much as speak again.

Within a week her life is kind of ruined. She's from one of those subcategories of vampire that's so monstrous most vampire activists distance themselves from them. She can't sing, and nobody wants to see someone like that play guitar. Her family disowns her for religious reasons, telling her their daughter is dead. She's extremely light sensitive, not only can she not see the sun, she has issues with any bright light, there's a reason why most vampires of her subtype live in the subways.

She hates her body being like this, when she looks at her face in the mirror she starts crying, she cries a lot actually. She moves differently now, she crawls on all fours and climbs flat walls like a bug almost as much as she stands up or sits down, and when she does sit it's in very inhuman poses. She seems to hate the way she feeds, leaving way larger wounds than most vampires, and her main source of blood being rats for the time being, she cries whenever she feeds. Her reproductive organs have changed into a single hole, which fishlike eggs come out of, and hatch into little minions that she seems really afraid of, though they seem to want to please her. She didn't even lose her sexuality so the lack of normal genitals hurts her even more. Beyond everything else she's upset that she has no mouth, her voice was always her most noteworthy feature, the way she expressed herself. She can't even talk, now, having to use AAC to communicate. She used to sing as a way of venting or calming herself, and now she can't. All of her friends try to be supportive, but a lot of them are really uncomfortable around her being like this, one of them even told you he doesn't see her as the same person anymore. It's hard to even get sympathy, when most of the world sees her as a vain woman who got what she deserved seeking eternal youth, without most people knowing she didn't have a choice.

You try to be nice to her. It's the best you can do. You let her wear your comfy clothing, and stay up at night to keep her company. You try to give her a lot of physical affection, which she seem to want a lot more now, it really helps just to pet her and cuddle her. And you call her pretty, and call her sweet and lovely, and that seems to help her. You'll also spend time just talking to her, she seems to like just listening to you now. You also watch TV with her, just because you don't want her to be alone, she keeps rewatching things from her childhood, like clone wars and Steven universe, just as a weird way to remember when she wasn't like this.

She still makes music. It's different now, music that she can make purely with software on your desktop. But it's beautiful in a way that nothing she made before was. There's something so strange and impactful about it, and when she's confident enough she posts it, and she gets a following. It's a lot of other monsters who seem to enjoy it, people who've been rejected by society in a way that can't be put into words without cheapening it. The type of story told best through a wordless song.

[yellowymellon]

Holy, I just saw myrid Celestia so here's a bit of rambling and a silly theory :

As we learned from HI3, honkai is a phenomenon that happens to civilizations as they grow advanced, it's basically a system in the imaginary tree, in theory, all worlds should be a target to the honkai, and each world may name it a different way.

So far everyone agrees that Acheron did come from a world very similar to HI3, some think there's 2 eras too but based on the caption saying "the dual planets were intertwined in each other's tragic destiny" I'll assume they were, well, dual planets.

//"Kevin" says that takamagahara is the one that fell first, and Izumo created the blades, but if we go by prev era then takamagahara didn't serve the same purpose as HI3, and the current era has been the one to do everything, except if it wasn't explicitly said that the herrschers were slayed in PE and only now did Izumo use them to forge the blades//

Izumo was plagued by the honkai, won against the herrschers and took their powers, creating weapons (blades) out of them, each representing the 12 herrschers powers that are later wielded by the flamechasers, who in the end, were defeated, and the blades were broken. It seems like unlike HI3 Acheron was a flamechaser, presumably along with Kevin.

So then, the last blades were Forged, the origin and the end, Acheron being the origin did break the end. And that should've been the end of the honkai, it didn't end there, because honkai alone was no longer the threat to izumo.

I think it's pretty deductable from the trailer but just in case: spoiler for acheron's identity

At the very end, she stood under a sky with a black sun (dark hole) , she says "we long since strode in THEIR Shadows" as the last blade gets forged "naught" , and her form changes.

Is that not...when she becomes nihility's emenator?

Would that black hole not be IX's? Would Izumo not be under IX's governance after all has happened?

The last thing acheron does was, slash IX.

That black sun, ix, has always been there from the beginning of the trailer, meaning that, it's not that the despair drew IX, but it's IX who rendered the dual planets efforts useless. You know it's true when even Kevin says that salvation isn't possible.

The pioneer diver of dead waters, a relic set that talks abt Acheron, we know that's true because the flower motif is the same as acheron's. it talks Abt a nameless who was her friend, her goal was to dive in IX, knowing that it's lethal but believing that the journey matters more than her upcoming end.

Acheron's LC's description basically confirms one thing, Acheron acts as a guide to those lost in nihility in an in-between place (existence and nothingness), that very much could be inside IX, since it's a popular sci-fi theory that black holes lead to other dimensions/worlds.

Her LC quotes her friend, in saying that Acheron still has a lot of paths and choices to take before she reaches the end. I'd say that that's proof her friend left a mark on her.

From all of these we can theorize that acheron's current goal could very well be to kill IX, she has the motive to do so after all.

I sadly can't find izumo's ornament story anymore so I can't add more to this xd

What personally peaked my interest is, the existence of IX throughout izumo. Considering HSR to be the higher world, I just recently joked Abt how hooh is cooking With creating the honkai as it's logically under their authority. And that very much can be still be true, but so far, for a world that's supposedly much more advanced such as hsr's, we haven't even heard of a honkai phenomenal. There were early theories that khaenriaah's destruction was means to stop them from attracting honkai into teyvat, Even tho by HI3 standards teyvat isn't developed at all (heck they have every source of energy except electricity), soooo can we blame hi3's inconsistent writing or is their understanding not correct?

I just think it would be interesting that IX's influence might give rise to honkai, as it's basically a death sentence to a world, the faster finality came, the more aligned the world is with IX.

Speaking of which I've also talked Abt how IX is most linked to the path of finality, so there's that

If you read so far, congrats! You're one of the few, here's a cookie : 🍪🥛

[rainbowloveletters]

Henry & Jamie - From Willowbrook to Brighton

In the quaint, picturesque town of Willowbrook, nestled in the rolling hills of the West Midlands, Henry and Jamie had grown up together. Their friendship had always been special, but it wasn't until their late teens that they realized their bond was something more. However, the conservative nature of their small town made it difficult for them to openly express their feelings.

Henry was slightly taller than average, standing at about 6 feet, with a well-built, muscular frame that showed he took care of his physical fitness. His honey blonde hair was often tousled in a charming, effortless style, and his bright blue eyes reflected his warmth and confidence. After finishing school, Henry left Willowbrook to study music in London, leaving Jamie behind to help his family run their small bakery. The distance was hard on both of them, but they kept in touch through late-night phone calls and heartfelt letters.

Jamie, slightly shorter than Henry at around 5'10", had a lean and athletic build. His dark brown hair was usually kept short and neat, and his hazel eyes held a depth that revealed his sensitivity and thoughtfulness. Jamie had been struggling with his own identity, feeling trapped by the expectations of his family and the town.

