#❁ thread ; aw feathers. ❁

[regnumaves]

Aw, Feathers ❁ Tibarn & Cordelia

@heartjewelofthesea

It isn't much longer before he has to return to the monastery, but until then, Tibarn enjoys his free time flying calmly over the fields and forests, gliding on the winds with hardly any need to flap his wings at all. After stretching his muscles, a good portion of fresh air, and a solid meal following a successful hunt, he can get the energy he needs for another round of pegasus training.

Some winged ponies are still rather skittish around him, which, fair enough - he's as big as them, in some cases bigger than them, and he could by all accounts hunt them and their young if he so wished - but pegasi freaking out while he attempts to instruct the kids riding them is the last thing the monastery wants and needs. Which, again, fair enough. Besides, learning to tolerate him is a good introduction to learning to tolerate wyverns.

However, it is when he approaches the monastery by air that it turns out he might need to give someone a class a bit earlier than scheduled - flying towards him is a student he doesn't think he has seen before, and her mount certainly has not seen him - braking sharpy in mid-air with a whinny as he and his rider approach him, but fail to actually pass by him as a result of the pegasus' reaction. Tibarn tenses up, instantly ready to dive behind the girl if she falls off her mount's back, but luckily, it doesn't panic enough to throw her off, merely stopping before him in surprise.

"Whoa there!" Untransforming as he speaks and reverting to his smaller form, Tibarn raises his arms in a calming gesture. "It's alright. Sorry for surprising you." With the pegasus under control, he turns his attention to the scarlet-haired rider. "I don't recognize your face. Are you a new student? I'm Tibarn." With a light smirk, he points at his wings, flapping behind his back to keep him afloat. "Flying instructor."

[unluckyuncle]

𓅭 Updated Tag Dump ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

Hey friends! I decided I wanted to completely remake my tags since my old ones are a little bit finicky (and not as fun)

The only thing to note for Indies is that I have a tag to indicate iC things Donald does in the group, vs. when he does things IC in his universe now ^^ mostly relevant to asks, but still

(Thread format: 𓅭...charactername## )

( . aevum ic . ) // aw phooey ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . duck world ic) // life is like a hurricane ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . ooc . ) // quack quack quack ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . psa . ) // putting on life vests ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . answer . ) // uncles advice ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . dash comm . ) // stuck in the pantry ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . crack . ) // twenty-seven ... twenty-seven! ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . meme . ) // oh boy oh boy oh boy ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . musing . ) // i am the storm ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . albums . ) // smile for the camera ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . aesthetics . ) // this is a ship and i am a sailor ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . music . ) // playing the guitar ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . open thread . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . closed thread . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . starter call . ) // ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . headcanons . ) // never had the common sense to give up ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . drabble . ) // i've done nothing with my life ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . saving . ) // i was in the will? ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . queue . ) // swimming on in ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . aevum isles . ) // a brand new adventure ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . ducktales . ) // Woo-oo ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . uncle scrooge . ) // no tricks - no lies - no trouble ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . della duck . ) // i missed you too you big dummy ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . donald duck . ) // the unluckiest duck in the world ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . the triplets . ) // stay away from my kids! ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . daisy duck . ) // you can understand me? ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . 3 caballeros . ) // they say we are birds of a feather ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

( . duck family . ) // adventuring is in our blood ⚓༄⋆｡°்⋆

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Care for You

Sylus x Y/N - drabble - 688 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: reader is injured, hurt/comfort, descriptions of injuries and medical stuff, Sylus being amazing, a real grade A+ guy, sweet af, fluffy

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

You stumbled through the doorway, clutching your abdomen. Your right shoulder was limp, bobbing beside you. You whimpered when your arm nudged the door frame accidentally. As you limped further into the penthouse, you saw Sylus sleeping on the couch. You felt awful waking him up but you needed him now more than ever. 

“Sylus…” you said, your voice hoarse from crying and screaming.

He didn’t move.

“Sylus…” you said, nudging him slightly with your foot.

His face scrunched up but he didn’t wake.

“Sylus!” you cried, your voice breaking.

Sylus jolted awake. The second his eyes landed on you he was instantly at your side. “Sweetie? What happened?” he said, rushing you to the bathroom. He used his evol to gently sit you on the counter. He couldn’t help but stare at you for a moment, taking in your injuries. A gash across your abdomen and your shoulder popped out of its socket. Sylus shook his head, quickly grabbing the first aid kit Luke and Kieran insisted he keep in the house. Sylus worked quietly, focusing on making you better.

“Hold still,” he whispered. He used the paramedic scissors to cut your shirt off completely. You didn’t have it in you to feel bashful. The wound on your stomach wasn’t deep enough to perforate any organs but it was still bleeding deep crimson blood. 

Sylus put a washcloth between your lips, “Bite down on this. I’m sorry in advance… there’s no time to numb you…” he said with a sigh as he threaded the suture. 

You bit down hard, groaning and shaking as he stitched you up agonizingly slow. You counted each stitch, 10… 11… 12… After the 15th stitch you finally felt him still while he clipped the remaining thread. 

“This’ll sting…” he said before quickly splashing your fresh stitches with iodine. 

You sucked in a sharp breath letting out a squeal as the liquid scorched over your wound. You writhed in pain, Sylus’ hands holding your hips to prevent you from falling off the counter. “I’m so sorry baby…” he said as he used his evol you yank your arm, your shoulder sliding back into its socket. You screamed, letting out a heart wrenching sob from the pain. You slumped against him, ready to pass out from the pain.

“It’s over, it’s done… you’re ok…” he said, rubbing your back soothingly. 

Your eyes slipped shut, finally succumbing to the dark. 

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

Your eyes fluttered open, you tried to sit up but instantly laid back down as your wound screamed at you to stop moving. You sighed, looking around for Sylus. You spotted Mephisto in the corner, “Pssst… get Sylus…” you mumbled. Typically, Mephisto would be ornery. But today he simply obeyed. Within a moment, Sylus was next to you, his evol scattering a few feathers around. 

He kneeled down, his hands aching to touch you but hovering above you out of caution. “Honey…” he breathed.

You managed a small smile for him, cupping his cheek as you tried to calm his erratic heart. “Wanderer… got me on the way home…”

Sylus nuzzled his face into your neck, kissing you gently. You leaned your head against him, “I’m fine baby, honestly. I had a wonderful nurse.” you smiled.

Sylus finally let out a small chuckle, “No more walking home at night without me. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And when you’re busy?” you said, fiddling with the end of his sleeve. 

“Luke and Kieran. Or Mephisto. Just somebody to help keep you safe.” he said, kissing your cheek.

You nodded slightly; your eyes felt hazy and your mind was foggy. “I gave you a little something for the pain. You should rest.” he said, standing to leave.

You grasped his hand gingerly, “Stay?” you asked softly. 

Sylus immediately nodded, pulling his shirt off before slipping into the bed with you. He nuzzled back into the crook of your neck, lacing his fingers through yours. “Sleep, kitten. I’ll be here when you wake up.” he kissed your cheek.

So you slept, the most perfect sleep you’ve had in a while despite the injuries. Sylus had that effect.

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

Naboo's Note:

Sylus... what a guy

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXO

[osaemu]

WHEN YOU'RE SICK: STREAMER!GOJO

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you have a cold, and he has a bag of sweets—how does your streamer boyfriend comfort you when you're sick? (streamer!au)

contents: fem!reader. fluff. pet names. very self-indulgent bc i'm sick right now and needed this for myself :,) can mostly be read outside of the streamer!au i guess.

“i brought you some sweets!”

you look up drowsily when your boyfriend’s familiar voice pulls you out of your sleep. your eyes slowly adjust to the soft lighting of your room and to the perfect, sharp features of the face inches from yours. “satoru, how are you here—”

he cuts you off by pressing a finger to your lips, and a moment later, satoru slips some sort of candy into your mouth. “‘cause you’re sick, and i’m a good boyfriend. obviously,” he teases, smiling endearingly when your eyes light up from the sugary taste of whatever satoru gave you. “how’d you catch a cold, anyways?”

you sit up a little bit, resting your back against the headboard and your head on satoru’s shoulder. “i’m not actually sure,” you admit, snuggling into the arm that wraps itself around you.  “aw, you’re wearing the hoodie i got you,” you point out, tapping on his chest. it’s a small inside joke between the two of you—the logo on the top left of the hoodie is the one from the streamer inmaki’s channel, a user who has a long-standing reputation for being one of your boyfriend’s haters.

“only because i practically ran out of the house once i got your text,” satoru huffs, rolling his blue eyes good-naturedly. he notices the little smile on your face and the way you cover your mouth in an attempt to hide your laugh, so he pulls out his phone from his pocket and adds, “hey, what was i supposed to do when i get a message like this?”

random girl i guess i like: can u come over :( i’m sick and imy

“why’d you change my contact to ‘random girl i guess i like?’” you gasp dramatically, snatching satoru’s phone away from him. a nervous laugh slips out of your boyfriend’s lips before you turn on him, squinting your eyes at him suspiciously. “if i looked at suguru’s contact, what would i see next?”

“...you don’t wanna know.”

“satoru gojo, answer me or i swear—” you don’t get to finish your threat before a sneeze cuts you off, followed by two more that leave you deflated in satoru’s arms. somehow, your head slides down from his shoulder and ends up on his chest, and a look of concern overtakes satoru’s expression.

“how sick are you?” he asks tentatively, fishing out another candy from his pocket and prodding at your lips with it. you open your mouth and let him feed you, taking a second to relish the sweetness of the sugar-loaded bite before you shrug and sniffle again. “poor thing,” satoru coos, rounding his eyes down at you while you rub your nose to get rid of the subtle itching sensation. 

“i can’t stop sniffling,” you mumble dryly, staring up at satoru pathetically. it’s as if you’re a wet cat that’s been sitting in the rain for hours, and as if he’s the kind old man who takes you in and dries you off. satoru’s slender fingers thread themselves through your dishelved hair, stroking it and twining it around his hand. “s’ been like this for hou— no, days,” you continue, determined to complain for at least the next couple minutes. “and—”

satoru’s hands move from the top of your head to your cheeks, cupping them intensely enough to hold your face still as he leans down and gives you a quick kiss on the lips. you make a small sound in protest, not wanting to get him sick too, but he ignores you and peppers feather-like kisses all over your face. “you’re so cute like this, y’know?” he murmurs, squishing your face in between his hands. “all rumpled and bedhead-y, aww.”

“satoru, you’ll get sick,” you point out, futilely trying to lean away from his lips when he goes back in for a kiss again. “satoru!”

“i don’t care,” he grumbles, swatting away your hand when you try to pull on the strings of his hoodie. “you’re my girlfriend, and if i wanna kiss you, then i will. and i don’t care if i get sick, ‘cause i have a pretty girl to take care of me anyways, don’t i?”

you stop protesting and let him press his lips back to yours again, and even though you sniffle again about three times, satoru’s as devoted to you as ever. “really?”

“yeah. my mom— ow, i mean, you too!” he adds quickly, grinning playfully even when you swat his chest. “i’m joking, i’m joking. have some candy, sweet girl.” before you can say anything, satoru shoves a handful of bright, colorful sweets in your mouth and kisses your nose. “take a nap. i’ll be here when you wake up, i promise.”

somehow, the moment you hear satoru’s murmured reassurances, your eyes grow heavy and you surrender yourself to his grip. “m’kay…” you mumble, closing your eyes and exhaling softly. and maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you can feel satoru’s suppressed laughter as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. 

