#born in the dawn/to pass in the twilight

[talesofthehollow]

So it's been some time since we had an update, but I thought it would be nice to take a moment to thank @allgirlsareprincesses for A Song of Ash & Sky. Looking back at my moodboards, I'm forever grateful to your words that inspired them.

Merry Xmas & Happy Holidays, everyone! ❤❤❤

#cursed #cursed netflix #nimue #lady of the lake #weeping monk #lancelot #nimue x weeping monk #nimue x lancelot #nimulot #born in the dawn/to pass in the twilight #with water/with fire #ASoA+S #fic reccs #moodboard #edits #claudie!screeches #happy holidays ❄ #merry xmas 🎄

[starlightlacrimosazpsff]

◇ 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ◇

TO: @hollythius-rising EVENT HOSTED BY: @solarisfortuneia

SYNOPSIS:

The most renowned love stories tend to be about either whirlwind romances or heartfelt tragedies. A love brewed by fighting against all odds provides a sense of fulfillment after all the drama, the angst, the conflicts, and the memories. It is a buildup to the climax wherein the readers live vicariously, to see the leads achieve happiness after a lifetime of misery. However, in reality, many pairs of soulmates find peace in the simplistic beauty that life can offer. They fight when absolutely necessary to maintain the harmony that safeguards the fragile glass known as happiness. Amidst the trivialities, the foundations of felicity can be forged little by little; and what once served as mere frivolity becomes the profound bond of unconditional loyalty—the foundation of all true loves.

ENTRY TYPE: Event Submission, F!Reader

WARNING(S): mentions of abuse, mentions of violence, mentions of problematic themes, implications of neurodivergence, blood, unstable mental state, juxtaposed writing style, ambiguous relationships, slight toxicity, mild angst (because I need to sprinkle some even if my focus is fluff), author is sorry for submitting late, etc...

CHARACTER(S):

Diluc Ragnvindr, Alhaitham, Childe/Tartaglia/Ajax

•

•

•

•☆••☆••☆•

DILUC RAGNVINDR is a man of intrigue filled with mysteries hidden in the darkest shadows of the night. In a way, he is someone who breathes in contradictions as much as he lives in resolute convictions. He approaches life with a headstrong mind and steadfast heart, yet his soul tends to navigate a treacherous world by means of putting on masks infused with his spirit to distribute justice. The body born with the red hair of dawn and the crimson eyes of dusk takes flight as the firebird across the twilight. He honors the name of Noctua, which had blessed him at the tender age of 10. Despite his straightforward nature, his true persona is as elusive as any respectable gentleman with skeletons locked in his closet—or buried in Dawn Winery, for this case.

However, as expected of any formidable vigilante, there is one trustworthy confidante behind them. They are the precious secret keeper, the one to uphold the contingencies that shall be in play if the vigilante falls amidst disaster. In some cases, they stand as the one person who will remember the masked heroes for all their entirety and become their proof of existence.

For Diluc, that is you.

He had just become the Cavalry Captain of Ordo Favonius when he met you. The sight of you, a girl no older than him, battered and covered in blood was bone-chilling. He swiftly commanded the Knights of Favonius to escort you safely to Mondstadt, and led the caravan while ensuring your comfort. A peaceful smile was on your delicate lips even as tears poured down your cheeks. He asked for the reason behind your contradicting expression, bewildered and alarmed as he floundered on how to help you.

"Barbatos heard my prayers." You told him, "I am free now."

Diluc figured that is when his infatuation started with you. The years that had passed as you settled down into the city, the years that had passed after his departure from Mondstadt due to the death of his father, and the years that had passed when he returned...

None of it made a difference to what he feels for you.

If anything, the flames grew stronger and more adamant to have you.

As always, Diluc's nights conclude with a visit to your abode. After his nightly patrols, you are always the solace that awaits him. Whenever he tried to stop his visits, you will go to Dawn Winery yourself to ensure he took care of himself. He never wants you to ever risk yourself by travelling in the dark just to check on him, so he found it easier to just visit you after his patrols.

Sorry to have kept you waiting. Diluc seems to say whenever he finds you asleep on your couch, waiting for him all night. He would carry you in his arms, tucking you back to your bed. As he turns to leave, your hand would tug on his sleeve. His crimson eyes would see you awake, just barely to give him a pleading gaze and a dazzling smile. A part of him wondered if you dreamed of him all those years he had been away, utterly consumed by scathing grief. It made him ponder for how much longer he will keep you waiting.

I am fine, just stay with me. You seem to reply as you watch him discard his coat to join you. The line between friends and lovers blur for those nights of synchronicity. He would hold you until dawn, wherein the morning light would take him back to Dawn Winery. You wake up to an empty bed, yet the warmth soothes you despite his absence. You never complained nor expected more than what he could provide. You never tried to put a label to what you have. The important point is that Diluc always came to you, and that was all that ever mattered.

Please never let me go. Diluc was used to fighting his battles alone, yet he could never resist the allure of returning to you the first night you patched him up after a rough confrontation against a hoard of enemies. It yielded further moments wherein you would either prepare him a warm bath, or just patch him up with a few words of admonishment to be more careful next time. Every touch made him adore you, and every word made him admire you.

I am always with you. That was all you could truly offer to ease his suffering. You knew that your dear knight of dawn is broken, and pieces of him have permanently gone missing. He cannot be fixed and you do not seek to do it. You merely hold him, as his body was covered in gauze with his head on your shoulders. You do not speak of the tears you do not see as it soaked your dress, nor do you speak of the nightmares he confided to you past gritted teeth. I love you. Who will say it first?

"Honestly," you sighed, "your injuries tonight make me think you're doing it on purpose at this point."

Diluc almost smirked, "I suppose the notion is not too far off."

You plastered the adhesive bandage a little too harshly onto his chest, making him wince. He caressed the abused skin before putting on the spare shirt you gave him while you took hold of his cloak. You retrieved your sewing kit to repair the slight tear on the fabric.

"Don't even joke about that!" You scowled sternly, "What are you, a child? If you wish to see me, you ask for an invitation. Better yet, try to start a conversation. It feels as if you can only talk to me as the Darknight Hero and never as Diluc Ragnvindr."

He frowned confusedly, "What do you mean? If anyone knows all sides of me, it's you."

You raised a brow at him in challenge, "Oh yeah? Then why do you avoid crossing my path during daytime? Why do you only dare approach me during nighttime, away from any prying eyes?"

His lips part to deny your allegations but promptly close it when you point your needle at him. There was a stern glint in your eyes, the familiar fire that rivalled his own Pyro Vision. It makes him look away guiltily, fiddling with his ponytail as he released his hair from the tie. Seeing that he was not arguing anymore, you went back to your task as you continued to speak.

"I'm not one of those girls vying for your attention or anything," you said calmly, "but I won't deny that it grates on my nerves as I see you changing directions whenever you spot me en route. Then you come to my home as if it was like any other night."

You cut the thread as you finished stitching, glancing back at Diluc.

"Are you ashamed of me or something?" You asked bluntly.

"No!" He protested vehemently, "It's the total opposite."

A slight blush engulfed his face at the unwitting confession, but he does not correct himself nor take it back. You stared with wide eyes of awe and surprise, taken aback yet mostly amused. Rather than delving into it, you decided to keep silent as your eyes evaluated Diluc under a new light. You chuckled goodheartedly as you stood up, gesturing for him to do the same. Once he did, you help him put his coat back on and may have lingered to touch his arms. You were utterly shameless, grinning as he did not even tense up. It shows his familiarity with your caresses, even as you blatantly traced his shoulders to dust off some unseen lint.

"You owe me a date tomorrow then, Master Diluc~!" You whispered onto his ear.

Your cheeky remark ends with a chaste peck on his cheek, making the man look at you with a flustered astonishment. You giggle at his adorable expression, turning away to clean up the clutter in your living room. There was a sensual sway to your hips as you walked away, a soothing hum reverberating from your lips. This sight of you, bathed under the moonlight, felt so domestic and surreal to Diluc. Once again, he finds himself pining for a dream that could be just a step away from reality. He only needs to muster the courage to take that step, and you could be his for as long as you would have him in return.

Diluc yearns for you. He yearns for a future with you.

At the same time, he wonders if he could protect you beyond the clandestine moments shared with you. As he grabs your hand and twirls you into his arms, he found his answer by brushing his lips against yours with an intense look on his eyes.

"You missed." He retorts.

That was your first kiss with Diluc Ragnvindr.

"The wind wisps guided us, but the flame sprites united us."

•☆••☆••☆•

ALHAITHAM is a man of logic and rationality defined by the reasonable standards of routine. As an advocate of truth and wisdom, he has a thirst for knowledge controlled only by the disciplinary restraint of abstinence. This balanced mindset has earned him the title of Scribe within Sumeru's Akademiya, a well-maintained equilibrium between ambition and humility. Alas, this chosen lifestyle is not without its drawbacks to accompany the merits. Though this silver-haired scholar would argue that these cons are not truly detrimental, his peers would beg to differ when they tend to suffer said disadvantages more often than not. After all, the most brilliant geniuses tend to have quirks; and for this scholar hailing from the Darshan of Haravatat, it is his grievously cold-hearted personality.

His harsh disposition, more often than not, can be attributed to his analytical behavior. While he is not unsympathetic, Alhaitham is the type to prioritize facts over sentimental attachments. Because of this, most of his peers find it hard to get along with him.

That was, of course, until he was paired with you.

You had been desperate to find a decent roommate in the dormitories of the Akademiya, while Alhaitham wants a roommate whom would just learn to respect his supposedly strict boundaries. You heard from a friend about it and sought his contacts on the message board. You passed his initial assessment of you, and everything else was history.

Alhaitham was extremely meticulous of his space because he wants to be efficient with his time. That means every single thing in his home needs to be set in its place so a routine would remain undisturbed. If something goes wrong, it irritates him and it puts his mental facilities to work for something he deems could have been avoided. Despite his effective work ethics, he can be quite lazy in that regard. He does not wish to waste time and effort for someone else's incompetence, which people tend to find off-putting. However, you see it differently. He has his preferences, and it just so happens to be more thorough than most—which you respect.

For a while, you took the time to observe Alhaitham closely. It befuddled and agitated him at first, since there are times your glare could be quite piercing. If you had a problem with him, you should just say it. There are even moments when he thought you were stalking him. Alas, it was actually because you were taking note of his boundaries and his miniscule habits to adapt to them without compromising your own comfort.

Once the first week had passed, Alhaitham noticed your efforts blossom.

To his pleasant surprise, it even benefited him.

"[Name]," he called indifferently, "have you seen—"

"—your book on ancient runes?" You finished, "You left it on the couch when you got the emergency summons from your thesis professor. It was inspection day and I didn't want it to get confiscated, so I put it on the third shelf on the right with a disguised journal cover."

His sharp eyes looked at your precise directions. Lo and behold, there was his book—untouched and even bookmarked on the last page he left. It was a rather neat bookmark too, laminated autumn leaves and ferns with the Sumerian letters that spell your name on the paper base.

"You want one?" You asked, "I could make a custom design for you. I saw your old bookmark when I was cleaning the trash, and it will help keep your pages neat by not having to fold them."

Alhaitham stares at you with a calculative detachment, yet you did not miss the flicker of warm gratitude that you knew surprised even himself. He nods wordlessly while politely handing your bookmark back.

After you both graduated, it took little time for him to achieve the job of Scribe. Meanwhile, you ended up getting a job in Zubayr Theater to pursue the arts as a playwright. Much to Alhaitham's surprise, it had been your plan all along. Your time spent learning in Haravatat was to provide a deeper nuance to your stories by making use of ancient languages and inputting traditional designs onto your craftsmanship. It was an amalgamation of wisdom that you proclaim the sages have neglected, an artform they prohibit due to ignorance. As he read one of your plays on a whim, he begins to see you in an appraising light. In fact, the appreciative delight he felt in your texts was demonstrated by how he never misses a single play written by you when it is performed on stage.

You could not pinpoint when things began to transition from platonic kinship to romantic entanglement between you two. All you can recall is that Alhaitham invited you to live with him again.

"Don't you already have a roommate? Kaveh, was it?" You asked curiously.

Alhaitham scoffs, "He tends to get on my nerves a bit. Having you there would teach him a thing or two about respecting my space, and minding his own business."

You snorted amusedly but accepted his offer. You knew better than to question Alhaitham. Although you wanted to joke about whether he still has room in his house, you knew it will fly over his head. It would only be a leeway to roast you about how he would not have offered if he did not have a room unoccupied to accommodate you.

Henceforth, that is how you got your own key to Alhaitham's house.

It must have been quite a shock to witness for Kaveh, how you and Alhaitham seamlessly move around each other. You always rise an hour before Alhaitham's scheduled awakening in the morning. You bathe and keep the bathroom clean, with enough hot water for him to use. Then, you cook breakfast and brew his coffee with a specific mug he uses in the morning to keep track of his caffeine intake. Straight black and no sugar, but you will add two teaspoons of cream to ensure it does not scratch his throat. By the time he gets dressed, you have his meal set on the table right where his seat has a good view on the window. It was not the landscape itself but the sunlight that hits just right for him to read any book he currently fancies while he sat to eat.

Alhaitham will always clean his own dishes, which will leave you to double-check your things before you both leave for your respective jobs together. Kaveh gapes when he actually sees the silver-haired man help carry your things while you put on your shoes.

"Kaveh," Alhaitham said nonchalantly, "we're both going to be home late. Don't wait up."

You smiled warmly, "There's still food left for you if you get hungry. Oh, and—"

With no hint of shame, your hands patted Alhaitham down. Your calloused fingers rummage his pockets and retrieve his keys, separating the ones that belonged to Kaveh which got dragged with his own. The most astonishing is how the man remains unfazed by your casual yet intimate touches, even leaning into it.

"—here are your keys again!" You laughed as you threw them at the blond, "Honestly, I should get us some kind of key hangers to prevent this from happening."

"Do you want to go now?" Alhaitham asked smoothly, "I have some time."

"I don't have the money for it yet!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I'm paying."

Kaveh could only stare incredulously as he held his keys. He watches you both depart, voices fading behind the door and into the distance.

Meanwhile, Alhaitham all too chivalrously takes your hand in his as you both strolled down the streets. You hummed a familiar tune that you have been working to integrate on your next play. He takes note of it, subtly turning a vial in his headphones to record your voice. You did not stop him, eyes wandering to window shop.

"How was your latest research?" You asked.

"Troublesome," Alhaitham sighs lightly, "the scholars involved in it give me a headache."

You cooed, raising your free hand to sweep his bangs and massage his temple mildly. You stopped to focus back on walking but now allowed your fingers to stroke the callouses on the hand you held. Soon, he drops you off at Zubayr Theater and releases you from his grasp. You held back a smile, cheeks blushing, when he kisses the back of your hand before tracing your palm with his fingertips as he lets you go. For a moment, his intense gaze shimmered in a darker turquoise and vibrant rustic orange—reminding you of both the rainforests and deserts of Sumeru.

"I'll stop by in the library with tea and snacks for you." You mention.

Alhaitham gives you a fond smile, a privilege only ever meant for you.

"I would appreciate that." He replied.

"Be the oasis to my desert, the prized flower in my secret garden."

•☆••☆••☆•

CHILDE is a man that goes by many names, each with a role to play like a performer on a stage. Amongst all these aliases, one of them comes with a literal mask belonging to a Fatui Harbinger—Tartaglia, the Eleventh. He is the youngest to ever rise to such a status, and it was with good reason. With the exception of the higher-ranked Harbingers, his skills in the battlefield are practically unparalleled. Frankly, the only thing sharper than his twin hydro blades is his ambition for more power and worthy opponents. That is likely why he fit right into the standards of the Fatui, enough to please even the cold-hearted Tsaritsa whom is implied to have a soft spot for her Harbingers despite her loveless soul. As the person that grew up with him, you felt proud of him yet also concerned over him.

After all, regardless of everything, he remains as Ajax to you.

In a matter of three days, that Ajax lost the light in his eyes but you carried that light in your heart. It seems that was enough to you, and that was also reason enough for him to still come home to you.

"What gave you strength to return?" You asked delicately, "Three months in the Abyss only to realize Teyvat only missed you for three days, it must have been a tumultuous affair. What enabled you to gain power to rise above it?"

Childe looks at you with a wistful smile, eyes remaining dull. However, the touch of his gloved hand in yours displayed an everlasting bond while the other held the fishing pole.

"My family," he replied, "and you..."

You smiled fondly, sagging in relief. Ajax still lives even if his light has dimmed.

