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cyb3rtarot · 10 months

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Pick a Pile: A Cycle You Have an Opportunity to Complete

Disclaimer: tarot readings are not replacements for professional advice. Take what resonates; don’t force a reading to fit! Readings are based on current energy; your future’s in your hands.

pile 1⇘pile 2 pile 3⇘pile 4

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Pile 1:

What’s the cycle? [the tower, ten of wands rx, the high priestess, Indecision (Venus in Libra, 7th house), the empress (bottom of the deck), Elk rune]: hello pile one! I feel like you guys take on too many burdens at once, both your own as well as others’. You give so much until you can’t take it anymore, and this leads to a cycle of burn out. You’re well aware of this. You know when you’re carrying too much or need to reprioritize. Even though you can see the burn out coming, you cling on. Some of you get so stressed that you take sudden, impulsive actions to escape, like quitting a job or lashing out at others. I feel like the fall out or consequences you endure afterwards tend to be good learning experiences that open up new paths, but the continuous crashing is not sustainable. A few people in this pile also experience this cycle through romantic relationships, for example not being able to commit to one person and eventually losing multiple people.

Why is it repeating? What lesson do you need to learn? [two of cups, Change]: this pile has such amazing intuition, but you don’t listen to it! You ignore bad feelings and red flags and try to keep working through them. There’s a lot of people pleasers or recovering people pleasers in this pile which could partly explain this habit. You don’t have to immediately act on your feelings, but if something seems off, it’s important to note what your body and mind may be trying to tell you. It’s also important to balance out your giving and receiving sides, not only doing one or the other (especially giving).

The opportunity to close it [ace of wands, the emperor rx, ten of swords, Enthusiasm (Sun in Sagittarius, 9th house), Laguz rune]: this pile is going to get an opportunity to do something for themselves. This could be an opportunity for a personal project, to travel, or just something that will make YOU happy. However, it seems choosing yourself in this situation may feel hard, and it may upset others. You might have to pull your energy and time back from other commitments to take this opportunity. You might feel bad for choosing yourself, or others could try to manipulate you. This can include guilt tripping, passive aggressiveness, or using whatever method you usually respond to. It’s important to put your foot down against toxic people as well as your own toxic thoughts. This will also be a great opportunity to follow your intuition, and you may find it getting stronger if you don’t ignore it this time.

Extra details: fairy tale, carriage, tomatoes? You may feel like Cinderella, love the story, or similar movies. Or you may feel like you’re swept up in a fairytale when this opportunity comes to you (for some it’s meeting a new person). For those meeting someone new, they could be higher up in position than you. You may have people around you who try to attack your work ethic, morals, or credibility when you choose yourself.

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Pile 2:

What’s the cycle? [four of cups, knight of wands rx, the hierophant rx, Control (Jupiter in Capricorn, 10th house), Jera rune]: hi pile two! this pile feels very ambitious and capable. You guys have a lot of energy and talents that can be honed in many ways, but it feels like you’re put off by the actual process it takes to get to the end goals. You tend to daydream, contemplate, or brood about things you could be doing with your life, but then hesitate to actually do those things. For example, you may get really interested in certain fields of study, but then get discouraged by the academic or training process needed to work in that field. You want the end result but not the steps. You may feel stunted by society, like your dreams or creativity exceed the bounds of the “normal” paths you’re expected to take (like higher education, or a 9-5 until retirement). This cycle of piqued interest and disappointment leads to a lot of restless energy and melancholy; a feeling of wasted time, potential, and dreams.

Why is it repeating? What lesson do you need to learn? [king of wands, New Vision]: this pile will not be satisfied with being bound by convention nor letting all their potential go to waste. You guys are being pushed to realize your capacity, your endurance, and that you have a lot of power to do what you desire. You already see the limits and shortcomings of how the world operates; you’re encouraged to use this ability constructively. Break outside the box set for yourself and don’t underestimate your ability to see things through to the end.

The opportunity to close it [king of pentacles, two of cups, temperance, Speculation (Jupiter in Cancer, 4th house), Mannaz rune]: there’s a few different things going on for this pile. It seems like most of you are currently in a situation that could prove to be financially beneficial or otherwise a good opportunity. It seems like a new environment where relationships are forming, for example (but not only) moving in with roommates, a family move, or a new relationship (romantic or platonic). If this isn’t current then I feel like it's on your mind. Either way, the main focus for you is patience! Patience is necessary to nurture the parts of your life you want success in. It’s especially important for this pile to support their mental health as they work towards what they want; your perception and willingness to be patient gets filtered through your mental state. By waiting when necessary, you allow sustainable avenues to channel your energy. For some of you who are entering new relationships or communities right now, I feel like one person in particular will be significant to you in these matters, such as someone who offers help in your business or creative ventures.

Extra details: Jupiter may be a prominent planet in the birth chart, as well as the signs of Cancer, Capricorn, Sagittarius, Pisces. Heavy oppositions or squares in your chart related to the push-and-pull feelings. Road blocks. Forests. Journaling, writing, or wanting to be an author. Traveling across a body of water. Feeling discouraged by travel delays (some of you may have travel delayed by family?). Wanting a career that needs a degree but not wanting to go to school. Family pressure to take conventional paths. Fear of life commitments. Some of you in relationships (or your partner) are wanting to step up the seriousness, like by meeting families.

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Pile 3:

What’s the cycle? [four of wands, wheel of fortune sideways, queen of pentacles rx, Harmony (Sun in Libra, 7th house), Protection (Moon in Aries, 1st house), Sowilo rune]: hi pile three! You guys seem to have a generational or family cycle; you may notice very similar themes or lessons throughout your family’s relationships. There’s a cycle of relationships coming together to a high level of commitment, and then ending very significantly. This may play out as a cycle of divorces or broken families, especially where one partner cheats or otherwise neglects the family. In particular, I feel like the feminine energies in these relationships (so if not you, your female relatives/loved ones) are usually left in worse positions than before. This feels like cycles where someone is ambitious, skilled, talented, or financially stable, but after they experience a relationship, it’s very hard for them to get back on their feet. I also see this could have played out as one parent or guardian taking on more work to offset the neglect of the other parent. With this popping up as you guys’ cycle, you may notice traits of your relatives manifesting in you, or you have experienced similar relationship cycles.

Why is it repeating? What lesson do you need to learn?: [the devil, the fool]: much like pile one, you also seem to ignore red flags. You may be drawn to people and vices that you know are not good for you. Putting on rose-tinted glasses and falling into the thrill of something new. The enthusiasm and passion is wonderful, but you must still protect yourself. Be observative when things seem too good to be true. If something feels off, identify what makes you feel that way, and also what you’re going to do about it. You may need to reflect on how you self sabotage and why.

The opportunity to close it [the magician rx, temperance sideways, ace of cups, Status (Jupiter in Taurus, 2nd house), Friendship (Moon in Cancer, 4th house), Othala rune]: this pile seems to have went through an event that made them feel destitute or powerless, and for a lot of you this is a breakup (of any kind). There’s an emphasis on relaxing and being very gentle with yourself, especially if you’re trying to make some kind of quick rebound. This is a time to pour love into yourself and find what makes you feel balanced and stable. Many of you are being pulled back towards something you’re passionate about, whether this is personal projects or your career. You may be interested in self care through creating material stability and comfort right now, as these bring a sense of security. This might manifest as nurturing relationships with family, and those of you that are focusing on material comfort may find your family helps provide that at this time. Some of you are also focused on building generational wealth, and others are directing more energy into socializing. These are all great ways to create a strong foundation for yourself that is not so easily shaken. The important thing is investing in what makes you personally safe and fulfilled.

Channeled details: Europe (especially Southern), impatient, some may be getting drinks out a lot—especially with friends (this can include cafes), shadow work for harmful habits, gold, orange, crystals, working out, going to church (especially with family), returning to a religion, glow up, luxury, wearing a lot of jewelry or going to a jewelry store, family business, Mediterranean, dark brown hair and olive-toned skin, oceanside town, jogging/running, single mothers, generational cycles, talking to your mom or aunts more

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Pile 4:

What’s the cycle? [judgment, two of wands rx, queen of wands, Excitement (Mercury in Gemini, 3rd house), Mannaz rune]: hello pile four! Like pile two, this pile feels stuck in a cycle of wasted potential. However, it feels you have ongoing expectations placed on you; some of you may have to look after family members or are expected to “stay in your place.” This pile’s cycle feels the most directly influenced by their environment. You might feel trapped or stuck, maybe at home or even by your own self doubts. Deep down, most of you know you could succeed at what you want and this makes you more frustrated when chances pass you by. For example, some of you may feel disappointed in yourself for not going to school for what you actually wanted to do. There’s a lot of mental energy and anticipation with no outlet. A specific detail for a lot of people in this pile: troubles physically communicating or reading in school could have hindered your studies and contributed to your present day hesitancy. It feels like you want to change the world or feel called towards a bigger purpose, but as of right now this remains a feeling and not action.

Why is it repeating? What lesson do you need to learn? [six of pentacles rx, Sharing (queen of action)]: there’s two different groups within this pile. Some of you are very generous with your time and energy when it comes to taking care of others, and you must learn when to pull back and direct those resources into your own life. There’s a tendency to always put your self on the sidelines. Others of you are very reserved and closed, but on the inside you have a lot of ideas, love, and creativity to share. You might flip-flop between a lone-wolf stance and wanting community. Fears are understandable, but don’t deny yourself space to be intertwined and vulnerable with others.

The opportunity to close it [the magician, eight of pentacles, five of wands, Concentration (Saturn in Gemini, 3rd house), Tiwaz rune]: the overall energy for this pile is success, excitement, and talent, though I am picking up on a lot of different things going on here. For most of you, it feels like your opportunity is actually already here—or imminent. Some of you are finally going after something you’re passionate about or good at, whether in an institution (school, for example) or by yourself. Similarly, some of you may have gotten recognition for something, or been accepted into a program. There’s a strong willpower in you that’s been hampered, and I feel that something is triggering you to come out of your cocoon. For those of you that do have learning or speaking difficulties, I see you wanting to power through this. This might manifest very literally, like by having a long-delayed argument or conversation with someone that you feel you must do no matter what. Or, your opportunity may literally be working on your communication, like through speech therapy. Whatever your individual situation is, the energy got much lighter and more excited during this part of the reading; there’s a lot of positivity surrounding your pursuits! Please don’t feel you have to give up on your dreams!

Channeled details: bladerunner, “do it even if it’s hard,” boosts in confidence. Many different communication difficulties in this pile: anxiety, social/family pressure, neurodivergence, mental illness, speech impediments (this is the main one I was picking up on), language barriers, deafness, volume control. Vocal stimming or repeating oneself constantly. Sibling dynamics where one has to be taken care of by another. Unsupportive parents. Hyperfixations. Big arguments. Mediators (some of you are interested in diplomacy or law). Announcements, recognition. Returning to a hobby. Past difficulties in school. Perception anxiety. Overthinking. Strategy. Court cases. Finding things funny no one else does. Glasses, round face. Mami tomoe? Doing something for the greater good; social justice. Chess. Memes, vine. You may really like the Burger King foot lettuce meme lol?, courage the cowardly dog, Tinker Bell. Tea parties (or party planning). You may like things others find childish.

