#i think if it was up to Willow they would have been trapped in that uncertain limbo forever. shes too scared to take the plunge

[gremlingottoosilly]

Eat your Young (viking!Konig x fem!Reader)

You weren't afraid when the Vikings came. Your ruler pays them well, and they protect you from enemies far worse - there is nothing to worry about as you, an unmarried maiden, wander into the embrace of one of them. They are on your side. Right? Tags and CWs: Age gap, size difference, Konig is a bit obsessive and a huge perv, mentions of violence, Vikings Are Actually Kinda Nice No For Real, hand jobs, oral sex, naked man/clothed woman, slightly historically inaccurate, jokes about inbreeding Thanks to @angelbabysblog for the idea. I changed quite a lot because I was reading articled about how many of the Slavic cities were actually cool with Vikings and worked with them AO3

The Vikings are here. Your Father never allowed you to meet them before – as an unmarried girl, even if you’re already of age, it would be…scandalous. Not smart. Dumb, really – everyone knows that girls that are messing with the warrior from overseas often end up being taken away. And you couldn’t survive sea travel. The Vikings are here, but it’s not really a problem – you know that there are other countries over the sea, the countries that die and burn every time a ship is sailed in their harbors. You also know that you do not live in a country like that. That sound of Vikings approaching is a good one – that you’ll be protected from the other enemies your country has. You always stole glances, despite what your father has told you – you were a curious thing, always searching for trouble, always interested in everyone outside of your small village. You’re on the border – stuck between sea and great plains, open for any enemy if it weren’t for mercenaries who deemed this place as worthy of their camp. They live here, occupying the territory outside – even build themselves houses, despite every rumor calling them nothing more but overseas barbarians who would tear you down for a flick of a coin. 

Well, you always thought you’d have nothing to worry about – you are not made of coins, after all. The Vikings had a leader, the one that stayed in the long house just outskirts of the village – the one that would always visit the elders, discussing the payments and the spoils of war. Father always punished you if any nosy neighbor would see you sneaking out to look at the warriors – but you couldn’t care less. If you are going to end up in a marriage with a fool, you could at least steal a few looks at the real men. Not the ones from your village – they felt more like brothers than anything else. Some of them were – second, third, fourth, just diluted enough to make the babies a bit less disfigured. 

But, oh, nothing compared to the vikings. You see them when you run for the lake, far from the shore. They are clean – cleaner than sailors from Byzantine who sometimes stumbled upon the small village by the sea. You think you heard them talking about how cleanliness is a sin – and just how silly it sounded. You think you didn’t like people from this place very much – sailors were often drunk, always handsy and never spared a kind word without an insult…not that you knew their language – but you are smart enough to know that if a man is attempting to grasp your breasts while sneering something through his teeth, it won’t be a love poem. 

— What are you doing here? 

Ah. 

You were spotted. Like a fox in a hunter’s trap – you are standing in the tall water grass, looking at the man through the weeping willow branches. Maybe, if you are lucky enough, he’d think you were a mavka, trying to drown him – some men were foolish enough to fall for the act, sparing you the consequences of your curiosity. You aren’t sure if the Vikings have legends of mavkas – if they even have lakes back where they are from. All travelers are mixed in your head – desserts, great plains, barbarians who would steal your sisters if you’d been blessed with some. Sea beasts who will take you on your ship, away from your father and…ah, it doesn’t sound too bad. 

— Can’t you talk? 

His voice is rough, and accented. Younger than you thought he would be with a body like this – a seasoned warrior, ginger hair covering his muscular chest and a small trail falling down his…

Viking knows your language. Shouldn’t be surprising – they are working for the elders and your ruler, after all. They get gold from your village, they get food from your village. They get sons – you heard about at least some of the women falling pregnant to the guests overseas. No one dares to say anything against it – but the rumors are still falling. You wonder if it’s as bad as it sounds. — I can talk. 

This sounds dumb, but there is no use in hiding. Your intentions weren’t innocent – you are curious and curiosity is what leads to the devil. Or god of death. Or goddess – you are not well-versed in matters of spirit and while half of your village is still worshipping old gods while the other preaches about new, stronger ones, you wonder what kind of beliefs Vikings have. You heard their women can wield magic – and can count. And read. You would love to read, you think. — Gut. Thought I spotted a Margygr.

The word is weird. Rough. You don’t know what that is, but you certainly aren’t one. You take a step forward, not caring that your linen dress is getting drenched in water – not caring about what your father might say after. You would just tell him you wanted to go and drown since he was so adamant on marrying you off to some one-eyed half-wit quarter brother of yours. He wouldn’t be surprised – and you probably wouldn’t be missed. A whore to be, as some older women from your village would say. 

— What is that? 

He tilts his head to the side, his blue eyes looking at you. You notice a piece of cloth in his hands – something that must have been covering his face, you think. He is covered in scars and dirt, blood from some battle is getting washed away into the water of the lake. Gods, you say to yourself – you won’t even be drinking from it again. Although you promised it to yourself a few years ago already, when you spotted a dead deer lying in the water – and it’s not like you held to your promise. Better than seawater, after all. — A…drowned creature. Drowning creature. Your people are calling them… — Oh. Mavka. — Others call it mermaid. Selkie. Mermaid sounds harsh too. Rude. Other languages are rude – still, you would like to know more. Still, you would like to do anything to get out of your village. Learn to read. To write. Maybe hold a baby goat close to your chest and not have it ripped away for the nearest dinner. 

— I’m not…that. 

— I can see. 

He laughs and you steal a peak at his manhood. You should be ashamed, really – if your dear mother was alive, she’d beat you up for being so immodest. If your dear mother was alive, you wouldn’t be allowed to sneak out like that – but she isn’t, so you stare at the man who can crush your skull in one hand. You stare at the trail of ginger hair going down his waist. The muscles flexing and the scars on his hips, glossy from cold lake water. 

Hm. 

Is it supposed to be this big? 

He coughs and you peek to look at him again. Coughing isn’t good – he can be sick. Contangenous. There is a sickness coming around from sailor to sailor – you wonder if vikings have it too. You don’t want to get sick – but it would surely keep you out of marriage for a long while. Maybe, if you’re lucky enough, you could be buried like a pretty maiden. White dress and mourning relatives. That would teach them how to send you off to marry some dumb cousin you never knew before. Or knew too well. — You shouldn’t come here, Schatzen. 

— Why? 

— My men won’t be as nice as I am when they see a maiden in the lake. 

You smile, tilting your head to the side. There are rumors – you can’t invite foreign mercenaries into your country without them taking their toll on the locals. Some people like them, some people are scared of them. Some are going out of the ordeal pregnant and some are not returning at all. But, you can run. But, this is your lake. You like it here – the quiet, the tranquility. You think that if your father proceed with calling you an old bride who should be married as soon as possible, you could just run away and live here. Fish is nice and there are berries when it’s not too cold. — Where are your men? 

You never saw Vikings in battle. Never saw a group of them up close – you’d like to, of course. There are warriors in your village, but their best shot is wolves and deer. Not other men – you think you’d like to see war sometimes. Maybe, all the boys of age would die and you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You would be nice as a local witch – or a local healer. Old hag sounds nice too. — Around. Waiting for the order. — What order? 

You ask so many questions, König thinks. Pretty thing – smart, too. You aren’t afraid of him, even though you have to be. Most women would be screaming and crying if they saw someone like him in the lake next to them. Not Viking women of course – but people from around here are soft. Cherished. Coddled. You also seem soft, too soft, too gentle – a woman living in a small village on the shore without a husband shouldn’t be this careless. König knows you’re just lucky that the ruler of your country is kind enough to pay the overseas mercenaries instead of suffering the pillaging. Not all of people are this lucky. 

If he won’t get a promised weight in gold this village won’t be lucky either. 

König looks at your sweet face, at the way your eyes constantly dart to his crotch. Curious little thing you are – he isn’t sure if he is that happy that the payments have been consistent up to this point. That he can’t just screw this all over and demand a payment in other ways. That pillaging this village and taking all of its women isn’t really an option while they get their gold from here. Your long linen dress clings to your skin - you’re shaking, he notices. From cold, probably, dumb lady who is too curious for her own good. Hm. He has furs not far from here. He can…

— We’re protecting the shore. The border, too. You smile, nodding. And here he thought the locals knew why the foreigners were here – but he can’t expect too much, he guesses. At least it seems like you haven’t heard of most of his accomplishments. The rivers of blood would be enough to fill this whole lake three times. Or, maybe, you heard – and didn’t care, brave and fearless little thing. König likes the sound of that. 

— Are you cold? 

You ask him, to his surprise. Your gaze is switching from his face – he is open, cheeks flushed from the cold and a maiden right next to him, and he can’t even find it in himself to cover his scarred mug – to his cock. It’s standing proudly, heavy, balls hanging low as if asking to be held in your soft palms. König isn’t embarrassed – but he is surprised that your body, showing only a little bit in that dress of yours, is already enough to make him this bothered. This ready to give up the supposed protection of this village and take what’s his. — You can warm me. 

You tilt your head to the side, mimicking his action from earlier. Curious bird – he could keep you at his ship. Tied up to the post, ready for anyone to use you. You’re strong, and resilient. Should survive the long way home – and he is getting quite ready to find someone at last. If the ruler of your little kingdom won’t be as stingy as the previous one, König can walk away with a sack of gold hanging on his shoulder. Enough for him and for him men. Surely enough to sway you. — How? 

— Do you have a husband? 

He knows, you probably don’t. A husband wouldn’t allow his wife to run around and flirt with other men – and if König was yours, he surely would keep you locked in like the treasure you are. There is too many men ready to take what doesn’t belong to them. 

— No. And I won’t.

— Why? — Soon I will be too old to be a bride anyway. Not that I want it. He laughs at that. Surely, little bird, it wouldn’t be your choice. If the luck is on his side, it wouldn’t even be the choice of your father. — Touch me, Schatzen. You want it, ja? 

He says this with more awkwardness than before. Swaying women by his side isn’t his strong suit – and even with his strength, not many of them would just throw themselves at him. Being a mercenary leader might bring him money but with the whole team consisting of equally strong and handsome men, the broody leader usually isn’t the first choice. He gets his fill eventually – but not the one that would make his heart flutter. With you, however… Your hands are traveling down his abs. Caressing every bit of skin you see – sending goosebumps down his navel and straight to his hard and leaking cock. He wonders if you’ve done this before – but your actions are the one of an explorer, not a professional. YOu grab his cock with both hands almost as if strangling him, and König lets go with a choked moan. 

You retrieve your hands, nervous. Good girl. Eager, pretty. Such a shame this village usually pays its tolls. — Are you hurt? 

— Nein, it’s…go on. You proceed to touch him, the softness of your touches is making him groan from pleasure. This is something else – you’re something else. Having the power to bring a seasoned warrior to his knees – god, how much he liked the way you looked at him. Eager and curious, always going down to touch his cock some more. You press your palm together, making s steady rhythm – using the pre-cum from his cockhead like a lube. 

König relishes in the feeling – he might be one of the strongest soldiers, but it was the first time he felt victorious. With your hand pumping his cock up and down, the pleasure settling in his stomach and threatening to burst, he felt like a king. No, the king. Gods, you were beautiful. Worthy of throwing this village into the fire for. Worthy risking the payment. Your mouth is warm on his manhood – he didn’t expect you to be this active, to wrap your lips around the bulging head and bop your head just a bit. Up and down. Tongue swirling, as if tasting him. Making him sweat that you will decide to take a bite out of it, just to satisfy your curiosity. To his peace, you didn’t. He came shortly after you decided to put your mouth on him – when your tongue started to swirl around and collect the bitter taste of his pre-cum. When your curiosity about foreign warriors bathing in your lake finally made you do something about it – and he would feel bad about pressing a hand in your hair and forcing you to choke on his length, your nails digging small red paths in his pale thighs. You choke and squirm and cry and this is the sweetest sound he ever heard – so when he finally drags you away from his cock, smiling as you wipe your mouth and whimper. Squirm again, some more. The light in your faded a little as he pushed one calloused finger into his mouth and pushed your lips apart. Poor thing, he thinks. — You did good, little bird. 

His seed tastes weird on the tongue. You wince, but swallow – it’s what good brides should do, you think. Somehow, looking at this warrior, you don’t feel so bad about being considered a bride. Maybe…no. You stalled here for long enough – you saw the Viking. You touched him. Tasted him. Father is probably looking for you. 

You don’t even bother to say goodbye as you come out of the water – but König stops you right on the edge of the lake, firm hand on your shoulder. Squeezing. Touching. Feeling. 

— I…I apologize, maiden. I lost control. 

His voice is hesitant. You don’t like how unsure he sounds. It made you feel unsure too. Weird. Uncertain and meek. 

— Are you going to leave soon? 

He stops mumbling, looking into your eyes. This is settled – he is not leaving you here. You must return to your family, say your goodbyes. Maybe enjoy a few weeks of peace before his troupe finally gets a clearing on killing whatever enemies grouped at the border – and he will take you no matter the payment your ruler can give him. Nothing will be worth more than you. 

— Yes. Yes, I will. You turn away, almost running. He didn’t stop you this time – you need to get as much freedom in your lungs as you can. He will take you eventually and, well…you best enjoy freedom as much as you could before this. 

When your village will burn along with all the cousins, half-triple brothers, and elders, you’ll find out why most countries fear the Vikings. When you will be hauled to the wooden ship over a giant’s shoulder, with his hand sitting firmly on your ass and his other palm preventing you from screaming, you’d know why taking the attention of overseas mercenaries is a bad idea. When your ruler would refuse to pay the warriors for their service and force them to just take everything by force, you’d know why making payments on time is so important. 

When König would finally make you his wife, you’d understand why you should have drowned in that lake instead. 

[coraniaid]

In Season 1's Witch Buffy insists on defending Amy's apparent use of magic, even when she thinks she's been cursed by a life-threatening spell that Amy cast on her. "It's not Amy's fault," Buffy tells her friends, "She only became a witch to survive her mother".

This is an interesting moment for a couple of reasons. It's one of the last few times on the show that anybody will stand up for Amy Madison, a character who, despite going through multiple horrific experiences through the course of the show, is treated with considerably less sympathy or respect than .... well, take your pick, honestly: I'm not sure I can think of a recurring character the show consistently has less empathy for. But also, of course, Buffy is factually wrong: it wasn't Amy who cast a spell on her at all, but rather her mother Catherine who, we later learn, used magic to steal her daughter's body "a few months ago" and imprisoned her in own home in an attempt to relive her own high school glory days.

But it's also, I think, a possible bit of unintentional foreshadowing. Later on in the show, Amy will go on to become a witch. Not just any witch but, by the standards the show will later adopt, a surprisingly powerful one: already by her second appearance Amy seems to be able to cast spells that the Willow Rosenberg of Season 3 and 4 would have struggled with (the turning people into a rat and back one in particular), and Willow is clearly meant to be some sort of prodigy.

