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slytherin-pen · 2 months

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The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fandom #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra imagine #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien acotar #lucien x y/n #elucien week #elucien #lucien x reader #lucien vandaddy #lucien fanfic #pregnant!reader #fem!reader #lucien x you

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silky-nereid · 8 months

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— a family friend

tw : death, attempted of an elopement.

Yandere!noble friend x friend!reader/you

Yandere! Noble friend who is your best friend and always had her eyes on you but bitterly watches when you get betrothed to a Count that held a small footing in the higher elite class.

Yandere! Noble friend who is heavily yearning for your appearance during noble parties, just to see you since she hardly saw you after your marriage.

Yandere! Noble friend who notices the sudden behavioral change in you and the tiredness etched in your eyes. She questions it but you brush it off.

“Are you truly alright, dear?” she asked.

“Swimmingly well,” you responded. “Why do you ask?”

“You look tired,” she responded.

“Just…It’s difficult.” You smiled at her. “I heard about the courting of a noble for you. I never expected for you to get courted that quickly.”

She looked away, a champagne flute glimmered in the yellowed light of the candles from the chandelier. A smile remained on her lips, slipping on the champagne and looking back to you who wasn’t there anymore rather seemingly pulled back into the arms of your spouse and lost in the crowd of aristocrats.

Yandere! Noble friend who somehow loses contact with you and desperately tries to write to you but the letters always get sent back and she’s utterly distraught as her spouse notices her behavior and tries to comfort her but can’t since she only wants you and nobody else.

Yandere! Noble friend who is trapped in a loveless marriage with a sole heir but the color is seemingly brought back into her life when she sees you again, time hadn’t been kind to you but you still held a respectable title and still looked ever so lovely from afar; swooning again.

Yandere! Noble friend who heard about your niece’s arrival to your house and her betrothal to the prince but days later, the prince’s farewell ceremony to go to the unfortunate frontlines. She watches your tearful eyes, saying that your spouse will return despite her hoping that they don’t.

Her eyes scanned the study floor filled with crumpled pages of failures. Polished shoes clicked on the floor, it was a servant holding a letter on a silver platter.

“A letter—“ they said.

It was you, disheveled and hands trembling, the fresh fallen snow clung to your cloak. Had something happened to you? She got up from sitting in her cushioned chair which you paced, nails cut and bloodied.

“We—I need your help,” you said. “My friend, please help me. I’m in need of your services.”

Her warm hands grabbed your cold, bloodied hands and looked at you with concern.

“What happened?” She asked.

“She’s let down the family!” you cried, “She has broken her betrothal to the prince and tried to elope!”

“Who has she tried to elope with?” she questioned. “Doesn’t this girl understand what would happen if the prince agrees to breaking the betrothal as well?”

“Adrian Wells.” You pulled away from her. “I…I will lose everything. Please I beg of you to find him and speak to him, your brother in law about this or…or I will never speak to you again.”

Yandere! Noble friend who flips the world on its head to find him because she can’t risk losing you again which she does end up finding him. After a little roughhousing, she manages to get him out of the country to somewhere safe.

Yandere! Noble friend who comforts you despite hearing the arrival of the soldiers coming home but how deeply she wishes to replace your spouse and wants to hold you in her arms. She smiles internally when you come to her arms, sobbing about the demise of your spouse; it was a pure gift to her.

Yandere! Noble friend who continues to comfort you and spends more time with you than her actual family. She holds you and lets you cry in her arms while she reassures you that she’ll always be there for you.

She looked down at the fresh pile of dirt that held her spouse who recently died from an illness. Dressed in black, the veil covered her face and she wiped away the tears from her face with a handkerchief. She held your trembling gloved hand, her thumb rubbed your knuckles and she looked at you.

“Come, my dear,” she whispered. “We must return back home and our child is awaiting our return.”

She entered the carriage and helped you in closing the carriage window, she pulled back her black veil.

“Shouldn’t your son be present during this?” You asked. “It wasn’t right to come here without him.”

“Our son dear,” she added, “it would be meaningless because he’s too young to remember them. You would be a perfect fit to parent him with me.”

“I…I,” you stammered. “Please don’t make me, Evangeline. I can’t—“

“I know you can,” she said. “Let me into your heart, my dear. You have done it so many times with them, why am I so different?”

Yandere! Noble friend who after a few days and she has you move in with her since she knows how lonely it is since the servants hardly ever appear.

Yandere! Noble friend who starts being more of a prevalent parent with you by her side. She begrudgingly wears her mourning clothes to events and smiles when you wear yours as she has on occasions custom ordered matching mourning clothes for you and her.

Yandere! Noble friend who occasionally forgets that you did love your spouse to a degree since she wants to be the only person in your heart.

Her hands rested on your shoulders, both of you were in your nightwear. You had taken refuge by sitting on the new vanity chair that she had brought you days prior, your forehead rested on the wood. She stood behind you, hair tucked back into a loose braid with a light familiar smile on her lips.

“You have been like this for a while, my dear,” she said. “Tell me what’s wrong? I can help you get better.”

“I don’t think that I can do this, Evangeline,” you said. “I…please.”

“I saw you eyeing a specific spot yesterday,” she said. “Would you like that we have a walk tomorrow and we could bring our son too?”

You looked up at her from the vanity mirror, her eyes stared down at your scalp then to the mirror; still smiling.

“I..I would like that,” you said.

“Excellent,” she replied, “now come on, let’s go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be wonderful.”

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere prompt #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere idea #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction #yandere fic #yandere female x reader #tw death #tw forced parenthood #yandere oc x you #yandere evangeline x reader

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year

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coaxed you into paradise - c. 26

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Twenty-Six: Alyssa and Aemond

The Seven Gods were a clever tactic to gather the sheep - and control them to your deepest desires for the realm. “Being a bride suits you well,” Saera complimented, beginning to walk beside her daughter. “You look beautiful.” she added, giving Alyssa a small embrace.

“Thank you,” the girl smiles, waving her handmaidens away.

“I remember the day that you were born - a small little thing with a loud cry.” her mother chuckled, removing the Valyrian necklace off her neck and offering it to Alyssa’s hand. “This was given by your kepus - when I was younger than you, and it is only right for you to have it.” Saera smiled, placing it around her daughter’s neck.

“Issa gevie, (it is beautiful)” Alyssa looked at the design. It was a symbol of Valyrian prowess - and the girl swears to never take it off. “You will be a wife tomorrow, and all the other tomorrows - but you belong to yourself. No matter what they say.” she placed a hand on both of her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead.

There were fears in the back of the girl’s mind, but they were pushed away because of the presence of Saera. “- and I believe that you must know the truth, now that it’ll be months before we see each other again.” her lips pressed into a thin line, playing with the rings on her finger now that her necklace was gifted away.

“What is it?” Alyssa pondered, knowing that her mother seldom hid secrets from the family. “Daemon is your father.” Saera smiled bitterly, waiting for her daughter to spurn and curse her. The girl’s face softens - in hidden understanding. “I’m happy that he’s my father,” she breathed - tears beginning to brim in her eyes.

“He’s the only one who understands you - the only one who understands us.” Alyssa added, still taking the information in. “Thank you for telling me, muña.” she smiled, joining their hands together.

—

Daemon’s eyes brightened at the sight of his necklace on Alyssa’s neck. “Did your muña give that to you?” he asked in a playful tone, “Yes,” the girl replied - playing with it. He placed a comforting hand around her shoulders, “Don’t be worried - everything will be perfect.” he comforted, removing his hands once the doors opened.

There were hundreds of guests - coming from the North to Dorne. They were wishing the best for his daughter’s marriage - while also seeking alliances of their own. Alyssa takes a deep breath, seeing that her groom was already on the other side. They begin walking - ignoring the gazes from other lords.

They were mocking House Targaryen with no doubt - a dragon marrying a dragon would weaken their house. They halted in front of Aemond, and both of the men began glaring at each other. Daemon couldn’t find it in himself to love a nephew who wasn’t his full blood. “Hurt her, and I will take your good eye.” he threatened - earning an eye roll from the One Eyed Prince.

Saera grinned, hearing the notion. Alyssa and Daemon were akin to each other - the way her daughter walked and spoke, it was something she inherited from her father. Alyssa and Daemon weren’t birds of a feather anymore - they were two birds dancing the same song.

Daemon makes his way beside her, and the ceremony begins.

Aemond couldn’t stop staring at his bride, entwining their hands together and getting lost in her eyes. Despite being the blood of the dragon, Alyssa’s hands were always cold - he loved that, because his were always warm.

With her beside him, time seemed to pass quickly - and it was finally time for them to recite their vows.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his as he is mine from this day until the end of my days"

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers as she is mine from this day until the end of my days"

They turn towards the crowd, Alyssa Strong becomes Alyssa Strong of House Targaryen as she always should’ve been. Alyssa glances at her mother, who smiled at the couple lovingly. ‘I love you’ Alyssa mouths and Saera smiles, ‘Avy jorrāelan tolī (I love you too)’ Saera mouths back.

—

The wedding was cheerful - filled with wine and dancing. Prince Lucerys walks towards them, with a chest at hand. “I offer my warm regards, uncle and cousin.” he smiles warmly - with big apple cheeks that reminded Alyssa of her mother. “Thank you, Prince Luce.” Alyssa replies politely, staring at his gifts.