The times he returned from missions—covered in blood that you knew were a mix of his own, and that of another poor soul that has ceased to exist—were all vivid in your memories. The first few nights, your hands trembled; yet you showed no fear in your eyes as you gazed into those lifeless blues. He was still Ajax, whom just grew up for the thrill of battles and an ambition for chaos. When he smiles at his siblings, you feel his genuine love envelop the room and that is how you knew the existence of Tartaglia can never truly overcome Ajax. The light of a flame may extinguish, but the warmth of its existence shall leave ashes and soot—until the day it ignites again.

Wrapped in bandages, Childe pulls you into his arms and lies down on your bed. You let him do as he pleased, aware that once the high from the bloodbath is over for the Tsaritsa's Tartaglia...all that would be left is the turmoil of your Ajax.

"If you are bloodstained," you swore, "then I will wash you all clean."

His embrace tightens, cradling the back of your head to ensure you will not look at him. You close your eyes and sigh, pressing your ear against his chest. The thumping of his heart races slightly as the heat of your skin passes to his own, soothing the scars and invigorating his veins.

"That would make you an accomplice." He said huskily, "I don't want to taint you."

You laughed blithely, wriggling from his grip to lift your head and boop his nose.

"Silly, Ajax~!" You crooned adoringly, "Even the purest snow needs to get dirty to melt into spring; and even the clearest waters hold their secrets beyond what the eyes can see."

Your eyes gained a ruthless gleam that made Childe's breath hitch. Your fingertips traced his torso, dabbling on the line between his skin and the gauzes. Your hand wraps around his throat, not tight to suffocate but enough to make him feel the weight of its existence. It was not calloused from a lifetime of battles, but from years of labor within Snezhnaya's endless winter. Nevertheless, it felt soft and delicate compared to his own.

"Should the day ever come," you promised solemnly, "that Tartaglia devours Ajax within you, I would kill you myself."

Childe's eyes widened. For a second, the lost spark in his eyes flickered.

"Tainting me or not," you smirked meaningfully, "it was never a choice for you to make, Ajax."

In a matter of circumstance, you joined the Fatui with a determined glint in your eyes and a menacing sharpness in your serene smile. You were not empty or unfeeling, for you still shone with an unforgiving light that dismantled even the Harbingers to their core. You did not hold the same prowess as Childe did when he started as a recruit, but your potential was overflowing when it came to everything else. It took a matter of months before the Harbingers, excluding perhaps the Jester and Capitano whom had been silent, began fighting in a passive-aggressive manner in an attempt to have you as their subordinate. The Tsaritsa had been indifferent, though she did seem to smile when you met her eyes fearlessly after your paths briefly crossed in the Zapolyarny Palace.

The other Harbingers must have taken quite a hit to their pride when you chose to bend one knee—bowing only in front of the Eleventh, right where they can see you.

"This humble soldier swears allegiance to Tartaglia, Eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers."

Childe gave a knowing smile, eyes flashing in appreciative endearment as he beholds your glorious form. He glances at his fellow Harbingers with a triumphant glare, brimming with possessive arrogance to which they all scowled. There was a palpable tension, a hint of envy to know that the lowest rank amongst them can encourage such devout loyalty. It was obvious there was something else to your relationship, but nobody could alas prove it.

"Rise, [Name]." He projects strongly, "This Harbinger acknowledges your oath."

Although you have joined his crusade in the Fatui, it did not mean you had to leave the place you have made for yourself in his family as his childhood friend. Since Childe made it clear he wishes to keep his real job a secret from the little ones, you also played your part in the secrecy. As far as his younger siblings are concerned, you are now an employee in Childe's toymaking company. In fact, you are the main designer of the toys. It is not too far from the truth since you end up being the one providing the toys to keep covering for Childe's lie. He knows engineering is one of your many talents, a reason why even Dottore and Sandrone had been very interested to have you as an assistant.

"[Name]," Teucer said when you joined their family for dinner, "when are you going to marry our brother?"

Childe ended up choking on his water, spilling it all over the table—much to his mother's chagrin. His father amusedly watches him struggle to regain his breath, patting his back in mocking consolation. You remain unfazed as you smiled at Teucer, whom sat on your other side. You chuckled as you grabbed the napkin, wiping away the crumbs and sauce on his youthful face. As Childe coughed into his elbow, he could not help but admire that maternal glow around you.

"When your brother asks, I suppose." You answered seriously.

Tonia squeals in delight while Anthon whistles, and Teucer celebrates by clapping his hands. All three glared at Childe expectantly while he stared at you, mouth agape and cheeks flushing in a rare image of flustered astonishment. His eyes seem to shake in unfathomable emotions, gulping dryly when you met his gaze with a challenging smile.

"It's getting late." His mother saves the day, "Ajax should escort [Name] back home."

His father smirked before Childe could agree, "Or [Name] could just stay the night like she always did when she and Ajax were younger. It's been a while since she has visited. It would be a shame for her to leave so soon."

Tonia nodded sagely, "I agree. Besides, maybe our dumb brother could finally pop the question if he gets used to sharing a room with his future wife again."

Just like that, the almighty Eleventh Harbinger got bullied by his own family.

In the solitude of his bedroom, you and Childe got dressed for bed with your backs turned to each other. Once done, you boldly embrace him from behind as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You lean your head against his while he sat hunched over the bedside, elbows on his knees. He sighs with an exasperated smile, tilting his head to look back at you.

"You have got to stop teasing me like that." He said.

You grinned smugly, kissing him passionately on the lips.

Friend, comrade, lover—the label matters not.

The absolute truth is that you are bound to be together until your hearts stopped beating.

"Beyond the gods I defy, my end shall come in your hands."

•☆••☆••☆•

#— summer santa. #genshin impact #𝗜 αnσdчnє sαвαísm 𝗜 #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #diluc x you #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #childe x reader #childe x you #event submission #f!reader #sfw #this was very late i'm so sorry #i admittedly procrastinated while also getting swarmed by work and the stress of moving houses #hopefully this was worth the wait #diluc ragnvindr #alhaitham #childe #tartaglia #genshin tartaglia

[anghraine]

I'm just thinking about Tindómiel's and Arwen's names again.

As I've mentioned before, Tindómiel's name seems a clear reference to tindómë, the Quenya word for the twilight of the morning or dawn, by contrast to undómë, the evening twilight referenced in Arwen's name Undómiel or Evenstar. The distinction between tindómë and undómë comes from LOTR itself, so it's not the relic of an early draft or a late retcon or anything.

If Undómiel = evening star (as it clearly does), it would seem to follow that the counterpart name Tindómiel would translate as 'morning star.'

People sometimes suggest that the meaning of Tindómiel mirrors Tinúviel rather than Undómiel. I don't think that works as well given the information in LOTR, though, because while Quenya tindómë and Sindarin tinnú are related etymologically, tinnú refers to evening twilight/early night, like undómë (in Sindarin, morning twilight is minuial). Hence the poetic translation of Tinúviel as 'nightingale.' So if either Undómiel or Tindómiel were going to be equivalent in meaning to Tinúviel, it should be Undómiel. That would even fit well enough with the frequent comparisons of Arwen to Lúthien.

But Undómiel is not translated that way in LOTR. It is translated as 'evening star.' Given the identical structures of the cousins' names and the nuances of Elvish terms for twilight in both languages, it seems more likely to me that post-LOTR, Tindómiel is meant to be a counterpart name to Undómiel, and that in-story, Arwen was named for Elrond's niece.

Tangentially, I think Tindómiel herself was likely named for her grandfather Eärendil, the morning star. But on the meta level, the subtext of her name's structure and meaning is to mirror Arwen. Tindómiel is born as the first of the mortal princesses and queens of the Númenóreans, where the death of Arwen, queen of the last Númenóreans, closes out the era of the Elves.

At the same time, while the evening and morning stars symbolically represent the inverse of each other, the reality is that the evening star is the morning star. Eärendil was hailed on Valinor as the "star in the darkness, jewel of the sunset, radiant in the morning." So both granddaughters' names call back to him and to each other, which I find very touching, actually.

I find it all the more so, though, because while we don't have any dates for Tindómiel's life, we know that she must have been born some time after the year 61 of the Second Age, since she is the second child and that's when her older brother was born. If her lifespan is similar to her brother's, she would live around 410 years—perhaps a little more, as Númenórean women were typically longer-lived, but I can't think by too much at that point in time, given the 500-year lifespan of their father. Tindómiel was likely dead by the year 500 of the Second Age.

The Second Age would last until the year 3441, another 2,941 years. Over a hundred more years passed before Elrond and Celebrían's marriage, and over a hundred more until Arwen's birth in the year 241 of the Third Age. By the time she was named, Tindómiel had been dead for over three thousand years. Elrond had seen the final wars against Morgoth, the rise and terrible fall of Númenor, the provisional defeat of Sauron, and innumerable nephews and nieces. Tolkien can't even fit the early house of Elros onto one genealogical chart and by Arwen's birth, there are numerous offshoots of Elendil's line alone. Elrond has seen a lot of people come and go, many of them related to him.

And yet, when it came time to name his only daughter, he thought of Tindómiel.

#elrond was one hundred percent tindómiel's cool uncle #and losing elros then vardamir then tindómiel in what for him would seem rapid succession must have been ... whew. :( #but he never forgot tindómiel in particular #and that's the number one reason for arwen also being undómiel #according to my personal headcanon lol. but i will die before giving it up #anghraine babbles #long post #tindómiel #arwen undómiel #elrond #eärendil #legendarium blogging #legendarium fanwank

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1.5) Chapter Seven

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter Seven: One Hell of an Angel

Summary: Sebastian and (Y/N) face an angel as London burns.

Mouse Note: Let me know what you guys think as one arc comes to an end!

            (Y/N) and Sebastian stepped out of the shadows and into the light of London. The city was burning all around them.

      “This is Ash’s work. This is his move,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian didn’t need to acknowledge their correctness; they both knew it was the truth. “He is collecting souls.”

            (Y/N) nodded as they felt the souls of those claimed by the flames screaming and screeching as they were pulled from their bodies. “This is his cleansing.”

            Sebastian stepped towards (Y/N). “Stay by my side. I don’t want you facing Ash on your own.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at (Y/N). He didn’t want Ash to touch them. They were his demon.

            “Sebastian, I can handle him,” assured (Y/N), rolling their eyes.

            “(Y/N).” Sebastian caught their arm. “I understand your strength, but I’d prefer to avoid any unnecessary risks.”

            (Y/N)’s stomach twisted at Sebastian’s concern(?). “You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to throw myself into danger just for your contract to be completed.” But I would for you.

            Sebastian reached out and tipped (Y/N)’s chin slightly before drawing his hand back. “And yet here you are.”

            “Why does a being with such potential find themself so loyal to such a depraved creature?”

              Angela’s words echoed in his mind. Here they were, beside him and ready to go against Ash. My, what a demon (Y/N) was.

            “Here I am,” agreed (Y/N).

l

            “Ah, there he is,” said Ash, gaze landing on Ciel below amongst the fires of London. Screams echoed as people fled the fires below. The Earl had returned, but it had yet to be seen if he had learned his lesson. “Who would have expected the boy to actually return to London? How perfectly splendid.” He smirked, his expression far less pure than the ideals he espoused and rather predatory as he spoke to the arrivals behind him. “How is it? Do you like the view?”

            “Compared to the Great Fire of London in 1666, the fire is spreading rather slowly,” said Sebastian, unimpressed.

            “I’d prefer to see you burning along with the city,” said (Y/N), gaze dark and focused.

            Ash decided not to respond to (Y/N)’s remark. “Once the dirt and vice get stuck to something, it requires quite an effort to eradicate them. However, when these flames have burned everything down—” a maniacal grin spread across his face “—a long-awaited gate will appear on this ordinary Earth. I will open the gate to the next era.”

            Ash smirked as he watched Ciel and his servants struggle against Pluto, under Ash’s manipulations due to the collar. (Y/N) and Sebastian remained wary as they watched the situation carefully.

            “You, who challenged me to a duel for your master’s sake, and you, who refused to be cleansed and show that purity wins over sin, are now watching that very master’s tragic spectacle standing here at my side,” said Ash.

            “I do not act without my master’s orders,” replied Sebastian simply. “Besides, at present, I do not have a master whom I should obey.”

            “And you?” Ash’s gaze passed to (Y/N).

            They smirked. “If I’m going to have any fun, I have to wait until things are little more entertaining.” And I am going to help Sebastian complete his contract, so if he wishes to wait, I will. That was the degree (Y/N) trusted his judgement.

            Ash turned fully towards them. “I’ve been thinking: living in this newly born, pure world as its ruler…I could become one with you. If you are an unwilling to come completely to the light, you and I can meet in twilight. Dawn and dusk, man and woman, light and dark…We could be both as one.” Ash’s gaze on (Y/N) was positively lecherous.

            But (Y/N) had dealt with those looks for eons. They could withstand it without flinching. “I am not one of your patchwork dolls to play with.”

            Ash smirked and stepped towards them. “No, no, nothing so mundane for a being such as you.” Ash unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the hint of breasts. “No, we would become one in this way…I as a woman or man, whichever your demonic heart lusts for.” He reached up towards (Y/N), and they were about to respond (likely with claws and a threat), but Sebastian moved first.

            The raven demon reached around (Y/N)’s waist and pulled them to him, away from Ash. “I’d prefer it if you kept your rotten hands yourself,” said Sebastian coldly. He let go of (Y/N) and stood beside them.

            Ash tsked. “The only one rotten is you demons for refusing my kind offers.” He turned away and button his shirt.

            Sebastian and (Y/N) glanced down at where Ciel stood below as his servants failed to sedate Pluto and stop his rampage.

            “What are you doing?” demanded Ciel. There was a shift in his tone and body language.

            “Well, we want Plu-Plu to get back to normal…” said Finny. “I’m very sorry.”

            “But we’re out of tranquilizer darts,” said Baldroy.

            “What are you talking about?” snapped Ciel. “You should still have live ammunition!”

            Sebastian’s eyes widened before a smirk split his face. (Y/N) grinned in amusement. Ciel Phantomhive was back.

            “Are you telling us to shoot Plu-Plu, Young Master?” said Mey-Rin.

            “Look at his eyes. He has already lost himself,” said Ciel. “What you see there is not the Pluto you know, but a mere beast. This is an order: kill Pluto.” Ciel turned and ran onward through London while his servants faced Pluto.

            “I suppose one should expect no more from someone who once had a demon in his service; a cruel, cold-hearted soul that cannot be saved,” said Ash. He turned to the rest of the rooftop and furrowed his brow angrily. (Y/N) and Sebastian had left to go after Ciel and return to the boy to his demon. “So, it seems that demons and angels are fated to oppose each other for eternity.”

l

            (Y/N) and Sebastian arrived in the palace just in time to catch the bullets being fired at Ciel. Blood from a singular wound spilled across the floor in a contract symbol. Ciel lifted himself up, his eye and contract seal revealed to the world.

            “So, you have awoken, Young Master,” said Sebastian.

            “It’s good to see you’ve come to your senses,” remarked (Y/N) with a smirk.

            “Sebastian…(Y/N)…” breathed Ciel.

            “It is exactly as you said. You will not end here,” said Sebastian. He and (Y/N) flicked their wrists, and the bullets flew back into the guards. Sebastian stood. “Young Master, please excuse me for leaving your side without permission.”

            He’s not sorry at all, thought (Y/N).

            “What have you been doing?” groaned Ciel.

            “Making preparations for the last supper,” said Sebastian. “At times, it is sweet, hot, and sour. One must use different spices and let it mature. Thanks to that, it looks I will be able to enjoy the rarest soul, the rarest meal.”

            Ciel didn’t flinch at Sebastian’s words or (Y/N)’s emotionless gaze. “This is an order!” He only cared for his revenge. “Take me to the barbarous angel!”

            Sebastian picked up Ciel. “As you command.”

            Finally. (Y/N)’s eyes flashed fuchsia. I get to tear that angel apart.

l

            “Young Master, it is going to shake a little,” warned Sebastian as he began pushing the small boat down the river. Ciel sat in the bottom, and (Y/N) was perched behind him. Bodies lined the edges of the water, covered in soot and ash from the still-raging fires.

            “Where are we heading?” asked Ciel.

            “In England, there exist a number of ‘Devil Bridges’ constructed by demons,” said Sebastian as they passed under one such bridge.

            “On the other hand, Tower Bridge is a ‘Sacred Bridge’ that Ash had the Queen build,” said (Y/N), looking up at the half-constructed structure.

            However, it was a creation of a rotten creature. Human faces of tortured souls strained out of the carved stone base of the bridge.

            Ciel’s eyes widened. “Human sacrifices? Something like this is considered a Sacred Bridge?”

