#stop dragging my children through the mud

[captainwaffles]

There will always be consequences to your actions. But these where children force to grow up becuase the adults wouldn’t do anything/enough

These are children doing there best, in life or death situations. The adults who let/made them do this are at fault more than they are

They had no choice, it wasn’t out of malice

[artethyst]

~ Leaves In A Sky Full Of Stars ~

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC

Eris had never seen his Mate so nervous- to talk to him, anyway.

Even when they had first met she had been nothing but a pain in his backside- a beautiful one no less.

“I have…news.” Came her voice, wavering as she played with her fingers, sliding the grand, shimmering ruby across her ceremonially ringed digit to soothe her.

“I suspect it is bad.” His teased, taking in her soft appearance, taught chest blossoming at the sight of his beloved.

She grinned, but there was a strange sadness to her eye which sent his own heart racing.

“It depends how you feel about it.”

He quirked a brow as she moved to him, perching herself over his thigh, her skirts brushing against his riding boots that were caked in mud.

“My Love, I am filthy-“

“When are you not?” She mocked lightly and he could only roll his eyes in return, gathering her trembling fingers in his own, warming them as he knew she liked.

Without a word she guided one of his calloused hands away from her own, placing it on her lower stomach as she remained perched on his lap.

He was perplexed until he felt it.

Their life force thrumming as one.

He looked at her incredulously and she bit her lip.

He couldn’t breathe.

“A-Another?” He swallowed thickly. “So…So soon?”

“Eri, he is almost four,” she tried to smile, but his gaze was too piercing, focused on her stomach- where their babe guiltlessly lay.

She knew what was wrong.

“He is hardly three,”

His resolve quickly diminished as he felt her disappointment through the bond, her sweet face falling at his words- ones he vowed to never hurt her with.

He heard her breath hitch and that was enough to break him.

“It…It is a blessing.” He breathed out, unconvincingly- but she knew better. “My Love, any child you give me is a greater gift than I could ever ask for-“

“Then why are you so scared?” Her voice was low as she traced his jaw, eyes glassy as he took a deep breath and counted.

One.

His father was dead. He couldn’t hurt her or the child- children.

Two.

She hadn’t died in childbirth. Madja had saved her. She was alive. Her and his firstborn son were okay.

Three-

“Eri…Talk to me…”

He hated this.

Himself.

His own anxieties self sabotaging his relationships with the only people- person he really cared about.

He swallowed thickly before replying, the feel of her delicate skin against his own dragging him back to surface from his suffocating fears. Ones he might have drowned in if not for her addictive salvation.

“Last time.” Was all he could say, jaw taught. “I almost lost you- the both of you.”

“Eri-“

“I am not my father. You…You are more than what your womb can give me- one was enough. More than enough. You are more precious to me than the heirs you may provide.”

“You…You do not want more children?”

She knew her husband was wary about the first, but had hoped he might have been convinced to have more. She was happy to compromise with his darkest fears and stop at two if it meant she could have at least one of each.

“My Love, I would have as many as you would be happy to give me, but…But it is dangerous. The Healers said-“

“Eris.” She was firm, pushing his hand further against her slightly raised stomach. “You have no reason to be afraid. You are High Lord- we have the best Healers at our disposal. After last time-“

She felt him still at the memory, a chilling sense of fear scattering its way down the bond.

“It was a miracle you both survived.” His voice was cold as she ran a hand through his choppy auburn locks, knowing that his reaction was not one of disappointment, but rather sheer unadulterated terror.

Worry for both his Mate and unborn child.

“Eri, we are both okay- we will be okay.”

And then he nodded.

A shaky breath with it, no less.

“Another, then?” Came a breathy half-laugh, his amber eyes glinting in the soft light of the room.

“Another,” she replied, eyes just as glassy, an incredulous smile on her face as he nuzzled his face against her womb, fresh tears of his own gathering against her gown.

If only the first time they had found out had been as simple.

-

“Must you leave me?” Eris drawled against the crown of your head, inhaling the scent as if it were his last drop of water in the vast, dry plains of Summer.

“It is all but only for a few hours you fiery baby,” you teased as he grinned against your silky hair, revelling in its softness against his cheek. “I would extend the invitation to you, though, I am certain you would not be interested in having tea with-“

“If by tea you mean talking about your sinful novels and eating pastries-“

“I’ll have you know we have distinguished talks-“

“About Sellyn Drake?”

“How do you know about Sellyn Drake?”

It was then he went quiet, which made you giggle, leaning into him for support as his hold on you tightened.

“Will you take the guards I have assigned to you? Perhaps too at least three of the hounds-“

“It is my birthplace Eris,” you wanted to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness but knew it only came from love. “No guards. No hounds.”

It was then the eldest hound gave a high pitched whine, the very same one that had taken to curling up protectively over your stomach and defying Eris for the first time ever in her meticulously reared existence.

You were lucky he hadn’t caught on.

“How will I survive these awful meetings without knowing you’ll be right behind those doors to greet me once they have ceased?

Your smile became wicked.

“Perhaps I will have a greater surprise for you this evening-“

You barely finished your sentence before his hands had found themselves desperately grabbing at your rear, you smiled into his needy mouth as he pulled you into a tender kiss, laughing wildly as he squeezed the cheeks to slip his tongue right through your lips.

He would be in for a surprise alright.

-

You breathed in the air of Velaris with a melancholic peacefulness, whilst Autumn was your new home- the Court in which you presided over, nothing could ever beat the place in which you had grown.

Only two days prior, you had discovered you were pregnant- a miracle in itself. You knew of Eris’ remaining self doubts, ones that failed to be distinguished even after snuffing out Beron. How he had assured you that it wasn’t necessary to provide him heirs, that the risk of childbirth was not worth losing you.

You knew he was nothing like his father, and had often caught yourself daydreaming of what you could have- what your brother had.

It wasn’t until the Healers excitedly told you of your newfound condition that you thought it could ever be a reality.

You wanted to make it special. As special as Fae pregnancies were, and so you decided you would visit your long time favourite bakery and have them ice a celebration cake in such a way that would reveal the surprise.

One you hoped your husband would take well if not for his ridiculous overbearing attitude.

“Gods, you reek of Eris,” your cousin grimaced, nose scrunching as she pulled you into a hug. “No…Wait. What is that?” She pulled away perplexed, her pouty mouth falling open in disbelief as she suddenly recognised the sickly, sweet aroma- one also tinged with your husband’s delicate spice.

“Mor-“

“OH MY GOD! MOTHER’S TITS!” She squealed, loud enough for all of Prythian to hear. “You’re pregnant with that asshole’s child!”

You frowned.

“That asshole is still my Mate you know.”

“Cauldron boil you I suppose,” she retorted, a grin on her joyous face as you rolled your eyes with a half smile, knowing her jests were all in good humour- despite everything.

Despite the truth. Despite the truth and what you knew of Eris, the very truth your family now did too, there was still a long way to go for them to truly accept him.

“That is why I enlisted your help,” you continued, her arm now looped through yours. “I have been glamouring my scent so he wouldn’t find out until I had planned something special.”

“He has turned you soppy, Cousin,” she mocked as you giggled, knowing it was very much the other way around. “But who am I to say no to free pastries?”

After you and Mor had sufficiently stuffed yourself with cakes, you especially savouring the taste having suffered without it for far too long. It wasn’t that Autumn desserts were bad, you just missed the sweets of your childhood.

That and you were growing sick of spices and apple.

You had felt a pair of eyes trailing you but presumed it was due to the fact you were still Princess of the Night Court, your presence was greatly missed in those parts of Velaris you seldom frequented since being appointed High Lady Of Autumn.

After you thanked your favourite baker, receiving the delicate cake and had practically forced the money into her hands, making sure to visit again soon, it was almost time for you to leave the City of Starlight.

“Why can’t you stay for dinner?” Your cousin whined, still hanging off of your arm like she did when you both were teens. “I’m sure your husband can manage those few hours-“

“We will visit again when I reveal the news to everyone. I swear on the Mother Mor…You better keep it a secret- especially from Rhys!”

She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“Besides,” you continued, blissfully unaware of the presence gaining on you from behind the narrow alley. “Eris-“

It was Mor who screamed first.

You felt the dagger pierce your side, but the sharp pain in your stomach that followed was worse than whatever the assailant had set out to do. A dull ache that had stolen your voice away as you fell to the floor, helpless.

You felt yourself waning as Mor’s loud voice became faint, the last thing you saw were her shaking hands, covered in blood, as she removed the Autumn Court dagger from your marred flesh.

-

Eris jolted when the bond was flooded with pain, his hands scouring burn marks into his ornate chair at the head of the meeting he had been called to at the sudden intensity of it.

He hardly had time to react before the large oak doors swung open, revealing Lucien who, to anyone else, looked normal, but the most disheveled Eris had seen him in years.

The Advisors quickly bowed and deserted the room before Eris had the chance to send them away, Lucien’s shallow breaths enough to warn them of the severity of the situation their ears were not Privy to.

“Someone was sent to kill her,” was all the Emissary said. He knew Eris would understand and was never one for pleasantries. “Rhysand has her in the Town House-“

And that was all he needed to winnow straight to where his Mate was being held.

“Brother,” Lucien called out, only steps behind the High Lord, jogging to catch up to the man barrelling through the doors adorned with Night’s symbology. “Rhysand has her room guarded, I warn you-“

“She is my Mate,” he growled, animalistic. “I shall do as I please.”

“High Lord,” Rhysand greeted sarcastically as Eris stormed his way into view, heart beating so fast he was sure he might have a heart attack if he didn’t reach you in the next few seconds.

“Rhysand if you do not step your ridiculously shoed foot aside-“

“She is safe. Our Healers do not need another High Lord breathing down their necks-“

“Safe? Someone tried to kill her. I think you and I have very different definitions of ‘safe’, High Lord.” The title was spat with venom, not respect.

“It was an Autumn Court Soldier.” Rhysand’s tone was pointed, “if she hadn’t been with Morrigan, perhaps nobody would have found her in time.”

Eris’ face paled.

“Autumn?” His jaw became taught. “Where-“

“Azriel took him to the dungeons. I assured him to leave the bastard to you, that you would most certainly provide the deserved punishment.”

Eris couldn’t thank him.

The horrible lump in his throat stopping him.

The one that had never left since his cursed birth- the one that had remained even when you had entered his life, the one that only shrunk, but never ceased to exist.

You had been hurt because of him.

Targeted.

Almost killed because he had been unaware- unable to stop it.

He knew he didn’t deserve you, but this was enough proof for him to make that very lump increase tenfold. Increase to the point where he felt he was going to suffocate.

He was drowning. He was erratic and his salvation- his only respite, was laying unresponsive in next the room over.

Whenever he got like this, which was rare as of late, you were the one to soothe him.

Kiss away his fears- quash the traumas his father had so lovingly provided him.

He felt like he was going to die.

He wanted to.

A life without you in it was not worth living.

He felt a familiar claws scraping at his mental shields and could only blame his lack of response for their intrusion, sending his brother a sharp glare in return regardless.

“Get out of my head Rhysand!”

“Let him see her, Rhys,” came Feyre’s gentle voice as she emerged from the chamber in which you were being held, and Eris might have thanked her if not for the red tainting his vision. “You would act just the same if it were me.”

Rhysand looked torn for a moment- as if he had only just remembered his little sister, now his only sister, belonged to another male.

That someone else now held her heart.

“Try keeping your emotions in check High Lord,” came his suave voice, though Feyre knew he was masking his own fears. “Wouldn’t want to exasperate her further through your…Unfortunate bond, would we?”

And with that, the High Lord of Night made his exit.

A silent acceptance that Eris was the one now entrusted to look over you.

Feyre sent Eris an apologetic smile before catching up with her own Mate, lightly berating him before they could turn the corner.

He didn’t even bother to listen.

You were more important than any domestic material he could have on Rhysand to poke fun at him for later.

You were more important than anything.

He thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but he would never forget the way your face looked in that moment.

Pale.

Sickeningly pale.

Not the delicate, moonlit expanse he spent his nights caressing- worshipping, wondering how he got so lucky, but a pallid shade that almost brought him to his knees.

You were the only one who could ever bring him to.

He knew he had memorised the shade of your eyes- an ethereal violet, the only place he’d allow himself to get lost in, but was horrified as they remained shut.

Perhaps to never open again.

Because of him.

Or so he told himself.

He wished then he had spent every breath- every fleeting second of his centuries of living looking into those eyes if it meant never having to forget the way they looked.

The way you gazed upon him- with love.

Not with fear, disappointment nor disgust, but the way his mother did.

Even when you had wanted nothing to do with him, before you had accepted the bond and would refuse to meet his gaze, forced to trail behind your father and brother as a well-bred female should- or so was told.

Even when he knew he was the only one in love- would do anything for you regardless, he would rather go back to that moment, see those eyes narrowed at him in fury, than never see them again.

“The dagger was laced with Fae bane,” came the voice of Madja, he knew that because you had forced him to be attended to by her when he had suffered a particularly nasty thrashing at the hands of his father.

One you didn’t trust the Healers of his own court to remedy.

“By the Mother child, sit before you faint on me.” His face might have been have been paler than yours- blood colder and far more disheveled. “She is alive. After she wakes, Mother knows she will, I must warn you, she will still require an extensive recovery period- especially because of the baby.”

Especially because of the baby.

The baby.

The baby. The baby. The baby.

“T-The what?”

Madja breathed sharply through her nostrils.

“I see.” She sighed, adjusting the pillows beneath your limp neck. “I was under the impression you were aware. Do not fret, I have not informed anyone else-“

“She…She’s pregnant?”

It was then any semblance he was gripping onto fell through his hands like the tears threatened to from his piercing eyes.

His chest felt like it was on fire- consumed by the same flames that rested within him, his ribcage screaming out with each wavered breath as he used the wall for support.

He was having a panic attack.

He was having a panic attack and you were not there to save him.

“Leave,” he gritted out when he felt Madja inch towards him. “It will resolve itself in a minute- go.”

She was in no mood to argue with a High Lord- a temperamental one at that, and, deep down, trusted him enough to be left alone with you. He might’ve been the only one she would’ve taken that order from.

She knew that you loved him- that he loved you more. Perhaps even deeper than her own High Lord loved his own mate. She had practically raised you, it was not hard to tell. It was a palpable love.

A fiery, all consuming love.

When the woman had finally left, he let himself fall to your bedside, one hand clutching his chest, the other trembling and taking a firm hold of your much smaller, much softer one.

One that was ice cold.

He gasped through his tears, so foreign against his skin- his skin that had become so hot, his Magic uncontrollable, that they evaporated as soon as they fell upon his freckled cheeks.

The words came tumbling out before he could even rationalise- process what they meant. Apologising- for everything.

Apologising for being your Mate, for cursing you to be bound to such a fool as he, one that had broken his promise to protect you- to keep you safe.

He sobbed unabashedly- unashamedly into your hands, the frail digits slowly becoming warmed by his powers as he continued praying the hardest he’d ever prayed- the only time of three that he had ever put his wavering faith into the Mother, to keep you and his unborn child steady.

Steady and awake.

He wasn’t sure if Madja had been vague to comfort him or simply because she too was unaware when you would come to.

Or if you would ever.

He hadn’t even become a father and he had already failed his one duty.

If he felt worthless before, it was nothing to what he felt now- kneeling on the cold stone, his head against your womb with his fractured cries ricocheting off of the bloodied material.

He would burn it.

Buy you 1000 dresses to make up for the one he destroyed- never wanting to smell the scent of your blood, the one which made him gag and tears gather ever more strongly at the corner of his russet eyes.

He would burn it alongside the very man had done this to you.

Burn him slowly.

He would burn everything for you, the entirety of Prythian- himself to ensure your safety.

And now his child’s.

“E-Eri?”

And that’s when he really did properly cry.

You couldn’t understand what he was saying, his hoarse voice muffled by the fresh linen Madja had given you after attending to your wound.