“What are they?” she inquired, and he began to usher one of the servants to open it in his stead. “Dragon eggs, my princess. They come from Syrax, they are for your future children.” he explains, opening the crate to show three eggs.

One of them bore the same color as her father’s dragon. One was the color purple and one was green. “It is wonderful.” Alyssa remarks, kneeling down to inspect the dragon eggs.

While Alyssa was joyfully inspecting the gifts - a cough from the back of the room caught her attention. Someone was visibly choking.

Larys leans back on his chair - scheming even in his niece’s wedding. Saera might’ve forgotten about him, but he didn’t - his plan was coming to fruition. By the end of today, there would be a new Lord of Harrenhal.

“What’s going on?” Alyssa rose to her feet, and her husband dutifully pulled her behind him - guarding her from any potential harm. A gasp erupts from the hall as one of the gold-cloaks begins to choke to death. Saera runs towards her son, seeing that his wine taster is being poisoned.

“What are you doing? Call for a maester!” Saera yells, watching her husband lean down on one of his men and open his tunic - hoping that it would allow him more air. “Is Ser Aran alright?” Daegon whispered, eyes clouding with tears. The man was his sister’s knight - and the man who checked his food for poison. Ser Aran was one of his father’s closest men - he was basically a member of their family.

One of the Maesters tried to aid the knight, but it was far too late.

Daemon was pumping with rage, his eyes narrowed at the servant who served the wine - pinning him down on the floor. Alyssa’s eyes widened, seeing that it was her sworn sword on his deathbed. She runs down to kneel beside him, eyes brimming with tears as Ser Aran’s hands tighten around her gown.

The Maester gathers all his herbs and spices, mixing them together in an effort to aid the blood that was spilling down the Knight’s nose. “Fuck,” Daemon curses while throwing the servant to one of his men.

The knight’s face turned black, his nose and eyes leaking a red substance. His mouth began to bubble, and his organs collapsed. The Maester presses a hand on Aran’s neck, feeling no pulse.

“I did all I could, my lady, but the poison was too strong.” the man reasoned, keeping his head low.

Alyssa’s lips shuddered, hands reaching for her knight’s body - that was swollen and red. She places his head on her lap, tears flowing from her eyes.

—

“We will be leaving, Alyssa.” Saera informed reluctantly - the emotions were too raw in her heart. “Ser Aran has tasted all of Daegon’s meals since he left the cradle. There is a threat to your brother’s life.” she added, staring at her daughter with tears in her eyes.

“I’ve left you all the information, even the servant that committed the crime. Can you and Aemond find the culprit for me?” Saera asked, turning her head in the direction of her brother. “We promise mandia,” Aemond asserted, and the Princess nodded.

“Take care of Alyssa,” Saera breathed, fastening Daelon on her chest and boarding Melarys. She was the last one to leave - reluctant to leave her daughter alone again. “I promise.” Aemond vowed.

next chapter>>

chapter dedicated to @gracielikegrapes

taglist: @watercolorskyy @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmoss @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess @valeridarkness

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #daemonism #hotd daemon

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searchingforserendipity25 · 11 months

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A Thing That Sustains | @nolofinweanweek

Idril learned to make bread from her grandmother. She was young and charmingly solemn, then: young and sweet enough that her interest in the craft was seen as a precocious interest in maidenly duties, childish and darling. She had no words, then, for the inchoate fear that turned her hands greedy and sparse with the flour.

Elenwë ate only fruits and vegetables, and took as doctrine, as some of the Vanyar did, not to use a pestle or iron pan except on ceremonial days.

Anairë it was that taught Itarillë to make bread in the Noldorin fashion.

Anairë it was that woke her in the mornings of her childhood, well before the Mingling, and joining her small, sleep-warm hand in hers carried her granddaughter and brought her to join the party of ladies that fed the household of Finwë and the princes of the Noldor.

Itarillë learned to make bread from her grandmother. She was young and charmingly solemn, then: young and sweet enough that her interest in the craft was seen as a precocious interest in maidenly duties, childish and darling.

She had no words, then, for the inchoate fear that turned her hands greedy and sparse with the flour.

In bright, blessed Valmar, they ground it from the plenty of the land: wild wheat and generous fields of oat, planted not but sowed by any idle scythe when there was a need. The Noldor, more in love with high mountains than holy plains, made sustenance from the castaway excess of the groves that grew plentiful on their land.

They dressed in thick mantles and went early to pick them up Túna's green slopes. Anairë and Indis and Lalwen, all the women of the king's house, the many noble maidens of Noldor half-dreamy still themselves, braiding their hair with ribbons as they went over grass and fern; and little Itarillë was swung between raised hands, and made to learn all the songs of their craft.

Chestnuts and almonds they picked, walnuts and hazelnuts - hazelnuts were her father's favourite, but Elenwë liked almonds best, and wore their blossoms often about her hair, when Itarillë returned from her gathering-walks with handfuls of half-crushed petals to offer her. And Irissë laughed and laughed at Turukáno's face, whenever Itarillë left more gifts of nuts in his pockets without his notice and caused him to accidentally bring them out of his courtly robes, instead of the expected quill, or a very official scroll. Little squirrel-child, she called her, and knelt down to help her count how many nuts she had found this time.

But it was Anairë who showed her how to ground them all, into meal and flour, and how to mix all parts to raise breads to be shared upon Queen Indis's table, given in friendship to the king's household and the king's people, to the princes of the Vanyar and the Teleri or any wanderer that came in for a meal.

Her hands were too small for Anairë's pestle; the hazel tree gave her some boughs, and from them Elenwë fashioned one small enough for her daughter's use. In those days, in that Blessed Land, the trees spoke slowly, with crackling leaves like fingers moving in the wind, and all of them bend their boughs whenever Itarillë found she had a whim for something to eat.

From Anairë she learned these things: for in those days the Noldor were known and praised for their generosity, and took as much pleasure as pride in it.

Elenwë died on the third year of their crossing. For the lack of her hand on the bow and on the pestle, four others died, that might have perhaps lived.

Then Itarillë was well enough to sit on a stool and make up for her absence, as long as the stumps of her legs were wrapped carefully, and she did not expend too much of herself on songs for the raising of bread.

Few maidens and ladies of the Noldor joined their hands and their skills to the choice of the Exiles. It fell to those that came to store and carry and count the barley, to renew the bread-songs from ancient times with mighty urgency. Need made them inventive; all the cleverness that had been used to create sweet confections and cunning layers of biscuits was turned into new efforts.

Itarillë would have been crammed in the warmest tents regardless, cossetted and beloved as she was near the covered ovens. But not even a princess could be left idle in the host of Nolofinwë, and there were never enough voices and hands raised up to work their rations into flat loaves.

The power of making bread was in the sharing of strength. They few who were skilled in it shared it; and when there was enough to share, they invented it, and took it out of themselves in intricate enchantments.

Itarillë set aside the last mittens her mother sewed for her, from the last creature kind-hearted, sharp-eyed Elenwë slew; she stretched her small fingers and set to work on making her mother's last meals.

From Lalwen Itarillë learned anew all the old gestures, pared down by great caution, and how to alter the rhyming of a spell to make the strength and endurance imbued in it last longer; but Lalwen learned more from her. Itarillë's paucity, which had been cheerfully teased in a king's grandchild, grew full of foresight and care.

Itarillë had an eye for future needs, and a talent for perfect measures. For all she wielded no knife or cleaver, she knew well what fed the shared fires her father's siblings tended, on those scant nights when they had meat to eat. Hers was the bread that was dipped on the stew, and eaten to the crumbs; even then, she knew what it was to be grateful to the dead for the right to walk another day through the plains of ice.

Nolofinwë, who did not eat well or much, moved by a fierce defiance that needed no coal to sustain it. Even in the dark terror of their days he praised her wisdom, and stroked with a rueful grief the neat edges of her loaves, learned at Anairë's side, as precise as hers had been.

Almonds and hazelnuts were rarer near this shore of the Great Sea, and the varieties of chestnuts varied in Beleriand, but Idril learned them all anew. In Beleriand, nothing was truly plentiful.

It was not easy, at first, to walk under fir and bush, and not cut herself scavenging.

In those days, she was chided for being greedy - it was not just or tolerable to pick too many nuts from the ground, lest the creatures of the forest suffer the lack, and grow scanter and crueller with it.

We are none of us the only creatures with hungry kin in this land, Celebrindal, said Meleth, who first greeted her people by the shores of Mithrim; and Idril, growing tall and taller under the light of the sun, too solemn and too thin, forced herself to let go of what was not her share to take from the forests. If she wept, then, none but her nurse and the forest saw it; and the trees of Beleriand did not speak as easily as those she had known in Amanyar, at least not any language she knew at the time.

They learned the language of the land well enough, and swiftly enough. Ulmo was not kind to their fishermen, but Círdan's people were generous in its stead. Turgon's followers were eager and quick as their lord was, and worked with a will to bring harvests to life.

They made their way to the sea again, there to make a new city of their own. The ovens and storing houses were raised first, on steady, defensible ground, and then everything else.

As a student to the Sindarin land-stewards that joined Turgon's people for love of the forests and secret places, Idril spent many days with her father on the pinewoods of Nevrast, walking deer tracks through mists that clung with a far more chilling damp than any that had risen over the lands bathed by Laurelin.