            “Exaggerated saintliness is far more sinister that evil itself,” said Sebastian in distaste.

            (Y/N) narrowed their eyes at the angel’s construction. Ash truly had fallen from grace if this was their purity and the price of their salvation.

            Sebastian threw a loop of rope around a wooden pole to secure the boat. “Young Master, please wait here for a while.”

            “I’m going, too!” demanded Ciel.

            “You will hold us back,” said (Y/N) calmly.

            “I see. Would it really be beyond you to defeat this foe with me tying you down?” said Ciel.

            “I see your point. You may be seated in the lodge, if you wish,” said Sebastian.

            “But don’t blame us when this takes us longer than expected,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian picked up Ciel and led the way up the ladder. They found Ash standing on a metal beam, grinning out over the destruction he wrought.

            “They are ablaze: both the Queen’s dream and the human world,” crooned Ash. “At last, the grand and brilliant day of our Father is at hand! Blood, flame, and smoke are heralds of its coming. Don’t you agree, demons?”

            “Why did you even kill the Queen?” questioned Ciel, the demons beside him not answering Ash.

            “Because she was fish-eyed,” said Ash.

            “Fish-eyed?”

            “Her gaze, which should have been fixed on the future, was drawn to the past and began to decay, utterly stagnant,” sighed Ash. “I had no choice but to purge her.”

            Sebastian ignored Ash and set Ciel down on a pile of wooden planks. “This seat may be somewhat uncomfortable, but it is the best I can offer.”

            “I see,” said Ciel.

            “Well, then, what are your orders?” said Sebastian.

            Ciel pulled off his eyepatch. “Kill that man, the angel!”

            Sebastian’s eyes swirled fuchsia as the time of contract’s finish approached. He knelt and bowed. “Yes, my Lord.”

            (Y/N) bowed. “It is our pleasure.”

            “At dawn, when this bridge is completed, it will become the eastern barrier, protecting London from uncleanliness,” said Ash as the demons faced him. “Should a demon ever step foot inside this gate, as an angel, I will have to purge them until he becomes a being of the light without stain, without feeling, without life!” He drew his sword.

            Ash leapt at (Y/N) and Sebastian. The raven demon met him midair, and they twisted around. Ash landed beside (Y/N), and they swiped at him with knives, cutting into his suit as Ash flipped back. He narrowly avoided Sebastian’s attack and blocked with his sword, landing on his original side of the bridge. (Y/N) and Sebastian shifted to move again, but the shadows moved beneath them, forming into the trapped souls. The hands of the souls grabbed at (Y/N) and Sebastian, restricting their movement.

            “Sebastian! (Y/N)!” shouted Ciel as the dark swarm swallowed the demons whole.

            “What the hell?” muttered (Y/N), pulling against the hands.

            “What is this?” said Sebastian, similarly testing the strength of the souls.

            “Ah. It feels wonderful,” sighed Ash. “It feels wonderful.” As darkness swarmed around Ash and obscured him from (Y/N) and Sebastian’s vision, his voice shifted to a familiarly feminine voice. Angela’s face was revealed. They were one and the same, just separate forms, shifting as easily as (Y/N) or Sebastian could. “A comfortable sensation of warm slime, surpassing the most excellent fur.”

            “An angel clad in uncleanliness?” muttered Sebastian, distaste evident.

            “Fallen,” said (Y/N), narrowing their eyes. The irises had turned catlike as they assessed their opponent.

            “The joy of being impure is unbearably disagreeable to me,” said Ash-Angela. “And still…” White feathers flew out of the darkness towards (Y/N) and Sebastian, and they narrowly avoided being hit as the souls pulled them tight. “The despair of the impure gives me power.” Their wings extended on their back. “Ah, my power is rapidly increasing. What should I do? I still haven’t give up on you.” Ash-Angela in the feminine form appeared behind Sebastian and (Y/N).

            The cat demon tsked. “I dislike those who couple with dogs.”

            Sebastian smirked. “Man or woman, they are not to our taste.”

            Ash-Angela appeared in front of them with their sword drawn. “Then I will become a ray of light that will penetrate you down to the deepest depths of your core.”

            “Interesting how the angel here is more perverted than the demons,” said (Y/N).

            “Distasteful through and through,” agreed Sebastian.

            Ash-Angela raised their sword, and it glowed a brilliantly white. “The final judgement draws near,” they declared. “Demons, your chest shall be my sword’s sheath!”

            They ran at (Y/N) and slashed their sword down. It cut through their sleeve, leaving a bloody trail down their arm and across their chest. (Y/N) hissed at the pain, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, flashing fuchsia.

            “You are a demon,” said Ash-Angela. “This pain is auspicious. It is the greatest of pleasures, a climax that can only be savored by experiencing one’s body being ripped apart.”

            Ash-Angela began to cackle, but their smug satisfaction was interrupted as souls began to disappear around them. The Grim Reapers had arrived and were retaking the souls being stolen by the fallen angel.

            “Reapers! They dare interfere with this sublime and holy ceremony?!” cried Ash-Angela.

            (Y/N) smirked, even as blood dripped from their wounds. “How disappointing for you,” they crooned condescendingly. “I mean, I’m all for a little pain to spice things up in the bedroom, but I’d prefer to give it to you in this case.”

            Sebastian’s eyes flashed fuchsia as images of spicing things up flitted through his mind involving (Y/N). Now those were thoughts he’d be considering later, after he was properly fed. But for now, he wanted to tear the fallen angel before him apart because his master had ordered it and they had drawn blood from his demon.

            “Even though I wanted to enjoy this further, under the circumstances…” Ash-Angela whistled. Nothing. They whistled again, and still no response. Their eyes widened. Pluto was dead. He wasn’t coming to their call. “The demon hound is…”

            The Phantomhive servants had accomplished their mission.

            “Every…” Ash-Angela rosed into the air. “Every, every, every, every, every single one of them! Impure! Unclean!”

            “Young Master.” Sebastian spoke smoothly, and Ciel stood from where he was crouched by the edge of the bridge. “Please keep your eyes closed.”

            (Y/N) glanced to him. So, it was time to pull that card. They felt the souls holding them weakening. Perfect, just at the right time.

            “Sebastian?” asked Ciel in confusion.

            “I am a butler,” said Sebastian. “I cannot let my unseemly form be seen.”

            “A human mind cannot handle it,” said (Y/N), looking over their shoulder at Ciel. “Close your eyes, young Earl.”

            Ciel felt the weight of their words and closed his eyes. (Y/N) and Sebastian faced Ash again.

            Sebastian smirked as he pulled out of the soul’s holds. “Now…” He had his chance to destroy the fallen angel for their actions against Ciel and (Y/N). He would enjoy this as a demon should. “I can show you my true nature.” His eyes were bright fuchsia.

            “It’s been quite some time since I’ve used mine,” remarked (Y/N), casually stepping away from the weakened souls. “Be honored, oh fallen filth.”

            Around Sebastian, raven feathers began to fall and flower around him. Shadows curled up around (Y/N).

            “Unseemly,” said Sebastian.

            “Ugly,” said (Y/N).

            “Vicious.”

            “Deadly.”

            They stepped towards Ash-Angela; tall black heels clicking against the metal beams, the sound sharp as a knife in the silence.

            “Our true forms,” said Sebastian, sharp teeth flashing in a predatory smirk. Feathers floated around him; horns curling out of his forehead.

            “Our true power,” purred (Y/N), eyes lined in black, irises slits. The cat ears and tail curling out of the darkness flicked in anticipation of vengeance.

            “D-Demons…!” stammered Ash-Angela. Even they were startled by the sights before them.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian glanced at each other and smirked. Both found the other extremely tempting, sinfully so, in their true forms, demons in all their hellish glory. And the thought of fighting by their side and tearing a filthy fallen angel apart was just perfect.

            This is how we should be. Two demons far above the rest.

            Ash-Angela struck out at the demons. (Y/N) and Sebastian were far superior. The pair clashed with them, tearing into them while Ash-Angela slashed at them. The impact of the fallen angel and demonic entities battling sent Ciel flying backwards to hold onto a bar to keep from plunging into the Thames.

            “Young Master, can you survive until I count down from ten?” said Sebastian, his voice midnight incarnate, dripping with malice. That was all it would take for (Y/N) and Sebastian to finish Ash-Angela.

            “Yes!” said Ciel, keeping his eyes shut.

            “Are you prepared for your existence to end?” crooned (Y/N), leering at Ash-Angela.

            “Ten,” said Sebastian.

            (Y/N) struck, and Ash-Angela stumbled back, blood pouring from a wound identical to the one they had given (Y/N).

            “Nine,” said (Y/N).

            Sebastian slashed through Ash-Angela before they could recover. Blood flew through the air, painting (Y/N) and Sebastian a red that Grell would have squealed over.

            “Filthy!” cried Ash-Angela.

            “Eight,” said Sebastian.

            “Unclean! Impure!” shouted Ash-Angela, fanatical in their desperation as they collapsed backwards.

            “Seven,” purred (Y/N), stepping towards them and tracing over the angel’s blood on their body.

            “Useless!”

            “Six,” said Sebastian, smirking as he moved towards Ash-Angela. His black feathers overwhelmed the white of Ash-Angela’s, cutting into their wings in stripes of blood and black.

            “Stagnant!”

            “Five.” (Y/N) struck through Ash-Angela’s side, causing them to cough up blood.

            “Four.” Sebastian, (Y/N), and Ash-Angela were a blur of white and black feathers and midnight shadows in the light of London’s flames.

            “Three.” (Y/N) tore through Ash-Angela’s wings, their prized possessions, letting blood splatter.

            “Filth! Filth! Filth!”

            “Two.” Sebastian picked up one of the metal beams set to finish the bridge.

            “One.” (Y/N) held the other.

            “Zero,” spoke the demons together.

            Cat and raven slammed the beams together through Ash-Angela’s body. The fallen angel screeched, and their scream turned to an explosion of white light as the divine being was killed. The light faded to reveal the bridge completed with the body of its creature, clad in white with extended wings, brilliant in the rising sun.

            (Y/N) and Sebastian turned from their creation to walk towards Ciel. The sharp ticks of their heels faded as the shadows and feathers receded to reveal their human forms, admittedly sporting the blood of their foe.

            Ciel’s eyes opened, and he looked up at Sebastian and (Y/N). Sebastian smiled. It was all over. Ciel had won. He let go and fell towards the Thames. Sebastian’s eyes widened. As Ciel fell, his Cinematic Record began to stream into the air. It was the end of his life, after all. All that was left was for Sebastian to take his soul.

            Sebastian dove after him, slipping into the river elegantly and pulling Ciel to the surface. (Y/N) was already there with the boat. The demons nodded to each other silently, and Sebastian began to push them to his cemetery where the contract would finally end.

            It was time for Ciel’s soul to be consumed.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

@otomyoli

@neenieweenie

@nex-crowley

@anxious-chick

@bellacastiel

@v1l-ismissing

@agentdedf1sh

@idkhowtoplayhoyoversegames

@iamsexytrash

#one hell of a love #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #demon reader #demon!reader #sebastian x demon!reader #black butler sebastian #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler x reader #black butler fic #black butler ciel #black butler #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji

[panlight]

can I be anon? I know you don't like BReaking dawn but as an E/B stan I loved the wedding and the honeymoon, and i don't mind Resume (the kid or the name) but what sucked was that they didn't even seem like vampires any more. Eddie wanting Bella's blood was so sexy and dangerous, but then Bella's a vampire and she and Renameme don't seem to have any temptation from blood at all. LIke SMeyer just did't want to deal with the vampire parts and it became this superhero fairytale, assembling the X-Men and just mentioning like 'oh btw they kill people out of state, don't think about it, not important.'

I missed the tortured vampire angsty bullshit! Not that I wanted Bella or Eddie or even Renesmonster to suffer or whatevs but they didn't even seem to be vampires anymore, just superheroes like the Incredibles. Even the wolves were like 'sure whatevs, we cool now.'

Oh yeah, I agree. And I guess you could argue that because Bella's so pro-vampire that her narration doesn't give us the kind of stuff Edward does in Midnight Sun or that we get through him in the original books via his conversations with Bella. But still it just felt, lacking.

Although to be honest I felt the same with Bree Tanner? I remember reading it all excited to be like YES finally some REAL Vampire Stuff! These are Wild Newborns! This is gonna give me What I Want! And then . . . they just hang out in a basement playing video games all day to avoid the sun while Bree hides and reads. That's . . . that's it? That's the wild, uncontrollable vampires? It was underwhelming.

I think it's pretty clear that SM's interest in actual horror is minimal, and with the exception of the Cronenberg-esque birth scene, she tends to just mention it in passing or in backstory and doesn't actually write it out. I'm sure if she actually wrote a novella about, say, Alistair's horrible 'how I became a vampire story' it wouldn't live up to the horror I've created in my head based on the summary of it in the guide. Likewise Edward's brief description of newborn!Carlisle out in the forest trying to starve himself and then finally snapping and attacking a herd of deer is probably better in my imagination that it would be if SM wrote it, because she's not interested in the tragic horror stuff in the same way I am. And that's fine; we all have our different tastes. It's just a little frustrating that I got invested in this series with vampires and "werewolves" and then by the end it's just like, vampire babies and actually-they-are-shapeshifters Christmas domestic stuff and none of the tragic horror that was in every single backstory. Bella being amazing at self-control and 'born to be a vampire' made her seem not much like a vampire at all, just someone with beauty and superpowers. Like, what happened to the constant thirst-pain vegetarian vampires supposedly suffer from denying themselves human blood?* The girl who complained about the rain and the cold and the 'too green' is suddenly quiet about burning thirst.

*Blood drinking is an imperative. Even for a vampire who keeps his or her system full of animal blood, the lack of human blood is constant pain. I think the only human state that is even close to comparable is anorexia. Anorexia is too hard on a human body—in the end, if not given up, it kills a human. Vampires can’t be killed by starvation, so they manage. But it’s harder than you’re giving them credit for. My philosophy is this: I can’t judge vampires, because I’ve never done anything as physically difficult—nothing even close!—as giving up human blood is to them. - SM, PC 12, Twilight Lexicon.

#asks #tw: ed mention #tw: disordered eating mention

[blorbologist]

📂📂📂

SORRY got a little busy - let's get those HCs!

Look: Grog and Percy will likely to be the first members of Vox Machina to die, assuming they live out their natural lifespans give or take. I HC that, as they age, they grow closer. No one else in VM understands the encroaching end, how old wounds now ache. The children they (helped) raise are still so young, being quarter-elves and gnomes - it dawns on them how few memories their loved ones will have of them, in the grand scheme of their long lives ahead. Consider Grog feeling weak and Percy's mind growing dull, the traits they take pride in being worn away. Both would likely be pretty frustrated by this, while taking comfort in the fact they survived this long at all despite the lives they lead. Also giving their families heart attacks with their latest hairbrained, half-planned scheme. They're engaged in a PVP exercise ball reenactment of the skull thing. They're seeing how high Grog can throw a bomb Percy made with shaking hands. There's a canonball contest. "GRANDPA NO!" "Grandpa yes."

Vex is in an awkward spot: longer-lived than her husband and Grog (and even some of her children - Tieflings have human lifespans :,) ), yet far shorter lived than the remaining three. I'd think she might get closer to her elven family, in her twilight years. Understanding a bit better the loss they inevitably go through over the centuries. I can see her remaining a fairly public figure well into old age, keeping Whitestone on the right track in Percy and Cass' stead. Getting involved in the legacies of all her shorter-lived friends: Zahra and Kash's kids, the Brigade sans Tary and Gilmore's Glorious Goods. Keeping pleasantly busy - she'll rest when she's with her husband, gods damn it, and not a moment before. (Before she goes, she promises Keyleth she'll say hello).

... which leaves the gnomes and Keyleth. They'll likely live to see generations and generations of their families come and go. Probably some impossible-feeling changes to the world, too - remember that Chetney was born before Tal'Dorei and the Dwendalian Empire were founded, probably before Ank'Harel was raised either! I think they'd likely realize down the line that they've got an absolute wealth of historical knowledge, often first-hand, and strive to document and protect it. Of course Scanlan would compose so many songs, but I think he might actually grow into that role of a bard Ioun saw in him. The knowledge-sharer, history-speeker, not the guy singing brawdy songs and lying liberally in his youth. Pike might write religious texts and hymns of her own with the help of her ex-husband. I wonder if the Slayer's Cake might outlast the Take it was named for, under her watch. And Keyleth... well.