… 

“wait, now what do i do?”

[ink-n-shadow]

in love with your demon!ghost.

so i'm thinking, it must be terribly boring being stuck in a cage for so long. pets need enrichment and exercise don't they? so what does ghost give reader to keep her occupied? esp if he has Important Demon Stuff to do and she's left alone for long periods of time? does he give her puzzles or games or is there like a hellish version of tv there? (you can only watch the live stream of tortured souls burning in hell's fire for so long before it gets really boring and you switch the channel to reruns of the same Suave Demon Tricks Bad Human movie that you've watched five times now)

she can't fly with a broken wing, but surely a good owner would make sure she gets (supervised) walkies?

anon you are KILLING MEEE with this request :')

[ ENRICHMENT TIME ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where demon!ghost finally gives you enrichment and things to do outside of the cage

𝜗𝜚 pairing: broken angel!reader x demon!ghost 𝜗𝜚 cw: mature themes (no smut but minors still DNI), more demon!ghost being a simp, mentions of preening (but not what it means) 𝜗𝜚 link to all my works in the demon!ghost au can be found here

demon!ghost never even thought about getting things to keep you entertained while you sit all pretty in your cage. he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just sit still and watch whatever television program or movie he'd left on from the night before—because surely that should be enough enrichment for you, right?

it would take a couple days of begging (and pouting when ghost would promptly shut down your requests or flat out ignored you) for him to finally listen.

and now he's giving you stacks of books from his personal library, works from both underworld and human realm authors, watching from his usual place on his expansive leather sofa as you thumb eagerly through the pages. he never knew his little dove would be such a bookworm, listening as you eagerly relay your thoughts and opinions on works that demon!ghost has spent centuries reading and rereading.

it would take a little more convincing before demon!ghost is bringing you little puzzles and crafts from his visits to the human realm (things he definitely stole). that's how he finds himself situated on the marbled floors of his living room, your body sprawled out across his thick thighs as you try and show him the latest thing you had embroidered that day. you would definitely try to teach him, but he'd get too frustrated trying to thread the tiny human-sized needle to actually make any progress.

but demon!ghost's favorite thing to do was take you for your (now routine) nightly stroll in the garden, his clawed hand held firmly in both of yours as you both stroll through the cobbled labyrinth. he'd constantly grumble about how tightly you were clinging to him, chastising you for being scared of the hellish sounds of the underworld around you (but he's secretly pulling you closer, wanting to make sure you feel protected at all times).

the nightly walks gave you the chance to stretch your legs, joints creaking from being curled up in the cage for the day. demon!ghost would be in awe as you stretched out your pretty iridescent wings fully, bringing his clawed hand down to try and preen the unruly crooked feathers from the base of your wing.

but demon!ghost really doesn't understand why you shiver and writhe with each feather he plucks, seemingly completely oblivious to just what preening meant to an angel like you.

[unsuredreamer]

Savior

Bridget Hearts 🩷 x fem reader

it's so shit I'm so sorry, but i feel like every idea just flees out of my head atm 🥲

"I will destroy you!" Uliana roared, preparing herself to run after Bridget. Eating too many flamingo feathers had its side effects, and it was about time she found out that when someone says 'don't do it' you simply listen.

It enraged you. She was so stupid, yet everyone feared her. How so? You'd never understand why they didn't stand up to her. What would she do? Run after you? It was all she was capable of, after all.

You needed to put a stop to her dumb frantics, so you stepped up with your dagger, holding it close to her neck.

"Oooo, we dont wanna do that, do we?" You grinned, basically threatening her with death. It was exciting, thrilling. Being just a step away from getting rid of someone, having that power over them. Being in a possession of their life thread, having the scissors steady in your hand. It was amusing to you. The goosebump on your skin shows from the rush you felt deep inside.

The dagger you held so close it was pinning her skin, making a slight dent. Her breath on hold. "I suggest you step away from our princess of hearts or you'll make an excellent sushi tonight, darling." You mirrored her peers' shocked expressions. None of them daring to step up to you. You were feared amongst them, being slightly older than the rest of the students, and kind of crazy too. It had its advantages having your twisted history behind.

"Marinated octopus. How does it sound?" Or would you like something last season? Shrimp pasta?" You smiled ominously, pricking the sharp end deeper in her neck, almost making it bleed. You could sense the blade cutting her first skin, making her immediately stumble back.

"You- You're mad!" She managed to yell out, holding her fresh wound before she took her turn, walking away, or should you say, basically running away. Your graceful dagger flew after her pinning itself right beside her head, trimming her friends hair in the process.

"Might be, just a little bit" you giggled, making the blade return to you with a swift wave of your hand. Turning yourself to the other group, you fixed your button-up shirt. Red and Chloe standing in awe at how well mannered you seemed even though you almost committed murder right in front of their eyes. Red thanking you internally for saving her mother. "But aren't we all?" You grinned, your cheshire cat-like smile making everyone around you blush. You were charming, to say the least, although it was not thanks to your name. "Look at that," you pouted, pointing at the shattered plate in front of you. "She wasted such good cupcakes. What a shame"

"Don't worry, Y/n, i think I have enough for everyone!" Bridget smiled brightly. "Thank you for your savior service" She bowed jokingly, giving you one of her famous smiles in return.

"And look at you cupcake, How could anyone not like you?" You waved your hands in the air, making her broken belongings whole again. Holding it our for her. "This plate was too pretty to be broken. Dont let yourself be broken, beautiful, " you winked before dissappearing into thin air. Red and Chloe blinking a couple of times to check if they saw right.

"Woah, who was that? Hot, sexy and amusing?" Red spoke up, getting a glare in return from both Bridget and Chloe. "I'm just saing" the girl threw her arms in the air in a defensive manner.

"That was Y/n. We don't really know much about her" Bridget dreamily explained, holding her beautifully decorated plate close to her chest.

"Only that she's done some horrible stuff. And she's kinda insane" Ella blabbered, rolling the cupcake trolley.

"It was for good!. And she's right, we're all mad here" Bridget butt in, snapping herself out of her daydreams.

" If you can call cutting someone's lim-"

"Ella, they don't have to know that" bridget laughed nervously, taking another plate from her trolley "She's not that bad how they make her out to be-here you go-" The pink haired princess walked around giving out more of her delicious cupcakes. "She is actually so nice-"

"She commits crime at least 3 times a week, and her go-to 'entertaining' hobby is watching people stumble and fall over this tree root" Ella butt in pointing at the object.

"But, she paints me pink roses and brings me many different ingredients for my sweets. Isn't that nice?" Bridget hummed, making red and chloe look at themselves

"Do you think what i think?" Red whispered to her fellow 'friend', the other just nodding her head.

-

"You know, I think you should ask Bridget out for castlecoming" Red blurted out while walking after/stalking you around the school.

"Yeah? Why is that so?" You giggled, holding a book about baking. You were currently at the library, just trying to make your way to the comfy corner made specifically for residents of the library. Unfortunately, you couldn't use it if you weren't reading a book of some sort. Hence why you took ahold of whatever, with intentions of taking a nap in the place.

"Well, you seem to be liking her, aaaand she seems to be liking you too" You laughed, you loved being in these kinds of situations.

"Well loves, what made you think I like this princess?" You looked up from your book, you let's be real, were not paying attention to. The question made them rethink everything.

"You-She-em" Chloe tried, but nothing made sense

"I guess she's alright" You grinned at their troubled expressions.

Princess of hearts was more than alright. She was everything and nothing at the same time. She was the air you breathed and the hard ground you walked on. She is like the ocean breeze early in the morning, the sunbeams lightly musking your face and the cold water splashing your body. She lit up the whole room with her bright eyes and cute smile. Like a walk through a rainy forest, she made you content and calm. Her delicate and soft features fairly contrast to your strong ones. It made you only more drawn to her.

"Wouldn't you want to take her out?"

"You're very persistent. interesting" you hummed "And why would I do that, Red my love?" You flew up from your comfortable place, spinning around doing flips. Red grimacing at the nickname, Chloe glaring at you "Chill Charming" The snort you let out made chloe burst out one of her own "I will take your mommy to the dance Red. Don't want her turning out evil, do we?"

"How do you-?"

"Well, I might have or have not overheard you twoooo, talking maybee" You flew circling them both, extra dragging your words making them annoyed "Aboouut an evil Queen who likes to behead people, whom also happened to be your mom and she sentenced your mom to death" You grinned spitting it all out in one breath "Crazy little woman"

"So now you know"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Are you deaf darling?" She was ready to jump you but got stopped by Chloe, thankfully. "I'm going, my children. I have to make a proposal for your mom now, do i?"

"Only my mom not hers!"

"Of course!" You laughed, dissappearing in the frame.

-

"Hello Bridget" You whispered into her ear appearing behind her. Your lips musking her skin. she stopped breathing for a hot second, staring intensively at her notebook. A beautiful yours heart shaped necklace with lots of cards and sweets drawn on the page. Her slender manicured fingers held onto a pencil, touching up some lines. "That is amazingly jaw-dropping." You kept on whispering

"Thank you" She whispered out herself, turning her head to the side. Her lips almost touching yours in the process. Her big brown eyes dropping down to your lips, then back up to your own enchanting ones.

"You know if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask" You leaned closer, bumping your noses together, giving her your biggest grin possible.

"What if i do?" Her sudden confidence made you stumble a bit back, but her quick grip on your collar dragged you in closer "...want to kiss you" she breathed out into your lips. you felt every bone in your body snap.

"Then we might just have to do that" You looked down on her lips, almost closing the blank space between you two if it weren't for the sudden yank of your shirt from the back.

"Please don't do that here" Red grimaced, secretly smirking when she saw you on the ground.

"Party pooper!" You floated up placing yourself between two girls. "Ohh, such a sunshine!" You threw your arm around Ella, the girl too stiff to shrug it off.

"Whatever"

"Sooooo, Ella tell me how's it going with little prince Charming" You grinned against her cheek, she blushed hard at the mention of him

"Did he ask you to the castle coming yet?" Bridget asked excitedly, almost pushing you off the bench.

"He did, but I'm not going. i think i made my point clear-"

"Oh c'monnnn. At least he asked you" Bridget pouted "I wish someone would ask me" the girl dragged, looking down on her drawing, popping her head on her palm. Red looked at you, raising her eyebrows.

"Cupcake" with just a single word everyone was looking at you, not a bit of your confidence faltering away. With a wave of your hand a pink rose appeared, well developed with only a single thorn and two leafs. "Could I take you to castle coming?" you asked in all seriousness, presenting her the rose. Her eyes widened at your gesture.

"Well, there weren't any roses for me, surely," Ella grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at the other girls.

"So what do you say, princess?" She threw her arms around your neck, engulfing you in a tight hug.

"Hell yes! I'd love it, actually. " She smiled widely, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You felt the blood rushing in you. You loved the feeling of her lips on you, her touch. She was so soft, like a pillow. So delicate. It made you want more.

You never thought about the princess of hearts that way. Actuallyy you did, once or twice. But before that, she was always just there. Just someone you'd defend before Uliana and her crew. Someone who did cool card tricks and someone who was so easily prank-able. But you wouldn't dare. She was good-hearted, almost perfect. No one was that pure, and still, here she was, pure as the driven snow. A pretty girl there was no denying. You've never imagined what her touch would feel like if it lingered on you a bit more than a few seconds. Or if she's keeping any secrets, she had to, right?

-

"You know Bridget, you look absolutely gorgeous" You smiled, not sarcastically, a true genuine smile you haven't done for years. It made her blush for the millionth time this evening.

