#it's one thing for a character to be a royal u know?

[imaginariumwanderer]

I know it's a bit too early but as of now, what are your personally hopes/predictions for silent salt update?I am curious to see how many of them will come true.Jk ofc,I know you arent a fortune teller-

Sorry cheesecakemermaid I got nothing for ya. Similar to white lily I'd say silent salt is the most mysterious beast yet, we barely know what they actually look like much less their personality. My thoughts are the same as what everyone thought in that oh salt is definitely bad BAD news for lily. With them cleaving the moon that's associated with her in half and the fact that lilies irl can die from salt. It'll be... interesting. Crk have always been brutal I'll give it that (flashback to those sailors black pearl killed on-screen in her INTRODUCTION) n beast yeast has been up the ante ever since, I love white lily but oh I so hope she'll go thru it, for the character development.

Some said salt might be based on Authurian knights legend n I'd like it if we see the game expand more on that. I'm always fascinated by how mflour and bspice's motivation and personal philosophies are connected to their respective inspiration (Buddhism and Hinduism or more specifically, Shaivism) even a minor character like peach blossom cookie and the four dumpling kings, I can go on about the myths that may have inspired them. Which is sadly, something I found lacking in esugar, don't get me wrong the references are all over the place like the apple of discord in the title screen, pavlova cookie clearly being a cupid reference, their general clothing and architecture, the final boss of ep 9 having a *venus* fly trap. But I wish we see more of it weaved into esugar's motivations, hm maybe I'm missing something, we still have the other half of the story to go after all!

Silent salt is at the bottom of my beast list rn just based purely on the fact that we don't know much about them (n that I suck at drawing armors) but considering they're the foil of one of crk's greatest written character I'm keeping my hope up. Let the writers cook since there's literally nothing they can reveal would make me feel disappointed in silent salt. If salt turned out to be a beautiful lady warrior? Aw yeah. If salt turned to be a non-binary eldritch knight? Aw yeah. It's unlikely but if salt turned out to have a connection elder faerie, maybe as his alternate self a la white lily and dark enchantress making them a perfect foil to our hero of freedom? I will kneel before peak fiction I will stagger before peak fiction I will cry and proclaim crk to be one of the best piece of literature ever written-

Ok all jokes aside the dev can do anything with silent salt's story BUT rush it, both of white lily's eps (ep1-2 and ep 11-12) are the beginning and the end of the beast yeast saga so there's a lot of stuff to cram in as is. I don't want a repeat of ep 1-2 that's, while serviceable is like a battle royale for who get to have the most screen time. They were supposed to be white lily's big debut but we ended up spending the majority of ep 1 listening to pure vanilla trying to work through his emotional constipation while barely getting any insight on white lily's inner thoughts despite us following through her journey. And then, THEN smilk boy steals the show completely once ep 2 rolls out, the ending to that ep was spectacular n I love the little scenes white lily had with elder faerie/pure vanilla. Not to mention the sweet cutscene art+ominous final words that lily said, but... I came out of ep1-2 feeling like I gained more perspective on pure vanilla instead of the cookie that's supposed to be the star of the show. I got a lot to complain about beast yeast's introduction arc as u can see;;; Hope the writers doesn't muck up the finale, white lily deserve her own spot light *without* her being tied to another character, except maybe silent salt.

One thing I'll say for sure is to not expect the story to be concluded cleanly nor definitively. The writers like to employ a story telling technique I'd like to call drip-feeding. So much stuff is left open in the air in this game. My guess is the ending of beast yeast will be the same. The heroes defeat the villains bla bla bla the beast will not be redeemed but there will be heavy hints that they can be *wink wink* *nudge nudge* Ok there's one thing I dearly hoped will happen after the saga ends, is that the beast will be utilized well by devsis in a way that won't dismiss their threat as villains. The chances of them appearing again next year is low seeing as we'll be moving on to a new arc. The game won't have the balls to kill them off, they're the fandom's darlings after all, I'd give my respect to the writers if they managed to come up with sth that'll decommission the beasts while keeping alive while keeping them threatening AND not doing sth lame like sealing them in another tree again. We've yet to know what the beast binding ritual is, it has been 5 months. And as much as I love the guy.... Pls devsis stop milking the shadow milk he's a dry husk at this point😭

I'll wait until the trailer came out in maybe October/November to give more thoughts on them.

[kikyoupdates]

Crushed Velvet ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Your parents are thrilled to have secured an engagement for you with the royal family. Your suitor, the crown prince, has agreed to be wed to you. It seems as though your entire future has been assured, so why is it that from this moment onward, your life starts to fall apart at the seams?

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Leo Glade had officially taken up residence in Aeolia. It was, of course, a temporary arrangement, but until the proper negotiations were reached, he had essentially rendered himself a prisoner, a bargaining tool. The kingdom felt threatened and feared that there may be a greater scheme in the making, and for that reason, he was a lone man in the middle of enemy territory. It kind of made you respect him, actually. Granted, the Ciren Empire would quickly exact revenge if Leo was to be killed, but you couldn’t imagine placing your life on the line the way he was. You just hoped that everything would work out for the best.

In other news, you now had your very own knight.

Keith arrived early in the morning on his first day, and he fumbled before bowing his head, looking adorably nervous. ���Lady [Name],” he greeted. “His Majesty informed me that you had requested my services as your personal knight. I am honored that you would think to choose me. I vow to protect you with my life.”

You smiled and ruffled his hair. “No need to act so formal. You did save my life, after all. I’m sure working for the Crown Prince’s fiancée will help boost your reputation, right? Though I can’t quite say that I’ve repaid my debt, I hope this arrangement also serves to your advantage.”

“Please don’t worry on my behalf,” he blushed, raising his head. “I’m just happy to be here, and to see you in good health. I heard that you were tended to by a group of mages. Have your injuries all healed, then?”

“Yes. It’s actually quite incredible. Look,” you gestured, tugging down the neckline of your dress to reveal your bare shoulder. “I was certain it would have scarred, but there’s absolutely nothing there. Magic is truly amazing.”

Keith quickly averted his gaze. “U-Um… I’m glad to hear it. Pardon me. I don’t think it’s appropriate that I should be staring…”

“What a cute reaction,” you mused, pinching his cheek. “Relax. It’s nothing. I want you to feel comfortable working here. I don’t bite.”

“Of course, but I wouldn’t dare overstep my bounds.”

“It’s funny you say that, because I recall you being quite rude the first time we met.”

He blushed again. “That was… ugh. I can’t apologize enough. The thing is… I’ve been told I have a bad temper. I was already rather irritated at the time, before I had even bumped into you. But I promise I will work on it. I don’t want to lash out at you like that ever again.”

“Don’t worry, I was just messing around,” you chuckled. “It really didn’t bother me. Things happen, I understand. Besides, thanks to that, I got to meet you, and now I have someone I can trust by my side. You don’t realize how much that means to me right now.”

“Lady [Name], you trust me?”

“Of course I do. You saved my life. Should I not?”

“No, you should,” he reaffirmed. “I’m just surprised. I’m overjoyed that you think so highly of me. I’m really no one special.”

“Wasn’t that friend of yours going on about how skilled you are? I was able to see it for myself that night, too. Those assassins didn’t stand a chance. You really were incredible.”

He smiled sadly. “So long as I can protect the people, I suppose it’s a good thing, but I don’t know how proud I should be of my ability to kill. I realized how fragile life is since I started working as a knight. In a way, it’s rather frightening.”

“Well, as long you only use your skill to protect, I think it’s something you can certainly take pride in.”

“Yes… you’re right. Thank you for saying that.”

“Here,” you said, beckoning him forward with a flick of your wrist, “let me show you around the estate. It’s nowhere near as large as the palace, but the sooner you familiarize yourself, the better.”

First impressions were definitely misleading. Ever since you’d gotten to know him, Keith had been nothing other than respectful, mild-mannered, and attentive. The fact that he apparently had a short temper was actually sort of a relief. It was nice knowing that he was human, just like everyone else. Otherwise he might have seemed a bit too perfect for your liking.

“Since you’ve been hired to guard me, I’ve had a room set up inside just for you. Personally, I would’ve liked for your room to be right next to mine, but my parents were somewhat opposed to it. I do think you’ll like it, though.”

You pushed opened the door and stepped inside, pivoting around on your heel.

“Well?” you grinned. “What do you think?”

Keith blinked repeatedly. “This is… mine?”

“Of course.”

“You mean… all of it?”

“Well, I don’t know who else would be staying here. It’s just for you, of course it’s just for you. Why?” you frowned, shoulders slumping a bit, “do you not like it?”

He quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not it at all. It looks beautiful. It’s just such a large space, and I’m used to sharing a room in the barracks along with the rest of my fellow knights. I’ve never had one all to myself before, not even when I was a child.”

“Did you have siblings you had to share with?”

“Just my parents. We were quite poor,” he recalled, looking a touch embarrassed. “All three of us slept in the same room. My mother died early on, and then it was just me and my father. It was his dream to become a knight, but he developed a serious ulcer in his leg and had to get it amputated. His handicap made it hard to find a job all his life, which is why we never had much money to go around.”

Your expression fell. Of course. You already knew this, but it hurt so much more to hear it from someone directly. You were fortunate, you were blessed. You never had to worry about having enough food in your belly, or a comfortable bed to sleep in at night. You’d been allotted luxuries all your life that most people couldn’t even dream of, and now you were even set to become the Kingdom’s future Queen. You appreciated all that you had, you really did, and at times like these you even felt guilty knowing how little others were forced to live with.

“I would like to say sorry, but I’m sure pity is the last thing you want to hear.”  

“Oh, not at all,” he reassured. “I know you are a kind person, Lady [Name]. It wasn’t my intention to try and elicit your sympathy. Sorry. I just wanted to express how truly grateful I am for all that you’ve provided me.”

“Where is your father now?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“He passed away some years ago. I believe it was from overwork. His heart had gotten weak.”

“My condolences.”

“Ah, thank you.” He forced a smile. “Well, I’m sure he’s in a better place now. He deserves to rest.”

“I’m sure your father would’ve been very proud to know what a talented knight you turned out to be.”

Keith nodded appreciatively, his cheeks tinged with pink. You tried to avoid any more personal questions for the rest of the tour. He was actually rather quiet, perhaps a bit hesitant to engage you in conversation. You appreciated how respectful he was, but you hoped that over time he would grow to become more comfortable around you.

“Well, that should cover most of it,” you said, coming to a halt. “Did you have any questions?”

Keith shook his head. “No, everything is perfect, thank you very much.”

“I’m glad to hear you think so, and I really am thankful to have you here.” You extended your hand towards him, smiling brightly. “And I’m very much looking forward to getting to see more of each other.”  

“As am I,” he agreed, clasping your hand in his.

“We should celebrate,” you suggested. “I can open up a bottle of champagne.”

“That’s… I mean, are you sure it’s alright?”

“Oh, you sound just like my cute little maid,” you mused. “She’s always so hesitant to accept any favors from me. Don’t worry, there’s plenty to go around. Just one glass, to commemorate you starting your service with us.”

“In that case, I’d be happy to accept your offer, Lady [Name].”

You grinned, a bit too pleased to have an excuse to drink in the afternoon. You ushered Keith to grab a seat at one of the sofas and sent for a servant to retrieve some champagne. They brought out two glasses, already filled, alongside the bottle itself. Ah, they knew you so well.

“Cheers,” you smiled, clinking your glass against Keith’s. He chuckled sheepishly and did the same, taking a comparatively tiny sip in reference to yours. You sighed contentedly and rested your head against the sofa cushion. As expected, it felt a lot better knowing that there was a qualified knight here to guard you. Given all that had happened recently, it was difficult to feel fully safe even in your own home.

Amidst your nonchalant drinking, you could vaguely hear the front door opening, and a bit of chatter. You frowned, wondering if your parents had been expecting a delivery today.

Roughly a minute later, your mother turned the corner with a smile.

“[Name]!” she beamed. “Your tutor has just arrived. I was wondering where you were—oh. W-What exactly is going on here?”

“Oh, fuck,” you muttered aloud. Oh, fuck. Right. You were supposed to have a lesson today. Since you’d been showing Keith around the place, it had completely slipped your mind.

“Language, please!” your mother urged, looking absolutely mortified already.

Lucius was just staring at you with an amused expression. “Hello there, [Name]. I would ask how your day is going, but it seems like you’re enjoying yourself quite well. Though I can’t blame you. It’s never too early to treat yourself to a nice drink.”

You didn’t say anything, but your mother was glaring daggers in your direction with an expression that basically screamed ‘put the alcohol down before I completely lose it’.

“I-I’m terribly sorry,” Keith stammered, looking like a guilty little puppy. “I wasn’t aware that my lady was expecting any guests. I’m to blame for having taken up so much of her time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved off. “It’s my fault for forgetting. I haven't even finished off a single glass yet, I’m definitely clear-headed enough to get through the lesson. My apologies, Lucius. I hope you’ll forgive my negligence.”

“It’s alright,” he chuckled. “I was late the first time, after all.”

You stood up and gave Keith a reassuring smile. “Go ahead and finish off the rest of your drink. If you find yourself having any questions about your arrangements, my parents will be happy to answer them.”

“Okay… thank you again for everything. I’m sorry for getting in the way of your plans.”

“It’s not a big deal at all. Getting you acquainted with the place on your first day is important. I’ll be back to speak to you again later, alright?”

“Alright,” he smiled. “Have a good lesson, Lady [Name].”

“Thank you very much.”

It was actually a good thing Lucius had turned up where he had, otherwise you may have been several glasses in by now, and your mother would have been far from pleased. She was a bit bristly already, but thankfully your tutor didn’t seem to mind. He glanced over towards Keith, and for a moment they even locked eyes, but the latter quickly averted his gaze.

