#Red-bordered Emerald

[onenicebugperday]

@goo-helio-nite submitted: Nemoria lixaria I believe? I love their little tufts :) found in [removed]! (please remove)

What a BEAUTIFUL green geometer!! It is indeed a red-bordered emerald, Nemoria lixaria :)

#animals #insects #bugs #submission #moth #geometer moth #emerald #red bordered emerald

[teomuchtohandle]

On the way home tonight I found a moth that looks like it's lined with gold and it's now my most favorite bug in the world.

#Moth #Insect #Inatrualist says that it's a Red Bordered Emerald

[azsazz]

With Me

Eris x Rhysand's Sister!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: I know your request are closed but still writing. In the future could you do something with Eris x rhys sister?

Warnings: Graphic depictions of canon violence

Word Count: 1,520

_________________________________________

It had been on a wisp of an autumn breeze that Eris found out.

Found out about the plans of the High Lord of Spring, how he and his sons planned an ambush on the wife and daughter of the High Lord of Night on their travels to the Illyrian mountains for a visit with her son.

He had been on his horse, red as the leaves on the trees, scouting the borders between Autumn and Spring. The wind ruffled his hair and tickled his pointed ears with the whispers of scheming sons. Eris had stilled the mare beneath him and urged the current with a touch of magic to enhance the conversation.

That High Lord will pay for everything he’s tried to do to ours.

He won’t even know what’s coming. And neither will those little bitches.

Dibs on the older one.

It had eaten Eris throughout the day. Across the rest of his round on the border, during battle strategy, between sword fighting with his younger brothers. Lucien was learning quickly how to play his brothers against each other, and even scored a hit on Eris while his mind had been run through with worry.

He is a smart male but the thought of going to his father with this news didn’t feel right, but keeping it to himself felt even worse. So, after a family dinner that he loathed, Eris put on his emerald robes and marched into the Night Court territory.

He was too late. 

Eris caught the scent of your blood on a tornado of wind that carried the harrowing cries of you and your mothers downfall. You had been brutally attacked by the Spring Court sons and their father, and as Eris crept closer he saw blood coated flowers sprouting from the ground. The High Lord’s magic, a love note to the High Lord of Night.

A soft gurgle caught his attention as he stepped into the clearing washed in moonlight. The sight before him was harrowing; your carriage door ripped off its hinges, the windows blown out. Even the large, black steeds that had been pulling the wagon had been slaughtered, their entrails long lines in the white snow.

A wet cough, one with the whisper of death accompanying it drew his attention. Eris didn’t hesitate to locate you, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you curled beneath your slain mother, her arms still wrapped around you protectively. 

Your eyes were wide with fear, mouth gaping like a fish. Blood of both yours and your mothers surrounded you, leaking from your lips, from between the hands you had pressed weakly to your stomach.

Falling to his knees, Eris reached a hand out but halted when your eyes met his. His mind was reeling, a young warrior with little battlefield experience before a female struggling through her thinning breaths.

Something stirred deeply within him, something he knew but couldn’t say, wouldn’t admit out loud until years later. 

You had enough strength to shift your hand in the snow, reaching towards him, eyes screaming a plea for help from the handsome son of Autumn. 

And he did. He held your organs in his hands as he winnowed you from Night into his own territory, right into the hands of his mother. 

Amaretto stood with a start, the book in her hands falling loudly to the floor. There were no sounds in the room, not even the crackling of the fires raging in the hearths. She kept it this way so she could hear the sounds of her husband's footsteps when he walked down the marble halls of the Woodland House, each echo a shot to her confidence.

“Eris,” she gasps at her son, who looks over at her with wide, pleading, auburn eyes. She halts in her tracks, that look in his eyes, the sheer terror on his face. Her own eyes softened with a knowing look, and she uttered, “Oh, Eris.”

He and his mother worked in tandem all through the night. And when Beron’s footsteps began to sound down the hall Eris had been the one to distract him, goad him. He didn’t care about the bruises and pain inflicted by his father’s hand because it was nothing to the pain he could feel from you, through the thread of the bond that had appeared at the sight of you. 

His mother saved your life with the little trickle of healing magic she had left. Always hidden from Beron, but would use it to save her son’s mate’s life. Two gentle souls that deserved much better hands that you had been dealt in the world.

Eris stayed by your side when you had been moved to a guest room. You hadn’t woken for days and he couldn’t figure out a way to hide you from his father who would surely use you against the Night Court, who were mourning the news of their felled female family members.

Word had come of the slaying of the Spring Court High Lord and the two eldest sons, leaving young Tamlin to take his place. In the fray, the High Lord of Night had been murdered as well, with Rhysand taking the chair of rule.

It was all very confusing times. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Eris,” you plead, tears staining your eyes. He can feel the cracking in your chest even though you’re trying to hide it from him. You’ve never been good at blocking your feelings from your loving mate, but the thought of returning home was all too much. Eris wasn’t understanding your fear, your need to go home to the Night Court after so long away, after Amarantha’s reign of terror has finally ended. “I need to see my brother.”

Eris had hidden you from the wretched female while he and all of the other citizens of the Autumn Court had been forced beneath the mountain. It had been a long, lonely fifty years of trying to find a way to get back to Velaris, to get inside of the barriers that had been protected with an extra boost of Rhysand’s power before he became trapped.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers, hugging you closely. The both of you are laid up in his bed, days of reacquainting each other with the other’s body after so long away. Your mate had all but fallen apart in your arms, and you in his, the loneliness of your years spent wondering how your mate fared against the powerful female set to ruin your world. 

“Come with me,” you beg wetly, clutching to his clothes. He had winnowed right back into your arms as soon as he was able, and he hasn’t let you go since. You hadn’t wanted him to. “Let’s run away from Autumn, together.” 

Just like Lucien had done, chased away from the Court he knew as home while their awful brothers hunted him down. It had been another harrowing night for Eris, one you held him through. 

Only the knowledge that his brother was safe in the Spring Court had kept him from completely falling apart.

“I can’t just leave like this, fawn,” he answers wetly, stroking your hair back from your face. You’re as beautiful as the day you woke up, when your eyes landed on his and the bond made itself known to you. He has spent every day since thanking the Mother for this time with you, for sparing you that winter night, for keeping you safe when he was trapped under the mountain with no way out. “Not yet.”

Your voice breaks and hot tears stream down your face, throat tightening to the point where no words could break if you tried. You want Eris to come with you, you need Eris to come with you. You’ve only just gotten him back and it cannot be time to give him up already.

“It’s okay, fawn,” Eris consoles sadly. He will keep you in his arms tonight and tomorrow, up until he escorts you to your brother’s land and makes sure that you are safe with them. He has been a selfish male for so many years, falling headfirst into the mating bond. He’d fallen into you completely and without any remorse, the same way you had found yourself falling into him. “You need to do this. And I will be here, fighting for a better life for us until we can be together, freely.”

Eris and Amaretto had come up with an elaborate plan to tell the rest of the family. That Eris would hide you until you healed, and found his mate at the Autumnal Equinox balls. It would ensure your safety, being classed as a High Fae, but also being Eris’ mate. You had learned to deal with Beron and Eris’ insufferable brothers for years.

You love Eris with every fiber of your being, and the thought of parting with him so soon after getting him back tears your heart to shreds, but you need to go, especially after everything Eris had told you happened down there. 

“I love you, Eris.” 

“I love you too, fawn.”

#eris x reader #eris/reader #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #acosf #eris #eris vanserra

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 1 (SeongjoongxReader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed

And thank you so much @daesukiii for beta reading this fic!! It's well appreciated!💕💕

Part 2 >

***

"YN!"

You heard her howl your name from down the hall. The sound of her voice made you quicken your pace, a streak of panic striking through you. 

"YN! YN, where are you?!”

Her voice sent ice cold water through your veins. You’d left her alone with the others for only a moment. What could possibly have happened in the span of five minutes? A slew of scenarios ranging in severity ran through your mind. Somebody brushed her hair too hard. Somebody smeared her lip paint. Somebody said the wrong thing or the right thing but in the wrong way. You preferred not thinking of what she’d done to that person. 

“YN!”

You walked through the wooden hallway, keeping your head down to not draw much attention to yourself. A habit, you supposed, that you’d learned since being her handmaiden. Finally reaching her room, you gave the guard outside a single glance and he slid the door open for you. 

“She’s in a mood today,” he told you gruffly. “You’d think after the night she had, she’d be more docile.”

“She’s never docile,” you replied. “I’ll handle her.”

“As always.” 

You didn’t find her in the front room of her apartments, where servants put out her morning tea and breakfast spread. Walking past the red and cream colored couches, with their low wooden tables, you moved past more servants cleaning the window frames and floors spotless. You opened the doors leading into her bedroom. Two maids in plain hanboks changed her bed sheets and fluffed her pillows. They gave you both a concerned look, which you replied to with a nod.

“YN!”

“Your Majesty, I am here. What is your command?”

Sookmyung stood on a platform in the middle of her dressing room. Four girls dressed in white hanboks kept their heads down and hands clasped together, a sign of their subservience to the woman. Queen Han Sookmyung only wore the emerald skirt of her hanbok, her long black hair unbraided and falling down her back, and you saw the issue immediately. The top layer of her gown laid on the floor at her feet, a bundle of more emerald cloth bordered with golden vines.

“My command is that I want these imbeciles out of my sight!” she screeched, stamping her foot on the platform. “I told this one to bring the blue and gold one. She brought the green and gold!”

“A simple mistake, Your Majesty, I am sure,” you said calmly, walking further into the room. “Aro,” you turned to one of the handmaidens nearest you, “Please bring Her Majesty the dark blue and gold dress. It’s in the fourth box on the second shelf.” She bowed to you, then briskly left for the closet in the other room.

“YN, send them away. I cannot stand looking at them any longer.”

“You are all dismissed for now.”

The remaining handmaidens bowed, then left the room without a word. You moved over to her and began untying the skirt from her torso. Discontent still read on Sookmyung’s thin, oval face. Once the young queen flew into one of her rages, it was difficult to bring her back down. It was why you instructed the handmaidens to do as she said down to the last word. It saved everyone lots of trouble. 

When you gingerly removed the skirt, leaving her in the underskirt and undergarments, you saw yourself in the long mirror. Your white dress nearly blended in with the brightly colored room around you.  Like all female monarchs, she surrounded herself with handmaidens. The distinction was Sookmyung demanded her female servants be virgins, who all wore white to make Sookmyung stand out against them. Being the eldest of her handmaidens, a companion since childhood, your uniform differed in the red ribbon keeping your top half closed. Yet, even then you mustn’t draw too much attention to yourself. How can The Queen shine if her servants looked more beautiful than her? 

“They’re such simpletons,” she grunted. “I do not know what is so difficult. How can one possibly confuse blue with green?”

“I am certain she misheard you, Your Majesty.” Deflect her displeasure. You glanced over to the vanity where someone laid out her jewelry. They’d chosen the dangling gold earrings and matching hair ornaments. “Look at this set, Your Majesty,” you gave a soft gasp, walking over to the jewelry, “These earrings are absolutely divine! Are they not?”

“They are fine enough,” she replied haughtily. “At least the fool chose something that matches.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “I am surprised she had any fashion sense at all, to be honest.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she sneered, flipping a loose strand of hair from her shoulder. “Send the idiot away when she returns. You will dress me today.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

When the girl returned, you took the long, flat box and dismissed her quietly. Not a sound. Not a whisper or a mumble. That was how servants communicated: discreetly and hurriedly. With everyone gone, only you two remained. You began unwrapping the separate pieces of Sookmyung’s dress from the box. The blue skirt remained plain, while golden dragons interweaved around her shoulders and along the middle of the top. The gold paint shined whenever she moved her torso, and the voluminous skirt gave an illusion of gliding instead of walking.

“I am taking visitors today,” she mused as you began brushing her hair. You took care not to let the brush snag in her waist-length strands. The ring on her finger looked like it’d cut your cheek. “Merchants and common people.”

“Your people wish to speak with you, Your Majesty,” you replied, pulling back her hair to start braiding. “They seek your wisdom and guidance.”

“As they should,” she said, admiring the golden ring on her finger. “I am their queen. They need to heed my words and obey them.”

You would’ve told her that giving advice and giving commands are different things, but you knew better.

After many failed pregnancies, King Siwon and Queen Jisoo finally produced a child in their fourth year. Sookmyung became her father’s sole heir to the throne. Being the only heir, the king groomed his daughter for rule. You wanted to say that Sookmyung ignored her lessons and took no interest in them, but that is far from the truth. Sookmyung devoured her father’s wise council and listened attentively at his elbow. She followed the master at arms around the training yard, learning how to use a sword and bow. She spent time in the stables learning how to tame and ride horses. Everyone hoped her eagerness meant she’d be a good and capable queen, but you knew better. Unlike the king’s council, you knew why Sookmyung took to the idea of ruling the kingdom so quickly.

There’d be nobody to stop her. 

“I heard Kim Haneul wishes to propose to you,” you said, hoping the gossip keeps her occupied. You styled her hair up from her face to accentuate her facial features and long neck, sliding bejeweled pins to keep it in place. “He has had his eye on you for a long time.”

“Which one is he again?” she asked, stumped. “He isn’t the fat one, is he?”

“No, Your Majesty,” you faked an amused giggle. You grabbed her eoyeo meori, the circular wig with its golden adornments. Placing it as a halo around her head before pinning it in place, you continued. “That is Advisor Heechul’s son. Haneul is the son of the new Duke of Daegu. He’s that handsome one who won your archery contest at last year’s harvest festival. I heard from some of the maids that he favors you highly.”

“Of course he does,” she scoffed, double checking the work you’d done. “I’m a queen. He’s a common nobleman.”

“Yes, he is,” you nodded, “But he will approach you nevertheless, Your Majesty.”

“Who told you this nonsense?”

“One of the kitchen hands,” you told her, picking up a powder box from the vanity. “She said she overheard it from Haneul and one of his companions. I thought I’d tell you to prepare you for it should he ask today.” You then added, “I know how much you dislike surprises. I’d hate for him to spring it on you, and you be flustered in making a decision.”

“Yes, I do despise it.” She kept herself still as you began lightly applying powder to her face. “Haneul…Haneul…You say he’s the handsome archer from last year?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hm, must not be remarkable if I did not collect him already,” she mused. A small smile crossed her face, “Have you seen my flowers today, YN?”

“I haven’t,” you answered honestly. “You know as well as I that no one is permitted in your garden.”

“Oh, my beautiful flowers,” she sighed softly. “They bring me such comfort.” 

You saw her eyes glaze over as they did when she spoke of Them. Those at court called them ‘The Golden Ones’, but Sookmyung called them her ‘flowers’. You pondered on the men while you finished painting her lips. Upon his death, king Siwon had twenty-five concubines living in the “private gardens” near the king’s quarters. Sookmyung dismissed them all the morning after his death, determined to fill it with concubines of her own. You and her advisors told her queens did not usually take male concubines, since she is meant to marry and produce children. Sookmyung ignored all of you. During her war campaign across the country, she searched for handsome men to bring into her harem. Yet, with all things, she was picky. Her concubines needed to be ethereal beauties; they needed to be trophies that would make her the envy of the court. She eventually found them, imprisoned them, and then put them in the gardens to do what she pleased. 