As their trade routes grew, so too the bones of her wrists ceased pressing so sharply against Idril's skin; even her father, who always went without if any of his people could use his share, grew strong around the shoulders again.

In Mithrim and Nevrast, the last maidens of the Noldor, scarred and frost-bitten, mingled with bakers of the Avari and the Sindar and Falathrim - learned many new recipes, made new songs as they learned new languages.

They did not let languish the habit of singing power to even the plainest flatbread. But some of them sang the old words, too, thanking Telperion and Laurelin, naming Vána and Yavanna and all the rivers that grew from Taniquentil's cold springs. Whenever she sang of Aman, Idril recalled Anairë's strong hands covered in brown flour when she repeated the same motions, turning dough and shaping it with perfect confidence, and deliberate skill.

There was time enough and plenty enough to try to replicate it. By her willingness to learn and her dedication to experiment, she added new ingredients to old recipes - pines from the great trees that grew over her new window, acorns from Ossiriand and Mithrim, pecan and pistachio from Himlad.

It was a bitter satisfaction, to be able to store up enough provisions for the journey to the place where their hidden city was to be raised; to be able to count and prepare and know for certain there would be enough coimas for all the efforts of moving and raising stone, if only barely.

Idril knew how to do this work. Meleth walked the woods with Turgon and Aredhel to say farewell and give thanks to the land; Idril stayed behind to fill the oven with new kindling, and made enough spare loaves to leave a good share of meals in Turgon's abandoned throne room. The scouts Nolofinwë sent to find them found only Nevrast abandoned, and enough to eat on their fruitless task.

Idril woke early, in Gondolin.

The sun met her many times with her shoulders taunt and her hands busy, singing over her work. It was an effort, at times, even through the Long Peace, not to let her voice and hands slip towards recipes perfected on the Ice, made to sustain strength beyond every privation more than please the mouth.

Turgon raised up a city where his wife might have been safe and joyful and free of want, with a dozen fruits to be gathered at every corner.

The people of Gondolin ate their bread dipped in honey and olives. All the Lords of the City kept their doors open, and baskets of bread under the threshold of their arched doorways, for those who passed by; and the smell of it filled the streets at dawn. When warm, it tasted of orange and apple, all the fruit grown amidst the green gloss of the leaves lining the avenues of the White City.

Anairë, Idril thought at times, would have enjoyed the sweet-bitter of it.

#idril #anaire #turgon #elenwe #silm fic #my fics #tolkien

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keleren-ie · 12 days

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Soooo...

*shyly tugs at @trickstarbrave 's skirt*

I've been writing something for a while (like, I started in july because I wanted it to be some kind of a birthday gift but huh yeah it's september now). Thanks to you I'm obsessed with nerevoryn now, so here's the result. It's not finished, nor am I satisfied with it but I dont think I'll ever be. So I'm trying to be brave and post it anyway.

It takes place in Moon-and-Star au, after meeting Vivec and before Sil, and is based on a mention of Gilvoth encouraging Nerevar to leave Kogoruhn. Nerevar is having a panic attack for no reason because I wanted Voryn to comfort him.

Anyway here's the thing :

Warning : possibly misused words, typos, and incorrect sentences. I am not a native english speaker.

Voryn was standing still, careful not to move as the tailor took measurements and stuck pins here and there. Now that he had finally stopped growing, his mother had decided that it was about time his ceremonial robes as future leader of House Dagoth were prepared. It was a pragmatic decision, as always with Morvani Dagoth : she still had years, maybe decades before passing out. But she anticipated it anyway, knowing full well that her son would have enough things to handle after her death, not to add standing not moving for hours for new clothes. Besides, those took time to sew and embroider, and he would need them quickly once he’d become the new head.

So there he was, lost in his mind and surrounded by a very punctilious and meticulous tailor, her assistants and apprentices, and a few servants. And Gilvoth was there too, for some reason. Voryn wasn’t really sure why exactly his oldest brother had invited himself, but there he was, standing in a corner of the room like he was keeping watch.

Voryn was used to this, but he was still bored, staring at the mirror in front of him while a maid did his hair. And so it was a relief when he saw the door opening and Nerevar’s head appeared, glancing inside. His until now neutral face cracked into a warm smile seeing his friend, and Nerevar smiled in return. His face was a little red, and he seemed slightly out of breath. He must have rushed here after his morning training, without taking time to drink or clean himself.

“Neht !” Voryn greeted him with a smile, and everyone turned their heads in his direction as Nerevar smiled back.

“Hey-“ The tailor cut him off “Oh no, out here you ! This room is already too crowded.” she snapped, motioning him to go away. Gilvoth stood up, and she corrected herself. “I didn’t mean this about you my lord, we are nearly done anyway” but he waved it off and mumbled something about having things to do anyway. Then the door closed, and Voryn was back to the pins.

It upset him that Nerevar was sent away so rudely, but then again the tailor had a point. The room was indeed crowded, but he wasn’t happy about it still. He would just have to wait for the trying-on session to be over, then.

Thankfully, they were actually nearly done and after a few more long minutes Voryn was allowed to leave. He rushed towards Nerevar’s room, eager to see his best friend. Despite him living in Kogoruhn, they had not seen each other much in the past few weeks. Of course Voryn had been busy as always, but there seemed to be something else.

Nerevar had changed in the last few years. Not that much, he was still himself, but he seemed more secretive than before. Back when they were children and teenagers, his best friend would tell him absolutely everything and never hide anything from him. But now Neht sometimes lied to Voryn when he asked him if everything was alright. Of course Voryn knew he was lying, he knew Nerevar well enough to see it immediatly. But he had pretented not to see it. Maybe it was simply because they were now both adults. Maybe it was because of that blow Nerevar took to the head a few years ago...Voryn didn’t know, and that incertitude killed him slowly but surely. Part of him tried to accept it ; it wasnt uncommon for childhood friends to grow apart after all, and if Nerevar wanted to leave he was free to do so. But by Mephala did he want to keep Nerevar by his side, as selfish as it was.

As he approached Nerevar’s room, Voryn noticed that the door was cracked open and there were voices coming from inside.

“I mean Voryn no harm, I swear ! He is my best friend and-“ That was Nerevar’s voice, defending himself. He was cut off by an angry voice Voryn knew just as well. “Don’t give me that shit you little s’wit !” Gilvoth. Voryn sped up, ready to defend his friend. He didn’t know what accusations Gilvoth had thrown at Nerevar, but if it implied hurting Voryn of fucking course he was wrong. “Do you think I am stupid ?! Or blind ? You sleeping next to him is already far too much. Be responsible once in your life and leave before you make something stupid. Think about-“

“What exactly are you talking about ?” Voryn threw open the door and stepped in, a snarl on his face.

---

After Nerevar got the door shut in his face, he retreated to his room. He was dirty from his earlier training session after all, and intended to clean himself up and change his clothes before he'd get a chance to see Voryn again. His mind trailed off as he walked, wondering how Voryn would look in ceremonial robes as the leader of House Dagoth. Of course he would look good, Voryn was a stunningly beautiful mer. But how exactly would he look ? His hair would look like a night sky, with stars of gold in it. The ceremonial markings on his face would be divine too, Nerevar knew it. Already his usual make-up was gorgeous, but the perspective of seeing Voryn as a lord in all his glory was so much. Gods knew Voryn deserved to be worshipped just as much as the good Three.

Even lost in his thoughts, Nerevar quickly noticed with surprise that Gilvoth was following him. Actually, Voryn’s brother followed him all the way to his room, and came inside without asking. Did he want to lecture Nerevar about disturbing Voryn in his duties ? It wouldnt be the first time. So many times Voryn's brothers - especially Gilvoth and Vemyn - had lectured him about his behaviour, his manners, or how he was dragging Voryn down. Most of the times when their younger brother wasnt around. Bunch of s'wits.

Gilvoth wore his lecture face, and when he pushed the door and put his hands on his hips, Nerevar prepared himself to endure whatever would be thrown at him. But he hadn't anticipated what was coming.

"I want you to stop disturbing Voryn during his duties. Or after. Don't you think it's time you leave him alone ?"

"I am not disturbing him," Nerevar countered "Voryn takes his role very seriously, if I bothered him he wouldn't hesitate to ask me to leave and-"

Gilvoth let out a loud sigh of exasperation. "I’ve had enough of your attitude." He snapped. "I have warned you already about staying away from my brother ! He is actively preparing to become our future lord now, so I don’t want to see you crawling around him, trying to ruin it. "

Nerevar opened his mouth, and closed it. "What ? I'm not-"

"Don't pretend you don't know ! I've seen how you look at him. Do you even realize this may cause rumors, scandals ? Do you even fucking care ?!" Gilvoth spat trough his teeth, a furious glare in his red eyes, and Nerevar started to panic.

Of course, he knew full-well what Gilvoth was talking about. He had always loved Voryn very dearly, but since a few years he had accepted the obvious truth that he actually did love Voryn, not simply as a friend. How could he not ? Voryn was the kindest soul he knew. Of course, not to most people. The young heir of House Dagoth could be cold, vicious and manipulative. But that knowledge only made his behaviour toward Nerevar sweeter. Knowing that his face was stern for others, but smiling for him. That he was composed and polite with strangers, but relaxed and sassy with Nerevar. That he loved critizing people, but always had words of encouragement for him. Of course he loved Voryn.

