#the cruel garden of dark delights

[vetteltea]

Mick Schumacher and The Sound of Snow Crunching [no warnings]

Day 8 of the Vetteltea Advent Calendar

The Schumacher ranch was never on your list of potential places you would be staying in the build-up to Christmas. 

Originally, your best friend had insisted on you coming, if only for a few days. However, nature had a cruel way of adjusting plans; a freakish snowstorm had suspended all travel out of the area; with the weather not expected to calm until days after the big day, it was almost certain you would be spending an impromptu Christmas day with Gina. Her mother had been all-too excited, reminding you that you had always been part of the family, either way.

And then…there was Mick. 

You were no stranger to your best friend’s younger brother; when you were five and he was three, he had shyly offered you a flower, stolen from his mother’s garden in a sweet attempt of showing you his affection. Gina had immediately shouted at her brother to leave you alone, you were her friend, after all. 

His undying crush never ceased; even after you moved away for school and he was engrossed into karting, he lived for the days you would attend one of Gina’s competitions, accompanying her to see Mick driving across all different global locations. Had it been a coincidence that his first points scored had been whilst you were in attendance? He wasn’t sure, he just knew it was an outright joy for you to be there. 

He adored having you around, secretly punching the air with his fist when Corinna had insisted you stay for the big day, promising they would do their utmost to get you back to your own family as soon as possible. 

Mick hadn’t had a moment to speak to you without Gina or his parents present, not until right now. It was late, the only reason he had left his bed was to let Angie outside after her persistent whining. The youngest Schumacher was only dressed in his joggers and a soft t-shirt, pulling on his boots as he reached the french doors to the porch. 

He suspended for a moment, entranced by two things. The first was the snow; it had become heavier, the weather report had been correct when it had been insistent there would be a White Christmas. Standing in the snow, body dipped in the automatic lights from the porch, was you. 

You were only dressed in your pajamas, head tilted to watch the delicate snowflakes fall from the dark sky. You must have been freezing, though clearly the temperature wasn't affecting your trance onto the weather. Mick could have stood there forever, simply watching as the girl he had adored since he was a toddler stood looking ethereal. 

Angie however, had other plans. The crunch of the blanket of snow underneath paws drawed you from your moment, head snapping to see the puppy bound through the snow, letting out a delighted bark upon seeing another friend outside. You can’t help but laugh, the furry bundle jumping up, clearly delighted in the weather. 

A second pair of footsteps are echoing around your ears, turning your attention away from Angie and seeing the blonde-haired boy step through the ankle-deep snow to stand by your side, his companion only continuing to burrow through the soft snow. 

“You must be freezing.” Mick comments, his gaze fixed on you whilst your own watches Angie, leaping through the snow. 

“I am…” You trail off, foot lifting, the snow falling off your shoe. “But I haven’t seen snow like this in so long…I wanted to experience it.” You realize how incredibly sad that must sound, but Mick shakes his head, lifting one arm to rest around your shoulder and pull you closer. He’s taller than you now, not the acne-prone teenager you had watched on a Go-Karting track. Broad, warm, and so incredibly handsome. 

“I get it. You still don’t get much snow, do you?” He remembers the conversation you had at dinner the previous night, how his mother wanted to know every detail of your new life, how it must have changed so much from when you were a young girl in pigtails. You had shaken your head in response, looking up to Mick’s features, now impossibly close to yours. 

“No. We don’t get…much of…” You trail off, attention lost as Mick’s lips draw closer to yours. He may have been Gina’s brother, but at that moment, he is so much more, and right now? His lips drawing and brushing against yours in the snow is all you can think about. Instinctively, your arms wrap around his torso, the arm which had rested around your shoulder only pulling you closer, bodies pushed closer to one another. 

When he pulls away, his lips stay millimeters away, hot breath fanning over your skin as he giggles, he giggles. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

#Mick Schumacher #MS47 #Mick Schumacher x Reader #Mick Schumacher Imagine #Mick Schumacher One Shot #Mick Schumacher x You #Reader Insert #F1 #Formula 1 #F1 x Reader #Mick Schumacher Blurb #Mick Schumacher x Y/N

[rowanrabbit]

There was once a beautiful princess who was engaged to a prince from a faraway land. The match was arranged from their birth, and the princess’s whole young life was spent preparing for the marriage. But when she finally met the prince, only a week before their wedding, she found him intolerably arrogant and cruel.

“I would rather marry the devil,” she said to herself, and that night, a devil appeared at her bedroom window.

He swept into the room on a gust of air and stood there as tall as the ceiling, a great big beast with long sharp claws and teeth, wide leathery wings and a tail that whipped back and forth with feral excitement. He fell to his knees on the floor before her, and took her little hands in his.

“I’ve come to steal you away,” he said.

“To where?” demanded the princess.

He scooped her up in his enormous arms. “To my castle,” he said with his fangs at her ear.

He took her to the open window and launched back into the night, catching the air with his powerful wings and carrying the princess away.

They flew through the night for many miles, until they came to a beautiful palace carved from soft white stone, its spiraling towers gleaming with moonlight against the dark mountains. They went in through a tall tower window and landed in a bedroom decorated with dark wood and soft white silks. The devil laid the princess down on a soft bed, where she fell asleep.

The next morning she woke up alone in the beautiful room, and waited for the devil to come to her, which he did before long.

“How did you know that I wanted you last night?” she asked.

“The devil always comes when he is called,” he replied. “I’ve brought you here to make you my bride, lovely one. Will you accept?”

“I will accept,” said the princess, “but only if you court me according to the customs of my people.”

“Tell me what I must do,” said the devil.

“On the first night,” said the princess, “you must bring me a beautiful jewel.”

“It will be done,” said the devil, but just then, there came the sounds of a commotion outside. They went to the window and saw an army of a hundred men at the castle gates, led by the cruel and arrogant prince.

“He’s come to take you back,” said the devil.

“Don’t let him,” said the princess.

“Yes, my lady,” said the devil. He spread his wide wings and flew down from the tower window to meet the men at the gates. All day long, the princess watched through the window as they did battle. The human men were no match for the devil’s terrible claws and teeth. By sunset he had driven them all away. The princess was glad, but she saw that he’d had no time to collect any jewels for her.

“Where is my jewel?” she asked coyly, when the devil returned to her room.

“Here it is, beautiful one,” said the devil. In his hands was a perfect round orange that he’d plucked from a tree in the garden, with a dark green leaf still attached. He peeled it open in his great claws to reveal the segments of soft flesh, faceted and sparkling like gems. The princess was delighted, and she allowed the devil to feed her the soft sweet slices.

He returned to her the next morning, ready for his second task.

“What next, my lady?” he asked.

“On this second night,” said the princess, “you must serenade me with a beautiful song.”

“It will be done,” said the devil, but just then, there was another great commotion at the castle gates. They went to the window and saw that the prince had returned with an army of a thousand men.

“So many this time…” said the princess.

“I won’t let them take you,” the devil said to her. He leapt out the bedroom window and flew down to face the army of men. All day long, the princess sat at the window and watched the ferocious battle taking place. This time the devil summoned mighty winds full of dust and hale, and jets of fire that shot up out of the earth, and he cut through through shields and armor with fiery swords. By the end of the day, he had driven the army away yet again. The princess was very impressed, but she knew he’d had no time to tune his instruments or practice his songs.

“Where are your instruments?” she asked, when the devil returned to her room.

“Let me take you to them,” he said, and gathered her up in his arms. He leapt out of the window with her—a thing the princess was somehow getting used to—and they flew away from the castle, to a hidden gorge tucked between two mountains, where a little winding brook burbled through a meadow of soft grass spotted with trees.

The devil set the princess down on her feet in the grass.

“I see nothing,” she said.

“You must listen,” said the devil.

She listened, and she noticed that the chuckling babble of the brook was almost like a soft little song, and the crickets hidden in the grass all around were rubbing their legs together like bows on strings, like a tiny little orchestra. And when the wind blew, it whooshed deeply through the walls of the gorge, rustling the leaves of the trees, and every so often an owl hooted too. It was as lovely as music, and they stood together listening for most of the night, until the devil carried her back to the bedroom so she could sleep.

He returned to her the next morning. “What must I do next?” he said.

“This is the final night of our courting,” she said, "and you must prepare a grand feast.”

“It will be done,” said the devil. But they both listened for the telltale sounds of swords and marching feet, and heard them, and going to the window they saw that the prince had arrived at the gates once again, leading an army of ten thousand men.

“Let them take me back,” said the princess, looking over the vast army. "You'll be hurt."

“Don’t be afraid,” said the devil, “for I cannot be felled by mortal men.” He went out through the window and flew to meet the oncoming army. And as he flew he grew, twenty feet tall, fifty feet, one hundred, one thousand feet tall, until he landed on the battlefield with a thunderous crash, towering over the terrified army. Many men turned and fled right then. But the arrogant prince would not be dissuaded, and he led the remaining men against the beast. Their swords and arrows were practically useless, their horses were wild with terror, and their morale drained away like sand through a sieve.

The battle finally ended in the evening. The prince had limped away in secret, defeated for the final time. Many men lay dead, while those still living scattered into the mountains. The devil slowly returned to his original size, lying down in the dirt among the dead, unharmed but exhausted from his great transformation. The princess left the palace and went to him, and took his large clawed hand in hers.

“Forgive me, lovely one,” he said, “for I have prepared no feast for you.”

“No?” asked the princess, looking around. Hundreds of ravens had descended upon the battlefield, already tearing into the fresh corpses, and wolves and lions were emerging from the woods to join them. “I think the feast is already under way,” said the princess, “and the guests are enjoying it very much.”

The devil laughed wickedly at that. “I think you might be a bit of a devil yourself,” he said. They were married on the next evening, and they are still living happily to this day.

#short story #fairy tale #exophilia #stolen bride #demon x human #demon boyfriend #monster boyfriend

[spicy-pears]

In your series did we bond with johnny or do we stay scared of him forever?

𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐 𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚. 𝑰 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚-𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒅, 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚. 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒂 𝒈𝒐!

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓲 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂

𝔀.𝓬: 1.3k

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒙𝒕: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒋𝒐𝒉𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚'𝒔 𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉. 𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒅𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕.

Drayton/cook: We should've never let him keep that girl! We can barely get a handle on him!  

Nancy: What are you on about now? 

Drayton/cook: he can't control that girl! She's a wild thing! She threatened me! 

Johnny: -snorts- 

Drayton/cook: are you laughing at me boy!? Because of you we have strangers wandering about the properties! 

Drayton/cook: I told you to leave them darn girls alone! It's always some girl sending us down the cropper! 

Johnny: I said I'll fix it. 

As the days passed you learned each family member's unique gait. Sissy's steps were soft yet silent, the old cook just shuffled about, and Johnny's displayed his strength with each hard stride. You kept an ear out for even the slightest sound of a shuffle, preparing to face off with the old man again.

You taunted his poor old soul, with snake's blood saying it was for your fraudulent dark craft. That soon he'd be sending the devil your best regards if he didn't leave you be. even though you grew up in New Orleans, the heart of dark practices. You knew nothing about those things, you were a harmless church girl at heart, who was raised to memorize and live by every scripture. Fortunately, the old annoying coot didn't know that much about you. You wanted him to stop twisting your ear with useless judgments, and if the fear of a hex got that you would happily play the part.  

The signature of Johnny's confident footsteps made you sit upright on his bed. Waiting like an obedient lap dog, your hands hastily went to work hiding the small snake under the pillow behind you. Suddenly the door frame would creak lightly as he leaned his weight against it, his arms folded across his chest.

He wore his smug grin while his eyes admired you, "I heard I caught myself a voodoo queen?". You would evade his eye contact, as the cobwebs on the windowsill became more captivating than his mocking. He would chuckle at your seemingly meek behavior, "Come on, let's get you some fresh air.”.  

His words made joy radiate from your eyes, as you followed his every step closely. Then the realization struck you, you haven't left the room during the day for the past 3 weeks under Johnny's care. As the search for you trickled all the way down to the small town of newt, you were sparingly allowed to venture outside during the night. But he gave you this rare treat, probably to avoid more bickering with the cook.