Your hands were resting on her small waist, hers on your shoulders, making her fingers intertwine on your neck. Slowly swaying your bodies together in the rythm of the music. Not your thing completely, but her presence changed it entirely. It was probably the last song of the night, leaving only a few couples in the ballroom. But you both had such great fun you wouldn't wish on heavens to go home right now. Just being here with her was the right place, and you felt it deep inside.

"Thank you" Was all she made out "Thank you for taking me here" She laid her head on your chest, placing you both even closer.

"No worries. I could do it a million times if it meant getting to spend time with you. My heart" you swayed both of you slowly, the song never ending.

"I loved tonight, I'm glad im here with you. I hope we'll be able to spend more time together" She looked up at you, her big brown eyes staring closely and longingly. Your heart is beating rapidly in your chest. You placed your hand in her hair, grabbing the back of her head.

"Of course we will. I'm making sure of that" Her eyes lit up, brightening the whole room for you. You were absolutely in awe, speechless. She had never looked better. The dim lights only making her singular features pop more. No one will ever look better than her.. At least you won't be looking at them. You've got your only one star, your moon. She was not yours, but she will be. "Can I kiss you?" The sudden question did not startle her in fact she did not mutter a word. A single nod with a smile was all that it took.

You will be her savior forevermore

[aahanna]

"Masterpiece of Indian craftsmanship!"

The Peacock dress of Lady Curzon is a gown made of gold and silver thread embroidered by the Workshop of Kishan Chand (India)

The Peacock Dress of Lady Curzon is a iconic masterpiece of Indian craftsmanship and design. Created by Indian artisans and designers, this exquisite gown was worn by Lady Curzon, the wife of the Viceroy of India, to the Delhi Durbar in 1903. The dress is a stunning example of Indian craftsmanship, adorned with intricate peacock motifs, precious stones, and metallic threads, showcasing the excellence of Indian design and artistry.

"Peacock Dress of Lady Curzon: A resplendent masterpiece of Indian design and craftsmanship, this gown is a testament to the country's rich textile heritage. Intricate peacock motifs, crafted with precision and flair, adorn the dress, showcasing the exceptional skill of Indian artisans. A true masterpiece of Indian fashion and design."

Incredible craftsmanship of Indian designer:

"The Peacock Dress is a shining example of Indian designers' exceptional skill and creativity. Every thread, every stone, and every motif is a testament to their mastery of the craft. This dress is not just a piece of clothing, but a work of art that has stood the test of time, showcasing the brilliance of Indian design to the world."

EMBROIDERY DETAILS

"Peacock Dress of Lady Curzon: A resplendent masterpiece of Indian design and craftsmanship, this gown is a testament to the country's rich textile heritage. Intricate peacock motifs, crafted with precision and flair, adorn the dress, showcasing the exceptional skill of Indian artisans. The embroidery work is a marvel, with delicate silk threads, precious stones, and metallic wires used to create intricate patterns, including:

- Intricate peacock feather designs, with delicate eye and wing details

- Floral motifs, with intricate stem and leaf work

- Geometric patterns, with precision-cut mirrors and beads

The embroidery is a masterclass in Indian craftsmanship, with techniques like zardozi, zari, and chikan work used to create a truly regal and awe-inspiring piece. Every thread, every stone, and every motif is a testament to the mastery of Indian designers and artisans."

[ticklystuff]

Feather Weather

a/n: i had a silly little idea last year and decided to run with it

wc: ~1.8k

summary: ayato knits a sweater for thoma out of the goodness of his heart

---

"Go on, open it."

Thoma held the box in his hand, looking warily between the unopened parcel and his lord standing in front of him. Gifts from Ayato were always the.. special kind that often resulted in humiliation of some form, usually nothing more than the playful sort, yet were common enough to condition Thoma that keeping his guard up around this particular Kamisato was more than necessary. The seemingly innocent smile that Ayato wore well was no longer enough to fool Thoma at this point.

"What's wrong?" His expression morphed into one of genuine curiosity, yet Thoma knew better, his ears tuned to pick out the traces of mischief often laced into Ayato's voice. 

Surprisingly, his voice was clean.

"You know exactly why!" He said after moments of hesitation, prompting an amused chuckle from his lord.

"I'm curious as to what you think could possibly be inside the box," Ayato mused with a delighted glint in his eyes, clearly reveling in the apprehension.

"Anything!" Thoma huffed with a pout. "You manage to turn anything into a prank!"

"You flatter me."

"M'lord, please," came the usual sigh of dismay, contrasting the comical giggles that escaped Ayato's mouth. "I'm not going on anymore boba runs for you if this is something bad."

"Alright, alright," Ayato shook his head, heeding the warning, "I assure you that there's nothing wrong with the gift."

Thoma raised an eyebrow, reading Ayato's voice for the inevitable lie. "You promise?"

"I promise." Ayato proceeded to place a palm to his own heart, ending the gesture with a firm nod. "It was made with love, of course."

"Or demonic ambition."

"And love," Ayato tacked on, flashing a wink that Thoma could only respond with an eye roll.

Despite his suspicions, the package itself lacked hints of ulterior motives. The blue ribbons with silver trimmings were held together over the beige gift box in the form of an awkward bow, handiwork that could belong to none other than Ayato himself. Arts and crafts were not exactly his forte, indicating that Ayato had a direct hand with the package, which only served to further keep Thoma on edge.

Glancing at the parcel with hesitation, Thoma lifted the box and gave it a gentle shake, straining his ears as he repeated the motion twice more. Whatever was inside didn't create much force from the inside, barely tapping against the inner walls of the box. Clothes, maybe? 

His fingers pinched at the ends of the ribbons, tugging gently to let the thin piece of cloth fall away, revealing the white cardboard box underneath. Slowly, his fingers pushed at the top and Thoma braced himself for what might just jump out at him, but was pleasantly surprised at what looked to be a sweater. He lifted the sweater from the box, eyes gleaning over the warm orange threads as his fingers dug into the soft material. "Where'd you get this?" was all Thoma could murmur, taking in the sweater in awe.

"I made it myself, of course," Ayato said with pride. "Only crafted with the finest material during my trip to Fontaine. I ran into Chiori along the way and she guided me during the process."

"It looks amazing, m'lord!" Thoma gushed, eyes going over the sweater repeatedly. "Thank you, thank you so much! I-I'm going to wear it now, if that's alright!"

"It's yours, so do with it as you please," Ayato chuckled. "It's the perfect time for sweater weather, after all."

---

The sweater was everything.

It perfectly fit his body without being too snug, allowing for plenty of wiggle room, it was of notably high quality with how the fabric felt delightful against his skin, it even smelled faintly of vanilla, but most importantly, it was warm. And what paired better with a snuggly sweater on a snowy day?

Candles.

Thoma hummed to himself as he sorted through the variety of candles he kept neatly arranged, eyes scanning the shelf for the perfect scent to match his mood. Cinnamon was a classic choice, or he could go with one of the newer ones Ayaka had brought home from Fontaine-

"Ack!"

The sudden feeling of arms wrapped around his waist interrupted his candle perusing, but his nerves were put at ease with the familiar sensation of another's cheek gently nuzzling the crook of his neck. All these years working under the Kamisatos, yet Ayato always managed to sneak around, flying under his nose.

"Enjoying the sweater, love?" Ayato's voice softly brushed against the skin of his neck, sending tingles down his spine.

Thoma could only reply with a simple "mhm" as he relaxed into Ayato's hold, sighing whenever Ayato nuzzled into his neck. Strange to be holding such an intimate moment in the Kamisato Estate's storage closet, but Thoma would take anything he could get, what with his lord always having his hands full, not to mention being pulled away for so long during his recent trip to Fontaine. The occasional kiss to his skin and the gentle caress of Ayato's fingers under his sweater were enough to make his brain stir, causing Thoma to—

Wait a moment....

Ayato's fingers.. under his sweater??

What- How did they get there? His hands repeatedly patted at his abdomen where Ayato's hands currently rested against his thin undershirt, protected by the fluffy material of his new sweater. Surely he would've noticed Ayato's sneaky hands slipper under the hem of his sweater, yet somehow they've managed to evade his watch.

"Something the matter?" His tone was innocent, yet there was that familiar artificial tinge to his lord's sickenly sweet voice.

Something was up.

"M'lord.." Thoma's voice tremored as it dawned that he most likely played into whatever the devil himself had planned.

Yet the sickly sweet gestures persisted, now with gentle but firm grip to undoubtedly keep Thoma in place the minute he attempted an escape. "The little holes in the sweater are so convenient," Ayato explained, perfectly reading Thoma's mind. "They make it so convenient for times like these."

"Holes?! Why does the sweater have holes?! Did you not have the budget for fabric?" Thoma couldn't even begin to wrap his head around what purpose this would serve, let alone how he never noticed such a detail, or lack thereof, in the first place. This would teach him to never get too excited over what should've been a harmless gift, archon forbid. 

Ayato hummed in response, drumming his fingers against Thoma's torso that made the blond fidget. "Ah, you seem to be misunderstood," he sing-songed, his chin resting atop Thoma's shoulder. "It's an intended feature, of course. I can show you, if you'd like."

He was too afraid to ask, not that it mattered in the end.

"Wah- no! Nohoho! Whahahat are you dohohoing?!"

"Mm, is it not obvious?"

It was a rhetorical question, no doubt, yet there was a sliver of hope that Thoma himself was mistaken, only for those thoughts to be quickly dashed when Ayato's hands persisted, running up the length of Thoma's torso, each touch penetrating the thin material of his undershirt to make the blond squirm. His body twisted and squirmed in response, his own hands grasping uselessly at the other set currently messing with him, anything to escape whatever Ayato had planned.

"Isn't it excellent? A comfy sweater designed for easy access to tickle its wearer," Ayato expressed in low tone, bordering a whisper, though he made no attempt at masking the amusement in his voice.

"B-But you tihihickle mehehe all the tihihime!" Thoma managed through his snickers, squealing when one of Ayato's hands sneakily squeezed at one of his pecs.

"But this is more fun, no?"

"NOHOho!" The desperate cry was enough for Ayato to laugh alongside the giggly retainer, a contrasting mix to Thoma's own frantic laughter. He could just picture the smirk playing on his lips. "EheheheHAHA! Let gohoho! Stahahap!"

"Mmm, but I don't believe I can, even if I wanted to," Ayato remarked. "If you keep moving, my hands will be tangled up in the sweater. Best you do your best and sit still."

But he couldn't, not with how methodical the tickling was. Ayato wasn't the type to go in for the kill, as Thoma knew very well, often going through the bits and pieces in a more systemic way. A pinch to his side, tweaks to his ribs, finger drabbles along his underarms, even going so far to poke at his navel. Thoma could never get a read when he needed it the most, often distracted by Ayato's signature brand of teasing that somehow elevated the subtle pricks into something more unbearable, dissolving Thoma into helpless giggles the further his defenses broke down.

"And, y'know, why stop at sweaters?" Ayato pondered over Thoma's laughter. "Pants with slits at the hips, some modified tabis, maybe even just borrowing a crop top from the traveler."

The teases were enough to send Thoma over the edge, unable to protest once Ayato went down the list of clothing choices he could potentially threaten Thoma with. Laughter after laughter poured over, filling the small storage room with hapless shrieks as Ayato's hands made the most of the custom sweater and its unfortunate victim.

"HeheHAHA! No! Cohohome ohohon! Stahahap PLEAHAH-!"

