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shady-tavern · 1 year

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Winter Star

Some children were born touched by nature, carrying the warmth of the sun, the brightness of spring and the gentle patience of the earth. They were rare, but everyone knew their stories and knew how wonderful they had been.

They knew about the girl touched by summer, who had been taken by a fae woman, the Stag Queen. There was the boy of autumn, who the stars had lured away, never to be seen again and a handful of others, whose fates had been the same.

One day, a girl came into this world with hair as white as snow, lashes like frost and skin as pale as the moon she was born beneath. Everyone who laid eyes on the babe knew immediately she was one of those special ones, beautiful as flowers in the middle of winter and as elegant as drifting snowflakes on cold winds.

Her parents worked hard to keep her safe and raise her to be kind and clever, spending much of their hard earned coin to dress her well and see her educated, knowing a great future would await her. So long as no one took her.

They warned her of the dangers of the world as she grew older, to mistrust strangers and duck out of sight should someone peer at their humble home. However, not even their best attempts to shield her from the world could stop the spreading rumors.

"She is as lovely as snow in the sun," the baker would tell anyone who'd visit his shop, proud of the special girl that grew up down the street of their cozy village.

"Do you know these wonderful early mornings where the light looks gold and pink and everything is so so beautiful it steals your breath away?" the cobbler would sigh dreamily to everyone who'd listen to her. "That's how it feels to look at her."

Soon people came to see the girl touched by winter, the one who was rumored to walk as though she was floating and she was said to possess such graceful manners it would make royalty turn green with envy.

People started to grace the steps of their home in growing numbers with gifts and sweet words carried on silver tongues. Hopeful fathers with curious and often infatuated sons, merchants who donned their finery in hopes of looking more enticing. The parents refused them all, citing that their daughter was still too young to chose.

It became a sort of contest amongst the curious and hopeful, to try and glimpse even a hair of the rumored maiden. Those who did manage to see her for just a moment left smiling dreamily and spreading ever more rumors.

The girl soon grew into a young woman and now her suitors were no longer just merchants and local business owners. Now she received letters and gifts from wealthy traders and even nobles.

One day, a messenger of the prince of their lands stood at their door, offering a chest of jewels and a richly embroidered dress deserving of a future queen. The young woman refused him gently and with kind words, as she had refused all other gifts.

Shortly afterwards, a holy knight asked for a moment of her time, offering his blessed castle to guard her from all evil and unbreakable vows of devotion. She gently and kindly refused him as well.

He vowed to win her heart and return with better offers just as the prince did, who would not give up so easily, soon sending another messenger.

She refused their gifts of riches and protection anew with a kind word, while her parents debated. Her mother, ever worried about her safety and wanting the best possible future, grew fond of the idea that her daughter might become a princess. One day even a queen. This would certainly be a dream come true for any parent.

Her father, pious and ever concerned about the magical dangers of the world, was particularly fond of the holy knight. He was rather taken with the idea that his daughter might one day live in a place no evil could reach while also receiving enough money to be comfortable.

"The prince is said to be a handsome, well mannered young man," her mother said while they baked for the harvest festival, autumn coloring the landscape outside. Winter was approaching and whenever it did their daughter seemed to grow all the more beautiful for it. "He would be good to you."

"The knight is strong and well versed in the dangers of the world," her father countered that evening, as he whittled and she embroidered the hem of a new dress with fine, delicate stitches. "He would keep you safe."

Soon the gifts changed from material goods to whatever strange and magical things her suitors could find. They hadn't given up on her yet, on winning the Winter Bride, as they started to call her.

"This owl loses gems whenever it shakes its wings," the prince's messenger said with a proud flush to his cheeks, as though he was courting the young woman himself, not his prince. The owl was a gorgeous animal, as frost colored as the young woman herself, housed in a small cage made of pure gold.

"His Highness says you may keep it," the messenger held the cage out, nose and forehead bitten red from the cold that had settled over the land. "So you may think of him whenever you look at it and your heart may grow as fond as his has grown of you."

The young woman accepted the cage with soft words and the messenger left grinning from ear to ear. Her parents were delighted, chattering about such a special gift while their daughter took the owl out the kitchen door to the backyard.

While her parents were busy discussing the merits of her becoming a princess, she opened the door of the cage and carefully helped the owl out.

"That's better, isn't it," she said softly as she watched the owl fluff up and shake its body in relief, gems falling from between its feathered wings. It turned its head to watch her for a long moment and she held her arm a little higher, uncaring that the talons of the owl left bleeding scratches along her arm.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as light as fresh snow. "Be free."

The owl gave her a regal nod and took off, disappearing swiftly. The young woman smiled, her heart glad and she returned inside to find her parents dismayed. They couldn't stay angry for long, however, sighing after scolding her for wasting such a precious gift.

Her father muttered afterwards that maybe the prince didn't know what a woman's heart truly wanted. Her mother, fiddling with the wool she was knitting socks out of, countered that he would find something to win their daughter's heart soon.

The holy knight arrived the next day with a cage woven out of brambles and he presented her with a snow-white fox with eyes of molten gold.

"This one will warn you of dangers and tell you if you are in the presence of evil minds," the knight offered, bowing deep as he held out the cage. "This is a mere gift, no strings attached. May it protect you in my absence and may you find you desire my presence instead one day."

The young woman took hold of the cage and as the knight left, her parents cheerfully discussed weaving a leash for the fox and where to keep it. Her father was nearly dancing with joy as he praised the knight for his thoughtfulness and what this in turn promised for their daughter's future.

The young woman smiled and left them to it, taking the fox out to the backyard. She ignored the way the brambles scratched up her hands as she unmade part of the cage and let the fox jump out, it's snout bloody from trying to bite its way to freedom.

"Go, if you wish," she told it with a smile as lovely as frost flowers. "Be free."

The fox bowed its head in gratitude and ran, swifter than any mere animal and it was soon gone with long strides that looked as though its body weighed no more than a feather. The young woman returned inside and once more her parents were quite upset at having lost such a precious gift.

They couldn't stay angry for long again however, and sighed. Her mother suggested the knight might need to choose his next gift more smartly, while her father grumbled that there must be something out in the world their daughter wanted.

"You must choose who to marry one day," her father told her gently, as though he could soften the order into a plea. "You must stay safe. I'm sure you'll chose well when the time comes."

He cast a significant look to the holy symbol over their hearth, while her mother nodded, tipping her head tellingly towards the small pouch holding the gems the owl had dropped.

The next day, after a night of the season's first snowfall, the young woman woke to find frost covering her windows entirely. It looked as though the snow had piled up all the way to the roof outside.

"I thank you," an ice wind whispered when she opened the windows to peer outside, a thick blanket of snow covering everything. "You returned my dearest friends to me after they were taken when I wasn't there. Two wishes I grant you for saving their lives, use them well."

She felt the magic settle over her as the wind finished blowing past and she couldn't help but peer out into the winter wonderland, as though she could catch a glimpse of whoever had spoken to her. It must have snowed very thickly that night to create that much snow, a quite unusual thing.

Seeing nothing and no one, she rubbed the frost off of the windows and went about her day, two wishes cradled close to her heart. They felt like a refreshing coolness within her, the way a bath in the river was revitalizing during hot summer days.

As winter settled over the land like a content cat in front of the fireplace, she received more gifts. A nightingale who sang so sweetly it made listeners cry, a white hare with fur so fine it was considered the softest in the world. She let each of them go and every time she opened a cage, she felt a change in the winds.

They grew colder each time that presence was back, the one she had felt during the first day of winter.

"Why do you not ask for anything?" the ice wind wondered one day after she unbridled a unicorn the holy knight had captured for her. It paused just long enough to press its velvet-soft nose against her cheek, thanking her silently, then it took off, trailing whispers of magic behind it. "Why not keep the wondrous ones you are offered so freely?"

"Would you like a cage?" she asked in return, watching in quiet awe as the unicorn disappeared. "Would you enjoy a leash or collar, to be bound to the whims and wills of those who hold you in their hands?"

"No," the wind answered in a solemn tone. "You are wise and kind, not many would do as you do."

Maybe, maybe not. She had no way of knowing, having never left the village. All she knew about the world were the things she had read in books she had managed to sneak away and what other people had told her.

She had found, however, that people tended to paint the world dark and evil whenever she listened, to warn her of its many dangers. To ensure she would not set a single foot into the forest, to ensure she would not walk beyond the village border, to ensure she would not chat with strangers the villagers hadn't vetted.

She still vividly remembered how panicked and worried her parents had been. How they had cried bitter tears when she had fallen asleep in their neighbor's hayloft, reading a book of fairy tales, and they hadn't been able to find her for hours.

"Good wind," she spoke up. "Might I bother you to tell me about the world? You must have seen much of it."

"I have," the wind answered. "Is that your first wish?"

She was quiet for a long moment, then she smiled. "A true story, every night for a year. That is my wish."

"I will bring cold with me whenever I visit," the wind warned her. "For I am ice and snow, frost and blizzard. I am winter itself. Are you certain?"

The young woman turned to look back at her humble, warm home and thought of her mother's beloved flowers and her father's meticulously tended herb bed.

"Two true stories every night for as long as this winter lasts," she amended. "Will you accept my wish?"

"I accept," Winter answered solemnly. "Light a candle at your window, when it is the only light that still burns in your home, I will come."

The wind blew away and the young woman returned inside, her parents sighing, rueful and exasperated as they accepted the bridle with gold decorations and spun out of enchanted silver thread.

"Always giving away what would enrich your life," her father grumbled, rubbing his forehead as though getting a headache. "But it's alright, if this is not what you want, surely someone will find a gift soon."

"Our beautiful, strange girl," her mother murmured fond and wry all at once, kissing her on her brow. "Will one of them ever make you happy one day?"

"We'll find the right one," her father said reassuringly, pulling them both into a hug. He turned to look at his daughter, "And we'll make sure you never have to fear being taken."

That night the young woman lit a candle and waited. She had almost fallen asleep when the window slipped open a crack and she felt icy winds brush through the room, trailing a handful of snowflakes in its wake. Immediately the windows frosted over to pure white and any warmth was gone between one breath and the next.

"A wish is a wish," Winter said. "And here are your stories, as promised."

Winter first told her a story of lands beyond the mountains, of tall cliffs and hardy forests. It told her of raging oceans that froze solid whenever autumn passed and the reindeers that thundered across it to different lands.

Winter was kind enough to answer any questions she had and she soon knew why the reindeers did what they did, how the ocean froze.

The second story was rather sad in her opinion, it was of two lovers who had run from an abusive father and a loveless marriage respectively. They had escaped into the night by the skin of their teeth and Winter told her of their journey through snow and ice. They lastly died, two miles from home, holding each other, smiles frozen unto their faces.

"Have many people died this way?" the young woman couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," Winter answered. "And many more will. The cold is no place for those who need warmth to live. Good night now, you who shines like a star, I shall see you again tomorrow."

She fell asleep to the soft whistle of air as Winter left, gently pulling the window closed behind it. Her dreams were filled with wondrous sceneries and people wandering through a snowy forest, away from their warm and yet unsafe homes.