And of course Nerevar knew he didn't stand a chance. He was perfectly aware of the situation, actually. He knew Voryn was expected to marry another noble, to forge a strong alliance and have his own heirs in time. Besides, he had never shown any sign of affection apart from their friendship. And meanwhile Nerevar had been allowed to work for house Dagoth only because Morvani Dagoth loved spoiling her youngest son. Now that he was an adult, it was only a matter of time before they kicked him out. And maybe it was time.

But gods Nerevar wanted more. He wanted to stay at Voryn's side so much. To watch him become a lord. To serve him. As much as it was foolish.

“I mean Voryn no harm, I swear ! He is my best friend and-“

Gilvoth started to yell even more, and Nerevar winced. If he kept screaming everyone would hear and know, including Voryn. And he really didn't want-

The door was thrown open, and Voryn stepped inside, furious. Nerevar's face turned white, and his mind turned off.

---

Voryn walked into the room, ready to demand answers from Gilvoth, but before his stupid brother could say anything Nerevar stormed out, running like he was chased by a daedra.

"Neht ?!" Voryn called him, alarmed. He turned to Gilvoth once more. "What were you talking about ? What did you tell him ?"

Gilvoth seemed to hesitate. Clearly he was poundering his options. He couldn't get away with a lie : Nerevar was clearly distressed when he left, unable to look at Voryn.

"Gilvoth." Voryn spoke again, raising his voice. He was the future lord of House Dagoth, and brother or not Gilvoth would explain himself. "What. Did you. Tell him ?"

---

Nerevar ran like a devil through the streets outside the stronghold, his heart pounding in his chest.

Voryn knew. Voryn had heard Gilvoth, and now he hated him. He had looked so furious when he had entered the room, and no doubt he never wanted to see Nerevar again. Nerevar was already on thin ice with House Dagoth, but it seemed now they would finally kick him out.

He stopped at a small foutain, panting. He was panicking. Nerevar was well aware of it, but still his reasoning was perfectly sound. What other reaction might have Voryn had ? Why would anyone want to keep him after this ? He knew for a fact nobody except Voryn appreciated him here. It wasnt paranoia, it was sadly true.

And if he was being completely honest, it was doomed to happen sooner or later. Nerevar knew Voryn cared about him a lot, sometimes to the point of stupidity when they were younger. But now they were adults, and already Voryn had less and less time to spare with him. Despite living in the same stronghold - despite having their rooms in the same hallway - they had started to see each other less and less frequently over the last year. Slowly but surely they were growing apart already. At least their friendship would end swiftly then, instead of years and years of agony before they became strangers.

And he didn’t want it to end like their first life either, when he was nothing but a toxic tyrant keeping the mer he was obsessed with by his side. He knew Voryn didn’t love him in that lifetime, why would things be different now ? All Nerevar knew was that he couldn't bear to hurt Voryn with his selfishness again.

Nerevar needed to leave. But he ran away in such a hurry that he left all his stuff behind. His travel pack, his clothes, his sword...he couldn't leave without them. Maybe he could get them back tonight ? Go back to his room once everyone was asleep, collect his things and quietly leave Kogoruhn. And if he was expected he'd explain he was just packing to leave and would never bother them again. Yeah. Maybe that could work.

---

Voryn was besides himself trying to find Nerevar. He was still furious that his brother tried to shove Nerevar away, and worried for Neht. Nerevar had looked terrified and distressed after all, likely having a panic attack when he realized what Voryn had heard. Nerevar always acted like a strong and confident person, and he was up until a point. But Voryn also knew that he had always been afraid of rejection because of his childhood, and likely didn't want to face Voryn at the moment.

But mostly Voryn was overwhelmed by joy and hope, as selfish as it was. Nerevar loved him. He wasn't completely sure of it yet, but it made a lot of sense. "Maybe Nerevar loved him" was enough to make his heart flutter too. Voryn had hidden his feelings up until now, certain that Nerevar only liked him as a friend and very aware of the power imbalance between them. What if he confessed but Nerevar felt forced to play along ? But apparently, from what Gilvoth said and from Nerevar’s reaction...Neht loved him.

Nerevar was likely hiding away somewhere in Kogoruhn, if he hadn't left the town entirely. At least Nerevar was easy to spot, with his white hair and light skin. Most people in House Dagoth had darker hair and skin, not to mention that a lot of people knew him because he was the young lord's friend.

After asking the guards if Nerevar had left the city ("No, young lord") and to lead him gently back to the stronghold should he try to leave ("Yes, young lord"), Voryn went back to Nerevar’s room. He tried to remain calm but really he was worried for Nerevar.

Voryn had seen Nerevar a few times when he was in distress, and knew just how he didn’t do well alone in this kind of situations. He could be paranoid when triggered, and likely wouldn't calm down without someone he trusted by his side. And Voryn was about the only person Nerevar trusted. Maybe he could go to Vivec's place - the simple thought made Voryn furious - but it was unlikely.

Voryn was getting anxious, and hoped his hypothesis that Nerevar would return to his room at some point was correct. As he looked around, he could see that Neht had left without his sword. If there was one thing his stupid beloved 'guard' wouldn't abandon, it was his blade. All Voryn had to do was to wait. The chances of finding Nerevar by searching the city around the stronghold was too uncertain. He just had to be patient.

---

By the time the sun set, Nerevar had calmed down enough to compose himself and walk back to the stronghold, praying to the Good Three he would not cross anyone's path. Especially Voryn's. The guards and servants were ignoring him as usual, at least. Nerevar made his way to his room, half-expecting to find it empty with Gilvoth, Vemyn or Uthol ready to lecture him and kick him out for good. He inhaled deeply and opened the door.

His stuff was still here. But most importantly, Voryn was here. Nerevar opened his mouth in shock, as panick overwhelmed him all over again. He tensed, managed to mumble something along the line of "I'm sorry" and turned, ready to run away. Again. But before he could a spell hit him and he froze, paralyzed.

Now he was panicking.

---

Voryn was stupid. The most stupid idiotic dumbass of Resdayn.

After hours of anxious waiting, Nerevar had returned to his room. But upon seeing Voryn he mumbled something unintelligible and was about to run away. Panic got the better of him and he cast a spell to paralyze Nerevar. What kind of friend did this ? Voryn rushed to Nerevar, embracing him firmly before casting dispell and apologizing profusely.

"I'm so sorry Neht ! Gods I'm an idiot, I didn't mean to-" Nerevar was still as stiff as when he was paralyzed, but quickly Voryn felt him shaking in his arms. He tightened his embrace, knowing it had helped with Nerevar’s panic attacks in the past.

"It's okay, Neht. I'm here. I don’t know what's going on in your head but everything is alright" Voryn said softly, stroking Nerevar’s back with one hand and caressing his head with the other. "I-I'm sorry, Voryn, I'm so sorry..." Nerevar spoke with a shaky voice. "I'll leave Kogoruhn, I won't mess up your life anymore, I-" his voice cracked. "You don't have to pretend anything, I understand that you're upset with me and-"

Now Nerevar was just being delirious. Leaving Kogoruhn ? Messing up his life ? Voryn couldn't live without Nerevar. He needed him by his side. "Neht, please look at me" he said, his voice gentle and soft. Nerevar's breath was uneven, and after a few moments Voryn lifted his chin. His heart sunk seeing how devastated Nerevar looked, and as soon as their eyes met Neht's face twisted even more, and tears appeared in the corners of his eyes.

Voryn simply couldn't bear the sight. To oblivion with being cautious, he cupped his beloved's face and whispered "I love you". He saw many emotions cross Nerevar's eyes : shock, incredulity, hope, before he broke into heavy sobs, returning the embrace and hiding his face in Voryn's robes. Voryn started rubbing Nerevar's scalp, and resumed rubbing his back. "It's okay" he whispered, "let it out, Neht".

It was a bit awkward to confess and get a crying mer as a result, but likely Nerevar was still coping with his panic attack and had not yet fully processed what Voryn said.

Voryn tilted his head to press a kiss to Nerevar's head, and immediatly realized he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Holding Nerevar in his arms, whispering how much he loved him and would never leave him and peppering him with soft, tender kisses was everything he ever dreamt. And he did just that, pressing kiss after kiss on Nerevar’s face until the crying stopped.

"I'm sorry, I don’t know what happened" Nerevar finally whispered, looking down. Voryn was drying his cheeks from the spilled tears now, and slightly frowned. "What are you sorry for ? I love you, Neht".

Ah, how he loved that spark in Nerevar's eyes when he said that.

"No, I mean...sorry for. Panicking like this and causing a scene. I thought you were mad at me and that it made sense. You're a lord and well-"

"And you're the bravest, smartest, kindest and most beautiful mer I know" Voryn stated firmly. Nerevar looked up to meet his eyes, and there was so much love and adoration in his gaze that Voryn couldn't speak for three solid seconds. All he knew was that he desperately wanted to kiss him. But before that he needed to be sure, to hear it from Neht-

Voryn cupped Nerevar’s face, and with a hint of hesitation asked "What about you ? Do you...want me...?" And before he knew it Nerevar’s lips crashed against his, and his eyes fluttered shut as he moaned softly. It was incredible. Intense, hungry and desperate, just like them. Nerevar's tongue started to play with his own, and his hands gripped Voryn's waist.