The show never bothers to ask how or why this happened. Amy presumably had access to her mother's old spell books (in the same way Willow was initially teaching herself from Jenny Calendar's notes), but until some point in Season 3, when she starts doing magic with Willow and Michael, Amy doesn't seem to have had any one else helping her. (Although one slightly depressing possibility raised -- I think unintentionally -- by Season 6 is that Amy was already going to see Rack as early as the high school seasons: how else would she know how to find him in Wrecked only days after being turned back into a human and after having been trapped in the form of a rat since Season 3's Gingerbread?).

But, again, why is Amy doing this? We know a lot about why Willow wants to become a witch. We can guess why Tara -- whose own relationship with her mother is almost the exact opposite of Amy's -- became a witch. What about Amy herself? What is her motive? There are much easier ways to cheat on tests, surely. Are we supposed to assume that being an evil witch is hereditary or something? (Certainly the show hadn't quite yet decided what it wanted witchcraft to be a metaphor for, for all that Amy's second appearance literally begins with her asking Willow if she's planning to attend the school's Valentine Dance.)

Well, consider how Witch ends. Buffy and Catherine are fighting, Catherine casts a spell to ensure that Amy "never makes trouble again", the spell backfires and Catherine vanishes. The audience know what happen to her, but none of the characters ever find out ("There's been no sign of her?" Buffy asks Amy after she's got her own body back.) Maybe Amy wasn't quite as confident about not having to worry about her mother anymore as she claims to be. Maybe she was worried that her new idyllic life with her father wouldn't last for long (and... well, it doesn't). Maybe she was afraid about what would happen to her if her mother ever came back looking for revenge and Amy still wasn't strong enough to defend herself.

So maybe Buffy was right after all. Maybe Amy did become a witch to survive her mother.

[rfswitchart]

Hunter's Comfort Food

I think, at this point, you all know my personal favorite Owl House headcanon. I shouldn't have to say what it is, you already know what I'm about to discuss. However, I am going to describe why Hunter loves what he does and maybe you'll adopt it as your headcanon too...

It all started when Hunter ran away from the Emperor's Coven Post-Hollow Mind. He'd been living in the paranormatorim in Hexside since, building a nest and living on snacks. Gus, having seen the former Golden Guard living so dreadfully, offers him his lunch, which, among other things, included a sandwich.

Hunter then helps Gus escape Adrian and the scouts, citing his reason for doing so being because Gus offered him food. When the illusionist questions him on it, Hunter says "It was a really good sandwich." As many have pointed out, Hunter's diet in the castle was probably miserable. On top of it, he was clearly malnourished, as several characters (Luz, Eda, Amity, Edric, Emira, Matt) have said. So it is assumed he didn't have a great time food wise, which is why he looked so happy eating that loaf of bread in King's Tide...

Yeah, look at him go. Happily chewing on some bread and being pleased as punch over it. And this is where my HC came to be, Hunter and Gus bonding over a simple offering of food. A kindness Hunter had probably never known until then, combined with something that probably saved his life or at the very least made him feel much better. I feel like that sole interaction weighed on Hunter's heart, and it made him fall in love with sandwiches. After all, without Gus' sandwich, he would have never been able to sit down and actually talk about how he was feeling about Belos. He wouldn't have bonded with Gus and helped the younger witch when he needed it most. Hunter developed an intensely strong bond with Gus, a friendship and brotherhood forged in love, trust, and sandwiches.

That said, I assume when they were trapped in the human realm, Hunter started looking into various types of sandwiches (with the help of Camila and Luz, of course.) Figuring out what the best meats and cheeses were. What kinds of vegetables go well with them (information he totally shared with Willow, obviously.) The best kinds of bread and condiments to compliment the other ingredients. I assume he learned about what foods he liked and disliked (boy loves himself some olives, btw.) Of course, this eventually lead to the ultimate creation. His pride and joy: The True Hero Sub. The culmination of his knowledge and understanding of foods that allowed him to create divinity between two slices of bread (well, shoved into a loaf of french bread, but hey, who's counting?)

Of course, this is a BIG sandwich. I know, that's the one I made myself. It is about 2' long (60.69cm for you non-Americans.) It is not something you can eat by yourself, and Hunter would never want to eat it alone. Because of this sandwich, Hunter came up with his philosophy on food; "Food tastes best when shared with others." So I assume the first time he made one, he shared it with the others. Definitely Gus, his sandwich brethren, and possibly Willow, someone Hunter would be thrilled to share his accomplishments with.

And this probably continued as he became an adult. I bet anything that Hunter has a series of sandwiches he brings with him to work. He maybe even wrote down his own cookbook of sorts for them. You KNOW anytime he had a new idea, Gus was the first person he told about it. He probably even made a book to make sandwiches to represent Cosmic Frontier characters (you know Gus AND Camila happily assisted him.) And that's my headcanon. A boy, his best friend, and a type of food that brought them closer and possibly even saved a life in more than one sense. In this house, we respect the Sandwich Bros. (Tagging @childlikegoblinqueen, @unniebeans, and @probablyhuntersmom, who I assume have also had this headcanon infect their brain for some time. *evil laugh*)

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Eros: Chapter One

Eros: Married to Dream of the Endless, you find yourself sent back in time to Ancient Greece where you, unfortunately, meet Oneiros. Fresh off a divorce and drowning the sorrows of his son’s death by indulging in the Panathenaia, you find yourself trapped beneath the lustful gaze of your future husband. In your defense, he seduced you first…

Warnings: Language, Time Travel.

To Note: Morpheus x Wife!Reader, Time Travel, Oneiros is used for AncientGreek!Morpheus.

Word Count: ~2.9k

Masterlist | Next

You spent a lot of time staring at the throne adjacent to the intricately carved marble one depicting the helm of Dream of the Endless. It was more feminine, carved out of the same marble as the Morpheus’, but designed with a softer touch. It was a marble forest, twisting branches and flowers that were inspired by Fiddler’s Green, your fingers always ended up tracing little grooves and bumps absentmindedly.

“Hey boss lady,” You turned your head in time to see Matthew fluttering his way up to your shoulder. His feet clutched the fabric of your sweater and shuffled his wings, looking at the two thrones. “You know you’ve been married for like, two months… right?”

“Distinctly,” You answered dryly, having very vivid memories of your wedding night. You hadn’t left the bed for three days, and then couldn’t walk right for three weeks. Morpheus had been very smug with the way you hobbled around, while you felt like crawling into a hole in embarrassment. You’d married a voracious Endless that aspired to paint every millimeter of your body with his love, and ensure that everyone knew it. “But it’s not like I was born knowing I was going to marry an Endless and become the queen of a realm.”

“True, true,” Matthew echoed with a bob of his head. “But ma’am, has anything actually changed in your life? Ignoring the fact that you live here now…”

You thought about Matthew’s words. Not much had changed in your life save your happiness. You had only ever really felt happy when visiting the Dreaming, so there wasn’t much you missed in the Waking. The people in the Dreaming themselves had always gone to you for advice now that you thought about it. They felt confident speaking to you about their problems… so you had been their queen long before you became their official one.

“No, nothings really changed… and it’s just a title,” You mused softly walking towards your throne and running your fingers along the warm marble. Warm and cool, just like you and Morpheus. You were an unusual pairing and not one that you’d think would work in the first place. “Alright, I’ve stared at the thrones for long enough, it’s time to go outside and touch some grass.”

“Ya know I think Lord Dream could touch some grass time to time,” Matthew muttered from your shoulder. “He’s been kinda uptight lately.”

“Probably cause of all the changes, you know he likes things certain ways,” You said dryly, thinking back to all the arguments you’d gotten into with him just because he was being a giant dunderhead who didn’t want to listen to you and pretended that your opinion and decision didn’t matter.

“Yeah you might be onto something,” Matthew chirped in agreement. Exiting the palace, you wandered through the gardens while letting your fingers brush along the flowers and bushes of the garden. “But at least he’s trying!” Matthew added, trying to be positive about his boss.

“He got pissy with me because I wanted to take a walk in London by myself after we had lunch with Hob,” You couldn’t help but point out. “It was London, in the middle of the day when families were having picnics!”

“And we both know humans can be assholes,” Matthew reminded you. “The boss doesn’t have a lot of good experience with mortals to go off of.”

“Pretty sure I have more experience in the human department than he does?”

“Point,” The raven agreed, taking off and swooping through the limp branches of the weeping willow in front of you. You passed beneath the little tunnel of gnarled branches carefully grown and kicked out your foot. You’d been feeling antsy lately, cooped up and in need of stretching your limbs. Maybe you’d go for a swim? Morpheus didn’t exactly like you swimming in the Ocean of Dreams, but you and the entity had a pretty good relationship and she didn’t try to drown you when you went swimming. “He’s still gonna throw a tantrum.”

“And I dare you to say that to his face,”

“I’ll pass I like having feathers… and living in general...” Matthew shuddered to think what Morpheus’ reaction would be of learning he’d said that.

“It would be funny though,” You giggled to yourself, imaging the initial confusion that would cross Morpheus’ face… then perhaps just a hint of an eye tick, then the whole: you dare… Your husband was entirely too predictable at times and you found it very amusing. You were deaf to Matthew’s disgruntled grumbles and continued walking, not realizing that your feet were carrying you towards the beaches of the Ocean of Dreams.

“Holy shit,” Matthew’s curse behind you jarred you from your thoughts. It wasn’t hard to figure out what had caused him to curse, the Ocean of Dreams was churning in unhappiness. High above violent waters were storm clouds, flickering with lightning and letting out echoed of thunder. “Uh, you ever seen this before ma’am?”

“No,” You informed the raven, trying to see if you could feel what was wrong to have the Ocean of Dreams so agitated. “Matthew return to Lucienne, speak with her about this matter. Surely she has a clue.”

“Right on it, boss lady,” Matthew called before surging into the air and flying back to the palace as fast as he could. While Matthew was doing as you asked, you quickly hurried up to the waters edge. Oh yes, something had agitated the Ocean of Dreams, she was not happy. Without hesitation, you strode into the cold water, determined to figure this out. Morpheus was away on business, you could handle this, you could handle this.

When you were waist deep, you dove deeper, fully submerging yourself. The water, while a usual chilly cold, seemed to be colder than normal. Even the currents were stronger, more aggressive. You tried to look around for the physical manifestation of the Ocean in the form of your shadow figure, but you couldn’t see her anywhere. A smattering of bubbles escaped your lips as you sighed in frustration and swam further towards the depths. In your efforts to hunt down the physical manifestation of the Ocean of Dreams, you failed to notice that the currents were getting far too strong for you to swim through.

Now, you didn’t need to breathe oxygen thank to Morpheus making you immortal… but it wasn’t exactly comfortable holding your breath, or accidentally inhaling the salty water. So when your body began getting tossed and turned like you were in a hamster ball and it was being shaken, you started panicking. Floundering, the water around you began shifting from chilly cold to warm… and then back again. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. Your arms cartwheeled through the salt water until the temperature stayed warm and a bright light appeared. The storm must have finally disappeared!

You kicked your way towards the surface, hoping that Lucienne would know why the Ocean of Dreams had gotten so upset and the weather so irritable. The moment your face broke the surface you knew that something was very wrong.

First, it was way to hot for you to be in the dreaming. Second, it didn’t sound like you were in the dreaming. Third? When you opened your eyes you were most definitely not in the Dreaming!

“Ah shit,”

You spent a solid five minutes panicking about the fact that you were most definitely not in the Dreaming anymore. Morpheus was going to go ballistic when he found out. Then your panic increased because you didn’t know where you were, and you were in the middle of an ocean! At least you could see land, but it was a distance away from you. Still coming to grips with what you were dealing with because hello, some magic fuckery had just occurred and you were not kosher with it, you paddled towards a weird looking boat in the distance.

As you grew closer, you could hear shouting in a language you didn’t quite understand, and the sounds of screaming. Focusing on the words, the power Morpheus imbued within you shifted the strange words until you could understand them. Greek. A child had fallen overboard. Your eyes dropped to the water and you spotted a dark haired child splashing around violently. You didn’t think twice about quickly swimming towards the child as they disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

Dipping back below the oceans surface, you swam your way over to the squirming child, a girl. She was wrapped up in a beautiful white cloth that was currently hindering her ability to swim. You made to her and wrapped your arms around her thin body before looking up and kicking your way back to the surface. When your head broke the surface, you made sure you pulled the child up so her head too, was above the choppy waters.

She was clutching your forearm in a death grip, nails digging into your flesh. You were glad that she wasn’t trying to claw her way on top of you. Spitting out ocean water you’d accidentally swallowed, you began carefully side stroking your way over to the odd boat. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, given that people didn’t just appear it the middle of the ocean. As it turned out, luck was on your side and the greeks who hauled you and the little girl up onto the ship were entirely convinced that you were some lost noble… all because of of the clothes you wore.

Apparently only the rich and noble people of Greece could afford to wear purple clothing.

The boat was taking the little girl, a daughter of one of the nobles in Athens (how the hell did you end up in Ancient Greece?), home after visiting her aunt in Crete. She’d accidentally tumbled over the side and now refused to let you go for fear of a repeated event. So you were awkwardly standing around in your ‘strange clothes’ while the little girl held onto you like a baby monkey. At least when the boat docked at the harbor of the ancient city of Athens, in all its blazing glory, you were offered a cloak to cover your strange clothing.

Clearly the little girl you’d rescued came from a very rich family, because the carriage that you’d been herded into was lavish. You sat inside it while warriors on horses surrounded you, and spent a good twenty minutes trying to think of what the hell you were going to do, let alone say, because this was way out of your realm of expertise.

“What is your name?” Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Well, they already thought you were some lost noble or princess… might as well play it off as some greek god blessing or something… hopefully the gods wouldn’t be too upset with you. Not that they would be able to raise hand towards an Endless’ wife…

“You may call me Elpis,” You told the little girl. “What is yours?”

“Kynna, are you the great spirit Elpis mama told me about?” Soft brown eyes gazed at you with such reverence, you wanted to say yes and make her dreams come true. But you couldn’t exactly claim to be someone you were not. You stroked your hand over her still damp hair.

“I’m afraid it is only a name sake,” You replied, lifting your gaze to see several grand buildings pass by as the carriage rattled and shook. “I was lost at sea but the gods brought me to you.”

“Well if you’re lost… you can just live with us while we find your family!” Kynna exclaimed with a wide beaming smile. “Panathenaia is starting tomorrow, they’ll be lots of parties and pretty dresses, and we get to give a new peplos to Athena!”

“I don’t think that will be up to me,” Your words didn’t hinder the excited babbles of Kynna, and while she continued to talk animatedly, you mulled over what you were going to say when you got to your destination.

You didn’t have to say much, the greek noble woman of Kynna’s family, along with the other aristocratic women from surrounding families living in the housing surrounding the communal living space and baths, were entirely convinced you were an aristocrat who had some how fallen overboard and lost most of her memory. You were fine playing amnesiac as it meant less questions. You just had to get used to a different lifestyle while you tried to figure out what the hell had happened to you.

A circle of woman around your age, Merope, Agapia, and Helike, had taken you under their wing while servants scurried about in preparation for the Panathenaia. Your modern clothes had been ditched for a silk peplum that draped around your body and showed skin in several places, and you’d been adorned with a multitude of jewelry by Kynna’s father for saving his little girl. In essence, you looked exactly like the woman everyone thought you to be: Elpis, a greek aristocrat with amnesia.