One summer, after two years away, Henry returned to Willowbrook. He had changed, matured, and his time in London had given him the confidence to be true to himself. The day Henry arrived, the town was buzzing with excitement for the annual Willowbrook Fair. Henry found Jamie at the bakery, kneading dough with a look of deep concentration. When Jamie saw Henry, his face lit up with a mix of surprise and joy.

"Henry! You're back!" Jamie exclaimed, wiping his flour-covered hands on his apron before pulling Henry into a tight hug.

"It's good to see you, Jamie," Henry replied, his voice soft and warm. "I've missed you."

That evening, they walked through the fair together, reminiscing about their childhood and catching up on the past two years. As they strolled past the brightly lit stalls and the laughter of children, Henry felt a sense of nostalgia mixed with a newfound determination.

"Jamie, there's something I need to tell you," Henry said, stopping by the old oak tree where they used to play as kids. "I've realized that I can't keep hiding who I am. I want to live my life authentically, and that means being honest about my feelings."

Jamie looked at Henry, his heart pounding. "I've been feeling the same way, Henry. But it's so hard here. Everyone expects me to be someone I'm not."

Henry took Jamie's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We don't have to hide anymore. We can face this together. Willowbrook might be small, but our love is bigger than any town's expectations."

With Henry's support, Jamie found the courage to come out to his family. It wasn't easy, and there were difficult conversations and moments of doubt. But with time, Jamie's family began to understand and accept him for who he truly was.

One evening, as the sun set over the rolling hills, Henry and Jamie found themselves alone in Jamie's small cottage. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and the soft glow of candlelight. They sat close on the couch, their hands intertwined.

"Jamie, I've missed you so much," Henry whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "Being away from you made me realize just how much I love you."

Jamie looked into Henry's eyes, his heart swelling with love. "I love you too, Henry. More than anything."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken words. As the night wore on, they held each other close, their hearts beating in unison. They shared whispered confessions and gentle touches, each moment deepening their connection. It was a night of pure love and intimacy, a moment that neither of them would ever forget.

Henry and Jamie's relationship blossomed, and they became a source of inspiration for others in Willowbrook. Their love story showed that even in the smallest of towns, love could thrive and break down barriers.

After a year of living openly and happily in Willowbrook, Henry and Jamie decided it was time for a new adventure. They had always dreamed of experiencing life beyond the confines of their small town, and the vibrant city of Brighton seemed like the perfect place to start anew.

With a mixture of excitement and trepidation, they packed their belongings and said heartfelt goodbyes to their families and friends. The journey to Brighton was filled with hopeful conversations about their future and the opportunities that awaited them.

Upon arriving in the city, they were immediately struck by the bustling streets, the diverse crowds, and the sense of endless possibilities. They found a small, cozy apartment in a lively neighborhood, and for the first time, they felt truly free to be themselves.

However, the transition wasn't as smooth as they had hoped. Jamie struggled to find a job that matched his skills, and Henry faced fierce competition in the music scene. The initial months were tough, filled with financial strain and moments of doubt.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day, they sat together on their tiny balcony, looking out at the city lights. Jamie sighed, resting his head on Henry's shoulder. "Do you think we made the right decision, Henry?"

Henry wrapped his arm around Jamie, pulling him close. "I do, Jamie. It's hard right now, but I believe in us. We just need to keep pushing forward."

Their determination paid off. Jamie eventually landed a job at a trendy bakery, where his talent for baking quickly earned him a loyal customer base. Henry, on the other hand, started performing at local cafes and open mic nights, slowly building a name for himself in the music community.

As they settled into their new routines, they began to explore the city together. They spent weekends wandering through art galleries, attending music festivals, and discovering hidden gems in Brighton's eclectic neighborhoods. Their love for each other grew stronger with each shared experience.

One night, after a particularly successful performance, Henry took Jamie to the beach. The moonlight reflected off the waves, creating a serene and magical atmosphere. They sat on the sand, their fingers intertwined, and Henry turned to Jamie with a smile.

"Jamie, I know it's been tough, but I wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else. You've been my rock, and I love you more every day."

Jamie looked into Henry's bright blue eyes, his heart swelling with emotion. "I love you too, Henry. No matter what challenges we face, as long as we're together, I know we'll be okay."

Their journey in the city was far from over, but they had learned to navigate the ups and downs together. With each passing day, they grew more confident in their new life, finding joy in the little moments and strength in their unwavering love.

***

As the years went by, Henry's music career flourished, and Jamie's bakery became a beloved fixture in the community. They made new friends, built a supportive network, and created a life filled with love, laughter, and endless possibilities.

In the end, their move to the city had been the right decision. It had tested their resilience and deepened their bond, proving that together, they could overcome any obstacle and create a beautiful life, no matter where they were.

[myers-meadow]

Happy birthday from your friend GD

Happy birthday @gauntermetaverse!!! No idea when your actual birthday is, but here it is <3

I tried playing with your fascination for Gaunter in the Cyberpunk universe (despite not having played Cyberpunk 2077 myself), and wanted to mix the world of Witcher back into it. I really hope you enjoy, this was rather experimental for me. HAPPY BIRTHDAY <3

Characters: reader, Gaunter, you can make it romantic if you want! <3

Warnings: none

Word count: 1104

Summary: Your mysterious friend GD wishes you a happy birthday, and shows you an interesting world - perhaps you can even make a wish.

Screenshot by me, divider by @saradika-graphics

Driving out of the city on your motorcycle, you drive and drive, keep going after the city is far away in your rearview mirror. The surrounding land is sparse with buildings and vegetation, but your relish in the peace that comes over you as you drive down the empty roads. Once you're far away, the sun is setting, and you stop by a tree. As you dismount, and sit down in the grass, your mind quiets. It's nice being away from the rush of the city, from the lights and the loud billboards, the tech, the holograms, the people. You lean yourself against the trunk of the tree and breath deep. Fresh air... Part of you wonders how the air would smell if it were further from the pollution of the city, but it's a vain hope. You'll be back in your apartment by tomorrow, as you always do.

A notification comes in on your phone, and after a moment of hesitation, you open it. It reads: 'tomorrow is your birthday. How about I take you someplace special?', signed with a simple GD. You've interacted with him before - you call it a him, because that's how he appears as, but as with many things, you can't be sure. He seemed ordinary enough, affable, clever, easy to get along with.

Considering what your day could otherwise have in store for you, meaning, not much special, you text back: 'what do you have in mind?'

From behind the tree, he approaches, flickering slightly. A hologram of him, of your mysterious GD.

"That's what I like to hear. How about we start with a riddle?" He clasps his hands behind his back, moving fully in your view at a leisurely pace. "Scratch that, we need a change of scenery first, don't you think?"

At once, the experience of falling into your body, like awakening from a deep sleep washes over you. It's unpleasant. When you look around, you're somewhere new, surrounded by greenery. Flowers, bushes, berries growing on heavy branches, the air is crisply clear, and smells sweet of nectar. The sun is high in the sky, shining bright, warming your face. The man, Gaunter, still stands in front of you, but he's not flickering anymore. It's dream-like, how you don't want to question what is happening. It feels unreal, but at the same time, good enough that you don't want to know the specifics. he could've hacked into your memory cache, or something of that sort. You'd figure that all out, once you're back.