"Yes. Yes, I love you, yes I want you more than anything !" Nerevar panted against Voryn's lips.

#sorry it ends so abruptly #if you're looking for me I'm hiding under my bed #nerevoryn

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nekoannie-chan · 2 years

Text

Promises

Title: Promises.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1198 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: B2 Time travel.

Summary: Steve went back in time to have the life he always dreamed of with you.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, death of a character, fix fic. Major Character Death.

A/N: This is my entry to @allcapsbingo AC1078

You can read it too on Ao3 and Wattpad.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare

2023

The night before Steve returned the stones, it was a calm night; there was no wind; in fact, it was warm. He was sitting on the grass, and Bucky stood next to him.

"From what you told me, have you thought about what to do?" Bucky asked his friend.

"I made a promise to Y/N; I must keep it." I finally found out how to do it. I'm sure she suffered a lot when she found out what happened. "All I want is for her to be happy," Steve answered. Bucky sighed.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Don't worry, you know, I will do it, but first I have to see Y/N." Steve knew what Bucky was going to ask.

1945

It had been two weeks since the last letter you received from Steve. In the last few months, the courier service took a long time, so probably the next letter from Steve will arrive next month.

You got up excited when you heard a knock on the door, maybe it was the mailman and he was bringing you the new letter, however, you were very confused when you saw a man and a woman in military uniform, you didn't know them and they were definitely not Steve or someone he had told you about, but you had a bad feeling.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" the man asked. You nodded suspiciously. "I'm Colonel Phillips; this is Agent Carter; we're here to give you news about Captain Rogers," he introduced himself.

Peggy was the one who started to tell you what had happened with Steve, but after a while, it seemed as if her voice were very far away, and you didn't understand what she kept telling you either.

Your mother had to reassure you when you started to scream; you couldn't believe that Steve was gone.

You smoothed out your black dress; you didn't know what to do; they didn't have Steve's body to make a proper funeral; you weren't even sure if you could call yourself a widow; you were supposed to get married when the war was over; he gave you the engagement ring before he left; that was the promise. The ceremony honouring Steve would be in a month.

2 weeks later

Nobody opened the door of your house; you ran down the stairs; you held back a scream when you saw who it was; maybe you were hallucinating; the pain was so great that you imagined things you would like to happen.

"Doll, I'm back," Steve said.

You closed the door immediately, it couldn't be true what was happening, maybe your mother was right and you should move to another place, that would help you to get over what happened with Steve.

Steve knocked on the door again, confused. Maybe you were upset because he didn't answer your last letter, unless... there was someone else.

No matter what it was, he needed to talk to you. If he had to do something else, go back further if necessary, but at the end of the day, everything he did was so he could be with you again and have the life you had always dreamed of.

He spent about ten minutes begging you to open the door again.

"Is this really happening?" you asked.

"I am here, doll." I've come to keep my promise.

"That woman... so, that woman lied to me? "you questioned.

"What woman?" Steve was confused.

"I think her last name was Carter; I don't remember the name; she told me that you had died, that they lost communication with you on a mission, and that only meant one thing." Despite everything you remembered about the words she had told you, you didn't even believe you were able to pronounce them; you still believed that maybe you had a fever and all that was a hallucination.

"It was a misunderstanding; we lost communication, but I was fine; I had no way to let you know I was fine; I had to find a way to come back." After a certain amount of time, if they don't hear from you in a certain amount of time, assume you didn't make it and let the family know, the mission was successful, there is no more war or enemies, but the world still needs me," Steve explained.

"You didn't die?" You put your hand on his cheek, and it felt so real.

"No, I promised you I would come back."

"Have you... talked to your superiors?"

"Yes, don't worry; I've arranged everything," Steve assured.

"So, there won't be a ceremony anymore; I mean, you're alive and well, and you're back."

"Of course, there will be a ceremony, and it will be our wedding ceremony.” All I want is to have a life with you."

2018

"Steve, I always had something to confess to you," you said. You were lying on the bed, squeezing his hand a little, and you knew that the time together was soon going to be over.

"What? "

"I know the truth," you confessed.

"What are you talking about?" Steve stroked your hand.

"You didn't die, but you're not the Steve of my time," you continued.

"How do you…? What? "

"Easy, I know you perfectly well, but I also found one of your diaries many years ago and read them, not to mention that sometimes in your sleep you talked and said things that... now we have already lived and seen "your voice sounded calm, and you even smiled.

"Are you angry?"

"No, I’m happy; you kept your promise, and you came back and saw everything we have done and what we have lived, and it has been just as we dreamed it would be." When they told me what happened, I thought I was going to die; when you came back, I thought I was hallucinating, but no, it was all for real.

"I couldn't let you be sad; I promised your father I would never make you cry," Steve said.

"Was it hard to decide to return to our time?"

"No, it was hard to wake up every day and you weren't there, it was a torment, from the moment I found out where I was I couldn't stop thinking about what our life would be like, all the things we would have done, all our dreams, that maybe they could never come true. Maybe you hated me for not being able to keep my promise. So as soon as I saw the opportunity, I didn't hesitate for a single moment to come back. "I always imagined things as they were: our children, the trips we took, everything, absolutely everything, has been perfect; I could never ask for more or anything different."

"Thank you for keeping your promise. "I love you, Steve." You closed your eyes.

"I love you too." Steve kept smiling for a few more minutes, he knew what had happened, nevertheless, he was satisfied with all the time they had together, if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't hesitate. He got up. It was time to break the news to the rest of the large family you had formed.

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x 40's!reader

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dragonmuse · 2 years

Note

the ducks!! can we please hear more about jim and their duck collection?

(yes, yes you can!)

"And for you, Jim," Dolly set a little box into their hands.

Holiday gifts at the Boodharis were pleasantly simple. All three kids put money toward one big gift for Dolly (a new stand mixer this year which she'd been thrilled about, especially the cheery orange color) and Dolly would give out small thoughtful ones in return. The two grandchildren would get a few things, but there was a price limit. ("There's only so much room in the apartment!" Zuri would remind everyone each year.)

Oluwande had gotten a subscription to Make magazine which made his birthday gift easy this year. Jim already mentally bookmarked an intro to welding kit he'd like. Zuri had put in her new earrings right away and Ada was showing the kids how the bee-themed tea steeper would work.

In short, no one was looking at Jim and they got to open the box observed only by Dolly.

"Thank you," they said as they peeled off the tape.

"I found them when I was hunting around a mineral table for Oluwande," Dolly told them.

From tissue paper, Jim pulled a carved bit of amethyst just a little bigger than their thumb nail. The purple duck caught the light. Then two others even smaller in pink quartz. The little family setteled into Jim's palm.

"Oh," Jim lifted them to their eyes. "They're really detailed."

"Amazing what people can do, isn't it?"

"Thanks," they said again with more feeling. "They're great."

Stuffed full of food, ducks tucked carefully in their pocket and the lingering smell of baby powder and rosewater hugs on their clothes, Jim and Oluwande got on the subway. Oluwande was holding his magazine and bag full of leftovers.

"What'd Mom get you?" He asked.

"I'll show you when we get home. You like the magazine?"

"It's great," he nodded. "Wonder how she even found out about it? I'm going to give them to Pete after I'm done reading them, he'll love all the LED circuitry stuff. I know he wants to make that dress of Frenchie's programmable for light effects."

"Wonder if we could do something for the chainsaw."

"Roach would fucking love that. Good idea."

The apartment was well-warmed when they got in, taking the chill of the afternoon off them easily. After Oluwande slotted the leftovers into the fridge, Jim took the ducks out of their pocket and approached the little shelves.

They were only half full. Jim was picky about what they added and despite Ada's dire warnings, there hadn't yet been a gifting cascade. The salt and pepper shakers, along with the sugar bowl, sat on the kitchen table, too useful to get relegated to display.

Some of their favorites were on the top shelf, the most visible. There was the duck sitting on a comically large egg with a gobsmacked expression, the obsidian one with it's wings outstretched, one painted like a traditional china pattern with it's beak dipped in gold and one duckling carrying an umbrella.

There were only ten or eleven others, but Jim spent a few minutes carefully rearranging and then setting down the new acquisitions next to the obsideon one. They looked like they belonged together.

"Oh cool," Oluwande put a hand to their back, so he could lean in and look. "You like 'em?"

"Yes," Jim tapped the amethyst one gently. "Never seen one like it."

"Yeah, it's good when they're all unique."

"I got you something," they announced.

"Oh, I mean, you already got me the new shoes, I thought that was my gift."

"Those were for Teal. This is for you."

"You know I am Teal, right?" Oluwande laughed. "You don't have to do both of us."

"I wanted to."

They slipped out of his reach and went into the bedroom. They didn't really have to hide gifts from Oluwande, he was a weirdo who didn't go looking for them. They knew he'd taken to keeping their gifts at other people's houses which was annoyingly smart.

This was just an envelope anyway. They handed it to him without ceremony.

"Gift card?" he teased, opening it. They waited as he teased out the contents. "....Jim."

"Yeah?"

"How?"

"We can afford it," Jim shrugged. "I did the math, set aside tips for a bit.

"Longer than a bit."

"You said you wanted to go."

"I did. I do! This is awesome, really. How long?"

"A week. I already told Stede we were going, he's cool with it."

"Singapore...holy shit, we'll need hotels."

"Done."