Despite the menace Ayato often lived up to be, there was still the other side of the coin, the merciful part that knew not overburden his favorite tickle victim. Per routine, the tickling ebbed to a relaxed rhythm, still procuring giggles, while allowing Thoma more leeway to breathe, before his fingers came to steady stop, drumming along Thoma's torso once more as they awaited the blond's next action. Now, with the loosened grip, Thoma used the opportunity to quickly detach himself from Ayato before his lord could have a change of heart, allowing himself to catch his breath, ignoring the smug smirk that Ayato wore well.

"I'm fixing this sweater," Thoma finally exhaled. 

"No! You absolutely cannot!" There was a genuine tinge of disappointment behind Ayato's voice, one that didn't commonly occur. "I put a lot of effort into making this."

"Yeah, a lot of effort for evil," Thoma snapped with a tilt of his head.

"It started out with love, I assure you," Ayato explained, shifting his eyes about. "I might have gotten sidetracked during the process, but I can make you a normal one, as long as you promise to keep this one.. and maybe occasionally wear it every once in a while."

Thoma opened his mouth to respond, only for a sigh to escape his lips at the ridiculous request, yet the puppy eyes Ayato flashed him practically forced him to reconsider. "Alright, alright."

"Fantastic!" Ayato's eyes lit up at the response.

"Uh-uh, but on one condition," Thoma tacked on, earning himself a curious glance. "I get to make you an identical piece. That way we'll be matching for sweater weather."

[heich0e]

keigo convinces you to quit your job less than a year into your relationship.

the pay is terrible anyway, and it isn't even a position in the field you'd gone to school to study (not that you'd graduated, but you did always plan on going back some day, if you could.)

but the problem is that your schedule is always the complete opposite of his. you always have to sleep at night (early to bed, early to rise) so that you can wake up at the crack of dawn each morning and commute to your shabby little office on the other side of town. keigo often doesn't get home from patrol until the sun is coming up, meaning that your alarm is set to be ringing just a few moments after his head hits the pillow next to yours--stealing you, and your warmth, and the soft skin of your thighs away from him under the blankets.

it feels like he never gets to see you. never gets to hold you. like you're never there. (you are, but that's not what it feels like to him.)

the first time he makes the suggestion, you think he's joking and you laugh.

keigo's eyes crinkle at the corners as he watches you giggle, his head resting atop your lap on the sofa on a rare evening that finds the two of you both home and snuggled up together in his living room--your living room now too, since you'd finally broken the lease on your apartment that had practically gone uninhabited since you and keigo started seeing each other. he watches you laugh like it's his favourite movie; rapt by every moment of your mirth.

"what's so funny, baby?"

you blink, your laughter petering out slowly like a leaky tap being turned closed.

"i can't quit my job, kei," you whisper, half incredulous and half scandalized at the notion, once you realize he's not making the suggestion in jest.

"why not?" he pouts, rolling onto his side where he rests on your lap and burrowing his face into your sweatshirt over your abdomen.

"it's... my job," you reply dumbly, unsure of how better to defend your point. your fingers thread absentmindedly through his golden hair as he nuzzles further into your tummy.

"you don't need a job," he counters, though the words are muffled. "especially not that one. they're awful to you."

he's not wrong, necessarily. your company is not known for being particularly kind to its employees, nor even for being a desirable place to work. but the salary was mostly liveable and they'd been willing to take you on even with only half a degree under your belt, and you've never taken that for granted.

"of course I need a job," you pinch at keigo's cheek gently, and he turns his face up towards you. his eyes, usually so soft and warm, look pained.

"for what?" he asks, his tone wounded. "what do you need that i can't give you?"

your chest tightens as you take in his sad expression. the jut of his lip, the disappointed crease of his brow.

"i... don't want to be a burden to you, keigo."

something in his gaze shifts, just for a moment. it almost looks like anger, but it's gone too quick to sting--a flame snuffed out before it has the chance to burn you.

keigo's wings twitch beneath him, the feathers bristling.

slowly, he pulls himself upright until he's on his knees beside you on the sofa.

he peers down at you, cupping your cheeks in his large, soft hands.

"you could never,"--he leans down towards you, filling up your field of vision until there's nothing left but him--"ever,"--he uses his hold on your cheeks to keep your your gazes locked, noses brushing gently--"be a burden to me."

keigo's breath is hot on your lips, the pressure of his touch firm, his very nearness intoxicating.

"what's the point of all of this,"--he doesn't pull away to gesture, or even break your gaze, but you know even without any sort of indicator what he's talking about: his apartment, his lifestyle, his status, his wealth--"if i can't share it with you?"

your stomach flips at how desperately he says the words.

"just..." his wispy lashes flutter as he blinks slowly, his tawny honey-hued eyes disappearing for a few torturous moments before meeting yours again. "think about it, yeah? promise?"

you feel yourself nodding, and his grip on your cheeks eases as he grins triumphantly.

keigo kisses you, slow and deep and sweet, maneuvering you onto your back on the sofa underneath him before you can even process it.

"say you promise," he breathes into your open mouth, his tongue chasing in after his words.

you hum, a dizzy, fond sound.

"i promise," you murmur against his eager lips.

he pulls away, his hands slipping up under the hem of your sweatshirt--the Pro-Hero Hawks sweatshirt he loves to see you wear so much--until it rucks up over his wrists as his touch continues to climb.

he smiles again--softer this time, more tranquil--his golden curls a backlit halo around his handsome face as he peers down at you sprawled across the sofa beneath him.

he sighs happily.

"good."

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your drider boyfriend

Drider x GN reader

W: restraints, darkness

WC: 300

Fluff Masterpost

Tip Jar

The drider examined your prone form while you slept. His touch light as a feather, he lifted you into his arms holding you close. You weren’t like his usual prey. You were human, yes, he could smell that, but there was a sweetness to you that made him want to rub his face on you rather than digest you. 

He tenderly wrapped you in soft silk so that you would be warm and comfortable when he fastened you to his web. He’d never kept a pet before, but you were just too cute with your (Y/C) hair and plump little thighs. He wasn’t sure how you’d survived on your own this long. You looked delicate and you felt quite squishy in his arms. Surely something should have eaten you by now. No matter, he thought, you were safe in his arms. 

You opened your eyes to see eight glowing ones staring back at you. They all blinked at different times and you screamed. The eyes widened and a large hand reached out, winding silk around your head with frightening dexterity. 

“Shhh…shhh…” the giant drider in front of you whispered, “you’re safe now.”  Gagged and trembling you tried to move, to flee, but your arms and legs were bound. You panted into the threads in your mouth, gasping for breath. The drider patted your head, pleased that you’d stopped making that awful noise. You were reduced to panicked whimpers.

He crawled up to the highest point of his web, in the deepest shadows to hang you carefully up and leaned back to examine you. Perfect! You were tucked safely in the coziest spot. Now all he had to do was find you some food. He considered what humans ate while he scurried off, leaving you trembling in the darkness with a cold sweat clinging to your chest.

[robsth0r]

Ears Of The Elven (Legolas x Human!Afab!Reader)

A/N: So I had this idea... and I needed to write it out so here it is! I love the sensitive elf ear trope so I of course had to write one too. For the “Afab Reader” that is because there is no mention of gender other than the reader being born female so if you’re transmasc that would work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut/Lemon (18+), Sex.

Word Count: 1089

Extra: There is some sindarin in this chapter so this is the translation of it; Meleth: Love. Meleth Nin: My Love

Legolas was laying in his bed peacefully slipping away into his dreamland. That was till his eyes snapped open as he felt a finger delicately run over the shell of his ear. A rush of pleasure went through his body and he let a shaky breath out.

"Aragorn wasn't joking." I said, in awe. Legolas and I had been dating for around a year or so and being in this position with me currently holding the most sensitive part of the elves body was something Legolas definitely hadn’t thought would happen. I was sitting next to him keeping a firm yet light grip on his ear.

"Quite sensitive?" I leaned down to whisper into his ear, my warm breath sending sparks up and down his spine causing him to shudder. Legolas raised his eyes to glare at me, his sharp gaze looking directly into my soul. My grin grew wider.

"Let… GO." He growled, trying hard to ignore the feather light finger strokes on his ear and how they were affecting him.

"Hmmm… No." I grinned again, reaching across his head to stroke his left ear. The result left Legolas squirming and breathless. The sight of the extremely horny elf next to me was enough for my heart to skip a couple beats. I wondered how it was to have such sensitive ears.

I continued teasing Legolas's ear lobe before leaning down to press gentle kisses all around his earlobe. Every time my lips touched Legolas's sensitive skin it tingled from head to toe, making goosebumps spread across his arms and legs. His heart rate increased dramatically as I moved lower down his body, kissing him along every inch of the way. When I reached the base of his neck Legolas arched into my touch, letting out a moan. I smiled against his throat and slowly began trailing kisses back up his jawline.

When I got there Legolas opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another groan coming all the way from the back of his throat. I smirked against the side of his face before licking all the way up his long pointy ear, enjoying his gasps and moans.

"Y/n…" Legolas begged, his voice deeper than normally, taking shallow breaths from the pleasure. I hear the warning in his voice but that doesn't stop me. I swing my leg over his chest, securing him under me.

"Gotta say please, Lassy." I chuckled softly and ran my left hand down the side of his torso still keeping my other hand occupied at his ear. I knew the elves didn't like losing control over themselves as it is what elves pride themselves on.

I grinned darkly as my finger reached the tip of Legolas's ear, pinching it lightly earning myself a groan from Legolas. He felt his control snap... thread... by... thread. I hadn't made him lose control even once while we had been together. But if the stories Aragorn had told me about Arwen were anything to go by it could be an interesting night.

I took my hand off of his ear and trailed it down his chest, teasing his waistband. With a flick of my wrist my fingers unfastened it and pulled it over Legolas's hips before slipping his pants down. My hands found his shaft making him twitch. I lowered my head and licked along his length groaning against it and that was enough to make him explode right then and there.

He flung himself up and secured both my hands in a firm grip above my head, him leaning over me.

"If you do that one more time I'm gonna-" He was cut off by a loud moan escaping my throat as I arched my back letting the night shirt I had on fall exposing my breasts. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated and he lustfully looked down at me.

Before I could react, he thrusted his cock into my warm core repeatedly, kissing and nippling the skin of my breasts. The pleasure was almost overwhelming but just barely, so I grabbed onto Legolas's shoulder to steady myself as I arched my back even more in pleasure. He grunted as he fucked me hard but with pure desire, my pussy fluttering around him.

He reached his hand down and circled my clit, letting small bits of pleasure seep through me. Legolas now kissed my neck, his tongue licking out over my pulse. Legolas’ fingers worked wonders over my clit as he throbbed within me. Legolas took a glance at me and he could see the pleasure trickling into my eyes as he rocked his cock into me.

“Legolas!” I moaned, my head falling back onto the bed. My cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Legolas’ cock.

“Legolas, oh, right there,” I moaned as he fucked into me a bit faster. His thrusts were rough and hard, his nails biting into my thighs gently as he grabbed my legs, spreading me wider so he could get deeper.

Legolas was bringing me so much pleasure that I couldn’t think of any words other than his name. I babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much I wanted his cock, how I needed him, and eventually, how badly I needed to cum.

Legolas wasn’t far behind me. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into my body that he could never find the way out. Legolas released one of my thighs and pinched my clit. He rubbed it furiously, daring me to cum. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Show your prince how good you feel. Cum all over my cock, meleth.” Legolas grunted. He tapped my clit quickly, and with a shout of his name, I came all over him. My body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded me. His name fell from my lips, and as he heard me cry out for him, Legolas came inside of me. He filled me with his cum, pumping himself slowly inside of me.

