#the sword switching between hands is so smooth

[mlc-melons]

Cheng Yi using weapons with his left hand.

He has fight choreography where he switches his sword from one hand to the other (both right to left and left to right).

[allzelemonz]

Pelt: Snotlout Jorgenson X Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Tropesgiving Day 2: One Bed Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: G/Fluff Warnings: Snotlout the flirt, the twins fight, written with a male reader in mind - but it's never stated Summary: When someone forgets to bring enough blankets for the no-dragon training trip the group ends up having to share the few they do have.

When Hiccup first opened his mouth you thought you heard him wrong, but as he pulls the mix of fabrics and pelts from the travel bag his words are proven.

“That’s three blankets and one pelt.” Astrid confirms as she lays them out between the group.

“I could’ve sworn I packed seven!” Hiccup exclaims.

“Not everyone can be as good at counting as I am.” Tuffnut nudges his sister. “See, watch. One, two, three, four, five…” He pauses.

“Six?” Ruffnut suggests.

“No, no. I think it’s ten”

“Then what’s after ten?”

“As much as I would love to let you guys count for the rest of your lives, I’m a little worried about us possibly dying in the cold.” Fishlegs say as he begins to fiddle with his hands in nervousness.

“Look, we’ll be fine.” Snotlout insists. “I’ll just have Hookfang-“

“We don’t have the dragons, Snotlout. This was supposed to be a simple training exercise.” Astrid groans as her hands stretch out the blankets. “Maybe we can cut them.”

“With what though?” You join her in looking over what little protection the group will have from the cold. “If we use a sword or an axe we might damage it so much that we can’t use it.”

“We can’t risk it.” Hiccup decides, kneeling down to pick up the pelt. “I guess we’ll have to share.”

He hands the pelt to you and passes out the blankets, one to Ruffnut and a larger one to FIshlegs.

“No way am I sharing with you!” Tuffnut says as he tries to wrestle the blanket away from his twin.

“I don’t want to share with you anyway!”

“Guys, guys stop!” Hiccup tries and fails to get their attention. “Whatever, Fishlegs isn’t gonna fit under a blanket with anyone else, so you’re on your own.”

“Fine by me!” The gentle giant smiles, holding his blanket close to his chest.

“That just leaves us.” Astrid mumbles as a blush spreads across her cheeks.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you expect Snotlout and I to share the pelt?” You glance between Snotlout and your other friends.

“Unless you want to take one of the twins…” Astrid offers.

You turn your head to see the two Thorstons rolling around in the dirt, forgetting the blanket they’re fighting over.

“I’m up for it if you are.” Snotlout says in his usual flirtatious tone.

“Save it.” You scoff.

“For what, when we’re curled up together under the moonlight?”

You wait a moment for Astrid and Hiccup to wander over to the tree line as they begin to collect sticks for a fire, then you turn on Snotlout.

“I don’t want to ruin this for Hiccup because he’s my friend, Astrid too. They don’t get away much. But, keep this up, and I’ll switch so you’re stuck with Hiccup. Got it?”

“All right, all right. Sheesh, no need to be so harsh.” Snotlout’s face drops and, for a moment, it seems like he might get through the night with a decent level of dignity.

As the twin’s fighting dies down when they’ve forgotten why they were fighting, the group gets a fire started. By the flames, on all sides, you make your beds. Fishlegs smooths out the dirt underneath him and pulls out a little doll resembling Meatlug from seemingly nowhere. Hiccup and Astrid stretch their blanket out, giving each other a respectable amount of space that will dwindle once they’re asleep and unconsciously roll into one another’s arms. The twins are both sitting under their blanket, giggling about something Ruffnut found by the lake not far from here.

All of the group is settling in nicely for the night. Except for you and Snotlout. No matter how you tug at the pelt, seemingly a bear’s now that you’ve been messing with it enough, you can’t arrange in a way that keeps you from touching each other. No matter what, you’re going to be snuggling close if you don’t want your feet to freeze. As the night gets one you settle for facing away from him, your back pressing lightly against his chest. But just as you close your eyes, there’s an annoying noise that wakes you.

“Your teeth are clattering.” You note, quiet enough for only your bedmate to hear.

“I can’t help it, it’s cold.” He argues.

You sigh, pushing a bit more of the pelt to him. It may expose you to the cool air flowing between the ground and the furry cover, but it keeps Snotlout content and quiet. Soon enough you find your shivers overtaking you, making i impossible to sleep.

“If you scoot closer we can fit the pelt over us better.” Snotlout mumbles, half asleep.

“Not even in your wildest dreams.” You tuck your arms in as tight as you can, trying to keep yourself warm.

“It’s not like that. You’re cold, I’m warm, it’s not fair.”

“If you ever bring this up-“

“I just don’t want you to freeze.”

You hesitantly scoot inward, letting your back press solidly against Snotlout’s chest. The blanket falls to the ground again with that extra half inch of slack. You’re able to pull it in just a bit to keep the cold air from sneaking through.

“I think it might be every warmer if I wrapped my arms-“

“Shut up.” You cut him off.

For once, he does shut up at your request. Now, enveloped in warmth, you’re able to peacefully drift off into sleep. A particularly loud crackle from the fire wakes you in the middle of the night. You shut your eyes again to sleep, but an unfamiliar feeling makes you stay awake. Underneath the pelt, Snotlout has his arm loosely draped over your torso. You’ll never admit just how nice it feels.

[du-shadowraven]

INK AND WASH AU

Finished the new au design!

(Please excuse my limited writing skills.😂)

*No y/n for this au.

*Feel free to interact if you want! You can choose to interact with the sun and moon by substituting your own y/n.

⚠Please understand that any form of NSFW is prohibited when interacting.⚠

(This au is inspired by the Yin-Yang Bagua diagram.)

World elements: Chinese-style / ancient style / martial arts

Dynasty: Similar to Han Dynasty.

Sun and Moon still share the same body, and their forms can be switched freely. (However, there are restrictions on the conditions of change, daytime is Sun, night is Moon.)

Background story:

"TAIJI BAGUA, with the center of the same circle as the boundary, draw two equal Yin and Yang fish to show the relationship between everything. The Yin fish is black and the Yang fish is white, which is the representation of day and night. Yang fish has a Yin eye on its head, which means that all things are transforming and penetrating each other. There is Yang in Yin, and there is Yin in Yang, and Yin and Yang are compatible and mutually reinforcing."

The ink drips onto the Xuan paper and the Yin-Yang Bagua diagram in the paper creates a ripple. When more ink is spilled on the paper, they quickly merge with the Yin-Yang diagram and then the Yin-Yang diagram starts to split into a black and a white individual, which is the prototype of the moon and the sun, and after they merge again, the Xuan paper extends into a long scroll and the ink in the paper continues to shape the picture......

Finally, the scroll slowly emerges as a painting of the river and the lake in ink, and a new world is created-----a world made of ink.

About Sun:

Sun is a scholar who is also the "Yang" of the Yin-Yang Bagua diagram, and is sometimes followed by white fishes with black eyes, they can be touched and feel smooth as silk........

Sun's body is mainly made of light ink, and the fan he holds in his hand is shaped with his own ink, so he can change its appearance freely.

About his personality: gentle and elegant, treat people sincerely, he will not use any violent means to solve problems. Sun occasionally will have a strong side, he can not tolerate to bully the weak behavior, although Sun is far less dangerous than Moon, but with his "good at words" ability, many of the abusers have been convinced by him.

About Moon:

Moon is the exact opposite of Sun. He is an assassin and the "Yin" of the Yin-Yang Bagua diagram, and is surrounded by black fish with white eyes that cannot be touched and are so corrosive that the slightest touch will cause the wound to decay and a black liquid to flow out. Moon often uses the ink on the black fish to apply poison on the concealed weapon.

Moon's body is mainly made of pine smoke ink. The cold weapons he uses for assassination are daggers, flying knives, and sword thrusts, but for him, any tool can become a weapon, and he can also use his own ink to shape a weapon.

(For example, the sword he carries on his waist.)

About his personality: compared to Sun, Moon is more calm and collected. Moon has always been used to staying in the shadows and observing things around him, but occasionally he has a gentle side: he strokes wild cats in his free time, because he prefers quiet creatures.

About what they have in common: They can also see what's around them through the white and black fish, which is good for Moon, who often conducts assassination operations, and Sun, who often uses them to view the view from high up. (But black and white fish cannot hear sounds.)

[agreyraincloudd]

Hey, Sithtic with the prompt 6, Pls 🥹 🤍

Sihtric x Reader

Words 1.7k

Prompt 6. "Are you asking me to fight you?"

and

Prompt 4. "You're not jealous are you?"

Flirty established relationship meets Percybeth capture the flag and that one Will Turner vs Jack Sparrow sword fight

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

It all began with a stupid bet. It was the start of the Blood Month festivities when a few teasing conversations between Dane and Saxon fighting abilities and battle strategies turned to Uhtred suggesting a friendly game of capture the flag. Of course no game between such people could ever be described as friendly and so you found yourself with a Saxon red ribbon tied to your arm as you entered the barn with a bloodied nose from Cynlaef and a busted lip from Uhtred. The game began back in the centre of Rumcofa and a savage fight broke the two groups apart as they searched for the flag. Osferth and yourself had just departed from the group when you spotted the door of the barn house half open from across the path. You sent the monk to search the neighbouring stables while you stepped inside to investigate.