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ronearoundblindly · 8 months

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ok im feeling the kiss list sm!! im feeling angsty... so steve x reader with #4 or #26?? love u <3333

#4 (a kiss where it hurts) was double requested, so this is #26-- *this* one isn't angsty although technically could be considered a wee tinybit smidgenly dark if you squint real hard. Sorry this is not even remotely edited and all over the place and just *sighs* yeah okay enjoy!

Steve Rogers x reader: a kiss as an apology

I'm So, So...Sorry, a tale for Valentine's 2024

Summary: Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

Warnings: *screams and bites pillow* WHY. WHY???? omg, this just...ack...smut. Nomad Steve being needy and touch-starved just ruined my life. 😭😭😭 DUB-CON adjacent b/c Steve loses control. Please send him help. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There's plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist, but this ficlet is for adults! WC 2022

To look at him, you’d think this dude can fuck, but it turns out that the absolutely huge man checking into your family’s small rural motel doesn’t know the first thing about flirting, much less sex.

You have no idea what ‘Grant’ and his friend ‘Tom’ were really whispering about over the breakfast table that one morning weeks ago, but later that night Grant came by the office, restless and unable to sleep.

He just talked to you. It was all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you liked on your days off. Even that seemed a struggle for him—thinking up casual questions. He could look you in the eye up until he had to respond, and he didn’t give many answers in return.

You laughed--you had to—when Grant asked if he could walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because it’s a house a whopping fifty meters down the way from strip of rooms.

“I could walk,” he shrugs. “I’ll probably do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Twenty minutes later, the craziest thing happened.

An elk walked right in front of you on the path, and you jumped back, slamming into the wall of muscle the was your escort. You were both perfectly still as it moved.

Then that thing squawked and stamped huge hoofs. You threw your weight backward and spun to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you were so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly he tried to hold you still.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hissed through his teeth for you to stop should have been your hint, but instead you clung to him harder, asking if the animal was gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle closer “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, then, “let’s get you home.”

‘Grant’ is now properly called ‘Steve’ in private.

It took a while for him to trust you. He and ‘Tom’—whose real name you still don’t know—have been back and forth to the motel several times. You don’t talk about other guests. You don’t gossip. You don’t pry because that is just the nature of your business.

Steve’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely. The first time he returned with the full beard, you couldn’t help yourself and brushed your fingers through it on your way back from handing him his key over the counter. The way he looked at you…devastating.

Tom made his own, very knowing face, and winked.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Steve cleared his throat harshly and blushed, accidentally leaving a small bag on the ground when he rushed to the door.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Steve blurted when he found you standing there to give it back.

You just smiled and said Tom wasn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you muttered.

That’s how this started.

A tentative embrace where only the top of his chest touched you led to a lovely full-body hug, and then he held you a touch longer, so your hand went to his hair and…

Steve whined and crashed you two against the wall outside his room, righting himself almost immediately, excusing the behavior, and rushing back inside. You couldn’t let that stand though. You stopped the door before it closed.

“Hey, it’s okay. I can be here, if you want, to hold.”

Steve’s eyes were one of the only things you could see in the dark room.

You took a chance and reached out to scratch at his bearded cheek again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me, Stevie.”

So he melted into your hand, eye’s rolling as if drunk on the feeling, and you stepped in to hug him.

You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to tell him ‘it’s okay,’ but at least Steve doesn’t stop everything to apologize each time. Convincing him not to be self-conscious of how his body reacts to touch took a while.

He humped your leg like a puppy while you played with his hair. He came in his pants while you gave him a back rub. He cried when you kissed over his arms and chest.

You’ve told him it’s all okay.

He tries so hard not to smile when he checks back in, but he waits until your shift ends to have you fall asleep in his arms.

You’ve told him it’s okay to fall asleep in your arms, too.

Genuinely, the best part of the whole arrangement is that he will let you do anything to him. He’s fine being petted and fawned over, teased for being more ripped than jeans in the ‘90s—except for he didn’t understand that joke, sadly,—and it’s okay because you get it. He doesn’t tell you any personal information. He barely told you his name. He’s probably figured out that you aren’t an idiot and have put two-and-two together, but he keeps quiet, too.

He lets you keep touching him because he enjoys it.

Aside from the average hug and a simple spooning hold, Steve only ever touches you when you put his hand somewhere. (Right, except for the leg humping, but that was adorable so who cares! He wasn’t even doing that to touch you; poor thing needed friction, is all.) Anyway, since he’s been so excited about everything you’ve wanted to do to him, you push your luck.

The recent days have been all about Steve completely naked and at your mercy, which is, of course, still focused on making him feel good, but tonight is the very first night you are also naked. It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him, maximum skin-to-skin contact—and it is.

He’s warm and stretched out like a cat in the sun beneath you, smiling, resting his eyes as dusk takes over the sky. You fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat but don’t notice until he’s gently shaking you awake.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare.”

Steve’s voice is husky. His grip on your arm is deliberately stationary until you shift to slide off of him.

His hand flies down to the back of your knee but not before you feel the hard length of his erection move from its perch at your ass to press flush on the back of your thigh.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

You’re surprised he’s so shy after all you’ve been through for this. How can he doubt?

You stretch up to his face, straddling his abs for stability. “Stevie,” you say with soft fingers carding through his long hair, “you know it really is okay. You know that.”

He hums, his cock jumping against your ass while he squeezes your knee. He exhales shakily when you drag the back of your nails down his arms and sit up. Too dark to see, all you can go by is what you hear and feel.

“As long as you’re okay—“ you press into his pecs to lift yourself over his hips “and this is okay for you, right?”

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how Steve groans when you settle your folds along the length of him. He clenches his ass so hard, it lifts you and sends a surge of heat to your core.

There’s a shuffling noise by his head.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Are you alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes.” He clenches again, and your arousal finally slicks his hot skin beneath you.

You keep your hands braced on his chest as you start to move, tiny pulses at first, and the poor thing is too sensitive.

He’s a panting mess by the time your slick is spread over him.

“No,” he whines, and you stop, thinking it’s too far to push him. “Too soon.”

“Shh, it’s okay to come. Remember, Stevie? That’s good. We can stop but—“

His other hand clamps onto the meat of your thigh. “Don’t. Don’t stop. I just…”

“Then we’ll do this again. Don’t worry,” you coo, rolling your hips from his root to tip.

He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan. He only lasts a few more thorough pumps. The spurts of cum graze your clit as he finishes on his stomach, shot as far as your wrists still above his chest, and for the first time with Steve you’re disappointed you can’t immediately keep going. You were getting very close, too, very fast.

It pains you to peel your sticky pussy off of him to get tissues, but you praise him the whole way.

“Please,” he rasps, taking hold of your arm as the last is wiped up, “more?” He’s breathless. “I can do better.”

You smile in the dark, excited for the possibility but afraid to push him. “Stevie, you did great. Rest for—“

“No, I—I want…I mean, can I touch you this time?”

Oh.

“Sure,” you gulp, “that’d be nice.” If by ‘nice’ you mean ‘I’ve just creamed myself at a single question’ then yes, very nice.

He wants you in the same position straddling him, but that’s so he can spread his hands and run his fingertips over the most of you. He’s softened as he starts exploring you, but his lingering fascination with your breasts makes you wetter and wetter. He likes how you purr and gasp as he pinches and kneads. He likes to pull at your thighs until he gets handfuls of your ass.

He gets hard again off of your moans and tucks his cock between you while you instinctively ride him. It’s still only him deliciously fucking your folds until the repeated swipe of his head over your clit tips you to the edge, and your nails dig into his skin to draw down with the coil in your belly.

The angle catches him at your entrance, a shallow thrust that has you crying out lewdly, and suddenly, you’re on your back, Steve’s huge body pinning you to the mattress, one elbow propping himself by your chest, his other hand brutally spreading your ass to accommodate him.

You’re overwhelmed by the power he exerts over you. He suckles and nips at your breasts, cock so deep it pushes your insides to make way, and what starts as an average orgasm just wipes you out in a cascade of sharp pleasure.

Your hand grip blindly at his hair and back, choking on screams of profanities he wouldn’t appreciate, and he wraps his arms under you, bending you in an arch, chest to chest, while his hot breath rolls over your sweat-cooled throat.

You feel his lips open wide, but Steve goes silent until spent.

Finally, his last slow pistons calmed in halted combustion, he nuzzles his head to the crook of your neck.

Your fingers are frozen where buried in his hair.

In the dim moonlight you can see his ass twitch, jolting in over-stimulation while he gently pulls out of you. He props himself up, posture small and timid for such broad shoulders.

He hovers above you while you try to read each other’s expressions.

“I…I…” he starts quietly, looking over and over your features.

His chin ticks closer, hesitates, and then descends so his lips can capture yours. It’s so quick and chaste, like any other first kiss, but all out of order.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words cracking in his guilt. “I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop.”

You pull him down to you, properly melding your mouth to his, beginning your next lesson already, then let him come up for air.

“It’s okay, Stevie. You can still walk me home.”

A/N: *drops bath bomb to froth in the pool of Tumblr* *runs away* Don't ask me wtf just happened because I don't know. It just consumed my whole day.

[psst. This became a whole series. 'Hideout' Masterlist]

Bucky Barnes and a kiss as encouragement ⬅️ ➡️ Jake Jensen and a kiss where it doesn't hurt

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Tags: I'm also adding the people who showed interest in this concept earlier. You will not be tagged beyond this unless you ask! @mrs-barnes-rogers-writes @bstorn @rogersbarber @cevansbaby-dove @nowandajenn @jesevans @justherebecausesafarisucks @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

#steve rogers fanfiction #250+#ro answers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #soft!steve rogers #nomad steve #nomad steve rogers #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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florencemtrash · 10 months

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Flame, Shadow, Beast : Beast II

Azriel x Reader x Eris

Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.

Warnings: Angst and allusions to torture and death.

Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You sat on Eris’s bed, your gorgeous dress crumbled beside you with the crown resting on top of the heap. It silently mocked you as you wrapped his robe closer around your body, burying your face in his scent. You shut your eyes and looked away from the door where Bryaxis was currently pacing on the other side.

Eris, Halvor, and Aurelia had been gone for two hours. Locked away in his official chambers discussing the matter of your bond with Azriel.

“My Lady-”

“Don’t call me that, Myrah.” The blademaiden had similarly tossed aside her glittering gown of silk and metal, choosing instead thin armor of bronze and soft leather. It was better suited for her slick style of fighting. She didn’t say anything as she climbed onto the sheets behind you and began to brush the tangles out of your damp hair.

“He won’t send you away.” She finally said after your hair had been brushed, oiled, and braided.

The bond fluttered as if in disappointment. You shoved it deeper, willing it to disappear entirely.

“He may not have a choice.”

Autumn couldn’t risk another war. Prythian couldn’t risk another war. But if Azriel dared to invoke the Blood Duel, no matter the outcome more blood would be shed.

No, he wouldn’t do that. You thought to yourself. Would he?

You’d heard of males doing worse things for less and Azriel was no male to be trifled with. And… He was in pain.

As much as you tried to ignore it, and as much as he tried to shield you from it, Azriel was hurting. You felt muted waves of it through the bond like washes of tide against the shoreline.

If only you hadn’t chosen tonight to wear the crown or the dress or to subtly declare yourself the future Lady of Autumn. If only you’d had them leave sooner or… maybe this had all been a mistake. Maybe all the time you’d spent in Autumn had been a mistake, even if you were happy. Maybe…

You looked around the room. The bedposts soared into the sky, disappearing into a ceiling that had been painted to look like the forest canopy. Colors of the sunset swirled down like wind. The roaring fire spread its molten heat across the warm wood furniture. Everyone spoke of the cruel beauty of the Forest House, its opulence and the disloyalty it housed within amber-encrusted walls. But you had only ever felt safe here. You’d fallen in love with all its old-fashioned peculiarities and the tales that had written themselves into the wood without anyone ever knowing.