"As for the riddle, here goes: A crystal mirror shows it's depths, carve through my surface, let me ripple, find me where many a maiden in joy has wept, and don't get cold feet." He smiled gently, steepling his fingers. "And please, do enjoy these beautiful gardens. There are none other like it in this world." With that, he walked off. When you went after him, he was nowhere to be seen. 

Meticulously, you consider the riddle. Water. It makes you think of water. Not knowing where to find any, you wander around the gardens. Indeed, they are beautiful. Bright, full of many different kinds of plants, some you've never even seen before. The atmosphere is relaxed, and you delight in how different it is from your usual reality. The people are similarly pleasant, with enough free time to spend just by frolocking around beautiful gardens. If it were up to you, you'd love to stay. This is special, and better than any luxury resort - even if only for the clean air and soft breeze carrying the scents of flowers. The sun lowers itself down the heavens, and as you climb a small hill to get a better view, you spot it. A small lake. Shored are small wooden rowboats.

"That must be it, 'carve through my surface, let me ripple'," you mumble to yourself. You'll find him by the rowboats.

Making your way to the lake shore took a while, and dusk has settled. On your way, you met a bard, who tucked a flower into your hair and called you beautiful. The lake shimmers like none other you've ever seen, the brightest of blue's, reflecting the clouds and the setting sun with such vivid colours, it makes you feel blinded. Like before, you lived in a mucky place, with unsaturated colours, your senses dulled by smog. But not today, you muse, as you remove the rope from one of the rowboats. It's a small thing, but well-maintained. Two oars lay on the bottom of the boat. You throw the rope in, and cautiously, you follow. The boat rocks until you balance yourself. Now that you're there, you don't really know where to go, so you push yourself off, and clumsily row yourself onto the lake. Today had been such fun, you muse, as you go over how weird it's been that your strange friend took you here, only to send you right off with a riddle. Yet it was fun. One of the more... special birthdays, certainly. Unpredictable too, you smile.

"Having fun?" comes his voice, and you look up to see him, not even two metres away, on a boat like yours, cross legged on the bench. The two of you drift closer and you turn around to face him.

"I am. Why did you bring me here?"

"To show you, and to gift you this experience. Let's call it a gift out of gratitude for all the thought you put into me."

You shrug, not entirely understanding. "Why here?"

"This land is called Toussaint. Isn't it beautiful? It's a delight for the senses. Here," he hands you a bottle of wine, it's labelled 'white wolf' - peculiar name for a wine. "Let's toast to your good health, and another year around the sun."

A shiver creeps over you as the sun truly starts to set. The shore of the lake lights up with beautiful lanterns. As you hesitate, Gaunter takes over, plops off the cork, and reaches down in his boat for two glasses. He hands you a full one, the scent of wine is strong, a full bodied grape, with hints of blackcurrant.

"Thanks," you say, smelling it. "Everything is so vibrant here."

"Indeed it is. Happy Birthday. Cheers." He clinks his glass against yours, and without breaking eye contact, you drink. "With this toast, comes a proposal. Or should we enjoy the ambience a little longer? Look, they're setting off the wishing lanterns." 

You look up to see people gathering on the shore, letting lanterns float upwards in the sky. A perfect night to make a wish.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #187

I still don't have quite enough sleep. I stayed up a little later than I wanted to, but I still wanted to go to the nice place with the awesome leader, which meant I woke up early, because the place is an hour away. It has been some time since last I wasn't too overwhelmed to go. I'm glad I went.

I was in a lot more pain than usual today, though, so I wasn't able to be chipper or to mingle in the way I usually do. I'm really glad that no one seemed to mind.

At the place, there is a young teenage girl who I wanted to give my collection of Pokémon cards to. She is very interested in them, and I had a great big huge binder full of some of the old ones that were around way back when they first came out. I arranged them in pages of sleeves - 18 cards per page - in numerical order. The formatting of these cards has changed dramatically over the years. I don't really like the new formatting, and the old formatting isn't widely available anymore, so I don't collect them anymore. So what's my binder gonna do other than sit on a shelf somewhere, collecting dust? Better that it goes to someone who will be able to appreciate them a little more.

But she hasn't been coming to the place recently, I guess. So I left it with the older gentleman that she is usually with; he will give her the binder. I hope she likes it. But if she doesn't, I suppose I can always take it back, if she doesn't want it.

When we were done, J and I went to Eggcellent again. I was extra tired and cranky from the sleep deprivation and the rib pain, so I got two matcha lattes; one had rose syrup, tea jelly, and cream cheese foam, and the other one was basically the same, except it had lavender syrup instead of rose syrup:

I split each of these with J; he seemed to like sharing them with me, and that was good.

...I spent the rest of the day trying to design a house, with mixed success. It's nowhere near done yet. And I'm not really sure I'm liking the layout. And no... I can't show it to you when it's done, which really super sucks, but it is what it is.

At some point during all that, J reminded me that I have to come up for air every now and then when I'm working on things; I'm a lot like you in that if I'm left to my own devices, the hyperfocus becomes strong, and I don't eat, drink, or sleep properly like I should. I'm probably pretty dehydrated, actually... Suppose I had better fix that...

Well, in any case, J took me on a brief walk outside. The sun was setting, and it was especially nice today, so naturally, I tried to snag a few pictures for you...

...And that's all I've got. I hope you enjoyed looking at these as much as I enjoyed taking them for you; the world is full of beauty amidst the darkness. You just gotta know where to look.

...I should get to sleep. So I'm gonna get some water, and then go to sleep. I've got a visual field test tomorrow morning, I guess, because I had been having this weird thing happen in my left eye somewhat recently whereby a decent chunk of my vision is obscured by a navy-blue splotch for a fraction of a second, every several minutes.

It was doing that for a number of weeks, and then it stopped happening. But they don't know what it is, and my eyes look healthy from the exam just a few days ago. They imagine it's an ocular migraine of some kind (though there was no headache), but they're gonna do the visual field test just to make sure there's nothing weird afoot. I'm gonna assume it's nothing to worry about; possibly just stress-induced or something.

...Next week is gonna be rough. I've got the eye doctor, I gotta get a dress modified, there's therapy, and then orientation for the new job, and then I'm gonna get 4 teeth extracted. It's a lot. I'm daunted. But it'll be okay. I've got this. Don't you worry your pretty little head about me, all right? I'm gonna be just fine. But if you wanna maybe wish me a bit of luck, perseverance, endurance, and resolve, I certainly would appreciate it. And if you don't wanna, then that's okay, too; I'll be all right either way.

I love you. I'll write again tomorrow. Please stay safe.