Curiously you examined all the morbid bones that hung on the walls, you wondered how many were human and how many were indeed from an animal carcass. You were used to cruel decor like this, as it was displayed often in the back alleys of New Orleans.

The familiarity still didn't help calm your frightened nerves. Especially with the knowledge of the household's preferred "tastes." Johnny would finally open the garden door for you, granting you momentary freedom under the sun. 

Overwhelmed by the sunlight you were once accustomed to Your hands blocked the light, as your eyes slowly focused on the sun. But once they did, the clear summer sky was such a beauty, causing you to be overcome with childish joy.  

Johnny would take in your adorable, delighted smile. Putting his hand on the small of your back guiding you along to his daily tasks. He took you through a field behind Nancy's property, where the grass began to grow tall and dry out in a yellow hue under the punishing sun.

As you continued to tread through the tall field, the crying crows caught your full attention as they circled around in the sky. Instantly you knew that what you were being led to was no longer living.

Before you could ask Johnny any questions, the strong smell of lingering copper and the undeniable stench of death forced your hand to quickly cover your nose and mouth. Hot tears began to collect on your bottom lashes, instinctively you kept your back to Johnny.

Knowing very well, whatever he began to drag through the grass was heavy and was no animal. The unfortunate man began to gurgle through his blood, fighting for a single breath of air. “Oh? I like it when they’re still awake!” johnny would begin to eerily laugh, making your blood run cold. 

"You know death is natural, right? You'd have to get used to this at some point." He spoke with a mocking yet patient tone, his voice showing no weakness or strain against the weight of moving his struggling victim. You took a deep breath having no stomach to argue about such a morbid topic. While you walked back to the ranch, still avoiding the gruesome sight, Johnny painted the grass dark red with the man's blood.

You began to realize he was right. There was no taming or changing a man like Johnny. His nature was clear as day, accepting that would become part of your survival. Once you were finally back, you sat on the Poarch within Johnny’s watchful view. While he hooked the body up in the barn, meant for butchering. With the poor soul's mangled body out of your sight, you could finally go back to admiring the sky as best as you could. Giving a silent prayer for the poor man, unlucky enough to find himself on the property.  

"Is skinning a rabbit too much for you, too kitten?" Johnny would sit on the Poarch with a few rabbits tied together to be skinned and gutted. To his surprise, you raised your brow and took his taunt as a challenge. You held your hand out to receive his knife keeping your cunning expression, and Johnny obliged, handing over his knife. He crossed his arms again as he leaned back in his chair, maliciously trying to apply watchful pressure on you.

Unfazed by his antics you took the blade and slid it under the soft skin of the rabbit's pelt, and swiftly began to skin it halfway. Taken a back Johnny would reclaim the blade and the rabbit while wearing a proud grin. He took his fingers under the rabbit's pelt where you left the delicate cut around the neck, and with one smooth jerk, he peeled the pelt clean off. 

"I was going to be able to skin it." You wore an impressed smirk, feeling bested by him underneath it all. He would reclaim his seat, giving the remaining two rabbits the same treatment. "If I wanted a killer, I would've picked one of my kind in town." His alluring gaze peered up at you while he was busy at his trained craft.

His words made you realize that people like him were abundant. You weren't a choice out of random convenience or desperation. Like a rabbit you held all the innocence and grace, he was never allowed to keep before. With enough edge and Witt to keep him entertained.

While this felt flattering for a moment, it was equally unfortunate. If only a similar girl crossed his path before you did. You wouldn't be spending your days tied to his headboard, viewing your favorite things he collected from afar. Reminiscing about the freedom you had that made those things so special to you. All the stolen opportunities, played as fantasies in your head every night. You would've been married by now, enjoying your career, and starting a family by your own choice.

As you were left pondering, he assumed you were stuck deep in a daydream. Your gaze wandered catching a glimpse of johnny taking his blood-soaked shirt off. While he was wiping his hands clean with it, he felt your eyes staring at him like a thirsty whore. 

"You best stop looking at me like that" his deep eyes dripped with inconspicuous lust, as he offered his shirt for you to clean the blood off your hands. You'd let out a short laugh to yourself, this man who'd go from bar to bar chasing your tail like a hungry wolf. couldn't even meet the minimum requirements of being shy.

Now demanded you to take your eyes off of him after making a purposeful display for you. Foolishly, you took the rare moment to taunt him back for once, "What? Are you shy?".

-𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒊 𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑬𝒏𝒅-

#johnny slaughter x oc #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #slasher x reader #texas chainsaw game

[poisonousquinzel]

Batman: Urban Legends (2021 - ) #1

Hi, am thinking about Harley and Ivy gardening and setting up Ivy's greenhouse together because they should be allowed to embrace each other's passions and build each other up and help with the other's plans 💖💖 instead of it being an unnecessary sexist and ooc hurdle

(cough @ P*ul D*ni & Br*ce T*mm cough hahahahhahahhahah)

Cause really, Harley would love doing anything with Ivy and would 1000% count gardening with her as dates. It's daily dates! 💞🥺

She loves everything about her enchanting, plant obsessed lady. Ivy sees cool moss and is like !! Moss!! ❤️❤️ And Harley matches her enthusiasm not cause she loves moss but because she loves Ivy. And Ivy being happy and excited about something inherently is gonna make Harley happy because she loves it when her partners are thriving.

If she can help in that, she jumps at the chance. She may mess up and get distracted, but she loves and listens and notes what little things makes them tick because they're special to her.

Harley Quinn: Make 'em Laugh (2020-) #2 "Housewarming"

Like this!!! More of this!! She knew that the Bonsai tree was something Ivy would want to save if she went there and she knew it was something that would be in better hands in the care of Ivy anyway. And then in the end, even though she wasn't able to obtain the tree because of the guard robot, her snake swallowed a couple of rare seeds and hacked them up on Ivy's floor. A bit gross, sure, but Ivy's delighted!

"These--These are gargantua seeds! Some of the rarest in the world! Stolen from their rightful homes centuries ago, and all but extinct! Genuine man-eating trees! This is better than anything I could have dreamed of! Thank you!"

Lots of exclamation points when you write out the dialogue but skdjsksks like they're just so 💖💞💖💞💖 special to me

Omg and the "My Harls" 💞💞💞

And the loveliest "Garden" trope of them all for Harlivy, the Paradise/Eden/Utopia 💖🤌 my Fucking Beloved,,,, I've posted the bits here 💖 but like these ones ?!?

Batman (2016) #97

"She built this paradise for me in a cave system under the park, after a rough time with Mr. J... I wasn't ready to let go of him then, but he'd poisoned me....

This was kinda sorta my rehab clinic. That's why I wanted to bring you here."

"Ivy's usual rules are No Clothes In Eden, but I don't think you and I have that kind of relationship.

And if any of these plants have her residual personality, they'd probably try harder to eat you.

This is where I used to go with her to get my brain in order. To a point, anyways..."

Like the months they probably spent together throughout the years in Eden, their own secret safe haven, a place that Ivy would take her when she needed to get away from it all. And the way she says "if any of these plants have her residual personality, they'd probably try harder to eat you."

the plants probably reacted to Ivy's emotions whenever they were there before, there together. Just the two of them, nude, vulnerable and completely and utterly alone besides the other, far far beneath the world above.

Just the idea of casual vines, grass and ferns brushing lovingly against Harley's legs and arms as they walk together, a perfectly bloomed flower and it's stem wrapping around her bicep.

The two of them spending each night together in the bud of a rose Ivy grew, entrained and intertwined for warmth and comfort. The two of them gently washing each other's backs in the river, skinny-dipping in the dark and getting lost in the feeling of each other's skin against their own.

Ivy creating this perfect escape for them where they didn't have to worry about anything, money, food, cruel and vindictive ex's.

"Trying to cut my throat open was one thing, but then you come to burn down the only place I still like in this stupid city?" Batman (2016) #98 And if Harley ever did get too cold, if they happened to venture down in the colder months, the No Clothes Rules could always be fudged to mean no Human World clothes. She could craft her clothes just like she makes her own outfits.

But, really, they both enjoy the freedom and intimacy that comes from being fully exposed and naked around each other, the inherent vulnerability and trust.

And Harley always feels okay and loved in her presence, never feels like she needs to cover up her body, because Ivy has and would never make jokes about her body (she's not him.)

And Ivy's affection and sometimes shy nature when it comes to that direct deceleration is always evened out by the connected plants easy nature to show exactly how she's feeling. Like,, If she feels nervous about holding Harley's hand, well she better get on it because those pretty ferns that look purple and blue in the right light will not stop wrapping around her and tickling Harley's palms.

Even in the night, they'll wake up curled together, most of the time in the spooning position, but Harley always has a little visitor or two attempting to warm her alongside Ivy. It makes Ivy flush every time as she wills them away, but Harley loves it and she treasures the fact that Ivy trusts her so much, and loves her so deeply that her connection to the plant life around them is tuned in to the sheer overwhelming emotion she feels towards and about Harley every time she lays eyes on her silly little clown.

Harley wouldn't mention it, but she'd know. She is trained to notice those things 💞

Like, y'all, I am totally a-okay sobs hysterically

#harley quinn #harleen quinzel #poison ivy #pamela isley #harlivy #dc comics #they make me FERAL #EMOTIONAL #DISTRAUGHT AT THE PURE AND UNHINGED ROMANCE OF IT ALL #the way that comic harlivy could easily be one of the best love stories ever told if someone would just get the rights #and write out their story from beginning to end so people wouldn't get so damned confused about it cause really #its fucking 💞💕💖💕💖💕💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💖💕💕💖💕💖💕💞💕💖💕💖 perfection #the growth and overcoming trauma?!? the reluctant friends to Best Friends for Years to Lovers #the ups and downs but in the end always coming back and growing stronger and healthier because of their bond #and their want and desire to be with one another #👌💖👌👌💖👌💖👌👌💖👌💖👌👌💖👌💖 #that's some good shit right there #mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah #like its actually such a great love story about a couple of traumatized sapphic women overcoming and growing and healing and i just #i love them so much and i feel like they get reduced so easily to just such a simple and tbf boring arc #that just doesn't capture the lengths and bounds that they've gone through together. #and i think a lot of people that're only getting into them / finding out about them through the Animated HQ show #are really only getting the like last 20% of their pre established arc and then get into the comics and are confused or put off #because they're more than just a quick friends to lovers arc. #the friends arc lasted so long for them and it had so much development and growth in it #like in BTAS alone it was at least 7 years for Harley. and that's just them being friends. #there's a lot of trauma on both sides and the healing process isn't just a nice simple one #that gets patched up because Harley's ex is now running for Mayor. (no i haven't fucking forgiven them 🔪🔪🔪🔪) #tw abuse mention #♢ meta & analysis ♢

[dawneternal]

Take the World in Your Hands | Eris x Elain | One

Summary: Eris's brothers catch wind of his proposal to Nesta. They plan to find and deliver her to their father as a gift, surely winning his favor. Their plan takes a turn when they kidnap the wrong Archeron sister and Eris finds her in the Autumn Court dungeon.

all aboard the crack ship???

do I agree with the ethics of sleeping with your brother's mate? Not personally. Did I trigger my own morality OCD by writing this? Maybe a little. Was it worth it? Who knows.

Warnings: blood, wounds, eventual smut. 18+

Ao3 link / Masterlist

There was nowhere to go.

Elain turned around in a circle, one hand clutched to her chest as if it would calm her heartbeat. But the panic kept rising, numbing her fingers, freezing her feet to the ground.

The image had come into her mind not five minutes ago, the urgency with which it unfurled immediately set her heartbeat racing. Three flames danced toward her, traveling through the dark. There was something brutish and wicked about them. They were tracking her. She didn't know how, but she could feel it. They knew exactly where she was.

She had stood from her spot in the garden, thoughts whirling as she tried to figure out what to do. There was no one here. She was completely alone at the River House. She reached out in her mind to see if anyone would hear, but she felt nothing. No one.

Notging should be able to winnow to the River House, right? She had heard Feyre say so before? Perhaps she should go inside then, maybe search for a weapon. If only she could get her body to respond and move.

