#tentative raft name

[7grandmel]

Todays Raft: 07:12 - 01/04/2024

Listen, Stanley, I just don't understand why you're doing this. 100 Rupees just to ride this raft once? Do you understand how many other rafts there are? Is riding this raft truly the only way you can think of to make this game fun? Frankly I believe that

Season 7 Not Ridden by Link (Read More) Raft Ride (C.bin) - The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening

Raft by mullar

Just like every other person who's played it, I fucking love Stanley Parable, so this was such a good surprise to see, complete left-field idea for a Raft Ride but it works out really well! I love how the high note and the chaos backing just make the whole follow-the-yellow-line tune sound all the more ridiculous than it already was in the original game.

[faeflowerz]

TWST Guys as Monsters

Of all the things that could inspire me. Its a fnaf cryptid post. I used monsters since the cryptids I found weren't as fun as I wanted them to be. Oh well!

Warnings: None

Characters: Riddle, Azul, Idia

If you like what you see, feel free to shoot me a request! Anon isn't on but I won't post your name unless you ask me to. ✌🏿

Monster!Riddle would probably make a good sleep paralysis demon? Well, in theory. You'd been pulling all nighters to get through your exams. Since its your finals before graduation, you're pretty stressed. The week before, you had ended up falling asleep halfway through your cram session. Books and pens and paper were scattered all on top of you as you have THAT kind of dream again. You know the one. Where you dream of going through your day only to find out that you'd been in bed the whole time. But this time, when you realize that you're lucid, he is there.

By your bedside, a shadowy figure is pawing at the supplies scattered on your lap. You wanna yell at him, but you're woefully immobile. "You can't possibly believe that studying this way will help you," when he looks to you, fear swells in your heart. All you could make out were cold gray and the rest of him is short and comprised of black shadows and red haze. His long claws picks up your textbook curiously, careful not to rip anything. "Interesting. The history of you humans never ceases to amaze me." Then he notices your (lovingly refurbished) tablet and is about to reach for it. You manage to whimper in protest.

Then he stops. The concern in your eyes tells him what the matter was. The monster leaves it alone, but now his attention is completely on you. Despite the initial terror, you can sort of make out a face when he's face to face with you. Maybe you're still dreaming or crazy, but he sort of has a baby face. Then he says something that surprises you.

"Can you show me more?"

Monster!Azul: would be a kraken. Why wouldn't he be? You'd been shipwrecked and stranded on an uninhibited island. Not only are you desperate for a way back to civilization, you've also been extremely lonely. Or at least, you would have been if you weren't being helped by what you could only assume was a spirit on the island. From catching fish to knocking down trees to even warning you of storms, the spirit seems tentatively friendly. That is, until you finally make the boat you'd been working on. It's a raft, but still.

And so you whisper a prayer of gratitude to the spirit and set sail. And you get some distance...until a huge wave knocks you over, decimating your tiny little bundle of wood. You have no time to panic as something grabs your ankle and drags you down. You're sure you're drowning, but you didn't have to take even one gulp air. And yet, you gasp and flail with terror as you come face to face with your spirit. He's huge. His hand wraps around your entire body and you cease moving in fear of being squeezed to death.

"I do believe it’s time to collect on those favors," he says.

Monster!Idia is a mothman and hes still pathetic. You're out with some friends in a cabin for the weekend. Its pretty boring since your buddies are on the glamp type beat. Still, you got all this shit bc you wanted to rough it in the woods, damn it!! So you grab your shit and hike out away from them. They begged you to take your phone, but a REAL camper has nothing but moss on the trees and the moon. Its pretty full too.

So its going well for a bit until it rains. Too far to get back to the cabin, you hide out in a cave. Thankfully you salvaged what you can and make a fire for the night. You're tired and you start to regret everything. Then your eyes close. You swear you heard something shuffling around but you hope it's just the dead leaves and crackling fire. Until you feel something watching you. Your eyes shoot open and before you is a fuzzy man with wings tucked discreetly behind his back. Someone screams but it wasn’t you. It was him, and he scurries away from you.

"Eek! Y-you're alive?!"

"Of course I am! Why on earth would you think I was dead?"

"I just figured...since you're here and not at that cabin...you must have died to come all the way out here." He stays close to the fire, glancing at it every now and then.

"Ah, no...I wanted to rough it in the woods. That's the point of camping."

"...That's stupid," he finally says after a long silence. You sit up in shock. "You didn’t even pack anything useful for your mission. If it wasn't for this cave, it really would be game over for you." The lanky man grins, and his razor sharp teeth makes you shiver. Then, he moves slightly and scoots only a little closer. You catch a glimpse of the underside of his wings and see brilliant cerulean and black.

"It was the rain," you manage to reply. "Had it not been for that, I wouldn't have lost half my stuff." Crossing your arms, you try to rub off the goosebumps on your skin. Another long silence before you see that blue again, this time around your shoulder. The mothman had moved closer.

"I read that humans can get cold easily...so uh...just this once...I'll let you warm up." Neither of you acknowledge the blushes that forms on both your faces.

[wri0thesley]

cw: somno, yandere, dub-con

it’s been a long while since dainsleif has travelled with anybody for a prolonged length of time, much less somebody who he looks at and imagines what it would be like to kiss. he holds himself back, apart from you, knowing what he is and what he’s seen and thinking how you should never have to deal with the hideous fallout that is being beloved of the twilight sword (knowing him, loving him, he thinks, is a death sentence). but he cannot stop himself from imagining how silky soft your skin would be, if he were brave enough to strip off his gloves and touch you. how sweet the lingering taste of your lips against his would be, how warm and soft and solid and real you would be in his lap - and how tightly he would cling to you, like a raft in raging seas. 

there is no time that these feelings hit him so deeply as when you are asleep.

dain sleeps little nowadays; he does not really need to sleep to function, though he does take a few snatched naps when he feels safe enough to do so in order to recharge. but you - so solidly and normally human, so fragile and ordinary despite all of this - you require sleep, so he watches over you when you do. sometimes the two of you have a hastily constructed adventurer’s tent, and you have some semblance of shelter - sometimes you sleep straight on the ground with the stars and moon lighting your pretty face.

it’s then that dain’s mind starts to run wild with itself.

for you’re so wonderfully peaceful asleep - your chest rising and gently falling, your lashes resting against the curve of your cheeks, your lips slightly parted. the soft noises you make, sighing and mumbling, when you stir just a little and your brow creases. you’re so, so beautiful. dain can’t help himself.

he can’t help himself strip off a single glove - to caress your face and almost feel he could finally pass away there and then as he remembers how soft the skin of another human is. when you nuzzle into his palm, brush your lips sleepily across it in an echo of a kiss without waking up, he wonders if this is it and his torment has finally been brought to an end and this is celestia.

a touch turns to more - the brush of thumbs across lips, of his hand across your collarbone. he loses count of how many nights he has touched you so softly and so gently with one hand and wrapped his other gloved hand (the abyss touched one, the one that does not deserve to be bare against you) around his cock as he muffled whimpers and whines of your name into bitten lips. it’s enough, he tells himself, fiercely, as he comes over his hand and wishes he was spilling it inside of you. you would not want him. you do not deserve to be touched by filth like him--

but as nights drag on, and you sleep closer and closer to him, smile at him more, fall asleep with your head on his shoulder and a sleepy mumble of his name on your lips . . . dainsleif isn’t sure how long it will continue to be enough. 

[bizlybebo]

Could I hear about your riptide superhero au?? :O

YES HELLO !!!!

was thinking of titling it Flyaway or sometihng of the like but basically:

RAFT is the main superhero organization. jay's grandma (cant remember her name) is a retired hero but she oversees everything. Jayson ferin is like. the most iconic/popular hero because he's jayson ferin.

Jay is a superhero in this au, obviously. Ava was, too, and she was just as notorious as her father for how powerful she was,, loved by the people,, etc.. Jay mentored under her until Ava died (allegedly to the hands of villains), and then she flung herself harder into the hero program, training harder to be better and better because 1: pressure from her father and 2: avenging ava.

Gillion is a disgraced ex-hero turned vigilante, because he couldn't bear not to continue fighting even after being discharged. likely got fired because he prioritized defeating a villain over protecting civillian lives, kinda similar to his og banishment in canon.

ORR if i include the undersea, he could be an ex-hero from there who was exiled.

ORRRRRR it'd be really funny if he was just some Poor Guy who washed up ashore. and become a vigilante.

Chip is a villain who used to run with the black rose syndicate, who were a pretty notorious villain group who mysteriously went silent one day. He used to run around with some sort of syndicate that Price put together but disbanded from them a couple days ago.

Drey was in the hero training program but he defected (i think that's the right word) before he could be officially become a hero. he's usually not addressed at all by the ferins, yk, being the family's black sheep and all.

I'd probably start the actual writing things off with like. Jay waitressing at the restaurant her mom owns (civilian identity is hidden,, both her and her mom are just normal people) and Chip overhearing her whisper something TRYING to be subtle about her father, and her mom makes a comment about like. "well, y'know what your father would say. he'd say you're ending up like drey etc etc. but i trust you know what you're doing, sweetheart".

and him hearing drey's name is what gets him like oh. OHHH. and he quickly makes the connections because he heard about drey's family when he was still with the black rose. and he's like. drey.... these people have red hair.... so he starts pestering jay and she's all annoyed until chip takes a shot in the dark and refers to her by her superhero name. and that finally gets her to listen but shes like "hey what the FUCK is wrong with you"

and chip's like "you know drey! i knew him too!"

and it spirals until they make a very tentative deal where chip is like. okay. come out with me for one night doing "evil villain" stuff. there's more to life than being a hero. "villains" aren't all fucking awful, man. while he's doing this thought he does the very villainous thing of holding her identity over her head so she HAS to agree.

and we all know about ep 53 and jay's intentions when going w/chip in canon, so it'd probably be the same thing-- her wanting to get clsoer to the people who killed ava, and spending time with villains.

but on that night out they're on a rooftop and she has a Moment where she's happy and free without the eyes of the public on her every move as a ferin and chip's like. i told you so. and jay's like no fuck you die. :((

anyways i think itd be hilarious if they ran across gillion trying to do a whole fucking battle with some poor fellow robbing a corner store

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 7

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

In the evening the whole village is captured and tied to the post, Buggy being in a good mood has shown mercy and not killed the tribesmen, but just plundered their houses and immobilized them. The moment when the captain reunited with his crew was kind of touching. Everyone jumped towards Buggy, even the monstrous lion and they all hugged him, some of the men even shed a tear or two. The lion was introduced to you as Richie, belonging to Mohji, a supposedly beast tamer. "And who do we have here, a young and ambitious lady in tattered clothes?" Cabaji inquires, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and amusement. Positioned beside Buggy, his stance and mannerisms strongly suggest that he holds a significant role within the crew, quite possibly serving as Buggy's right-hand man and perhaps even his vice captain.

“Her name is Y/n and she has made my journey much easier. You can all thank her that we have reunited here again.” 

Cabaji steps towards you, reaches for your hand to blow a kiss on it, but Buggy doesn't let him and pushes him away with full force. “No touching!”, he yells and you laugh. 

“Nice to meet you all.”, you say, honestly happy that the clown pirate seemed to have such a loyal and diverse crew, their individuality perfectly complementing Buggy's charismatic and eccentric character. “Thank you for helping our captain!” everybody shouts and then Cabaji smiles at you “Please join our party on the boat tonight. This reunion needs to be celebrated!”

As you haven't figured out your next step yet, you just nod and agree - maybe the Buggy pirates can lend you some weapons and provisions before you continue your journey alone. 

You help carry the plundered bounty, food and treasures found in some of the houses of the tribesman back to the ship - the sun has already set and despite everyone being tired from the battle of the day, the spirits are high and everyone is looking eagerly forward to the celebration.

You still feel the wine from Gaimons party rumbling in your belly from the other night, but you are looking forward to getting a proper meal since the last time you ate you only had some dried fish. 

You observe Buggy taking charge at the shore, providing guidance to his men on where to bring the captured goods. As the ship bustles with renewed activity, the crew members engage in exchanges, their voices resounding through the air as they issue commands and coordinate preparations for the grand celebration. You follow Mohji and Cabaji who walk ahead and you step foot on the spacious ship of the Buggy pirates for the first time. After being only on a tiny raft this feels much more safe and secure. “Do you want to maybe check our downstairs quarters for some clothes? Yours look like…”  His face tells you everything and you nod, slightly ashamed. Cabaji called you a lady earlier, but you don't feel like one anymore in these torn clothes. “Yeah, they have survived a storm, but I think it's time for me to get something more appropriate…” 

“Show Y/n where she can change clothes!”, you hear Buggy yell at Mohji, in all this commotion he still has not forgotten about you. 

“Aye, Captain!”Mohji with a wave of his hand signals you to follow him and you both enter through a hatch down into the belly of the ship. The quarters for the crew members look more comfortable than the ones at the Snowland pirates ship - most likely because everything here is so colorful like in a circus tent. 

You reach a room with five hammocks and a closet, sturdy and tall, nailed to the wall. Mohji points at the closet. “Get yourself something to wear and then come upstairs again. I want to hear about your adventures and how you met our great captain.” You thank the beast tamer and he leaves the room, closing the door to ensure your privacy. The closet is full of different clothes in all sizes, some of them looking like circus costumes. You reach for a comfortable looking green top and black trousers, exchanging them with your ripped and torn Snowland crew fabric. You immediately feel like a human. You open the small porthole in the quarters and throw out your old clothes into the sea. You can hear whistling from the ship, someone saw that you got rid of these old fabrics and probably got the wrong idea. You look at yourself in the mirror, finding a small brush to comb your hair - now you look less shipwrecked and more like a full on pirate again. Next you would need a proper bag and some weapons - maybe you could ask the captain at the celebration tonight if he could lend you something until you had money to pay the Buggy pirates back. 

As you leave the quarters and go back up to the ships deck again you get slightly excited for the party later on. Despite leaving the Snowland pirates you have to admit that you miss the pirate life with a crew and the fun you can have when everyone is merry and drunk. 

As you step out on the deck Cabaji recognizes you first and nods in approval. The rest of the crew is also on board now, having finished the preparations to leave this island first thing in the morning. Buggy approaches you, also nodding in agreement. “Now you look less like a survivor, but more like a pirate.” 

There is warmth in his eyes you recognize for the first time since you have joined forces with him. “And you look like a full strong pirate captain with all your body parts in the right places!”, you chuckle. 

You see him blushing, not sure if out of anger or out of embarrassment that you commented so openly on his body. You might have found a method of teasing him and you tell yourself to remember this for later in case he gets too cocky again. 

“You must be hungry, let's go and get some food ready. I think we are all starving!”, he quickly changes the topic and you follow him to prepare a feast for the whole crew. 

[totkdaily]

Day 83: Gerudo Desert, and Riju

From here, the desert looks foggy. Perhaps a sand storm? I hope it clears before I need to head to Gerudo Town. I spot two other things of note: the tower in the Highlands, and a geoglyph. It looks like a figure of some kind. Could I glide all the way there? It looks far… 

No. But I at least get on the right level of the Highlands. It's even colder up here. I find the geoglyph. 

A vision. I see...

Ganondorf swears loyalty to the King of Hyrule. The conversation is tense.

This vision is different - as they talk, I feel I'm following Ganondorf's eyes specifically. Examining each secret stone on display, ignoring their bearers. Resting again on Sonia's. I have already seen the Queen's fate. 

Zelda is concerned. Even his name… I understand her hesitancy, and I share it. Rauru is foolish to reassure her. Everything could have been prevented if Ganondorf had been stopped here. Rauru was right. He was an arrogant king. So sure none could unseat him. 

It's so cold. I have to keep moving. I consider leaving the tower for another day, but I'm halfway there now. 

I glide over what must be the old Yiga Clan hideout - I wonder if they still use it? That map in Robbie's lab suggested yes. 

I reach the tower. There's a little tent - the journal belongs to Billson. The tower is snowed in… fortunately, it sounds like there's a cave somewhere below. 

Meadella's Mantle Cave. I wonder if this is it? Billson's records suggest the cave does go under the tower - but also that it's massive. There's a river flowing through it - I chuck a wooden board into it and climb on. 

Bubbulfrog! By complete chance, I manage to land its gem on my rudimentary raft as it lands at the bottom of the waterfall. 