Your friend, Lumine

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any games that capture the weird and oppressive mood of tloz Majora's Mask? I realise this might be way too vague but I can't think of how else to put it

THEME: Oppressive Grief (Majora's Mask)

Hello friend. I thought about how to replicate the feeling of Majora’s mask, and I decided to focus on the elements of pressure, doom, grief, and defiance. These following games will have at least some of those elements, although not perhaps all of them. 

Afterlife: Wandering Souls, by Angry Hamster Publishing.

Afterlife: Wandering Souls is a macabre fantasy game set in surreal plane known as the Tenebris. You take on the role of a Wanderer—someone who died, but didn’t end up in Heaven, Hell, or any other traditional afterlife.  Devoid of any memories of your life on earth, you find yourself in an endless desert filled with gateways. Search different planes of existence for clues of your former life - or a semblance of one. Along the way you'll encounter strange inhabitants, alien cultures, and other humans who’ve lost all hope and are bent on destroying you. 

If you believe the theory that Link is dead in Majora’s Mask, then this game might feel similar. The creator draws from many surrealist art, including Guillermo del Toro, as well as Hayao Miyazaki. Just as Link meets people who resemble folks he met in his adventures in Ocarina of Time, players here could meet bits and pieces of their former life. This game also has a supplement called A Wanderer’s Guide To Limbos and Mirages, which dives further into the world of Tenebrae and asks you how your character will change as they venture into a world of weirdness and despair.

Stargazer, by Trollish Delver Games.

In the days of the sun's last gasp magic has returned to a ruined civilisation. The Song of Power can be heard on the wind: some believe it's the voice o the creator while others think the song is hastening the end of the world.  Memory-tattooed magicians delve into deep dungeons to uncover black music discs that hold the secrets of magic while hedonistic kings shower themselves in treasures. 

This game is much more dire than the other options on this list. As it is OSR, it will focus more on combat and dungeon-delving than connecting with the people around you, so I think it better reflects the corrupted dungeons of the different areas of Majora’s Mask, such as the poisoned waters of Woodfall Temple, or the animated dead of Ikana Canyon. 

Bleak Spirit, by potatocubed.

Bleak Spirit is a storytelling game where you and your friends create a brooding, cryptic tale about a stranger in a strange land. Everything is falling apart, crumbling, corrupted, and the wanderer carries the potential for a return to past glories – or the power to sweep away all that remains.

You will all take turns playing the wanderer – the destiny-wreathed individual who is going to bring change to the world, one way or another. The wanderer is the one who faces the dangers of the world, who discovers the lore, and who will ultimately leave things different to how they found them.

Ultimately, Link doesn’t belong in Termina - he’s come from somewhere else, and he doesn’t want to stay there, he want’s to go home. Bleak Spirit is a GM-less game that lets the table dive into a world that is wrong, in one way or another, both creating the details of the world and narrating how the lonely adventurer meets every challenge.

The World Is Ending And We Are Very Large Dogs, by Eden.

The world is ending in one week. This we know for a fact. It is too late to stop it. It cannot be slowed down anymore. Especially not by you, because you are just a group of large dogs. All you can do is try and make the final days as best as you can for those that are near and dear to you. Your owners, your community, the other wild dogs in the park, whoever you hold dear.

The World is Ending and We Are Very Large Dogs is a GM-less collaborative storytelling game for 2+ players, wherein the players work to weave stories of bright moments in the face of Armageddon. The mood, intensity and tone of this game are up to you, the players, to decide, as the adaptable ruleset is designed for anything from a pulpy Mars Attacks-esque alien invasion to a a dark, mournful, melancholic ending.

This game comes with a number of various scenarios to reflect the range of tone you can play with when it comes to facing the end of the world. The dogs’ goal of doing their best to make their friends happy in the face of inevitable doom feels very similar to Link’s quest to help the people of Termina find peace even though their entire world is about to end.

Ten Candles, by Calvary Games.

Ten Candles is a zero-prep tabletop storytelling game designed for one-shot 2-4 hour sessions of tragic horror. It is best played with one GM and 3-5 players, by the light of ten tea light candles which provide atmosphere, act as a countdown timer for the game, and allow you to literally burn your character sheet away as you play. 

Ten Candles is described as a "tragic horror" game rather than survival horror for one main reason: in Ten Candles there are no survivors. In the final scene of the game, when only one candle remains, all of the characters will die. In this, Ten Candles is not a game about "winning" or beating the monsters. Instead, it is a game about what happens in the dark, and about those who try to survive within it. It is a game about being pushed to the brink of madness and despair, searching for hope in a hopeless world, and trying to do something meaningful with your final few hours left.  

If you really want to replicate the doom and hopelessness that the Clock Tower residents feel as the moon falls, this is absolutely the game for you. 

Brinkwood SRD, by Far Horizons Co-Op.

This isn’t a game, but rather a system reference document for making your own game. I think this system is one of the best for creating a game similar to Majora’s Mask for a few reasons.

1. It’s built on Forged in the Dark mechanics, which give the players the ability to manage resources often at a cost. The players have to balance what is important and may have to make sacrifices to get what they want. 

2. Clocks. Clocks are also great at imposing a sense of doom, by putting the characters on a clock and showing them what happens as time runs out. You could also include a mechanic that reverses the clocks to represent going back in time!

3. Masks. The masks in the original Brinkwood game transform their wearers, making them unrecognizable when they go on forays. You could use this mechanic to replicate a series of masks, all containing powers of beings who have died, in a story about a doomed world that your party is trying to save. What’s really interesting about this mechanic is that the Masks act as a separate set of playbooks that can be swapped among the party members, so that players can try out different powers and skill-sets. This is the biggest reason why I think the Brinkwood SRD would be fantastic for a Majora’s Mask kind of game.

(PS: if someone make this game please tell me about it)

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

ARC, by Momatoes.

Legend of the Forgotten Ballad, by coolwayink. (bigger version of the game on the way!)

[shallyne]

Day 3:

It was a cold spring morning, Velaris was just waking up as Rhys walked alongside the southeastern bend of the Sidra. He took in the sprawling estates that were turnes into homes, the boathouses and the Sidra glittering like a sapphire right beyond it, reflecting the rising sun. These houses were built long before Rhysand was born and he grew uo there, attending parties and feasta, lazing in the lawn and cheering the boat races. He had marveled at those houses, imagining himself here someday, wirh a family of his own. Now these bright memories where tainted by darkness, as the people he attended this parties with him didn't exist anymore. A wound so fresh, his throat became unbearably tight. Once a joyful teenager with a family and now a High Lord who lost them all. He blinked the tears away turned to Mor, who seemed deep in thought herself.

"I must admit, I invited you on a walk to ask you somethingxdearest cousin." Rhys broke the silence.

Mor's lips tugged up and her brown eyes slid to Rhys, "I'm not lecturing Cassian avout how to behave at the summer court, that's similar to talking to a wall."

Rhys snorted, "He already knows." he told Mor. It was true, his brother had asked him if Rhys didn't have any trust in him but knowing him, Rhys had to set some rules and although he looked bored, he listened. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh?"