Time ran out. Three huge redheaded men appeared before her, grinning like wolves. The scent of decaying leaves and crisp air clung to them, stinging Elain's nose.

Even if she could have cleared her mind to make a decision, there was no time. One of them lunged and grabbed her, another pressing a cloth to her face as she struggled. She felt the familiar tug of winnowing, and then the entire world disappeared.

Footsteps echoed through the hall.

Elain pulled her knees up to her chest as they grew louder. She tucked her head into her folded arms and shivered. The brutes who had kidnapped her had returned several times to jeer at her, throwing bits of moldy bread as if she were a caged animal they wanted to rile. Every taunt held a promise of what was to come, their delight growing as the color drained from Elain's face. Apparently, she was to be a gift to the High Lord.

These footsteps were not as heavy as theirs had been, but the idea of a new bully was almost worse than those three returning. Perhaps it was the High Lord coming to claim his prize. The iron gate of her cell rattled as someone placed a hand on it and heaved a deep sigh.

"Did they hurt you?" A smooth voice met Elain's ears, but she did not look up.

Another sigh, and then, "You're the High Lady's other sister, yes?"

Elain lifts her head at this, brows furrowed. The face before her was similar to her captors. The same copper hair, cunning amber eyes, and smattering of freckles. But the curve of this man's jaw and the sweep of his cheekbones conveyed an elegance the others had not possessed. There was something delicate and cruel about his beauty, whereas the others had been simple brutes through and through.

Elain only stared at him, filling her red-rimmed eyes with as much ferocity as she could muster. She thought of her sister's steely silver gaze and attempted to channel it into her own. The man held her gaze and studied her, his expression unchanging.

"I'll return in a few hours," He said, when it became clear she was not going to speak, "I'll need to come up with some sort of diversion. If anyone comes to see you, do not tell them I was here."

Then he was gone, those echoing footsteps disappearing back down the dark stone hall. As the metal door shut behind him with a clang, she finally placed him.

It was Eris, the one who had danced with Nesta in the Court of Nightmares. His demeanor and dark clothing fit in well with the stone city, but his shimmering hair and flaming eyes were the brightest thing there. Too bright to belong. It had stuck in her memory.

So it was the Vanserra brothers who had kidnapped her. They had been the flames in the dark. Was it a cruel trick for Eris to visit and pretend to care?

Elain curled up on the cold floor, wrapping her arms around herself, and waited.

Elain heard nothing to indicate that Eris had returned. She was jolted from her sleep by metal rattling against the gate.

She jumped to her feet, barely making out the figure before her in the dim light. Eris was cursing under his breath, clutching his side.

"Take it," he snapped, thrusting his hand through the bars, "Hurry. I can't do it."

Elain stumbled forward and reached for it, shuddering as she found his dripping hand. He pressed a key into her palm, slick with blood.

Fingers cold and trembling, she stuck her hand through the bars and found the keyhole. A chorus of shouting began in the distance.

"Hurry," Eris hissed, followed by a grunt of pain. The blood made the key slippery and it took her a moment to get it to turn.

"I'm trying," Elain sobbed as the rabble became louder. Closer. The key clicked and turned.

As soon as the door had swung open wide enough for his arm to reach through, he grabbed her wrist and pulled.

And then they were falling through the world.

They landed in the snow, surrounded by darkness. Elain stood still for a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning around her. Then she became aware of Eris kneeling beside her, still grasping her wrist as he stained the snow around him with crimson.

"The cabin," He rasped, releasing his grip.

Only then did Elain notice the cabin before them. Lush pine trees filled the space around it, branches heavy with snowdrifts. It was silent here, save for the wind howling above the trees and the heavy breathing of her rescuer.

She waded through the snow and found the door to the cabin unlocked. Eris crawled after her, letting out a grunt of pain, and collapsed just inside the door. Elain closed the door and bolted it, then kneeled beside him.

A fire was already roaring in the hearth, warming the room. She could finally see her companion fully, laying on his back, chest heaving. The light made visible all of the cuts and blooming bruises across his face and shoulders. His face was pale, a drop of blood trickling from his parted lips. Eyes closed tight as both hands clutched at the red spot at his side. His hands covered the bulk of the wound, but the rips and stains of his jacket poked out around his fingers.

"What happened?" She asked softly, brows furrowing.

"My brothers found me," He gritted out, "Ash Wood and faebane."

"Stay still and I'll help you, Eris," She pressed down on his shoulder in attempt to still his writhing.

"You know my name?" His eyes opened, resting on hers. Something fluttered in Elain's chest.

"I've seen you before," Elain looked away from his intense gaze, eyes sweeping through the cabin.

"And you trust me?" He grunted, then shut his eyes tight, mouth twisting in pain.

"You rescued me." Elain shrugged. She stood and began searching for supplies.

The furniture here was weathered and well used, and knick-knacks and decorations dotted the space. She found clean towels in the kitchen and a first aid kit in the wash room.

Returning with her supplies, she knelt beside him once more and began to lift his hands from the wound. He resisted, trying to keep his hands clutched there.

"Let me see, Eris," She said. He relaxed as she said his name, letting her lift his wrists and press a towel into his hands. He gripped it tight as she inspected the wound.

"Tell me your name," He said, the words strained.

"You don't know the names of the High Lady's sisters?" She teased, though her smile didn't reach her eyes. "I need to take off your jacket."

"I can't sit up," Every other breath was a gasp.

"I'll cut it then."

Elain grabbed the scissors from the first aid kit and cut away the thick jacket, beads scattering as the thread was severed. She peeled back the layers and cut away his shirt. The fabric was so soaked with blood it fell to the floor with a wet splat.

The wound, near his bottommost rib, still bled but it was not as deep as it could be. Whoever tried to stab him had not been successful. Though it did seem the tip of the knife had been twisted, tearing the flesh around it. Elain could not help but wonder what the attacker looked like after Eris had finished with them.

"I know Feyre and Nesta," Eris grunted as she applied pressure with a clean towel. Elain's eyes skimmed over the numerous scars across his muscled abdomen. Some were still pink and healing.

"And Elain," She murmured, "Your brothers did this?"

Eris did not answer. Silence settled between them as Elain packed his wound with gauze and secured a bandage over it. Then she scrubbed as much of the blood away as she could, gently taking his hands and wiping each one clean.

He looked at her again, briefly, then did a double take. His brows furrowed, jaw clenching, as he brought his fingers to the bruise on her cheekbone to examine its severity.

"Which one of them did this?" He growled.

"That was me," Elain said, cringing at the cold feel of blood on her skin. "I lost my balance trying to look through the cell door."

"Don't lie," He gritted out.

"I'm not," Elain pleaded, reaching for a new towel to press against his injury. Fresh blood seeped from it. "Please calm down."

Eris was searching her body for other injuries. He found the bruise around her bicep, yellow splotches where a strong hand had gripped her too tightly.

"Tell me which one of them did it," Eris snarled, though his vision was moving in and out of focus.

"The tallest one," Elain said to appease him, gathering new gauze and bandages with her other hand, keeping the pressure on his ribs. "Stop moving, Eris."

"I will kill all of them," He continued grumbling, trying to raise himself up on his elbows.

"Open," Elain commanded, pressing her thumb against his bottom lip, ignoring the smear of red she left. He glowered at her and tried to fight her touch, but he was weak and tired and Elain won out, dropping the pill into his mouth. Bitterness and the taste of his own blood covered his tongue and he scowled. Elain held his mouth closed with the back of her hand, keeping him from spitting out the medicine.

Immediately, sleep was pulling him away. He tried to fight that too, forcing his vision to focus on Elain as she worked over him. But he couldn't resist whatever she had given him and his consciousness fell away.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #fanfic #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris fanfic #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #elain archeron #Elain #Elain x Eris #crack ship #acotar crack ship #crack fic #crackship

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.8

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Love at first sight, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Brief sexual references, Jealousy, Stalking, Spying, Trespassing, Verbal/emotionally abusive bf, Daddy issues, Maybe very brief incel thoughts??, A brief ounce of misogyny if you squint, Swearing, Sam’s delusional, Mentions of murder, Invasion of privacy, Kidnapping, Unreciprocated love, Manipulation (from YN)

This is all a flashback from Sam’s POV

Word Count: 2.5k

Table of Contents

( Sorry this is so short, it was originally gonna be longer but my motivation was taking too long so I just decided to get something out )

~

Sam’s entire existence had been the heart of misery, a messy aftermath of early trauma. Eternally suffering the effects of the ever-lasting pain he felt in his childhood. He felt like an empty shell of a human being, the emotions that made humans human being foreign to his hollow body. The only emotion that would visit his empty cave was rage. Other than that, a perpetual sense of incompletion; cold emptiness; exhausted loneliness. He just couldn’t… feel.

He’s tried multiple things that would for sure erupt strong emotions in anyone normal, but never him. He couldn’t even feel the despair of bad actions or the satisfaction of good ones, not even empathy or delight for other human beings. But he could pretend. He walked through his everyday life with a mask of a painted smile and an audiobox of forced laughter, shielding his insincerity. Play along with everyone around him as if he were playing a character. Someone likable and friendly.

He walked his numb zombie body through the streets feeling inhuman, either not even feeling his own weight or feeling as if he was being weighed down to the concrete. He walked through his black and white world all the way to a smoothie bar.

And then he met you.

That moment he first clapped eyes on you, he finally felt… something. He felt a new temperature rise to his skin and finally felt something in his chest… move. From the first clicking of eyes, he felt a small spark in his core. He was wonderstruck. And throughout the day, the more you two conversed, the more those sparks evolved into fireworks and his black and white world slowly brightened to colors like Dorothy walking into Oz.

You woke Sam up. You lit his candle. You flipped his switch. You were a light at the end of his dark tunnel. You made him feel not just something but everything. You enchanted him.

He had fallen in love with you.

He fell for that sparse care you offered him in just a single day. Maybe it was just in your nature to be kind and to wrap people in the comfort of your warm and friendly presence while momentarily allaying their anxieties that day. Sam wasn’t one to trust easily due to the severe and cruel pains of betrayal he had had in his life as a result of the violence he had endured from his father as a child, but you earned his trust with just a single genuine smile and intense attention you willingly gave him.

And in a once barren garden of love, a rose had bloomed as an embodiment of that first spark. As more sparks rapidly popped, more roses had littered the hollow dirt of that garden. But each of those roses had thorns, poisonous ones. And to your blind misfortune, you had obliviously pricked your delicate finger on one of those thorns. Poisoning you and your poor soul and making you the victim of his infatuation.

Sam’s desolated heart, devoid of lively adoration for far too long, throbbed with the desire to have what he witnessed his parents never had; true love. He tasted the beginnings of a chance. A chance to be permanently happy and finally be what he always wanted to be, normal. You opened his eyes and he never wanted to shut them ever again as long as you were always in his eyesight. And he hoped that just like you gave him the sense of being complete, that he would be able to make you eternally happy.

He wanted to see your smile and hear your laugh every second of every day. He wanted to listen to your voice speak for hours and hours. He wanted to always be near you, to always be inhaling the air of your intoxicating aura. He wanted to take care of you, to have you live in the comfort of his unbreakable protection. He wanted to touch you, to feel every grain of your skin. He wanted to taste you, to know how you’d taste between his teeth and tongue. He wanted to do whatever he wanted with you and to you.

He wanted you to be his.

But his dreams were shattered with a hammer and crumbled into a sharp mess of idiocy. Because as he escorted you out the door at the end of your shift, it was thrown straight at his face that you were dating someone else. Someone whiny, snotty, and arrogant. Someone controlling, judgemental, and aggressive. Someone overconfident, ambitious and prideful. Someone who reminded him a little too much of his father: hyper-masculine, domineering. Destructive. What was a girl like you doing with a guy like that?

Sam watched as you got into your boyfriend’s hoodless car and before he did anything else, your boyfriend pulled your head closer to him and slammed his lips onto yours. He didn’t close his scowling eyes as he kept them aimed at Sam, who returned the look. It was like he was trying to make it clear to Sam that he had some claim on you. That you were his territory, his property, his squeeze, just his.

It made Sam go absolutely rabid.