"Done?" He blinked at them, then dug into the envelope and pulled out the itinerary that they'd carefully put together.

"You plan all our trips. I figured it was my turn."

"Day trips! This is massive. Holy shit!" He put the paper down and then drew them into a hug. They hugged him back smiling over hsi shoulder. "This is so cool! I haven't left the country in...forever and that wasn't far. This is going to be a real adventure."

"It's all real." They kissed his neck. "But yeah, it'll be a big one."

They were ready for that again. Oluwande made them want to take on the world.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #paint me orange and teal #jim jimenez #oluwande boodhari

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ashtok1 · 2 years

Text

Return Gifts for Ladies, Birthday, Marriage, Diwali, House Warming

#return gifts #best return gifts #birthday return gifts #return gifts online #return gifts for pooja #wedding return gifts #diwali return gifts #return gifts for birthday party #return gifts for ladies #return gifts for housewarming #return gifts for adults #return gifts for marriage #birthday return gifts wholesale online #wedding return gifts wholesale #return gifts for house warming ceremony #silver return gifts #return gift for house warming #return gifts for women #navaratri return gifts

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higaneion · 1 year

Note

It's easy to intercept her — They're in the same House, after all, even if their martial and magical skills and foci differ more than they don't. But instead of catching her before class, as their mind would ordinarily dictate them to (for a quick and convenient getaway), they find her after once more, not wanting to do her a disservice by cutting ceremony short.

Chad still doesn't plan to linger overlong either way, but he... respects, her. Respects her just enough to stay put with more than just words to offer. And this — This is more than just a favor returned. He wants this to stand out both as repayment and gift, in and of itself. Ambitious, a bit full of himself, yeah. But he wants it to.

He procures the parcel from his bag, two paper-wrapped articles bound together with braided rope and a tasseled flourish. There's a secondhand copy of a mystery novel they'd personally enjoyed (not that they'd admit as much) of a child in a fantastical realm of magic and intrigue, a handmade bookmark of cut paper and board in layers to construct carnations tucked into the cover. In the other, chocolate chip cookies, soft even though they're no longer warm.

"It's not much, but," he starts quietly, placing the articles on her desk with purpose, if not finality. "here. I just wanted to tell you happy birthday, Lady Lilina."

... Nerves creep up as Chad finds themself bereft of things to add. Maybe he should've done this before class, after all. But — They've resolved to do this, right? Their expression freezes over for a moment, before it eases.

They're friends, right? (Can they even be friends? That's always the real question.)

But, she asked. And she wants to be.

... They can humor her once, for her birthday.

"... I hope you like it, Lilina."

The world didn’t stop for her birthday. She had to attend class as per her usual routine and wakes up with no extraordinary celebration as she may have in the past. Though as she sits up and rubs her sleep-crusted eyes, not a sound save for the birds’ song, she feels strangely rested and content with this quiet, mundane day. For waking up peacefully, for another year, a brighter future ahead, she is grateful to have woken up at all, as some get half as many.

Class goes as she expects and suddenly, the day is already halfway over. She is one of the last to pack her things, taking her time to organize her bag and notes from the day. It was the one thing she does keep track of as anyone who may enter her room may conclude. Besides this, it gives her some stalling time in case she thinks of a last minute question she needs to seek the professor out for without the presence of prying eyes and bored ears of the rest of the class.

Lilina reaches for her quills as they were the last to be packed when a couple of parcels are plopped in front of her instead. She recognizes the voice and looks up to its owner, initial surprise shifting into pleasure and decides to open them. Its contents revealed a book ( one that she did not have to return ) with a delicate but intricate bookmark and a batch of cookies. Did they make them? How did they even know today was her birthday?

“Oh, Chad I—” she stops mid-sentence as she begins to meet his eyes again. He looks to have something else on his mind. They called her by her name, just her name. Did that mean they were…?

A smile spreads across her lips. “Thank you, Chad.” She clutches the book to her chest and with her free fingers, plays with the twine wrapping the cookies. Silence fills the space between them before she works up the courage to ask as it looks as though he might leave. The chair scrapes roughly with a rushed impatience as she stands. “Um, Chad? Would you like to share? More than anything, I would like to have company—a friend—on my birthday.”

#lycianlynx #support: chad #(( oh chad :pleading: ))#(( not me posting these like 2 weeks after her actual bday tho lsdkagjf ))

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marienomad · 1 year

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Whumptober 2023 Day 8

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount.

This is written for day 8 of Whumptober 2023.

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

By Marie Nomad

Commander Tom Paris had been in many situations. He had traveled through different eras, been captured, and cloned, and even started a salamander species with Admiral Janeway. Now he found himself in the strangest situation he had ever faced. Dressed in his Starfleet uniform and wielding a Bat’leth, he stood beside his wife, B’Elanna, and his little girl, Miral. Ever since returning to Earth, he had vowed to support his daughter in her Klingon celebrations. Not only was Miral the "Chosen One" among the Klingon people, known as the Kuvah'magh, but Tom also wanted to show that he accepted her Klingon heritage.

He still remembered the trio of Klingons who had appeared bearing gifts: gold-pressed latinum, a Qapla’ Medallion, and a Memory Crystal filled with Klingon Operas. He had safely stored the latinum for when Miral was older.

Now he was among other Klingon parents and their children in the middle of the plains. Although these children had not yet hit Klingon puberty, there was no doubt they could beat him up if they wanted to.

“Commander Paris, Commander B’Elanna, Miral,” Commander Worf greeted them, dressed in ceremonial garb. “Thank you for coming to the Tribblemey QotmoH.”

"Yeah, I've never done this before," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Neither have I," Worf reassured her. "This ritual was common in the 23rd Century during the Great Tribble Purge. It used to be a rite of passage until the Great Klingon Empire annihilated the tribbles." His lips parted, and he growled. "That is, until a foolish changeling smuggled one back to the present after we prevented a... timeline disruption. Quark even sold tribbles to the Federation, granting them their own homeworld again. We can't bomb it, but we are allowed to cull the tribbles using only blades." He glanced at Tom. "Can you even harm a tribble?"

Tom couldn’t lie, the piles of purring Tribbles at a distance look really inviting. He just wanted to dive in and reenact the one picture of Captain Kirk being buried by Tribbles. Those tribbles look so adorable and he wanted to cuddle them. But he is here to support Miral and B’Elanna with the whole kill tribble tradition. His stomach turned. He really didn’t like the idea of watching the poor innocent tribbles get killed. “I volunteered for this. I don’t know if I could actually kill them but I won’t get in anyone’s way.”

“I’m here to bond with my son, Alexander. I thought that if we do the Tribblemey QotmoH together, we could get closer.” Worf pointed to Alexander who was warming up. The young man looked fully grown with a beard and he was practicing his form.

"That's... nice," Tom replied, looking down at Miral, who had her own child-sized Bat'leth. "I'm not sure if Miral will be able to kill any tribbles. She's three-fourths human, and the tribbles might actually like her."

M'Rek, the head Klingon, clad in a multi-colored fur coat, approached them. In his hand was a glommer, a creature known to eat tribbles. "Welcome to the Tribblemey QotmoH! Slaughter the tribbles and bring honor to your house! Skin them, eat them, and turn them into a coat as a trophy. Make sure you bring great honor to your house," he said, gesturing to his own coat. He then looked at Tom, the only full human among the Klingons. "Oh! A human! Can you even raise your blade against a tribble?"

Tom stood taller as the other Klingons stared at him. "I AM TOM, SON OF OWEN OF THE HOUSE OF PARIS! I GO WHERE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER GO! I KILL WHAT MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER KILL!"

"Ah, not even Captain James T. Kirk could kill a single tribble when they infested his ship," M'Rek chuckled. "This should be most interesting."

Tom tightened his grip on his Bat’leth as the drums began to sound. His wife and daughter were visibly excited. Even sweet little Miral seemed almost savage, her Klingon blood apparently giving her an appetite for the battle ahead.

"Begin!" M'Rek roared, and the Klingons—including Tom—charged toward the piles of tribbles. Screeches filled the air, making Tom want to cover his ears. Miral let out a gleeful scream as she began her attack. At least she was fitting in with the other Klingon children. Now all Tom had to do was avoid embarrassing her.

He paused before a tribble, captivated by its tranquilizing coos and purrs. "It's not sentient, it's not sentient," he muttered, closing his eyes and thrusting his weapon downward. The tribble screeched. Tom felt his stomach churn and fought back the urge to vomit.

"Hey, are you okay?" B'Elanna called, pausing in her own bloody work.

"Just stay with Miral. I'm just a weak human, remember?" Tom said, dismissing her concern. He moved to another tribble, steeled himself, and thrust down again. Another screech. He clenched his stomach, fighting nausea. Looking up, he saw Worf and Alexander, jubilant in their slaughter, and felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. What was it about killing these creatures that was affecting him so deeply?

Sweat pouring down his face, he approached another tribble, Bat’leth in hand. Each kill seemed to add an intangible weight to him. He recalled reports about tribbles affecting humans neurologically—was that why this was so difficult? Were the tribbles defending themselves through some sort of psychic manipulation?

"That's enough. You've killed two; that's a record for a human," M'Rek declared, placing a hand—covered in tribble blood—on Tom's shoulder. "I'm impressed you even managed one. You shall henceforth be known as 'Tom the Killer of Tribbles.'"