There in the corner was a dresser with burned handprints crawling up the sides- courtesy of Eris sneaking into the room to visit his mother after he’d just learned to walk. There above the vanity were two magnificent elk horns, altered to look like wings in flight. Lucien had found them shed by the river when Eris had first taken him hunting. Little trinkets you’d bought for him littered the room alongside the additions Myrah, Halvor, and Aurelia had gifted him over the years. Your own belongings filled the spaces previously left cold and empty, just like you spent most nights filling the empty spaces in his bed.

You set your jaw.

“Myrah,” She looked at you with wide eyes, “I think it’s time I got dressed.”

“Eris specifically said not to let you out of his room. It could be dangerous.” Myrah said with a half-concealed smirk, walking beside you as you made your way towards Eris’s office.

The Forest House was impenetrable… but a Shadowsinger could get into places others couldn’t. You felt the bond within you, daring to follow the string to wherever Azriel lay on the other side. The smallest tug and Azriel was stirring. You pulled away almost immediately. He wasn’t anywhere near the Forest House.

“He also said you were to be my blademaiden. Remind me of what that entails.” You said, refusing to slow down.

“To protect you with my life. To follow your orders… To care for you as my best friend.”

You blinked and shot her a look. “The last part isn’t in your oath.”

She shrugged, “It’s not in my oath as a blademaiden… doesn’t mean I don’t have personal oaths I adhere to.”

You squeezed her hand and she squeezed back harder.

Whatever conversations had been going on when you burst through the door died immediately. Halvor and Samson - third in command and Autumn’s spymaster - bowed when you entered, looking like a storm on a mission to render the room to splinters. Aurelia dipped her head, eyes shifting between Eris and you with a hint of sadness. It shaved away at your confidence.

“I need to speak with Eris. May we have the room?” You said, phrasing it more as a command and less of a question.

Halvor nodded, making his way out with Samson and Myrah in tow. Aurelia lingered behind, squeezing Eris’s shoulder before waltzing out.

“What have you been discussing?” You said once the door had shut and you felt Eris’s magic wall up the sound in the room.

“I think you already know.” Eris said, standing up behind his desk and rubbing away the pressure building behind his eyes. He still wore his clothes from dinner and although he’d taken off his crown, a greater weight seemed to have fallen onto his shoulders.

Eris swallowed. He had a letter crumpled up in his hand, half-written and blotted with ink spills. It began to smolder and burn.

“We weren’t sure-I wasn’t sure…” his voice trailed off, “I wasn’t sure if you’d already made up your mind.”

“About?” “About going to him. About being with him.” The words sounded strangled, like they were beasts that had fought against being spoken out loud. “He is your mate.”

“I don’t care.”

Eris closed his eyes, “Y/n, I’m not-” “I said I don’t care.”

He refused to look into your eyes, hands splaying out on the table as he fought back the fear in his chest. He didn’t want you to go. He’d given more of himself to you than he’d ever dared to before, and you had protected that trust with a fierceness he’d never seen. But this was something wholly out of his control. Something that had been dictated by the Mother. Who was he to stand between you and your mate? “What if… If you choose me, what if you come to regret it? What if I can’t give you what a mating bond can?” He said softly, as if he’d already given up on the hope that you’d stay. It lit a fire in your soul.

“I don’t care what the powers-that-be say about us.” You said, storming around the desk, “I don’t care if some force decided I am his equal or that we would make strong children together.”

The bond was a sacred thing, more precious than anything land, gold, or blood could buy. But it was no guarantee of happiness. No guarantee of love. You would know, because you’d already found your happiness and love elsewhere.

You rushed forward, taking Eris’s face in your hands and feeling immediate relief when he didn’t move away. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palms of your hands with reverence.

“I choose you, Eris. This hasn’t changed anything. Not for me.” You said with conviction.

“It hasn’t changed anything for me either.” Eris sighed in relief and touched his forehead against yours, your breaths mixing sweetly in the space between you two.

“I would choose you.” He whispered fiercely, “Every. Single. Time. I would go to war for you, my love. Come hell or high water.”

“I know,” You smiled, gently kissing on the lips and sighing when his warm hands traveled up the skin of your back, holding you to him, “I would do the same for you. But let us hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Eris showed you the letter, the corners singed and flaking, and you smoothed it out on the mahogany table. Rhysand had been quick to request another meeting. Tension and worry were scratched into the curves of his flowery handwriting as he explained the situation in diplomatic terms:

He was sorry for not attending the dinner. The Inner Circle had been unaware of the mating bond until it was too late. Azriel would behave himself and only come if called. The decision was yours. Whatever you chose, they wanted to continue being Autumn’s allies for the good of Prythian and to have you in their lives as friends, not enemies. It was delicate. Hopeful. A letter from someone who wanted peace as much as you did. Peace for his family. Peace for his son.

The letter placed you in a position where you could wait for the tidal wave to settle. But just like the last time, this was not an issue you could ignore forever. An ax would always linger over your head, swaying dangerously close to your neck until you spoke with Azriel. So although you didn’t agree to another visit with the Inner Circle, you did allow Azriel to come to Autumn again.

You stood by the border, whispers of frost bitten wind snaking through the white gaps in the trees and reaching for your ankles.

Samson and twelve of his best males and females stood behind you, archers at the ready and swordsmen with their hands gripping their hilts. They were more for Eris’s comfort than your own, and you would have your privacy when it mattered most.

Azriel emerged from the blizzard beyond like an ink stain on porcelain paper, bleeding into existence with his shadows swarming around him. He hadn’t been sleeping - you could tell from the faint bruises beneath his eyes. Somehow the imperfection made him more handsome, more mysterious. But you hadn’t had eyes for him in a long time.

“Come on.” You said, tilting your head towards the river that rushed and danced in the distance. You walked in silence, Azriel trailing behind like the shadow that he was and matching your shorter footsteps. He didn’t want to alarm you by overtaking you. Still, it was even more unnerving to know he was behind you without hearing or seeing him. You could only feel that bond tying you together, pulling you towards the male who walked ten paces behind.

You glanced back and he stopped, teeth clenching tightly as he looked at you. You were beautiful, shining in the burning forest like a flame. You’d always been beautiful and he had known this, but he hadn’t fully recognized it until it was far, far too late.

“Will you be slinking behind me the whole time like a kicked dog or will you walk beside me?” There was a biting humor in your voice that eased the tension in his shoulders. He walked beside you until you finally led him to the river. Any concerns that he might take this opportunity to survey the Autumn Court disappeared. He had his eyes on you the entire time like you were the only thing left in the world.

You sat down on the slick rock, dipping your bare feet into one of the clear streams that branched off from the river beyond, tumbling over boulders and stones with crisp clarity. Azriel took the cue to lower to the ground as well, his knee barely brushing against yours as he settled his magnificent wings on the cool stone.

“I’m sorry about Elain.” You said after a while of staring at the water.

Azriel winced.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say. It was no secret that five years after the Autumn Court war ended, Elain had quietly moved to the Sun Palace and mated Lucien. You’d met her briefly when he’d visited Eris, and as much as you wished you could resent her, she’d been lovely and kind, and kept good on her promise not to say anything about you to her family. You understood why Azriel had loved her… why he’d chosen her.

“I didn’t… I didn’t continue things with her after you were gone.” He said, choosing his words with care. His voice was rougher than usual, the sound rumbling out from his chest like the rolling of thunder. “It never felt right… I never felt right. I suppose I understand why now.”

He looked at you hopefully, hazel eyes wide and uncertain as he gently sent his thoughts down the bond. You shivered, feeling echoes of his love and longing for you along with the shame and guilt that accompanied it.

He hated himself for the decisions he’d made. He had thought that Elain was meant for him - three sisters for three brothers. It seemed so simple, so obvious. So with each year that the mating bond hadn’t fallen into place, dark voices had whispered in his mind that he wasn’t truly a member of his family. Always an outsider. Always alone. It was why he’d traded you for Elain. A choice born out of a desperate desire to be loved and accepted. It was the worst mistake he had made in his life.

“Azriel. I can’t.” You said, shaking your head and breaking eye contact.

“Can’t, or won’t.” He hadn’t touched you yet, but you saw his scarred hands flex out of the corner of his eyes, inching ever closer to where yours rested in your lap.

“Both.”

You thought back to the first days you’d spent in the caves: Your wounds fresh and bleeding, the itching and pulsing of your burned flesh somehow getting worse as they healed, the desperation that came from existing in complete and total darkness. The only sounds you’d heard being the crunch and moans of the other poor souls that Beron sent down.

It still hurt to think about and you didn’t believe it would ever go away.

“I learned something the day you left me.”

“Y/n. Please-” He whispered, begging. His hands reached out for yours, and you let him.

You smiled sadly, tracing the scars that marred his hands. All the terrible past things that still clung to him. Things he could never forget.

“Please.” He didn’t even know what he was begging for. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. He didn’t deserve the right to call you his mate. But… he could hope.

You traced over the scars once more, then let go of his hands.

“I learned I was never part of your family. Not truly. I was the one you were willing to sacrifice, not the one you’d burn down the world for.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, pulling back on the shadows that had escaped his control and had begun to curl around your arms and your legs.

He shook his head, “That’s not true. You have always been a part of this family. You will always be a part of this family.”

You stayed silent.

“Is there… is there any chance at all for me to fix this?” Azriel asked. His hands now rested in between his knees, clasped so tightly together the pale skin of his scars blended into nothing. “To convince you to come back.”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

He closed his eyes and deflated. A tear streaked down his cheek, dripping onto his lap.

“I won’t leave him, Azriel. I won’t. Not for anyone. Not even for you.” “I know.” He whispered.

“I don’t… I don’t hate you. I never did. And I’m glad that Elain is alright. It probably was the right decision to make. I don’t know if Beron would have let Elain live. Not even as his prisoner.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say that just to spare my feelings or to try and make things better.”

“That’s not why I’m saying it.”

Azriel stood up, furiously wiping away his tears and burying the feelings deep. He buried the bond even deeper and for the first time since the bond had snapped into place for you, you felt silence.

You looked at him sadly. He hadn’t changed since the last time you saw him. He still loved deeply and hurt deeply too.

You stood by his side, watched the river wind its way through the woods.

“It’s a beautiful place.” Azriel said softly, “I can see why you love it. And I… I understand why you love him. I do. I just wish it was me.” He swallowed thickly.

“You’ll find someone else, Azriel. I know you will.” You said, offering him a small, sad smile.

He didn’t return it. Just looked at you for as long as he could, drinking in the sight of you.

The next time he saw you he’d be calling you High Lady of Autumn. You’d be bound to this place and its magic, and he would never see you like this again. Gone were the days when you’d collapse on his office couch, chatting his ear off to help him forget the terrible things he’d done, or the days where you’d perch by the window in silence just to remind him he wasn’t alone. Gone were the nights where he’d gather you in his arms and shoot off into the sky to count the stars and find peace. He wanted those days back. He would have done anything to get those days back.

“No. I won’t.” Azriel said quietly and then said nothing more.

You took the cue and led him through the woods, tracing a path between the trees no one from outside the Autumn Court would be able to recognize.