From that briefest of meetings, Sam knew right away there was something wrong with your relationship. So, using concern for your safety as a justification, he followed you home one night to get a glimpse into your homelife with your boyfriend. But one night wasn’t enough, he found himself spending any time outside of his work outside a window watching the two of you for hours until late. He’s seen your good days and your bad days. But he’s noticed that when your days were good, they were amazing and straight out of a rom-com, and when your days were bad, they were horrible and straight out of a horror-thriller.

Sam described your boyfriend, Brady, as nothing but insidious, wicked, and vile. But you were so sweet, albeit a people pleaser that extended from work to your romantic relationship. You’d empty your cup to fill Brady’s. But Brady wouldn’t do the same for you. It infuriated Sam, how Brady would treat your worth as if it were something he could replace whenever he wanted. He was not your match. And Sam was convinced about that the more he got to know you and witnessing you and Brady interact.

Brady didn’t get your humor like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your passions like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your taste like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your emotions like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your past like Sam did. Brady didn’t get you like Sam did.

Sam would have given you his jacket when you were cold while Brady mocked you for not being prepared for the weather. Sam would get you on his back when your feet were tired while Brady made you walk through it. Sam would claim you were always right while Brady argued with you in public. Sam would pay for your phone bill while Brady wouldn’t lend you his charger.

Of course though, Sam knew that himself compared to Brady exterior-wise was an unfair fight. Sam wasn’t stupid, he knew your boyfriend was more visibly appealing and had a more interesting, impressive life than him. Brady wore tight tank tops to display his thickly toned arms; Sam wore button ups and lazy shirts. Brady worked at a gym and did fight competitions broadcasted on t.v.; Sam was a health inspector. Brady drove a subaru; Sam drove a pickup truck. Brady was a popular jock in school; Sam was the quiet loner. The two of them couldn’t be any more different in Sam’s mind… other than their taste in women.

Now Sam was not an expert in the emotional part of women, other than that they were emotional, but he had heard quite a bit of how abandoning fathers affected the female brain, how differently daddy issues affected them compared to men. That because of the lack of a father figure in their life they seek out older men or, in your case, men that resemble their father to fill the void that their father's weren't able to fill. They will cling to their attention and sacrifice their comfort for their pleasure to make sure they don't abandon them like their fathers did. And Sam realized that was exactly your problem, the problem you were blind to that he wanted to help you see. He wanted to help you.

It was sad to him though. You were so delusional and so far deep in denial that you were convinced your father leaving didn’t fuck you up at all. You poor thing.

Sam knew he was nothing like your dad, so if the two of you became a couple then he would break your cycle and heal the daddy issues with the love you’ve always deserved! But there was one issue, Sam could never find the right time to admit his feelings for you. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure yet if you felt the same. He constantly dropped hints and signals but you just never caught on, too distracted with everything else in your stressful life. He wanted to free you from that, he wanted your undivided attention without any customer nagging your ear off and without a boisterous boyfriend draining you to practical exhaustion.

But Sam came to a thought that if he wanted to fix you he needed to get fixed himself. After the first incident of murder committed against the man who followed you to your car and repeatedly pressed for your phone number after your repeated words of declining, he hoped it was just a small slip that would only happen once. But it became a constantly continuous slip. It became a problem, he just couldn’t stop. His attempts to suppress the temptations grew weaker as he always gave in despite his ongoing opposition to these instincts. The harder he tried to stop it was as if he became more aware of people who disturbed your peace or threatened the future of you and him when making moves.

He tried so hard to become normal, now that he could actually feel emotions thanks to you, but the straw that broke the camel's back was when that man touched your arm and basically sexualized you to his boss. That’s when Sam started therapy with the best therapist he could find. But he was there to fix himself and his murderous drive, not once did he think his infatuation with you should’ve been brought to light.

Of course he knew just as well as anyone that stalking and spying was wrong, that stealing and taking secret photographs was wrong. Both morally and legally. But he was just looking out for you! To do some good you have to do some wrong. At least that’s just what he told himself.

He was almost never home anymore, when he wasn’t at work or therapy or in your work during his lunchtime he became your shadow at a distance. After work he’d park his truck near the far end of the parking lot, positioned perfectly that he could see straight into the window to watch you work, and wait till your shift ended. He’s done this enough times to know your exact schedule. He’d watch you leave and lock up and walk to your car before driving off home, Sam following after waiting till another car would be in between the two of you.

He’d follow you home and park a couple driveways down before sneaking through the dark to watch the rest of your day through your windows. And sometimes on the days you had off, Sam would get to your house early to follow you everywhere you went. If only he knew that all that hyper-fixated stalking only made him spiral further into a dangerous swirl of unhealthy obsession. And his lovesick swooning mind finally made the decision that would fix everything. His jealousy, his protectiveness, his hedonism, his need to confess his love, and his desire to help you heal all had a hand on his back that pushed him to his last resort.

Too far gone within his ambitions, his fixation-filled delusion led his mind astray and perhaps that’s why he found himself sneaking around your driveway late at night, wincing every time your neighbor's dog barked straight at him.

Selfishness was in the fundamental nature of humans. They crave for things they can't have and shouldn't have; bitter selfishness; the desire to take until they have nothing left. This was all human instinct. And Sam was human. And with being human entails an uncontainable urge to take, take, take. And that’s what he did. He took you.

Of course he knew it sucked to you but he saw it as all worth it in the end if it meant healing your trauma and falling in love. But that process seemed to take longer than his childishly selfish mind was expecting, and the more you resented him the more painful it was to debate the potential truth; “if you love something, let it go”. Would it have been real love to have left you alone all this time? To spare you from his fucked up mental state? Would it be love if he just opened the door and let you go? But unfortunately his questioning of his own choices lasted shorter than a snap.

Sam didn’t see himself as a psycho nor a creep. He saw himself as a good person who had fallen in love hard and committed intrusive actions. He was incapable of seriously considering letting you go. Because if he did, he would be forced to acknowledge his own lack of accountability that he was not as good of a person as he viewed himself. His mad love for you clouded any morals that could separate the two of you.

And just like he planned, you began to warm back up to him! And he’d even say that he’s been catching you giving him bedroom, dreamy eyed looks. He hoped it wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome, he wanted you to genuinely fall for him and not because of some physiological negative effect.

But just when he trusted you enough, you tried to escape.

It was all a lie, an act, a trick. And he blindly fell for it because he was too blinded by his hopeless happiness. Sam felt something in him snap. Escaping was all you could think about, wasn’t it? Always thinking about it, always dreaming about it. You were trying to run away from the confrontation of your pain and problems! You were trying to run away from his love and help!

He had to take matters into his own hands… or rather put them in someone else’s.

You needed help, help that his consoling love wasn’t qualified to give. You needed professional help. And luckily for you, Sam knew the perfect guy for you.

-

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart

#the patient fx #the patient #the patient hulu #yandere #yandere x reader #sam fortner x reader #sam fortner #yandere Sam fortner #reader insert #sam fortner imagine #dark fic #domhnall gleeson x reader #domhnall gleeson

[the-knights-who-say-book]

song lyrics that activate my griddlehark brainworms

I love you to death but I just can't, I just can't pretend we were lovers first Confidants but never friends Were we ever friends?

(Fall Out Boy, HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T)

Oh, don't you know I have seen I have seen the fields aflame And everything I ever did Was just another way to scream your name

(Florence + the Machine, South London Forever)

'Cause you're the last of a dying breed Write our names in the wet concrete I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

(Fall Out Boy, The Last of the Real Ones)

All of your flaws and all of my flaws, When they have been exhumed We'll see that we need them to be who we are Without them we'd be doomed

(Flaws, Bastille)

When your eyes are red And emptiness is all you know With the darkness fed I will be your scarecrow

(Imagine Dragons, Bleeding Out)

We weren't bad, just young, but that just makes it worse

(Molly Ofgeography, Medusa in a Stone Garden)

Even now you mark my steps Lovely bitter water Oh, the days of our delights are poison in my veins

(The Oh Hellos, Bitter Water)

I know it's home I know it hurts I know I'll end up at the bottom of your dirt

(Run River North, 29)

Cause we could be immortals, immortals Just not for long, for long And live with me forever now, pull the blackout curtains down Just not for long, for long

(Fall Out Boy, Immortals)

Because the longing needs the leaving And the loving needs the bleeding And your beauty is a blessing And I never got to tell you how I loved the way my eyes make yours look green too

(Halsey, Ya'aburnee)

I knew that look, dear Eyes always seeking Was there in someone That dug long ago So I will not ask you Why you were creeping In some sad way I already know

(Hozier, Like Real People Do)

And I never wanted anything from you Except everything you had and what was left after that too

(Florence + the Machine, Dog Days Are Over)

There's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody There's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you

(Fall Out Boy, Wilson (Expensive Mistakes))

Dreamed you were a ghost and I was a ghost too [...] Tried to touch you where it hurt, but I couldn't find the bruise

(Molly Ofgeography, Yes, And -)

#locked tomb #griddlehark #tamsyn muir #the locked tomb #gideon nav #harrowhawk #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #lyric web

[waitingtobebroken]

hey! is there a reason you don’t have a name in your profile? i wanted to greet you with it and then realized there was no name i could use :( here are some random asks anyways: what’s your favorite drink? what’s the last fanfic you read? what song would you recommend right now? do you prefer writing sad or happy stories? what’s your dream s3 scenario? 💖

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask 🥺 I grew up at a time when you were not supposed to tell anyone on the internet anything personal, so having people know my name still freaks me out a little bit!!! Sorry about that!

My favourite drink is iced coffee (I know, so basic!) The last two fanfics I read and absolutely adored were "and now all of my garden is grown in lavender" by ilikeblue - A fake relationship AU that is just so adorable and sweet and has the most amazing feel to it! I cannot recommend it enough! And the other is "Tales of Turning Pages" by @foolishlovers - Another human AU and the characterisation is just delightful. Aziraphale is an amazing flirt and Crowley is a precious oblivious baby but also so very smart and charming! Both are still WIP but they are really fun!!!

You have caught me on a day I've spent listening to the Glass Animals, so... Definitely Wyrd - Glass Animals. It sounds really fun and trippy but once you start listening to it, it's surprisingly dark! It's about the inevitability of your destiny and just... Go listen to it right now, haha!

Um, I like to write both, I think? It really depends on the way I feel on a given day. Like, sometimes the amazing people on my dash would not stop torturing me with ANGST for days and my brain would be incapable of writing anything nice and light and sometimes I'll just wake up, feeling silly. I don't think that one is more important than the other, there should be a nice little balance. That said, most of my favourite fics are definitely on the angsty side.

I did write something set during a theoretical season 3, so I think that, perhaps? It's called Haunted By Something Still Alive and it's about Crowley being a nanny to the reincarnation of Jesus, a sweet little girl named Mary. It's very angsty and deals heavily with the fallout of Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship. But if I could choose, really, I would like it to go like this (obviously, since I wrote it and I've always been my target audience anyway haha). I do want them to suffer a little bit, I would feel very disappointed if Crowley just completely disregards what happened and acts like everything is fine. But I would also feel like it's out of character if he is intentionally cruel to Aziraphale! So I find it ideal for him to help Aziraphale but also put some distance between them, to protect himself mostly. But also because it would emphasise how close they used to be and how much Aziraphale misses that! (Gosh, this turned into an essay, I'm so sorry!)

Thank you so much for the ask, this was so fun and it really made me think!!!

#personal #answered asks #good omens

[elipheleh]

Music - Casey's Updates [The Final(?) Version]

Casey's instagram stories recently contained some music they would have added to their playlists for the RWRB characters. This is the final version of all the ones they shared, with a playlist containing all of the songs and playlists for Henry & Alex.

-----

Here is the full playlist of all mentioned songs. In sharing the songs, Casey also shared snippets of the lyrics, these - & the full list of shared music - are below the cut.

I also created individual playlists from Casey's lists - all the songs mentioned for Henry:

and for Alex:

Below are text versions of Casey's instagram stories.