Then you realised he wasn’t saying anything at all.

He was crying.

He was crying and trying to hide it.

“I-I’m sorry-“ your voice was weak, and it was your turn to cry. “I-I should’ve listened to you, I-I should never have come, I put our baby in danger-“

You spoke without thinking, but it was then you gasped.

Your baby.

“The baby is okay-“ Eris let out, his own voice breaking, finally lifting his head and allowing his watery gaze meeting your own as if saying it out loud finally made him accept it.

Realise what truly lay ahead.

“T-The baby- our baby,” he choked out, and you let him bring you into his arms, as you hiccuped against his shoulder as he held you. “My star, I can never apologise enough if I made you feel you couldn’t tell me-“

“No,” you sniffled, wincing as you shifted, “I-I came here to surprise you, I-I had someone bake a cake- I-“ you burst into tears again. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…I just wanted to make you happy!”

You were still thinking about him.

He was supposed to be the one comforting you and yet all you could do was apologise- apologise for wanting him to be happy.

“My Love, you make me happy. With every breath I take knowing you are my Mate fills me with more joy than anything tangible- anything else the Mother could ever gift me,” his words were sincere as he delicately held you, mindful of your wound. “There is nothing in all of Prythian that matters to me apart from you.”

He felt himself becoming tense as his fingers brushed against your cut- the one he refused to look at because it turned him feral.

“Are…Are you happy then?” Your voice was so small it almost broke him. The fact you even had to ask. “I know how you feel-“

“My Light, that news alone leaves me the happiest I have ever been,” he was struggling to maintain his composure with his Mate so weak- trembling in his strong arms. “A child is a blessing, one I am honoured you would ever give me…” His amber gaze became crescent shaped as he smiled, still in disbelief. “I love you. More than anything. More than I ever thought possible.”

You didn’t know why you were crying anymore.

The pain, the fear, the love you felt oozing from the bond or your husband’s words.

The confessions that spilled from him so readily- easily after years of coaxing him from his shell, that hard exterior even you had to work through.

“Our baby,” you echoed, the only words you could find as you revelled in your Mate’s tears.

A rare sight if any.

“Our baby,” he affirmed shakily, his free hand remaining protectively splayed on your flat stomach, swearing there and then he’d keep you safe- the both of you safe, no matter the cost.

The same cost that later that evening, when you had spent enough time wrapped up in Eris, Madja shooing him away exasperatedly, the man who had dared do this to you paid for.

The cost he paid for when Eris knew you were amply surrounded by people- family who loved you, people at your beck and call by your bedside, giving him enough time to deal with the very scum that had once been part of his- your Court.

The very cost that was hours of torture- brutal torture lovingly provided by the very blade that had harmed you- a hundred fold.

The man couldn’t even scream his last words, his tongue cut from his mouth as he was burned alive.

Eris, with a snarl on his powerful face at the memory of you so helpless.

And with the blood of his enemy covering his shaking hands, all he could think of was you.

You and his child.

[thecrystalquill]

Hi again!

after a lot of thinking, i would like to ask you to write for Percy Jackson. Like a cute winter day or something where Reader and Percy just do cute stuff together.

maybe they cook/bake together, idk. if you need more to this you can tell me and i'll try to think of something more to add.

I went with Apollo!reader bc I’m biased. Hope you like it :) also very excited for my first post in the pjo fandom!

Also I’d like to thank my adhd for allowing me to write about my favourite demigods more accurately lmao (bless uncle Rick for making them like me 🥲)

(Book) Percy Jackson x Apollo!reader fluff

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It was December. Persephone had been long reunited with her husband, and her mother - still bitter about their arrangement - let the world know of her sadness.

There was snow at Camp Halfblood, and the demigods who remained were enjoying it fantastically. All except the remaining children of cabin seven. With the sun weak and the weather cold, they seemed to slump about with low energy, no matter how they tried. Seasonal depression was often a little worse for children of the sun.

Which was why (Y/N) was glad to have Percy.

“What’s going on? Where’re we going?” She asked, letting him drag her by the arm through the snowy paths.

“Well, if I told you it kinda wouldn’t be a surprise.” He grinned that big stupid smile he reserved for occasions like this. He pulled her towards the kitchen, eager to see her reaction.

They entered the kitchens and (Y/N) saw before her a table arranged with bowls, utensils, and more ingredients than she could imagine using in a single recipe, along with three cook books all open at different pages. “We’re…baking?” She asked, kicking off the snow from her boots before she approached the display.

Percy rolled his eyes. “Oh, actually it’s a science experiment - I thought we’d have a try at making a bomb.” He sassed, ignoring the light slap to his arm and instead opted to help his girlfriend out of her coat. “I thought we could make a pie?” He explained, though it sounded more like a question.

(Y/N) smiled; it was times like this that she felt so lucky to have someone like him. “What kind?”

Turning to the pantry, Percy rummaged through for options, coming up with a bag of apples, a sack of peanuts, three oranges, and a black banana. “Uh… apple and cinnamon?”

At that moment, it could be a mud pie for all she cared. “Sounds perfect.”

Within ten minutes, they’d gotten everything together and started on the dough. Flour, water, salt, sugar, and butter. Easy.

“Why is it so… gooey?” Said Percy with dough stuck all around his fingers. “Am I not kneading it enough?”

(Y/N) looked into the bowl to assess the problem. The consistency was definitely off. “Maybe just add some more flour?” She suggested, grabbing a handful from the paper bag at her side to throw in the bowl. Only, she also threw about half of it all over his jeans.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, jumping back and almost dropping the bowl. He pushed as much of the sticky dough off his hands and grabbed some flour to throw back before she could defend herself.

“What’re you doing? Stop!” She squeezed, but laughed despite the powder on her shirt.

He did as she said, but the mischievous spark in his eye remained.

When the crust dough looked… good enough, they split it in half and rolled it to the size of the pie dish. They chopped and sugared the apples as the recipe said in the blue (or was it the red?) cook book, and Percy added the cinnamon until his heart told him to stop. (Y/N) mixed the filling while he preoccupied himself with decorating the edges of the crust. Her eye wandered as she stirred and listened to Percy talk about fun words he’d heard of in German (how did they get onto that topic, anyway?), until she saw an open cupboard with a tub of food dyes. Curiosity got the better of her, and she snuck a peak while her boyfriend was distracted. Red, purple, yellow, pink, green… why did they even have so many?

She grabbed two and sneakily poured them in - maybe a little too much, but Percy wouldn’t be distracted for much longer - and took her chance while Percy adjusted the oven. In the filling went, and she hurriedly covered it with the pie top.

“Hey, that was fast.” Percy complimented, unaware of the sly adjustment to the mix. “Just gotta put some holes in it and glaze the top with milk and sugar.” He smiled and picked up a fork.

“I’ll do it.” (Y/N) said, and Percy was more than willing to let her, happy to see the beautiful smile on her lips.

When the pie was finally in the oven, they let out a breath and leaned against the messy table. “Do you have a timer?” She asked.

Percy looked around but came up empty handed. “Nope. But it’s fine, the book says thirty minutes. We’ll remember.”

Famous last words.

Forty-eight minutes later, they scrambled to open the door and hoped with fingers crossed that it wasn’t burnt. Fortunately, luck was on their side; the edges were too brown and the top had started to darken more than the recommended golden colour, but it was salvageable.

The pie was sat on a wooden serving tray in front of them, and the couple pulled up some chairs. They’d worked up quite the appetite.

(Y/N) pulled out a knife from a draw and handed it over. “Would you do the honours?” She asked, and Percy bowed his head as he took it.

He licked his lips a little as the knife cut through the crumbling crust, and proudly pulled back the slice to see its sweet appley insides, chunky and sugary and… brown? “What the hell? Why’s it look like that?!”

(Y/N) looked around to see from his view and groaned. “Aw dam,” she sighed loudly, “I tried to make it blue.”

“You did?” Percy asked, and smiled anyway when he saw the frown on her lips. “That’s okay, it’s the thought that counts. Let’s just try it.” He said as he reached for some forks and handed one over.

They tapped their forks together and tried it at the same time. For a moment, it tasted pretty good.

And then that moment ended.

“Why does it taste like that?” (Y/N) said with a scrunched face.

“I don’t know! We followed the recipe…” Percy reached for the book and checked the ingredients. “See - five cups of flour, a pinch of sugar, two teaspoons of salt—“

“Woah, how much?” (Y/N) interrupted.

Percy held up the green book in his hands. “That’s what it says. Page thirty-one, ingredients—“

He was right, (Y/N) realised, the book did say that. Only, it was the wrong book. “Oh, Percy, that book’s green.” She said, and Percy looked at her in clear confusion, until she held up the book in front of them and one to her right “The ones we were comparing was the blue one and the red.”

Percy’s eyes widened comically large and he gasped. “Then what did I…” he flicked back a page to read the description. “Aw man, this is for a sea salt bread!”

“Ew.”

“Yeah, ew!” He groaned and banged his head on the table in a clear display of hopelessness. “I’m sorry.” Percy grumbled weakly, sounding beyond disappointed.

(Y/N) sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. “Why’re you sorry?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you.” Percy muttered, still with his head on the wooden surface.

“Hey,” she said, easing him to lift his head up and look up at her with his big, sad eyes. He had flour smeared on his forehead from the still messy table, and she giggled while dusting it off. “You did. We had fun.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess. But the pie sucks.”

Pausing for a second, (Y/N) opted to pick up her fork and take another bite, ignoring his protests. “It’s not so bad the second time.” She said. Sure, the crust was salty and crumbly, and a little burnt, and the filling was an unappealing green-brown, but she’d had worse. She scooped up another forkful and put it to Percy’s lips, waiting for him to take a bite.

He wrapped his lips around the offering, and tried not to think about the salt or the strong cinnamon flavour. “I guess it’s… okay.” He said, and he smiled at her gesture.

He hasn’t expected her to laugh at him, though.

“What?” He asked, frowning in confusion yet again, only making her laugh more. “What?”

The sight of a clueless Percy Jackson, with flour on his face and brown-coated teeth, was one she’d give a fortune to have on camera. “Y-you- you look like you ate sh—“ she managed before she was cut off by more laughter. If she wasn’t already sat down, she would have collapsed already from the near violent laughs taking over her body. Tears streamed down her face, and her stomach hurt like she’d done a minute-long plank, and she’d started laughing so hard that no sound even came out anymore.

Percy couldn’t help but laugh too, harder and harder each minute, until they were both exhausted and heavily meaning in the table for support. “This whole day was a disaster.” He chuckled and shook his head.

(Y/N) moved forward to cup his floury face in her hands. “Not at all - it was perfect.” She swore, and thanked him with a sweet, cinnamon flavoured kiss.

It was the best date they’d had in a while - sweet kisses were the perfect ending - and the clean up could wait until after. They’d remember.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

The camp’s snowman building contest was interrupted an hour before dinner by a scream from the kitchen.

“WHO THE FUCK TRASHED THE KITCHEN?!”

It might be best to skip dinner that night…

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Thank you for requesting :) what did you think?

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I remember this one time when Meghan said in her interview/podcast (or someone said this in her behalf) that Meghan was bullied relentlessly in school because everyone thought she was perfect, and I laughed my ass off at how off kilter someone's self assessment can be. Ifnwo deed then how she and why she was saying this. And now I think that was major projection because at some point she may done some reflection on why she has so many problems with Catherine of all people.

I think this photogate scandal explains that theory - that someone can be bullied because of their perfect image. A lot of other celebs are able to shake off major scandals of they have a perfect public image. For example, if someone came and said a horrible thing about Meryl Streep most people would simply ignore it. But it's because there is a huge PR machinery behind a celeb,and a huge celeb is a huge money making opportunity for those directly linked to them. So everyone from the agent to the associated brand goes into salvage mode.

When it comes to Catherine though, because her position she does not and cannot rely on a project created narrative. she is not an celeb, or a performer, she is a famous person. And even though she has been in the public eye for nearly 20 years, her role wasn't even constitutionally relevant till 8th Sept 2022, the day she became Princess of Wales. And even now, it is because of the constitutionally relevant role that her husband has.

This uniqueness of her position, the subltle nuance of that, is hard for the layman to grasp. Especially an American audience that culturally is very celeb and money centric. I say this because I do believe that controversial opinions and the wildfire of speculations about her are majorly coming from American commentators. American social media creators who rely on 40/20 sec clips on tiktok and insta have found that "where is Kate" is the biggest most lucrative click bait right now, and everybody and their grandma now has an opinion on it.

We live in a world of Charlene, Dubai princesses, Thai prinesses, North Korean dictators daughters/sisters/wife but we don't touch that with a 100 ft pole. Because it's uncomfortable. Because we know that noone is going to do anything to look into that.

But Catherine and husband's relationship is a free for all, all day buffet. Because she made herself available and catered to public's sensibilities. And when she drew a boundary she wouldn't budge. So everyone's sentiments get hurt now. The same people who gossip about her now would happily call her a step Ford wife and a clothes horse but ohh and ahh over her coat dresses and shiny hair and lovely shoes.

Noone stops for a second to think that maybe this woman is feeling unwell, is recovering from a surgery, has a serious medical issue and would like to recover at home without having to put on makeup and fake small talk with strangers.

We cry about feminism and equality and women's rights, but only applaud women who exhibit overt ambition. If a woman wants to stay at home, and is able to afford that, it's problematic. We want a woman to value self love and self care but if she prioritizes her health and care above public opinion she is dragged through the mud. Her health, her looks, her morals, her husband's morals, integrity, family values, privacy, her children's health, children's right to privacy....everything is open to discussion. And it's ok.

It's shameful and appalling that not ONE journalist, not one person with power, not one paper, publication or news Network has publicly spoken out in her favour and called out the bullying. This is not a Photoshop issue. It's just disguised as one. This gleeful gossiping about her "disappearance" is a gross violation of her rights.

Everything you've said is spot on. It is 100% American busybodies driving the criticism, controversy, and scandal. We/they don't understand what it's like to have someone who is above celebrity because our culture sees celebrity fame as the objective end-goal, so we demand for everyone to fit into our model of celebrity.

And while I have to give Meghan the benefit of the doubt and agree that she may have been bullied at school, I don't think it was for being perfect. That's Kate's story. All Meghan has done, since 2016, is portray Kate's life story as hers.

[apomaro-mellow]

Whatever Stevie Wants 8

Part 7

Steve dressed in the outfit his mother had set out and joined his parents in the dining room for lunch. It was a scene so familiar it made his stomach turn, and he picked helplessly at his food. He endured a couple minutes of them discussing whatever was going on with the Wilsons and their troubles with the Harriet family before finally speaking up.

“I’ve gone on with this long enough. Tell me where my children are before I call the police.”

“I don’t see how you expect to do that without your phone”, Margaret said. “And that staff has been instructed to keep you from the house phones at all costs.”

“This may seem extreme, son”, Layton started. “But it was necessary.”

“Necessary for what?! You both disowned me! And you didn’t say a word until I started dating Eddie and ‘besmirched the Harrington name’, so I changed my name and you went back to ignoring me. So why are you suddenly interested enough to kidnap me and my pups!?”

“We spent a decent chunk of our lives raising you, we deserve a return on that investment”, Layton said. “We thought allowing you to slum it out for a few years would bring you to your senses but clearly we were wrong.”

“We weren’t in contact because your father and I were hard at work for you, Steven”, his mother continued. “While you were working your tail off to drag our name through the mud. There’s hardly any alpha of good standing who will have you now. Barely any betas even.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m already mated”, Steve said, arms crossed.

“That can be undone with a simple procedure”, Layton said, getting Steve to rise to his feet.

“You wouldn’t! You can’t! I won’t-!”

“Lower your voice!!”, both of his parents shouted back.

“I’m done playing along. I’m finding my pups, and I’m leaving this place even if it’s just with the clothes on my back. It wouldn’t be the first time.” Steve wanted to flip the table but instead he just stomped away from it.