The barn was a large room stacked high with wheat for the winter. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling and bags of flour and hung from their wracks. Then you spotted it. At the end of the barn, stabbed into a hay bale sat the Dane blue flag.

Your eyes shone bright as a smile stretched across your lips - you and Finan would never let Uhtred live this down.

Checking the coast was clean behind you, you moved from the door and took a step further into the building when a shadow appeared from behind a beam. Knife in hand and lips turned upwards, Sihtric stood leaning against the wood shaking his head.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy did you?” His voice was testing and smug, irritating you in a way only he knew how to.

You flipped your knife in your hand, a trick he had taught you as you walked toward him slowly.

“I’m taking that flag Dane”

The man scoffed as his brows raised.

“Dane? Is that what you’re calling me now huh? Saxon”

You tutted.

“You might want to step aside Dane” You were within arms length from him now and raised your blade, pointing it under his chin as he stood still so casually as if this was just another normal occurrence. He tilted his chin up, face completely passive to your threat as he raised his sword slowly and ran the metal along yours - the smooth sound of metal dragging on itself singing in the room.

“Are you asking me to fight you?” You asked.

Faster than you could have predicted, he reached forward and grabbed your hand to pull you toward him, your blades touching hilts as his face appeared between the two swords -

“only if it means I get to finally put you on your arse”

God that smile.

You batted his blade away and twisted as he did the same, your weapons clanging together as you switched your positions.

He was goading you and he knew it would work. The way his face lit up was evidence.

You sprung back and swiped across his chest but he jumped back and brought his own sword down on you. Your blade met his halfway and the two of you danced in a volley of movement. He stepped forward, you stepped back. You’d practiced this a thousand times and yet every clash sent shocks of adrenaline through you. Somewhere in the dance, the two of you had moved closer toward the flag and the sight of the blue so close edged you forward as you kicked at the man - following with your sword slashing toward him.

“Finan’s taught you well” Sihtric easily avoided the arch of your swing.

“He has” You confirmed as your blade just caught his cheek, a line of red following. Sihtric touched the skin as you both stopped and he looked mortally offended as he studied the blood on his fingers.

“Just a nick, clearly he hasn’t taught you everything”

“Now Sihtric-” You dodged his blade when he swung and ducked behind a beam before peaking around and tilting your head to the side. “-You’re not jealous are you?”

His sword swung into the wood. “Why would I be jealous?” His blade was stuck.

You took advantage and switched around back into the centre as you pointed your weapon at the unarmed man. He held his hands up as you backed him away.

“Don’t worry pretty boy, it suits you”

“You’re not leaving with that flag” He avoided your attempt at teasing him.

Still with your sword raised and your eyes never leaving his, you took steps backwards and reached for the flag, yanking it free and shoving it in your back pocket.

“I think you’ll find I will”

You walked down toward the door when he stepped in front of you, completely unarmed with your sword pressed against his chest.

“Do you think I wouldn’t”

He smile, hand curling around the blades edge.

“I don’t think you would”

“Sihtric”

“Y/N”

“Move”

“No”

“Sihtric”

“I could play this all day”

“And I could stab you in the shoulder and walk right passed your bleeding body as I make my way over to that ale house with your flag”

He ran his hand up the metal. You didn’t dare move it.

“Oh you wouldn’t do that to me would you?”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“You know why Saxon”

“Do I? Dane”

Distracted by the way he looked at you, you didn’t consider the speed of him as he shifted to the side causing you to stumble forward as he caught you and pulled your back against his chest, his lips by your ear behind you.

“Yes you do?”

“Our relationship won’t stop me from walking out with that flag”

“Our relationship has nothing to do with this?”

“It doesn’t?” You struggled but he held you tight against him. “Then you won’t mind when I walk out of here with that flag?”

“Oh this flag?” You felt his hand run down your side, his fingers pressing against your hips as he slid them behind you, pulling the material from your pocket. He breathed into your neck as he did and you couldn’t help but lean into him, your head falling back against him. The moment was fleeting and his cockiness would be the death of him as he held out the flag before you.

Not allowing another moment of his distraction, you snatched it from his grip and pulled his arm, your leg tripping his as you yanked him forward. He twisted and fell to his knees before you but his face was annoyingly that of awe as he stared up at you smiling. He caught himself with one hand against the floor and yet he looked even happier as he stared up at you.

“You’ll let me leave with that flag or you’ll never touch me again”

You meant war and Sihtric knew it. As if you had just told him you would shoot a puppy before his eyes, he raised his hands and sat back onto his knees.

“Good boy” You teased with a smile and walked past him.

You whistled out for the others when you exited and Uhtred and Finan appeared from the fog with Cynlaef and Aethelstan scrapping behind them. The flash of blue in your hand brought whoops and hollers from the Saxon warriors as Pyrlig took it from you and held it up high. The Dane men stood defeated and slumped as the rest of you danced around - Finan and Osferth cackling at Uhtred and cheering for you as you watched the boys.

You felt Sihtric come up behind you and resume his position with his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into him as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’d use my love for you against me?” He pressed a kiss into you neck, his curls brushing your cheek.

“Don’t hate the player” You turned your face toward him as you lay your hands over his in front of him.

“I hope Finan didn't teach you how to do that”

You elbowed him in the stomach. He huffed out and groaned as you left him to follow your Saxons. And your smirk from victory grew wider as you stepped into the ale house, Sihtric joining you finally at the door as you followed the cheers of your friends.

[molllsprple]

Strictly business

Part 3

Part 2

I’ve had a bit of a cold this week, so I am sorry for the delay. There may or may not be something spicy coming in chapter 4 🤭 just a heads up.

I hope you Enjoy!

You traced the woven gauze that encircled your thigh, as you gazed out the small window of your room, counting the cobwebs that decorated the walls. In the few months that you had worked for Mihawk, you had barely shared an interaction that lasted longer than thirty seconds, yet, in a matter of hours you had managed to turn your working relationship on its head, every ounce of professionalism going out the window. For this reason, you had decided to keep to the narrow confines of your room over the next few days, biding your time as the ship sailed to its next destination—Not that you knew how long that would be or where you were even going. Mihawk had simply set the sails and said nothing more.

He hadn’t come to check on you since dumping you in here, for which you were secretly thankful for, however you would occasionally catch sight of his shadow creeping in from under the door at night, lingering a while before it eventually retreated down the hallway.

With a deep exhale, you hugged your legs to your chest under the musty sheets, eyes slipping shut as the gentle rise and fall of each wave lulled you into a state of comfort. Now that your leg had healed a little, you were hoping to take up your next assignment in an attempt to escape this awkward atmosphere. It was what you were being paid for after all. Mihawk had been more than generous, and you didn’t want to burden him any longer.

Your stomach lurched at the sound of knuckles on wood, as you shot out of bed in an instant, hastily straightening out your clothes and smoothing your hair. Your hand hovered over the door knob before eventually grabbing and twisting, inching the door open to unveil Mihawk’s lean figure crowding the doorway. Your cheeks flushed as you daringly met his molten gold gaze.

“We’re here” Mihawk announced, apparently no time for pleasantries, as he immediately turned to slip out the door to the upper deck.

You lingered at the door before slowly retracing Mihawk’s steps towards the top deck, squinting as your eyes adjusted to the light of day. As you blinked your surroundings into focus, the air around you became frigid and thick with a gloomy smog. You blinked again, as you took in the murky landscape of dense forests and crumbling ruins that surrounded a castle at the centre of the island. Your eyebrows furrowed. “We’re—Sorry…where are we?”

Mihawk’s eyes remained fixed on the land infront of him, as he leaned against the side of the vessel, the feather on his hat swirling and dancing with every gust of wind.

“Kuraigana island” He replied flatly, eyes glazed over and lost somewhere in the distance. “My home”.

You noted the subtle tone of sadness in his words, as you followed his line of sight, noticing how some of the structure of the castle had began to crumble away.

“Why are we here?” You asked, carefully moving to occupy the space on his right.

Mihawk finally turned to look down in your direction “I’m going to train you”.

You tilted your head, eyebrows knitting in confusion as you scanned his side profile “Train me?”

——————————————————————————-

Mihawk lead you to a large stone ruin just outside the castle, a tall circle of stone that looked like it could have been a turret at some point in time. You clutched the foreign object between your hands, squeezing the woven cotton handle to achieve a better grip. The katana Mihawk had provided you was beautifully crafted, and even though you had little experience wielding a sword, you could appreciate good craftsmanship when you saw it. You could feel how the heavy steel carried great momentum with each fell swoop as you experimentally switched the blade between your unpracticed hands.

“I appreciate the offer, but please explain to me why I need sword practice when I’m perfectly capable wielding knives.”

Mihawk stood parallel to you, stance casual and expression nonchalant as he watched you play with the sword. “If you want to work for me, then I expect your capabilities to match my own.” He took two slow steps towards you, capturing the tip of your blade between his fingers before gently resting it to point at the smooth skin of his exposed chest. “Knives are practical short range, but a sword provides the ability to strike from a distance”. Mihawk’s eyes subtly skimmed over your face, before travelling downwards “…Making you less vulnerable.”

You watched his movements before flicking your eyes over his shoulder, settling on the large sword strapped to his back “Aren’t swords your thing?” You asked, eyes returning back to his face to find that his gaze hadn’t left you for a second “…I’d really hate to take your spotlight.” A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth.

Mihawk did not return your amusement.

You huffed out a laugh “So you’re gonna fight me with that big sword of yours” You said lowly, words coming out a little more suggestive than you intended. “I hardly think that’s playing fair.”