Rhys stopped, turning towards his cousin. Mor did the same, fixing her coat. Her nose was red from the cold. He sighed, "I just–" he shook his head. "Things are changing bow that...that I'm High Lord. I want to change things but...I can't do it without my Inner Circle. I need people I can trust, always and...Mor, would you like to become my third in command?"

She raised an eyebrow in surprise and Rhys's heart started to hammer in his chest as the silence between them grew. Until a wide smile broke over Mor's face and she threw her arms around him. Rhys chuckled, wrapping his arms around Mor as she said "I'd love to, Rhys! If the pay is right, of course."

"Of course." Rhys replied, "We can talk about this back at the townhouse."

Mor leaned back, still grinning. "Who's your second?"

"Amren." he told her.

"How did that go?"

"How you would expect it."

Rhys stepped into his office at the house of wind. It still faintly smelled like his father and much fainter, metallic tang mixed with the scent of whiskey. He shook the thoughts away of the evening when he got the news and retrieved a small box from a drawer at the desk. The wooden door clicked shut behind him as Amren followed and he turned around, extending the box. She took it wordlessly and peeked inside, her eyes trailing the gold amulet of pearl and cloudy blue stone. Then she snapped the box close ans narrowed her eyes at Rhys.

"What do you want boy?" she asked and as Rhys opened his mouth, "And don't talk around the topic. I don't have the time for a speech."

Rhys took a deep breath and did as she told him, asking bluntly, "Would you like to become my second in command?"

Amren's unearthly silver eyws met hid as she became quiet, thinking about what Rhys offered her. Then she shrugged, "Sure, why not?" she gripped the jewelry box with the amulet, "It's going to take more than an amulety though."

Rhys smiled at her. Her expression stayed blank but her eyes were unusually bright.

Mor cackled, linking her arm with Rhys's, "Of course." she shook her head in amusement. "What about Azriel? Will he become your spymaster?"

"Yep, he offered that himself after yesterday." Rhys told Mor, leading her back towards his newly purchased townhouse.

"And Cassian?" she asked. Rhys looked down at his cousin and smiled.

--

Cassian

"It's time!" Cassian sing-songed as he entered the dining room of the House of Wind. Azriel and Mor looked at him in question, Amren ignoring him altogether as she sipped the red liquid from her glass. "Rhys is going to ask me to become general and commander of the night court armies today! I just know it!"

Mor sighed and went back to her breakfast as Azriel crossed his muscular arms. "Why are you so sure about that?"

Cassian flopped down on a chair, opposite of Amren, "Because he has asked all of you already. It's my turn. This is am unspoken agreement between brothers."

Cassian grabbed a muffin when Mor snorted, "An unspoken agreement? So in other words, Rhys knows nothing and you came to conclusions."

"You wouldn't understand, Mor," Cassian said, not letting her rile him up. She opened her mouth to counter something, mischief dancing in her eyes, when Rhys strolled through the doors. "Just you wait." he whispered to her. "Good morning, Rhysie!"

Rhys rolled his eyes at the nickname but bid them all a good morning. "Cassian, I need to talk to you."

"Oh?" Cassian asked, feigning ignorance when Mor, Az and Amren wordlessly left the room. Amren muttering something about delusions but Cassian couldn't answer before the doors clicked shut behind them.

Rhys looked as confused as Cassian feot about their sudden departure, but faintly shook his head and fixed his gaze on Cassian. "I need to ask something of you," Rhys told him, sliding his hands in his pockets. A sign he was nervous. Good, because he was nervous when he asked Mor about becoming his third in command.

"Would you–"

"Yes!"

"Pick up something at the Hewn City for me?" Rhys's eyebrows shot up at Cassian's enthusiasm. Cauldron, he should have waited until Rhys was finished. "Really? I haven't expected you to agree so quickly."

Cassian shook his head, hoping Rhys couldn't see through his lie, wouldn't see his disappointment, "Nope, absolutely no problem. I just–" he stood up and walked towards the doors. "I'll just get ready. To pick this, whatever it is, uo. For you."

He opened the doors of the dining room and was greeted by Mor, who excitedly threw confetti at him and yelled "Surprise!", as a banner rolled down from the ceiling. Cassian saw the faint smile on Azriel's mouth before his eyes turned upwards and he read the words on the banner. Cassian, would you do me the honor and become the general of the night court's armies?

An unfamiliar sound escaped Cassian, akin to a squeal, as he whirled around and threw his arms around his brother who chuckled in response. "Yes, Rhysie! A thousand times yes!" he said exasperatedly, picking Rhys up from the ground in excitement. "I told you!" he threw towards Mor.

"Cassian, I obviously knew about this!" she snapped, pointing up to the banner.

Rhysand

Rhysand watched his newly appointed Inner Circle bickering after he got them all to sit down at the big table again. Cassian was the last to ask and his reaction was worth it. Now his Inner Circle was complete. He rubbed his chest, a weird feeling overcoming him that it wasn't complete. Not yet. But Rhys pushed the feeling away, sure that it was due to the loss of his mother and sister.

@officialrhysandweek

[sky-fire-forever]

For Anders/Hawke, how about ❛  i miss the way you always made me smile.  ❜ Happy writing!

Thank you so much for the prompt! I feel like this is very similar to other stuff I've written, but I still like it.

My Hawke for this one is Mal, who uses he/him pronouns.

Mal watches Anders from across their makeshift camp. The mage gathers kindling and wood for a fire in preparation for when the sun goes down while Mal sets up their tents — two of them now instead of one to share. 

It's been almost half a year since the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and this is the routine they fall into nowadays: with Anders gathering firewood and Mal setting up camp. Often, Mal will hunt while Anders gathers anything edible from whatever forest they've tucked themselves away in. Anders claims to know how to identify the safe from the toxic and Mal's inclined to believe him, even if he trusts him with little else. He’s kept them alive so far. 

They hardly interact anymore. They don't play card games or offer each other shared smiles or even talk, really. They just do their duties while acknowledging each other as little as possible. 

It's only fair, really. After what Anders did — his betrayal — Mal can't be expected to want to just kiss and make up. He can never see Anders the way he once did. He'll never be able to forget the smell of smoke in the air or the horror of the people around them or the red tinge to the sky. It's all seared into his brain like it happened just yesterday rather than months ago. 

Still, Mal misses Anders. 

He misses the way the mage would seek out his warmth even in sleep, always the tactile one even before they officially discussed what they were to each other. He misses the jokes, the heated conversations, the ferocity in Anders’ heart. 

He misses the way Anders always made him smile. How just one joke from him could break through Mal's outer shell like nothing else. 

There's not a lot of smiling anymore. No laughter at all. There's just a lot of silence, a lot of mumbled questions and responses, nothing joyful and boisterous like their days spent in the Hanged Man what feels like a lifetime ago now. 

As the fire roars to life with a flick of Anders’ wrist, Mal realizes that he's gotten so caught up in his own head that he's stopped what he's doing to watch. He quickly turns his head, but not fast enough. 

“Hawke?” There's a glimmer of hope in Anders’ voice and it makes Mal want to run to him and wrap his arms around him, to hold him close and never let go. 