Sookmyung currently has eight concubines. No doubt should another war arise, she will steal more sons.

“Tell the guard to bring my flowers to the throne room today,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror when you finished. “I wish for them to be there. They do bring me relief on days like today.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” You picked up a purple perfume box, but Sookmyung shook her head. 

“No, not jasmine. Hongjoong detests jasmine scents.”

‘He does not. It’s you he detests.’ 

“Then will you prefer the lavender or the rose perfume?”

“Lavender. It has such a calming effect on him,” she said when you started dabbing the scent on her neck and wrists. “My fiery blossom. I know he will be furious if that fool Haneul comes forward. His jealousy is only outmatched by my own, I’m afraid.”

“Well, seeing other men fawn over you must make him believe your love for him will wane and disappear,” a male voice said from somewhere behind you. “We cannot fault him for his emotions.”

You turned your head to see an old man walk into the room. His salt-and-pepper hair cut short, he’d left his thin mustache and beard growing past throat to his chest. Wrinkled by age, Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik served the royal family since Sookmyung’s grandfather’s time. In the red robes of a first rank advisor, he walked further into the room. He smiled at Sookmyung, giving her a slight bow as their eyes met. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, looking back at herself, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see if you’d be joining us in the throne hall for petitions this morning,” he asked. “The other advisors and I believe it will show the people an image of concern if you are seen on your father’s throne-”

“-You mean my throne,” she cut him off. “I am the queen.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he smiled, giving a nod of the head, “Old habits die hard.”

“Or easily,” you heard her mutter. “But, yes I will be there today. Tell the other officials to worry.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he grinned. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“Mhm-hm.”

His attention turned to you, “Good day, YN.”

“Good day, Senior Advisor,” you gave a slight bow and a smile. 

It was the briefest of glances but you noticed it right away. Eyes lined with crows feet looked between you and Sookmyung, with a certain disappointment lingering in them. The expression did not sit right with you, but it was not your place to question. Advisor Choi left, and you and Sookmyung were alone again. He seemed to be filled with words he could not say out loud. Then again, many people did the same. It was Sookmyung’s chuckle that caught your attention.

“The old man likes you,” she cackled. “Out of all the men in the world, it’s the ancient one.”

“He was being polite,” you said to her, cheeks burning from her laughter. 

“He doesn’t have to be ‘polite’ to you,” she said. “He outranks you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you as his concubine. It is disgusting to think about,” she shuddered, “Those knobbly hands on you and those lips. Don’t worry, YN. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That is kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“You must be envious of me, YN. I have my beautiful flowers and you have nobody,” she said thoughtfully, “I spend ages worshiping Seonghwa’s gorgeous body or listening to Jongho sing and you're here all alone. It must be sad."

“It can be, but I hope one day that will change,” you told her. You grabbed the blue overcoat from the box, letting her stand to put it on her. “I may find someone who is patient and clever. The kind of man who treats his lady well and is gracious and kind.” A man such as Seonghwa. But, that was a thought you immediately pushed out. 

“Men like that are needles in a haystack. Only I have been fortunate to find such lovely beauties like my flowers,” she said. “Like Hongjoong…”

You followed her out of the bedroom. Hongjoong’s face came to the forefront of your mind. The last of Sookmyung’s flowers, he’d quickly become her favorite. You saw how he fawned over her, and constantly whispered things in her ear that made her giggle. Secretly, you wished it was you he whispered to, but you knew that wouldn’t be. Hongjoong is placed far out of your reach, just like the rest of them. As you followed her out of her room, you bit your lip thinking about the last time she made you stay in their “garden”. Sookmyung took delight in seeing you flustered and squirming when she took one of them. Like all her handmaidens, you’d kept your virginity intact, which she enjoyed teasing you about. But, if you had your pick, you'd have him or Seonghwa. Possibly even both. 

Four men dressed in black and red leather armor met you outside her chambers. You whispered the summons to one of them, and he passed it along to one of the guards at the main doors. A wooden palanquin sat at the bottom steps of the residency building, a red awning keeping the sun from hitting Sookmyung as she climbed inside. You, however, stayed on the outside. You eyed the spot beside her, a seat wide enough for you both to fit, but you knew she’d never offer it to you. The queen rides in the palanquin. Her handmaiden walks. 

“But you wouldn’t understand anything about that,” Sookmyung giggled as the footmen lifted the litter and the group moved. You walked steadily at her side, making sure to keep yourself in step. Move too slow, and she’ll complain that you’re lagging behind. Move too quickly, and she’ll accuse you of trying to upstage her. “You are unmarried and are still a virgin.”

“That does not mean I cannot love, Your Majesty, or understand how it works,” you replied calmly. You sensed the taunt skirting around her words, and you braced yourself for more. “I see how Hongjoong and the others are when you’re in their presence. It is like seeing heaven on earth. They worship you. They adore you. I think we all can only hope for such love to come into our lives.”

“How sweet,” she pouted, “It must be nice to have such naive and fanciful dreams about love. I’m afraid it is not always so heavenly.” You noticed her face turn sour, “I see how those little harlots in court gawk at them whenever they pass. They see my flowers and sigh over them.” You saw her fold her hands over one another on her lap, “I remember that one idiot who tried seducing my Mingi. She had that pathetic, simpering smile and that obnoxious laugh. Ugh, it was a humiliating display," a wicked smirk came across her face, "But, I put a stop to that all together. You remember that, do you not, YN?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.” 

Lady Seulgi, a noblewoman draped in expensive adornments, had come to the palace during a birthday celebration. You recall how Sookmyung spotted her eyeing Mingi, one of the concubines, and the jealousy flaring in her eyes. You’d done all you could to convince Sookmyung that she saw nothing; Lady Seulgi happened to look in his direction, that was all. This lie worked for a time, before someone else spotted Lady Seulgi trying to corner Mingi in the palace garden. Sookmyung immediately had Lady Seulgi thrown into the dark, secluded jails in the back of the palace. Walking up the steps of a gate to reach the throne hall, you recall seeing Lady Seulgi removed of her finery and forced into a roughspun tunic. The beautiful, bold lady you’d seen that night became a filthy, frightened creature within days. You tried not remembering the stubs of her missing fingers, or the screams she made when Sookmyung pulled out her toenails one at a time. 

‘Make her ugly. Make her so ugly nobody will look at her.’ 

Nobody heard from Seulgi ever again. 

You spotted masses of people filling the wide throne courtyard. Nobles and commoners alike came to petition their problems to the queen, and it created a multi-colored sea of people in the square. Right when the palanquin passed through the gate, a group of soldiers dressed in red and white began playing on either side of the large doors. Two held horns, two banged on drums, one with cymbals, and another held a gong as they walked down the aisle. 

“The Queen is entering!” the leader called out in a booming voice, which caught everyone's attention. 

The daechwita played as they led the procession towards the throne hall. You kept your eyes to the ground now, making yourself as invisible as possible, and followed the palanquin the entire way. You chanced a glance at Sookmyung, whose eyes danced with pride. This is what she loved. This is why she scorched villages and killed kings. The power that emanated from the people bowing to her seemed to swell in her chest. You pitied anyone who upset her today.  They may end up the same way as Lady Seulgi if they’re not careful. 

The palanquin reached the throne hall’s platform, and footmen helped Sookmyung out of it. You briskly straightened out the back of her gown, and then stepped out of her way. The throne hall was wide with open windows, lattice walls, and a high decorative ceiling. Before his death, the king sat on the throne of his ancestors before him. A red throne painted with gold dragons, with a folded screen stood behind depicting the sun, moon, and mountains. It took someone three steps to reach the top of the platform, which only gave enough space for the king and two bodyguards to occupy. 

When Sookmyung came into power, she expanded on this inch by inch. She rebuilt the throne itself to have a taller back to rest on, and raised the platform a several more steps to open it up. This way, her concubines may sit on the steps in comfort, lounging peacefully on display for the whole court. Nobody said it out loud, but you knew why she wanted them with her. How can she flaunt her victories if the trophies are hidden behind garden walls? It made you sick. She not only desecrated the ancient throne, which for centuries stood as a symbol of dignity, but put her own proudful twist on it as well. You followed her up the steps, and walked right to your place in the shadows of the high dais. 

“All hail the Queen!” the singer called out. 

“All hail the Queen!” most of the crowd repeated back. 

Back in her father’s day, the king would speak to his subjects directly. He’d thank them for traveling to visit him, and begin accepting petitions and propositions. Sookmyung stayed silent, eyeing the crowd, while Senior Advisor Choi stepped in front of the throne. 

“Good people, good people,” he called, “It is our queen’s great delight and honor to host you here in her grand throne hall today. She is very interested to hear your thoughts and find solutions for your concerns. May the first of the petitioners step forward, please.”

The first to approach were two men. You took in their haggard appearance: clothes hanging from their skinny frames, worn out shoes on their feet, and their skin tanned from years in the sun. You could tell they must work outdoors, most likely in one of Sookmyung’s rice or spice fields. The taller man spoke up first, fire in his voice already.

“Your Majesty, I have been severely wronged in your great country,” he began. “This man,” he pointed to the person beside him, “Has been extending his land onto mine little by little for several months now!”

“Your Majesty, I have done no such thing! I was merely rebuilding my fences, and happened to accidentally-”

“-Accidentally? Ha, please! Do not try to fool us into believing you do not know where your land ends and mine begins,” his opponent retorted. “You have been rebuilding that fence of yours for quite some time. The stakes from the last rebuild are still in the ground, and they are several feet from where they’d been before.”

“My son has been helping me, Your Majesty,” the man said to Sookmyung. “He is not the brightest of boys, but he is strong and helpful to me in my old age. He must have marked the line wrong-”

“-How despicable! To blame your deception on your own flesh and blood-”

“-I am only providing a possible explanation! Besides, why do you care? It is not as if you tend to your fields regularly or properly. I have seen the grain you grow. It is subpar at best, and inedible at worst. I am the superior farmer, therefore I should have more land…”

“This is so boring,” Sookmyung mumbled loud enough for you to hear. “Who cares about a stupid farm?”

“Their farms are important to them, Your Majesty,” you replied. “It is the only way they can feed themselves and their families.”

“Psh, as if they are now. Look how skinny they are. It’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart sank hearing the two men describe their feud to one another. You thought of your own solution: You would’ve told them to have an official come and inspect the property lines for them to have an unbiased opinion. You’d pay builders from the city to repair the fence damage and realign it to avoid any more confusion. They would have done that already if they could afford to pay for the help. Sookmyung’s high taxes and the wealthy’s low wages make it difficult for the common folk of the kingdom to live properly. The few times you’d gone into the city for her, you’d seen the way most of them live day-to-day. They’re starving, unable to properly care for themselves or their children, and barely afford to pay their land owners. In their desperation, many of them venture into the Queen’s forest to hunt for food, with hopes of not being caught by guards roaming the perimeters. Others resort to criminal activities, since the slum lords pay much better than their law abiding counterparts. Sookymung’s kingdom fell into poverty because of the grand lifestyle she wished to live and the wars she'd waged. While her people starved, the queen and her elite nobles dined and dressed well. It sickened you to your stomach. 

“...Which of them brings in more grain?” Sookmyung asked the senior advisor. 

Senior Choi looked to Advisor Park, the master of coin who took care of the kingdom’s finances. It took the middle-aged man a moment, but he eventually found their names and most recent tax payments. The accused paid more in his taxes and supplied more grain than his accuser.

“Then it is clear that he deserves more land than this one,” Sookmyung told Choi. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

Choi stared up at her, but he did not look as dumbfounded as his fellow advisors. For the briefest moment, you caught disdain in his dark eyes. Nevertheless, he turned away and addressed the men. 

“Then it is clear that…that he deserves more land than this one,” you heard him repeat stoically. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

“B-B-But, Your Majesty, my family has owned that farm for many years,” he said imploringly. “It is not right!”

“Perhaps his family should find a new venture and stop wasting my time", Sookmyung huffed. “The man will keep his fence where it is, and you will accept my decision.”

Choi repeated her words verbatim, and the man’s jaw dropped. “Your Majesty-”

“-Next,” she dismissed him through Choi.

Both men were forced to the side by guards. Right as the next person came up, drums and horns suddenly rang throughout the large hall. Sookmyung’s eyes lit up and she beamed at the people entering the room.

“Her Majesty’s concubines approach!” the leader said. “Make way for The Golden Ones! Make way!”

Surrounded by four guards dressed in all black armor walked a group of eight men.

As always, Sookmyung’s concubines wore their black and gold hanboks: Their overcoats of black silk covered most of their body, the wide sleeves ending far past their fingers. Glimmering stones weaved into the intricate floral patterns of their golden sashes, matching the hair pins and jewelry they wore. What separated them the most were their veils. Thin veils hanging from their ears hung to their chests, the sheer fabric dotted with gold pieces to hide their features. Only you and Sookmyung ever saw their faces unmasked. She said the less they revealed of themselves, the less likely anybody would desire them.

A complete and utter lie, in your opinion.

“My beautiful flowers,” she smiled, eyes full of fondness. “So wonderful to see you early in the morning,” she watched them walk up the steps to their assigned seats on the steps.

The farthest was Jongho, who sat on the third step from the bottom, lounging back with one elbow on the step above him. The youngest of her flowers, he kept his black hair in a braid that was woven with gold bands. Formerly an innkeeper’s son, Sookmyung stole him from his family during the end of her campaign. You never forgot how Sookmyung viciously beat the old woman who begged her not to take him; how Jongho did not stop crying the entire way back to the capital.

“Your braid looks lovely today, Jongho,” Sookmyung admired, looking over his round, soft features from afar.

“I am glad you think so, Mistress,” he said, “I added the jewels especially for you.”

“I’m wearing the hair band you gifted me, Mistress,” said a slender boy sitting just above him.

Wooyoung. The son of the Duke of Pyongyang, the siege of his city took Sookmyung only a few days. She often boasted about how their forces retreated from her men like mice. As with the other kingdoms, she gifted the seat of House Jung to one of her allies, and took the duke’s son for herself. Wooyoung fled into the woods, being hunted by Sookmyung and her pack of dogs for several days before being found and dragged to camp. You preferred not thinking about what Sookmyung did to break him.

You noticed the young man winced when he moved to face her. From what you’d gathered, Sookmyung visited his chambers the previous night. Whatever she’d done left him sore and holding back whimpers of pain. The tenderness inside you wished to reach out for him. You wished to comfort and assure him that his pain will subside soon. His wounds will heal and he will be fine. But, how ‘fine’ is he when Sookmyung owns him?

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” Sookmyung said. Another peasant was brought before her, but she ignored him. “You were magnificent last night. You and San both.”

San, muscular and broad, sat across from Wooyoung. Thin eyes flickered with hate before changing to pure seduction. “As were you, Mistress.”

Choi San used to be a soldier in Sookymung’s army. His father, General Choi, was a general who commanded a large portion of her forces. One day, when his battalion was overpowered and forced to retreat, Sookmyung took this failure as a sign of weakness. It inflamed her burning rage, and Sookmyung sentenced the man to a brutal death: being beaten with clubs by his own lieutenants. San was forced to watch the entire thing. From what you’d heard, he still woke up screaming for his father to run.