You’d spent the first couple of days hiding out in Kynna’s household, not sure of yourself and not wanting to make trouble for the family, but your trio of new friends had convinced you to come out to the communal space on the promise of seeing several handsome men and enjoyable drink and food. Eye candy and snacks, you were down for that. So you were walking with your gaggle of friends and contributing to the objectification of several fine greek men who had arrived home for the Panathenaia, when Merope had wanted to visit the sun room to see what special guests had arrived.

“Oh I heard Theos returned from Sparta looking for a wife.” Agapia gushed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“Forgive me for not immediately fawning over this Theos… who is he?” You asked as Merope and Helike giggled.

“He’s Athen’s most prized warrior, competed in the last Olympic Games and won several events.” Agapia explained to you as your group walked beneath a trellis tunnel of roses. She went on to explain, in detail, every millimeter of the specimen known as Theos and by the time Helike was telling Agapia to stop drooling, you were very interested in seeing if this Greek was as handsome and strong as he sounded.

“Oh don’t stop now, you’ve gotten me interested,” You mused with a soft laugh while passing a group of men who eyed each and everyone one of you. Your laugh was like a gentle bell softly ringing and easily drew eyes. Helike rolled her eyes, Agapia was oblivious (far too busy drooling), and Merope fluttered her eyelashes but stayed silent.

“I am sure there shall be a man at the festival who willwin your hand, Elpis,” Agapia said while holding her hands to her chest. “Because while we all know that you’ve got heads turning, you appear to have very little interest in those we have crossed paths with so far. Mark my words, you shall find someone you desire by the end of Panathenaia.”

You rolled your eyes, you’d humor the women. They’d been so kind and generous to you despite you being a total stranger… but it wasn’t like you could admit that you were already married, and didn’t even belong in this era.

“As you say, Pia,”

“Oh, I can’t believe it!” Merope gasped quietly the moment you entered a large room with many lounging chairs and dozens of greeks laying about. You hummed in question and looked at her. “Lord Oneiros has decided to be in attendance!”

Something perked up within you at the mention of Oneiros, and your head snapped to the dark haired beauty in confusion.

“Sorry, did you say Oneiros?” You asked, your voice coming out in an odd tone. You’d heard that name before, when Morpheus had assisted Calliope upon hearing her call. She referred to him as Oneiros. Morpheus was Oneiros. How could he be here? The girls gathered around you and gestured to a corner of the room. Your eyes followed and you felt your heart freeze your chest. This wasn’t possible, was it?

How could it be that your dark and broody husband, was sitting in the corner of the room dressed in robes of black, complete with a laurel crown perched upon his midnight curls? You trembled in place, fighting against the urge to charge forwards and throw yourself at him because you really missed your husband and just wanted to go home. But as you gazed at the Dream Lord, you began picking up on his mood, his temperament. He was surrounded by a cloud of pain that you could feel in your heart, deep within his beautiful blue eyes was a raw hurt that nearly pulsated from his being. Oh. Oh fuck. Ancient Greece… Calliope the Muse… Orpheus. As if feeling your stare, sharp blue eyes shifted and met yours. No recognition could be found within their depths. He didn’t know you. But he was intrigued.  

“I wonder who the lucky women will be this year,” Agapia softly wondered, the other two agreeing with her sentiments. “They say he is a voracious lover, indulging in the delights of many before finally picking the ones he desires.”

A dark eyebrow rose ever so slightly accompanied by the smallest of smirks, and something within you cracked. He was Morpheus, but he wasn’t yours. You felt like you couldn’t breathe and quickly tore your eyes away from those of the Dream Lord.

“We should fill our bellies before the rest of the men arrive, the gods know they’ll eat it all,” You rushed out, your heart pounding in your chest painfully. Herding your friends in the opposite direction of Oneiros, you were desperate to get away from the being that you, one day, would call yours. 

Date Published: 12/30/23

Last Edit: 12/30/23

Masterlist | Next

[yeyinde]

NAVIGATION | AO3 COD MASTERLIST

WHEN YOUR NEED GROWS TEETH | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

BABY TRAPPING FIC:

It starts when you ask him to pick up your birth control—like dangling a piece of bloody meat in front of a starving dog.  Of course he's going to take a bite.  He thinks you ought to have known this by now. 

PAST AND PENDING | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

you haven't stopped thinking of what it would feel like to burn your lips on his cigar, and numb the sting with the scotch on his tongue.

ODE TO A CONVERSATION STUCK IN YOUR THROAT | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Tendrils of something soft liquefy the hardened edges of sapphire—a look you haven't seen on him since Tenerife—but it pauses at the folder you try, and fail, to discreetly tuck further into the crevasse of your body. Hiding it, futilely, from view. Something sours across his face. The half-melted azure firms into unbreakable obsidian. "Business as usual, then?"

FINESHRINE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PEGGING FIC:

It surprised you when he’d taken your off-handed comment about wanting to fuck him senseless for a change as something sincere, obtainable, and simply looked at you, plain-faced, if a little bashful around the edges, and said, “alrigh’, love. Lemme see what you got.” Or—John Price finally gets pegged.

UNDERDRESSED | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

MASK ON:

He's big, of course: massive. A mountain of a man cut from ashlar. A defensive wall. Stalwart and firm. Unyielding. But seeing him like this, in full gear—battle ready—makes you shiver. Makes you feel too hot, too cold; feverish. Fervid. Or—John fucks you with his gear, and mask, on

BARKING DOG | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PRICE + JEALOUSY

Jealousy comes easy for Price, but it's rare he ever acts on it. Until, of course, he does.

SEA FEVER | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

AU—SAILOR!PRICE

But John's always been greedy. The kind that wants, and wants. Once would never be enough, and he knows that if he sunk his teeth into you, a bite would never satiate his rapacious appetite, never quench the hunger.  And since he can't make a meal out of a morsel, he'd rather starve. 

SERIES

CAUGHT | AO3 MIRROR SERIES. COMPLETE | 18﹢ —AUDIENCE | CIRCLE THE DRAIN

PROMPT: just thinking about moaning captain whilst Price is watching you

NEON MEDUSA | AO3 MIRROR CYBERPUNK AU. SERIES. INCOMPLETE | 18﹢ —STATIC IN THE AIRWAVES | WARNING SIGNS

MYTHOLOGY

WILLOW TREE MARCH | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

FAE PRICE

"They'll give you gifts," your gran says, shaking her head. "Things from their realm. Little trinkets and gems—" geodes, sapphires and diamonds, raw gold and coral; "—and you must never accept them," a whittled deer made of sequoia under your pillow; crow bones buried in the garden."Because if you do, if you do, they'll never let you go." "Why?" You asked, blinking at her. "Because it's a courting ritual, and to accept means… well," her mouth twists in wry disdain. "Just don't." 

SEVEN ARROWS SERIES. REQUEST. Ptah x Sekhmet —ferromagnatism | AO3 MIRROR

PROMPT: how about price faking injuries to see a specific nurse he has a crush on but won’t admit.

WICKER PYRE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

DRAGON PRICE

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons

THREESOMES

ON THE FLIPSIDE | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

JOHNNY/PRICE/READER

(Or: Soap makes a discovery—a tangled web that weaves between you and their Captain—and one can only imagine his surprise when Price turns to him, eyes battle-ready, and says: want to join us, Sergeant?)

SOMEWHERE, TONIGHT | GHOST X READER X PRICE DRABBLE. TEASER | 18﹢

DRABBLES & REQUESTS

COLD, COLD, COLD (voyeurism drabble) REQUEST. DRABBLE. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: I need to be railed by price as the team either walks past or is right next door. So upset he's fictional lmao

IN DREAMS | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

Sweet dreams. Warm knuckles. The ghost of your lips pressing against his crown. He never tells you he doesn't sleep enough, but somehow you just know.

REVERENT ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

imagine just—pretty little woman'ing him in the tub. 

WET | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: “#his beard just??? looks wet???” okay but Price having to talk to the team after eating you out and not getting a chance to make himself presentable 🫣🫣

everything looks better from above ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: ‼️imagine riding price while he’s smoking a cigar‼️ that just popped inside my head and now i’m horny

TEXTBOOK | AO3 MIRROR REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: imagine cockwarming him, sitting all nice and pretty for him, him calling you a good [insert nickname here] or "sweet little pet, behaving so well for me"

BIG BEAR | AO3 MIRROR ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

That scene from SIX with Barry Sloane, but it's Price.

This probably isn't what they meant when they told you to support your Captain.

KILOS REQUEST. ONESHOT. COMPLETE | 18﹢

PROMPT: maybe reader is tongue pierced giving him sloppy head?

CARE PACKAGE DRABBLE. COMPLETE.

PROMPT: Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺

POSITIVE DRABBLE. COMPLETE

PROMPT: So imagine Prices face when you send a picture of a positive pregnancy test. Just let that mental image permeate a little....

⧽ SPIT TAKE | VOICE KINK | SLOW DANCE | BATTLE SCARS | PREG!READER

SFW ALPHABET

[itsagrimm]

He who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 3 - The Fish, the Fox and the Fairy Lights

CN mentions of cannibalism in a fairytale-esk way, implied mentions of femicide, arranged marriage, sexism and patriarchy, talking animals, slight dip into paranoia, isolation, missing dead family and human connection, mourning process and grieving, talk of sex, talk of ‘virginity’ and insecurity, eating habits that could be read as pica behaviour, generally food and weight play a bit of a role here but not in a judgy way.

Much tanks to @queenquazar for editing and pointing out that yes indeed we can go more monstrous and that this is in fact very sexy and romantic.

Masterlist

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

It became a silent ritual. You got up, dressed, and stepped into the garden after the knocks on your door. Every morning you collected a new pile of fish from König under the watchful eyes of the Heron. And with the fish, arrived a fresh stack of firewood and two buckets of water, ready for you at your doorstep.

Reliable and useful. It was a nice gesture…or a trap.

It made you uneasy.

Taciturn, you kept to yourself, mumbling a few polite words to the heron, and staying mostly around the house for the rest of the day. Now alone, you had plenty of things to do. 

No one was there to share the work with you. No friends or neighbours to help with repairing the house or harvesting berries or sharing some of the household chores. Biting your lips, you laboured on alone, no longer crying yourself to sleep at night but falling asleep as soon as you closed your eyes.

The silence was the hardest. It broke you down more than any working day could. No words or gossip or laughter or songs filled the house anymore, grinding your need for seclusion down.

The only companion you had were your own creaks and groans as you struggled with heavy tools and an even heavier, lonely heart.

One day, you could not bear it anymore.

“Does König catch these fish, master heron?” You asked casually while walking through the grass, wet from morning dew, a big bowl already in your hands.

“Yes, he goes fishing. For you! The fox told me,” The heron replied and swayed on its spindly legs like branches of the willows in the wind, “The dirty furball insists on guarding you at night. Of course, he only does it for the fish he gets from the King if you ask me. He thinks it's clever and subtle.”

“And you? What do you get?” you asked as you kneeled to pick up the fish. Crucian carp and walleye this time.

The heron master cackled, the sound loud and teasing in the morning air.

“Maiden,” it said, “I may be a bird flying high above the King’s deep kingdom, but I fish on his waters – his kingdom is right below the surface I stare at for hours. Serving your husband and earning his good will is better than a fish or two from him. Besides,” It cackled again, “you will make a fine, kind queen. You share your food with me every day!”

You smiled politely, “Governed by the stomach are we then, master heron?”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Indeed. A chalice then, again?” you asked simply as you grabbed some wood for the cooking.

“It would be very welcome.”

You nodded before grabbing the buckets and closing the door behind you.

Alone again… to some degree. Except for a fox guarding you at night, a heron at day, and König visiting your house as you slept. 

You had been right with the feeling of eyes on you.

Sinking in the chair, you stared at the bowl with fish. It was too much, far too much for only you to eat. Maybe König wanted you to cook for him as well? To share a meal, have a bit of company. He helped you, after all.

Like a husband would.

You shook your head at the thought.

No, you did not know him, did not know why he wanted to marry you and what he wanted with you. As far as you were concerned, he could still plan on fattening you up to eat later. You remembered stories of girls getting married, only to vanish. Why else would he bring you food but not visit you otherwise?

You pushed the thought aside, the air of death terrifying, threatening to cripple you now with memories too fresh to be just memories. 

The pond was still too real.

You got up and started to pile up the wood. The heron was right. Everyone had something to gain, and you needed to know what a king from under the waters wanted from you.

You were just a peasant girl, you thought to yourself as you lit up the fireplace. No ordinary king from the cities knew of you or cared about this village, likely never even heard of it and certainly not about you. Kings married queens. Princes married princesses. No one married the poor bumpkin without a family. All you had was the flesh on your bones, the hair in your plaits, and the dress on your skin.

But König was no ordinary king.

He was no human.

And he chopped the wood for you.

The thought of the strange, tall man, collecting and chopping wood for you in the dark made you chuckle.

How royal.

How odd.

Was that what kings did? 

You had no idea. What you needed was to learn more about him. You looked at the pile of fish and grabbed your knife. Maybe you needed to face your fears before the silence took you as the waters once tried to do. And maybe you could get to know your future husband a bit better over a shared meal.

This night you forced yourself to stay awake. Not lighting any fire or candle, you sat in your kitchen, wrapped in a scarf against the cold, and waited while sipping on your Sage tea.

Gathered by your mother and dried hanging from the roof of the kitchen, it calmed your nerves. It’s mild taste pleasant on your tongue, comforting and familiar.

You listened.

Outside the leaves rustled, the wind making the birch trees in the garden sway. The light steps of an animal walking close to your house, eating and smacking from the plate with fish left out, made you lift your head.

That must be the fox.

You took another sip.

An owlet cried somewhere in the woods, it’s “Kowitt, Kowitt!” hushed in the distance. It reminded you of your brother. He used to imitate all those cries, claiming one day he would learn all the bird’s sounds. He did not get to that.

Tock, tock, tock! The sound of wood getting chopped made you put your thoughts and your tea aside.

You got up, checked your plaits, and straightened your shoulders before grabbing your prepared package and stepping out of the house.

It was dark. The moon wasn’t even half full, so dark you could barely make out the steps down and into the garden.

“There, there. Here comes the bride!”

You stilled at the sound of the unknown voice.

“Is that you, master fox?” you asked into the darkness.

A rustling sounded before something warm pressed itself to the side of your legs and you smelled the little animal.

That definitely was the fox.

“Master?” the fox spoke with an amused ring, “So the heron was right. You are polite. No one ever calls me that. Say, why are you up and out at night, hm? It is dangerous for pretty women and future queens. You might run into monsters.”

“From my experience monsters care very little if the sun is up or down to be dangerous,” You replied. “But I could use some help walking at night. Would you like to make sure I don’t fall by accompanying me?”

The little animal around your knees shifted and smelled your hands. You felt a cold, wet, snout at the tips of your fingers.

“And where might you want to walk, eh?” the Fox said.

“To König.”

Immediately it stopped twisting and turning around you.