(Bonus: do any of them forget the faces? Minds are so fallible. Do they realize, and commission mind-reading magic paired with artists to get portraits of those they've lost? Do they trust their minds until the very last? Does Keyleth gasp, when she sees Vax'ildan again, and he is not as she thought he would be? Is he even still Vax'ildan, after over a thousand years without anyone who knew him passing through his care?)

#cr headcanons #critical role #campaign 1 #campaign 1 spoilers #cr1 #cr1 spoilers #vox machina

[ervona]

Day 2: Beloved / Ritual for @tes-summer-fest

Each night on the twentieth of First Seed, the keepers of Azura’s shrine were on their feet even earlier than usual. High up on Mount Anthor the cool springtide wind danced and sang with nary a cloud passing by to obscure the Lady’s crown. Though many hardships had tried and tested them throughout the years, the Mad Star would not claim this night, nor the next.

Most folk from the city celebrated the dawn of the twenty-first in their homes or temple, but chosen priesthood and a few lay people would make the ascent, where in the darkness their distant forms bearing lanterns and magelights dotted the slope like torchbugs. The altar at the foot of the statue greeted them long since prepared and gleaming to impress the Queen of the Night Sky.

Flowers newly bloomed spun into wreaths, the dust of wayward spirits, iridescent shells and pearls, the phases of the moons carved into silver all caught the eye, but in that splendor what held most worth was aught offered from a worshipper’s own heart. In each hand a silvered mirror was held, so as not to gaze at their Prince’s fulsome brilliance directly. 

Afore the first sign of dawn, the wind ceased for a moment as a breath held in anticipation. Where the golden spark first arose from the sea, a ring of light followed, encircling all they could and couldn’t see. They began the incantation. More so than usual, the acolytes were skittish, following their seniors to the point of inflection foreign to Winterhold-born youth.

With seafoam and petals and scent of roses did Azura come to them, senses captured, the presence overflowing from every facet of their surroundings. The words she spoke to each soul gathered here were obscured from others, her love a sanctum where all they wished to know of their destiny lay hidden.

How would one convey such joy for those not privy to it? Her most devoted were guarded and prone to jealousy. A mirror shattered, and an acolyte’s tears poured hot into the snow. And then it was over, and the harmony of voices turned to scattered birdsong.

The holiday that had grown around Azura’s summoning day was also one for loved ones to celebrate, feast and toast to all the gateways already crossed and those that awaited them. As soon as it was acceptable, the gathering scattered like leaves on the wind, and cleaning up in preparation for the eventide was left in the capable hands of Diviner Ienith, who had no family.

Her lot in life was not as sorrowful as one may think, since she was beloved by the Lady of Twilight, and each night that she would stroll the mountain restless with naught but a pallid light in hand, she would hear the same voice that had time ago brought the false gods to heel, but gentle as a breeze. She spoke in the word of Azura, and all willing to listen would receive it too.

Of the scant people still gathered, one caught her eye whom she’d known as Lay Priest Varen afore he left to pass his storied knowledge of Mysticism to students of magic. At times when her faith had been tested she’d considered that path as well, but learned to cherish her simple life. As one of few older than her, he was oddly spry enough to climb the mountain, though the many amulets hung about his person shimmering with enchantment must have helped. 

“Aranea! Such a delight to see you,” he spoke with inordinate familiarity, and heeded not the ways that she gave off disinterest. “Even more so to tell you that an associate of mine has located Azura’s Star. For certain this time!”

That’s what you’ve said a few too many times before, was the thought on her mind, but she pushed it aside and tilted her head in feigned interest. “For certain? And where was it located?”

“Ah, that is yet uncertain. But in the case that I set out to find it, I extend the invitation to you. Azura must want you to recover her artifact, and with your vision-”

“Lady Azura wants for me to stay at this very shrine, and that is most certain.” She reached for the first thing she could grasp, and spun around to descend without looking back once, down and around until she reached the cairn from where the Prince was only partially seen.

Head spinning, she slumped down to the frozen stairs and dangled the crushed wreath in her hand like a pendulum. For all it was worth, it was true. Azura had shown her destiny, and the premonitions, cryptic as they could be, had never deceived her. Those who had no such guidance in their lives could never truly understand the responsibility she bore with pride, and only sought to use it.

She craned her neck towards the wall far more ancient than their statue but hewn from the same stone by those who had come before, and froze to a halt. A mighty, winged shadow descended upon it, but was gone in a moment. No, beyond her mind’s eye someone was there, heavy robes and likewise steps making no sound. She blinked a few times and stood up very carefully.

They seemed to be a Dunmer as well, perhaps someone from town who had wandered and was now lost, or simply interested in ancient Nordic structures. She knew she was out of practice in addressing ordinary folk, that was part of what Azura demanded from her.

Before she knew it, she threw her wreath and turned back the way she came from, at some point breaking into a sprint that left her out of breath by the time she returned to the now fully deserted shrine.

It was midday at the very least, and her preparations for dusk should have been underway much sooner. She scolded herself in her mind, but wasted no time. All would be ready for the crimson gate by the time it would even slip the minds of her juniors that they were needed for the ceremony too. But she could never fault them for enjoying their Hogithum dinner, for she would do no different in their place. Fortunately, she was bestowed with her own purpose.

The sky would take on each color of bruise soon enough, and having had her meal of scrib jerky she could only sit in silence with the offerings, wringing her hands with faint scratches left on them until it was time to conduct the ritual, perhaps on her own. There was no sorrow in that, for it made her holy bond even more special.

“Kena Aranea!”

She turned to the sound of her name and the voice that could only belong to one, well, two people running towards her up the slope at a speed most unwise, just waiting to trip on the stairs yet balancing quite well with some sort of cake in hand. Both of them, at that.

“You have returned in time! Azura commends you, and so do I.”

The acolytes giggled at that, looking back and forth at where they could set down the food. “My ama wanted you to have this, well, I was going to bring you a slice-”

“And my folks told me to bring something too! They all remember you from back when-”

“Ama then said to just bring the whole cake!” At a closer look, it was a comberry cake by way of snowberries, and a mushroom quiche. 

“My warmest thanks to you and your families. I will just put these in the inner shrine, and you best be prepared. Think of what you would like to ask our Prince.”

She tried not to linger inside, to simply do what she came here for. While barely hungry, she was happy enough to weep, so she let her tears flow. That not only her acolytes but those she had known once thought about her on this day, that they would think to bring her… 

But they are just here for an education, they will leave for greener pastures as they always do, soon enough you will be left alone, shoveling snow for all time, a voice in her head spoke.

“I am never alone, as long as Lady Azura is with me,” she replied, hand to her heart.

The silence that ensued was finally broken by the howling wind.

#tesfest23 #skyrim #tes #the elder scrolls #aranea ienith #assorted ocs and npcs but you're here for her #scrawling tag

[fluentisonus]

Since we've finally gotten there & it's my favorite song in the book!! This is my personal favorite version of the Song of Eärendil/Eärendil Was a Mariner

Lyrics (also in today's newsletter):

that tarried in Arvernien;

Eärendil was a mariner

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow he fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chainéd rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

 

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands,

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters far astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east, and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped.

 

There flying Elwing came to him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light,

and dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey

and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

to haven white he came at last,

to Elvenhome the green and fair

where keen the air, where pale as glass

beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

 

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

They clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

 

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

 

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

 

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder Days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbéd star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse.

#normally I like clamavi de profundid but I find their version of this to be a little much. imo it's better with one voice & minimal music #anyways I love this song soo much. I know it's long and hard to follow if you don't know the storyin it but I HIGHLY recommend #just like reading yourself thr first stanza out loud to hear yhe rhyme scheme/rhythm because it's absolutely delicious #& hard to get if you're just reading it silently #thoughts #tolkien #lotr newsletter #if you can't hear it you may need to turn the volume up bc it's a very quiet recording

[cheegu3]

GOOD BOY GONE BAD | Beomgyu - in the nightfall

note: the new comeback has me more in love with txt again man 😫 so I decided to do short stories to post for a member every week if I can keep up - every member gets assigned a song from the album somewhat related to the story + every other story has a good or bad ending,

synopsis: The enchanted forest called nightfall was something you had been told to avoid ever since you were born, you didn’t know why, except for the fact that many people disappeared in the forest. Many said it was due to its size, people got lost in the rain that often befell the place but others talked of a beautiful siren in the woods, luring its victims in with their seducing and velvety song. You knew deep down that one day you’d have to go inside and you dreaded it. A vision of your little sibling walking into the woods and not coming back had been shown several times, it was a prediction.

Will you survive?

trigger warning: yandere themes, very creepy, murder, blood, gore, non-con kissing, swearing, suicidal thoughts

genre: yandere, suspense, mystery, fantasy, horror

((none of the GIFs are mine, if you feel uncomfortable with yours being used in yandere fics pls message me <3 :) ))

pairing: fm reader x beomgyu

wc: 5.7k

Dawn was fast approaching, having come just as fast as it did every day that went by. This was when the nightfall was at its most beautiful, with the light shades of the twilight shining through the tree-tops and casting a glimmer like shine on your family’s little cottage.

The cottage you lived in was by the edge of the forest and the official entrance to it. You had been told tales of how your ancestors were ‘’ forest keepers ‘’ with their only duty being to either protect and stop people from entering it in the first place - or if they went anyway and got lost, to retrieve them as they were the only ones in the village that knew their way around.

The tradition for your family to know the ins and outs of the forest had ended with your parents. They refused to become keepers but still shooed away any nosy kids lurking around the entrance, daring each other to go in.

So you had never gone inside, never even dared to step foot more than ten feet into it. You had this fear that if you went further, somehow, your house would disappear and you’d be taken by the monster living inside.

The both pleasant and horrible dreams you had of the forest was enough to win against the curious side of you that wanted to explore it despite your parents views.

Your little brother was the same way. He often played by the edge of the forest instead of the big backyard you had and it would always piss your parents off; they didn’t know that when you were alone, babysitting him, you’d let him play there.

You always watched him of course, it was your duty as the older sibling. Still the anxiety that something bad could happen or would happen in the future was always there but you wanted your baby brother to be as happy as can be - besides, playing just by the edge had never hurt anyone.

As the twilight was transitioning into dusk, you and your brother were the only ones still out. Your mother had called from inside for you to come in and stop playing but your brother seemed more interested in the forest than usual today.

He had this tricycle that he would always ride around with and on some days he would creep you out by standing still at the edge, staring blankly into the forest while sometimes humming a song and wagging the bike slightly.

He was doing this odd thing now too and had been for a big portion of the evening. You tried not to think too much of it. He was about four, it’s only natural to have a fascination with nature and especially a forest as beautiful and enchanting as that one.

Still, after about twenty minutes had passed since your mother had called last - he still wasn’t moving. Gently you lifted him off the tricycle and held his hand while carrying the tricycle.

Despite the few meters it took to close the distance between the place you had been playing, to the cottage - his gaze was still been glued to the forest.

You helped your brother get his jacket and shoes off and then went into your room.

The very next day all of the students of the university of the village - which wasn’t many - but nonetheless, had a big exam. Having been busy with babysitting your brother, you hadn’t studied too much and you planned on cramming it now, the night before like you always did. 

Waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t anything unusual to you. Anxiety kept you up at times and you had expected it to do the same since you were stressed yet again.

You laid in your bed for hours, tossing and turning after giving up on studying. As the sun was rising the temperature went up. The heat along with the light shining aggressively onto your head bothered you. So you got up and went to the window. 

What use was there to go back to sleep any way when the day had now started; you pulled the curtains back and opened the window. While your hand was on the window’s handle, an eerie noise reached your ears as soon as you pushed it open a bit.

It seeped in through the crack and made you feel very uneasy. The hairs on your skin that was already filled with goosebumps, stood up.

Immediately you slammed it shut and released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding. What was that? It sounded like something you had never heard before. An airy, dreary and clear sound. 

One thing you would probably never admit to yourself was that despite all the weird and uncomfortable, obvious signs of uncomfortableness - there was still a small bit inside that wanted to hear more, almost willing to go out in your nightgown barefoot and following the voice into the forest. 

The urge to do so was so strong that you had to hold yourself back, shutting the window was the best you could’ve done in that situation, you never know what could’ve happened if you gave into the urge.

Trying to shake off the feeling wasn’t too hard. The thoughts about the exam and anxiety over how it would go quickly seeped into your mind again and occupied it.

You started getting ready and was about to head out the door with a toast in your hand.

‘‘ Bye, see you later! ‘‘ you said before leaving like you always did.

No answer came.

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach but you knew this had happened many times before. Your parents were morning-people and often got up before the sunrise to pick berries and do errands.

So instead of going a bit from your house to where they usually were this early, you went straight to school.

*******

Everyone was just as nervous, their pens ticking in unison while they glanced at the door, waiting for the teacher’s arrival. The regretfulness due to not studying was hitting you hard. You could almost predict now how disappointed your parents would be when you’d get the worst grade out of your class.

The sound of the door creaking open was the only thing giving you a break from your negative thoughts; just like everyone else, you glanced at the door any time a sound that could be the starting sound of a door opening was heard.

It was already dead quiet but somehow it managed to get even more quieter as the teacher’s face popped around the door. She didn’t look happy, not her usual cheerful self and she closed the door with a slight slam, quickly walking to her desk.

A stern, gloomy expression had settled on her face. Not even the jokesters of the group could make her crack a smile today it seemed. 

‘‘ The exam is cancelled ‘‘ her voice rang out and echoed.

The classroom that had been filled with whispers due to the teacher’s weird mood, immediately went out.

‘‘ There has been another disappearance, into the woods, another boy ‘‘ she said, a hint of pain flashing behind her eyes.

You furrowed your brows. Some kids sighed loudly, complaining how it was probably just another stupid kid not listening to their parents nor knowing the true dangers of the forest.

‘‘ It’s...y/n’s brother ‘‘ the teacher added.

You swear your heart stopped.

The surrounding got blurrier by the second and the sounds seemed to dampen out, only leaving room for a ringing sound in your ears.

Their invasive and intense stares were on you, so suffocating that you tried to get out of the classroom as quick as possible - pushing through the crowd and slamming the door behind you, you pushed your back against it with your weight to prevent anyone from following.

It seemed that the corridor was the only place you were allowed to catch your breath. You did so for about five minutes before your family started to occupy your thoughts, followed by imaginations of your terrified brother, all alone in that forest.

You started running home, ignoring the burning sensation in your chest and pushing forward all the way.

The door wasn’t open. You weren’t sure why you’d expect it to be. It looked the exact same way since you’d left it the same morning.

The only thing that differed was your parents’ pained faces in the windows by the kitchen. 

You went inside and your mother gasped in relief, hugging you.

‘‘ We almost thought we lost you too ‘‘ you felt something drop down on your shoulder, tears. They were quickly wetting down your clothes.

You pulled away, sharing the same pained looked your mother was but you still tried to hold the tears in. Then you looked to your father, wanting to give him a hug since he looked like he desperately needed it - judging by the way he looked absent-mindedly into the forest. 

He hadn’t reacted to the sound of you entering, or you and your mother talking to each other. It was like as if he was a zombie, neither dead nor alive, just empty.

Your mom’s hand found yours and she stroked her thumb over it in an attempt to be comforting.

‘‘ He’s been this way ever since we noticed your brother was gone ‘‘ your mom said, a sad smile on her face as she watched your father.

He didn’t react again, barely showing signs of registering your voices.

‘‘ When did you notice? ‘‘ that sinking feeling in your stomach had returned.

You started thinking about a scenario that would make you feel so much worse, and you feared she was about to confirm it.

‘‘ When we woke up, he wasn’t in his bed. ‘‘ your breath hitched.

‘‘ So we went out and looked for him. We didn’t want to wake you though, thinking he hadn’t gone too far and was just playing ‘‘

There it was. The confirmation that made guilt hit you like a stabbing. That intuitive feeling that something was wrong, had been right after all and you had ignored it. While you went to school, completely oblivious of your parents’ and brother’s pain - they were out looking for him, probably becoming more distressed as more time went by without a sign of him.

It felt like there weren’t any options for you, to make it right and somehow make it up to your parents, except..

‘‘ I’ll go after him ‘‘ you blurted out.

Your mother stared at you in shock, looking like she didn’t know what to say. Even your father reacted this time, you had looked at him directly while saying it and you saw how his shoulders tensed up ever so slightly at your words.

‘‘ I can find him. Please ‘‘ you begged to your mother.

‘‘ Honey? ‘‘ she looked hesitant to answer your question so soon, instead walking over to where your father was sitting with his back turned to you.

She laid a hand on his left shoulder and smiled down at him. Her slender fingers beginning to tap gently at a continuous pace when she didn’t get a response from him.

‘‘ Did you hear what she said? ‘‘ she asked, softly.

Several seconds of an uncomfortable silence passed.