“Mistress, I’m sleepy,” said the man sitting above San and Wooyoung. Long-limbed with sleek brown hair, he gave an audible yawn and stretched. “I sleep so lightly without you beside me.”

Another sweet lie to fill her head with dreams. Sookmyung’s war took her all over the country, and this meant bypassing several inns and small villages. When attacking Haeju, Sookmyung camped outside a small fishing village right on the west coast. There, she found plenty of provisions and ship builders to repair the damaged fleet. With them came a tall, lean young man with brown hair and a precious smile. Song Mingi. You’d originally thought Sookmyung took Mingi for a fleeting fancy, but when she told him that he’d be joining the other men she’d dragged with her, he naturally refused. It wasn’t until Sookmyung threatened to kill his entire family that he went with her.

Sookmyung burnt down his whole village, ultimately murdering his family anyways.

“Perhaps I may remedy that tonight, lovely,” she replied, smirking at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t want my Mingi to collapse from lack of proper rest.”

“Then what of me, Mistress?” a wide-eyed young man said on the other side. “You said you’d be with me.”

Dainty and petite, Kang Yeosang was also nobility. While not high in rank, his family did supply the opposition with food and resources throughout the war. Sookmyung created the strategy to hit them at their source, which included raiding baggage supply trains moving through the country. Yeosang led one such train, and while his men fought valiantly, they were defeated. Yeosang, having an angelic look to him with doe-like eyes, became another addition to her growing harem. She promised he’d go home if his family surrendered their land and resources to her, so Yeosang agreed. But, Yeosang never went home. It took him a short time to realize that Sookmyung never planned on ransoming him. When he heard her forces invaded his home, slaughtered his family, and claimed it in her name, he knew he’d never see home again.

“You can join us then, Yeosangie,” she cooed.

A peasant woman holding a baby in a blanket came forward, tearful and pleading for her child’s life. Sookmyung hardly listened to her as she addressed the man next to Yeosang: Yunho. Equally as tall as Mingi, he kept his black in a top knot with a black band around his forehead. A servant placed a bowl of grapes in front of him, but he did not eat them. He could never eat with Sookmyung around. She disgusted him to the point of losing his appetite. 

“Yunho, are you not hungry?”

“I had a large breakfast, Mistress.”

He turned his head to answer her, then back to the woman standing before him. She sobbed about how a group of men ransacked her home, taking everything she owned and leaving her with nothing but her life. You saw the pity in his puppy-dog eyes. He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a velvet coin purse. You knew that Yunho sometimes secretly slipped silver or gold coins to the servants when possible. 

“Here,” Yunho walked down the steps to her, “For your and your child.”

“S-Sir…” she wept, looking at the large sum in her hand, “I…I cannot…” she glanced at Sookmyung, who glared. “I cannot accept this-”

“-I insist,” Yunho said, not reaching or touching her. It’d put a mark on her back for certain. “You need it more than me.”

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Isn’t my Yunho generous?” Sookmyung said, though her grin did not reach her ears. “He is always thinking of others.”

“It is why you noticed me, Mistress, is it not?”

He came back to his seat and your eyes briefly met his. Yunho, not of noble birth, lived in a farming village before outlaws came and raided them. By the time Sookmyung arrived, several villagers either died or were grievously injured. Being the son of the town physician, Yunho tended to several of the children, frightened and wounded from the bandits. Sookmyung not only found it endearing, but saw Yunho’s apparent handsomeness. She promised he’d be her personal physician’s apprentice, learning at the elbow of the finest in the kingdom. He only needed to travel with her for a few days. But, when she placed him in the harem tent with the others, he realized what his role would truly be. It is only fortunate that Yunho is able to tend to whatever wounds the concubines suffer at Sookmyung’s hands.

“It is,” she nodded. “You’re just as sweet as my Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa sat on a cushion a step right beneath Sookmyung. The eldest of the Golden Ones, his sharp jawline and full lips enchanted Sookmyung right away. Son of an advisor to another king, he’d attempted to trade his life for his younger brother, whom she’d gifted to a group of loyalists during her victory celebration. Unfortunately, this did not work. His younger brother was carried off by the men while Seonghwa was dragged to her new chambers. From what you know, Seonghwa hasn’t seen his brother since then. 

His father having been a notable advisor, Senior Advisor Choi has often sought him out for counsel and opinion. You supposed this intelligence is why he’d managed to last so long. He gave her a dashing smile, and spoke in his deep voice.

“But nobody is as sweet as you, Mistress,” he licked his lips, “Nobody certainly tastes as sweet either.”

“Seonghwa,” she flipped open her fan and gave it to you to fan her, “You always know what to say.”

Her eyes then landed on the concubine sitting on her left, elbow on the arm of the throne and appearing bored. Black hair tied back in a ponytail, Sookmyung gifted him with a red headband to wear around his head. Embroidered flowers in the center, this symbol of Sookmyung’s favoritism set him apart from the others. You’re sure that the reason she favored him so highly is not only his handsomeness, but the fact that he’d been a true prince. Hongjoong, Crowned Prince of Wonju. 

Wonju was a peaceful, plentiful kingdom that remained its own nation after the Han clan took over the country. Somewhere far off in the east, you remember the mountain ranges that surrounded the area, high and steep so that very few enemies could pass. It’d been ruled over by the Kim clan, with King Hyungshik at the head. A king in his own right, it was peace terms with the Hans that prevented open warfare. You’d always understood both nations to live side-by-side in harmony. Then Sookmyung became queen, and she could not have another monarch in her country. 

But, Wonju did not fall to Sookmyung as easily. Several bloody and fierce battles were found on land and sea, ripping the two nations apart in the process. Several kingdoms sided with Wonju, but they’d been overpowered by the queen’s men. Sookmyung’s triumph over Wonju became a lasting highlight of her conquest. She’d taken Hongjoong as a further stab to those who’d rebel and oppose her. To her, he is her biggest trophy. 

“Mistress, please let us be done with this riff-raff,” Hongjoong drawled, “And entertain ourselves elsewhere. This business bores me to tears.”

Yet, even after the death of their royal family, the people of Wonju oppose Sookmyung and the man she put in charge of them. Many resistance fighters her armies capture are from Wonju. You wondered at what point did they stop trying to rescue Hongjoong and focus their efforts on usurping Sookmyung. You knew he hated Sookmyung, regardless of what he said to the contrary. You’d hate her too if you were him. But, Hongjoong had secrets of his own.

You’d never tell anyone about the woman you’d seen him meeting at night.

“It is part of my duty as queen, blossom,” she told him, lifting his chin to make him look at her. “Advisor Choi insists I perform my responsibilities as ruler, but the only thing I ever wish to do is be in your arms and in your bed.”

“Then leave these filthy peasants, love,” he took the hand on his chin and held it gently, “And let me admire my queen as a loyal subject should.”

“Hongjoongie…” she breathed,

“Please, Mistress,” he put a yearning into his seductive tone, “It has been so long since you have visited my chambers. You’re always with the others and never with me,” he put a hand on her knee and knelt. You heard him whisper something obscene in her ear, which made her giggle. “…It grows harder in every thought. Do not leave me wanting, Mistress, please. It aches for you…”

This is what Sookmyung wanted: a concubine who professes nothing but undying desire for her. Sookmyung could never truly love anyone, regardless of what she said. Hongjoong knew this, and you admired his tact. It is better to make her believe he needed her than to show his true feelings. You wondered if he thought of the other woman when he said these words. You knew he'd never think of you. 

You saw them after a celebration for Sookmyung’s five-year-reign as queen. You finished helping her into bed and took the shortcut back to the servant’s quarters to rest your tired feet. Cutting through the concubine gardens, you’d heard hushed voices through a hedge. You thought nothing of it at the time, since you thought it must’ve been the wind or an animal nearby. Yet, you then heard the high voice of Kim Hongjoong, followed by another voice. A woman’s voice. Curiosity and shock got the better of you, and you peeked through the high hedge to see their figures in the shadows of the trees. You couldn’t tell what they’d done, since they hid themselves behind dense thickets of shrubbery, but it did not take much to wonder. You never saw the woman, so you guessed she’d gone over the garden wall, but you did see Hongjoong. It did not take a genius to figure out what he’d done. You swore yourself to secrecy; you told yourself that revealing this secret of his to anyone meant death.

“Alright,” she pouted, “I can never say no to this beautiful face of yours…”

“Or my tongue,” he added softly, putting his face inches from hers but never kissing. The veil acted as a barrier that drove her nuts. “Seonghwa will join us, if you wish. He enjoys you just as much as I do. Isn’t that so, Brother?”

“It is,” Seonghwa nodded, but did not approach her.

Your eyes met Hongjoong’s. You wished you could thank him. With Sookmyung occupied with him and his “brothers”, you could see your mother, whom you haven’t seen for two nights. You may even see Queen Jisoo, Sookmyung’s mother. 

“We’re done for today,” Sookmyung told Choi, who nodded stiffly. “Come, flowers.”

One by one they followed her down the steps, and you trailed behind them. Everyone bowed their heads as she walked by, but you couldn’t help seeing their glaring faces. They must’ve waited hours to see her, and she only listened to two or three people. She conquered every kingdom in the country, turning them into wards under her rule, and did nothing to help them. Like the men who trailed behind her, they are spoils of war. Sookmyung squandered their collective wealth, expecting her subjects to accept it without complaint. You wished you knew a way to help, but you’re as powerless as them. You watched Hongjoong climb into Sookmyung’s litter, the pair instantly turning to one another, and expected to walk alongside them.

“No, no, YN,” Sookmyung stopped you as you approached. “You’re dismissed for the day. Come to the garden around supper. If anyone comes calling for me, tell them I am indisposed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you bowed, standing aside as the footmen lifted up the five litters.

She turned away from you to kiss Hongjoong, who tilted his head to deepen it. Once more, you locked eyes with one another. You gave him an appreciative smile, which he replied with a blink. You waited until Sookmyung was far away before walking towards the opposite gate back to the residency area. Passing by Sookmyung’s personal apartments, you walked further down the hall to a set of double doors guarded by a leggy man in leather armor. 

“Good morning, Junhan,” you grinned at them, the older man grinning back. “Is Her Majesty accepting visitors?”

“She will if it’s you,” he replied, “How was the witch this morning?”

“Junhan,” you hissed, holding back your laugh and looking down the hall, “You know better.”

“Ah, as if anyone is going to hear me here,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open the door for you, and said, “She’ll be glad to see you. Your mother says Her Majesty has been anxious these past few days.”

“Then I should see her quickly,” you said, giving him a nod before walking into the main room. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you smiled as you entered a nearby sitting room. 

The Queen Mother Jisoo was once held in the admiration of everyone in the kingdom. She’d helped the kingdom in many ways during her reign alongside her husband: giving smaller villages access to clean water, funding orphanages and reconstructing damaged parts of the city. She helped pass laws that protected women in arranged marriages or dangerous situations, and gave protection to children. It was because of her that many people, especially the women and children, felt safe in the kingdom. But, when her daughter became queen, the Queen Mother stepped back and focused on her passions instead. However, age came for Jisoo, and her mobility became limited and her health declined slightly.

“Ah, YN, good morning,” Jisoo smiled. She sat in her wheeled chair today, a blanket over her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. “How is my daughter?”

“She is well. She is in the throne hall,” you fibbed. “She asked me to come check on you for her.”

“YN,” she smiled softly, shaking her head, “You’d lie to an old woman to spare her feelings. Please, come and sit. I’m sure Sookmyung did not make the morning easy for you. A servant told me she sent away her handmaidens this morning.”

“She did.” You took the seat across from her and prepared yourself a cup of tea. You offered to refill her cup, but she refused. “Your Majesty, you must eat,” you noticed the amount of food left over, “If you don’t, it will get cold.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure you’re famished, so please, eat.”

“She hardly had time to eat her breakfast this morning, Your Majesty.”

A woman in a gray and blue hanbok walked into the room, carrying a stack of folded sheets. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore the blue and gray hanbok of Queen Jisoo’s maids. Like your red ribbon, she wore a white one. You grinned at the sight of your mother. She’d been Queen Jisoo’s handmaiden in her youth, being at her side for every event of her life. When you grew up, you became Sookmyung’s maid. Except, you’re certain your mother had a much better time serving Jisoo than you did Sookmyung.

“And why was that?” Jisoo asked curiously. “Breakfast is important, and you’re still a growing woman.”

“The queen needed me to assist her in her garden,” you admitted over a cup of tea before sipping. You saw the disapproval on your mother’s face, but it was Jisoo who spoke up.

“And what horrid thing did she make you witness?”

“Nothing. She’d sent the concubines away before I arrived.”

“Hmph, in my day, queens did not have ‘concubines’,” your mother huffed, shaking her head. “The physician tells me he brews her tansy tea to avoid scandalous mishaps, but that is not healthy for a young woman. She’ll do severe damage to her womb, and not be able to produce children at all at this rate.”

“Chaewon,” the queen shushed her sharply. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she apologized. She noticed you not eating, and spread a bit of honey on bread for you. You knew better than to refuse her, so you ate it in small bites.

“My Sookmyung has always had a certain fiery passion,” Jisoo said. “Her father was similar. It was why he had so many concubines. He had an appetite I could not handle on my own,” she giggled.

“But, Your Majesty, the things I’ve heard The Queen does are-”

“-I know they are,” she cut in. “My daughter is a young woman, a new monarch. I will not rob her of enjoying her youth before settling down and marrying someone.”

Did that enjoyment of youth involve locking people in dungeons to torment and torture for pleasure? Did it include kidnapping young men from their families and forcing them to fulfill her every whim? Jisoo might make excuses for Sookmyung, but you would not. You finished the bit of bread given to you, and took up a bowl of kimchi instead. Not fully tasting the vegetable side, you pitied the concubines. Only the gods know what act she is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to perform for her. 

You wished you could help them. You wished you could help a lot of people.

***

A/N: I freaking love historical aus, don't you?? I know this probably isn't a 100% accurate, but I tried to get as close as possible while still mixing in a fictional realm. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter <3 feel free to like and reblog, it keeps posts alive!!

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #pirateeznet

[chasingthedragons]

Prince Aegon "the elder" Targaryen attires

1 - Gala suit in the colors of the House Targaryen. Red embroidered with gold details, white woven collar and sleeves.

1 - Training suit made of green quilted fabric with brown leather borders, gold brooches and brown leather belt. 2 - Accompanied by simple training armor.

1 - Attire worn at the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon, in the colors of House Hightower, green with embroidered pattern and green along the chest with gold embroidered details along the chest and wrists. Gold brooches and a black leather belt. 2 - Accompanied by a green cape with a gold brooch at the neck.

1 - Daily black suit with dark green fabric along the chest and sleeve cuffs. Gold buttons, leather belt and gold and emerald buckle. Gold and emerald necklace.

1 - Commoner's clothes, white shirt, brown pants, blue vest and black boots. 2 - Accompanied by a simple blue cape

1 - Coronation suit of shiny black cloth with embroidery in diamond pattern. With the emblem of House Targaryen on the chest with dark gems. Black leather belt with gold buckle. Gold brooches on the collar. Black leather gloves with gold clasps. Chain with gold links. 2 - Accompanied by a cloak hanging from his shoulders, held in place by a pair of gold brooches with the emblem of House Targaryen engraved on them.

