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lexluvswriting · 5 months

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ꔫ L'autunno.

☆ Ch: 3 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern.

-> (TW): uhm, some slight simmering sexual tension, ig? your first fight w daddy (jk. ur just a bit of a meanie in this chapter i'm afraid), Eris Vanserra is a mumma's boy bc i said so, thank u & good night.

W/C: 3.6 k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: I am SO SO SORRY THAT THIS IS SO LATE EVERYONE!! i've had assignment after assignment after assignment for the last 4 weeks on each friday [which is when i usually write 😵‍💫] I'm posting ch 3 tonight, but i'll have ch 4 and maybe 5 ready tomorrow!!

It had now been three days since receiving the news that you’d be performing for the Vanserra family personally. In that time, you had also discovered a few prominent things to note: the potential financial ruin that would befall the old dance studio if its debts weren’t repaid in time; that Eris Vanserra was a snide, egocentric prick who seemed to like watching you dance an awful amount, and that Eris Vanserra’s personal scent was of smoky woodfire, with a subtle hint of maple- a combination that made your stomach lurch. That last bit was information you were sure you could live without, but from when you two had ‘spoken’ in the hallway of the studio after the raspberry coulis debacle, it lingered in your nose and messed with your head.

It was the fourth day of practice- three days ‘till the Autumn Equinox- so as any normal girl did, you were trying to find reasons not to attend the Equinox, and not to attend the ball afterwards on Eris’ arm. Today to your dismay, he had requested time with you personally, and you were highly suspicious. However, your motherly confidants weren’t hearing a word of it.

“Think of the opportunities, petal! You will have a chance to wear some of the most beautiful dresses in all of the Autumn Court- perhaps all of Prythian! Everyone will be having their sights set on the Equinox in place of Calanmai, so you will be a star!” Primrose gushed, clapping her hands and pressing them together as she swooned- the pot plants to her left accelerating in growth, their blossoms procuring the most vibrant coloured flowers, feeding on her magic as the Spring Court native expressed her excitement.

“If [Y/N] wanted to be a star, she’d go to the Night Court and rendezvous with the lordling there. But she’s not.” Ordelia interjected her wife’s exclamations with a slight frown, taking a brush to your locks as you sat on the floor in front of the fae female. “You cannot possibly try to avoid it now- this would be a wonderful time to show Eris that you are skilled with your body and your mind. Indulge the boy in his dances, let him crow about his achievements, then confront him on what they are doing in the harvest quarter. The cul-de-sacs and the complexes are being raided almost weekly.” She encouraged firmly, wanting you to push forward with bringing up the topic of concern to the lordling. You winced slightly as she raked the brush through your hair as she spoke, yet you let her style your hair neatly.

“This is a chance for you two to discuss important topics, [Y/N]. Ignore the tabloids, and the gossips. You will be with the heir to the Autumn Court- the opportunity to hold his family accountable is staring you blank in the face!”

You sighed, fiddling with some loose fabric on the long, loose sleeve of your blouse. “Even if I were to talk to him, I highly doubt he has the capacity to process what I want to discuss. Besides, this feels stupid- why does he need to spend a whole day with me anyway?”

“Well it would make sense! You’ll be on his arm the night of the actual Equinox- he ought to make sure he knows who he’s dealing with.” Primrose advised helpfully, Ordelia nodding contemplatively behind you, “He might be wanting to look out for your best interests and warn you in advance about Beron.”

Ah, yeah. That tyrant. The arsehole who wrongfully increased the land taxes despite the land being on its last limb during Amarantha’s ‘blight’, merely to make his people work harder with no time for mourning or celebrating. The bastard who is not-so-sneakily declaring an exodus on non-Autumn fae, making every step you took a more calculated one when you’d walk to and from the studio.

After the protests in the streets recently, Primrose stopped sitting on her balcony to watch the sunset, and now Ordelia mostly runs the errands. You’ve been staying over at theirs a lot more too- not feeling comfortable in your own apartment, staring at the certificates recognising your creative and academic ability, thus granting you these pleasures. Not with the small Summer Court trinkets on your shelves despite living in the Autumn Court apartment. You didn’t even feel like a true fae. You felt foreign- like that human girl who was living in the Spring Court all that time. A small part of you wondered if she’d understand these troubles in the human lands too.

You had zoned out, and they both seemed to catch on to the way you went deathly still. Primrose warmed your hands with hers as she pulled you to stand, embracing you. “It will be alright, my petal. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. Just enjoy yourself today, yes? You’re going to be with the lord’s son. Perhaps he’s more than the papers make him to be.”

“He’s a male.” You huffed softly, yet her embrace gave you a small flicker of confidence.

Maybe it would be alright after all.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Are you going to be scowling this much at the Equinox ball?”

“Depends. Will you irritate me this much then?” Whatever Primrose and Ordelia advised for you flew completely out the window as soon as you entered the carriage that waited outside your complex. You had glanced around nervously before climbing in as soon as the door opened, his smug voice welcoming you.

“What are you afraid of? I won’t bite- not unless you’d like me to.”

Your nose wrinkled at his tacky response, but it was truly his foxish grin that unsettled you. In fact, everything about him unsettled you. You truly despised how handsome he was- especially when he was quiet, when he didn’t annoy you. It gave you time to observe him as he looked out the window of the moving carriage. His eyes glimmered in the light of the sun, as if his irises couldn’t decide what colour they wanted to be. His hair reminded you of the brightest, orange leaf you could find. He certainly seemed to emanate the idea of ‘Autumn’- as if he was the physical manifestation. Your stomach lurched as you sobered up to the ‘goo-goo’ eyes you gave him, your lip curling as you huffed at Eris and looked away, causing him to chuckle.

“I didn’t even say anything that time.”

You didn’t deign to respond, sending him a judgemental side glare, as if he wasn’t the noble who was taking you out for the day.

“You ought to be nice to me, lest you incur the wrath of my father. Or myself, for that matter.” His canines flashed as he smiled at you, his body language conveying a silent warning. You snorted softly at the mention of his father, unable to bite your tongue as you crossed your arms,

“And what will he do? Kick me out of his court? Wouldn’t be the first, would I?”

Eris’ face fell, and all sense of mirth- no matter how smug- left his face. He regarded you with a slow, calculating look- his eyes raking over you- before he rolled them, a more snarky, arrogant smirk curling on his lips as he regarded you again, clicking his tongue.

“My, my, what a tongue. Don’t tell me you’re subjecting me to ‘politics’ now. Aren’t you supposed to look pretty and dance?”

“Why am I here?” It wasn’t a question, and you wouldn’t apologise for it as you snapped at him, narrowing your eyes as you sat up straight- as if to strike like a cobra.

“Don’t you listen, darling? I’m taking you out for the day- to get acquainted and what-not. You ought to learn about my family before you insult them as horribly as you insult me- and we’ve only been friends for a day.”

You barked a laugh, almost recoiling in disgust. Friends? I’d rather drink dirty lake water.

“You are also going to be responsible for assisting in a make-shift Calanmai, shall we say.”

Your ears twitched, and you almost lunged for him. “If you’re implying that we are to share a bed, I’d prefer you to kill me right now.”

This time, he rolled his eyes, shaking his head as if you were the idiot in the carriage. “No, darling. Why don’t you listen to me first, before you go off rattling your poor little brain. The Spring Court cannot… ‘deliver’ on Calanmai this year, so the Autumn Court has decided to take up the honour. The Equinox is the night where the magic in our land concentrates the most- so you will be dancing to appeal to the Mother, and invoke a surge of power. Then, we will have a ball, where you get to look pretty on my arm and do some dances for me, in true ballerina fashion.”

“Prick.”

“That naughty tongue of yours- I must say, darling, you won’t last a minute with my father if you keep that up-”

“I could care less for your father.” You cut in, glaring at him with all the contempt you could muster.

“I could care less for him, and you, and your spoilt, sheltered family. You’re all tyrants.” The leash you kept your temper on, which wasn’t doing much before, was on its final thread now. But when Eris watched you in his usual smug amusement, snickering softly as if your disdain for him was comical, it made you lose it.

“See? You laugh because you know it’s true. You’re a spoilt, womanising bastard of a ‘lord’, and I dread the poor girl who has to sire your children. You- like your father, have no respect for your citizens- the natives, and those who came here seeking asylum.”

He inspected his nails boredly while you ranted, nodding along dryly, “Oh, I know. Doesn’t it just eat you up inside?”

“It does, actually. You and your father make no sense. He’s actively driving your people to ruin- upping their land tax when he knows damn well how Amarantha’s blight affected the court’s harvest and vegetation. Your soldiers are pulling families out of their homes in the dead of night, in the middle of the day, kicking them out with nothing but the clothes on their back and for what? Because your father was in the mood for some ‘nationalism’? Mothers, pleading for shelter, their children cold and crying while you all sit back and do nothing- provide no resolutions, no assistance. I don’t even want to imagine how weak and pathetic your mother must be-”

“Hold your fucking tongue.”