‘‘ It was.. ‘‘ your father whispered.

It was so low that you and your mother looked at each other in confusion, seeing if the other had understood.

Many more seconds passed and just when you thought he wouldn’t speak again, 

‘‘ It was her fault! ‘‘ he screamed.

You and your mother both jumped. Then it got quiet again as you let his words sink in.

Your fault? He thinks it’s your fault...But how? You hadn’t done anything except for what you had been told to do by your father. You had never once dared to disobey him, talk back or get bad grades.

Your breathing got heavier, you stared at him as if your look would tell him to explain himself, but he of course couldn’t see you.

However, your mother did and she looked very sad upon seeing your reaction to your father’s hurtful words.

‘‘ I-I’m sorry ‘‘ the tears were close to spilling over now.

‘‘ Don’t apologise, y/n. I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that, we’re all stressed-’‘

‘‘-If she wasn’t such a bad older sister, then he’d never go missing in the first place ‘‘ he interrupted, not an ounce of sympathy in his voice.

‘‘ But, honey...’‘ your mother tried.

‘‘ You’re going, because you have to make it right. But I will come with you. You’re too weak to do it on your own. ‘‘

He stood up, his dominance being assertive, making you both know there was no more arguing with him - he had made up his mind.

‘‘ We leave now. I’m not letting you waste any more time, not when you could’ve killed him ‘‘ 

You nodded. There was no space for crying, and although his words stung and would for long after, you only had one thing on your mind - you were going to make father proud. You were going to find your little brother and bring him home.

*******

The walk to the forest was quiet, even well inside it. You didn’t feel too scared when he was by your side, and you were still close enough to see the house.

Instead, the focus was laid on trying to keep up with father’s quick and not very discreet footsteps - he was almost stomping with hate and bitterness, any time he moved, as to visibly show his emotions to you.

The supposed monster living inside this forest didn’t get thought about until your house was completely gone, covered by the trees. For some reason, the sun had started to go down, yet you remember leaving in the midday just after you went to school.

The panic hadn’t set in fully but you did look to your father to see if he had noticed. Clearly he didn’t want to offer you guidance or comfort; like he always did, he walked in front with his back turned.

But after a while, even he couldn’t ignore the quickly falling night. He went off the track by a few meters, underneath a big rock that was curved in a way so it could cover for potential rain. 

You followed, sitting down at a comfortable distance and relaxed against the rock wall. You had barely been able to keep up with the pace and were now very tired and thankful for the break.

‘‘ We’ll rest here tonight, then continue once the sun goes up ‘‘

You frowned and hesitated, leaving seconds of silence before answering.

‘‘ But...Shouldn’t one of us stay on watch? ‘‘

You father snorted, like you couldn’t have said any thing more ridiculous.

‘‘ Watch? What for? ‘‘ he spat, staring at you.

You weakened under his eyes.

‘‘ I just. Well, in case there really is something in the woods-’‘

His laugh made your voice waver, confidence decreasing quickly ‘’-an animal or, something ‘’ you continued and cleared you throat.

‘‘ Nonsense. Go to sleep child, unless you want to stay up of course? ‘‘ he raised his eyebrow and then cackled condescendingly. 

He gave one last look at you, making you feel even smaller - before laying down and turning on his side away from you.

You curled up; not feeling particularly sleepy in the moment, you instead just watched the forest as it was.

Although everyone was terribly afraid of it, most if not all would probably say it was beautiful, even from the outside. But on the inside it was even more so. The trees stood tall and proud, ever so slightly swaying with the wind, making them look like they were dancing.

The treetops were so high up that it looked like it was covering all of the sky, only letting in small beams of light through their top leaves. almost giving off enchanted vibes, the way the light bounced made the trees look even more alive.

You sat there admiring it for quite some time. Not sure how much time had passed, you got up when you finally got bored and started walking. 

You weren’t planning on going far of course but naturally, wanting to see even more beautiful things further away made you be lured away - not even noticing how far you’d went.

All of a sudden it was like you snapped out of a trance you didn’t know you had been in. And you looked back, relieved to still see your father in your line of sight. Still, you were a bit confused on how that had all happened. You just kept walking and walking.

Then you heard it. The weird eerie noise, but now it sounded clearer and more beautiful. You felt how your body went into that trance again, wanting to follow the voice, yet there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Silent tears that didn’t match your enchanted face, ran down your cheeks. Anyone who’d see you know would think you’re out of your mind.

The voice got closer and in the distance you thought you could see the outline of a man. He stood on top of a rock, watching you delightedly as you approached him.

It felt like you were floating above your body, watching it walk but not being able to control it. And you saw yourself walk all the way up to the man.

He looked even more beautiful up close. You had seen it from a distance, his shiny siren like eyes that seemed to catch the light perfectly. Up close you could see the details you had missed.

Long, messy but perfect hair. It looked like he didn’t need to do anything to look good, he just did, without any effort and probably hadn’t styled his hair or ever worn makeup in his life.

You felt a deep rooted jealousy come up to the surface. Same feeling you felt when you looked at the popular girls at school. They always reminded you that life was unfair, just like this man but maybe ten times more. Others beauty was barely comparable to the man in front of you.

‘‘ Perfect ‘’ you whispered.

It was too late before you realised you had voiced your thoughts while staring intrusively at him, a hand subconsciously reaching out to touch his face.

He laughed, a deep but clear and warm laugh that seemed to go right to your stomach.

You had never felt this way for someone before, and you had just met him, what was wrong with you? Were you really as superficial as everyone else? Or was there something...magical about him?

‘‘ Why are you here? ‘‘ was the next thing you said.

The longer you stood there looking at him, the more questions had started piling up, although your focus had first been on his appearance the questions were bound to overflow.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, like he was confused or perhaps toying with you. A smirk slowly formed on his perfect lips and you felt a bit uncomfortable, taking a step away.

‘‘ Well, I live here, y/n ‘‘ his smirk turned into a more taunting smile.

He had been waiting for this since forever. Not only the part of watching you fall apart as you become scared of the beautiful creature you had once trusted automatically, because humans are superficial and foolish - but also just you entering the forest. 

It would be worth it, all those years he had silently watched you, tried to beg you to come to him but you never heard him. He watched as you read fairytales, you loved those, and he would smile with pride as you always picked the siren as the most beautiful creature, opposite to your friends that would choose the prince.

What else was it if not destiny? 

The way he had randomly spotted you once reading a fairytale book while pacing back and forth in front of the forest, was nothing short of a love story in Beomgyu, the siren’s eyes.

He loved you from the moment he saw you and he knew you would do the same if he could get you inside the forest. It would prove to be a challenge. You were too mentally strong; he needed to weaken you, to make you paranoid, stressed and feel alienated - just like how his victims did naturally, without him even having to try.

But he didn’t care about those people. They were only fun for toying with. It had been a great pleasure to the siren to watch them look at him with awe before realising something was wrong, as well as watching them squirm in pain when he killed them mercilessly like the monster he was. But you, you were different, he had to have you, if he had to kill the whole town to get you, so be it.

While watching you, he realised you had a weakness - your little brother. He was a lot younger and an easy target for Beomgyu. The younger they are, the more they listen to the forest without their parents’ biased views invading their innocent minds.

Your little brother just wanted a friend. There had never been a more perfect opportunity to make you come to him. Why did your father have to come with though? Now he’d have to get rid of him in front of you, and risk you not seeing him as your picture perfect soulmate.

‘‘ H-how do you know my name? ‘‘ your voice snapped him back to his reality.

He was about to answer with how you were destined for each other, and how you’d live happily ever after with him, in this forest while he’d let your brother out safely as a compromise. But of course, someone had to ruin it again.

‘‘ Hey! What the fuck are you doing with my daughter? ‘‘ a male voice from behind roared in anger.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Things sometimes, to his dismay, don’t go according to his plan.

Your father ran up as quickly as he could and tugged your arm harshly, making you move behind him. He stepped back with the both of you, and in his hands he held a small broken off tree branch.

The siren laughed mockingly when he saw the pathetic weapon.

‘‘ You think that is going to stop, me? ‘‘

Horror made your stomach sink. How had you not realised it, all those fairytales and stories about the forest, all the disappearances; you should never have let your dad try to rationalise it or try to morph your theories into his.

‘‘ Father, we need to go ‘‘ you whimpered behind him.

Your father pushed you behind him further away, not caring about what you said but also refusing to let you act out on your own.

You felt frustrated, and more scared than you had ever felt.

‘‘ Who are you? ‘‘ your father barked at him.

Spit was flying everywhere, he had gotten closer to the siren who didn’t budge one bit. He still had that amused look on his face and that told you everything you needed to know. 

‘‘ Father, please! ‘‘ you cried out.

‘‘ We can leave now! And look for him ‘‘ 

Your pleas went ignored. From your point of view it looked almost like they were having a stare-off. Your father looked so angry, you knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d do something he’d regret.

So you got up to them and stood in the middle. Facing the siren, was your best bet.

‘‘ Please, don’t hurt him ‘‘ you begged.

There was no room for feeling embarrassed or pathetic - not when possibly one of the most dangerous creatures was in front of you.

His attention focused on you again. He smiled widely. Maybe in an attempt to charm you but with emotionless eyes that said move or I’ll make you.

‘‘ Get away from him y/n! ‘‘ your father shouted.

You backed away but still kept eye-contact with him to silently plead. He thought it was cute how much you were trying to get your way, you had even teared up to add to the theatrics - but unfortunately, he was the one that always got his way in the end, and so he wouldn’t back down even if it was for you.

‘‘ If you want to let your brother leave this forest alive, I have something I want in return ‘‘ he had a teasing glint in his eyes.

You just knew it wasn’t something good.

‘‘ You let me kill your dad ‘‘ he voiced as if it was a completely reasonable condition.

You gasped.

‘‘ No, no! You will let them both go, alive ‘‘

Your response seemed to make him impatient and annoyed.

‘‘ You have to choose either of them ‘‘ 

You shook your head and looked down, trying to go over any other conditions he might agree to.

Your father had frozen in his spot and didn’t even stop the evil man from approaching you; slowly but threateningly with an aura of dominance and confidence excluding from him. Like he knew there was nothing you could do but comply.

‘‘ Are you really that stupid? ‘‘ your head shot up to look at him as he snarled an insult at you ‘‘ To think that I would let you get out freely, out of my forest? ‘‘ he chuckled darkly but there was a hint of anger behind it.

He was so close, you could almost touch him but you felt so uncomfortable under his intense stare that you looked away.

‘‘ You have to choose one now ‘‘

The small remaining bits of your tough facade you had been holding on to finally broke down and the tears started streaming down.

‘‘ No ‘‘ you whimpered.

‘‘ Who will it be? ‘‘ he amused ‘‘ Your lovely brother, who isn’t much use at all and will probably amount to nothing in his life but at least you love him - or perhaps, the villain of the story, your dad that has only criticised and judged you all your life, never being happy with you, hm? ‘‘ he reached out for you, a soft hand turning your chin, forcing you to look at him.

The crazed look on his face told you that he was enjoying this, like he had talked so casually of killing someone it might just be a game. Still, you both knew his words had hit deeply. The tears had turned into choked sobs.

‘‘ I’m serious. If you don’t pick in the next five seconds, I’ll kill them both ‘‘ he leaned in to whisper in your ear ‘‘ and i’ll enjoy it ‘‘ 

Panic started to course through you.

‘‘ I-uh ‘‘ your fingers nervously picked at your hand as you realised you had no other option and you really had to pick between two lives.

‘‘ 2...’‘

You stared at him bewildered, how had you not even realised he had started counting? 

‘‘ 3...’‘

Your heartbeat was increasing rapidly, thumping against your chest and almost muffling all the outside sound.

‘‘ 4...’‘ he sighed deeply while looking at your distressed state.

‘‘ fi- ‘‘

‘‘-Father! ‘‘ you screamed.

There was a long silence. It felt like the forest, as well as the siren almost wanted you to bask in what you had just said. That you had really chosen to let someone in your family die instead of offering yourself; it was like a punch to the stomach.

You avoided both their gazes - one terrified and betrayed, the other satisfied and condescending. You still refused to look when you saw in the corner of your eye how Beomgyu turned away, towards your father.

Instead, you crouched down in the opposite direction, tears streaming down your face and hands covering your ears firmly.

Beomgyu however, had other plans. He wasn’t gonna let you off so easily. A foot nudged your back and you slowly turned a little bit as to not accidentally see your father’s dead body.

He crouched down to you, stroking your hair creepily which matched the almost psychotic look on his face. Your flinched as you saw small specks of blood on his cheeks, a shriek involuntarily leaving you.

His hand rested on top of your head as he looked right into your eyes. You felt yourself start to shake at the thought of him pulling away his hand and it being bloody.

He smiled down at you warmly - something you would’ve blindly believed was genuine if you hadn’t known him better.

‘‘ You have to watch ‘‘ he said furtively. 

‘‘ N-no, please ‘‘

The corners of his mouth quirked at your already messy mental state, further crumbling in front of him.

‘‘ It wasn’t a question ‘‘ his eyes narrowed.

Standing up, he easily was able to turn you around to face what looked like your father laying on the ground. Your eyebrows furrowed. He hadn’t fought back? When you come to think of it, he hadn’t even screamed - or was it, that he couldn’t?

From your spot you could still see that he had small cuts all over, matching the splatters of blood on Beomgyu’s face. Surprisingly, you weren’t crying anymore. You just wanted him to get it over with so you and your brother could get home safely.

The siren watched your face as you took in your father’s condition and he raised an eyebrow in amusement as well as utter surprise. This was not at all what he had expected. He grinned to himself before walking over to the person laying on the forest floor and crouched.

He had been waiting so long for this moment, and he cherished how your father was now struggling to breathe. Beomgyu could’ve killed him in seconds but he didn’t want to, horrible people deserve it long, slow and painful.

He looked to you, knife in his hand and something in you made you nod. He whispered good girl to you while smirking at your answer - then he plunged the knife deeply into your father’s left chest. Blood seeped out, crimson red quickly painting the forest’s moss below. 

You stood up. Your father didn’t have a pained expression, perhaps he had accepted his faith as soon as he walked into this forest. 

‘‘ Hey ‘‘ 

The siren turned his head and flashed an almost childish, excited grin to you.

‘‘ Finally ‘‘ he walked up to you and pulled you into his embrace. ‘‘ If you only knew how long I’ve been waiting ‘‘ you looked up at him with a puzzled expression. 

‘‘ For us to be together, forever of course ‘‘ he smirked when he felt your body stiffen.

‘‘ What? No, that was not the deal! ‘‘ you pushed his chest so he stumbled backwards a few steps.

‘‘ I said he gets to get out safely ‘‘ he answered ‘‘ But I never mentioned you, did I? ‘‘ you inhaled sharply.

‘‘ No...’‘ you whispered more to yourself than to him.

He suddenly snapped his fingers and out of nowhere your brother appeared. He didn’t look hurt or scared, something was...different about him. He didn’t even smile when he saw you.

But before you got to hug him or tell him everything was gonna be okay, he snapped his fingers again and he was gone.

‘‘ What did you do? ‘‘ you growled angrily. 

You were ready to fight him if he had hurt your brother.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes like you were merely an inconvenient child in his presence. 

‘‘ He’s fine. I teleported him to the edge, where your house is ‘‘

You let out a sigh of relief, but then your reality hit you again. Being stuck here for all eternity, with an evil, deadly beautiful siren that you wanted nothing do do with. All you wanted was to go home. To read your brother to bed; snuggling up together, watching his eyes get droopier and droopier before he finally gives in and falls against the cushions, fast asleep. You wanted to see the look on your mother’s face as you two arrived safely, perhaps she’d be quite relieved your father didn’t make it. And you wanted to tell your best friend all about how the theories about the forest were correct.

But you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but you had a feeling it was due to him wanting to keep you around to then just kill you cruelly. 

‘‘ Why do you want me to stay here? ‘‘ you voiced out loud.

You had to know. He simply scoffed.

‘‘ Because I love you ‘‘

‘‘ Love me? ‘‘ your voice was laced with venom. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

‘‘ You just met me ‘‘

‘‘ Not true ‘‘ he smiled. ‘‘ I’ve been watching you for years, y/n ‘‘ 

Goosebumps appeared all over your skin upon his confession. It all felt very surreal. Like a nightmare, only you didn’t know if it would ever end this time.

He stepped closer menacingly, his towering height adding to how terrifyingly beautiful he already looked.

‘‘ I have loved you for years ‘‘ he said, desperation and a hint of repressed anger underneath. 

‘‘ I called for you with my song, every night - but no response ‘‘ he clicked his tongue.

