#greater fae

[doberbutts]

Girl's night! @kangals

[choices-and-voices]

I shall henceforth be referring to this as The Proposal Scene and nobody can stop me, part 1/4

[acourtofquestions]

Did Rowan & Celaena/Aelin/Elentiya just have a mind to mind conversation like it’s no big deal??? HOW DID CELAENA NOT FIND THIS ODD??? I thought Daemati were ACOTAR… SOMETHING IS UP HERE!

[cafeconbrujeria]

appropriation is bad. but what's also bad is how people will repeat one or two "facts" they know from Wikipedia and then scream at people raised practicing the closed traditions they claim to be defending. so like. they can't even do that right, tbh. you can't even do your own culture if you don't look and sound exactly as these outsiders think you should.

so if you strip all of that out of your public practice, because it's not worth the effort to deal with, what's left?

Re: that last reblog, that is exactly how witchblr is but with appropriation, etc.

Like I started out blogging almost exclusively about magic (and crows), but I got so tired of having to write a disclaimer at the end of every post in order to avoid the inevitable virtue signaling additions that I stopped wanting to write on the subject nearly as much.

There's other factors too, but seriously, that shit is exhausting.

Disclaimer: appropriation bad

[inspiredrawaw]

A Fae’s Magic. My take on how magic works and headcannons

And here we are!! My take on how I imagine the fairies magic working as well as my interpretation of Peris physical disability headcannon. I went with MS due to me getting optic neuritis last year and doing a shit ton of research into MS just in case! And now I get to show that research here! text below

IMAGE 1: A Faes Magic.

a fae get their magic from the Big Wand that gets stored as its own unique "information" in the fae's nervous system. Magic helps a fae's nervous syetm send signals to their wings to move and function as well as enhance the other functions of their nervous syetm. Leading to faster wound healing and immortality, gives them a 6th sense to other magic beings, greater balance and coordination when they change forms, and enhancement to their memory, learning, and thoughts.

big wand magic go into brain, magic becomes signals, magic gets stored in nervous system

IMAGE 2:

now wands, everything must be done in moderation. A wand can help a fae have control over their magic, be more precise in casting magic, and for storing extra magic. Due to this a wand becomes an extension of a fae even to a point where a wand will float with their fae.

A fae will receive a rattle wand at birth due to their immature nervous systems causing large uncontrolled magic outbursts.

IMAGE 3:

As a fae gets older it becomes more difficult to expel that magic. It's easier to control but magic back up becomes a real problem. Similar to how a nervous system can be overloaded with chronic stress, their nervous system can be overloaded with magic. This magic overflow will cause butterfly nausea, rainbow vomit, and a build up of confetti in their lungs and sinuses.

The most common occupation a fae will pursue is as a fairy godparent. Human kids wild imagination is a great way to expel extra magic. People will work in this field for selfish reasons but that's a different problem.

IMAGE 4:

what about our pal Peri? Peri has magical Multiple Sclerosis.

Magical MS or M-MS similar to human MS, the immune system will attack the protective layer on nerve fibers causing communication problems for the nervous system.

This in fae's can cause the magic a fae can store to be decrease overtime. Fae with M-MS have weaker wings typically floating lower then their peers, numbness in limbs, lack of coordination no matter their form, slower recovery time, fatigue, and increased magic back up risk.

helps with magic, coordination, nervous system can’t hold a lot of magic, bad leg gets worse of MMS flareups

IMAGE 5:

For Peri he first discovered this only a few years prior to the show after getting optic neuritis in their right eye.

Peri switched out his wand for his cane wand. A mobility and magic aid. By enclosing the star of his wand in a sphere it acts as extra storage for his magic decreasing his magic back up risk. It also helps with slowing down the process of his nervous system getting attacked by his immune system to ensure a fae's immortal life. He has an easier time floating and casting magic.

[i-have-41-protons]

My TMA headcanons:

Jurgen Leitner had the biggest, most pathetic old-man crush on Gertrude Robinson. He met up with her in the tunnels and then cried himself to sleep because they could never be together and Gertrude would never like him back or some shit. But not before gooning it to her picture.

Michael Shelley was hyper-mobile, like double-jointed. With all the troubles that came with.

Gertrude actually WOULD go for a loser like Leitner, but she never did because she didn’t think of him as anything but a source of information.

Gertrude Robinson was aromantic bisexual.

Gertrude had it going on with Agnes Montague. Not sure how that would work but it probably involved oven mittens

Agnes cannot be touched without burning, at all. Not sure if it’s already canon, but if not, here’s my take on it: the Desolation took even the barest intimate contact with another human being — or as close as it gets to one — from its strongest avatar. It’s a curse. My girl gets to SufferTM

Gertrude actually had a soft spot for Gerry. Of course, she didn’t let it interfere with her work, and of course, she skinned him and left him behind… buuuuuuut he was still the only person allowed to call her “Gertie” to her face and survive, and she did catch herself feeling an occasional fondness towards him.

Gertrude was being devoured alive by guilt for every person she had sacrificed for “the greater good”. She cried when she fed Michael to the Spiral.

Gertrude never, ever cried, even alone… except for a very few occasions.

Mary Keay wore her hair in two long, thick braids before she went bald. I hate the bitch but she knows how to carry a Look

Peter Lukas is Jonah’s sugar daddy.

Peter Lukas and Elias Bouchard have been married and divorced at least 14 times. I’m saying Elias because they have been married and divorced even more times with other identities of Jonah

Jonah Magnus was a plump, tall freckled ginger with innocent eyes, a disarming smile, and an awkward attitude. He made an active choice to only bodyhop into twinks because he was one at heart.

Mordechai Lukas was Jonah’s sugar daddy. Peter is just continuing the tradition (he didn’t know about that when he got into an affair with Jonah)

Elias wears eye earrings. Nothing we can do about that, he’s just that cunty

Jonah Magnus, Peter Lukas and Simon Fairchild are in an on-and-off polycule. Peter and Jonah fight over Simon. Nobody wins. Ever.

Michael Distortion can use fae rules if it likes to.

That’s it so far! You may have noticed I’m a bit obsessed with the “previous generation” as you may put it, and not the main cast lmao

Part 2

[doberbutts]

[kefiteria]

Secret Admirer! Sebek [headcanon]

Sebek Zigvolt would never, ever admit to being a secret admirer.

No, no, no — it’s not admiration!

He’s simply fulfilling his sacred duties as a loyal retainer to Lord Malleus, of course. That’s all. Absolutely nothing more (or so he tells himself). But the truth?

He’s the most obvious, reluctant secret admirer in all of NRC.

The Subtle Gestures

Sebek’s protective instincts know no bounds. You’ll find your things;

mysteriously fixed

books arranged in perfect

your chair pulled out just slightly before you sit down

a misplaced item suddenly appearing exactly where it should be

Ask about it, and he’ll deny everything with a flushed face and a loud;

“HMPH! I HAVE FAR MORE IMPORTANT MATTERS TO ATTEND TO!”

But the careful way your favorite pen is always perfectly set at your desk says otherwise.

The Heroic Entrance

Danger? Mishap? Minor inconvenience?

No problem. Sebek is always there, just happening to pass by at the exact right moment.

“FEAR NOT! I HAPPENED TO BE IN THE AREA!”

he’ll bellow, leaping into action with unnecessary dramatics.

In reality?

He’s been watching over you (lurking awkwardly behind pillars)

or pretending to examine a nearby wall

ready to swoop in if needed.

Subtlety is not his strong suit.