Samson bowed when you reached him, signaling his warriors to fall back. You would have your privacy.

When Azriel stepped over the threshold back into the Winter Court, you felt the magic in the air change, sealing the Shadowsinger out of your home. He pressed his hand against it, momentary panic freezing his lungs as he saw that you remained on the other side.

You breathed in deeply, steeling yourself for the words you were about to speak.

“Azriel, I will say this once, and only once. If you so much as lay a finger on Eris or my home, I will never forgive you. I won’t hesitate to protect what’s mine.”

“I know.” He said. The small smile he gave was full of heartache. He wished he’d done so many things differently, then maybe he would have been so lucky to hear you threaten someone to protect him. It was a terrible fate to be on this side of things.

“If… if anything happens - anything at all - know that I will always be here to help you. Promise me that you know.” “I know.” You said sadly. “I hope you find someone, Az. I really do. But that person will not be me.”

He nodded.

You didn’t look away, not as he held up both hands and pressed his forehead against the barrier. It was his own silent way of saying goodbye. Then, just as he had appeared, his shadows swallowed him whole, carrying him away to the Night Court where you hoped he would find a life that would make him forget all about this pain.

“Goodbye, Az.” You whispered.

But he was already gone.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Might write some Azriel x Reader oneshots to make myself feel better after wrecking my own heart.

Sorry for this chapter, everyone. But Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate. Lol.

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters @kalulakunundrum @chasing-autumns-chill @brujitafantomatico @emptyporsche @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @saltedcoffeescotch @djdjdhdheh

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #High Lord Eris #High Lady Reader #azriel x reader #azriel x mate reader #azriel x you #eris x you #eris x reader x azriel #azriel x reader x eris #acotar #acotar fanfiction #autumn court #acotar autumn court #the inner circle #inner circle #inner circle x reader #azriel shadowsinger

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sordidmusings · 8 months

Text

A Coronary Tale - Chapter 1 (Sanji x Reader)

Chapter Summary: You have been hiding away in The Wood, biding your time with the company of your three dear ravens. Fearing those who could find you should you leave your new home, you settled yourself deeply in with the trees and rocks and river, building a quiet routine. Unfortunately, you were wrong to expect no one else to enter the abandoned woods.

Themes and tropes: slow burn for her/lit fuze for him, hidden identities, witchcraft, curses, political pit of vipers, lost royalty, witch hunts, nonverbal gestures of love

A/N: Howdy doodie I finally done did this 😩 My addition to @fanaticsnail's Storyteller collab with the tale of The Three Ravens! I am shuffling stuff around quite a bit and I really hope that you all enjoy my changes and additions! What we have here is an absolute train wreck of a meet cute so that's a start lol The title is a reference to one of the songs I had in mind writing this and definitely the main one with lyrics, A Coronary Tale by Dana Sipos

@fanaticsnail also gifted me the mood board

Wordcount: ~5.2k

Warnings: fem!reader, bit of blood, descriptions of injury but no gore, you're like a little feral maybe, Sanji's kinda into that too at least

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Another twig snapped and your breathing stopped. Every nerve threading through your body pulled your mind from one place to the next: under the skin of your palms, scraping against rough bark; in the balls of your feet, throbbing from their recent pounding at the ground; in the depths of your lungs, burning for oxygen but turned still as stone in fear. Mostly, though, your mind lived in your ears, desperately sifting through the forest ambience and calling ravens for clues of your hunter.

Enough moments passed to release your lungs from their stalling and you began planning your next steps. Your burrow was far but that was good; you had more time to make sure he couldn’t track you there. You had been leading him East, away from your home, since he’d chased you across the river. The last you’d heard of him was due Northeast of you. If you headed exactly opposite him, you’d be back at your river, able to follow it down to your stuff and scramble back to your hide.

The weight of the risk settled down on you and kept your body from following through with your plan. What if he circled back to find your trail again? What if he was waiting for you at the river, knowing you’d likely collect your things?

You shoved your forehead into the scabbed bark of the great oak that hid you. The calming breath you hissed out held the hint of a whine and you cursed yourself further for the noise. Each moment he was more likely to turn back. Each moment he was closer to finding you.

Scrunching your face in a snarl towards your fear, you shoved yourself off the tree and ran westward.

Traversing the Wood was second nature to you by now, but you’d only flown through it with such great speed one time before. You moved much more like a fleeing elk than the panicked rabbit you were then, even with your fright measuring close to that of your memory. Your eyes and body knew the trappings of the woods before your mind could even name them; thorny vines were ducked, wayward branches were parried, felled trees were vaulted. Even your long dress wasn’t a hindrance; you simply gathered the skirts high and tight to free your legs and keep the cloth from stretching branches. The only thing slowing your race home was your adrenaline beginning to weaken beneath the force of your exhaustion.

You burst forth from the Wood’s edge, scattering leaves and dirt and noise in your bid for speed over stealth. You could see the river close now, only a stretch of stony shore between you and safety. Not a single stride shortened despite the shrieking of your muscles or the begging of your lungs. You were beginning to boil in the heat of your blood pumping in your hands, feet, and head, but you would not slow, not even with the new glare of the sun making the air feel even more hostile. Your flight would continue as long as the flutters and caws of the ravens urged you on.

“Wait!”

You shrieked in response and slid right into the swirling current before you. Still furious and frigid with late spring melt, the river overwhelmed you, forcing a gasp from you at the shock to your system. Water flooded into your open mouth and nose, choking you as you spun until up was left, down, and sideways. Despite flailing for a chance at breath and life, your mind kept screaming, West, west, that came from the west!

Your saturated dress sunk you deeper in the toiling water. It gave the chaotic current more purchase to rip and tug you in every direction, bouncing your limbs off all the river’s hidden weapons. Rocks tripped your sandaled feet at every attempt to find footing and thudded against your shins and arms with each turn in the water. Skeletal branches from long submerged trees scraped at you and grabbed at your skirts. Each new hold on the cloth only ended with another old seam ripping and releasing you back to the whims of the river.

Reigning in your sense, you curled into a ball to keep your feet from shoving beneath a rock, trapping you, and to protect your head from smashing in on any of the great boulders that lurked under the water's surface. Just when your world was fuzzing away at the edges, one of those boulders found you and punched the last bubbles of air straight from your lungs.

Before the current could take you further, you used the last of your strength to spin and scrabble at the rough stone’s surface. The moment you got a grip you summoned every ounce of life in you and heaved.

With a crouping cough you broke the surface of the water. Great lungfuls of cold water scraped their way out of you. Through your heaving and gasping you drug your upper body to splay across the sun baked stone. It burned into your cheek and you couldn’t help but be thankful for the distraction from your raw throat and skinned fingertips. Everything but that sensation began to swirl and drift away into a distant fog.

Within that fog was a warm embrace. It wormed around your chest and lifted you away from the grounding heat under your cheek. You whimpered, agitating your tender throat, but couldn’t bring yourself to do anything further to protest. Sweet shushing soothed your mind, quickly replacing the comfort of your stone and covering the distant cawing. As you floated away, the steady rhythm of each hush set your sore lungs to breathe in soft waves.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The afternoon sun pierced right through your eyes the moment you opened them. Wincing them back shut, you changed your goal to taking stock of your injuries. Your whole body was throbbing, muddling the deeper hurts in a constant protest that sounded with each beat of your heart. Through the cacophony, you heard your right ribs screaming, your throat moaning, and your fingers sobbing.

You flexed your hands slowly to test them. They trembled and ached at your orders but followed through with no great spike in pain. Next, you shifted your torso in a minute rock from side to side. Your ribs punished you spitefully for the motion, but there was no telltale crackle of bone and you were able to keep breathing throughout your shimmying. Lastly, you began sucking in a deep breath to attend to your throat and lungs. You began hacking halfway through, earning more ire from your battered side.

“You’re awake!,” a relieved voice chimed. Gentle fingers traced your face, continually brushing from your skin into your hair. “Thank goodness. You haven’t been out long; it's only been a minute since I pulled you from the river.”

Your heart kick-started again, not caring the least bit about the man’s attempts to seem non-threatening. His claim as your savior did little too; wishing you death and wishing you harm were two separate things. Your pain quieted to a whisper as your awareness shifted to scouring the space around you for information. The ground under you was solid and your palms felt warm stone. The constant swish and rumble of rapids filled the air. I’m still on the riverside. Calm breathing sounded quietly from your left, only a foot beyond the fingers still caressing your face. He’s already recovered.

“You gave me quite the scare there, Bichette. I thought the river took you,” he whispered to you. “I’m so glad I ran back to the river instead of continuing in the woods.” The genuine care and worry in his tone only made your distrust grow. You instead trusted the continued caws from the treeline. His touch disappeared and you heard the grind of his shoes against the rocky ground as he stood up.

“Keep resting, Mademoiselle, I’m just going a short way down the river’s edge to see if I can spot us an easy way back.”

You counted each step he took away from you, every crackle on stone ramping your anticipation higher and higher. The roaring of your blood in your ears grew to match that of the river but his footsteps still cut through. You slowly bent your knees up to remove your sandals and plant your feet on the ground. Despite their exhaustion, your muscles listened when you tensed them. Your count was nearly there. Thirty! You flung yourself onto hands and knees then bolted.

“Stop! Please!”

You were much slower than before, having to drag the weight of your water-logged clothes, half-drowned body and freshly abused skeleton with you. Your lungs couldn’t keep up with even the diminished speed of your strides and you had to fight with each breath not to cough, yet the urgent calls of the ravens circling you pushed you on. The man’s thumping steps were quickly catching up, but you were almost at the treeline.

“You’re going to hurt yourself, chérie, please stop,” he tried again, begging through panting breaths.

One raven sped ahead of you and landed on a large branch with another loud call. You zeroed in on his choice - an old maple spreading high over its neighbors. Its branches started far above the ground, but that was no problem for you, even now. Your switch from sprint to climb was seamless; one step launching you from between the maple's snaking roots and the next propelling you just that much higher with a bare foot catching deeply against its sturdy bark. Ignored the warnings from your hands, you used knots and lumps for handholds, hauling yourself higher and letting your feet follow the same path. You didn’t let yourself slow until you were well mingled in the smaller branches of the tree, nearly forty-five feet in the air. The way the distance shrunk your pursuer gave you a small bit of comfort.

“I’d climb up there but you’d just jump out, wouldn’t you?” he called up to you.

As if to prove his point, you widened your stance and bent low, ready to flee at a moment’s notice. The three ravens flapped their wings in threat of flight. It was all mostly for show; your body was at the end of its rope.

“Ah, Bichette, what has you so scared?” he asked, voice and eyes mourning.

You bared your teeth at him and hoped that he was too far to see your watery eyes. The aches of your body were becoming too much; your bruised ribs stunted every breath, your flayed hands trembled and bled, your scraped toes weren’t far behind their damaged state, your abused throat burned at every scrape of air in and out, and your shaken head, as well as all below it, thudded with pain. The worst of your worries though was the wooziness creeping in on the edges of your mind in the wake of your adrenaline rush. Also the man below you, wrapped in his absurdly expensive clothes, which were just as soaked as your torn rags.

“You’re a strong one, I’ll give you that.”

You held your shaky snarl. The ravens flapped and cried.

“But even you need food, water, and rest after a chase like that. You nearly drowned,” he pressed, desperately trying to make you see reason. “I’m not going to hurt you, Mademoiselle, I promise.”