Mihawk’s fingers slipped from your blade, stepping back to resume his former position as he began to remove the large sword, along with his Leather coat and feather hat, leaving him in black trousers and white low buttoned shirt. “I won’t be using Yoru against you, not for now at least” He turned to face you again “Now I want you to come at me, as if I were your enemy”

You straightened up slightly as you lowered the blade. Sure, there had been times in the past where that arrogant face of his had pissed you off, but you never wanted to actually hurt him. “What!?”

Mihawk’s golden irises darkened as he flexed his fingers and readied his stance. ”Come. At. Me.”

If he wanted a fight, then you would give him one.

Raising the sword, you began to bolt forward, swinging the heavy steel from left to right, each time missing by a mile as Mihawk dodged each failing attempt with ease. It was like a dance of sorts, his every movement swift and graceful as he ducked and weaved between each lethal slice. You locked eyes as you took another swing, this time going for an uppercut.

Missed.

You spun around clockwise, the blade picking up speed as you tried to catch him out with an attack from the side.

Missed again.

The two of you were so entangled in the passion of the fight, that you barely had time to register the large rock that your foot was heading towards.

Mihawk fiercely grabbed your right arm before spinning your back to be flush with his chest.

“Clumsy” He scolded, his left hand assuming an unforgiving hold on your waist as he brought the blade up to your neck with the other.

You wondered whether it would bruise later.

“You need to watch your footwork” He rumbled, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as his deep vocals hummed through your bones, making your hair stand on end. You were rendered utterly breathless, and you weren’t entirely sure whether it was from the physical exertion.

You struggled in vain, hoping Mihawk would fail to notice the way your pulse wasn’t slowing down.

Gently, he lowered the blade, the heat of his body seeping away as he separated from behind you, left hand slipping from its hold on your waist.

“Again” He commanded, readying his position once more.

You attempted to regain some composure as you turned to face him, however your movements were stunted by the sharp pain that darted through your thigh muscle, legs buckling under the strain. “Shit” You gritted, clutching the source of the pain.

In the blink of an eye, Mihawk was crouched beside you, arm hooked under yours as he helped to support your weight.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He admitted quietly, plucking the sword from your grip.

—————————————————————

You sighed deeply, as you slumped back against one of Mihawk’s lavish sofas that framed the fireplace in his living room. Your nostrils were overwhelmed by the rich smell of burning wood, as the comforting heat served to sooth your every ache.

Mihawk’s figure, softly illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, was currently hunched on the floor in front of you, assessing your wound, despite your persistent protests. The injury itself had healed over mostly, but it would still take some time before you would see it mend completely.

Your silhouettes both sat in perfect silence, interrupted only by the occasional crackle and snap of the fireplace, as the flames cast subtle shadows over Mihawk’s face, making him appear a little softer than what you were used to.

Unfortunately, the fire did nothing to resolve the tightness in Mihawk’s broad shoulders, which had been there since coming back from training. Tension oozed out with every harsh tug of gauze, all finesse long abandoned, as his hawkeyes remained fixated on the damage caused to your thigh. You had hoped that he had forgiven you by now, but going by his actions, it was evident that he was still holding some sort of grudge. You sighed again quietly, tipping your head back against the sofa and closing your eyes, trying to zone out the wave of guilt that was beginning to rise in your stomach.

“I shouldn’t have let you go” Mihawk eventually says, the velvety baritone of his voice disrupting the silence like a ripple in water.

Your eyes shoot open as you sit up to face him, frantically looking over his figure as if it would somehow reveal to you the meaning of his words “What?” You question, completely dumbfounded.

Mihawk remained with his head bowed, eyes obstructed by the dark curls that hung untamed by the absence of his hat. “That man” He spat the words like they were venom “—I knew how dangerous he was—and I still…let you go”

You watched in silence as he spoke.

“It’s my fault—this—it’s all my fault” Mihawk continued, refusing to meet your eye-line as he bitterly choked out each word.

You sat deadly still, taken aback by his admission. “Hey, Mihawk—don’t be silly” You stretched out your fingers in an attempt to ease his conscious, delicately placing them on top of his hand.

Mihawk flinched at the contact, before finally looking up to meet your gaze.

His eyes held the same dangerous fury that you had witnessed that day after the incident, however, it was clear now that his anger had never been directed at you.

You stared back as him wide-eyed, wracking your brain for something to say—anything. Except…you couldn’t find the words. Instead, your hand began to move on its own, slowly lifting up to cradle the roughness of his jawline, as you gently thumbed the smooth skin of his cheek.

Mihawk’s eyes softened slightly in return, as he reluctantly melted into the warmth of your palm. The fierceness of his gaze would have been intimidating, if it wasn’t for the fact that his eyes were noticeably blood shot and forming bags around the edges.

He looks so tired, You thought, your gaze drifting over his rugged features. It was almost painful, seeing the way he was punishing himself for a mistake that no one could have seen coming. You wanted to sooth his woes, and give him something warm enough to drown out his frustrations. Although, you feared that it would ruin your working relationship forever.

Harbouring affection for your boss had never been part of the contract.

Part 4

(If you would like to be added to my taglist, please let me know in the comments!)

@kaykay0315 @lebanese-afg-ya @sapphireonline

[rillils]

written for round 5 @stuckybingo, square I5 - Looking after each other wordcount: 1411 pairing: Steve/Bucky additional tags: fluff, kidfic, general silliness, slice of life, dorks in love, dorks in love + their baby

Steve never believed in sunscreen, no matter how many times he got the hide scorched off of him. Used to just sit there and let the sun fry his skin, seemingly content to suffer through all the pretty stages of a sunburn, the blistering and the peeling, the stinging and the itching.

The serum just gave his stubborn ass one more excuse to walk outside in all his dumb, unprotected glory.

“You know it’ll have healed by tomorrow anyway,” he would shrug in the face of Bucky’s reasonable worry. But oh, how he’d hiss and cuss through gritted teeth, Later That Same Day, when Bucky inevitably wound up spreading cool aloe over his poor, neon-bright shoulders, the shade of them a hot raw pink that’d probably get them both sued by Mattel sooner or later.

“Fuck. Fuck. I always forget how bad it gets. How do I always forget how bad it gets.”

And it would take a herculean effort for Bucky to refrain from saying ‘I told you so’, but refrain he would; he’d simply smooth his aloe-covered fingers down to the small of Steve’s back, where the tan line made his creamy-pale asscheeks stand out like two (somewhat flabbergasted) halves of a moon, and he’d lean over to whisper-kiss a fond, “Dumbass”, against the crown of Steve’s head.

* It was fatherhood that flipped that particular switch for Steve.

Already within the first few weeks of her life, Sarah Barnes-Rogers managed a colossal feat which several people, including her very own namesake, had been fruitlessly attempting for no less than a century: knock some sense into her father.

That summer, they brought their five-month-old baby to the beach for the first time, and suddenly Steve’s baseline shifted from a glaring zero, to at least three separate bottles of sunscreen tucked in his backpack at all times – and he wielded them as dramatically and determinedly as King Arthur pulling his sword from the Stone.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Bucky teased while Steve re-applied lotion on their daughter, and then himself, for the third time in one morning, the delicate scent of coconut wrapped around them like a gentle cloud.

“Protection is important,” retorted his husband, always 101% ready to rise to the challenge, even when it was ridiculous degrees outside and the average human felt distinctly like warm ice cream oozing, slow and tragic, towards an indecorous end on a sizzle-hot curb. Sarah wriggled excitedly in his lap, her pudgy little body slippery like a newborn dolphin.

“Important for you, too? Really? I thought you were gonna heal by tomorrow anyway.”

Steve glared at him, mouth pouting with growing intensity within the neatly groomed frame of his beard.

“We lead by example,” he said petulantly, and since he couldn’t exactly stomp away – at least not with all the dramatic flair required by such indignity as Bucky was willfully subjecting him to – he settled for looking away instead, fixing the hat over Sarah’s ears to keep his hands occupied. Stubborn, mulish smartass. Bucky was sure he’d never loved him quite so ardently as he did in that moment.

He leaned between their loungers and smacked the loudest kiss on Steve’s coconut-scented cheek, not bothering (oh, not too much) to hide his smug grin. “Good.”

*

Now, all things considered, it’s no wonder that Sarah’s grown to be such a sunscreen enthusiast.

The second they hit the beach, she wants nothing better than for Papa to help her get coated in the stuff, from head to wiggly toe; and once the procedure is complete, she’ll scuttle off at lightning speed, drop to the ground, and – to Bucky’s endless horror – roll about until she’s got every bit of her greased-up self nice and caked in sand. Sand which they'll still find sprinkled in every corner, crease and crinkle of every towel, bag and piece of clothing they own for a couple of months at least, but what is parenthood if not self-sacrifice?

Before she gets to that, though, Sarah has her own self-appointed job to do.

She plucks the bottle from Steve’s hand and, as per their private ritual, manhandles him into lying on his belly, announcing with her sweet, recently tooth-gapped smile, “I’ll do your back!”

Steve always indulges her with a smile of his own, and lets her climb onto the small of his back, ready to surrender himself to Sarah’s loving, if somewhat fierce ministrations.

For once, though, she doesn’t simply smear the lotion around with her usual excitement. On the contrary, she holds the bottle up and squeezes it meticulously, her brow scrunched up in concentration as she works with slow, strangely deliberate moves.