The Gifts

Sebek’s gifts are nothing short of gallantly old-fashioned though he’ll insist they are “practical necessities” and not gifts.

A perfectly pressed handkerchief left neatly on your desk.

A finely sharpened quill with a ribbon in your favorite color.

A rare book of fae poetry (which might, if you look closely, have careful annotations about love and devotion — but those are irrelevant! Entirely irrelevant!)

The Letters

Ah, the letters.

At first, they’re curt and cautionary:

"You should exercise greater awareness of your surroundings. Carelessness is unbecoming."

Over time, they shift, almost against his will, into reluctant praise:

"Your resolve is… satisfactory, I suppose. Do not let it falter."

And finally, into full, aching sincerity:

"You are the dawn to my dusk, the steady flame that drives back my storms. Yet... this shall remain unsaid."

(And he definitely didn’t stay up all night agonizing over every word. Nope. Not at all.)

Confrontation

It happens by accident.

A letter, unsent and raw, falls from his satchel.

You pick it up — and it’s overwhelming. The pure sincerity of it, the storm of affection so clumsily yet earnestly captured in ink.

When you confront him, Sebek’s face turns a shade of red even Malleus would comment on.

He sputters, shouting:

“THIS — THIS ISN’T FOR YOUR EYES —!”

“Then who was it for, Sebek?”

“I — THAT IS — NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, HUMAN!”

He’s mortified, practically vibrating with embarrassed fury. (It’s adorable~)

Tease

If you tease him about it — gently or mischievously — Sebek will puff up like an indignant cat.

He’ll shout about your "INDECOROUS BEHAVIOR" and "LACK OF RESPECT!" but deep down? He’s hopelessly, irretrievably flustered.

The next morning, you’ll find another letter on your desk.

This time, it’s signed.

He definitely meant to do that.

(Probably.)

Conclusion

Sebek is the kind of secret admirer who would write epic poetry about you, hide it behind layers of duty and honor, and then die inside the moment you glimpse even one line. And yet, despite all his bluster and dramatics, his affection is pure, genuine, and deeply, deeply loyal.

He just… needs a little help admitting it.

(But he’s getting there.)

a/n🍨: this is my first time doing headcanon! gosh i was taking alot of time thinking how to make this format clean and easy to read (im not used writing in this format ehehhe BUT this is fun💛🩵🩷 I'd do this more!)

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

Strawberry Sweet

── Azriel x Fem!Witch/Fae Hybrid Reader

also featuring platonic best friend! cassian x reader, and platonic best friend! rhysand x reader

I ~ INTRODUCTIONS ── PART TWO ── TABLE OF CONTENTS

based on [THESE] lyrics

obviously not book canon. references to battles that didn’t happen in the books, ooc inner circle, etc… 🤷🏻‍♀️ no use of y/n but i do use she / her. no descriptions other than reader being shorter than all 3 bat boys. reader is also able to winnow.

When you first met Azriel, you were sure he hated you.

With the rest of the inner circle, it had been easy. You met the High Lord first after saving his life, and you remembered the day like it happened yesterday.

Rhysand had taken to the skies one night, flying over Velaris and looking down at everything below. An ambush on Day Court had all the high lords on edge, with the message that the attackers weren’t finished being loud and clear. He knew it was bad when Helion reached out personally.

When he was attacked, it was 5 against 1. He ended up plummeting nearly 1,000 feet. As luck would have it, you were just returning home from a very late night trip to the markets.

Ever the quick thinker, you snapped your fingers, and all of your purchased goods floated into your home and all put themselves in their proper place. Then you turned your attention to the man falling from the sky. You held out a hand, and a blue light so dark that they almost resembled shadows, flowed from your palm and slowed the man’s descent just before he hit the ground.

You used your other hand to turn you both invisible until you were able to get him into your home.

To keep a long story short, because that was a tale for another time, it took a lot longer to heal him than you thought. You don’t know how much time passed, all you know is that it was completely dark outside when he fell but when you finished, you could see the sun was about to rise.

Rhysand woke up not long after you finished healing his wings.

You anticipated the first question he asked, so you beat him to it. Giving him a brief version, you explained that you were half witch, half fae. You didn’t explain your family history, or how you came to live alone. There was a sense of relief when he didn’t ask more questions, though you could tell by the look on his face that he wanted to.

“Not that I don’t love hosting you, but shouldn’t you be going? I’d imagine a lot of people are worried about you.”

You felt him trying to get into your mind, and wished you could’ve taken a picture of his face when you told him that wouldn’t be possible unless you allowed it. Centuries of practice ensured that even the strongest mind reader wouldn’t be able to access your thoughts so easily.

When he finally felt strong enough to stand, you followed closely behind him as he headed to the door.

“I’m not officially a healer, obviously, but if you ever need help, you may return. I only ask that you don’t tell anyone that I’m here. If word gets to the wrong person—”

“I won’t tell a soul, you have my word. You’ve saved my life, and I owe you a debt far greater than anything I could pay you.”

You shook your head and insisted you didn’t need, or want, money.

“Well if there’s ever anything you need, no matter how big the request, please come find me.”

“Thank you, High Lord. I will keep that in mind.”

He managed a small smile. “You used magic to stitch part of my wings back together, please, at least call me Rhys. Or Rhysand if it makes you more comfortable.”

You nodded and after he thanked you again for saving his life, and after you said you did it because you wanted to help and not because you wanted something, he took to the skies. You wondered if you’d ever see him again.

But there was still a war going on, and you shouldn’t have been that surprised when he returned a few weeks later. What did surprise you, and even made you a little angry, was that he had not 1, but 2 people with him. Not living under a rock, you recognized them right away. And this was how you ended up meeting Cassian and Nesta.

That anger disappeared when you saw just how injured Cassian was. He could barely stand, even Nesta was having to help keep him upright.

Turning around, you went back into your home and snapped your fingers. Seconds later, everything on your dining table lay in neat piles on the floor. You were thankful that you’d opted for a larger table, and don’t think he would’ve fit on your bed.

You got to work healing him the moment Rhys set him down on the table. Although you worked fast in an attempt to ease his pain, it was clear he was still in a lot of it.

“I need to put him to sleep. He has broken bones and I promise none of you want him awake when I put them back in place.” You looked up at Nesta then, and for the first time since entering your home, her gaze left her mates, and she looked at you.

Unable to speak, she only nodded, silently giving you permission. He was out not long after that, and you worked for another 2 hours until you were satisfied that he’d be alright.

Nesta finally spoke up then, asking if you were going to wake him up. You explained that while putting him to sleep was fairly easy, you didn’t think it was the best idea to wake him up. That required going deep into his mind and wandering around until you found the part of it where he was waiting. That act in itself would give you access to every thought and memory that Cassian has ever had, and you didn’t like to do that to anyone without their explicit permission.

After explaining that it wouldn’t be long before he woke up on his own, as you redid one of Cassian’s bandages, you noticed Nesta give Rhys a look. He only shook his head and whispered that he trusted you.

You were right as you knew you would be, and it was just 10 minutes later that the general of the Night Court was opening his eyes and sitting up.

“Why… am I on a table??”

Nesta hated showing any sign of being vulnerable, so none were more shocked than Rhys and Cassian when she walked over to you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Thank you,” she spoke softly. “I don’t know how we can repay you.”

You smiled when the 2 of you stepped apart. “No payment is needed, or wanted. I promise—” It felt like all the air left your body when Cassian took his turn with a hug, only he lifted you off of the ground and seemed to be trying to squeeze the life out of you.