“Cute kid,” Lucius mused. “I presume he’s new around here?”

“Yes, it’s his first day on the job. And he’s not a kid,” you frowned. “He is the man who saved my life.”

“Ah, so that’s the notorious knight I’ve been hearing whispers of. He must be a good fellow. I meant to say this when I first saw you today, but the afternoon drinking caught me off guard a bit. I’m very sorry to hear what you’ve been through. It’s a terrible thing.”

You sighed. “Well, thank you for that. It’s been… frustrating, to say the least. Especially since the perpetrator has still not been found guilty of her crime.”

“The Tybalt girl, you mean?”

“Yes, her. But—” You quickly shook your head. “Actually, never mind. I know how silly all this must sound, especially when there’s no evidence. You probably don’t even believe me. Gossiping about it won’t get me anywhere, in any case. Just forget I brought it up. I’m all ready to go,” you said, placing your palms atop the table. “Let’s get started with the lesson.”  

Lucius didn’t make any motion to reach for his briefcase. “And why do you assume I don’t believe you?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t uncommon for people to throw out all sorts of crazy accusations, especially when they’ve recently been in a serious situation such as mine.”

“Evidence or not, your words are more than plausible.”

“They are?” you frowned. “But you weren’t even at the ball. You don’t even know the whole story.”

“It wouldn’t be unheard of for a former marriage candidate to try and kill off their rival in a fit of jealous rage. If anything, she should be the first suspect. This happened not long after your engagement went public.”

“Exactly,” you sighed. “Thank you for saying that. But this whole thing with the Ciren Empire has made the situation that much more complicated. I can’t help but wonder if it would really be that easy to hire assassins from outside the kingdom. Now it’s become more a matter of the kingdom’s security rather than an attack aimed directly at me. The King and Queen want to keep me safe, of course, but protecting everyone else must also be weighing heavily on their minds.”

He smiled gently. His amber eyes were warm and genuine. He really did believe you, and just knowing that brought a comfort you couldn’t even begin to express.

“I am sure you aren’t the type to accuse someone for no reason,” he said. “That I can tell simply from the few lessons we’ve had together. Of course, I can only imagine how afraid you must be. There are all sorts of horrible people in this world, and the good ones, like yourself, are that much more susceptible to their atrocities.”

“I appreciate you saying that you believe me.”

“Of course. It’s the truth, after all.” He smiled again and finally opened up his briefcase. “Now, onto the lesson itself. I initially had planned to quiz you on what we covered last time, but I know that you were injured and ill for a period of time, so I don’t think that’d be fair. We should review it one more time, just to be sure, and then we can move onto new material.”

You furrowed your brows. “Don’t underestimate me. I may have been bedridden, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what I learned.”

“Hm. I just don’t think your results will be an accurate reflection of your learning. There’s no need to rush. We can review it once more, and I’ll quiz you next time.”

“Quiz me now,” you argued childishly. “I remember all the material. I’ll show you.”

Lucius sighed and shook his head, but you were almost positive you noticed a little smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t blame me if you aren’t happy with your grade,” he warned. “You haven’t been in a good state recently. I don’t want this to dash your motivation.”

Perhaps you were being unnecessarily stubborn, but you knew this was an essential education for your future. Annalisa had already tried to steal that from you, and you weren’t about to get behind in your studies and allow her to win.

You did the quiz, and although you couldn’t say you had earned full marks, Lucius seemed pleasantly surprised with your results.

“I told you I remembered,” you said proudly. “Next time I’ll get a hundred percent. Just you wait.”

“Very impressive,” he laughed. “You continue to surprise me. But I wouldn’t be too sure about that one hundred percent. I don’t think my quizzes are quite so easy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get a hundred percent anyways. I made that a goal of mine not long ago.”

“Oh, did you? I’m honored that you’ve been thinking about me so much.”

“I’ve been thinking about the lessons,” you frowned, blushing a little, “not you.”

Lucius laughed again. He always seemed to be laughing around you. Perhaps you were funnier than you realized.

“I’m just glad you haven’t allowed recent events to dampen your spirits,” he said. “You’re probably the most hardworking student I’ve had thus far.”

“Have any other students of yours forgotten about their lessons and been caught red-handed with a bottle of champagne?”

“No. You’re one of a kind, I’m pleased to report.”

You smugly crossed your arms. “That sounds about right.”

“Oh, [Name].”

“Yes—?”

Your voice caught in your throat. He’d leaned over in an instant, close enough that you could see the way his long lashes slanted across his pretty, upturned eyes. One of his hands was combing through your hair, fingers coming together to tuck a lock behind your ear.

Lucius pulled his hand back and pinched his thumb and index finger together. “You had something in your hair. Don’t worry. I got rid of it.”

You stared pointedly at his fingers. There was nothing there.

“Um, sure. Thank you for that.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And though I realize you find yourself in a rather unpleasant situation right now, try your best to remember what I said earlier. The bad people in this world will actively seek out and exploit those such as yourself. It may be difficult, but as long as you remain strong, the world will restore balance to the natural order of things.”

“Restore balance? What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that these things have a way of working themselves out. Justice will be served to that Tybalt girl, that much I can promise you.”

More chapters are available on Quotev and Wattpad!

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💞 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[fiendslothful]

Huh. That sure was a movie.

[xaviever]

pls write more nerd!xavier anything i needdd him

˖ 𑣲 another nerd!xavier thought dump …

cw. fluff + suggestive content. dryhumping.

nerd!xavier who spends his afternoons hidden away in your campus's library, boredly skimming through his sections of interest for something he hasn't read yet. he ends up sound asleep atop a generous stack of astronomy textbooks, not even having gotten past the table of contents of the very first one (he's read it front to back already).

nerd!xavier who has many cutesy little keychains and trinkets from his hobbies hanging off of his belongings. tiny figurines of some of his favorite characters on his bookbag, pins of emblems from his favorite vintage games, and your fave, a tiny star tassel on one of his zippers. ◡̈

nerd!xavier who finds you every time there's any kind of peer work in class, always first to murmur the question of whether or not you've got a partner. he wants to work with you on everything. small discussions, paper reviewing, group projects; he needs to hear all your perspectives, your unique ideas.

nerd!xavier who starts visiting campus events in his free time, just in case you're there. not usually his thing at all, and he makes a great effort to duck and dodge all his classmates he recognizes who have definitely asked him out to something like this before. he overheard you once talking to a friend about a club fair, spending an embarrassingly long time later trying to find one of his forgotten academic calendars to see when it was. he’s elated when you spot him, mumbling some lame excuse about just stopping by when you ask why he came.

nerd!xavier rambling about his favorite comic book series. you enabled him, asking him to teach you the lore knowing it spans over years, ridiculously long to recount. but oh, you are so persuasive, pretty, kind eyes looking up at him all sincere... and he's almost vibrating at the opportunity to infodump. his soft, collected tone rising just a bit as he begins, boyish from his excitement. just the cutest. you'd pinch his cheeks if you could, so enamored by his passion for his interests.

nerd!xavier struggling to continue when you somehow end up in his lap, arms draped around his neck, rocking back and forth against his growing erection. you lost the battle around ten minutes in, cause, wow, he’s really into this. he moans softly, jittery hands digging into the mattress below to conceal the lust clouding his thoughts shamefully fast. you push up his glasses with a knuckle, cupping his face with one hand to keep his doe eyes on you. you urge xavier to keep talking, it’s so interesting, wanna hear more, please. his brain short circuits.

nerd!xavier with a sleeper build. he doesn't work out and doesn't pay much attention to what he eats either... something something genetics something something metabolism — who cares? finally getting under all those baggy sweatshirts and hoodies is like a reward, his royally sculpted body heaving above you, moving you to and fro with ease, his only deterrent from using all his strength being his nerves.

nerd!xavier who forgets his glasses one day. an angry alarm is his rude awakening one morning, yelling at him as he rushes out of his dorm to his early lecture. he goes through the day squinting and sleepy, the sweetheart. you catch glimpse of him down the hall and wave, and as xavier would recognize you in any form, he has little (moderate) trouble making out your figure before you get closer. blush as red as roses adorns his cheeks when you invade his space, eagerly taking in all his features without the obstruction of his frames, though you note with a cute, little pout how you miss them. he makes sure not to forget again, for your sake...and his.

— authors note. first part! thank u anon for indulging me i literally only think abt him. these thoughts r much more scattered than the first one sorryyyy. dryhumping your nerdy bf while he yaps anyone... nerd!xavier full fic is calling to me...

[torawro]

royal knight!caleb & princess!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, ageless, and blank blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written / portrayed as a curvy, thick black woman but you do not have to imagine it that way ! anyone and everyone is welcome to read <3. historical / medieval au so there will be use of language & rhetoric relative to that era ( i.e., aye = yes or indeed . . . . i did my best doing research ). caleb is a high ranking knight in the kingdom they live in and is referred to as 'sir' because of his status. reader is a princess of royal status. mentions / descriptions of blood and injuries, and contains violence sprinkled with a little bit of gore (???). depictions of murder / character death. a liiittleeee bit of religious imagery & references, not sure but adding it just in case. hints at caleb having psychological issues and / or mental instability. kind of yandere(ish) behavior if you squint; caleb is obsessed with & in love with the reader. he is also a wee bit condescending ( not to reader ). instances of caressing ( groping? ) and slow, sweet kisses. veryyy subtle manipulation (?) via intentional omission of the truth. sorry if im exaggerating with these tags lol. directly based off this post i saw a few weeks ago. i tried my best to proofread at 1am pls excuse any errors. let me know if i missed anything!

word count ━━ ! 3.9k

notes ━━ ! man…..🚬🚬🚬 i can’t believe i wrote this lmaaaoooooooooo like what. where did this come from even.....anyway hi everyone i’m back with another (short-ish) fic <3 my apologies it's been another two months since my last published work, you know what it is: it takes longer for me to put things out and i wanna make sure i put my best foot forward every time >< but whoop whoop here's to my second fic of the year! as u can see i have gotten into lads during this past month and some change....... and i swear, i really had no intention of writing for any of the guys any time soon, let alone the newest one..... i took a pause from working on my longer projects to write this LMFAOOOO. i honestly thought that if i really did have a burning desire to write about them, my first lads fic would have been about sylus cause he.....anyway i won't go on a tangent about him, but i sincerely hope u guys enjoy this one!!!!!! obviously this is my first time writing for any lads character so pls be kind to me. i also want to apologize if this characterization of caleb is weird or ooc, i haven't unlocked him yet but i have seen a lot of content of his story in relation to the mc, his lore, his voicelines, etc so i hope i did him justice!! reblogs + commentary are HEAVILY appreciated ♡♡♡.

THE SKY REMAINED DARK, BUT a deep navy hue began to seep into the heavens, soon giving way to the dawn; the early hours of the morning was nigh. The castle was silent— obviously, but still eerily so despite the hour. There was a draft that seeped through the miscellaneous cracks of the stone, the shutters, and the windows of the castle that had not been properly shut, and the brisk breeze that flowed inside caressed the walls with a whisper— quiet but forceful enough to sway the small flames of the candles. The unsteady flickering of the flames grazed and dimly illuminated the walls behind them. Upon its surface were fresh stains, which would permanently seep into the stone if not cleaned in time. The stains were red.

It was blood.

In the many corridors of the castle was a figure, trudging through the halls like a corpse that had risen from its resting place, exhaustion weighing down his every step down to the marrow of his bones. He was injured— not gravely enough to make him lose consciousness but enough to reopen the wounds he so haphazardly patched himself before returning to the kingdom.

His chambers in the keep, along with all the other higher-ranked Knights, was on the other side of the castle grounds. He should have made a left the moment the portcullis closed behind his heels so he could at least get patched up again, get some water, and something else for the pain. Instead, the soldier walked straight ahead, onward to the main structure of the castle, down the stretches of its veins, up the stairs– a path he had memorized after spending many a moon traversing it, sometimes without your knowledge.

But he needed to see you, and he was unsure if he would be able to wait until the sun’s ascension in just a few hours time to do so.

The knight was tired, and that slowed him down, but eventually he made it to your private quarters. He made sure to quiet his labored breathing and footsteps as much as he could; the king would have his head before he even made it to your chambers if he were to be discovered.

You laid underneath a thick blanket, the warmth of the fur against your clothed skin protecting you against the brisk cold. As comfortable as you were, however, tonight you had trouble staying asleep. It would greet you kindly, only to slip away from your embrace if you held it too tightly. Your eyelids were half-open, finally on the verge of drifting close again, when an abrupt but muffled thumping noise resounded on the wood of your door.

The sound caused your eyes to snap open with alertness, any waves of sleep that were about to wash over you retreated at the sound. You laid still, absently wondering if you were hearing things, but the noise reverberated in the air again, then three times— it was soft, as if the source of the sound was being careful not to be too loud.

As the sleepiness of the late hours continued to melt away, you began to remember what day it was, and your pulse quickened as a result.

He should have returned today, you thought. But could it be? It cannot possibly…

And yet, that possibility is what tugged your body forward to sit up and straight, and slide your legs out from underneath the layers of blankets. That possibility is what led you to slide your bare feet into your slippers, and move to swing the long, woolen robe on top of your nightgown. That possibility is what pulled you to the thick door of your chambers, and opened it by an inch to peek through the cracks.

The relief and subdued elation you felt when you saw the familiar features of Sir Caleb’s visage on the other side washed over you.

But that feeling faded as quickly as it came when you noticed the state Sir Caleb was in. While it wasn’t abnormal for him to have a deep scratch or a bruise somewhere, he looked . . . worse, somehow. And whatever it was seemed to reach deeper than just his physical injuries.