It’s only after a minute or so that Bucky really sees what she’s trying to do; and by then, her masterpiece is all but complete. The sight of it makes his heart clench with unexpected fondness.

“Daddy! Daddy, can you take a picture? I wanna show Papa, please!”

He takes one look at her hopeful little face, at the blond curls falling over her eyes, the sun-kissed freckles already crowding the bridge of her nose so early in the summer, and there’s no way in hell he’d ever even dream of saying no.

“’Course, baby,” he says, reaching for his phone with no further ado.

“Show me what?” Steve pipes up, twisting his neck to try and peek over his shoulder. “What’re you guys doing back there?”

“Nuh-uh,” Bucky tuts, pushing Steve’s head back down to rest atop his crossed arms, “you stay put for a second, doll. Can’t ruin this shot. Alright, here we go.” The camera clicks softly, once. “Hm. Nope.” Twice. “Eh– almost.” Thrice. “Ha! There. Perfect.”

He helps Sarah down from her perch on Steve’s back, very, very careful not to smudge her precious work, then hands her the smartphone. “Go ahead, baby, show Papa what a good job you did.”

In her eagerness, Sarah all but shoves the phone right in Steve’s face, with a squeal of “Pa! Look, look!”, watching him expectantly.

It’s there, on the screen, that Steve finally gets to see it. A message just for him, spanning almost his entire back, spelling, in Sarah’s wonky six-year-old handwriting, “I LOVE YOU PA ♥”, big squiggly heart included.

Steve doesn’t breathe for three whole seconds; and when he starts again, it’s with a soft, awestruck, “Oh.”

And it might be the stark light, or the warm breeze, or the scent of ocean salt in the air, but when he props himself up on his elbows to look at their daughter, his eyes have a familiar, watery shine to them. One of his strong arms wraps around Sarah’s middle and pulls her in, and he plants a kiss on her forehead, smiling all the while. “Love you too, munchkin. It’s beautiful, thank you so much.”

“Yah!”

Satisfied with the feedback, Sarah can finally run off to fulfill her destiny as a pocket-size sand monster. Steve gazes adoringly after her, then lifts his big, gleaming puppy eyes on Bucky, looking about as lovestruck as Bucky’s ever seen him in the last ninety-five years or so.

“Buck,” he says, soft and just, just on the cusp of choked up. How anyone ever thought they could teach this guy not to wear his heart on his sleeve, Bucky’ll never understand.

“Yeah, big guy. I know. I know,” he soothes, hovering close to place a sympathetic kiss on the swell of Steve’s bicep. “Listen, I’m gonna ask a dumb question here.”

Steve blinks up at him, curious.

“Do you maybe want me to fix your back for you, so you don’t actually burn to a crisp?”

And see, the truth is, he already knows the answer. He knows it with even greater certainty when Steve sinks his face in the crook of his own elbow, half laughing, half groaning, and a hundred percent utterly defeated.

Of course not. Of course he’s gonna lie directly in the nearest sunbeam, and let himself bake there until the words are branded onto his skin, pale white on Barbie-box pink, no matter how short-lived they’ll be.

“Yep. Called it.” He gives Steve’s bicep a gentle pat-pat, knowing that in about ten hours, even that will make Steve hiss with unrepentant, self-inflicted pain - and possibly loving him just that wee bit more for this tiniest of derring-do’s. “I’ll make sure to grab some more aloe on our way home.”

[moralesmilesanhour]

after seeing the Star Wars x atsv drawing I think it would be cool if you wrote miles x reader but Star Wars themed. :) if you can. Maybe they like play fight with lightsabers even though that probs wouldn’t end well

star wars au!miles x reader

A/N: warning. i do not know how sword fights of any kind work...but i don't think the star wars films do either lmao so bare with me please <3 also Miles is a bit more...rambunctious? in this one than I usually write him? so enjoy that maybe

(he may also be a little OP here ngl JUST A LITTLE but I still feel like this is at least somewhat in-character).

semi-inspired by that training scene between anakin and obi-wan!

"I almost had it!"

Miles' voice echoed as he paced around the now-empty training room. You leaned against a wall, watching him with an amused grin. "I swear, bro, Pav tripped me 'cuz he knew I was about to beat him."

"I'm a little more concerned that you let a rookie catch you lackin' like that," you laughed. "He's been here, what, like six months?"

Miles spun around to face you with his arms crossed, though there was no malice in his expression. "And you been here what, three years? But I still whoop yo' ass every time we duel."

You tilted your head. "Is that a challenge, Morales?"

That tell-tale grin spread across his features - the same one that made an appearance whenever he was the only youngling in the classroom with his hand raised.

"I dunno, Y/N. Is it?"

You got off the wall and stepped slowly toward the center of the room.

Unhooking the hilt of your lightsaber from your belt, you replied, "I needed a little dummy practice."

The saber hummed to life as soon as you toggled the switch, its blade glowing a brilliant blue as you began to circle your opponent.

Miles did the same, only he tossed the hilt in his hand like a drumstick first, flipping the switch using the Force instead for added showmanship before getting into position. His blade shone a vital green.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

He lunged into action as soon as the words left his mouth, swinging with gusto. His lightsaber crashed against yours, already having been raised in defense. You pushed him a couple feet away with a grunt.

"Miles, you're too-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Miles began swinging wildly with rapid rotations of his arm, and you were parrying several attacks on either side of you. Just as he was about to deliver a finishing blow, you got down and slid across the smooth floor beneath his arm to create more distance, and leapt to your feet once more.

"You're too aggressive," you said breathlessly as he began to circle you this time. "You're gonna tire yourself out, lose stamina. Lose accuracy, too."

Miles snorted.

"You sure it's me who needs stamina?"

He punctuated the sentence with a quick spin of his blade before attacking again. But this time, you ducked and it sliced empty air.

Once on the ground, you tried shooting out a leg and swinging it, but you were not as quick as Pavitr. Miles hopped over it with ease.

"Worth a shot," you grunted as you got rose up again and parried another attack.

"Oh, you think you funny, now?"

While he was distracted, you stepped forward and swung with all your might, knocking Miles' lightsaber out of his hand and sending it flying to the other side of the room. He promptly lost his balance and fell backward. When he remained there, nearly out of breath, you smiled triumphantly.

"Yup."

The smile soon fell from your face when you realized that Miles did not say 'yield'.

"Well I'm about to be hilarious."

He kicked his leg in a circle just as you had, forcing you to stay on defense and back away. This gave him ample time to get back on his feet.

You raised your arm in an attempt to attack, but Miles grabbed your wrist and stopped it mid-air. Like a ballroom dance, he used it to spin around and elbowed you in the lower back with enough force to shove you, but not enough for it to hurt. Caught by surprise, you couldn't turn to face him in time.

Your lightsaber was ripped out of your hand by the Force. Miles caught it, and suddenly your own blade was at your neck before you could blink.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Y/N."

His warm breath hit your ear as he spoke. There was a smile in his words, reassuring you that he meant no real harm.

He deactivated the weapon, and pressed the hilt back into your palm. You turned to face him, thoroughly impressed.

"Shit, Morales, why can't you do that in training? They probably would've moved you up a level already!"

No longer in battle mode, Miles sheepishly scratched the nape of his neck. "I dunno, might get into trouble for that one."

"You're still too aggressive, though," you remarked, re-attaching the hilt of your lightsaber to your belt. "No defense whatsoever."

Miles rolled his eyes and started to make his way towards the training room's entrance with you following close behind.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just sayin' that 'cuz you lost!"

"I won until you decided to play dirty! Not very Jedi-like of you, Morales."

"Tell me about what Jedi do and don't do when you can lift a plate off the table."

"...Touche."

[kemsyne]

Wayfarer Week '24 - Origins

Just a little something for the 3rd anniversary of Wayfarer IF by @idrellegames

The origin of Damsa's nickname, which carried over from her HotB days, so don't take me seriously on any Vestran language used here.

Damsa inhales, draws the bow and lets the arrow fly in one smooth motion. It zips through the air and embeds itself in the target, at least three palms width away from the center. The girl sighs in frustration.

“Well,” Aeran hops down from the barrel nearby and comes to stand closer. “At least you’ve hit the target” he proclaims and immediately ducks as Damsa swats the bow at him.

“I’ve been hitting it for the past ten minutes, you ass,” she smiles despite her words and reaches for another arrow. “I’m just… off.”

“Can you really say that when you’re off consistently? If I were you-” the elf shuts his mouth at the sudden warning look from his friend.

Aeran raises his hands up. “All I’m saying, as the master archer between us two-” he relaxes at the eyeroll Damsa sends his way “Is that you’re not bad at this,” he offers gently.

The bowstring twangs and another arrow lodges itself a sizeable distance from the target’s center. Aeran raises one hand to shield his eyes from the evening sun.

Arriving at the Spire together and being the youngest apprentices by far was a natural foundation to their friendship. Some two years of long lectures, rigorous training by their respective Masters, and getting into, or narrowly avoiding, trouble only built that friendship into a stronger bond.

Aeran glances down at Damsa’s feet.

“How’s your knee?” he asks, nodding towards her heavily bandaged leg. “Still can’t put any weight on it?”

“Not much,” Damsa grimaces. “Sirin says I should count myself lucky to have a knee still. And that it will leave a scar, but should be fine otherwise,” she reaches to scratch under the linens. “Itching is the worst. Why?”

“Because you fell through the floor and landed on a pile of rubble?” Aeran offers incredulously.