‘‘ But now, you’ve come to me ‘‘

‘‘ I’m gonna leave you, I-I’m gonna escape and-’‘

Beomgyu burst out laughing. ‘’ Escape? There’s no way for you to escape ‘’ he got even closer.

‘‘ My song - my voice reaches every corner, every crevice in this forest - it can tell you to do anything, or what not to do ‘‘

You felt and looked completely defeated inside. All hopes vanished at once, draining the will to live out with it. He forced you to look at him again, but this time he kissed you. A kissed filled with impatience, lust and a longing.

‘‘ You need to accept your faith, darling. We’ll be happy here together, the two of us ‘‘

#yandere kpop #yandere tomorrow x together #yandere txt #kpop yandere #kpopidol #kpop scenarios #yandere beomgyu #yandere stories #yandere series #beomgyu yandere #txt gbgb #goodboygonebadseries

[mostlydeadallday]

Hello :>

V. An abandoned or empty place.

I'd like to request Seer.

She's one of my favorites. I'd love to see what you do with her.

CW: mild self-harm

The blasting wind sliced through her ruff, splaying it open and inviting the chill in, flattening her antennae to her head, scouring her eyes until they burned. She tucked her tattered wings more firmly behind her, ensuring their edges did not catch the gale, though it exposed her brittle shell to the elements.

It was cold, in the dark, on top of the world.

She was ill-prepared, no cloak or headscarf, not so much as knitted gloves to keep her hands from stiffening. She did not often leave her home, now. There were no more mourners to comfort, no more rituals to oversee. Her duties to the living were over, and now her only task was to guard the dead in their graves, beneath the kingdom’s eternal twilight.

This should not take long. The dead would wait.

Tucking her satchel more firmly under her arm, she hobbled forward, fighting both the force of the wind and her own aching limbs. This would be the last time she was able to make this journey, perhaps. She should not be here at all, as every blinding pulse of the spell-stones along the path reminded her. This place was not hers. This was no-mans-land, the scorched earth between two battlefronts, decrepit and crumbling under the oppressive dark sky that would nevermore see its sun.

She could not quite bring herself to feel the grief she had once held so close. It seemed she felt little of anything now, only this slowly growing weight within her shell: the burden of age, of regret, of things she had never truly let go of, and knew she never would.

Her memories were falling away, though she knew that she should try to prevent it. That she should clutch them tight, no matter how much they hurt, pressing them close like a fistful of embers, keeping her pain alive, branding her regrets into her very shell. With the gray monotony of every long, wearing day in the silent graveyard, the vivid scars of the past were fading.

Perhaps that was why she was here. It was obedience as much as rebellion—reopening the wound, falling back into her old sins. She was not allowed to forget. She was not allowed to leave the pain behind.

The sting of grief dug beneath her shell like a claw, fresh again for an instant, as she passed below the first crowned stone arch. She had only the records of her ancestors to tell her what it had been like to worship here, in the light of the dawn; she had been born into a sunless age, after her people forsook one light for another, drawn away from the glaring brilliance of their own goddess towards the cold, remote glow of a new-forged reign. That she had not taken part in their betrayal was of no consequence; she had enabled another, when she and her peers whispered of what their forebears had abandoned.

And now she was the only one who remembered this, and remember she would. Memory was her crime, and memory was her penance, as none but her remained to endure it.

She reached the peak, panting, dizzy, and slumped to her knees, ducking her head, allowing herself a moment to breathe. The cliff yawned below her, with the distant glow of soul at her back, as motes of light shed from the seals danced upward between the gaping arches, vanishing into low, ragged clouds that blew ceaselessly past, never offering so much as a drop of rain to the cracked and empty stone.

She did not speak. She had no prayers to say. At the feet of her silent goddess, kneeling before the last remnant of the deity that had created and then destroyed her people, she brought her numb hands to her chest and buried them in her fur, grasping tighter until the roots of it ached, until she could begin to feel something like what she should, until the pain was sharp and real, not dull and worn down to nothing.

Against the deadening of time, she would remain. Against the pull of ages, she would remain. Against the wearing weight of duty, she would remain.

She would not rest.

It was forbidden.

It was this thought that brought her back from the cold, from the exhaustion that beckoned her. She shivered, leaned one shoulder against the statue beside her, and reached for her satchel.

What she had brought was not a proper offering. It was valuable, but crude, unrefined, no fine idol or handmade effigy. She had not the tools nor the skills to shape it, or the freedom to find someone who could. The hunk of pale metal was unreasonably heavy in her hands, glowing brightly enough that it cast shadows on her shell, with a burning-cold core that she felt even past the numbness in her fingers.

A god-touched thing for a forsaken place. A reminder that this had once been something more than a forgotten monument: a precious place, a place of meaning.

Perhaps whoever found it here would pause to wonder.

The seer stood, one hand braced against the carven stone, and took brief shelter in its winged shadow.

Then she put her back to the wind, bowing her shoulders as it snatched at the cover of her wings, and strode back toward the quiet comfort of her graves.

Read on AO3

#hollow knight #hk seer #hollow knight fanfic #mywriting #answeredasks #elletalks #ashyronfire #never written seer before #hope I did her justice! #I figured you might appreciate a bit of angst haha

[skyrim-forever]

The Dragonborn's Inferno

Hi everyone, Canto III is here! This one will take Martin Septim and the Dragonborn from the empty plane of the Void to the Twilight realm of Moonshadow.

Tagging: @greyborn2 @kookaburra1701 @lucien-lachance @throughtrialbyfire @abstractredd @alpha-centauriiae @akaviri-dovah @your-talos-is-problematic

Canto III: Moonshadow

The land of bountiful beauty My guide and I found ourselves in Stood in stark contrast to the realm we left

Perpetual evening, it was in that place,  The place of the Queen of the Night Sky.  Her loyal shades filled the City of Silver. 

My guide brought me through Directed me amongst the twilight Shades of two peoples were abundant here,

Many were the descendants of those Chimer. Those taught how to be different from the Altmer, And also the many forms of those she bound

Tied them forever to Masser and Secunda. The children of Nirni, those determined by their phases.  I saw their many forms

In the shades that had passed by The Emperor and I as we made our way. The Garden of Roses, we waded through

Their foliage beautiful as their petals blended together The beauty made me light-headed My liege, my liege who humbles himself

Brought me forth to the Palace of Roses Where the Rose Queen herself resided Above that palace flying high

I did see the Winged Twilight Ever in service to their lady Approach her grand throne we did, 

My Divine Guide and I.  She who had brought forth the Godkiller.  The Daedra of Dusk and Dawn spoke

“I shall speak to Akatosh’s chosen” She addressed my Emperor first “You, the son of the man who aided in my prophecy.

You who has been the subject of your own destiny.” The Lady of Twilight then turns to myself “And you, the one they call Dovahkiin, 

You, the prisoner, as they always are. Set to carry forth a Divine purpose.”

Azura carries on her message “Not unlike my sweet Nerevar,  Who as the Nerevarine brought forth my justice.”

I bowed my head to her in thanks “Oh Azura, by the Moon and Stars, What wisdom do you impart to me?”

By the will of Akatosh, she offered this. “You have been tasked with defeating a God. The first born of your creator.

To defeat him would be an act of Fratricide? Would it not be? To kill one’s own brother?” A dark pause fell over the realm of Twilight

“And despite this, you must still,  As I guided the severance of Godhood.” The Mother Soul spoke on to me. 

Thoughts of my destiny clouded me.  Though my journey would take me   To all corners of Oblivion

I would have been lost in naiveté,  If I had forgotten the foe,  The brother, I am destined to stand against. 

“Weep not for the one called Alduin,  For the World Eater has spent eternity lost to time. Go forth with Akatosh’s Avatar to find your creator.

Through his wisdom you will find answers,  In his light, no mine young Dovahkiin,  You will find your strength.”

The last Septim, in his greatness, Thanks the Daedric Prince,  The Twilight Star. 

The beauty of the realm overcame me,  My vision caved in around me Into the lush twilight I fell.

#skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes #tesblr #oblivion #Martin septim #dragonborn #dovahkiin #Dragonborn's inferno #the divine comedy parody #skyrim fanfic #tes fanfic #fanfic #fanficition #azura #Daedric princes #tes moonshadow #morrowind

[talesofthehollow]

Yup, we’re still kicking! Well, I’m nothing if not consistent, so here is my moodboard following the story thus far in A Song of Ash & Sky (as w/ last year and year before that). As always, thank you to @allgirlsareprincesses for keeping the Nimulot flame going w/ your riveting words! ❤

Volume 3 was a challenge, I confess... 💦 I got lost in the woods with this one, but sometimes you need that to find your way! 🤔 Notice how the latest slew of chapter heads display an interesting trend... 👀

Merry Xmas & Happy Holidays, everyone! ❤❤❤

#cursed #cursed netflix #nimue #lady of the lake #weeping monk #lancelot #nimue x weeping monk #nimue x lancelot #nimulot #born in the dawn/to pass in the twilight #with water/with fire #fic reccs #ASoA+S #edits #moodboard #claudie!screeches #I hope you like? #happy holidays ❄ #merry xmas 🎄

[johaerys-writes]

Chapter 8: could cry just thinking about you

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

(rating has been bumped from T to M)

In Patroclus' dream, Achilles' lips are violet. 

It's a deep, dark colour, like the sky right before dawn. It tints his skin and his eyes and his mouth purple. Achilles grins his feral grin, his teeth white behind amethyst lips, before he blends into that twilight, disappearing with the morning stars as soon as the sun goes up.

The dream has become something of a regular occurence. It's more of a passing image, a feeling, rather than a dream, misty and nebulous like Achilles' presence in it; it leaves Patroclus with an ache when he wakes up, a sharp longing for something he can't quite put into words. 

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. It’s almost noon, but that’s fine. It's Saturday, so he's earned the rights to his laziness. The house is quiet and feels empty; Peleus went to Athens for business a couple days ago, and Achilles must have gone to the gym or the basketball court with the others. Normally, he would pester Patroclus awake despite his protests —Achilles rarely sleeps past 7 or 8am— or lie in bed next to him, trying and failing to stay quiet and still, until Patroclus finally gives up on sleep and gets up.

It’s been a while since he's done that. Since Helen’s party, to be exact.

The errand thought squeezes his chest. Patroclus has tried —very carefully and meticulously— not to think of that night. He has failed consistently in that endeavour. He doesn’t know what to make of the lump in his throat when he brings it all to mind, or the flutter of his heart when he and Achilles touch, even by accident. He also doesn't know what to make of the way Achilles' gaze lingers on Patroclus' face sometimes, a tad longer than usual before it darts away. 

They've both been pretending nothing happened that night by the creek. Patroclus doesn’t think Achilles has forgotten what happened— neither of them was drunk enough for that. Which means that… perhaps Achilles has regretted ever doing it. Or —and that somehow hurts Patroclus more— it was never that big of a deal to him in the first place. It was a one-time thing, born of curiosity and perhaps encouraged by the alcohol, and now it's over. He's moved on.

The memory of it all burns. Patroclus can feel it deep in his throat. He shifts on the bed, inhaling sharply when his tented shorts rub against the sheets. He's used to waking up like this most days, hot and bothered and uncomfortably hard; most of the time, it goes away on its own if he ignores it long enough. Today, it doesn't. He's ignored it for too many mornings in a row, it seems. 

Reluctantly, he reaches down, past the layers of fabric, to take himself in hand. Despite the sudden spike of pleasure at the contact, though, the promise of release, he’s still tense; he can’t relax into it. His mind is wont to wander these days, and he doesn’t want to let it. 

He thinks instead of the magazines Podalerius brought to school the other day, the ones he fished out of his older brother's sock drawer. Their pages were full of women, naked or very close to that. Patroclus latches onto those images, the nameless faces, the bleached blond tresses and the lacy black lingerie. Pleasure comes in drowsy waves. He moves swiftly and purposefully, he doesn’t need much; he can already feel himself getting close. 

But, just as he’s about to reach that hasty peak, the foggy images are violently thrust aside by other, crisper ones: Achilles’ hair in the moonlight, his form outlined by stars. His collarbone, golden with a sheen of sweat above the thin white fabric of his tank top. His lips on Patroclus’ lips, his hands wrapped tight around his wrists. The taste of his tongue, the sharp heat of that kiss like vodka poured straight from the freezer. And Patroclus is helpless under the onslaught— the more he tries to brush the memories aside, the more insistently they bully their way to the forefront of his mind. 

That was better, Achilles whispers in his mind, their mouths almost touching, wasn’t it?

“Hey Pat, guess what—!”

The door is thrust open and a grinning Achilles walks in. In a panic, Patroclus grabs his blanket and pulls it over himself. 

“Jesus, can you fucking knock?!”

Achilles freezes at the threshold. He’s staring at him, eyes curious and wide. Even if he didn’t see anything… incriminating, Patroclus’ chest that rises and falls swiftly with his panting breaths and his flushed face are evidence enough. 

“What?” he asks, hoping that his madly beating heart doesn’t show in the tremor of his voice. When Achilles’ gaze drifts lower, where Patroclus is clutching the blanket, he clears his throat and tries to sit up, careful not to let the fabric touch his lap. “What do you want?” 

“Um—” Achilles blinks, his cheeks brightening. He glances away, up at the ceiling. “Father’s coming back earlier today. He’s on his way now. He called to say he’s bringing gelato from that store we like—choc mint and pistachio, our favourites.” 

“Right.” Patroclus still feels breathless, his pulse thumping madly in his throat. Did Achilles actually see anything? Does he know? God, and all those things Patroclus was thinking while— “Fine. I’ll be right down.” 

Achilles doesn’t move. He glances back at him, their gazes meeting for a brief, electric moment. Patroclus’ heart lurches.  

“Anything else?” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Uh… no…”

“Then get out maybe?” 

Achilles gives him a hurt look before turning away. The door clicks shut behind him, and Patroclus is overwhelmed with guilt for essentially kicking him out, and shame that he was there in the first place. He can’t believe he’ll have to face him again in a few minutes.

He lies back down on the bed, burying his face in his hands. This day is a disaster, and it’s not even noon yet.   

And somehow, somehow, this trainwreck of a morning hasn’t been enough to kill his hard-on yet.

“Oh, fuck me,” Patroclus mutters, rolling on his stomach with a groan. 

Read the rest on AO3!

#patrochilles #the song of achilles #achilles #patroclus #tsoa #hades game #the iliad #homer's iliad #achilles and patroclus #achilles/patroclus #achilles x patroclus #johaerys writes

[tunas-universe]

Idk Megalopolis HCs because uh, autism 👍

- Before the Necrozma incident (possibly 500 years prior to the present day), the area they live in was considered incredibly prosperous and the population was split by factions. Each current member of the URS descends from one of these factions. Phyco (possibly Soliera too bc of the father-daughter HC I have with them) particularly descended from the faction (Dawn Faction?) that was using Necrozma’s power to improve the living conditions of their world.

- These factions might literally be called the Dawn, Twilight, and Dusk Factions bc day and night cycles

- Megalopians evolved to have larger ears, insane hearing, better vision, and possible echolocation abilities due to living in the dark for so long, basically they kinda became like bats without the flying and hanging upside down thing

- URS was established by Phyco along with a few others in attempts to give their society a second chance at Ultra Beast studies, but at first, they were mostly restricted to matters within their own dimension

- Asexuality is common since their way of reproduction is literally when two people love each other very much a silly egg like alien spawns out of thin air and raises hell for them until they “hatch”, like boom child bestowed upon thee, but some individuals are sex favorable so uh

- There are Megalopians that live underground, and get much less light than the ones in the city, so they’re a darker purple, have two pupils to see better, and have fluently learned echolocation

- They are bioluminescent in certain lighting conditions, more specifically at a certain time at night. Every Megalopian has a range of a few different markings, and they usually glow the same color as their pupils

- The spots on the egg babies usually are the same color as their fathers markings, however in rare conditions for straight couples and commonly for lesbian couples, their mother can influence the spots. For gay couples, it’s usually dependant on who has more vibrant markings.

- Their ears can hear up to 300-65,000 Hz, they have extremely sensitive hearing

- As for their eyes, they can see very well in the dark, and can see up to 2,000 feet away

- Some can have sharp teeth, however, that’s mainly a recessive gene usually inherited from the mother, they all have retractable canines though

- In extremely rare cases, a Megalopian can be born a pure white color or even a light green

- Underground Megalopians double pupils allow them to see more in the dark

- They exhibit slight psychic abilities, such as sensing/reading auras, twins having telepathic communication in close proximity, minor clairvoyance, and heightened 6th sense

- Their customs are generally a bit more formal, at least among adults, children and teens just kinda do their thing and be chaotic.