> Aemond Targaryen > Jacaerys Velaryon > Lucerys Velaryon

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #house targaryen #house hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #prince aegon #prince aegon targaryen #the greens #greens #green #hotd fashion

[somebluemelodies]

DAY ONE OF SPIDERBIT THEME WEEK STARTED BY @anonymous-dentist! :D SELECTED THEME: ROYALS part of my existing spiderbit royals au, which you can find here :)

All things considered, this gala is actually tolerable.

It's not that Roier hates galas - he likes dressing up, gossiping with townsfolk, participating in a few dances. It's the politics he doesn't like: classist courtiers, uptight generals, all the talk of pacts and trades and treaties, this and that-

Too many negatives and not enough positives.

But this? This is his first gala with Cellbit as his personal guard. As his partner.

There was another gala, months before. Back when Cellbit was still practically a stranger to him, one of the knights who patrolled the parameters of the massive ballroom and down the halls to ensure nothing went awry. Back when suitors were coming up to him left and right, looking to flirt and dance and win his hand alongside his heart. Roier would humor them, but they would never win. Even if it made his parents increasingly exasperated with him.

There will be none of that this time around, though, at least he certainly hopes. This time, things are different. So much different.

In what has to be a first, there's no armor on Cellbit to be found. Instead, the silver metal has been replaced with black and white and deep emerald fabrics; a high-collared shirt and a long coat. The guard's sword is in its sheath attached to his waist, though, veiled from immediate sight by a black cape, and he expects nothing less.

In no uncertain terms, Roier has trouble looking away. But it's fine, because Cellbit keeps looking at him, too, with unadulterated adoration, smiling with such a warm fondness that it makes him melt all over, and he wonders how the hell he went for so long without it.

(There's a lot of other eyes on them at first, too. It makes Cellbit stiff in his vigilance, his face open to the world and not just his world. But Roier's hand barely leaves his.)

(They really do stand out; dark greens and reds contrary to the bright yellow-golds and vivid violets of the prince's parents. A match that could rival, indeed.)

The gala enters its full swing and everything is, well, normal. Tolerable. The prince makes his rounds with the townsfolk, getting his favorite clue into the local drama. Chisme.

The guard accompanies him, too, but occasionally walks off to strike conversation with his own companions, or do his own silent checks around the borders of the ballroom. The latter doesn’t go unnoticed by Roier.

“Ya, mi amor,” he chastises fondly when Cellbit returns once. “Nothing to worry about.”

The band starts playing a tune that makes Roier perk up immediately, and before Cellbit can dispel the recognizable glint in his eye, the guard is being pulled deeper into the ballroom, Roier’s hand sliding into his own as the prince’s free settles on his shoulder.

Cellbit huffs, but he’s anything but upset, especially with the way Roier’s face lights up with a laugh, pressing closer still.

(And he remembers why dancing isn’t so bad, after all. If it means this.)

(They’re getting married. Married.)

The song ends with Roier getting twirled out with a laugh and a flourish. Then, it’s clear he gets another idea, tugging Cellbit’s hand lightly. “Sigueme, sigueme.”

They’re slipping out of the ballroom and down a hall, going up the stairs. Their final destination is revealed when the prince pushes open one of the double doors and they’re hit with a cool summer breeze.

“They’re going to notice we’re gone.” Cellbit quirks a brow.

“And? I saw the look on my father’s face. I am not listening to another general if I can help it.”

The guard hums, smiling amusedly. “Brilliant solution.”

“I’m full of them, no?” Roier responds.

“Sometimes.” The quip is met with a gasp and a smack to Cellbit’s shoulder. Roier pulls back in faux hurt, hand to his heart and everything, but then Cellbit’s hands are on his waist and he’s pulled right back. The prince pouts. “Hijo de puta.”

Cellbit only smiles knowingly, and Roier feels positively fuzzy. Their lips connect, and he’s flush against his love once more, arms circling snugly around the guard’s neck.

(A fire burns. All it took was patience.)

(He’s never letting go, now.)

When they finally pull apart, Roier rests his head against Cellbit’s shoulder, and they hold each other tighter still.

They can’t hear the music from the ballroom anymore, but it doesn’t matter. The night is their guide, as it always has been, and all is well.

#the ending kinda sucks ass BUT #in self defense i woke up this morning feeling physically like shit #but the spiderbit grind never stops #this is longer than what i normally post i hope y’all like it :D #qsmp roier #qsmp cellbit #spiderbit #qsmp #blue writes qsmp #spiderbit royals au #a.d's spiderbit week

[the-darkestminds]

Autumn’s Shadow: Chapter 1

Azriel x Eris (Azriel POV)

Summary: A covert meeting between Azriel and Eris to exchange valuable intel leaves Azriel reeling—and questioning everything he has ever felt for the Heir of Autumn. Azriel finds himself inexorably drawn to Eris, unable to resist his captivating allure. With the threat of Koschei and Beron looming ever closer, can their forbidden love endure in the face of such danger?

a/n: This is not canon compliant. It takes place sometime during acosf before Eris is taken by Briallyn. Please assume the following: Cassian never played courtier, Azriel never had any feelings for Elain, he never helped Cassian train the priestesses, and they have not told Eris about the trove.

Read on AO3!

Full Chapter List

Chapter 1:

“Shadowsinger.”

Azriel stepped out of a pocket of shadows at the sound of that infernal voice. A voice he had been longing to make scream in pain for centuries now. Since the night Azriel had found Mor in those woods he had dreamed of how he might slowly and painfully tear the Heir of Autumn apart. Though technically they were allies now. Rhys insisted on these frequent meetings to get information on Beron’s movements in Spring, along with any whisper of his dealings with Briallyn and Koschei. Which was precisely why Azriel found himself in the woods along Night’s southern border in the dead of night. He steeled himself as he took in the male faerie before him.

“Report,” Azriel said coldly to Eris Vanserra.

Eris stood casually near the base of a great oak, a smirk on his pretty face, hands in the pockets of his emerald green jacket. As if out for an innocent stroll in the moonlight. How Eris had known he’d been lurking in the shadows, Azriel didn’t let himself consider. He prided himself on his stealth. It was part of what it meant to be a shadowsinger. But this was not the first time Eris had caught him lurking about and it pissed him off to no end. 

“You’re early,” Eris said, arching a red brow, clearly amused at how easy it was to rile the spymaster. “Did you miss me?” His auburn eyes glinted with feral delight as he took in the anger on Azriel’s face. 

Azriel ignored the comment and stalked forward until they stood only several feet apart, his hand twitching at his side as if he itched to unsheath the blade across his back and stab it through Eris’s elegant, long neck. “I said, report. What are his plans for Spring?” 

Tamlin had long since given up any semblance of protection of his lands. They now stood empty and desolate. Most of the Spring Court citizens had been forced to flee during the war, or were actively pushed out by Hybern’s armies. Azriel had spied a small force of Beron’s Autumn Court soldiers camped past their court’s southern border, on land Tamlin should have been patrolling.

Eris sighed dramatically and crossed his arms, frowning. 

“You’re no fun. Beron is merely testing to see if Tamlin will respond to an encroachment on his land. So far he hasn’t.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if this were all just a minor inconvenience and not a potential act of war.

“And Briallyn?” Azriel asked.

“My father’s unexplained absences have increased in length and frequency. I suspect he is visiting the continent to meet with the queen, though I have no means of following him to confirm. Perhaps you’ll have more luck with those delightful gifts of yours.” Eris glanced at the shadows curling around Azriel’s shoulders with thinly veiled interest.

“Does Beron know what she wants from Koschei?” Azriel asked, and then added, “Is he even aware of Koschei’s existence?” They had decided to inform Eris of the Death God, but not of the trove, or of Briallyn’s use of it thus far. If that information found its way into the wrong hands they might find themselves faced with more enemies who sought to arm themselves with the trove, on top of the threat from Briallyn and Koschei. 

It irked Azriel to be asking Eris about any of this. As spymaster, he should’ve been able to acquire the answers himself instead of standing here with his dick in his hand, begging Eris for intel. He scowled as Eris continued.

“My father speaks little of his plans to anyone these days. I can only assume he’s aware of Koschei if Briallyn’s allied with him, though I have no evidence to prove it. He’d be foolish not to inquire about her own personal motives.” Eris acted unconcerned, but Azriel could tell his father’s silence on the matter troubled him. He likely wasn’t used to being completely shut out of Beron’s schemes. Eris added, “You truly have no inkling of what she’s been after?” He gave Azriel a pointed look, like he was aware Azriel knew more than he was letting on.

Azriel ignored his question and contemplated the information. They did not yet know how closely Briallyn was tied to Koschei. Though he had been to the continent to spy on the once-human queen, Azriel had not yet been able to determine what Briallyn wanted from Koschei, and vice versa. As far as they knew, Briallyn had no means of freeing him from the lake. But perhaps they were missing something. Despite Azriel’s insistence that it could give them the upperhand in defeating Briallyn and prevent any further escalation with Koschei, Rhys had forbade him from getting close to Koschei’s lake, arguing that it was not worth the risk. Azriel had eventually backed off. But if Beron had indeed allied with Koschei…Azriel tucked the information away. He would study it later. 

He’d heard enough, for now. “I’ll let you know when I have something.”

Azriel turned to leave when Eris drawled, “Do give Mor my regards.” He knew Eris said it only to taunt him, but the comment had him turning back around. 

“Keep her name out of your filthy mouth,” he snarled. 

Were they really doing this again? Eris’s moods these past few months had been unpredictable at best. He was a completely different male from one week to the next. Sometimes Eris showed up and said little, his eyes distant and cold, as if consumed by some far away storm. Other times he was almost pleasant, and seemed eager to prove his commitment to their new and tenuous alliance. Today he must’ve been in a foul mood, if his bringing up Mor was any indication, and was likely attempting to take the edge off by stoking Azriel’s temper. Eris excelled at it. 

Azriel was in no mood for the male’s forked tongue today, but Eris continued, “It’s rather pathetic, don’t you think? How long you’ve been panting after her. She will never love you, shadowsinger.” His laugh was cold and mirthless. Azriel said nothing. He knew Eris spoke the truth, and it was something that weighed on him every day of his miserable existence. That he was not and would never be enough. 

“Though I’m sure you know that, deep down,” Eris mused, nodding faintly to himself. Azriel growled softly, temper rising. He should leave. Now. Before he did something that could not be undone. He knew he shouldn’t allow himself to get so worked up. These were old wounds. And yet something about Eris had always made Azriel see red—had his normally cool and calm rage igniting into something hot and savage. 

He’d reluctantly begun to think Eris wasn’t as bad as he let on—had even started to believe they were making decent progress in their civility towards one another. Gods, he’d even caught himself trusting the male. Perhaps he’d been a fool to think Eris was anything but a prick.

“I don’t know why you’re still so angry after all these years.” The words kept spilling out of his hateful mouth. “Surely you can’t really blame me for leaving her in those woods. Although, you are a bastard. Perhaps you’re used to having Cassian’s leftovers—” Azriel’s temper snapped. A blink and he was in front of Eris, scarred hand around his throat as he slammed him against the tree and snarled mere inches from his face.

“Say one more word about her and I will rip out your fucking throat,” Azriel snarled at him, his rage whetted into something sharp and dangerous. They were both breathing hard. Eris hissed as Azriel’s hand tightened around his neck. 

“You make it so easy,” Eris sneered. “It’s almost not even fun anymore. Almost.” His smile was edged with something Azriel couldn’t place. 

Azriel remained silent as he tried to tamp down his rage and get control of the roaring inside his head. He felt the column of Eris’s throat bob as he swallowed, could also feel Eris’s steady heartbeat under his thumb. 

He didn’t realize he’d moved his thumb over that pulse until Eris purred, “Are you going to grope me all night? Would you like me to remove my clothes?” 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Eris’s and he could feel the blood coloring his high cheekbones. He ground his teeth at the taunt and had to stop himself from snatching his hand back in embarrassment.

Eris blinked. The only sign of his surprise. And then his lips curled into a wicked smile. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Stop talking,” Azriel growled, tightening his grip further. His face was burning. He had rapidly lost control of this meeting—suddenly he felt like he was failing some test but wasn’t sure what the objectives were, only that he had somehow given Eris the upperhand. He was fumbling—

And then Eris reached down and palmed him roughly through the leather of his pants. Azriel’s eyes widened and every thought eddied out of his head. His face burned hot as he gaped at Eris, who laughed darkly, a heated glint in his amber eyes. Azriel was frozen where he stood, his mind utterly blank. Eris squeezed him and Azriel shuddered, hardening instantly under the intimate touch.

“What,” Azriel bit out through clenched teeth, his hand still wrapped around Eris’s throat, “are you doing?” 

Every muscle in Azriel’s body was taught, as if he might snap at the slightest pressure. But Eris didn’t reply. He just smiled darkly and reached for the buttons of Azriel’s pants—Azriel’s free hand stopped him before it could go further. Stopped his hand, but did not push it away. He only held Eris’s fine wrist in his scarred hand as they stared at each other. The males said nothing, their breaths mingling in the chill night air. Azriel’s grip on Eris’s throat finally loosened, and he let his hand fall to rest against Eris’s collarbone. He glared at the Autumn heir, so unruffled, while his own face was flushed red.

And then suddenly he was dragging Eris towards him by the collar of his shirt. Their lips crashed together ferociously, painfully. Tongues and teeth and shadows and flame danced together as Azriel gave himself over to the distraction of Eris’s hot mouth. He slipped his hand into those silken red strands and pulled Eris’s head back roughly, angling his face so he could better taste him. He grunted as Eris bit him hard enough to draw blood, but only gripped him tighter. Eris laughed cruelly into his mouth and Azriel could taste his own blood on their lips. Eris traced his tongue along Azriel’s bottom lip and then moaned softly as he delved his tongue back into his mouth. 

Azriel groaned in pleasure as Eris slipped a hand down the front of his leathers and gripped his shaft tightly. Gods, what was he doing? This was Eris, Eris, who he hated and who hated him in return—and then Azriel stopped thinking about anything at all as Eris began working him in earnest. His long, elegant fingers gripped him around his base and then worked their way up Azriel’s considerable length, thumb swirling the beaded drop of moisture already formed at the tip. Eris moved his hand up and down deftly, almost painfully, and Azriel felt himself thrust into that hand. He would’ve been embarrassed at his own fervor if he wasn’t so overcome with mindless, writhing need. Azriel stepped closer, their bodies completely flush, as he drove his tongue into Eris’s mouth. He tasted of fall and crackling flames and something sweet, and he couldn’t get enough of it. He could feel Eris’s own need pressing hard against his stomach as he matched his tongue stroke for stroke. 

Eris’s hand twisted over the head of his cock and Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Azriel groaned into his mouth as Eris grabbed the back of his neck to draw him in closer, like he might swallow every pleasured sound that escaped Azriel’s lips. Eris squeezed the head of his cock again and Azriel felt the pleasure building along his legs and spine. He increased the pace, his hand moving up and down roughly—Azriel felt Eris thrust his own hips forward and feeling that hard length against him sent him toppling over the edge. 