“Cass, I happen to like her and would appreciate you not killing her.”

“Sorry! Just, you know, thanks for saving my life.“

After they left , all repeatedly thanking you on their way out, you wondered if what just happened was some sort of fever dream.

Over the next few months, the 3 would occasionally pop in, but all for different reasons. Rhys was still fascinated by you being half witch, half fae. All he wanted to do was sit and ask questions, and he’d hang on to every word you spoke as you answered. Cassian, who insisted you call him Cass, did come to you for healing. But for ‘injuries’ he very much could’ve handled on his own. He healed faster than a normal human, but you lost count of the amount of times you opened your door, or he opened it and barged in, telling you about a paper cut or the smallest bruise.

The first time Nesta came to visit, and you greeted her with “Lady Nesta”, you almost laughed at the daggers she sent your way. You quickly learned it was just Nesta, or Nes. During her second visit, the subject of fighting somehow came up. You mentioned your basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, but that you wished you were more advanced, or at least knew how to fight with a weapon. Ever since then, she’d come to visit at least once a week to try and convince you to join her on training with the Valkyries.

“I don’t know that I’d actually be any good,” you admitted, adding on that you were so used to fighting with your powers that you genuinely couldn’t remember what it was like to do so without them.

A month of pestering persuading had you finally agreeing to sit in on a training session with the Valkyries. And that was how you came to meet Azriel.

The following day, Nesta showed up at your front door bright and early. Well not bright, since the sun had yet to even rise, but with how you felt as you slowly got dressed, you knew it was definitely early. She assured you that Valkyries didn’t always train so early, but she wanted to get some one-on-one training with you.

After a brief discussion in which she promises you’ll end up having fun, you ask if all of her family will be training. She says no, with the Valkyries it’s usually only her and Cass. Rhys occasionally pops his head in to observe, but has been busy with everything going on so not so much lately.

“Oh I forgot you haven’t met everyone yet. Feyre, my sister and Rhys’ mate, prefers to train solo so you probably won’t see her today. Then there’s Azriel, he used to train with us a lot, well help train the women, but Rhys has been sending him out a lot lately. What with everyone being on edge from the attacks, we’re all eager to find out who’s behind it all.”

She explains where to go and you take her hand, winnowing you both to the training grounds.

“There she is!” You jump a little at Cass’ voice. He’s all the way on the other side of the room, but so loud that it’s as if he’s right next to you. He puts down a stack of papers and quickly makes his way over to you and Nesta. “You’re just in time, look.” He holds up his hand, showing you the tiniest of paper cuts on his left index finger.

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hand in yours and use your powers to close the cut.

Nesta shakes her head. “For a warrior, you sure are a big baby.” She turns to you, “you can just tell him to suck it up next time.”

Cass gasps, putting his hands on his face. “She’d never do that! At least she cares about me.”

“Do I really though?” You tilt you head.

“Hey! Just for that I’m not going easy on you today.”

“Wait you’re training me?”

“I’m going to take that as wait really! Wow I’m so lucky Cassian the general of the Night Court is training me. Now chop chop, let’s go!” He gently pushes you towards one of the larger mats on the ground.

You turn back to Nesta, who only shrugs and mouths good luck, before joining the other women.

Much like when you were focused on healing Rhys and Cass, time goes by in a blur. Before you know it, you’ve managed to knock Cass onto his back for the third time. You look at a clock nearby and find that nearly 2 hours have gone by.

“Woo!” The 2 of you stop and turn towards the door and see Feyre leaning against the door frame, clapping as she calls out your name and shouts his congratulations.

Cass rolls his eyes, but smiles when you hold out a hand to help him to his feet. “You kicked my ass today, I’d be a little upset if I wasn’t so impressed.”

When you use your powers to immediately dry all of your sweat, you’re happy you get to use your powers for more mundane things like this.

“Ahem!”

Now it’s you turn to roll your eyes. Still, you face one of your hands towards Cass, and he’s also dry just a few seconds later.

“Thank you,” he gives a dramatic bow before telling you all he’s going to go shower.

Before you can ask why he made you do that if he was just planning to shower anyway, Feyre finally approaches you and Nesta. You become aware of how affectionate the inner circle can be, when Feyre pulls you in for a hug, not saying anything for a moment.

“You saved Rhys, I owe you everything. Thank you,” she whispers.

“I promise, you don’t owe me a thing,” you shake your head. “I’m just happy he ended up falling outside of my home. If it had been anywhere else I wouldn’t have seen it, or I wouldn’t have been able to slow his fall.”

Cass pops his head back in the room. “Anyone know if Az is coming by to train later? I couldn’t get a hold of him earlier.”

Feyre nods, “he got back less than an hour ago, I think he told Rhys he’d be by here at some point. Oh, never mind.”

The last part of her sentence comes when she looks toward the door, this time towards the ground. You watch as what looks like a series of small clouds slowly makes their way towards you. Upon closer inspection, you realize they’re shadows.

“Azriel is a shadowsinger, right?” When Nesta nods, you continue. “Do they often travel like this without him?”

“No,” Feyre watches them get closer. “I mean they can if he sends them somewhere but I don’t see why he’d send them here when he knows it’s only us…”

When the shadows finally reach you, they move faster as if they’re excited. One makes its way to the top of your head, swirling around your face. It’s a cool, almost ticklish sensation. Another weaves its way around your legs, while the last one circles your hands, as if it can sense the power you hold.

Healer.

“No,” you shake your head. “I mean I guess technically yes, among other things. But I’m still working on my healing abilities so—” You look up to find Nesta, Feyre, and Cass all staring at you. “What?”

Cass just stares at you, now with his mouth open in shock.

“We didn’t say anything…”

“Wait did — were you talking to the shadows??”

Now you were confused. “Yes… it asked, well it said I was a healer and I was just explaining—”

“You can understand them?!”

“I… they don’t speak to all of you?” You watched in amazement as the shadows continued to explore you.

Cass finally breaks his silence. “No. We’ve never heard them say anything. How the hell…”

Magic. Friend.

You smile. Holding your hands out and palms facing up, you produce 2 dark blue clouds a lot similar in appearance to the shadows. They swarm your clouds, but return to you once they realize that they’re not real shadows.

Feyre observes this, a small smile on her face. “Interesting.”

All at once, 2 of the 3 shadows stop their movements, then quickly make their way back out of the room. A minute later, the shadowsinger himself enters the room.

“Dude!” Cass began to make his way towards his brother, but Nesta elbows him in the ribs as she grabs his arm to keep him in place.

When Azriel looks at you, he freezes. He can only stand and watch as the shadow that remained in the room continues to move between your hands and your head. But when you look up at him, your first thought is that you’ve somehow offended him with your actions, so you drop your hands and step back, closer to Nesta.

The lone shadow finally returns to Azriel, hovering around his right ear. You wish you could hear what it’s telling him.

You’re further embarrassed when all Azriel does is quickly look away from you before he asks Cass to speak to him.

Once the 2 men are out of the room, you voice your concerns out loud. “I should apologize when Azriel comes back in.”

Nesta looks at you, clearly confused. “What, why would you apologize? You haven’t done anything.”

“I just… I don’t think he liked that his shadows were paying so much attention to me. I don’t know if he heard me speaking to one but I don’t want to offend him or cause any trouble.”

Feyre’s expression softened. She replaced Nesta at your side, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “That’s just Azriel, at least with someone he isn’t familiar with yet. It’s not often we bring anyone new around. He just needs time.”