Without exchanging any words or outwardly questioning him, you carefully— for he winced at nearly every graze of your fingers on certain areas— led him into your room, allowing him to use your body as a crutch. Caleb let out strained puffs of air, both in relief that he didn’t have to carry the weight of his own body alone anymore, and with increasingly dwindling self-restraint. 

He had hardly stepped foot in your bedchambers before; only about four steps past the threshold of the doorway at most, out of fear that his mere presence when he visited in your absence would become a noticeable, tangible thing. Like you’d be able to sense if he ventured too far in for too long, too many times.

Everything smelled like you. Your unique flowery scent was almost palpable with how it clung to every surface of your living space, even the air itself. The contrast between the fleshy softness of your body pressed against the cold, angular ridges of his armor was enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his pulse to miss a beat. 

“M…milady.” Caleb croaked, his throat significantly lacking moisture to the point it almost ached to speak. At this point, the remaining strength in the knight’s body had become completely nonexistent; the sword he didn’t even have the strength to place back in its scabbard tumbled from his loosening grip onto the ground, the sound sharp and uncomfortably punctating. 

“Sir Caleb”, you gasped, your grip tightening on whatever area of his stocky, towering figure you could reach. Both the suddenness of the sound of metal colliding with stone and your delayed realization of how serious his injuries were pulled your nerves all the more taut, the worried furrow in your brow growing more prominent.

Caleb’s legs gave out next, all while his heavier form still partially hung from your sleep laden frame. His arm slipped from around your shoulder as he descended to his knees, the movement clumsy enough to slightly throw you off your balance. The room was still dark enough that you did not readily see nor notice the blood that now permeated the folds of your nightdress. 

The honorable knight— who did not quite look so on his knees like this— absentmindedly grasped at your calves, pulling another surprised noise from the back of your throat. It was as if making physical contact with you would steady his mind that swirled endlessly with fragmented thoughts, stained with the dark horrors that crawled from the depths of his subconscious, and keep him tethered to the plane of consciousness. The blood loss would soon catch up to him.

Silence descended upon your room, save for Caleb’s ragged breathing and your quiet, frayed inhales. He still held onto your lower legs like it was his lifeline, the mesh underside of his metal gauntlets sending a subtle shiver with each miniscule movement he made, but you did your best to silence any hitch in your breath or twitch in your muscles. Worry still festered underneath your skin, so much so that you were afraid if you moved, or even spoke, that Caleb might fall apart at your feet, considering his current state. 

“Milady…” Caleb tried again, his voice still rough but a muted veneration was present underneath his words, as if your title was the beginning of a prayer. It was a thought that spurred another shudder to crawl across your flesh. “Milady, I have returned. The war with the kingdom to the east—Havencroft—  is over now.”

The knight turned his head slightly so that his cheek was resting on the fat of your thigh, your nightdress being the only barrier between his skin and yours. Another stain of crimson leapt from the side of his face that rested on your leg to your clothes, but you could not see it from this angle. Caleb almost resembled a wounded animal, marking the territory that was once his after enduring an attack– not much for your sake, but purely for his own, as a reminder of sorts.

Even through the linen, you could feel the uneven puffs of warm air from his mouth fan across that small area on your thigh. Like a magnet attracted to a metal of the opposite affinity— a force yet to be explained or explored— your palm gravitated towards the knight’s armored shoulder. Whether it was an action of acknowledgement and commendation, to silently urge him off his knees, or as a means to steel yourself was unclear even to you.

“The enemies… have been defeated.” Each syllable felt delayed, each word tumbled from Caleb’s lips like a wispy trail of smoke from burning incense, and the casual hold you had on his steel shoulder imperceptibly tightened when you felt his gloved hands trail up the back of your legs. His movements were slow—almost reluctant and experimental— but deeply rooted in reverence, as if this was the first and last time he would be able to touch you so boldly.

The knight below knew better. He was well aware that his actions more than just bordered on bold, they fully reveled in it– embraced it, even. But he was having a significant amount of  trouble caring enough to stop himself. It was always a difficult task reasoning with the thing that resided in the folds of his unconscious— especially and specifically when it came to you. 

Caleb awaited you to halt the soft caress of his palms, either verbally or by action, but neither came. You were rendered silent, breath slightly restrained as you stared down at him from on high, your palm still resting upon his armor. A part of you was swayed by the currents of curiosity to see what he’d do next, just to see what might happen you allowed this moment to persist a bit longer. 

And the other part…might have enjoyed this. It might have enjoyed the sight, the sound, the sensation of his iron skin, the subtle yet unknown metallic aroma that washed over your senses, mixed with his signature musk.

So he resumed, both his movements and his speech, which were languid and slowed. “Those that wished… to do harm to the kingdom, to you…They have been slain.”

The way his head shifted against your leg was like a cat nuzzling itself against its human companion. The weight of his body pressed upon you like this was even a bit endearing, and it began to melt your heart. Caleb’s hands glided from the backs of your knees down to the base of your ankles, only to carefully ascend back up the valleys and shores of your legs. In his ascent the hem of your dress got caught in between the gaps of his fingers, causing it to steadily rise like a curtain and expose the bare, supple brown skin hiding beneath it. 

His touch was so gentle, like dragging the sharpened edge of a knife against one’s skin in fear of accidentally cutting it. As someone who has done so much damage and has scarcely been shown this kind of gentleness, it was a bit jarring to see himself embody it so naturally.  “...The lot of them. I made sure of it.”, he continued, the knight’s noble heart raced so frantically about his chest, he thought it might reverberate and echo against his chest plate if it were to beat any more intensely.

Even with the sizable gauntlets weighing down his hands, Caleb was still able to tell just how delicate and cushiony your flesh was, and he released a barely-there, shaky exhale of his own when his fingers lightly clenched around it. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was on the brink of death and was kneeling before the gates of heaven.

It was nearly impossible for you to distinguish the sensation of the carmine substance being smeared against your bare skin with each inch Caleb caressed, because your nerves had put all its effort into focusing on his breath fanning across your legs and the cold surface of his armor. At some point, the hand laying on his shoulder levitated to rest atop his head instead, the area unadorned without his helmet; a shiver rolled down the knight’s spine at the gesture. Sweat dampened the rich, umber strands of his hair, and the heat radiating from the crown of his head rivaled the one building underneath your face and chest.

“The army of the east kingdom, boasting numbers of over eight-thousand men, have all…. fallen. All of their strongest knights…”

Caleb’s words sounded a bit muffled as his mouth was slightly pressed against your leg, his pillowy lips continued to trail across the expanse of increasingly exposed limbs, “...their battalions, their village militia units…”

By this point, Caleb’s strong sense of rationale, his logical consciousness that usually never steered him wrong had finally caved in on itself. The void that it left in its absence would now be filled and controlled by the iniquitous thoughts that plagued him day in and day out. Such immoral, perhaps unhealthy, thoughts that always had you at the front and center of it all.

“...Even the gentry. Witnessing them …attempting to wield a polearm was almost pathetic. I would have pitied them, but one way or another, they would have attempted to harm you and our kingdom in some way, at some point…” 

There was a brief pause, the surface of his parted lips and that of his artificial armor took turns savoring the feel and smell of you, even being so brash as to place tender almost-kisses across your thigh. You gasped silently at that, and the reflexive clench of your fingers in the tufts of his hair brought forth something of a purr that vibrated in the back of his throat. Embedded within that imperceptible purr in his deep voice lurked something more dangerous you did not notice— sharp, like having a dagger pressed against one’s jugular.

“And I cannot allow that.” 

Caleb continued to murmur about his achievements of war into your chestnut-tinted skin as if he were talking directly into it and not you— as if it were actively listening. And with the way your nerves sparked and crackled with each syllable he pronounced, you could easily become convinced that it was.

Aye, he could not even pretend to spare an ounce of compassion for Havencroft’s  gentrymen, or their local militia, their skilled battalions and armies, nor their most honorable knights. Not after their plans and intentions were discussed amongst the king’s council just months prior, which served as the reason why he and the rest of the kingdom’s army were dispatched there in the first place.

Swine, the lot of them.

The same could be said for his own king’s council members— your father’s most trusted political companions and advisors— that had the gall to speak ill of and scheme against the king and his realm.

The balls to speak ill of you when they believed there were no listening ears around; about how your future ascent to the throne would be this kingdom’s downfall, about how His and Her Majesty should have tried for more children in hopes of a young lad.

He could only thank the gods that he returned from his knightly travels when he did, for the dark-haired soldier knew within seconds of overhearing such idiotic arrogance what his next course of action should be.

Like some kind of cunning animal whose only purpose was to hunt and kill, Sir Caleb watched and waited for the opportune moment to present itself before closing in to strike. And that moment arrived when he realized the two men were making their way to the western-most side of the main castle, where the kitchen and laundry rooms were located. He sneered at how clever they thought they were being, choosing that specific place because they were aware most of the help and servants had retired for the evening.

Without a moment’s hesitation, when he had heard enough drivel, he attacked, administering two swift but fatal slashes to their vital points— one for each man. The pain from moving like that when his injuries had been previously reopened nearly caused his legs to buckle, but he remained steady and quick. This had to be quick, for it would be troublesome if they made noise or if he was too sloppy with his timing and execution. Blood splattered on the nearby walls from the sheer force of his swing, the blade cutting through the councilmen like a cleaver cutting through a slab of tender meat. He made a note to himself to come back and clean any remnants that remained later.

The councilmen fell to their knees, staring and cowering from Sir Caleb in confusion, shock, and unadulterated fear at the realization that their lives might end that very night, and that someone might have heard them.

Surely they blathered on in hushed voices, demanding to know the meaning behind his actions, begging for the knight to spare their lives, frantically questioning him if he had heard them say anything particularly controversial. But Caleb paid no mind and did not bother responding. All he did was stare at them, his eyes as empty as a weathered piece of parchment with no ink on it, his salmon-colored lips resting in a straight line that spoke nothing of his true thoughts. 

Caleb’s gaze alone deeply unsettled them, for they had never seen him look like that before.

On his honor as a knight, Caleb would die before he let any harm— relative or distant, real or perceived, indirect or direct— fall upon you if it was in his power to prevent it. Because not only did he pledge his allegiance to the ruler of this land, but to you as well. And in performing his obligatory duties as a knight— guarding you from near and far, being graced with your kindness, your wit, your smile—it was inevitable that he would fall in love with you at some point along the way. 

And wasn’t it a good thing, a true virtuous thing, a normal thing to do what you can for the one they loved? To keep them safe?

And so, with that resolve embedded in his heart, the knight Sir Caleb would do what he could, and did what he must when the steel of his blade at last collided with the mens’ uvula. The last thing those so-called loyal councilmen saw was his void eyes, and the slightest upturn in the corner of his lip.

But you need not worry or be privy to the gritty details. All you needed to know was that he fulfilled his duty in protecting you, in protecting this kingdom you loved dearly and would govern someday. He would see through this role until the day he could no longer.

Aye, you did not need to know that the blood that had now seeped into the fabric of your pretty lilac nightgown and smudged on his face was fresh; you did not need to know that in some other part of this very castle, two people that had been around since your youth had drawn their last breath, never to be seen again; you did not need to know that the faintest hint of guilt and regret for his actions was snuffed out the moment his eyes met your visage. You did not even need to know of the tender affection that he harbored for you– at least, not yet. A separate time for that should arrive soon, he would pray on it.

And now, all Caleb needed was to hear it from you. That you were proud of him.

“I hope my efforts in battle were satisfactory to you, milady. That my efforts …in keeping your safety and interests of the monarchy at heart pleases you.” 

The knight's lips continued to drag across your skin in a lackadaisical manner, its touch at some point turning into undeniable kisses— pecks so light and fleeting you could have imagined it.

But you weren’t. You knew it to be so because the phantom sensation that was left behind after each one was as real as the ground you stood upon.

You were indeed proud of the knight before you, on his knees revering you with his mouth like you were some kind of holy thing that might disappear into thin air. For all of his years here, you have seen the scrapes, the faded scars on his ungloved hands, a limp in his gait or a straggle in his step, and you felt sympathy for him. You sympathized with him for having to sustain a number of different injuries in the name of your kingdom and its values. But seeing him hurt also inspired a great deal of gratitude within you, and you always made sure to take time at night before you fell asleep to thank the Lord above for uniting your paths– even though the two of you were on slightly different social standings. You secretly hoped that one day, that fact might change.

This is why you had no problem in saying that, “From what you have told me, Sir Caleb, your endeavors in battle are indeed quite….satisfactory to me,” Your words were momentarily interrupted with a sound that sounded suspiciously close to a pleasurable sigh, your fingers absently combing through his hair as you continued to speak, “So I must thank you, for doing your duty so well, and apologize that you were so badly wounded in the name of this kingdom. I truly appreciate all that you do.”

The words of sincere gratitude that spilled from your plush lips only excited the muscle beating wildly in Caleb’s chest, and they were enough to spur his heavy hands to glide higher underneath your gown, moving to the backs of your thighs once again. As his lips persevered in its affectionate assault of your legs, his palms mindlessly cupped the full roundness of your buttocks and gave it a slight squeeze, effectively losing himself in the suppleness of your curved body.

His name, without the proper prefix, was about to fall from your tongue, but you swallowed it down in exchange for something else. “This kingdom is— I am quite fortunate to have someone so capable…so strong and valiant at our disposal. Thank you, Sir Caleb, you have done well.” 

And that was all it took for a quiet groan to be pulled from Caleb’s throat. A part of him hoped you didn’t hear it, he was already behaving so shamelessly.