-----

some songs i would put on my AGCD playlist if i made it today

-Too Much, Carly Rae Jepson When I party, then I party too much When I feel it, then I feel it too much When I'm thinking, then I'm thinking too much When I'm drinking, then I'm drinking too much I'll do anything to get to the rush Now I'm dancing, and I'm dancing too much So be careful if you're wanting this touch 'Cause if I love you, then I love you too much

-Bronco, Orville Peck Come on in hot, babe Hurry up, babe Can't you see the gate from here? And nothing holds me back at all Nothing left to fear Best of luck, my dear Bucking side to side Bronco running wild

-Love Me More, Mitski Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch

-Big Time, Angel Olsen And I'm losing, I'm losing, I've left it behind Guess I had to be losing to get here on time And I'm living, I'm loving, I've loved long before And I'm loving you big time, I'm loving you more

-

and HGEJFMW (Henry's)

-Not Strong Enough, boygenius The way I am Not strong enough to be your man I lied, I am Just lowering your expectations Half a mind that keeps the other second-guessing Close my eyеs and count

-The Archer, Taylor Swift I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost The room is on fire, invisible smoke And all of my heroes die all alone Help me hold on to you

-Magic, Julia Jacklin I won't feel ashamed tonight Treat it like a stage tonight Turn over a new page and write Forget all that I learnt tonight All the times that I've been hurt tonight Remember what I'm worth and fight for it

-Reach Out, Sufjan Stevens & Angelo De Augustine Reach out, reach out To all the ones who came before you Ponder what is right You and I, in defiance

-----

They also shared their "firstprince x [artist]" playlist choices.

Carly Rae Jepson Henry: all that, surrender my heart, want you in my room, everything he needs, feels right Alex: too much, run away with me, real love, shy boy, i didn't just come here to dance

Mitski Henry: first love / late spring, heat lightning, pink in the night, i don't smoke, i want you, happy, bug like an angel, a pearl Alex: texas reznikoff, love me more, geyser, i bet on losing dogs, goodbye my danish sweetheart, my body's make of crushed little stars, burning hill, remember my name

Taylor Swift Henry: the lucky one, this is me trying, wildest dreams, dancing with our hands tied, castles crumbling, out of the woods, the archer, daylight Alex: gorgeous, treacherous, cowboy like me, i know places, cruel summer, you're on your own kid, peace, you are in love

boygenius Henry: appointments, georgia, not strong enough, bite the hand, historians, garden song, hot & heavy Alex: cool about it, savior complex, sprained ankle, body to flame, smoke signals, dancing in the dark, we're in love

Sufjan Stevens Henry: predatory wasp of the palisades, for the widows; for the fatherless, all for myself, the only thing, john my beloved, to be alone with you, tell me you love me, reach out Alex: man of metropolis steals our hearts, city of roses, with my whole heart, mystery of love, heirloom, run away with me, all delighted people, america

The National Henry: demons, humiliation, once upon a poolside, don't swallow the cap, empire line, the pull of you, bloodbuzz ohio Alex: racing like a pro, i am easy to find, this isn't helping, rylan, pink rabbits, you were a kindness, slow show

-----

top HGEJFMW lyrics on this playlist [Mitski]

-I want you I hold one card That I can't use But I want you

-I'm what's left of when we swam under the moon Now the rest of my days are just waiting for when You've calmed down and tell me, 'I was meant for you' Baby, being with you makes the flame burn good If you need to be mean, be mean to me I can take it and put it inside of me If your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room You can lean on my arm as you break my heart

-So please, hurry, leave me, I can't breathe Please don't say you love me

-I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you And I hear my heart breaking tonight I hear my heart breaking tonight Ooh, do you hear it too? It's like a summer shower

a few top AGCD lyrics on this playlist [Mitski]

-And I am the fire, and I am the forest And I am a witness watching it I stand in a valley watching it And you are not there are all

-There's some kind of burning inside me It's kept me from falling apart And I'm sure that you've seen what it's done to my heart But it's kept me from falling apart Now here I lay as I wonder about you Would you just tell me what I'm meant to do? 'Cause I've waited and watered my heart 'til it grew You can see how it's blossomed for you

-I better ace that interview I better ace that interview I should tell them that I'm not afraid to die I better ace that interview

-I need something bigger than the sky Hold it in my arms and know it's mine Just how many stars will I need to hang around me To finally call it Heaven? I need somebody to remember my name After all that I can do for them is done I need someone to remember me

-----

Link to the masterpost/contents page for the music posts

Link to the masterpost/contents for the whole series

link to my spotify

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrb playlist #rwrb music #ok so this is a repost but slightly different/improved #ive added the links bc firefox at least is breaking spotify embeds and idk why but it works on my phone so. both options there and #my spotify is linked at the end #Spotify

[asimplesweettart]

Oh, moon, round of manchego

For the @thehauntedair sweaterverse event!

---

It was a lovely late October day in the Hudson River Valley. The air was crisp and salted with the scent of burning firewood. The afternoon had drawn the shadow of the treeline over Madam Love Rawlins’ garden, leaving the fortune teller and her two sons in a chilly shade, made comfortable by sensible outerwear:

Madam Love, in her fringed black shawl, gold and silver sequined with figures of cats. Dorian, in a black turtleneck and brown ribbed cardigan. And Zachary, in a harbor-provided pullover sweater.

“Zachary,” said Dorian, eyes seeming at once far away, and very focused on his husband’s torso. “There is something I must tell you.”

Zachary placed his mug down, anticipating Dorian’s trajectory. Of course, the story had already begun to sprout seeds on sight of Zachary sliding his arms into the sleeves only a few hours ago.

It was predominantly blue knit, a dusky shade that implied the upper layers of the earth’s atmosphere. Printed along his midsection and lower portion of his sleeves were smiling white creatures wearing space suits and each holding round-- somethings. Zachary wasn’t exactly concerned with what they held, or even what the cheery-looking creatures were (Dogs? Bunnies? Bears?) as he had only been looking for a sweater to keep off the upstate chill.

However, he could feel the vibration of Dorian’s mind working out not only what these creatures were, but their occupations, moral inclinations, and destinies.

He respected Zachary’s desire to be timely for his visit to his mother, and so held onto the story that was simmering. But now they were in Madam Love’s backyard, teabags sat cooling in saucers, and initial catching up conversation put to rest. The time had come.

Zachary suppressed a delighted smile and said very seriously, “Oh, tell me, my love.” 

Madam Love had hosted enough dinners and seasonally themed parties to recognize the tilt that Dorian’s voice took when there was a story inbound. Her many-ringed fingers cupped her mug as she settled into a cushioned yard chair, closing her eyes. 

  Dorian held one of his husband’s arms, where one smiling creature cradled its cratered orb. “There exists a squadron of bunnies in space…”

“Ah, so they’re bunnies,” Zachary noted.

“Indeed. There are many, many bunnies in this squadron, born without purpose; the void in her cruel wisdom gave birth to them wearing their space suits, and set them upon the infinite galaxies without a creed or code to their names. They pick up speed as they plummet aimlessly through the freezing vacuum.”

Zachary scooted closer to Dorian on the garden loveseat, suddenly craving more warmth. He leaned his cheek into Dorian’s neck to feel the thrum of a story unspooling. 

“They go so far, so rapidly, that they exit and enter galaxies by the blinks of their eyes. They travel distances beyond what the human mind is capable of comprehending.”

“Beyond bunny-mind comprehension, too?” asked Zacahry, speech slightly squished due to his cheek’s position.

Dorian chuckled, “I suppose, yes, outside of their comprehension, too.”

Dorian’s hand moves to Zachary’s chest, in the empty space where the knit is only blue. “Eventually, they reach an eternity of starlessness. A depth of dark so profound that movement, space, and feeling lost their weight on their souls, and they became unmoored from the sensation of life itself.”

Zachary twined his hands into Dorian’s.

“On the far end of an indiscernible amount of time, the bunny squadron comes across a light. It is a soft yellow glow, like an effulgent ball of yellow cheese. It is something like a moon, but its light is all its own magnificence, with no sun in sight.

The bunnies land on the splendorous object without as much as a peep to coordinate their intent; the need for something is immediately understood by the collective. They stand on it, explore, feeling its texture, its size, its somethingness. It is indeed quite a radiant sphere of manchego cheese.”

Zachary hummed in agreement. Yes, cheese moon, absolutely. 

“The bunnies began to chatter. There hadn’t been much to discuss in the deep starless space, so each squeaky, disused voice to chime in caused a collective startle. They clammer and cry about their new thing.

That is round.

That is wondrous.

That is something.

One bunny asserts that this thing is their purpose. They must have been born to become destroyers, and destroy this moon to continue the completeness of the void’s dark. He produces a sparkling fuse to attach to the moon, to detonate it.” Dorian tapped a finger in the area of Zachary’s sternum, where one sweater bunny held its sphere, which also had a fuse popped into it.

“However, another bunny cuts across his squadmate to insist that they are all starving, and should eat the moon and not destroy it. And eating is not necessarily destroying. So they disagree.

They come to a decision that they will split the moon in half. One half for the bunnies hungry for destruction, another for the simply hungry.

The squadron set to work sawing the big cheese in half. They garrote her, using a long thread, until she is sliced in two equal hemispheres.

But upon seeing the two halves that they had created, the bunnies feel a great sense of diminishing. Not of light, which still shines all about the two halves, and seems to shine more so now with the heart of the moon borne nakedly to the darkness of space. But it was her roundness that was her essence, which they had destroyed. 

With the same thread used for the lunacide, still gunky with gluey cheese smush and guts, they try to tie her back together. But it is no use. She slips and slides apart, creating uneven ridges and bleeding fondue. She is dead.

They wail, and mourn her, and curse their own folly and indecision that had ruined their first beautiful thing. One bunny, in his grief, pushes his face into the flesh of the dead moon. He cradles the goo, and his squeezing arms eventually form it into a sphere. The other bunnies follow suit, craving the roundness, the perfection, the uncompromised trinity of circumference, radius, and center. This method of mourning produces many complete smaller moons. The bunnies fall in love with the moonlets, and name them after gods.

The new gods spawn their own systems, ever expanding galaxies full of starlight. Within this starlight, the bunnies at last find their homes. They live long, ebullient lives eating the cheese of these galaxies, but only in moderation.”

“Will the cheese ever run out?” Zachary asked, having caught the tone of denouement in Dorian’s voice, and uncurling himself from his side to stretch. 

“No, the expansion of the universe creates infinite cheese,” explained Dorian.

“Then why ever would they moderate their intake?” He cupped his husband’s face to kiss it. “Now I really want cheese.”

Just then, Madam Love appeared back to the garden table with a small bowl of babybels still in their red plastic and wax. Zachary grinned at his mother as he gratefully took a piece.

His mother raised two cautionary eyebrows. “Constipation, honeychild.”

#the starless sea #the haunted air #tss #fateheart #ao3 sees it next

[infranthrax]

so i had an idea way back when but i never executed it. now since lotusswan and longanswan are a thing now i can ☺️ this may become a series. let me know what you all think!

a memory is being recorded… hold on… ✨

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒, 𝐖𝐄

longan dragon cookie vs. lotus dragon cookie

cw || longanswan and lotusswan ships

tw || toxic relationship mechanic, gaslighting, implied forced separation/character death, and overall longan being the sociopathic prick they were born to be

synopsis :: sugar swan is interjected into the harsh reality of two dragons— with longan’s everlasting dreams of “purifying the world,” and lotus trying to bring her some kind of solidarity, through through the means of doing the exact thing longan did to them.

word count :: 3.2k words

wing to wing, they danced around…

stamping their feet with a flumpy sound…

embracing treasure, as dragons ought…

this is the treasure they nightly thwart.

in the times of old, before the dark flour war, there was a young dragon, serpentine, and ruling of the many lotus flowers that grew from a mystical cave of light and purity. the dragon had a companion, hailing from the valley yonder, with hair as crème as her fellow lilies, eyes of red rubies, and a gentle smile akin to sunlight kissing cold skin.

however, the serpentine’s guardian heeded forth— hear their ring… “they are but a cookie. you are a dragon. that is an unfathomable relationship that no one would even muster.” the serpent pleaded with their guardian, each passing day and night they felt as though they were excused; it only pushed their fleeting love downward. they were hushed, yet vocal, they pushed on— their faith evergreen: “but… I love her, father.”

the guardian looked down upon their kin with a look of downcast, not feeling sorry, but rather pity. feeling as though their son was misguided somehow, they let out a disgruntled sigh, turned their back away, and left with their only parting words being:

“If you truly loved them, one must let them go.”

the dragon of the caves where the lotus flowers bloomed in the crystal waters never saw her again after that fateful meeting. they later spent their days not playing their beloved mandolin but mourning… suffering in the depths of loneliness and sorrow. the young serpent did not know of the perversions that their guardian had in store for them. to be true, one could say that the poor serpent had… witnessed too much— learned too much too early. was taught things that young children should never witness… but, alas…

little do the dragons know, however, that… children are quite adaptive, and remember more than their parents tend to believe.