“Oh… OH!” The Fox exclaimed, “How romantic. Or stupid. In my experience, those two things can be very similar, hm? I will bring you to the king.”

For a quick moment the Fox left your side and stood in silence before a cold, wet snout at your shoulder nudged you onwards.

With wide eyes you moved.

“Don’t you worry, queen,” The fox rumbled somewhere above you, “I see well enough for two at night. You just walk.”

You nodded, too speechless from the tiny fox suddenly being tall enough so that you walked between its front legs, holding onto his fur to steady yourself.

“You are a brave one, eh?” The fox spoke.

“It is not like I have a choice.” You replied as you walked. “But, I am only putting out only one plate for you, no matter how tall you make yourself. I cannot have the heron accuse me of favouritism.”

A deep grumble erupted behind you, a laugh, you realised, as you stepped somewhere deeper into the forest. The ground changed from soft grass to  roots threatening to trip you, despite clinging onto the fox’s leg.

“How stern of you, maiden,” The fox teased.

You walked on, further, and further, deeper into the woods, with the sound of chopping coming closer and closer, louder with each thwack.

Finally, the Fox stopped.

“King of all that is under the water!” The large animal rumbled through the dark forest, “I brought to you your bride. She wanted to see you.”

The chopping sound stopped, as an axe was driven down onto the wooden block.

“What a surprise! Here I thought humans sleep at night,” you heard König say, “Thank you, Fox.”

You felt the animal move and suddenly you were alone again in the dark.

“How are you, my bride?”

“I,”you started, thinking about what you could say before deciding to go with the most practical, “I cannot see you. Do you have a light?”

A chuckle, an amused human chuckle, sounded through the forest before you heard a few whispered commands.

You waited for a heartbeat in the dark, listening to the owlet cry far, far away now.

“There they are,” König spoke into the dark.

You looked around. Little swamp lights danced around the trees, coming closer with soft laughter and with it an alluring feeling of security. You felt your legs long to walk with them, wanting to go with those lights wherever they went, laugh and dance with them the whole night.

A hand grabbed you by the arm, breaking the spell.

It was König, his hand firm and warm on your skin.

He stood beside you, casting a long shadow with his frame.

You looked up, confused as to what happened.

“You must not go with the swamp lights, or you might drown for good, bride,” he muttered, “Do not look at them. Ignore them. Enjoy their light from afar, and you are safe.”

Dizzy from the light’s callings, you nodded, blinking slowly.

König’s eyes were light and reflective, like the water mirroring the moon. Aside from that, he looked human. A young man with a trimmed beard and kempt hair..

Good-looking.

Bashfully, you turned away. That is not what you came here for.

“Why are you here, bride?” he asked and tugged you to a fallen tree.

You sat down on the wood, and he took a seat on the ground in front of you. With his tall size you were near eye-level with him and his watery eyes.

“I wanted to see you,” you trailed off. You had made plans, thought up words, explanations, lies. Now, all gone and forgotten, you were left with nothing but yourself.

“Are the Fox and the Heron not treating you well? Did Ivar return after all, and I have not heard?”

“No. it is all fine,” You paused. König looked so real, so unlike the terrifying stranger haunting your mind when you were alone. Maybe you could marry this man and become what your grandfather had wanted you to become.

“Why do you want to marry me?”you ventured.

The watery, bright eyes blinked before settling on you again.

“The old man told me stories of kings- of kingdoms. What it is supposed to be like.” A soft smile danced over his lips.

“I am a king of a kingdom. I have all that is supposed to be of kings. All I am missing is a queen. That would be you.”

“So, you want to marry me because I accidentally became available to you? Because my grandfather offered my hand in marriage?”

“Yes.”

It was your turn to blink. Was that all to it? Was it just a swampy being playing king and you got caught up in it? No other intentions other than that?

“How is it supposed to work?” You asked, “I am a human. I am much smaller than you, and I need air.”

“I thought about it and have decided to build a new palace. That is why I have been so busy. It will be both in the water and on it. You will have to tell me what else you require to live except air. As you can see, currently, I am getting the wood ready needed for the foundation.”

He pointed at the fallen trees and chopped wood.

“And for the size – we can put you on a chair or something.” He eyed you up and down before adding, “maybe we put that chair on a box too. But it will work.”

“How?”

“What do you mean how? You will look taller that way.”

“What about when I am not on the chair and the box?”

Confusion knitted his brows.

“I don’t know. For what else do queens need to be representative for?”

You eyed him with confusion. You knew little about what queens were expected to do. But, you figured it included other marital expectations… bedroom expectations.

You felt your face turn hot.

“König,” you asked. “How do you think people marry among humans?”

He tilted his head, “I was told there is a feast.”

“And?”

“And then the bride and the groom stay together for the night.”

“Yes?”

“I suppose they have a good night’s sleep.”

“I doubt there is much sleeping going on during a wedding night,” You snorted.

“Oh,” He paused. “Oh. I did not know that.” He cleared his throat.

“We don’t have to do that.” He shrugged, “Who could tell anyway? And who would care to ask?”

You looked down at your fingers, your left hand nervously fumbling with the package you bought with you. Was it odd to know he was willing to lie to not… to not touch… not to feel… You were unused to thinking of yourself this way, assuming once you would get married, your mother and your already married girlfriends from the village would tell you all about this. But they were all gone, you were about to marry a man from the swamp, and all those things would always stay a mystery to you. You did not even know what it was you were missing, not even sure how to name it.

“Is that fish?” König asked, “ I smell fish. That is fish!”

Relieved for the change in topic you nodded.

“Yes, I wanted to say thank you for all the food you brought me. It is very thoughtful.”

You passed him the package.

“It’s not much but, maybe, you would like to have some din-”

The words stopped coming out of your mouth as König took the package and gobbled it up in one go without even unpacking it from the pressed birch bark.

With your mouth still hanging open you starred.

He bit down with a crunching sound on the fish and bark, his sharp teeth reflecting the swamp lights before chewing a few times with a thoughtful look on his face as if he was tasting something for the first time.

You closed your lips before you choked on the dinner invitation on your tongue.

“Ah, so that is how cooked food tastes like,” He finally stated after swallowing down with an audible sound, “Delicious. Thank you very much, my bride!”

He licked his fingers with a wet slurping sound and wiped his face from the birch bark crumps with those large clawed hands - hands that looked like they could snap your neck like it was a stick.

He burped before continuing.

“Pardon. It’s nice, easier to eat this way than when they still wiggle.”

Still fixing whatever face you were making into something less baffled, you mumbled an, “I need to go,” and got up.

König rose with you, whispering a few commands.

“The lights will guide you home. You humans can’t see in the dark, right?”

“Ah yes. Thank you.” You replied weakly and turned around to leave.

“Wait,” he called after you. “What was it that you wanted to say?”

You turned back. König looked at you, waiting patiently for you to speak. The terror was still in your bones, the crunching sound still ringing in your ears as he bit into the package like it was nothing. Was that what he could do with you too? Your body frail and fragile against the large and imposing König and he only waited for you to become his to do as he pleased with you and your body, consuming it whole like he had with your little gift?

“I-“ you began, fumbling with your now empty hands.

He waited as your heart raced fast against your ribs. A part of you screamed that you needed to run from this terrifying man who wanted to parade you around on a chair as his queen, ate like you had only seen in your recent nightmares and nearly drowned you. He was no human and commanded powers you did not understand.

But then he looked at you, a kind, patient face, who stood up for you when you needed it and was concerned for well-being.

It’s for now. I am safe until the wedding, you thought to yourself.

“I wanted to ask if you would like to have dinner with me, sometime?”, you said out loud.

XXX

Notes for better understanding:

-   I use the word ‘plaits’ for readers hair to describe the braided hair style of the reader I know as ‘косы’. Since translating it as braids technically would have also been correct but invokes a different meaning for most English speakers due to distinct cultural codes, I used ‘plaits’. However, if you have braids or hair that can be braided, feel free to read the word ‘plaits’ as ‘braids’ or at least understand yourself as included in the description. This was very much a technical translation problem with words not being translatable 100% and ‘косы’ simply meaning any type of braided or plaited hair.

-   some of you might not be aware of foxes’ smell. It’s a very strong and not pleasant to most.

-  Female owlets cry ‘Kowitt!” which sounds like the german ‘komm mit’ / ‘come with me’. Therefore, it is said in German folklore that the owlets are birds of death wanting to take a soul with them or warning of the impending death of those who listen to it because it was heard so much around the dead and dying. Owlets and many other nightly birds of prey were hunted because of that in German speaking regions. The real reason for owlets crying around the dead is a different one: the lights of the wake for the dead drew the birds in at night.

-   Sage grows wild nearly everywhere and is calming as well as anti-inflammatory. It is a medicinal tea so one should not drink it regularly due to it being very potent. Also, the sage reader is drinking is a native sage known as green sage so please don’t go and get white sage if you just want to have a tea.

- birch bark is a very versatile resource used in many cultures as a means to e.g. write on or to make other wares out of it

XXX

Taglist: @thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore

[roodles03]

Unrecognized Talnet

For years, Willow struggled with her self-worth and self-esteem. Trapped in a track she hated, she was frowned upon her peers and teachers everyday. Her former best friend now bullied her every single day. She went a few years without anyone, before finally meeting Gus. The first person who didn't determine her value as a witch by her magical power. The teacher shamed and humiliated her everyday, and despite trying her hardest for years, she never got better. She kept failing.

Meanwhile, she had a natural talent for plants, but had to keep her talent and love for it a secret, as her dads had placed her in the abomination track. Forced to keep struggling when she could be succeeding, she doesn't want to disappoint one of the only people on her life who encourage her to suceed and that she can actually do this.

...yeah I just wanted to draw Willow by herself for once. But I always think about how miserable her life was after Amity's betrayal and wasting away in abominations. I fucking hate when people say that Willow going througb a little bullying isn't trauma and she shouldn't be upset because others had it worse. Fuck off with that shit. First off, dont compare people's trauma. That is gatekeeping and makes you look like an asshole. Second, having your only friend betray you, going on to bully you, on top of having no friends and everyone in your class hating you, takes a SEREVE mental toll on a child. (I would know.) Willow was alone for years until she met Gus, and thank Titan she met Luz, or else her true talent would've never been recognized. I appreciate Willow as a character representing such a realistic interpretation of what years of bullying does to a child. It's not pretty. This shit fucks you up for life.

[howlingday]

Harriet: Glad you showed up. I wanted to ask you something.

Jaune: Uh, sure. What's up?

Harriet: I need to ask you something, and I need a real answer.

Jaune: Okay?

Harriet: What do you think of me... as a woman?

Jaune: Huh?

Harriet: L-Like, do I have womanly charms?

Jaune: Uh, where is this coming from?

Harriet: Well... As long as I can remember, people have always said I wasn't "lady-like". Honestly, I can't disagree. I'm good at sports, exercise, and other physical stuff. In fact, it's probably why I've never been in love! And if I've never been in love, then am I really a woman?

Harriet: S-So that's why... I want you to be my boyfriend.

Jaune: ...WHAT?!

Harriet: No, no! Not like a real boyfriend! Just- Just like a practice run, y'know?

Jaune: A practice run?

Harriet: I'm not a woman because I've never been in love, and I can't fall in love because I'm not a woman. Do you see the dilemma? My vicious cycle I'm trapped in? So I need a practice run to bring out my feminine side!

Jaune: I don't know...

Harriet: C'mon,man! I'm on my hands and knees here! I'm begging you! Please help me!

Jaune: I... Does it have to be me?

Harriet: I can't ask anyone else. Please!

Jaune: ...Fine. I guess I can help for a while.

Harriet: Really?! Sweet!

Jaune: So, what do I do?

Harriet: ...Good question.

Jaune: ...

Harriet: ...Okay! Let's get started!

Harriet: (Clears throat) Hello, darling~! Did you have a good day at work? Would you like dinner, or should I draw you a bath?

Jaune: I... think that's jumping ahead a bit. You're acting like a housewife in a comedy.

Harriet: Oh, really? Alright, new approach!

Harriet: (Grabs him) You bastard! You said you would leave your wife, you liar!

Jaune: Th-That's even worse...

Harriet: W-What?! You mean... I can't even get a practice run, right? So I'm going to grow old and die alone and give up on love...

Jaune: H-Hang on! Let's dial it back bit! Like, why do you even need to do this practice stuff?

Harriet: I already told you! It's... It's because I'm not lady like.

Jaune: So? I think that's just part of your charm.

Harriet: W-What?

Jaune: When you push it and get all nervous, that's not really you, is it?

Jaune: To be honest, I like you just the way you are because it's who you are.

Harriet: J-Jaune...

Jaune: And besides, isn't falling in love supposed to be fun? If it isn't fun, is it really the same? I mean, I can't say I've really fallen in love before, so what do I know?

Harriet: Actually... I think you know a lot more than you let on. Thanks.

Harriet: You're right. I'm not going to push it! I'll just have to wait for the right person! Maybe Spruce Willow!

Jaune: (Thinking) That's a... pretty specific taste. Might be waiting a while.

Harriet: Anyways, thanks again, Jaune. Feels like a hundred pounds off my chest. And I kinda had fun practicing with ya! We gotta do it again some time!

Jaune: Uh, I think that's enough practice for me.

Harriet: W-Well... What if we didn't practice?

Jaune: Huh?!

Harriet: KIDDING! I'm just yankin yer chain!

Harriet: But, uh, what is your type, anyways?

[forgiveness-in-the-misery]

Xander is genuinely an interesting character. It’s complicated because a lot of people now just see him as aged poorly or Joss 2.0 and completely ignore the actual show itself and why he is the way he is.

Between the books, not the comics, the actual books and the TV show you come to learn incredibly important things:

Xander had a goth phase for a while that is brought up in the books.

Xander struggles with depression and loneliness.

Xander’s bedroom was in the basement as far removed as a kid could get from their parents.

Xander’s parents fight frequently and violently.

Xander’s father is a cruel drunk who treats his son like an abomination.

All of the above literally explain why Xander is the way that he is….and current fans blatantly ignore and avoid that and it is mind boggling to me.

He wants to joke constantly and make awkward comments and jokes especially if he’s anxious or scared or uncomfortable. He seemingly doubts people aside from Willow could ever like him for himself so he settles for the role of being the clown. He wants to be seen and understood and loved and when Anya eventually offers him this he panics due to the fear that he will turn into an abusive monster like his father and ruin her. Xander ruined his relationship with Cordelia for essentially the same reason, the fear of ruining things, of dragging her into his family and this life that would result in depression and resentment for her. He cheated on her with Willow because Willow is the only person who knows him and knows his family situation and she is safe and comfortable and familiar and kissing her knowing she has loved him most her life at that point was manipulative and misdirected and wrong on his part…..but look at his home life.

The boy never saw what a relationship is meant to be. His parents were hateful and resentful. He didn’t grow up seeing love and he has a deep fear that maybe he can’t actually love somebody.

Even his relationship to Buffy feels like deep down she is who he wants to be more than wants to be with. She’s brave and strong and witty and smart and resourceful and can easily come across like she doesn’t have time to care what people think of her.