“Oh, I remember that,” Damsa straightens up again. “Will remember for a long time after the earful I got,” she huffs. “I’m asking why do you want to know? No one’s blaming you for it, are they?”

The elf shakes his head. “No, no… It’s just that you lean. When you draw the bow?” He mimics the motion at her questioning look. “You lean sideways to keep balance,” he points out and reaches for the practice weapon in Damsa’s hand. “Should be more like this.”

The two switch places and Damsa watches as Aeran draws the bow with ease. The arrow hits the target close to the center mark. Aeran’s lips curl into a smirk.

“See? Easy once you do it right,” he takes another arrow and spins it in his hand before notching. “Why do you want to learn this? I thought you liked the sword better.”

“I do,” Damsa agrees “But I can’t train much with it now, and Sero says I need to work on my upper body strength,” she pauses. “Besides, a great hunter doesn’t limit herself with just one weapon.”

Aeran raises one eyebrow. “I thought we were going to be Wayfarers, not hunters?”

“All wolves are great hunters,” Damsa states as a matter of fact.

Confusion washes over her friend’s expression. “What do wolves have to do with this?” he asks and looks at her as if she had just sprouted a second head.

“My name,” she offers and waits for the blank expression on Aeran’s face to change into an understanding one. “My last name?”

Silence stretches between them.

“Drende?” Damsa’s accent thickens momentarily. “Drende means wolf in old Vestran? Wolves are great hunters?” she gestures and yet, Aeran doesn’t seem sold on her path of thought.

“I think wolves are great hunters because they hunt in packs,” he finally says slowly, skeptically.

“True, but also on their own-”

“They’re big and have big teeth.”

“It’s not about the teeth, Aeran-”

“Have you ever seen a wolf? They are horse-sized!”

“Are you saying I can’t become a great hunter unless I’m a horse?”

The two are face to face now, Aeran’s arms crossed over his chest, and Damsa’s on her hips. The ridiculous nature of their argument lost on both as Aeran narrows his eyes in thought.

“I suppose,” he drawls. “Size doesn’t matter for you, because wolves don’t use weapons like we do.”

“Size doesn’t matter for wolves either, because they are the weapons,” Damsa presses. “And because they are great hunters.”

“...Right.”

“Everyone in my family is a great hunter, and none of them are horse-sized,” Damsa bristles.

“Riiiiight.”

“Aeran.”

“Right, right. You will be a great hunter,” he takes a step back. “Because your family is named after wolves. But they are all people-sized. Little wolves.”

Damsa lunges forwards and Aeran dances away, laughing. She throws a stray pebble in his direction, and then another, shouts a Vestran insult at him with a grin spreading across her lips, and watches, with some amusement, as Aeran trips over his own feet and lands in the pile of straw dummies used for training.

Aeran groans and sits up, pieces of straw sticking from his hair and undoubtedly clinging to the back of his clothes. Damsa limps to him and offers her hand.

“You alright?” she asks, bracing to pull the boy up.

“Yeah, thanks,” Aeran accepts her help. “Little Wolf.”

She lets him fall back in.

[jpat82]

So You Want To Start A War

     I opened the metal door, thick fog covered everything in an opaque white, the sun's bright rays dulled down by the heavy clouds that always hung over head for as long as I knew. The chill from the air nipped at the skin exposed around the googles that I wore, the glass helping my vision to cut through some of the fog before me. Every inch my body covered in warm grey clothes repurposed from old plastic. A process that I had learned from my father before he passed two years ago.

My heavy deer hide bag hung on my back, the straps clipped across my chest as I looked out and listened. It held items I would need for the hunt, everything from bottles, food, extra fabric, first aid supplies and weapons. Some of the these items I would need to trade, some I would use, others I might need to defend myself.

      It was quiet, no birds singing, no bugs buzzing, instinctively my hand went to my side. The fingerless gloves that encased my hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of the sword I had found in my travels. Not that it would of been any use against them, but it would keep me safe from my own kind. Slowly I stepped out, the leather sole of my boot silent as it hit the pavement. My eyes ever scanning the area as I closed the door behind me, I could hear the locks being engaged behind me in a series of clicks.

     I walked straight a head of me, toward the thicket of trees that I knew were on the other side of the broken and crumbling street. The grass beyond the street knee high between the two houses falling to the ground, vines wrapping around them slowly bringing it closer to earth with each passing year. One day, this house will be completely reclaimed by the nature we sought so hard to control.

     Through the yards, behind the house, the sound of metal chain link fence barely audible as I walked over the brush covering the fallen attempt to separate what had been owned from what had been wild. Slowly the world around me darkened as the trees encased me, the canopy above completely blocking the remaining light above me out.

    Even here the fog floated between the massive woods that surrounded me, it hung in wisps, effortlessly gliding around, like some haunted wind. It was always present, never quite giving up its hold on the world, a consistent companion. I slid the goggles up and allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkened setting. I stopped and looked around me, nothing. Good.

     I walked up to one of the nearest trees, unclipping the strap at my chest and slinging the bag forward from my back. I pulled the switch blade from the side pocket and pressed down on the button. The blade flipped out and clicked into place. I rammed the tip of the blade into the hard bark of the trunk. Peeling the chucks of wood away from the tree till I had a smooth surface to work on. I stopped for a moment and looked around, I couldn't be the only one that couldn't live like this. There had to be others, others who wanted to fight them instead of each other.

     If they caught me, it would be a sentence worse then death. Enslavement. I took a deep breath before facing the smooth surface of the tree. The exposed wood a soft tan compared to the rich chocolate color of the bark.

      'For we have risen. Wake now!'

    I stepped back, the message vague, but it was bold as the destruction of the nature in itself that I had done. Pulling a cloth from one of the many pockets that covered my body I wiped the blade before pushing it back into place. I stepped around the tree and continued further into the forest. I couldn't mark every tree, nor did I need to. I knew the trails that were used by our kind, the ones that humans would see and read. I also knew the routes that they took, where to avoid.

     An hour had passed, and I had marked five trees. Taking time to ensure I wouldn't be seen, not by them and not by any people either. Not that I ran into too many people these days, where it was wasn't heavily populated. It was a blessing and a curse all the same. Less people to deal with and less to worry about my own safety, but yet not enough people to barter or trade with, less people to see my message. I wanted them dead, each and every single one of them. But in order for that we needed to make a stand and I couldn't stand alone.

     "You do realize defacing natural property is illegal?" The heavy voice came from behind, the hairs on my neck stood on end. I moved my hand to my hip, fingers curled around the hilt as I slowly turned to face the man.

    He was dressed in heavy thick black attire, all but his eyes covered. He stood a good twenty feet back, his hands hung loose at his sides as he watched me from his distance. I could see his eyes travel down my body and back up, being sure to take his time on the weapon at my hip. His brow raise but he didn't seem alarmed by the sword.

     "What does 'for we have risen' mean, anyway?" He asked, walking to the left, his body poised still facing slightly toward mine as he did. My body tensed, my grip on the hilt tightened. I held my ground, my eyes tracking his casual gate.

    "It's time for us to rise up against them." I remarked, watching as he circled to my side still keeping his distance. Slowly I turned my head keeping him in line of sight.

     "You really think you could stand a chance against them?" He chuckled stopping slightly behind my left side, I could just barely see him by looking over my shoulder. "Some punk kid?"

    "Not just me, and I'm not some punk kid." I shot back, spinning on my heel to face him drawing my sword at the same time. I held it loose to my side, the black metal of the blade sharpened to a silver luster.

     "Oh, so you have an army, alright then," He stated crossing his arms in front of his body. "Where are they?"

     "I don't have one yet, but there has to be others willing to put their lives on the line to get out of the hell we're living in." I shot back, his head cocked to the side, crossing his arms he narrowed his eyes at the sword I held. "Living in fear, hiding, pretending that we are living our lives to fullest while they rule over us."

"Better check yourself, talk like that will put you in the stocks. Or worse, you'll be rounded up like cattle." He chuckled. "So tell me, what's some kid like you got planned, say you get your army, then what? Can you train men to fight? Do you even know how to fight, besides the occasional spat in the forest. Do you have a massive weapons cache?"

"Yes, I can fight." I scoffed back. "And we can find weapons, finds things to use as weapon, people aren't as defenseless as they think."

"So you say, but when they were woken the earth had a whole lot more weapon, things a bit more power the that little fire poker you got there. And it did have highly trained fighters at its disposal, you see what the outcome was." He remarked, he was walking slowly toward me, onyx eyes holding my own. His body still remained loose, casual, his gait was confident, making me uneasy. "So tell me, what makes you so different?"

He stood less then foot in front of me, I hadn't realized how tall he was till he was this close and he towered over me. His shoulders squared up, his posture straight, there was nothing threatening about him but yet his presence sent every alarm bell in my head off.

"Because I actually want something different. And I'm willing to fight for it."

@devilbat @kitkatkl

[kaelleid]

Izzy Hands Fic Recs (Aug 1-31st)

My favorite of the Izzy fics that I read between August 1-31st 2023. See other recs here.

Light and Day by TheCreakingShip (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Stizzy-centric / domesticity / fix-it / sci-fi / futuristic / smut

bloom & wilt by redshift (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Izzy has spent years at Edward's side. The occasional petal here and there, the intermittent rasp that makes itself a permanent home in the hollows of his throat, the cough that comes and goes; it's all worth it, to be the person Ed turns to. It's a price he pays willingly.