You continued to stare down at him with all the ferocity of a caged animal, and he sighed.

“You’re also going to want to get out of those wet clothes. Your laundry on the shore should be dried by now and I dropped my food there as well. There’s plenty to share. I can help you back to go get it,” he persuaded. “I’d go get it myself, but I don’t want you to disappear.”

You’d hold my clothes hostage to find me again, you grumbled internally. The three ravens stilled and took their time looking down at the man. After their analyzing, they took off, leaving you feeling truly cornered and alone. The man saw your face crumble as you watched them go and he ached for your sorrow.

“Well, neither of us are going anywhere, so-” he blew out a long breath and looked down at the tree’s base “-might as well get to know each other.” He found a spot he deemed worthy and settled into the cradle between two large swells of roots. He craned his head back to check on you and found you still staring down at him. He couldn’t decide if he preferred your teary glare to the lost look you sent the birds; both had him wounded.

“I’ll start,” he offered patiently, looking down to his hands fidgeting with his gold rings between his bent knees. “My name’s Sanji.”

He waited a good twenty seconds but received no response. He looked back up and you stared down.

“Can I have your name, chérie?” he pleaded gently.

He was met with more silence.

“Okay,” Sanji relented. “Okay, Mademoiselle, that’s fine. I’ll talk for both of us for now.”

He settled in deeper against the tree, continued his fidgeting, and wished he had his cigarettes.

“I’m a chef; feeding people is my greatest joy,” he started earnestly. “I was sailing the seas, feeding a patchwork crew. Our captain managed to find trouble everywhere he went, dragging us along with him toward his ridiculous dream.”

Sanji paused. You watched as he raked a hand through his shiny blonde hair and attentively took in the way his face softened into a fond smile. Craning further for a better look, you managed to see the sad scrunch in his brows conflicting with the upturn of his lips.

“He was dragging us towards our own foolish dreams, too, though. I want to find the All Blue,” he admitted. He looked up in time to see your incredulous look and the curious tilt of your head. They made him burst out in bright laughter at the dramatic shift in expression from you. You hated how pretty he looked like that.

“Yeah, that’s what I expected; most people think it's a fairytale.” He calmed his chuckles and asserted delicately, as much to himself as to you, “I know it’s out there though. It has to be.”

You fought hard against this man’s charms chipping away at your suspicions. Your complaining injuries helped keep you cautious, even through the strong pull of his placating eyes.

“Our captain would like you. Anyone with your tenacity catches his eye. He’d probably want to add you to his collection,” Sanji joked lightly. “You would fit right in; our navigator and archaeologist always respect a strong woman like themselves. Our musician and engineer are welcoming to new company. Our sniper and doctor might fear you a bit though.” He took a moment to think before looking down and grumbling, “And that damn mosshead would complain, but when isn’t he.”

You were about to start tuning him out, needing to defend yourself from being endeared, when his next words cemented your curiosity to the forefront of your mind.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’m stuck here.”

He sounded so heartbroken. You knew that sound; had heard it leaking from your father and brothers - from your own lips.

“My family-” he spit the word with potent vitriol “-found a use for me. Pulled me back here with a threat against my real family.”

You diligently tried to see the emotions in his face, but he kept it firmly turned from you, hiding away. You cursed him for adding a sad ache to your chest as if you didn’t already have enough pains. Looking again at his fine clothes, you began to wonder if they felt more like a trap than a trophy to him. Sanji turned back up to you and his heart stuttered at the first glimpses of compassion on your face. It made you even more beautiful.

“I-I’m sorry, chérie, I didn’t mean to make this a therapy session.” He chuckled awkwardly at his own foible, frustrated with himself for dumping his emotions on you but happy with the result. You decided with great conflict that his unsure smile was just as pretty as his laugh-scrunched face. He let that smile slide off of him, meeting you instead with a vulnerably relaxed face that looked so intrinsically forlorn. Seeing his bare humanity, you needed no further prompting.

Sanji watched in bewildered awe as you pursed your lips at him and sent him a warbling whistle. Your imitation was perfect; it sounded exactly like a robin greeting the sun.

“What…” he trailed off, still taken aback by the strange but sweet turn. “What does that mean?”

You finally allowed yourself to relax your posture and settled your beaten body to splay across the tree’s limbs. Your legs dangled around a few branches, allowing them some much needed relief, and you laid on your front, making it easier to keep your watchful eyes on the man below you. Bedding your forehead into your forearm, you offered a miniscule smile from tight lips before repeating the birdsong.

“It’s beautiful,” Sanji complimented. “Fitting for such a striking lady.”

You scrunched your nose disapprovingly at him and whistled out a piercing warning call.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed. “I just can’t help myself with-”

Avian shrieks split the air and you shot up to find their source. You easily ignored the whimper the action forced from you, but Sanji struggled to do the same.

“Ma chérie, please be careful-”

You spotted six flapping wings and laughed in bright joy, fully distracting Sanji from his worries. The flying forms looked odd; one had a bulbous blob by its head and the other two had billowing streams of color falling from them. You recognized the streams as cloth as they grew closer, but the final item remained a mystery. That raven landed the easiest, having nothing that would snag on leaves or branches. The other two were having much more trouble.

You giggled again at their hijinx, fully amused by their frustrated crying and hopping and flapping at the edge of the tree. To help them, you began weaving your way out towards them until you were at the limits of the branches’ strength to hold your weight. You reached your arm out as far as it would go, feeling the straining stretch in each joint, but still fell short of bridging the gap between you. The whole time, Sanji was calling up fretful and concerned warnings, which you easily ignored.

Despite your attempts to help, the two raven still just fretted about and progressed no closer to a solution. A shrill whistle cut their actions short and captured their attention. You held up two fingers to them then pointed to the smaller garment. They stayed still and you frowned at them with all the practiced disappointment of a school teacher. You repeated the actions with more gusto, this time finishing the display with a hand waving them toward you. Suddenly getting the memo, both ravens began working the same cloth in your direction, repeating the process of free-shift-snag until it was within your reach.

You grabbed the familiar green cloth and held it in front of you, recognizing an oversized men’s shirt. The ravens continued their work until you were holding a pair of loose beige pants too. You gave the two birds a loving pet and a quick kiss on their bowed heads in thanks. You slinked your way down to about thirty feet from the ground, seeking more open space between the branches to change out of your sopping and torn dress.

Sanji took in the whole exchange with wonder.

“You really are the Witch of the Wood,” he whispered reverently.

Your face twisted with confusion at the title and you rapidly shook your head.

“But your ravens!” he argued. “They all say the Witch has three ravens for familiars - that they help her spy on all who enter this stretch of forest.”

Well… he’s close, you admitted to yourself. You squeezed the excess water out of your ruined skirts (you hoped some would land on his head), removed your freezing underwear, and slid the pants on under your skirts. The top went on next, acting as a cover for you as you squirmed your arms out of the sleeves of your dress. Once that was accomplished, you began shoving the heavy material through the neck of the shirt. The process was frustrating; the wet material clung to you with every move, forcing you to make more and more and agitate your wounds further and further. When you finally managed to get it all out of the shirt, you shoved your arms through their holes and pulled the dress over your head.

Luckily, your quick work left a minimal transfer of moisture from your old outfit to your new one. The relief of mostly dry clothes felt even greater than you imagined, and you took great pleasure in balling the ruined fabric up and tossing it to ricochet its way down the tree, landing next to Sanji with a great plop. Staring at him again, you turned bitter at the reminder of the title he gave you. I am no witch. You wished you aimed for his head.

The deep crimson smears and fingerprints Sanji spotted on your discarded clothes refreshed his worry. He had gotten far too distracted trying to charm you and even more distracted once he saw your smile. Sometimes he regretted his overwhelming soft spot for women. Then he would see another woman and have that thought overwhelmed. C’est la vie.

“Bichette,” he cooed, hoping again to win you by charm, “ma chérie, please let me take you back. We need to get those wounds looked at.”

You looked down your nose at him then pointedly turned away, looking instead to the final raven bearing a gift for you. He was still holding tight to a cloth knot at the top of a parcel, but he had adjusted to rest its weight on the branch below him while he waited for your attention. You grabbed the parcel from him, immediately noting the intricate weave of the fabric beneath your fingers, matching well with the delicate patterns unfolding throughout it. This must belong to the expensive man at the foot of the tree. A shame to get bloody fingerprints on his fineries, you thought with sadistic glee. Serves him right for chasing me through my woods.

Untying the cloth proved easier on your fingers than your wardrobe change, they had turned to a monotonous pounding instead of the sharp alerts of pain sometime during your first challenge. Opening the wrapping revealed two containers of food, a smaller one sat atop the larger. First popping the top option open, you found two perfectly prepared pieces of meat on the bone. They were seared to perfection, browned just so, and smelled of gentle spices, just enough to enhance the natural flavor of the meat. You snapped the container back closed so you could check in the other. This one contained the most mouth-watering curry you’d ever seen or smelled, nestled in a thick pool next to fluffy white rice. You looked back and forth between the food and the man below with a raised brow.

“A quick lunch I whipped up,” Sanji responded to your unspoken question. You rolled your eyes at him, doubtful that anything in this meal could be made quickly. Maybe the rice. You wrote his dismissal off as showboating in a further attempt to woo you.

Having no silverware, you prepped your fingers as best as you could by dabbing them on the rich cloth, licking them to wet any dried blood or dirt, and repeating the process until only the barely there leak of fresh blood remained on your raw fingertips and broken nails. The process had them stinging angrily at you again, leaving you biting desperately on your tongue to hold back whimpers that still pushed through. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. The river water had rinsed them mostly clean, leaving only the layered mess of blood and the dirt from your climb.

Taking a clump of sticky rice, you scooped up a bit of the fragrant orange curry. The taste was just as divine as the smell and you moaned at the best food you’d had in years. You bit into a piece of the scrumptiously tender meat next, recognizing sea king, and you were yet again reminded of Sanji’s opulence. You had to admit to his good taste though; the meat from this variety of sea king leaned much more towards chicken than fish in both texture and flavor, absorbing the bold mix of spices in the curry perfectly. Judging by the vibrant tint to the meat, he set it in a well-crafted marinade as well. Had he not told you he was a chef before you got the food, you would have never believed this was the work of his own hands.

“At least I know you’re getting a good meal,” Sanji said. You were angered and endeared by his honesty. “I came to The Wood for a break. Before the rumors of the Wretched Witch of the Wood, this land and its river were known for their beauty. I can see why now.” He looked up to you with warm eyes and an affectionate smile. You snubbed your nose at him.

“Before I found you, my plan was to find the calm stretch of river, wade around, then sit and eat where absolutely nothing and no one needs me. I chose the food to bring the memory of some of my friends with me.”

You slowed your ravenous shoveling to stare at what was left of the curry with guilt twisting your gut. If it were just food you were taking, you’d happily rob this rich stranger blind, but memories were a different story. Your gaze roamed your three ravens, earning inquisitive coos from them with your misty eyes. You centered your gaze back on the massacred curry, feeling hot shame smother over you. A gentle beak nudged at your cheek.

Sanji let himself sit in the quiet following his confession. He was glad you slowed down, fearing you’d upset your stomach with a quick and filling meal, but he did have to admit, it warmed his heart how much the messy display reminded him of his captain.