A sharp snarl tore through your rant, and in a blink, he had you pinned against the back of the carriage seat. Eris’ breath warmed your face, his canines sharp and pearly enough that you saw your warped reflection in them. His eyes were certainly bright now- as if he had captured the Vanserra fire in his irises, and for a moment you were completely distracted by his pretty eyes before you felt how tightly he gripped your upper arms, the feeling of his fingers digging into your biceps uncomfortably making you snarl as you pushed against him, trying to kick him off. Your body seemed to wake up as his skin made contact with yours; blood rushing in your veins; heart racing- the beats pounding in your ear as your stomach fluttered? Churned? You weren't sure what it was, but you didn’t like the foreign feeling.

“Let me go-”

Unwavering, he kept you in his grasp, his breathing almost uneven, some loose strands of auburn hair curling as they hung in front of his eyes. Everything felt far too amplified as he forced eye contact from you, and you wanted to get away from whatever this was.

“Speak about the Lady of the Autumn Court like that again, and I’ll rip out your fucking tongue.”

You had never been up and close with the Autumn heir- never knew what he looked like when he was angry- never experienced his aggression. But the flutter, the flicker of something that roiled in your lower stomach made you swallow dryly, your eyes locked on his as you silently nodded, your voice soft,

“Fine.”

Your eyes had widened at this point, and to a stranger, it would look like you were a frail deer cornered by a fox. Eris took slow, deliberate breaths to calm himself, his glare deadly as it bore into you in a way that was uncomfortably intimate. You watched his eyes visibly flicker from your own to your lips for a considerable moment, before he pulled away, releasing your arms from his grip as he sat back in his seat, looking out the window- jaw clenched. You both stayed silent for the rest of the carriage ride, yet your eyes never strayed from his jaw for that moment; your stomach fluttered every time he clenched it.

Well, this was certainly a start.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

You felt the carriage stop, and your head slowly turned back in his direction. At some point, you had turned away, looking out the window as you hugged yourself- your hands resting on your arms, where his hands had wrapped around them. You couldn’t get the feeling of them off you, the area of skin that he touched was still warm even after he had let go ages before. Your mind had raced in that long moment of silence- he certainly took the reputation of his mother seriously. What possibly could have caused that reaction? You had tried to remember what you could about the Lady of Autumn; not that there was much to go off. She barely had a moment in the spotlight, thanks to Beron. You didn’t even know her name- but did anyone? Everything you could remember about her was… muted. As if she wasn’t really there.You thought of the noble female fae again, and remorse trickled in, making you almost flinch at the way it tasted in your mouth. You pictured a lonely woman, married off to a man that made it his mission to evidently mistreat her, and it made something die within you.

“I’m sorry.”

It was quiet, and he didn’t spare you a glance as he opened the door, disappearing out of the carriage before a hand stuck back in, waiting for yours to help you out of the carriage. You hesitated- would it burn? Would it warm your body the way it did when he grabbed you before? You barely had a chance to consider it before he pulled you out as if you weighed nothing more than a feather, his other hand instinctively catching your waist to steady you as your feet touched the ground. Before you could even look up at him, he let go, looking away with indifference that made a small part of you roll your eyes.

“I’m sorry. For insulting you and your family.”

You tried again, toeing at a small pebble on the ground. This was stupid. You felt like a child. And what right did he have to get all upset when it was true what you had said-

“I couldn’t care less what you think of me, nor my father. But you do not speak of my mother that way. Ever.” The seriousness in his tone when he regarded you finally made you stand straighter. There he was. That was Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court and future Lord, the oldest Vanserra son. This time, there was no arrogance from him when he spoke- nor any barbed retorts from you. You looked at him, squinting as the rays of the sun slightly marred your vision before you shielded your eyes with a hand.

“Where are we?”

“The amphitheatre that will be used for the Equinox. Thought you’d want to see where you’d be performing, lest you accuse me of ‘blind-siding’ you.” He seemed to have resorted back to his snide, playful manner quick enough- yet you were still cautious- still curious.

“I’m not from the Autumn Court.” You blurted out- not in the most cohesive way, of course- shifting your weight from leg to leg as you stayed put as he walked ahead. He sensed that you hadn’t followed and sighed, glancing back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“But you live in the Autumn Court, darling. Forgotten already?”

“No. That’s not what I meant.” You almost felt like a child with the way you responded, and he seemed to pick up on that as he snickered.

“I’m not from the Autumn Court.” You tried again, narrowing your eyes as you watched him roll his ith a dramatic sigh.

“Would you like a medal?”

You ignored him and stepped forward, looking out at the autumn scenery, shivering slightly despite being dressed in warm layers. “Why was I chosen to do this? Wouldn’t it make more sense to have someone of Autumn Court origin?”

“Are you really this ungrateful for such a prestigious opportunity?” The smile in his voice was evident as he goaded you, and you sighed, making your irritation known. He chuckled, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he grabbed your arm to walk with you, only to sigh happily as you hissed and smacked his hand away,

“Alright, alright- I confess, I picked you personally.”

Well you knew that already.

“Obviously. Why?” You glanced at him as you both walked towards the large stone infrastructure, and he shrugged, the smile on his face evident that he wasn’t going to tell you- or at least, tell the truth.

“You’re pretty. Available. Apparently you’re the best in the Autumn Court. Why wouldn’t I?” He asked sweetly, his saccharine grin making you glare at him before looking forward. His words made your ears redden, yet you tried to ignore his wily charms as you followed.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Leaves crunched underfoot as you neared the large amphitheatre where you’d be performing, your eyes widening as you took in the horizon that came into view. The amphitheatre was situated on a tall hill that seemed to overlook all of the Autumn court territory, and even you couldn’t resist the varying hues of red through brown that appeared in the trees, in the reflections of the large lake at the foot of the hill you stood on. As you turned your head, looking back toward the structure, there was a tall, grey marbled statue of a feminine figure with a hood over her head, obscuring her face. In her hands, there was the image of fire, with a stony cauldron at her feet, and at the bottom of the statue was an inscription in a language you didn’t recognise- though you recognised the statuette immediately.

“The Mother.”

“And the Cauldron,” Eris nodded, eyeing the statue with a face you couldn’t read, before he nodded at you.

“You’ll be dancing in front of her, and my family, and probably most- if not all of the Autumn Court, to invoke the magic of the Court and make sure it thrives- isn’t that exciting?” Eris crooned patronisingly, not even giving you time to respond as he walked towards the large stone slab that posed as the main stage.

“And then, you and I will dance, commemorating me, commemorating my family- the one you seem to despise so eagerly- and commemorating the magic that flows through our land. How wonderful.” He sighed, as if swooning over a romantic gesture, and you couldn’t make your irritation more evident.

“Lighten up, won’t you darling?” When his taunt went unanswered, that cunning, manipulative smile curled on his lips again as he walked over to where you were overlooking the Autumn Court.

“I mean it, you know. You ought to be kind to me. I hold the future of your beloved, ratty, worn-down studio in my treasury.” At the threat in his tone, you tensed, scoffing spitefully as you crossed your arms to hide from the chill.

“Threatening me now? Really?”

He shrugged, standing next to you with his hands behind his back as he looked out at the landscape, “Not a threat to you, darling. But to the old studio that seems to be in the way of some projects my father wants to take action on. It would be quite easy to knock down- I even heard a rumour that its owner is behind on payments! Imagine my surprise when your pathetic little instructor grovelled at my feet, begging for a solution.” He shrugged, completely indifferent to the callousness of his character. You, on the other hand, seethed with rage as hot as the sun. It bubbled and simmered, and you pondered how quickly you’d be able to run if you kicked him down the mountain. But instead, you bit your tongue- you two had already gone at each other’s throats today, and it wasn’t even lunch time. Eris took your silence as space to continue, and he chuckled unapologetically as he shrugged,

“Besides, I told your weaselly little ‘mentor’ that if you did not perform to my standards, did not act to my standards, he wouldn’t see the money that was to be rewarded for your service. Although… no money means no payment on the property, which means- Oh! No more dance classes for little [Y/N] [L/N], the prima of her time.” He shook his head, his voice sounding almost sympathetic, though your eyes caught his fiendish grin in your peripheral.

“You really like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”

“It’s me, darling. Of course.”

“Prick.”

“Don’t push it, darling.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: Ngl guys? this chapter is somewhat of a filler to bridge us to the next bits. I've had lots of writer's block but I persevered for you guys!! it's 1:20 a.m. for me rn and i have classes tomorrow so imma sleep- but pls give this some love, and (NICE) criticism bc i am a sensitive soul <3

#lexluvswriting: l'autunno #lexluvswriting ✏️#eris vanserra x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris acotar #eris fic #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n

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justpoliteconversations · 7 months

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The Pinks [Linked Universe Hyrule]

There's a family in every era. Hyrule's about to learn about this one.