The raft takes me perfectly under the tower. And launch!

I try to glide to a southerly sky island to hop over to Gerudo Town - but it turns out to be inhabited by a three-headed dragon, so we won't go there. I redirect to the plateaus around the old Sheikah Tower site, which is now a chasm to the Depths. The desert is engulfed by a sand storm. Can I make it to Gerudo Town from here? I feel like I should try. 

I barely get as far as the ruins before I completely lose visibility. I can hear these huge impacts, like explosions. There's a trio of… guards? No, training dummies. And the impacts flash like lightning. I know who's here - I rush to find her.

Riju. 

She recognises me still - it's good to find a friend. She says this sand shroud appeared when Hyrule Castle rose - that tracks. And there are new monsters - gibdos. We work out a technique which might be useful against them - I aim, and Riju shoots lightning. 

And then golden light fills the air… the Gerudo sage is watching us. 

Another Gerudo, Faundi, arrives. She says gibdos are attacking Kara Kara Bazaar. We have to go there. But… how can I find my way in this?? 

I climb a piece of ruin, intending to guess and glide - but it's high enough that I can see across the sand shroud, thank goodness. Aiming for the bazaar is still a guess, but it's slightly more informed. 

I almost lose my way once I glide back below the horizon, but I make it to Kara Kara Bazaar and help Riju fight off the gibdos. Awful creatures, long-limbed and half-rotten, with insectoid faces and gill-like necks.

I think I saw some through the sand storm on my way here. I'm glad I didn't have to fight them without Riju. There's some kind of weird mushroom that glows, seemingly the source of the gibdos or their power. 

Suddenly, through the sand - Zelda!

No, it can't be. It must be the imposter. Coincidentally, right at that moment, tornadoes head for Gerudo Town.

Riju heads back that way. I want to see if anyone I know is in the Bazaar before I join her. 

Also, I need to stop at the shrine here.

[myfavouritelunatic]

I Felt It Too

A Haladriel/Saurondriel Oneshot from Halbrand/Sauron’s point of view.

I was inspired by that infamous scene in the woods after the confrontation with Adar. What would have happened if they had not been interrupted…?

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: It’s mostly fluff but there are some allusions to smuttiness. 😜 Also lots of angst.

“Fighting at your side I... I felt... if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being then I...” Halbrand let his voice trail off, suddenly afraid of how Galadriel would react if he finished his words. Oh how he wanted to tell her everything, stop hiding his true self from her. The past weeks had been pure torture for him, from the moment they had met on that fateful raft and saved each others lives.

“I felt it too.” Galadriel admitted, her head slowly turning towards him. Halbrand gazed at her, his expression containing a multitude of emotions. He had not expected her to feel the same, nor to declare it so. He craved her power yes, but there was something else tied to it, something much deeper at work. For Halbrand could not help but love Galadriel. The effect she had on him had been profound. He had found the other half of his spirit within her, and knew he could never part from her. Halbrand sensed in Galadriel’s voice as she spoke those words, in her gaze as she looked at him now, that her feelings aligned with his own, and that the bond between them would never be undone. They were bound.

The two of them shared a silence, speaking only with their eyes. The air between them was charged with an unnamed force, Halbrand feeling as if he were paralysed. He fiercely desired to penetrate the space that separated them, a small distance that suddenly felt as wide as the seas upon which they had met. He had longed to physically explore how he felt about her, show her how much he cares for her, be with her the way he feels he is destined to. He had crafted visions, images, dreams inside his mind that played out over and over. They began as ways of quenching his desires but soon morphed into torturous pantomimes that existed to remind him of how he’d never have her.

Each one was different. In them, Halbrand would imagine what it would be like to have Galadriel’s lips pressed against his, in a soft return of affection. He imagined running his fingers all along her fair elven skin, watching as her hair stood up, a sweet tingling sensation no doubt coursing through her. He imagined her on top of him, committing lustful deeds, using her body to pleasure his, and just how delicious it might feel to move inside of her.

He also imagined just holding her. Laughing with her. Walking with her. Clasping her hand. Being by her side. Watching how the light catches her eyes, how her smile makes him forget himself for a moment, forget who he truly is: the being responsible for the death of her brother. The catalyst for her quest. The reason their paths crossed in the first place. 

And now here Galadriel was before him, speaking of sharing this feeling that he had held prisoner in his heart for so long. Halbrand let his right hand fall to his side, making contact with the seat nature had provided them. He looked away from Galadriel then, off into the distance, staring into the fresh memories of fighting with her side by side.

Then, a spark.

Halbrand felt the lightest of touches against his hand. Galadriel had placed hers next to his upon the rock. He looked down to witness the sensation that was occurring. Her little finger was tentatively wrapping itself around his own. Halbrand responded to the delicate touch by gently moving his fingers so they interlocked with hers. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, then their eyes connected once more.

Galadriel’s expression was filled with something Halbrand could not name. He felt that even with all his knowledge of smithing and craftsmanship, he would not be able to capture the way she looked at him now. For no one had ever looked at him like this. To say she was simply beautiful was an injustice, for she was so much more. The elf raised her free hand to cup his face. Halbrand leaned into her tender touch, as a tear quietly fell from him, landing on her skin.

“Galadriel, I-”

“You need not speak.” Her exquisite voice was almost a whisper.

“There are things you need to know.”

“And there will be time to know them.”

“Please...” Halbrand begged her to let him talk, for he could feel what was about to happen. With each brief word, their bodies had subconsciously moved closer to each other, the pull magnetic. Galadriel was now so close to him, he could count the lashes of her eyes. At last, the space between them was but a memory, and their lips met in a kiss.

It began almost hesitantly, as if neither of them wanted to force the other into any touches that might be unwanted. This soon changed however, as Halbrand raised his hand to hold her face, desperate to have her skin under his fingertips at long last. Their lips paused their movements then, separating only for a moment, and he could feel her warm breath against him, the rhythm of her lungs quickening. He kissed her again, but this time, he took it further, passionately caressing her with his mouth. Galadriel let her lips open wider, giving Halbrand’s tongue the entrance he desired. Their physical symbol of love hastily became more and more heated, as they began to get lost in each other completely.

His mind was on fire. If the sensations she was causing him had not been so intense, he would have thought himself dreaming. This was really happening, but it still seemed so unreal. Halbrand’s imaginations were coming true, his torture ending. And it was even better than he could have conjured. The way Galadriel felt against him, her desire, her love for him so clear with every touch, every movement she made. Her hunger matched his own. It was like nothing he had experienced. She had her hand tangled in his hair then, and was kissing him with such desperation, almost relief, as if she had been waiting for this moment with the same longing, just as he had.

However, Halbrand’s mind was filling with intrusive thoughts that had begun to creep in unbidden, but unavoidable. About Galadriel’s brother, about the evils he himself had committed against her people, about his true identity, and when he could not shake free of them, he freed himself of her instead, swiftly rising to his feet.

“Halbrand-”

“I’m sorry. As much as I want this... I want you to be with someone you deserve, someone worthy of your light... and I fall short of that.” Sadness laced his voice, and he turned away from Galadriel. He could hear her calling out for him, but Halbrand let his feet carry him towards the village, where he hoped to earn her light, his goodness, in the eyes of the Southlanders, as their king.

But despite this, he feared nothing would save him from his past. Galadriel would never truly love him, not once she learned the truth. And if she didn’t accept him then how could he live.

Tagging: @denzit​ @starlady66​ @chimeracuddles​ @hikarielizabethbloom​ @helenvader​ @coraleethroughthelookingglass​ @anemarie​ @honeyfarts666​ @mordorgp​ @myrsinemezzo​ @lordhalbrand​ @restless-tides​ @rebelrebelwrites​ @emarasmoak​ @bananaphanta​ 

I’m sorry it’s not the cell fic, but I just had to get this out forgive me

[pinkjjunie]

The Coffee Shop Girl\\Chapter 1

MDNI

CW: Cursing.

Jungkook sighed, his breath coming out into a little white cloud. It was a cool autumn morning, and Jungkook wanted nothing more than to grab some coffee and go to work. He walked briskly towards the small coffee shop, feeling the cool air hit his face. It wasn’t his usual one, which was inside the company, it was a smaller, cozier shop, designed for comfort after a long work day or something relaxing before going to work or school. It had just opened up, and he wanted to check it out. 

He opened the glass door, feeling the warmth of the shop wash over him. A relieved sigh left his mouth, he hadn’t even realized that he was cold. He looked around, it was exactly how he imagined it to be. Small tables lined against the tall windows with circular ones situated in the middle. Some vines lined the tops of the windows and curled around the wooden rafts. The lights were a warm yellow, making it even more cozy. Soft music played through the speakers. His body relaxed without him knowing

A small line was in front of the counter, and others occupied the tables. Jungkook got behind two giggling girls. A buzz from his pocket jolted him. He pulled out his phone to see that it was his secretary texting him for a meeting in an hour. He groaned silently, shoving his phone back into his pocket. He hated meetings, but this one was important. He was going to expand his company to the US which was a big deal. His company was only popular in Korea and Japan. 

One of the girls turned around and smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, only pressed his lips together. The girl turned back and opened her mouth. 

“Can I get your number?” She smiles flirtatiously twirling her hair around her finger.

“No.” Jungkook says flatly.

She pouts, sticking her red lip out. “Please?”

The girl was pretty, but Jungkook was too stressed to deal with her right now. Besides he has no interest in girls right now. 

“I said no.”

The girl pouts and turns to her friend. Jungkook hears her calling him an asshole, and he scoffs. He was an asshole just for telling her no? How strange. The line moves up and the girls order their drinks. Jungkook glances up at the menu, trying to decide what he should drink. The line moves up again and the barista greets him with a soft voice. He hums in response still staring at the menu. He finally decides on a drink and looks down at the barista.

His breath gets caught in his throat. The barista—you—was pretty. It quite literally took his breath away at how pretty you were. The order he had in mind, died in his throat, struck by you. You looked up at him with wide brown eyes, blinking innocently. Something in Jungkook twitched when you looked at him like that. You spoke again, voice soft and tentative. It brought him out of his thoughts.

“Sir, what would you like today?” 

Jungkook swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips. “An iced americano.” He replied.

He didn’t usually order Iced Americano, they were too bitter for his taste, but something about you made his brain short-circuit. You nodded, delicate fingers pressing against the screen. You looked back up at him, avoiding eye contact. It was cute how you refused to look him in the eyes. 

“Will that be all?” 

Your voice was quiet, making Jungkook lean down to hear you better. He saw you swallow nervously, eyes flicking down his shirt and back up to his face. You repeated the sentence, louder this time, and he straightened up. You nod once again and relay his total while asking for a name. Jungkook gives you his name and slides his card watching you take the receipt to hand it to him. You move to the back to make his drink. Jungkook moves to the pickup counter, wanting to watch you make the drinks.

You finished his drink, sliding it on the counter and calling out his name. Jungkook feels something in him twitch once again at the sound of your voice calling his name. He walks forward to grab his drink. Once he grabbed his drink, he walks to the door. Sparing once last glance over his shoulder he finds you staring at him. He winks at you, causing you to look away shyly. He relishes in you adorable reaction, smirking as he walks out into the crisp air.

You’re on his mind as he walks to his work, heading in the elevator to his office. His day was way better now, not even the boring hour long meeting with the Amercian CEO, brought his mood down. He sits in his chair shuffling through some papers, he thinks back to you again. Your adorable shy demeanor, the way you wouldn’t look in his eyes, and the way your eyes lingered on his face for just a bit to long. 

The door to his office opens, revealing his assistant, Jimin. He takes one look at Jungkook and raises his eyebrow. 

“You’re in a chipper mood this morning, Kook.” He comments, walking over to sit on one of the chairs in front of his desk, “Did you finally meet someone?”

Jungkook looks up at him shyly, “Maybe.” He mumbles.

“Really?” Jimin leans forward eagerly, a smile crossing his face, “What’s her name? Was she cute?” 

“I didn’t get her name, and yes she was cute.” Jungkook said, thinking back to your adorable figure making his drink.

“Oooh, your eyes are getting all soft. She must’ve been cute enough to catch your attention.” Jimin teased.

Jungkook glared at him, before letting out a huff. “I guess so.” He mumbled.

“Well would you look at that, my little Jungkookie has an interest in a girl.” Jimin says, leaning back into his seat.

“Shouldn’t you be working instead of putting your nose into my love life?” Jungkook huffed.

“You mean your non-existent love life.”

“Excuse you I’ve dated multiple girls before!” Jungkook exclaimed.

“Dating girls for one week doesn’t count Kook.” Jimin said matter-of-factly.

“It’s not my fault they were all gold diggers.”

“Do you think she’s a gold digger?” Jimin wondered.

“It’s too soon to tell.”

“Well, for your sake I hope she isn’t.” Jimin said.

“Me too, now get your ass back to work!”

Once Jimin had left Jungkook thought back to you again. You were cute that’s for sure. The only thing that went through his head, was that he was going to get you as his. 

No matter what.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

@allvalley100

Prompt: Ritual

Pairing: Hawkmetri

This is a 5-parter--500 words total! CW for blood, gore, body horror, and general being-posessed-by-a-demon spookiness.

***

“I don’t know about this.”

Hawk narrows his eyes at the summoning circle, unnerved.

“Don’t be a pussy.” Tory gives him a steely look. “Do you want to beat our enemies or not?”

“Yeah, it’s just…does it have to be me?”

“We need a host.” Tory shrugs. “You have the most ex-friends at LaRusso’s little party. If it’s you, they’ll be unnerved enough to give Cobra Kai the advantage.”

“Fine.”

Hawk steps into the pentagram, still feeling nauseous.

No matter. They have to do whatever it takes to win this.

Tory turns to Kyler and Robby, smirking. “Start the ritual.”

*

Hawk doesn’t know why he had doubts about this.

He’s stronger. Faster. More powerful than he’s ever been. It’s a bloodbath at the LaRusso house, and he’s to thank.

It’s almost an easy win. He’s cornered one of his final victims when everything goes to shit.

He has the gangly kid pinned when he feels a hand on his cheek. A hand that he suddenly remembers he’s known most of his life.

And neither Hawk nor the monster inside him has been touched softly in a long time.

“Eli. Please. You don’t have to do this.”

And so he doesn’t.

*

As if Sam LaRusso’s Christmas “party” wasn’t bad enough. After 2 hours of 0 festivities, Cobra Kai shows up with a fucking demon.

Or some gargoyle-looking thing, anyways. Long claws, snake eyes. The works.

The karate wars now involve the occult. Fantastic.

Demetri’s sure he’s about to be gored when he spots the lip scar, visible even under black scales.

And so Demetri cups his face and whispers his name until he remembers, because he knows Eli Moskowitz is too strong to forget who he is.

“I know you’re hurting in there. Let me help you.”

And miraculously, Eli does.

*

The exorcism, to put it mildly, fucking sucks.

Demetri can’t look during the worst of it, staring at the wall as his oldest friend writhes on the floor.

It’s the neverending pain of Eli fighting an enemy he can’t see and being helpless to do anything.

“Hawk?” Miguel’s voice is tentative. “Is it gone? Can you leave the circle?”

Demetri turns. Eli scoots across the chalk-drawn lines, pale and shaking.

Weak with relief, Demetri smiles. He opens his arms.

And Eli runs to the only person who could watch him burn the whole world down and still love him after.

*

“Shout if you need anything.”

Miguel pats Demetri’s back before leaving him and Eli alone.

Demetri knows what he means. We’ll come save you if there’s any demon left.

But with Eli sobbing into his arms—clinging to him like the last life raft in an empty ocean—Demetri’s not sure he cares.

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” Demetri strokes his hair. “That wasn’t you.”

“I let it happen.”

“And you fought that thing off long enough for us to get rid of it. You’re tough as balls, Moskowitz.”

For the first time in months, Eli smiles.

[thejoyofseax]

A brief account of Pennsic 50

TLDR: Fantastic event, pity about the climate zone it's in.

Let me get that negative bit out of the way: I don't handle heat well, and Pennsic has absolutely punishing heat and humidity. I was basically unable to do anything useful between 13:00 and 17:30 on any given day (and right through the evening in the lower-lying lake-adjacent parts of the site). I tried to tough it out, but that didn't work, and I ended up sitting in the air-conditioned internet café for many of those hours through much of War Week. I didn't as much as see the battlefield, let alone the opening ceremonies, field battle, etc, because I would have just passed out on the field. As it was, I pretty much passed out on the day we were packing down because I was lifting and moving stuff in the heat, and couldn't go sit in the aircon. It was quite frustrating, and there was absolutely nothing that could be done about it.