Instead, Mal keeps his head down as he hammers stakes into the dirt. 

Anders sighs. “I miss you,” he says, longing in his voice. “Can we… I don't know. Talk?”

“What is there to say, Anders?” Mal looks up. 

“Something. Anything.” Anders stares into his eyes like if he so much as blinks, Mal will go back to ignoring him. “Yell at me for what I did. Tell me you should have killed me. Anything.”

“Don't,” Mal snaps. “Don't say– just don't.”

He doesn't wish he'd killed Anders when he'd had the chance. He doesn't think he'd have been able to live with himself if he'd slipped that knife between Anders’ ribs and he doesn't like thinking about if he'd done it. It's better to push it all out if his head and move on, it's not like he can change what his choice was anyway. 

“Why didn't you do it?” Anders asks. “Why am I still breathing?”

“I said don't!” Mal growls, rising to his feet and standing over Anders. 

Anders flinches and Mal immediately regrets his aggression. He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, trying to put his words in order.

“I could never kill you, Anders,” he says. “No matter what you've done, I can't– I still–” He groans in frustration at his inability to voice his thoughts. 

Anders peers up at him and the firelight catches his amber eyes and fuck, he's beautiful. He's a monster and a terrorist and he's beautiful. 

“Do you still love me, Hawke?” Anders asks in a quiet voice. 

Mal freezes. “What kind of a question is that?”

“One I'd like to know the answer to. So, please.”

Mal doesn't know how to begin answering such a loaded question. “Yes,” the words tumble from his lips before he can think too hard about how true it is. “Yes, I still love you, but I wish I didn't.”

As soon as the words are out, he knows they're true. He does love Anders; desperately loves him more than he can possibly put into words. But he wishes he didn't. He wishes he could be strong enough to put Anders behind him, to push him away instead of traveling with him and hiding him along the way. He wishes he didn't still feel such a need to be close to him. 

Anders slowly rises to his feet and reaches out. Mal doesn't stop him like he has so many times in the past few months. When Anders’ hand finds his cheek, Mal nuzzles into it like a dog starved of affection and care, like a child yearning for the attention of someone safe. He closes his eyes when he realizes that there are tears threatening to spill over. 

“I'm sorry,” Anders says, his words choked. “I'm so sorry.”

Mal shuts him up by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a crushing hug. He grips him tighter than he ever has before, burying his face in his neck and breathing him in. 

“I love you,” Mal chokes out. “I love you.”

Anders clings back to him just as fiercely and they stay like that for a long, long time.

[catadromously]

could you tell us your favorite ghost story very very simply?

[making myself write in simple words]

A brother and a sister spend the summer day outside, laughing together in the sun's light. They run from the edge of their house, across the wide fields, making their way down narrow paths among the food growing there, and end up in the woods, where the wind is quiet. All day they play in the dirt and water, never realizing until darkness comes to meet them that time has slipped them by. They know they'll be in big trouble for coming home late, but as they hurry home the world just gets darker and darker, the sky fading from grey blue to deep blue to black. Until they can see nothing but the black sky and the blacker fields below, waves in the wind. They can hear nothing but the night animals singing, the water machines working, and the grass rubbing together into the distance. They walk close together, talking without thinking to keep back the night. Finally they spot the little lights of their house, where their family waits for them, but there is one more field to cross. At the end of summer this field will bear food, but now it has only flowers like white and red hair, and leaves of grass like arms that reach higher than the children's heads. They stand together like a crowd moving in worry.

Brother and sister enter the field, heads down and hands up to cut their path through the crowd. It’s hard going, easy to lose their way. The grass knocks into them, whispering in an empty voice.

All at once the sister stops: she hears something - a change in the grass-voice, a noise like a weight moving upon the field. But it's gone now. They must keep going. The crowd of grass-shadows reaches and grabs at them, sharp and sticking. They hear other bodies passing them by in the dark and hope it's only the small animals out at night - all at once the brother stops. What is it? asks the sister. He heard it too, he says - a change in the grass-voice almost like words spoken close by, a noise like a great weight moving upon the field with steps far too light. But it's gone now.

They must keep going. Faster they walk. The high leaves hide the moon's light and they can barely remember which way their home lies, across that field where all the paths seem to lead in circles. And yes, yes, there is a change in the grass-voice, a noise like a great weight. How many legs it moves with, they can't tell, but it's pushing away the grass and setting the leaves dancing, and though it draws a breath so deep one may call it only wind, it falls warm and wet upon the backs of the running children. And on the breath are words, words like the voice of a sleeper in a terrible dream, but somewhere in there the sister hears it, and the brother hears it… their own names.

Run - run - they run as hard as they've ever run, harder, hand in hand to keep from losing each other, for they know with the old knowing of every animal that to be alone would be to die. Running on two legs, falling, running on all fours, dragging each other by the hand, fighting the high-shadow-leaf-crowd. The brother looks back. He sees the grass parting - something within - reaching out - And the two of them fall from the edge of the field, through the last of the high grass and into the open night. They fall onto a hill and roll down, landing in a pile at the bottom. They are covered in leaves and dirt, cut all over, their clothing torn, their hair full of sticks, but they are alive. And above them stands the good strong wall of their own house, its window still filled with light. The brother says nothing. The sister says nothing. They hide themselves against the wall and hold on to each other in silence. Far away in the fields, they hear a long low cry. It might be only the cry of the wind, of course it might. But not to them. To them it's the cry of something angry, the cry of something that wants, a want without end. The cry of something that is not a person - at least not anymore.

[otomefoxystar]

Duty of a Princess - Chapter 2

Fandom : Ikemen Vampire

Pairing : Arthur X MC

Genre : NSFW, Angst

TW: Break- up

Author notes: Smut in this chapter, minors be warned.

The stupid letter could wait. Arthur had to go to you and go to you now. He rode fast and with purpose. Your horse was already tied up when he got there. You were sitting next to the pound, throwing flower petals in. You turned when you heard someone walking. Upon seeing Arthur, you choked out a sob and ran into his strong arms. He wrapped you into his warmth, taking in your scent as you took in his. Both of your eyes wet and red from crying. You finally looked up at him. Seeing the tears running down his face, you wiped them away and kissed him hard. moving your lips together. There was no need for words; you knew what the other was thinking. This was the last time you could be together like this. This. Was. Goodbye.

You pulled away, and Arthur rubbed his nose against yours and pressed your foreheads together. "You," he said with a shaky voice, "are the love of my life. I will never love anyone the way that I love you." That only made you cry harder. "And you are mine, my light, my safe place." Your heart was breaking. "If only we could run away together, I would go, no questions asked." He shook his head with a pained face, "No. This relationship was doomed, to begin with. I knew you were the Princess and had duties to your family, but I couldn't stay away. 