Margaret rolled her eyes. “They’re not in the house.”

That got Steve to stop in his tracks. “What?”

“Maggie, don’t lie to the boy, it’s childish”, Layton said. “We considered leaving them at the villa, but knew you’d seek them out with no regard. They’re here and they’re safe with Eleanor.”

“...Prove it.”

Margaret scoffed but Layton went ahead and took out his own phone and brought up a camera feed. He held it out for Steve to see. There, in the very same nursery that Steve had spent his own infant years, were his girls. One was sleeping in her crib while the other was on her feet, tiny hands grasping the bars as if demanding freedom. Eleanor was sitting in a rocking chair, book in hand.

“Nessa, Vi…”, Steve whispered, tears coming as easy as breathing. He knew where that room was. He could-

“You will be allowed to see them soon. But first we need to talk”, Layton said as he pocketed the phone. 

“What more is there to talk about?”, Steve’s shoulders sagged. “You said yourself, there isn’t an alpha or beta who will have me.”

“We said ‘hardly’”, Margaret said. “We have found three men who are willing to open their home to you. Despite your…checkered past.”

“Now sit down so that we may discuss it”, Layton ordered.

Steve sat down, defeated but only for now. They had caught him off guard. But he wouldn’t fall for their tricks again. Now that he thought about it, the day before his mother had pushed seconds onto him. She had never encouraged him to eat more a single day in his life. That should’ve been enough to arouse suspicion.

“So first there’s Ridwan West”, Margaret started. “I think he’ll be your favorite. He doesn’t mind taking both girls. He’s actually trying to run for office and apparently diversity is in nowadays”, she smiled.

“But if you don’t want to throw your hat in with a politician, my top choice would be Findlay Weeks”, Layton said.

“Then why don’t you fuck him?”, Steve murmured under his breath.

“The Weeks have a diverse portfolio and they don’t rest on their laurels. You could be looking at exponential growth”, his father continued, used to his son’s mutters after years of them.

“But the Weeks are more…inclusive”, Margaret said. “When we mentioned your daughters, he’s fine with adopting Violet, especially if she blooms into an alpha….Vanessa on the other hand…”

Steve dropped his fork. “You would make me abandon one of my children!?”

“Don’t be dramatic, you would still have contact with her. Eleanor is amazing with children. And of course we have other omega maids who would love another child. How many pups did Nadine have?”

“One, mother. Nadine had one”, Steve said. But he didn’t expect his parents to recall details of their staff. Least of which is the fact that while having only one son, Nadine frequently watched her nieces, nephews, and younger cousins and thus had plenty of children in her life. Steve could remember because there was a time when the house staff were his only source of comfort and validation. But sometimes they changed as frequently as the seasons, his mother rarely ever satisfied.

“Regardless, that just leaves Ethan Mcbride”, Margaret kept going.

“Let me guess, he also wants me to leave behind my black daughter?”

“Well he would prefer it if you came completely unattached”, Margaret said. “Of course, Violet would be in just as good hands as Vanessa. And this way they could be raised together.”

“By a nanny. Or a maid. But not by either of you. And I should be so lucky!”, Steve raised his voice again.

“Your father and I have done nothing to deserve this level of disrespect, Steven!”

“I’m through with this. I’m getting my children and we’re leaving.” This time, when Steve stomped out of the dining room, he didn’t stop at his parents’ protests and he went right up to the nursery. He opened the door and his heart felt full as he saw them.

Violet, who was awake, saw him first and showed all her gums in her smile. Steve reached out and then felt something sharp puncture his neck. As he fell down and lost consciousness, he could hear Vanessa’s beginnings of a cry.

“Thank you, Craig”, Margaret’s voice could be heard. 

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

Wayne let out a heavy sigh as he picked up the phone and made the call. He wished with all his heart he didn’t have to make it. But the longer he waited, the worse it would become. He rubbed his face as Eddie picked up.

“Hey, son.”

“Yo, Wayne. What’s up?”

“I’ve got some troubling news. Unless you’ve heard from Steve since he left for his folks?”

“We talked just before he left”, Eddie said. “He missed a call from me and Grant though. And he hasn’t been answering any of our texts. Is something up? Is he sick?”

“What’s the last real contact you had with him?”, Wayne asked.

“...The other day he sent a pic of the girls in some get up Madame Harrington put them in. But that was over a day ago. Wayne, what’s wrong? Where’s Steve? Where are the babies?”

Wayne felt his heart break at the worry already evident in Eddie’s voice and he handed the phone over to Beatrice. 

“Put me on speaker”, she said, knowing the others were probably close by. “You all need to get ready to cancel whatever you need with Chrissy so you can get home.”

“Mom?”, Jeff’s voice came over the line.

“And whatever you do Jeffery, stay calm. If any of you lose control, then this just gets harder.”

Eddie, Jeff, Grant, and Gareth held their breaths as Beatrice told them that they hadn’t heard from Steve for too long either. That he hadn’t returned when he said he would. Steve had sent the location of the place he was supposed to be meeting his parents. But when she and Wayne had gone over there, he and the Harringtons were nowhere to be found.

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

When Steve came to, he was seated on a couch in the living room. The sun’s position was slightly different. It must have been a couple of hours at least. His mother sat across from him.

“You can’t keep me drugged up forever”, he said, his words still slightly slurred as he came to.

“Oh trust me, I don’t want to. But if you insist on sabotaging your own future, I will do what is necessary”, Margaret’s voice and expression sharp.

Steve could see the future she envisioned. Him, silent and obedient next to a man twice his age. And if he kept refusing, she’d make good on her threat. He’d be drugged until they chose someone for him. She’d never gone to these extremes, but now she’d already done it twice. He bit his lip. The important thing to do now was buy time. His pack would notice his absence and sound the alarms soon if they hadn’t already.

“Do you…do you really think any of them will like me? Any of those matches you suggested?”

“They’ve already expressed interest. And your father will be able to meet two of them today for lunch at the club”, Margaret switched gears easily. “You and I can spend today preparing, they’ll want to meet you soon, maybe even tomorrow.”

“Do you think I’ll be ready by then?”, Steve asked, hoping to prolong it a bit more.

“You may have covered yourself in grime, but Harringtons are diamonds that can shine through anything. Oh I’m getting giddy just thinking about the wedding we’ll get to plan. And just think, if you and Ridwan pair well, the wedding could be in the paper.”

Steve held back from rolling his eyes. His wedding to Eddie had already been covered by quite a few news publications. But of course, that didn’t matter to his mother. He wanted nothing more than to hold his children. He knew better than to ask for that though. At least for now. He would grit his teeth, grin and bear it. He could trust that whatever nanny they employ would take fine care of the twins.

And he knew if he was ‘good’, then his mother would reward him with some time with his own children. Having to play their game made his blood boil. But it was the only way to ensure their safety.