You didn’t stay much longer after that, chatting to the 2 Archeron sisters for only a few more minutes before making an excuse to leave. It was obvious why you were in such a rush, but you were grateful that neither woman tried to persuade you to stay.

When you finally winnowed back to your home, you forced yourself to take a shower before collapsing onto your bed. Maybe a nap was what you needed.

You couldn’t help but think about Azriel. Everyone else was quick to warm up to you, and you still thought that you offended him by how you interacted with his shadows.

As you lay there and waited for sleep to pull you under, you wondered if he’d end up hating you.

what a shitty place to end it hahdjdnsdkc BUT part 2 picks up right where this leaves off! if i kept going we’d end the chapter at like 6k which is too long for my liking.

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[jellykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 052 - Lovesick! Fae King! Sung Jinwoo x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, gaslighting(?), gore, body horror, blasphemy, BLOOD, the act of burning people alive, arson, yandere/lovesick Jinwoo au ]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Then Let This World Set Ablaze ] ¡! ❞

You really don't know how it happened, one day you were strolling blissfully in the forest behind your cottage and now you were suddenly acquainted with the fae king who was in charge of the underworld

In your world that was run by a bunch of swindling and bastard gods with their minions of divine creatures who praise even their most horrendous crimes; lives an eternal fae king of the dead who never wanes in power.

From the heavens, the lands, the seas and the afterlife— The Fae King of the undead was someone no one could touch. Not even the greater demons and the father of all creation could dare face this man.

Well, they did once upon a time.

And the world was plunged into eternal darkness with humans being shielded by the same king everyone had despised. Humans now realized that those they worship had little to no regard to them as they started a devastating ragnarok just for the sake of pride and royalty.

In the end? 80% of the gods who started the war fell beneath the fae lord's feet and reincarnated into ghastly undead soldiers made of shadowy wisps wicked beyond one could ever imagine.

Since then, Jinwoo had become someone the common folk and even demons worship. Does he care? No. He just wants to live his long and take care of his family in his kingdom where no one can get in or out.

Not even the 9th class mages could even locate where it is.

Maybe there are but never lived to tell the tale and probably suffering eternal punishment in his army of the undead where even gods aren't spared from.

Until you.

Yes, you.

Just a simple girl who lives out in the cottage living life as happily as she can away from the big city.

The foolish and small you who doesn't even have a pinch of divine power nor exceptional mana flowing within your blood.

Somehow, the same you who is nothing more than just one of the many soul the resides in this vast world— Stumbled upon the kingdom of the Fae King of the Eternal Night.

Word of tongue say this place would be barren and dry with rot here and there. The nauseating scent of death would flow here and there that it would lead you mad.

But all of those were lies.

Instead you had found youself in a tranquil land where all sorts of flowers glow beneath your feet as a guiding trail. When you followed the gentle lights that guided you in this ethereal land where the stars shine brighter than you've ever seen— You would find yourself in front of the same king that all beings fear and submit you.

Yet why is he so beautiful?

You should be afraid.

And yet you find yourself entranced by this man who brought the mightiest being of earth to their knees.

Cascading and silky long black locks that falls so prettily as if it's made from the finest of fine silk, loose and almost open black robes that seem to glimmer softly as if it's made with a blanket of stars, a face so sculpted so perfectly it's impossible to not say this man must have been a sculpture made with hands of a divine artists whose touch only brings perfection— And oh those eyes.

Those enchanting silver eyes of death that seem to pull you into an abyss you're willing to drown yourself into.

This divine being in front of you,... Is he truly the same man who has powers so great that he can eradicate all living being with a wave of his hand whenever he pleases?

You find yourself incapable to believe that, no way, this man is too beautiful for all that wickedness.

And so that was the day you have somehow stumbled upon the kingdom of the eternal night and earned the favor of it's benevolent ruler.

꒰ ... ꒱

Contrary to what the ancient texts and the priests say about Jinwoo's cold temperment— He's actually surprisingly decent and quite normal.

Maybe even more gentle than the local men of your village who are nothing more than burly men who only care about their muscles and beer and getting laid in the dead of night.

Jinwoo is extremely easy to talk to and seems to take pleasure in showing you around his kingdom which is full of life despite being a place where the personification of death presides in.

No, in fact, this place is far more beautiful than the major cities you have seen in your small lifespan as a living being.

His soldiers who are the most fiercest of all would turn into somewhat into a group of puppies the moment they see their master passing by. Of course, the undead creatures were skeptical of you at first but quickly grew warm as soon as they realized that their 'father' is quite fond of you.

A few of them are even asking if you could play with them— To which Jinwoo strictly says no to their dismay.

You really think nothing of all this, don't you?

After all, the fae king is treating you so warmly.

You really aren't thinking of it, don't you?

You foolish, naive child.

꒰ ... ꒱

Jinwoo had his eye on you for the longest time ever since you had moved into the meek village. You are nothing more than a puny and naive human who wants to live a good life and the village welcomed you.

You were given the abandoned cottage deep in the forest but not too far from the village, they even volunteered to repair the decrepit place to which you can't possibly thank them enough for.

Such generous humans for someone as sweet and cute as you.

Yes.

Cute.

An emotion that the fae king couldn't quite describe at first since he grew used to the absence of emotions because of his birth as the one who will succeed the late Ashborn as the new kingdom of the eternal night kingdom and the new monarch that will lead the army of the dead.

His duty? To uphold peace and make sure all living beings stay in their place and never go out of line.

Should they do so then it'll be immediate death as well as being added to the immortal army to prevent them from reincarnating and repeating the same mistakes.

He grew as a normal child of the elven kingdom. But as his powers grew— His emotions disappeared one by one until he is nothing more than that for a vessel of war.

Jinwoo is more than thankful enough for his beloved family who resides with him in the kingdom. He shaped this barren place for them to live in and do what they desire.

A medicinal lab for his little sister who studies healing magic, a garden for his mother to tend to any time, and a smithy for his father to busy himself to and craft weapons for fun, or maybe just his small way of helping his kind son who unfortunately has to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders.

Truly, he can't be thankful enough.

Even if he cannot feel the same level of affections he has for them the way he used to when he was but a small elven child who wished nothing more than protect and love them.

But then you came.

A fascinating and adorable human that he has a weird connection to.

He was drawn to you.

Jinwoo can never know where these foreign feelings stem from, all he knew is that he is completely entranced by you and you only.

What is it that he feels?

He wanted to watch you.

He wanted to imprison you.

He wanted to see you smile.

He wanted to see you cry miserably.

He wanted to ruin you.

But he also wanted to cherish you.

Jinwoo cant quite put a finger on it. Regardless, he was satsified on just watching you for now since he can't exactly interfere with anyone else's life since he wants to be left alone too.

But then you stumbled upon his kingdom by accident because one of his foolish children forgot to close the dimension that leads back to his domain.

He could punish them, but he decided against it since he is quite thankful of the unexpected arrangement.

He just has to tighten the security and indulge in you.

Jinwoo is aware that humans can express quite a lot since his sister is very much like that.

But you bewitch him in a way he cant really describe.

He loved to watch the way the flowers would dance and caress your gentle skin when the wind blows. He loved the way your clothes wrinkle around your perfect body that he just itched to hold. He loved to hear your sweet voice ringing in his ears when you ask him trivial and downright ridiculous questions just to satisfy your musings.

But he, the king of this land, was the fool that indulged in all your whims.

He can't really resist you, how could he?