Negotiations by LaceratedLullabies (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Izzy (begrudgingly) asks Lucius for advice about navigating a poly relationship. He takes this advice a little too seriously, but it ends up being just the solution they needed.

sparring match by unlovedhands (Ed/Stede/Izzy)

Months past a reunion of the Captains and crew of the Revenge, all is smooth sailing, but one issue remains: Stede Bonnet can't swordfight for shit. After Ed takes notice of Izzy saving his ass countless times and gives the command, it becomes Izzy's problem, leaving Izzy to suffer with how maddeningly attractive Stede apparently is with a sword and some confidence.

phantasma by UnbotheredGoose (Stede/Izzy)

Stede writes a book and Izzy dwells with curses.

for the light so warm and pure will draw you like a flame by riverhag (Izzy/Roach)

Christ he was predictable. The slightest bit of care...

The Little Houses with the Colorful Paint by glassneko

Izzy is… just done. He's done with all of it. It feels like a switch has just flipped off in his brain and he simply can't care anymore. He can't care about this ship. He can't care about this crew. He can't care about Bonnet. And he can't bother himself to think about Edward more than necessary. He has vague images of other ships, or of buying a house, settling down somewhere. So Izzy checks out. And to further cement his decision, Edward doesn't even notice.

[clarissaexplainsbatchall]

A Violent Peace

"I want those tanks," he said as his saber came down towards her head, but the flat of Clarissa's rapier knocked it aside just enough for it to pass a few centimeters past her ear and she retreated a step.

Lord Henri Mattemeo of Escobas was dressed in his military uniform of tight black pants, thigh high boots and a dark purple jacket with gold piping. He looked every bit the defender of his land and from the sweat beading on his smooth shaven dark face he seemed intent on proving it.

Clarissa wore her Sea Fox dress uniform of white pants, black boots, blue double breasted jacket with lines of gold buttons running up her chest, and a pair of thin glasses from behind which her impossibly pale white eyes refused to focus on anything. Her rapier raised once again, the point brought up directly between his eyes and her own. "The prove it, Lord Mattemeo."

Off to the side of the opulent sitting room their wine glasses were left half full on a side table, the bottle forlornly alone nearby to keep company with the plush leather chairs which they had so recently occupied. The skin of some exotic beast, black and vicious, lay before a roaring fire which kept the cold of the raging winter storm beating at the windows at bay.

Mattemeo was much larger than her, two meters of muscle and arrogance to her one and a half of reserved grace, which is why he had chosen this contest. Assuming equal skill, as he was right to do considering that they were both career soldiers, his mass would easily win out in a contest of blades. And it was going as he had predicted.

Every time their swords clashed Clarissa was forced back, one step at a time. Now her back was almost against the glass doors leading to the balcony and she could hear them rattling in their frames as the snows and winds pounded against them demanding entry to the palace.

He came again, his heavy cavalry saber once more coming in from above to beat away her defenses, and it was the moment that Clarissa had been baiting. Her parry switched from four to one. Her hand raised, the tip of her blade dropped nearly vertical to the ground and she met the blow. It was laughably ineffective and never to be used against strikes to the head, much less overhand ones, but she had been watching his strikes, studying how he liked to come down.

His saber rang hard, not against her blade, but against the basket hilt of her rapier, knocking it the sword completely out of her hand, but his saber rebounded up a few centimeters out of his control. It was enough.

She stepped into his guard, grabbed the font of his jacket in one hand, and with a movement like waves rolling over rocks she threw Mattemeo to the ground. His sword went clattering across the waxed wodden floor and she rolled over him, planting her knee into his chest and kneeling on him, her left hand pressed against his throat. They were both breathing heavy, and he stared up at her with a look of shock which slowly broke out into a wide grin, "Marry me."

"I would prefer not to," Clarissa said calmly, then pressed her hand a little harder into his throat. "Do you yield?"

He nodded, laughing, "I know when I'm bested. I suppose the Free World's League will have to do without those tanks." She stood and offered him her hand, which he took as he levered himself back up to standing and straightened out his now bunched up uniform jacket.

"In this place, at this time, the medical transports will serve your people better, Lord." She slipped her rapier back into its scabbard and went back towards the wine.

"If you won't marry me will you at least be my mistress then?" He said this with a rakish good cheer, and it stopped Clarissa mid step.

She turned her head, facing him not with her eyes, but with her ear, half hidden under the fall of white blonde hair that had come loose from her bun during the fight. She smiled. "I will return. When I do I will be bringing with me a dropship converted for use as a hospital. If you purchase it and leave it as is then I would be impressed with your character."

Mattemeo laughed again, "I thought you clanners were all about the wars and the fighting. Your whole culture is based on it."

At that Clarissa's smile fades. He was right. An entire culture based around violence, blood and death as a means to every end. It was the core of her society, even, as a Warrior, her life. And yet... "The IlClan has emerged. Peace and unification is finally possible. We should start acting like it, quiaff?"

"Aff," Mattemeo laughed. "Come. Let's finish our wine and toast to peace wherever we may find it."

[sojrner-fishsticcc]

loona pm - further updates!

lots and lots of updates for this post! been trying to make roughly a post per day to not go overboard but still share what im working on cos MAN ive been absolutely going through this project! this rules!!!

so first off, very minor and later addition i finally gave loona glowing eyes! ive been meaning to do that for a while but i finally figured out how to! so yah, she looks v pretty now.

the major thing was animation. WAYYY more animation. i discovered the cpm modeling discord last night and its helped me get a really good grip on how it works (if you ever use cpm, go there because trust me you are not going to figure this stuff out on your own.) so heres just a big list of poses i animated (still a lot left! ahh!!!)

 - walk cycle (improved!) now looking at it after looking away from it for a while it looks a lil goofy so i might rework it at some point but god i cant get over how nice that digitigrade cycle looks.

 - run cycle! (omg its so cool im so so happy with how it came out) like seriously. i am so so proud of this. some of the hair bobbing and the chest and head movements are a bit stiff so i will probably improve on them. still, this is absolutely the part im the most proud of.

 - jumping (meshes super well with running anim, a bit buggy when falling long distances but thats a bug with cpm itself) i recorded this one in game since AHGHHHH it looks so cool in context. the running-jumps are rad as hell.

 - sneaking and sneak walking. like the running, i cant get over how the digitigrade walk cycle here looks. it has a lot of bone clipping that is probably not anatomically correct nor comfortable but whatever. it looks cool and i like it. sneaking is still buggy, so i cant do things like spam the shift key as that little “hello!” thing that some people do, because cpm has some issues switching between poses instantly, so here when crouchign for a split second it displays the default crouch but then corrects itself making it bug out. that sucks but i dont really know if theres much i can do about it.

- punching/swinging with both hands! more of a minor thing, but hey these little details are super important. id love to figure out if i could make a context thing so that it makes a full horizontal swing when holding a sword or weapon. (i didnt feel like recording a gif for this just believe me bro.)

thats about all i have so far. i plan to do much more and fix some minor bugs like symmetry in walk cycles soon but its a bit difficult. also, not only animation got an overhaul- i also finally implemented proper armor mapping that’s compatible with (hopefully!) any armor set! heres a demonstration of that using the minecraft dungeons armor & weapons mods, just bcos they look very cool and they help a lot with details in armor. (oh and btw, i made the hair specifically press down against her head when wearing armor, of you can tell)

as a further plan, i really want to add some extra movement stuff to this. i know that custom player models allows changing the hitbox, health, reach, etc. and i really want to make this loona model run really fast and have a super high jump. like i said in a previous post, im a big fan of the videos \@rohan_furries posts of his mod which adds detailed anthro fox models to mc, and one of the things it does is add a ton more movement so you can absolutely fly around and lunge and stuff. i really want to add that because GOD running around and kicking ass in this model would be i think the coolest thing in the world. i really hope i can add more detail to the animations because i would love to just stack so much detail on this thing until its so so so smooth... but generally i think itll be mostly finished by the end of this upcoming week, including polishing some of the already existing poses. but ill probably still continue working on it beyond then to add some cool movement stuff like i said above, which i dont know if its even possible but GOD if it isnt im going to figure out how to get it working. i also want to get it working with other buggy things, like some modded armor sets arent compatible with the armor mapping ive set up. ill have to ask around on the cpm discord for that because god the people there really seem to know what theyre doing. theyre all rad as hell btw. other ideas ive had include blinking anims, maybe some more polished idle poses, startup and finishing anims that help it transition between poses more smoothly (which i swear to god might be broken but might just be doing it wrong.) and also gestures if i can figure those out. i also might try to change the arms to be made of two segments instead of the current one so i can get a bit more detailed with the posing. im struggling between adding detail and maintaining the minecraft artstyle. im also excited to finish this project so i can do this all over again but better with another model. dont really know what character its going to be, if you have any suggestions send them to me i guess? idk, i might find a cool one or make one of my ocs or make an oc just for this.

when i finish this model i dont really know what to do with it. its mainly a little project for myself, but i really want to share it with people. ideally id want to sell it for like 10-20 dollars because this thing has taken hours of my time but i still want to share it with people, but im 16 and dont have a way to transfer cash :\ might figure something out, whatever. if you’re interested in getting your hands on it once its finished maybe send me a message? i cant guarantee it but i might if you seem cool.

ok, NOW i need to go to bed since its like LATE as HELL right now. good night guys :)

[krisiverse]

loz. which one had the best gameplay and which one had the best story in your opinion (+ worst of these too if you want?)