The young woman soon looked forward to Winter's visits the most, eagerly going to sleep each night and secretly she hoped this winter might last just a little longer. The prince and holy knight, as well as many of her other more persistent suitors were quickly forgotten when confronted with stories of the world at large.

And finally she got to know what the world truly was. It was indeed dangerous, but it was also incredibly wonderful. Every story filled her with wonder and longing, chasing away the wariness her parents had painstakingly instilled within her.

The young woman felt as though she had forced herself to be a frozen lake all her life, still and quiet and unmoving, never leaving and never changing. Now, however, it felt as though the thrum of reindeer hooves had made the ice tremble and with each story she wanted more.

With each story she felt her childhood dreams emerge, that deep seated adventurous spark she had smothered upon seeing her parents' tearstained, panicked faces. She had loved them too much to cause them grief and so she had made sure to be obedient and sweet at all times.

She also hadn't wanted to be taken away, to live a horrible life and to never see her parents again. She hadn't wanted to upset them and make them cry or discuss strategies to keep her safe until late at night.

But deep down, beneath the stillness she forced upon her soul, she had never quite stopped looking beyond what she knew. To peer towards the woods and wonder what laid there, to watch travelers and dream of the lands they must have seen.

"Thank you," she murmured as Winter left, sleep rising to claim her. "You're the only one who doesn't tell me everyone wants to hurt me."

Winter was silent, the window cracked still and she wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but it almost sounded as though they said, "You can count on my aid for as long as I am here, should you need it."

She smiled and felt the furs she had started to take to bed being pulled up to her chin by what seemed to be hands. She was asleep the next moment, unable to open her eyes once more and check.

Winter soon had to move on, however and she mournfully said goodbye to her new friend.

"If you wish it, I can ask my friends to visit," Winter offered on the last day, only snowy slush remaining on the ground and water dripping off of trees. The only spot where there was still true cold was where the wind blew and she swore she could almost make out a shape as it moved. "They could tell you about things I have not seen."

"Then let this be my other wish," the young woman agreed, a glad smile brightening her face. "I would happily welcome the company."

"A wish spoken is a wish granted." She felt cold brush past her cheek, almost like a caress. "I will see you again soon," Winter promised. "If you wish."

"Oh, I very much wish so," she reassured them, reaching out to find invisible strands of wind weaving around her fingers, cold gently brushing her skin. "Will I ever see you in full?"

"Maybe one day." With those words Winter left, trailing the last bit of ice of the year in their wake.

And as promised, the young woman wasn't without company. Spring spoke to her through blooming flowers and invited her to playful dances in moonlight by luring her out the window, promising to look after her.

"There is no joy in never getting to laugh," Spring told her, a grin bright in that sweet, often mischievous voice. "Come, jump and let me catch you!"

Spring was bright and joyful and taught her much about the world. It told her of large meadows that bloomed so brightly one saw only color as far as the eye could see. It told her funny stories of silly animal antics and where it could find acorns and seeds buried in the ground to be raised up into new plants.

The knight and prince were still persistent, hoping to win her heart with more magical creatures and even a few enchanted items, which the young woman refused. She had no need for a necklace that made her sing like a siren nor for bracelets that teleported her to the knight's side in case of danger.

After spring came summer, full of warmth and sweetness. Summer winds encouraged the young woman to walk barefoot outside, to turn her face into the winds and smell all the scents that could be brought over. To dare and set foot into the forests to find the most wonderful berries to pick and to watch deer graze peacefully.

Her parents never knew, she made sure not to worry them, but with each day, with each thing she did, she felt her heart grow. And with it, her yearning for more. To see the places she had been told of, to hear the sound of the ocean and smell a valley of flowers.

The prince and knight started to grow impatient, wondering what it took to make her their bride. They became more insistent, their words losing their sweet tone bit by bit.

"You're not getting any younger my dear," the baker told her when she came to pick up bread, her pale dress making her look like a walking piece of winter in the middle of summer. "They're soon going to change their minds and then where will you be? Filled with regret. So take an old man's advice and be smart."

"Surely one has made you fall in love, either with them or their riches," the cobbler said as she passed by. "You should let them know and arrange a wedding. We're all looking forward to the festivities."

She had no idea how to tell them that she hadn't chosen any of her suitors, that none of them had won her heart. Not with coin and not with living beings caged and collared. How could she have kept a single one of them, or fallen in love for that matter, if she felt trapped herself?

A comfortable, pretty cage made by loving parents, the bars wrought out of worry and kindness, but a cage nonetheless. And they were seeking to put her in another one, bigger and prettier, but just as locked up tight. All in the name of safety. All so they could have the winter girl and not someone else.

The young woman wondered if such a thing must be necessary. If there was a way to live free without fear. Surely there must be one.

She asked Autumn, for Summer had left before she could put her feelings properly into words. Autumn was busy as a bee, zipping from place to place to ensure harvest would be done in time, talking so fast she sometimes couldn't quite follow entirely.

"Of course you can go wherever you want," Autumn said while rustling leaves artfully, only to change its mind a moment later and turn it into cheerful chaos. "There, that's better. Winter Star, you are indeed unusual, that is true, but that is nothing bad. You can always call on us if you find yourself in trouble you can't solve alone."

"Are you certain?" she hadn't expected such an offer. The seasons had come in response to Winter's wish, after all. Autumn laughed, the leaves rustling around them, some more falling off trees.

"We have grown fond of you, worry not. Winter might have been able to ask us to say hello, but nothing beyond that." The winds tucked bright red and orange and yellow leaves into her hair until they looked like a messy crown. "Live, Winter Star. Life is too short to spend it cowering."

The young woman couldn't help but look past the village and to the forest beyond, the riot of colors autumn had brought and how it had even coaxed some trees into making their leaves especially pretty.

"Where do I go?" she couldn't help but ask, suddenly overwhelmed with all the options that seemed to lay themselves at her feet.

"Anywhere," Autumn answered with excited cheer. "Whenever you pack your bag to leave, you'll find that you have more friends than you thought and you will always find more. Go on, try it."

She couldn't simply up and disappear, of course. Not when it would ruin her parents. However, the next time she received gifts from the prince and knight, an idea sparked.

Autumn laughed when she talked about her plan and gladly agreed to help. Soon, gifts of a secret admirer appeared, promising all the things her parents were looking for. A home warded against evil, enough coin to keep their daughter happy and clothed and fed to the end of her days.

It took some finagling to make gifts for herself, but soon the young woman was caught by the idea of what made her happy. She gifted herself books and hardy boots and a bracelet made of colorful river stones. Her parents were befuddled at first, but seeing as she finally seemed to fall in love with someone, they were relieved.

The entire village spoke about it now, wondering who this mysterious stranger was and if they would get to meet them soon. The young woman made a marriage offer to herself and laughed when she accepted it in front of her parents.

"They will pick you up, won't they?" her mother fretted as she helped her pack. "I can't believe my little girl is getting married. We'll meet them soon, won't we? And don't you forget to invite us to the wedding."

"I'll be sure to visit," she promised and later asked Autumn for advice. "I can't just grab my things and leave like any old traveler, after all."

"Leave it to me," Autumn answered, before breezing away, muttering about stubborn berry bushes who really ought to know better by now.

A few days later, a young adult knocked at their door, dressed in fine autumn colored garb. They wore dark green breaches, earth-brown boots, a dark red tunic and a cloak of bright yellow wool, embroidered with dozens of fallen leaves in multiple colors. They bowed, hair windswept and eyes honey brown.

"It is an honor to meet you, I've come to pick up the young lady in the name of my master," the person said in Autumn's voice and when they met her gaze, they offered a quick little wink. The young woman couldn't help but grin, swiftly hiding it behind her hand when her parents glanced over.

"Oh, that is so lovely," her mother gasped when peeking outside and the young woman stepped forward to look as well.

Outside stood a gleaming carriage in gold and red-brown colors and it was pulled by none other than a unicorn. The very unicorn she had once freed. It looked at her, no bridle on its head and she felt as though it was smiling as it dipped its head a little.

The bags were swiftly loaded onto the carriage and a tearstained and heartfelt goodbye later, the young woman left for the first time in her life.

As soon as they were away from the village, she managed to clamber up onto the driver's seat to hug Autumn tight.

Autumn laughed, ruffling her snowy hair. "Now, you best learn how to drive because I do not have the time to take you anywhere, I still have to wrangle some lazy mushrooms."

After a quick couple of lessons, Autumn left, disappearing in a flurry of leaves and rustling clothes to continue on as it always did.

The young woman's heart was racing as she traveled on and on. Autumn visited often and in brief bursts, but soon the air grew colder and colder. The young woman felt excitement rise within her at the thought of Winter's return.

And then, one day, she felt ice winds brush past her. "I see you have found your freedom. I am glad."

"Welcome back," she breathed, her breath fogging in front of her. "I missed you."

Coldness that felt like fingertips brushed her hair back. "And I you. I am glad to see you well."

The young woman happily told Winter all about her plans, while Winter guided her to a place she could stay as it was too cold to travel. A cottage, recently abandoned, but it was easily made ready again. The young woman sold the carriage in a nearby town and the unicorn left after nuzzling her cheek.

She made sure to write home to her parents, while she explored the world around her temporary home with Winter often at her side. Sometimes Winter's other friends showed up, the fox hopping around playfully and the owl watching kindly from its perch in the trees. Winter told her stories all without prompting and showed her the hidden beauty of their season.

"If you wish, travel north," Winter told her as they laid together in the snow, watching bright, bright stars above them at night. "I will be able to show you dancing lights in the sky."

"Yes," she said and slowly, carefully, inched her hand across the space between them, until she felt that special kind of cold breeze. The wind slowly settled and she swore, from the corner of her eyes as long as she did not glance over, she could glimpse Winter's shape once more.

It was the best winter she had ever had and when it became clear her dearest companion would move on soon, she promised to meet the season halfway.

"Go north," Winter reminded her once more. "If you wish, I will wait for you."

She reached out and closed her eyes and this time she felt proper hands close around hers, though they weren't as icy as the blowing winds. Still cool, but she felt soft skin and elegant hands, the brush of a fur lined sleeve. "I will be there, I promise."

"Soon, then," Winter whispered, a smile in their voice, and she felt the brush of cool lips and a cold breath upon her cheek, smiling wide. When she opened her eyes again, she watched ice winds blow away, looking joyful as they trailed snow in their wake.

The young woman set out as Winter left, buying herself a horse and using the rest of the money from the carriage to have her things put in storage until she sent for them.

She left on her very first adventure, Spring urging her on, showing her the meadow of flowers and guiding her way across the land to where ocean waves lapped against fine-sand shores.

She got to meet and speak with many different people and sometimes Spring and later Summer warned her away from certain folks. But mostly, people did her no harm nor wished harm upon her. If anything, many approached her, concerned about her safety and offering to help her get where she wanted to go. She always declined kindly and smiled.

The young woman got to truly experience the world, listening to new music, visiting theatres when she came by cities and towns and eating food she had never dreamed of could exist.

She headed north at last, cutting her time with Summer short and meeting Autumn sooner. And then, the air grew cold and she felt a familiar, very dear presence.

"Hello," she said with a wide, happy smile appearing on her face. "I came, as promised."