Part 9

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

~~~

The dark gray skies and cold weather greatly reflected the somber mood hanging over everyone. Sunlight peeked through the clouded skies, shining down on those gathered but more specifically on the stone casket of the beloved Laena Velaryon. There was no body, however, as the young mother had screamed for her dragon to save her from the very fate that befell Queen Aemma and thus had been reduced to ashes. But Lady Laena hadn't been the only one (Y/N) Hightower and Rhaenyra Targaryen mourned. 

In an almost cruel joke, Ser Harwin Strong and his father had also been reduced to mere ashes in their very home. And while (Y/N) and his sons wished to attend the funeral, Rhaenyra rejected the idea as it would only bring more attention to them. (Y/N)'s departure with the princess had fueled more rumors at court despite Queen Alicent planting her own seeds and their father's return to court as Hand of the King. The last thing Rhaenyra wished for her family were more rumors, more doubts seeping into the minds of her young children. 

"We join today at the Seat of the Sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King where He will guard her for all days to come. As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore." The uncle of the late Laena, Vaemond Velaryon, spoke softly as the casket of his niece was prepared by knights, gaze settled solely on Daemon. The Velaryons, apart from Vaemond who wore black and gold, were clad in dark shades of blue and black. Laena's daughters, Baela and Rhaena Velaryon wept in the arms of their grandmother. Continuing, Vaemond turned his sharp gaze onto Jace and Luke. "Though their mother will not return from her voyage, salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true. And ours must never thin."

Giggling from Daemon broke the solemn silence, eyes turning in his direction as his shoulders shook. The Velaryons glared at him but nonetheless remained silent, looking back at the casket as the knights pulled on the ropes to push it toward the ocean. "My gentle niece. May the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came. To the sea we shall return." Vaemond finished as the casket plunged into the depths of the dark water.

Finally breaking his gaze away from the waves, (Y/N) turned his head and met his fathers' eyes. Otto hadn't changed much over the years other than his ever-so-slowly graying hair. There were more wrinkles on his face but his deep-set frown and hardened eyes remained. (Y/N) couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken to his father but he knew the conversation had been far from civil as always. However, it didn't stop a certain longing from developing in his chest. It'd been many years since he last felt the comforting touch of a parent and despite his age, he wished for nothing more than to collapse into the arms of his mother or father. But (Y/N) hadn't been granted the unconditional love of a father, far from it. His father's love changed as quickly as tides and (Y/N) had long stopped caring about meeting his expectations. 

The crowd began to disperse with the funeral officially over. King Viserys had been given time to depart first with his wife and Hand, followed closely by the Velaryons and the others. Guests scattered around Hide Tide, sipping on drinks and eating the few snacks provided whilst they chatted or lingered around alone. (Y/N) joined the others on a large balcony overlooking the sea and looked out at the distant waves. He could feel stares burning into the back of his head, most likely his father and sister, but the chances of them approaching him in public were low. He'd betrayed the Hightower name by having bastard children and then dragged it through the mud by abandoning his twin sister.

"Uncle." A soft voice greeted from behind and (Y/N) turned, facing his nephew. Aemond offered a small timid smile and stepped closer, peering over the stone to take a glance at the sea. "Mother misses you terribly, Uncle."

"I miss her as well, Aemond." (Y/N) sighed tiredly, looking toward his sister and meeting her gaze.

"Then, come home. You can return with us when we depart." 

"I'm afraid the Red Keep is not my home." (Y/N) responded, looking back down at the silver-haired prince. Aemond's pale brows furrowed and he tilted his head, fingers toying with the side of his dark green hood.

"Mother says you were raised there."

"Yes, we were." The older man confirmed with a nod, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers through Aemond's hair. "But the place you were born or raised in does not have to be your home. A home is somewhere, or someone, that makes you feel safe and loved, and wanted. The Red Keep has never felt like home for me and that's perfectly fine."

"Then... You're my home." Aemond looked up at his uncle and (Y/N) chuckled softly, patting the top of his head before dropping his hand to his side. Noticing the way Aemond's eyes followed his hand, he glanced down and spotted the ring the boy eyed. With a small smile, (Y/N) crouched down and slipped the ring off his finger, offering it to him. Aemond blinked, glancing between the ring and his uncle before hesitantly taking it into his hands. 

"It's a sapphire." (Y/N) murmured. "One of my favorite gems."

"I can have it? Even if it's your favorite?" 

"Consider it a gift from your favorite uncle." (Y/N) answered playfully, hearing Aemond giggle softly. The boy slid the ring into his pocket and stepped forward, arms wrapping around (Y/N)'s neck. (Y/N) rubbed his nephew's back, leaning back when Aemond pulled away and watching him weave through the crowd to show his mother his new ring. The Hightower stood up, looking away from the two when Alicent looked up at him. (Y/N) briefly met Daemon's gaze, a smirk toying on the prince's lips despite having just lost his wife. 

"Have you seen Laenor?" Rhaenyra's voice reached his ears as she appeared at his side, momentarily eyeing her uncle. She turned her back to him and looked at her lover, a hint of worry swirling in her light eyes. The setting sun casted a warm glow on her face.

"He's just lost his sister, Nyra. He's most likely drowning in wine somewhere in the castle." 

"Even more so a reason to find him," Rhaenyra muttered quietly, attempting to avoid drawing even more attention as she glanced around at the other guests. "You know how he is when he's had too much to drink."

"Well-" 

"Retrieve your patron." Corlys' voice hissed through the crowd and when the couple turned, they spotted him with a hand tightly gripping Ser Qarl Correy, Laenor's lover. Releasing his hold after being coaxed by his brother, Corlys glared down at the knight and watched him leave to find Laenor before he could rain fury down on them. 

"Problem solved. If you'll excuse me, I'm going for a walk. I've had enough of people's stares for today." (Y/N) exhaled heavily and stepped away from Rhaenyra, making his way through the crowd and toward the stairs, but before he could reach them, a body stepped in front of him. One glance at the pin proudly resting on their chest told him enough.

"Father."

"Son." A stoic exchange between the two but neither had expected tears and hugs at their inevitable reunion. Clasping his hands behind his back, (Y/N) tilted his chin up and finally looked at his father up close after the many years that had passed. How he wished the old man had remained in Oldtown. But Otto would be a vulture until his death, searching for power wherever he could find it and with the death of the Strongs, the position for Hand had fallen right back into Otto's lap. (Y/N) had no doubt Alicent helped convince the king.

"I see you've left King's Landing. I was surprised to hear you did so without telling your sister. Were you afraid she'd convince you otherwise?"

"Queen Alicent wasn't informed because her husband was and I assumed he would've eventually informed her of this. It appears he chose not to until we were already at Dragonstone." (Y/N) answered, giving a light shrug. Narrowing his eyes, the older man opened his mouth to speak but (Y/N) moved around him and headed down the stairs, sparing a glance at his eldest nephew who lay at the bottom of the stairs with a cup in hand. The stairs took him to the beach and he walked alongside the water, feeling the sand tug at his legs with every step, not that he noticed when his body had grown sluggish over the days. Every time he tried to sleep, he'd be plunged into a sea of memories and reminders of what he'd lost.

"Fuck." (Y/N) cursed, feeling the tears prick at his eyes. Feelings of regret and guilt erupted in his chest, his mind cursing at him relentlessly. He knew if his sister hadn't planted the rumors at court, their beloved Harwin would've lived. And as much as he wished to cast the thought away, he knew she had something to do with his death. How he desired to turn back time and properly say his goodbyes to Harwin. But as he climbed the sandy hills and reached more sturdy ground, he knew there was no point in wallowing in the 'what ifs' that plagued his mind. Being pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of his name being called, he turned his head and looked back at Rhaenyra as she clumsily climbed the hill.

"I know you are angry with me." Rhaenyra breathed, releasing the sides of her black dress walked closer to him, a frown present on her face. "I know you wished to attend their funeral-"

"I know why you forbade it, Nyra. I am no fool; I'm aware there weren't only just whispers of you and Harwin." (Y/N) interjected, resuming his walk but slowing his pace to allow Rhaenyra to walk alongside him. The princess sighed, gazing out onto the hills of sand and grass, the wind whipping back her hair and dress. 

"I wished I had kept Harwin at court, (Y/N), I do. I wish I had decided on Dragonstone sooner and saved him from that dreaded curse."

"There is no curse, Nyra. Only scheming and coins."

"Do.." Rhaenyra swallowed, glancing at him before shaking her head. "I do not believe your sister capable of cold murder."

"I believe her capable of trusting the wrong people, as she has time and time again. I know my sister is not innocent or an inherently good person but I know she would not want to cause such harm. She relies on people who only wish to use her for one thing or another. But I did my duty as her brother. I tried to be there, I tried to shield her, I tried to teach and guide her but she refused to listen. I am aware that underneath her now cold exterior is the Alicent I once knew... But I am afraid that when she finally becomes her again, it'll be far too late. This path was chosen for her but she's never made any attempts at straying off it or turning back." (Y/N) spoke, voice nearly cracking. The emotions he'd held back for so many years came crashing down. Coming to a stop, the man turned toward the sea and stared out at the dark water.

"You said it yourself, my love. You tried." Rhaenyra whispered, reaching out to take his hand into hers, gaze softening as she stared at him. "And for the most part, you succeeded. I've heard Alicent during council meetings and I see so much of you shining through. You've taught her well but you couldn't guide her forever. And I believe she knows that too, even if she refuses to admit it. When you are trapped... It is sometimes better to accept your cage rather than escape it."

"I wish to see her happy... Just one last time. I cannot even remember the last time I've heard her laugh or seen her genuinely smile." (Y/N) exhaled, fingers gently wrapping around Rhaenyra's hand. The princess stepped closer, bringing his hand to her face and delicately kissing it before she pressed his hand against her cheek. 

"You are a good brother. And a good father, even if the boys don't know it." Rhaenyra pressed her chest to his and reached up with her free hand, placing it on the side of his neck and stroking the skin with her thumb. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against (Y/N)s', leaning her forehead against his. "I wish we could be together now."

"Laenor does need you, Nyra. Despite his flaws and albeit childish nature." (Y/N) sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he basked in her presence and comfort. Rhaenyra softly grunted, dropping her head to his shoulder and wrapping both arms around him. While they weren't able to mourn publicly, they could mourn privately and in the safety of each other's arms. (Y/N) rested his chin on her head and looked back out at the waves, their soothing song calming the storm in his mind and heart. Harwin wouldn't wish for them to grieve forever. He'd want them to be strong for the boys, to celebrate his life rather than weep over his death. 

The sound of wings and a low rumbling sound pulled the two apart. They turned their attention to the sky as a large dragon passed overhead, flying through the clouds and diving down toward the water, skimming it with their wings and legs. There were only three dragons as big as the one flying and one had died long before either of them had been born. The other one resided on Dragonstone which left only one dragon and her rider had been put to rest that very day. 

"Were you aware Vhagar was claimed so soon?" (Y/N) questioned, turning toward his lover. The surprise on her face answered his question and he brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning softly. Turning toward Hide Tide, he watched Vhagar land near the castle to presumably drop off her new rider. (Y/N) could only pray to the Gods above that her newest rider wasn't one of his mischievous sons.

Taking Rhaenyra's hand, (Y/N) tugged her toward the castle, quickening their pace once the surprise wore off. By the time they arrived at the steps, Vhagar had already taken off into the skies. They hurried up the steps and entered Hide Tide, following the sound of voices until they reached the throne room and entered the crowded room. Knights, a few servants, the Velaryons, and Targaryens had gathered in the room. Sweeping his gaze over the room, he spotted why. In a chair near the crackling fire sat Aemond with a maester and a crying Alicent at his side whilst (Y/N)s' eldest sons stood on the other side of the room, bruised and dirty. Even Daemon's daughters had bruises on them.

"Jace? Luke!" Rhaenyra rushed to her sons, crouching down by Luke and gently prying his hand away from his face to look at his nose. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted, whirling around in his chair to look at his older sister with a sneer. (Y/N) winced upon seeing the injured side of his face. His eye had swollen shut, a long cut trailing from his forehead down to near his jawline had been stitched closed. The children began shouting and arguing, accusing each other of attacking and protesting. But despite the loud bickering, (Y/N) heard the cause of the fight; Aemond had claimed Vhagar as his. (Y/N) sighed heavily, hearing Daemon snicker from his spot against the wall and King Viserys attempting to quiet the arguing.

"Silence!" King Viserys shouted, voice bouncing off the walls and effectively quieting the children. Exhaling, the old man leaned against his cane and began approaching his son, all eyes turning toward the king. "Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened. Now."

"What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident." Rhaenyra quickly insisted, wrapping her arms around the boys and glancing in (Y/N)s' direction. The Hightower remained by the doors, gaze flickering between his lover and his sister. Both mothers with injured sons, both women he loved dearly, both women he vowed to protect who were now publicly arguing.

"Accident?" Alicent repeated with a scoff, brown eyes glittering with tears at the brutality her son faced. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

"It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!" Rhaenyra shot back at her, voice raising considerably. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" King Viserys asked curiously, turning to his eldest daughter with furrowed brows. (Y/N) swallowed when Rhaenyra glanced at him once more, her lips pursing slightly as she gently took Luke's hands into her own. All too familiar insults, he assumed. 

"The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question." 

"He called us bastard." Jace piped up quietly, face caked in dirt and blood. A heavy silence fell over the room as King Viserys absorbed the information whilst Alicent lowered her gaze. Others exchanged uncomfortable or knowing looks, some eyes flickering over to (Y/N). The young man kept his head up despite the stares from Daemon, Otto, and the Velaryons. He could only watch unless he wished to risk the wrath of either woman or even the King.

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace. This is the highest of treasons." Rhaenyra continued, taking a step forward and watching her father closely, pleadingly. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders." She finished, lifting her eyes to meet Alicents' teary-eyed ones. The brunette stared at her former friend before she turned her head toward her brother, betrayal etched all over her face. 

"Over an insult?" She breathed with raised brows, looking back at Rhaenyra and motioning at her injured son. "My son has lost an eye." 

"You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?" King Viserys questioned Aemond, leaning downward toward his son and tightly gripping his cane. Aemond kept his gaze on his lap, fingers digging into the armrests of the chair.

"The insult was training yard bluster. The lot of boys. It was nothing." Alicent alleged desperately for she knew the answer but her husband merely glanced in her direction, unconvinced by her answer. 

"Aemond... I asked you a question." Aemond swallowed, nervously peering up at his father as King Viserys spoke, tone shifting into one of impatience.

"Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father?" Alicent attempted again when Aemond couldn't provide an answer, turning toward those present in an attempt to rouse them and push the attention away from her son. "Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

Her attempt worked, seeing as King Viserys looked upon his daughter. "Yes, where is Ser Laenor?"

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... I could not find sleep. I went out for a walk." Rhaenyra answered, clearing her throat and averting her gaze as (Y/N) avoided Daemon's knowing look. The prince smirked from his spot, eyeing the lord before he turned his attention back onto his brother and young nephew.

"Entertaining his young squires, I would venture," Alicent muttered, drawing glares from Corlys and Rhaenys. Ser Criston smirked and bowed his head to hide it but (Y/N) caught sight of his reaction and felt a wave of irritation wash over him. With his interest in Laenor's whereabouts quenched, King Viserys returned to Aemond. 

"Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?" King Viserys demanded and Aemond swallowed, shrinking back into his seat and looking toward his mother. Alicent tensed, breath hitching as King Viserys and the others turned to her.

"It was Aegon," Aemond finally answered.

"Me?" Aegon breathed, staring down at his brother wide-eyed. Aemond relaxed when King Viserys looked away from him and instead focused on his older brother. The old man stepped toward his son, lip curling.

"And you, Aegon? Where did you hear such calumnies?" King Viserys questioned, patience beginning to wear thin. When his son didn't answer, he leaned toward his face and shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

"We know, Father," Aegon spoke quietly, slowly turning to look at his father. "Everyone knows... Just look at them." He whispered. Rhaenyra tensed, desperately glancing in (Y/N)'s direction as she pulled Lucerys closer to her body, her own eyes beginning to water. King Viserys glanced back at Alicent, falling silent when he looked at (Y/N). The Hightower averted his eyes, digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

"This interminable infighting must cease!" King Viserys spat, slamming his cane into the ground and facing the people gathered. "All of you! We are a family! Now make your good will and share your apologies to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!" Slamming his cane once more, he exhaled and shook his head, unable to meet his wife's eyes as he walked by her.

"That is insufficient," Alicent protested, staring at her husband. King Viserys sighed softly and faced his wife. "Aemond has been permanently damaged, My King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken."

"What would you have me do?" King Viserys asked, voice bordering on desperate and exhausted. 

"There is a debt to be paid," Alicent croaked with a trembling voice as she stared her husband in the eye. Clenching her jaw, the brunette turned toward Rhaenyra. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return." She demanded, murmuring spreading through those present as Rhaenyra pushed her sons behind her, eyes widening in fear. Finally moving from his spot, (Y/N) quietly moved down the stairs. 

"He is your son, Viserys!" Alicent implored with a whimper, her bottom lip quivering when she faced her husband once more. King Viserys stepped toward her, shaking his head.