- Also the lack of light generally causes them to be less energetic in general, and their night hours start around 6pm and their mornings start around 7am. They need more sleep :)

- They have a longer lifespan!!! Also due to weird multiversal timey shenanigans, the Alola cast could be aged up like maybe +30 years and these four bitches would come back looking maybe like five years have passed

#ultra recon squad #tbh might do one focused on the members too #i wanna highlight dynamics

[cruelprincae]

All I am saying is "born in the dawn to pass in the twilight" is such a Fae thing to say, and so eery.

#( 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 ┊ out of character ) #( NON RP BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. ) #( it shows just how much of nature based fae as a people are #( cardan just casually quoting it

[selfilluminatingkyu]

Of Blood and Thorns pt. 1

Fae Crown Prince!Dabi x AFAB!Reader 

Summary: Long before you were born, your village made a deal with the Fae, a deal you never quite understood. For as long as you can remember, you’d been told the story of Parade of Maidens. Once a century, ten girls between the ages of 20-30 were selected for the parade to presented before the Fae’s current Crown Prince. Of those ten, one lucky young woman was hand picked by the prince himself and she’d spend the rest of her life in Fae. However, upon the current Crown Prince’s first selection ceremony, things began to change. ...and somehow you’re at the center of this mystery. 

Story Warnings: Death (not any many characters’); Alluding to servitude; graphic depiction of sex; Swearing; Fighting; Misogyny (briefly)

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of Death; Servitude (although Reader asserts that’s her role, Dabi does not actually assert it); Swearing (I think); no sexy time in this chapter. 

Word Count: 7,636...and to think this was supposed to be a one shot. Whoops.  

A/N: I got the inspiration for this from @lua.mene’s (on Insta). She drew a picture of Dabi as a fairy/dragon and my brain went...imma need some smut featuring that. So...here were are...kind of.  

As long as you could remember, there had always been an agreement between human kind and the Fae of the northern banks. Since you were old enough to understand the words, the elders of your town had told the story of the parade of maidens that had been going on since the dawn of time it seemed. 

Once a century, the Fae court would require that a dozen young girls between the ages of 20-30 be sent to meadow of wildflowers prior to dusk, on the day of the new moon in spring. There, during the twilight hour, when the sun was just kissing the horizon, the current crowned prince would choose a faire maiden. It was known that, while this was a blessing to the girl, and an agreement of protection for the town, the girls never came back, and their lives tended to end shortly thereafter being chosen. 

However, since you had been born, it had been different. The current crowned prince had chosen no maiden in several years,leading to hushed voices and rumors swirling…along with fear that the Fae would retaliate due to their prince’s displeasure with the girls brought before him. But as it stood, no such damnation had befallen your town, and all remained as it was. 

When you’d turned 20, you’d sighed in relief when you hadn’t been chosen, and the years following the weight of getting closer and closer to aging out had placed both a weight and anxiety on your heart, while simultaneously giving you hope that you could live your life with a man of your choosing. Maybe, even move away from here and live in a place that did not have such horrid traditions.  

However, that hope died the moment your parents passed. Left alone, you were an easy choice to make. Should you be picked, no one would miss you and, in truth, you could meet your parents again. You remember how your heart had sunk as you heard those words and your best friend, Andrea, had cried out in agony as she’d heard the elders call your name and give their reasoning. You were just so beautiful, they had said. Your father, being so high on the council as he was had always bent the rules for you, others had sneered. 

It wasn’t your fault; you had thought to reason. You had never asked your father to do as such, normally lots were drawn by the fathers of the girls of selection age, and he’d never been grabbed a number between 1 and 12. How was it that suddenly he’d bent the rules? There were no rules to bend. 

So here you stood, just days before the new moon, with guards posted outside of your home so as to make sure you wouldn’t run. Despite assuring them that you’d been resigned to your fate, the guards were posted outside of all of the 12 girls’ homes. You were to be no different. 

 “This is outrageous! They can’t just pick you because your parents are gone! Who do they think they are? Why is no one saying anything about this?” Andrea screeched for the hundredth time since she’d arrived. You knew she meant well, but the argument was moot at this point. As far as you were concerned, short a miracle, your fate was sealed, and you had been chosen.  

“Just because I’ve been selected for the parade doesn’t mean that I will be chosen Andrea, you know this as well as I do.” And she did, as her father had drawn a lot when you both had only been 20. You’d cried for days after she’d been selected and pleaded with her to run away with you. You’d protect each other, knew how to survive off the land and would make your way south to where her mother had been born and raised. 

That had not happened though, and you’d sorrowfully watched your friend be marched away with several other girls you knew and wept for as well…only for all of them to come back and for the town to start to worry. It was only the second time since the agreement had been enacted that no one had been selected, and the first under the new crowned prince’s reign. Whispers had floated like crazy through the town on why it had happened. 

Was it because this was the youngest group to have gone before a crown prince? Was there someone in particular that had disgusted the prince and made him displeased with all of them? No one knew and the Fae were fickle on a good day. So the town waited with bated breath, and when a century for the Northern Court came and gave the King’s proclamation that another parade would be held next year and that no fault was found on the town, the town relaxed…slightly. 

As you thought about that day, you missed the way in which Andrea chewed anxiously on her fingers, as if she knew something. As if she knew, what you’d said was not the case. 

“He wasn’t what I had expected.” She muttered unexpectedly, pulling you from looking out the window and at the stars.  

“How do you mean?” 

“We couldn’t see his face or anything like that, but his magic was palpable…like, it was trying to find something to grab on to or something akin to itself. It was a rather odd feeling. And…” Andrea paused, biting at her finger again and looking at you anxiously, almost as if scared of what her words would do. 

“And what Drea?” You pressed, cocking your head to the side thoughtfully, completely unaware of your friend’s internal struggle. 

“And…he stayed in front of me for quite some time…as if what he wanted was near but not me. You know…with my father doing so much work with the Northern Court…we speak some Fae…he said he could smell her on me…I never really understood what that meant but after High Councilmen Alder’s comment about your father bending the rules I…. I wonder if he smelt you on me.” You rushed out. 

You blinked several times at her, mentally chewing over what she had said before laughing. You’re not entirely sure what possessed you to laugh, but you did. Laughed to the point your stomach hurt and you were crying. 

“Oh Andrea! Maybe that’s why he didn’t pick you…because you smelled of me and reeked.” You huffed out between laughs, enough of scoff and huff from your friend. 

“I’m being serious here.”

“As am I! The Fae are very proud and peculiar people. We are all aware of that, you more than others. Was your father not back and demanded he change and shower because of the fact that he had your mother’s smell on him before?” You asked and Andrea giggled, remembering how her father had had to evade ever hug and kiss thereafter from her mother. 

“Yes…I guess you are right. I just worry.” She said as she grasped your hands in hers. “I don’t want to lose you too. The only reason I could bare the loss of my mother was because of you. I do not know what I would do if I lost you both in the same year.” 

“Nor I you. If I have my way, you will not lose me, and I will not lose you.” You said pulling her into a tight hug. You stood like that for a moment before you pinched her shoulder. “Besides, I have to be there to witness your wedding to Duke Alder do I not?” 

Blushing as she was, Andrea swatted you and you sufficiently steered the conversation away from the morbid happenings on the now. You would not allow your friend to wallow in the maybe of it all. You both had lost so much in such a short period of time, but you did not wish for her to think of something that could happen. 

It was a “could” that could wait until it potentially ripened into a would. 

 You knew as soon as you woke up that morning to the knocking on your door that something was different in the air. There was a prickling on your skin that left you feeling anxious in a way you could not explain. It was not the jitters of potentially being picked. 

This was an anxiety that was deep in your bones…like they knew you were going somewhere you would not be leaving. It was not a feeling that, despite all of the talks you gave yourself through the day, as you were washed and oiled, you could not shake. You could not shake it as your hair was dried and you were dressed. 

Nor could you shake it as you directed the women helping you to do things differently than how they usually did. The wives of the men of the High Council always performed the rights prior to the parade. Usually it was done with the mother and sisters of the chosen as well. But seeing as how you had none, and Andrea was not allowed to come near you as she was still considered to be “fertile” you were left to get ready without what little support you had left in the world. 

High Councilmen Alder’s wife, Lillian, looked at you questioningly as you told her no lilac. It was customary for all of the girls to be sprayed with a fragrance of lilac but you’d always hated the smell and the thought of putting it on, outside of your usual displeasure of the smell, made your stomach turn and you skin crawl. It lit a fire in your belly so powerful, you were absolute in your declaration that you would not wear the lilac. 

“But it is-”

“No.” You single utterance had left no room for question and instead you grabbed the perfume you always wore. The woman you and your mother had painstakingly made together. There was nearly a maniac desire to place it on your skin, as though you were missing a piece of yourself without it. 

Like a present without a bow really.  

Dressed in the white silk and lace, head adorned with the wildflowers that were budding and blooming in the field, you were given a final look over before being deemed ready. As the first girl in the parade, you were to be the first ready and the first to lead the way. Something about it made you scoff, as if you could feel in your soul that the other girls were unnecessary. 

Never before had you felt such a whirlwind of emotions: calm, anxious, pretentious, nervous, shy, and unbefitting. Something about the last one gave you pause as you mulled it over in your mind. 

Why would you be unbefitting? And what did it matter anyway? There was a high probability that you would not be chosen, you reasoned to yourself. But the moment the thought came through you head, you had to fight to urge to physically scoff. 

It left you feeling as though you were on uneven footing. 

“Today marks the day of the parade. This year, we offer up our most precious blessings in hopes of appeasing the Crown Prince and the Fae Court. In hopes that they will offer their blessings onto one of our young women and to us by extension. We thank the High Court for all that they do for us, and as thanks give this small token of appreciation.” High Councilman Alder spoke before the crowd, and you blankly wondered when everyone had gathered in the square before the council building. 

So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that the final, potential, moments of your life here were dwindling. So lost were you, that you nearly missed seeing Andrea in the crowd, tears streaming down her face as her father held her up and looked as though he were barely keeping it together himself. You met the eyes of several people in the crowd, people you had known your whole life, and the mourning was clear as day on their face. 

It was evident that these people were nearly certain that you would not be coming back, and they were remembering you like this. 

Looking back at Andrea and her father, you threw them a smile and mouthed at her that you would see her later for super. You put out into the universe that you would be back, that you would see your friend again. You’d watch her get married, watch her start her own family and be there to help her raise her kids and have families together. 

You willed the universe to bend to your authority as you heard Councilman Alder announce the beginning of the procession to the meadow. The universe had already taken so much from you, you would not allow it to take this as well. 

With one final look you turned your eyes forward, meeting the eyes of one of the men who’d decided your fate and leveled him with a glare. You would not go to this meadow meek and whimpering like so many of the other girls. No, if this was to be your final time in this town, you would meet your death head on. 

Beginning the walk, you repeated in your head that this was not a death sentence. Even if you were chosen you were not certain that those girls who had gone before you had died and, even if they had, who was to say that it was not due to old age or natural causes? Whether this was merely a fallacy in your head to help you keep your cool or the truth you didn’t nor, and truthfully you didn’t actually care either. It was currently, despite your icy and prideful exterior, the only thing keeping you from crumbling and bolting from where you were. 

There was also the fact that all of the girls behind you were much younger, some of them just barely having turned 20. You would do what was necessarily to show a resolute and composed state to keep them from freaking out anymore than they already were. You knew without having to look behind you at their faces, their eyes, that they were having the same internal battle you were, and you’d been lucky enough to have a few more years under your belt. 

No, you would not cower in fear and tuck your tail and run, if only for the sole reason of being a guiding mast in this storm for these girls. You owed them that much. 

As you walked through the forest, growing closer and closer to the meadow, you noticed the small flickers of light here and there and swore you heard whispers and giggles in the wind. You’d heard from other girls how those among the higher ranks of the Fae Court sometimes came to watch the parade, eyeing the girls and whispering to them of what could be, as to sway some away even if they weren’t chose. They normally didn’t succeed in their games and trifling’s, but every once in a while a girl would go missing shortly thereafter, or so your mother and your grandmother had said in the past. You understood why. Their voices were melodic and calming, soothing to the soul and the mind. Why wouldn’t someone want that all the time? 

By the time you were focused again on the here and now, you had reached your destination and were being ushered into a row. Some distance off you could see mist forming on the edges of the meadow. You knew that the Northern Faery Court had several openings into their realm, and one happened to be located near here, but you’d never known exactly. The warnings you’d received as a child had always been the same “don’t stay in the meadow near dusk or dawn, when the sun kisses the horizon and the door between the realms opens…you may never be able to come back through again.” 

Now, as the hour reached twilight and the haze of light brushed everything in bronze, you wanted as a group of Fae seemed to appear on the mist and made their way slowly to your group. Both the councilmen and guards leading you all bowed their heads and saluted the faeries that had just appeared. 

There were ten of them in total, at least five of which you assumed to be guards for the crowned prince as several of them had some form of weaponry on them. Who exactly they thought they would need to battle was beyond you, but then again you weren’t exactly knowledgeable in the happenings of the Fae realm and all that it took to get here. 

You knew that there were several different courts amongst the Fae, that the Northern Court was the seat of power amongst the Fae and that the current King was considered both the most powerful and gruesome of them all, and that the current Crowned Prince was his favorite and would take over the throne once he decided to relinquish his seat…or was killed. The Northern Court also happened to be the most…refined of all of the courts. As such its capital was amongst the most populous of them all. Knowing all of this, you’d always wondered why. Why would they have struck up a deal with your town of all places. Your town was quite remote from the major cities of your country. And while it wasn’t necessarily small…it certainly wasn’t a bustling metropolis like so many other places. 

“___.” Your name was coughed by the councilmen directly in front of you, and you blinked having not realized that introductions were beginning. 

 Blinking your eyes again and looking before you, you realized that all eyes of the Fae party were on you, particularly those of what you could only assume were the Crowned Prince’s. Although you could not see him or his eyes particularly well, you could tell from the way in which the hood of his cloak was pointed at you. There was also the fact that his advisor next to him was also looking directly at you. 

 “My apologies your Highness. I beseech you to forgive my impudence. I was merely running through my knowledge of the Fae realm while we awaited your approach. I must’ve lost myself.” You speak softly, curtsying to the ground and keeping your eyes and body lowered until you are given permission to rise, as well as a pardon for your faux pas. 

 “And what knowledge would that be precisely?” You don’t have to look up to know that this has come from the cloaked crown prince, and yet it takes every ounce of your self-control not to rise and look up at the man who now stands directly in front of you. 

 You are momentarily startled by his voice and the depth of it…and the depth of the effect it has on you. Your heart is set racing and your skin ablaze. The prickling feeling that had momentarily subsided when you’d stepped into the woods is back and much worse than before. But there is also a warmth of something that dances on your skin and around your being that you cannot describe but inherently know is his magic at play. Testing you, learning you, pushing and pulling you in a way that is both new…and yet…feels as though you’ve done it a thousand times over. As if you are welcoming an old friend again. 

 “That the Northern Fae Court is the head of all of the Fae Courts. That amongst all of the Fae, those who hail from the Northern Court as regarded as the most refined and knowledgeable of all of the Fae kinds. Nowhere else can you such advances in technology, history, languages, art, and so much more than in the Northern Court.” You speak, trying not to allow the exertion from maintaining your position to bleed into your speech. 

 It seems to have worked because suddenly a gloved finger is being set up your chin and you are being lifted out of your curtsy to meet the cloaked eyes of the crowned prince. You can vaguely make out the cerulean shade but much else is undetectable. 

 “Go on, you quite amuse you. But I detect some question behind your statement, am I wrong?” There is a wicked lit to his voice and you wonder if he’s playing to see how obedient you are…or wondering just how curious you can be. 

 You hesitate for a moment, searching what little you can see of his eyes for some sort of clue before sighing and answering honestly. “For a society so far beyond that of mankind…I cannot help but be puzzled as to why they would sully themselves with women from such a lowly town. Surely there are far more culture and cultivated places to pick from that would be far more befitting and worthy of a royal’s time.” 

 If a pin could have dropped in that meadow…Andrea would’ve heard it back in town. It was clear from the moment the words left your mouth that neither side had actually anticipated that you would take the bait for which the crown prince had laid before you. But it was done and over with and at this point…all you could truly do was beg for forgiveness should you truly had plundered about. 

 You didn’t feel as if you had though. In fact, from the mirth growing in his eyes, you believed that you’d peaked the prince’s interest…very much so. And that proven true when he laughed, heartily, startling the faery behind him. The man who’d crept up without making so much as a sound was breath taking. He had hair the color of spun gold and eyes the color of fire. His skin looked as though it was dusted with melted bronze and moonlight all at once. All over him were an intricate design of feather and ivy like markings that seemed to move and sway with the wind. They were mesmerizing and you had to peel your eyes away before you got yourself into more trouble. 