i hope you know how difficult of a question this is to answer concisely. not just because i have so much love in my heart for all of these games and it's impossible to pick a favorite but because i can be so petty sometimes. 1 million opinions under the cut

storywise i think wind waker is the strongest. i love the themes of it explores and the rich history of the world (especially now that i'm replaying it with the context of oot), i love the individuality of all the characters, i love how there's a clear throughline of motivation for link through the entire game. skyward sword is also really good, it's more focused on interpersonal connections and it has sort of the opposite approach to history and prophecy and it's neat!

i feel like the clear choice for worst story is triforce heroes which i don't think even other triforce heroes fans will disagree with, it's incredibly shallow by design and wasn't really MEANT to hold up at all. it's supposed to be silly! it's supposed to be not even secondary but tertiary to the cool puzzles and dress-up!

so my true worst story will be tears of the kingdom. it might have been good if the game had been designed around it more, but as-is it's a linear storyline stuffed into an open-world game, all the important story beats are cutscenes you watch that link and the player aren't even involved in, you can spoil the entire storyline for yourself just by viewing a single memory out of order, it's SUPER repetitive with the sages, and you can't use the information you actually learn until the "appropriate" part in the story. everything with the arm also makes me SO MAD, the very first thing i thought of with him waking up to it was how fucked up and traumatic that would be, and then i saw a post that said "yeah they literally grafted a dead hand to me irl without my consent and it was extremely fucked up and traumatic and this scene and all the focus on this arm following it was really triggering". and then they bullshit regrow his whole entire arm at the end. cowards. let link be an amputee, you don't even have an excuse of "but the gameplay" because the game is OVER and you even OUTRIGHT said you aren't going to put this one in more games. the only high point of this story is the light dragon and i love her. but she is not enough sorry

ANYWAY i think a link between worlds is still the absolute best in terms of gameplay. it's just so smooth and quick and snappy, you can get really creative with how you do fights and progression too! totk has similar levels of creativity and freedom which is neat.

for 3d games, skyward sword wii has some of the worst gameplay purely due to the control scheme, the motion control is somehow both oversensitive and imprecise and almost every enemy requires you to react quickly and slash in a specific direction... it adds up to a really bad experience. the switch version helped a lot just thanks to the joycons being more accurate and being able to recalibrate on the fly

twilight princess is honestly a slog to get through imo. it has the "huge, empty overworld" problem that absolutely every 3d zelda game has, but without access to at-will fast travel for the first half of the game until you get the master sword, and there don't even seem to be any shortcuts between areas like in ocarina of time?? or any way to pass the time between day and night? the main things i remember from playing twipri are spending ages running across hyrule field to get somewhere, spending ages waiting just outside kakariko village for it to become daytime so i can go in the shop, spending ages CLOMP CLOMP CLOMPing across the magnetic ceiling in my big metal boots in the goron mines long after the novelty of walking on the ceiling has worn off...

the worst gameplay in the top-down zelda games is unfortunately the gb/gbc games (link's awakening, oracle of seasons, and oracle of ages) having two buttons total for your sword, interacting with things, and ALL items in a lttp-style gameplay where you're constantly rotating between different items... it's not user friendly! which sucks because the dungeons are really good, and LAHD proved what a big difference it makes to have extra buttons to bind to and a little bit of extra polish... OOA and OOS really need the remake treatment. also, i didn't have any particular problems with it when i played, but shoutouts to the mermaid's dungeon in oracle of ages for having the single worst level design i've seen in any video game ever

(shoutouts also to zelda 2, for having such different gameplay from every other game in the franchise that i don't have any idea how to rank it)

[flowerflamestars]

Migration Patterns snippet

“Pretty obvious,” Tim told her. “I mean. I was in the room when you set his childhood legacy on fire and he spent the entire time staring like you were something he couldn’t wait to put in his mouth.” He reached, stole the wine. Elle let it happen. “Plus,” Tim added, wiping his lips on the back of one bruised to hell wrist, after a hefty chug, “You left together. He tucked you inside his jacket.”   A laugh, nearly silent, hidden against her neck. Jason’s mouth- Jason’s teeth- entire gesture charmingly soft and still something that left Elle shivering if she thought about it hard enough. Three knives, two guns, and Elle, precious against his person.   Held.   Elle switched legs to lean on, juddering as she went, unable to stay still. “That’s just- affection.”   Wine discarded, last of his coffee tipped dramatically to catch every dreg, Tim made an absolutely scathing sound. “Jason doesn’t touch people.”   Jason, whose sheer physicality tore open every attempt to stymie the fond, hungry desires of her heart. Never more than a reach away, those first three days they’d known each other again. Smooth confidence that made her feel a little insane- care, Jason was so fucking careful it made Elle want to break things, wrapping his arm around her in rain, pulling her out of the way of fire, one broad hand between her skull and brick.   “What?”   Tim hauled himself upright by grabbing the island. “You want a latte?”   It was not, apparently, a request that required answering. Elle stared at the sea green wine bottle, and tried not to think about the incredible color of Artemis’s eyes. The way Kori had lifted Elle straight off her feet in a hug, six and a half feet of stunning curves.   Elle liked herself just fine.   She wasn’t even jealous, exactly- embarrassed, thoroughly- explosively attracted, yes- maybe they’d let her go lay on Amazonian beaches without her more gorgeous other half, and she could finally learn how to use Messalina’s sword.   New York could have her back in any need. Jason could keep Gotham. Her heart might as well also get her home.   It might even be a nice exile. Donna was cool as hell, and Elle probably had just enough Warden inherited Greek lurking in her brain that she’d be able to read the books in their famous citadel.

Tim pushed a coffee mug into her nerveless hands. Perfect froth- little bits of culinary lavender and rose from her tea cabinet sprinkled over, clear if unneeded evidence Tim had gone exploring.   Elle took a sip. “Where’d the milk come from?”

Rather than retreat back to his hiding place, Tim lowered himself down across from her. Stared for a just a second, before his mouth twitched. “You’re freaking out.”

[conjurerandking]

@itismissswann

This place was... interesting. Tortuga was its name, one of the many ports Loki had traveled to. But this seemed to be the biggest hub of pirates and sailors alike. There seemed to be some sort of mutual ground here, between the East India trading company and Pirates. The place was alive with laughter, songs and dancing. In fact it reminded him a lot of home, of many nights he’d spend with his brother drinking and having a merry time. 

In fact, it made him miss the home he could never return to. So maybe an extended stay here could.. be helpful. He had switched his identity since his arrival. When he had first arrived to this century, he was a man of stature as well as rank. He blended in well, with his hand made tunics and leather adornments along with the exotic green and gold trimmed cloak. But he was getting nowhere with that, plus, those wigs were itchy. 

Now he was here as a drifter, maybe a pirate, maybe not. To anyone else, he was just a sailor, looking for his next voyage. His expensive clothes were no match here. Although, he didn’t dress in complete rags. He still had a heavy leather coat that reached the backs of his knees. Dull, green silk lined the inside of it, and tarnished gold buttons lined the lapel all the way down. He wore black pants and tunic, along with dark brown boots. The most expensive looking thing on him were his sword and daggers on his waist. His raven black hair was windblown and pulled back at the nape of his neck. Almost looking like a captain, himself. 

He was in search of his nexus events, and if the stories he heard were true, then he was on the right track. Seems as though anyone who ran into this fellow, Davy Jones, it was certain that death soon followed to any and all crew members that had the unfortunate meetings with him. Sounded like the perfect place to hide out for a few.. hundred years. There was one common name between them all, a man who seemed to escape just about any and every event the universe threw his way. And he was looking for crew members. 

Loki approached the table, manned by a gentleman with grey mutton chops, and long brown hair that was pulled back behind his shoulders. He seemed to have a decorum about himself that seemed like a purgatory between East India and company, and pirating. With his charming grin and way with words, Loki convinced this man, Gibbs, he was an asset to the crew and the ship in more ways than just manning a top-sail or mopping the deck. Even if Gibbs seemed a bit put off by his appearance. 

“There’s only room for one captain on the Black Pearl...” He told Loki and it made him chuckle. 

“I’m just trying to get to the next port. Wherever that may be.” His voice was a smooth velvet, standing out amongst the rest around them. “I’m told the captain of this ship is not easily persuaded to give up so easily.” Loki glanced over and saw a woman watching the table, she wasn’t being very inconspicuous, but he let it slide for now. 

[dreamteez-story]

Fate Chapter 5 - Two Sides

♫ Ray’s Playlist: “YUQI - Not Cinderella ”  ♫ Gwyn’s Playlist: “TxT - Free Falling”

~★~ Gwyn ~★~ Gwyn found herself standing. A sudden soft gust of wind brushed her shoulders and she got so frightened by it, that she stumbled a few steps forward and…fell into something. It scratched her arms and her right leg. She drew in a sharp breath of air and opened her eyes again. In the middle of a rose bush, there she lay. How? She didn’t even know. A few seconds ago she had a breakdown in her bed and now she found herself in a beautiful meadow, so beautiful she instantly thought she had reached a peaceful dream. Not one leaf, not one flower, not even the grass showed any signs of brown. Everything just looked perfect, too perfect to feel real. A perfect dream world to calm her down?

As she looked up at her arm, she saw a small red line where she scratched herself with the dorns of the roses. It was so real, she even felt the little sting as her fingers ran over it. But there was something else that caught her attention.