Jinwoo has no will to fight whatever is stirring within him in the presence of the precious you.

It was to the point that he becomes extremely obsessed with you without him realizing, he wanted to know more.

Human curiosity is the reason why the species has thrived so far depsite being one of the lower life forms whose sole purpose is to play puppets for the pathetic beings higher than their measly mortal beings, right?

That means Jinwoo can also be curious too.

No matter how twisted it can be.

It should be fine.

꒰ ... ꒱

Oh how foolish can he be too, huh?

Your frequent trips to his kingdom resulted in the villagers rioting against you with the holy church charging you with meddling forbidden witchcraft.

Somehow those old bastards in the town managed to convince everyone that you are doing something heinous when in reality you were just accompanying Jinwoo on a daily basis.

And so they dragged you to the stakes, tied you on a pole and did their blasted rituals gaslighting themselves that what they're doing as it is for the world and the will of the lord that you die by fire.

"Ignite her," A booming, thundering voice ruptures through the maddeneds howls and cackles of the villagers and priests gathered around your sorry figure praying to whatever fucking god they believe in. "I dare you"

"You!" A bishop raises his finger at the stranger, his action full of vigor and pride. "How dare you interrupt this holy ceremony dedicated to our benevolent ghod Anakkhis?"

"Hah?" The heretic scoffs, finding the whole idea ridiculous. "You're talking about that god? That fool that wept at my feet for mercy? You have some thick skin for thinking that someone like me will cower over a measly insect like that?"

"You—" The bishop gasps, completely taken aback at how bold he was. "Restrain him! That filthy thing dares to speak blasphemy of the great one! Burn him alongside that wench!"

"That wench?" Jinwoo clicks his tongue, his eyes turning into an even stronger color of blazing purple as priests and ordinary humans charged at him. "You've given me more reason on why I should murder the lot of you. For daring to call my woman a wench and burning her for a sin that was never there."

With a snap of his fingers, head would explode one by one and the screams of onlookers would fill the air that was once filled with laughter and mirth.

Cold and unfeeling Purple eyes look straight at you, each step that he makes accompanied with the falling corpses.

You dare not look at Jinwoo's gaze, after all, the air is too suffocating. You can barely even take a full breath, everytime you try to it feels like your lungs will suffocate.

And the screams, god those tortured screams.

How dare you ever doubt that he is the absolute being that has put the world on a chokehold?

By the time the priests have realized who Jinwoo was, it was far too late now since he immediately had their heads bursting.

When he reached you, his blackened hand gently lifts your face to meet his maddened and cold gaze.

How is he still so hauntingly beautiful despite the blood splatters on his divine face?

How can wrath look so gorgeous and ethereal on someone like him?

You can see the vein popping on his jaw as he unfastened the ropes and picked you up, allowing your sorry form to weep on his shoulder.

"Please, stop it!' You beg, not wanting to hear more of the torturous screams. "I'll do anything, just please stop it"

"Anything?" Jinwoo tilts his head, musing at your sobbing.

"Anything." You choke up, holding tighter onto him to show your sincerity. "Please, please stop it"

"Then you shall be my wife" Jinwoo simply says as presses his lips on your pretty little head. "Humans have a saying ti'll death do us apart. But you have no need for that."

"After all, your husband is death itself."

He is both hell and heaven depending on which side you choose to take. He is the absolute being that brings everything to it's knees. The madman who has succesfully put the world into the palm of his hand.

The village that once welcomed you with warm and loving arms starts to disappear from the distance as it billows a cloud of smoke from cindering and brilliant violet flames that defies everything natural.

It was a warning to the gods and all other living beings

,... That the Fae King of the Eternal Night Kingdom, the Shadow Monarch of the Immortal Army— Is alive and well.

It is a way to announce that he still stands as the most powerful being with an omniscient view of this wretched earth and will return should they step out of line again.

May it be humans or their worshippers, no one will be spared from the bloodbath and carnage he will bring should his wrath ever be incurred.

And, you.

You, the foolish and naive child of the land—

Is the salvation that will prevent this world from dancing in violet flames so long as you remain in his hold. Forever captive to his obsession.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Whoever may i write for I will always return to my beloved Jinwoo heheh><!! I love him dearly and can never stop loving him try as I might xD!! Next fic are hsr men again so look forward to it. For now, a self-indulgent au is here that I will be making a bot for tomorrow too so heheh:3!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[hanafubukki]

He had once said that meeting you must have been due to a cosmic intervention.

He liked to think it was fate.

How else would your presence be explained? Was it not fate that brought you two together?

A magic-less student and a fae with little time left?

Lilia was never one to fight powers higher than him. Thinking, it must be for the greater good.

He couldn’t sit back and let them take you from him.

Fates had already asked too much from him. This he would not allow.

He wouldn’t sit back and allow you to be taken from him like the tales of two lovers amongst the stars.

Let them try, and he’d wield his weapon even against the heavens.

For now though, Lilia leans down and kisses your forehead. He’ll enjoy this moment with you.

If he had anything to say? He would be with you even beyond the afterlife.

Something quick for Tanabata 💞💚☺️

Is this canon? Or an au? You decide. 😘���

I was going to post this yesterday but tumblr post limited me grrr 🤺🤺

[lushthemagicdragon]

I am absolutely obsessed with how Sammie is shot in this scene in comparison to his father. It's directly tied into a tl;dr I have about both how Christianity is treated in this film and how the magic system works in this story and so, while at some point I might write a whole ass blog post (or even an academic paper) in the future, here's the cliffnote word vomit version of why I think this is so fucking cool:

So basically, this film frames Christianity as one of the villains of the story (along with the white-liberalism-culture-vampires and the Klan), and heavily implies that what Sammie's dad wants from him is the same as what Remmick wants from him: to be used for the power of his music and subsumed into a soulless, cultureless whole. Where Sammie is lit in warm tones and dressed in warm colors, backdropped by green nature, his dad is lit in very stark cool tones with minimal contrast so he's almost in monochrome, surrounded only by the empty whiteness of the chapel. This film very clearly delivers a thesis that Christianity is a real-world culture-vampire that white people inflicted on the Black community, from the way Sammie's dad is shot and lit to look like the vampires do in this film, from Delta Slim's clear delineation that the blues isn't like that "religion they forced on us", to the way that Sammie's return to the chapel at the start and finish is intercut with scenes of Remmick. These flashes of Remmick and the horrors of that night that are cut into Sammie's dad telling him to repent and drop the guitar are the catalyst for Sammie leaving, because he figures it out. And in part he figured it out BECAUSE of the second thing that is fascinating, and that is basically the consistency of the magic system.

Basically, the magic system in this movie is antithetical to Christianity as a whole.

I'm going to preface this by saying that when I talk about Annie's hoodoo I'm NOT talking about real world hoodoo, which I know nothing about. I'm just talking about how the film presents hoodoo, and how the film presents the fae, and how these things all function within the same cohesive magic system.

Annie's Hoodoo, Sammie's music, and the Vampires are all diametrically opposed to Christianity, and are all within the realm of Faërie magic.

So when I say Faerie I don't mean specifically the sidhe, though the sidhe are part of Faerie. By Faerie magic I mean specifically the magic of the natural world, which is often ancestral, and often associated with an Otherworld that is still part of the World itself but is greater than humans. This is as opposed to sorcery (man-made magic) or heavenly/satanic (abrahamic/usually christian magic). When I say the entire magic system is Faërie it is because the Vampires are very CLEARLY laid out as Faërie, while Sammie's magic and Annie's Hoodoo are all part of the same consistent system of magic, laid out right at the start.