Azriel felt like there was fire in his veins as his release barreled through him. His hips jerked as he emptied himself into Eris’s hand. The male stroked him gently as he slowly stopped trembling. He let his head drop against Eris’s shoulder as he tried to calm his racing heart. Azriel was wrecked. He had no idea what had come over him, only that he’d come hard enough to see stars. 

He felt Eris remove his hand from his leathers, their bodies still pressed together. But the absence of that touch shook Azriel from the haze of his orgasm and he straightened up quickly and stepped back. Eris gazed back at him, his normally pale cheeks flushed. They stood there staring at each other silently. Azriel was at a loss for words, still reeling from what they’d done. And then Eris smiled cruelly, arched a brow, and Azriel braced himself for the blow that was surely to come—the words that would spill out of that wicked mouth and shred the remaining scraps of his pride into nothing. Dread pooled in his stomach. But then Eris paused, cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Azriel. Azriel held his breath, waited. And then Eris vanished, nothing but the rustling leaves any indication he had been there at all. Azriel stared at the spot long after he left, until the cold finally had him stepping back into the shadows and disappearing into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter

Tag list: @unanswered-stars

#azris #azris supremacy #azris fanfiction #Azriel x eris #eris vanserra #eris x azriel #eris acotar #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar #azris fanfic #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel angst #eris angst #eris vanserra angst #smut #sjm #acosf #azris fic #acosf fanfic #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas

[alitheakorogane]

"Who's your favorite Genshin Impact character?"

Your friend had asked you when they found out that you play Genshin Impact. To be honest, you think that you were just a humble f2p casual player, but you really love the game and its characters so much, to the point of reading the current lore and learning how the game works. You even spew some Genshin theories and make some fanworks in your free time, even though you can't afford some official merch to show your love for the game.

You then stared at your phone where a picture of your favorite Genshin character was shown as wallpaper. You flashed a grin as you waved your phone in your friend's face as you proudly told your friend about your favorite character.

"Well, my favorite Genshin Impact character is..."

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

You were running for your life...

Literally.

You did not sign up for this, you were just an ordinary human being who just lived a normal life. Yes, you may or may not have mental issues, but that's not the point in this situation. In fact, your pursuers may not even care about your sanity right now, they wanted your blood in their hands.

You just arrived in this strange world, holding nothing but your sanity. You were wearing your usual t-shirt and pants ensemble, with your now dirty tennis shoes. A while ago, after reaching the nearest city, you were just approaching some people to ask for directions, but they suddenly attacked you when they saw your face and suddenly branded you as an imposter of their Divine Creator.

Who the heck is that Divine Creator anyway?! And do they really have the same face as you, to the point people are chasing you to the ends of the earth once they see you?!

As you were trying to dash from your pursuers who wanted your head on a pike and now wanting to breathe in relief as you approached the nearest nation border, you were suddenly picked up in the air by a heavy gust of wind, and a smell of spring and malice wafted in the air. Leaves of the trees are blowing harshly in the wind, and the clouds are forming like there's an oncoming storm brewing and blowing you out of the forest and into the sky.

If you are not terrified out of your wits, you will be amazed at how some glowing flower petals and feathers laced around the icy wind.

"Well, well, well...Who knew that the rat can be so feisty and so weak at the same time?

Out of all the nations, we are blessed with luck from the Divine.

They had to pay for committing this world's biggest crime...

And the cretin was in my domain all along and it's our time to shine!"

Fear creeped out in your veins as you saw the speaker speaks in rhyme and approach you with a malicious look on his young-looking face. His dainty hands holding onto his fancy-looking bow and a glowing teal arrow pointing at you, ready to strike you once and for all. His usual friendly emerald eyes darkened into something sinister, glowing like small lamp grasses, but he is like a predator looking out at his prey. You noticed that his irises were also laced with reddish hues, like a drop of red dye on water.

This time, he really is a predator prowling in his domain and you were his prey that was just as lost and pathetic as ever.

Then you feel like the air was sucked out of your lungs as you were hanging in the air like a puppet. You then choked and gasped for air as you were clutching at your throat as if you were trying to take back the air taken from you.

The being in front of you now grinned like a crazy person, with his once-beautiful eyes looking at you with such loathing. The storm now approaching its peak as he summons his winds to push you back to him, the glowing arrow now pointing at your heart.

"After all, you have the guts to copy our Divine Creator's face right at the bat, and I hated you for that."

You wanted to cry and snark back at the same time when you heard those scathing words coming from him.

Who knew that your favorite Genshin Impact character was declaring some hate on your face just because the face you were born with is similar to this world's Creator...when he had done the same with his dead friend?

Such a hypocrite.

#sagau impostor au #genshin impact sagau #genshin #genshin impact #sagau #genshin impact AU #genshin sagau #self aware au #self aware genshin #genshin impact self aware #imposter au #sagau x reader #venti the bard #genshin venti #genshin impact venti

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

reader x mel, where mel calls reader daddy for the first time ;)

This feels (for me at least) like it follows on from the Dom Reader x Melissa fic (which can be found here) but can definitely be read alone.  As warnings go – too short and NSFW unless you’re reading wearing your best poker face.

~*~

Your hands grip her hips tightly, anchoring you and giving you leverage as you thrust into her.  She’d asked for this, said she needed not to think and only feel.  As much as you love it when she uses her words, you know sentences are hard to come by at this point.  Now, you get to revel in the downright sinful sounds you’re able to pull from her.

Looking down at her, you can’t help but bite back your own moan as you continue to pound into her, relishing the sounds of your flesh coming together as the strap you’re wearing sinks to the hilt.  Half collapsed on the bed before you, having fallen forward onto her elbows when her arms would no longer support her, her face is partially obscured by the duvet, but her glorious hourglass figure is still on full display.  The day you’re not affected by those curves is the day you’re dead.    

“Don’t stop, daddy, don’t stop.”

Your hips stutter, and you’re not sure if you really heard what you thought you did, half gasped and muffled as it was in the covers.

“Please don’t stop,” comes the plea from the red head.

Shaking your head, you pick up the pace once more, your movements becoming more fluid.

“Yes daddy!”  The words are hissed out on the heels of a gasp.  “Just like that.  M’so close.”

So you did hear what you thought you did.  You’re not entirely sure how you feel about it.  No one has ever called you daddy before.  But the more you think about it, the more you think you might like it.  You reach around with one hand to let you fingers find her clit, feeling her hips jerk in surprise at the added stimulation.  From the way her hands grasp at the covers and the sounds that fall from her lips become more high pitched and breathy you know she’s close. 

When she does come this time it’s with a scream that you’re slightly disappointed is half muffled in the bed covers.  She falls forward, breathing hard and you follow her, the strap still buried within her.  You lean down, pressing kisses to the expanse of her back, tracing nonsensical patterns with the fingers of the hand you’re not leaning on as she catches her breath.

Canting your hips to test her willing you’re rewarded with a low moan, making you grin.  She’s not done yet.  You trail your kisses higher, nuzzling the back of her neck, building up your courage.  Stretching over the red head, you let your lips hover close to her ear before you finally ask her; “You want daddy to keep fucking you?”

Her head whips to the side, hair flying as she looks as you with wide eyes and you realise she has no idea she’d said those words out loud.  There’s a sudden vulnerability to her features you don’t often see.

“Did I...?” she asks, worry creeping into those emerald green orbs you love so much.

“Call me daddy?” you ask with a smile you can’t help borders on a smirk, hoping to reassure her that you don’t mind.  “Yeah, you kinda did.”

Her cheeks flame an even deeper red and her eyes flit over your face.

“You can call me it again, if you’d like,” you grin, bucking your hips gently in encouragement.  You don’t want to push, but you want her to know that as surprising as her words have been, you’re willing to explore this. 

She turns her face away from you, burying her face in the covers.  Her hand, however, finds yours where it rests near her shoulder and she pushes her hips back into yours.  “Fuck me good, daddy.”

The words cause your breath to hitch in your chest.  There’s power in those words.  A trust.  A thrill. 

You squeeze the hand holding yours, leaning down to press a kiss to the bit of her cheek not hidden in the bed covers.  “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.  Don’t you worry.”

It feels odd as you test the words out on your tongue, but you find you rather enjoy them.  You have a feeling you’re both going to enjoy them.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader

[albondiguilla007]

A short Hinny one shot cause I’ve been obsessed with @blvnk-art and the way they draw the pairing. Their Harry and Ginny are beautifully portrayed, so realistic and full of life, and with more chemistry than in the seven movies together. Go look them up, you’ll love their drawings.

“Race you to the Whomping Willow Potter”

“Your ruin Weasley”

Ginny sets off towards the stairs, dropping her bag and spilling all her books over the floor.

“Oi, what about your things!?” She barely glances at me, continuing to run like a bloody maniac, but I see a hint of a smirk before a wave of red hair hides her face. I chase after her, ignoring the protests and surprised yelps of students walking in the halls as we rush through them.

“It’s a shame you’re still the Quidditch team’s Captain! You’re bloody slow Potter!” I scoff, skipping the steps of the stairs two by two. I’d answer her, but I’m running low on energy as it is. Fuck, I do need to train more.

Her black robe billows after her, blazing long hair flying against the air coming in from the courtyard as she continues running. The startling blue sky blinds me for a few seconds, and I put a hand against my forehead to protect me against the light. The grass dances with the breeze, emerald green reflecting the rays of sun. My breath is coming in short gasps, but I don’t stop, stubbornly chasing after the sneaky little minx.

She’s ten feet away, sprinting towards the Quidditch Pitch as fast as she’s on air, laughing with mirth. I close the distance between us, five feet, three feet away until she’s at reach.

“Hah, got you” She wriggles against my arms, groaning when I just tighten them against her waist. “It was a race, not a dare to catch me you idiot” I laugh in the crook of her neck, smelling her coconut body wash and a hint of something sweet. Maybe a new perfume?

Her skin is smooth as a baby, and I unashamedly rub my nose against it. Ginny elbows my ribs and I let go with a startled yelp.

“You were enjoying that too much Potter”

The corners of her lips curl in a teasing smile, and for a moment I’m struck speechless by how beautiful she is. I’d been so blind, focusing on my best friend’s little sister to realize how fucking stunning she’d become on her own right. Brilliant, harsh and aggressively beautiful, Ginny Weasley was a force of nature.

“Well, you are my girlfriend after all” She snorts and continues walking backwards, never taking her eyes off me. She has pretty eyes, I realize, almond shaped and a beautiful shade of brown.

The sun illuminates her skin, a jumble of red freckles covering the bridge of her nose and a bit of her cheeks.

“Not if you continue being that slow no, I can’t have my boyfriend embarrass me in front of the whole school”

I smirk with malice, happy to bring her down a peg or two.

“Something you’d know about, Miss Eyes Green as Fresh Pickles Toads”

That makes her stumble, and I take the chance to close the gap between us and wrap a hand around her neck, warm with embarrassment under my fingers. Her lips are soft, and all that attitude vanishes in a second as she sighs against my lips, curling her hands around the lapels of my uniform. The low murmur of students chattering inside the castle reaches my ears, the cheerful tune of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves in the border of the Forbidden Forest.

I feel Ginny’s lips curve in a smile and I can’t help smiling back, even as we break apart and I rest my forehead against hers, breaths mingling together.

#harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #one shot #hinny one shot #fanfic

[mama-qwerty]

Alone Together

Okay, so I'm in a Knuckles-focused discord server and we toss ideas back and forth like ping-pong balls, sometimes resulting in me vomiting out a little scene from it.

So for this one, we got talking about an event where the Master Emerald pulls ALL the versions of Knux into one place, ala Spiderverse style. Dread, naturally, would be seen as that one weird cousin no one really likes but has to invite anyway, and it got me thinking about maybe how Boom would deal with him. Here's the result.

Check out the Knucklesverse guide for more deets.