But another part hoped that you did, so maybe then you’d realize without him having to potentially embarrass himself how much he cared for you, craved you, and impacted him so deeply.

“Thank you, milady. You are too gracious to me. I am unworthy of your praises, but will humbly accept them.” One palm resumed its directionless roaming to map out your lower body while the other remained on buttocks, interrupting his own reply by offering your skin doting, airy kisses in between. His reddish violet eyes were somewhat hooded when his gaze flickered up to look at you once more.

“I will continue to do my utmost…to serve you and your kingdom.... to the best of my ability.”

( # ) @smiley-babe @ramonathinks @dollwrites @valentineluvu @rinsko . my apologies if u did not want to be tagged. let me know if you want to be tagged in my future works!

[ccccatttta]

IM ON MY KOREAN BLACK BROTHERS BULLSHIT AGAIN

ok so, i have spent a lot of time thinking about what their korean names would be.

i do believe the blacks could be royal descendants, bc i like that and to me the blacks are royalty, sue me.

i think their surname (last name) could be yi/lee (이 / 李), which as far as i know comes from the ruling family of the joseon dynasty, the jeonju yi clan. tho, as far as i know, in korea, descendants of royal families do not get any any sort of special treatment. but, i do think they would be extremely proud of it.

then with their actual names (just sirius and regulus for now, bc i just cracked this)

firstly, i still wanted to give the whole star thing a go, and i think it would then explain why they also chose their star-related international names.

secondly, i know that in some traditional families, one syllable of the name is shared between siblings or cousins from the same generation, mostly through the male lineage.

so i think their shared syllabe would be byeol (별) which literally means star bc i like it simple, and even though it's mostly used for girls' names, there are some male names with it too

to cut to the chase, sirius name would be myungbyeol (명별 / 明星) which means bright star (genius right, bc sirius is the brightest star, im so smart pat pat to me) so lee myungbyeol (or myeongbyeol bc that's the spanish romanization)

and regulus would be hyeonbyeol (현별 / 賢星) which means wise star or vituous star, which, according to the several tabs i opened, suggests intelligence, so lee hyeonbyeol

ALSO!!! as i love the trans reg hc, that would mean regulus didn't get a name with the 'byeol' syllable on his deadname (u know, bc of sharing for male lineage mostly), but i do think he then got to choose a name, my bet is on byeolhwa (별화), that is unique in the sense that, unlike the other names, come from 2 native korean words (traditional names in korean come from chinese characters!!) and has a more poetic meaning to it, it basically means star flower or flower of the stars that can be tied to regulus with the fact that regulus is a spring star according to my research.

so trans reggie would go from yi (deadname that i haven't thought abt cause making up a deadname feels weird) to lee byeolhwa

that's it for my rant, toodles!!!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi batman :) this felt too tangential to directly contribute to the post literally specifically about reading books by black women BUT re: “would this ‘i don’t know who writes the books i read’ phenomenon be happening if the question was just ‘have you read a book by a woman’” i’ve often come across folks at work (bookstore) and online saying things along the lines of “i need to be reading more women writers!!” (probably true!) or asking for stories by queer/trans people specifically, (and having that be pretty much their only criteria for a recommendation at the start of the conversation). and like, that’s cool! i think it’s admirable to seek out voices you’re not familiar with. yippee! but NONE! of these requests (bookstore mostly, but in some casual convos online) are ever for books by Black people! let alone “hey do you have any books by Black women?” i don’t really feel equipped to speculate as to why that would be, but i’m wondering if you have any thoughts on why folks seem so much more comfortable (or even eager) broaching their comfort zone to talk about queerness or gender but not race. i mean. it’s the racism, but i’d love your thoughts. thank u for enduring some of the most insane takes ever it’s led me to reflect on how i engage with media in some really useful and actionable ways.

it's absolutely the racism, and I think it's very interesting that you specifically draw this parallel with people actively seeking queer authors, because I do have some fucking Things to say about that.

I believe it's actually on this sequel post, rather than the original that you're referencing, where some very confidently asserts that they only bother learning things about authors to make sure that queer books are written by queer people, which to me begs the obviously follow-up question of why this perceived authenticity of authorial experience matters for queer narratives but not for those of narratives by people of color, to which I fear the answer is that this person either doesn't care or simply isn't reading books that center people of color in the first place.

and while I have personally seen lots of white people, including many white queer people, doing the work to decenter whiteness in their reading (#notallwhites) I am also very familiar with the kind of white queer readers you're talking about, who treat "it's gay" as the end all of media recommendations. huge shout out to a former (white, bisexual) coworker from my time at the library, who once tried to pitch me on a "queer sapphic YA beowulf" retelling he was reading and couldn't understand why I wasn't interested in it at all when it had gay characters in it.

and I think for queer readers like this, who prioritize the consumption of queer #content above all else, there's an alleged willingness to engage with any book that will offer up LGBT characters that still prioritized white characters, white authors (especially when those white authors write some characters of color, so it still feels #diverse), and what's considered a normative (white, western) LGBT experience, with anything outside that framework being treated as unrelatable and optional to the white queer literary canon because it doesn't meld nicely with, I don't know, Red, White & Royal Blue and Heartstopper and Song of Achilles and Legends & Lattes. it's the classic move of white queers getting so caught up in being marginalized in one particular way that we forget there might be any other groups whose voices might be getting drowned out and need prioritizing.

and also, you know, having to read books about people who experience other forms of discrimination in addition to homophobia/transphobia gets the ol' white guilt churning and make them feel attacked, which many of my folks just cannot stand. white supremacy is built on comfort, and all that.

[marshmellohi]

Links Meet AUs List

A lot of AUs get lumped together with Linked Universe, so I wanted to make a list comprising any and all original Links Meet AUs I could find! Please let me know if I’m missing something, you want your AU to be removed, a link is broken, or if you know an AU’s status so it can be moved to the correct dedicated category.

DISCLAIMER: Please pay attention to the content warnings on some of these AUs! I haven’t personally read every AU so I don’t know what some contain, but if an AU has something you don’t vibe with, there are more than plenty of others that you will love on this list! Please be respectful and kind to everyone! This list is both for archival purposes and to appreciate the creativity of the community!

Additional Notes: Some AUs have dedicated Tumblrs, some can be found through original tags, some are only on ff.net or ao3, etc. I have a separate list for AUs limited to Discord/DMs that I have not included here unless I receive permission to do so! Also, if something is separated by ||, that means that theyre 2(+) separate AUs by the same creator in the same tumblr… if that makes sense LOL. This list is Always Updating so be sure to keep an eye out for any new AUs!

PUBLIC

• A Link to the Present

• Across the Galaxy

• Ageless Soul

• Bonus Links

• Branching Timelines

• Chain as Cryptids

• Chained Spirits

• Chains of Time

• Courage of Ages

• Culture Shock

• Deuy’s Links Meet

• Dimensional Links

• Dreamverse AU || Identity Fraud AU

• Echoes of Courage

• Exodus

• Fallen Heroes

• Garden of Heroes

• GodLinks

• Hearts Linked Together

• Heroes Spirit

• House of Heroes

• Kings Comic

• Limited Hero

• Link and the Links

• Link Between Links

• Link Rejoin

• Linked Across Dimensions

• Linked Arena

• Linked By Illustrations

• Linked Dreamscape

• Linked End

• Linked History

• Linked Keys

• Linked Maze

• Linked Spirit

• Linked Through the Centuries

• Linked Universe

• Linked World

• Link’s Fun Road Trip

• Little Links

• Magic’s Wake

• Meowmix’s Linked-verse Journey

• Minas Linkverse

• Monstrous Fusion

• Names of Courage

• Realms of Hylia

• Recalled

• Rifts in Time

• Sister’s Linked Meets

• Suncaster

• Tangled Chains [Lou]

• Team Timeless

• That Broken Promise

• The Hyrulian Valhalla Saga

• The Links We Share

• The Phantom Timeline

• The Sacred Realm

• Too Many Links [Zee]

• Train Whistles and Wedding Bells

• Unchained AU

• Winter Links AU

PRIVATE

AUs where the info is limited to Discord, DMs, and/or friends. Not typically published/shared publicly. Permission is asked to acknowledge these AUs here before posting.

• A Linked Week

• Fractured Timelines

NON-LINK BUT THEY STILL MEET

Crossovers with Zeldas, Ravios, Ganons… pretty much the exact same thing but with other characters.

• Lots of Ravios

• LU Ravioverse

• Strangers Across Eras

• Voice of Wisdom

• Wielders of Wisdom

LINKMEET LITE

Links meet, but it’s not the focus of the story/in the background (example: a world where all the links exist at the same time but the focus is on one specific character/the others dont come up much)

• Father of Time

• Royal Reads

INACTIVE/DEAD

An AU qualifies for the inactive category when: 1.) its been 2+ years since an update and 2.) it’s unfinished; or, 3.) the creator explicitly stated that they were discontinuing it. LMK if one still has a pulse!

• Into the Zeldaverse

• Link and the Links

• Linked By Time

• Linking Together

• Misfortunate Monsters

• Tangled Chains

• Zelda in the Multiverse

UNSURE/MIA

AUs where I am unsure of the status and thus need to contact the creator, the creator’s deciding where to go with it, or I can’t locate the original page. This is mostly for me- consider this kind of like a ‘to do’ list. Any insight is welcome!

• Bagel’s AU (N/C)

• Birdo’s AU (U)

• Cotty’s Linkverse (N/C)

• Chain Reaction AU (Nuked)

• Factorial’s AU (N/C)

• Fortu’s AU (N/C)

• Hyrule Bound (N/C ; Iirc there was a fanfiction but I can’t find it anywhere)

• Link Madness’ AU (N/C)

• Minty’s Linkverse (U)

• Missing Links in Time (U)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What’s ur favorite hc about killer sans? (sorry if someone asked u this before!)

Not exactly a complete headcanon, given that rahaf has said he’s a romantic guy, but one of em is his fascination with the performance of romance.

I really like to think that the whole thing just fascinates him and he finds it fun. And I do mean romance, not sexual harassment that people seem to think romance is.

He’s flirty in the cheesy, corny way or he’s waxing poetry and flattery to me. He gives actual compliments about a person, and who they are. What he’s noticed about them.

I like to think that this is where both Chara and Nightmare’s influences factor in—Chara was Killer’s partner in crime and they were raised by a royal family, and Nightmare likes to perform being a King, hidden and safe behind his castle walls. I do like to think that Killer knows how to use his words when he attempts to flatter.

I like to think he’s interested in the gothic/dark romance genre too. Not booktok “dark romance”, though. I also like to think he has a fascination with the idea of vampires.

I do think that Killer is very acts-of-servicey. I’ve seen a lot of people say that they hc his “love language” as physical touch, but to me personally ive always thought it’s acts of service.

I think that characters who think about the concept of “love languages” may think Killer’s is physical touch, because of how often he is in physical contact with others, but i don’t think they know or realize how Killer actually uses touch as another tool. In this case, a way to determine if the people speaking to him is actually real or not.

Like. He could causally touch Murder’s shoulder a lot while he’s assigned by Nightmare to keep a watch on the flight risk, and Murder may feel greatly annoyed and/or uncomfortable especially if it’s done consistently without asking. But Killer is trying to make sure Murder is actually real, hasn’t ran off somehow, and his mind isn’t playing tricks on him again.

So even if it seems like Killer is trying to annoy someone, is purposely trying to do a power play, or is just being really affectionate with someone—there’s always a chance he’s actually just trying to reassure himself that these people are actually real. (Although Killer may also be finding amusement in annoying others because he wants a reaction or in fact also doing a power play. Can do something for multiple reasons, after all.)

I like to think that the way Killer feels loved is via quality time :). He’s been dehumanized for so long and many don’t wanna willingly (or aren’t allowed to) interact with him if not for a purpose or use.

Someone just wanting to spend time with or near him because they want to be with him, as he is—wanting to talk to and with him instead of at him, wanting to ask him questions and genuinely interested in his answers even if his thoughts do not benefit them—with no ulterior purpose or motives..is new. For a second he can almost believe he’s real.