And because of the toxic masculinity of the 90s and the shit his own father tried to beat into him about being a real man….he resents that. He feels humiliated and resentful that this girl is everything he’s been told he should be. It’s why he gets so up in arms about Buffy breaking it off with Riley, because Riley is the type of man Xander grew up being told is a real man and he idolizes that.

Spike and Angel don’t fall into this role. Spike ironically enough like Xander we learn was soft and gentle and loved poetry and kind things and was mocked and teased by people for being the way that he was. Spike became a vampire and became blood thirsty but even seeing him with Dru through the centuries the gentle lover never died with his humanity, it comes out more and more as the show progresses and frankly it comes down to vampires have no need to care.

Once you have lived hundreds of years and may live hundreds more then the concept of gender norms and sexuality come to be meaningless human concepts.

Xander is this sort of tragic character who is trapped under so much fear and anxiety and grew up in a time when the worst things you could be is a woman or gay and he wanted badly to be masculine to be a hero to be brave and manly and all of that and it frequently ended up with him distancing from his friends, losing women who did love him and tried to understand him but he never let them close enough.

So anyway I really wish people would look at story more than 2023 social norms in a show made back in the 90s/2000s and also I wish the show had made Xander gay.

[mayullla]

🍂+🦋 hi! ^^ i want to repuest a yan childe, please. hope you have a nice day :). i love your works!

Title: His Wish

Character: Childe / Tartaglia (Genshin Impact) Summary: Your banner was finally up and he waited for you to fall into his arms. Warning/tags: Sagau (but you are a playable character that was just released), yandere themes, fem!reader, unwanted physical affection, drabble

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed ]

You didn't want this not at all when you saw his crazed smile you wished you were anywhere than here. In a few minutes, in just a few minutes your freedom will be taken away from you trapped within the grasp of the man who obsessed over you. You were able to run away for so long yet it seems that you can't anymore.

In just a few minutes you will lose your freedom, unless the world didn't wish you to fall into his hands the player would lose the 50/50 and that they didn't have enough primogems and that would be it. Pray for the next time banner again never to send you off into the arms of whom you disgust.

But it seems that wasn't the case.

"I can't wait for us to be together. Me and the player have been waiting for so long for you to show up in the banners so that we can take you home. Even after the player leaves you and me will always be together." Words full of love felt like nothing but a trap. You do not love him, nor do you want to spend the rest of your life with him. So close were you to throwing something out the window in a fit of anger. You didn't want this anything was better than to be with that man.....

But it was too late.

"Why the down face, you looked so mad the whole time it was a good thing that the player could only see our backs most of the time." You stayed still as Childe leaned his chest on your back his hands wrapped around your midsection. You didn't answer him staying still as you looked at the scenery, the player logged out pf the game and now you were camping waiting for when they would come back.

The other two teammates were out to gather more wood and food leaving you and Childe alone. "I thought that you would be happy, after all, you were spoiled the moment you were pulled. You were given more power and strength enough to defeat even the strongest monsters and humans." You didn't look at Childe's face who placed his head on your shoulder to look at you, you were forced to sit in between his legs because after all even if the player had given you many things they too spoiled Childe even more.

He was way stronger than you still. No matter what you do you cannot leave less you want to make even more trouble for yourself.

You thought that it would be better to just willow in your grief. Ignoring him as if he was never there...

Easier said than done.

You flinched when he kissed your earlobe and then blew on it, quickly you covered your ear and glared at him. But Childe just smiled instead of getting hurt. "Finally you noticed me. Don't you think that it is a little mean to ignore someone like this?"

You cut him telling him to stop, so much anger that you were just trying to contain so close to spilling but it seems that he didn't care. When he looked so satisfied that your eyes were on him, so loving he looked at you with a spark of challenge within in them.

"What is the matter comrade?" Childe laughed, yet even you can tell that his eyes were excited by your hostility. "I wonder if it is only me who is very happy that you are now finally here beside me. Do you know how annoying it is to watch you as you chatted with the traveler just cause they are the main character? Every time I and the traveler had to swap just to talk to you made me so angry. So close yet so far."

"But hey you are here now. In my arms." His arms that held your waist tightened threatening, "You know well that you belong to me. That in this world it was only fate that we will be tied together like this. From our skill set to the player everyone wants us to be together. No matter where you go the moment the player logs in you will be in my arms again."

Moving his face closer to yours never once did he look away from you. "But even if they don't I will search for you till the ends of the world."

Note: Was supposed to post this a little later but I clicked post by mistake... lmao well hope you like it

[pixiestein]

a lil mouscedes design bc i’ve started actually getting comfortable with digital art recently & my fcking apple pencil stopped working so i can’t do anything until they replace it 🙃 anyway ever since i heard mouscedes is coming to g3 i’ve been wondering about her design bc girl her g1 design was Atrocious im sorry but the colours, the patterns, the way she describes her style as “totally upper beast side!” and yet it’s never shown in what she wears? girlie just wears a cheese shirt & some ballet rat trap heels? where is her rich girl old money new york um excuse me this drink is wrong can i speak to the manager swag?? they fr did not capture the rich girl vibes which is disappointing bc while it’s definitely not my thing, i do love exploring different styles & aesthetics and the Classic Rich Girl aesthetic is something we haven’t rlly seen from them! so i’m curious what they’re gonna do w her for g3, cautiously optimistic bc i don’t think it can be worse than her previous design, buuut still worried they aren’t gonna do her justice. if they don’t heavily feature yellow in her colour palette im gonna sue fr give yellow a chance i swear it’s not a bad colour!!!! anyway. look up what a real life rat king is if u wanna see something weird & gross but that’s what she’s based on, just a fucked up amalgamation of rat bods stuck together & slowly dying. ik some people have said that she should’ve been in eah bc the rat king is a character in the nutcracker, but i mean, it is quite monstrous. like if u saw one in real life would you not think there was something monstrous & supernatural going on? so i gave her like ten tails bc i want her to look kinda weird to be clear that she is actually a monster. her hairstyle was very much inspired by willow pill’s rat look tbh…pink added in ofc. and the buttons on her skirt & jacket are little nyc manhole covers :3

[sweetqueerinthesummer]

Taylor Swift and the closet

The closet is one of the most widely known parts of queer culture, and Taylor has been investing it for so long in her art, so I wanted to draw up a list of the way she has been using it, trying to be as exhaustive as possible, so here is everything I noticed:

I Know Places performance

On the 1989 world tour, for the I Know Places performance, which is probably one of the queerest songs by itself on 1989 and one of the first songs in which Taylor talks about a secret relationship, Taylor decides to perform the song surrounded by closet doors behind which she hides, to avoid the media and protect her relationship.

Look What You Made Me Do (part 1: the music video)

In the Look What You Made Me Do music video, Taylor presents herself as locked up, again. She is in a golden cage that reminds us a lot of the visuals from I Know Places on the 1989 world tour (the cages were swinging in the visuals, and she is even on a swing in the music video). She is dressed in a full orange outfit, which is speculated to be the color of Karma, an album that would’ve been released in 2016 had everything with the West/Kardashian family not happened. It is interesting because it will not be the last time this imagery can also be linked to things that happened in her career against her will, but also because we sometime think of Karma as an album where she could have been more free (gay) than in reputation (this should be taken with a whole spoon of salt, the existence of Karma is, to my knowledge, far from proved, and its content is completely unknown, it’s just a theory).

Ready For It music video

Ready For It, as well as its music video, would deserve a dedicated post seeing how interesting it is in terms of closeting and how it lightens reputation as an album and a lot of what comes after. But I'm just going to say that:

Here, on the left, the robot naked locked up Taylor is her true self and on the right is her closeted public persona. 

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Taylor uses the imagery of the glass closet, in the music video of a song about bearding (if you don't know what I mean, go see the difference between the way Taylor describes “he” in the verses and “you” in the chorus). The music video seems to confirm that the song is about the difference between her public persona (and relationship) and her private one, instead of being a love story (no love interest can be seen in the music video), and it ends with the closeted Taylor being free, and the public persona being destroyed...

So It Goes

"Gold cage, hostage to my feelings" She is trapped in a gold cage (like in the LWYMMD music video), because of her feelings that keep her imprisonned... if that doesn't sound like the closet, I don't know what does honestly.

The Lover era

The closet imagery is almost completely absent from the Lover Era, which fits the timeline: it's the era during which she was supposed to come out.

The only appearance I noticed is in the Lover music video, where her closet is full of yellow clothes, which is mainly significant in the fact that yellow seems to be the color Taylor uses to symbolize closeting now.

seven

seven is often interpreted (by gaylors) to be about a young gay love ("your braids like a pattern love you to the Moon and to Saturn"). In that regard, the lyrics "I think you should come live with / Me and we can be pirates / Then you won't have to cry / Or hide in the closet" can be understood as a proposition to run away and go live somewhere they could live their love freely.

willow music video

In the willow music video, this moment is incredibly significant

Child Taylor goes through the door and emerges as an adult in a glass closet. There, she immediately knows that she is supposed to start singing, and then, when she tries to join her lover on the other side of the glass, she can't leave and she is stuck in it… I believe that it speaks for itself. 

cowboy like me

"And the skeletons in both our closets / Plotted hard to mess this up"

In a song about feeling connection to someone because you recognize them as a part of your group that break the rules ("bandit"), the mention of the closet as something that keeps you from being with them is interesting, I would say.

Look What You Made Me Do part 2: the Eras Tour Performance

Since the beginning of the Eras Tour, the closet/glass closet/imprisonnement imagery is more present than ever, both in the concerts and in the music videos she put out since then.

In the Look What You Made Me Do performance, the imprisonment of Taylor's old selves (in glass closets) is understood widely to be a metaphor of her stolen masters, and it probably is in part her intention. There could be more than one meaning to that idea, even in Taylor's mind and one does not contradict the other. But here specifically, it seems to be confirmed that Taylor didn’t (only) think of that while imagining these visuals, since every single one of her album is present including the ones she has owned since they were released (Lover, folklore, evermore, Midnights):

(I don't have enough images left but some of the dancers are in Lover and folklore outfits too)

Lavender Haze visuals

Several times, in the visuals of the tour during the performance of Lavender Haze, Taylor is very clearly in a closet:

Lavender Haze can also be interpreted as being about bearding, that much can be analyzed both from the lyrics and the music video. During the performance (you can check in this video) those visuals appear when she says "no deal the 1950 shit they want from me" and disappear with "i just wanna stay in that lavender haze", I wonder if the closet might be the 1950's shit she doesn't want anymore...

Karma music video

In the Karma music video, there is no reference to a closet per se but Taylor is once again kept locked up, in an hourglass and a light bulb, this time. I don't know if it is significant in a particular way, except that the hourglass appears the first time she says "Karma is my boyfriend" which could mean that it's not going to be her boyfriend for long maybe? I noticed this one without any particular interpretation to be honest, but I didn’t want not to put it here, just in case...

As for the bulbs, they end up exploding...

I Can See You music video

Last but not least since there are two references to the closet in the music video for I Can See You, but first, a few things:

The music video is obviously about her taking back her masters, there is no doubt about that, it is very explicit and it would be stupid of me to try and say that it’s not. But as I said in the part about the Look What You Made Me Do performance, some things can have more than one meaning, and just because there is an obvious way to understand this specific piece of art doesn’t mean that it’s the only one. 

Second, here we’ll need to point out that before and/or during the Speak Now era, she dated very publicly Taylor Lautner, who features in the video. Gaylors also believe that she dated Liz Huett, her backing vocalist on the Speak Now tour.

Now, in the music video, we see three people rescuing Taylor from the vault in which she is kept. A woman (Presley Cash) stays in a van, while Joey King joins Taylor Lautner to save Taylor. What is interesting is that the only character that is not, at any point, linked to the lyrics is the man (potential beard). Presley Cash’s character is, more than once, either saying or illustrating the lyrics: “I've been watching you for ages” (she’s always looking inside Taylor’s vault even though it’s not really relevant to what’s happening), she even says “I can see you” at the end. As for Joey King, she is the one keeping quiet when Lautner is loud, she throws her jacket on the floor, and she is quite literally “up against the wall” when she opens the vault… She is the only character linked to the muse for the whole video, and she is the one opening the vault (closet?) for her.

Adding to that, Taylor’s old selves (in this situation, her outfits of the era) are kept in… glass closets, that explode at the end. The thing is, if we follow the (Lover era) failed coming out theory, the way her masters were stolen may have been the reason she didn't come out at the time, so, could it be that Taylor feels like her stolen masters are what keep her from being fully out?

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Three)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One ⤲ Part Two

Hi! I wanted to get this out sooner but I have a stinking cold and kept falling asleep whilst writing lol. Anyway - enjoy!

@greeneyedivy has been such a massive help with this story so far. Those braincells deserve all the love 😉💋

Warnings: None for this part.

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

“Beron’s announcing the engagement tonight – at the feast.”

Willow glanced up from the belongings she’d spread out over her bed. You’d seen to it yourself that she and her husband got the suite closest to yours. If your sisters were going to be hovering around for the next two weeks, you wanted your favourite one as close to you as possible.

Willow’s blue eyes studied you, her night-black hair rippling like silk as she tilted her head. “And how do you feel about that?”

Slowly, you shook your head from where you stood at the window overlooking the garden. It had been a task, in itself, to break away from the circles of acquaintances gushing over each other, to get some time alone with your youngest sister. She’d spotted you trying to rub the panic out of your chest and had made an excuse to Dion about needing to show you something in her suite.

“I feel…” Your eyes remained pinned on the lawn, bouncing over the people who were chatting and laughing and drinking. All far too wealthy for their own good. All as shallow as one another. “I feel trapped.”

There was a rustle of clothing, and then Willow was by your side, placing a hand on your arm. “I know this cannot be easy for you, Y/N.” She studied you. “But is Dion really so bad?”

You frowned, glancing down at your clasped hands. It wasn’t about whether Dion was the nicest person in the world or as much of a brute as his father. It was about you, your choices – your life. Your freedoms.

They didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“He doesn’t seem bad.” You admitted with a small shake of your head. “From what I can tell so far, he’s…polite. Kind. But I could still be proved wrong. And I didn’t want any of this. I’m not sure I ever even intended to marry at all.”

Your sister continued her appraisal of you. What her eyes were searching for, you didn’t know. But even though she was younger than you by five years…in that moment, she seemed older than you. Wiser. As if, in your situation, she would have just accepted it without complaint.

“I’m the only one who didn’t get to choose.” You quickly said, hoping to nip her thoughts right in the bud. “All four of you did – you, Molly, Clem…even Sara, who can’t choose which foods she does and doesn’t like day-to-day. Father may have made suggestions, but…your husbands were your choices. Not his. And Dion is Mama and Papa’s choice – not mine.”

Willow’s face seemed to change at that moment. A change so quick, it took you a few seconds to discern that her bright, pretty face had been shadowed by something…bleaker. The ever-present light in her eyes winking out slightly.

“Yes. Well.” She murmured, stepping away from your side. She turned her back to you, returning to the items she’d spread atop the bed. “Choosing is not all it’s cracked up to be, I assure you.”

You stared at her – the back of her head. “What does that mean?”