I couldn't get enough of Legolas. I never wanted to leave him.

We both collapsed next to each other, panting heavily as our breathing calmed.

"I love you," Legolas groaned, rolling us around to make himself comfortable spooning me, "Please never leave me." The plea was laced with love and longing and I turned around in his arms. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Of course, meleth nin." I whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm never leaving you."

[lexical-lushes]

A Story About You

You’re trembling, so I give your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be alright,” I promise sincerely, “You’re almost there. Just a little longer, just this one last thing.”

You return a shaky nod, a weak smile, and together we turn our attention back to my Maker. Your Maker too, soon. Her cloak of feathers trails behind her as she finishes lighting the candles one by one, a long, slender match clutched delicately between her talons, flickering shadows licking at the edges of the room, lapping against us as we stand before the altar.

She asks you if you’re ready, and you hesitate a moment longer than she can permit without question.

“We can still stop, dear...? It’s an awful lot to ask of you, to come this far. I’ll understand.”

Hand still clutching my own, skin to porcelain skin, you shake your head with a quiet, admirable determination. You have come this far. What would be the point if you backed out now?

My Maker beckons us forwards, and side by side we walk up the shallow steps. My body is steady, but my mind is racing with excitement – she trusts me enough to help with this, to assist her in making you hers as well.

No doubt your pulse is racing plenty enough for the both of us. Don’t worry. Before long, you’ll know the same peace I do, the same steady tick of a metronome to replace the erratic thump of a heart.

Using my hand to steady yourself, you settle into the iron throne upon the altar, almost but not quite hiding the wince as I let go and my Maker ties the straps tight around your limbs, your chest, anchoring you steadily in place.

“I’ll be right here,” I reassure you. “Nearly over.”

My Maker nods, long fingers brushing through both our hair, and I watch as she leans in over top of you to whisper something in your ear, the words hidden behind her hair, her feathers.

It’s all so familiar, and I hope you feel just as excited as I did when I was in your place – I remember the reassurances, the things she told me. I remember the fear, the anxiety, and yes, the giddiness of my Maker telling me it’s just a little bit like dying, dear. A pinch, a fading, and then you’ll be safe and sound.

I remember how I found that little pearl of certainty inside me that this was what I needed, a thought to grab onto tightly and steady myself against what came next with.

When she pulls away your eyes are closed and you let out a deep, slow breath, let all the tension drain out of your body. You’re ready.

I watch in rapt attention as my Maker begins her work, aligning conduits and tracing runes across your skin in sacred oils that glimmer in the candlelight. I watch her touch one hand to the amber gem embedded in her chest and I bring a hand to my own phylactery in turn, feeling my essence hum in anticipation, in resonance.

She speaks, her words dark and powerful, and the room goes still. Together, we ready what she’ll need to complete your transposition, working in tandem as master and servant, her the expert and I the apprentice. I force myself to focus, bury the excitement deep inside me, let my strings empty of nervous tension and simply carry out the motions I require of them. You’re so still already, hovering on the precipice between life and death, awareness dimmed to only the barest, most dreamlike conception of your surroundings.

When she touches the tuning fork to your chest and begins to wind, I hold my breath.

As she twirls her fingers the humming rods begin to glow, winding and winding the threads of your soul free from your mortal vessel, wispy and ethereal, growing in luminosity until you’re almost blinding in the dim light of the ritual chamber. One last little flick of her wrist and you float free, a shimmering orb of life severed from its body.

I reach out my hands, jointed fingers carefully cupped, and let you settle into my palms.

I can’t help but say something, giggle and remark at how weighty you are for such an insubstantial thing. My Maker nods, reminds me I was much the same. Without another word, she holds out your phylactery – deep and red like blood, gleaming darkly, wrapped in black, polished metal.

I close my eyes and bow my head until I’m close enough to brush my lips against you, your texture like cobwebs made of moonlight. I whisper one last reassurance, although I can’t remember if I’d have heard it when I was in your place.

...and with a parting kiss I let you slip out of my cupped hands, down into your new home, the gemstone drinking you in until not a trace of your shimmering light remains, you soul secured deep within the phylactery.

All that you were, all that you are, all that you ever will be.

My Maker smiles softly, planting a kiss of her own upon the stone to seal you into it.

Safe and sound.

I’ll see you again, just as soon as your vessel is ready for you to rejoin it.

[samueldays]

You got your hot war in Ukraine, @crustacean-on-main, and so far I think it's been a disaster and a reminder not to wish for war, not to mistake edginess for truth, not to indulge in this level of contrarianism, because war is awful and the imagined salutary effects of war have failed to manifest.

(original post, didn't want to quote that whole long thread)

Like, I recognize the theory that people tell flattering lies and indulge in pleasant fantasy in times of peace, but they get serious when a war starts and suddenly real people have to fire real bullets to stop a real threat. In practice western culture does not appear to have gotten serious and is still telling itself flattering lies.

There's the absolute clown world '''experts''' who have been going RUSSIA IS ABOUT TO COLLAPSE, RUSSIA HAS RUN OUT OF RESERVES, RUSSIA'S INEVITABLE END IS ONLY WEEKS AWAY for two years and somehow not been tarred and feathered and banned from public speaking.

There's Germany shutting down its nuclear plants while dependent on Russian oil and gas to the point where sanctions on Russia had to have an "except for oil and gas" clause, rendering the sanctions mostly a nuisance to civilians, with various lesser stupid shit of the same ineffective civilian-kicking sort like the International Cat Fanciers Foundation refusing to certify Russian cats, or the mustard museum that removed the Russian mustard, or the orchestra that removed Tchaikovsky.

There was the US ambassador to Russia who didn't speak Russian, and the other US ambassador to Russia who was on Twitter being performatively ignorant and clueless about why Russians would support Putin.

[butterflellies]

the kissing game - ellie williams x reader

summary: you come up with a new game that ellie already loves.

warnings: just some quick fluff, no use of y/n, lots of physical touch, first fic jitters?

~~~

Ellie feels something feather against her cheek.

The two of you are watching a new movie neither of you had seen before. It was interesting for sure, but sometimes your mind ventures back into the heart-quickening realization that your girlfriend exists and has a place in your life. 

Shifting her face away from the screen and towards you, she smiles lazily as she realizes it was your lips. However, you catch her slightly off-guard again as you quickly perch a delicate smooch on the very tip of her nose.

She blinks at you, effectively asking, ‘What are you doing?’ using only an expression. You simply shrug,

“I'm playing a game.”

“What kinda game?”

“The rules are for every time I think of you, I have to kiss you.”

You always manage to find new ways to make Ellie blush; were you trying to do so on purpose? She unconsciously leans towards you as you prepare your next attack,

“I can’t-” kiss “tell if i’m-” peck “good or bad-” kiss “at this game.”

Ellie’s heart is fluttering in her chest. Despite being breathless, she manages to mumble out,

“I think you’re the best at this.”

After decorating your lips onto her face and neck, even her hair, enough to make her freckles worry of being outnumbered, you suddenly lean back and let out a breathless ‘phew!’ You even fan your face for dramatic effect,

Ellie is speechless as you chirp,

“I think I need to pause the game for a bit.”

Laughter erupts from Ellie; it’s impossible to hold back the giggles any longer. Your silliness sends her heart and soul into cloud nine instantly, she can’t help but feel her body glow with love.

Ellie has moments like these too, when she remembers just who she gets to hold in her arms every night. Who she gets to wake up to every morning. Who she gets to watch back-to-back movies with for hours on end. She’s losing herself in your eyes already, and you chuckle at her awed daze, knowing exactly how she’s feeling.

Maintaining eye contact as best you can, you lean in impossibly closer; tilting your head in a way that your nose and forehead are cradled in her own. In this proximity, you flutter your eyelashes to tickle Ellie's freckles with butterfly kisses. Effectively leaving her giddy beyond comprehension.

She closes her laptop with a swift smack and shoves it to the side before practically launching herself on top of you. Wrapping her arms around your body, thus effectively encasing you into her cuddle trap, you squeal when she blows a raspberry on the side of your neck. Threading your fingers in her hair, with your nose deep in her tresses and inhaling the scent that both puts you to sleep and wakes you up every day. One that just screamed ‘Ellie!’

Later

The movie was long finished. The bright screen that previously lit the room replaced with a cool blanket of moonlight through the window. You had fallen asleep against Ellie's neck after your little play-wrestling, who was now absent-mindedly drawing things on your back. She's just finished drawing a heart between your shoulder blades when Ellie feels the familiar brush of your lips against her collarbone. She feels a smile already creeping up on her face,

“What are you doing?”

“I'm un-pausing the game.”

~~~

notes: this is my first ever fic post! i've always been pretty shy online which is strangely ironic given that irl i'm extremely social! but i'd love to try and engage with more more people on here in and fellow tlou lovers :) for as long as i've been on tumblr for reading fics, i have no clue what i'm doing when it comes to posting OR tumblr in general, but thanks so much for reading!

[rainforestakiie]

Some people play with the idea that Angels have something acute to bird dances to those they court. Something like hummingbirds, they have certain feathers that give a semblance of a sound depending on how they move them with the wind. Literally making a song through dancing, it’s beauty depending on skill and practice. And Lucifer has six. Of course, Adam would have no idea about this nor have the state of mind to gasp its meaning. But, wouldn’t it be cute, after helping Lucifer clean his wings, he takes all the lose feathers and tires braiding it into his own hair. And tries innocently mimicking the dance back to Lucifer.

awww that would be so cute~

i love the thought of it! ahhh!

Adam was gently stirred from his slumber by the most exquisite melody he had ever encountered. The sound danced through the sweet air of Eden, caressing his senses and painting a blush across his cheeks. He blinked his emerald eyes open, sitting up from where he had been nestled among the soft, newly blossomed carnations. Their delicate red petals, like whispers against his skin, had lulled him into sleep.

But now, something far more enchanting had awakened him, a sound that drifted through the trees, making the leaves sway in a joyful, glorious dance. Adam yawned softly, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes as he gazed around in wonder. No bird in Eden had ever sung such a captivating song. It was as curious as it was beautiful.

With careful, almost reverent movements, Adam extricated himself from the bed of carnations and stood on his wobbly feet. He squinted at the bright, cloudless sky, where the sun bathed everything in a golden, otherworldly glow. The day was as perfect as any in Eden, yet something extraordinary was calling to him.

With a puzzled hum, Adam began to follow the sound. It was sweet and tender, a melody that seemed to weave through the trees like a delicate thread, drawing him closer. As he walked, he passed the animals of Eden, each one serene and at peace. He paused to gently stroke the head of a mother deer, a tender smile tugging at his lips as he admired her three spotted fawns, nestled close to her side. All the creatures had gathered, captivated by the same lovely sound.

What could it be?

The sound was like a magnet, irresistibly pulling him from his secret sanctuary among the carnations. Even the Angels never found him there, hidden deep within the bed of red flowers. Yet now, he moved through the herds of peaceful animals, his skin tingling as he drew nearer to the source of the mysterious melody. A flush spread over his body, deepening as he finally reached a towering tree.

Adam's heart was pounding, its rhythm echoing in his ears and filling his chest with a sweet ache. He couldn’t fathom why he felt so nervous, so anxious. His hands trembled as he reached out to touch the warm bark of the tree, the sound growing even sweeter, as if beckoning him to step out from his hiding place.