So basically right from the very first scene the film puts West African magic, Choctaw magic and ancient Irish magic as existing within the same frame of reality. All three have a concept of the magical singer, and all three (we later find out) know about vampires. It establishes that these all function in the same magic system, which is the Reality of this Secondary World. What is real for one group in this magic system is real for all of them. They may use different language to talk about the same thing, but the concepts are the same across the board in this universe. We're just talking about fictional secondary world magic system building here, and consistent storytelling, not real world understandings of these things.

the vampires are the most clearly Fae creatures (and by this I don't mean Fairies, but creatures associated with Faërie--imo they're like Changelings in that they were once human and then become Fae). Remmick is ancient Irish, out here singing Irish folk songs and handing gold coins to people at a crossroads, saying that the gold comes from an ancient place but it's no use to Mary while she's "alive" (human and not of the fae). It's super on-the-nose almost to the point of being irish stereotype caricature. I'll come back to him.

Annie's Hoodoo is never outright put in opposition to Christianity, but it's significant that she is not a mixed practitioner. There are no clear icons or crosses in her home. The grave marker for their dead child is not a cross but a carved African figure, which is very significant in 1930s Mississippi. She is solely a hoodoo practitioner, who lives in a ramshackle cottage in the words selling magical/natural cures. She's very witch-in-the-wood coded, but is never ever presented as wicked or evil. She's also the only spiritual figure in the film that can be trusted, and she is trusted implicitly. She is also the one who understands the consistency of the magic systems, as the teller of the intro tale and as the one who knows how to fight the vampires. This includes throwing NOT holy water on them, but garlic pickling juice. Crosses are also never used in her instructions on how to push them away (a very common vampire trope), just garlic, silver, fire, and stakes. I would also argue that Smoke's death scene with her and the baby is NOT heavenly, it's just afterlife coded (because white is generally the afterlife color code for visual media). Again, no angels, no heavenly coding, just afterlife coding. You COULD argue that she's virgin mary coded in this scene because she's breastfeeding, but we did see her actively have sex on screen earlier so that's tenuous at best. It's also shot with that same warped camera affect that happens whenever the mojo bag is in-use.

Then there is the Music. Music in general is a very common magical device in Faërie magic, and Tolkien is like the king of this: music holds power than the spoken word does not, music is the truest art of creating enchantment, this secondary world that the fae can produce, a fully realized enchanted art form. tl;dr there's a lot here but that's the cliffnotes version. Delta Slim outright says that the music is brought with them from home, rather than being forced upon them like Christianity. Sammie's music is what Sammie's dad wants to stamp out of him, or at least use to his limited means. It's Sammie's connection to the music that makes him a sinner in his father's eyes. But this is really hammered home in the final scene between Remmick and Sammie and then Sammie and his dad.

So I don't actually think Remmick's final monologue is supposed to be a final villain monologue so much as a final exposition monologue. I think the final villain monologue is Sammie's dad trying to compel him with the power of Christ, based on story structure. Generally speaking, a final villain monologue is supposed to be the peak of their evil plan, which is then foiled and shown to be wrong by the actions of the heroes. That's not exactly what Remmick's final speech does. In the final speech, Remmick explains that Christianity is the reason his culture is dead (and so the reason for the culture vampire void that needs to be filled), but he also says the following:

"They told stories of a heaven above and a devil below, and lies about the dominion of man over heaven and earth. We are earth and beast and God. We are woman and man. We are connected, you and I, to everything."

*if* this was a classic villain finale monologue, the response to this would have been "oh look this weird anti-christian pagan creature is monologuing, so he's evil, and the church is good and correct and the Truth", but that isn't how the film ends. Instead, the Remmick looks into the sunrise and hears the call of the Otherworld and his people (rather than say, heaven, because it's given that same Faerie irish lilt) but instead the music turns and he goes up in horrible flames for his crimes. UP in flames, up into the sky, which is NOT Christian for a "demon" to do in death (because he's not a demon, he's fae, Sammie calls him the devil repeatedly because he hasn't figured this out yet). The film "ends" (prior to the epilogue) with Sammie remembering the torment he went through from these vampires, after hearing this monologue, while at the church with his father trying to compel him to join *his* coven/clan/flock, and Sammie realizing that what his father is doing to him is this same repeated cycle of violence that happened to Remmick and that Remmick was trying to repeat onto him, and LEAVES.

Because of this, I think those lines above are not the typical final villain monologue, but the final bit of exposition that tells the audience the truth: that Sammie's magic and Remmick's magic (and Annie's magic as the one spiritual figure of the bunch) are all connected, you and I, to everything, with no dominion of man over heaven and earth. It establishes the magic system as consistent, and diametrically opposed to Christianlity

Faerie is morally neutral, it is the magic-of-the-World rather than of a moral dichotomy. It can be revelatory and healing, and it can be seductive and destructive. Annie and Sammie's magic is Good, and the Vampires are Evil, but they are all together diametrically opposed to the Church.

This is why the framing of Sammie and his dad in that opening scene is so fascinating, because behind Sammie is the natural world, warm and vibrant and welcoming, and behind his dad is man-made emptiness and shadow. Title of the film says it all, this film is ABOUT the so-called Sinners, the un-Christians. And that's not presented as a bad thing to be at all, but a truly magical thing, and that being a Sinner is joyous activity.

[solbaby7]

Sweet Thing

pairing: rhysand x reader

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

part 4 of the shy!reader massage mini series

warnings: swearing, sexual implications, possible violence, jealousy, gambling, male egos, petnames (bc being called bunny is so cute and soft, fight me on it)

summary: Your High Lord hosts a party with a dozen hothead Illyrian soldiers where you become the main attraction

—

“Stay close,” Rhysand murmurs in your ear, a warm hand pressed at the low of your back to guide you into the large room. It’d been recently renovated; not yet decorated and you'd assumed it was turned into a makeshift meeting area, a giant table pushed in the middle with a dozen chairs wrapped around it. It was also the furthest room from your own—a little detail that Rhys quickly bristled over when you'd mentioned it earlier. “Wanted to keep my good luck charm close by tonight.”

Your cheeks warm under the words, annoyingly aware of how sensitive your body had become in response to the High Lord since that night. It haunted your every breath; his barely contained need, the throbbing cock just a few measly layers away from being everything you’d ever dreamed of and Rhysand fed off of it like ravenous wolves who'd been starved three winters over. The teasing was merciless; heated touches and sinful words of remembrance haughtily whispered in your ear when you were supposed to be concentrating.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” You shy out of his touch, the hunger in his voice unmistakable and creating distance is easy when the others begin to filter in. A dozen or so pristinely dressed males of all sizes briefly greet Rhysand, hands clapping at each others backs and the testosterone that filtered in was thick enough to suffocate. They were friends; guys he’d fought and bled with, people he’d known for hundreds of years all gathered for card games and expensive glasses of liquor.

You were only there to help, to look pretty and shuffle the cards and stay close to Rhys—easy enough. “I’m thinking I should’ve dressed better.”

His fingers trace over the pleated pattern of your skirt, the soft purple fabric teasing at the middle of your thigh and all he can smell is some fruit on your skin—pomegranate? pear? “You look perfect, don’t worry about all them. You’ll be collecting their money for me by the end of the night.” Rhys is touchy; shamelessly so in front of others and you notice a few of the guests beginning to take you in, their stares raking up your form, sizing you up and you can feel Azriel shift closer from beside you.