No answer. You may as well have not been there as she separated her clothes from her husband’s, folding them into neat piles to store in the armoire. But her shoulders were tense – stiff.

“Willa.” You used her nickname, striding around to the other side of the bed to face her. “What do you—are you and Isaac not happy?”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

You blinked at your youngest sister; at her sharp, cold tone. The two of you…you didn’t have secrets. At least, you didn’t think you did. Her husband’s estate may have been a bit of a trek away from yours, but you and Willow made the effort to meet regularly. To catch up. And she knew everything about you. Everything.

Yet you could see – right now, she had a wall up. She was blocking you out in a way she never had, and it made your stomach twist with worry.

“Willow.” You murmured gently, perching on the bed. “You can tell me—if things aren’t alright with Isaac. It stays between us.”

Her hands seemed to falter on the shirt she was folding. You watched closely as she swallowed, her eyes tracking the items before her, and then flickering up to meet yours.

“We just…” She shook her head. “We had an argument, that’s all. A couple of weeks ago.”

“Okay, well…all couples argue–”

“He hit me.”

You looked up so quickly, your neck clicked. “Excuse me.”

“He lost his temper…and he hit me. He’s never done it before–”

You were already standing up from the bed. Already feeling a fire igniting inside of you, spreading through you. You were going to hunt Isaac down and deal with him yourself—

“Y/N, no.” Willow hurried into your path, blocking the door. “You’ll make it worse. It was one time, and he said he’s sorry, and he won’t do it again. Things are just still a little…raw. But they’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“If he thinks he can lay a finger on you and get away with it–”

“He’s not.” Her touch on your arm was gentle. “Believe me, he’s not getting away with it. I’m not making things easy for him. He knows he did wrong, Y/N. Please, just…just keep it between us. Don’t tell him I told you. Please.”

You studied her face – didn’t know whether it was fear or desperation or both that shone in those wild, blue eyes. But whatever it was…it had you relaxing your shoulders, slinking back just enough to be rational.

It would make things worse if you stormed downstairs and confronted Isaac in front of everyone. Not just for Willow, but – but for you, too. You were sure Beron Vanserra wouldn’t appreciate such an outburst. And in front of his cohorts, no less.

“...Okay.” You relented – didn’t like it one bit, as you pressed your lips into a thin line. “ But, Willa…if he tries anything again…”

“He won’t. He won’t. But I would tell you straight away.”

You realised that was going to have to be good enough – for now. But while everyone was keeping their eyes on you throughout this gods-damn festival…you had a new person to mark. You were going to be watching Isaac like a hawk.

Scary, though – that Isaac had only dared to do such a thing once he had a wedding band firmly on your sister’s finger.

It didn’t exactly sell marriage to you any further.

⤲

It was by mid-afternoon that the more interesting celebrations had begun. The idle mingling and chatting around the estate had made way for the attractions that the High Lord had arranged — stalls of games and baked goods and the lilting caress of background music reaching out from across the green.

The atmosphere became easier with the arrival of the lesser fae, the working families. The people — farmers and land workers and pure grafters — that everyone had to thank for there even being a fruitful harvest at all. They turned up in droves, families of giggling, excitable children and their parents, aunts, uncles and older siblings who just seemed to be relieved to be doing something for fun.

You certainly noticed, however, the clear divide. That Beron Vanserra may have invited the lower dwellers of his court – the true backbone that kept it thriving – as a courtesy, a move to make himself look good and honourable – but with no real intention to acknowledge them. The cleave between your world and theirs was evident in the dull, tattered clothing that stood out amongst the gowns and tailored suits of the elite. And the way the noble members of the court watched them closely, judgingly, as though they were a smear on the landscape. As though they didn’t deserve an invite to the Harvest Festival that they had toiled to make happen.

It had you balling your fists at Dion’s side as you floated around, playing the part of the quiet, blushing female perfectly. It was a tad jarring every time he introduced you to someone as his fiancee, or placed a warm steady hand on your back. And not only did you have your family to contend with – their stares as they pretended to be uninterested in you – but Barric, also. It was clear he was acting as escort to your courtship.

He always remained a few steps behind, enthusiastically greeting people as he passed them and pretending to observe the various stalls that were set up. But he walked where you walked, looked at what you looked at — and stopped at the exact same moment that Dion pulled you to a standstill in front of a table where a High Fae female was selling homemade chocolates.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” Dion asked you, a glint in his eye.

“I do.” You nodded, eyeing the sweets in front of you that admittedly smelled incredible. “Do you?”

“Oh, a terrible one. Chocolate, sweets, cakes — I love it all.” He turned to the vendor, his smile winning and charming as he said, “A bag of the orange chocolates for my lady here, please.”

His lady. It flowed so easy from his lips, like he’d been speaking those very words for years. You waited patiently as the expert chocolatier bagged the sweets up and accepted Dion’s coin in exchange. He fell into conversation with her, chatting and asking questions he seemed genuinely interested in the answers to. And you…you scanned the droves of people, looking for any glimpse of Willow’s husband. You may have promised not to say anything, not to act on your anger, but that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t step a toe out of line—

But it wasn’t Isaac your eyes landed on. You should have been used, already, to the many flashes of red, flowing Vanserra hair around the place. The brothers were all dotted around somewhere, mingling with friends, partaking in the game stalls — but it was the youngest one your eyes found. Lucien.

It surprised you, somewhat, that he was even present. You were unable to stop yourself watching as he stopped at the small, rickety lemonade stand that a group of children were tending. Their clothes were clearly the grubby hand-me-downs that most of the lesser faeries seemed to be wearing, and it didn’t look like any noble members of the court had stopped by to humour them and buy what they were selling. Lucien Vanserra was likely the first.

He seemed to say something teasing, and all of the children broke out into a fit of laughter. And Lucien was grinning…so at odds with the contempt he’d worn when he’d looked upon you on the day of your arrival. He made a show of sniffing the pitcher of lemonade, of commenting on the aromas — and the children were loving every second of it. Hanging off every word. And you may not have been close enough to hear his words over the many voices around you, but you saw the way he ordered four cups of lemonade for himself — handed over one coin for each of the four children that were gazing up at him in pure amazement.

You were so entranced by the scene that you didn’t realise Dion was speaking to you until he was stood before you once more, a chocolate pinched between his fingers.

“Open up.” He smiled broadly. “Taste this.”

You blinked, your cheeks heating just slightly. Your eyes shot to the small gathering of your sisters and your parents, where they stood, sipping from delicate teacups and acting like they weren’t analysing your every move. A tad uncomfortable, you parted your lips and stilled as Dion pushed the small, round chocolate between them.

“Good, right?” He smirked as you took a bite. “They’re my favourite.”

They were good — there was no doubt about that, as you chewed and swallowed. The orange tangy and the chocolate creamy, it was an effort to stop your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind for Solstice.” You said — and almost blinked at yourself. You’d only been around him for forty-eight hours, and you were already talking about buying him Solstice gifts.

He held your gaze as he lifted his finger to his lips and sucked the remnants of chocolate off.

Clearing your throat, you turned quickly. “Those children are selling lemonade. How about we buy a cup?”

He smiled widely, offering you his arm. “Lead the way, my lady.”

⤲

You’d been primed for this.

It was while you’d been pulled this way and that, moulded into the prettiest, perfect vision for the evening feast, that Barric had joined you in your suite. He’d perched himself on the chaise across the room and detailed every aspect of what you were to expect that evening. Where you would sit, how you were expected to act, even what was appropriate for you to eat.

But most of all — most of all, you were to remember to smile, to look enthralled, while the High Lord officially announced to his court that you were to wed his second-eldest son.

You thought you might vomit before you even made it to the great hall. Because no amount of priming would be enough. You realised that when you approached Dion at the bottom of the grand staircase, your long skirts – and Barric – trailing behind you.

Dion’s eyes flicked over you, alighting with…something…as he took in the dark green gown. He swallowed, adjusting his collar. “...Wow…”

You stepped down from the last stair, your cheeks heating self-consciously. “Does it look ridiculous?”

Your fiance shook his head. “Quite the opposite. You…are a vision.”

From behind you, still hovering on the stairs, Barric cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

Taking Dion’s arm, the three of you did just that. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you took in the sight of the room, your eyes searching for where your family were sitting; just beside the top table, where the High Lord and his family lounged.

“You’ll be sitting beside me.” Dion said into your ear. Barric had already informed you of the arrangement earlier, but you felt a second sting of disappointment at not spending the feast beside Willow.

The giant room was full with chatter and the aromas of so many different foods, it was overwhelming. But as you walked past tables, smiling politely at the people Dion greeted, sparing a wave for your own family, two things struck you.

That the spread of food was…exorbitant. A feast, indeed, but so incredibly over-the-top, the thought of its cost made you cringe; it seemed especially tonedeaf with the amount of people who’d been wandering the estate earlier in clothes and shoes that were more or less falling apart. And that was the second thing you noticed – all the Lesser Faeries that had joined in the fun that afternoon…the children enjoying themselves and the grafters letting their hair down after a summer of hard work…not a single one of them was present.

Your eyes bounced over every single table. Every person sat at those tables. Every last one was of a noble or aristocratic background. Every one of them wore garments and accessories that could have paid the rent on the lesser faeries’ land for an entire year.

“Where are they?” You turned to Dion, frowning. “The families that were here earlier.” You didn’t want to use the words Lesser Fae out loud; something about it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Dion seemed totally oblivious to your shock as he replied. “The common folk? They’re not invited to the feasts or dances – just the daytime events.”

You gawked at him, a slither of cold outrage snaking through you that he didn’t seem to notice. You were just about to point out that the very food everyone in that room would be eating was there because of the harvesters, the workers who broke their backs and put their sweat and blood into the community – but a hand landed on your arm, and you looked up to see Barric shoot you a warning glance.

“Come,” He said. “You two must be seated before the announcement.”

Fuck the announcement, was what you wanted to reply. How were you supposed to sit and watch these people bask arrogantly in their wealth when the people toiling over their lands were probably wolfing down a dinner of stale bread and cheese? There was plenty of room in here for more tables, plenty of spaces in which those people could sit.

You had to ball your fists, to bite your tongue – you looked over to your family, found your parents staring expectantly at you. And it was only imagining them in tattered clothing, eating gone-off food, that gave you the will to tamp down on your anger. For now.

You were led to the top table and seated in a high-backed chair between Dion and Jareth. Jareth sent you a wolfish grin, taking a long sip from his wine chalice.

“Evening, future sister-in-law.” He murmured, his eyes wandering over your body. “Don’t you make the pretty plaything?”

You scowled at him, facing forward. Jareth seemed to have an entire bank of leering, inappropriate comments for any female in the general vicinity. Only earlier that day, he’d stood and shamelessly flirted with you and all of your sisters – in front of their husbands, too

You were saved from having to make a remark by Beron standing from his throne at the centre of the table. He looked over the great hall, and then squared his shoulders. Tapped a fork against his glass loud enough that the cacophony of voices died out in seconds.

“Good evening to you all.” His voice was clear– confident – as he stared forward and made direct eye contact with people. “Welcome to our first feast of this year’s harvest. An old tradition of our people that I hope we can start anew. And what a bounty of good food we have before us.”

Murmurs of agreement broke through the room. You clenched your hands beneath the table.

“Before we indulge ourselves,” Beron said. “I have a wonderful announcement I’d like to share with you – my court. My people.”

That said it all – that he didn’t consider the landworkers of his court, their families, to be his people.

“I’m delighted to share with you the joining of two families.” He continued. “You all know my second-eldest son, Dion.” A glance at Dion, a flash of expectancy in his eyes. “Dion is engaged to be wed — to the fine lady at his side. Y/N, we look forward to welcoming you into our family.”

All eyes were on you, now. You felt your cheeks redden, your skin growing tight and hot under the intense scrutiny. You couldn’t help wondering what those many people might be thinking – whether there were jealous females thinking they would have been better suited for the role. Irritated fathers who were pissed that you’d wormed your way in with the Vanserras before their child could. Stuck-up mothers who didn’t deem you anywhere near good enough.

But you smiled – like you’d been told to. Inclined your head at Beron – like you’d been told to. Allowed Dion to grab your hand and place a kiss on your cheek – like you’d been told to.

And the crowds of people cheered, just like they were expected to.

“We hope you’ll join us in celebrating the happy news.” Beron raised his glass, and everyone in the room followed. “To Dion and Lady Y/N. Let the feast begin.”

⤲

It felt wrong – to eat the food. Every bite was like ash in your mouth. The only relief was the spiced wine you washed it all down with.

After an hour or so of feasting, the rigid formality seemed to dissipate somewhat. People rose from their seats, venturing to other tables to speak to friends, or even to approach the top table and engage the High Lord in conversation — conversations that had you clenching your fists harder and harder beneath the table, as you listened to Beron’s subjects gush about how generous he had been to invite the common folk to the daytime celebrations. Some even complained that said folk should have made a better effort with their clothing.

It was that comment which had you hitting your limit. You pushed your chair back, muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom, and breezed away without a glance back. Luckily, Dion — and all the other Vanserras — were far too taken by conversation to notice.

You didn’t think you could get away with leaving the room itself — not with Barric always keeping a watchful eye on you. But you floated around its edges, the cold, draughty parts where Autumn Court banners were hung and discreet alcoves dipped off into other parts of the manor.

It was in one of those alcoves that you spotted him — Lucien.

He leaned against a wall, wine glass in hand, his eyes dancing over the tables and his feet making no move to go any closer. You hadn’t even checked to see if he’d been at the top table with the rest of his family.

But something told you they wouldn’t have noticed — or cared — if he wasn’t.

Dressed in a tailored outfit a similar shade to his russet eyes, his long hair unbound, he looked like a painting in that alcove. The kinds your mother had hung up all around your family’s estate. He cut a solitary figure like he always seemed to, but appeared to be otherwise relaxed. Appeared to be fine with just standing and…spectating. Just himself and his thoughts.

As though he could sense your intense stare, his eyes flicked to yours. Those dark red eyebrows rose when he found you, indeed, staring.

You couldn’t explain it — the way your feet began to move towards him. He’d been nothing but unpleasant to you in the short conversation you’d had with him. But something about his solitary nature spoke to you. Something that made you want to speak back.

You stopped at a drinks table, grabbing yourself another glass of wine, before subtly sidling over to where Lucien stood. You tried to relax your stance, to mimic his casualness, his ease, as you pressed your back against the wall, a few steps away from him. He watched the entire thing.

You met his eyes once more, taking a sip of your wine and nodding in polite greeting.

“Is there a reason you’ve been walking around with a face like a smacked ass?” He said.

That was his greeting.

You blinked at him, your body somehow coiling tighter than it already was.

So — that rude conversation on your first night here hadn’t merely been the product of Lucien in a bad mood, then.

His head fell into a tilt as he studied you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once since the feast started. Is our food not to your liking?”

It would have been so easy to scowl and stalk away — to not get into this with him. And would have been wise to, also. He may have had a terse relationship with his family at best, but you didn’t doubt he’d run straight to his father with any complaints of yours — if only out of spite, fanned by this bizarre dislike he seemed to have for you.