So what I did do was go to classes in the mornings, do shopping at hours when I was able, and either hang out at our own camp, or go to various parties in the evenings.

The array of classes was downright incredible. There was no topic, as far as I could see, that was not touched upon at least. I went to about eight or ten in total, plus the sizable Arts & Sciences display. All of the classes I went to were food-related, and one of them, given by Magister Galefridus Peregrinus, jumped one of my longer-term projects forward by, I estimate, about two and a half years (it was about non-baking use of Fertile Crescent grains in Medieval Europe, and is relevant to my pre-Norman Irish Cooking stuff). I have good notes from many of the rest, too, and a raft of things to look up.

The shopping was also unbelievable. 200 stalls or so, and while some of them were more LARP or gamer-oriented, most were relevant. for myself, I got a basket-backpack of a kind I've been looking for for years, a pair of turnshoes, two small cast-iron pans, a new tooled leather belt, about six different kinds of smoked salt, various bits of Pelican bling, many metres of Drachenwald trim, and (appropriately) a very nice seax as a kitchen knife. Probably a lot of other stuff, too - I haven't unpacked yet - but those are the things that come to mind. I also bought a veritable pile of stuff for other people, and have taken note of a host of merchants for online buying later. There were some interesting gaps in the market, too - I would have thought that pre-strapped or bossed shields would be commonly available, and saw essentially none, and that there would be more period-ish cookware and camp equipment for sale (there was some, but not very much).

Speaking of cookware, it was notable how few camps had any period cooking arrangements. I saw some very impressive modern camp kitchen setups (the East Kingdom State Kitchen was essentially equivalent to the best indoor kitchens I've cooked in), but I saw precisely two period-ish kitchens, out of hundreds of camps (although I didn't see them all; that was just not possible). Given there were more than 11,000 people there, it was essentially not a thing that was done.

Some of the camps and buildings were terrifyingly fine, though. The Pleasure Pavilions were a set of absolutely beautiful tents, and Casa Bardicci is an actual miracle of construction. There were a varierty of other buildings, as well as gatehouses, ships, and so forth.

The social side of things is a slower burn. Putting faces to names, and meeting many of Nessa's fighting family was excellent, and there've been a number of conversations started that I think will go on for years (and a plot to try out various porridges on people with Baron Cormacc Mac Gilla Brigde). I also caught up with a number of people I haven't seen in years, and decades in some cases. I was particularly pleased to get to spend time properly with Duchess Qamar al-Nisa and Lady Alina Rose, who are two of my favourite people.

I expect I'll have some more thinking on various aspects of the event in time, and how some of the things there can be transferred to events here. I'd like to particularly note that climate aside, the site is fantastic, in terms of both geography and facilities. It also had fireflies and crickets, which made up for a lot.

[7grandmel]

Todays Raft: 02:22 - 01/04/2024

SOMEONE SINK THIS GOD DAMN RAFT

Season 7 Not Ridden by Link (Read More) Raft Ride (Game of the Year Edition) - The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening

Raft by Mullar

i know i wrote that title but its actually just taken from the comments section and frankly i completely disagree i love the raft

never sink it. also i dont know the joke but it sounds silly. good rip.

[maytheoddshq]

Too many people grow up. -Walt Disney

135th BIANNUAL HUNGER GAMES ARENA: AMUSEMENT PARK

The Arena is an old amusement park named Snow Gardens with four distinct sections: the classic fairytale section, the water park, the safari, and the space section. Everything is made to seem a little old and certain things don't function quite the way they used to, but the park is modeled on pre-Dark Days theme parks with some Panem twists.

The weather throughout the park is a humid 75 degrees Fahrenheit/23 degrees Celsius.

Instead of cannons, a firework erupts from the castle at the park's center for every death. There is a fireworks show every night after dark, and the glittering explosions form the shapes of faces and names of the day's fallen.

Descriptions below the cut.

FAIRYTALE

This section of the park is styled as a classic medieval fairytale theme park. The walkways are cobblestone, the buildings are painted in cheerful hues, and tinny, distorted music plays over the speakers. There are lots of trees and pockets of landscaping with a variety of plants and flowers.

CASTLE COASTER

At the center of the Arena stands a large fairytale, medieval-style castle, the shell for the cornucopia and the roller coaster that winds itself around it like a rusty, coiled viper. The castle itself is mostly just a facade; the inside only houses some mechanical rooms and the empty core for a golden, metal cornucopia. The only way to re-access the Cornucopia is via the roller coaster, which launches twice daily or at the presentation of a “Quick Ticket” (see Park Entrance) — or risking the climb across the metal tracks. You can exit through emergency exits onto other sides of the castle, but they are completely locked from the outside.

IT’S A LITTLE PANEM

A short walk away is a ride with a sign at the edge of the queue in what was once bright, cheerful red letters, now sun faded and dirty, declaring the ride to be “It’s a Little Panem.” The ride seems an alluring place to hide out in — it’s one of the few climate-controlled areas of the park, and it’s a sturdy looking building made of concrete that would withstand the elements and provide protected hiding areas. The only logical way in, though, is by boarding one of the rafts on a slow-moving water feature that appears to run through the attraction. However, once you board the raft, wrist and ankle restraints appear from nowhere and a lap bar drops down, locking the tribute in. They are in for a several-hour, psychosis-inducing, painfully slow journey through cheerfully singing dolls representing all twelve Districts of Panem, and at the finale, the Capitol. No one can hear them scream. The only way out is through, and tributes reemerge on the other side disoriented, hallucinating, and excessively irritable. This resolves after a few hours on its own, but tributes will be extremely unpredictable and volatile until it does.

TEACUPS

In this section of the park is a classic looking teacups ride with peeling letters that say "Tea Party" on the side and twelve teacups poised daintily on top of a spinning metal platform. Each teacup is painted to represent a district, in color and motifs, though they still have the baroque, elegant sensibilities to their design to be fit for royalty. The ride does turn on from an operating booth at the center, and despite some squeaking of rusty parts, it still lights up and spins as one might expect. The teacups lend themselves to an unorthodox place to rest, but it’s convenient — tributes are hidden, the seats are padded, and there’s a metal tent-like roof over the top of the ride to keep out the elements.

GO KARTS

There is a Go Kart track that runs a winding track with 8 available karts, each in a distinctive, bright color. To use them, the tributes will need to find the respective key in the control station near the loading dock, hanging on the wall with a matching color lanyard. While the track itself is dull, the Go Karts can be driven out of their constructed lane and directly into the rest of the park if the tire barriers are rearranged in the right spot. At first, they don’t go faster than a puttering seven miles an hour — but if a tribute has the mechanical or electric know-how, it’s a pretty easy adjustment to take the speed limit off of the kart, where they will max out around 45 mph instead.

SKY DROP

The Sky Drop is a classic tower drop ride, a simple circle with seats that guests are strapped into, are lifted to impossible heights, and dropped. This ride, however, is a little unpredictable-- the restraints have a habit of unlocking at random, and after being lifted, it may drop down in five seconds, five minutes, or five hours. It will give tributes a great aerial view of the park, though!

THE ENCHANTED FOREST

The Enchanted forest is a tightly-forested section of the park, forming a maze-like thicket of trees and paths. Tributes wise to plant identification will find some edible plants, bark, and roots-- and some dangerous ones as well, like poison oak and juicy, tempting yet poisonous berries. Embedded among the trees are off-putting, poorly designed fairytale creature animatronics with creaking joints and peeling faces. When a tribute's back is turned, they will move around and follow humans, but always freeze when in sight. Though harmless, they will unnerve even the most fearless of tributes.

FOOD STANDS

There is a Medieval tavern-themed food stand just beyond the teacups. It is, of course, unoccupied, but there is a tempting menu including “Ye Olde Turkey Legs” and “Pickle on a Sticke.” Unfortunately, there are no turkey legs to be found at this particular booth (nor any of the other more traditional park fare of corn dogs and funnel cakes), but in the back storage room, particularly curious tributes may find one jar filled with pickle spears — and some wooden sticks, if they would like to fully indulge in the fantasy.

There is another more generic concession stand right next to the castle. It’s mostly picked over, but there’s a dusty popcorn maker and unpopped corn that can be made into the buttery treat — but tributes must beware, the smell will doubtless emanate through all nearby parts of the park and likely draw in any other hungry tributes. The deep fryers also work and can be used to make the funnel cake batter pre-prepped in the fridge. It can also be used for more creative or nefarious purposes. There are two park-themed cups next to a soda fountain that can be used to access clean water in the park — no other receptacle will allow tributes to have clean water, it will dispense murky and brown. To randomize your selection, send a message to the main. We’ll do a random drawing for clean or dirty water, and your tribute will be removed or added to the next death draw once accordingly.

PARK ENTRANCE

This section of the park connects to the front gates, where abandoned ticket kiosks sit adjacent to turnstiles. Tributes can raid these and find paper tickets (which are useless), some dusty bags of snacks like chips and pretzels, a couple of plastic card “Quick Tickets” (which supposedly let high-paying customers jump lines, but do technically still work for tributes), and one magnet nametag cheerfully declaring: HI! MY NAME IS TED.

Pros: No arena mutts, some rides good for hiding, food in snack bars, go karts could be used for quick transportation, the Cornucopia

Cons: Experiencing It’s a Little Panem

Food: Some food at the concession stands

Water: Only if you’re lucky enough to draw a +1 for the soda fountain

SAFARI

In the corner of the park is a river with muddy waters and a ferry that runs from one shore to another. In the waters live two crocodiles, angrier, faster, and with sharper teeth than your average croc. If a tribute sets foot in any part of the river, the crocodiles will smell their scent and come quickly. Their attacks can be deadly.

For this reason, it’s preferable to take the ferry. It is essentially a large wooden platform with no railings and a small booth for the operator to sit, though in this case, there is of course no operator. Instead, ghostly commands tell the ferry to cross at intervals of 30 minutes. The crossing is slow and takes about 3 minutes, though the river is not particularly wide.

Upon arrival on the far shore, tributes will be in the safari section of the park. Awaiting them is an old-fashioned open-sided jeep with a key in its ignition. The jeep doesn’t always turn on when the key is turned, though it has a fair success rate at about 50/50. Once on, the jeep is reliable and drives at normal speeds throughout the safari.

This entire area spans several miles across and deep. Modeled after the Serengeti (a place most tributes will not have heard of), there are grasslands in the center crossed with shallow rivers, marshes, and copses of trees. Acacia trees dot the plains, holding in their branches bulbous thorns, large with sharp barbs. The thorns fall at random from the trees, usually when a tribute passes beneath, and fall at a remarkably fast rate and with surprising accuracy — straight for the tribute. If picked up off the ground, the thorns could appear as a useful weapon, but tributes should beware: once broken open, hundreds of ants come pouring out of each thorn.

There are some sources of food for tributes who can identify edible leaves, roots, and bark — or for those who are willing to take risks. This area can be good for hiding from other tributes, as laying in the tall grasses ensures that one remains out of sight. Tributes can also climb the thicker trees and hide within the branches and leaves. However, mutts lurk around every corner. The animals that tributes will find here have all been created by Gamemakers, so that anything a tribute might know or suspect about its nature is likely to be wrong. All of the animals are vicious and will often attack without provocation.

ELEPHANTS

The massive size of these mutts would be enough to scare any tribute off, and the closer one gets, the higher the chance of being squished under a massive foot. The elephants have sharp tusks with which to gorge a tribute, thick feet with which to step on them, and a thick trunk with which to whip a tribute to the ground. There are three elephants in the park but their enormity makes them plenty of a threat and they are certainly to be avoided.

ZEBRAS

Zebras will almost always be found in the wetter areas of the park, congregating around the marshes or rivers. They move swiftly and travel in packs, so that one rarely encounters just one zebra. They have incredibly powerful legs and just one kick can kill a tribute. Their main danger lies in the fact that they do not, at first, seem particularly dangerous at all.

GIRAFFES

The giraffe may be well-known to most as an herbivore, but the giraffe mutts in the park are in fact wildly hungry for tribute flesh. With such long necks, they’re adept at picking tributes out of trees, but wouldn’t hesitate to bend their necks to the ground if necessary. One thing these giraffes do that might surprise viewers? Their necks are actually boneless, so to kill their prey, they wrap their neck around a tribute’s body like a boa constrictor, squeezing them to death.

WILD DOGS

The wild dogs in the park are bigger than domesticated dogs but look similar. They travel in packs and their howling can be heard in the night as they roam the grasslands. Their ears and noses are particularly sensitive, so they can often hear or smell a tribute right away. These are the most likely to approach with curiosity rather than aggression, but any moment can turn dangerous if even one of the dogs senses a threat. They use their teeth to tear at their victims’ flesh and work together to take down any enemy.

BLACK MAMBA

These sand-colored snakes are 8 feet long and, in the Serengeti, have the nickname of “Seven Steps” because these are how many steps you have left before death once you’ve been bitten. The Gamemakers took this nickname as a challenge and shortened the number of steps to five. Not much other Gamemaker intervention was needed for these creatures, though, and they were mostly recreated as they truly existed: fast and deadly. There is an antidote to their bite, but it must be delivered within mere moments or else the bitten will die a very painful death.

LIONS

A lion stalks its prey until it comes close enough to charge. It bowls its prey over and uses its massive paws to either suffocate its victim or, more efficiently, snap their neck. The lion, too, did not need much change from the Gamemakers, as these are incredibly vicious apex predators. The lions in the park have no interest in the other mutts and are intent only on the tributes, making them their main target.

Pros: Tall grasses and trees good for hiding, safari jeep for use, lots of space to spread out (or run)

Cons: Dangerous mutts, thorns from the trees

Food: Edible leaves, roots, and bark

Water: No potable water

SPACE

As the tributes walk into the area the first thing they’ll notice is a giant archway featuring a stereotypical green alien with bold blocky font that reads ‘Galactic Gauntlet’ as well as a shooting star. The pathways are dotted with neon lights that pulse and flicker, and hanging above the walkways are string lights shaped together like different constellations, though half of the bulbs are burnt out. Born of an era where translucent technology, bright colors, and chrome ruled this corner of the park is clearly dated even by pre-Dark Days standards and nature has begun to batter away at the facade. The chromium paint that cakes the walls has started to fade; the carpets of all of the interiors are beginning to mold over. Vines and grass twist through the walls, up through the floor, choking and suffocating the futuristic visuals. 

FOOD STANDS

A few dilapidated food stalls are scattered throughout this section of the park — faded menu boards display selections of space-themed treats, from alien-inspired snacks to cosmic beverages, though the vibrant colors have long since faded into muted shades of gray. Worryingly, it’s hard to differentiate between what is simply a strange lump of food because it’s meant to be futuristic or what has gone off due to neglect and misuse. If a tribute eats any of the food here it will make them wildly hallucinate. On the plus side, though, the drinks are all fine and there is even a working slushy machine! Inside the gift shops there’s not really much in the way of food, however, there is plenty of space-themed clothing that could be useful resources: astronaut helmets, blankets, stuffed animals, and clothing (though they may be a little moth-ball ridden). 

SPACE RACE ROLLER COASTER

The coaster is split into two side-by-side spacecrafts of a bygone era, ready to launch into the cosmos to beat each other to space. One of the spaceships is red while the other is white; both bear the flags of countries the tributes likely wouldn’t know. When the ride runs, it creaks to life with a sudden burst of acceleration that maybe once had a little more oomph but now seems a bit lacking. The ride itself is a dark ride with lots of little lights and dimly lit cutouts of the solar system that come into view while a crackling voice erupts from the built-in speakers detailing facts about the solar system and cheering on each ‘team’ for the race depending on which spaceship the tribute is sat in, calling them only the ‘red’ and ‘white’ teams.

However, toward the middle of the ride, the voice begins to warp. The ride shifts to a halt and acts as if it is shutting down. This is when they attack: alien-esque mutts that look exactly like the alien on the entryway. The aliens, though many in number, are easy to subdue and only take a shove or a hit on the top of their head to overpower.