"Let me show you everything," Winter breathed and there was excitement in that beloved voice. They traveled onward together and if the young woman tipped her head the right way, she saw Winter beside her, riding on a horse of snow and wind.

Soon she got to see the ocean frozen, as it had been in the very first true story she had ever heard. She watched reindeer trot across in big herds, holding out her hand and smiling when Winter took it, her heart so warm the cold around her might as well have stopped existing.

"Why chose me?" Winter asked as they settled down on a snow covered hill to watch the sun set. It looked truly beautiful. "There were many who tried to win your heart."

"But none understood it," she answered and when she looked up, she saw Winter truly for the first time, not as a season, but as the spirit it was.

Tall and slim, with hair as white as hers and eyes as dark as the frozen ocean. Ice earrings as blue as glaciers dangled from their ears and snowflakes were woven through their hair like the finest veil, ending in a crown of icicles. Clothes in white and light blue draped across their form, lined with fur and half covered in frost.

"Maybe I would have fallen in love with one of the others, had they not offered me another cage," she admitted, giving that cool hand in hers a gentle squeeze. "But instead of expensive gifts and captured magical beings, you gave me stories and shared your friends with me."

One of those slim hands rose to cup her cheek, feeling a little frosty but not stinging her with its coolness. "You shine so brightly, I would never think about forcing you to dim."

"Then you have your answer." She tipped her head into their hand, letting it cradle the side of her face. "I have an idea. Let's make this place our home, so I can be with you for many months."

"Yes," they answered, brushing a cold kiss against her forehead and she could feel them smile against her skin. "And the rest of the year you'll get to be the adventurer you always wanted to be, my star."

That did sound like the best future.

*.*.*

"They'll love you, I promise," the young woman said, giving Winter's hand a gentle squeeze. "They've been asking to meet you and when our wedding will be."

"They will know what I am the moment they see me," Winter sighed but followed her up the path to her parents' house. It was dark and thick snow covered everything.

"They will, but they will also see that you never took me they way they feared and that I am happy." She looked up at the love of her life, the one who loved her for who she was in return. "Trust me."

Winter softened and pulled to a stop in front of the door, cupping her cheek in one elegant hand and leaning down to brush the loveliest of kisses upon her lips. "Always, my star."

The young woman grinned, happy and bright, like ice in the sun and cheerful snowfall. Then she raised her hand and knocked.

*.*.*

If you want to read more stories and support me at the same time, please consider checking out my Patreon! Where I post monthly, exclusive short stories, which helps pay the bills and frees up more time for writing!

#my writing #short story #winter #just me writing stuff again #original writing #I hope someone enjoys this story!#i had a lot of fun writing it #and I wanted to do something winter themed #there might be typos I overlooked #can't think of anything else to tag #I just wanted something soft and sweet with a bit of a fairy tale vibe #fantasy #again this got a wee bit long #what else is new tho when it comes to me #monster lover #in a way

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qierxing · 10 months

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yandere Corpse bride AU, where you're a undead person who died in their wedding attire and swore to be reunited with their spouse.

When Trey accidentally summons you after practicing his wedding vows to his fiance, he nearly faints when you stagger to your feet, covered in dirt and silk white tatters that barely cover flesh and bones. You happily accept the polished silver ring and trap him in a tight hug. It's much too late for him to get a word in while you babble about plans on whether the wedding venue should be decorated in white lilies or red roses. But he's too kind, and he can't find it in himself to squash the sparkling hope that lights your gaunt eyes, and so–

–he keeps quiet. His groomsman, an eccentric cat like gentleman who has a fondness of unsolvable riddles and mischief, merely grins widely when he hears Trey's conflicted explanation.

"The poor dear probably means no harm," he laughs and shrugs. "And if you help them, then they might be able to pass on."

Trey sincerely hopes so. From your overall look, it's clear that you've been dead for a good while, and although you refuse to talk about it, the gaping hole in your chest most likely meant that your death was not caused by natural means.

He comes to learn that you had planned to elope with your fiance, but somewhere along the way, you had perished waiting for them. Robbed of the meager gold coins you took to keep you and partner afloat, you were resigned to waiting for the day they would come back to your waiting arms.

He didn't plan on this. He thought it was just pity that kept him by your side, gently adjusting your limbs when they became askew from rot or making sure to fix your tattered wedding wear back to its original luster, with the help of an old teacher. No, it was not pity when he showed you how he baked cakes, watching with a soft smile as you admired wholeheartedly his frosting skills. It was not pity he felt when he let himself listen to you play elegant piano pieces, haunting melodies echoing off stone walls.

Somewhere, along the way, you had become endearing.

He doesn't think about the fiance who wonders where he must be, whose curiosity leads them to follow Trey to his meeting place with you. They are horrified, but most of all, outraged. How dare you take away their future partner? And that is indeed what they shout when they confront you when you're alone, shrieking about how you were a monster and taking someone else's husband away. Needless to say, you run from them in confusion and fear.

Is that really what you are? Just a heartless monster? The more you ponder upon it, the more you realize their words ring true as you try to search your memory of Trey agreeing to marry you. Anything that would have confirmed that he loved you. But it all comes up blank. There are no watery tears when you weep; but your ribs crack under the weight of your stuttering breaths, your lifeless body barely able to maintain your lively emotions.

And so, you decide to let go. Perhaps you can bear to love Trey, but you can't bear being the reason he couldn't love. When Trey comes to see you again, you quietly slip off the silver ring, still shiny and new, and hand it back to him. His face pales, worried confusion lacing his questions on if you changed your mind because of something he said? Were you mad at him for not staying longer with you the other day? You can only smile as he rambles on, and it's only when you clasp both his hands gently, he finally, finally, looks you in the eyes.

You apologize for everything: not asking him whether he wanted to even marry you, forcing him to spend time with you, making him acquiesce to your stubborn demands. It's a miracle you don't break down midway through.

There's a comforting pull when you laugh with tears in your eyes at Trey's horrified face. It's so soothing, there's barely any resistance, as pieces of you start flickering away, flesh finally rendering itself to dust, silk fluttering into petals that float away on the wind.

If you're lucky, you'll pass on before Trey grabs you in desperation, attempting to bring back dust and particles in hopes of making you stay. You can finally be free of your mortal coil and sorrows–even if you leave behind a man who spirals into madness and insanity. Cursed to roam the earth until he could find a way to join you in the afterlife and beyond.

–but if not, beware.

Death is not torture, it is repreive. Being forced to endure your flesh falling apart at the seams, while in the arms of someone who cannot see sense, is more agonizing than being able to accept your life and move on.

Yes, beware the man who has learned to love so fiercely, he's willing to defy nature's laws and whatever god is out there so you can remain his lovely spouse, for the rest of eternity.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #yandere trey clover #had to get this out of my mind bc trey rot strong tonite

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oncomingnight · 9 months

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Yandere! Rockstar

Hello everyone, I'd like to thank each and every single one of you for gifting me 300 supporters. I hope you all enjoy this piece and never hesitate to reach out to me.

Ahmad is mainly known for the incredibly romantic meanings that are behind his songs. His music contains lyrics of desperation and devotion, going right along with his strongly captivating voice. Endearing terms and stories of myth that are from his culture tend to make an appearance in his music, creating a deeper sense of mystique.

His closet is filled with dark colors; Leather jackets, silk blouses, high waisted suit pants, trench coats and long sleeved shirts. He dresses quite modestly for someone that's coined the name of 'rockstar' but his sense of fashion suits him incredibly well.

His fan base has recognized that every single one of his songs are about you. The way he describes the subject of his love suits your exact appearance, plus a track of his is named after you. His supporters have nothing but complete admiration for the relationship the two of you share.

His obsessive tendencies are laid bare when it comes to the lyrics he writes. Here's an example, " Baby, I'm yours and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky, yours until the rivers all run dry, in other words until I die."

No matter what, you're always tagging along with him when he's on tour. If your job is an inconvenience, he'll make some adjustments so you're able to come with him. How is he expected to survive several months on end without the love of his life present? He won't be able to.

By adjustments I mean threatening your boss, but don't worry about that!

As the two of you are settled on your shared bed inside of the tour bus, he snugly lays his head onto your chest, doe eyes looking up at you, practically begging for you to run your fingers through his silky black hair.

When the two of you are able to wander around the city you're currently located in for a show, he purchases trinkets for you! He enjoys dragging you towards photo booths and commenting on how beautiful you look in every single photograph. "Take a look at this one, you look so gorgeous, حبيبة قلبى."

With anyone else, Ahmad would be described as incredibly reserved and quiet. But with you, he's got his hands all over you, brushing your hair back so he can kiss your forehead, asking about your day, "are you hungry? How was your day? Do you want to go out to the garden? I love you, I love you I love you, I lo-"

He's the type of guy to try and nestle up closer to you, even when your skin is flush togethaer.

Ahmad enjoys both cooking and baking, he takes great joy in seeing your cheeks fatten up for a split second as you bite into the food he made for you, your eyes closing in pure contentment. He used to bake out of stress and the itching need to just do something, but now you stepped into his life and now he does it to see you smile and groan about how much you loved your meal.

Another factor in his fashion is mini gold hoops, the material is important to his culture and he also enjoys how positively the jewelry slightly alters his appearance.

His social media is filled with photos that he took of his morning coffee, him in the studio, him and his friends but it's always mainly you. He'll caption a post of his with the words, "photo dump!" and it's just a bunch of photos he took of you.

You can't blame the man for being in love.

His fans aren't irritated by this, either, if anything they want to see more of you! They comment on his posts saying, "forget Ahmad, I want y/n", "yeah you're cool and all but where's our mom..?"

On the fridge in your shared home are tons of photos that are of you and him. Little magnets that he purchased whilst on tour holding them up.

Not only did he name a song about you but an entire album, it included songs describing the way he felt about you. "Pretty Woman" "The Look of Love" "I Only Want To Be With You" .

Hello everyone, I know this isn't my best work but I wanted to get something out for you guys! Have a nice day and night.

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blueiskewl · 9 months

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Ruins of Roman Emperor Nero's 'Theatre' Unearthed in Rome

Archaeologists in Rome think they may have found Nero's theater during a hotel excavation.

Archaeologists in Rome think they may have found the ruins of Nero's theater, a first-century imperial performance space that was widely described in ancient Roman texts but whose whereabouts had remained largely elusive.

The theater is named after Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, who served as Roman emperor from A.D. 54 to his death in 68. Officials are calling the discovery of the theater, located just east of Vatican City, "exceptional." It was likely where Nero rehearsed poetry and put on musical performances, according to ABC News.

More than a millennium after his death, Nero remains one of ancient Rome's most infamous rulers, accused of playing his fiddle while the city burned to the ground during an epic fire. While much has been written about the atrocities and poor governance that occurred under his leadership — he allegedly killed his own mother and two wives and lavishly and indulgently spent Rome's money — he's also remembered as a lover of music and the arts, leading him to offer public performances at his theater, an act that the elite usually didn't partake in. He was particularly fond of playing the cithara, a portable harp-like instrument with seven strings.

But when the powerful Praetorian Guard, the force in charge of protecting the emperor, withdrew their support of him, he reportedly took his own life, uttering "what an artist dies in me!"