"You always did have the prettiest little things hanging off your shoulder, Rhysand." Your head slowly turns to face the drawling voice, male entitlement and an incredulous amount of confidence seeping from every pore. Handsome and wealthy, but the allure dies the moment his mouth opens. The tailored suit alone was worth three months of the average faes rent and then some. "You have to tell me where you found this one."

Rhys laughs but you can tell there's no real humor behind it, his hand raising to wrap around your waist and pull you in closer; enough for your thighs to skim on the arm rest of his chair. The body language is possessive no matter how casual it’s intended to be and you catch Cass and Az sharing a look—mentally agreeing to pounce when they deemed fit.

Like salivating lions dressed in sheep's clothing.

"Couldn’t tell you, Maverick, she just stumbled in my lap."

He's trying to hold back for the benefit of the greater good—that was the whole point of inviting them over in the first place. Even after Mor had insisted that it was the dumbest idea ever inviting a dozen ill-tempered Illyrian soldiers and filling them up with booze. "I'd love to see her stumble in mine."

Your reaction is instinctual after feeling the High Lord's shoulders tense under your fingers and in seconds your hands are gently kneading at the muscle there, a palm running soothing lines up the length of his back and manicured nails scratch wonderfully at the nape of his neck until a bit of that darkness subsided. With a hum, you gently push his hand from your waist, backing away with a pitch only audible to him, "Gonna grab you guys some drinks."

"I'll help." You don't even try denying the spymaster, more than familiar with his customs and how unbearably uncomfortable he got once you started taking care of large groups of people. Az was always the first to say thank you when you served dinner and always made sure to wait until you sat down and took the first bite before even touching his fork.

He's quiet behind you, busying his hands with polishing the glasses you'd lined up and his shadows follow you around like a clingy pet but you understand why he's there—a silent promise that he'd have your back the entire night. That you’d never be left alone.

Azriel watches you pour a six-hundred year old bottle of amber liquor one knuckle deep for every cup besides one—that one got double and a single ice cube. Just how the High Lord liked it. "It's going to be fine," You tell him softly, storing away the rest of the bottle and you don't fight the smile that pulls when he stops you from carrying anymore than three glasses—brunting the rest of the work on the shadows. "Just a few hours and it'll all be over."

Azriel only hums but there's an underlying gratefulness for not having to speak or explain and his protectiveness towards you grows at how easily you understand him—adapting to his moods with ease.

He returns to his seat, shadows wisping their thanks over the length of your calf and a sweet smile is sent Cassian's way when he presses a grateful kiss to your hand. You turn to go back to Rhys, one final drink in your hand and you can feel Maverick's eyes trailing you, undressing you, touching and lusting from afar but he might as well have been shouting it across the room from the top of his lungs. "Come sit, bunny. And shuffle the deck, will you? They think I cheat."

"We know you do." Another male chuckles over the rim of his glass, blue eyes sharp and tawny curls tickle at the sides of his ears—Cade, you learn after a few minutes of listening in silence. You sift through the deck, righting the cards and splitting them in two before shuffling once, twice, a third time before you set it before you to be split by another. “Look at the hands on this one,” Cade poorly whispers to Maverick, shoulders bumping playfully and you felt like you were being hunted, ganged up on—eaten alive by males who didn’t follow the same code as the ones you hung around. “I bet they get the job done quite nicely.”

Rhysand has no time to respond because Cass is already doing it; gold battles with blue, large hands broadcasted before him and the General looks down at them to peer like a high maintenance woman after her nail appointment. “You should look at mine,” Crimson red Siphons glow with life on his arms; all seven of them, most hidden by the dark long sleeved shirt he wore but the message got across rather quickly. “I’m sure they’ll do it much better.”

You shift in Rhys’ lap, settling into the hands splayed around your waist, the other trails ticklish lines up the length of a bare arm and you’re grateful for how quickly the conversation shifts. “What do I do now?”

The low cadence of his voice rumbles against your back, hair gently pushed off one shoulder to make room for the chin that settles there. His instructions are thorough and intended to be purely informational but the smell of his cologne, the large hands sliding down lower to rub at the sides of your thighs and you’re unbearably aware of the plush of your ass nestled right atop of him. Cards are dealed, the rest left in a pile and you slowly draw three, facing them upright and most of the rest is a bit of a blur.

Every now and then Rhys will lean closer to mumble about what was going on but mostly it was just a room full of drunk males and their money. They cursed like sailors and laughed like hyenas, a chorus of voices overlapping the other until the liquor took its course and the true personalities settled in.

At some point you stand, hands grazing the back of Rhys’ neck when you mutter something about grabbing a snack. You’re not far, maybe a few feet away, body just barely obscured by the wall that separates them and the kitchen while you pile a plate full of finger food to snack on; fruit, mini sandwiches, warm meats wrapped in flaky dough and you’re pulled away from your focus when a voice clears. “There you are,” Maverick doesn’t look shitfaced but the liquor was definitely taking its toll, his steps a little unsteady and he slurred the s’s in his words. “How about you come rub my shoulders for me, sweet thing?”

Your brows furrow, mouth opening to give a response when the males hand raises to trace the line of your collarbone, you freeze. Four fingers graze over your shoulder and slowly moves down the length of your arm. “I don’t think—“

“I’m not asking you to think, sweet thing.” Your stomach churns, discomfort evident in the way you crane away from his touch but Maverick doesn’t care—as if unreciprocated want wasn’t an issue for him. “I’m telling you to come over here and offer up some of that treatment you’ve been feeding those three,” His eyes feel like hands in the way they roam your body, catching on bare skin and practically salivating to see the rest. “Swear I’ll return the favor.”

Your heart hammers in your chest and anxiety swells—you really should’ve just stayed put, the food in your hand threatening to spill to the floor with the intensity of your shaking but Maverick feels so close and you can smell his cologne; the whiskey. “I should get back to Rhys.” It’s no more than a whisper but when you try to slink past him, a hand clamps tightly around your arm, roughly tugging you back.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

A whimper escapes and just like that the kitchen explodes with darkness; relief overtakes your form as familiar hands tug you close and the arms that tuck you in close feel right—safe. Safe enough to not notice the warm spray of wetness that splatters against the back of your legs until you hear the steady drip,drip, dripping on the floor. Your head turns but before you can look Rhysand is tucking you in tighter, full lips pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Don’t look—let’s just get you cleaned up.”

“What about the others?”

“Cassian and Azriel will handle them,” The High Lords voice isn’t nearly as calm as you remember and it’s only when you’re halfway down the hallway does he loosen his grip a bit, turning you to face him to begin his assessment. “Did he hurt you? Did he fucking touch you?”

You can’t form words, realization beginning to form when you see blood splattering your clothes but you manage to shake your head. “He just grabbed me—Rhys did you—“

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“It was just a second.”

“A second longer and he could’ve—“ He stops himself from saying more; too afraid to make the words reality or too pissed to have to verbalize them but Rhys lets out a deep breath when he can find no damage besides a hint of a bruise. “I should’ve taken my time.”

You don’t need to ask to know what he means.

Instead, you place a palm on his cheek in hopes to ground him, to remind the High Lord that you were safe. Violet eyes soften, silver flecks catching in the light and it takes everything in you not to buckle beneath him when he looks at you like that—like it was nothing to kill for you. “Let’s go, I’d say it’s about time you return the favor and give me a massage.”

Mischief glints in those eyes, a smirk curling at the corner of full lips. “I can’t promise I’ll remain professional.”