Enjoy!

~~~~~

The tall echidna stood in the room, looking around himself nervously. It was a large space, with strange architecture bordering the perimeter. He wasn’t exactly clear how he got here, but was certain it had something to do with the giant green gem hovering above their heads.

The Master Emerald.

He didn’t know how he knew what it was, but nonetheless, there the information was. There . . . a lot of information was, all of a sudden. It was as if his mind were a pool of water, with dozens of puzzle pieces floating haphazardly within it, and now those pieces had snapped into place properly.

For the first time in his life, Knuckles could think clearly.

It was . . . strange. Suddenly having new information in your head. Just . . . knowing things. Not as strange as being in a room with what appeared to be a lot of different versions of, well, yourself, but strange anyway.

He fidgeted with the wrappings around his hands—hands that had individually wrapped fingers instead of large mitts like all the other echidna in the room. They were like him, but . . . different. Each echidna had the same red fur, the same white crescent moon on his chest, and the same kinked tail. But they were all smaller than him, and some wore clothing. They were all technically “Knuckles”, but his mind conjured different names as his eyes floated over them.

OVA. Archie. Sinbad. StC. Sir Gawain. Classic. Prime. Modern. IDW. Renegade. Wachowski. Gnarly. Forces.

His brows furrowed. Those names didn’t make any sense, but he supposed they had to have some way of telling each other apart. They couldn’t exactly just call each other “Knuckles”, now could they? That would get confusing.

He thought about himself, and the word ‘Boom’ came to mind.

Huh. That’s . . . that’s weird.

Giving his head a shake, Boom watched as the smaller hims chatted and interacted. He’d been invited to join a few conversations, but had nothing to add when the other echidna spoke of their ‘guardian duties’. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, so he had simply wandered off.

And now he felt alone in this crowd. This collection of other versions of himself.

Boom sighed, wondering when he could go home. Not that he was eager to lose this newfound clarity in his mind, but being here made him feel odd. Like he was supposed to be part of this group, but just . . . wasn’t, for some reason.

The tall echidna rubbed the back of his neck, glancing around himself again, taking in the carvings on the walls. He’d never seen any of this before, but it seemed strangely familiar to him. He turned to look at the wall behind him, and found another Knuckles sitting against it, his knees drawn up to his chin.

A name came to his mind.

Dread.

The echidna was dressed like a pirate, and snarled at any of the other Knuckles’ who happened to glance his way. He was doing a pretty decent job of keeping himself isolated, but didn’t really look all that happy about it.

Boom was nothing if not friendly. He approached the little pirate, a little smile on his lips.

“Hey there, little guy,” he said, crossing his arms as he looked down at the other him. “Feeling kinda left out?”

Dread scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “As though ye cared. All the others feel some sort of weird bonding with each other. I don't. I be nothin' like them.”

Boom tilted his head slightly, glancing back at the group of echidna behind him. Gnarly and Renegade chatted, while Modern and Classic listened in, nodding. Yeah, he supposed they were very similar in a lot of ways, so of course they'd get along. They were all the same person, technically speaking. They were him, and he was them.

It was really, really weird when he thought about it too much.

The taller echidna turned back to Dread, shrugging. “I'm not like them, either.”

Dread rolled his eyes, but still wouldn’t face Boom. “That’s a load o’ barnacles. Ye're more like them than ye realize. Don't patronize me, ya scallywag.”

Boom shrugged again as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged before Dread. “Most of them have something called the Master Emerald. I don't have anything like that. And I don't talk like them. I don't look like them. I mean, I kinda do, but I'm pretty different. But that doesn't mean it's bad, I don’t think.”

“All they see when they see me is a smelly, rotten pirate,” Dread sneered, baring his fangs at the others. “I don't belong here. They know it, and I know it.”

“Well,” Boom said, his brow furrowing as he thought. “Maybe they don't think you belong here, because you don't think you belong here.”

Dread turned to face Boom fully, his muzzle pulled into a snarl. “Are ye tryin' t' get into me head?” he growled. “Don't turn this around on me. I know I've done wrong. I know I can't be trusted. They know it, too. Why do ye want me t’ think otherwise?”

Silence settled over them, and Boom twisted his mouth as he thought. Why did he? There were plenty of other Knuckles' to be friends with, ones who were much more inviting and accepting of his friendship. So why was he focused on Dread? What did he care if this version of himself was left out and lonely?

“Maybe,” the taller echidna said, speaking slowly as he chose his words carefully. "Maybe it's because you're different, like me. Maybe I don't feel like I belong with the others either, because they're so much more serious and smarter and know what they're meant to do with their life. Maybe I see you, and I see a Knuckles who maybe doesn't have that sure path. Someone who's just trying to figure it out, like me."

Dread seemed to contemplate what his larger counterpart said. The ever-present furrow in his brow smoothed, and he flicked his violet eyes up to meet Boom's identical ones.

“Ye feel it, too?” he asked, his voice softer than Boom had ever heard it. “That feeling. Like there be somethin' missin' in yer life. But ye can't put ye're finger on what. And it be like a gnat, buzzin' in ye're ear. Always there, but slightly outta phase.”

Boom tilted his head, thinking about how Dread had phrased it. Finally he nodded.

“Yeah. That's kinda what it's like. Like . . . I know I should be doing something important. Something that matters. But . . .” He shrugged. “I don't know what.”

Dread lowered his head, resting his chin on his knees.

“I've always wanted to be someone important,” he said, his gaze dropping to float across the floor in front of him. “Be seen. Be recognized as the fiercest pirate in all the seven seas. The idea of being unknown is almost painful to me. And I thought the Prism Shard would do that. Suppose it did. But . . .” He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “It did something to me. And I wasn't happy. I didn't feel like me. Or the me I was supposed to be.”

Boom nodded slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the other echidnas. The other Knuckles'. The other hims. But they weren't him. It was weird. He turned back to the pirate with a sigh.

“They seem to have it all figured out, don't they? Even Gnarly and Renegade. They don't have one of those Master Emerald things, but they feel the pull from it and just know who they're supposed to be. But me? I feel it, but I don't FEEL it. Like, I know it's there, and it helps me feel . . . I dunno, more in step with the world around me. But it just doesn't feel like . . . like it's me.”

Dread nodded, uttering his own sigh. “Aye, it be like a hand on the back of ye're neck, guiding. But it feels wrong somehow. Like it was never meant for me.” He flicked his eyes up to Boom. “Us.”

Boom leaned forward, his brow furrowed slightly. “Does . . . does that mean there's something wrong with us?”

Dread didn't answer right away. He looked over at the other Knuckles'. They were so much more accepting of this new connection. This new duty of guarding the Master Emerald, and helping to balance chaos energy. It was all so strange to him. He still didn't fully understand it, or wrap his head around it all. Life was so much easier when all he had to worry about was his next treasure hunt, and keeping himself alive.

“I dunno, lad,” he said finally. “They all seemed to have fallen into step without question or doubt. Maybe that be the way it should be. Or maybe having some healthy fear and doubt about something different than you've always known be wiser.”

Boom gave a little snort of laughter. “I've never been accused of being smart,” he said, shaking his head. “Always been kind of an airhead my whole life.” He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “But . . . I feel like I can think better now. Like my mind isn't all jumbled and noisy like it was before.”

Dread nodded, a nearly identical expression on his face. “Aye, I know what ye mean. My mind also be . . . quieter. It always felt like I had so much noise in my head, like some sort of buzzing or itchy feeling. But now . . . it be gone.”

The two sat quietly for a while, thinking their thoughts and shooting little glances over at the rest of their new tribe. A tribe of one, split into many. It was strange--being in a crowd but seeing your own eyes staring back at you, hearing variations of your own voice. The personalities were different, but there was that similarity, deep down at their core.

“Thank ye,” Dread said, startling Boom from his thoughts. “For sittin' with me. They all mistrust me because of what I did on my world. And to be fair, I can't blame them. I was . . . pretty bad. I wasn't thinkin' straight.”

Boom smiled, giving him a shrug. “Hey, don't worry about it. When you have a noisy, itchy brain, you do things you probably wouldn't now. I'm usually ignored on my world, because, like I said, airhead.”

Dread smirked, his gold tooth glinting in the light. “I don't think ye're an airhead. Ye seem pretty wise, to me.”

Boom chuckled. “And you don't seem like some smelly ol' pirate to me. Just a guy who maybe needed a friend.”

The pirate chuckled back, and held his hand out. “Aye. We are well met, Boom.”

Boom reached out to complete the handshake. “Right back atcha, Dread.”

~~~

Like this? Check out my other snippets. Reblogs are appreciated!

#dread my beloved #boom my darling #boom knuckles #sonic boom #knuckles the dread #dread knuckles #sonic prime #sonic fanfiction #knuckles the echidna #knucklesverse #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

[tawaifeddiediaz]

without him, there is no me. not anymore. not since he made me need him, too. love him, too.

— Inevitable Destruction by Marie Ann

[Image ID: four gifs of Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley from multiple episodes of 9-1-1. The gifs are black and white, offset with green border and some parts of the gif are colored with an emerald green hue. The text is from a poem written by Marie Ann at the beginning of Inevitable Destruction. The central word is in green font with an offset white shadow, and the accompanying text is in smaller white letters with green drop shadow:

GIF 1: Two gifs from 5.10 blended together - Eddie bracing himself as he tells the team that he is leaving the 118, blended with a green gif of Buck's creased expression as he clutches tightly to his Santa hat. The text reads, "your choices are mine." There is a glitch effect, then another two gifs - Buck answering Chris' call just before his smile fades, blended with a green gif of Eddie bringing his phone to his ear, turning his gaze up towards the ceiling as it rings. The text reads, "your sorrows still."

GIF 2: Eddie in 5.13, reaching up to ruffle Christopher's hair as they talk in the kitchen at night. The text reads, "always present." The gif transitions to two gifs blended together - Eddie reeling from Frank's words in 5.14 and a green gif of Eddie balancing the antenna of his radio on his forehead in 5.13 as he listens to the woman talk about not feeling fear. The text reads, "until you get your fill."

GIF 3: A light-green gif of Eddie sitting in the wreckage of his room from 5.13, turning to look at Buck, calming slightly at the sight of him. The text reads, "the itch in your veins." There is a glitch effect, then a primarily black and white gif of Eddie looking off to the side as he chokes down tears. The text reads, "the blood in your eyes" with "blood" in red font.

GIF 4: Buck watching Eddie with a determined expression in 5.14 as they sit at Eddie's kitchen table. The text reads, "Deep in my marrow." The gif transitions to Eddie in the same scene, questioning if the job is worth it. The text reads, "your soul resides."

/end ID]

#zee edits #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buck x eddie #911 #911onfox #911 fox #911 on fox #911edits #911edit #oneawkwardcookie #usernymika #userisha #userdahlias #alielook #maystag #userrin #laurenlook #useralie #tusersunnystar #usergif #userphotoshop #i can't look at this anymore #also i dnf'd this book but #tw glitch

[glacialswordsman]

starter | @crimsononiarataki | plot call

"Drop anchor!"

The command shouted out from the captain of the ship carried out through the docks of Ritou and had garnered the attention of some while most others continued doing what they were doing on the piers. While the sailors of the ship busied themselves with mooring her, a person's head of midnight locks peeked out from below deck before they finally made their way up top. With a deep breath, a tanzanite-colored eye shaped into a crescent upon the sight that greeted the newcomer. The gorgeous reds of the maple trees contrasted beautifully with the deep emerald tiles that lined the buildings, and the clear blue sky above them hadn't a cloud in sight.

Kaeya's breath was taken.

The traveler had regaled him with tales of their adventures in Inazuma when they briefly reunited in Sumeru. He gave the blond outlander all his attention as they and their fairy companion animatedly went on about the trials and tribulations they endured; how they ultimately ended the war between the Shogunate and the Resistance, as well as abolished the Sakoku and Vision Hunt Decrees. This led the Cavalry Captain to ponder... he still has time that he could use up. He had finished all his work and cleared a couple backlogs that had been a thorn in the Knights' side, earning him vacation days. Usually he hates idling his time away, but this has been a nice change of pace, going on his own little 'world tour'.

Thus, here he is now. He had to hand it to the traveler, they really know how to tell their tales and spark wanderlust within the Cavalry Captain. It was a little frightening at first, going out on his own so far away from the place he's called home for nearly all his life; and yet, he no longer feels that fear now that he has made his way along the docks and towards customs.

Fishermen, merchants, sailors, and artisans alike hustled and bustled along the port of the entry island of Inazuma. Most people here seemed to be foreigners just like him, having set up shop in Ritou long before the Decree ended. It was a sort of comfort, knowing he wasn’t the only fish out of water. Well, he still is compared to people who’ve hunkered down here for a while, but he’s been reading up on some informative books upon the culture and language in Inazuma during his travels from Sumeru, to Liyue, and finally to the land of the Electro Archon. Hopefully he won’t stick out too much.

The process at customs was—not fun, to say the least. Despite the borders being reopened, the process itself to enter the nation was still grueling and tedious. It took nearly an hour, if only due to the line and how thorough the Kanjou Commission Ashigaru were when it came to checking luggage. The nation may be welcoming foreigners again, but they still seemed to be rather strict with making sure nothing illegal was being imported; rightfully so, of course.

Once he was finally freed from customs and given his welcomes to Inazuma, the Cavalry Captain released a long breath that had been buried deep within ever since the start of his voyage. It renewed his strength and excitement, his eye simply twinkling with near childlike wonder. He began to think on where to start, before hearing his stomach grumble loudly. Ah.

Perhaps lunch is in order.

#ic. ✧ #crimsononiarataki #the blue peacock and the crimson oni. ✧; thread #closed roleplay. ✧

[theflashdriver]

Horns and Wings (Silvaze: Angel + Demon)

Blaze was certain that she’d taken a wrong turn somewhere, but retracing her steps appeared to be a fruitless endeavour. The guardian of the Sol emeralds had left the palace for the nearest town and initially found things to be up to snuff. Citizens had been going about their daily business; working at market stalls, getting lunch and generally going about typical daily business. The day was still somewhat young, high noon was on its way, and the sun was shining on a blue and cloudless sky overhead. It would be a nice day for a walk if she wasn’t so confused by what she was seeing.

The style of the buildings in this part of town ran contrary to what she recalled, they were all so tall and glassy. There were a few towers in town, but none so close together as here; they were watchtowers spaced near the edge of village for defence against the sea. These were more in the style of those she’d seen in the other world’s metropolises: the tall tower blocks and office buildings, symptomatic of a high population. Contrasting that, the buildings she could remember just passing were largely made of painted stone with red slated roofs. The towers she knew belonged in this town were much shorter than these skyscrapers, made of old stone. 

This oddness wasn’t reflected in the citizens walking the street near her; despite the change in buildings, the populous looked as they had in the other part of town. Predominantly koala citizens walked the streets, carrying groceries and other such ilk in woven bags while dressed in the typical, bordering on beachwear, casual garb she was so used to seeing. She didn’t see one person dressed in the more formal workwear of the other world’s offices, the shirts and ties weren’t at all present, and yet the skyscrapers were filled with life. Through one window she could see what looked to be group of students surrounding a lunch table and through the next a set of stairs, being descended by a Koala dressed in red.

As she looked back on her path, the princess was forced to pause. She stepped to the side as a troupe of children, led and followed by a teacher, passed by. There were no fewer than twenty of them, dressed in tiny bucket hats to keep the sun from their heads. They too seemed unbothered by all this; their walking caravan didn’t stop to take in the towers. If anything, they seemed to be staring up at her in surprise, but the princess was used to that. 

There was a strange stillness in the air, amplified by the casualness of those around her.

How could she have missed so many skyscrapers, centralised entirely within what she’d forever known as a homely little beachside town? In fact, she had seen the town from the upper floors of the palace so many times. It’d been a while since she’d visited but surely she’d have noticed all the work required to make this change; she’d probably even have had to approve it due to her role as princess.

Just where in town was she? How had this otherworldly infrastructure hid? She’d come to town to visit a seismologist, having received a letter from him containing some outlandish claims. Southern island wasn’t prone to earthquakes but there had been some strange tectonic activity as of state. Apparently, it’d started as minor, ignorable, but seemed to have built over the past days. The princess was set to observe the readings be taken today and, most probably, provide funds for a new machine to further confirm the findings and allow for greater planning. That oddness should have been enough to hold her attention, but the strangeness of her surroundings was just too much. 

Calling this place a town, given the size of this section and its bustling populous, felt strange. The area’s features were not more in line with that of a city. The most time she’d spent in one of those had been a lifetime ago, and that city hadn’t been in a typical nor functional state. In truth, she hadn’t spent more than a week in a truly living city, let alone seen one built. Like all infrastructure though, Blaze knew they didn’t just pop up overnight.

The street was still so long; she couldn’t see its end. Countless skyscrapers, alleyways between them, still lined the path ahead; making it difficult to see to the rest of town. All she could really see beyond the street was the blue sky and sun above. Just how huge was this part of town, how could she have missed it?

She felt foolish but she had to figure this out, if she didn’t then it would nag at her for the rest of the day. If the people here were so used to this street, they surely had to hold some insight. Embarrassing as it might be, especially given her status and history nearby, it would be quickest to ask a passer-by for information and perhaps directions to the seismography office. That way, she could treat two confusions simultaneously. 

Ahead of her, walking with what looked to be a brown paper bag of groceries clutched at his chest, was a koala dressed in yellow. He looked to be a little older but, like most of her citizens, considerably shorter than the feline. By the sunglasses perched on his nose and the light smile on his lips, Blaze decided that he didn’t look to be in a hurry and appeared approachable, albeit unfamiliar.

Just as the citizen was set to pass, Blaze raised a hand in gesture in an attempt to catch his attention, “Excuse me, I was wondering if-

Coldly, as if she wasn’t even there, the otherwise friendly looking koala entirely ignored the princess and kept walking.

Blinking slightly at that, Blaze ignored the rudeness and again glanced ahead. A young couple, tote bags at their sides, were walking hand in hand only a few metres ahead. Surely at least one of them would hesitate long enough for her to ask her questions.

Again, she raised her hand, almost waving, “Hello, sorry to interrupt, could you-

They’d moved to give her a wider berth, not so much as glancing in the cat’s direction as they casually passed her by. It wasn’t as though she was invisible, they’d plainly moved to slip beyond her, but it was just so bizarre. They hadn’t even looked at her. Stepping to the side again, Blaze hesitated to take in the bustle of the street. 