[baeshijima]

u know what would be a cool genshin fic idea? isekai/transmigrated reader, but instead of appearing within the general timeline, you come into the genshin world 500 years prior to the start of the storyline in khaenri'ah.

honestly it could be either a little before the cataclysm, giving enough time to delve into some relationship building + explore some world building with characters like dainsleif, traveller's sibling (which would probably be lumine bc i actually do like her as abyss sibling & aether as traveller), and npcs like halfdan (still crying over him to this day ;w;) and possibly the khaenri'ahn royal guards (assuming you either join them or have a good enough relationship with them), OR it could be you appear during the crisis, completely and utterly lost as to why you were brought amidst the chaos and bloodshed as you watch everything you barely knew about this nation crumble before your very eyes.

either route will still result in reader's existential crises and constant "why am i here? just to suffer?" monologues because really, who would be fine after going through that after coming from /our/ world? and not to mention you've had to endure the next 500 years wandering with no real set path because you don't know this world— this era of teyvat or of genshin. you're merely stuck, unable to die, and forced to live a life of uncertainty with no clear direction for you to go to.

despite it all, you've at least been able to see dain during this course. while your meetings pass far too quickly for your lonesome, and his solemn demeanour is something you're yet to be accustomed to after having been with him before the fall of khaenri'ah (assuming it's the route where you appear before the cataclysm), you're glad to see a familiar face every now and then. after the messy departure with the lumine who left for the abyss order, you've come to appreciate his quiet presence more and more each time.

and then you decide it might be time to settle. you soon realise it's difficult to do so when your lifespan has become far more than that of a human's — of a mortal's — and so you find yourself becoming used to staying in one place for a few years before setting off for the next. rinse and repeat. over and over. it's come to a point where you've witnessed the nations undergo various changes each time you visit. you know change is inevitable, and yet your heart stings each time you witness it; a testament to how the world is ever-changing, yet you're stuck in place as a bystander.

one thing you're grateful for, however, are the bonds you've established amid your back-and-forth over the centuries. from archons like zhongli and venti to long-life beings such as neuvillette and the adepti to regular mortals who have showed you kindness as if one of their own... you've grown to cherish those memories, often reminiscing them when the nights get too long and surroundings too quiet. it was difficult at first, and still is, but you've become used to the inevitable change and the passing of those you once knew.

and after 500 years, you find yourself face-to-face with one you haven't seen since before you appeared in this world; the protagonist of this world, and the one you eventually join in hopes of finally finding a means to an end, aether.

little side notes/extras:

from /our/ world, you would probably know the storyline from up to around current (5.0) or maybe a little after the fontaine aq conclusion. it gives a lot to work with, but you definitely won't remember a lot of the lore after so long other than some main events, especially since most of your knowledge is pretty irrelevant for the next 500 years,,,

i think it would be cool if you had an inteyvat on your person as a little homage of khaenri'ah, which may or may not invoke some opinions from certain characters (*cough* aether immediately being reminded of lumine and having an existential crisis *cough*)

post-cataclysm you would go through a, uhm, long phase of helplessness, wondering why you were even brought to this world so far back if you couldn't even make any contributions. it does eventually morph into a resolution to do what you can to help those you come across if it's within your capabilities, but the nightmares and helplessness come back every now and then as a reminder for what you can't do :D yippee :D

honestly i'm on the fence whether you would have a vision or some other type of abilities (think on the similar lines of aether/lumine's and dain's), but i think having some type of purification mechanic would be a must in your arsenal !! would definitely lead to some moments between you and characters like dain or zhongli who suffer from the erosion as you give them a slight reprieve from what rages within and corrodes them

a little self indulgent, but i'd like to think your first /proper/ meeting with zhongli happens during a lantern rite festival, wherein you're admiring the lanterns in the sky after making a wish of your own and he comes up from behind with "they're beautiful, wouldn't you say so?" and !!

also as for love interests, as much as i would love for human/mortal characters, a part of me feels like this story would be better suited for the immortal/long-life characters as love interests?? idk i feel like considering that 500 years is, well, a long time, the bonds you would have with them compared to characters like, say, alhaitham or diluc would be way too different ?? though i would definitely still add them as love interest bc i am a sucker for so many of the human characters ;w; it would also add to the angst and hurt/comfort ahahha...

anyway thank you for reading this massive brain dump of a fic bc i absolutely would put this as a long term project, and if u made it this far then i would like to say that dain solos—

[weirdsht]

What es up 👾

What if totcf with transmigrated!reader that barely says anything about themselves but they know so much about the others, they think it's kinda unfair how easy they are to read to reader (reader has read the novel so they're like a piece of cake to reader) and then one time everyone was drinking, some were drunk, some were dead on the floor or couch, then reader says "I miss my husband..." With such a solemn expression and everyone is shocked because wdym u have a fockin husband????

Rosalyn: *sees reader crying their eyes out* you... You have a husband?

Reader: yes, Rosa sob I miss him, my kids, too!

The gang: Kid? Wait, kids? Plural...? How come we never knew of this????????????

Reader was actually referring to their fictional boyfriend and characters they grew to love that they knew about from Earth, but reader is like, crying like it's the saddest thing as if their spouse went to war

…Seriously? - LoTCF & Reader

a/n: a/n: not me sneaking my lads obsession in here, also I had to choose 1 LI so the gig isn't out of the bag so soon but I don't have a bias there... so i used the usual roulette lol, find out who won as you read the story

tags: earth timeline doesn't make sense. transmigrator reader, love and deepspace mentions, platonic, fluss

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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[Name] was an enigma to Cale’s group. They know that she’s not from their world. Know that she can predict the future to a certain extent. However, beyond that information, they don’t know much about the transmigrator. 

They barely know anything personal about [Name].

Which is a bit unfair if one thinks about it deeply. [Name] knows everyone like the back of her hand, but they don’t even know if the name she has given her is her real one.

But it doesn’t matter much. Cale’s group is not one to pry information that could possibly be sensitive out of a comrade. They all have their secrets after all, maybe [Name] was uncomfortable talking about her previous life.

Well, that was until Rosalyn saw her crying one day.

It was a normal day, a good one even. For the first time in a while, there’s absolutely nothing to do. Even Rosalyn’s research has been put on hold. And so she decided to find [Name] so they could try to newly opened cafe in town, and have a girl’s day.

“[Name] are you busy–”

The mage stopped in her tracks as she heard the transmigrator sob from the other side of the door. [Name]’s cries were quiet but it caused a loud concern to ring in Rosalyn’s heart.

“Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

Rosalyn opened the door, panic spread through her body as [Name] is known to never cry.

“Ro-rosa..?”

[Name] looked up as the door opened. Her knees touched her chest, her head resting on top of it. Tear stains could be seen on her clothes, it looked like she had been crying for a while now.

“I’m fine, don’t worry nothing happened.”

She reassured Rosalyn as she wiped her eyes with her sleeves. Her voice was wobbly, not helping her case and certainly not making the ex-royal believe her.

Rosalyn took [Name]’s hands on her left hand and wiped the transmigrator’s tears with the handkerchief she bought with her right hand. Concern is etched on her face as she gives [Name]’s hands comforting strokes.

“Tell this unnie what’s wrong.”

Both have forgotten about the door being wide open. Making everyone, the three kids and Lock, hear everything they are talking about.

“It’s a silly thing… I just realized it’s been so long since I saw my husband…”

Rosalyn fought the urge to overreact at the news that one of her friends had a husband she didn’t know about.

“From your previous world?”

“...Yeah, it’s been so long since I saw him. It doesn’t help that when I last saw him it looked like he was going on a very dangerous mission.”

[Name] was crestfallen as she spoke. It was clear just how much she missed him.

“My children too, I only saw my twins for a short while!”

The whiplash Rosalyn is getting from these shocking pieces of information is too much.

Good thing another redhead arrived to save the day.

“Why are you four hiding over there?”

Cale asked the four children and only then did the two women realise how the door was open. Rosalyn shot [Name] an apologetic look. She didn’t mean for her personal life to be broadcasted like that.

“No need to be sorry, it wasn’t really a secret. There wasn’t just a chance to bring it up.”

[Name] assured the mage as she gestured over to the five outside her door. Beckoning them to go inside.

As Cale and the children walked towards the transmigrator, they updated Cale as to what they heard.

“So you had a husband before coming here?”

“Yes, my husband Sylus… I didn’t even get his limited card before I could… huek!”

The transmigrator teared up once more and every one pitied her despite their confusion. Just what card is she talking about? Maybe it’s an earth thing they don’t know about.

“[Name]-nim are you talking about a credit card?”

Choi Han peeked from outside. He was just passing by when he heard the children updating Cae about his fellow transmigrator’s life.

“Huh? Oh no, I mean he did have a black card but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Now Choi Han was part of the confused crowd. If she didn’t mean a savings card what could she be talking about then?

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Cale squinted his eyes. That man knows for a fact that [Name] hasn’t even had her first kiss yet. What are all these lies about a husband? 

…Plus the name she said sounded very familiar.

“Could you tell us more about him?”

“Yeah tell us please nya!”

Raon and Hong encouraged [Name] to talk more, interested in the slightest information about their mysterious friend’s personal life.

“Well, his very tall. Around 187cm I think? He kind of looks like a vampire with his white hair and red eyes. I can confidently say that his one of the most handsome guys out there.”

Everyone became even more intrigued. Just how great was this husband of hers? [Name] sounded very in love with him. He also sounded well-off based on Choi Han’s explanation of how a black card is like the equivalent of a golden plaque.

“Oh, he also has this thing called Evol. Basically he has powers, his power in particular is controlling energy. His super strong, he can even heal wounds.”

From the corner of the room, Cale suppressed a sigh as he placed the pieces together. Instead, he opted to silently facepalm.

The conversation about [Name]’s supposed “husband” lasted for a few more minutes before everyone filed out of her room. Leaving only her and Cale behind.

“What was your affinity level before you got here?”

“Affinity 60… But omg, you play love and deespace too!?”

[Name] looked at the redhead man who was finally letting out that deep, imparted sigh he had been holding in since earlier.

“No, I just saw forum leaks about your husband Sylus.”

“Ohhhh, I was wondering how you knew when he was barely out when I transmigrated…”

An awkward silence lingered around the two. Both of them don’t know how to proceed with the new information. In fact, [Name] didn’t know that game existed on Cale’s earth.

Wait was it possible that they were from the same earth?

But he had powers…

[Name] decided to not think about it.

“Next time, refrain from speaking about your fictional husbands as if they’re real… I think you nearly gave Rosalyn a heart attack?”

“Wait really!?”

[Name] looked at Cale who was on his way to go back to his room. She didn’t know the repercussions of casually speaking about her otome game. The redhead only looked at her as if she was a lost cause. 

“Yes, really.“

incase you were curious about the roulette lol dont mind me using the jp names im just more used to that

[elysian467]

Reader's Rant

Okay so I had finished reading the Legacy of Gods Series few days ago so here are my thoughts(after lots of thinking,psychoanalysing and self arguing)

1)RINA PROMOTING MISOGYNISTIC VIEWS:

•The "virgin trope" is seriously not a trope at this point when each and every book has this.She makes it seem as if the fmc has commited blasphemy(What's her obsession with this word anyways.Its everywhere in her books.The blasphemy😯) if she has slept with someone before the mc.Wth!?And every male character is a casanova.Like we will find virgin Mcs hot too okay?? Especially in Ava's case like I thought okay finally we have a fmc who has had a life before mc but no?Like she makes it seem Ava have a grandiose sex life and later makes her a virgin too!?Like its okay to have experience and its totally okay to not marry the first guy you sleep with.

I also think that having literally ALL men experienced in EVERY SINGLE THING is also so frustrating.Like it would have been cool if Eli or Creighton were not u know??She makes it seem as a chore the men have to do the second they turn 18

•Another example of misogyny is the extreme sense of ownership they have for all the women in their life. Like the dad's are seriously crossing limits.Protectiveness is cute but the no-twat-is-good-enough-for-my-princess shit is exhausting.Jeremy and Landon are wayyy too controlling.Its literally offensive.You will HATE such a brother and dad for life and beyond.

•She made all women literal doormats.Enough said. (except Ava,Ari and Maya-who she turned into a villain because she has a life so she should not be the good sister)

•The fmcs had all sort of problems, worries,insecurities blah blah which could not be cured by besties, family, friends, therapists nope!They could only be cured within 2 chapters at most once the perfect mc decides to help!

•Over possessiveness.Hated it.Like listen I can still somehow get Killian's jealousy towards Remi(by dark romance standards ONLY) but Creighton has been close friends with Remi since birth and how he literally does not allow a single friendly touch!?And his insta posts each statng MINE MINE MINE repeatedly felt embarrassing and cringe rather than hot and when he tells her to stop following people like WHAT!?

2)UNFULFILLED TROPES AND PROMISES:

I am the kind of reader who gives great attention to the blurbs and tropes before reading a book.

•God of Pain is a grumpy x sunshine.Now I believe this was mentioned due to the appeal and popularity of the trope but Annika is not a sunshine at all.Sunshine character is not one which ACTS and pretends to be happy,outgoing and perfect while she has her insecurities,fears and troubles eat her up inside(her words)

•God of fury has been said to have the trope mafia prince x GOLDEN BOY which is not accurate.Anyone who has read the books should know this already ig.

•God of war which happens to be my fav from the series has false claimed tropes too.Like it was NOT a marriage of convenience.Eli forced the proximity upon Ava by forcing her to marry him(I believe forced proximity means both leads who hate each other are forced to be closer)and the sunshine point is similar as that of Annika.Imagine if someone is searching for a stand alone marriage of convenience and forced proximity....they'll be sad,angry and frustrated u know(Not me.I loved the book)

•Being an apathatic sociopath and selfish narcissist is different.Research your attributes Rina.

•Rina literally backtracks upon Eli's feelings in gow.Repeatedly mentions how Eli had no feelings for Ava before Uni.While she had stated in Royal Elite epilogue how Eli kisses new born Ava,calls her pretty,is asking Aiden for marriage pact,stares at her.Even in gow Ava mentions that he caused guys disappear even when she was in HIGH SCHOOL."Yeah he had no interest at all"😑(THE LAST LINE WAS SARCASM.YES SOME PEOPLE NEED IT TO BE SPELLED OUT.your welcome)

•Mia's selective mutism was played with totally wrong.AGAIN RESEARCH RINA!

3)PROBLEMS IN THE BOOKS

•The extremely perfect mcs who are geniuses(Einstein who?),strong,attractive all the positive attributes who can think of other than a heart ofc.Like is it wrong if at least one mc has worked hard for the way they are!?Nope these are born perfections who can cure world hunger but will not because the world does not deserve it. Fmcs have all sorts of issues(other than being spineless,submissive doormats.Not Ava,Ari,Maya) which will be cured by the MC!Yeah!(Though the way Eli helps Ava is actually book perfect,heart warming and realistic.Its quite real that her parents and Cecily babied her and could not handle hard decisions that could benefit her)

•BRATS PLAYING GODS!All the mcs are over privileged brats who have done nothing but be born to "earn" their "god" status.Like they are literal UNI kids.Like they were all spoiled brats basically criminals who were setting things(buildings) on fire and hurting and killing people like what!?