“That’s sort of what I’m counting on.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

heya!! im not sure if someone asked this before, but i'm curious.

lilia's face is canonically in the school textbook, right? so, why was everyone so surprised when he revealed that he was 700 years old? is it just a mistake on twst's part, or is it because the 'school textbook lilia' was never a thing(not canon)?? or maybe because he looks and acts so drastically different back then (even tho his name is still the same), and everyone's like, "no way it's this guy. it has to be someone else."???

also, im just imagining students hunting lilia if they ever have to write an essay about him..😭 or if he ever read the textbook and complains to trein about it 'not being accurate' lol

I talked about this topic back in 2021, but that was way before the book 7 came out. Let’s discuss it again with the new information we have on hand!

For context, “This textbook had a picture of Lilia" detail comes from one of Malleus’s Magic History lines when he is in a Lesson.

Please note his wording! Malleus mentions only a picture of Lilia. There is no further description of how detailed it is.

This means the “picture of Lilia” could be framed in a way where it’s difficult to see his face in full or clearly. He could be at a weird angle or shown from behind. Lilia could be wearing his bat mask in the picture (thereby obscuring his face), and only Malleus recognizes it because of his age. Notably, his hairstyle was also different back then. (In book 7, Silver and Sebek did not seem to immediately recognize Lilia in uniform when he has the bat mask on, at least not until they see his magearm and the shining bird flying around him.)

Malleus also does NOT mention there is a passage associated with the picture in the textbook. This means there isn’t necessarily information written in the textbook about Lilia or his accomplishments. It seems possible, given the lore that not much is known about Briar Valley outside of it.

In book 7, Rook (someone who is typically very observant and easily able to gather intel on others) is along the students shocked to find out Lilia’s true age. He confesses that he believed Lilia’s remarks to be “unusually sagacious for an 18-year old”. Rook also states that he knew fae lived for a long time, but “never imagined it was on that scale.”

This implies to me that most humans (which includes humans, beastfolk, and merfolk) don’t seem to properly register or process how long fae lifespans truly are and assume Lilia just acts oddly. Humans don’t think of it on “that scale” because it’s so many times greater than their own lifespans. So to them, they don’t assume “yeah, this must be the same guy” if they see a similar-looking picture or name in a book. Most humans still can’t wrap their minds around someone having lived got that long and it being a “normal” thing for fae.

If there does happen to be a passage mentioning Lilia by name (which, again, we do not have confirmation of), I think most students wouldn’t think much of it?? They may assume it’s an ancestor of Lilia’s or even an unrelated individual since 1) it’s possible for people to have lookalikes and other 2) it’s possible for people to name their children after ancestors or famous individuals. They’re thinking within their OWN frame of reference and not from a fae’s frame of reference.

Actually 💦 when I think about it, I’m not sure why Lilia even felt like he had to hide his relationship with Silver or never mention his age until book 7 (in the spring of his THIRD year)??? I can see how it could make things socially awkward for his son, but why hide the age…? Especially when Lilia makes little effort to hide it (he talks about his life experiences so openly to peers like Trey) and even casually shares the fact in book 7. It’s also made clear that Crowley was aware of Lilia’s age as well (and still allowed him in because he wanted to learn)??? It feels like the devs wrote it like this just to have a funny and dramatic reveal rather than for any logical in-universe reason.

I’m sure Lilia wouldn’t mind sharing stories of his youth with peers if they asked? Trein might not appreciate him claiming the history books are wrong, though.

… Now I’m just picturing Lilia like this when he sees himself in a textbook:

[cavegirlpoems]

I see we're talking about XP!

@thydungeongal and @imsobadatnicknames2 have interesting posts up, and now it's my turn to throw my thoughts out there. SO. I think of XP as the game itself offering you a little bribe. Do the things the game wantss you to be doing, and the game gives you an XP to say thank you. Get enough XP, and you're reward is greater a permanent bump in power, meaning greater ability to exert your will over the world and therefore greater agency. (Systems like Fate Points, Willpower, Inspiration etc work the same, except the increased agency is a temporary one-time thing, not permanent, so at times I'll lump them in).

So. Let's talk about a few different systems and how they handle this.

Let's start at the very begining (a very good place to begin). In the very early editions of D&D - back when Elf was a class - you got XP for treasure. Every gold coin you got out of a dungeon (or equivallent value of other treasure) was 1 XP. This worked well; the game wanted you to go into a dungeon and explore it for treasure, while trying not to die. If you succeeded, you got XP, which made you better at doing that so you could do it again in a more dangerous dungeon. And because treasure is XP, and treasure weighs you down, getting it out is a meaningful activity. Hell, many of these games measure weight and encumbrance on a scale of 'how many coins' to drive this home. It was a good loop. Early D&D has many faults (like the weird racism in the MM) but the xp system is something it absolutely nailed.

Next up, let's look at classic vampire the masquerade. At the end of each session, you get 1 xp just for being there, and then another if your character learned something, if you portrayed your character well, and if your character was 'heroic'. So, what's classic VtM rewarding? Ultimately, it rewards the player for being the kind of player the game wants. If you get into character, engage with the game world, and act like an interesting protagonist, you get rewarded for it. It's a bit fuzzy, and at the GM's discretion, but its very up-front with what it wants to incentivise. It was the 90s, they were still working out how to be a narrative-driven game, but you can see where they were going with it.

OK, now lets look at something a bit weirder; monsterhearts. The main source of XP here will be Moves. Rather than a bolted-on rewards mechanic, each game mechanic you engage with might grant you xp. You can use your strings on another PC to bribe them with XP when you want them to do something. Lots of abilities just give you an XP for doing a thing, such as a Ghost ability that gives you XP for spying on somebody, or aa Fae ability that gives other players XP when they promise you things. Here, XP is baked into the game, but its very up front about being a bribe. Act the way the game wants, or go along with other players' machinations, and you get rewarded for it. And, critically, XP is just one part of a wider game-economy of incentives and metacurrencies; it links in with strings and harm and +1forward in interesting and intricate ways that push the game forward. Monsterhearts is a well designed game, and you should study it.

Finally, let's look at how D&D 5e does it, as a What Not To Do! We have two different options. The first is XP for combat. When you use violence to defeat something, you get XP for it. Under this option, the only way to mechanically improve your character is by killing things. So, we can conclude that D&D is a game that wants you to engage in constant violence. The other option is 'milestone XP'. IE: you level up at the GM's whim, when they feel like it. What does this reward? Fucking nothing. Or, at best, you're rewarded for following the railroad and reaching pre-planned plot moments in a pre-scripted story. You either have no agency in the matter, or are rewarded for subsuming your agency to the will of the GM. (This pattern continues with inspiration rewards, which are given 'when the GM is entertained by you'. Fucking dire.) "Oh!" the 5e fandom says "But a good GM can write a list of achievements that will trigger milestone XP". And yes, they can, but that's not how the text of the game presents it. That's a house rule. That's the GM doing game design to add a new, better, mechanic to the game to fix its failings. Is it any wonder, then, that the 5e fandom puts so mucn weight on the GM's shoulders, and has such a weird semi-antagonistic relationship between GM and player? Is it any wonder that absolutely brutal railroading (and the resulting backlash of disruptive play) is so rife over there? Look at how the incentive structures are built? It's either killing forever or GM-as-god-king! Anyway, yeah. Consider what you reward with XP, because that will become what your game wants. And if you're hacking a game, one of the most efficient hacks is to change what you get XP for and suddenly the game will pivot to something very different.