 “My lord.” The man uttered before the prince was raising his hand, and you noticed belated what looked to be like patchwork marks across the back of his hand, the nails and tips of his fingers black. You wondered if his nails grew into talon like razors as some had said was possible.

 “It’s a question I’ve posed myself for several years. How can I justify condemning this woman for asking something I already have? I’m amused that she would be so blunt and forth coming with her curiosity…and inadequacy. Would you not agree Hawks?” The man behind the prince prickled and if the feathers on his body had been real, you thought they probably would have ruffled at the rhetorical question. 

 “That is not what I take issue with. What I take issue with is the pressing matter of time. We are on a schedule my lord. You would do well to remember that.” The man named Hawks grumbled, looking pointedly at the prince before meeting your eyes as if to convey the urgency to you as well. 

 The prince sighed and waved his hand again before looking back at you and then down the line of the eleven other girls. He scoffed and sneered at them and made another gesture with his hand before turning to you again. The coy and mirth like smile becoming present again. 

 “You, I feel, shall make a most interesting companion. ___ was it? I have long waited for your arrival before me. Come. It’s time to leave now.” The prince said, before grabbing your hand and pulling your forward into his body. The heat that radiated off of him was enough to make a sheen of sweat bloom on your skin. So much so, you nearly missed the heat that radiated from your cheeks at the intimate contact between you and an otherwise stranger. 

 “My lord!” Hawks cried out in indignation. “That is not how-”

 “I’m well aware of the way in which this is supposed to go. But after years of displeasing women being presented before me, you will have to excuse my lack of decorum. I have waited decades for this moment Hawks…do not forget your place for the sake of pleasantries.” As his sentence came to its conclusion, you felt the rumbling in his chest. Felt the wave of energy and malice that came from him as he concluded his sentence, and this selection. 

 With muddled clarity, you watched as the people you knew your whole life bowed and were left just as confused as you were as the prince all but dragged up back towards the mist in which the Fae party had arrived in. The man named Hawks was still behind, clearly dealing with the, what should have been, ending and finality of the selection process but that the prince had disregarded in his haste. 

 A haste that you were still confused about.  

 You were wholly unprepared for what awaited you when you walked into the realm of the Fae. Nothing you’d learned had prepared you for the world in which you now were expected to call your home. 

 You quickly learned that the reason that prince had shown up with heavily armed guards was not because they were anticipating attack from the humans. No, it was because of the beasts in which they had to deal with upon their return to Fae. Beasts that you had never even seen before nor heard of. But what had been true in the human realm seemed to be true in Fae as well. What is brightly colored is usually nature’s way of telling you to beware. 

 That fact seemed to hold true for almost ever brightly colored creature, folia, and fauna you passed by. The words muttered over and over by Hawks, who you’d come to learn was not only the prince’s advisor, but also the liaison between Fae and humans, but also his right-hand man. He had not been the High Court’s first choice for the crown prince, but you were quickly learning that the prince did as he pleased…and that was part of the reason why the King adored him so. 

 It had taken three days to get back the prince’s palace from the door in the meadow and again, you had to wonder why your town was chosen. It made no sense to you when Hawks began telling you that the prince frequently made trips to the human world through a door that was within his palace to one of the major cities in your country. And as if that weren’t enough to make you question, there was a door that led directly to the capitol of your country in the High Court. This knowledge left you even more confused and curious than you had previously been. 

 That curiosity, however, had taken a serious demotion amongst you list of things. The more pressing issues at hand happened to be as follows. 

 One; why the crown prince had chosen you. Aside from his initial attentiveness, especially that during your journey, you’d seen little of the prince. Since your arrival to his private home, you’d seen him a handful of times and most of those had been by happenstance alone. 

 Two; you still have not learned the prince’s name. No one even whispered his name around you and when you’d heard some of the staff whispering, they were quick to clam up as soon your presence became even relatively known. 

 Three; you were still unaware of what he looked like. The times in which you’d seen him by chance had been short and fleeting, and some way, somehow, while you remembered the encounter…you never remembered his appearance. It was as though someone had applied a filter to him that made him appear distorted and fuzzy. It left you more irritated and confused than worried that his appearance was appalling and that was why he went to such great lengths to keep himself hidden from you. 

 In all, you’d been here a total of, what you assumed, was a month. Not that you could really be sure because time here moved differently than it did in the human world. You could not tell if time was moving faster or slower but regardless of which way it fell, you were becoming increasingly restless. Nothing of what you’d been told was holding true, and none of the reasons as to why you’d been selected were panning out. 

 You knew that the women were selected to be pleasure companions for the princes. You knew exactly what that entailed, you had no qualms about it. You were all merely playthings to amuse the royal faes for a short period of time during there ever lasting lives. You would never hold a high station nor have the ability to become queen. Of course not, that was a title reserved for another faery being. 

 However, despite all of this knowledge…you were simply feeling more like a caged bird without a purpose than anything else. You were free to roam the expansive property till your hearts content. But you were to never go into the prince’s wing unless summoned…and that seemed to be an occurrence you’d never see at this rate. Still you wandered aimlessly, treading as closely as possible to the imaginary line before either willingly making you way in another direction…or being “forcefully” guided by a member of the staff…or Hawks should he suddenly appear like he usually did. 

 “Maybe he derives pleasure from my apparent boredom.” You mumbled to yourself, looking out the window in the library. You’d taken to this particularly vast room amongst all of the places in the estate. No one seemed to venture in here frequently and it was hardly ever that you saw Hawks when you chose to seclude yourself amongst the thousands of books. Books of all kinds were in here. Your favorites, ones that were quickly becoming part of that elite list, ones you’d never heard of before, many that were in languages you couldn’t speak but knew of, and some in languages you didn’t even know existed. 

 “I wouldn’t go that far.” His voice startled you so violently that you were abruptly jarred from your perch on the windowsill. You’d always had an affinity for climbing up the places you knew you shouldn’t, and it had cost you a few broken bones when you were younger. You thought, or maybe hoped, that by this point in life you would have outgrown that particular blunder. 

 Clearly not though, as you began to fall from the rather high height. Bracing yourself for the impact, you sucked in a breath, anticipating the blow to your body, but it never came. 

 Instead, you landed in the arms of the prince, who’d caught you with much more grace and dignity than you were currently displaying. In his effort to catch you though, and in your effort to protect yourself as best as possible, your combined actions had resulted in the hood of his cloak to slip from its perch upon his head. 

 Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate though. Because the horns sticking from a head of hair white as snow were clearly what truly had been keeping the hood in place, hiding away a face that was covered in the same scaring as his hands were. Not only that, but peculiar piercings that you’d never seen upon a person’s face before. And those eyes…you’d been right. Cerulean was a vain attempt to describe them. They looked like the color of the waters you read about in faraway places, such a brilliant color you were nearly as transfixed by them as you were the marking on his face. 

 So transfixed you were, that without thought you reached a hand out to touch his face. It didn’t occur to you then that he may have been hiding his face a way for a reason because all you could think of in that moment was how you’d been robbed of being able to gaze upon this beauty, different even as it was. Before your hand could come with in a breathes distance from his face, he was snatching it away and unceremoniously dropping you onto the ground. 

 He sneered at you, looking at you with disgust, as if your hand was some filthy thing and how dare you assume you could touch him in such a way. The nerve. It was a look that send icy through your veins and anguish through your heart. You did not understand why his look was having such a visceral reaction upon you. But it was and it was one of the most displeasing things you’d ever endured. 

 “I’m sorry. You startled me and then after you so graciously saved me from hurting myself…” You trailed off, lowering your head and fiddling with your fingers, trying to find the words to say to appease him. You had no fear that he would hurt you, he’d never given you a reason to. But you did, for some unbeknownst reason, feared that he would draw away from you more; would keep away from you longer and look at you again with that disgusted sneer. “I apologize your highness. Your beauty captivated me, and I acted without thought. Please forgive my lack of propriety. I meant no offense.” 

 Even as you finished, there was a pregnant pause and heaviness in the air. You so badly wanted to look up at him and to see what was going on in his eyes. Was he still displeased with you? Was his neutral? Was he, as you hoped, placated by your admission of finding him beautiful and pondering that maybe he’d also acted irrationally. 

 “Your manners never cease to amaze me, despite your seeming recurrent lapses in judgment.” He mused before placing his fingers beneath your chin in the same manner he had when you’d first met him. 

 When your eyes locked, you briefly wondered if you were going to have another lapse in judgment as he’d so perfectly put it. It was scary, the way in which you sense of self seemed to bleed away when you looked at him; when you close to him it all seemed to fade away. You wanted to be the best version of yourself and the most authentic version of you. And that version seemed to forget her station in life and the fact that she was here as an offering of submission and thanks. 

 Not an equal. Not a partner. 

“Truly…you don’t find my face offensive?” 

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite actually.” At this he laughed, the sound melodic and sweet your ears. You decided then that you would do everything in your power to hear that sound once a day if not more. 

“___ you are truly a gift.” The mirth in his eyes and smug expression on his face should have had you nervous, instead all it did was light a fire in your lower stomach, making you antsy. “Where were you years ago when I made my first selection? Oh, it would have been splendid to have met you then instead of now. The looks on those girls faces…it was as if they were seeing a monster.” 

“They clearly lack imagination on what a monster truly is. You remind me of the faery we used to hear about in the story of the sleeping princess. All of the girls used to talk about how wicked she seemed…but I always thought she was beautiful.” You rambled on and he listened, intently so, an amused smirk ever present on his lips. 

“Maleficent was it not? I remind you of her?” He questioned and you nodded, desperately wanting to run your hands along the horns protruding from his head.

As you looked at them more closely, you realized the comparison wasn’t entirely fare fetched. In the stories you’d been told, when Maleficent took her dragon form, her body was black and purple and green. His horns, while white predominantly, seemed to shift in color depending on the way his head turned, and they caught the light. One moment they were white with purple iridescent running through it; the next, it looked almost obsidian with green. How that could be peaked both your curiosity and your wonder. The Fae truly had and endless number of mysteries. 

The Crown Prince looked at you idly, something in his eyes that you could not immediately decipher before he hummed and turned from you, running his fingers along the spines of the books closest to you both, looking at them apathetically. Without the cloak blocking your view, you took in the man before you. He wasn’t nearly as tall as you’d thought, but you had to wonder if that was because he was actually standing flat footed on the ground. You’d heard many times how some faeries tended to hover above the ground to exert more dominance over humans (not that you thought it was necessary given the degree of fear human already felt for them.) His shoulders were broad, and you could tell his back was muscular in a lithe way. He oozed an aura of superiority and strength that while you’d always felt it, seemed to become much more evident as soon as the proverbial mask fell. 

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and you could see the same patchwork markings that you’d seen on his face and hands all on his arms and chest. You wondered what had happened to him. Had he been born this way or had some tragic accident happened to make him as such? His skin seemed to mirror his horns; the parts of his flesh that appeared unmarred were nearly white, with purple iridescent flecks running through them, while the skin that had clear suffered some trauma was nearly black with green when the sun caught it right. The site of it broke your heart while simultaneously created a near uncontrollable urge to touch him. You wondered if his skin felt like dragon scale like his horns would. Smooth but rough, soft but impenetrable. 

“Do I disgust you so much that I’ve stricken you mute?” You blinked, eyes snapping up to him instantly. There was no malice in his words, which shocked you greatly, but there was a distinguishable sadness to his eyes though his face looked as though it had been cut from marble; cold and indifferent. 

Before you could stop yourself, you found your lips moving and uttering a truth you would have liked to keep hidden. A card in your deck you’d have liked to play later when you were surer of what he was holding. 

“How could I be disgusted of something I find so beautiful? I find myself exercising every ounce of willpower to keep from touching you Your Highness…and yet, I still question whether I will win the battle I war amongst myself.” You said breathlessly, before slapping your palm over your mouth, eyes wide as you stare at the cerulean eyed man before you. 

You both seem befuddled by what you’ve just said; you because you can’t believe you’ve just told a man you barely know and could kill you with the flick of his wrist, should he so decide, that you find him beautiful. Him…you have no idea why he seems displaced by your words. Surely the man has heard from numerous people, men, women, and those a part and in-between, that they also find him beautiful. You highly doubt that there is a shortage of beings that find him as breathtaking as you do. 

“I don’t take kindly to those who joke at my expense.” He is quiet in his answer but there is a wrath building in him that has your skin prickling and you blood running cold. You cannot help but blink as you watch the man before you become so enraged by your answer that your heart breaks for him; bleeds for him because his rage so unabashedly candid, you know without a doubt that he has been mocked and ridiculed for this. 

“I would never make a joke about this. Do I look to you as if I am seeking to make a mockery of your appearance for my own amusement? Why would I, an insignificant, powerless, and weak human dare to make such a comment about the crown prince of Fae? I am not suicidal Your Highness. Nor am I a liar.” 

These words seem to give him pause and quell the bubbling storm within him, if only momentarily. As you watch him, he seems to go through a whole host of emotions, trying to decipher whether or not you speak the truth…or if you’re lying more to save your own skin. Sighing, you stick your hand out, pulling up the sleeve of the gauzy dress and exposing your wrist. 

“Feel my pulse and check my soul and heart if it would appease you. I am not lying, but I am also yours to do with as you please. I will not question you if, despite finding that I am telling the truth, you decide to dispose of me regardless. I knew my fate when I was selected for the parade.”

It’s bold of you, truly, to just kiss the cusp of commanding the crown prince of Fae to read your heart and soul, but it’s a boldness you must take in an effort to show him that you are not like those who have taunted him previously. That your loyalty lies with him and him alone. Why would you lie? Why would you mock him? Who had treated him so poorly that he would see such sincerity as a fallacy? 

 You gasp softly when you feel his nail scratch over your pulse point before the searing warmth of his fingers caresses the thin skin of your wrist. His hold on you is gentle, as if he’s afraid he’ll hurt you unintentionally and you calm a little, knowing that he must believe you to some degree to be handling you with such care. You can tell the moment he begins to read you as there is a spike in the aura around you, the air around you seeming to pulse and prickle with the new current of magic within these walls. You feel it in the deepest depth of you as well. 

You’d had this happen once before, and so you brace for the repulsive feeling that had made you nearly vomit in the past. 

You’d been with Andrea and her father, and he’d been doing business with a high-ranking Fae Lord of the Western Court. He’d brought his eldest son with him, giving him experience to the family trade, when he’d suddenly accused you of being immodest. You’d been dumbfounded to say the least. You hadn’t even spoken two words to the young lord and suddenly you were being accused of trying to seduce him. You, despite knowing that you could certainly die, had stood your ground, and argued against the young lord, defending yourself and your modesty. Having heard whispers of faeries being able to read the truths of human by reading their beings, you’d done just as you’d done now. However, when the Fae Lord had done as your crown prince was doing now, you’d nearly vomited and fainted from the perverse feeling of his magic touching your soul. Afterwards, when Andrea and her father had gotten you back home, you’d been sick in bed for nearly a week after the fact, having nightmares and horrific fevers till the magic was purged from your body. 

So, as you braced yourself for the feeling to wash over you again, you could not help but shiver and shake when no such feeling came over you. Instead, a feeling of warmth so invading came over you, you felt a sheen of sweat to begin to take over your skin, and a tantalizing tingle to begin in your gut. If you panted out while this was all happening, you weren’t aware of it and your crown prince made no mention of it. As quickly as it came, it went. The weight of his fingers being removed from your wrist and your eyes snapped open, heat rushing to your cheeks as you stared at him. 

Before you could even catch his eye, his back was turning to you, and he was beginning to leave the library. Disoriented by what had just happened, you didn’t notice Hawks standing at the door, eyeing both of you curiously. A Cheshire grin, slowly morphing his features as his leaned against the door frame. 

“You are right human; you were not lying. However, do not mistake my kindness towards you as anything more than a higher being feeling pity for that of a lower life form. You are alive simply because you amuse me. There is nothing more to it. Do not forget your place.” The curtness to his voice left you wilting, especially after what you had just felt. 

“Yes your Highness.” You spoke softly, dropping your head and curtseying as was protocol, staying that way until the door to the library slammed. 

 You lifted yourself back up, looking at the door longingly. Wondering how in a single moment you could take five steps forward only to take ten steps back. 

#Of Blood and Thorns #Dabi Fic #Fae Dabi #Fae Dabi x Reader #Dabi x Reader Fic #Dabi Smut #Fic Rec #touya todoroki #dabi fanfic