Usually, the princess’ presence prompted a handful of reactions. Some citizens could be quite over the top, bowing and greeting her overly formally, while others would whisper among each other and point. Thinking of that though, and based on the ignoring reactions she had received, Blaze’s mind was cast back much further. When she was a child, when her pyrokinetic powers had been new to her and were poorly controlled, it hadn’t been uncommon for people to ignore or even flee her. People would generally keep their distance out of fear. This wasn’t quite the same, there was no look of panic or scorn, but the parallel came to mind.

Frustrated, Blaze resumed her march down the street. The road was oddly long, though she supposed the buildings’ size explained that. She’d only now noticed the ground too was different, it didn’t have the cobblestone or flat dirt of the town’s other pathways. A raised pavement lined both sides of the street but in the centre, unmistakably, was the lower and flatter concrete roads she’d seen used by cars in the other world, complete with its painted markings. But cars didn’t exist in the Sol dimension, this was so bizarre. People were using it as they would a typical path though, walking wherever they pleased.

Looking for street signs or public maps, her mind still lingered on those who had ignored her and that shade of her past that hung in their wake. Was there some explanation she was just missing? Today had progressed rather quickly, she’d gone from the palace to walking the streets on a mission more promptly than normal, but that was because her itinerary had been clear. She supposed that was an oddity in itself but not impossibly strange.

Something did feel off though, perhaps her overthinking had just led to tenseness? Was something maybe wrong with how she looked, had they avoided her for that reason? She looked down at herself, still progressing, and saw nothing out of place. Her heels were in place, her tights were unblemished, her royal long coat was well pressed, and her white gloves were immaculately clean. Everything looked normal; she reached up and confirmed it, from her tail to the tip of her ears, nothing was out of place.

Her fist clenched and she felt her expression sour as she kept walking, pushing back her insecurity as she scanned the nearby buildings. It was odd that none of them had signs outside of them or even above their doors. As far as she recalled, even in that destroyed city, when such buildings were used for businesses, they’d almost always have some sort of signage- names at least, if not directions. Did that mean they were all residential? Blaze doubted the town had a high enough population to fill so many structures, she’d passed by at least fifteen of the multi-storey behemoths. 

There were still no crossroads too, it’d all just been one straight path for what must have been minutes now. It was meant to take less than half an hour to cross town as it was, or at least it had been up until today. What alleyways there were looked weirdly tight, as if they’d only just be wide enough for her to slip down. It wasn't as though she thought taking them would lead her onto a better route. With the town stretched this large, and its topography so changed from what she recalled, Blaze rather doubted she’d pop out at a recognisable location.

She picked up the pace, hearing her heels clack against the pavement over the bustling sound of the populous. All their sounds faded into white noise as she pushed herself to scan for the seismography office. Was it one of these tall buildings? She didn’t recall visiting it before, maybe it’d been relocated? Come to think of it, she knew of a seismologist who lived on a nearby island but not one on Southern Island. Still walking, she checked her coat pockets for the letter in hopes of finding an address only to realise it wasn’t there. She swore she’d put it in her pocket but, evidently, she’d left it behind.

A hissed sigh breezed past her lips as she kept walking, turning back now would mean being even later than she almost certainly already was. A glance to the sun proved it to be shining directly overhead, signalling that noon had arrived, but as Blaze took another step, she felt something strange beneath her feet. She froze in place, glancing to her surroundings only to find that no one else had stopped. It’d been gentle, but for a moment the pyrokinetic swore she’d felt the earth-

Before she could complete that thought, the earth torn from beneath her feet. She was thrown onto her backside as a great rumbling rocked the ground and the earth stretched upward in front of her as if it was a metal breastplate being beaten out of shape. The princess leapt back and to her feet, her eyes were immediately upon the citizens. 

Panic had immediately set in, while some had frozen in place most people were running in all directions. Some were making for alleyways; others had rushed into buildings but all of them were in danger. The earth was still shaking, people were starting to fall. Due to the height of the surrounding buildings, a single loose windowpane could spell death, let alone a fallen building.

They weren’t prepared for an earthquake, they weren’t regular here, she had to act, “Everyone! I need you to-

A cacophonous crunch cut over the beginnings of her command and the panic of the people, her eyes shot back to where the earth had bulged only to find a second enlargement. Something was trying to breach the surface; this wasn’t an ordinary earthquake! Whether it was Eggman Nega or some unknown threat, she was the first line of defence. Protecting her people came before protecting herself.

“Get inside and get under something! Find a basement if you can!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, just in time for the concrete to fan up again directly in front of her.

Out the corners of her eyes she watched people flee, some of them were rushing toward buildings but many were still in a state of panic. Regardless of whether people were listening though, the space around her was clearing. She clenched her fists as the road stretched for a fourth time, creating the shape of a four-point star ahead of her. The princess concentrated, channelling her will toward her hands in preparation for the fight.

But her flames refused to manifest. She glanced down, opening her hands only to see white glove. Why wasn’t it coming, why now, what was wrong with this day?! Blaze concentrated and concentrated, trying to pool heat at various points of her body and surge it into her hands… but she couldn’t create so much as an ember. Of all the times, having stuck to her even through death, her flames had chosen now to abandon her.

A final roar of earth being torn snapped her vision back up to the ballooning earth. At the centre of the four swollen sections of road, the ground had burst, and tarmac had flown in all directions. A second later the shaking had ceased, an uneasy silence filled its wake. A heartbeat later, like a geyser, a black-purple liquid burst upward from the depths and soon began to rain back down. The princess double-stepped back, narrowly avoiding the slapping of the heavy sounding liquid against street.

For a moment she thought there was a chance it was simple, that perhaps an oil vein had burst or something else of that nature. Then she saw the dark liquid start to shift, pulling itself into innumerable smaller puddles rather than one giant one. Even as that happened, the earth continued to haemorrhage; spilling more dark ichor to create more puddles and enlarge those already present.

Having gauged the range of the output, Blaze took a single step closer but the dark spillages lurched in response. From each of them, two arms emerged as if reaching for her only to fall short and catch the ground. Each finger was gnarled into an elongated claw, it was as if the dark liquid had coagulated into a crystalline mass. The hands continued to reach, albeit in different ways. Some grasping in her direction, pulling along the ground, while others pressed against the street as if pulling out of the ground. Regardless of method, the results were consistent.

From each pool of ichor came a creature three Blaze’s height. They had egregiously long and thin necks positioned to be hunched over, broad chests with pointed shoulders and hanging arms with faux musculature, formed from a hardened version of that dark matter. The legs were even grosser in their mimicry of life, veiny and ending in taloned feet. Despite the sizeable width of the demons' shoulders and waists, at the gut the creatures were crumpled as if the two halves had been forced together. 

While she would have simply seen the hardened ichor as monsters, three key features identified them as something familiar and yet different. Their faces were mouthless and they wore a single black eye like that of a cyclopses, but crowning each of their heads were two giant black horns. Coiled over their broad shoulders, almost like militaristic pauldrons, hung dark wings that ended in black yet bony protrusions. Completing that appearance was a long, almost worm like, tail that ended in a sharp arrowhead. They were no regular monsters, they were demons.

The moment they had fully manifested, the puddles at their feet had vanished. The instant they all stood straight, the dark geyser ceased its gushing and Blaze heard another rumbling of earth, as if something was shifting beneath the earth. For now at least, all of the buildings were intact. Her people were safe as long as she stood to defend them.

Despite her lack of flames, Blaze didn’t hesitate. She rushed forward with calculated abandon, certain over her goal. Her first punch landed with force, striking the centre of the monstrosity’s chest, but it wasn’t as solid as Blaze anticipated. Despite its size, punching its central mass seemed to return that area to liquid and caused its still solid upper half to fall into sludge. All she had to show for it was some ichor on her glove and heels, a splattering of it across her clothes. 

She didn’t let the ease of her first success go to her head though, she lunged sideward and clawed through a second monster and then a third. It was only then that the creatures began to react: the closest pair went to grab her only to claw the air. She’d pressed forward, charging between their grasp to deal a punch to each of their chests and rend straight through. 

Maintaining the momentum from that manoeuvre, Blaze spun with her arms extended. The technique was best formed while cloaked in flames but her pushing still produced none, not a single spark emerged. The technique was still effective, three more forms flopped to the ground, but Blaze couldn’t help grimacing. Coming to a halt, having carved her way to form a small clearing among the demons, Blaze took a quick breath and used the moment to analyse her surroundings. 

Out the corner of her eye she saw something shift and horror whipped her tail straight. One of demons she’d already bested had regrown from the spilled ichor, having torn itself from the ground once more. Her physical attacks were breaking them, but only temporarily! She flexed again but her flames again refused her, leaving her hand empty as she palm-struck another of them. As it slopped apart, Blaze realised she was in too deep to pull back now. Though they hadn’t moved quickly, the demon crowd had shifted to surround her: putting the feline at the group’s centre. She couldn’t see a way past their giant forms.

She spun in place like a top, throwing punches and elbows wildly as the demons approached in their same sluggish way.The princess presumed that if she could thin them out here, albeit briefly, she could build up the space required to leap over and out the swarm and ideally buy the time needed to plot a more complete plan of action. If they could regenerate freely, this was a battle she couldn’t win. Especially while her powers were failing her.

Punch after punch, blow after blow, she used the opportunity afforded by each dissolved demon to form a new plan. Her only hope was to keep moving through them, there was no going over or around them. Blaze turned her attention to the demon directly ahead of her: intent on fighting forward until the other side was breached. Using what little space she had to build up a punch, the unpowered pyrokinetic stuck cleanly through two of them only to jump back as a third behind them lunged grab her with a taloned hand.

She felt something skitter onto her cheek as she pulled back from her last attack, her gaze darted to her hand. Up to her elbow was partially stained with the black-purple ooze, but her left hand was now entirely covered. She swung her left at an encroaching demon, but didn’t feel her hand make any sort of impact. The monster buckled but it didn’t break; the ichor was cushioning against her blows! She tried to pull back but found that the hand had stuck fast, the gunk on her arm had stuck to the demon’s body. A glance to her right hand proved it to be cleaner, but the ichor was amassing on it to. Wincing, she closed her right fist and aimed with a section that was still white; it found purchase against the monster’s body and freed her from its hold.

Just as she’d noticed notice their lingering effect, the demons’ aggression appeared to increase. As the one ahead of her collapsed, coating more of her frame in its ichor, those surrounding her rushed to crush her using their massive forms. Still without her flames, the princess new she had to rely on speed alone. She pushed forward, opting to shoulder charge through the demon straight ahead of her only to be met by another. 

It was already throwing a punch! Momentum carried her through the first monster, she used her cleaner right hand to blast through its punch and onto the other side, but she felt the splatter weighing across her body. Her right eye had gone dark; she instinctively reached up to wipe it with her right hand only for it to stick to her head. Panicking was flaring higher than ever, but no flames came with her emotions.

In moments like these, when the pressure was on, they had always come to her aid! Why here, why now!? They were tied to her emotion, set to explode with stress and panic, her people were in danger! If she fell, then they’d stand no chance! 

Her free eye darted across the battlefield, there was no time to think. They were already upon her! Blaze was forced to use what little she had left, a rising knee to the chest disposed of one demon before a follow-up kick liquified the one behind it. She hadn’t truly noticed until she’d swung but, by running across so many fallen demons, their ichor had already begun to claim her shoes. 

With her right arm stuck at an odd angle, her balance was off. She landed on her feet but only scarcely, wobbling and kicking up more of the darkness. She felt it splatter up her jacket, the ichor’s weight was now becoming undeniable. The forms ahead of her were still innumerable, she couldn’t see beyond their wall of bodies, but she knew she’d been pushing forward. They’d been trying to rush her: surely, they hadn’t maintained their formation?

She attempted to tug the hand from her face but again it refused to move. Pressing on, she spun to throw another left-footed kick only to find that her foot was also entirely covered. She bent her knee, intentionally missing the nearest demon for fear she would become stuck to it, only to stagger anyway. Her spinning had been brought to a sudden, almost elastic, halt and she’d been forced to put her other foot down.

Immediately panicked, Blaze tried to keep moving only to find that her legs refused her. A glance down immediately provided an answer as to why, her shoes were fully sullied with their ichor, and she was stood in their puddle like remains. She only had one limb left, and it too was almost entirely covered. As one of the creatures rushed at her, she threw a clawing grasp only to have hitch on the creature’s chest.

It didn’t stop running! She turned her head away and winced only to feel it collide with her and immediately turn to liquid, splattering across her shoulder and back. Realisation came instantly; they weren’t set to rend her with claws, their intent had always been to wrap her in black. What would happen if she was totally covered? 

One after another, they ran and tripped into her. It was as if paint was being poured on her in massive waves, growing thicker and heavier as it aimed to coat every inch of her body. She threw punches, elbows, and all that she could; but the creatures refused to break until they had fully collided with her. They’d come from all sides, from her back and blind spot, locations she stood no chance to defend against while rooted to the spot!

Her knees buckled as the sixth liquified itself against her, by the ninth the world was black, and the twelfth knocked her to her back. Even after she fell, despite the barrier the ichor provided, Blaze could still feel them piling atop her. One after the other after the other. Though she couldn’t see it Blaze felt their weight distribute and heard the splatter, they were still turning to liquid and pining her in place. The weight had grown too great; her flailing was decreased to heaving against the darkness.

Then, finally, stillness arrived. She heard and felt no more shifting forms, but she too was unable to move. Across her body, tight and heavy, the liquid was smooth and yet tough. If she was trapped beneath the entirety of the demons’ mass then her people would be safe in the short term, but Blaze couldn’t make that assumption. What if they had arisen elsewhere? What if some had lingered behind?

Imprisoned within the dark, it felt as though she was trapped under water that carried the weight of iron. Though she hadn’t dared to breathe, she was certain the shear mass impounding her wouldn’t allow her chest to fill. Blaze squeezed her eyes shut tighter, trying to focus on what had just failed her. It was her only way out, there was no other choice, if she couldn’t use her power then she would die!

She fought to crease her brow and dug her fingers into the dark. Finally, having refused her for so long, heat began to pool across the princess’ body. From the top of her head, at her lower back and running down her tail; warm energy began to pool into her body and race toward her chest. She felt it build and build, its latent potential preparing to explode outward and redoubling with each passing second. Every ounce of will, both to break free and save her people, was set to be become reality.

Only when the tension had built to its crescendo, when she could feel the fire bristling beneath her skin, did the princess allow herself to explode. The effect was immediate and a thousand times more pronounced than she’d anticipated, the weight of the liquified demons seemed to slaw from her body in mere seconds. As fire whirled around her, exploding from every inch of her form, the pyrokinetic princess couldn’t help but grin. In the end it had all worked out.

Blinded by her own fire, Blaze slowly rose to her feet. Flames were flagging from her as if to make up for their time spent in absence, so quickly and casually that she could not bring them to halt. The moment she realised that a new sort of panic struck her. Quickly, Blaze attempted to angle her fire upward, forcing it out of her body, but it refused to cease roaring from elsewhere. From the small of her back, from the tip of her tail and the top of her head, though she still couldn’t see it Blaze could feel fire rolling in all directions. She opened her hands and concentrated, pushing greater and greater flares into the air but still she was blind, and her power had gained a life of its own!