Researchers unearthed a variety of artifacts scattered among the building's ruins. These included seven ornate medieval glass chalices, segments of bone used to carve out rosary beads, clay pots and urns, cooking vessels for baking bread, coins, combs constructed out of bone and numerous pieces of musical instruments. As for the remaining architectural elements of the theater itself, archaeologists unearthed marble columns and plaster decorated in gold leaf, according to ABC News.

"It is a superb dig, one that every archaeologist dreams of," Marzia Di Mento, the site's chief archaeologist, told reporters during a news conference, according to ABC News. "Being able to dig in this built-up, historically rich area is so rare."

The discovery came about as construction crews were working on reconfiguring Palazzo Della Rovere, a medieval palace, into a new luxury hotel, and was found buried beneath the structure's walled garden, according to The Associated Press.

Artifacts from the excavation will be put on display and added to a "city-run public databank to add to the wealth of information gathered over the years on life in Rome throughout the centuries," according to ABC News.

Archaeologists plan to rebury the theater once excavations wrap up.

By Jennifer Nalewicki.

#Emperor Nero #Theatre of Nero #Ruins of Roman Emperor Nero's 'Theatre' Unearthed in Rome #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient rome #roman history #roman empire #roman emperor #long reads

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zaytri · 8 months

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Palia Garden Progression

Here's several garden patterns that I've made starting from the 2 soil you have at the beginning, all the way to end game!

All of these are balanced around:

Growing every crop (rather than just gold farming)

Low maintenance (every crop has Weed Prevention and Water Retain without fertilizer)

Minimal crop changes between patterns

Two Soil Starter Garden

4 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

2 Cotton

Four Soil Basic Garden

6 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

4 Cotton, Rice, and Wheat

Six Soil Intermediate Garden

9 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

6 Cotton, Rice, and Wheat

Nine Soil Advanced Garden

13 Carrots, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

12 Onions

11 Rice and Wheat

8 Cotton

First Blueberry Garden

13 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

9 Rice and Wheat

7 Cotton

1 Blueberry

First Apple Garden

12 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

8 Cotton, Rice, and Wheat

1 Apple

Blueberry Pie Garden

14 Carrots and Onions

13 Tomatoes

12 Potatoes

4 Cotton, Rice, Wheat, and Blueberries

In this one the very middle Tomato does not have Water Retain, so you will either need to water it yourself or maintain it with HydratePro fertilizer.

Apple/Blueberry Pie Garden

12 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

4 Rice, Wheat, and Blueberries

1 Apple

Every Crop Garden

12 Carrots, Onions, Potatoes, and Tomatoes

6 Rice and Wheat

4 Cotton

2 Blueberries

1 Apple

(Bonus) Cake Baker Garden

8 Wheat

6 Rice and Any Crop (the purple spaces with the coin/Z)

5 Apples

4 Blueberries

This garden doesn't follow any of the rules of the previous gardens. It is designed to maximize apple and blueberry farming, with harvest boost and growth speed boost applied on every crop without fertilizer. You will also need to water and weed this farm every day, but in return you'll be able to bake sooooo many cakes, which is a great way to help your friends earn gold in group cooking because every participant gets 3 cakes which sell for a decent amount, and quickly raises cooking level. All the wheat also helps for baking pies!

#me #palia #palia mmo #palia farm layout #palia game #spreadsheets

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trivialbob · 6 days

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@mstacobelle tagged me for the five things that make me happy list.

Admiring my lawn after I mow it on a nice summer day. Though I may be dirty and tired, the silence and feeling of accomplishment that follows pleases me. Bonus points for seeing Ella's normally white feet turned green from running through grass clippings. It's cute. Sometimes she leads me around the back yard as I push the Toro, dropping a tennis ball in front of it, forcing me to stop and throw the ball for her.

Labels facing forward inside the refrigerator, kitchen cabinets, and hall closet. When I see labels aligned properly, a calm joyfulness sweeps over me. It may stem from working at grocery stores during high school and college. Sometimes after my wife cooks or bakes I quietly check the cabinets and fridge, turning labels of things she used back to the way I like. I also have to move things back to where they belong. (Honey, condiments always go on the shelves of the left-side refrigerator door. That was clearly stated in our wedding vows.)

Listening to the Blues Brothers version of Soul Man while I'm driving.

(Longtime readers will be sick of this one) Finding pizza flavored Pepperidge Farms Goldfish Crackers at a grocery store. Oddly, the best flavor of Goldfish is poorly stocked at stores I frequent. If the pizza flavored crackers are even there, they're disrespectfully located on the bottom shelf, like cheap liquor. I know I could order them online, but I prefer grocery shopping in a store, even if my (Gold)fishing net is empty. Bonus points if the Goldfish crackers are on sale.

Getting rid of coins I find in this house and our cars. Before I go to the grocery store I gather all the loose change I can find. At the self-checkout I feed those coins in like I'm a chain-smoking retiree in front of a one armed bandit. When the coins are gone I pay the balance with plastic. Dumping in $2.87 of loose change makes me feel like I used a $2.87 coupon. It's my money, but I still feel like I got a discount.

Hearing Walker Hayes singing Fancy Like while I'm driving.

Driving my wife's car and not having to first make a beeline to the nearest gas station. That's both happiness and relief.

Hanging out at the brewery with our friends and/or dogs. Since the place first opened Sheila and I have gotten to know most of the employees and a lot of the regular customers. I can go by myself and still end up sharing a table.

Being at the airport dog park when a Boeing 777 or Airbus A330-900 approaches overhead. My dogs don't care, but I think it's cool seeing the larger airliners.

Getting our travel trailer backed in perfectly at a cool campsite, getting it leveled, then walking around with a beer, checking out other trailers and RVs, and meeting new people and dogs.

I listed more than five because I'm pretty happy in general. Also Kim, I like to under promise and over deliver!

#I guess I get carried away sometimes

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mischievous-thunder · 1 year

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Geralt: Would you slap me if someone offers you a chest of gold coins for it?

Jaskier: I'll do it even for some stale baked bread.

Yennefer: I'll do it even if I have to pay gold coins for it.

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Apropos of nothing, what do you think of money in tabletop? I’m interested in the very different ways people will pay for things, but I always go back to the old “gold/silver/copper” standard even though there’s a lot more interesting ways to set up an internal currency. Or to put it in a less asinine way, how does Dapper balance fluff vs crunch, and what are your thoughts on the two? I often seesaw between two extremes.

Heya!

Funnily enough I'm in a very interesting place regarding this: Medieval trade and economics was my bag during uni so I have a LOT to say about the worldbuilding of money and financial systems and how they cross with gameplay. I actually have been writing about this in a few different places including: Generating Better Loot and Managing the party's cash and wealth as two different mechanics

The main problem with adding too much "fluff" to monetary matters in d&d is that GP is fundamentally baked into the game's systems, and no party is going to want to sit around playing with currency conversions while there's actual adventure to be had. I've run into this problem plenty of times when I try to convince my party to go with a more realistic silver-piece standard and have had to convert everything from the books over to it. It's far easier to go with GP and just leave most of the details up to flavor.

That said, there' some very interesting things you can pull as story beats that let you show how emerging financial matters concern your heroes.

As the party moves from the adventure filled wilderness to the imperial core, they discover that the capital's markets will only accept imperial coin, forcing them to get their money exchanged and taking a 20% bite out of their hard earned wealth stores. Fucking with their loot gets your party resentful against the evil empire without having to jump straight to authoritarian genocide.

Among their many other crimes, the local bandits have have been on the hunt for silver to fund their counterfeiting operation after making an alliance with a shady transmuter who's managed to copy the royal coinpress. When the party eventually come knocking on the bandit's door, they'll eventually find a small fortune in counterfeit coins waiting to be spent, which just might get them in trouble with the law.

There's a manhunt out for an alchemist who's developed a process for making gold indistinguishable from that pulled from the earth and undetectable by magic, putting the fortunes of banks, kingdoms, and merchants into jeopardy. While she mainly did it following the directives of her patron and her own scientific curiosity, the powers that be argue that unless she's slain and the knowledge she holds stricken from the earth all of their holdings teeter on the edge of market collapse.

#prompt postage #ecconomics #bandits #alchemist #bounty

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foodwithrecipes · 8 months

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Crispy Corn Lollipop. Consumption of sweet corn keeps the digestive system healthy and gets rid of stomach related problems. Fiber is found in plenty in it, Read full recipe https://foodrecipesoffical.blogspot.com/2023/09/386-healthy-food-recipes-crispy-corn.html… http://foodrecipesoffical.blogspot.com

#Potato Kathi Rolls #Cheesy Mustard Cubes #Mushroom Toast #Bread Tiramisu #Joker Sandwich.#Bread Bhel Puri #Baked Gold Coins #Dahi Bhalla #Tandoori Pizza Wrap #Crispy Corn Lollipop.#mix veg

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minty-drop · 3 months

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Pitaya dragon cookie x reader

Tw: none

Type: platonic interaction, non canon (obviously)

Description: pitaya had gotten gifted a taste of dragon city’s finest goods from the baker themselves.

Ah, dragon city, home to some of the finest dragon hunters, and some of the best bakers on earthbread. You were one of them, a popular baker to the city and it’s locals. Baking goods each day to satisfy the customers that trampled in the establishment get a taste. Even though the bakery itself was in shambles, the food was to good to pass by without buying a treat or two. All the money you had was put into fresh ingredients and new recipes, a constant thrill in testing new products and techniques.

Though this day was a-bit different for you. Instead of staying cooped up in the bakery, you were going to try and vender a-few new samples and products you had come to love to show the customer. The stand set nicely on the side of the pathway, out of the way of passing by cookie but not to far away to be out of sight. It only took a-few minutes before you had a-few customers raising money high in the air to get the freshest of the fresh.

It had calmed down after awhile, only the crisp breeze and the odd customer accompanied you. Until a what looked to be a fruit themed cookie came bolting out a near by group and towards the stand you were placed at. You didn’t have time to quite place what flavours this cookie might be before there hand had slammed onto the front of the wood, startling you out of thought.

“I require the freshessss good you have”

The cookie spat out, leaning over the top of the table as they eyed the variety of baked treats in there packaging. Ignoring the odd snake like s accent, you begin to look through the goods that lay a-crossed the dark cherry wood table. Eyes scanned each packaging carefully, trying to figure out which would be the freshest at this time. You could hear the cookie shuffle in front of you impatiently, taping there oddly sharp fingers on the edge in front of you.

In a quick motion, you grabbed a slice of cherry brown maple butter pie, placing it carefully in front of the now delighed cookie. He examined it, which brang your nerves to a flare. Was this not the one freshest? Maybe it wasn’t the right flavour? Did I package it right? With a swift and agile approach, grabbed it and stuffed it into his cloak.

“Thisss will do cookie….thanksss”

You sighed in relief. At least you don’t have a raging cookie on your hands like last time.

“That will be 6-“

Frozen, is what you can describe his expression. You waited patiently for the coins to come dropping on the table, but instead, a large lump of metallic gold was left in front of you. You stared in awe, how did they have this? Why did they have this? Why were they giving you GOLD?

“Keep the change”

“Wait!”

The cookie stoped in his tracks, there white frosting hair slightly bouncing to a halt at the sudden loss of movement in the cookies form, they turned there body back to you, glaring lightly. You gulped down the fear that had built up in your chest, uttering out a simple apology.