A shiver traced its way up his spine, as if the melody itself was caressing him, its notes brushing against his skin like the softest of touches. Adam almost curled up beneath the tree, overwhelmed by the sensation. But gathering his courage, he inched to the side and peeked around the tree trunk. His breath caught in his throat, his apple-green eyes widening in awe.

The sight before him was breathtaking, more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

The enchanting melody was coming from his angel, his guardian Archangel, Lucifer. Perched gracefully high up in the tree, the angel looked utterly divine. His soft blue cheeks glowed as he sang, the sound pouring from his cherry-red lips. All six of his wings were spread wide, their iridescent feathers shimmering with the sunlight, casting a dazzling array of colours throughout the small clearing in Eden. Adam had never seen Lucifer's wings shine so brilliantly, each feather like a tiny prism of light.

But Lucifer wasn't alone. A small gathering of birds surrounded him, their wings fluttering in harmony with his, adding their own sweet notes to the symphony. Adam gasped softly, his heart swelling with emotion as Lucifer's sparkling sapphire eyes opened and locked onto his own, as if the angel had known he was there all along.

Startled, Adam ducked back behind the tree, his pulse racing. Yet the divine melody didn't falter; it only grew louder and more insistent, urging him to look again. And when their eyes met once more, Lucifer slipped from the branch with a graceful ease, his glowing wings twinkling like the stars in the night sky.

Lucifer, with an impish glint in his sapphire eyes, began to glide effortlessly through the air, imitating the courtship dance of the birds around him. He dipped and swooped with breathtaking grace, his movements so fluid they seemed to merge with the melody that still filled the air. Each dive was a display of elegance, his wings shimmering with an ethereal light as they caught the sun’s rays. He twisted in the air, performing acrobatics that defied gravity, his every motion a flawless blend of power and beauty.

Adam watched, utterly enchanted. His breath hitched each time Lucifer ascended into the sky, only to plummet with a swift, controlled descent, the arch of his wings catching him just before he reached the ground. The archangel’s performance was hypnotic, a mesmerising dance that seemed to be crafted just for him. 

Every so often, Adam would find himself overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and he would duck back behind the tree, his heart pounding in his chest, only to hear Lucifer's melodic voice calling to him once more, coaxing him out of hiding.

The angel's song, sweeter than any earthly tune, floated through the air like a tender caress, its notes wrapping around Adam and pulling him back into the open. Lucifer was patient, his voice a gentle lure, each phrase of the song like a delicate thread weaving its way into Adam's heart. He would peek out again, unable to resist the pull, and each time he did, Lucifer would flash him a playful smile, his wings flickering like a thousand tiny stars.

Lucifer’s pendulum flight was the most captivating of all. He soared high above, then allowed himself to swing back and forth in a graceful arc, as if he were the pendulum of some grand celestial clock, marking the passage of time with each elegant swing. The way his wings caught the light, refracting it into a kaleidoscope of colours, left Adam breathless. It was as if the entire sky had been painted with the hues of Lucifer’s feathers, creating a dazzling display that filled Eden with a radiant glow.

Every movement Lucifer made was a silent invitation, a beckoning for Adam to come closer, to share in this moment of divine beauty. Adam felt his heart swell with an emotion he couldn’t name, a mixture of awe, longing, and something sweeter, deeper. Each time he retreated behind the tree, it was with a pounding heart and flushed cheeks, only to be drawn out again by the angel’s persistent song.

Finally, as Lucifer performed another series of spiralling dives, his laughter—light and musical—rippled through the air, mingling with the songbirds that had gathered to join in his performance. Adam’s eyes widened as Lucifer soared straight up, only to dive with breathtaking speed, pulling up just before touching the earth, his wings spreading wide to catch the air in a final, triumphant arc.

Adam’s heart raced as he shifted once more behind the tree, his cheeks aflame with a warmth that only intensified with each passing moment. He watched as the birds that had danced alongside Lucifer fluttered away, drawn toward smaller, more delicate companions of their own kind. Their playful courtship made Adam’s heart flutter, a strange shyness settling over him as he observed their tender interactions.

“Adam?” Lucifer’s voice, soft and melodic, called out to him, his tone a gentle chirp that mimicked the birds. The sound was impossible to resist.

Peeking out from behind the tree at the call of his name, Adam startled, a soft yelp escaping his lips as he found Lucifer suddenly on the other side. The Archangel was hovering effortlessly, his back arched as his hands lightly touched the bark of the tree, his fingers mere inches from Adam’s. Their closeness sent Adam’s pulse into overdrive, his breath catching as Lucifer’s glowing eyes locked onto his own. The angel’s cherry-red lips curled into a sweet, wide smile that made Adam’s heart skip a beat.

The air between them was thick with an unspoken connection, a bond that had been woven through the dance, the song, and the sheer, overwhelming beauty of the moment. Lucifer tilted his head slightly, that knowing smile deepening as he inched closer, his voice a soft melody that wrapped around Adam like a warm embrace.

“Why do you hide from me?” Lucifer asked, his tone teasing yet filled with a deep affection that made Adam’s heart race even faster.

“I—I…” Adam stammered, his words failing him as he struggled to find a response. The angel’s presence was overwhelming, a mixture of awe and comfort that left him breathless. Finally, he managed to whisper, “I—I couldn’t help it. You’re… so beautiful.”

Lucifer’s smile broadened, his expression tender as he reached out, cupping Adam’s cheek with a soft, warm hand. The touch sent a delightful shiver down Adam’s spine, and he instinctively leaned into it, his eyes fluttering closed as he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re so cute,” Lucifer murmured, his voice laced with amusement as his wings continued to shimmer in the sunlight, casting a kaleidoscope of colors around them. “Did you enjoy my song and dance?”

Adam’s eyes flew open, surprise coloring his voice as he gasped, “That’s what it was? A song and dance?”

“Yep,” Lucifer chuckled, stepping back slightly as his feet touched the ground, his six wings ruffling and stretching wide. He ran his hands over his iridescent feathers, his blue eyes glancing down at them with a fond smile. “I was singing and dancing to impress you.”

“Impress me?” Adam echoed, his gaze fixated on Lucifer as the angel’s fingers brushed through his feathers with such care. “Why?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Lucifer teased, his voice playful as he chirped once more like the birds around them. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he took in Adam’s captivated expression, a grin spreading across his face as he stepped forward, gently curling his hand around Adam’s wrist. With a gentle tug, he guided Adam down to their knees on the soft grass of Eden.

“Would you be kind enough to help me with my wings?” Lucifer asked sweetly, his tone dripping with charm. He knew what he was doing. “I need to groom them, and with so many feathers, it’ll be a real pain to do it all by myself.”

“Yes!” Adam exclaimed eagerly, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lucifer, his heart swelling with the desire to help.

Lucifer laughed softly, a sound like the tinkling of bells, before leaning in to nuzzle his cheek against Adam’s. The gesture was affectionate, almost intimate, and it sent a wave of warmth flooding through Adam. “Aw, you’re so sweet and kind, Adam,” Lucifer purred, his voice filled with genuine affection. “Always so willing to help the little old me.”

Adam’s heart soared at the angel’s words, his hand reaching out to gently touch the soft, iridescent feathers of Lucifer’s wings. He felt as though he was floating in a dream, the world around them fading away. He adored Lucifer’s wings, finding them so soft under his hands. 

“Adam~” Lucifer chuckled, his voice a melodic tease as he reached up to Adam’s hair, gently plucking a red petal nestled among the soft curls.

Adam gasped, his eyes widening as he watched Lucifer bring the petal to his lips, the angel’s tongue flicking out to taste it. A blush bloomed across Adam’s cheeks, his breath hitching at the sight. “Um, well, they’re—from my… carnations,” he stammered, his voice trembling with shyness. “I-I have a carnation bed now…”

“Oh, do you?” Lucifer purred, his voice smooth and filled with a sweet, almost playful curiosity. His fingers traced delicately along Adam’s skin, following the soft blue veins that pulsed beneath the surface, each touch purposeful and electric. Lucifer’s gaze drifted to the red petals woven throughout Adam’s hair, his pretty blue eyes sparkling with admiration. The sight was so endearing, so utterly charming, that Lucifer found himself wishing the petals could stay forever nestled in Adam’s hair.

“So that’s where you’ve been hiding?” Lucifer’s tone was laced with amusement, yet there was a gentle affection behind his words, as if he already knew the answer.

“Um, not hiding, j-just…” Adam’s voice faltered, his words trailing off as the warmth in his cheeks deepened. His entire face was a vibrant shade of red, especially as Lucifer released a series of those endearing bird-like chirps, the sound playful and sweet.

Lucifer’s laughter bubbled up again, light and musical as he leaned in closer. “You’re even more adorable when you blush,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. Lucifer’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, tracing patterns along Adam’s skin as if committing every detail to memory.

Adam’s heart raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess as he tried to find the words to respond. But all he could manage was a shy smile, his eyes flickering up to meet Lucifer’s as he felt the angel’s warmth enveloping him, both in body and spirit. Every touch, every word, every glance between them was filled with a tenderness that left Adam feeling as if he were floating, lost in the overwhelming sweetness of the moment.

"Hmm," Lucifer sang out, his voice a soft, melodious hum that sent another familiar shudder down Adam's spine. The sound wrapped around him, making his heart flutter in his chest. Lucifer’s gaze lifted to the red petal in his hand, holding it with delicate fingers before finally releasing it to the wind. They both watched as it was whisked away, dancing through the air like a tiny flame. "I bet the petals would look lovely with my wings."

Adam blinked, his mind immediately conjuring the image. He could see it so clearly—Lucifer’s shimmering wings adorned with the vibrant red petals, each one adding a touch of fiery beauty to the angel's already breathtaking form. His hands trembled slightly as he continued to clean the wing closest to him, his fingers moving through the soft feathers just as Lucifer had taught him. The task was soothing, almost meditative, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Lucifer’s words, to the way his heart raced at the mere idea.

As he worked, Adam noticed the loose feathers that effortlessly fell away, their beauty still intact despite their shedding. They were perfectly healthy, each one a masterpiece of nature’s design. Adam had never quite understood why Lucifer’s wings shed them; they appeared flawless. It always seemed such a waste when Lucifer simply discarded them.

"Can I have these?" Adam asked quietly, gathering the feathers into his hands, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer hummed sweetly, the sound much too close for comfort, and Adam felt the angel’s warm breath tickling his cheek. His cheeks flushed with heat, and his heart stuttered as Lucifer gazed down at the feathers, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. "Sure. You can keep whatever you want, Addie."

"O-Oh," Adam stammered, the affectionate nickname sending a jolt of warmth through him. He shuddered again, instinctively shuffling forward in a vain attempt to create some distance between them. But it was no use. Lucifer simply shifted his wing, the one Adam had been cleaning, blocking any chance of escape. The human found himself trapped in the most tender of cages, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "T-Thank you."

Lucifer’s smile broadened into a radiant beam as he let out a low, satisfied purr. Before Adam could react, the angel wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap with effortless grace. Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he found himself enveloped by Lucifer’s warmth, the angel’s soft feathers brushing against his skin like the gentlest of caresses.

Adam could barely think, his mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being so close to Lucifer. The steady beat of the angel’s heart beneath his ear was a lullaby, soothing and rhythmic, grounding him even as his emotions threatened to spiral out of control. He was lost in the moment, in the feel of Lucifer’s arms around him, the sweet scent of the angel’s skin, and the comforting weight of his wings wrapped protectively around them both.