GRAVITRON

The Gravitron is shaped like a classic UFO — on approach it gives a hum that gets louder once it is opened. On the inside it is lined with decaying mats that are barely still attached to the wall. Some have sunk to the ground and are slumped over on the floor. Leaves and other litter are scattered about the Gravitron as well. Once a tribute steps inside, the doors slam shut and the humming grows to a crescendo as the machine begins to spin to life. As velocity builds and builds, tributes are flung up against the walls of the ride.  A particularly strong tribute may be able to fight against the centrifugal force and reach the emergency shut off button by the door, however, weaker tributes are subjected to a thirty minute vertigo induced nightmare. 

THE COSMIC ORBITER FERRIS WHEEL

The Cosmic Orbiter stands proudly as the highest point in the park. Each box is a mixture of metal, wires, and LED lights. On its exterior it gives the notion that each pod is meant to be some sort of UFO or spaceship; the outer walls are completely clear while on the inside there are faux ‘consoles’ with buttons and switches that control some of the flashing LED lights. At the peak of its view, the Cosmic Orbiter gives a stunning view of the entire dilapidated park — from the Safari over to the Water Park. The best thing about this ride is it is completely safe and constantly slow-moving so if a tribute were to need a quick escape to hide somewhere or a good place to sleep, this would be prime real estate. 

LAZER BLAST

This ride is your run of the mill 'shoot at the targets and earn points' game. In this version riders are greeted by an over enthusiastic narrator detailing how each rider is a daring space captain out on a mission to defeat the aliens that are invading Earth. Equipped with only the stun gun, it is the rider's job to rack up points. Depending on the amount of points a rider earns they can either get some dried fruit, a drink pass, or the grand prize of the stun gun itself. The stun guns outside of the ride are useful weapons that can stun another human for up to twenty seconds, giving Tributes the ability to run from their attackers or kill them.

Pros: Some rides good for hiding, drinks and other resources in the shop, view of the arena from the Cosmic Orbiter

Cons: Alien mutts in the Space Race, 30-minute Gravitron ride, hallucinogenic food

Food: Entirely hallucinogenic

Water: Slushies, beverages in the food stands

WATER PARK

Passing through a turnstile entrance will lead tributes to a gated water park area of the Arena. Tributes will initially enter into a reception area with lounge chairs and umbrellas. The chairs are rusty, many of the cushions are moldy from years of disuse, and some of the chairs will simply collapse as soon as a tribute attempts to take a seat. Scattered around this area are sunscreen stations. These are perfectly safe for tribute use, and tributes are welcome to swing by for a pump of sunblock before enjoying their swim.

This area also houses a changing station complete with restrooms, showers, and lockers. These changing stations have gone a long time without upkeep, and they smell heavily of rust and mildew. The showers work to varying degrees, as some will barely emit a trickle of water, while others offer a full stream of either freezing or scalding water. Flushing any of the toilets will cause it to overflow, and shutting any of the locker doors will cause it to jam shut. Should a tribute try to store anything in a locker for safe keeping, they won’t be able to get it back.

Scattered throughout the water park tributes will find a couple of snack bars as well as the water park’s gift shop. The snack bars are mostly bare, and what remains is not all edible. Melted and spoiled ice cream bars puddle in warm freezers, and empty candy wrappers litter shelves near the broken registers. However, tributes may be lucky enough to find a few bags of still sealed potato chips before they’ve been picked over. Tributes who have been gifted reusable theme park cups will also find a potable refill station at each of the snack bar locations. Tributes are likely to have slightly better luck visiting the gift shop. There they will find clean clothing such as t-shirts, swimsuits, sunglasses, and baseball caps. However, if a tribute tries to take an item out of the store without carefully removing any tags or sensors, an alarm will sound and potentially alert others to the tribute’s location.

POOL

Walking farther into the water park, tributes will find several attractions to enjoy. At the center of the park is a large pool. It appears calm and serene most of the time, with warm water and a number of small inflatables for weaker swimmers to utilize. Tributes are welcome to wade in and take a soak. However, once an hour on the hour, a massive wave travels from the center of the pool all the way to its edges. If they’re lucky, a tribute may be able to exit the pool before being pulled under, but once the wave reaches the edges of the pool it quickly sucks tributes into a spinning whirlpool. Should a tribute survive being pulled under the water, they will be pulled into a large drain at the bottom of the pool and transported at random to another location of the theme park via underground sewer. While otherwise completely sealed off and inaccessible to tributes, a deposited tribute will be able to lift the sewer grate and escape.

SPLASH PAD

The splash pad looks like a tropical oasis. It hearkens back to the 134th Arena with its palm trees, pirate flags, and wooden climbing structure. Scattered around the structure are water guns meant to look like cannons on the side of a ship. These guns may not be lethal, but the water that shoots out of them is laced with a chemical that causes intense burning welts when it comes in contact with skin. These welts will eventually heal on their own, but the pain may debilitate a tribute for hours depending on the severity of the contact. At the center of the splash pad is a replica of the kraken, and once every thirty minutes its towering tentacles dump a flood of murky water onto the structure below. Tributes will find the splash pad can make a good place to hide, because of its tunnel slides, small spaces and thatched roofs. However, it can be difficult to take refuge here with heavy bouts of dirty water pouring down so frequently.

VORTEX WATER SLIDE

Ironically, the one area of the water park that tributes will not find water is on the water slide. Tributes will find that the stairs to the top of the slide are gated off and signs have been hung that warn tributes the slide is closed for maintenance. If a tribute decides to climb over the fence and ascend the stairs anyway, they could utilize the covered slide and large funnel as a shelter or hiding place. However, navigating the dry slide is difficult, and it does not make for a very comfortable place to rest.

LAZY RIVER

On the perimeter of the water park area is a lazy river. The lazy river is shallow, but enough slowly flowing water remains that a tribute could use an inflatable innertube to move around the sector. Sections of the lazy river are covered in a thick layer of green algae. The algae may cling to tributes but will not hurt them. However, the algae hide a more dangerous threat beneath. Under the algae, there are thick vines that seek to trap and drown tributes. If a tribute stays too long in these dangerous areas of the river, the vines will coil around their ankles, creeping higher and getting tighter as they pull tributes down. A more observant tribute can slip out before the vines get a tight hold, but wait too long and a tribute will need something sharp to cut them off in order to escape.

Pros: No arena mutts, secluded water slide or splash pad for hiding or shelter, some resources such as sunscreen and clothing

Cons: Whirlpool, vines in the lazy river, alarm at the gift shop

Food: Very little, some small snacks at the snack bars

Water: The water in the attractions is heavily chlorinated and not for drinking. Potable water can be accessed by those with reusable cups at the snack bars

[ask-de-writer]

SEE STORY (Part 4 of 5) A tale from the World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

See Story

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat​

14372 words

copyright 2023

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may   reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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Sea is a colony assumed lost somewhat over a thousand years before this tale opens.  They were sent on a one way trip, not knowing that there was no land at all on the whole world of Sea.  Thus, aside from humans, NO CREATURE OF SEA IS IN ANY WAY ITS NAMESAKE.  They were simply named for a superficial resemblance to some Earthly creature by the early colonists.

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New to SEE STORY?  Read from the beginning HERE.

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The next morning brought the unusual sight, first of mast tops, then later the masts and yards bare of sail, and the massed hulls of the many ships riding at anchorage.  The only sails visible belonged to the many small boats plying between the ships and the giant rafts that made up the Gathering marketplace.  Sails visible on the horizon told of a few other ships slow to come, but like the Longin, not late.  The Longin was assigned to an anchored float, where she tied up.  The Grandalor could be seen riding at her float some ways off.  

Two large ship construction rafts had been lashed together near the center of the Gathering.  These monsters were nearly four hundred feet by two hundred feet.  They were the dull yellow-grey of untinted, glued Strong Skin.  They floated, decks about six feet above the waves on six long pontoons each.  They  majestically ignored the small surface waves entirely, rising and falling gently to the long, deep waves. The rafts were designed to build new ships on and to serve as a market square and place for ceremonies, like marriages. On them was the only city that anyone in the Naral Fleet had ever seen.  It was a mass of tents in all sizes and shapes, in every hue of natural or bleached mussel fabric.

Captain Mord asked Cat, “Will you come with me to the Gathering Council? We must present ourselves and formally announce the Longin’s presence to get permission to trade and conduct our other business.”

“Captain, I will gladly go with you.  I need to gather a few things first.  They should be ready now.”   Quickly, she was back with a net bag containing a number of carefully wrapped things.

As Cat was putting her back into the oars, along with three other crewmen, First Officer Alys looked curiously at Cat’s bag.  “What is in there, Cat?  It looks like there are, perhaps, some lobsters?”

“It is a bag of politics.  You will see.”

The Captain’s gig pulled up to the market platform.  They secured the boat and all got out.  The Captain, First Officer and Cat, with her bag, went to the Council Pavilion.  Cat stood back while Captain Mord and First Officer Alys presented themselves to the Council.

“To the Council of the Spring Gathering, we bring the greetings of the Longin, moored this morning. We seek permission to trade and conduct other ship’s business,” intoned Captain Mord, formally.

“Be welcome, Longin.  Conduct your trade in honor, and your ship’s business likewise,” said the Chief of the Council.

Captain Mord bristled at the veiled warning, insulting as it did the reputation of both himself and his ship, “Since when has the Longin needed to be cautioned about honorable trade and business?  I demand a private hearing to know the reason for this dishonor. I can think of many others, some in this pavilion, who owe us more than favors.”

“We have more than an hour before the next ship can present its business,” said the Council Chief.  “Let us use it.  The Longin has the right to know what has transpired and to defend their honor and rights.” All agreed to that, and the group withdrew to a partitioned area of the Council Pavilion.

Once the flaps were drawn, Mord turned to them in genuine anger and bewilderment.

“What can have happened to tarnish the reputation of the Longin to the extent that we needed a public warning to trade fairly?  We have always been openhanded and tried never to take unfair advantage, unless we were first victimized by someone that we have helped.  

“In at least one case,” he looked pointedly at Captain Hored, to the right of the Council Chief, “the very existence of your ship is our doing.  Three Gatherings have come and gone with no payment forthcoming.  Shall I then demand it in full?  By Law, I can do so. If I were Barad, it would have been done.  Your ship and all its goods could be forfeit to the Longin, your crew scattered, and you caution us about honor?  When you exist as a ship only because of ours?”

Hored raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow.  “This is not entirely our doing.  The Grandalor came early yesterday.  Barad told us that you had secretly gone north to the Dragon Sea and also that you were going to try to arrange a match for the Lady of Your Luck.  

“He said that you had kept secret that she is helpless, blind, and named for a Dragon.  No ship will take on such a person.  If her name is changed, and you pay a large sum for her upkeep, another ship might be found to take the risk of her.”  He crossed his arms over his chest as if he had pronounced a sentence.

Mord’s retort shot to the heart of whose honor was truly being tested.  “Ask Barad then, and publicly, how he happened to come across us in the Dragon Sea!  Ask him too, if he says coincidence, whose bare topmasts our lookouts watched for over a week, shadowing us to the south, before he came up to us … from the SOUTH?”

Cat touched Captain Mord’s sleeve.  “May I speak, as this also concerns me?”

Suddenly smiling at the thought of these strong Captains running onto the reef of his foster sister’s logic and uncanny knowledge, Captain Mord said, “In all fairness, perhaps you should hear out the person that you malign.  Cat, this is …”

“Sarfin, Captain of the Dorton. Leader of this Spring Council.  A careful seaman who rarely takes chances and only once has broken the Great Laws.  All that I know of him is good.  

“To his right is Captain Hored, of the Grython.  He should remember me.  He too has broken the Great Law once.  Sometime, ask my Captain how we knew to look for you, and where.

“To his left is Captain Merced, of the Dolthin.  He also has once broken the Great Law and fishes by deep bottom dragging.  I think it an unwise practice.  They have near come to grief twice this month alone, when nets fouled.”

“I know them.  They should know me.  They call me the Lady of the Longin’s Luck, and other sidesteps to avoid the possible bad luck that might come from my full name.  My name, Gentlemen, dictated by both Custom and Fleet Law, is Mecat.  Ask the Longin, now the most prosperous ship of your fleet, how much ill luck I have brought them.”

“By what right do you, a crew-woman, accuse us of violating the Great Law?”

“Captain Sarfin, you have made a grave error.  I am not a member of the crew of the Longin or any other ship.  To ward off the ill luck that might come with my name, I have never been enrolled in the Longin’s crew.

“The Great Law that you all have broken is the Law of Slavery.  The law reads ‘no price may go with any exchange of persons between ships, or the person over whom the price is demanded is considered to be a slave.  All slavery is outlawed as also the slaver and the purchaser.’  By demanding that payment go with me you outlaw yourselves and both of the ships in the exchange.”

The Council representatives looked at each other uneasily.  They had not thought of this.  The notion of payment had been Barad’s, and seemed reasonable at the time.  Now they had a dilemma.  Looking at her curiously they asked, “If we lift the payment, then no ship will take you.  Where will you go?”

Cat looked to Captain Mord.  He spoke, “She has told me that the matter is arranged for already.  I believe her.”

“There is still the fact of your helplessness due to blindness.  What could you do … besides ‘bring the ship luck?’”

“Ask Captain Hored.  He as reason to know my skills.”

Sarfin turned to Hored, “What does she mean by that?”

Hored looked at the deck and seemed to shrink.  “Between three and four Gatherings back, the Grython grounded on a tropic reef.  We took a six foot gash to the hull, which made it impossible to leave the reef without sinking entire.  The stone of it was all that held us up.  We were preparing to abandon ship when the Longin arrived unlooked for.  

“I did not know her from Captain Barad’s description, but I would know that voice anywhere. She is the only reason that the Grython is still afloat.  Her skilled diving and the divers that she directed repaired the Grython.  That is why we owe the Longin so much …”

He scowled, “We have been lied to!  Blind she may be but helpless she’s not!  Lift the price! Grython will take her and glad of it, if we get the chance.”

Cat smiled at Hored, “I thank you for a generous offer from a good heart but the matter is already arranged.  I will make my groom known on the night of the Full Moons.

“What else can I do?  Ask any of the Craft Masters of the Longin.  They will tell you the truth of my skills.  I also read, write, keep accounts and navigate.”

“Eyes are needed for those boasts.  You have none,” stated Captain Barad, walking in through the flaps behind them, and stumbling on a stool in the shade of the pavilion.  Captain Mord looked back pointedly at the stool and said nothing.

“I have come,” said Captain Barad, “reiterate my claim to certain waters in the Dragon Sea.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked smug.

Cat turned angrily, “You followed us!  The find is ours!  We … ” she trailed off as Captain Mord’s hand was laid in caution on her shoulder.

“Cat, the full Council will meet in only two hours.  That is the proper forum for this dispute. Now is the time for food.  Sarfin, Hored, Merced, will you join us?”

Cat was laying out the contents of her packages.  The plates were large, flatish pearl shells with small shells glued under to level them.  Cups were nautilus shell, and there was a platter of tinted, glue hardened Strong Skin, inlaid with a scene of fish and seaweed done in shell nacre of many hues. It was piled with large lobsters, steamed clams, and shrimp, garnished with tasty seaweeds.  There was a flagon of pure water to drink.

“This feast is worth a fortune! Where did you find all those shellfish?” asked Merced as he pulled his stool up to the feast.

Barad could only stand and stare goggle-eyed as the others dug into the food, cracking shells and scooping out clams.

Mord winked at Cat.  “Oh, up north of here.  These are just some we grabbed out of the cargo vat to steam for lunch.  This is what we have for trade, this voyage.  We would have had much more, but the Grandalor was following us by stealth.  We had to hide our operation from them.”

“Did you let them know that you were aware of their presence?” asked Sarfin.

“We allowed them to come to us, when they were running out of time.  Captain Barad asked our ship’s business and was rebuffed.  He was rude.  He insulted Cat and called her helpless.  She proved to him that she was not, and now we find that he has spread lies about her and our ‘profitless’ voyage,” Mord said thoughtfully, sucking the meat out of a lobster claw.  “I think that we will do well.  What do you think?”

“I think that you will do well, this Gathering.  You have already found that Barad has laid nets to snare your claim to fishing waters in the Dragon Sea,” said Hored.  “I suspect that his claim is the place where you fished for these.”  He gestured at the shrimps and lobsters.