While he had no great time to appreciate the beauty of the scenery before, he found the time now. Trees old and new clustered lovingly around each other in a long stretch, interwoven with blooming hedges of mountain laurel and patches of lacy ferns. Moss hugged the damp places of The Wood, keeping them warm and alive. The earth here was not soft; it was made of packed dirt, rock falls, giant boulders, and wrestling roots, but sweeps of dead leaves did their best to cushion the path of each resident.

The river that had previously felt so threatening and cruel now soothed him with its endlessly running waters. He was mesmerized as his eyes followed the shifts from a shrouding deep blue to frothing white and back again. The cycle felt endless and inevitable, stable and sure, outside the reach of time or the shortfalls of consciousness. It made him small, it made his problems small, and he found peace.

The whisper of rustling feathers broke him from his blissful mindlessness. Sanji turned to see one of your ravens nudging the mound of his tied cloth toward him. The reminder of you made him realize he hadn’t heard a peep from you since he started his zoning. He found you had fully turned your back to him and you were staying statue-still. Now slightly concerned, he reached for the cloth only to stop with a surprised yelp when the raven pecked his hand. It cawed mockingly at him before flying right back to your side.

Reaching cautiously despite the raven’s distance, Sanji grasped his cloth. Again, he looked at your bloodied fingerprints with a clenching heart, but he brushed past it as best as he could and untied the limp fabric. Laying out the cloth, he saw that it held the smaller of his food containers. Opening that, he found the two pieces of meat on the bone untouched. His cheeks ached with the force of his new smile.

“Thank you, ma chérie, you’re very kind,” he called up to you. He shook his head at your lack of response and began munching happily.

Hearing that he had begun his own meal, you were able to stomach the rest of your food.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

The sun had long since bruised the sky, its wounds showing the end of their healing in purples and blues instead of oranges and pinks. Sanji still sat stubbornly and dutifully at his post under your tree. You had succumbed to sleep a while ago, your body much too ravaged and worn to fight the need for rest any longer.

Seeing you’d fallen under, Sanji tried to scale the tree to bring you down and carry you back to get help, but each attempt was swiftly thwarted by stabbing beaks and talons. They first started as more of a threat, tugging at his clothes, but as he got bolder in his attempts so did the ravens. They found their courage to fight him and would not back down. Instead, Sanji backed off fully after a beak opened his hand for first blood and the other two readied their screeching weapons at each of his eyes.

Retreating from them, Sanji took his time to collect you some fresh water from a fast-flowing piece of the river in his rinsed container. He used the clean inside of his cloth to dry the excess from the outside of the sealed container before laying it carefully on the expensive fabric at the base of your tree like an offering. He stood before it and looked at you through the time passing around his frozen stance, wishing he could just decide what was best for you. Your ravens seemed to think it was not him, nor his wishes to take you away. They were adamant that you were best left to rest as the tree cradled you. He supposed this forest was your home, it fit for its pieces to care for you.

Then again, it was the very river of these woods that so readily snatched you up to steal you from the living.

Sanji waited until the sky had grown much darker than the deep blue of his eyes in the waning light to leave you. He feared more for your future than finding his way across the river and out of The Wood in the dark. Before he could tear himself away though, he had to take you in one more time, hoping the vision will last him until the next time he lays eyes on you. He grieved for the state of you; not just your new hurts but your patchy clothes, your frayed hair, your callused hands. He felt especially for the prominent ribs that greeted him when he wrapped his arms around you to free you from the river. His mind toiled with worries and indecision his whole trek back to the castle.

“Oh, Bichette, how am I going to help you?”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

End Notes: Robins can symbolize renewal, new beginnings, and finding joy as they are one of the first signs of spring. They are also part of the dawn chorus, announcing the sun each morning.

#sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji #writing collab #afab reader #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #opla #fem reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #my writing #opla sanji x reader

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bitterkarella · 1 year

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Midnight Pals: Final Girl

Stephen Graham Jones: Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this the tale of the girl who’s obsessed with slashers Jones: there’s this girl who just constantly talks about slashers Barker: oh that sounds really annoying Jones: Barker: like that sounds SO annoying

Jones: so one day she thinks she might be in the middle of her own slasher movie Jones: and she thinks oh shit this rules Jones: people are just gonna get murdered left and right Jones: this fucking rocks

King: so why’s she think she’s in a slasher movie? is there a killer on the loose? Jones: oh it’s cuz this hot virginal girl moves into town King: King: wait so not because anyone gets murdered? Jones: no just cuz this hot girl moves in Jones: i mean that’s usually the first indication that a slasher is around right? King: to be honest, it’s not usually the first thing I’d think of Poe: yeah that could indicate a lot of different things

Jones: so this hot but very pure girl moves into town King: and somehow that makes the slasher-obsessed girl think that she’s in a slasher movie come to life? King: but why would tha- Joss Whedon: [shrieking] SHE’S THE FINAL GIRL!!! Whedon: LET ME TELL THE STORY! Whedon: I KNOW ALL THE TROPES!

Jones: see, this girl knows the rules of a slasher movie Jones: so she knows how to- Joss Whedon: OH! OH!!! Whedon: OH!!!!!! Whedon: PICK ME!! PICK ME!! I have thoughts on this!! Jones: Jones: no Whedon: b-b-b Whedon: [weakly] b-but the tropes Whedon: [weakly] i-i need the tropes to live Whedon: [weakly] p-please Whedon: [weakly] the tropes Whedon: [pathetic cough]

Jones: also in the midst of this a whole herd of elk mysteriously dies Jones: possibly from overexertion during a pick up basketball game King: Poe: Jones: It could happen

Jones: so this girl sees some classmates going to a party Jones: so she puts on her michael myers mask and kind of stalks around in the background Jones: as you do

Jones: there’s a summer camp that was once the site of a slasher-type massacre. It was on the other side of the lake, up the road with the gas station, you know, the one old man McGee ran? He used to sell sodas in cans, not with the pop tops. With the pull tabs. They don’t make those anymore, you can’t even get them. King: so about that massacre Jones: this is what we call local color

Jones: so i had to take the ferry over to terra nova. so i tied an onion to my belt, as was the style at the time. we didn’t have white onions on account of the war Koontz: [crying] when are we gonna get to the massacre

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #stephen graham jones #joss whedon #stephen king #clive barker #dean koontz #edgar allan poe

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elliott-the-creature · 5 months

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Some WoF headcanons! (Pt. 1: Pyrrhian Dragons)

(Some of these ideas are mine, and some of these I’ve seen from others).

MudWings

Their colours can be browns, orangey-brown, greenish-brown, grey-brown, amber, jade green, and even brown-black.

Some MudWings can have crocodile-like snouts that are thinner and longer than regular MudWing snouts.

They have multiple rows of spikes along their back (like alligators and crocodiles).

Sometimes they can have webbed talons like SeaWings.

Due to their love of food, they’re one of the best chefs in the continent. They also love using lots of herbs and spices in their dishes.

MudWing royalty will wear bone/teeth jewelry, jewel piercings, cow pelt capes, flower crowns, and even antler crowns from deer, elk, or moose.

MudWings have tusks that they use to dig up plants and fight for mates.

Low class MudWings that struggle to make regular MudWing homes will dig undergroud or through the sides of cliffs/hills to make their homes.

SeaWings

They’re some of the biggest gossips in the continent and love to tell tall tales.

SeaWing families are very affectionate, and some parents are known to spoil their dragonets (which other tribes find weird).

Besides IceWings and SkyWings, SeaWings have the biggest hierarchical difference between lower and higher class dragons.

SeaWings that live near the surface/in reefs are more vibrant and have less need for Aquatic markings outside of communication (due to how bright their environment is). They also have weaker night vision.

Open ocean SeaWings look the most like an average SeaWing, and get bigger the deeper they live.

Deep-sea SeaWings are giant, and come in dark blues, navys, blacks, and even shades of red. They have the strongest night vision, and use Aquatic the most.

SeaWings have fish-like tails and sails along their wings and upper tail to help with navigation.

Due to them living primarily in the ocean, their wings are the least developed, and SeaWing dragonets fly much later than other dragon tribes.

SandWings

SandWings have the second hottest firebreath, only being beaten by SkyWings.

SandWing families are very distant, and many SandWing dragonets are orphaned shortly after hatching.

They have the best heat tolerance, and some SandWings can have fire resistance like blood-egg MudWings.

SandWings can have rattles near the end of their tail (right before their tail barb), and shake it when intimidated or angry.

They’re the most musical tribe, and have travelling bards (similar to IceWings).

Alongside SkyWings and SeaWings, they’re expert jewellers, and have very good reviews from even queens who buy their products.

SandWings are the most opposed to pets, and consider them a waste of space and resources. Thus, any dragon with a pet will most likely have their pet eaten or accidentally killed.

Many SandWings will have underground burrows to stay cool during the day, and will hunt in the evening/at night to avoid the intense sun.

SkyWings

SkyWings shed their scales the most of any tribe, and some dragons or even humans will collect the scales for jewelry or decorations.

SkyWings often have windchimes outside their home, and consider elegant designs and complex sound systems to be more desirable.

They have a very good tolerance to altitude sickness.

The hotter the SkyWing’s fire is, the lighter their scales are (like actual fire (I also love the idea that some SkyWings have blue or white scales due to how hot their fire is)).

They have the best eyesight, but have terrible night vision.

SkyWing eggs are more durable than other eggs from different tribes, and can even survive small falls from their nests (firescale eggs are more fragile though).

Their overall endurance is crazy good, and pride themselves on how well they can fly/fight.

SkyWings and water don’t mix whatsoever. They act like housecats when forced to go in water.

NightWings

Besides mind reading and future sight, NightWings born under new moons can have telepathy or past sight.

They’re super big on accessories, and often have lots of pouches and sacs filled with their favourite items.

A rare condition that NightWings can develop is something called Vampirism. Dragons with this condition crave blood and are super sensitive to sunlight (so they’re basically vampires).

NightWings born with albinism are often cast off by their parents or even killed due to being “impure” or “not fit for living”.

They have the weakest firebreath due to them spending the least amount of time under the sun.

NightWing scales under the sun are actually very vibrant, and shine in many different colours when in the right condition.

NightWings overheat often due to their scales attracting sunlight.

They have an interesting relationship with humans, and wish to study them more often and learn from them.

IceWings

Similar to NightWings, their scales are colourful under the sunlight.

They are the second best swimmers and can hold their breath for up to an hour.

Their horns can sometimes be segmented (like cervidae), and can be shed or broken off during spring and summer.

IceWings are very pompous and despise getting dirty.

They celebrate the winter solstice and love to have parties whenever something eventful happens.

IceWing royalty wear animal hides, gemstone jewelry, bone necklaces/bracelets, and shell jewelry.

The equivalent to firescales in IceWings is frostscales, where instead of burning things, they freeze things. And like fireless twins, frostless twins exist, and have a lower life expectancy due to them having poor cold resistance.

IceWings make igloos for non-IceWings to help them stay warm when staying in the IceWing kingdom.

RainWings (my favourite tribe!)

They are expert dancers and love to perform for others.

RainWings omnivores exist, but are more uncommon (these usually exist when the RainWing is a hybrid).

They are the best medics, and often have travelling medics that go around spreading info about medical herbs and treatments.

RainWings often become biologists due to how diverse their territory is, and have the most extensive knowledge about animals and plants.

Besides sloths, RainWings often own tropical birds, frogs, insects, and even wild cats (like jaguars and panthers).

RainWings are the second worst flyers, and are more used to gliding than full on flying.