Perceptive, we.

flash forward to days of recent, where the cave is just as prosperous as it was in the older days. the sky illuminates the inside however as erosion has plagued the stone above. the now mighty dragon, once a childish snake now a grand serpent, even though they very much preferred the indoors and the comfort of their palace, couldn’t help but not pass the beauty of the day. a stroll was in order. hydrangea cookie, their beloved attendant, brimmed and beamed with delight at the great serpent's decision, quickly retrieving their favorite umbrella. heading up to the surface they were greeted with a gentle gust of wind and the everlasting glow of the sun. slithering onward into the valley as green as emeralds, onto a nice path, lotus holds their umbrella that graciously shields them from the cruel rays of the sunlight above. a gentle smile they wore, they cascaded down into a garden.

a garden of lilies.

this was her home. lotus looked about the garden in the lushness of the valley that extended downward into a gorgeous forest. they looked at a singular flower that grew on a part of the terrain that had risen. a vibrant white lily… having been blessed with rain, its dewdrops made it as though it was glistening with glitter. lotus slowly made their way towards the singular flower, crouching down to look at it more closely. they smiled at the flower through dimly lit turquoise eyes, and an old wound reopened in the pit of their stomach. hydrangea cookie walked up to them slowly, looking down at their crouched form. she noticed that they started to lightly quiver the longer they stayed in that position. “hydrangea,” the serpent suddenly spoke, their voice cold and creaky, almost sounding like they were going to cry, but were holding themselves back with everything they had, “hydrangea, i want this flower.” the attendant next to them nodded, and immediately bent down to pick the lily from the ground but was suddenly stopped by one of lotus’s rushed hands. hydrangea looked up at lotus with a hint of worry.

“what’s wrong?” she asked softly. their brows furrowed as they looked solemnly at the flower below them. “be gentle— matter of fact, let me.” they croaked as they pushed hydrangea’s hand to the side. they then carefully took the bottom of the stem of the lily and gently pulled it upward at the root, releasing it from the ground. with the lily now in lotus’s hand, they extend upward and gaze at the valley around them, being flooded with a garden of extravagant white lilies. carefully circling on the path, their attendant moves over to the side to not trip over Lotus’s tail. “hydrangea, close that thought…” they started, hushed as they spoke as the valley of white lilies clouded their vision. Slowly coming to a stop, they turn to hydrangea cookie and pull her in closer to them at their side, gesturing them to look out at the valley. “i want all of these. i want them to be planted at the palace. t hey shall be pieces of memorabilia.” lotus then began to slither away from hydrangea only to turn back to her from a small distance away.

“we shall gather the rest of the attendants here tomorrow morning to uproot all of these lilies, and i personally shall arrange a menagerie for them. a menagerie to commemorate the memory of the lilies.” hydrangea blinked a bit, surprised by her master’s sudden passion for the lilies in the valley. there was a lot that their attendant knew about their beloved master, however, there was still a lot to uncover, as lotus primarily keeps to themselves a lot of the time. She knew not to question lotus or their motives, but the curiosity was killing her. She felt like she had to indulge.

“may I ask why, great dragon?” taking a leap of faith by asking them the question, they expected them to be bothered with her, but instead, after lotus had reopened their eyes, they gave hydrangea a kind, small smile. “you know I like flowers.” they responded, before deciding to circle back around. “now, come. I have plans tonight and I have not the time to waste.” hydrangea only nodded as she hurried towards lotus’s side once more, to stroll with them back to the palace where they would repose for the rest of the day. but, as lotus said, they did have special plans reserved for the night ahead. the attendants rested to sleep for the night, but lotus’s nighttime activities, on the contrary, are unknown to them all. whatever lotus does in the night is… not very well known to a lot of attendants besides hydrangea cookie, who often stays up until lotus dragon retires. But, up in the dragon's chambers lies not just the air of fragrant lotuses—fresh and clean, but the sweet aroma of sugar and vanilla, all accompanied by a pinkish-fuchsia glow.

soft pink feathers accompanying her lilac hair, shine and straight as it died down to a sister’s sunset. a fair smile graced her lips as her velvet purple eyes remained closed when she drank her tea. a gown made of the finest fabrics— those of cream and royal blue, embroidered with the finest gold. she was the epitome of beauty, even in the olden days she was known to be pure, full of good faith, and glorious to all who gazed upon her… or, she seemed that way, at the very least.

sugar swan, a woman of the arts, was known as a woman who ruled over a sugary paradise. little did she know that she would also be feared— in the days of old, the all-powerful longan dragon stood frequently by her side as they watched her rule over her kingdom of the isles. longan dragon was, and still is, her polar opposite, though it is true to say that in their case, opposites do attract. But, what was she doing at the lotus palace, of all places? a lot of lotus’s attendants wondered the same as well, as they don’t haven’t been expecting company as of late, but they have been told to greet her with kindness and warmth whenever she visits, no matter how late or early she may be.

she sets her small jade tea glass back down on the grainy wooden table underneath her, her graceful smile still ever present, decorated by a light sheen of the tea she drank and the gloss that adorned her blushed lips.

“do you not recognize the fault in your ways?”

sugar swan urged as she walked along with longan dragon in their palace, trying to stop them from ignoring her. she needed them to hear her, to listen to her for once. she quickly paced in front of them, their gentle hands meeting the dragon’s silken robes. “my dear, you misunderstand them, please..! …please, even if you wish not to, please listen to me.” longan looked down at the sweet swan, an indifferent look decorating their grey face, golden eyes agleam. she has their attention now.

“you’re misunderstanding the point of the cookies— their existence is not pointless, great dragon. evolution seeks to create life, and that life i wish to protect. i wish for you to spare them.” her voice was soft yet stern, and her hands pushed softly on their chest, beckoning them to stay as they pushed against her. their eyebrows softly furrowed, clearly displeased with sugar swan and their attempt to stop their plans. although they have vastly contrasting views, they’re still together, even if it means they have to borderline hate each other. “sugar swan, you are not listening yet again to the atrocities you spit,” they started, putting a rough clawed hand to her shoulder, “these crunchy beings are destructive. they will destroy the world i have watched for centuries. the world my sons and daughter have had the glory of aiding in flourishing. all was right. and it needs to stay that way.”

moving sugar swan gently out of their way, they slowly pace, their shoes gently clacking with the marble quartz floors of their palace, full reflections bouncing off of its surface. the golden glimmer of the palace walls, the trimming, it was all an illusion of what longan was— grand, strong, all-powerful, and beautiful. they surely seemed that way to many…

wrong, they were.

“that. that, my treasure… is how order is achieved.”

walking up to sugar swan once more, they took their hand and took her by the jaw. their harsh, golden eyes that were sleep deprived, sunken in yet glorious, they looked— bore into hers made of amethyst. her hand met their wrist, as she tried to convince him otherwise with no words. “my treasure, you know that I am doing you a favor,” longan dragon spoke softly, like the very first demon that beckoned the pure, “the favor of restoring order for you. you need not worry about lifting a finger— one is ready to assist you in any way possible, you know that.” “and your way of ‘restoring order’ is by means of causing chaos to the cookies..? by taking what was graciously handed to them away?! you want to cause mass genocide just to fulfill your selfish wishes, how dare you!”

“I AM NOT A MURDERER.”

the sudden tonal shift that longan exhibited caused the woman before them to jolt suddenly, looking into his blazed golden slits, once subdued by a blackened abyss that surrounded them. putting a gentle hand on their wrist, she started to urge them, borderline pleading with them. the palace seemed to start to tremble as a bolt of lightning could be heard from outside, striking the waters below. “…my dear, i… i’m sorry—“ “i will never expect you to understand, i won’t make you understand. but you will come to understand me.” longan blurted, cutting sugar swan off,

“and I never go back on my word.” longan crept onto sugar swan, causing her to slowly recoil backward as longan walked forward. she eventually bumped into a column that longan pinned her to, raising both of her wrists to the cold quartz surface, their leg prying in between her own as they looked at her with eyes of cruel certainty, as though they were telling her to wake up— to walk with them rather than away from them. they leaned down and whispered in her ear,

“you have told me you would live for me, yes?”

her head swiveled over to the side as she then felt their hand at her throat, gently gracing her skin with sharp nails that could at any moment, spill her beloved blood on his floors. she let out a huddled breath and put a hand to their chest, slightly frightened by the psychosis longan dragon exhibited. she knew that they were trying to manipulate her using their relationship as a crutch, but it was just easier to make them think she was complying than to face their heated anger, coated in a borderline bipolar shell.

“of course…”

she would reply. longan removed their hand from their throat and delivered a sweet kiss to the shell of her ear, moving their hand to her hips and pushing them further up their thigh still, pushing her closer to them on the column. their breath was hot against her skin which only made her quiver. licking up her neck, they replied against her skin,

“would you die for me?”

slowly swiveling her head back around, she looked straight ahead as the dragon that suffocated her sense of space stood before her, their head craning into their neck delivering soft yet sharp peppers of kisses as their teeth collided with the flesh of her neck and shoulder, gently coaxing her with sweet, affirming actions that were but of mockery. her eyes darted to them, her teeth gritted inside her mouth as a bead of sweat lingered and gathered on her temple, her soft lilac hair glistening in the golden lights of the palace— something of a ruse to cover the doubt and uncertainty that she had stowed away within her conscience. her hand softly slid down their chest, following to their own. looking back down at her and removing themselves from the crook of her neck, she responded, quietly…

“yes.”

longan looked down at sugar swan, now with a small smile as they raised a hand to her delicate cheek, cupping it gently. giving it a pat, they then move away from the column, relinquishing them of the right of her bubble. stepping back from her did she step forward, putting a hand to her chest to clear her throat. she looked at them as they walked to their right, looking back at her with a soft smile, something that was rare to see on them.

“then, if that was the case, i do believe that you would make an effort to understand the paramount of this venture and the good it would cause.”

they walked from her, a twisted look on her face. she also had walked away from the column, distraught with her own conflicting emotions about longan, why oh why were they like this? playing the pied pipers in their shared chambers, she sat on her side of the bed, tears in her eyes.

Just like now.

Back in the now.

“is there something the matter, dear sugar swan?” lotus craned forward, setting their jade cup down, and noticed the singular tear in her mauve eyes. seeing this they took a gentle finger and set it to her eyes, wiping away those tears that threatened to fall down her face. “pretty bird, don’t cry,” lotus charmed as their hand slowly lowered from sugar swan’s cheek, “whatever brings you discomfort, my dear?” sugar swan looked up at the dragon in front of her that was lotus dragon— longan’s third son and the second youngest among the draconic brood. their pale eyelashes softly blinked as their hua dian shone in the dull purple light. she couldn’t help but see longan in lotus. but they already knew that. lotus has always strived to be the opposite of their father, while still being cunning in their own light. with a psychopathic charm did Lotus garner, a sweet air and a merciful smile. they looked at sugar swan longingly as they intentionally made a quick choice to absorb rather than just listen like they usually did with the cookies of the paradise. after all, sugar swan wasn’t like the other cookies— she was a creature like them.

“lotus dragon, i know you know your father better than i. why do they do the things they do?” she asked painfully. her eyebrows were furrowed with confusion and doubt as her voice cracked. lotus closed their turquoise eyes, similar to longan’s with the back sea— a glowing blue diamond in the rough. opening them back up after a moment of thought, they spoke, a velvet, yet smooth and calm voice filling the air. “longan is a strange man. i can tell that they have hurt you,” they spoke softly, going to cup one of sugar swan’s cheeks in their hand. she took the top of their hand in the palm of hers as she cut him off.