Masterlist

TW: None. Maybe.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

Hyrule was nervous. No, that's not nearly a strong enough word for what he was feeling. He was downright terrified of what he was about to do (what the rest of his brothers had convinced him to do). What he was currently doing.

In his time, the land of Hyrule was an inhospitable place to all life not born of darkness. To plant, animal and other with equal viciousness, equal cruelty, with few exceptions. An unhabitable wasteland in some areas, so damaged and tainted by Ganon's many years of dominion the air itself had become poisonous to anything that entered it.

Except, of course, for the monsters that dominated such places even several years after the fall of Ganon. Kept strong by the residual malice that seeped through the land like groundwater, often unseen, but prevalent in its impact upon the land. Whole legions of dark creatures living, planning, breeding, growing in the dark places of the world, just waiting for Hyrule to stumble upon their decrepit nests.

Hyrule made it a point to stay far away from such places, entering only when absolutely necessary. Understanding that sometimes the most heroic thing one can do is to not get involved, to stand back and let the timer run out even as your heart twists and rebels at the very thought of doing nothing. Such was the nature of his blessing, his curse, his burden. The magic that runs deep within the thick of his lifeblood.

And, there was another reason he stayed away from such places.

This is the type of land the largest mercenary guild (militia, for there can be no other word for the size and scale of such an organization) in the entirety of his Hyrule had claimed as their own long before Hyrule even drew breath. Generations upon generations of warriors and hunters all clustered together in great legions of bloodthirsty unity. An extended family of killers, near 700 strong and counting in ever rapid growth. With a bloodline so extensive, so ancient, so persevering, the very beginning of their origin was shrouded in legend.

The Pinks. The Mercenary family of the wastelands.

Their name was known throughout the land, and yet rarely ever uttered from the lips of the common folk. Because while this family was known for their strength and power and the service they gave as the unofficial keepers of the deadly wastelands they stood guard over. They were also known to be unsociable and far removed from the people of Hyrule as a whole. Often displaying fits of temper unbecoming of anything resembling their near knightly standing amongst the public (sparse though that public may be).

Because they weren't knights (and never claimed to be). The weren't palace soldiers (whom they openly regarded with distrust). They weren't even bound by the niceties of social convention. They were a family of mercenaries and hunters, completely uninterested in the politics nor social governing of the land they shepherded (because that's what they did, whether they owned up to it or not). By their own admission, in one of the few addresses they'd ever made to the greater masses, they thought the idea of playing nice to save face was a joke.

They really were a strange bunch. Strange, but powerful nonetheless.

Still, despite their oddities, Hyrule had never had it easy with mercenaries. With such value put on his blood, and the lengths (and money) pro-Ganon factions were willing to go to obtain it, he had never met one that didn't know his face on sight.

He couldn't even imagine what would happen if he wandered into their territory and they got it into their heads that his head was worth whatever inflated price the latest dark affiliated cult had put on his bounty. He didn't want to think of how quickly he'd have fallen had these powerful individuals with their influential family and damn near limitless resources had ever sought to take his blood for their own.

He prayed to the Golden Three every time he heard even a whisper of their name on the wind, in the dark of a tavern rafter, in the shadow of an alleyway. Thanked them for the fact that he was not the kind of prey these people sought. That they were not known for hunting fellow hyrulians for profit or sport (Hyrule shivered at the memories, so many memories, of sadistic grins and leering eyes). That they had a strict code of ethics they were bound to.

But he would never tempt fate. He would never put himself in a position to see how deep that moral code ran through their blood (to see if the Blood Cursed Hero of Hyrule was exempt from their decree). He had never stepped foot into any of their dead-land border towns. Had never taken that risk. Not until now, that is.

It felt almost surreal, to gaze upon a village pushed right up against the suffocating dark of a tainted forest edge, separated by nothing but a flimsy wooden fence and a scant few meters. Truly, these people were as brazen as rumor tells.

"The Pinks? What a dumbass name for a merc guild." Legend huffed, taking in the small splattering of buildings clustered in half-hazard formation around one decently sized Mercenary Hall in the center of the makeshift village. His thin brows had quirked in judgement, clearly unimpressed by the (as one could guess) pink banners hung from nearly every building.

No one said anything directly to contradict him (because really, they were having the exact same thoughts), but one look from Time kept Hyrule's predecessor from further comment as they moved further into the village. Hyrule was grateful for it, because he really did not want to find out if these people were just as quick-tempered as rumor said.

He sent up another prayer. Begging for things to go smoothly just this once. For them all to leave fully intact and without the fabled legendary grudge of The Pinks following in their wakes.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Or, more accurately, he should have realized the world had a sense of humor. And he was the subject of it.

'On second thought.' Hyrule's mind stuttered numbly with disbelief, stunned silent (as was the rest of the Chain, eyes wide and floundering in the face of this unexpected revelation). 'Perhaps it wasn't me who was the butt of it this time.'

"You deaf or stupid, Side Bangs? I asked what region you hail from?" A young woman with dull pink hair and a frightfully familiar face stared down their very own Legend, who was looking rather pale around the face.

"Back up, Rina. Yer ugly mug's throwin' him off." Came another pink haired (but only on one side, the other blonde as a wheat field) girl's cool quip.

Rina swirled around with a thunderous snarl, thin, expressive brows hiked into an ominously pink hairline. "Shut yo mouth, Halfie bitch! No one asked you!"

"Girls." Came the firm, even reprimand of a tall man with long pink-blonde braids cascading down his bow-laden back. "Yer gonna be late if you keep wastin' time runnin' yer mouths."

The full pink one looked about ready to snap something back, but the arrival of a dark-haired woman (with the same damned face. the same damned nose) stopped her cold.

"Move." The woman said, voice low and rasping with cold command. And the girls fled, but not before full pink cast a defiant glare over her shoulder at the woman.

No more words were exchanged after. The woman merely nodded to the group, cast a considering eye over Legend, and left. The braided man in toe, casting his own apologetic grin over his shoulder and a small wave of farewell.

As one, the chain all turned to Legend, waiting for him to explain.

"The fuck would I know!" Legend snarled defensively, not appreciating being the center of attention while he was still reeling from having met his (probable) descendents so unexpectedly.

"So it's real?" Wind asked, wide eyed, as he eyed Legend's single pink bang.

Instead of answering, Legend turned heel and stormed off towards the Mercenary Hall, determined now to get this over with and forget the whole experience had ever happened. And the chain scrambled to follow behind, wanting answers, but understanding Legend couldn't have known regardless of their curiosity.

Hyrule prayed once more to the Three. Prayed that no one thought to ask him if he knew anything about the whole spectacle. Because he most certainly didn't and was still reeling himself from such a chance encounter.

The Chain caught up to Legend just as he threw the doors open.

Only to be greeted by a sea of pink. And a sea of equally unimpressed glares staring them all down with varying levels of judgment. And Legend stood before it all, looking like the foot of Hylia itself had come to kick him between the legs.

"Who popped another kid without tellin' no one!? Amanda!?"

"Fuck you! That ain't my problem!"

And then. Chaos. Sheer, unbridled chaos.

And amidst that chaos.

"Oh! Look at the freckled one! Isn't that Link?"

"What a cutie! I call dibs on courting rights!"

"I outrank you!"

"And I'm better than you, Streaks-freak!"

"Fuck you!"

"No! You!"

"The tall one's pretty cute too, though. Wait a minute."

And the only thing to run through the Chain's collective heads in that single, unified moment of befuddlement as they stared at Legend's back was...

'A rabbit indeed.'

---

Back to the deepest of shadows for rest.