•THEIR AGES AND THEIR*ahem* ACTIONS!?Their ages in their respective books:

Killian(19)-Glyndon(19)😱😲😵😶 Creighton(20)-Annika(17-18) Jeremy(23-24)-Cecily(20) Landon(23)-Mia(18-19) Nikolai(19)-Brandon(23) Eli and Ava had time skip so it was okay(29 and 23)

Like their ages are seriously concerning.I especially wanna talk about Creighton and Annika.Annika is literally a child and her book basically had her having some sort of Stockholm Syndrome.

I ABSOLUTELY HATED how creighton won't let Annika speak or talk to him without him adding the numbers iykyk.LIKE I hate how I have read soo many posts yet none mentions it!!?And how Annika is shown to have been cleared of her problems after she has sex !?And Creigh acts like a divorced 38 year old guy with an adult kid while Annika is has 0 personality(Haters can go cry a river)I really wanted Annika to leave him u know?And what was that soap opera shit with the gun and crying and sobbing and kidnapping(Which is okay because she revealed to Ava,Glyn,Cecy that its her fantasy😑)and because we are going all in so lets add suicide shit too.And yeah she was ready to kill herself yesterday and is sunshine and rainbows today yeah!!

Killian has had loads of experience in every kind of sexual activity with both men and women and in clubs and whatnot at 19 and he is bored of all that now😂😑

Ohh I almost forgot!Its literally sooo stupid and meaningless that the girls experience whatever fantasy they shared during a drunk night with each other😂😂😂Like Rina basically wants to sorta convey that the girls "wished" for it😂(Think before you wish folks!)

Zero family dynamics other than the fathers making a one chapter visit talking about the Everlasting love for their wives,their doormat of a princess daughters and zero say in all the "emotional trauma" ALL of them have(they wish)

Landon favourism was not good.Especially in gof where it should have been Niko's moment.

Its enough for today I think.

I am not posting it as a hate post.It is RANT as stated,a critical analysis.(Being going through a book hangover from Gow....partially cured through the MADDEST OBSESSION OMG YES!!!)

One last thing!!!!I get that its the creator's wish and whatever but the fact that Rina isn't writing a Remi (An Mc with emotions!!!!)Ariella(Strong fmc!The blasphemy! )and Maya Ilya book sorta shows how she can't change her formula.

[eatsbooks]

even if the enemy is ourselves

characters: azriel yladi, eris vanserra, minor / brief cameos

pairing: azris

rating: explicit

word count: 6.1k / 30.3k

warnings: blackmail, complicated relationship, hate sex, murder, power imbalance, sex as self harm, torture, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms

summary: an examination of azriel and eris's relationship over the centuries, wherein azriel is the one who tortured morrigan, wherein eris finds out and keeps azriel's secret — for a price.

a/n: i had … so much fun w this chapter. it also ran my ass ragged. if u see azriel moping around do NOT help him out. he is exactly where he wants to be. find it on ao3 here. enjoy!

tag list: @buffy-vanserra @the-darkestminds @olenvasynyt @jules-writes-stories @palomita-de-la-sangre @g00seg1rl @mistandmemories @talibunny30 @pippsmcgee @astro-h0e-4azris @chunkypossum @iftheshoef1tz @ysmtttty @nightsandflamess @nus4y (if u want on / off pls lmk !)

chapter seven: any way but softly

The nighttide and the cool, blue serenity it carries in is always a falsehood. Once the luminaries trade their positions in the sky — one hidden away below the horizon, the other hoisted up in stark exaltation — the dark is finally free to take up its song unfettered. A seamless network, the shadows make merry with one another while all else finds repose, speaking often only for the privilege of being heard, for the boon of having another close enough to respond. Their babel ebbs and flows as it will, but its presence is constant. The nighttide is never as tranquil as it affects.

So Azriel thinks it strange, to be perched on a gable at the outskirts of the city proper, shrouded in whispers and murk, the mid-night celestial hung bright above him, and to sense so very little.

He closes his eyes and sees the noise of: tall, spearing stalks of grain where they sway in endless fields of moonlit silver; herd beasts dozing alongside their offspring in the dusky safety of their barns; guards dutiful at their posts, no matter how far from the royal stronghold; fae bodies bundled snug in their straw-stuffed beds, or spiting their pre-dawn rise to indulge just a bit longer in the comforts of one another, or following foot-worn paths from taverns and brothels out to their lord’s land — some even reckless enough to do so on their own.

Quiet, pastoral domesticities on a quiet, pastoral eve.

What he does not sense are the depravities that the nighttide should be coaxing out of their hideaways. The shadows titter about only the occasional faerie desperate enough to slip into sleeping homes and thieve that which is not theirs, to take advantage of those too deep in their drink to put up any substantial fight. There are no sentries betting on the havoc, or else inciting it themselves — no females or younglings out to make coin however their bodies are best able.

All things Azriel has seen rampant across the other provinces of Autumn. All things he expected to find much the same here.

He has not been back to Ceres since Atrius bid him a lifetime ago. Though he tries now, he cannot recall if he witnessed such corruption then. It is long enough in his past at this point that the edges of the memory have dulled, bitten through like silk spun to sate the appetite of the moths.

But its center is still whole. The emerald lordling still descends from his keep and glints as pristine as he did on that very day. A small vein of blood still spills out in his wake, easy as the wave of his hand and the sink of his guard’s knife.

Azriel opens his eyes into the too-quiet dark and follows the core of the memory deeper into the city.

As he walks the rooftops, they steadily begin to change. Their slopes grow steeper, each one higher and farther apart than the last, until he must pass as though a cloud across their ginnels. The ornamentations underfoot become lovely and detailed, clean enough that even in the moonlight, he knows he has passed beyond the dwellings of the commonfolk and into the aristocratic quarters. He stops in the cover of a smoking chimney once the entrance to the royal keep is visible far below.

Here, the shadows lift their voices high, eager, offering their song not just to each other for his sampling but to him directly.

Azriel does not close his eyes into their sound this time. He listens, and the scenes unfold as though he is there, under the tables, in the hearths, between the sheets with them. He sees: a half-naked female glamouring away a bruise on her hip as the male behind her stuffs himself back into his doublet; a dagger brandished above a table laden with gold coin and scattered jewels; the haze from a hanging brazier bringing an entire room to cough, then laugh, then laugh at the absurdity of their amusement, all without a single word exchanged; tense, double-spoken meetings between the elite and the eyes they employ; females with their gazes lowered and younglings with their mouths closed.

This is to be expected. He knows he could winnow a province over this very moment and find identical recreations in near every city throughout the court.

Which is why the quiet, pastoral eve nearby is a baited line before an eager beast. He is reeled back into it and lets it ensnare him until the nighttide recedes to reveal the even quieter light of day.

With his own eyes now, Azriel watches the bright hours pass in a mild stun. He dutifully tracks the farmers rising to their work in the fields and the shops opening along the streets below and the merchants rattling in and out of the city on bespelled wagons.

There is no laughter as there would be in Velaris, but there are soft smiles to be seen exchanged, helpful hands and favors without expectation. Even for the sprawl of the pastures, it is apparent that these folk are neighbors — not just empty bellies willing to inform on one another for the chance to be filled.

Fresh bread, for your mother. I know how she likes it.

A tincture to reduce fever, for your babe. Oh, and this here will help with his cough.

Here, take my spare ration. Hush now, we both know you’re good for it.

Azriel eventually descends from the eaves alongside the drooping sun, both so commonplace, so difficult to look directly upon that nobody pays either of them any attention at all. He keeps to the street sides as he makes for a tavern that opened a few hours past and slips inside. There, he settles into a seat at the corner of the bar.

His timing is nothing short of intentional. Now is when the folk working the fields meander into the city proper to drink away the stress of their labor. They will cluster together here, and the alcohol in their systems will make their tongues loose, their words careless.

The tender behind the counter: “Y’got coin?”

From the shadow of his pocket, Azriel produces a silver piece and flips it onto the bar top in an unremarkable flash of his hand. The tender takes this in stride; the coin offered is enough that any offense is overlooked but not enough to be worthy of gossip.

“Ale?”

Azriel nods. He assumes a neutral, vaguely seasonal-court brevity when he says, “Thanks.”

Just as his tankard is set down before him, the first group of farmers enters. Their majority shuffles off for a long table nearest the hearthside and the crackling, hissing meat roasting within it. One at the back peels away from the group to make for the bar.

This male has height to him, as well as the wiry sort of build expected of someone who spends their days tilling the land. His hair is a nutty shade of brown, longer in the back than it is in the front. A few days’ worth of unkempt scruff covers his face, but this does little to disguise that he is comely beneath, even beyond that of most fae.

Once the farmer orders and gets his drink, Azriel glances over as though noticing him for the first time. He looks back, eyes drawn past Azriel’s face to the wings framing his head. Cataloguing Azriel, immediately, as other — as lesser.

Azriel dips his chin.

The farmer does not. He takes a swig of his ale, wrinkling the bridge of his nose against the bitter, snapping taste. Then, as though he is keeper of this tavern, he asks, “What’s your business?”

“None of my own.” Azriel sips at his beer. “Had product to sell.”

The farmer narrows his eyes. “Didn’t see a wagon outside.”

“Nor my master sitting beside me,” Azriel responds, tipping his head to the empty seat at his right. “No wares left to take home besides. Your lord is a generous one.”

The farmer snorts before remembering himself. “What, ah—” He glances over to the males he walked in with, then back to Azriel. In that time, he comes to some manner of decision and rests his weight on the edge of the stool closest to him. “What is it y’sell?”

“Spices, mostly.”

“Hm,” the farmer considers. “Maybe I’ll defect and take t’the trade. Meet this generous lord for myself.”

Azriel smiles, amused by the barb and failing in his attempt to conceal it. “And you?”

“Bound to a demesne.”

Azriel nods like this is novel information. He offers, “It’s honest work,” though it would not be, anywhere else in Autumn.

The farmer chuckles. A hoarse, gruff sound that meets the ear from deep in his chest, as if he is unused to making it. “Honesty isn’t worth much when the pay’s shit.”

Azriel’s own laugh is conspiratorial, both of them sharing in an understanding. The timbre of it says that he might be the apprentice of a merchant, but they are two males who know what it is to answer to a master. It urges the farmer to consider that there is comradery to be found in the fact that neither of them will ever know the wealth and comfort of a lordling.

Azriel even loosens his posture and leans his arms on the bartop. The shadows lighten just enough to bear his face to the warm glow of the room, and his expression is revealed to be just as inviting.

The farmer relaxes into his seat and pulls deeply from his glass.

“Doesn’t seem so bad here in Ceres, though,” Azriel says, tone low with intrigue but still so very careful. He is nervous of saying the wrong thing, of overstepping, even for their newfound understanding. In his eyes, the subtle admission: My master is just as unforgiving as yours. “At least — from what I’ve seen in our travels the past few days.”

On a shrug, “Wouldn’t know.”

“Ah,” Azriel sounds, straightening up slightly. Just enough to seem like he is accepting an unintended cue of dismissal.

“Always harvest season, here,” the farmer explains, canting forth to make up for the distance. “Can’t wander too far from the fields.” He looks to his friends once more, then to the tender, who is busied with another patron. When his gaze returns, it holds to Azriel’s. “What’s it like? In the other provinces.”

“Between us?” Azriel leans in towards him. “If I were elsewhere right now, I wouldn’t be caught dead alone and in my cups. Or,” and here, he rustles his wings, draws attention to his otherness, “maybe I would.”

The farmer’s gaze flickers as he finishes off his drink, but it has steadied by the time he lowers the tankard. “‘Fraid it’s no different here.”

“For the best you’ve joined me, then,” Azriel says.

With the weight of a reaching hand, the farmer strokes a look along the breadth of Azriel’s shoulders. He says, “You look like you can take care of yourself.”

Again, Azriel takes this as though a dismissal. He looks to the long table his companion keeps glancing towards and says, “If you need to get back to your fellows…”

“So we can shoot the same shit we do every day?” The farmer shakes his head, turning to face Azriel fully and, in doing so, placing the approaching barkeep at his back. “Tell me, what’re the other Vanserra sods l—”

“Won’t have that here,” the tender cuts in. “Leave if you two want to run your mouths.”

For just a moment, irritation overcomes the farmer. He tilts his head to the side, draws up as though about to say something — and stops himself.

Azriel raises his hands placatingly, keeping them to shadow so they are neither easily noticed nor remembered.

The tender looks between them until the farmer concedes with a dip of his chin. “Another, then?” he asks, picking up the emptied tankard.

The farmer nods once, curtly.

Just before the barkeep turns away, Azriel says, “On me.” His coin is enough for another few rounds, at least.

“Didn’t have to,” the farmer says.

Azriel shrugs.

The farmer inclines his head in thanks.

“What’s your name?” Azriel asks.

“Ren. Ren Monlir,” he responds. “Yours?”

“Azriel.”

“Just Azriel?”

It is his mother’s family name that he offers. “Yladi.”

Ren makes a small noise of acknowledgment, but he is soon distracted by the ale placed before him.

They both sit for a time without speaking. Azriel tunes in to the chatter of the bar at large, and Ren watches the tender as he goes about his business. Azriel expects him to leave, but he remains sitting a few empty stools away in companionable silence.

At length, Ren looks to Azriel’s wings again, as if he has been holding himself back but cannot help it any longer. He presses his mouth into a thin line, then says, “You’ve got those on your back, and you let yourself be kept by a merchant?”

Azriel laughs, this time a nighttime breeze. It is easy to answer, on this quiet, pastoral eve that should not exist, in this place where he is not himself. “What is it you think I can do with them?” Almost, he leaves it there — but this persona of his is engaging, chatty. “Make myself a life in the clouds? Charm a few stars down to tumble with me when I’m lonely?”