“Sorry, that was quite rude of me wasn’t it. I just..please..take another things if you want, it’s the least I can do since you have graced me with a valuable piece of material”

…

“Fine cookie…I ssshall accept your offer asss a..gift”

They snatched up another piece of the pie, shoving this piece as-well in there cloak. And with that, the strange cookie had left as quick as he came. You watched as they walked away, looking around hastily before stuffing both pieces in there mouth in one single bite. There eyes widened, chewing faster now and sprinting over to two other cookies.

“COOKIESSS…you have..to try these there so..delicious..ack!-“ they began to choke on the amount, now begging for berry juice. It was quite the scene that’s for sure. You had a feeling this won’t be the last you see this oddly entertaining cookie

#crk x reader #crk #cr kingdom #crk spoilers #crk beast yeast #crk pitaya dragon

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seoness · 2 years

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(18+) More Than Our Servitude - Part II

NSFW | (TV!) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Requested | Oneshot turned Multi-Part

Trigger warning: Canon-typical violence, sexism, the implied threat of sexual assault, the reader becomes a victim of physical assault. The reader is wounded: cuts. Contains explicit scenes of sexual nature.

Summary: Your journey with the Hound continues. It doesn't matter how fast Stranger takes the both of you. The Hound cannot outride his past. Emotions reach a peak after a dangerous encounter, and you do not escape unscathed.

Author's Note: I've taken some liberties with the canon material, but nothing that changes the plot line of the show or established canon from either source material. Spending time with the Hound should make you able to get to know him better, right? ☺️

It looked wrong. After days of riding past deserted farms, standing like blackened skeletons with their fields scorched, the small village in the middle of the forest felt like a dream.

"Trust me."

Clegane shifted in the saddle. "Not happening."

"You are the famed Hound. People would recognize you. Me? I could be anyone, just a wanderer."

"Think it normal for lone women to travel the countryside?" he countered.

"More so with the Riverlands burning," you answered and looked up at the face locked in a scowl. "I can do this. We need to eat."

Clegane nodded towards the village. "None in there would dare bother you if I'm with. We'll be far gone when someone finds out there's gold on our heads."

"Your head," you corrected. "Isn't it better if we don't leave any trail, be a needle in a haystack?"

The hand at the small of your back made your heart race. How of all things was this what finally-

"Wait!"

A push, gentle yet firm.

Sliding down, Stranger whinnied out as your feet hit the ground.

"Get then," Clegane spat. "Grown tired of your bickering. Would serve me right to take off while you're gone and be rid of you."

You had already begun to unfasten the empty satchel, shaking out the crumbs left by the rations, and fished out the leather pouch with his coin from the saddlebag.

"Then you would be hungry, penniless, and alone," you replied. "If you wish I could remain silent from now on."

Clegane's mouth twitched, pressing to a thin line, and for a brief moment, something else flickered in those angry eyes of his. With a last smile and a curtsy, you turned on your heel and began the walk down the hill, counting his silver.

There were necessities: salt, hard biscuits, and hopefully cured meat. Perhaps the tavern even had a cheap warm meal, it wouldn't serve well as a ration, but tonight it would do both of you good. Looking out over the village, fruit trees dotted its surroundings. Plums, apples, and pears. In one of the fields grew bundles of green turnips. Those usually were cheap. Roasted with some herbs, salt, and butter, even the Hound wouldn't be kept frowning. Wine, you couldn't forget the wine.

The soft thuds of hooves against dirt made you peer back. Clegane didn't offer you as much as a glance, his dark eyes fixed on the tavern. Keeping to silence, you only squinted up at the man.

"Don't trust it," Clegane pushed through gritted teeth.

Freshly baked bread, mulled wine, and hot cider. All pleasant scents one could expect from a tavern, even unpleasant ones of vomit and urine wouldn't have made you frown as Clegane pushed the door open. It wasn't wholly unfamiliar. Thick and musky, the scent of bodies in heat was soon joined by its sounds.

The stalls that ran along the walls of the tavern had been fitted with drapes. Moany breaths and pleads left those closed, while women laid on the seats of the ones still open, watching you both, their dresses nothing more than loosly draped cloth tied with string at their waists.

A plump older woman stood by the bar, her breasts barely fitting in the bodice and when her eyes landed on you the smile on her lips grew a bit warmer.

"Looking for a night's stay?" she asked.

"Food," Clegane only said and signed for you to step forward.

"I-I thought this was a tavern," you stammered.

"Oh it was, love, but it is what it is," she replied, shrugging. "Better to entertain soldiers this way than for them to think of a way themselves, no? Their games can be rather harsh. So what shall you and your husband have? Got some pie, no meat I'm afraid, but it'll get you filled up."

You glanced up at Clegane but he gave no tell of approval.

"He's not my husband."

"A contender?" the woman giggled.

"None of your concern," Clegane rasped and the smile on the inkeeper's face grew tense.

"He's helping me travel to Highgarden, I have family there." And hopefully that lie would send any persuers in the wrong direction.

"Where you travelling from?" she asked.

"Riverrun," you said, continuing the lie.

"The lions taken it?"

"I don't know, didn't stay there long enough to find out," you replied and looked to your feet.

Had it already been taken? It wasn't like washerwomen were invited to the war table and you didn't have a great many places to pick from. You knew every street of King's Landing and which areas of Flea Bottom were the safest to walk. Outside that, was a world you'd only heard in passing. Seats belonging to one lord or the other.

"You a King's man?" the innkeeper asked but Clegane kept silent, still stewing in his anger but her smile didn't waver. "Those that serve the good of the realm have our girls for free."

With a whistle, one of the women left the open stalls, the dress undone, bundling at her waist and the bare skin oiled. You fixed your eyes on the satchel filled with food as she jumped up on the counter to sit.

He wasn't your husband. Made no promises, sworn no vow. You knew he had visited brothels in King's Landing, Clegane never boasted of it, but you knew it just as you knew that almost every man did. One thing to know it and another to see it.

"I'll go and water the horse," you mumbled, emptying the coinpurse and darting out with your rations.

What would even the protest be? Don't? Because you're there? Because you wanted him to come to you instead? When he became Kingsguard, you had hoped. He would have been far from the first that went to a washerwoman for comfort, but the man never came and you never saw the women he went to instead. It left room. Room for your fantasies to make the world something it wasn't, make you the woman in one of the winesinks he tapped on the shoulder.

Stranger stood tethered by a wooden post, but this time the black stallion didn't whinny out as you came close.

"Would serve me right to take off and be rid of him while he's gone," you said and rolled your eyes.

Even if that had been a plan, Stranger was a warhorse and you had heard the talk of stablehands. They weren't trained to be pleasant and amicable like a palfrey. The only ones that could safely ride them were their masters, not even all squires could take to their knight's horse.

"She was very lovely," you said and fastened the satchel. "Bet she can make him in a good mood."

As the tears started to well, you hit your head against the side of the saddle making Stranger stomp down.

"Could you let me pity myself for a moment please?" you whispered.

The door to the tavern struck open and you didn't even need to turn to know it was the Hound. He was quick at least. For the first time your heart didn't race as his hands caught your waist and hoisted you up in the saddle.

"Never been in a whorehouse before?" he asked, you only shook your head in response. "Not too grown for a silent treatment?"

"You were tired of my bickering."

Clegane swung up behind you, snorting. "True. Left to me to make a new plan then."

You twisted in the saddle, "We had a plan?"

"Thought going east would be good, doubt they've heard about any Clegane there. Gold to be had in being a sellsword," he replied and grimaced. "Slavers. The eastern shore is full with them, ain't taking you there."

"How is that any different from bands of broken men?"

"It's different," Clegane said but as the village started to grow distant behind you he continued, "A broken man fights to stay alive. Killing, theft, some turn rapers. A bandit with better arms."

"How is that different from slavers?"

"Smarter. Already forgotten the Greyjoy Rebellion?" he asked.

Waiting for Stranger to bob down his head, you kicked over your leg, so your side was to him. It was rare for him to be this talkative. If the woman in the tavern had gotten his warmth, you'd at least savor the rest.

"You fought in it?"

It earned you another snort. "Gregor fought in it, I guarded. Kept to the shores of the Westerlands dealing with raiders," he said and his eyes looked to the road ahead, beyond it and his voice grew distant. "Sure, they'd kill a few men, torch some houses but they'd scurry off the moment one came riding. For every man killed, twice the number of women and children were taken."

"The Ironborn took slaves?"

"Aye, but they didn't keep all of them. Some they gave to their Drowned God." Clegane returned to you, the dark eyes meeting yours. "Tyroshi wouldn't sacrifice you to the waves."

"If any of them win, the Lannisters, the Baratheons or the Stark? Would any pardon you?" you asked.

"Fat chance of that. The King in the North might send me to the Wall if he's anything like his Lord Father. At least that one would take my head himself."

"No slaver is taking me and no King in the North is taking your head," you spat and Clegane cocked his brow. "What?"

"First time I hear you growling," he said.

The camp for the night was made by a small brook, birch trees rising high around the meadow. The sky had gone purple. It was a luxury to be able to roll out your bedroll before dusk was claimed by night. Watching as the water in the kettle came to a boil, you pulled it off the fire. The rabbit, skinned and gutted, sizzled on its spit, and the turnips had been buried into the earth by the edge of the campfire, baking away.

"I'm not making poison," you swore as the Hound's eyes fell on you, steeping birch leaves into the water, "it's good for you."

"A cunning woman now too?" he asked.

"It's just what I've been told, I've drunken it myself so I know it won't kill us. If you don't want to try it then there's just more wine for you to drink."

The Hound returned to sharpening his sword, running the whetstone along the blade, and when satisfied he took to his dagger.

"It's good you caught the rabbit," you said after a while.

"Leave it be."

His voice didn't sound any different, no more angry or tired than before, yet that distant gaze returned. There wasn't even any anger in his face, the scowl was there, but it was a fixture. Hollow.

"We'll figure out a plan," you tried. "I'd rather stay here in Westeros, it's not like I'd be comfertable in a land were there's slaves, regardless if I'm one of them or not."

Rising, you stepped into his view but his eyes didn't catch you. "Clegane?"

The wind made the tops of birchtrees sway, the leaves rustling and wood snapping.

Snapping?

Your gaze left the Hound, peering out amongst the trees. He had been correct, being so scrutinous of the pick of campsite. There were no shrubs, no trees thick enough for them to hide.

One after the other they appeared, eight in all. Their faces gaunt and hunger had made their clothes hang loose to their bodies.

"Clegane," you breathed but the man did not rise, he didn't as much as peer back.

Their eyes, while everything else seemed to have wilted away, what rested within the eyes of those men made every fiber within your being scream out, plead for you to run.

You were nothing more than a lamb that had wandered into a den of lions. Hadn't Clegane heard you? But he always heard you? Why couldn't he hear you?! You opened your mouth to speak, mouthing his name, yet no sound came. Steel gleamed in their hands.

"Sandor?"

A flicker of relief, he must have heard you but when your eyes darted down the Hound sat unmoving. Was this a nightmare? The dark eyes were so distant, like he was stuck somewhere far away.