#linked universe #linked universe hyrule #rabbit indeed

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triocat · 11 months

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Goretober day 17: plant growth

TW: blood, guts

God damn it Harrison this is the 5th time this month

#my art #goretober #camp camp david #camp camp #cc david

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mavlepine · 8 months

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ITS ANGST TIME :

here’s an idea i have for the ending of strewn petals ( sneak peek and idea credit here ! —

don’t press keep reading if you don’t want spoilers 🥰

tw : major angst ahead , mentions of blood , vomiting flowers

imagine reader can’t get enough air into her lungs because flowers have wrapped their stems around her bronchi and there’s branches scraping at her throat so she’s been talking less and less

and in the flower book she has it goes : “confess or say less because you’ll fall into a coma and the plant growth has to be taken out of you ( or you die ‼️) , but then you’ll forget your crush cause your feelings for them are what’s fueling the flowers to grow THE FLOWERS ARE A PART OF YOU THEY ARE THE EMBODIMENT YOUR LOVE ”

so she takes the flowers she’s coughed up the same night the story starts on and she sneaks out and lays them on the docks , along with a note about flower meanings , hoping percy will read it and finally get what she feels

and then she passes out cause she can’t catch her breath ( bc of the flowers ) and she’s taken to the infirmary

percy can’t find her the next morning and never sees the note , soemone tells him she’s in the infirmary so he goes and asks will “ what’s going on w her ” and will whips out a medical book and forces him to read the section on hanahaki ( but we’re not calling it that )

then and only then does he realize she likes him but he doesn’t feel the same so he just sits next to her limp body , blood pouring out her mouth and he cries and tries to dislodge the flowers despite knowing she’s gonna forget him

she starts choking on her blood and flower petals , so he uses his water powers to deprive the plants of water so they shrink and then will removes it

and then it’ll just end i think ,, i want this to hurt bad

LMK WHAT YOU THINK ! ! 🤩

#percy jackson x reader #strewn petals #hanahaki #angst #no happy ending #unrequited love #percy jackson x fem!reader #demeter! reader #pjo #pjo fandom #will solace #flowers #flower language

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forggywrites · 1 year

Text

Without me? Miguel O’Hara X ftm reader

Miguel x ftm reader smut

this is my first ever attempt at writing full smut, so sorry if it sucks.

CW: PIV sex, oral, slight begging, Miguel and reader are both switches, reader is on t and has bottom growth (referred to as a dick, penis, etc). No use of the word vagina for reader, only hole, core, etc. talk of dildo use. Self indulgent. Miguel might be ooc. Domestic Miguel. Not edited.

——————

It was 5:00pm, you had just plopped yourself back onto the couch after taking a nice shower. Your hair was still damp and you smelled of conditioner and your boyfriend’s body wash.

“I’m home!” The front door swung open and your boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara appeared with a small smile on his face.

“Hey babe.” You called out, letting him know your location.

Footsteps approach as your large boyfriend walks into the living room, seeing you on the couch he plops down next to you.

“Hello honey, how are you?” He relaxes further into the couch as he speaks.

“I’m alright, you?” You lazyly say.

“I’m good, but you seem to be a little tired, are you sure everything is alright?” Miguel knew you, you didn’t have the same energy as you normally did.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine… I just didn’t expect you home so soon.” You brush off his question, he really had nothing to worry about.

“Oh, yeah. I should have called, the mission I was telling you about was much simpler than expected. So I decided to come home and see you.” He looked at your lips, but he noticed something. You have that look on your face that you only have when you’re post orgasm.

“Did you… have fun without me?” He questions, knowing you’ll understand what he meant by ‘fun’.

…

“Well I didn’t know when you’d be back, and I was feeling really horny, so I thought I’d take a shower and take care of things…” you look away from him, the little voice in the back of your head was telling you he would be mad.

“You could have called me.” You look at Miguel slightly shocked.

You shrug. “Well I didn’t want to bother you, besides, I’m a big boy. I can take care of my needs once and a while.” He looks at you, a small smirk spreads across his face.

“Was it good?”

“What?”

“Was it good? You still have that fucked out look on your face.” He pries, wanting to know what your activities entailed.

“Definitely wasn’t as good as you, but yeah. It was good.” You think back to earlier, sitting on the shower floor with a dildo furiously pounding into your hole. All that you could hear were your own whines and moans, begging for Miguel to make you cum.

“I think I drove up our water bill though… it did take me a while to get there.” Miguel looks at you again, scooting closer.

“And what were you thinking about?” He plants a kiss on your neck and trails his hands down your waist.

“Mmmm, guess.” You tease, your breath hitching at his attention to your sensitive spot.

“Hmmm, Ryan Reynolds?” He joked, hot breath hitting your skin.

You laugh. “No, but good guess.” You pull him from your neck and look him in the eyes. “I was thinking about you.” You plant a sloppy kiss onto his lips, feeling your core throb.

“What were you thinking about me doing?” He asks between kisses while his cock stirred in his pants.

You swung one of your legs over him, planting yourself directly into his lap. Your crotch grinds against his, feeling the ever growing bulge. “I was thinking about having you fuck me stupid, or me fucking you stupid, I couldn’t really decide.” You dive back in, capturing his lips with your own. His hands were planted firmly on your ass while yours explored his chest, feeling every muscle under his tight shirt.

Though it didn’t take long for your fingers to pull that shirt up, the pointer finger and thumb of each hand reaching up to toy with his nipples. Miguel moaned into your mouth at the contact, his hips bucked into your own. His cock was impossibly hard, straining against his pants and hitting your sensitive dick with every slight movement.

You pull away for a moment, feeling his dick twitch against your crotch. “Do you want some help with that?” You grind down again, loving the way he whines.

“What- fuck. What were you thinking?” He loved how good you were at making him squirm, he’d happily spend the rest of his life getting fucked by and fucking you.

“How about a blowjob? You deserve it after a hard day at work.” You smile at him, nothing but love and lust visible in your eyes.

He nods wordlessly, excited to have you on your knees for him once again.

You leave one more kiss on his lips before sinking to the floor, with Miguel comfortably sat on the couch. Miguel stared at you intently as your fingers skillfully unbuckle his belt. He helps you pull his pants to the floor before he goes for his boxers, but you stop him before he can take them off as well. You give him a slight glare before leaning in and leaving a kiss on his clothed dick. You slip the garment down just enough to let his erection spring free, it twitched as soon as it hit the cold air. Miguel’s cock was standing tall and proud, a bead of precum leaked from the angry head.

Slowly you leaned in, teasing the large man above you. Your tongue darted out of your mouth and licked the tip, the salty and bitter taste spread across your tastebuds but you continued on. Your wet muscle licked up the underside of his dick from the base to the head, before taking the head into your mouth. Miguel moaned as your lips wrapped around his cock, you sank your head down onto him. You did your best to take the whole thing, but it was always a struggle. Miguel was long and girthy, his dick matched the rest of him.

Your head bobbed as Miguel moaned loudly. Lips wrapped around Miguel’s cock, your hands pulled his boxers down to his ankles. Then you grabbed his balls and started to massage them lightly, this caused Miguel to whimper once again. You were skilled and Miguel loved it.

It never took you long to bring Miguel over the edge, and you could tell today was no different. His hips were bucking into your mouth and his dick twitched furiously, so you continued your work. As you bobbed your head faster, Miguel got louder. The sounds were driving you wild, a moan escaped your lips when you sat on your heel to give yourself some sort of friction and that only drove Miguel closer to the edge. His dick twitched once, then twice, and on the third twitch his balls contracted and emptied into your mouth. A loud scream like moan came from the large man as he came, you helped him ride out his orgasm.

Swallowing the substance you stand back up and kiss Miguel once again, moaning at the taste of his cum on your lips. He panted heavily as he came down from his high, you softly stroked his cheek in an effort to comfort him.

“That was amazing.” He sighs, his dick softening in his lap. “Want me to return the favor?” He looks at you once again, appreciating the soft smile on your face.

“If you really want to I won’t mind, but I wouldn’t be against you just fucking me dumb either.” Your hand strokes his chest, still covered in the tight shirt. But you soon let out a yelp as he picked you up without issue and carried you off to your shared bedroom.

Miguel drops you onto the bed and strips himself of his shirt, leaving him fully nude while you still haven't taken anything off. You follow suit, pulling the old t-shirt off of your body. Before you could pull anything else off Miguel climbs on top of you, connecting your lips once again.

He kisses down your neck and chest before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, one of his hands massages the other before switching his mouth and hand to give the other the same attention. He then continues his trail of open mouth kisses down even more, stopping when he meets fabric. Suddenly your shorts and boxers are gone, exposing your throbbing dick and core to the cool air. Hot breath fans over the twitching bundle of nerves, making you whine. You knew this was payback for teasing Miguel earlier, but you didn’t care.

Miguel dipped his fingers into the wetness surrounding your hole before slowly moving his pointer finger past the ring of muscle. One finger was never a struggle, even when his hands are huge compared to yours. It easily slid in and out of your twitching cavern, but he wasn’t just planning on just prepping you, he knew you were already opened at least a little due to your earlier excursions. He was going to make you cum, and he wanted it to be better than ever before.

He blew a small stream of air on your twitching dick before giving you the same treatment you had given him. As his tongue swirled around your sensitive dick he slid another finger into your dripping hole, your moans were music to his ears.

As his fingers started to move faster your whines grew more desperate, you now had three of his thick fingers pumping into your hole. His lips and tongue pumped your dick as you continued to get closer to the edge, your mind was turning to mush and you could barely think any coherent thoughts.

Miguel pulls off you for a moment as he continues to pump into your hole. “Does that feel good? Is my baby boy enjoying this?” He dove back down to latch onto your dick once more, but he kept his eyes on your face.