"Do not... allow your temper to guide your judgment." King Viserys stressed, glaring at his wife for voicing such an idea. His cane tapped lightly against the ground when he turned away from her again, resuming his walk back to his room. Alicent's fingers curled into fists and she inhaled deeply, glancing at her son.

"If the King does not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon." She ordered the knight, the desperation that had previously coated her voice now placed by coldness. The knight stared at her in return as Corlys protectively took the terrified Luke into his arms. "He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son."

"You will do no such thing!" 

"Stay your hand." King Viserys quietly ordered Ser Criston.

Scoffing, Alicent raised a hand to her chest, pointing at herself. "No, you are sworn to me!" She shouted, turning her furious glare onto the knight when he made no attempt to move. Ser Criston swallowed, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, the metal of his armor clinking together. 

"As your protector, My Queen." He reminded softly. Alicent's brows raised, arm dropping to her side as her face went blank with defeat. (Y/N) turned to look at Rhaenyra and the boys, noticing Jace looking at him fearfully. (Y/N) sighed, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?" King Viserys sneered, getting close to his wife. Alicent reeled back, lips parting as she met her husband's glare. King Viserys leaned back and stepped away from his wife, gazing over the crowd. "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons should have it removed." He settled his gaze on his wife, shaking his head at her disapprovingly and turning away.

"Thank you, Father," Rhaenyra murmured, turning around and crouching down to inspect her sons once more. Striding forward, Alicent retrieved King Viserys' dagger and turned toward Rhaenyra, making a beeline for the princess as shouting and shoving commended. Frightened screams escaped the children as Rhaenyra whirled around and quickly caught Alicent's arms, a circle forming around the women. 

"Alicent!" (Y/N) shouted for his sister, moving forward to push through the crowd. A blur of silver ran at him but before Ser Criston could reach the lord, Daemon put himself between them and shoved the knight back. (Y/N) paused, staring at the two men until Daemon nodded for him to separate the two women. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and looked away from the prince, forcing his way through the crowd and spotting the two.

"You've gone too far!" Rhaenyra shouted, arms trembling as she attempted to hold Alicent back, looking between the blade and the girl she once loved as a sister.

"I? What have I done but what was expected of me?" Alicent wailed, the tears slipping down her cheeks. "Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you wish!" 

"Alicent, let her go!" King Viserys demanded but it fell on deaf ears.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again!" Ignoring even Otto's demand, she continued. "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that you feel entitled."

"Exchuasting, wasn't it?" Rhaenyra sneered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

Grunting, Alicent and Rhaenyra shoved each other away, but not before the blade was brought down and sliced skin. A silence fell over as the women were caught before they could fall, the sound of dripping soon filling the quiet. Rhaenyra slowly looked down at her hand, extending her fingers as blood slipped between them and onto the floor. Upon seeing the blood, Alicent's breath hitched, the dagger falling to the floor with a clatter. (Y/N) approached his lover, gently taking her arm into his hands. 

"Enough of this foolishness!" (Y/N) snapped, lifting his head to look over everyone "All the children must and will be punished for all of them behaved inappropriately. There was no need for their disagreement to escalate to violence, much less to bloodshed. Behaving in such a manner is below their stations as princes and ladies. They are no brutes, no savages. This matter could've been resolved peacefully in the presence of an adult. It is severely disappointing to witness such behavior from a bunch who I know were raised better than this." The children lowered their heads at his words.

"Lord (Y/N) is right but let us put this matter to rest for tonight." King Viserys spoke, finally being allowed to return to his bedchambers without interruption. Alicent followed after some coaxing from Ser Criston and he escorted her out of the room. Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged tired looks before urging their granddaughters back to their room. (Y/N) made brief eye contact with Daemon, giving him a thankful nod as the prince took his leave as well. 

Escorting Rhaenyra to her room with the boys and maester, (Y/N) replayed the events of the night in his head. The first time Alicent and Rhaenyra had clashed so publicly, so openly. Sure, the two argued occasionally but neither ever dared raising a hand to the other. His sister had never been prone to such violence. (Y/N) made himself occupied by retrieving a bowl of water and having the boys clean their faces with a wet rag. The maester tended to them first before focusing on Rhaenyra and stitching her cut. The princess winced and hissed, flinching every few seconds. By the time he finished, the sun had begun to rise.

"I must prepare for our departure." (Y/N) muttered, giving Rhaenyra's shoulder a gentle squeeze and exiting the room. His legs took him to his room and he quietly thanked the maids already there, folding and packing away things. He picked out a fresh set of clothes and changed, retrieving a warm coat and watching the servants take away the few belongings he'd brought along. (Y/N) left his room, wandering the halls of High Tide until he reached a balcony and stepped out, looking out to sea. The cold wind nipped at his nose and cheeks but he didn't mind it. Eventually, he spotted the ship his sister and her husband were on, the dragons following not long after.

"I spoke to Laenor," Rhaenyra spoke from behind him, approaching his side. "And Daemon."

"Should I be worried?" (Y/N) asked, a hint of both playfulness and seriousness to his tone. Rhaenyra's silence only amplified the concern forming in his stomach. She stared out at the boat, fingers rubbing against the bandages wrapped around her arm. 

"I must know, (Y/N)... Who do you side with? By blood, you are a Hightower and it would not be fair of me to ask you to turn your back on blood."

"They are not the only ones I share blood with, Nyra." (Y/N) murmured, turning his head to look at her. "You are the mother of my children and I have been by your side long before their births. The moment I devoted myself to you, I stopped being a green."

"Then, let us bind our blood. My claim may not be so easily challenged with you as my husband and king consort. Tonight, you proved to have the wisdom of a good king and you know the greens better than I ever could." Rhaenyra spoke firmly, determination laced into her voice as she faced the Hightower. (Y/N) studied her face, his face unreadable to the woman who knew him since childhood. Swallowing, she continued, "Since I was young, I always knew you and I were destined for many things. Together. Let us fulfill that by joining together in marriage once and for all." 

"What of Laenor? You cannot marry unless he dies."

"I know. I sought out my uncle for a reason." Rhaenyra cupped her hands together, gazing back out at sea. "He claims to be a queen, my subjects must love and respect me. But they must also fear me. . It will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child and the realm will whisper that we were somehow responsible. They will fear us. But Laenor will be dead to everyone but us as he will be living a free life across the sea. What do you say?"

                    ✶        ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶       ✶

Lifting the dragonglass blade, (Y/N) sliced her bottom lip, a droplet of blood slipping from the cut. Gathering the blood with his thumb, he lifted his hand and dragged his thumb down Rhaenyra's forehead. The silver-haired princess adoringly stared up at him, using the blade to cut his lip as well and mark his forehead before she cut her palm and handed him to blade. (Y/N) winced slightly, dragging the blade down his palm and taking Rhaenyra's hand in his, binding their blood together as a priest spoke. Their children along with Daemon and his daughters watched on. 

Bringing the cup to his face, (Y/N) felt his bottom lip sting as he drank from it. He handed it to Rhaenyra and watched her drink, the cup being set down beside them. Once the priest finished speaking, Rhaenyra smiled and cupped her husband's face, stroking his skin with her thumb before they leaned in. (Y/N) could taste their blood, lip stinging from the pressure but he ignored it. Rhaenyra pulled back, her bottom lip smeared with blood and saliva. She rested her forehead against his. And now, before the eyes of a priest, they were united. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.

"Avy jorrāelan, (Y/N)."

"Avy jorrāelan, Rhaenyra."

[flowering-thought]

Finally I can get the man that has plagued my mind off my brain and into my OC's. He's been in there banging around my brain for a week now and I can't get him out <3

Though his name took me a while cause I kept changing my mind 🤡

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, gore, descriptions of gore, shitty attempt at medical care,

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Dante Morelli

First Meeting + Headcannons

Dante Morelli is a man well-known and well sought after. Whether it's to fuck him or kill him that is. A major CEO of a tech company that's just a cover for the shady mob dealings they do.

Not even most of the employees know about it. It's well hidden and only known by the people apart of the mob itself.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep anyone by his side. The way he was raised didn't allow for petty emotions and selfish thoughts. And even after the man, he calls his father passed he couldn't shake that at all.

But who knows what fate has in store for him huh?

Unfortunately, one late night after Dante wanders the streets after a dealing, he was caught by an enemy and gunned down. Luckily he managed to get away but barely by going down several back alleys and hiding near some old boxes and garbage left by neighbors.

He's bleeding out and he lost his phone while running. He should have installed a GPS in his watch but he didn't and he regrets it for sure.

His thoughts become mudded and cloudy, barely awake when he hears humming and what sounds like a bag dropping to the floor. He feels hands on his wound and his immediate response is, "Don't call anyone."

He can't risk the cops or anyone finding out about this. And he can hear the hesitation in the voice as what turns out to be you returning from a late-night trip to the grocery store.

You definitely weren't anticipating a man with a gun wound on his shoulder to even be conscious and when you heard his confession to not call anyone you didn't know if your conscious would let you leave him.

So despite the voice in your head screaming you to not drag him to your place, you did the opposite and used his other shoulder to prop him up and let his legs drag on the floor before you brought him up to your shady but cheap apartment.

Luckily no one saw you and you set him down on the floor of your living space before grabbing a med kit that totally wasn't stolen hospital supplies from your best friend...

But who cares cause stolen hospital supplies are helpful. But you look at the wound and grab a bottle of vodka you were saving for the same friend and poured it on the wound and your hands since you didn't have any gloves. You have decent medical knowledge and enough to know what to do and what not to do. So you look for a bullet and are glad to see it passed right through.

So you disinfect the wound further before attempting to stop the bleeding and closing the wound with a sewing kit you had in the kitchen for emergency fixes in your clothes.

You braced yourself for sewing into his skin and then tying it together to close his wound before wrapping it in gauze. There's only so much you could do so you got a spare blanket and pillow and got him comfortable on the floor. You didn't think it would be a good idea to move him too much.

You only knew that closing a wound and stopping it from getting infected and bleeding is the best option even if you have no fucking clue what you're doing.

And after a tiresome night, you pass out on the couch, wanting to make sure this stranger doesn't steal any of your stuff.

Surprised to say Dante was still alive after that. Seriously you fell asleep thinking about how to explain the dead body in your apartment. If things went south you were screwed.

Since you were finally off from work, as a daycare worker for children, you took the chance to make some tea for your extremely stressful night and now morning.

But as you poured the hot water into the mug and over the tea leaves you heard a groan and whisper of "what the fuck" coming from your living room.

"I take it my late-night patient is up?" You say jokingly, smiling softly as you decide to pour another cup of tea. You wait a couple of minutes for it to steep before taking the mugs and setting them on your coffee table where your "guest" sat up with an annoyed look on his face.

He wanted to ask what the hell he was doing here but when he noticed the pile of dishtowels and an empty bottle of vodka in a slightly bloody pile. You hummed the same tune as last night before handing him the mug of tea and sitting next to him.

"Stress release for a stressful night. If you want honey in yours I have some but I honestly hate honey so I'd suggest sugar." You said, making small talk like it was the most normal thing and you couldn't help but feel like this was a wattpad fanfiction you were living through right now.

Dante felt an unknown emotion rush through him before he took a sip of the tea silently. "Thank you for the uh, help.." He mumbled, taking the time to look at your small apartment, noticing some cracks and things that need to be fixed. He noticed the blood behind your fingernails and then looked at your face.

Something in him realized that instead of the awkward silence he should be compensating you for saving him and he felt guilt over giving you a hard time.

And it's rare for him to feel sympathy for anyone.

"May I use your phone?" He asked, looking right at you before you pulled it out of your pockets and handed it to him, "Just don't say I tried to murder you cause I swear I may have wanted to poke my finger in your wound but I didn't-".

He let out a light chuckle before turning his head and putting a number in to call. He heard his bodyguard answer the phone in a panicked tone and he told his bodyguard to come to pick him up.

After that time went by quickly and the tea was finished when there was a knock and a big buff man behind the door who looked like a kicked puppy who shat on the carpet...

When he left you felt like you could finally breathe. You sunk onto your couch and finally fell into a peaceful nap with sincere hopes to forget that you didn't just have tea with a man who you treated like a doll to sew up.

But unknowing to you, Dante felt a squeeze in his heart and a sure knowing that he had just fallen for a woman whose name he didn't even know.

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Regular Headcannons

• Dante is 29 and was born on April 2nd.

• He's part Italian and honestly quite tall.

• He's not entirely good at showing his emotions. He had a rough childhood due to how his father raised him so he'd be a cold and ruthless mob boss when his father stepped down. Sadly even after he passed he couldn't shake the stoic mask he showed.

• But when he fell for you something in him couldn't help but smile so when he meets you again he shows this charming and adorable image. But the moment you're gone from sight he can't find himself feeling as warm and safe as you make him feel. So his smile usually falls when you leave and his subordinates quickly realize it.

• While Dante does have experience with women, he doesn't have experience with love. The amount of Googled date spots and how to win a woman's heart in his search history is honestly getting out of hand...

• He doesn't have many hobbies. He's rich but never sure how to spend the money so most of the time it sits away and goes towards bills and expenses.

• He does like taking care of plants. It was something he picked up as a child to cope with. He would talk to them and tell them all the positive things that he wanted to hear as a child and they thrived under his care. So his hobby grew as he became an adult so his house is filled with dark wood furniture and plants littered around wherever.

• He even has a greenhouse and an indoor garden space in his living room where he grows a tree in his living room. Somehow it makes him feel safe.

• Dante doesn't enjoy growing flowers so sometimes he buys some for himself just cause he thought they were pretty and would look nice in a vase he had at home.

• Cook? Why would he cook when he can just order something? Seriously it's not that he's bad at cooking it's just that he sincerely doesn't know how-

• Doesn't mean he won't look up a recipe to try and make you something for a special dinner date

• And as busy as he can get? He always sets time aside for you. And if you come to visit him while he's doing the "normal" part of his job he'll let you stay in his office with him and maybe sit you on his lap as a lovely stress reliever.

• But if you head over while he's doing the part of his job that he keeps far away from you, he'll send one of his subordinates to make you wait in a better area of the building while he finishes up busting someone's hands.

• He always cleans off before seeing you. He can't just see you while he smells like blood or has the disheveled appearance he does after dealing with someone.

• He doesn't ever want you to have to deal with it. Even though he knows you helped him he'd rather his own blood be on your hands rather than anyone else's.

• If he sees something while out near a shop or just randomly while scrolling through social media that he thinks you would like he'll buy it immediately.

• He's got so much money why not spend a bit of it hm?

• Soon after he met you he actually decided to send you gifts.

• it started out small like some tea leaves and sometimes it would be something else. One time you jokingly said, "oh mystery gifter can you give me a gift for my students?" And then next thing you know a stack of stuffed toys for the kids at your daycare center arrived the next day.

• At first you were freaked out but you grew used to it until you left a note by your door hoping to see who it was.

• when you found out it was Dante, he gave you the most adorable smile and said it was thanks for saving his life. He said if he could get to know you better he would be really grateful. You could of course deny but he'll still try to worm his way in eventually.

• And he understands not to send too many gifts as well. He just doesn't know how to properly express how happy and safe you make him feel so he gives gifts as a form of "payment" in his mind.

Yandere Tendencies Headcannons

• Seriously the wrong person to fuck with. He knows how to manipulate and blackmail but prefers violence and threats above all else.

• He loves you too much and he can easily manipulate your surroundings if he has to. And just like another man, we know he has people watch over you. He only trusts the men close to him so he gets one of them to watch over you and report your actions to him.

• But he doesn't want photos of you taken that aren't by him. Somehow he doesn't feel like anyone has the right to.

• And if a subordinate of his ever had the gall to disrespect you? Their dead the moment that shit spewed from their mouth. After that everyone knows better than to mess with you. But you do become a target of some enemy dealers. But that's also why he has his men watch over you.

• And his business never deals with drugs. Maybe some weed but never anything hardcore. They deal mostly in money, loans, organ harvesting, and certain contracts.

• But his job as a CEO of a tech company also earns him lots of money and while he's not too close to those he employs for the company since they are in the dark about the company being a front, he pays them well and makes sure they have the right bonuses and doesn't allow any power harassment.

• He can and will bug your apartment. He can't have himself worrying about your well-being all the time so it gives him peace of mind. And he likes it when you start humming or singing or just talking to yourself as you pace around your home with whatever task you're doing ♡

• But he does get easily lonely without you around, so at some point, he may begin pressuring you to move in with him. He just wants you by his side. He needs you.

He would have no problem keeping you by his side. There's no way for you to ever possibly escape him. So don't make him doing anything too drastic okay? ♡

[damnfandomproblems]