Tom looked into M'Rek's eyes, his own a mixture of relief and shame—relief that he could finally stop, and shame that he had felt so conflicted in the first place.

"Thank you, M'Rek. This was not an easy task for me."

"It's easy for a Klingon to kill a tribble. It's in our blood. But for a human? The struggle is intense. I've killed many tribbles in front of humans; they even protect the tribbles from me, even when the creatures are infesting their ships. Not even the oh-so-logical Vulcans can resist the tribbles."

"The Vulcans?" Tom repeated. He couldn't imagine that Vulcans would lose control over the tribbles.

"Yes, they hide the tribbles, claiming logic. No humanoid species, except for Klingons, can resist the tribble's spell. Take pride in your kills. Here, have a drink. Don't worry, it's safe for humans," M'Rek offered Tom a flask.

"Thanks, I appreciate the words of encouragement." Tom drank from the flask. It wasn't bloodwine or anything alcoholic, but more like a juice. "Wait, is this prune juice?"

"Warrior's drink."

"Of course."

He looked over to see B'Elanna and Miral gathering their 'trophies.' "Daddy! Look at all the tribbles I killed!" Miral gushed.

"I see! You'll make a nice coat!" Tom congratulated her. "I... killed two." He glanced at the two tribble corpses, small compared to the massive amounts that the Klingons had gathered.

"I'm impressed," B'Elanna said, smiling at him. "I've realized I hate them. They're adorable, but I just... hate them."

"Commander, you killed two tribbles!" Worf congratulated him, carrying his own kills. "Impressive. A human can't kill tribbles."

"I... I'm sure there are other humans who have killed tribbles," Tom said, confused. "Tribbles have been causing trouble for years. There must be humans who have killed a tribble or two."

"Not in the records. Humans usually gather them, contain them, or even use transporters to beam them to Klingon ships, but they don't kill them," Worf stated. "Even when the tribbles infested Deep Space Nine, Captain Sisko wouldn't let me hunt them, and he's... intimidating. No doubt there will be a song about 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles.'"

"Two tribbles. Just two," Tom said, starting to feel embarrassed. "Please, no songs about me being the 'Killer of Tribbles.' I can picture Harry hearing about this and having everyone sing that song wherever I go."

"Why not? Killer of Tribbles," B'Elanna laughed. "You should be honored. It's not every day that a human gets a song from the Klingons."

"Daddy! Can we make a coat out of my kills?" Miral asked.

"Sure thing," Tom said, helping his family gather their kills.

M'Rek stood on a platform. "The culling is over, and many tribbles have been defeated! They'll respawn, but we've made a dent! Today, there's hope! We've witnessed a human killing TWO tribbles! This is a day of great honor! I'll commission an opera in 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles' honor!"

The Klingons roared as they faced Tom.

"I'm... never going to live this down," he muttered, waving awkwardly at the cheering Klingons. He was pleased to earn a song in his honor, but most importantly, he had made his little girl proud. That was all the honor he needed.

The End

#whumptober 2023 #No. 8 #outnumbered #Tribbles #Star Trek #Klingons #star trek voyager #tom paris #b'elanna torres #b'elanna x tom #fanfiction

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providencepeakrp · 2 years

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PROVIDENCE PEAK’S 80TH ANNUAL — HOLIDAY MARKET WEEK AND TREE LIGHTING.

Considered the busiest week of the year, most of Providence Peak’s residents spend the entire year waiting for it. A time when sparkling lights are strung up and down the streets of downtown and shop windows are decorated with all kinds of seasonal displays. The skating rink in the middle of the downtown square has been iced over and open for the season, the tree lighting ceremony just on the horizon, and the Hot Cocoa Stop is making it’s rounds through the neighborhoods. It’s holiday market week in Providence Peak and the city has an entire week filled to the brim with events to celebrate the warmth of the season.

SCHEDULE OF EVENTS

All Week (December 17th - December 24th) - From Saturday to Saturday, the residents of the city can find the holiday market returned to it’s usual downtown location, lining the glowing streets leading up to the large tree in the center of the city. The market will feature a variety of vendors (which can be found here) with the ice skating rink open just beneath the large tree in the center of the market. Hot Cocoa Stop can be found just off of the rink all week and a list of the following daily events can be found at the Town Hall.

Saturday (December 17th) - A rather unsanctioned event and not one associated with the city’s holiday celebrations, Atlas and Molly Williams have decided to take it upon themselves to spread holiday cheer and host an Ugly Sweater Party at the Williams’ house. The party will be bring your own beer and ugliest holiday apparel and if you’re thinking the combination of alcohol, ugly sweaters, and unbridled holiday cheer is bound to be messy, you would be entirely correct.

Sunday (December 18th) - Join Holy Spirits for a Sunday Mass that’s unlike any you’ve ever attended before. Starting at 8am sharp, stop in for a light brunch spreads of breads and cheeses and holiday-themed cocktails created by the bartenders themselves! After Sunday Mass, gather with the rest of the city at 6pm for the lighting of the tree performed by the head director of True Colors, Miles Cohen!

Monday (December 19th) - Running behind on wrapping those holiday gifts? Never fear. Stop by the Skyline Shopping Center and follow the signs to the wrapping station hosted by Chief-of-Police Jordan Walker where he and a few volunteers will be offering free wrapping in exchange for a donated toy of your choosing! Be sure to take advantage of all of the last minute holiday sales the stores will be running through the week.

Tuesday (December 20th) - If you find yourself craving more of the chilly season, find your way to Spruce Mountain Ski Lodge and Resort in Bighorn Hills for individual or family fun alike. Tickets will be buy one get one free for the duration of the day for all snow activities (skiing, snowboarding, snowtubing) and the resort will be offering a deal on their rooms with the purchase of an activity ticket. If you’re feeling a little too chilly, warm up in their heated outdoor springs or by the large fireplace in the lobby with one of their specialty winter drinks.

Wednesday (December 21st) - In a time where many are feeling festive, come celebrate the feeling with the holiday market’s Holidays Around the World Showcase where attendees can find displays, food and drink, and crafts for sale centered around the world’s most popular winter holidays. The showcase can be found in a large tent in a central location in the holiday market downtown.

Thursday (December 22nd) - Get out of the cold and find solace in Cinematic’s showings of Home Alone and Die Hard. Be sure to take advantage of their deals on popcorn and drinks with a special offering of eggnog milkshakes and caramel popcorn.

Friday (December 23rd) - Feeling brave? Itching to add some more ink to your collection? Meander over to A Touch of Ink for a flash holiday tattoo sale. Pick one, or several, small tattoos from the artists’ sheets to show your true festive self and in return, all proceeds will be donated to the local food bank just in time for the season.

Saturday (December 24th) - Never forget about the true meaning of the season; romance. Join The Glass Onion for a truly romantic dinner in an intimate setting with a four course tasting menu and festive drink pairings to boot, giving one last sparkle to the holiday season.

EVENT DETAILS

This event will be kicking off Friday, December 16th at 12pm EST. It will run until Wednesday, December 28th at 12pm EST. No new starters should be posted after this time, but members may take the next few days to wrap up their threads.

Previous threads should be paused or completed by the end of Friday, December 16th.

Activity checks and acceptances will be held as usual.

Temperature is expected to be in the mid 30s, so be sure to bundle up!

Have fun and be sure to relax and enjoy this event! Please tag all event related posts with providence.event and be sure to check the starter blog for open event starters.

#city rp #oc rp #town rp #providence.event

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noeticprayer · 2 days

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SCRIPTURE READINGS for Sunday September 22, 2024

1 Corinthians 16:13-24 (First Nations Version)

Keep your eyes wide open. Stand firm in the faith. Be brave and strong. Let love be the reason behind all that you do. Do not forget about Headdress of Many Feathers (Stephanas) and all who live in his house. They were the first to follow the way of the Chosen One (Christ) in Land of Sorrow (Achaia). They set their hearts to serving Creator’s holy people. I beg of you, my sacred family, to follow their guidance and to walk in the footsteps of all who serve in this manner.

It made my heart glad when Headdress of Many Feathers (Stephanas) and Lucky Man (Fortunatus) and Man of Sorrows (Achaicus) came to me. They have been walking in your footsteps by helping me while you have been away. My spirit has been renewed by them in the same way they have renewed yours. You should make sure men like these are given the honor they deserve.

The sacred families who gather in Land of the Rising Sun (Asia) send their greetings to you. Strong Eagle (Aquila) and Lives Long (Priscilla) and the sacred family that meets for ceremony in their home also send warm greetings to you in our Honored Chief (Lord). All the sacred family members send their greetings to you. Welcome each other with a holy kiss.

I, Small Man (Paul) write this final greeting with my own hand.

Let all who fail to love our Honored Chief (Lord) be cut off from the Chosen One (Christ)! Come, O Honored Chief, Come! (Maranatha!)

May the gift of great kindness that comes through Creator Sets Free (Jesus) remain with you. May the deep love I have for all of you in the Chosen One (Christ), Creator Sets Free (Jesus), find its way into your hearts. Aho! May it be so!

Luke 5:1-11 (First Nations Version)

As Creator Sets Free (Jesus) was teaching at Land of Chief Garden (Gennesaret), a great number of people pressed in close to hear Him speak the words of the Great Spirit (God the Father). He was standing on the shore and saw two fishing canoes, but the fishermen had left their canoes and were washing their nets. He climbed into the canoe belonging to One Who Hears (Simon) and asked him to push out a little from the shore. He then sat in the canoe and taught the large gathering of people.