They'd kill you.

They'd kill him.

You saw everything else in those eyes of theirs too, how slow your death would be. You were more than a threat. A treat. A plaything— until they'd grow bored of you.

"Dog!" the scream rang through the forest.

You stepped back as Clegane shot to his feet, breath catching in your throat as he spun around. The sword was already drawn, and the Hound's helm that had rested beside him quickly came over his head.

"Stranger. Now."

"Leaving?" one of them spun, the blond hair matted into thick clumps. "You be clad in plenty of steel."

"And that told you this was a good idea?" the Hound snorted.

"More of us than you," another spat, an ax ready in his hand.

"Who you serving?" the first man asked. "Lions?"

"Not anymore," Clegane replied, backing up until his hand caught your arm, squeezing. "Stranger. Untie him."

"A broken brother!" the first man laughed and held out his arms, but the sword was no less sharp in his grip. "Do not fret, we ain't here to judge kin! You look strong enough, why not join us? We see to our share of fun and keep each other's backs far better than some lordling twat. That's a good sword."

Silent you turned around, the stallion stood by one of the birch trees already pulling at the reigns that bound it but as you took a step towards it, a third man darted into the path. A gapped grin flashing on his face, the cheeks scarred by pox.

"You cooked that, love?" he asked, nodding to the rabbit beginning to charr by the fire, but you couldn't will yourself to answer. "Cooks and keeps her mouth shut, her cunt tight too?"

"We share in our little brotherhood. Fairness and all that," the first man said.

"I don't," the Hound replied.

"Manners," the man sighed and nodded back, the youngest among them stood with his bow knocked and drawn. "The boy's rather good with that one, been feathering birds all his life. Not so different from feathering men, ain't it so, Tip?"

"Aye," the boy Tip replied.

"I like your helm," the first man continued.

"Do I look like a fucking merchant?" the Hound growled.

"Looks like a dead man to me," another called out.

A stillness laid itself over the meadow. You didn't see what started it, but in a blink of an eye, everything happened all at once. A clang. From your right, a shadow dove in, and the man that had stood before you with his gapped grin disappeared behind the Hound. A spray of crimson shot through the air as Clegane thwarted his sword. A howl. You spun only for the shadow of the Hound to leap from your back again. The next death you saw fully, Clegane cut off the first man's hand, and the sword hit the ground with a thud, the fingers still curled around its hilt. The wail was cut short as the dagger buried into the man's eye. You watched as steel met steel until it hit the softness of flesh, sending up blades of crimson. The Hound was fighting four at once, or rather, he took great care not to. Never staying long enough in one place, his sword veining through the air, but it wasn't a desperate flailing. An arrow buried itself into his shoulder, but Clegane didn't even seem to notice. Cursing, the boy knocked his bow once more. Four became three, three became two, two became-

Four.

You began to twist, to search for the fifth, but a warmth hit your back. You opened your mouth to scream, but fingers clawed at the back of your head. The blade pressing against your throat.

"Shut your mouth," a stranger's voice hissed.

The boy no longer stood with his bow, aiming at the Hound. Taking flight amongst the birch trees. Clegane ripped the ax from the hand of one of the dead and you looked on with the last survivor of the brotherhood as it veined through the air. The boy's shriek made the dagger press even harder at your throat.

"Enough!" the roar made your ears ring.

The Hound's chest heaved, blood clinging to his brigandine. You had seen anger in his eyes before, but never like this, a wildness, a bloodthirst that could make anyone shrink

"Should have run," the Hound rasped.

"Like him? Drop your sword," the stranger said, the boy still wailing, crying for the aid of gods and his mother. "You deaf? Want the bitch to live then drop that fucking sword!"

It slipped out of his hand, and without the stranger having to make any demand the dagger followed.

"So you're not deaf. Now get on that horse of yours. If you ride hard and long enough, I might just leave her here alive."

He wouldn't. Perhaps he'd not take his time with you like his brethren, but there was no mercy in that voice, in the blade that pressed against your throat. So this was it, how you died. Dog. The last word you ever spoke to him, what you had heard echoing through the Red Keep as the King had yelled for his Hound to come. A title, only spoken in contempt or ridicule, was your final word. Not. like. this.

The pain burned bright in your hands. You couldn't see your murderer's face, just his arms, free from steel and wool. He wrung around you, cursing and roaring. The taste of metal filled your mouth. The next had no pain, just a warmth seeping down your throat. The Hound lunged, bodies clashing, and you flew to the side. One hand catching grass and the other, the still twitching leg of a dead man. Away. You just needed to get away.

The fingers trembled, red and slick. Your hands, your blood. Deep gashes ran along your palms. It couldn't have taken that long, you didn't stare at the bloody hands for an eternity before your fingertips brushed over your neck. Whimpering as the pain shot out and without thought, you pressed against your throat.

"Clegane?" your voice weak, frail, but behind you could hear grunts, a heavy thud that grew wetter and wetter, and the cracking of bone.

The world had begun to spin and the boy's cries, you could hear them again, "Mother, help me! Please, help me! MOTHER!"

Why? You would have given them food if they were hungry. It wasn't fair.

Tipping onto your side, Clegane straddled the man, his fingers had dug into the man's face and each time he brought the head up you could see the back, its shape long gone.

"Clegane?"

Another thud, another wet crack.

"MOTHER! MOTHER!"

"Sandor?" it left you nothing more than a pipe.

There they were, those dark eyes of his, a fury like no other gone in an instant, and the next, Clegane's hands were on you. Pressing at your throat.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you whispered, tears blurring your view. "I didn't mean to."

Cursing under his breath, Clegane ripped up the scarf underneath his bevor and pushed it into the hand pressing at your throat. How much time, how many words would the gods give you to make this right?

"He's dead. It's done."

"I would never have called you that. Never. But you were... it was like you couldn't hear me, I'd never... I'm sorry, please forgive me."

His brow furrowed before his free arm slipped in by your legs and the ground left beneath you. Carrying you to Stranger's saddle.

"The food," you said.

It was a ruin, the rabbit had fallen into the fire, and the kettle kicked over.

"Fuck the food," he snapped and steadied you on Stranger's back, taking your hand to where he pressed. "Keep that there. Press it down. Hard."

You offered no protest as Clegane turned around. The sword and dagger returned to his hands. The Hound ran between the trees, and the boy's cries finally stopped before he appeared again.

Worry writ across his face. It looked too close to sorrow.

"I'm sorry I called you that. I never thought of you like...," you said as he swung up in the saddle. "I'm sorry, Clegane."

"You're not going to die, so save your pardons for some other day," he replied but if that was a promise or a command, you couldn't tell.

A lone candle lit up the small chamber, the heavy scent of incense tickling your nose and the bed soft beneath you.

"Let's see if you can't lift that for me, love," the innkeeper hummed and tapped on your hand, still pressing the bloodsoaked scarf against your throat.

Reluctantly you obeyed.

"Aren't you lucky, any deeper and you'd be a goner," she said, "if you've not bled out yet, you'll not do it now."

Her hands cradled yours, sucking at her teeth. "These will give you more trouble, but better that."

Behind the woman, the Hound sat on a chest by the door, his gaze burning her back.

"The only issue will be if it festers, but I'll see if we can't make that less likely."

"No burning," the Hound's voice tensed.

"I treat my girls with honey," she replied, pulling out a jar from one of the pockets of her apron.

You bit your lip as she began to dab it along the wound of your neck before turning her attention to your hands. The innkeeper humming as she worked.

"Seeing as you said this was work of some broken men, you two can have the room for free for tonight," the woman peered back at Clegane, her hand closing at your wrist as if he was to pull her away, "and I know who you are. We're not busy tonight, no one here to bother you, but lions like to prowl here. I won't lie when they come, so the two of you best leave early. Have I made myself understood?"

Clegane only offered a nod. Rising, she brushed her hands off the apron and gave you another warm smile before handing you the jar of honey. "You should reapply it but keep some linen over the wounds, not so much that it cannot breathe but enough so you're not pestered by flies."

"Thank you," you said.

"I hope you safely reach your family in Highgarden," the woman replied and slipped out.

"It is kind of them to let us stay for free," you said as Clegane locked the door.

He stayed by it, his hand gripping the handle. It fumed out of him, filling up the room.

"You're angry," you noted, an ache forming in your chest. "I should never have called you that."

Clegane snorted, and the bed creaked as he sat by its end, peering back over his shoulder.

"Think that's what troubles me?" His gaze stayed on you, wandering down to the hands laying at your sides. "Good work I've done, keeping you safe."

"I'm alive."

"Barely," Clegane replied and looked ahead, starting to unbuckle his pauldrons.

The brigandine slid off his body and the mail followed until he only sat in his undertunic. There was no red stain where the arrow had hit, the layers of steel had kept it from his body.

"Eight, you faced eight men alone and lived. How many can attest to such a thing?" you tried.

"There's no glory in killing rats. They had no armor and barely enough strength to swing their blades," he said and rose, pulling the cloak over his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

"Where are you going?"

"Seeing if killing broken men gets me wine," he muttered and the door slammed shut behind him.

You shuffled to the side of the bed, wincing as you pulled yourself up to sit, pain throbbing in your neck. The blood still clinging to your dress had begun to brown, and your fingertips traced the stains that ran down your breast.

Waiting, you came to know the small bedchamber well. The pattern of the bubbles that speckled the glass of the lone window, the scratches that ran along the wooden floor where furniture had been dragged and rearranged over the years. You wanted to be excited. The sole bed would only mean one thing, but what did it matter to lay beside him if he did not want you? If it wasn't your comfort he sought? The hurt of such a truth would have been easier another night, but the broken men's eyes hadn't gone. It didn't matter that they lay cold, gazing blankly at the night sky. Fear can't be waved away like some fly. It burrowed deep. If he could touch you, claim you. If you could be the one to allow it, for it not to be taken. The candle by the windowsill had all but burnt away when the door creaked open.

Clegane's voice was thick and drink had left it even more grating than usual, "Told you to sleep."

"I couldn't."

"Hard thing when sitting up," he replied dryly.

The floorboards creaked under his heavy footstep and you looked up, meeting his gaze, drunk and sullen.

"You did good," you said. "We're alive, surely that is what matters."

You smiled. Offered what the man had told you was the reason he had come for you at the Battle of Blackwater but Clegane winced as if you had just put a dagger in his gut.

"You heard the woman, she knows me. Won't be a place in the Seven Kingdoms where I'll go and not have some bugger that heard of me. This?" his hand shot out, but as it closed in on your face it slowed and the finger that traced down along the curve of your neck made your body tingle. "If I failed you a first time, I'll fail you a second time. I'm no fool."

"You did not fail me."

"Did that plenty today, done it for days now," he said and laughed as you frowned. "Not blind, woman. I see your face, how miserable you are."

"It isn't— I'm not miserable."

A small part perhaps, but it was loneliness, bitterness to not be wanted. But you didn't want his touch from desperate pleads or nagging, what sort of love was that?

"There it is," Clegane breathed. He lowered, looming above you. "Don't think I see it in your eyes, woman? Your lies might not be as rotten as the rest of them, but it's lies all the same. What woman wants a man that can't even protect her?"

"You're being cruel," you whispered.