She wore a long, light pink-colored skirt, and white boots, laced up till over her ankle. And around her upper body, she felt a corset. As her eyes caught it, she was stunned by how beautiful it was. The slightly darker, pink-toned corset was tied with ribbons on her shoulders and probably on the back too. It was not too tight, she still could breathe normally, but her breasts still were pushed up, which gave her a great cleavage. This gown was close to the ones she designed herself, but she couldn’t remember this one.

However, it was her hair, that confused her the most. Gone were her chestnut brown waves. They switched to a beautiful shade of light pink with perfect curls, half up, half down. Pinned with something that felt like a metal hairpin with charms. 

What was up with her mind?

Confused about what dream her head had prepared for her, she checked her leg. The scratch there was deeper and a small line of blood was seen, but nothing deep. So she stood up and smoothed her skirt. All of this looked like it belonged in one of the fantasy books she so much loved to read, something her grandma would tell her stories about, when she was little, or so nervous, she needed to be calmed down. This woman knew how to distract her.

Still confused, she took in the view and compared it to places she had seen before, but this was completely new to her and the late afternoon sun looked like it was covering this place in glittering light. It felt warm on her skin. Warm? How could everything feel so real? Even the smell of the flowers and bushes lingered in her nose. Luckily she didn’t feel that tingle from her allergies.

While this question traveled through her head, she began to hear music, not that far away and found herself drawn to it. The soft melodies of flutes and something close to a piano were so calming, forgotten were the dark thoughts. So she followed the music, not knowing what would await her.

~★~ Ray ~★~

Ray was sweeping the kitchen as usual when she heard footsteps. Since it could have been anyone and no one was talking to her anyway, she didn't react. She kept her eyes on the broomstick and followed her path through the kitchen. However, when she passed the kitchen counter in the middle and saw two legs with knee-high leather boots dangling from the countertop, she paused. 

Her eyes followed the laces, up the legs to the hips, where a long sword hung from a belt. The hands were also wrapped in leather gloves and one of them held a fruit. Ray still couldn't tell the difference between the foods. She was just glad that everything she had been served so far had not been poisoned. 

When the hand with the fruit was raised, she followed it with her gaze but flinched briefly when she saw the crown prince's face. He took a large bite of the fresh piece of food and looked at her as well. Ray sighed and rolled her eyes before returning to her work. He was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. He had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place. Okay, he had also saved her from the spider, but that was no reason to keep her here as a slave now. She turned her back to him but heard his feet touch the ground again and follow her.

"Hey," he greeted, moving in front of Ray to get into her field of vision. However, she punished him with silence, changed direction, and left him standing there. But he didn't think about giving up. He hurried to follow her, and as she walked forward, he walked backward in front of her. "I hope you're enjoying your stay so far?" he asked, taking another bite of his fruit. A piece fell on the floor right in front of Ray, which she demonstratively swept up. She still didn't want to talk to him, and when he stopped in front of her, she groaned in annoyance. 

"What are you doing here? Weren't you on some important mission?" she snapped at him. 

"Yes, I was, and now I'm back and wanted to check on you, after all, you're mine now," he replied without batting an eyelid. Ray chuckled amusedly. 

"That's what you dream about. I don't belong to anyone," she responded coolly, pushed the broom into his hand, and walked out of the kitchen. 

"Yeah i did, and thats why i'm already back. You should be grateful to me, without me you'd be doing a lot more menial work right now. Besides, working for me has its advantages," he said and followed her a little way until she stopped at his words. 

"And what would those be? What advantage would there be for me to roll around in your sheets night after night, apart from satisfying your ego?" she replied.

"Wow, thanks for that great image in my head, but no, that's not what I meant." He moved a little closer to her again, and Ray crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest. "If you work for me, you'll get special treatment. You get a better room, better clothes, and let's call it that, certain bonuses if you do your job well," he enumerated and began to walk in a circle around her. Ray's head followed him, but her body remained on the defensive. "Besides, I'll be the only one telling you what to do, not the rest of the palace staff," he finished, stopping in front of her. 

The guy had some nerve, Ray had to give him that, and if he hadn't been such an asshole, she might have even considered his offer. 

"But I'd put your suggestion on the list if that's what you want," he added, a smile forming around the corners of his mouth as his eyes traveled up and down her body for a moment. 

"Let me think about it..." Ray pretended she was seriously considering his offer. "Fuck you!" she replied, turning her back to him again. 

"What a shame, I was hoping to avoid that ..." Ray hesitated for a second at his words. With an equally quick movement, Yeonjun grabbed her wrist and spun her around so that her back was pressed tight against his body. With his hand, he pushed her arm behind her back and the other slid to her neck. His mouth was right next to her ear and she could feel his breath on her skin. Her pulse quickened immediately and Ray swallowed hard as his voice whispered darkly.

"You have no choice, your life is mine now, and if I want it, I can take it from you." His words gave Ray goosebumps. Slowly, his fingers slid down her neck and he breathed in her scent. "Even though that would be a complete waste." 

"Is that supposed to scare me now?" Ray replied tensely. "Are you the evil guy in this story?" she asked, trying to get some space, but he only tightened his grip. Nevertheless, Ray's words elicited a sinister chuckle from him.

"I like being bad," he replied, his fingers stroking Ray's jawline. A cold shiver ran down her spine, but in a different way than she wanted. It took more self-control than she wanted to admit to keeping her body reactions hidden from him.

He waited a moment before turning Ray around and looking at her. Their faces were still only a few inches apart. Again, it was his deep blue eyes that mesmerized Ray. In a different situation, under different circumstances, she would probably have fallen for him, but not like this. 

"So?" he asked, a victorious smile already forming on his lips. Even if she didn't want to begrudge him this triumph, she had to admit that working here really wasn't pleasant. The bed in her room was also more than uncomfortable and the clothes she was given here were scratchy. Normally she would never give in like this, but at the moment it was the wiser decision. 

"Okay, deal," she pressed out between clenched teeth. "But I'm not sleeping with you," she added, and her counterpart smiled with conviction. 

"Of course not," he confirmed her words and finally let go of her. The ringing in Ray's ears finally subsided and her heartbeat returned to normal. 

"So, what are these tasks?" she asked Yeonjun, who adjusted his clothes and looked at her as if nothing had happened. 

"We'll get to that, but first you need something else to wear," he replied, instructing her to follow him. 

~★~ Gwyn ~★~

The music grew louder, so she was on the right path, yet she wondered, what all of this was. Gwyn couldn’t remember dreaming so clearly, even tho people always told her, her dreams were so vivid, and so detailed when she talked about them. She never had it any other way, so she always thought it was normal. Only this one, she knew something changed, it felt different. Her whole body dreamed that dream with her. What else could it be? And even tho she was sure she was dreaming, she didn’t want to wake up. When was the last time she felt that calm? Sometime before her grandma fell sick. After they came back from the doctor and she left the hospital alone, everything changed. She made sure her grandma wouldn’t feel alone on her last days, so she visited every day. Gwyn even saw her grandma take her last breath. After that she only remembered, that Ray arrived, took her home, and tried to help her with the preparations for the memorial. But she did most of that alone and in such an automatized way, that she didn’t allow the help for this one. She needed to arrange this herself. Nevertheless, she was thankful Ray stayed with her almost all the way.

Now she was here and felt her body calm down. Maybe she needed this breakdown to finally get up again. After this dream, she would wake up and start rebuilding her life, hopefully with Ray back by her side. Gwyn couldn’t even think about a life without her. No, she needed her other half and probably would need her all her life, whatever it would hold for them.

After a while, the now pink-haired began hearing voices. It sounded like a feast or something similar. The people seemed to dance and talk. There was a lot of laughter and giggles, but it still seemed tame, or maybe she was just used to the college parties, something she mostly ignored in her college life. In contrast to those, she liked the energy here and became even more curious. Her steps took her to another meadow and there she saw, what was going on. Around 50 to 70 people danced and talked, most of them with glasses of a light blue drink in their hands. Gwyn stopped between two big trees to observe the situation. All of the guests, female and male, wore evening gowns and suits, but all of them looked like they were out of fairytales. Flowy skirts, corsets, ribbons, ruffels. So many things she loved. 

And then she watched more closely, watched the people themselves. Most of them had colorful or very bright hair, but something else caught her off guard: pointed ears. Now this for sure felt like a fairytale or one of her books. Everything mirrored those.

“And what are you doing here?” Without warning, a calm, but steady voice appeared next to her and she stumbled a few steps backward, almost tripping over her gown. Her left ankle hurt form that, but once she felt safe on her feet again, Gwyn looked up and into dark brown eyes. The man had blush-colored hair and wore a white blouse and trousers with a light green cape over it, that covered a part of his head too. The cape had gold moon and star details and his eyes observed her every move. He didn’t seem cold, but skeptical towards her. He was beautiful, she couldn’t deny that, but she felt so nervous, she couldn’t take in his appearance.

“I…” Gwyn tried but stumbled over her word. 

“Taehyun, what did you see? You shouldn’t…” Another male appeared between the two trees on her left, right behind the man with the blush hair, but he stopped when he saw her.

This man was taller than the one who started talking to her. His hair was in a beautiful light blue and on top of it glistened a crown of gold leaves, that looked like it was woven into his hair. His suit was almost matching with his hair and the golden leaves covered the corners and sleeves of his suit jacket. He looked like a prince or at least a royal. There was also the way he first looked at the other male and talked to him, he could be, was what Gwyn thought. But once her eyes met his deep brown ones, she found herself caught in them, unable to speak and react. story ©dreamteez_story on wattpad characters and pictures credits to the owners