“That is against all custom,” said Cat angrily.  “None may claim rights in the Dragon Sea.  The Great Dragons forbade us that water in the Time of the First Ships.”

Sarfin looked uncomfortable and unhappy.  “That is Custom, not Law.  Custom has been overset before.  We have warned him that such a claim must go to the full Council, and he has agreed to put his claim there.”

“I must warn you,” put in Merced, “that Barad has laid his nets widely and with care to secure those waters.  I notice that he has already gone to spread the word. Many Captains are hearing of your cargo as we speak.  Greed has overset more Customs than reason ever has.”

Shortly, Captains began to come into the Pavilion for the Council.  Many pointed or stared at the remains of lobster, shrimp and clam and to the plates of pearl shell, carelessly left lying near the entrance, in plain view.

Sarfin brought the Council to order, and led them all through the reading of the Great Laws and the Customs of the Sea.  At last, the opening ceremonies required by Custom were done and business could begin.

A new ship had been built and was welcomed to the fleet.  The Fauline was showered with gifts and offers of crew-folk to fill out her needs.  Her first Captain was approved by the Council.  At long last, the Council was ready for new business.

There were debits to settle, disputes to adjudicate and finally, fishing rights to deal with.  Barad Maks stood up.  “The Grandalor would like to apply for new fishing waters.  The waters in question to be from the Gula’s Northern boundary, 5o North by 6o wide from Gula’s eastern boundary.”

Sarfin stood and spoke loudly and clearly, “The waters applied for are in violation of Custom.  They lie in the Dragon Sea.  The Custom, from the time of the First Ships has been that we fish the Deep Waters, except for those of the Dragon Sea.  It has been reserved as the abode of the Great Dragons from the Beginning.”

“Custom only!” cried Barad.  “This Council has the authority to overturn Custom!  We have all seen what Mord brought here from the Dragon Sea! There is wealth there!”

The assembled Captains rumbled agreement.

“We have two issues that we need to deal with, here!” Mord called out.  “One is the matter of Custom.  The other is Piracy!  Barad followed us by stealth when we went north.  He does not even deny it.  Now he is trying to use this Council to steal our find!  Will you let yourselves be so used?”

Merced plunged into the melee, “These are waters found by Captain Mord! Only by turning tail and coming south with all sail spread before they even knew what the Longin had found, was the Grandalor able to get here first.  Barad wants to set aside Custom to claim these waters out from under the Longin, but he hides behind Custom when it comes to presenting the claim.  He got here first!  That is the sole basis of his claim.  He did no work for it.  He presented his claim without even knowing what was there.”

It was no use.  Greed had the Captains in its claws.  The vote to overturn Custom and grant fishing waters went to Barad.

“I am Hored.  Many of you know me.  I say, let Barad have his waters.  He wishes to break Custom. Let him.  At the next gathering, if he has done well, then is the time for the rest of us to claim Dragon Sea waters for ourselves.”

Barad sneered, “The Great Dragons are legends only.  Stories to frighten children.”

“I’m just cautious with my ship,” was the calm reply.  “If you do find Dragons, kindly send a bit of identifiable wreckage south to let us know.”

Hored’s proposal was received with laughter, and passed.

Mord spoke at the last of the debate, “Barad, by foul means you have won those waters that we found.  You cannot have them until you yield up waters of equal size. The Grandalor already has the maximum a ship may have.  You must yield to the council one of your home waters to take up your claim.

“The Longin does not have our full allotment of home waters.”  He turned to the Council as a whole.  “You must give us what the Grandalor yields in recompense for our loss.”

With the smile of one springing a trap, Barad offered, “Before the Council, I yield 25o West to 31o West by 12o North to 17 o North.”

Mord said angrily, “Have you left your wits on dry land?  Those waters are a maze of reefs!  There is little deep water for our nets.  ‘For safety’s sake alone / Fish deep water / Steer clear the reef of stone.’ That is the Custom and a wise one as you have cause to know having grounded in that labyrinth yourself!  This is worthless water. Give us better.”

There was a rumble of agreement from the assembled Captains, but Barad stood against it, grinning. “You demanded water of equal size and I have been generous.  Waters in the tropics are larger than Northern waters, longitude is greatest in physical extent nearer the equator.  Take it or not, it is all one to me.  If you refuse, these are the only waters that will be in the hands of the Council.”

“We will take it then, and curse your name and ship.”  Mord sat, apparently still fuming.

When the Council broke up, the departing Captains were treated to the sights, sounds and scents of the trade bazaar that crew-folk from most of the ships had set up while they were inside debating.  This was the one time and place where rank had no privilege.  The ones behind the board or in the booth dealt with all comers the same.  There was a babble of voices as the different ships cried their merchandise.

“Cloth for sails, cloth for clothes!  The Gula’s weaving is second to none!”

“Rope!  The strongest rope! It’s the Mordan Twist!”

“Perfumes! Many a scent to please your love!”

“Shellfish!  Live lobster! Live Crab!  Clams!  Oysters!  Live Shrimp!  Longin lace!”

There was a dense crowd gathered around the Longin booth.

“Look at that, will you!  They have a whole big tub of crabs!”

“I’m trying to!  Move a bit, will you!  Thanks … I don’t believe it!  Those are lobsters in that tub over there!  And there’s clams in the bottom of that shrimp tub!  Get your elbow out of my side!”

“Mister!  Ma’am!  How much for just one of those bigger shrimps?”

“Thank you, Ma’am!  Boil the crab soon for best flavor, and watch out, the legs can scratch, even if the claws are tied!”

“Was that the last crab?  Oh, Dragons!  They’re out of crabs!”  There was a ragged chorus of “Oh, no!” and “I didn’t even get a chance!”  The tumult began anew as two of the Longin’s sailors dragged out a fresh tub of crabs.  The barely controlled riot of buyers for the unheard of cargo of live delicacies previously thought to be rare lucky finds continued until late …  

Kurin surprised everyone by setting up a small booth, under Master Juris’ proud and watchful eye.  On its board she set out many toys.

To be Continued

<==Previous ~ Next==>

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Return to World of Sea

[separatist-apologist]

Golden

I once believed love would be burning red. But it's golden

Summary: To save his people, Lucien Vanserra will marry his most hated enemy.

But to love her? Well, that's another thing entirely

My humble @elucienweek2022 submission

13k words

Chapter 4: It's Golden

Read More: AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

10k words

She could feel his eyes on her. Watching. If she turned her head a little to the left, Elain was certain she would have seen him looking through the window. Lucien was trapped indoors, still pouring over the map she’d helped flesh out. Arina turned her head, floating lazily in the same pool Elain and Vassa were in. She sighed when she realized Elain was not listening to her latest recap of Eris Vanserra’s letter but instead trying to will Lucien to come out to the pool and join them. 

She’d put on a much more revealing swimsuit than usual, a bright orange one that all but showed every inch of her ass and most of her breasts. Elain had it on good authority that orange was Lucien’s favorite color. Not that he’d said so but Elain had begun to watch him since they returned, taking note of the things he said, even if he didn’t say them to her. Lucien was still embroiled in the drama to the east where her sister was being held. She knew her father was trying to bring Nesta back without resorting to war, a first for him.

It was only a matter of time, she suspected. Nesta was the last holdout, the only unmarried daughter. Elain and Feyre had married into royal families which she supposed soothed some of her fathers wounded pride but Cassian was none of those things.

“Hello, Elain.” Arina snapped her fingers in front of Elain’s face, dragging her back to reality. “Are you listening?”

“She’s too busy thinking about the prince,” Vassa teased, sliding from her raft into the cerulean water. It was especially hot with the promise of even warmer weather as they crept closer and closer towards summer. Elain joined Vassa, if only to dodge Arina’s question. 

“Tell us more of King Eris Vanserra, then,” Elain teased. “I don’t think I’ve heard how lovely his eyes are this morning.”

“Or how tall he is,” Vassa added while Arina sat on her raft, crossing one toned leg over the other.

“Tell us again how he uses his mouth—”

“Okay, alright,” Arina snapped. “And what of Jurian and his mouth?”

Vassa laughed. “He’s got it on me every single night–”

“That’s…that’s a lot,” Elain interrupted before they could turn to her and demand reciprocity. She’d never get used to the way they talked or how casual they were. “Should we—”

“Elain!” Lucien’s voice barked from the terrace. He strolled into the sunlight, dressed in his fighting leathers. His sword was strapped against his belt and Elain couldn’t help but think of him as the same man she’d once seen in that war tent scrawling his name begrudgingly on a treaty. “I need you.”

Arina and Vassa immediately dissolved into giggles, splashing water at Elain as she hurried for the steps. "He needs you," they joked from behind her while Lucien ignored them entirely. Elain's cheeks burned with embarrassment. A soft rumble of nausea swept through her chest at the serious look etched in his features. She reached for him to steady herself. She was fine, he was fine, she reminded herself. Still, the old fears still lingered, and it took a moment for the blooming spots of black in her vision to clear away. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked, hating how breathless she sounded. Lucien’s eyes swept over her body, face slackened for a moment. 

“Yeah Lucien!” Vassa’s voice taunted from the pool. “Is everything alright?”

Arina’s delighted laugh seemed to drag him back to reality and Elain, still embarrassed, wrapped her arms around her bare stomach.

“All fine,” he mumbled. “You should change before we go. I’ll ah…I’ll wait outside.”

Elain didn’t know what to make of any of that, of his reluctance, of how strange and stilted he seemed, or even the fact that he looked ready to ride into battle. Some part of her wondered if perhaps he didn’t plan to go back to Velaris and he wanted to say goodbye.. With that in mind, Elain chose a white and silver dress and a beaded cord that would wrap her thick hair off her head while letting the thick curls tumble in a tail down her back. 

Lucien was antsy when she found him, pacing back and forth. He paused for the second time that day. “You look nice. Like a princess,” he added, reaching for her hand as he always did to press a kiss against the skin.

“I am a princess,” she reminded him as they stepped back into the warmth. Lucien’s smile was affection.

“Yes, how could I forget,” he agreed. 

“Where are we going?” Elain frowned when he turned her to the stables. Just one horse was waiting, saddled with light supplies. His horse. No Velaris, then. Lucien helped her up, swinging a toned, exposed leg into the saddle after her while Elain pretended she didn’t like he continued to ride like this. Elain was perfectly capable of sitting on her own horse, had been taught to gallop and trot on her own as a little girl. And yet when he was settled behind her, body nestled between his thighs, arms around her body, Elain found she far preferred this sort of travel, even if it was slower.

“The ruins,” Lucien murmured, his breath warm on her neck. 

“I didn’t know there were ruins nearby,” Elain squeaked. It had been too long since they’d spent any substantial amount of time together. Having returned three weeks earlier, Lucien had immediately retreated into politics and subterfuge, pouring over the map he’d had her finish on the ship. She often saw him and Jurian walking about, heads close together as they spoke, twin images of the serious prince and general she supposed they were. He still came to bed but it was often later than she had the ability to keep her eyes open. She’d jerk awake in the night to find herself wrapped around him before he vanished in the early hours of morning. Within all that, Lucien had taken to waking her with his lips and tongue and hands, settling between her thighs until she realized her pleasurable dreams were really just him unable to help himself. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it…it was that she missed him.

Lucien, unaware of her thoughts, continued to keep his mouth practically glued to her neck as he continued, “There was an ancient city nearby. If it existed in the forest or the forest came to claim it, I couldn’t say.” “Why are we going?”

Lucien led them out of the city before he responded. “I haven’t seen you in too long,” he finally murmured when there was nothing but the sun beating down on them to witness his words. “And I’ve missed you.”

Elains heart sped up at the admission. “So have I,” she told him, trying to control her breathing. Was three months all it took to turn her from the good, northern daughter she’d been raised to be and his creature? She hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt as she’d told him about each main road, each city and village and town and the ports dotted along the coast. She’d told him what they produced, where wealth was concentrated and in what families. If Lucien wanted to cause problems, he had the information to do it. 

She’d long abandoned her thoughts about whether telling him was wrong. It didn’t matter, not anymore. Not when her father had given her up and then tried to take her back without considering what he’d even done in the first place. No apology, no remorse. It was merely an expectation she would suffer for his war, for his obsession with conquering the continent and making himself High King.

And Graysen…her once great love. She couldn’t forget the rage in his eyes, how furious he’d been when he realized she hadn’t done what he said. He, too, could give her up, could trade her like she was worth nothing but the moment she expressed agency or desire she became the traitor, the problem, the out of control woman who had to be brought to heel violently. She resented that he viewed her as property only, an extension of the things he owned and could give away. 

Lucien kissed her cheek as they began to crest back up a hill. She could see the expanse of woodland in the distance though it was a larger, wooden tower that dominated her line of vision that fascinated her. “What is that?”

“It’s a beacon,” he replied, tilting his head so his red hair spilled over his shoulders. “It hasn’t been used in centuries though we maintain it, just in case. If there ever was an invasion of Naxos, someone would stay behind and light it to warn the other cities. We don’t hold our army here—when we aren’t fighting, soldiers go home.”

“Stay behind?”

Lucien kissed her cheek again, his hand rubbing against her stomach. “Anyone who could stay and defend us would. The rest would take the tunnels out towards the east to Rhodes. It’s our easternmost city. From there we could flee to another continent or to Velaris. It hasn’t happened in living memory,” he added, perhaps sensing her tension. “And you, as princess, would leave with the everyone else. It would be your duty to ensure their safety, just as it would be my mothers.”

“Who stays?”

He shrugged. “A volunteer if we could spare one. They’d have to close the tunnel, hiding it from invaders, and ride out to light the beacon. It’s a suicide mission. It used to be the steward of the city, from what I understand, but…”

But their current steward was so old Elain didn’t think he could get himself in a saddle. 

“It’s not possible,” he added after a moment. “The moment someone steps foot over the border, beacons go up. We’re always well warned and well prepared. It’s why fighting is concentrated to the first fifty miles of land between the border. The north has never gotten any further and they never will. Sleep safe, princess, knowing your home is well defended.”

“Is there a reason you keep calling me princess,” she teased as they approached closer to the forest. She expected him to plunge into the woodland, to take her directly to the ruins that lay within, but Lucien halted a good fifty feet away to slide out of his saddle. He offered her his hand, ever the gentlemen, before pulling her back against his chest, arms around her neck. Fingers swept her hair off her shoulder so he could tilt her, his mouth against her ear.

“Do you remember when you asked if I would chase you?”

“Lucien,” she whispered, trying to turn in his arms but he didn’t budge. 

“I haven’t seen you in a long time. It’s given me time to plan this. I want you to run…I’ll give you a heads start before I come looking.”

“Am I to pretend you’re an invader?” she demanded, skin prickling with arousal. Lucien sucked in a breath.

“Yes,” he whispered. “We saw each other when I stepped into your city…you know what will happen if I catch you.”

“And what if I get lost?” she whispered. Lucien’s chuckle was dark, decadent. 

“I’ll find you.”

“But what if—”

“There is no possibility in which I don’t,” he whispered, lips caressing her skin. “And when I do, I’m going to tie you up and have my wicked way with you…and it’s going to take a long time, Elain.”

He waited for her to tell him no, to protest and remind him that princesses didn’t run through the woods to be rutted like an animal, and yet…and yet her whole body was pulled tighter than string at the thought, of exploring this danger with someone she could trust. 

“Afterwards we’ll sleep under the stars,” he added, his voice lightening. 

She could tell him no. It was that realization that had her pulling from his grasp. “If you lose me, I will be very angry with you,” she warned, inching away from him. Lucien’s entire face lit with predatory intent. 

“There is nowhere you could run within my borders where I would not find you,” he promised. He’d said as much the first night in Naxos when she’d begged him to let her go. Their eyes met and Elain backed another step towards the forest. She could just see it, in that moment. Her, standing on the gray flagstones of the city square as a foreign army swept through the gate. Horrified of what that meant, of what they’d do. He’d come in, every inch the warrior prince, eyes sweeping for his next move. They’d see each other and he’d smile, just like he was then. Elain pushed back yet again, heart hammering in her chest. 

“You don’t know my name,” Lucien reminded her, voice low—rough. “If I hear you say it, I’ll assume you want me to stop.”

“Do you know mine?”

He smiled wolfishly. “I’ve been watching you, Elain of Ellesmere, for a long time.”