But clearly you weren’t feeling very wise. Not as your mouth began speaking before you could tell it not to.

“It just leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.” You said through gritted teeth. “That we’re all here stuffing our faces, over-indulging, and yet nobody actually responsible for the harvest has been invited.”

Lucien cocked a single eyebrow. He angled his body towards you. “This sounds interesting. Please, do impart your musings upon me, Lady. I’m fascinated to know what goes on behind the pretty face.”

Pure, pure sarcasm. He was mocking you, being rude again — and you knew that. And never had you let anyone speak to you in such a way before; never had you stood for someone so freely ridiculing you.

But did you walk away, decide not to humour him?

No. You didn’t.

“Look around the room.” You simply said, holding his gaze. Your clenched jaw was the only symbol of ire you threw at him. “Look at every damn table. Every single person here is a noble, an aristocrat. High Fae. And yet the High Lord didn’t deign to invite the hard workers who slaved over the land all year so that he could even host this feast. None of the hard-working families that everyone should be celebrating and thanking. No, they’ll be stuck at home eating stale bread and cheese and receiving no appreciation for the back-breaking graft they put in.”

The words had just…tumbled from your mouth. Pent-up from an hour of watching people gush over the High Lord. You knew you should have stopped yourself, knew you should have kept your mouth shut and later ranted to Willow, or even your damn reflection in the mirror.

Not to the youngest Autumn Court son who had an inexplicable problem with you. Who was probably delighting in the fact that you had just slipped up.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. His head fell into a tilt.

“Interesting.” He said, his tone quiet. Cutting. “But have you completely forgotten your own privilege, Lady?”

You balked at him. Hadn’t expected that response. “What?”

“You are a noble. You are High Fae.” His eyes travelled over you, disgust curling his lip. “And you are here, looking just as prim and proper and stuck-up as the rest of them. When was the last time you did a hard day’s work in your life? It seems to me like the pot is calling the kettle black.”

Before you could even begin to formulate a response, he was pushing off the wall. Draining his glass and striding away without so much as a glance back at you.

All you could do was stand and gawk in his wake — stunned and stung by his words. You wanted to run after him, to chew him out and tell him how wrong he was. How much hard work you had put in over the years. That he’d got you completely and utterly wrong.

But as you drained your own glass and turned in the direction he disappeared in, not even a flash of red hair remained.

⤲

You should have left it alone.

Lucien Vanserra had made his thoughts of you abundantly clear — his dislike for you. And with his mind clearly made up, there was probably no use beating a dead horse and trying to defend yourself.

But the anger that had already been there, inside you, had snowballed. You remained at the edges of the room, helping yourself to the wine and not bothering to pretend you were happy to be there. Fortunately, nobody seemed to take much notice of you, either.

You stared with narrowed eyes across the room, watching Dion, who was now engaging in enthusiastic conversation with Willow. They seemed to be getting along perfectly — you’d suspected they would — and you were thankful that she was distracting him enough, making him laugh hard enough, that he didn’t seem to be aware of your absence.

Lucien had no right to talk to you like that. He didn’t know you, had no knowledge of the kind of work you had done. He’d formed an unfair opinion of you and run with it, and in a situation that was already lonely as it was, you didn’t need the added hostility. Did it mean you were weak, to be barely three days in and hitting your breaking point? Maybe. You didn’t care. You needed someone to sound off to, to give a piece of your mind.

That was how you found yourself slipping out of the great hall before anyone could stop you. You were going to hunt Lucien down, to confront him and demand to know what his damn problem was.

Your thoughts were a tad fogged by the wine you’d consumed. There was no real method or direction to the route you travelled, probably going round in circles. You strode through the long, winding halls with purpose, passing servants who took one look at your thunderous expression and averted their gazes.

Outside. Lucien Vanserra always seemed to be outside, somewhere, loitering around trees and in the shadows. You pushed through the huge glass doors that opened out onto the veranda — the same one you’d dined on only that morning.

You’d made it only halfway across the dewy grass before you heard him — heard them. There was a trilling, feminine laugh that echoed through the night, stark and loud in your ears. Movement in your periphery. You turned in its direction.

Just in time to see Lucien press a pretty blonde against a tree. To see his hands roaming her body as he kissed her feverishly, and they laughed sensuously into each other’s mouths.

You went still. Just…just stared for a moment. Stared at the scene before you and tried to understand the bile that rose in the back of your throat. The twisting in your gut.

Only when Lucien and his lover disappeared out of sight did it strike you — the hollowness you felt. The jealousy. Nothing…nothing to do with who it was, but…the intimacy. The freedom of that intimacy.

Because it hit you like a ton of bricks that Lucien Vanserra may have been a solitary male who liked to skulk off and brood alone…he may have been the black sheep of his family…but he clearly still had freedoms that you lacked. Such a fact stung like a slap.

You couldn’t just sneak off for a clandestine fumble in the woods with a casual fling. Couldn’t engage in a spell of brief, meaningless passion, just for the hell of it. Not anymore.

It left you feeling so, so terribly lonely. You didn’t really know why.

But that fire of anger inside you winked out. Left you empty. You didn’t feel like confronting Lucien Vanserra anymore, didn’t feel like chewing him out.

You just wanted to be alone.

⤲

“I like him. Dion, I mean.”

It was nearing the end of the first week of the festival when Willow slipped her arm through yours. The moon was beating down on the Vanserra Estate, and a sizable group of people had come along to The Offering – an Autumn Court tradition that had been built from superstition centuries ago. It was said that at moonrise, anyone who left offerings for the wild creatures of the Autumn Court were promised safety and good harvest the following year. Groups of courtiers wandered through the woods, carrying armfuls of jam jars and fruit baskets and crisp loaves of bread, all to be left for creatures that may not even exist.

“Dion’s nice.” You acknowledge with a small nod. You were careful not to speak too openly with your sisters lingering close behind. And the Vanserra brothers striding ahead.

It was true – as the week had progressed, you’d found yourself enjoying Dion’s company. He was easy to talk to, a male of flowing conversation and good humour. You’d taken to sharing nightly walks around the gardens, and you were perfectly happy to listen while he regaled you with stories and shared knowledge of subjects you knew nothing about. And additionally, he seemed to have truly taken to your youngest – favourite – sister. He and Willow already had a budding relationship built on teasing each other, on affectionate bickering. It wasn’t unusual to walk into a room and find the pair of them laughing – a fact that angered Isaac, no doubt. You’d been keeping a close eye on him all week.

And you’d thankfully not run into Lucien Vanserra’s path. Which was good. Which was fine. You weren’t going to bother with pleasantries when he clearly had no intentions of doing so.

“Do you have any idea of when the wedding might be?” Willow asked you, gently nudging you with her elbow. Her offering of a huge jar of honey was tucked under her other arm.

“No,” You shook your head. “It’s to be discussed after the festival. That’s when the preparations will begin.”

Her gaze flicked to you. “And are you…you know…attracted to him?”

“He’s a handsome male.”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N. Do you feel…alright…where the wedding night itself is concerned?”

You spared her the slightest glance in your periphery. She was bound to have brought this up at some point…this subject that was a giant elephant in the room. Sitting on a secret that you had no clue what you were going to do about. Try as you might to bury it, it always lingered at the back of your mind – waiting to come alive and smack you in the face.

But you squared your shoulders. Played the fool, as you said, “I feel fine about it.”

Before you could think of a subject change, Willow was suddenly veering you both to the left, tugging you around a giant tree. She checked that you were truly out of sight before she turned back to you, her face pinched. There was something…comical, in the way she tried to look serious while holding a giant jar of honey.

“Have you even thought about the situation at all?” She hissed. “Things may be sweet and innocent right now, but come your wedding night, Dion is going to know. He’s going to figure out the state of your virginity – or lack thereof – and he might not like it. I hear the Vanserras have a thing about taking pure brides.”

You swallowed, your stomach bottoming out. It was far easier to ignore when it wasn’t being pointed out to you. And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that – whether you planned to tell Dion or not.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that one choice you’d made for yourself all those years ago – to have Linden, one of the few people you trusted more than anything – to be the first person you had sex with. He had been kind and careful, and you’d felt good afterwards – glad you’d chosen the person yourself, and never thinking it would be a decision that would come back to bite you on the ass.

And yet here you were. Engaged to a male who likely expected you to be…intact, as you’d heard other males say, on your wedding night. A male who expected to be your first and only lover.

“I highly doubt Dion is a virgin,” You shrugged defensively. “Why should I have to defend my choice to sleep with Linden? I wanted–”

“Holy Gods.”

The words, choked with incredulity and a lick of laughter, had not come from Willow.

You looked up, your entire body – entire existence – going cold as you observed Molly gaping at you from a few strides away, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised, her back ramrod straight.

“Damn it.” Willow mumbled under her breath. “Molly–”

“You actually gave yourself to that brute?” Molly folded her arms, her eyes studying you. “Do you have no respect for yourself at all?”

Your jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t be listening in on conversations.”

Your eldest sister placed a mocking hand over her chest. “I was concerned about my sisters wandering off into the woods alone.”

You took a single step towards her, to say, to do…what, you didn’t know. But Willow was grabbing hold of your arm. Glaring at Molly with an intensity that would have even the most hard-faced people backing down.

“You better keep your gods-damn mouth shut about this, Molly.” She said through gritted teeth. “I mean it – not a word.”

Molly smirked. Oh, she was enjoying this. To have leverage against someone was like having the Winter Solstice come early. Her eyes glistened with challenge.

“Keeping my mouth shut won’t change the fact that Y/N allowed herself to be defiled by that scum with a sword.” She sniped. “How, exactly, do you plan to explain yourself to your betrothed?”

“None of your fucking business.” You snapped.

“Tetchy,” That wolfish smirk widened. “You have no plan at all, do you?”

“I–”

“Swear you won’t say anything.” Willow cut in, folding her arms.

“Are you above begging?”

“Swear,” Your youngest sister repeated, her jaw ticking as she stepped forward, “you won’t say anything.”

“Mother Above, the two of you are so dramatic.” Molly made a show of glancing at her nails. Of sighing deeply. Of placing a hand on the swell of her belly. And then she smirked again. “I swear I won’t tell anyone – if only because I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”

She offered no chance for you to respond before she was turning and flouncing away, a trill of satisfied laughter in her wake. Your shoulders slumped, but you felt no relief – you didn’t trust Molly or her word for one second.

“Bitch.” Willow murmured beside you, scooping up the jar of honey. “Don’t worry about her. She’s all talk. Let’s make these offerings before the Autumn Court creatures materialise and decide to eat us instead.”

You forced a smile. Allowed yourself to be tugged back through the trees, onto the path that groups were still ambling along, only spaced-out faelights and moonlight illuminating the way.

Ahead of you, Molly had returned to strolling at her husband’s side.

She glanced back once. And grinned.

⤲

The end of that first week was a relief. Albeit a short-lived one.

You wanted to wind the week up by doing nothing. By holing yourself up in your room and reading, or sleeping, or—anything. Anything that didn’t involve plastering a smile on your face and talking to people.

And yet here you were, on a dragging Sunday night, trying to work out how you were going to survive the last week of festivities — all while the High Lord’s personal bard played to a tittering audience, and your sisters and Dion’s brothers chatted around the table you all occupied.

You almost felt bad for the bard. Nobody appeared to be listening. Every song he had played had been drowned out by the numerous conversations happening at once.

You felt…uneasy, with Molly sitting opposite you. She may not have spoken a word of your secret thus far, but the glances she kept shooting you were in no way subtle. The exhausting week had begun to weigh on you, and you bristled every time your sister opened her mouth. Beside you, Dion seemed to notice your resigned demeanour.

His hand landed on your leg, and he leaned down to your ear. “Are you alright?”

Glancing up at him, you nodded. “I’m fine – just tired.”

“We don’t have to stay for this — I can take you back to your suite.”

Across the table, a resounding tsk came from your eldest sister. Everyone looked to her in question, but her gaze was firmly on you. On Dion, and the clear direction his hand was leaning in beneath the table.

“Now, now, enough of that.” Molly said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I’m sure the two of you would prefer to keep things clean and pure until the wedding night.”

Your jaw ticked as Dion shifted beside you. “That isn’t what I meant.” He said.

“No need to sweat.” Molly smiled at him — and then glanced at you. Directly at you, her eyes burning into yours. “We all feel temptation beckoning us sometimes, right?”

“Molly.” Willow’s voice was low, warning, from the chair at your other side. “You’re being inappropriate.”

The tension around the table could be cut with a knife. But Molly seemed to be enjoying it, as she sat back in her chair and continued to simply smirk at you. So many retorts teased the tip of your tongue, begging you to rip into her, to give in and make that scene she was so clearly angling for—

But you were saved right at the last minute by one song ending, and another beginning. The bard’s swift musical transition seemed to sweep away the tautness that stretched around your table, and as if the last couple of minutes hadn’t occurred, conversation started anew — instigated by Eris, who was happy to sit and bend everyone’s ears with heroic stories about himself.

You were just thankful that the heat was taken off of you.

Even more so that only Willow and Dion seemed to be aware when you pushed out from the table, rising to your feet. Everyone else was too entranced by Eris waxing poetic about a hunting trip he’d been on.

“Can I escort you somewhere?” Dion peered up at you. There was a strange lick of apology in his eyes, his tone, as if he blamed himself for the turn the conversation had taken moments ago.

“No,” You answered quickly — too quickly — and cleared your throat. “No, thank you. I’m ready to turn in.”

He nodded in what seemed to be understanding — and perhaps a flash of disappointment. He reached for your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to your fingers. “Goodnight, then.”

The tinge of guilt you felt was almost enough to make you sit back down and tolerate Molly for the rest of the evening, just to appease Dion. Because all week, he’d been nothing but kind to you. Nothing but polite and accommodating and understanding that this situation you both found yourselves in was a bizarre one, a tricky one, and you were trying to puzzle it out yourselves with the watchful gazes of others constantly on you.

But if you stayed a second longer, you thought you might scream. You’d barely had a moment to yourself all week, and if you didn’t take that time now, you weren’t sure what you might do. What you might say.

You kissed Willow on the cheek and bade everyone goodnight, trying to ignore Molly’s eyes on you as you hastily left the room.

But you didn’t go straight to bed, like you were no doubt expected to. The one bit of solace you’d found in this place, in this situation, was the beautiful sprawl of land around you, as far as the eye could see. You wanted to feel the chilled autumn air on your skin, to breathe in its crisp scent whilst you walked the gardens — alone — and allowed your thoughts to roam freely.

You waited, just long enough to make sure nobody followed, and then made your way outside. You weren’t dressed at all appropriately for the bite in the air, but there was something pleasant about the cold temperature washing over you. Like you were breaking the surface of water and taking great, greedy gulps of air.

You allowed your feet to carry you aimlessly, putting distance between you and the manor, the sounds of music and chatter floating out from inside. The further you strayed from the huge house, the more you relied on the accompanying full moonlight to illuminate your path and guide you onwards. Shafts of its silvery light broke through the leaves as you began to wend through the trees, the smell of damp earth and bark somewhat of a soothing tonic to you.