About the response to a response to #5392

They're saying it's not a false alarm about Andrea Dworkin, but it very much is. For one, I looked her up and no where could I find that she committed actual beastiality or was a child molester, so the things antis are worried about are still nothing more than words on a page. Two, her writing isn't encouraging that stuff. From the examples this person either cherry picked, purposely taking out of context to "validate" their harassment or simply misunderstood, no where is she supporting that stuff. The first example, what age range does she mean by children? What does she mean by "erotic impulses"? Is she just saying people should be allowed to masturbate? Is she saying kids should be allowed to watch certain things, or they should be allowed to look at and touch their private parts because kids are curious? No where in that sentence does the word adult appear and no where does she state that adults should help kids out with that or be allowed to sleep with pre-pubescent kids. Second one, what does she mean by and how does she define "erotic"? What does "incest taboo" mean? Could she mean that if two people who were related grew up separately and didn't know they were related fell in love they should be allowed to stay together? This sounds like Freud thinking, but it's speculation of one line taken out of context. The third one is clearly just a what if scenario. She's not saying beastiality is okay, she's saying "if society worked like this, then this would be a possible outcome". And again, how does she define the word erotic? Again, these are nothing more than words. No real life people were harmed and my research showed me that she wasn't a child molester so can we stop misusing the word pedo and calling authors that just because we don't like what they're writing? Again, this very clearly is just nothing more than another false alarm. Also, she's been dead for years so I didn't know why people are dragging her name through the mud with false accusations now. Even if she did do these things, how is bullying people into not reading her works supposed to help her supposed victims? That wouldn't help even if she was still alive and did hurt real people, which I will point out once again, she didn't hurt people, didn't do or support those things antis claim she did, it's once again just words that are just asking questions,like a philosopher, she wasn't trying to incite anything.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[animatorweirdo]

When the dragons fly

You make quick preparations to save Aelon from the enemy’s clutches. Aelon makes a quick decision to save himself from Amdirvelui’s fangs. 

Chapter 11

[] = Valyrian

Warnings: violence, blood, drinking blood, Amdirvelui being creep, burning, destroying, escaping, destroying the dam, and killing. 

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

In the silence of the cave, the door was suddenly slammed open. Baleria and Falconer turned their eyes toward the entrance, where you stood, breathing heavily after returning to the village and running up the mountain. In your eyes, there was a fire—a fire Baleria knew well from your old days of war. It was time for action.

After catching your breath, you set down your lamp and got to work.

Dragging a barrel of water out of the cave, you then dumped it on the ground, letting the water soak the soft patch of dirt before stomping on it to mix it into mud.

Falconer watched you, tilting his head curiously, while you created a pool of mud. After minutes of stomping and mixing, you crouched down and grabbed a handful of the brown-soaked dirt before walking over to the young dragon.

You splattered the mud all over his white scales, making him release a surprised chirp as you painted his scales a murky brown color, his camouflage for the night.

When you were about to grab more, Falconer suddenly dived in and began rolling around like a dog playing in his pool of dirt.

You stepped back before he could get mud all over you, then walked back inside the cave. Usually, you would not allow Falconer to dirty himself since it would be a pain to clean him up, but since it was necessary this time, you allowed it.

You found a rope and then grabbed Falconer's saddle.

After Falconer finished rolling around in the mud, you saddled him and checked for any white spots that could make him easy to spot. You wrapped the rope around Baleria's neck, planning to use it as temporary reins since saddling her would take too much time.

Standing outside, you glanced at the moon. The weather was a bit windy and cloudy, nearly perfect for a surprise attack. You looked toward the direction of the hidden fortress and prayed Aelon would be right till your arrival. 

Aelon fumbled his thumbs while sitting against the wall of his cell. His hands were nearly shaking as he was anxiously waiting for your arrival. 

Lastor watched as Aelon's hands continued shaking, and deep controlled breaths escaped his lungs. The elf sighs and scoots close to the wall of bars between them. 

"Aelon..." Lastor said gently. 

"Hmm?" Aelon looked over at him. 

"If you believe your sister will come and get you out of here with...whatever plan she told you. It will be alright," Lastor said, trying to sound assuring despite the tone of hesitation in his voice. 

 "No. I know she will come. It's just..." Aelon looked down at his shaking hands. 

"I've never felt this alone before..." he said. Lastor slightly frowned after hearing the little boy say that. 

"Well...maybe chit-chatting might help make you feel better," Lastor said, making Aelon look up at him. "Tell me what plagues your mind," Lastor stated. 

"Do many bad things happen to those who end up caught by the dark lord's servant?" Aelon asked after thinking about his question. 

"I'm afraid so..." Lastor looked down. 

"The man who brought you here, Amdirvelui, is especially known for his viciousness and lustful nature toward children. He had also ruined the beauty of the very music itself," he said resentfully. 

"Is he going to suck mine and Samuel's blood till we're nothing but dried-up corpses?" Aelon questioned with frightful eyes. 

"If we escape first... then you and your friend should be okay," Lastor tried to assure him. 

"It kinda depends on how fast your sister can be," he said. 

The two fell into silence. 

"Can we..." Aelon started but stopped. 

Lastor looked and saw Aelon's hand pointing toward his. "Can we hold hands? I always feel less nervous when I hold my sister's hand," he explained shyly. 

"Sure," Lastor gave his hand through the bars, and Aelon grabbed it, holding on to it till the shaking of his hands stopped. 

"You never told me where you're from?" Aeon stated. Lastor looked him in the eyes before giving a tiny smile. "Doriath. From the city of Menegroth," he answered. 

"What's it like there?" Aelon curiously asked. 

"It's vast with green forests, flowers, and rivers. All kinds of animals live there. from the less known bugs to the most beautiful birds," Lastor described with a loving yet sorrowful tone of voice. 

"It sounds lovely," Aelon stated, making Lastor smile. "It is... I've been gone from it for a long time," he said with a yearning within his eyes. 

Something suddenly slams in the dungeon. The two snapped their eyes when an orc suddenly appeared and opened Aelon's cell. 

Aelon stands up as the orc walks in and roughly grabs him. "Hey!" he yelps as the orc forcefully drags him out. 

"Lastor?" he fearfully looks toward his cellmate. 

"Aelon! Whatever happens! Don't do anything Amdirvelui says!" Lastor stood up and grabbed the bars while watching as the orc took the little boy away. 

"What are they going to do to him?" Samuel's frightened voice echoed through the dungeon after waking up from the loud commotion. Lastor said nothing and continued looking with worry in his eyes. 

Aelon walked along with the orc, trying to make sure the keys beneath his shirt did not make a sound while anxiously waiting to know what was going to happen to him. Lastor's warning about Amdirvelui repeated within his mind, and he could still feel goosebumps scattered all across his skin when he remembered the first time he met the red-eyed man. The scratch on his cheek still stung whenever he thought about it, and the feeling of the red-eyed man's sharp finger piercing his skin. He prayed you would appear anytime soon and save him before anything bad happened. 

The orc stops before a door, opens it, and throws Aelon inside the room. Aelon stumbles on his feet before gaining his balance and looking around the room, his heart beating anxiously between his ears. 

The room was much fancier and well-kept. It looked like a study of sorts, but he had a bad feeling when he saw several wine bottles with red liquid inside. He had a feeling it was not the wine that was inside those bottles. 

"Hello again," A voice suddenly says. 

Aelon turns around and sees the red-eyed man leaning against a desk with a familiar creepy grin on his face. Aelon held his breath, trying to control his fear. 

"Hello...?" Aelon says out of politeness. 

"Sorry for the sudden invitation. Our orcs are not known to be gentle and disciplined even toward our guests," Amdirvelui walked toward a small table with a glass and a wine bottle. He grabbed the wine bottle, popped off the cork, then poured the liquid into the glass. Aelon grimaced as he watched the man drink the liquid with a delighted groan even licking the remnants from around his lips. 

"Now, where were we? Oh yes!" Amdirvelui set the class down before continuing. "I just wanted to talk a little since my good friend Gwarth disrupted our first meeting --"

"What do you want?" Aelon asked with caution. 

The man stared at him. "Just to talk..." he gently said. "What's your name, little one?" he asked while walking closer. 

"Ae...Aelon," Aelon hesitated, remembering Lastor's warnings about not doing anything Amdirvelui says. 

"Well, Ae...Aelon. As your elven cell mate probably told you about me. I am Amdirvelui," he bowed mockingly. 

"One of the masters of this fort. And -" Amdirvelui's voice disappeared from Aelon's mind as the little boy looked around. He sees a quill on a table and recalls one of the lessons with you, the lesson about using anything with a sharp end as a weapon. 

He quietly walks around while keeping his eyes on the man, and when the man keeps talking about himself without noticing his actions — Aelon grabs one of the quills and hides it beneath his sleeve. 

"But anyway. Enough about me, where are you from, Aelon?" Amdirvelui snapped his gaze at him, making Aelon jump a little from his sudden attention. 

"Why...why do you want to know?" Aelon nervously stuttered. 

Amdirvelui chuckled. "I'm asking the questions here, but if you must know... it's about your blood," he grins. 

"my blood?" Aelon questioned in confusion. 

"Yes, your blood— like... why it doesn't taste human?" Amdirvelui slowly walked closer. 

Aelon felt his heart race. He held on to the quill tightly while trying to figure out his answer for the red-eyed man. 

Outside the fortress, you stood on the familiar hill, gazing at the fortress. Baleria and Falconer stood behind you, covered by the darkness and ready for action. You see mist rise from the lake and then gaze at the moon, seeing clouds covering it and bringing the fort into a darker light. 

You placed your fist against your heart and thanked the gods for such a perfect opportunity before approaching Baleria. 

Aelon backed away while Amdirvelui leered closer to him like a predator preying on its prey. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aelon said, struggling to control his growing fear. 

"Oh—? You certain about that because I have a feeling you do know... or at least have an idea," Amdirvelui mocked him. 

"No! I don't! What do you even mean I don't taste like a human?!" Aelon asked back. 

"Your blood tastes like a human, yet not human. It's like there's a hidden fire in it. I have never tasted blood like yours before," Amdirvelui described while looking impatient. "It could explain your unique eyes," he added. 

Aelon hesitated to say anything. 

"I swear... I have no idea —!" he was suddenly grabbed by the throat and picked up. 

Aelon gasped, holding on to Amdirvelui's arm while he picked the boy in the air. 

"Now, now...haven't your parents taught you it's impolite to avoid telling the truth," Amdirvelui said, pulling the little boy closer and staring into his lilac eyes. "I will get an answer even if I have to force it out of you," 

Amdirvelui then revealed Aelon’s neck and leaned closer with his fangs. "Or should we take a sample just to make sure?" he says as he gazes his teeth near Aelon's skin. 

Aelon struggled to breathe while his heart started racing in fear from the thought of getting bitten. 

You looked down from the clouds. The fortress stood beneath you like an ant nest with all the ants roaming around it, unaware of your presence in the sky. 

Baleria grumbled beneath you while the wind whipped around your hair, and Falconer glided around you, shrieking and waiting for your order. 

You held on to the rope and prepared yourself. You have not often ridden Baleria without a saddle, especially into battles, but you trusted her enough to keep you on her back like she once saved you from falling to your death that day. 

You take a deep breath and utter a word you have not said in a long time. 

"[Dracarys]"

Growling, Baleria then began diving toward the fortress. You held on tight to the rope as the wind pushed you back and watched as the fortress came closer and closer — till Baleria was able to release her fiery breath on the unsuspecting orcs. 

Screams echoed throughout the fortress, and the alarms were set. 

The room suddenly grumbled and shook. Amdirvelui pulled back when he felt the ground shake beneath him, and he heard the orcs outside yell and scream in pain. 

"What is going on?" he questioned as Aelon pulled out the quill and then plunged the sharp end of it right into the vampire's eye with a scream. 

Amdirvelui screamed, cursing while blood gushed out of his eye. He dropped Aelon, and the little boy took the chance to escape the room.

Aelon ran outside and saw the orcs run around while Baleria flew over the fortress, nearly covering it beneath her shadow. When he saw you, he waved his arm around to gain your attention. When you noticed him, you signaled Baleria to cease firing and continue destroying the fortress by slamming and picking up the orcs from the walls with her claws. 

Aelon then quickly ran toward the dungeons while you kept the orcs' attention on yourself and Baleria. 

The little boy runs inside the dungeon. Since you were attacking, all the orcs and guards were too busy to guard the cells, so he had a perfect opportunity to open them and free the other prisoners. 

Lastor stands up when he sees Aelon and walks out after he opens his cell. 

Aelon opens Samuel's cell, letting his friend out before tossing the keys to Lastor. 

"Help the others!" he yells before grabbing Samuel and running out of the dungeon. Lastor looked after them before beginning to open the other cells. 

Aelon and Samuel ran through the corridors till they came outside. A group of orcs got blasted off the wall, dropping to the ground in a ball of fire. Aelon looked around for an opening while Samuel coughed from all the smoke. 

Aelon sees a hole in the wall that leads to a cliff. 

“Here!” he yelled while pulling Samuel toward the broken wall. 

They climb through the broken wall and stand near a cliff with a far drop into the lake below them. 

Aelon looked around for escape while Samuel stood behind him, fearful of the fiery onslaught behind them. Aelon’s eyes then noticed something flying in the darkness, and from the shape of the creature’s wings, he recognized his own dragon. He began waving his arm around, screaming to get his dragon’s attention. 

“Falconer!” Falconer chirped when someone suddenly called out his name, but after seeing his rider, he called back and flew toward them. 

Samuel yells and pulls back in fright as Falconer lands in front of them on the cliff. 

“Hey, hey, hey! It's alright! He’s good!” Aelon holds on to Samuel and pets his dragon to show him. Samuel momentarily calmed down, though confused. 

Baleria suddenly flew over them, blasting orcs off the wall. The orcs screamed as they fell into the lake. 

“Come on!” Aelon pushed Samuel toward Falconer, making his friend climb first on his dragon’s back before climbing himself.

Samuel hugged his waist from behind as Aelon took on the reins. 

“[Fly Falconer!]” Aelon yelled, and then his dragon jumped off the cliff, gliding away from the fortress. Samuel yells, holding his arms tighter around Aelon’s waist. 

Amdirvelui runs out while holding his barely healing eye. He watched as the orcs desperately tried to regroup and counterattack something in the sky. It was hard to see through the smoke and fire with one eye, so he wasn’t entirely sure who or what was attacking. 

His ears then hear something from behind. He quickly turns around and sees a giant winged beast slam against a tower before him. The construct crumbled from the impact, and it was so fast that he didn’t have time to get out of the way. He yelled in fear as he got crushed by the falling debris. 

Aelon flew around the fortress and watched as it crumbled and burned. It was a horrific sight, and despite the things orcs did to him and other prisoners – he felt conflicted. He did not wish to see something like that again. He then sees Lastor and other prisoners escaping the fortress with their children. He was relieved, but then he saw orcs coming after them. He felt hesitant but decided to act. 

“Hold on!” he looks at Samuel before making Falconer fly toward the orcs. 

Lastor looked out for the rest of the prisoners in their escape, but then he saw the orcs preparing to shoot them with arrows. 

There was nothing he could use to defend himself, so Lastor prepared to face pain, but then his ears caught strange sounds coming from above and a shout. 

“[Dracarys!]”

The creature flew over him and blew fire upon the orcs before they could shoot him or the rest of the prisoners. The orcs screamed as they burned alive and fell into the ravines to join the dead. 

Lastor was shocked by the sight and looked up to see someone riding on the flying creature. With his enhanced elven sight – he locked his eyes with… Aelon? 

The little boy looked back at him before turning away and flying into the night with his beast, where even Lastor’s elven eyes couldn't see. 

The elf felt baffled by the sight but didn’t waste time and quickly followed the other prisoners away from their former prison. 

Gwarth ran out to the balcony and saw the destruction of his fortress and army. He then sees a giant beast flying at him, and he quickly turns himself into a shadow and flees before the collision. 

Baleria pushed the tower down, and you watched as it fell toward the dam. The orcs at the dam fled as the large structure destroyed the dam, and the water soon began to flow out. 

You look around for Aelon, and when you see him fly on Falconer with Samuel — you tap Baleria, telling her the battle is over. You two then flew away together, leaving the fortress to burn in flames and letting the river flow naturally once more.

Taglist: @natchayaphorn​ @kimnamnu @thatrandomidiot182 @springfountain

[fanficwritingcentral]

So this was another idea I had that I just decided to write out. It ended up being a bit more softer than funny which I what I was originally aiming for but oh well.

Hope you like it 😘✌️

Newage Parenting (ao3 link)

Hyacinthus learns that things have changed with child rearing in the past few thousand years from when he was alive.

"Hyacinthus, light of my life, most beautiful above all men. What. Have. You. Done?"

The greatest love of Apollo's long life stood before him, adorably dirty with mud streaked over his face hiding that horrible scar (a scar Apollo could still not bare to look at). 

Hyacinthus, ever since becoming human again, had a great love of plants and the earth, which made sense given that he was a plant for a good three thousand years. But, a great love probably put it lightly since no matter what time if you ever needed to find him, he'd always be out somewhere in the gardens of Apollo's palace or the forests surrounding it bare footed. Or even at times finding him burying his feet in the ground because he 'missed the feeling'.

But that's not what Apollo needed to focus on at the moment and he managed to pull his thoughts away from how delightfull and adorable his lover looked to what actually mattered. 

"What's the matter, my love?" Hyacinthus asked with the most sweetest look of confusion.

Apollo waved his arms in the air and gestured at the form of his beautiful daughter Kayla, standing in the grounds of his palace and hugging a brand new bow that he didn't gift her. "This!" He said, "why does Kayla have the brand new Fred Archery bow?!" 

A delightful look of realisation came across Hyacinthus' face and he turned to Kayla, "oh sweetheart, how are you liking it? Is it just as good as you said it be?" 

Kayla looked worriedly at Apollo before she turned to her step father(?) "Yes it is," she said with a small grin she got from her mortal father Darren and tightened her arms around the bow, "it's even better, thanks for getting it for me." 