Now, my love." He cupped your face, backing up and looking at you. "Do what you must do, and I hope you can love this man one day. All I want is for you to be happy. I know this is hard right now, and we are both hurting. It will get easier." Another tearful kiss. "Arthur, you must promise me something. Move on. Find love again. I might not have that luxury, but you do. Find a woman you love as much as me or more." He shook his head vigorously. "Promise me, Arthur." He moved his hands to your hands, entwining their fingers. "I promise I'll try." 

You shook your head. "That's not good enough!" He sniffled, "That's all you're going to get." You laid your head on his chest, listening to his nervous heartbeat. "Let's not be sad anymore and make the most of our time together." You lifted your head, looking him in the eyes, and he grinned.

You knew what he what he was suggesting. He wanted to take you into town. "Someone will recognize me." He kissed you tenderly on the forehead, taking your cloak off and putting his own on your shoulders, covering your head with it. "Not if they can't see your face." He gave you his signature cheeky smile, and you just gazed at him. "Follow me." He mounted his horse and rode into town with you following not far behind him. 

Hearing the hustle and bustle of the town amazed You. It's only on special occasions that you go into town, and it's been a long time. You dismounted your horse as Arthur put his horse away. You looked around, feeling nervous that the townspeople would recognize you. Arthur came back, offering his arm to you. "No need to worry, Luv, let's walk." He took you around the town, strolling slowly, stealing small kisses. He bought a dessert to share with you. He poked your nose when you got cream on it.

 You noticed the sun starting to set and looked at Arthur sadly. He shook his head. "No, not yet." He led you to an Inn and stopped in front of the door, searching your eyes, looking at you sincerely. "Stay with me tonight." You looked up, realizing where he had taken you. "You didn't even need to ask." You beamed at him, taking his hand in yours.

You walked into the inn, and Arthur requested a room as you stood in the back with your head down, hoping no one recognized you, especially at an inn with the King's scribe. You walked up the steps hand in hand to your room. Arthur shut and locked the door when you were inside the room. The lock made a noise louder than it should have been. The atmosphere quickly changed, and you weren't sure what to do with yourself or what to say. 

You looked at each other, and he lowered the cloak from your head, 

brushing your hair behind your ear. "Can I have you? If this is the last time I can be with you, I want to etch myself into your entire being." He moved closer, cupping your face and kissing you with all the passion and determination he had. "Let me love you one last time." You kissed his nose, "I would never say no to you, Arthur." He arched an eyebrow. He knew that if anyone found out he had deflowered the Princess, it would be his head on a stick. "It's different for you. You're the Princess. You should say no, but I want to be greedy tonight." 

You smiled softly, "Then be greedy." He took off the cloak and kissed your lips sensually. This was a different type of kiss. He had never kissed you like that before. He pulled away, looked you in the eyes, and cupped your face with his large hands. " Close your eyes." Doing as he asked, you closed your eyes, and he placed a kiss on each of your eyelids. 

It was clear that he loved you just as much as you loved him. He placed gentle kisses upon you, moving to your neck, eliciting a moan from you. Your cheeks turned red from embarrassment, and you turned your head away. Too immersed in tasting your skin, he didn't notice your embarrassment. 

Moving behind you, he moved your long, wavy hair off your neck to lay over your shoulder. He kissed the back of your neck. He moved his hands to your arms, his fingertips moving down your arms. Then to your waist. He moved his hands up your curves. You started breathing heavily. " Are you nervous?" You swallowed, " Yes, but I want to be with you." He kissed your cheek. " I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible." 

His hands, still on your sides, released you and went to the ties on your corset; he removed the ties one eyelet at a time until he slid it off your body. Feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss his lips, you turned around and wrapped your arms around his neck, looking him in the eyes and then crashing your lips to his. He helped you remove every piece of clothing until you were only your dressing gown. You discarded Arthur's clothing as he had done to you. Unable to resist, you smoothed your hands down his solid chest. You put your hand over his thumping heartbeat. He grasped your wrist. "It beats for  only for you." Arthur helped You out of your last article of clothing, and instinctively, you crossed your arms, covering your chest. He smiled at how innocent you were. He picked you up, placing you gently on the bed, and laid on the bed next to you.

  Looking at you softly, he traced the outline of your face with his finger. Running it over your soft eyelids and down the bridge of your nose. "I want to memorize you." Your legs entwined with his, you reached up, putting your hand on his cheek and kissing him. Then, put your head on his chest. "This will always be my safe place." You kissed his chest and felt a warm wetness fall onto your shoulder. You looked up, seeing the tears run down his face, and tears filled your eyes. "I love you; I will always love you. Even if we can't be together, I will still love you. I want you to know that." He gave you a tearful kiss. "I don't want to leave you, Arthur. I love you too much." He bit his lip, his blue eyes searching yours. "Just be with me here and now, and let's forget what tomorrow will bring." You cuddled into his chest and kissed his collarbones.

The sun had set, and a dark curtain fell upon the two lovers. Arthur kissed the top of your head, then lifted your head so you were looking at him. He kissed you with a passion he had never kissed you with before. His tongue twined with yours, his teeth nipping your bottom lip as he pulled away. His hand was on the back of your neck, your hair in his fingers. 

 He kissed along your jaw to your neck, and a moan and a sigh escaped your lips. "You like that, don't you?" You nodded, feeling unable to speak. He bit and kissed, careful not to leave any marks but still providing you pleasure. Distracted by his lips, you felt his hands caress the curves of your body, and you tensed. "relax. If you don't like it, I'll stop." Your body relaxed, letting him continue with his explorations. His hand smoothes over your belly and glides slowly up till it halts, and he stops his ministrations on your neck, turns you on your back, and sits between your legs. You knew the position change that things were about to heat up. There was no turning back now, not that you'd want to. 

His hands cup your soft breasts, and you gasp. Not used to being touched there. He squeezes and massages your supple breasts, gauging your reaction, and your breath hitches. His fingers pinch your nipples, and heat flows through you, and you moan as he twists your nipples. His length beginning to harden. He bends down and takes a nipple in his mouth, lightly biting and circling the areola with the tip of his tongue. He does the same to the other side. 

He kisses your lips and bends by your ear. "I'm going to touch you now." You nod with nervousness and lust filling you. He occupies your mouth as his hand slides down till it reaches your heat, and he cups it, startling you a bit, but him touching you there makes you tingle all over. he takes two fingers and moves through your folds. It felt different from when you touched yourself thinking of him. To actually be touched by him was so so much better. 

"my love?" You looked at him, "can I put my fingers inside of you?" You nodded as you breathed heavily. As he gently slid a finger inside of you, the invasion felt better than you thought. He began thrusting his finger inside of you, and as you panted at the way he was making you feel., he was getting harder by the second. He added a second finger and was thrusting his fingers in gently. Desire was completely consuming you. You had never this way before, a physical need for him. Arthur pinched your nipples again, making your desire for him insatiable. He withdrew his fingers from you, and you suddenly felt too empty. 