“but why?—“

“longan is very arrogant and closed-minded in their beliefs. it does not surprise me in the slightest that they would have these expectations of you to help them carry out their new world design. however, that isn’t like you. you are the life to their death, and they cannot seem to realize, my dear bird, that what they see in you is flawed.” lotus then stood up from their coiled sitting position, slithering around their dimly lit chambers, almost tracing their tea table in a circle. sugar swan looked around as they perused her, looking at them as they calmly slithered around. stopping right behind her, they leaned forward, putting both of their hands on the bottom of her jaw, cupping her face, and holding it forward.

“what they see is not what they see— they see not but a marxist dream that has a crude foundation, only one you can demolish.” surely, lotus dragon knew what they were talking about. When longan betrayed lotus that very fateful day, they made sure to send a clear message, and even though it seemed not to dispel the ivory dragon, it did bring peace to the lotus paradise, despite it costing a hellish, flooded, storm-ridden hellscape. sugar swan realized this from the tales, the stories she had heard from wind archer about a so-called “day of reckoning.”

the same touch lotus had was just as featherlight as the one that longan possessed, and upon this realization, sugar swan quivered in fear, yet with a hint of realization. the only difference in this; what lotus was explaining to her… longan was indeed very subdued by their own psychosis, knee-deep in a senseless delusion that marks a vision of self-serving utopia, all for what? all for their plan to turn to damnation as evolution naturally takes its course? for sure, longan would end up swiping sugar swan in a loop, a never-ending dramatic loop that would ultimately lock her up in a gilded, golden cage with no key and no lock. life needs death to thrive, but luck is but a factor that is gambled.

“do you understand?”

#📍|| infra is logging… #cookie run ovenbreak #memory bank #quick access #files application #longan dragon cookie #lotus dragon cookie #sugar swan cookie #longanswan #lotussugar

[anon-e-miss]

The Desert Blooms

They had sent the reinforcements through Amalgamous’ Pass. Prowl sighed, he was not the least bit surprised, merely exasperated. The sixth battalion had been wiped out by the Polyhexian guerillas, just as Prowl had believed they would if Praxian reinforcements went through that narrow mountain pass. He looked out to sea of sand. Beyond the horizon, though he could not see them, Prowl knew more bands of guerilla fighters patrolled the Wastes, ensuring no battalions and no caravans could cross the unforgiving desert to reinforce or resupply his fortress. Already, the situation in Darkmount was grave. Coolant and energon shortage had the population in truly dire straights. The status quo would not hold long enough for his grand-originator, the Emperor of Praxus, the deploy another battalion.

“Draft the articles of surrender,” Prowl ordered as he turned back to the table where his council sat. He did not flinch at the outraged gasps.

“Absolutely not!” Crosscut, Windbreaker’s ambassador, gasped, slapping his servos to the table as he stood up sharply.

“I do not recall asking for you for your opinion, Ambassador,” Prowl said. “Or your permission.”

“The Emperor...” Crosscut argued.

“Is in Praxus,” Prowl replied. “Given the state of Darkmount’s fuel stores and the famine already gripping the city, we are beyond the Emperor’s aid. The sixth battalion was our last hope and that hope was damned the moment they entered the past.”

“It must delight you to see yourself proven right,” Crosscut said, scornfully.

“I am not delighted to see thousands of soldiers foolishly lost,” Prowl replied.

“If we divert the aquifers to the palace, our defences could hold,” Gravitas offered.

“No,” Prowl declared. “You forget only twenty percent of the civilian population of Darkmount are Praxians, the majority of that remaining eighty percent are native Polyhexians. Fear has restrained them thus far but fuel deprivation is a powerful motivator and our troops cannot defend against riots at the same time as the siege.”

“This is cowardice,” Crosscut snapped.

“This is pragmatism and logic,” Prowl countered. “Two things I recognize you sorely lack. Draft the articles of surrender and send a courier to present it to the rebels’ commander.”

“We don’t even know who that slagsucker is!” Crosscut snarled.

“Considering the rebels are undermining the walls as we speak, it should not be hard for a courier to find someone to pass the message on,” Prowl said. “I will not tell you again. Draft the articles. I am waiting.”

Prowl was not naive or optimistic. He dictated only a single condition, that the Praxian civilians and soldiers be permitted to leave unmolested. It was his dearest hope that it be accepted but Prowl knew it was not guaranteed. Over the decavorns since his grandprocreators had conquered Praxus, his framekin had not ingratiated themselves on their new vassals. The puppet prince Windbreaker had installed had been a cruel tyrant. Darkmount, though Polyhexian, had be no protector to his kinsmecha, but instead, he had been a greedy, power-hungry fool. That he had been assassinated by his own frametype had been no surprise at all to Prowl. Being sent to replace him as Sovereign Prince, had surprised Prowl.

His originator had been correct that this was no reward but a banishment the commonmecha of Praxus would not recognize as a slight and thus would not question. Camshaft had not had the power or the influence to save him and Prowl had not wished for him to risk as much as he had arguing the matter. For a time, Prowl had feared his originator would be banished with him and he imagined that Windbreaker had wished too but sending the Second Prince of Praxus to a remote and hostile vassal state would not have been accepted by the nobility or peasantry of Praxus. There were limits on the Emperor’s powers, not many but there were some.

As mid-cycle turned to dark-cycle, Prowl made his way to the sprawling palace gardens. He walked passed dry and silent fountains and pools. It had struck Prowl as irresponsible, when he had arrived at the palace a vorn ago, to waste precious coolant on ornamental fountains when the city held as his capital suffered under a crippling drought. A land of desert and coast, Polyhex’s scattered cities depended on aquifers fed from ancient, underground rivers. His grandprocreators had known this and as part of their war of conquest, they had ordered aquifers sabotaged. They had brought Polyhex to its knees in this way. Only one aquifer survived to provide Darkmount the coolant its crops and mechanisms needed to survive. One aquifer was only manageable in times of plenty but in drought it was a true hardship and this drought had lingered on and on. Since Prowl had arrived in the desert city, it had never once rained.

The jasper and kyanite were growing well. Prowl took took his snips and cut clusters from the lush crystals and set them in his baskets. They were pretty crystals, to his optics, not glittering or luminous by any means but their colours were rich, a prime to be harvested. There was nothing in this garden that could not be consumed. His originator would have called it a market garden, but of course Prowl did not sell the crystals but gave them to Ratchet, the Iaconian medic he had met earlier on in his tenure as prince. It was not much, it was not enough but Prowl grew what Ratchet needed, what the medic could not find in market stalls anymore.

In the distance, Prowl heard a commotion. It was as he had expected. As glyph had spread of the imminent surrender, much of the palace’s staff had fled, not wanting to be caught up in the inevitable carnage. That was fair enough in Prowl’s thinking. Why should an innocent chambermech or cook die for their master. Prowl had no illusions of their loyalty. Much of the contingent assigned to the palace had slunk away, Praxians who hoped to get away with their lives while they could; he wished them well. Prowl clipped a handsome pyromorphite as he saw torches climbing higher and higher. There was no sense in running; he had nowhere to go. A common soldier could disappear into a crowd, not a prince whose face had been carved on every monument.

“There he is!”

Prowl did not flinch as tall doors to the garden crashed against the walls as they were thrown open. He had not locked them, there had been no need to use the battering ram against them. As the mob gathered themselves up the ground where they had fallen as the doors had given way more easily than they had expected, Prowl watched dispassionately. It was a spectacle but Prowl was not especially amused by it. Leaving his snips in the basket, Prowl set it on the ground. With any luck, the crystals would still find their way to Ratchet. Given the way the mob waved their torches as they climbed over the fall battering ram, Prowl suspected his garden was going to be burned. For this, he could mourn a little. Though it could only have been a klik, perhaps even not that long, it seemed like breams before the mob had made order of themselves and marched towards him, blades, blasters and torches raised.

“Tyrant!” They cursed him. Prowl could not help but be a little offended by the moniker but he knew that was what the Polyhexians called him, the Tyrant of the Wastes. He did not think himself a tyrant but it was not surprising they saw him in a considerably more unfavourable light. In the light of the torches, the energon-lust in their optics was magnified and their sharp blades flashed with lethal promise.

“Don’t you fragging dare,” Ratchet snarled as he jumped between Prowl and the mob. The Praxian took a stepped back, startled that the medic had appeared, or that he could move that fast.

“Ratchet, go!” he said, feeling frantic for the first time since this debacle had begun. “They will kill you!”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Ratchet replied. He waved his wrench at the mob who had come for Prowl’s helm. To Prowl’s surprised, the whole of them flinched, even cowered. “Darkmount is dryer than kindling and you scrap for processors are waving torches around? Really? Do you think there’s coolant enough to put out a fragging fire? Go home, ever last one of you dumbafts.”

“Y’re on his side?” One of the mob asked, sounding betrayed.

“How about you use your optics and look around you,” Ratchet snapped. “Fluorite, iolite, quartz. Look. Does this look like Straxis’ garden? Now you know where I’ve gotten the crystals I’ve needed to treat all of you. I got them from him. Now go.”

Somehow, they obeyed, casting Prowl confused and suspicious glances as they retreated. Prowl too was confused. Ratchet stood guard over him until they had gone. They would not be the last. These had been tradesmecha and common mechanisms tasting freedom and vengeance for the first time in eons. Robbed of their vengeance, Prowl feared what might become of the Praxians in the homes below his fortress. Would these mechanisms slake their first on innocents after being denied him? Prowl had no guard left to send to their defence; he had no protection to offer.

“You need to go,” Prowl said.

“Not a chance,” Ratchet replied. “You aren’t leaving my sight until this is settled.”

“You cannot be tied to me when the rebels come for me,” Prowl countered. “You need not lose your helm.”

“You aren’t going to lose your helm,” Ratchet said. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

“You cannot hope to stop them.”

“Oh, yes I can,” Ratchet declared, tapping his wrench against his servo.

“Ratchet,” Prowl entreated. “Please. There are hundreds of Praxians down there with no protections and no expectations of love from their neighbours. The guards have fled. I need you to go down and cool tempers so that there might not be a slaughter.”

“Prowl...”

“Please,” Prowl begged. “They are, most of them, innocent in all of this.”

“Okay, fine,” Ratchet said. Prowl sagged with relief. “Go to your berthroom, lock and barricade the door. I’ll be at your side when you meet Punch. I’ll see to it you get out of this alive.”

#valveplug #maccadams #tf prowl #tf ratchet #the desert blooms #arranged marriage #war prize #body modifications

[voerman]

Collecting Hanusa lore that even she doesn't know and putting it in a timeline that is almost certain to change. Dark Urge typical content warnings and spoilers below:

Born from the flesh and blood of Bhaal, Hanusa is sculpted into a half-elf and given to a dedicated cultist; Locusta Fern to raise until she was fully grown.

Hanusa was a model child, as a toddler she bit everyone she spent any time around unattended, by the time she was six she had ripped a girl's hair out so hard it had taken half her scalp. She killed rats and rabbits because they ate the flowers in her mother's garden. Her mother rewarded her with cakes and sweets.

Around this time, Locusta Fern made the worst mistake the mother of a bhaalspawn can make: she began to love her. When Hanusa was ten, her mother was a hair's breath away from taking the girl away from Baldur's Gate.

Though Hanusa loved her mother dearly, she felt her entire childhood that something was missing and was desperate to know more about her father.

In response to her mother's doubts, her father decided that it was time for her to make her first proper kill and join the other spawn and sent Sceleritas Fel to meet Hanusa for the first time.

Fel told her what she needed to do to meet her father and make him happy, and Hanusa did it. After killing her mother in a daze, Hanusa broke down, crying over her body before mutilating it until it was unrecognizable. To this day, she keeps a lock of her mother's hair.

The Butler returned, delighted at what she had done, and took her to the temple of Bhaal, where she met her brother and sister; Sarevok and Helena. Helena was nursing a newborn Orin at the time.

At the Temple, Hanusa became very reserved and dedicated to her training. Her life had been shattered but now she knew her purpose and would do anything to achieve it, to be the perfect Slayer for her father.