~#~

A full week had passed since Lucifer had given Adam the feathers, and now, Adam found himself with a collection of beautiful, iridescent treasures. He held one between his fingers, tilting it in the sunlight, gasping as it shimmered like a rainbow. As he marvelled at its beauty, a soft hum emanated from the feather, a sound so reminiscent of Lucifer's enchanting song that it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam didn’t understand the things Lucifer did, and it often left him bewildered. The Archangel seemed to take great joy in Adam’s confusion, and though it puzzled him, it also caused his heart to race in a rhythm that sometimes made him pause, pressing a hand to his chest to calm the flurry of emotions within. The memory of Lucifer’s captivating dance lingered in his mind, refusing to fade, no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. It had become such an obsession that he found himself watching the birds—Mockingbirds, he had recently named them—performing the same dance for their partners. He didn’t understand the significance of it at the time, but later, he would wonder how he could have been so blind.

Now, as he gazed at the feathers laid out before him, Adam shuffled his hair and settled onto his knees. He began to braid the feathers into his hair with gentle hands, working quietly and with focused determination. He wasn’t intending for anyone, least of all Lucifer, to see him. Lucifer had told him just yesterday that he would be away for a few days, as Heaven had grown much too busy with the birth of the first woman. Lucifer hadn’t seemed too pleased with the development but had appeared relieved when Adam showed no interest in the thought of the woman.

Adam didn’t know where the idea had come from, but it had appeared in his mind as soon as he woke up that morning, squirming in his bed of carnations. The thought was persistent, refusing to leave him until he acted on it. So he continued threading the feathers through his hair with as much care and gentleness as possible. Once he was sure he was done, he crawled toward the lake bank, peeking at his reflection in the water, and giggled. The sunlight shone over him, catching the feathers and creating a small, sparkling rainbow around him.

Adam giggled even more as the Mockingbirds seemed to take notice. A few landed on the branches above him, perching together and peeking down at him with curious eyes. Immediately, they released a chorus of chirps and calls of delight. Adam smiled up at them, pushing himself to his feet before twirling around with joyful abandon, spreading his arms wide and bowing in their direction.

“What do you all think?” he called out innocently, his voice light and carefree.

The Mockingbirds responded with another chorus of sweet calls, beginning to hum together in an adorable tune that made Adam’s heart swell with happiness. He grinned widely, twirling around once more as the Mockingbirds leapt off the branches to dance around him. Their wings caught the sunlight, reflecting the same colourful patterns that adorned Adam’s hair, and together, they created a dazzling display of light and colour that filled the air with a joyful, harmonious energy.

Adam’s heart raced with excitement as he watched the Mockingbirds dance around him, their wings flashing in the sunlight like tiny rainbows. The memory of Lucifer’s enchanting performance played vividly in his mind, and an idea began to take shape—a desire to mimic the beautiful, fluid movements he had seen, to feel the same joy that had radiated from Lucifer and the birds.

Taking a deep breath, Adam spread his arms wide, imagining them as wings, and began to move. He twirled on the balls of his feet, trying to replicate the graceful dives and acrobatics that Lucifer had performed so effortlessly in the air. Without wings, he had to stay grounded, but that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. He leaped and spun, his feet barely touching the ground as he attempted to mimic the pendulum flight, swinging his body in a rhythmic motion that made him feel as if he were flying, if only for a moment.

The Mockingbirds, sensing his intent, joined in with exuberant chirps and trills. They swooped and soared around him, weaving through the air in intricate patterns that mirrored the very dance Lucifer had taught them. Their song was the same one Lucifer had sung—a melodious, enchanting tune that filled the garden with warmth and light. 

Adam moved to the rhythm, his heart swelling with a joy so pure it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He was so caught up in the moment, so lost in the dance, that he didn’t notice the presence that had quietly returned to the garden. Lucifer, having descended from Heaven earlier than expected, let out a gasp of wonder as he caught the sight. The Archangel moved high up into the trees, gazing down at Adam with a mixture of amusement and deep affection.

Adam’s movements were clumsy compared to the Archangel’s, but there was something endearing about the way he tried so earnestly to recreate the dance. He leaped and spun with all the grace he could muster, his laughter mingling with the Mockingbirds’ song. The feathers in his hair shimmered in the sunlight, catching the same rainbow hues as the birds’ wings, making him look like a part of the vibrant, living tapestry of Eden.

Lucifer’s heart swelled with love as he watched, a soft smile curving his lips. There was something almost magical about seeing Adam, the first human, so full of life and wonder, moving with such joy in the garden they both cherished. The Archangel had always found delight in Adam’s innocence, but this—seeing him dance, hearing his laughter—this was something else entirely. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered beauty, and Lucifer found himself utterly captivated.

As Adam continued to twirl and leap, completely unaware of his audience, Lucifer felt a wave of warmth wash over him. The human’s delight was infectious, and soon, without thinking, Lucifer began to hum along with the Mockingbirds’ song, his voice blending seamlessly with theirs, adding a richness to the tune that made Adam pause mid-twirl.

Breathless and flushed, Adam froze in place, his eyes wide as the familiar sound reached his ears. Slowly, he turned toward the source, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw Lucifer perched high in the trees again, watching him with a gaze so full of love it made Adam’s heart skip a beat.

“Lucifer!” Adam exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. He immediately stopped his clumsy dance, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red as he realised he had been caught.

With a clap of his hands, Lucifer grinned. “Aw, don’t tell me you’re finished? Don’t stop on my account, Addie~”

“Um…” Adam blushed even brighter than before. 

Lucifer slipped off the branch and approached Adam with a playful glint in his eyes. “You were doing wonderfully.”

Adam’s embarrassment melted away at Lucifer’s words, replaced by a shy smile. “I was just… trying to do what you and the Mockingbirds did,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But I don’t have wings, so…”

Lucifer’s smile widened, and he reached out, gently brushing a stray feather from Adam’s hair. 

“You don’t need wings to dance, Adam. Your heart is what makes it beautiful.” He glanced at the Mockingbirds still circling above, their song continuing in harmony with the garden around them. “And it seems they agree.”

Adam’s heart swelled with happiness at Lucifer’s praise, and without thinking, he moved closer, his hand slipping into Lucifer’s. 

“Would you dance with me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but full of hopeful anticipation.

Lucifer’s eyes softened, and with a tender smile, he nodded. “Of course,” he whispered back, his voice carrying the same enchanting melody that had first drawn Adam to him.

Together, hand in hand, they danced beneath the dappled light of Eden’s trees, surrounded by the vibrant chorus of Mockingbirds. Though Adam remained on the ground, and Lucifer’s wings spread in elegant arcs around them, it felt as though they were both soaring through the air, caught up in a moment of pure, unbridled joy that would linger in Adam’s heart forever.

[eirianerisdar]

Hiiiii I’ve only just seen it but if youre still doing the directors commentary thing I was gonna ask about Icarus? :) and the ⭐️ for whatever part you choose

(and just wanted to say your writing is so beautiful, I’m loving reading it so much thank you for sharing <3)

Oh ye I'm going to go on an absolute rant about Brocedes

An excerpt from chapter 30 of Icarus, when Lewis has just strained his newly regrown wings on a highly unadvised first flight after having grown out his primaries again for the first time in sixteen years, and runs into Nico by chance on an old clifftop haunt of theirs above Monaco. It's purely mutual pining in that uniquely Brocedes way

For the uninitiated, Icarus is an F1 wingfic that covers most of the grid, with the theme of wing trimming as a representation of unhealthy practices in motorsport forced upon drivers.

=====

A shape appears out of the rising sun, brown-white sparrowhawk feathers silhouetted against the dawn.

Unlike Lewis’s haphazard landing a minute earlier, Nico’s is elegant and precise; he comes out of his dive twisting in a perfect diagonal to the clifftop, one wingtip brushing the ground and the other pointed towards the sun, and lands on silent feet. He is wearing a tailored flight-suit that fits him as well as his race suit used to; the small backpack slotted between his wings has a molded plastic shell for better aerodynamics.

Nico folds his wings, and stares.

“Lewis?” he says, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

Lewis is suddenly all-too aware of the dirt ground into his skin, smeared over his t-shirt and ratty running sweats. His wings are caked with sand and grime from his less-than perfect landings; his palms are smarting with a dozen shallow cuts from hauling himself back up onto the clifftop.

He finds his voice. “What are you doing here?”

It comes out more accusing than Lewis intended. Nico’s face closes; his sparrowhawk wings flatten against his back.

“I come here often,” he says. “I fly up here every morning.”

Lewis doesn’t miss the implication that he is the intruder here, not Nico.

Lewis doesn’t know why that hurts so much. Maybe because he shouldn’t feel so out of place here, in this little sanctuary tucked against the Monaco cliffs where he and Nico had watched the sun rise and set so many times.

Nico ventures closer. His eyes are on Lewis’s wings. “You really did it,” he says oddly. “You grew out your wings.”

Lewis sets his jaw, raises his chin. “Yeah,” he says challengingly. “What about it?”

Nico flinches and looks away. His chest rises and falls faster than usual.

It would seem that even after all this time, Lewis still knows how to get a rise out of Nico. Lewis should feel vindicated, but he doesn’t. Something about the way Nico is holding his wings makes Lewis feel sick.

Nico crosses over to a flat-topped rock a careful distance away and sits. The two of them face the sunrise like they have done so many times years ago. The wind that ruffles both their feathers brings with it the scent of the sea.

Lewis closes his eyes. The sun sears his skin, turns the backs of his eyelids orange-yellow. There is so much he wants to say, but he doesn’t know where to begin. He could start at Abu Dhabi, at that awful Sky interview. He could go back to 2021, when he had finally admitted to himself and to the press that he could have been a better teammate to Nico.

He could go back to Barcelona 2016; the ache in his shabby wings in the garage, and the brief moment of blessed, cool relief when Nico had brushed a hand through Lewis’s wing.

It was the last time either of them had touched each other’s wings. Their crash and DNF at Barcelona had snapped the last threads that held them together as flock.

Lewis waits for Nico to say something, but Nico stays silent. It stings.

Lewis sneaks a glance at his former flock, finds Nico already looking at him – not at his dirt-smeared face or messy braids, but at his wing plumes, pooled carelessly in the dust at the base of the rock he is seated on.

In the dawn light, Nico’s clean, well-brushed feathers are painted in peach and ochre. Lewis bristles, waits for Nico to make an unsavoury comment.

But Nico just clasps his hands together in his lap, tight enough that the knuckles go pale. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Your wing plumes are longer than I remember,” he says hoarsely.

Oh. Lewis looks down at them, at his draped double-cloak of gold, white, and maroon.

“Yeah,” he says. A gust of wind blows dirt over the end of one of his plumes; he nudges it carelessly with the toe of his trainer, but only succeeds in matting the feather ends with even more dirt.

Nico makes an abortive motion towards Lewis.

Lewis looks at him sharply, watches Nico fold his hands into fists on his knees. Nico’s face is pinched.

Lewis breathes through the bitterness. He knows he is intruding on Nico’s space by being here. It’s just that a part of him thought that he would still have a place here, where they had shared so many happy memories.

He can’t even leave; his wings still hurt too much to chance anything other than a glide.

Nico’s feathers rustle as he stands. “I’m going to head back,” he says quietly. “You coming?”

Lewis shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “I’m going to sit a while longer.”

The flight muscles of his right wing ache dully; he shakes it out carefully, fighting a wince.