“Fuck! Yes, feels so good.” You whine, your hips sputtered against Miguel. “Fuck, Miguel. I’m getting close! Please don’t stop.” Your pleas were heard loud and clear, Miguel continued his ministrations. He was determined to make you cum. His fingers thrusted harder and faster as his mouth suctioned around your dick, you could barely breathe it felt so good. Suddenly a loud moan flew past your lips as your whole body shook, you clenched around Miguel’s fingers as you came. He continued thrusting his fingers as you rode out your high, slowing his movements as you panted.

As you came down his fingers slid out of you, he leaned up before sticking the three fingers in his mouth. “Delicious.” A wet pop sounded as he released his fingers from his lips, licked clean of your cum. He looks into your eyes once again, searching for any hint of wanting to stop. He found none, but still voiced his thoughts. “You good to keep going?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, please. Fuck me into oblivion.” He smirked.

“That’s all I needed.” He pecks you on the nose before leaning over to the nightstand and grabbing a condom along with a bottle of lube, he rips the condom wrapper open with his teeth (something he knows you enjoy) before slipping it onto his hard length. While you were already pretty wet he still pumped some lube over his dick and onto your hole, you can never be too careful after all. The bottle of lube is dropped back onto the nightstand and he positioned himself at your entrance. His head rubbed against your acing entrance before sinking in ever so slightly.

You and Miguel moan in unison, he sinks deeper into your hole slowly. Every inch is filling you perfectly, there is only a slight stretch due to all of the lube and prep. For the first time ever, Miguel was able to sink fully into you. You had never felt so full, and you loved the feeling. Miguel gave you time to adjust before asking if it was alright to start moving.

In response you ground your hips into his, causing you both to moan loudly. He took that as a yes and slowly pulled out, but only after an inch or so he pushed back in. He continued this slow viscous cycle, only increasing how far he pulled out every few thrusts.

Neither of you had ever felt so good, your walls were choking Miguel’s dick perfectly, and you could feel every vein and small twitch that came from the man on top of you.

“You can-“ a moan leaves your lips. “You can go faster, I can handle it.” His slow deep thrusts were nice, but you needed more. Miguel nodded, unable to pull together a coherent sentence. His thrusts increased in speed and in depth, leaving you babbling words of praise and dirty talk.

Wordlessly Miguel moved your legs, basically folding you in half. His hips slammed into yours as he thrust deeper into you, wet slapping sounds rung throughout the room. You could barely handle the feeling, getting close to the edge once again you clenched around Miguel. You were already so sensitive from cumming twice in the last hour, it was only natural that you would struggle to go for very long. Miguel could tell you were close, and he was conflicted. Should he let you cum and keep going? Should he edge you so you could cum together? Or should he let you cum and get himself there after pulling out? Only one way to know.

“I’m gonna cum, but keep going. Don’t stop when I do.” You moaned out, answering Miguel’s question before he could even ask. He nods and continues his thrusts, your walls clenched around him again. You praised the man on top of you while tipping over the edge, but as you asked Miguel kept going. Thrusting harder and deeper trying to chase his high. As he got closer and closer he could tell you were as well, so as he got mere seconds away from releasing again he rubbed your dick. That was all you needed to fall over the edge once again, this time in perfect tandem with your boyfriend.

Miguel’s balls constricted once again, releasing his seamen into the condom. The larger man collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to knock the wind out of you. He just couldn’t hold himself up anymore. You both panted heavily as you came down from your highs, your head was cloudy and felt light. The feeling of the larger man lying on top of you was normally amazing, but was not helping you catch your breath, so you carefully rolled him off of you so he could lie next to you.

As Miguel rolled off of you his little Miguel slipped out of you as well, leaving a gush of wetness all over the once clean bedsheets. As Miguel sat up and disposed of the condom you watched his muscles flex. He turned back to you and took a look at the mess you both had made.

“Wanna take a shower?”

——————

Thanks for reading, hope you guys liked it.

#forggy #forggy speaks #forggywrites #x reader #across the spider verse #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #atsv #atsv smut #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x ftm reader #ftm reader #smut fic #ftm smut #atsv x reader

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quillofspirit · 11 months

Text

Light as a Feather

The beginnings of a young maiden, with wings and a bright smile.

Set in LOTR, but I certainly made mistakes throughout. This is not meant to be true to everything Tolkien, just my thoughts on the life an oc with wing might have in Middle-Earth. Also, there is no dialogue.

Word Count: 7,340

Status: stand alone fic, completed

tw: loss, grief, some guilt

I read this fic by @entishramblings a few weeks after the first draft, it's worth a read. It's not the same idea, but they both have wings! If you want more winged-people in Middle-Earth, go read The Innocence of Brutality.

There will be a point in the story, where I highly recommend you listen to Romantic Flight, by John Powell, from How to Train your Dragon. Trust me.

It had been a while since her last visit. The woods had stayed the same, tall trees lush with green leaves, full from the summer sun. The warm westward wind had allowed her to make good time, arriving almost one full day before the start of winter. Her wings had grown strong from three seasons of exploration, beating ferociously in the air, carrying her above the clouds for the first time since her feathers grew, many moons ago.

She was young at that time, yes, just half her father’s size, yet small feathers grew each day, in two spots between her shoulder blades. At first, it was a wispy down poking out of her skin, like an old pillow in need of new filling. The skin of her back was often sensitive, irritated by loose feathers and the growth of what later became her wings.

When her parents took notice of her discomfort, and lifted her smock, they found the beginning of plumage. Scared at the red skin, and thinking the shaft of the feathers had pierced her skin from the outside, they spent a few delicate minutes picking them out one by one. She cried a lot that night, worried she misbehaved, somehow, and at the pain of each feather tearing away from her skin. Her father held her hands and told her to breath, to follow his own rising chest, while her mother did her best to be gentle.

With all feathers gone, her mother wiping her hands on her apron, her father took her into his arms, and held her close. Her eyes were wet and red, but no tears fell anymore. Her mother circled her arms around both, and they stayed, hugging and grieving the events of the day, until the sun was well under the horizon.

In the morning, they looked at the wound. It was better, less irritated, and starting to heal. Her parents looked relieved, and so she was too. There had not been feathers for a few days, until the itching started again. This time, she was careful not to show her discomfort, afraid they would think her a fool for getting feathers into her back again. Wherever they were coming from, they were determined to grow, and she did not want to spend every few days with the burning pain she had felt that night.

No, she would keep it to herself, and she would find a way to hide them.

It worked, and she was able to keep her back away from her parents’ worried eyes, until the feathers grew too big and too uncomfortable to hide beneath her chemise. She cried again when they talked about what they would do, debating amongst themselves. It was the only time she had thought of running away, but she knew not to where, so she stayed, feet firmly planted in the ground, fists closed tight and looking anywhere but her parents’ faces.

They approached and knelt in front of her slowly, searching for her gaze, until she let them catch it. They told her then, that whatever was happening, it was not something they knew about, but they would see what it became, what she became, and they would do their best to help. She gave a wet sob and launched herself into their arms then, and she told them about the way her clothes kept rubbing at the feathers, pulling and scratching her. They spent that evening adjusting her smocks and chemises, the three of them cutting and sewing a perfect little opening.

Eventually, the townspeople took notice of the strangeness of her back, and after a few questions to her parents, they decided that it was not a problem. She was still young, a smart child, always willing to help, with a bright smile. They would not ask more of her.

As the down became feathers, and limbs grew, her mother always tried to reassure her, saying she had gone through this as a babe, when her teeth were first growing in. This time, however, she was able to vocalize her discomfort in more constructive ways than wailing, not that she did. For the most part, she kept it to herself, and could be seen rubbing her back against anything that would hold, like fence posts and the great hickory tree that stood on the hill.

When she wasn’t foraging for pecans under it, eating them then and there, or bringing them back home for her mother to candy, she was climbing its tall branches. She once fell asleep on one, face down on her arms, her belly full and heart content. The whistling wind passing through the leaves and the sun shining high had lulled her to sleep, satisfied that from her high perch and behind the thick curtain of green foliage she could not be seen.

It was not long after the first real feathers grew in, the length of her father’s hands and no longer fluffy and wispy, that a tall grey bearded wizard came into the village, looking for the “young maiden with an unusual condition.” The wizard had a hat as long as his beard, and he grew more interested in her each time he came, for the limbs continued to grow and yet remained little more than decoration on her back. Although the wizard, Gandalf, as she had since learned was his name, had no explanation for her predicament, he promised to look to friends for answers.

He tried to convince her to go with him to the elves, that they might know enough to help her, or at least why she had wings. But she was young, and afraid of being scrutinized by any unknown eyes, especially those of the elves. She had only seen one, once, in a dream. She could have sworn it a memory, but her parents had been quite certain she had never left her small village.