It was those words, spoken with such low intensity against his smoldering eyes, that made her turn and run. Lucien’s rumbling laugh chased after her though he remained in the shadow of the dense, tall trees. It took Elain very little time to understand why Lucien wasn’t concerned about losing her. She was loud. Even when she slowed her steps in an attempt to be more intentional her sandals crunched against fallen leaves and twigs. The skirt of her dress dragged and lifting it did little to help. She was hyper aware of every little noise, every shift in the wind. 

It wasn’t fear that moved her forward but anticipation. In this fantasy, one where Elain wasn’t, somehow, the same person she’d been three months ago, she almost wanted to be caught. In real life she certainly did. She liked being outdoors but not like this. Not alone, tramping through underbrush and dirt by herself waiting for her husband to leap out from a bush and drag her to the ground.

Her steps slowed as time wore on, moving her forward over the hilly landscape. Elain didn’t stop until she stumbled over a loose piece of flagstone. Ruins, he’d said. Steps were carved into the hill, taking Elain up over jagged, loose stone crumbled away by time. Elain was breathless by the time she reached the top of the ruined palace. Weeds and vegetation had overtaken it, pushing through the once beautiful white marble floors, vines and flowers snaking around toppled pillars weathered away by wind and rain. Some walls were still somewhat intact, giving her the shape of this place. 

Elain took one step and Lucien, casual and lovely, strolled from behind one of the walls, one broad hand resting on his sword. “Princess,” he called, his voice rich and mocking. Elain had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. He’d known, then, that she’d end up here and had merely beaten her to it. How long had he stood her waiting? The sun was flickering in the distance, casting long shadows over everything it touched. He took a step towards her, prince of this place and Elain half wanted to give in, to pull him close and kiss him until he’d forgotten why they’d come out here in the first place.

She didn’t miss the way he had a length of rope casually slung over one shoulder, wound up just as he promised. He watched her with a feral kind of hunger, so clearly hoping she’d play along.

“Found you.”

“Come no closer,” Elain ordered, trying to embody the woman she’d once been. She held out one hand, as if that would keep him from her. Lucien’s grip on his sword tightened, his excitement evident. 

“Or what?” he taunted. “You’re an awfully long way from home.”

She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll scream,” she whispered, skittering back a step when he came towards her with powerful strides. Too late, Elain remembered how she’d once stared at Jurian’s legs, the first set of male thighs she’d ever seen. She vowed to tell Vassa when she returned, certain her friend would find it amusing. 

Lucien looked genuinely pleased with how things were playing out. He licked his lips, ever the animal Graysen too often accused him of being and oh, some small part of her wished it were real. 

“Go ahead,” Lucien invited, raising his arms in invitation. “Scream as loud as you like. No one is coming for you.”

Elain darted out of his grasp, catching the way his muscles coiled. He missed her by inches, fingers grazing her skin and leaving burning heat in their wake. He laughed again, a sound that sent rippling shivers up her spine. He was so handsome, so lovely…all the wrong thoughts to be having in a scenario in which he was attempting to debauch the captured princess.

Lucien knew the ruins better than her, knew this sprawling, marble landscape like the back of his hand. He whirled around a pillar when she turned, hoping to find leaves and dirt beneath her feet, and caught her in his arms.

“Let me go,” she whispered, wanting very much the opposite. Lucien didn’t oblige—he wouldn’t until he heard his name spoken or some other words that convinced him they were no longer playing a game. 

“Not on your life,” Lucien growled, tongue sliding over the side of her neck. Elain exhaled, unable to hide her reaction to his touch even as he hauled her over his shoulders and began to walk. Her protests were half hearted though she knew he found it amusing when she pounded her fists against his leather clad torso. It was meant to stop a sword from harming him. She doubted she registered at all.

Elain was delighted to see he’d set up a little camp along unbroken marble floors, with blankets and other things that would make sleeping outdoors pleasant. “Stop it,” Lucien grumbled, breaking his character for a moment when she felt her press a kiss against the back of his bicep. 

“Let me go,” Elain ordered breathlessly, adopting her bossiest tone. “You have no right—”

Lucien pulled her from his shoulder, setting her to the ground in a mockery of rough handling. He straddled her hips, holding her wrists above her head while she writhed, if only to feel this hardness against her stomach.

“My husband will be coming for me.”

That amused him. Lucien clearly had not expected her to say such a thing. Eyes glittering, he tied the rope around her wrists just tight enough she couldn’t escape but not so tight her hurt her. 

“He’ll kill you when he finds you,” she added, if only to stroke his ego a little. 

Lucien leaned forward, hair tickling her face. “I’m sure he’ll try.”

Lucien secured the other end of his rope to a nearby pillar, holding her against the soft blankets she supposed they were pretending didn’t exist. When he finished, Lucien came to crouch beside her, making a big show of undoing his belt and tossing his sword aside. She hadn’t seen him undress in so long she didn’t want to turn away, though she supposed any reasonable lady would have.

“I’m starting to think your husband doesn’t fuck you well,” Lucien told her, amusement bright when he realized she fully intended to watch him remove his clothes. “Do you see something you like?

His sandals and shin guards went first, followed by the leather vambraces at his wrist. “You’re disgusting,” she lied, earning a delighted laugh for her trouble. “Is this how you treat women where you’re from?”

“My women like being treated this way,” he crooned, reaching for the straps on his shoulders. Elain’s breath caught in her throat when he unbuckled them, revealing the vast expanse of his flat, toned chest. He pulled against her rope, legs clamped together, suddenly desperate to touch him. 

The last of his clothes fell away, tossed to the side with his hidden bag revealing every perfect, golden inch of him. He was so lovely, so perfect. She whimpered, fingers curling to fists. Touch me, she wanted to scream, watching him still crouched beside her as he reached for the half hard cock between his legs. “I’ve been watching you.”

“What have you learned?” Elain replied. Lucien reached behind him for a knife, and too late, sliced open the length of her rather nice dress without warning. Elain gasped, her irritation obvious enough to draw a sheepish sigh from his lips. She hoped he’d thought to bring an extra or she’d be living in the ruins full time. 

Lucien tossed the knife above her head just out of read, letting his calloused hands slide down her body. “You spend your nights alone,” he whispered, lowering his head to her breasts. “Not a man in sight.”

“He’s busy,” she shuddered, trying so hard not to arch into his touch. 

“Too busy for his lovely wife?” Lucien teased, tongue brushing her peaked nipple. Elain’s gasp betrayed her as she supposed it might have if this had been real. 

“He is…an important…man,” she whispered. “He comes when he can.”

“Not often enough,” came Lucien’s swift reply. She wondered if it wasn’t an apology of sorts for letting duty get in the way of the attraction that existed between them. “I see you in your little swimsuits,” he added, kissing down her stomach, eyes watching.

“You have no right,” she lied. She only put them on hoping he’d look. 

“I want to rip them off with my teeth,” he groaned, pushing her once closed knees apart roughly, exposing her to the cool wind and his burning gaze. “Would you like that?”

“No.” Yes.

Lucien was so bad at this game now that he had her. She was certain no one on the planet liked licking as much as he did and was even more sure no marauder would have tied her up just to lap between her legs like he clearly meant to do. It didn’t stop her from writhing away from his mouth, prolonging the game for as long as possible while he lowered his head, fingers pulling her apart to really look.

“You’re already wet,” he informed her and as if to illustrate his point, slicked a finger through her. Elain twisted for all the good it did. Lucien was staring with single-minded fascination. Lucien’s thumb rubbed over her clit absently, using her own wet heat to lubricate the touch. “You want me.”

His voice was a touch too awed to be the fearsome, terrible warrior having his wicked way with the helpless princess.

“I don’t want you,” Elain lied, meeting his gaze. Lucien’s thumb never stopped its lazy circles.

“I’m going to take you from him,” Lucien finally said, his eyes asking her a question she couldn’t quite answer. “Make you my own.”

“You can try,” Elain replied simply, lost in that russet flame. “He’ll find you. He’ll kill you.”

He lowered his mouth, replacing his finger with his tongue with a shuddering groan. “You’re right,” he whispered, their game abandoned quicker than she thought he meant to. “I would find you. I would kill anyone who harmed you.”

That look was back in his eyes. Elain swallowed and for the first time, she was afraid.

LUCIEN:

Lucien was in far too deep. He had his wife tied up in the woods in what was meant to be a fun little game and already he’d given it up. It was her, so earnest and sweet, her words so breathless and defiant, that had wrecked it. 

My husband will be coming for me.

Lucien had never heard her refer to him as anything but Lucien. My husband. The words immediately bounced around his skull, hollowing him out. She’d said it with such conviction, eyes blazing. He’ll kill you when he finds you mingled with his own fury. I’ll fucking kill you!

What had happened to him? Who had he become? When had he become her acolyte, no better than Arina yelling at him on his ship as he sailed away? All he knew was the thought of another man tying up his wife in the forest suddenly enraged him, even though that man was him. Not that he had any intention of untying her. Elain’s body was stretched deliciously over a thick blue blanket, breasts pointed straight to the sky. Lucien rolled his neck for a moment, letting the heat of his breath mingle with the cool air of the rapidly darkening sky.

She lifted her hips, equally bad at their shared game. He should have dragged her to the ground the moment he saw her, should have lifted her skirt and plunged inside her. Lucien knew why. Graysen had gotten beneath his skin with his talk of animals, of how he was little better than a brute, a slave to his base instincts and yet Lucien could not stand, even in pretend, to hurt her.

There were words he needed to say but not then, not as he lowered his mouth to her body to truly enjoy her. They groaned at the same time in their shared relief, grateful to no longer playing. She was already wet, the heat of her a brand against his cheek. Lucien spread her wider, watching through his lashes as he licked. Elain had her head thrown back, one hand grasping her breast. He couldn’t stand it—Lucien needed her right then. There was no slow drag towards climax as he reached for his knife to cut her rope, only his frantic hands flipping her from her back to her chest, pulling her ass into the air.

She squealed when he slid inside her, rising onto her elbows. Lucien was hypnotized watching her ass cheeks bounce in time with her hanging breasts, nipples brushing the blanket beneath. Elain’s cunt gripped him like a silken fist, her body wrapped around his own like second skin. It was never going to be enough. Lucien could do nothing but give in, to pound against his wife. Each new thrust drew the wet sound of her arousal, driving him higher and higher towards climax. He was impossibly tight, holding back the urge to come until she did. It was a slow come down for Lucien, still pumping even when Elain collapsed to her stomach. When he did remove himself, still twitching and wanting and gripping the cheek of her ass, he watched his come spill out with a kind of lurid fascination.

Lucien joined her on the blanket, flinging out his arm so she’d crawl against him, breasts pressed softly against his body. Elain’s fingers were idle, dragging over the sparse hair on his chest, trailing down his stomach before running the pad of her finger over his still sticky cock.

“Are you upset I’m not pregnant?” she asked after a pleasant moment of just her touching him. Too often it was the other way around.

“It’ll happen,” Lucien replied easily. “I’m told it takes some time.”

“I felt you watching…your mother suggested raising my hips afterwards and let gravity do some of the work for me.”

Lucien wrinkled his nose. “My mother?” Why would she ever talk to Elain about that? Elain nodded, unaware of how uncomfortable it made him. 

“That’s why I was brought here, right? To have a baby?”

Ah fuck. He’d forgotten how they met, the way they’d been married on a battlefield to keep her fiance from being hung from the gates of a nearby city. Lucien felt shame wash over him. Reaching for her hand, he pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“What if we got remarried?” he murmured. “In the city. Perhaps doing it right would cause the Gods to look upon us with favor.”

Liar. Perhaps he wanted to see her bathed in the traditional gold wedding attire, walking towards him like this had always been her choice. Perhaps he wanted a portrait commissioned so he might show his future sons how beautiful their mother had been on that day. Shining and, ideally, filled with love. For this place, it’s people…him, and the family they’d one day create. 

The thought didn't even register right away. Too blinded by her smile, by the way she was creeping closer, Lucien didn't dwell on why he was offering. Why he even wanted it. 

“I always wanted a wedding,” Elain admitted gently, scooting closer. Her fingers still drifted over him, drawing a soft moan when they danced against his thighs. “Wouldn’t that be a terrible burden on your time?”

“No,” he managed when she rubbed that soft pad against his aching balls, eliciting another labored breath. “It would be good for everyone to see you that way…for them to see us that way.”

“More games,” she teased, her hand wrapped around his cock. Lucien shook his head no but it didn’t matter if he was being honest or not. Why did she feel so good like this, sweetly teasing before doing little more than squeezing him with her petal soft hands? He arched against her hand, grateful when she began to stroke him, even if she was in no hurry. 

“Do you think it would help? Getting married again, I mean?”

“We never got married to begin with,” he groaned, reaching for one of her breasts just to touch something. “That wasn’t a marriage it was an acquisition.”

“So now that you own me—”

Lucien growled, grabbing her by the hips to haul her against him. Elain squealed with delight, sinking onto his cock before she could finish that sentence. 

“Let me do something nice for my wife,” he whispered, knotting his hand in her hair to draw her fully against him, chest to chest as she began to roll that soft cunt against him. “I want to fucking marry you, Elain.”

She kissed him. “Okay.”

What Lucien ignored, as he began to fuck her again, was how little this new marriage had to do with fertility or his people accepting her. It was for him because he wanted it, because he wanted her. Elain, bathed in the last vestiges of daylight, her mouth hot and hungry, had no idea what was settling in his chest, ringing loudly like a bell. 

Lucien was in love with his wife. 

ELAIN:

Night forced Elain and Lucien to pull a blanket over their naked bodies, if only to guard from the occasional buzzing, biting insect. There was some sort of magic afoot in the ruins, some swirling, glimmering thing that made him seem so much lovelier, so much more wonderful than he’d ever been. Elain couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop watching. She had all his attention, laying on her stomach, head propped on her arms, while Lucien peered up at the open, star freckled sky above, and told her everything she’d ever wanted to know. 

“So your mother climbed out a window?” she was asking, so curious about the politics of his court and how his father—and by extension, Lucien himself—operated. 

Lucien turned, hands resting behind his head. She suspected he’d positioned himself this way so she could admire his toned biceps. It was working. “Yes. And she stole one of Beron’s ships and somehow managed to navigate across the ocean without help and little food, to crawl to our shores.”

“Your father risked war?”

Lucien’s gaze was unreadable. “Of course. What else could he do?”

Elain knew all too well what Helion could have done. Her father would have sent Amera back without question, wouldn’t have risked his politics on another person. He could barely risk them on his own daughters. Elain, abandoned despite her coveted status as his favorite princess, given to his worst enemy to save his war machine. 

She wanted to ask Lucien a different question. What would you do if it were me?

She didn’t dare. Not when he was easy with her, not when he seemed to enjoy her beyond just having sex. Elain knew if she asked him if he felt sentimental towards her, Lucien was likely to pull away, to put far too much distance between them. She wouldn’t risk it. Maybe in a year, after the wedding…when she was pregnant, at the very least, she might ask if he’d changed his mind about her. Her stomach churned all the same, threatening to dump the contents of earlier that day all over the blanket beneath her. Heart pounding, Elain forced herself to take several measured breaths to steady herself. They were happy. She was happy. He cared for her. 

If he could ever love her. 

“Why don’t you fight like they do…like father does, I mean?” she asked. Lucien’s lips quirked.

“Because we have a treaty that prohibits us from those sorts of tactics. And, personally, I have honor. What honor is there in victory if you have to slaughter innocents to achieve it?”

“You never invaded our city.”

“We don’t want your city. Why invade?”

“To make a point?” she asked. Lucien shook his head, turning his gaze back to the stars. 

“I have to live with my choices and I know I couldn’t if I ever marched my soldiers up north knowing full well the havoc we would wreak. I would rather continue to beat the north back than to become them.”

“He’ll never stop,” she whispered. Her gut churned at the knowledge of everything she still probably knew, the conversations she’d heard she couldn’t immediately recall, the maps she’d seen, the stories they told. “Graysen I mean.”

“He should have died that day,” Lucien said tersely, clenching his jaw. “I regret he didn’t.”

She couldn’t look at him. Lucien pulled her closer, his arm beneath her body, fingers stroking over her shoulder blades. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” she agreed. He didn’t understand because he didn’t feel the same. Had Graysen died, she’d still be mourning up north, would have been all but a widow. Waiting, hoping whoever came next evoked the same sense of feeling. Worse still, she never would have met Lucien.That was, perhaps, the most unthinkable thing. 