Arthur hovered over you and gave you another fiery kiss, his hardness touching against your thigh. It made you both excited and scared. When he released your lips, he cupped your cheek. "Will you let me make love to you?" There was no hesitation; you wanted this so badly. "Yes,"  you replied; he looked into your eyes, searching, "Are you sure?" You kissed his nose, "I'm sure. I want this. I want you." He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth. "I love you." He said as he nuzzled his face in your neck and kissed you there.

He spread your legs so that he was at your center; he ran his length down in between your folds, putting the right amount of pressure on your clit to cause you to shiver with pleasure for a moment. Once his length met with your entrance, he put his hands in yours, entwining your fingers together. "This will probably hurt." You creased your eyebrows, and he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue diving into your mouth to distract you. He pushed in gently, just the tip entering your warm cavern. Trying to be gentle, he slid in slowly, only allowing a little at a time. It had been relatively easy thus far, and you had no pain until he hit a wall. You winced in pain, and Arthur stopped, not wanting to cause you pain, but he knew it was going to happen. " Should we stop?" He asked

 You shook your head, " No, I want to keep going. I want this, Arthur; I want to be one with you."  He smoothed your hair back. "I want that too." He pushed forward, and you squeezed his hands tightly and shut your eyes tight as you went through the motions of the pain washing over you; you hadn't even realized he had finally connected fully with you. When he smoothed your hair and kissed your forehead, you opened your eyes. he looked at you worriedly. "How are you?" Your brows still furrowed, "I don't know? The pain is starting to subside." He smiled softly. " I hope it didn't hurt too badly." You leaned up and kissed him."Make love to me, Arthur, just go slow." He bent down and gave you sweet kisses. "I will"

He pulled back and thrust back in. He kept his promise and went slow, but soon you were feeling this insatiable desire for more and your hips bucked, trying to get closer to him. "You can go faster now. Please go faster." Arthur smiled, "It's starting to feel good, isn't it?" You nodded. He sped up his pace, and your hips lifted in time for his thrusts; your bodies were in perfect sync. He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his hip. The new angle had you reeling. Your moans were loud and frequent, adding to Arthur's pleasure and urging him to give you more. 

Soon, you began to heat up. You felt the wave of heat from the crown of your head down to your toes. Arthur felt the pulsing of your walls, signaling your oncoming orgasm. “Arth…ur…Holy hell!" Your moans had turned high-pitched, and your leg fell off his hip. He reached between your bodies and began rubbing your clit in circles. Soaking in the intense feeling, his thrusts matched the erratic pace of you lifting your hips. 

Before you knew what was happening, Your vision went white, your back arched, and shockwaves ignited your nerves. Your walls tightened around his length, and Arthur knew you had reached your climax. With you clamped around him, it was making it hard for him not to follow with an orgasm of his own. Just as you were coming down and you let your vise grip around his length go, Arthur thrust three and then four times and quickly pulled out, his seed covering your belly. "Sorry," he was clearly apologizing for finishing on your stomach. You just smiled, glad Arthur enjoyed himself as much as you enjoyed yourself. He got up to grab a hand towel and wipe your belly. He laid next to you and softly ran his fingers through your hair. "I love you, I always will." You took his hand, kissed it, and held it close to your heart. "My heart will always beat for you." The sadness you felt was echoed in his eyes. 

You both were hurting, and there wasn't anything either of you could do to ease the pain that you both felt. You looked out the window, seeing the dark blanket covering the sky with the moon illuminating your room. "You should probably get back before your family thinks you ran away." You nodded, "Yeah, I guess it's gotten pretty late." You said, melancholy seeping into your voice as you stared at the twinkling stars. "Look at me" Arthur turned your head so your eyes were locked on those azure eyes that you could lose yourself in. "Thank you for tonight. This is a memory I will keep locked in my heart forever." You kissed him hard and with need. You wanted to remember the softness of his lips, how he tasted, how his lips moved with yours. 

Tears fell, not just from you but from you both. When you both reluctantly released each other's lips, you put your face against his chest, hearing the thumping of his heartbeat and taking in his smell. He put his nose on your head, combing your hair with his fingers, inhaling deeply, trying to imprint the smell of your hair. It was no secret that you were both in heart-wrenching physical pain from the impending goodbye. Both your faces were illuminated in the moonlight, making each other in awe of the other. Unable to resist, Arthur kissed you, twining his tongue with yours. He kissed you till you were both breathless. 

Knowing you had put it off long enough, you both got dressed and walked back to the stables with Arthur's cloak shielding your identity. Arthur held your hand tightly the whole way, your fingers entwined intimately. No words were shared as this was the moment you both dreaded, the moment you both wished would never come. You observed him as he brought out your horse. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move, frozen with an uncontrollable grief. If you hadn't been a Princess, you could've fought for your love and won. If you weren't a Princess, you could be with him for the rest of your life. Damn, being a Princess.

 When he turned around, your eyes connected, and it was as if, at that moment, you both shared the hurt; you knew exactly how the other felt. Without hesitation, he put his hands on your face and kissed you deeply at every angle, turning his head each time. This wasn't your usual kiss but a kiss of desperation. Suddenly, you both sank to the ground, your skirts in the dirt, but at that moment, all that mattered was being held by Arthur. Your eyes locked, and you threw your arms around his neck and pressed your body against him as the tears fell. Arthur held you tightly, his body tremoring with his own sobs. You remained this way until no more tears could come from either of you. You lifted your head from his shirt and noticed you had soaked it with your tears, but he didn't seem to care as he captured your lips in another heart-wrenching kiss.

When you both released each other's lips, you searched his eyes and put your hand on his cheek. "I love you." He spoke softly as he leaned into your tender touch. "I love you too, Arthur." Neither of you wanted to elaborate on the love you held for each other. You had caused each other enough pain for one night. He moved to stand up, helping you up in the process. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you against his body, and pressed his forehead against yours. "Shine radiant like a twinkling star, the brightest star. That is what I want for you." He stepped back to look at you. "I want you to finish that Novel and share it with the world; I want everyone to see your passion, your heart of gold." You placed your hand over his heart. "Because this heart is sacred and deserves so much." You pulled away and stepped up on your toes, pressing your lips on his forehead, closing your eyes tight, knowing this was it. You had to leave. 

You mounted your horse, but he grabbed your hand before you could go. You squeezed his hand back, knowing this was the final goodbye. Tears rolled down your face, and he kissed your hand, his lips lingering. Reluctantly, he let go, each of your fingers holding on until your hands were empty. You took the reins, and your horse started moving forward. You looked back as you got closer to the end of the town. You watched Arthur get further and further away, finally forcing yourself to face forward. The tears broke, and you couldn't control the panic setting in.

Arthur watched as you exited the town, and as you turned the corner, he knew he couldn't be strong any longer, and he let his weakness take over. His back hit the side of the stable, and he slid down until he was sitting down. He hugged his knees, looking at the castle, knowing that's where his love was, but it felt like you were so far away. When you arrived at the castle, you were still wearing Arthur's cloak; rushing straight to your bedroom, you lunged on your bed into the pillows. Your body felt like it was tearing apart piece by piece, and you fell into an unrestful, dreamless sleep.