Ren waves Azriel off with a dismissive flick of his hand. “You could go anywhere,” he asserts, a slight roundness to his speech now that he has two drinks in him. Azriel would have thought him heartier than this, but he will not begrudge an easily freed tongue. “What’s to stop you?”

Azriel is not quite sure what he wants to say after swallowing past the sudden choke around his neck. The words choose themselves before the quiet stretches on too long.

“Nowhere far enough.”

Appropriate, that he should voice them here, where he first learned that lesson.

Ren’s mouth twitches, something like disappointment, something like empathy. Azriel wishes he could call on his shadows to tell him which.

“Shame,” Ren says. “Would’ve been a feat t’see how you’d go about tumbling a star.”

Needing, suddenly, to distract his mind and his body both, Azriel says, “That could still be arranged.”

For a long moment, Ren considers this offer, and Azriel waits to be rebuffed — for being other, for being lesser, for being both too bold and too weak. He is kept waiting while Ren turns away and gestures for the barkeep.

“Still on you?” the male asks Azriel.

But it is Ren who places a gleaming coin beside his emptied glass and says, “A room.”

The tender pockets the payment swiftly. “Take your pick of the empties,” he replies. “I’ll have dinner sent up.”

“No,” Ren says. “We are not t— not hungry.”

A nod. “Send word down, if you change your mind.”

Ren stands, then glances over his shoulder as though expecting Azriel to already be there. He looks confused to have to slide his gaze to the stool Azriel has been in all this time.

“Well?”

Azriel adjusts the seat of his trousers and rises to his feet, his half-full tankard left to whoever is lucky enough to find it first.

The bar has become crowded over the course of their conversation, but even at its densest, the patrons part for Ren without him needing to say a word. Trailing in his wake, Azriel bids a few shadows to remain under tabletops and in the rafters to keep vigil.

As they reach the stairwell to the lodging above, Azriel can keep quiet no longer. He leans in, mouth just behind Ren’s ear, and murmurs, “Didn’t realize Autumn fae were so free with their affections.”

Ren pauses with a foot on the lowest tread and turns his head towards the throng they are leaving behind, or else into the sound of Azriel’s voice. Only now does it appear to register to him that there are fae around who have very much noticed the two males openly heading upstairs together, some of them snickering, some of them sneering. None are bold enough to say anything with Azriel drawn up to his full height in their midst, but the shadows pick up their whisperings all the same.

Azriel is close enough to see the muscle at the back of Ren’s jaw tense, though the male simply shrugs and continues up the stairs. “Anything’ll do after a few pints.”

Though Azriel would have been content to take Ren in any of the rooms the male peers into, it is not until they ascend a second flight that one is deemed suitable enough.

Ren guides them into a corner room with only a single window, covered with ratty, burgundy curtaining and positioned far from the bed. Other furniture is sparing. There is a small bedside table with a ewer of fresh water, a rag, and a fire-lit lamp atop it, as well as a modest chest against the opposite wall to risk placing any valuables in.

Azriel shuts the door behind them and bids more shadows to monitor the hallway.

By the time he turns back, the other male has perched himself on the end of the bed. He leans back on his hands, and his long legs spread wide and expectant.

“Pretend I am a star,” he bids. “Charm me.”

Azriel moves to stand between his legs. He leans forth, splaying a hand at either juncture between leg and hip, framing the steady rousing of the cock between.

Instinctually, the other male presses his hips towards Azriel. The fabric of his trousers pulls taut against the swell of him, and his lips part for the hitch of his breath at the sensation. From beneath his lashes, he looks up at Azriel. The flickering amber glow of the nearby light brings out the gold of his irises, the burnished undertones of his hair.

Azriel lowers to his knees then, slow, intentional, sliding his hands down along the curvature of the inner thighs as he does. He is rewarded by a faint tremor from the muscles below once he begins to drag his touch back up, then another impatient demand of the hips.

Just as his thumbs are about to make contact, he switches directions again.

The male makes a noise like a hiss. “Who knew charming took so long.”

Azriel nearly asks: Who have you bedded before, that this is all it takes to frustrate you? But he finds he does not care much to hear that answer.

Instead, he says, “Perhaps I would’ve chosen differently, if I’d known stars were so demanding.”

As Azriel inches back up his thighs, the male asks, “Would you have?”

Azriel does not answer quite yet. He carries the motion of his hands all the way this time, until the chest in his periphery stutters with anticipatory breath, until he palms along the length of the male’s cock and feels the relief of it as an ache at his own.

Above him, there is a gasp, and into his hand, there is an insistent buck.

Only then does Azriel admit, “No.”

He strokes leisurely over the bulge as he fumbles with the lacings of the male’s trousers. With his head tilted back into the sensation as it is, the other does not seem to notice how long it takes to undo them, and soon enough, the trappings of his lower half have been done away with entirely.

Upon first glimpse of the male’s bared cock, saliva pools in Azriel’s mouth. He takes a moment, gripping it tight at the base, to appreciate the sight.

The head is thick, a pretty, rosy color, not unlike the flush now spreading from the points of the male’s ears, across the high of his cheeks, down the column of his throat. A bead of come gleams at the tip with the same allure as a precious gem.

Azriel looks up and holds the male’s regard captive as he collects it on his tongue. The act of swallowing it down is intentional. He finds no small amount of satisfaction in how the male tracks the bob of his throat, in how the male hides away his enjoyment in his grip on the blanket beneath his palms.

Though the other closes his eyes at the first swipe of tongue along the underside of his cock, Azriel remains rapt from below. He watches each twitch, each pant and gasp. When he elicits his first quiet half-moan, he goes back and flicks over the spot again. Then he lowers his mouth to suckle at it, so that the next moan he earns is louder, fuller.

He draws up to swirl at the head, intending only to relish in the betrayal of need once more collected at its tip—

—but then there is a groan of frustration, and fingers winding forcefully in his hair, and hands pressing down, and hips pressing up. The intrusion hits the back of his throat abruptly. He must suppress a gag when the male reclines fully against the bed and begins to claim his mouth.

To be used in such a way tightens at his loins. With nothing else to seek out, he finds small relief against the seam of his pants. Nearly, he even relaxes his throat around the thrusts and loses himself to the servicing.

Then comes the distant thought, from somewhere high in the clouds. His voice as he has only ever known it with the wind beneath his wings and the illusion of freedom all around him. It says: This is no way for a star to be charmed down from the sky.

The grip on his hair is not secure enough anymore to keep him in place when he lifts his head off. Hands promptly scrabble to pull him back, so he uses the momentum to drop his mouth low and sink his teeth into the sensitive flesh of the thigh — not enough to break the skin but enough to leave a mark.

The male shoots up to curl around his head, freeing a cry of shock that gives way near-immediately to one of resentful pleasure. He lifts a hand as though to frighten the feeling away with a slap, but Azriel has already taken his cock to the back of his throat once more.

This stuns the other for long enough that Azriel can press him down against the mattress, keeping him in place with one hand on his abdomen and the other tight on his thigh. Even then, the male pushes his hips ineffectually forth, yanking savagely on the hair in his grasp.

Azriel does not move, even for the mess this makes of his arousal, slick where it slides against his underthings. Mouth filled with cock, he flicks his eyes up to the male and bites down again — still not enough to break the skin but enough now to serve as true warning.

The male gasps, then flashes his teeth at Azriel. “If you do that again, I swear on the Mother that I will— Oh.”

Now that he has gone still, Azriel takes him down his throat with the ease of extensive practice. He swallows around him as best he is able, then begins to move in earnest. Steady, well-paced bobs of his head, so deep that the tip of his nose soon brushes against the smattering of auburn hair at the base.

When the next shift of the male’s hips are just a needful, uncontrollable spasm of pleasure, Azriel moans. It rumbles soundly at the base of his skull, seeming to rattle out into his entire body, which is burning through with his own desperation.

Azriel hastens his pace. He bears down hard enough that his throat aches with the force and his jaw comes near to locking. He is surprised, in as much as he can think at all, that the male is in possession of such endurance. But even that does not last long, once he slides a hand down along the inner thigh and presses into where the lingering mark of his teeth should be.

There is no warning offered.

The male comes with a strained cry. Azriel lets him shove in as he will now, swallowing each shudder with a hum of encouragement.

Once this first climax has spent, he pulls off and takes in a full breath. He uses it to rasp out, “You’ll what?”

Lids low, the male tracks Azriel as he rises to a stand. He blinks slowly, then a few times in quick succession.

“What?”

Azriel groans at the pain of pulling his trousers down over his cock, but the cool relief of the room is welcomed on his sweat-dappled skin. He does not bother with the rest of his clothing, nor the complicated fastenings around his wings — not with easier dealings before him.

He crawls atop the male and, in one fluid motion, both pushes them deeper into the middle of the bed and slips the homespun tunic over the other’s head.

Face to face, he goads, “If I do it again, you’ll what?”

It takes another moment for the male to process this, like he has lost track of the thread of the conversation in the time it took for Azriel to settle over him. When he finds it, his eyes narrow.

“I’ll—”

Azriel drops his mouth to the curve where shoulder meets neck and bites down into it — just enough to break through what is above and seek out what lives below.

Blood like plum wine. Hot. Spiced.

His moan as he laves over the small hurt is met with a hoarse cry. He trails his mouth along the freefall of the collarbone, then up the throat, the prickles of hair against his lips so soft they might well be nonexistent.

Here and there, he dawdles, but this draws out more of those rare noises. Each one serves as its own reminder of his neglected arousal.

He needs to be inside, and he needs it to be him.

Azriel strokes down the length of the male’s arm and makes as though to grab his wrist and pin it. Instead, he swipes his thumb along until he finds where the ring should be, and he presses down.

Around his throat, a bone-deep warmth from the necklace.

“Take the glamour off,” Azriel murmurs.

The male does not understand at first, with Azriel still tending to the hollow just beneath his jaw. But once the words settle, he snatches away his hand as though he has been burned, then shoves Azriel soundly in the center of the chest.

The reaction is so unexpected that Azriel must settle back against his calves to keep his balance at all.

Though it is Ren’s face struggling to master itself, it is properly Eris’s voice — the intonation, the pitch, the aristocratic roundness to his vowels — that carries out: “What gave me away?”

“You really want to know?” Azriel looks down to his cock, weeping and swollen, then to the telltale gleam where he had pressed it into Eris’s thigh. “Now?”

Eris pointedly does not follow his gaze. “That is why I asked.”

Azriel cannot quite admit that he would recognize the presence of a power like Eris’s no matter what face it wore. He says, “Your callouses are still those of a swordsman, not a farmer. You called the land you work a demesne. That’s a lord’s term for it. You paid for this room with a coin your people don’t even know exists. You approached me too quickly and spoke to me too freely. Folk in communities like these close ranks on outsiders, especially before their first drink.” The shadows, which Azriel had to keep away from his person to maintain his ruse of ignorance, return now to orbit him. “Do I need to keep going?”

Eris props himself up on his palms. He taps a finger twice against the mattress, then releases his glamour.

In its short life, the transition feels a cosmic event. This is a star being charmed down from the sky. This is sunset; this is sunrise. There will be an unerring truth on the other side, and Azriel will finally be privy to its existence. Even the darkness knows this, raising its voice to sing as it ought have all night.

Perhaps unaware of the magnitude of this moment, Eris asks then, “What business does Rhysand have sending you to skulk about my city?”

The lies Azriel has relied on all night fail him now.

There is a star in the bed with mussed hair and just-bitten flesh, and the tang of come is still on his tongue, and his own arousal remains desperately exposed, and it is too difficult by far to arrange his thoughts around all of this.

They float by him fleetingly and unhelpfully: I haven’t heard from you in years. I didn’t know if you were okay. I saw what your father had already done and wasn’t sure where he would stop. I wanted the truth; I wanted to find the good in you. I think I might have tonight.

This hesitation, brief as it is, has Eris drawing back down to his elbows, putting more space between their bodies. His brow dips with thought, then smooths with realization.

Voice low: “What is it you are doing off your leash, shadowsinger?”

Azriel cannot help it. He drops his eyes to the exposed scars then. The ones he has already seen, on the ribs, and the ones he has only known as gaping wounds, now smooth and pink at the joints.

He sees in his mind’s eye the fae of the cabin, young and collared; he hears the thorns of envy in Ren’s inquiries about his wings, about their ability to take him anywhere. He looks back up to Eris, and he maps this out over the impassive face looking back at him.

“I think there is more,” Azriel says, hushed, faint. Perhaps even soft, to an untrained ear. “To you.”

There is a long moment of quietude after this.

Then, Eris says, “Yet here I find myself once again confronted by all the ways you lack.”

Azriel feels his chest swell at the outset, then get punctured through. He resists the urge to tighten his hands into fists. “And you? Why is the heir to Autumn moonlighting as a farmer in his own province?”

Eris says simply, “I do not answer to you.”

The shadows stir. The firelamp flares in response.

This only illuminates Eris better, revealing that the scars across his ribs groove even deeper into his back.

Azriel braces himself with a hand on Eris’s waist and leans over him. “Beron?”

Eris’s jaw feathers, and his eyes flash molten. There is an emotion in them that Azriel has only ever seen after fist has collided with jaw.

Like its own sort of blow, “Mutts who forget themselves this often are rarely pleased with the reminder they receive.”

Undeterred, “Your brothers?”

Suddenly, there is a too-hot hand wrapped tight around Azriel’s cock. He grunts, buckling forward. This close, he feels it against his lips when Eris tips his head towards the floor and murmurs, “Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to get back on your knees?”