Some RainWings have extendable tongues that they use to grab stuff with (like chameleons)

RainWings have sticky pads on their talons that are used to grip surfaces better (like geckos).

#wof headcanon #wof #mudwing #seawing #sandwing #skywing #nightwing #icewing #rainwing

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princesssarisa · 17 days

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Live action Snow Whites of past years (not a complete list, but almost)

*Hélène Du Montel, 1910 French silent film

*Marguerite Clark, 1916 Famous Players silent film

*Aimee Ehrlich, 1916 Educational Films silent film

*Elke Arendt, 1955 German film

*Inge Kanzler, 1959 German film

*Carol Heiss, Snow White and the Three Stooges, 1961

*Doris Weikow, 1961 German film

*Zeynep Değirmencioğlu, 1971 Turkish film

*Maresa Hörbiger, 1971 German short

*Mary Jo Salerno, Snow White Live at Radio City Music Hall, 1980

*Elizabeth McGovern, Faerie Tale Theatre, 1984

*Sarah Patterson, Cannon Movie Tales, 1987

*Natalie Minko, Schneewittchen und das Geheimnis der Zwerge, 1992

*Monica Keena, Snow White: A Tale of Terror, 1997

*Camryn Manheim, The 10th Kingdom, 2000

*Kristin Kreuk, Snow White: The Fairest of Them All, 2001

*Laura Berlin, Sechs auf einen Streich, 2009

*Ginnifer Goodwin, Once Upon a Time, 2011

*Lily Collins, Mirror, Mirror, 2012

*Kirsten Stewart, Snow White and the Huntsman, 2012

*Tijan Marei, Märchenperlen, 2019

@ariel-seagull-wings, @thealmightyemprex, @themousefromfantasyland, @the-blue-fairie, @the-dark-storybook-prince

#snow white #fairy tale #adaptations #live action #actresses

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snoutbleed · 6 months

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Telling a story takes guts.

Forensic photographer Sören Heinrich can’t ignore the nausea bubbling in his throat when documenting someone's darkest day. He loses sleep over the fates he captures but is drawn to the purpose vested in his grisly role. When blood-slicked prints become Sören's next subject, he finds a message that blurs the line between his personal and professional life.

"This is where I’ve been. Don’t follow."

Unable to fathom his long-lost brother’s crimson handwriting, Sören descends into the criminal underworld for answers. The young boar's inner demons guide him toward a morbid self-reckoning.

Direktion 2 has their work cut out for them.

Crime is on the rise in post-reunification Berlin. Among the cases, the Polizeidirektorate in the city's westernmost boroughs is baffled by freak murders at the hands of denizens without motive.

In the shadow of the Berlin Wall, the crime wave takes a supernatural twist behind the lock of a post-Soviet puzzle.

Camera flashes at the crime scenes reveal gruesome secrets stirring in the shadows.

Unravel the conspiracy in #LONG STORY SHORT.

#The Filing Cabinet -- scan the profiles of those in the know. #Bloodstained Polaroids -- view the images of lives gone astray. #Evidence Board -- learn the details of secrets best kept. #Mystery Signals -- behold the lore of the mind melt. Face the music in the official Long Story Short playlist!

Everyone gathers toward the Abschnitt.

There are several Polizei Berlin stations like the Abschnitt, but everyone tied to this supernatural symphony ends up near this Spandau station particularly.

Sören Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The black sheep of the Abschnitt. Sören’s abrasive nature keeps his co-workers at bay, a division widened by their western ideals clashing with his East German upbringing. He distances himself from the station through tight focus on his job, always the first to arrive at a crime scene. Don Jae Hale -- ( elk | tag | bio ) The silver-tongued Kriminalhauptkommissar of the Abschnitt. Hale is quick to dismiss the killings up until his leadership comes under siege by the paranoid public. Umeya Romanova -- ( fox | tag | bio ) The Bundeskriminalamt detective sent to assist with the Abschnitt’s mounting cases. Rumor says Umeya is there for more than the mystery, but her motives veiled by a callous attitude. Marieke Reiss -- ( rabbit | tag | bio ) The star psychology student barely escaped a killing. Now a key witness, Marieke can’t rest easy knowing she could be the next victim, driving her to take matters into her own hands. Reinhardt Müller -- ( donkey | tag | bio ) The Abschnitt’s disgraced ace detective, worn down and living in the grimy corners of Berlin. When crime spikes, Reinhardt tries to relive his “glory days" of detective work. Ukko Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The crime lord defends his territory with brutal but firm methods. He's sworn to his found family, the country's political rift making him protective to a fault. Vorwitz Albrecht -- ( bat | tag | bio ) A gardener with good banners but bad morals. Vorwitz's unsavory career choices put him in the Abschnitt, but he finds a way out with Sören.

Entropy knows no bounds.

Stop, look and listen: stories are everywhere. Behold my settings.

Face more madness in #TALES GONE STALE.

LAID TO WASTE -- an abomination stirs in the bayou, its secrets poisoning a township. THE WASTED LIVES -- a group of galactic fugitives embark on a never-ending getaway on a runaway cruiser. (Links need an update. Stay tuned.)

The mind behind the melancholy.

ACHTUNG! This blog is 18+ for gore and suggestive content!

You can call me Dissy (she/her). I'm a writer with stories and ideas always bouncing inside my head, especially this one. Feel free to ask me about myself, my writing, my characters, or anything else. I promise you I can bark up a tree for hours.

I also do Polaroid photography: check out @hogrot for my shots!

I also encourage comments, critique, etc. about this setting. I want to pace myself while writing this, therefore I have all the time I need to refine this where I can. I don't expect this story to come out for a while anyway, especially as I run it through critiques. Hell, this pet project wouldn't have come into fruition thanks to the feedback of some incredible friends.

Shoutout to PYRY for doing character design and art for this setting, as well as giving his ideas and characters for the Heinrich plotline. Go check out his killer art. This story wouldn't exist without him.

Another shoutout to @tsanapi, an incredible artist who drew the art pictured above. Her sense of style is so keen.

And a final thanks to you, the reader, for tuning into the mind melt. This signals wouldn't have picked up without you.

#wip intro #writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #story writing #furry writing #writing community #writer intro #long story short #furry #furry art #oc art #oc writing

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tamlinweek · 6 months

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Tamlin vs. Tam Lin: A Brief Retelling

Happy Spring Equinox! It is the first day of Spring in the Northern Hemisphere. The days are getting longer, the air is growing warmer, and the earth is growing greener. What better time to learn more about the inspiration behind our favorite High Lord of Spring than today?

O, I forbid you, maidens all That wear gold in your hair To come or go by Carterhaugh For young Tam Lin is there... ~Adapted from the translation of Child Ballad 39A

The Ballad of Tam Lin is an old Scottish folk tale about an enchanted young man who will be sacrificed by the Queen of the Faeries if his mortal love Janet does not save him at the crossroads at midnight on All Hallow's Eve. He says he was once mortal, but fell from his horse and was then taken to faerieland (which is why he is now the Queen's 'elfin knight' and thus cannot leave the boundaries of Carterhaugh).

While A Court of Thorns and Roses is primarily a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, it shares some qualities with the original Ballad. For example, Tamlin can change his shape at will. His beastly form is described as part wolf, part bear, and part elk. In the Ballad, Janet must free Tam Lin by pulling him down from his horse and holding tightly onto him while the faeries forcibly change his shape. If she lets go, her claim on him is forfeit. Depending on the telling, these shapes include:

a wolf

a bear

a lion

a serpent (sometimes a newt, a toad, and/or an eel)

a swan

a hot coal

When Janet at last succeeds, the Faerie Queen laments that had she known that Tam Lin would be stolen back, she would have replaced his heart with one of stone. (Or, more gruesomely, depending on the version, that she wished she had taken his eyes and replaced them with wooden ones.) Sound familiar?

What did the Faerie Queen want him for, anyway? According to the Ballad, the faeries sacrifice someone every seven years as a Tithe to Hell. Tam Lin believes that he is that year's Tithe, and it turns out to be true (because he is just that good-looking - and yes, that is canon!). In ACOTAR, the equally handsome Tamlin has seven times seven years to find someone who can free him from Amarantha's lustful claim upon him, or he is hers forever.

So, how exactly did he find someone to free him from such a fate? As we all know, ACOTAR's Feyre took an innocent life, so she had to cross the Wall to spend the rest of her life in Prythian. In the original Ballad, it's a little more complicated.

The story begins with Janet's father giving her the land containing Carterhaugh, the woods within which the legendary Tam Lin resides. He is said to collect a payment of any maiden passing through (usually her maidenhood ie virginity). From the way the Ballad is written, it seems that Janet seeks him out intentionally. For she has "kilted her green kirtle [skirt] above her knee", and green is said to be the faeries' color. Her hair is also described as yellow (ie blonde ie gold), and she has braided it above her brow in a most flattering way. When Janet searches Carterhaugh and doesn't find Tam Lin, she plucks a double rose that she finds nearby. He appears to tell her that she has taken something that belongs to him, and she sternly replies that the woods are hers to do with as she likes.

The Ballad does not go into detail, but upon returning to her father's house, Janet learns that she is pregnant. Because she does not want to marry anyone else, she returns to Carterhaugh to either find an herb to induce an abortion, or otherwise confront Tam Lin (sometimes both, depending on the version). When she asks him if he was ever human, he says he was, and the only way he can be human again (so that he can "be the baby's father") is if she frees him before he is sacrificed on All Hallow's Eve (as mentioned above).

With all this in mind, it's easy to see where Sarah J. Maas got the inspiration for her version of the story. While ACOTAR's Tamlin was never human, and never became human, he did need rescuing by someone who loved him enough to hold onto him until the end. At least until Book 2, *cough, cough*.

So well she minded what he said, And young Tam Lin did win; She covered him with her green cloak, As glad as a bird in spring. ~Adapted from the translation of Child Ballad 39A

So, there you have it! What other similarities have you noticed between the original Ballad and A Court of Thorns and Roses? Are you excited for Tamlin Week? Remember, it's happening on April 14 - 20, and you can find the prompts here. Happy Spring!

#the ballad of tam lin #tamlin #pro tamlin #tamlin week #tamlinweek

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 2 years

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Thranduil and Moose strolling through his gardens

#lee pace #king thranduil #thranduil and his elk #thranduil and moose #fantasies #fairytales #magic #fairy tales #thranduil fanfiction #fantasy fanfic #the hobbit #the elvenking #mirkwood elves #king of the woodland realm

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whencyclopedia · 4 months

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White Bull

White Bull (Tatanka Ska, l. 1849-1947) was a Hunkpapa Lakota Sioux warrior, nephew of Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890), who is among the many claimed to have killed Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer (l. 1839-1876) at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. He may also be the main character in the well-known Cheyenne tale An Eagle's Teaching.

White Bull participated in several engagements with the US military, including the skirmish at Arrow Creek by the Yellowstone River (Elk River) in 1872 between Sitting Bull and Custer. White Bull is the primary source for the famous story of Sitting Bull's "smoking party" during that encounter at which he demonstrated his complete contempt for Custer and his men by calmly smoking his pipe with others, including White Bull, within range of Custer's men as bullets whizzed and thumped into the earth around them.

He also fought in Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) alongside Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, Two Strike, Roman Nose (Cheyenne Warrior), Cheyenne chiefs Morning Star (Dull Knife) and Little Wolf (also known as Little Coyote), among others, including the Cheyenne warrior Wooden Leg who is another contender for the title of the person who killed Custer at the Battle of the Little Bighorn, the most famous engagement of the Great Sioux War of 1876-1877.