It was early morning, dawn reflecting in the morning dew, soaking through her dress and leaving it stuck to her body. She stayed laying beneath the soft orange light of the sun making its slow ascent over the horizon, simply admiring the way the light shone through each droplet, turning blades of grass into tiny filaments, like fine crystal.

The wind was blowinggently, making her shiver in her wet smock. It carried a scent with it, soft and fruity, that had her sitting up, head tipping to follow it. With the light shining as it was, she had some difficulty to locate the source, but she did. There was someone, standingon a hill a few furlongssouth of her. They were looking at her, and she could feel the weight of their eyes, but she felt safe, like they were looking over her. She knew them to be an elf, though she could not explain why.

They stood against the sun andthey felt familiar, as warm as the rays drying her dress. They stayed still, looking at each other, though she looked more in their direction rather than atit, until the round sun behind them was almost completely above the hill, its stomach kissing the grass. The dew had gone and her dress was dry when they turned and disappeared behind the hill.

She had not seen an elf since, though she had heard of them sometimes going through the woods by the village. There grew tall, dark green dressed trees, that gave a welcome respite in the few sweltering days summer brought.

Over the next few years, her feathers grew to the size of her arm, and the stumps at her back grew into limbs, and eventually, into very small wings. They stayed quite useless for many years, growing large but still too weak to carry her. The townspeople started to love them, just as they loved her, and they looked forward to making her laugh, if only to see her wings flutter from happiness.

Everyone in town had soft pillows, made of the down she lost when she moulted. It became tradition for her to give a pillow made of her own feathers when a child in town reached five years of age.

And as the wings grew, so did she. she became a beautiful young woman. Many noticed the changes, for her warm demeanour became visible, a slight hue emanating from her skin when she smiled. It became quite evident to everyone that she had more in common with the elves than humans.

The wizard visited when he could, but never brought answers. No, he added questions to the list, though he always tried to bring her trinkets from various places. Secretly, though she suspected it, he was hoping to entice her into leaving the village in search of knowledge, and the world.

When she reached 17, the wings had grown to an almost unmanageable size. She walked sideways through the doorways in her village, and could only stretch when on the hill, by that tree she loved so. It became quite cumbersome, to say nothing of the alterations her dresses required. Though she did not have many, they needed the back cut, and fitted around the base of each wing, with a strap buttoned in between to close it off. A small salvation of her dignity, for her dressing would be quite improper without.

She often found herself spending entire days outside, after her work was done, flapping her wings in hopes of one day lifting more than a few feet off the ground. Once she could glide, she developed the habit of walking up the hill to swoop down over the village, often delighting the townspeople with her airy laughter as she passed over their heads.

Once, when the wizard was in town, she told him to stand in the square and look to the sky. Her smile was wide, and her wings flittering behind her, so he did as she said. She ran up the hill, where she picked up every red, orange and yellow leaf her apron could hold. She climbed up the first few branches, and took a deep breath before jumping and opening her wings.

As she swept through the air, she let her apron fall open, and the leaves slowly descend to the town, sending a flurry, the colours of sunset, bathing the town and delighted people into a myriad of colours. They glistened in the light, still wet from the morning dew, reflecting sun rays and slowly floating down, where children ran to catch them before they fell. She heard the wizard’s deep chuckle amongst the townspeople's laughter, and felt her chest grow light with joy. The colours became more vibrant, saturating the leaves with more light, like tiny flames, drifting down to the town.

She barely made it back to the village, after one of her more successful landings, that she was striding up to the wizard, and asking to meet the elves. He considered her, eyes crinkling and let out a knowing sigh. If she had not been convinced before, she knew then that he was hoping for that.

They travelled together, and she was happy to be spending a little more time each day in the air. Though she often went to sleep with her muscles sore, she did not stop launching herself into the sky, delighting at the feeling like it was new each time.

The weather was still comfortable when they reached Rivendell, and she met Lord Elrond, a tall and dark haired elf, who regarded her with keen eyes. Once they had eaten and were alone in a circular room, filled by books, he asked to see the wings fully. She did her best to stand tall, and spread her wings carefully, amazed that she could open them without touching neither walls nor ceiling. She let him examine her wings silently, before he spoke to Gandalf, who did not have much to offer, until he stood in front of her and asked for what she knew.

It was a short conversation, but she was relieved when Lord Elrond said she could stay as long as she liked, if only so she could learn to fly better. When she was dismissed, she did not linger to hear what Gandalf and Lord Elrond discussed, for she was eager to lie in a bed for the first time in weeks.

She awoke on a soft bed, sinking into it like freshly fallen snow, and she fell into her routine much too easily. Her face squished into the padded pillow, more comfortable than her own, she hugged it tight, contracting her whole body before loosening every muscle, sighing contently. For the first time since the lumps had become limbs, she did not wish she could sleep on her back, and her neck did not feel stiff from the position.

Her back was free of any soreness from the day before, and she felt the soft weight of her wings by her side, not squeezed into the tight space of her room, or needing to cover her shivering body. She smelled lavender and chamomile, making the ascent from deep sleep to an awakened state more like a climb than a walk. For a moment, she stayed there. Breathing in deeply, and relaxing even more into her bed, she allowed her mind to think about the past few weeks.

As they walked to Rivendell, with Gandalf telling her about the elves and what to expect, she found she knew the way. Not like she could explain the way back home, but her feet knew the way. Like she knew it was an elf standing on the hill, in that dream.

The closer they got, the more she found she could run ahead and she would always take the right path. Though he did not question her, she knew the wizard found her lack of hesitation peculiar. A few times, he sighed dramatically as he seemed to ponder the way, and yet she always knew.

Once they reached Rivendell, and after Gandalf explained that it was named Imladris in one of the elvish tongues, it was like she had spent the last 17 years of her life submerged in water and she finally surfaced. She breathed in, and the feeling grew in her chest, that she knew this place and it was welcoming her back. She had not admitted the thought to Gandalf, but felt at peace, more at home, in Rivendell than in her parent’s cottage.

Her village had been warm, despite the weather, and the people kinder. The few rangers and visitors that had passed through the village had given her a few looks, and sometimes a few comment had floated in the wind to her ears, but they quickly understood, by the sharp looks and sharper retorts, that she was not an oddity to be ogled. Everyone greeted her the same, merchants conversed easily with her, and children did not shy from bringing her flowers or small rocks they found.

The first time a stranger scoffed at her as she passed, the merchant he was dealing with stopped in the middle of passing the bread, and promptly gave him back his coins. They argued, though the stranger quickly realized that none in the village would now barter with him. Grumbling about lost opportunities and superstitious folk, the stranger resolved to walking to the next village where ‘better people would take his coin and let him talk'.

All in the village looked after her, but they treated her like a precious gem, afraid to get too close lest she crack and the beauty fade. She had been an outlier, however many times she participated in celebrations, invited every time, for every event no matter how small. And she was the first they looked to when a child needed cheering up, for her soft feathers and softer smiles always seemed to bring spirits up. They did not treat her like the town jester either, she was respected. And yet, she could not help feeling like she did not quite belong.

It was the small things, the pinch in her chest at the though of altering each new dress, or the times events were moved outside, for however careful she was, her wings always seemed to knock things over or bump into the ceiling. Having to stand, unless she brought that one chair the town had commissioned for her 15th birthday, when sitting into chairs became too uncomfortable. Waking up with a stiff neck unless she slept on the branches of the big hickory tree, where she could wrap herself in her wings.

And despite how much she loved her parents, and how much they loved her, the sad looks they all shared when her friends talked about getting proposed to, and what they wanted their future house to look like. Because she knew, eventually, she would have to build herself a house and live in it, with only friends and family to visit, but never one to stay.

No one in the village had approached her with anything more than friendly interest. She had many friends, and yet none with which to share her life. She had grieved that thought, and found it particularly foreign when she arrived in Rivendell, for there was much to learn, and even more to explore.

She breathed in once again, to remember the smell and feeling of the soft linen pillows and the plush sheets of the bed. She sighed before tentatively opening her eyes.

She could see an open window and the morning sun, only just starting to cast a pinkish glow on the white walls, and hear the soft wind blowing in fresh light air, full of the sounds and smell of the many waterfalls. When she stood from her bed, she looked around the small but airy room.

Tentatively, she stretched her arms, and with them her wings. She had never been able to do so inside her room, though here she found them almost fully deployed before they brushed upon anything. Wary of the damages she could do, she brought them back to herself, and a shy smile graced her lips easily, the first of many in her day.

On a chair by a simple desk, she found a beautiful blue dress, of airy silk. As she put it on, she discovered it had already been altered to fit her back, and her heart grew with warmth at the thought. She could move her wings with ease, and it was the most beautiful cloth she had ever worn.

After spending a few minutes putting her hair in a loose braid, she walked out, determined to explore the wondrous and sinuous walkways of Rivendell. She walked, her hand on the cold finely carved walls, watching the sun slowly rise and the waterfalls glitter like a million fireflies.