“We’ll keep meeting them every time they come,” Lucien added. “And I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing you’re waiting for me at home.”

Because she was his trophy. Elain swallowed that little piece of hurt before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Maybe it's over,” she murmured, brushing the strands of coppery hair from his face. Lucien inclined his head into her touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“It’s not. We’ll be lucky to get more than a year of peace before they find some fucking loophole. The only saving grace is your sisters. Nesta is still trapped in Velaris and Feyre married Rhysand. If Archeron is looking for revenge, it won’t be with us. I stole my northern daughter the old fashioned way.”

“By marrying me?” she asked dryly. 

“Exactly,” Lucien agreed with an easy smile. “Contract and all. And I know there are no loopholes to it because I was there when it was written.”

“Why not just say no?” Elain asked suddenly, shifting closer. “You could have had your revenge.”

“Well,” Lucien began, eyes back on her face. “Graysen did swear you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I confess, I was curious.”

“Seriously?”

“It wasn’t my only reason. Peace is very seductive. If I killed him, who knows what Archeron would have done…who he would have replaced him with—”

“No one,” she said quickly. “There is no one who can do what Graysen does.”

“Children grow up,” Lucien murmured. “They hope to one day outdo us. Our son will be the same…some boy in the north looks to Graysen and has those same dreams. So I said I would take you and hoped Graysen was not spinning me some tale.”

“So you would have married me no matter what?”

Lucien nodded. “I would have married you even if you were not the most beautiful woman in the world, but let me say, I was incredibly relieved when you stepped into that tent.”

“How utterly shallow, my lord.”

He grinned. “Maybe. I have no regrets.”

No regrets. The words bloomed in her chest, filling her with warmth. Lucien was still watching her, hand brushing over her cheek. “And you, sweet Elain? Did you get the dashing prince of your dreams?”

She poked him in the cheek. “I got a rogue for a husband is what I got.”

Lucien’s smile shifted, softening his face as he drew her in for a kiss. They went back to their conversation, teasing and sharing information in equal measure before Lucien tired of words and decided his body was far more effective at communicating. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her and yet each new stroke made Elain feel seen. Special. 

Almost loved. She curled beside him when they were too tired to keep going, sweaty and spent. He rolled to his side, holding her against him, her cheek pressed to his arm. Elain had expected a night in the woods to be terrifying or, at least, uncomfortable. She woke to Lucien extracting himself during the first light of dawn to relieve himself and dig out the food they’d all but ignored the night before. 

“I don’t want to go back,” she mumbled, burrowing deeper into the blanket. She could hear the clanking of his buckles and the soft sounds of his leather. Lucien crouched, sandals laced back over his shins. 

“You have to…in that blanket. If we leave now, no one will realize how I’ve defiled my princess. Come on. You can get right back in bed when we get home.”

Elain groaned. Lucien spread the other blanket over the saddle before ensuring she was draped completely before swinging his leg up behind her. The glow that had settled around them seemed to fade, replaced by warrior Lucien and his all but naked wife. With every step closer to Naxos, his demeanor seemed to shift until she barely recognized him. He wasn’t thinking of their blanket of stars or what they’d talked about, but what he needed to do for the day. 

“I’ll talk to father about our wedding,” Lucien told her once she was back on solid ground just outside the palace. Lucien handed off their horse, his body all but shielding her from the curious gazes of the servants. “And have breakfast sent up for you.”

“You’re not joining me?”

Lucien grimaced. “I have things I need to do with Jurian today. Arina and Vassa will be around,” he added gently. “I promise to make more of an effort to come to bed reasonably.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elain murmured as they approached the front of the palace. She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, smothering her disappointment carefully. “I know you’re busy.”

He nodded, leaving Elain to walk miserably back to the bedroom they shared, still alone. Her body swayed for a moment, the spotty black popping behind her eyes for a moment. She exhaled her anxious disappointment.

She was still alone.

LUCIEN:

Lucien inclined in his chair, glancing at Jurian. “Write to Eris.”

His father rolled his eyes, turning his back from the round table of advisors and other trusted generals, all staring at the map before them. “I’m not writing Beron’s son.”

Lucien ignored that, gaze drifting back to the map of little red dots threatening to overwhelm the east. “If Archeron sweeps through Velaris, he’ll have cover in those mountains. We’ll be outmanned and without any help from our closest neighbor.”

“We’re always lacking help from our neighbors,” Ajax reminded him tersely. “I don’t see why this should be any different.”

“What is the point of Arina’s marriage, then? Tie up in conditions. Force Eris to send aid if nothing else. Weapons, supplies, coins….it doesn’t have to be his army though it should be.”

“We ought to abandon that entirely. Marry Arina to one of the generals in Rhodes, keep her in our territory. This isn’t the time to make enemies of our own men,” Ajax snapped. Lucien hated that gray haired bastard and the absolute trust his father held in him. Ajax and Helion had suffered countless wars together, had fought at each others backs the way Jurian and Lucien did. Ajax would always put Naxos above everything and believed an isolationist policy was for the best. It was short sighted. With Feyre to the east and Arina to the west, Naxos could have true allies for the first time in centuries. Tied by women and the children they bore.

Helion looked at Lucien, pursing his lips. “We could avoid war entirely by just…doing nothing,” his father murmured.

“We could engender more than a little good will by sending home Archeron’s daughter instead of flaunting her presence with this fucking wedding.”

“Watch yourself,” Lucien warned, leaning forward as Jurian’s hand slid to the hilt of his sword. “That’s my wife.”

“She’s not pregnant. For all you know they gave you their infertile daughter to waste your time with. For all that matters, she’s unharmed. Send her home as a show of our good will and let Rhysand pick up the fight.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped to his father expecting to see disagreement. The whole table shifted uncomfortably and Lucien wondered if they, too, would hand over their wives if Ajax suggested it. It was offensive, a slap in Elain’s face and worse still, the realization of every fear she’d expressed mere weeks before. 

“He has asked for her back formally,” Helion began, his voice soft and apologetic. Lucien rose to his feet, his anger threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t very well fight his father, not in front of this council. It was unfair—he’d married her for the good of his people and now was being told he’d have to give her back, too. Only Lucien was expected to sacrifice. His own father had demanded fidelity and now, merely three months later, was walking it all back. 

Helion caught him in the hall. “It’s not an order, Lucien—”

“Not yet,” Lucien retorted, letting his father drag him down the halls, past the curious faces of their courtiers, back to the privacy of Helion’s study. “But you are considering it. It’s foul—”

“She isn’t one of us,” Helion reminded Lucien, pacing to the large windows.

“Neither is mother. I’m curious if you intend to send her back to Eris, then?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“No don’t you!” Lucien exploded. “I have done every single thing you have ever asked of me but I made Elain promises. I swore that she would remain my wife until I died and I will not go back on them.”

“Even if it means war?”

Lucien wanted to scream. “It is always war with them! You’ll send her back—to her death, I might add—and they’ll be here in six years instead of five. What did you accomplish, except murdering an innocent woman?”

His father took a breath. “If Archeron took even half of Rhysand’s forces, we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“We should help him, then,” Lucien pushed. “Not tuck away behind our walls and wait. Call Eris, send word to Rhysand. War is inevitable and we both know it. I will—”

“Is Elain pregnant?” Helion interrupted. Lucien swallowed, pressing his chapped lips together. 

“Is this the ultimatum then? Impregnate my wife or send her home?”

“Yes,” Helion murmured. “I will buy you time for your wedding and a celebration but at the end of the summer, if she is still not with child, we will need to consider how best to move forward…and I think you will be outvoted.”

“You’re king,” Lucien all but pleaded. “You could simply bend your will.”

“I need my soldiers to follow me. No one will understand you’ve fallen in love with Archeron’s daughter. They’ve already suggested I call Jesminda back.”

Lucien was going to vomit. “So that’s it, then? I cast her aside and just start over with a different woman? How long before Jes isn’t worthy? Shall I remarry again? And again? Perhaps all of their daughters?”

“Lucien?’ “No. If you send Elain back, I will step down and you will be left without an heir and the resulting infighting.”

Helion’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You will do no such thing. You will do your duty as prince of this city as you always have. I have given you three months.”

Lucien shook his head. “When mother learns of this, she will be unforgivably angry.”

“Your mother understands I have to make choices I hate,” his father replied angrily. “I don’t want to see Elain go.”

“I will not start over,” Lucien warned. “If she leaves, I will remain unmarried and without an heir. No matter how you try to force this to appease your courtier, our family line dies right here, in this room.”

“This isn’t my first choice,” Helion tried but Lucien didn’t want to hear another speech about honor and duty and whatever other nonsense his father might manage to conjure that would trick Lucien into thinking this was right. Graysen would brutalize Elain if he let her live, trotting her out merely to taunt Lucien for the rest of their lives. Any children she bore would only further the insult until she died miserable and alone. He couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stand for it. He’d try and if he failed, he’d abdicate just like he said he would, take his wife, and flee across the sea to other places.

He tracked her down to their bedroom, changing from a wet swimsuit, her skin tanned and perhaps a little red against the bridge of her nose. Long hair plastered against her face and Elain, glancing at him as she pulled her leg out of the sopping wet fabric, looked so happy. She grinned, the gesture a physical punch to the gut. 

“What are you doing in here?”

“I…” he couldn’t tell her. “I missed you.”

“We were going to get lunch,” Elain began, turning her bare back to him, her scars on full display. “Do you and Jurian want to join?”

He was sure Jurian did. “Stay.”

She looked over her shoulder, sliding a silvery robe over her body. Elain pulled her hair from beneath the fabric, her smile softening. What he wouldn’t give to see her look at him like that forever. Like he was worth smiling at, the kind of man who wouldn’t keep secrets, who would protect his wife at all costs. “Let's stay in bed for the rest of the day.”

Her smile flickered. “Is everything okay?”

Lucien shook his head no. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t put the horror and dread over her. Not when she was so excited to be wed in front of the entire city, to become permanent, a member of his home, his place, his people. Elain would stop smiling, would draw inward and wait.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, that smile slipping entirely. Lucien went to her, pulling her cold body against his own.

 “I’m still dressed,” he said, shoving his worries deep, deep down. “And you’re unfucked.”

“You’re crude,” she whispered breathlessly. “And I should bathe before you touch me.”

Lucien slapped her ass. “Go take a bath. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Elain smiled again, scampering to the door with a quick, hopeful look over her shoulder. Lucien watched her go before scrambling to his desk. Treason. This is treason.

It was self-preservation. Helion was too worried about his soldiers, about always pushing off the inevitable. Waiting for Archeron to have an undefeatable army was madness. Lucien wasn’t going to watch it, wasn’t going to aid in the eventual slaughter of his people.

Grabbing a piece of parchment as Elain closed the door, Lucien did the only thing he could think of.

He wrote to Eris. 

ELAIN:

“You look so pretty,” Lucien whispered, fingers brushing against the nape of Elain’s neck. She stared at herself in the mirror. Who was she? The woman staring back hardly looked like the Elain she knew. Tanned, pink cheeked and dusted in gold, this woman might have lived her entire life in Naxos. Her hair was nearly blonde, so light it made her brown eyes seem darker somehow. Elain reached for one of the carefully coiffed curls, ignoring the man standing behind her and the simmering heat etched over his expression.

“You know,” she began, trying to keep her voice light and failing miserably. “Where I come from, it’s considered bad luck for a groom to see his bride before their wedding.”

“We’re already married,” Lucien reminded her with a cheeky smile. 

“Lucky you,” she teased, sweeping one last look over her body. She was practically painted in gold, from the circlet that curved through her hair, it’s little jeweled sun resting in the center of her forehead, to the make-up on her face, all the way the gown that sparkled in the light, giving the impressing someone had painstakingly placed little gems one by one over her torso and arms before it swept into a light, full skirt. Elain had never seen a bride that looked like her. At home, women wore white dresses that covered every inch of their bodies—her own back was totally bare, just as her arms, save for the golden cuff of leaves snaking up her bicep, a match for the snake on Luciens. They also wore veils that hid their faces, lifted only once the vows were spoken. There would be no veil for Elain. The entire city would be allowed to feast upon her as she stood atop that hill and spoke the ancient vows every woman before her had ever pledged to a future monarch. 

And Lucien, in his ceremonial pteurges and immaculate sandals that laced up his powerful shins, looked every inch a king. A golden cape hung from his broad shoulders, a match for her dress, for the sunburst crown against his half braided auburn hair. His arms, just her own, were unadorned though he wore golden vambraces that were hardly more than decoration. 

And his ring, which was what turned her around to look at him with her own eyes. She reached for his large hand, twisting the band around his finger. She almost told him he didn’t have to do this. That the ceremony was unnecessary–she was his wife whether the people of Naxos liked her or not.

Lucien’s lips parted. “I feel lucky,” he murmured, fingers back on her face. Her whole body tightened in response. Fear and anxiety collided with affection because so did she. She’d spent her whole life hoping for a good marriage to a good man. Perhaps not this man and yet…and yet he was kind and warm and giving and everything she’d once dreamed of. Elain pressed a kiss to his palm. 

“You’ve become soft, husband.”

“I hope not,” he joked. “I feel quite hard. Would you like to–”

“Stop it. Put that away,” she added, eyes sliding down his armored body. “At least for now.”

He bit his lip, grinning roguishly. “Okay, alright. For now. But after tonight's feast…”

“You may bring it out for my inspection,” Elain agreed. 

Lucien brushed his knuckles over her jaw. “Are you nervous?”

She scoffed. “I’ve seen your penis—”

He laughed, interrupting her words to throw his head back. The rich, booming timbre made her start. Had he ever laughed like that in front of her? Elain could only stare, her whole body vibrating as if she stood in the presence of some newly minted God. He was magnificent, so wonderful and perfect and—

The realization slammed into her like a bolt of lightning. Love. 

I love him.

“Not my penis,” he laughed, pulling her into his chest. “This ceremony. Are you nervous about the ceremony?”

Oh Gods, she thought, her stomach churning. “Why do you ask?”

“You look pale,” he replied, his mirth dying just a little. “And I’d like to kiss you, but not if you’re going to puke on my sandals.”

“You want to kiss me?” 

Lucien smiled again, cupping her jaw. “I always want to kiss you.”

He lowered his head, lips parted. She surged upwards, unwilling to wait on his slow descent, on the feather soft tease. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He inhaled with surprise, those arms wrapped around her tightening until Elain felt anchored again. Lucien tasted like a familiar dream, one that was just out of reach. A memory she was desperately trying to hold on to, something that didn’t belong to her. She held his face, proof he was, at least in that moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling from the kiss breathlessly, eyes searching her face. Elain shook her head.

“Nerves,” she lied. “Sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologize,” he replied, kissing her again. “You don’t need to be afraid. This is your home. We’re together.”

She swallowed, unable to take her eyes off his, to look away like she knew she should. Lucien’s face shifted, his amusement fading to genuine concern. “Sweetheart…”

“I’m fine,” she lied, blinking against her urge to cry.

He released her, letting her step from that full length mirror to their bed. Elain took a gulp of cool air, trying to steady the erratic pounding of her heart. Loving her husband on her wedding day should have felt like a dream. It was a nightmare given her own uncertainty around his feelings. She wanted to just tell him. 

Lucien came behind her again, hands sliding over her arms reassuringly. “Say the word and I’ll call it all off. We’ll lay in bed and eat cake until we’re sick from sugar.”

“I’m fine,” she lied again, exhaling a steady breath. “I promise.”

He didn’t say a word, tugging her against his chest to press a kiss against her scalp. Elain inclined her head, eyes closed, until she swore she could hear the steady thumping of his heart. “I’m glad it's you,” he finally whispered, just in time for a soft knock on the door. It was time to go. Elain inclined her head upwards, so sure she would fall to pieces. His eyes burned. He didn’t need to say what he felt, not when his expression could have ignited a fire. Maybe he didn’t recognize what was happening. Elain could hardly blame him and yet she felt as if they’d chosen each other, at least in that moment. 