"The fuck I am," Clegane hissed. "I've been plenty patient. Others take me, you think this a cruelty? You're that dumb? It's a kindness."

"You call me dumb and say it kindness?" you replied, a shrillness growing in your voice. "I think I have made it clear what I feel for you, if you do not want me then that is something I must come to terms with, but it is cruel to mock me for it."

As Clegane leaned forward, the pain in your neck made you tip back. Was this another one of his quips? As his hands found themselves on either side of your face, linens twisting as they balled into fists.

"Wanted to keep you safe. Unharmed. You'd never feel pain again. Look where that got me. Wanted you to never weep, and is this not your tears?" His thumb brushed by your cheek, wiping the tear away. "I can kill whoever tries to hurt you, but when you regret me and these are mine and not by some broken men? Can't offer you any comfort then."

"And you call me dim," you whispered. "These tears rest by your feet, Sandor Clegane." The tip of your fingers brushed over his stubbled cheeks, and the corners of your lips tugged. "Only you its comfort."

It was another cruelty, how quickly the man's eyes could change, for them to look down on you so intently. Leaving the rest of you to catch up, heart pounding in your chest, breath hitching.

"You could kiss me... if you like," the last words barely left your lips a sound.

Closing your eyes as Clegane lowered.

The lips you had only dreamed of didn't meet yours, his nose grazed your chin, and as his warm breath hit the nape of your neck, a sigh escaped your lips, "Please?"

Pain kept you bound, from hooking your arms around his neck and pulling up. He was near. The warmth traveled down and the tip of his nose brushed by your collarbone.

"You're being cruel."

A whole other than his first. It had hurt but this was torture, his mouth was so close to the laces of your underdress. If he just caught the string with his mouth and tugged, the dress could be gone. He could see all of you, touch all of you.

You squirmed as he moved up, whimpering.

"Not cruel," the rasp was a low hum in your ear. "Savoring something new."

"Please..."

"Never had a woman plead like this," he continued, and his face nuzzled in by the side of yours, gently as not to strain the wound by your neck.

It didn't matter. Your hips bucked up, but you couldn't reach him, his left hand sliding down and pinning you to the bed.

"Keep still."

Clegane pushed up, the scowl returning to his face as he inspected your throat. It wasn't until he looked at your hands that he sat up. Red splotched the wrappings of your left hand.

"It's nothing, I swear I'm fine," you said but the hands were already sliding in underneath you.

"You need rest."

Leave it to him to even make this a haggle.

"We could be gentle," you tried as he placed you back on the bed, no longer laying on its short end.

"Had too much wine for that and my patience is strained thin as it is," he grunted and walked to where his armor rested.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

Why? It was perfect, he was perfect. His back turned to you, Clegane slid on the mail shirt, and the brigandine returned to his shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"You need rest," he repeated, "I stay, that won't happen."

Turning to put on his cloak, you saw it, the fabric of his breeches straining. He... he was... you had done that? Clegane came closer, walking around the edge of the bed. Had he changed his mind? But you couldn't look away as he lowered, his breath tickling your neck.

Rasping into your ear, "Hear me now, woman?"

"What?"

The snort made you wince, rearing back your head.

"Pardons, never had my cock make a woman lose her hearing," Clegane said, his voice even thicker than before.

"Did you say somethi-" But the question turned to a whimper as Clegane's teeth caught your ear.

The bite made the tingling inside grow to a throb.

Your hands shot up, trying to latch onto his shoulders but he caught you by the wrists. "Such pretty sounds you make."

Clegane released you, staggering back, a grin spread on his lips. The last of his cups had caught up with him. The wildness, so similar to what had been in his eyes as he had killed the broken men met you.

"I'll taste those lips come morn," he swore and the grin grew wider as you failed to hide your disappointment.

"If this was done it mocking, then you are beyond cruel," you whispered.

"Drunk too much. I'll not have my first kiss forgotten."

With that, he yanked up the pauldrons and walked out, locking the door behind him. Watching from the window, you saw the Hound slink into the stables. The cuts in your hands didn't even allow you to deal with what he left behind. It wasn't until your body had calmed that you recalled his words.

First kiss.

The Hound had never kissed a woman before?

Thanks for reading!

Listen, getting into the emotional iceberg that is Sandor Clegane takes time. If you wish for more spice, I'll gladly provide it. But like culinary spice, text spiciness comes in levels🔥🔥🔥 So, if you have a pitchfork and wish to point it my way? En garde muthafucka!🤺

#sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader

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recentadultburnout · 9 months

Text

Info for writer in Thai series fandom: Mismatch bits and pieces.

All things too short to have their own ch.

A way to call a class

I noticed that when I read about a class of students in English, it was called by the year that class graduated, which is different from how it is in Thai. In Thailand, we count a class based on the school they are in. For example, Pat and Pran from Bad Buddy are in Class 36th. That means there are students who have already graduated from this school in total 35th generation, and they are the 36th.

Education system

อนุบาล-anuban-Nursery

3 years

about 3-5 years old

The class number is typically written as อ.year/room number or simply year/room number, with the assumption that anyone who will need to use the number is aware that they are for nusery.

อ. is the abbreviation of อนุบาล-anuban-Nursery (ป. for prathom and ม. for matyom. Read aloud as Or, Por, and Mor, respectively.)

If you're in the third year, the first room, it can be written as อ.3/1

ประถม-prathom-Elementary school

6 years

can be divided into 2 parts, 3 years each, prathom ton(ต้น-first) and prathom plai(ปลาย-last)

about 6-11 years old

มัธยม-matyom-Secondary school

6 years

can be divided into 2 parts, 3 years each, matyom ton and matyom plai

After matyom ton, one can choose to continue studies in matyom plai or switch to vocational classes. At present, the choice of vocational education is not very popular among families with wealth, and there is some negative bias.

about 12-17 years old

มหาลัยวิทยาลัย-mahawitthayalai-University

Usually 4, but this can vary depending on what you study.

*Most schools in Thailand have 2 semesters.

From nursery to secondary school, it usually like this:

Semester 1 starts around mid-May and ends in late September or early October.

Semester 2 starts around the beginning of November and ends in late February or early March.

At the university, it is usually like this:

Semester 1 starts around September and ends in December.

Semester 2 starts around February and ends in May.

But it may change if there is an announcement from the Ministry of Education.

*There are 9 years of compulsory education. From prathom to matyom ton.

Money

Thai Baht bank notes are divided into five denominations: 20, 50, 100, 500, and 1,000 baht, which are sometimes referred to by their colors: 20-green, 50-blue, 100-red, 500-purple, and 1,000-gray(1,000 baht banknotes are actually more brown than gray, but maybe because brown 10 baht notes were used before, or the 1,000 baht notes might have used to be grayish, they are called this way.) As for coins, we have 1, 2, 5, 10 baht and 1, 5, 10, 25, and 50 satang. One hundred satang is one baht. Satang is not used much, and if we do use it, we will mostly use only the 25 and 50 satang coins.

System of measurement

The metric system is the most popular. Other systems will be used if the topic requires it, such as using tea spoon and cup when baking or using Thai measurement for gold weight and land.

Meal

In Thai we have the word กับข้าว-kapkhao, which is things to eat with rice. When we eat it, it's commonly with many people, and we share it together, not somebody's in particular. At each meal, the kapkhao and the rice will be placed on the table for everyone to scoop up and put on their own plate. If you eat with someone you are not super close to, then you should have an extra utensil for scooping up kapkao and rice as to not make the other party uncomfortable. As for when you eat with friends, I would recommend using it also, but it is up to your group of friends' hygiene standards.

Grounded

Disclaimer:this is my perspective as a daughter of a family in Bangkok.

Getting grounded by one's own parents as a punishment is not a real concept here. I'm quite sure about that. Like, it's kind of redundant? Most of us already have to tell our parents all about where we go, when we will be back and with whom before we go out, and if they don't want us to go, then we don't. Plus, our public transportation wasn't that covered, so if a kid who still can't drive and lives far from it wants to go out, then having parents drop off and pick up after is kind of the only option. It's not like normally we are free to go out whenever.

Gap year

Taking a gap year wasn't the norm. It is often seen as a waste of time, and the people who did it might get gossip that they had to do it because they couldn't pass the exam.

Colors of the day

We have a color for each day, which came from a tale about Songkran, and it is common knowledge. Thus, when we want to color code something day-related, we use it and assume people will understand. A bakery company, Farmhouse, had been color-coding a bag sealer as a sign to tell what day their bread was put on shelves since 1987.

Sunday – Red

Monday –Yellow

Tuesday – Pink

Wednesday – Green

Thursday – Orange

Friday – Blue

Saturday – Purple

Year

We use both the Buddhist era (BE) and the Christian era. Sometimes we choose one to write down and sometimes we write them both side by side, Thai numerals for BE on one line and Arabic numerals for CE on another. But if it's an official document, it's more likely to be only BE.

This year(2022) is 2565 BE.

Tip

Tiping is not part of our culture. Nowadays, some people have begun to start tipping due to the influence of other cultures, and there are both positive and negative opinions about that. Some say extra money is definitely a good thing, but some say if we started tipping people, the employer might see it as an opportunity to reduce their employee payment.

Chinatown

There are no words that translate directly into "Chinatown" in Thailand. Each neighborhood is usually called by its street name or landmark near it, and those Chinatown are that way too. The most popular one in Bangkok was called Yaowarat.

Move out

Not moving out of one's own parent's house is normal. Moving out is normal too, but from what I know, nobody will expect their kids to move out for no reason. Some families even dislike that very idea. Like, if you want to move out for no other reason than you just want to, there must be something wrong.

One of my friends who has a big family and really wants to try to live alone for once, but can't say so because her mother will surely be upset, is now planning to apply for something that requires her to stay somewhere else, so she can use that as the reason she has to move out.

Insect as a snacks

While it is a thing we do have, it's not that popular. Many have never eaten it before. Many eat it once just to try it and never again. There's a good chance that there's no one at all in a room full of people who eats fried insects on a regular basis. It's not exactly rare, but also not something that sells everywhere.

Don’t touch the head

Is something I heard many foreigners talk about Thai people, and I guess, while it might be something they were told by a Thai, it got exaggerated. Sure! You shouldn't go around touching strangers' heads. But that's just common sense, right? Why would anyone think they could touch any part of a stranger at all? For a close person, it's a completely different thing, and don't forget, everybody has a different and will have different boundaries!

Touching monks

It's not that women can't touch monks, it's that monks can't touch women, and we cooperate with them to make it easier for them to stay in the precepts.

Religion

The religion in Thailand consists of about 94% Buddhists, about 4% Muslims, about 1% Christians, and the rest are others. It can be seen that there are more Muslims than Christians, but Christians are mentioned slightly more in the entertainment media in my opinion.

Month

The name of the month in Thai can tell which month has how many days. Months with 30 days end with "Yon(ยน)", months with 31 days end with "Kom(คม)", and February ends with "Phan(พันธ์)".

Christmast

Although Christians are not the majority in Thailand, we do have some Christmas celebrations. The mall will play some Christmas songs and sell decorations or other Christmas-themed items, for example. It might not be that big, but it's there.