Hyacinthus gave her a beautiful smile, "you're so welcome sweetheart, I'm glad you like it." 

Kayla bounced on her feet, giggling before stopping at the look her father gave her. 

"Hyacinthus," Apollo put his hands in his glorious hair, "you cannot just give my children weapons." 

"Why not? They've asked so politely." Hyacinthus asked, again looking so sweetly confused.

"They?!"

"Yes, they," he nodded, "Austin and Leo both asked for daggers to try throwing at targets, Mariah asked for a pretty gold sword, which was a little odd since I don't think it'll do too well as a defencive weapon but I wasn't about to judge and Will wanted a gun-"

With each word coming out of Hyacinthus' mouth Apollo's body began to fill with dread and he wanted nothing more than to collapse and cry, "my love, please."

"Have I done something wrong, Apollo?" 

Apollo pulled himself together and stepped closer to Hyacinthus so he could put his hands on his lover's cheeks, smooshing them slightly (he also subtly wiped some of the dried dirt off his lover's face). "My love, my darling, weapons are no longer something you can just randomly hand out to children. I've started to read parent books about this and as a parent you need to be more responsible and learn to say no."

"But they're sho adorable," Hyacinthus said, struggling to speak with his cheeks squashed, and waved a hand in Kayla's direction who looked as adorable as Hyacinthus said when Apollo stared at her, her eyes peering up from under her eyelashes and twisting a foot in the ground, "how could I shay no?"

Apollo closed his eyes, bent his head down in front of Hyacinthus and sighed, "I know love," he said quietly, "but you must be strong."

Apollo took his hands off Hyacinthus' face, brushed his hands on his pants to wipe the dirt that stuck to him and sighed again, dragging a hand through his glorious hair, "Kayla, does your father at least know you have this?" 

"Dad knows dad!" She said quickly, "I promise!"

"So if I talk to him about it, he'll know what I'm talking about?"

"He sure will!"

"Kayla." It's almost like everyone forgets he's also the god of truth.

She looked down and muttered something unintelligible.

"Kayla, speak up please." He said and raised an eyebrow.

She sighed in the exact same way Apollo did, "he knows I have a new bow but not that it's this one."

Apollo nodded and crossed his arms, "I'll have a talk with him then and your other siblings parents about the weapons then."

Kayla now looked at him with confusion, as if a thought just struck her, "dad, you've never done that before when we got weapons at camp though."

Apollo reached out and ruffled her hair, much to her grumbling annoyance, "well things change after reading every parenting book I could find, Kayla dearest." 

"And you're not gonna take it from me?" She asked quietly looking up at him from under his hand that was now stroking her hair.

He shook his head, "no Kayla, I'm not going to take your bow or your other siblings weapons from them. They're yours to keep."

Kayla squealed and wrapped her arms around him, still not letting go of her bow which was now pressed uncomfortably against his back. "Thank you, thank you dad! I love you, you're the best!"

Apollo jumped a little in surprise but smiled in delight and quickly hugged her back, pressing his nose in her hair. He caught Hyacinthus' eye as he did who was looked at them both with a soft smile.

"I'm gonna send you back to camp now, dearest, tell your siblings I said hello and that I love them." He said, still taking in how much he loves how much his children are now more freer with their physical affection towards him.

"Ok dad." And with a kiss in her hair, Apollo sent her back with a soft glow of sunlight.

Hyacinthus audibly cleared his throat and stepped towards him and took Apollo's hand into his, giving it a slight squeeze, "so weapons are no longer something we give freely to trained children?"

"Not in the mortal world, no." 

"Huh, how odd. When did that start?"

"In the past 200 years or so." 

"Huh." 

It was silent between them as they stood in the midst of Apollo's garden under the warmth of his sun.

"What about leaving them in the middle of the woods with nothing else but the clothes on their backs and a weapon in their hands for training?" Hyacinthus spoke up, breaking the silence. 

Apollo slowly turned his head to him, "what did you do?" He asked slowly.

Hyacinthus gave him a strained wide smile, "nothing." And dropped his hand before sprinting back to the palace. 

"Hyacinthus!" Shouted Apollo, chasing after him.

[kingly-genderfluid]

“No worry. I get it. Inupi is unpredictable when it comes to things like these. He can either choose to ignore you, or he can snap back. Teenagers are just a lot to handle. Genya over there seems like he’s not been spared from the teenage drama. He looks as if he’s been cut badly. He’s got a huge scar on his face. Is the kid okay? More importantly, he sounds like Sanemi Shinazugawa. Looks like him too. Acts like him as well. They related? Ah. I’m being to nosy. Never mind. You don’t have to tell me. It’s his secrets. But seriously, I think they need some sort of leash. Those two might go feral if they see each other again. I doubt Dango is going to stop my brother from going off on Genya the next time he sees him.” Inui sighs. “I’m no teenage expert, but I think both of them were just trying to defend their own pride. They should just stick to working on themselves, little by little. I admit. I was worse than them at that age, so I don’t get to say anything, but I kicked a guy in the place where the sun doesn’t shine because he called me an attention seeking brat. I had to carry three bags of sand while climbing a mountain 20 times before the sun came down as punishment. I never knew back pain until then.” Inui shudders. “Inupi is lucky he didn’t get Shuji as his main trainer. He’d have made Inupi wear weights and made him drag a cart full of cow manure by now. Effective, but traumatising. How did you train? Did you have a mentor?”

Gyomei hums as holds his prayer beads and tears start to form.

Genya is … my son, for a lack of words. I try to keep him level headed, anything of his past, I cannot tell you. As far as a mentor, no. Everything I’ve learned is all self taught.

(Tumblr is fucked up)

“Self-taught, huh. Wow. Himejima-san…you’re Awsome. I can see why Inupi admires you so much. I’m jealous. I can admit that. Actually…what do you say? Inupi is the type to overthink even the smallest mannerisms of people. Skittish. Like a water strider. The minute he sees or hears something he thinks is a hint of disgust or dislike, he’s off. I don’t say anything to him because I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll hurt him.” Inupi gives a shaky sigh. “Himejima-San…he’s still a boy. He didn’t deserve to be raised by a family that didn’t deserve to have any children. He didn’t deserve any of this. At this age, he should be playing in the mud with others. Finding a job to provide for his loving family. Hell, with his smarts, he could be a scholar. A governor. He deserves better. He deserves better than a brother that can’t do jack for him. He deserves a brother that can tell him he’s doing great. He deserves a brother that can tell him he’s doing well without overthinking about his reaction. He deserves to be happy. And I’d trade my life for his happiness. I’m not sure making him a demon slayer was the best solution. He begged me to make him a slayer. Even though I told him that he’d have to trade a normal life for one of pain, he told me, ‘But Aniki! My life has never been normal! I want to help others like you do! I’m okay with it. I don’t want others to go through what others did!’ That was when I realised he was a boy with such a pure heart. Too pure. Soon enough he’s going to be broken down to pieces by the world, and I’m never going to forgive myself for it. I don’t know what I can do or say. I’m even worse than him when it comes to doubting oneself. I don’t. I can’t. And when those thoughts start coming in, I know I can’t do anything to stop them. I want to say something. I want to encourage him with my words. The best I can do is pat him on the back. And every second I don’t say something, I feel like the worst person on earth.” Inui stares at his hands. “I know I can say something. I just…I don’t know what.”

@ask-the-stone-hashira

[jxtunnblood]

Cody could barely hear his own thoughts between the heavy footsteps of soldiers running through the mud that had once been a meadow, blaster fire, yelled orders and cries of desperation and pain. There were children playing right where he’s standing when they had started marching in a couple days ago – he can´t remember how many days exactly, nor does he care. Now the field was littered with bodies.

The order had been clear: No survivors.

Cody has gotten good at following those kinds of orders. It´s gotten easier over the months and years, and eventually his body and mind had stopped fighting it. Standing in the middle of the battlefield, in midst the chaos and destruction he helped cause, he felt at home. It was where he belonged. Deep down he knew it was the chip talking, but it was so convincing in telling him it was indeed his own free will. But in the end, it didn´t matter. The chip didn´t allow him to care. There was a sense of comfort in knowing his purpose.

“Everyone watch out!”

But the warning came too late. He felt the heat from the explosion behind him, the power of the blast ripping his helmet off him, bringing him to his knees immediately as he was showered with debris.

The last thing he felt before losing consciousness was the wetness on his skin as blood ran down his face, too numb to feel any pain.

He was lying there in the mud for a long time. For a while, Cody kept drifting in and out of consciousness, trying his best to keep track of the sun´s movement to keep any sense of the passing of time. It must have been at least four hours by the time he finally gave up and stopped fighting the urge to fall asleep.

When he came back to, everything around him felt as if it was moving in slow motion, the shouts and screams faint, distant.

Two of his brothers had finally found him, talking frantically. He couldn´t make out a word they said. He reached his hand up to touch his face and felt the stickiness of half dried blood, the way it made his skin feel tight. But above all he could feel himself, something he hasn´t felt in almost two years.

His body was his own. His mind was his own.

Cody´s inhibitor chip had gotten damaged when he was hit, he was no longer under anyone´s control. Realization started dawning on him, memories of the atrocities he´s witnessed and committed flooded his brain. But in that moment, he had other worries.

Clones are expendable. As far as the new recruits of the empire´s armies are concerned, getting rid of the remaining clones is long overdue. So his only way to survive this was to play along.

They brought him to the field medic, going as fast as they could with his added weight.

“We´re not going to waste our limited supplies on a Clone,” he heard someone say, the whirring inside his head still muffling everything around him, impairing even his vision. “Patch him up and get out of my way.”

He was dragged to a narrow field bed, practically dropped onto it. He was injected a pain medication and a bandage was wrapped around his head tightly, and then he was alone.

He had to get out of here. He didn´t know how, he didn´t where to go or how to get there. But if he didn´t get out before morning, he knew he would be dead.

So he put the plan into action. In the complete darkness shortly before dawn, he quietly stumbled his way out of the med tent. His head felt like it was filled with cotton, at the same time heavy as lead. He was numb from pain, but all he could think about was get out, get out or you´re dead, so he fought on, determined. And he made it.

Cloaked in the darkness, he escaped. By the time the first rays of daylight hit the cold ground, he was far away, limping towards the rising run.

***

Cody woke in a cold sweat. It took him a moment too long to realize where he was. To realize that he was safe –

that they were safe.

He often dreamed of the day he got his life back; he´d gone through it in his mind a million times. It had become one of his most reoccurring dreams. It should be a hopeful one, but when he dreamed about it, his mind reacted to it as though it was a nightmare.

The day he got his life back was the day he realized how many people´s lives he ruined; how many he took. Recently his mind had come up with new versions of the scenario, with new endings.

In some, he couldn´t escape. He was caught and brought back, forced to keep doing horrible things.

In others – ones that were far worse – he chose to stay. The dream went the same, he lost his chip, but instead of running, he chose to stay, chose to keep doing those horrible, horrible things. Those were the versions that made him wake screaming. Most other nights he dreamed about how close he was to killing Obi Wan.

But this time was different. This time he woke up in Obi Wan´s home, just a couple meters away from him.

[amor-immortalem]

A Shocking Twist pt 2

Previous

Summary: after her father, who was supposed to have died when she was a child, reappears suddenly one day, Arella looks to uncover the truth of the matter.

A/N: not me actually following through with a part two and finishing a fic… even though it’s been months since I posted part one…

・・・〆・・・

That night Arella dreams of the last day she saw her father alive.

“But you work so hard- are you absolutely sure you don’t want to just spend the day at home, Trevor?” Arella’s mother asks as she watches her husband prepare to leave for the park with their two small children.

“Of course,” Trevor smiles brightly as he helps Arella tie her shoes while his youngest sits on his lap, “I spend all day outside building houses and even more time inside planning the layouts. That leaves me almost no time to spend with the kids. Taking them out to the park would do all three of us some good, I think. You know how restless they get.”

“Still, Miles has just barely begun to walk- a playground will do him no good.” Arella’s mother sighs. “But I suppose I’ll never convince you otherwise.”

“Bingo!” His smiles beams, “You know me so well.”

“Stubborn as an ass, you are.” She chuckles while shaking her head, grabbing two small jackets from the coat rack. “Arella, come here please.”

“Yes Mummy?” She looks up at her mother.

“You behave for your father. When he says its time to come home, I don’t want to hear that you’ve thrown another fit.” Her mother warns as she slips the coat on the five-year-old. “If I do, you’ll have no dessert. Am I understood?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my girl.” her mother smiles as she kisses her forehead.

“Ready, Relly?” Trevor asks as his daughter cheers and heads for the car.

“It’s supposed to storm later so be careful, Dear.” Arella’s mother calls out to the trio. “I love you. Be safe.”

Trevor only gives a wave before he loads the children in the car and pulls off.

・・・〆・・・

“Daddy, why didn’t you tell Mummy you loved her back?” Arella asks as her father pushes her and her brother on the swings.

“Well, I- I- uhh …” Trevor flounders for a moment, “I always tell her I love her all the time, so I figure she doesn’t always need to hear it to know it.”

“But you always to tell me you love me back every time I say it to you.” She stares at him with curious green eyes not buying her father’s excuse.

“Well I’ve known your Mummy for a super long time and I’ve told her I love her thousands of times. I promise she doesn’t need to hear it to know it, Poppet.” Arella’s father stops the swings as he spots an acquaintance of his- and the real reason he’d brought the kids out to the park- out of the corner of his eye. “Here, why don’t you two go play on the jungle gym? Daddy has some business to take care of really quick.

The five-year-blinks as she hops down from the swing and takes her brother by the hand, leading him off to the playscape.

Her curiosity gets the better of her though as the two adults talk. Leaving Miles alone, Arella sneaks over to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“You have the perfect life, Trevor.” The stranger says in a hushed whisper. “A booming architecture business, property worth millions, a beautiful wife and two wonderful children- I can’t understand why you’d want to leave it all behind by doing something so drastic.”

Why does that voice sound so familiar?

“Because it’s not me, Solomon.” Trevor frowns, “This life, it’s not what I want- I’m not happy and forcing myself to live in the closet just to protect my reputation is only making me more miserable the longer it goes on.”

“But don’t you think a divorce and moving out of the country would be far easier than faking your own death? At least then you’d be able to remain a part of your children’s lives.”

“Esther would get everything in the divorce, mate; my money, the kids- everything. And if she ever found out I was in a relationship with my business partner? She’d drag both our names through the mud- demonize me to my own children. Things are just better if they think I’m dead.”

“If you’re really sure, then.” Solomon hands Trevor three necklaces. “Those necklaces will protect you and the children from any injuries sustained in the crash. Yours is also enchanted with a teleportation charm. After you’ve called emergency services for your children, rub your thumb over the pendant and you’ll be transported to anywhere you want to go.”

“Thank you, my friend. You’ve done me a great charity.”

“For your sake,” Solomon frowns, “I hope it all works out.”

Arella’s dream fades away as she wakes with a start. She looks over at the nightstand beside her bed where the business card resides and takes it along with her DDD.

Her father has some real explaining to do but first, she needs to get a hold of that sneaky sorcerer.

・・・〆・・・

“Mark my words, Solomon, I’m going to find a way to kill you.” Those are the words Arella chooses to greet her former teacher with when he picks up his phone.

“And a good morning to you as well, Arella.” the silver-haired immortal chuckles nervously, “What- if I may inquire- did I do?”

“Why did you help my father fake his death?”

“I’m… sorry?” Solomon quirks a brow, “Who are we talking about?”

“My father…” the human lets out a frustrated sigh, “Trevor Thompson. Really tall guy, tan skin, green eyes, black hair, freckles all over his face. He was a prominent architect and contractor here in England in the late 90’s/early 2000’s. You gave him three necklaces on the day he decided to crash his car dead on into a tree going 180 kilometers per hour. Does any of that ring a bell?”

“That’s… oddly specific- how do you know all that?” He’s a little off put as it all starts to come back to him.

“Not important right now. You could have told me that he’s been alive this entire time…”

“Arella, I didn’t even know that was your father.” Solomon chuckles as he takes a sip of his tea. “I mean I’ve never once seen a picture of your family so how could I have put two and two together? Anyway, how did you come to find out he was alive?”

“He just waltzed in the front door like he owns the bloody place- like he didn’t just abandon his wife and children for his own comfort. How am I meant to react to something like that?”

“I wonder how indeed. Perhaps this is something the two of you should hash out on your own- I really have no business-”

“You helped him fake his death so now it is your business. Look, I’m going to meet him for lunch today and I want you there to play mediator in case things get too out of hand- for all that you are, you’ve always helped me keep a level head in situations like this.”

“Surely, your husband would be better suited to something like this or Thirteen even.”

“We’re talking about the same demon and reaper, right?” Arella deadpans. “As much as I love them, Mammon, Thirteen and I all feed off each other’s emotions. If I’m upset, they’ll be just as bad and that will get us nowhere.”

“Yeah,” Solomon sighs, “now that I think more about it maybe they’re not the best people to turn to for something like this… Unfortunately, I have prior commitments today. Do keep me updated though...”

“I see… well, I’ll just go it alone and hope for the best. Thanks, Solomon...” Arella hangs up as Azalea pops her head into the kitchen.

“You goin’ somewhere?” The half-demon asks having heard only the last bit of her mother’s phone conversation.

“I’m having at meeting with your grandfather for lunch if you’d like to join us.”

“Actually, I’d just come to tell you I’d be out for lunch. I met this pretty little witch in town yesterday when I was out, and we agreed to meet for lunch- good luck though.”

“Good for you.” Arella smiles, “Be safe while you’re gone and don’t stay out too late.”

“I will,” Azalea calls out as she heads back up the stairs.

・・・〆・・・

The phone rings and rings before Arella’s father picks up.

He answers with a quick hello- the tell-tale sign that he was knee deep in floor plans.

“You know, for a man who seemed so anxious to talk to me yesterday, you’d think you’d be quicker to pick up your phone.”