You didn’t realise just how far you’d wandered until you could no longer make out the lights from the manor — or the sounds. The silence of the forest at this time was deafening, the only sounds made by your shoes kicking through leaves and stepping on twigs.

That was — until you heard it.

You couldn’t immediately make out what it was — what you were hearing. A sound akin to heavy breathing, but not that of a person; almost like a creature’s snout sniffing the air.

You stopped dead on the path you were wandering, frozen on the spot. Only around twenty feet away from you, you could just discern the outline of objects sitting at the bases of the towering trees. Small jars, bigger ones, cloaks and trinkets—

The Offerings everybody had left for the elusive Autumn Court creatures. You had wandered way, way too far.

You didn’t know what to do as the strange sound picked up, grew closer. You didn’t fancy your chances at running over the uneven forest floor in your gown — and certainly not if it would just invite whatever animal was lurking to follow you.

You stood ramrod straight, waiting for it to emerge. Perhaps a wolf, or a wildcat, or—

The…creature…that inched out from around a tree was a thing of pure, undiluted nightmare.

Its head was certainly that of an animal’s — a fox — with glowing yellow eyes and a maw that pulled back into somewhat of a sneer. But its body…slender and tall…it had to be towering at eight feet at least, and walking on two legs—

You were going to vomit. Never had you had such a strong, visceral reaction to a sight before you. The way you shook had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

You couldn’t move — not as you watched the giant beast stalk towards the offerings, its nose still loudly sniffing the air, sniffing for—

Something snaked around your face — a warm hand that covered your mouth, your nose. You had no time to react as you were yanked back against a firm, solid body, and slowly, slowly dragged backwards.

“Don’t,” A voice, lethally quiet, whispered into your ear. Lucien. “Make a sound.”

You obeyed. As much as you wanted to scream your head off in pure terror. Lucien’s other hand was around your waist, and you gripped onto his arm, allowing yourself to slowly, slowly, be dragged backwards, your eyes never once leaving the creature.

You thought he must know these woods like the back of his hand, with how expertly he stepped around trees and over dips, acting like you weighed nothing more than air as he pulled you along with him.

Only when you were far enough away that the creature was just a moving blot of darkness did Lucien stop. He pressed his back against the tree. And continued to hold onto you.

His hand splayed flat against your stomach as he gradually pulled the other from your face. “Don’t scream.” He told you, his voice little more than a sigh. “And don’t move.”

You couldn’t move, aside of the uncontrollable tremors wracking through your body. You were icy cold all over, and you pressed back against Lucien, savouring his warmth, his firm presence. His chest heaved heavy breaths as he held you still.

“…What…” You dared to whisper, “What was that?”

Because the creature…you’d never seen anything like it before. These things that you’d left offerings for…they were all supposed to be mere superstition. A nightmare entity that parents used to make their children behave.

But you’d seen it before you, in the flesh. A towering, fox-like creature that walked on its hind legs.

Lucien’s fingers pressed against your stomach. “It doesn’t have a name,” He murmured. “It just is. They’re rare, but…history says they would appear for the offerings left at the trees. And they track a person’s movement. Once they’ve spotted you, you’re done for. We called them Nutcrackers, as children. Because it allegedly cracks your skull between its jaws, like a nut, before you have a chance to react.”

The shiver that wracked through you was palpable. It felt like ages that the two of you stood there like that, your bodies pressed together, waiting for some indication that it was safe to promptly get the fuck out of there. After what felt like an eternity, the dark outline of the horrifying creature seemed to slip deep into the brush, its long, slender arms clutching a whole bounty of offerings.

You knew the coast must have been clear when Lucien exhaled — and pushed you away from him.

“What the fuck,” he stormed round to face you, “were you doing all the way out here?”

You rubbed your arms, too shaken to be put out by his tone. You shrugged half-heartedly. “I came for a walk. Didn’t realise how far I’d wandered.”

Your nonchalance seemed to anger him. He was a flare of red hair and golden skin — accented by silver moonlight — as he shook his head at you, his strong jaw flexing.

“You really are as daft as you seem.” He sniped. “Count yourself fucking lucky that I was here to get your ass out of that.”

You folded your arms. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I don’t care what you do—”

“Or perhaps I should apologise,” You cut him off, “What were you doing out here so late? I don’t suppose I was interrupting another quick fuck against a tree?”

Lucien stilled — stared at you. And you wished — wished so damn hard — that you could snatch those words right out of thin air and cram them back into your mouth, down your throat. You didn’t know why you’d even said it.

It had achieved nothing — other than making it clear to him that you’d seen him sneaking off with a female on the night of the feast.

He stepped closer to you — so close that his hair tickled your face as he leaned down. So close that his scent pushed its way up your nose, invading you, smothering you—

“Do me a favour,” He hissed, “and stay far away from the woods. Stay far away from any potential danger so that I don’t have to stick my neck out getting you out of it.” Cruel, russet eyes flicked over you. “In fact? Stay far away from me. That’s what I want you to do, Lady.”

He turned without another word. Or another glance at you, as he stormed away, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure, trembles still wracking your body.

You should have been thinking: Lucien Vanserra is a prick.

Should have been thinking that you wanted to smack his sneer from his gods-damn face.

But you watched and watched as he disappeared out of sight. You weren’t even worried about the fucking fox-nutcracker-hind-legged-creature anymore. Not as it was just you and the trees, and the sting of Lucien’s harsh words still hanging in the air.

All you were thinking was that Lucien Vanserra smelled like a heady mix of apples, of woodsmoke, of the forest after a downpour, the earthy tones of cedar and balsam fir. The most delicious concoction that your imagination couldn’t possibly make up. It lingered in your nose, rapidly fading with each passing second.

All you were thinking was that you’d never smelled anything — anyone — like it.

That you wanted to inhale that scent greedily.

Again and again and again.

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

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[flower-boi16]

The Owl House Is A Bit of A Mixed Bag When It Comes To Ships

The Owl House is a show that I love a lot, but when it comes to relationships I have some mixed feelings. Now, I don't hate ships in TOH but I do have some issues with them.

The Good

First let's start of with the good; one of the things I like about how TOH handles its ships is how they don't overtake the plot or anything, which is a pretty easy trap that any show with romance can fall into (looking at you Star vs). There's also no bullshit romance drama in the show (the closest thing we get to that is Luz not opening up in S2 EP11 and EP14 but that was about it and its also executed in a way that's not absolutely insufferable).

Lumity is also the show's best relationship; it's gradually built up over the course of season 1 and the first half of season 2 and they are legitimately pretty cute together. Ships like Veesha and Aladraius are also pretty neat. So now let's get into...

The Problems

NOTE: Any issues I have with TOH's ships are most likely due to the shortening, so take my critiques with a grain of salt. Also there will be some criticism levidied towards Huntlow and Reada, if you don't like that don't read the rest of this post.

I think my issues with TOH's ships have to come with the ship's themselves, mainly Raeda and Huntlow. Lumity is good as I already said but the other two have a few issues. First I'ma talk about Huntlow; I don't hate Huntlow as a ship, It's OK, I just think it could have been done a bit better.

The ship mainly suffers from being less developed than Lumity, as Willow and Hunter don't really have that much-developed chemistry with each other. There is one interesting thing about the ship though, that being how they are both young witchlings that were shunned for not being born strong and called a "half-a-witch". That is an interesting parallel, but I don't really think the show develops they're relationship beyond that. The ship is just kinda underdeveloped which is my main problem with it, they're relationship just isn't that fleshed out to me, and as a result, it feels a little bit rushed.

I WILL say though, the moment they had in FTF is cute, it's neat harmless little fan service that doesn't take away from the plot or characters, which is nice.

But overall Huntlow isn't terrible but I have my fair share of issues with it. I honestly feel like this ship has more developed chemistry in fan works than in canon. Like, seriously, Willow and Hunter are incredibly cute together in a lot of Huntlow fan works more than in the actual show.

Anyways, now let's get into...Raeda. I've already talked about this ship before and why I personally don't care for it so I won't go too in depth here, but Raeda to me just suffers from how Raine, as a character, is heavily defined by Eda, and they don't have much depth outside of that. If Raine as a character had more independence from Eda I would have liked this ship a lot more, but they don't.

Again, my issues of Huntlow and Raeda are purely there because of the shortening. If the show wasn't shortened than Huntlow would've definitely been more developed, and Raine would have been a better character with more actual development beyond "Eda's ex".

Conclusion

So ya, that's my thoughts on TOH ships. The shipping in the show isn't bad but I think it could've been better, though again, it's worth mentioning the show got shortened so these problems aren't necessarily its fault, buuuuuut my points still stand. So....bye.

[coraniaid]

Very (very) slowly carrying on with my Buffy rewatch.

I really like Fear Itself. I think it's probably the best of the show's three Halloween episodes. Maybe not one of the truly top tier Buffy episodes, but certainly a very fun and solid one.

I'd completely forgotten about the scene Buffy shares with her mom while getting her costume prepared for the party. In my memory Joyce really isn't in this season much at all. It's a really nice shared moment too, of the sort I wish we'd seen a bit more often. (Although it's not clear to me exactly when Joyce is meant to have found out that Ted was a robot. When did Buffy tell her, and why?) And canon confirmation that Joyce has friends other than the late and unlamented Pat!

Anya is a fun addition to the group, even if you have to do some mental gymnastics to reconcile this version of the character with the very different version we saw in a handful of episodes last season. Still, this version is charming enough that I don't really mind doing that ("Xander is in trouble! We've got to do something right now! Aren't you listening? Xander is trapped!" she says to Giles by way of introduction, only to respond to his question "Where are Buffy and the others?" with a wonderfully uninterested "Oh, they're trapped too, but we've got to save Xander!").

It's nice to finally get some real character development for Oz -- seeing his fear of losing control of his werewolf side and of hurting Willow -- though it's made more than a little bittersweet by the knowledge that this is all in service of writing him out of the show forever in just a couple more episodes' time.

Also lots of foreshadowing for Willow's later character development ("I can handle the dark forces as good as anyone else.  It’s not that hard!") and indeed for the wider theme of the season itself (with Buffy and Willow's argument and Xander's fear that he's becoming invisible to his friends). It's easy to get distracted by how goofy and underbaked the Initiative arc is this season, but there actually really is quite a lot of good season-long characterisation going on here.

Who knew that opening a new bus lane in Dublin could cause so much supernatural trouble?

If I could change one thing about this episode, I'd have Buffy confronted by a vision of Angel/Angelus when trapped in the basement, rather than some random frat guy (and we know the show was still doing lots of crossovers at this point, so I feel it could have happened). You'd need to change barely any dialogue, but I think it would add a lot to lines like "They ran away from you; they always will. Open your heart to someone and ..." or "No matter how hard you fight, you just end up in the same place. I don't know why you bother". (I mean, obviously Buffy's angst re:Parker is already meant to not just solely be about Parker, but why not make this even more obvious?)

I feel I've been very dimissive of the show's lighter episodes recently (well, of Something Blue in particular), so it's rather nice to be reminded that the show actually can be pretty funny when it wants to be.

[jess-the-vampire]

Toh Swap Au Concepts

ok, so i have a couple swap au ideas that i promised to share, so i'm gonna share them.

These are ideas i've had, but don't have the time to really flesh out into a unique toh swap/canon divergence au like arofam, but i wanna share my ideas so maybe some of you might use them and flesh them out yourselves into a fun swap/divergence au and make them work.

No one has to keep ALL my ideas for them, but i should put them out there anyways.

Maybe i’ll come back to them myself one day, but for now i’d love you to hear them and maybe they’ll inspire you.

Philip Human Au:

So in this one the wittebanes are set in modern day, Caleb is like camila, he's in charge of taking care of his younger brother ever since their parents passed away. Philip is troubled, he doesn't get along with other students and doesn't make friends. He and Caleb, before caleb turned 18 and could live with his brother on their own, were in a very strict religious foster home. Philip came out of it stifling his creativity and fearing the unknown. When philip is at risk of being taken out of caleb's care because of how philip acts, caleb hopes to send him off to a fun summer camp so he can make friends and help him out.

So caleb is doing what he can to prevent the brothers from being separated, something he genuinely fears could happen and he's under so much pressure to keep them together. He's scared to tell philip this could happen, tho philip takes this as caleb not wanting him anymore.

But philip ends up on the isles when his journal is stolen.

There, he starts off being offhandish about magic and witches, having been raised to fear them, but stays, thinking if he can prove himself here...caleb won't throw him away like he likes.

no i'm not entirely sure who should be there for most of the other swap cast, maybe nothing changes for you, but yeah, this au helps philip embrace magic and truly come into his own.

And on top of that, Perhaps evelyn exists in this universe in eda's place and she and caleb have a blossoming romance somehow, and it ends with caleb moving to the isles. Caleb is heartbroken when he finds out philip and him ended up separated or that philip thought he didn't want him anymore.

Also on top of this, luz, another human that may be in disguise herself, is on the isles as the most influential witch there, maybe as a ruler or as just a normal, but she's trapped in constantly trying to live out her fantasy.

Maybe she wants to free the collector in hopes he'll help her make the isles everything she wants it to be without having to ever face what she ran away from on earth.

There's a lot still open to changes and adjustments, but i think it's def a fun idea for an au.

Willow au:

Ok so, who wants a Willow the human au? Willow is a student on earth who faces frequent bullying, people make her feel weak, look down on her, and she's ended up shy and alone as a result despite knowing she can be so much more. Her dads are worried about her and consider transferring her to another school but end up sending her to a camp of a subject she's not even interested in, in hopes she'll make friends and have opportunities for a great job someday.

Instead, she ends up on the isles, i'm not sure who would be in eda's spot, maybe lilith, or maybe we got wild and put someone like terra here XDD

But willow starts to feel more confident in herself and her abilities and embrace her love of plants here, she loves the sports, makes a new friend in gus and luz, and challenges the notions set against her.

Tho that's not all, hunter is magicless, but he's the top student and he's always trying to prove himself to his uncle, who runs his own company (maybe he makes artificial magic stuff idk). And he and willow start off on the wrong foot but form a romance over time as hunter learns to stand up to his uncle.

(Huntlow Romance happening along the way)

Caleb and Evelyn also run the company as co-owners and frequently argue with philip about the pressure he puts on hunter but eventually they do put their foot down. (Also maybe some witteclaw kids are hunter's siblings)

on top of that, the Blights are the royal family of the isles, odalia turning the world more cooperate and alador rarely having the ability to stand up to her. Amity and her siblings are all "Golden guard" types, but while edric and emira rarely take the job seriously, amity does because of how much she's under odalia's foot and she feels the pressure to live up to her expectations.

So yeah, we got blights vs Willow in a whole new way here.

That's an outline of this au, i don't have a lot else to say on it, there's plenty of room to mess with it, but i think there's potential to have it's own fun unique direction. 

 maybe the wittebanes are still human, maybe odalia also is working with the collector to keep her on the top, lotta room for fun here.

So yeah, fun swap aus with twists that could make them into unique canon divergence/swap aus, they don’t have to follow canon to an exact, they’re a fun spin on the canon show + putting characters into each other’s roles.

and i loved coming up with them, even if i don’t complete them into a full project myself