My mother says that we Thais will take every chance to have a festival and a celebration. Lol

Dishwasher

Dishwashers aren't a popular household item. I don't know the reason.

Age

Age of majority

In Thailand, one will reach their majority at 20 years old, but you can become majority before 20 after your lawful marriage, which can occur with legal guardian permission at 17 or older, or, in a special case, when you are younger than 17 but older than 15, and there is a reasonable cause for marriage and the court grants the permission.

Age of consent

Doing something indecent to someone who is under the age of 15 is illegal, regarding that person's consent. As for someone who is more than 15 but still under 18, it will need both that person and their legal guardian's consent to be legal. If one of them gave consent, it is still illegal. If both parties are under age, then they are both in the wrong and can both be sued by each other's parents.

Driving license

The applicant for a temporary personal motorcycle license must be at least 18 years of age, but if it is for a motorcycle with a total cylinder of not more than 110 cubic centimeters, it must be at least 15 years of age.

A temporary car driver's licensee must be at least 18 years of age.

Public-car and public-tricycle licensees must be at least 22 years of age.

A public motorcycle licensee must be over the age of 20.

A road roller, a tractor, and other driving licensee under section 43 must be at least 18 years of age.

Floods

Floods are the most common natural disasters in Thailand.

Transportation

In Bangkok, there are a few choices for in-town transportation. such as Bts, Mrt, buses, mini buses, taxis, tuk tuks and motorcycles. As for travel between provinces, there are trains, tour buses, vans, and airplanes. Once arriving in other provinces, public transport options vary from area to area but are often more limited than in Bangkok.

Insect screens

Typically, windows are equipped with insect screens. They can be hinged, sliding rails, or something else, but they are usually there.

Apparently, in some places, they are not typically installed. I'm a bit culture shocked. Do you usually have it or not? If not, could you tell me what it is like?

Social media

Facebook currently has some reputation for being an old people's platform but is still popular.

Twitter is also quite popular.

Line is the most popular one for chat apps. It is something you will need to have if you need to communicate with a lot of Thais. Many people complain about how it's not a good way to send files for work or that it makes it hard to separate between private time and work time, but it still maintains its status as being the main means of communication in offices and universities.

Tiktok is gaining many new users during the quarantine.

COVID 19

I searched in English for a bit and think you could find information such as daily cases or any regulations easily enough. As for the Thai people's opinion in general, we can sum it up by saying that many of us have no confidence in our government.

and here are some details:

We have worn a mask for PM 2.5 since before COVID-19 broke out and many will likely still wear it until we are sure there is no COVID left.

Vacine distribution is not very consistent and thorough. So, at the same time, there is someone who gets their third vaccination and someone who hasn't gotten their first yet.

After COVID-19, no-contact deliveries have become extremely popular.

The first queer media that gained popularity in Thailand were Japanese manga and anime. So we adopt the Japanese term "yaoi" for BL and "yuri" for GL, and that is the reason why we usually call queer series "series Y" in Thai.

Index

#thai culture

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nightcourtseer · 1 year

Text

What A Smile’s Worth

Prompt: Love Languages (quality time and gifts)

Pairing: Elriel for Elriel Month 2023

Part: 1/2

A/N: Special thanks to @ultadverb for reviewing this, and the idea for Part 2. 💗

When he awoke after the events at Hybern’s castle, Azriel had not recognized the kind female that had once wielded a fork against his brother, and cursed the human queens to hell. The human girl who had moved through a room like the wind, and fretted over her hospitality being offered to the very creatures she and her sisters had been taught to fear and hate from the time they had been in swaddling clothes.

Out of all that they had lost that day to Hybern, perhaps Elain had lost the very most.

He knew not then, in those first days, what he might be able to offer the solemn female.

When he could not sleep at night, the pain in his chest still tight and the salve stinging at the healing wound, he could hear her crying through the walls. As though she had waited until dark to unleash her tears, when she thought that no one would hear her. Still naive to the strength of fae hearing.

Even in her pain, she tried to spare them.

He did not know, until the day he led her on his arm into the garden, what he might be able to do, what he might be able to offer to the female who had lost everything for only trying to do what was right.

With their backs to his family as they stepped into the sun and the bloom of the townhouse garden, he turned just in time to see a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. A bit of life sparking in the color of her eyes, and a flush rising to her cheeks.

From that first time in the courtyard with her, he became an addict. Began to thrive on the little bits of happiness that he witnessed her feel, even in the darkness of her days in a new body, in a new life.

He would make her smile again, he decided then and there, as he led them to the small table and bench. Settling her before leaving to fetch them both a cup of tea.

And he did.

Her smile was the first sight of the sun after a seemingly endless night, and when it reached her eyes, Azriel was as blinded as the day that he had been released from his father’s keep for the last time, stepping out of the shadows into the glimmering light of dawn.

He collected those rare smiles like gold coins in his pocket. And after each hour spent in the garden, or the kitchen, or the sitting room into the late hours of the evening, he would count them. Lay them out inside of his mind and count each one, smiling to himself as he recalled how he had painstakingly coaxed each one from her lips.

It was so very easy to make Elain happy, Azriel discovered. He couldn’t seem to fathom why it was so difficult for everyone else to figure out, even for her own mate.

A full cup of tea with two sugars, so hot that steam curled off of it in the brisk morning air. A blanket draped over the wrought iron chair, as sitting on the hard surface for too long made her bones ache through her still too thin thighs and back. A good story, about somewhere far, far away. The first bloom of a flower. A sunny day with a few clouds. Freshly baked bread, smothered in fresh butter with a little bit of cinnamon sugar sprinkled on top. Someone to listen to her, when she needed an ear, even when she herself did not understand what it was she was trying to say.

He took note of each of these things, carefully cataloging them away on the edges of his reports. Soon, those little anecdotes filled the margins of each of his most recent communications from the field.

In scrawling handwriting:

- Two sugars

- Cinnamon and sugar, 1/2 and 1/2… too much butter

- Women from market - flower farm?

- Tulip fields - continent (Feyre?)

- Ask mother, more quilts

Happy little accidents of discovery soon turned into an active and intentional search for more things that would alight those smiles upon her face.

A thick book on gardening. A warm shawl the color of the blooming lilacs. The songs that he would hum under his breath, when he fell so deep into concentration that he did not even notice he was doing so. Cassian’s rapid succession of three absurd sneezes whenever he deigned to speak with Azriel in the garden. His arm in hers, escorting her over the threshold and outside each morning.

Of course, these things were no flawless formula to her happiness. Some days were darker than others. Confusion held a hard-handed grip around her neck, and her eyes seemed more empty on those days, her body curled inward on itself beneath the purple shawl draped over her shoulders.

Those days, Azriel could do nothing but be by her side, listening patiently and actively noting the fragments she muttered under her breath, tossed into the wind and then disappeared from her mind.

She needed nothing more than for someone to listen to her. To try to understand.

He did what he could.

On her worst days, she seemed especially small and cold. Silent tears would drip down her cheeks, as she fought to keep her eyes open. Her gaze unblinking as she stared to the east, as if she could see to the other side of the wall. Lithe fingers spun the iron engagement ring endlessly on her finger, leaving a red indentation on her skin where it turned, over and over again.

Azriel would stand from where he had sat silently beside her, and gently drape an extra quilt across her lap. He wondered if she ever noticed how the material still smelled of blooming roses, of old stone and burnt faelights. Sometimes even the cup of tea that his mother had been drinking as she sewed, often late into the night when her thoughts became too loud in the quiet of the evening.

He knew Elain mourned the life she had once been promised. A life full of comfort and first love and wealth, a full belly and status for her family. A house full of laughing children and years well lived.

What a thing it was, to have it all taken away in an instant. To have life abruptly turn on its head and become something entirely unrecognizable against the future you had once seen for yourself.

Azriel could not help but mourn alongside her, as he knew all too well the feeling of life tossing you around so thoroughly that you no longer knew which way was up and which was down.

So he made sure her tea was never cold, and was always just sweet enough. Draped that blanket over her hunched shoulders and prayed to every god he knew for the sun to emerge to warm her cheeks, so that she might lift her face up to greet it and smile once again.

He did not rush her. It had been over 500 years, and he still felt raw and open whenever he thought back to that time in the keep. When he had become something else entirely, all alone, in the dark, with no one there to comfort him.

The only thing he could think of to offer her was what he had craved desperately when he was locked away.

Someone by his side. That had been all he had prayed for, craved, cried himself to sleep begging desperately for, over and over again - to not be alone. To have someone next to him.

He would be that for Elain.

On one of those afternoons, when the clouds covered the sun in gloomy gray and a slight wind blew through the garden, he led her to the long bench instead of their usual table and chairs.

Elain’s brown eyes held no light in them that day, just as cloudy and morose as the sky above. Confusion knitting her brows tight as she mumbled strange words under her breath, eyes flicking back and forth at something that he could not see.

Azriel walked slowly with her, guiding her along the stone path to the bench underneath the tall willow at the back of the garden, draping a new, floral quilt on top of Elain’s shivering body. He had suggested quietly that they stay in the parlor that day, but Elain had insisted they come outside. That she needed the fresh air, before her eyes once again lost focus and turned to something far away.

The wind whipped at her long braid as they sat, the willow branches whispering over them as if telling a secret to the pair sat below its limbs. Azriel’s shadows played among the dancing leaves, content that their master sat safely below.

He had no paperwork with him that day. Elain’s words were his sole focus, as he tried desperately to interpret her meaning, to find a connection between the seemingly unconnected fragments and mutterings. If only he could connect them, then it might give him a better understanding of her.

In the way that he had felt lost when the shadows around him had begun to answer to him, maybe Elain too felt this strange sense of being connected to something else, something unknown and possibly frightening.

Against the strong breeze, Azriel tucked his wings in tight to himself, praying once more for both their sakes for the sun to emerge, to offer that visible sign of hope that could do them both so good.

But the gods did not reply.

They sat there a good long while. Undisturbed as the members of their court rushed to take care of their duties. But Azriel himself could not bear to leave.

Especially not when the faint scent of salt filled the air, as a lone tear tracked down Elain’s face, following the curve of her jaw and landing on a daffodil knit into the quilt pulled tight around her arms, hands crossed on one thigh.

He did what he could, even though it frightened him - how easily he could push her away, as easily as he thought he could make her smile.

Azriel reached out a scarred hand.

Slowly, so as not to startle her, he placed one hand on top of her much smaller one. And when she did not flinch, or so much as blink, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze - so lightly that it may have been her imagination that he had done so at all. But that small squeeze sent a surge of warmth rushing through her, like the sun had finally chosen to emerge at that moment, filling her from the inside out.

Elain Archeron closed her eyes, as a second tear fell down her cheek. But then, she smiled faintly.

And Azriel glowed.

That night, when he lay awake at night surrounded by the paperwork that he had pushed aside that afternoon, he could not help but smile to himself at the memory. He had done that. He could comfort - he could provide what he had never known when he had needed it the most. That smile had been worth more than all the rest.

Tag List: @ultadverb @reverie-tales @illyrian-dreamer @elrielmonth @123-moiaussi

#elriel #elain archeron #pro elriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel #pro elain #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fic #elriel month #elriel month 2023 #a court of wings and ruin #canon compliant

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