She grew close to Helena, and was saddened when Orin killed her in self-defense, though she hardly held it against the child. After all she had killed her own mother in far less dire circumstances.

After that, Hanusa took over her training, being as cruel as she felt was necessary to motivate her to improve. Often chiding her for being a half-breed and a grandchild of Bhaal to cover her own insecurities. Bhaal was as cruel and indifferent a father as he was a god, and Hanusa often felt that she would never truly make him proud of her despite her dedicated efforts.

(tw: Sarevok typical incest)

Hanusa was barely twenty when Sarevok began making advances towards her. Already dissatisfied with her life and seeing Helena's in her future, she took that action as the final straw and left the Temple, on her way out advising a twelve year old Orin to do the same as soon as she could.

(Author's note: This scene involves some major miscommunication, with Hanusa telling Orin that it's not worth it and that their father will never love her, and Orin taking that as an insult to her rather than a failure on Bhaal's part.)

She went out on her own, in the process meeting an order of Paladins, and for a while found some peace. She was able to sate her need to kill on those her order deemed evil but it wasn't enough. She felt just as empty, just as numb as she had before performing ritual killings in her father's name.

One night, she simply couldn't help herself and slaughtered the entire order, just to feel something. She mutilated their bodies, ripping and eating their flesh until she felt truly satisfied. It was also the first time her father deigned to speak to her directly, commending her and telling her that he did love her, she just needed to do what came natural to her and stop forcing herself to perform stilted ritual murders she felt no passion for.

And so she did, ignoring almost everything else and becoming the most renowned serial killer in Baldur's Gate history, enlisting her favourite butler to aid her in the torture and vivisection of any victims that felt particularly special to her. She had a particular predilection for beautiful women who were particularly kind to her.

#kit speaks #oc: hanusa #bg3 spoilers #a lot of this is subject to change but i just wanted to get it written down #wanted to get meeting enver in here but even in small font this was getting obscenely long #another post for another day #anyway sarevok should get a job and stay away from my daughters that's right bhaal they're MY daughters now #hanusa lore tag

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the crown and the throne (DiaLovers fanfic // Game of Thrones AU)

the boy who played with magic || kanato, ayato, laito, shuu

Kanato's childhood memory was supposed to be filled with silly giggles, pranks, hide-and-seeks, and bedtime stories. However, all he could remember was magic and how he discovered he could create fire.

It all started when Kanato and his brothers were lounging in the garden. While Ayato and Laito were busy catching bats, Kanato was preparing his mini tea party, positioning all his stuffed toys in their places. He patted his doll's head to smoothen out the frizzy hair when suddenly, there was fire coating his fingertips, almost setting the doll on fire.

Kanato quickly retracted his hand and waved it off, ensuring there was no trace of flame on his fingertips. He became afraid of what he had seen. After all, the priests have warned people about magic and how it only causes harm. At this point, Kanato believes the old gods must have cursed him to suffer.

And so, every night, he would whisper to Teddy that the fire was nothing. It was just his imagination brought by the overdose of tea and sweets. Unfortunately, it wasn't.

Ayato and Laito soon discovered his secret. One time, Ayato teased him by stealing Teddy from him, with Laito trying to stop the two from fighting. Of course, Kanato, desperate to get the stuffed bear back, decided to push him to the floor and grab Teddy from him. But when he did, fire coated his fingers again and it hit Ayato on his shoulder; it wasn't enough to burn him though.

Kanato was scared for his life at that moment. Oh no. Ayato and Laito know. They'll tell Mother and Father. Then they'll lock me up in a tower and brand me insane, he thought.

But Ayato only touched his flame-coated fingers and gaped in delight. "You're awesome, Kanato! How did you get them on your fingers?"

Laito agreed. "Is that your secret power?"

The triplets played more often because of Kanato's power. Of course, the middle triplet practiced caution. After all, he didn't want to hurt his brothers with fire.

But their happy times were short-lived. One day, High Priest Seiji Komori visited Karlheinz and told him that the church needs to cleanse Kanato's soul because "the child is going to bring chaos to Westeros by kissing the Darkness itself." Of course, the idea seemed preposterous to Cordelia, bringing the triplets behind her back while Kanato covers his ears to block out the noises.

"My son is not a monster," she spat, her green eyes glaring at the indignant Seiji.

But the followers of the old gods kept on pressuring the House Sakamaki to surrender Kanato, urging them that the prince will be the one to bring ruin to Westeros. That's why Kanato escaped from the castle, sadly leaving poor Teddy on his bed and running in the forest, not knowing where he would go afterward. However, someone from the Church discovered his plan and soon, a group of people were tailing after him, leading him to run in fright.

Someone!

SOMEONE!

SOMEONE, HELP ME!

Suddenly, he felt a force grab his arm, hiding him from the church members. When Kanato turned to see who it was, it was the Darkness itself, donning an androgynous body. Its pointed nails threatened to scratch his cheek as it admired his appearance.

"My child, how I long for you to appear before me," it spoke with admiration, a cruel smile on its mouth.

Kanato panted for air. "Are you the Darkness? Are you the one who protected me?" he asked, looking around to see that there was nothing but a place full of fog and gray skies.

The Darkness nodded, leaning its face closer to his. "You know, little prince, the Light and I have been waiting for you. We have been expecting this day to come."

Kanato's brows are knitted in confusion, frowning as he didn't get what it meant. Without further ado, the Darkness flashed him various memories.

They were all too much for him. The living and the undead. Adam and Eve. The dragons. The King of Ghouls. The hounds. The snakes. The rise and fall of the bats. The Spider. The Shadow of Death. The battle of the bastards. And lastly, a child who turns into a shadow monster, ready to kill its enemies.

And then everything stopped. The Darkness was gone, and Kanato was standing in the middle of the forest, his eyes wild and crazy with fresh tears. The church members were all prepared to capture him when they saw another figure interlacing its fingers with Kanato's as they chanted the old Valyrian spell.

"Oh sȳndror, rȳbagon bisa riña se ivestragī zirȳla glaesagon. Kostilus mazōregon zirȳla hae iā irudy syt zȳhon nēdenkī" (1)

And the next thing, a huge chunk of the forest was sent into purple flames. Ayato and Laito ran to the source and found Kanato with his arms covered in purple flames with the dead bodies of the church members around him. He was laughing hysterically, purple eyes sad and crying. After a few seconds, he was screaming in anger and asking the old gods why he was being punished.

Of course, Seiji Komori was adamant to make Karlheinz sacrifice his child. But because Kanato can summon flames, bring inanimate objects to life, and see visions, he decided the middle triplet must be put to good use. That's why Kanato killed. That's why he robbed them of their lives. That's why the Sakamaki's got the advantage over their enemies.

However, Kanato quickly realized he didn't want the magic he obtained to be used for his father's schemes.

I did not sell my soul to the Darkness just to be used like this, he thought.

That's why, when he saw how Karlheinz would die, he made sure to never tell him.

If I can't kill him, then I might as well not tell him about his death.

After that, everything was a blur. Subaru left to meet the Many-Faced God. Yui was forced by the Church to marry Shin. Ayato got exiled protecting him and Laito. Laito left the palace to find their brother. Reiji was scheming something against Beatrix. And now, he witnessed Shuu destroying the throne.

"Are you done with the damage?" Kanato inquired, almost startling the eldest Sakamaki.

Shuu placed back his sword in his scabbard and walked past Kanato like he did nothing. They both know they won't tell a soul about this incident.

Kanato could only sigh. "Are you going back to the Wall?"

Shuu stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to see if Kanato was scheming something. When he found that he wasn't, he nodded. Then he realized—

"Why are you asking? You know everything that happens," Shuu pointed out.

Kanato walked towards him and slipped the hood of his cape over his head. "I'm coming with you."

Shuu frowned. "You have nothing to do in the North."

"I am not going to the North."

"... Then, where are you going?"

"Rotigenberg. It's in the North East."

Shuu's blue eyes widened in shock. If Kanato goes there, he'll be in great danger.

"That's where the undead lives."

"... I know."

A moment of silence ensued. Shuu masked his concern with indifference. This is the path they have taken. No use backing out now.

"I will drop off at the land before snow," Kanato stated, to which Shuu agreed. "No need for you to accompany me."

The two of them resumed walking, but before Kanato could go inside the carriage, Shuu held his arm and spoke seriously.

"Valar morghūlis." (2)

Kanato hitched a breath at that, then chuckled.

"Valar dohaeris." (3)

TRANSLATION: (1) "Oh Darkness, hear this child and let him live. Please accept him as a gift for his bravery." (2) All men must die. (3) All men must serve.

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STORY MASTERLIST

#kanato sakamaki #sakamaki kanato #ayato sakamaki #sakamaki ayato #laito sakamaki #sakamaki laito #sakamaki shu #shu sakamaki #sakamaki brothers #sakamaki family #sakamaki triplets #diahell #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fanfic #dialovers x game of thrones #dialovers #dialovers fanfic #game of thrones au

[imaginativemind29new]

Find the word tag

Thanks @the-broken-pen for the tag :) The words were: anguish, glimmer, steal (or any variation of it) and misery

I didn't find anguish in my current WIP so far, but here are some short snippets from The Heir's Curse with the other words. These snippets are in chronological order chapterwise of the THC (and not edited mind you):

---

Baz POV:

I pulled two of Tylan’s ridiculous seashell-hairpins from my pocket and slid them into the lock. My fingers found the rhythm effortlessly, the soft clicking in my ears a familiar melody. Almost as familiar as the gentle sound of the waves at sea. The song of thieves and pirates. My song. Painfully learned in countless moments when desperation and hunger outweighed the fear of getting caught. Better to steal than to starve. A wolf howled in the distance, providing just the distraction needed. Tonight was not about snatching a warm meal. This mission was different. Far more significant. The lock yielded under my fingers, and I took a deep breath before pushing through the gate and immersing myself in the darkness of the shadows. Drogan was busy elsewhere tonight. I made sure of it. Still, I ventured carefully, looking out for any sign of Askaela’s most notorious collector or his guards. Drogan was as arrogant as he was cruel, displaying his most valuable possessions in an open gallery because no one in their right mind would dare to steal from him. Well, I never claimed that I was.

---

Robyn's POV:

I spent the rest of the day wandering aimlessly through the temple gardens. It was all too much. How could I possibly marry someone I had never met before? And leave the only home I had ever known? I needed to talk to Milah. She was the only one who could calm me down, and together we would surely find a way out of my misery. But she was nowhere to be found. I rubbed my sweaty palms over my dress for the umpteenth time, leaving damp stains. Finally, I decided to check the House of Healing. The air in the hall-like room hung heavy, carrying a scent of herbs and blood. Milah was nowhere to be seen as I peeked my head through the door and eventually took a few steps into the room. Some of the wounded pirates turned their heads in my direction, and I tried to hide the nausea that hit me at the smell of their sweat and blood.

Someone stirred at the other end of the dimly lit room, and I called out Milah's name, but it was Isadora of all people who approached me.

---

Robyn's POV:

“If it pleases you High Priestess, we would be delighted to see a demonstration of Robyn’s improvement.” Isadora’s lips curled into a sly smile as her eyes met mine. My fork pierced into the salmon with unnecessary force as I imagined stabbing it into Sister Isadora’s arm instead. To my dismay, Eirene’s eyes started to gleam at the prospect. She clapped her hands.

“What a splendid idea”, she said, gesturing one of the maidservants to bring an empty pitcher.

No, that was an absolutely terrible idea. Sweat formed on my forehead. I was not ready. Far from it.

My eyes caught Eirene’s and I tried to convey my plea wordlessly, but her gaze was unrelenting. Glimmering pile of starcrap.

"Wonderful, so Robyn, do us the honor?" Isadora quipped. All I wanted was to jump to my feet and fake another attack of migraine, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of backing down. So instead I took the pitcher from the maidservant's hands and smiled.

"Of course, Sister Isadora. It would be my pleasure."

---

Not tagging anyone specifically on this, but everyone who wants to play please feel free to with the same words :)

#the heir‘s curse #thc #writing #writeblr #writing tag game #find the word tag