START LISTENING TO ROMANTIC FLIGHT HERE

Her meandering led her to a bridge, over three mighty waterfalls that led into a wide river below. Had she no wings, she would have felt terror at the height, knowing a fall like this to be fatal. Instead, it filled her with excitement at the possibilities.

She considered the fall, then her feathers. They had grown more golden since her departure from her village. She had not yet been able to fly more than half an hour, though she supposed she was here to get some answers. This would answer at least a few of her own insecurities.

She took a deep breath, feeling the small mist of tiny droplets floating up from the cascades. The sun was still rising, and she let her excitement bubble up in her chest. Before doubt could get the better of her, she walked to the edge and let her body tip forward. She could almost see her reflection in the running water, her blue dress swirling in the wind.

As she neared the river below, she tilted her head and fixed her eyes to it. She breathed out deeply, and opened her wings wide. The wind rushed across her face, between each feather, and it caught in the great expanse of her wings. She felt her body begin to drift upwards, and she inclined her wings down. She kept her eyes straight, focusing on the shore, than the mountain range opposite the river. Before she hit the water, she gave a big beat of her wings and was lifted towards the sky with an ease she had never known before.

She soared up in the air, wings beating and bringing her closer to the sky, higher than the bridge she stood upon moments ago. The sun was up, and the first rays of sunlight were hitting Rivendell, illuminating more of the elf-city as she rose. When she felt the sun warm her skin, she closed her eyes and gave one last beat, savouring the feeling of weightlessness and warmth. Completely at ease in the air, she felt happy, truly, incandescently happy.

She smiled then. With nothing to hold her to what was and what could be, she was free. For years, she had longed for the moment her wings could carry her. She had been patient, though it had failed at times, when angry tears spilled from her eyes and she had lamented having wings only to be chained to the ground. Now, oh now she was free.

From a nearby pathway, an elf and a wizard were discussing. They were talking about her, about her extraordinary fate and what it would mean for her. When she stopped in the middle of the bridge, the elf looked at her intently, but did not seem startled to see her lean forward and fall.

The wizard smiled, and his eyes shone with pride when she rose again. As she flew to the sky, he remembered how she used the hill near her village to glide over it, and how she soared across the plains on their way to Rivendell. Now, she looked quite like a bird, flying towards the sky with the same agility of a sparrow in summer. Her feathers glowed golden when the sun passed through them and she looked radiant then, illuminated by the sun and her own happiness.

That was the first time she felt the wings to truly be a part of her. From then, she flew, gliding between trees and manoeuvring with more ease each day. She spun between branches, and slid between valleys, skidding between the tall walls of canyons with a giggle. Her wings continued to grow, though not as quick as the rest of her, and her longest feathers were now the length of her legs, a rich golden yellow along the shaft of each feather, with a few deep brown steaks. Along the ones closest to her shoulders, there was a dark grey, speckled with white dots.

Her muscles were strong now, able to carry her against the wind, though not for long. But her stamina was gaining, and her eyes shone with pride everytime someone asked to see her full wing span. When kept against her back, the top of her wings stood a good feet above her head, and her lowest feathers swept the ground when she walked. Completely unfurled, both were three times her own height.

She had never quite outgrown her habit of physical touch, having grown with human parents who doted on their daughter. She could not help herself, sometimes so overcome with happiness to see someone that she enveloped them into a tight hug. When she flew back to her village, after two years away with the elves, she had not been able to hold herself back.

She saw it from afar, the smoke billowing out of the small houses, and the children playing in the square. She dove to circle the village, and a child looked up, curious at the sudden shadow on the ground. He squeaked with joy and quickly called others to attention. She landed, amongst children that had grown since she last was here, and merchants that did not seem to age.

She strode to her parents' cottage, and called their name, her voice breaking from excitement. They looked up from their work, and met her halfway. They looked upon her, tears glistening and eyes shining with pride as they took in their daughter. Standing tall, with wings the same colour as the autumn sun, and a smile to rival it. They fell into each others arms and she curled her wings around them, maybe in an attempt to bring them closer.

They stayed there, in the soft embrace of family, for a while, softly talking to each other, like they had done that one night so long ago. When they broke apart, they decided to eat outside, in the grass. The townspeople only interrupted their reunion briefly, to welcome her back.

She spent a few weeks with her family, happy to help where she could, and delighting the children and adults alike with stories of the elves and Rivendell. She told them of great halls, open windows, and many waterfalls, of the soft linens, and the pretty dresses. They did not grow tired of hearing her describe the walkways, and the rivers passing underneath, neither did they seem bored by yet another story about the views, and the kindness of her host. The children lined up to experience the feeling of flight, and she grew strong with carrying young boys and girls over the square, laughing with them and sharing their exaltation.

Before she left again, the village celebrated her, and she spent the night dancing and laughing with friends and family. She hugged her parents close the next morning, and she waved them goodbye, and left them in a whirlwind of their own thoughts.

She went back to Rivendell, where she continued to grow into herself. The elves still did not know where she came from, even a few years after she had come to them, but they admired her light, so similar to theirs, and yet, her own.

She befriended an owl from the forest, who seemed to look at her like a clumsy newborn. It showed her how to swoop down from branches, and to spiral horizontally, using her momentum to pass between close trees. Then, it was how to use her wings to hide or to keep warm.

Last, it showed her to hunt from the air. She had learned from the elves, but always found herself too clumsy on the ground. Her wings would cast shadows, or drag on the floor and attract the attention of her prey. The hunters encouraged her to try from branches, but they did not have wings and could only help so much. Now, she knew how to use it to her advantage.

The first time she was able to pick up an unsuspecting rabbit from the ground without disturbing any of the grass around it, it panicked a little in her grasp, but she put it gently down on the ground and watched it hop away. She startled an elf nearby when she passed overhead, squealing in glee. She learned to fly silently, and it became her favourite hobby.

She knew better than to hope elves would not feel her coming, but she had yet to test it on others. So, when the wizard next visited, she took great pleasure in showing just how well she flew, and how much her wings had grown. When before she could scarcely hold her own weight in the sky, she could now comfortably fly against the wing. She told him about carrying the children in her village. He smiled at the thought, truly delighted to see her giddy with excitement. Then, she left him to talk with Lord Elrond, who she could swear had a knowing twinkle in his eyes as he watched her walk away.

Perched on the top of one of the great halls, she waited for him to walk near. Just as he stopped to look at the setting sun and its reflections on the many waterfalls, she dove and grabbed his hat. He looked up too late, and saw her retreating form before he heard her laughter. He did not keep the smile from gracing his lips, and it stayed there until supper, where she graciously extended a hand, holding the hat. He tried to look stern, but the mischief in her eyes and the happiness in her features was enough to convince him not to.

Two winters came and went before she decided to go explore the world. Goodbyes were harder than she imagined, but she promised to come back before the next cold, since she found it too strenuous to fly in the snow. She would need a few years still to get used to it.

She had to see why people chose to be rangers, living in the wilderness and never staying long in a single place. She met one in Rivendell, a kind and calm man, who was curious but respectful of her wings. They talked, not often and never for long, but she appreciated the company of another man. No matter how much he reminded her of an elf, in his manner of speaking, and his steady gaze, and yet, there was a touch of unruliness, in the way his eyes betrayed the feelings behind. They shone bright with compassion, and worldliness, as only one who has seen much and wants to do more has. She enjoyed his company, if only as a respite to the airy and imposing personalities of the elves. They were kind, but she always felt like a child around them, feeling so much of the world.

She had to see things, and learn out of the safety of Rivendell. So she prepared a few supplies, keeping it light, as she would have to carry everything. It would make for good exercise, she insisted, possibly to reassure herself. Still, Gandalf seemed to have every confidence she would be back before the winter, so she trusted. In him, and her wings. They would carry her home.

She found it harder to barter the further from Rivendell she strayed. She could hardly hide her wings under a cloak, and she often found the best way to get supplies was to ask rangers when she saw them close to villages. Unfortunately for her, it also meant that sometimes, she encountered the ungracious kind.

One tried to shoot her when she walked up to him, believing her to be some kind of orc spy. Of course, another tried to run away with her coin, believing himself to be faster than her, which she quickly corrected. She was sure at least half of the rest lied about the prices, but she preferred it to the mothers hiding their children’s eyes, and the murmurs of abominable fates.

Most treated her fairly, and with grace, as they invited her to share a fire. They exchanged tales, and warned her against certain villages that were more superstitious. She always tried to give them something before flying off, and sometimes all she could manage was a few arrows, fletched with her own feathers.

Although she saw much, especially when she flew and took the wind. There was a feeling unlike any other, high as she was, to look upon the marvels beneath her. Her favourite moments were when she found mountains and canyons deep and wide enough for her to explore, her wings just brushing upon the sides. But she had no one to show these amazing things to, and no one to tell at night. There was no one to share her food, and certainly no one to contemplate the stars with.