This is distraction, Azriel knows. Diversion. The way the sun might hide itself behind the shadow of the moon to encourage those who look upon it to look away.

All the same, when he is then shoved towards the edge of the bed, he sinks the rest of the way to his knees without a word of protest.

Eris does not follow right away. He rights himself leisurely, turning himself away from Azriel to slip off of the opposite side of the mattress. There is the barest flash of his body as he stands — the ripple of his muscles, the taut curve to his backside, the mottling of burns and lashes — before he waves a hand and clothes himself.

In time with each approaching footfall, Azriel’s heart flutters in his chest, spastic, numbing. He is nearly dizzy with anticipation. It is all he can do not to begin panting when Eris comes to a stop before him, crooks a finger beneath his chin, and lifts his face.

With Eris’s arm so positioned, Azriel does not realize that his leg has moved, too. Not until the gritty sole of his shoe has pinned his cock against his abdomen.

Azriel jerks away on instinct, but he does not get far before he freezes. The heel of the shoe bites into the tender of his sac, and the potential of that pain is enough of a threat to return him to his position.

Once this acceptance settles, Eris says, “Listen to me well.” He slides his hand to take hold of Azriel’s jaw, renewing the aches at its corners. “You are a dog, and I am your master. When I issue command, you are expected to obey with the same enthusiasm you summoned while butchering Morrigan.”

Azriel winces. His breath begins to fill his lungs heavy and thick.

Eris bears down harder with his foot.

“Do you still recall how she looked when I came across the pair of you?”

Another silk-spun, moth-bitten memory, with Eris still so vibrant at its core.

Eris continues, “I do. Every shattered bone. Every flayed inch of skin. I have not seen anything of the like since. You truly are masterful with a blade.”

His pupils bloom when Azriel groans, the sound born of shame, or pleasure, or both.

“I know Rhysand’s harem has deluded themselves into thinking I am to blame, and I have been gracious enough to let them, for the sake of our arrangement. But you and I — we still know the truth, don’t we, puppy?”

The burial of nail through womb. Metal made weapon by virtue of his hold. A gurgle and a rattle gone silent.

Anything, anything, anything.

That fae in a forest, nothing more than beautiful and cruel, stares down at Azriel again. He digs his foot in until tears well in Azriel’s eyes. That is when he says, “I asked you a question.”

Azriel stares furiously up at him, unsure which of them he is so angry with. He feels the hot shame of a tear spilling over his lashline as he grits out, “Yes.”

Eris follows the descent down, down, down to Azriel’s chin, then lifts his eyes. “And will you forget yourself again?”

Azriel holds to that unforgiving gaze, stark even through the blur of the pain. He knows what he is to say, and he has long since learned how to make himself convincing. “No.”

“That’s a good boy.”

Eris eases off of Azriel, and Azriel shudders at the sensation of so much pressure being released at once. There is a harsh slash of a smile through Eris’s face as this draws his attention to Azriel’s cock, which is no less roused after its abuse than it had been in the thrilling potential of the bed.

“I suppose,” Eris begins, “that I did say rarely pleased with the reminder.” The bridge of his nose wrinkles as he straightens out the sleeves of his tunic. “I doubt you’ll find a throat trained as well as yours around here, but I’m sure the barkeep will be happy to procure you a serviceable whore to help with that.”

These barbs do not wound as they are meant to, knowing that Eris would have yielded to him completely had he not showed his hand when he did. He thinks Eris must be reckoning with the same realization, by the way that familiar rosy hue dusts his cheekbones just before he winnows away.

Azriel remains kneeling there, in the center of the room, alone. No open, coquettish Ren; no frigid, hateful Eris. Just the masticated memory of both to haunt him.

He wraps his fist around his cock, tight, tighter, until there is pain renewed. Until he closes his eyes and can pretend, for a moment, that the star came to earth and showed him an easy truth — that Ren spread for him and took him gladly into his body — that Eris stayed and crushed him underfoot until he bled.

It is to this last thought that he spills. A strained noise from his throat echoes back at him pityingly.

When Azriel finally puts himself to rights and ventures back out into the nighttide, his shadows are so loud that he is unable to make sense of them at all. He finds that he does not much want to, on what could have remained a quiet, pastoral eve, were it not for him.

[blueteller]

....pls, youre the only one i can rely on, was there a clear progressive difference for Alberu Crossman's characterization between earlier chapter and after the war with white star? thank u;v;

Hm, good question! Alberu's characterization is tricky, because it's very subtle. I consider it a steady slope, with several "critical" moments worth noticing.

The moment when Cale gave him Dragon's dead mana was obviously one of those points. Others could be the time Alberu personally fought the White Star, or that time he used Taerang to create light with the Sun God's power. Out of them all, the most important moment would obviously be the time he took Cale underneath the royal library to show him the rock with the "curse of the Crossman Family".

Why do I think it;s the most important, aside from being a major plot-relevant reveal? (Also the importance of the development for Cale and Alberu's friendship, but that's a whole other topic so I won't dive into that too much.) Well, it shows that throughout the whole series, despite the show of confidence he was putting, Albreru was filled with doubt. I'm not 100% sure he knew about the "curse" since the start of the novel (I'm using quotation marks because I don't believe it was a real thing, or not in the sense the Crossman family believed it; I think the Angelina was simply keeping an eye on them and wrote that thing to scare them off from being bad kings, when the rock was really just a "package" with a secret weapon inside). Alberu could have been told about it sometime in the middle of the story, after he cemented his position a the heir. But that's beside the point; Alberu had this whole act where he acted like he was totally confident he would and should become the ruler. But that was all a front.

He wished to become the king because he wanted to help people; the Dark Elves most of all. Did he believe himself worthy of it? Maybe a bit, he does have a bit of an ego haha. ...But definitely not completely. His insecurities become clear once we take a closer look.

He did not have flattering thoughts about his own race – he knew his people were considered "dirty" in the eyes of others. He was worried he wouldn't be able to have relationships because of his secrets (remember how he kept Choi Han at arm's length in the "Birth of a Hero" the whole time). Most of all, he was scared that he was not actually worthy of the throne. The moment he showed that vulnerability to Cale shows his growth the most, because I'm convinced that the Crown Prince at the beginning would NEVER have done that. And once Cale validates him and tells him upfront that he should be the king, Alberu sheds that doubt and allows himself to "step in".

Notice how most of the moments where Alberu personally takes action happened after that point. The fight with the White Star, the Earth 2 arc when Alberu was in charge of the army in Cale's absence, the Puzzle City battle. While not completely free just yet – I don't believe that will happen until his identity as a quarter Dark Elf gets revealed and the whole nation accepts him as their ruler despite his status – I had the feeling that Alberu "broke the final chains" that were holding him back mentally. He finally felt like he could take action and "become one of the main characters", you know?

Now, after all that, back to your original question. "Was there a clear progressive difference for Alberu Crossman's characterization between earlier chapters and after the war with the White Star?" I think the main thing is the confidence. Second would be how much support Alberu got, but I don't think that really counts as "characterization" and more of a "situation".

As for his "relationships with other characters"; we see that Alberu befriended more than just Cale. After Cale fainted in the Empire when the White Star showed up for the first time, we see that Alberu took care of things while he was unconscious. He was casually hanging out in Cale's room (Adin's room but whatever lol) in his true form where Cale's allies could walk in at any time. Which shows how much he trusted them; either not to do so or that it would not matter if they did. (Of course Raon and Eruhaben don't really count because they're Dragons and I'm sure Alberu knew he could not hide his identity from them, but the point still stands.) Alberu begun trusting Cale's people after trusting Cale himself, and that allowed him to make real friends outside his previously tight circle of family members from his mother's side. After that scene, Alberu really starts having a lot more fun scenes with other characters, such as giving cookies to the kids or hanging out with Choi Han. Remember that one time he jokingly asked him if "he would like to die with him"? There was definitely a big difference in how much he opened up.

So sum it all up: the confidence, the trust, and the degree Alberu was taking charge and his experience as a leader, all those things steadily grew throughout the series. There were other things of course, like Alberu personally growing stronger, or him getting more casual and snarky with Cale, but most of that happened pretty early on. ...Oh and the frequency of headaches and stress levels because of Cale's shenanigans, we can't forget those 😂. And in Part 2 (no major spoilers don't worry) Alberu continues his growth in a slow but steady pace, the degree of his involvement increasing in later arcs. ...As well as his personal hobbies lol. It IS subtle, but the character development is definitely there.

...I'm not sure if that answered your question to your satisfaction, but I hope it helps! 💖

[enjoythesilentworld]

2024 fandom review!

thank u for the tag @willesredlights sorry it took me literally ages to get to it

lets pretend we're not almost two weeks into the new year ok? and what a year it has been. holy shit.

~ Fics written ~

I'll be honest I did go a little batshit crazy this past year. 314k words across 19 published works, plus god knows how much more unpublished on tumblr. listen, I was deep in the ??? phase of my master's (still am, lets be honest) and desperately looking for a new creative outlet. I've always been a writer, always loved dreaming up stories, but I have never quite connected to a universe as much as I have to this one. I resonate with so many of the characters, and i just feel like there is so much room to play and explore. i will continue to add in old people OCs to my fics wherever and whenever i get the chance.

First fic: for the tree's sake (M, 48k) aka tree boys inspired by the trip that eventually led to my discover of young royals in late '23, and my darling baby. yes, that airplane ride that seems weird and random is based on truth!

Fav fic: just if for a minute (T, 53k) aka fake married idiots i greatly enjoyed making Wille suffer for just under 53k. that confrontation scene took days off my life and yet i am so proud of how it turned out.

Honorary mention to Growing towards the light, which was a dream to work on and create with my dear sweet friend Lia. there is one braincell between the two of us and it's full of nature facts and dick jokes. and beautiful stories about getting lost in the wilderness and finding yourself along the way. and tent-dick jokes.

Last fic: Wille på Hyllan (T, 13k) aka christmas shenanigans! another collab with my dearest friends which was hilarious to write and so silly and imo an example of one of the greatest perks of being in a fandom: meeting some of the most incredible people ever. also, dick-lights and dick-tomtar and dick-cookies. what more could you want?

~ Fics Read ~

if i tried to go through my history and tell you how many fics i read this year i would never make this post. i'd be here counting and trying to copy links forever. i read hundreds of fics. i enjoyed all of them, thoroughly. i got a lot better at leaving comments (sometimes). i was consistently and repeatedly blown away by the genius brains we have in this little Swedish corner of the internet.

if you are a writer i love you and i give u a kiss on the forehead.

also: i recently made a lil rec list here.

~ Other Stuff? ~

i had two big, busy months this year. three? : May, Wille's month & July, Simon's month i cannot believe i wrote 62 stories in 62 different universes (give or take a few). that's kind of stupid! but oh my god it was so fun!! some of my favs: -> Food, where Wille and Simon meet and embark on a mistakenly booked couples food tour in Barcelona -> Fashion/Style, aka the Met Gala AU aka the thing that turned into something so much bigger than i could have ever imagined. literally i thought people were gonna hate it. so, thank u for not hating it. and for letting it become 15k+ of pwp. -> Secret, friends to lovers RAHHHHHH -> Home (Improvement), aka grumpy home renovator Simon idk i just feel like this should become a full-blown fic one day

and oh boy who can forget about Kinktober from wax kinks in 17th century Italy to desperate love confession in the middle of wildfires to... whatever that was in the confessional (idk, that's between them and God).

2024...

I did some painting: x x I wrote some real weird lil ficlets: x x and I met dozens of incredible people. thank u for liking my stupid rambling posts from 3am and my silly little ficlets and for reading my stories and telling me about your stories and saving me from the Frankfurt airport and yelling with me about stuff thats definitely not in the Bible and sharing your time and space and art and care.

@bigalockwood @hergrandplan @gulliblelemon @saynomorefic @pagegirlintraining @skibasyndrome @sobadbad @impossibleknots @piebingo @theaviatorthatcouldnotfly @misfithive @sillylittleflower @zee-has-commitment-issues @purplehoodiesandclementines @justfriendsbestthings

giving u a big hug. and! this is by no means an exhaustive list. if ur reading this we are bffs. send me a message ok? ok. y'all keep me sane and happy and i am so grateful for you! live love wilmon

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

we've been blessed by the delicious updates on thuyw. tysm 🥰 so it's been on my mind & that lead me to reread some smutty book scenes* & got inspired. (don't know if you've read the Royals of Forsyth series, but there's a character who's packing just like Bucky. it's a whole thing in the story) anyway, i'm imaging Bucky being so feral for reader that he gets kinda impatient & maybe tries like making her super horny (maybe asking the other guys to stoke the fire, or movie night with sumthign super raunchy?)even maybe plying her w/ aphrodisiac foodies, or even making her more relaxed with certain cookies/gummies. just so he can get in there!!! lol. i am exciteeeeed for them two (or more of the frat guys) to get it onnnn! can't u tell 😆😂

ps. thanks for writing this deliciousness. k tnx byeeee

no, i'm not familiar with that book series, but fun that it also has someone who is stupidly hung!

i have a few details already figured out for when reader and bucky finally cram it in there, but actually not too much yet.

i hadn't thought about it through that lens though, if bucky were to give her something... both in a helpful way or in a dark way.....

you know what? let's put it up to a vote, see if that's the route the people want it to go:

knowing me, if we go with yes, then i'll most likely stumble down a dark road lol.... i mean, the other one is by no means squeaky clean either, but like, my mind automatically goes to some dark places with the drugs, so just beware. how dark do you want bucky to be? just a menace or actually evil?

if any of you have more thoughts on this then please please do share!

do you already have a fantasy of how bucky and reader should fuck for the first time? maybe we could brainstorm a few different fantasies and then put it up to a vote!!