After the Battle of the Little Bighorn, White Bull followed his uncle and others, including Sioux war chief Gall (l. c. 1840-1894) into exile in Canada. He eventually returned, earlier than the others, and surrendered to US authorities. He later became a judge and an advocate for the claims of the Sioux concerning the Black Hills. Like Two Strike (l. c. 1831-1915), White Bull's participation in the resistance to US westward expansion has been overshadowed by narratives of his more famous contemporaries.

He is best known today for his contributions to Stanley Vestal's Sitting Bull, Champion of the Sioux (1932), a biography of his uncle, and for Lakota Warrior (or The Warrior Who Killed Custer), his autobiography (1998) edited by James H. Howard. The activist Floris White Bull (Floris Ptesan Hunka), presently engaged in protests against abuses of Native Americans by the US government, is his direct descendant.

Early Life & War

White Bull was the son of Hunkpapa Sioux Good Feather (Sitting Bull's sister) and Miniconjou chief Makes-Room in the region of the Black Hills of modern-day South Dakota. His birth name was Bull-Standing-With-Cow, but, when he was 16, he "counted coup" on three enemy warriors (striking without killing them) and was given the name White Bull by his uncle Black Moon. He also took at least ten horses from the enemy during this engagement. The theft of horses from other nations (including the United States) counted toward one's status, wealth, and personal or communal power.

Little is known of White Bull's life prior to the 1860s as later writers tended to interview him mainly on his famous uncle. He fought with Crazy Horse (l. c. 1840-1877) at the Battle of the Hundred-in-the-Hands (Fetterman Massacre) on 21 December 1866 and was also present at the Wagon Box Fight (2 August 1867) during Red Cloud's War. After the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868, White Bull continued his resistance to the genocidal policies of the US government through various raids and skirmishes but, among these, is best known for his account of Sitting Bull's "smoking party" at Arrow Creek in 1872.

#History #WhiteBull #SittingBull #Sioux

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tamurilofrivendell · 1 year

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Sleeping Beauty | Chapter 11

Previous Chapters [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10] Read on AO3 [x]

Pairing: Thranduil/Fem. Reader Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired tale with Thranduil the Elvenking, and a female elf living in Mirkwood under the care of Radagast, who is actually the ‘lost’ daughter of the late High King Gil-Galad. Taglist: @hufflepuff1700 @jinlizz-dragondrama @firelightinferno @bubbleyukismile @coopsgirl @achromaticerebus @sleepyamygdala @smalltownbigheart @qmabailor @genderfluid-anime-goth a/n: I’ve been a little behind on this one and I’m sorry!! My hyperfixation on another fic (and struggling to try and force myself to edit two first drafts of original novels) has made me blind to everything else which was obviously unintended when I started this, but I still have the outline in my drafts and I will finish it don’t worry.

The forest was quiet as Thranduil and his elk travelled beneath the trees. He was furious. No, he was absolutely livid. Who did Radagast think he was? Stupid wizards, always meddling. Thranduil knew deep down that Radagast did not intend to cause him true pain but, once more, his mind was seriously fixated upon that day in Lindon. The day he had witnessed the princess and the two queens die. However, his fury also stemmed from something else, something that neither had said but was very much present in his mind.

“-help her as your father would have wanted - as your mother would have wanted.”

Thranduil knew very well how his parents would want him to help her, particularly his mother. They would wish him to give the princess sanctuary and aid, which he knew was the correct thing to do and he would do it, but they would also wish him to honour the terms of the marriage they had arranged between the two. To strengthen the bonds between the Noldor and Sindar even further, which had really been one of the only things the two queens had ever wanted.

Thranduil would not, of course, force the princess into anything but... he knew without even having to ask that Radagast was already thinking it and that he could be crafty in getting his way, perhaps he was feeding the princess the story right this moment. Thranduil knew, too, how such a thing could work in everyone’s favour and he knew that it would honour the memory of all four of their parents, and perhaps help this girl who had been secreted away for well over 3,000 years without any titles, her name practically lost to history.

However, the source of his anger was not directed at the poor princess herself, not at the idea of marrying a complete stranger, but at what such an alliance would take from him.

You.

He recalled his thoughts of how he had never taken a queen, when the Enchantress revealed to Radagast her ire at his father’s apparent sin against her by not allowing her to marry his son. He recalled how his mind had conjured up the image of you, singing in the glade while picking berries, and he realised now why the thoughts had come to him - because he had quite obviously developed some sort of feelings towards you.

Thranduil came then to the clearing where he often met you, sliding from the back of his elk with a sigh as he looked around and realised that you weren’t here as he had hoped you would be. He stepped to the side and sat down upon a fallen log, leaning forward with his hands clasped, sitting for a time just staring down at the forest floor.

“You look gloomy.”

Thranduil quickly lifted his head at the sound of your voice, looking up just in time to see you stepping into the clearing. He smiled. “It has been a very long week...”

“Ah, so that’s why you haven’t come to see me.” You trilled, moving to sit next to him. You didn’t mean it in a bad way, you were not hurt by it or anything, but something in you had missed him greatly. You had become quite charmed by him and enjoyed the times you could spend in his company.

Thranduil chuckled. “I do apologise, my lady.” Running a kingdom was busy, he thought ruefully, though he still did not say it. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell you. Truthfully, he didn’t know what you must think of him, but he knew for sure you did not know he was the Elvenking. Perhaps you thought him a guard.

A soft laugh escaped your lips and you shook your head. “You don’t need to be sorry. I have perhaps become too used to your company.”

Since that first day Thranduil had come across you here, singing with the animals, he had probably come a lot more than he would normally otherwise have walked the forest. Something had just continued to pull him to you, and he had been drawn to this clearing of yours a number of times as the weeks had passed you both by. Then it had seemed only natural, it had become routine. He only wished he had not had the stress of the Enchantress and the past clouding the meetings, though he supposed now perhaps he should stop coming... the thought saddened him.

“Besides.” You continued, shooting him an amused glance. “We’ll always have our dreams.”

Thranduil laughed then, the first one since Radagast came to his halls and told him all about his last meeting with the Enchantress. He was pleased you remembered, truthfully, his silly little joke from before. Once upon a dream.

“Yes.” He chuckled, reaching out to take hold of your hand. “So we shall!”

As he took your hand, you were both suddenly struck by a most peculiar feeling that went jolting through the both of you. It felt like a real, tangible thing, a bolt of lightning. You quickly snatched your hand back in surprise and Thranduil frowned down at his own in confusion. “Did you...?”

You nodded, glancing up at him curiously. “What was that?”

“I do not know.” Thranduil muttered, pulling his hand back as he considered. It could not be... could it? He lifted his gaze and found your eyes on him. He smiled softly. “Lothíriel, I... I have come to greatly enjoy your company over these last weeks, and I...”

Here he trailed off and you wanted to push him to continue but all speech seemed to have been taken from you somehow. The clearing was silent for a long few moments then, the birds in the trees above poking their curious beaks down through the leaves to hear the king’s confession.

“I find you absolutely enchanting.” He admitted, looking back up at you. “From the very first day I saw you, I think I just... knew.” It seemed unfathomable to say such a thing, but a lot of elves had felt that way through history. Why, his own father had looked once upon his mother and instantly loved her as if he simply always had. It was as if their souls had known each other before they even met... and Thranduil suddenly came to the realisation that if he married Gil-Galad’s daughter then he would forever regret leaving you in this forest. He would always think of you, he wouldn’t be able to move on. That would not be fair to her, or to you, or to himself.

“Knew... what?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as you blinked back at him. You did not have much experience with others, or feelings like you were beginning to have, other than Thranduil... but you did not need to, really, as it seemed to sort of be a kind of instinctual thing.

Thranduil reached out to take your hand again, brushing his thumb gently over your palm. You shivered slightly and he lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes. “That I... that I am meant to love you.”

You could only stare at him in shock as the words passed his lips. “You... truly?!”

Thranduil nodded. “Truly.”

You were at a loss for what to say, not because you did not feel joyous or warm from the words he spoke, but simply because you were just no good at this. He did not seem to mind, almost as if he read what you were thinking in your eyes.

“Would you allow me the honour of courting you, my lady?” He ventured next.

You blinked at him, thinking that you should pinch yourself because it simply did not feel real. What could this interesting, worldly warrior possibly see in you?! Some random elleth who barely had any social skills the day he met her. You cast your mind over the time since then - every smile and lingering look - and you nodded, practically beaming at him. “Yes! I... I would like that very much.”

His smile grew slightly and you watched as he stood from the fallen log and extended an arm towards you.

“Dance with me.” He said suddenly, taking hold of your hands and pulling you to your feet.

You laughed and let yourself be pulled, and there in the clearing where you first met, you and he danced beneath the swaying blossom trees while the animals watched on.

That evening, you returned to the cottage with the brightest smile on your face. Your cheeks were rosy red and a blackbird was sitting atop your hair as you burst into the little house, causing Radagast to jump in the air and turn around very abruptly from his place at the counter. You were humming as you walked towards him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Good evening!” You smiled brightly as the blackbird jumped from your head down to the table. “Do you need any help?”

“What’s got you in such high spirits?” Radagast wondered. Why, you were practically floating!

A gleeful giggle escaped you as you reached for him, taking hold of his hands and pulling him into a little waltz across the kitchen floor. His steps were clumsy in contrast to your smooth ones but he couldn’t help but chuckle anyway, glad to see you happy... and safe. He had allowed you into the forest, though not without much back and forth in his own mind. However, he knew that soon you would be in Thranduil’s halls and would not have the same freedoms to visit your favourite places in this forest. Not until the Enchantress was gone.

You were humming as you danced with him and then you pulled back, smiling brightly at him as he watched you with curious eyes. “Oh, you’ll never guess!” You said, still a little nervous of his reaction but you knew that now was the time to tell him. “Wait until you meet him!”

“Him?” Radagast’s smile began to fade a little as he tilted his head at you. “What do you mean? Who? You have met some stranger?”

You shook your head, spinning on the spot once and then coming to a stop as you looked back the wizard. “Oh, no! No, he’s not a stranger. I mean... not anymore.” You clasped your hands together, truly hoping that Radagast would come to understand. “I have met him many times now, in the clearing. I should have told you, I’m sorry, but he is honourable. I swear. He wishes to court me, uncle! I promise, you do not have to worry! He’s coming tomorrow night, you can meet him and-”

Radagast, however, looked stricken. “Oh, my dear child...” He said sadly. “Oh, no... no. That can never be.”

You paused, your smile falling away, replaced by a soft frown. “What do you mean? Why not?”

“Well, you... you are already betrothed, my dear.” He said quickly. “From birth. To... to the Elvenking.”

“What?!” You could not understand his words because they quite simply made no sense. “No... h-how can I marry a king? I would have to be...”

“A princess.” Radagast said simply, watching the confusion on your face grow tenfold. “You are a princess.” He continued. “And I am sorry for keeping the truth from you but it was necessary. Please... listen to me.”

Radagast’s brow set into a deep frown as he looked back at you, the crestfallen look on your face, the hurt swimming in your eyes. Still, you didn’t run away and shut yourself in your room like you wished to. You stayed standing firmly before him as you waited for him to continue, to give you some explanation, willing him to make this all make sense.

Radagast sighed, his heart heavy with sorrow, for he knew that the time had now come to tell you everything.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil fanfic #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #sleeping beauty

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