Elain nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. Lucien dropped his arms, reaching for her hand instead. They’d go out together as was the custom, would walk the winding path through the now emptied palace to the same hilltop they’d stood on for the Solstice ceremony. Elain’s heart pounded wildly with each step, her body anchored only by Lucien’s reassuring grip. He never released her, not when they emerged from the cool shade of the palace into the blistering afternoon sun. The gathered crowd spanned as far as she could see, trailing up and down the winding city streets. Banners of white and gold were hung across wooden poles while multicolored, celebratory ribbons waved cheerfully in the breeze. Children sat atop their parents shoulders, their faces bright with wonder while the citizens of Naxos drank in the ceremony with soft fascination.

Helion and his wife were waiting on the stone platform, just off the side of the white arching trellis adorned with pink and purple hyacinths, yellow dandelions, and every color of laurel flower Elain could imagine. It was so dreamy, so romantic, the sort of pageantry that belonged to story books. Even in her daydreams before she’d been sent to Naxos, Elain would never have dared to have imagined a setting such as this, backdropped against the glimmering ocean. 

And Lucien. Oh, Lucien. He hardly seemed real, bathed in sunlight. Prince of Daylight. His skin gleamed bronze, seemed to glow with some innate, inner magic. He was luminous, so utterly beautiful she couldn’t breathe. A priestess has begun speaking but Elain couldn’t hear. She’d forgotten she was being watched, had forgotten the whole point of the wedding at all. Distantly, some nervous part of her mind realized she’d forgotten to look at the gathered courtiers, to see if she’d find approval—finally—or if they’d still regard her with their suspicion and dislike. She knew they thought it should have been their daughters standing up there with him. 

It felt like fate itself had peered from the heavens to look, to bless this marriage. Perhaps that was just how being in love felt. Everything in the universe must have conspired, plotting against her best intentions to bring her here.

Lucien spoke, reciting those vows. It was more than just a promise of love and protection, but a vow to the city itself. His love, his commitment extended to everyone because he married her. And when Elain spoke, she was careful to enunciate her every word, to say them slowly and with feeling, despite how hard she found it to breathe. Let there be no mistake of her intentions. No doubt of her loyalty. 

It was to Lucien, and, by extension, to his home, his people, this land. Any last vestiges of patriotism she felt to Ellesmere were banished when Lucien’s lips touched her, a sealing of vows, a display of affection. It was hardly the same as the one he’d offered in their bedroom and yet there could be no doubting that whatever existed between them was just political. Lucien had taken her face in his hands, brushing an errant, windswept curl off her cheek. He’d smiled, mouth brushing her own.

“I love you,” he whispered, so softly that only she could hear it. His mouth became firmer, the kiss only a second though in her head, it seemed to go on for eternity.

Elain meant to say it back. She reached for him.

And collapsed into darkness on the ground.

LUCIEN:

Lucien paced back and forth through the hall, still dressed for his wedding. The ceremony had been paused in the wake of Elain’s collapse. He’d suspected something was wrong the moment he found her in their bedchamber, staring at her appearance like she didn’t recognize herself. He’d been overwhelmed, completely swept up in her beauty. She’d never looked more like a princess of Naxos as she had in that moment. 

And bathed in the golden afternoon light? Well, Lucien had managed to keep himself from shedding a tear of joy when she spoke the vows of marriage to the city with such obvious feeling and affection that even Ajax had softened. He couldn’t help himself. He had to tell her, had been so certain, given the wide-eyed way she’d been looking at him, that she must love him too.

Dread replaced affection when she’d collapsed to the ground, nearly smashing her head into the stone. He’d just barely caught her in time. Heat stroke, his father had said when the city collectively gasped. 

Did she eat? His mother had demanded, as if Lucien knew. A physician was brought to their bedroom and Lucien shoved out. His mother had been dragged in nearly twenty minutes before and remained inside, the door shut to him. He could hear nothing—no whispered words, no proclamations of good health. Just terrible silence.

Lucien continued his pacing, his sandals clacking loudly so they knew he would not be leaving until someone came and offered an explanation. His cape fluttered around him, catching in the breeze to smack him in the face. It felt like the Gods chastising him—take better care of your wife.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, frustrated. He ran a hand over his face as his father rounded the corner.

“Any news?”

Lucien opened his mouth to complain when the door opened. His mother bit her bottom lip, eyes sliding towards her husband. There was something of a smugness to her expression and for a sickening moment, Lucien wondered if Elain wasn’t dying and everyone was secretly pleased.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded of the aging doctor. His mother pressed her lips together, hiding her smile. If Elain died, Lucien would too. He would not survive it, would follow her into the next life—

“The heat overwhelmed the princess,” the physician interrupted. “She should never have been made to stand like that given her condition. We’ve spoken, and she understands she needs to remain in quieter, cooler places for the time being—”

“Her condition?” Lucien asked stupidly. 

The physician clicked his teeth with exasperation. “Pregnant, your highness. The princess is pregnant.”

Behind Lucien, Helion blew out a breath. Lucien’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. “Truly?”

“Two months, give or take. She needs to rest, and to keep out of the sun,” the physician continued, brown eyes narrowing with distaste. 

“Of course,” Lucien agreed, rounding on his father. Helion held up his palms in surrender, waiting for the physician to vanish down the corridor. 

“She stays,” Lucien hissed, his triumph unmatched. “And if anyone suggests otherwise, it’ll be my blade against their neck.”

Lucien’s mother looked to his father, her eyes wide. “You wanted to send her back?”

“It was merely a thought,” Helion replied. “One that will never come to fruition. Congratulations,” he added, clapping Lucien on the shoulder. Lucien had to resist the urge to shake off his father, his resentment still hot and heavy in his chest. Later, he’d confess how he’d gone around Helion’s orders and written to his half-brother. For now, Lucien merely nodded.

“I need to see her,” he said, turning to the door. He was confident, if nothing else, his mother would give his father hell for even the suggestion Elain continue to be used as collateral. Lucien didn’t care. He’d never intended to send her back to begin with and still, as he walked back into their bedroom, the legitimacy of knowing she could never be taken from him filled Lucien with intense, unyielding relief. 

Elain was propped against the headboard with a mountain of pillows, her golden gown replaced with a breezy lilac nightdress. She looked at him, the black mascara coating her lashes smudged just beneath the hollows of her tired eyes. She seemed so scared. Lucien went to the bed, pulling her hand into his lap.

“Did…” she swallowed hard. “Did the doctor…?”

“A baby,” he agreed, scooting closer.

“Are you mad?”

Lucien choked on a hysterical laugh. “Why would I be mad?”

She drew her legs up to her chest, blinking rapidly against the tears she couldn’t keep at bay. Lucien came closer still, pulling her into his body. “Why are you crying? This is a wonderful thing.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m happy, I…”

Lucien kissed her temple. “You don’t need to worry about anything except resting,” he said, smoothing golden brown curls from her face. “I will worry about everything else.”

“Did you mean what you said? This afternoon, when you…”

“Yes,” he said immediately, thumb stroking her warm cheek. “I love you.” The relief he felt, saying those three words, was unmatched. Elain, too, looked as if some terrible weight had been lifted from her chest.

“I wanted to tell you before we left—”

“Good thing you didn’t,” Lucien interrupted, ghosting his lips over her temple. “Or I might not have let you leave.”

“I wouldn’t have collapsed, though,” she replied with a sigh. “How embarrassing. Was everyone annoyed?”

“Worried,” he insisted. “You were utter perfection. If anything, it just confirms their opinion that I do not take good care of you.”

Her eyes went wide. “They do not think that–”

“Trust me, sweetheart. They absolutely do. Ever since the hurricane,” he added, kissing her again. “They like you far more than you think.”

Elain pressed a little closer. “Really?”

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “And they will like you far more when they learn you’re carrying a future heir.”

He pressed his hand against her stomach, marveling that there was life brewing just beneath the skin. His son, he thought with emotion. “The whole city will be chasing after me with clubs, demanding I be a better husband.”

“I think you’re a good husband,” she murmured, nuzzling her head into the crook of his arm. 

“Well, the bar is quite low,” Lucien teased. “I met Gray–”

“Don’t say his name,” she demanded fiercely, eyes blazing. “I don’t ever want to think of him again.”

He chuckled. “Alright. If you say I’m a good husband, who am I to argue with my princess?”

“Your wife,” she argued. Lucien kissed her cheek.

“That’s right. My wife.”

That pacified her just as much as it settled Lucien. His wife. Married before his whole city, his affection declared unmistakably not just before his people but before the very Gods themselves. Try and take her from me, he all but taunted. Lucien would have gone to war for her, would have picked up his banner and led his armies into battle just to keep her. He knew, hand still spanning her stomach, that there was no atrocity he wouldn’t have committed to ensure she remained with him. 

He would have watched the world burn to ash before he let her go. It ought to have scared him, should have made him rethink the depth of his affection and yet Lucien only felt supreme peace at the notion. She’d been born for him just as surely as he had been created for her. 

“Lucien?” Elain asked after a moment, pulling his blood tinged thoughts back to the shady bedroom they both lounged in. He was uncomfortable in his leather, his feet hanging off the bed, still clad in sandals.

“Hm?”

“Can we still eat cake in bed?”

“Until we’re sick from the sugar?” he teased. Elain nodded her head. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “You stay here, I’ll go get it.”

“Thank you,” she sighed, settling back into the bed as he pulled away. Lucien paused at the door, turning to look back at his entire life laying that bed, legs outstretched, a hand resting on her chest. 

“Love you,” he murmured, just to hear her say it again. Elain turned her head, curls spilling over her shoulders. She smiled and fuck. Lucien had to blink against the blinding light that seemed to expand across the room.

“Love you, too.”

Perfect. 

[mirror-to-the-past]

Dream Drop Distance is really cool so far! Anyone who's heard me speak knows I love shit with dreams, and I'm glad KH is really throwing itself into that mix now. The intro was admittedly a bit jarring, because I was like... "okay... they're younger... with raft? No Kairi? URSULA?! They're drowning? Traverse town... did I skip a cutscene without realizing?"

But I'm good to go, now! 😆 👍

Except for the phantom Ursula bit... why her? Trying to figure that one out, still.

Anyway, here's where I squeal!

Remember when I said this, one post ago, in reference to Maleficent rhetorically questioning fiction vs. reality:

"Here we go, create new worlds from stories, huh?"

On top of Sora's journal being established as being tied to his very being, and that the two clearly have just as much life within them, and that line, it's an interesting choice that the Dream Drop Distance opening movie shows lots of storybooks with writing within them of places in the games, particularly one of Destiny Islands with the trio within it. The game's going meta, boys... I'm banking on it.

The intro scene with Braig's death and Xehanort's... whatever is going on... so intrigued...

The Dream Eaters are SOOO cute! I love their wonky little faces and weird eyes. A mix of Inception dream diving, KH, and Pokémon? This game is like... scientifically engineered to make me go insane. I immediately went to see if censors were enacted for Dream Eater naming as was the case for actions in BBS, and Riku now has a colorful bat following him around named "FU%K." Truly, I am maturity incarnate.

The addictive card game in Traverse Town is very rewarding as a CoM Enjoyer with how it replicates the gameplay. The entire time I was running around I shared Sora's hyper reaction of "I haven't seen this part of Traverse Town before!!" :D I am Filled with Wonder. Traverse Town's got a whole underground supersized mailroom that reminds me of that one place in Polar Express, holy cow!

The two worlds I've been to are so pretty so far! And AAAA a Hunchback of Notre Dame world, which I have been wanting since the first game, ohmygod, guys! The intro got my hopes up for a Fantasia world, but it could've just been a one-off reference like they've done before, and there's so much in Fantasia that I don't know if they'd actually commit to stylizing a whole world off of it. But anyway, if they did... I'd explode. But I won't hold my breath (I say, coping, setting my expectations to a reasonable level). Anyway, now I can legitimately say "Sora and Riku fight the church lmao" and actually have canon backing for it. My wish came true again. And wow.... the cathedral windows are so purty... I just sorta stared at them for a 'lil bit. Then I fought a frog. Then Sora got profiled by Frollo (that was not on my bingo sheet, but something was both disconcerting and hilarious about Frollo looking Sora up and down and going "I know what you are," *projects discriminated group onto Sora's oblivious being*).

And hoo boy, don't get me started on my little duo. Not half an hour into the game, and already Sora was screaming for Riku at the top of his lungs. That was the true indicator it was a KH2 sequel. And Riku, Mr. 'I-agree-with-the-I-wanna-protect-the-one-thing-that-matters-feeling,' *reaches out tentatively for Sora's spectral face,* and "Wish I could take my own advice?" (In terms of struggling to be vulnerable enough to look for acceptance from those close to him- a theme I hold near and dear to my heart) (Seriously, that Quasimodo and Riku parallel was just *chef's kiss*) These two are gonna be something (and when were they not), aren't they?

Also loved when Riku just instinctually backed up Esmeralda with the 'I am an alien to this world and do not know your slurs, I only know to turn a blind eye when I see someone running from authority.' I lol-ed.

Theory time! I guess not really a theory, but moreso multiple observations. The Dream Eater symbol is really similar to the Unversed symbol, first of all! Which is interesting, but would also make sense, as Nightmares and "Bad, lingering feelings" can kinda go hand in hand. Will that mean something for the plot? I'll see! ALSO I think it's interesting how the story took the time to have the characters be like "woah my clothes are different," so like any self respecting person with eyeballs that work, I looked at the clothes and noticed Riku had a Dream Eater symbol on his back! I checked, and unless it's hidden, Sora did not, so hm.... I mean, all I could really throw out with that is "Riku's a dream eater!" But that wouldn't answer why, how, why Sora isn't one, what it really entails to exist as a dream eater, anyway, so it's not really a theory and instead is half baked speculation. But... neat, y'know?

I'm still figuring out what exactly the Sleeping Worlds are and what they mean for the canon, but ya know I'll get there! It's about the journey, maaan. 😎 But know that so far, I am definitely a happy camper (Playing in Proud mode though, we'll see how long that good feeling lasts, lol).

[yellowsugarwords]

Hi! Could you maybe write headcanons about what Lilly does after she had been spared and floated away on her raft in episode 4?

ooo ANGSTY

Lilly knew she'd messed up.

She always got that same feeling in her gut:

It dropped and twisted in on itself,

All at the same time.

And it was all becaaue she was the one to blame.

The only one to blame.

And she had ruined someone, or herself, yet again.

This time, she felt like she'd ruined multiple people.

At the very least, she failed them.

Her power and authority were both gone.

That meant everything to her.

Not making friends. Survival was all she needed.

It was all she wanted.

Now, she'd lost it along with every alliance she had ever made.

Ever since this first began. Right down to betraying Clementine.

Clementine.

The one her father loved so much.

She was the one person Lilly promised herself she wouldn't let alone corrupt.

Especially Lee.

And here she was.

Guilty of the very thing she swore against years ago.

These times had ruined her.

They'd broken her.

And now, she was breaking others.

Lilly laid still, looking at the sky,

Wondering if she had a chance anymore.

Well, she knew she did.

She was really debating whether or not it was worth it.

Was fighting to survive worth a reality you hate?

That you've always hated.

Suddenly, she felt herself bump.

Sitting upright, cautious to not tip the boat over, she looked dead ahead.

Land.

She'd finally drifted to land.

Carefully, she pulled herself onto the muddy, grassy shore.

She could feel the dirt get under her fingernails.

She closed her eyes.

It's like she was right back at training.

All those gruelling exercises they always made them do.

All in the name of 'training'.

It was torture.

And it didn't prepare them for the real world.

She wondered how many of her comrades were even alive.

How many of them put those skills to use.

She wandered along the side of the river,

Not wanting to lose the water source,

Until she found an open patch of land.

It was worn down,

A tattered tent nearby.

It was bloody and quiet.

Eerily so.

A make-shift fireplace was full of ash,

As if it had burned straight to the ground.

Just to her right, she could hear groaning.

Walkers.

Right in that tent.

The tent she could be using for shelter that night.

Shit.

And she didn't have a weapon.

Then, Lilly paused, and her crossed arms fell to her sides.

Look at where she was in her life.

Alone.

No food or weapons.

No personal items.

No people.

She could sleep on the dirt,

Or in a bloodied tent.

Who knew how old and used they were.

She closed her eyes, disgusted.

She had done this to herself.

She had dug her own grave.

Now, she just needed to lay in it.

So, she kept walking further down the river,

Hoping for a nice bush to curl into.

She could deal with the bugs and spider bites tomorrow.

Today, tonight,

She just needed to be.

To sit and think about all that she had done to land her here,

And to mourn the life she could have had.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