When he has finished speaking, he said to One Who Hears (Simon), “Push out farther into the deep water and throw in your nets for a catch.”

“Wisdom-keeper”, he answered, “we have been fishing all night and caught nothing, but because it is you who ask, I will do it.”

They threw the net out into the water. Before they knew what was happening, the net became heavy. They struggled with the weight of it and began to pull it in.

But the net was so full of fish it began to tear. They called out to the other canoe for help. The men came and began to pull in the nets. Fish of every size poured into the two canoes until they were so full they began to sink.

When One Who Hears (Simon), along with his fishing partners- He Takes Over (James) and He Shows Goodwill (John the Theologian), the sons of Gift of Creator (Zebedee) -saw what happened, they were filled with wonder and awe at the great catch of fish.

One Who Hears (Simon) fell to his knees in front of Creator Sets Free (Jesus). “Wisdom-keeper!” he groaned. “Go away from me! For I am a bad-hearted and unholy man.”

“Do not fear!” Creator Sets Free (Jesus) told him. “From now on your nets will catch two-leggeds.”

When they returned to the shore, they left everything and began to walk the road with Him.

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westernriteorthodoxrosary · 3 days

Text

SCRIPTURE READINGS for Sunday September 22, 2024

1 Corinthians 16:13-24 (First Nations Version)

Keep your eyes wide open. Stand firm in the faith. Be brave and strong. Let love be the reason behind all that you do. Do not forget about Headdress of Many Feathers (Stephanas) and all who live in his house. They were the first to follow the way of the Chosen One (Christ) in Land of Sorrow (Achaia). They set their hearts to serving Creator's holy people. I beg of you, my sacred family, to follow their guidance and to walk in the footsteps of all who serve in this manner.

I, Small Man (Paul) write this final greeting with my own hand.

Let all who fail to love our Honored Chief (Lord) be cut off from the Chosen One (Christ)! Come, O Honored Chief, Come! (Maranatha!)

Luke 5:1-11 (First Nations Version)

When he has finished speaking, he said to One Who Hears (Simon), "Push out farther into the deep water and throw in your nets for a catch."

"Wisdom-keeper", he answered, "we have been fishing all night and caught nothing, but because it is you who ask, I will do it."

They threw the net out into the water. Before they knew what was happening, the net became heavy. They struggled with the weight of it and began to pull it in.

One Who Hears (Simon) fell to his knees in front of Creator Sets Free (Jesus). "Wisdom-keeper!" he groaned. "Go away from me! For I am a bad-hearted and unholy man."

"Do not fear!" Creator Sets Free (Jesus) told him. "From now on your nets will catch two-leggeds."

When they returned to the shore, they left everything and began to walk the road with Him.

0 notes

athulyaaindia · 19 days

Text

Housewarming Return Gifts in India: Thoughtful Ideas to Delight Your Guests

Housewarming ceremonies are a cherished tradition in India, celebrating the joy of moving into a new home and marking a fresh beginning. Friends and family gather to bless the new house, share in the happiness, and offer well wishes for prosperity and harmony. As a gesture of gratitude, it's common for hosts to offer housewarming return gifts to guests, expressing appreciation for their presence and blessings.

Choosing the right house warming return gifts india involves balancing cultural significance, practicality, and personalization. This article will explore thoughtful and unique return gift ideas that are sure to leave a lasting impression on your guests.

1. Traditional Handicrafts

India is renowned for its rich tradition of handicrafts, making them an ideal choice for housewarming return gifts. From beautifully crafted wooden artifacts to hand-painted pottery, traditional Indian handicrafts showcase the country's cultural heritage and artistic craftsmanship.

Handicraft Return Gift Ideas:

Brass Diyas or Lamps: Symbolizing light, hope, and positivity, brass diyas are a meaningful return gift, especially for a housewarming.

Hand-Painted Terracotta Items: Terracotta vases, figurines, or wall hangings with intricate designs are both elegant and culturally significant.

Ethnic Wall Art: Miniature paintings, Madhubani art, or Pattachitra paintings add a touch of traditional beauty to any home.

Wooden Artifacts: Beautifully carved wooden boxes or coasters offer a timeless and practical gift for guests.

These handicraft gifts not only reflect India's artistic heritage but also serve as decorative pieces that your guests can cherish for years to come.

2. Eco-Friendly Gifts

With increasing awareness about sustainability, eco-friendly gifts are becoming a popular choice for housewarming return gifts in India. Not only do they promote environmental consciousness, but they also offer practical and thoughtful solutions for everyday life.

Eco-Friendly Return Gift Ideas:

Reusable Jute Bags: Stylish and eco-friendly, jute bags are both practical and sustainable, making them an excellent return gift option.

Seed Bombs or Plantable Pens: Encourage your guests to connect with nature by gifting plantable pens or seed bombs, which can be grown into beautiful plants.

Bamboo or Wooden Kitchenware: Bamboo coasters, spoons, or cutting boards are both eco-friendly and highly functional.

Terracotta Planters: Small terracotta pots with indoor plants like succulents or herbs make for a green, thoughtful gift that adds beauty to any space.

Choosing eco-friendly gifts reflects a commitment to sustainability while also leaving your guests with something useful and memorable.

3. Personalized Gifts

Personalized return gifts add a unique and heartfelt touch to any occasion. By customizing the gifts with your guests' names, or even a thoughtful message, you can make them feel truly special.

Personalized Return Gift Ideas:

Customized Photo Frames: A beautifully designed photo frame with the guest’s name or a special message can be a lovely keepsake.

Monogrammed Towels or Cushions: Personalizing everyday items like towels, cushions, or handkerchiefs can turn them into thoughtful return gifts.

Engraved Keychains: Metal or wooden keychains with the names of guests or a housewarming date engraved on them can be a practical and memorable gift.

Personalized Coasters: Custom coasters with initials or unique designs offer a sophisticated touch and can be used in any home.

Personalized gifts show your attention to detail and create a meaningful connection between the giver and receiver.

4. Spiritual Gifts

For a housewarming ceremony in India, spiritual gifts that carry symbolic significance are always well-received. These gifts often reflect the values of peace, prosperity, and well-being, aligning with the auspicious nature of the occasion.

Spiritual Return Gift Ideas:

Idols of Deities: Gifting small idols of Hindu deities such as Lord Ganesha or Goddess Lakshmi is a meaningful way to offer blessings and positivity.

Prayer Beads or Rudraksha Malas: A symbol of spirituality, gifting prayer beads or Rudraksha malas can carry deep spiritual value.

Incense Stick Holders or Agarbatti Stands: A beautifully crafted incense holder, paired with fragrant agarbattis, is a gift that can enhance the spiritual ambiance of any home.

Feng Shui Items: Feng Shui artifacts such as crystal turtles, laughing Buddhas, or wind chimes are believed to bring good luck and positive energy to a home.

Spiritual gifts resonate with the cultural and religious values associated with housewarming ceremonies and provide a meaningful connection to Indian traditions.

5. Kitchen Essentials

Practical gifts are always appreciated, especially those that can be used daily in the kitchen. Housewarming return gifts that enhance the kitchen space are both functional and thoughtful.

Kitchen Essentials Return Gift Ideas:

Spice Boxes: A traditional wooden or stainless steel spice box filled with aromatic Indian spices can be a wonderful and practical gift for guests.

Copper Utensils: Copper water bottles, glasses, or serving bowls are stylish and known for their health benefits, making them an ideal choice.

Decorative Ceramic Mugs: Colorful and beautifully designed ceramic mugs can be both useful and visually appealing, adding charm to any kitchen.

Mini Cookware Sets: Gifting small cookware items like pans, ladles, or tiffin boxes offers a functional yet thoughtful touch.

These kitchen essentials can serve as practical tools that remind your guests of your hospitality each time they use them.

6. Sweets and Edibles

Gifting sweets and edible items is a timeless tradition in Indian housewarming ceremonies. Edibles make a delightful and universally appreciated return gift, especially when packed in an elegant and personalized manner.

Edible Return Gift Ideas:

Traditional Indian Sweets: Pack boxes of laddoos, barfis, or halwas as a sweet token of appreciation for your guests.

Dry Fruit Hampers: A box filled with assorted dry fruits such as almonds, cashews, and raisins can be a healthy and luxurious return gift.

Gourmet Chocolates: For a modern twist, consider gifting gourmet chocolates in beautifully designed packaging.

Customized Cookies or Cakes: Personalized cookies or cakes featuring a thank-you message can be a sweet and memorable addition to your gift packs.

Food gifts are always welcomed and can be enjoyed with family, making them a simple yet thoughtful choice.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect housewarming return gifts in India requires careful thought and attention to tradition, personal preference, and practicality. From eco-friendly and spiritual gifts to personalized and edible items, the variety of options ensures there’s something to suit every guest. A well-curated return gift pack not only reflects your gratitude but also serves as a token of remembrance, making your housewarming celebration even more special. By selecting thoughtful, unique gifts, you can ensure that your guests leave with lasting memories of your joyous occasion.

For more details, visit us:

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#return gifts under 100 rupees #return gifts for ganesh chaturthi #german silver return gifts in hyderabad #return gifts for navarathri

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