When the loneliness got the better of her, she veered to her old village, her heart aching for the warmth of neighbourhood and friendship, subjected for a little too long to cold stares and colder hearts. That night was the longest, as she flew without a rest, and she arrived, just as the sun rose onto the hill. Just below the clouds, she could feel its warm rays and tears sprang into her eyes when the first roofs came into view. Hastily, she dove and landed on the narrow path, in front of her parents’ cottage.

She knocked before she took a full breath, lungs still stinging from the effort. The door opened and she almost threw herself at her parents, but she quickly drew back when she recognized the now grown up girl she used to entertain in her youth.

She was only a few years younger, but it made all the difference now. The girl – now a woman – wiped her hands on her apron, and invited Avelina in to share breakfast. She followed, mostly out of habit, but her mind was reeling.

Had she forgotten her own home? She never thought a few years would erase the memory of her childhood, but as she looked around, sat at that table, she recognized the slight uneven step at the back door, from years of passage. The table still held that crack she had made once as a child, when she attempted to jump off it to fly, still young enough her wings barely reached her wrists. She had fallen to the ground harshly, and the table had followed, a corner of it splintering.

Her finger traced it now, and her friend set a bowl of porridge in front of her, sitting down across.

Her expression was sombre, and she looked to be choosing her words. When she spoke, it was with a soft tone, and Avelina would have thanked her for it. She started with expressing joy at her return, but slowly moved to the concerns she knew she would hold in her place, to find a stranger in her parent’s home.

Without much thought, Avelina corrected her. It was not her presence that made her uneasy, and she certainly was not a stranger, they knew each other too well for that. No, it was the fact that she had yet to see her parents.

Her friend cast her a sad smile, and told her of their passing peacefully in their sleep, about a year ago.

Avelina felt like her wings could not have carried her away from the way the ground opened beneath her. She felt light-headed, and the room spun around her, but she held her grief close, and thanked her old friend for her honesty. Though her friend's face was blurry, she thanked her for the meal also, and walked out, not having eaten a bite of it.

She did not know how to feel. This was new to her, the grief. Suddenly she felt very jealous of the elves she knew, wishing to feel nothing of what was quickly overcoming her. The ground felt unsteady, and her childhood felt more like a burden, pushing on her shoulders.

Her heart felt ten times its usual weight, and the enormity of having left her parents, in their last years, to tend to their garden, and the farm, when she could have attended to them, brought a strangled cry to the surface. She clutched at her heart, and tried to heave in a breath, but it was interrupted by a sob.

Living with the elves, she did not see her parents grow old, and she certainly did not think of them aging. Instead, she took her time, honing her skills. She did not feel prepared that the last time they talked was exactly that.

With a big gust of wind, she flew to the hill, where stood a tall hickory tree. At the highest point, it soaked in the autumn sun, orange with it. She sat at the base of it, and brought her wings around herself.

She cried there until her eyes were raw, and the sobs turned to hiccuping breaths. The sun was slowly setting, and she was exhausted. She almost fell asleep, leaning on the tree, looking out at the village, her wings around herself. But she was tired of being alone with the stars, and she felt as fragile as the dry leaves by her, beneath that great tree. She wiped her cheeks in an attempt to remove the stains she could feel, and pushed herself up. She walked back to the village, and there found many of the same faces she had grown with.

Her return was full of smiles and well wishes from the townspeople, and she tried, oh she tried to return them, but her heart was heavy and her guilt too close. Some saw it, she knew in the sad looks she received, but they did not mention it. Not yet. They would a few days later, when the idea did not sound as foreign. For now, they welcomed her back, all smiles and tight hugs.

It was not until the late evening, when celebration was dying down and she was walking back with her friend to the house. She almost refused the invitation, but even if it was not her home anymore, it was her friend’s and for now that would do. They had just put down the last blanket, when her friend called her name softly, and seeing the warmth of her eyes made the grief too big of a burden to bear alone.

She collapsed in her friend’s arms, sobs making her tremble with the immense emptiness she felt in her chest. They stayed there, her friend softly rocking her and slowly untangling the knots in her hair. When the night was at its darkest, Avelina’s tears had run dry for the second time, and she clung to her friend. There was a great big anvil on her heart, but she would carry it. And with a lullaby, she easily drifted to sleep, exhausted as she was.

She stayed two weeks in her village, but the incoming winter was pushing her to return to the elves soon. Avelina hugged her friend for a long time that morning, after they had gathered supplies for her. When she left, she flew above through a cloud for the first time, and the wet air felt refreshing.

The climb was difficult, it was hard to breathe the higher she went, but she was determined. She forced her wings to beat harder, and her lungs to draw in more air before she broke through the first cloud. Even as she relished in that small step, she continued to climb, and soon found a warm wind. It was easier to fly here, she could glide if she followed the stream.

Though the air was cold, and it froze what might have been tears or the effects of passing through a cloud, she wanted to stay there for now. Up here, in the cold and above the clouds, she could let her thoughts run, not afraid of being seen. Up here, it was just her, her wings and the endless sky.

She remembered that dreadful night, the one she spent crying with her parents. When they resolved themselves to her situation, they pulled her close and apologized for making her suffer needlessly. She was too young at the time to understand, but now, she wished she had thanked them.

Thanked her father everytime he went up the hill with her, catching her when she launched from a branch and did not fly very far. Thanked her mother for altering her clothes, and trying different ways until she found the one most comfortable. Thanked them for picking her up everytime she fell, and encouraging her to try again. Thanked them for the cheers she heard everytime she flew a little bit higher, and for letting her go to the elves when she needed answers.

She passed through a thick cloud, and shut her eyes at the sudden chill. It was colder than the air, and she felt tiny pin pricks on her skin. When the feeling stopped, and she was out of the cloud, she opened her eyes again and left the wind stream to reach higher.

The sun was bright here, but she did not need to dodge or twirl. There was nothing in the way. So she climbed until she was becoming dizzy from the lack of air. And then she let herself fall down.

She put her wings close to her back, and dove to the clouds below. For a moment, her heart beat ferociously in her chest, and she had a fleeting thought of fear. She did not know what she would find beneath the clouds, she had been flying so long, and faster than before with the wind, so she could very well be above mountains, hidden behind the soft, white blanket.

She pulled up just at the last moment, and steadied just before she broke through, her wings barely brushing against the wet mist, and yet it clung to her. It reminded her of flying low over lakes, her fingers breaking through the cold surface, tiny droplets lifting in her wake.

How proud her parents would be. She was soaring through the sky, agile as a sparrow. As much as they loved her, and she knew they did, for it would not hurt this much if they did not, they longed to see her happy and confident. And this? Trusting her wings, and herself, going where she pleased and knowing she was loved? This was a happiness that filled her to the brim with light, so much so that it poured out of her.

Though she knew her heart would ache to share it with them, she cherished her memories. And as much as she wished to thank them for giving her a truly golden childhood, she could be at peace with their last moments. They had seen her ecstatic, sharing her gift and shining with pride. They had shared in those moments, and she would ask no more.

She breathed in deeply, and looked ahead. There, poking through the clouds, was the top of a mountain, surrounded by a vast ocean of pure white. She knew these mountains, she had dreamed of going over them since she first saw them. She smiled, and felt the timid flame of hope warm her chest. She tilted down, and dove through the mist.

When she broke through the surface, she was taken by the beauty of the valley below. From this high, the rivers looked like tiny filaments of silver, passing through lush green hills. At the foot of the mountain, there stood her second home.

A small shuddery breath left her, as she dove to it, and suddenly felt the warmth of the sun. Above the clouds, she felt numb from cold, too caught up in her thoughts to realize she was freezing.

She was fast approaching Rivendell, and she recognized someone in a hat, walking along an elf on the walkway to the supper terrasse. She smiled, and veered just above them, swirling in the air, and shook the ice that had formed at the tip of her feathers, and in her hair.

The movement sent hundreds of small crystals of ice through the air. They caught the light, and burst into a myriad of hues, a dance of changing colours on the ground. For a moment, she was struck by the view, like she was seeing colour for the first time. All around her, the ice was glittering, like faraway stars. They were sending rainbows through the air, to the ground below. She laughed fully, elated by the sight and the feeling of the sun on her back.

On the walkways, the wizard and the elf had stopped walking, instead looking up at the magnificent display. Rainbows could often be seen in the fine mist lifting from the bottom of the waterfalls, or over the streams running through Rivendell. But this was different, like each crystal was its own rainbow, glittering in the sun and the light of the giggling girl flying through it.

Did I write 7,000 words centered on a phrase spoken by Matthew Madfadyen in 2005? pffft I -

Thank you for taking the time to read this! If you enjoyed, do leave a little comment, let me know what you thought 💚

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