Nico is suddenly standing within arm’s reach, blocking out the sun. “Your wing,” he says, frowning. “You’ve got flyer’s cramp.”

“It’ll pass,” Lewis snaps, folding his wing back against his spine even though that makes it hurt worse. “I’ve got it handled.”

“You shouldn’t fly back alone,” Nico says seriously. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll even let you get there first.”

Lewis tenses at the implication. He hates competition not treating him seriously – Nico most of all.

“I’m fine,” he says testily. “It’s just the thermals. I rode them up, I’ll find a way between them to glide back down again. I’ll manage.”

“The thermals?” Nico frowns over his shoulder at the dizzying drop down towards the sea. “Where did you fly here from?”

Lewis works his jaw. “The beach,” he says.

Nico turns on him instantly. “The beach?” he exclaims. “Are you fucking – you can’t have unsheathed your feathers more than a few days ago!”

Lewis doesn’t reply, but Nico reads him anyway.

“Oh my God,” Nico stares. “It hasn’t even been a few days, has it? This is your first fucking flight.”

Lewis jerks his chin. “What about it?”

Nico puts his face in his hands. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Are you insane? Who flies up a cliff for their first flight in sixteen years? Do you want to die?”

Lewis hates to admit it, but laying it out like that puts it into perspective. He isn’t usually one to take such risks. He let his hunger for freedom override his common sense.

“That’s it,” Nico says. He jerks his head towards the cliff edge. “I’m making sure you get back without killing yourself. Let’s go.”

Lewis looks at the edge of the cliff. The wind has picked up even more now that the sun has fully risen; bits of rock and dirt swirl in the wind to tumble off the lip.

He doesn’t want to name the feeling that roots him in place.

Lewis Hamilton has never been one to admit fear.

Nico strides over to the cliff edge, draws a sharp line in the dirt with the toe of his flight boot. “Come on,” he snaps. “I’m not leaving unless you’re with me.”

Something about that phrase twists Lewis’s stomach, uncovers a bitter wound.

Because Nico had left. He’d left Lewis to race on alone.

“What is it?” Nico says. “Is your wing still cramping?”

Lewis shifts his wings. “No.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

Lewis opens his mouth, closes it again. Looks away.

If there’s anything he hates most in the world, it’s looking weak in front of Nico Rosberg.

“I don’t think I can make it,” he admits.

Nico stills. “What?”

Lewis breathes a bitter laugh. “I know what it sounds like,” he says, looking down at his dirt-splattered wing plumes. “But I’m gonna be honest with you, man. I don’t think I can make it.”

Nico doesn’t respond. He looks like a statue stood on the cliff edge, his golden hair a halo around his head, his wings of carven marble.

Lewis runs his scraped palms together. “I don’t know the thermals,” he says, swallowing the shame. “They’re so different from what I remember. I keep getting pushed higher. My flight muscles aren’t strong enough to fight my way out if I get caught in one.” He gestures at himself, at the dirt ground into his wings, his clothes. “I barely made it out of the clouds and back here.”

Silence, save for the cry of gulls in the harbour below and the whistling wind.

Flight boots stomp against dirt and rock as Nico stalks over, grabs Lewis by the collar, and shakes him, hard.

Lewis’s hands come up automatically, but Nico has already let go. Lewis watches as Nico turns in a flare of sparrowhawk feathers to pace the dirt of the clifftop.

Nico snaps to a halt, glares down at Lewis. “I can’t fucking believe what I’m hearing,” he hisses. “You’re not some damsel in distress. You’re Lewis fucking Hamilton.”

Lewis stares up at Nico’s furious face. This isn’t what he expected at all.

“Lewis Hamilton doesn’t back down from a fight,” Nico snarls. “What the fuck happened to you? You always said you could do anything as long as you pushed hard enough. So get up. Push.”

Lewis bristles. “Easy for you to say,” he spits. “You’ve had six years to learn the air patterns and train up your wings. Don’t pretend we’re on equal footing.”

Nico’s face whitens. For a moment Lewis thinks Nico will punch him; but Nico only exhales and looks over his shoulder at the cliff edge.

“It’s not as complicated than it looks,” he says abruptly. “It’s just that new building down where the road splits, and that paved road cutting through the trees there. It breaks up the current that used to flow down from–”

“Thanks, Nico,” Lewis says sarcastically. “I’m sure that’ll be really helpful when I’m trying to navigate something I can’t see.”

“Just–” Nico closes his eyes briefly. His voice softens. “Just stay on my wing,” he says quietly. “I’ll guide you down.”

Lewis looks at the cliff edge. He swallows.

Nico’s eyes are a clear, intense blue. “I won’t leave you,” he says. “I promise.”

Like that fucking meant anything the last time you said it, Lewis thinks. Some of his thoughts must show on his face, because Nico’s eyes shutter.

Lewis grits his teeth. He feels like an arse.

He feels the wind run through his still-aching wings. “What if I fall?”

Nico’s face hardens. He looks for a moment like he did when he met Lewis’s eyes across the garage as they got into their cars in Abu Dhabi 2016. It is a look that says try me, and I will prove you wrong.

“Then I’ll fucking catch you,” he spits.

The promise settles in Lewis’s bones.

Nico’s anger and determination is something Lewis knows too well. This, he can trust.

Nico’s straightens. The sun suffuses his hair, outlines his wings with gold. He holds out a hand to Lewis.

“Come on,” he says. “We’ve got this. Clear air all the way down.”

Lewis looks at Nico’s hand before him – the familiar grooves of his palm, the finger-webs turned pink in the sun. The hand that Lewis had once thought nothing of holding in his own.

He reaches up, and takes it.

======

Director's Cut:

I had this scene planned very early; I held on to it for a solid four months before the plot progressed to the point that this happened. The thing I most wanted to get across in this scene, the first proper scene where Lewis and Nico are properly speaking face-to-face instead of just pining, is just how much they both care about each other even if it all comes out toxic.

The way I planned this conversation is that every single thing that comes out of Nico and Lewis's mouths is misinterpreted as hostile. Even body language is misinterpreted.

A few examples:

1. When Nico says, “I come here often. I fly up here every morning," he means I often return here, to this place of good memories with you, because I miss you.

Lewis takes this to mean that Nico thinks that Lewis is in his space, and that Lewis doesn't have a right to this shared space they used to have as teenagers.

2. Nico ventures closer. His eyes are on Lewis’s wings. “You really did it,” he says oddly. “You grew out your wings.”

Lewis sets his jaw, raises his chin. “Yeah,” he says challengingly. “What about it?”

Nico flinches and looks away. His chest rises and falls faster than usual.

It would seem that even after all this time, Lewis still knows how to get a rise out of Nico. Lewis should feel vindicated, but he doesn’t. Something about the way Nico is holding his wings makes Lewis feel sick.

Nico's trying to find some common ground here. He never thought Lewis would give up speed to regrow his wings. Nico had been harbouring hope that maybe they'd be able to heal if both of them weren't dead-focused on racing anymore; but Lewis is so used to Nico using everything as an insult he takes it badly.

But he still cares about Nico enough that he can tell when he's gone too far. Nico at this point in the story has gone through a full wing crisis because of Lewis, and Lewis isn't aware of it.

3. But Nico just clasps his hands together in his lap, tight enough that the knuckles go pale. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Your wing plumes are longer than I remember,” he says hoarsely.

Oh. Lewis looks down at them, at his draped double-cloak of gold, white, and maroon.

“Yeah,” he says. A gust of wind blows dirt over the end of one of his plumes; he nudges it carelessly with the toe of his trainer, but only succeeds in matting the feather ends with even more dirt.

Nico makes an abortive motion towards Lewis.Lewis looks at him sharply, watches Nico fold his hands into fists on his knees. Nico’s face is pinched.

Lewis isn't used to having full-grown bird-of-paradise plumes. He nudges them with his foot because to him they're just his feathers; he'll go and clean them later. for Nico, he's positively screaming to preen Lewis's wings. He's sitting there going insane with yearning while Lewis mats his feathers in dirt.

4. Nico turns on him instantly. “The beach?” he exclaims. “Are you fucking – you can’t have unsheathed your feathers more than a few days ago!”

When Nico finds out Lewis has got flyer's cramp and that Lewis isn't sure if he can make it back home without falling, he defaults to anger. He's actually furious because he's terrified that Lewis could have fallen to his death, but Nico, like Lewis, defaults to anger to mask his fear. Lewis does the same.

5. Flight boots stomp against dirt and rock as Nico stalks over, grabs Lewis by the collar, and shakes him, hard.

Lewis’s hands come up automatically, but Nico has already let go. Lewis watches as Nico turns in a flare of sparrowhawk feathers to pace the dirt of the clifftop.

Nico snaps to a halt, glares down at Lewis. “I can’t fucking believe what I’m hearing,” he hisses. “You’re not some damsel in distress. You’re Lewis fucking Hamilton.”

Lewis stares up at Nico’s furious face. This isn’t what he expected at all.

“Lewis Hamilton doesn’t back down from a fight,” Nico snarls. “What the fuck happened to you? You always said you could do anything as long as you pushed hard enough. So get up. Push.”

This is something integral to Nico Rosberg: he has absolute faith that Lewis Hamilton will back down for nothing. That no matter what the world throws at him, Lewis Hamilton will push. All Nico's anxiety about Lewis still hating him or overstepping and snapping this fragile connection that's forming evaporates because this is Lewis fucking Hamilton who Nico knows through and through and Nico will die before he lets Lewis be anyone other than himself.

6. He feels the wind run through his still-aching wings. “What if I fall?”

Nico’s face hardens. He looks for a moment like he did when he met Lewis’s eyes across the garage as they got into their cars in Abu Dhabi 2016. It is a look that says try me, and I will prove you wrong.

“Then I’ll fucking catch you,” he spits.

The promise settles in Lewis’s bones.

Nico’s anger and determination is something Lewis knows too well. This, he can trust.

This is Nico saying I'm with you until the end of the line. It's a declaration of if you fall I will fall with you. Lewis doesn't fully get the emotion behind it yet - there's still too much ingrained hurt there - but he can see Nico's anger and determination. The same anger and determination that allowed Nico to beat him in 2016. This, he can trust.

7. Nico straightens. The sun suffuses his hair, outlines his wings with gold. He holds out a hand to Lewis.

“Come on,” he says. “We’ve got this. Clear air all the way down.”

Lewis looks at Nico’s hand before him – the familiar grooves of his palm, the finger-webs turned pink in the sun. The hand that Lewis had once thought nothing of holding in his own.

He reaches up, and takes it.

I swear I had this section planned out almost word-for-word for four months. The image of Nico with his blond hair and sparrowhawk wings offering a hand to Lewis, offering to parlay, offering to help. It's the first time neither of them have been fully alone. It's the first moment that shows there might be a possibility of healing.

Clear air. Flying in formation, like they used to drive in formation on victory laps. Nico is Lewis's guide back to flight and freedom. They'll push each other higher, like they did when they raced each other.

Lewis lets go of his hurt and bitterness for the first time this whole conversation. He lets himself trust again. He reaches up and takes Nico's hand.

I wanted above all to show how toxic and hurt their dynamic was, but how enmeshed it was - how if both of them decided to take a little step forwards, healing was possible.

It's just the first little step towards the healing we've been seeing in the rest of the fic.

You can read more Icarus here.

Send me an ask with a scene or set of lines from any of my fics and I'll give you a director's commentary! Or, send in a ⭐star⭐ to have me select a section I've been dying to talk about!