“Arella!” Trevor’s voice is surprised. “I- sorry. I didn’t expect you to actually call…”

“Well, I did.” Arella huffs, “You wanted to talk, so we’re meeting at Sandwitches Cafe at noon. This will be your only opportunity to speak with me, so I’d best not blow it if I were you.”

She hangs up without so much as waiting for a response from her father and sets her phone down.

The kettle is whistling on the stove next to her, so she pulls it off and fixes herself a cup of tea.

“Three hours to go.”

・・・〆・・・

The tension is thick in the air as pair sit down to lunch. It doesn’t take long for a waitress to take their order.

“Why did you fake your death?” Arella frowns once the waitress takes her leave.

And Trevor looks like a deer in headlights. Where does he even begin to start with all this?

“I’m sure you must feel very hurt by the revelation that I’m still alive…” he begins clearing his throat. “But there’s a lot that you don’t know.”

“You’re right…” her voice is cold, “so why don’t you enlighten me.” A tension descends over the whole table as Arella rests her chin on her hands. “Well, go on. I’m waiting.”

“It’s…” Trevor looks around the table nervously, almost as if he were afraid revealing his true motives for faking his death might cause the world to explode. “I left because I was afraid of what would happen if I came out. Back then… being gay wasn’t as readily accepted as it is today. Relly, I was miserable in my marriage to your mother and forcing myself to live inauthentically was not helping. After faking my death and moving away to the states with my now-husband, I was the happiest version of myself I’d ever been.”

“So you ran away instead? Like a selfish coward?” Arella frowns. “You know, I’ve always held onto the notion that my father was one of the bravest, caring, most selfless men I had ever known. That was what I’d always told Myles when he asked about what you were like. Guess I was dead wrong.”

“You were,” the black-haired man frowns. “I’ve never been this amazing, outstanding man you thought I was. I am a coward. I was terrified of losing my business, my reputation, you and your brother, so I thought if I just faked my death, nothing would be ruined, and I could find a way to reconnect with you two when you were adults and able to understand better.”

Arella doesn’t say anything back, letting her gaze drop to the table as she contemplates her next thoughts. She doesn’t even acknowledge when the waitress sets her food down in front of her.

“Well, this is unfortunate…” she sighs eventually, green eyes meeting her father’s once more. “Because that’s just what happened. Your death ruined our family. It sent Mum spiraling further into her depression. She became an abusive drunk. She singled me out and Myles became her favorite. Do you know how much she made me hate myself? How much she made me wish it was me and not you?”

“I-”

“I’m not done.” The black-haired woman spits, “She would throw me down the stairs, beat me with ladles, starve me. One time she even bought a cigar and lit it just so she could put it out on my arms while I was tied down to the table. Hell, I almost died from anaphylactic shock more times that I can count. And do you know the reason she did all that?”

Wordlessly, Trevor shakes his head.

“She wanted me to suffer for ‘taking you away.’ Your mother is the only reason I’m still alive today- the only reason I’m here to tell you all of this!”

As she finishes unloading on her father, Arella fists her hands in the tablecloth trying to control the wrath that’s festering up within her soul at the moment. She knows she needs to calm down if the vibration of the phone in her pocket and the burning of the pact mark she shares with Satan is anything to go off.

“I am so sorry all of that happened to you.” There’s genuine sorrow that drenches Trevors voice, horrified at all the struggles his only daughter has had to face in the wake of his departure from her life.

For the first time since formulating his plan to fake his death, the black-haired man regrets what he’s done. If he’d known that his wife would have gone off the deep end like that, he would have taken his children with him in a heartbeat.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I know that I could never begin to make up for what you had to go through but please, allow me to try by being a part of your life now.”

“I’m sorry too…” the black-haired woman frowns deeply, “but I can’t do that. It could take you a thousand lifetimes of you trying to atone for this and you’d never be able to do it.”

Arella rises from the table, her meal forgotten as she shoulders her purse.

“Go back to your family in America and forget about me, Trevor, because I’m not your daughter anymore.”

She leaves him sitting there at the restaurant.

・・・〆・・・

“So that’s what was going on.” Satan says in relief as Arella explained about the meeting with her father. He’d dropped in on the human out of concern after she failed to answer his calls in a timely manner. “I’ll say, when Mammon had mentioned your father had reappeared suddenly the other day, I’d have never guessed he’d draw this type of anger out of you…”

“What could you expect though?” Arella asks with an exhausted sigh. “Here I was thinking my father was this virtuous, wonderful person and it turns out that he’s the complete opposite. You’d rage too, wouldn’t you?” She fixes them two cups of tea.

“Mmm… I’d be irritated for sure, but I don’t think I’d rage over something like that… at least not any more.” the blonde hums as he leans against the kitchen counter. “How do you feel about it now?”

“Better.” She smiles, “Like I’ve let go of something that’s been weighing me down for nearly my entire life.”

Arella hands Satan his teacup as he hums in approval. They chat for a while more, catching up on the goings-on of life.

・・・〆・・・

End

[danger0uswham]

He could've still been here.

And that's what hurts. The "could've" part.

The part where he could've seen his children grow into these respectful adults with pride, humbleness, and care.

The part where he could've watched his sons become immersed into film and his daughter pursue so many things.

The part where he would've absolutely made some banger songs for the people we've lost. A song for Black Lives Matter. A song for the school shootings that we've seen over the years. A song of him watching his children blossom. A song of him healing from all the trauma he experienced as a child and throughout his career.

It hurts knowing that Mike isn't here. I look at the eyes of his children and my heart breaks more. Not only because he isn't here but they remind me so much of him. When Paris smiles, I get goosebumps. When Prince speaks, I get goosebumps. When Bigi appears, I get goosebumps. They all have so many qualities about them that shout "Jackson" but they also allowed themselves to be more than their family name. That was something Michael was keen on.

I've always admired the strength they all carried but Michael and Paris always have blown me away. Michael was belittled, treated like a punching bag, dragged along the mud. Paris has been stalked, chased, followed, harrassed, just like Michael. But the strength they both have is admirable. And I'm a bit envious - not in that way but I wish I had the strength. No matter their challenges, they've pushed through and I think that's a big motivator for me tryign to better myself now. I struggle with many mental health conditions, I want to lose weight, and I just wanna become the best person (emotionally; physically; spiritually) but it's hard. But I relate to them both.

But thinking about Michael recently has brought about so many things. I wonder if he knows that I exist. I became a fan after his passing but I did listen to his music beforehand. I was just a kid, though. I became a fan in 2012 - admired his music before then. I've admired his dance and songs forever. I still remember when he passed and it instantly saddened me. I've been a fan of Michael for half of my life and I just hope he knows about all of the new fans he's made since his passing. I hope he knows that I exist. I hope he knows that I will never stop defending him. I hope he knows - from Heaven. But I secretly know that it'll always feel like he'll never know about me - that I will only know him. I believe I recently stumbled upon many other fans that felt this way -- maybe it was on Discord, Tumblr, a MJJ forumsite, etc.. I'll have to check through my bookmarks and screenshots. I hope he's watching over me and that he'll visit me in my dreams. I miss him dearly.

[quicksilverdrabbles]

Hunter: *staring at an empty snare dangling from a branch* Another snare looted without a sound.

Hunter (2): How many does that make this week?

Hunter: Fifth? And it's only Middas.

Hunter (2): Wolves, I reckon.

Hunter: You’d think wolves were too stupid to go near our traps. Couldn’t be a bear either, we set repellent. Whatever it is, it's been evading all our traps.

Hunter (2): Think someone’s been taking our kills?

Hunter: Ain’t no bandits ‘round these parts.

Hunter (2): You never know. Damn vagrants are everywhere these days.

*Distant Howling*

Hunter: Well I’ll be damned, maybe it really is wolves.

Hunter (2): Hm… *looks over at the empty snare* What say we set up a different sort of trap?

Hunter: … Go on.

~

Hunter: This better work, for the kill we’re wasting on this.

Hunter (2): Better to waste one kill than lose every other kill in the hold to this beast. Now shut it, here it comes.

*The hunters watch as a small, solid white wolf stalks through the undergrowth, sniffing around before spotting the dead elk caught in the snare high above its head*

Hunter: A white wolf? Wait, what if it’s a Beast of Hircine?

Hunter (2): Hircine’s children make their own kills, not steal them, ye dolt.

*The wolf’s ears perk up at the sound of voices, lowering its head and staring straight into the bushes where the hunters are hiding, trying to decide if it had actually heard anything or not. After a moment, it directs its attention back to the elk, cocking its head to the side as it debates on how to get it down*

Hunter: Are we sure this is even the same wolf? It doesn’t look like it knows how to get it down.

Hunter (2): Just wait, for Gods’ sake.

*In a flash of light, the wolf disappears, replaced by a small sparrow, which flies up to the branch holding the snare. The sparrow becomes a squirrel and begins munching away at the rope*

Hunter: … Are you seeing what I’m seeing?

Hunter (2): I don’t even know what I’m seeing.

*With a quiet snap, the rope comes loose and the elk drops to the ground in a heap. The first hunter starts like he’s about to leave the bush, but the second stops him. The squirrel clambers back down the tree and resumes its original form of a wolf, grabbing a leg of the elk in its jaw and beginning to drag it away*

Hunter: *trying to jerk free of his partner’s grip* It’s getting away with our kill!

Hunter (2): *yanks him back* Wait! We don’t know what that thing is! For all we know, it could turn into a sabre cat and then we’d be in trouble.

Hunter: But-!

*As the wolf passes a tree, its form is replaced with a small, humanoid figure completely covered in furs and mud, dragging the elk through the forest slowly. Soft, fearful whispers fall from their mouth as they try to escape*

???: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

Hunter (2): Huh? It became a kid..

Hunter: Should we grab it?

Hunter (2): Mm.. Wait here. *stands and walks out of the bush towards the child*

Hunter: What?! What about what you just-

Hunter (2): Oi, ‘scuse me-

???: *gasps, head darting up and staring at the man in fear. Bright turquoise eyes pierce through the man before she turns and darts off, abandoning the elk and disappearing behind a tree*

Hunter (2): Lass..? H-Hey wait, we’re not gonna hurt ya’!

*The hunter runs after the shifter, trying to follow as she becomes a small white mouse scrambling through the undergrowth*

Hunter: Oh, for the love of-.. Oi, Scetch! Wait up!

~

*The forest gives way to the valleys of The Reach as Scetch follows the mouse until she is cornered at a river’s edge*

Scetch: *out of breath, almost too tired to keep following her* Stop already! I keep saying I’m not gonna hurt ye!

*The mouse skitters in a few different directions before finally giving up and shifting back into a girl, crouched on the ground and staring up at the man in fear*

???: P-Please don’t- I’m sorry, I didn’t want to take your f-food but I don’t know how to hunt and-

Scetch: Wasn’ my food, anyways. *hunches over and tries to regain his breath* Jeez, yer a quick one.

Hunter: Scetch! *running a few yards behind, noticeably out of breath and stamina*

Scetch: Ah, Periel. Hold now, lad, we don’t want to hurt her.

Periel: Maybe you don’t! She’s been stealing our hard earned kills!

Scetch: All we were gonna do was sell ‘em. She doesn’ know how to hunt. *focuses on the girl again, jolting when he sees tears streaming down her cheeks and clearing the mud caked on her face* Gods, yer filthy. On your own, lass?

*The girl whimpers, taking a step back and shrieking when the dirt beneath her heel crumbles into the river below*

Periel: Ay, watch it! *runs forward and grabs her arm, pulling her away from the river. Her hood falls off at the motion, revealing pale blue hair and long pointed ears*

???: NO! Let me go, please!

Periel: Calm down already, for Gods’ sake!

*She freezes at his angry tone, closing her eyes tight like she’s expecting to be hit*

Scetch: *rubbing at his temples with a frustrated expression* Divines save me. Periel, let her go. *steps forward as his partner backs away, kneeling down to be eye level with the girl* Aye there, lass. Sorry for scaring you. Name’s Scetch. And yours?

???: *opens her eyes, shrinking in on herself as the man gets closer* A- *hic-* A-Aris…

Scetch: Aye, beautiful name for a beautiful lass. Live around here?

Aris: … I-I don’t know..

Scetch: Any family?

Aris: *looks down at the ground, sniffling quietly* M-Mama.. But I.. I-I don’t know.. Where she is.. She left.. A long time ago. Before winter started. S-She said she would be back before our crops died but then they died and she didn’t come back and there wasn’t any food left for me to eat so I panicked and starting thinking she might not come back-

Periel: Hey now, calm yourself, lass. Breathe.

Aris: *takes a deep breath, exhaling with a soft sob* I-I came to look for her.. But I’ve.. never been outside before.. And I don’t know where she went. A-And I was hungry.. I saw dead things in the trees, hung by ropes. I didn’t think it belonged to anyone until I saw you in the forest.. I-I’m sorry..

Scetch: *exchanges a glance with Periel before looking back at Aris* No harm done, lass. Most prey we catch in those snares was to sell, anyways. We ain’t going hungry for that.

Aris: S-Sell..?

Periel: You’ve never been outside at all, you said?

Aris: N-Not outside the grove where me and Mama lived.. And I.. d-don’t remember how to get back.

Periel: Well that’s a problem, innit.

Scetch: Sure is. *looks up at the dusk sky, noting the sun dipping low to the west* How ‘bout this, lass. We’re goin’ to Helgen in few days’ time. We can ask around for your mother there.

Aris: H… Helgen? *looks between the two hunters nervously* Will.. there be Nords there?

Scetch: Nords?

Aris: Mama says.. Nords are dangerous. Kill everything they don’t like.

Periel: Hah! Depending on the Hold, she’s not wrong.

Scetch: There’ll be Nords. But they ain’t much the killing type. We’ll keep ye safe.

Aris: *frowns* … You promise?

Periel: *chuckles, reaching forward and ruffling her hair gently* We promise.

Scetch: Let’s get back to camp before it gets too

dark. We’ll get some proper food in ye, lass.

Aris: O-Okay..! *stands straight, adjusting her hood back over her head* I’ve only eaten leeks for months.

Periel: Egh, sounds horrible. How ‘bout some’a my famous beef stew?

Scetch: It’s hardly edible, much less famous.

Periel: You just have poor taste! It’s impossible for a Breton to make bad food!

Scetch: Keep tellin’ yerself that.

Aris: *walking between the two hunters as they bicker on the way back to their camp, her gaze darting between the two depending on who was speaking. Her gloved hands fidget nervously in front of her*

Periel: Oh, and by the way… *turns his gaze down towards Aris* I don’t mean to be rude, kid, but what sort of elf are you? I had you figured for a Wood Elf until I saw your hair.

Aris: O-Oh, um… *she reaches up and pulls her hood further over her head* I’m not allowed to say. Mama says people don’t like us.

Scetch: High Elf?

Aris: No..

Periel: Dark Elf?

Aris: No..?

Scetch: Well that’s all the elves I know in Skyrim.

Unless you’re a Maormer. Although it’s typically Maormer that hate everyone else, from what I know. *laughs, patting her hooded head* Alright, keep yer secrets. Is that why yer covered in mud?

Aris: K-Kind of.. The mud makes it easier to hide.. Things see me easier without it.

Periel: Figures. Your hair alone is as bright as the stars.

Aris: Mm…

Scetch: Ah, well, let’s keep moving. Get some food in ye before we figure out what to do next, yeah?

Aris: … Okay.

[amaranthus22]

Mornings

Authors Note: this is just something quick I wrote on my notes app so it's not at all perfect, but I want to get more of my work out there. I would love any feedback - sorry for any speeling/gramer mistakes i have no editor💗💗

In a small cove at the corner of a south ended beach lived a family. Like most families they had two parents three kids and a fury friend, unlike most families they had wings. The Thorns however believed themselves to be an incredibly normal group. Mrs Delilah Thorn was a lawyer, every morning she'd wake before her husband and kids, bathe, eat and hurriedly leave her beachside home. Mr Glenn Thorn was a carpenter his studio placed at the back of the Thorns cove. Mr Thorn woke after his wife when the sky was still dim. He would cook for the three kids before waking them as well. Rosemary Thorn the oldest woke without fuss or force, she thought herself quite grown (for a 9 year old). Rosemary insisted on eating with her father and drinking a cup of morning due with her toast. Her father allowed for half a cup. With considerably more complaint Bear and Birch Thorn woke, they dragged themselves to the table to break fast with their sister and father. Their feet not reaching the kitchen floor as they sat in their chairs. The boys where still small and plump not having yet reached 7 years. They had not developed full wings and the tufts of hair that grow on their parents and sister had not grown on them. But they still made the most ruckus while having their morning food. Discussing very eloquent topics such as what the exact constancy of mud was and how to properly chase a frog. Rosemary found them ridiculous and made sure to inform them of that. Mr Thorn simply watched his children bicker a soft smile on his lips, not caring for the subject of his children's talks just happy they talked at all.

The wooden clock Mr Thorn had made 2 summers prior chimed informing Rosemary, Birch and Bear to leave for school. Rosemary left first letting her round wings take her of the ground. The twins looked on in envy, not having their wings yet. "Soon my little seedlings" Mr Thorn told his sons noticing their disappointed faces. The boys not seeming satisfied resigned themselves to walk with their father to the bird stop. The bird stop was at the top of the hill facing the south ended beach, it was a very quiet area. The boys quite liked it, often asking to be taken there simply to play under the big leaf shade and look at all the commuting birds. That morning the boys were not happy to meet the bird stop. Plopping themselves down on the smooth sitting stone solemnly. "What has gotten into yous" Mr Thorn softly demanded, Bear looked at his father mumbling "nufin". Mr Thorn raised a singular eyebrow "nothing?" He questioned. Birch looked over at his brother, "It's flying lessons today" Birch informed. The louder of the two already loud twins, Birch often explained Bears feelings when Bear was too upset to explain himself. "Ohh" Mr Thorn answered, his face becoming inquisitive. "Why are yous upset about it? I have seen ya both hover"

"Gwendolyn Grove can fly a whole meter!" Bear cried, clearly having found the root of his frustrations. "Bear" Mr Thorn said softly "have you seen Gwen fly for a meter?" the boys stopped, their faces turned to one another, "no" Bear answered. "Then little seedling, you don't have anything to live up too. Even if she could its ok that you can't yet things take time to be learnt." Mr Thorn reassured his sons. Birch and Bear considered this. Looking at each other, seemingly having a conversation through expressions. Clearly coming to an agreement the boys nodded at their father. That was that.

Behind him wings flapped and a strong gust of wind fluttered Mr Thorns wings, "your bird is hear, have a good day seedlings, I love you." Mr Thorn called as he waved his sons away. The twins hoped on to the birds back and waved "Bye bye da" Bear said. With a single swoop the bird took off, leaving Mr Thorn under the leaf shade alone. The smile from breakfast returned and noting the shining sun and cool breeze he chose to walk back to his cove.