Blaze felt a wave of heat explode outward from her, going directly against her will. The energy she’d built up among the ichor had simply been too much. She’d filled a bottle to burst, no cap she could make would seal it back. Splitting her attention, angling as much heat as she could both into the ground and the sky, Blaze now lost track of time. She could have spent mere minutes, or an entire hour simply stuck there, unable to move for fear she’d spread fire further across the town but equally unable to stop herself. Eventually however, though the flames did not cease, they withdrew enough to let her see through.

All her fears had been made manifest around her. Where those out of place skyscrapers had stood tall and gleaming in the sunlight, now stood metal husks with windows popped broken by the temperature. She couldn’t hear screams from within, the rumbling the flames on her body was too loud, but her fire had already reached the roofs. Blaze could see no escape for the occupants! Down the road in both directions, no matter where she looked, her devastation had spread everywhere. History flashed in her mind.

The cityscape had been changed, but not by those demons. It’d been by her hand. Crisis city had been made again; not by the efforts of Iblis but by those of Blaze the cat.

Dark clouds, forged from her own smoke, even filled the sky! The blue that had once been present was now totally blotted out; the sun’s light couldn’t breach the devastation she had wrought. Memories claimed the feline, rushing through her mind and heart like a hundred daggers.

Flames still clung to her body; they still limited her vision. Blaze stepped toward the nearest skyscraper, forcibly tearing the fire from her face, only to hear a squelch sound over that sound of her own burning. With an earth-shaking roar, she finally removed the fire from much of her frame but, no matter how she tried, it lingered on her hands. As her gaze was drawn down to them though, it looked beyond them and saw that the ichor still surrounded her. Not only did it persist, but it was bubbling and writhing.

From the black tar that had once encased her, now glinting with red embers, arms of the demons emerged from the black.Before she could blink, still distraught at the devastation she’d brought, what little good she thought she’d done unmade itself before her. Her burning of the darkness had been for nought. She had rushed people into those buildings, hoping to save them, only to pointlessly set their salvation alight.

The buildings, the demons, they all looked so huge; it was as if she was a child again. Back in the city when she was but a kitten, a struggling lonesome entity in the waste; trapped among the devils! Panic flushed the feline with adrenaline, and she felt heat instantaneously erupt in her palms. Her teeth grit: control, she needed control! The city was under siege by monsters but there was no point saving it if she was set to destroy it. She had to carve her way back to the palace and retrieve the Sol emeralds. With them, there was a chance she could save even just a few citizens!

Flames flew from her hands like bats from hell. She rushed the nearest demon, spinning and striking it squarely in the gut. She threw elbows and kicks, finding that the ichor no longer stuck to her as it had before. Punches, fireballs, uppercuts, and palm-strikes all made contact on that demon’s towering form. But none left so much as a scratch; they weren’t breaking as easily as before.

The non-reaction didn’t give her pause but, as Blaze pulled back to throw a punch with all her speed behind it, the sight of her shadow caught among red flames brought the princess to an instant halt. While much of her body’s outline was still the same, one by one, three differences became clear. The pair of pointed shapes behind her back tore at her attention, immediately forcing her to turn and look.

Two leathery black wings, pointed along their lower edge and wide enough to wrap around her shoulders, had emerged from her shoulder blades, tearing through her tailcoat! As panic set in the wings folded inward, just as reflectively as she gritted her teeth, revealing a tail unlike that she’d had before. It too was jet black and, rather than the fur which had cloaked it before, entirely smooth, ending in an arrow like point. As terror gripped tighter, it too shifted to straighten in the manner that her true tail had before. Eyes wide, shaking, Blaze reached up to the top of her head. As her shadow had suggested, her skull was topped with horns. They were short but sharp to the touch, lightly curved inward.

She wasn’t trapped with the demons; reality didn’t match how she’d been as a child, but how she’d felt. The horns, the wings, the tail, it all painted a plain picture. She was among the demons because she was one of them, whether she wanted to be or not. The fire at her core, in her heart, was the same as what drove them. It was responsible for the world’s destruction and thus so was she.

The world was spinning, her eyes found permanent purchase on neither the surrounding monstrosities nor the features of her degradation. Her mind was burning hotter than her hands, her eyes had blurred as tears had come to fill them.Something primal twitched within her, unleashing years of buried panic and overthinking. The newly made demon rushed the closest of its kin, throwing a flaming punch at its chin. What followed was a reckless hail of blows, each one of them carrying more power behind it but leaving her more open to a counterattack that never came.

Despite how hard she wailed on them, regardless of how ferociously she fought, a truth soon set in and forced Blaze to freeze. She couldn’t hurt them. She was one of them, and so she could not hurt them. When her powers were gone it had been fine, she’d been able to strike and break them, but with their unlocking her true heart had been revealed. They were the same.

Her fist was still to the closest demon’s chest, its body was unchanged, and it’d hadn’t moved an inch. It wasn’t even looking at her! She punched it again and the result was the same. Gritting her teeth, she pulled back and focused as hard as she could, trying to snuff out what she’d longed so hard to conjure mere moments ago. Before them it had been fine, before them they had broken! 

When will wasn’t enough to quell her flames, Blaze slapped her hands against each other, when that wasn’t enough, she smacked her thighs before finally dropping to the ground. She struck the tarmac with open then closed fists, but she couldn’t even feel the contact. It was all flames, undeniable flames!

Trying to act, trying to do anything that might make a change, she threw her left arm toward the closest flaming building and tried to quell what she’d created. The fire was huge, exploding flames were waving from the roof as if clawing at the black sky they had created. Blaze concentrated, she tensed every muscle and focused all her attention, but she couldn’t get a grip on the flames! No matter how she tugged at them, they refused her will and continued burning with that same ferocity. They’d become like the damage they were doing; permanent and irreversible. They’d simply grown too strong.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, a feeling of utter uselessness consumed her. Her head dropped; eyes were thrown to the tarmac. The flames were hers. This was all her fault. Fire had already claimed her surroundings, it had surely spread further than she could see. It wouldn’t be long until the entire town was engulfed. The people she’d sworn to protect were burning in their homes.

The princess forced herself back to her feet, her tears hadn’t doused her burning hands. There had to be something she could do. There had to be someone she could help! Even something small, even just informing her people and moving them somewhere actually safe. Regardless of whether she was a demon, they were still her-

Even through her blurry eyes, something caught the new demon’s attention. It was like sunlight had pierced the clouds, golden light cast over her and the demons surrounding her. The feline instinctively turned, looking up, only to see a shape imposed in front of the black sky she had created.

It was unlike anything Blaze had ever seen. Sets of white wings, difficult to count, were folded protectively around a central mass to create a sort of orb. Protecting those wings, alternating in size and position but each overlocking to form a broken sphere, were six golden rings which looked to be emitting the light Blaze had noticed.

Just as she’d begun to grasp the form, counting six wings in total, the rings halted their orbit. The light faded from her surroundings, she noticed that the other demons had turned their cycloptic gaze up as well. A sound overwhelmed the burning, only comparable to a high note being played in a flute.

She staggered a half step back, feeling tension build in the air, just in time for a more concentrated ray of light to blast downward and fill the street in front of her. It blocked the entire street ahead of her, that half of the town vanished in an instant. Another beat passed, the from around her just stood still. Just what was this? What had happened today? Between these demons, her own transformation, the state of the town and now whatever this was, something had been brewing ever since she’d awoken. Was this angelic form the cause?

The moment that thought crossed her mind; the golden ray began to push forward. Before Blaze could react, she saw it pass over a row of demons and reduce them not to sludge but dust. It could kill them! 

The princess was pushed backward as the rush began, the cycloptic demons were running from the ray! Whatever this entity was, it was acting to protect her people from the demons, it was true and good! But after those thoughts passed, another rushed to the forefront of her mind.

She was one of them; it would treat her as it just had them!

No matter what had happened, she still had her duty to her people. She had to survive to save as many of them as possible! 

A stampede of devils fled the light and Blaze was among them, rushing down the street. She weaved between the bodies; though they were certainly faster than when she’d fought them, their bulk was clearly hampering their movements. She could touch them now that she was one of them, weave under arms and brush past thighs without worry of contact, they were treating her as one of them. There was no fight in it, she just had to survive!

Blaze ran and ran, finally reaching the front of the pack only to find the skyscrapers before her were just as devastated as those behind her. It seemed impossible that her flames would have stretched this far this fast, especially given the building’s metal composition, but she didn’t have time to focus on yet another oddity. Though she still saw light cast ahead of her, Blaze threw a glance over her shoulder and found that the ray was still in pursuit. She couldn’t tell how greatly the demon’s numbers had thinned, but they were much fewer than they had been before. Whatever the sky entity was, it was more than matching the monster’s pace.

Her eyes returned to the front; she felt her flames burn brighter as fresh panic boiled across her shoulders. If it was only pursuing her, would its light move to target her? Could this winged entity angle its beam to strike with precision?

The road ahead was barren, not a citizen or another demon in sight despite the flames. She supposed she should think herself lucky that no one had fled back out and into the street, but that was the only silver lining. Her eyes crossed to the left, the side of the street she was closer to, and noticed something pass.

Alleyways! There was a way out of the street and, hopefully, to where some of her citizens had fled. She drew further left only to feel the earth shake beneath her; exactly as she’d felt before the demons had arrived. Blaze grit her teeth, trying to ignore it as she pushed on. There was no time to slow before she turned; instead, she put her hand to the ground and fully slid as she broke from the pack and into the far left.

Her shoulder clipped the left wall, she bounced from it and into the right, but kept running. The heat of the walls hadn’t even phased her, but the view ahead did. Somehow, the tower blocks weren’t limited to just one road! Impossibly, the alleyway ahead between the two skyscrapers seemed to stretch on without end. The instant a skyscraper would end another was there, leaving not so much as a crack between them. 

Just as that realisation processed, Blaze saw her horned shadow cast in gold light ahead of her. She dared to look back and her fears were confirmed, why had the light followed her?! Had it already disposed of the other-

Her thoughts and body stopped in an instant as foot failed to land on tarmac. The demon felt herself fall, out of instinct her demonic wings seemed to beat. They did enough to slow her tumble but they were two untrained to lift her free, regardless of her burning panic! That earthquake moments prior, its origin had been revealed! Just as before the earth had split open, but this time it’d formed a crevice rather than a geyser. 

Above her was a dark world growing darker, but bellow proved to be much worse. While it wasn’t exploding outward, beneath her spanned a lake of that dark ichor. Her plunge was inevitable, but she fought it for as long as was possible and, somehow, the light didn’t pierce find her in the darkness.

She’d almost convinced herself that she’d be able to stand on the ichor now that she was a demon, but but her foot remained trapped beneath the surface. It was just like before! No matter how her wings flapped, it was as if that whole pool had cement around her ankle. With every centimetre and inch she sunk lower, her chances of rising diminished.

Though her will remained strong, her wings gave out. The curving of her spine from her tug of war against the dark meant she fell back first and felt the liquid before it consumed her. Her flames had saved her last time though, they had to again!

The fire at her hands raged, they managed to breach the surface despite the weight on the rest of her body. She was almost out of breath; she’d been running and fighting for so long. Blaze flailed and clawed burning hands across the surface, each managed to pierce and tear at the dark but she felt herself sink deeper with each moment. Dizziness soon set in. 

She was striking blindly in the dark, lungs burning, when it happened. Something outside her view, something she hadn’t felt before, cut through the flame to grab her by the forearm. She felt the ichor grow lighter and lighter, suddenly it was as if she was floating on water rather than sinking in mercury. Blaze dared to open her eyes and found that, rather than darkness, golden light was ahead of her. That grasp took hold of her other arm, but Blaze couldn’t return it. It was as if whatever was holding her wasn’t truly there. 

With a gentle tug, Blaze felt the ichor leave her body and the golden light grew much less harsh. She was being pulled upward by what seemed to be a sunbeam, tugged up toward the crack in the tarmac and toward a sky of blue! Before she breached to reach the world, her eyes looked to her extended arms only to see a set of handprints in her flames where she felt the grasp.

Upon emergence, looking to her side, Blaze found the skyscrapers were still present- but they had all been restored! There were no fiery holes and no burning rooftops; her people were working inside as if nothing had happened! Despite its impossibility, Blaze couldn’t help feeling grateful. 

But the pull didn’t stop at ground level, Blaze soon found herself on eye level with the top of the skyscrapers. Beneath her though, the town truly wasn’t as she recalled. Citizens were walking the streets, but they weren’t the people nor the streets she recalled. A city spanned for miles beneath the clouds, blue rivers flowed straight through it. The harsh industrial section she had been in was contrasted by those of alabaster architecture, buildings that looked historic yet maintained. 

As she processed those features, noting their vague familiarity, Blaze again looked to the sky. She’d expected to see the same form she had before, great white wings and golden rings cast against the blue sky, but instead she saw something smaller. They were hard to make out, having positioned themselves directly in front of a white cloud, and the light tugging her upward wasn’t helping matters. It was only when she was a few mere metres away that she recognised him, despite the oddities.

“S-Silver!?” She called out, her voice guttural with panic.

If his psychokinesis hadn’t been pulling her in, his golden eyes and glowing grin would have, “Blaze!”

Though those key features were the same, there were some oddities about his person. What caught her attention first was the halo floating just about his usual, messy, quills. Matching its angelic nature, behind the hedgehog a pair of feathery white wings had pushed out from where his back spines usually hung.

Before she could even process his entirety, his hands took the place of the psychic hold on her forearms, “I found you! I was so worried!”

Without a moment’s notice or a greater explanation, the hedgehog shot forward and pulled her into a ludicrously tight hug. Her head was pushed over his shoulder as he pressed all his fluffiness against her. It would have been so easy to melt into him then and there, but the contradictions and questions were still swirling in Blaze’s mind.

She did however return his hug, bringing her still burning arms to awkwardly wrap beneath his brand-new wings. As she did that, her pointed tail came into view and wrapped around his waist. Her wings too moved to curl around his shoulders. This was just too much it was too strange.

She closed her eyes and bit her tongue for a moment, but soon pushed back to look him in the eye, “Silver, what-

Blaze blinked. Though the hedgehog she’d just seen was still before her, his positioning and angelic features had entirely vanished. Rather than floating upright in the sky, his back to the cloud, Blaze was looking down at him; her hands pressed on a mattress at either side of his body. His arms were still wrapped tightly around the small of her back.

She blinked again, glancing across the room. They were in a bedroom, her bedroom; the half-pulled curtains of her fourposter bed were obscuring much of it but this space was absolutely that she knew so well. She could see her desk, the balcony window and the room’s entrance; everything was where it should have been.

A duvet was flush against her back, she could feel no wings between her and it. Her tail snaked its way out and into the blue light the hedgehog was naturally emitting, revealing it to be normal and fluffy. Heat fanned across the princess’ face, but she pulled one hand from his side to pet the top of her head. No horns.

The inconsistencies in the town’s layout, her powers failing her and even the towers’ accelerated destruction prior to miraculous restoration all suddenly made sense. It’d all just been a stupid dream, she’d been too caught up in it all to tear apart the inconsistencies. The oddities like that demon appearing in the alleyway and her citizens ignoring her, the way she’d transformed too. No wonder she’d felt so emotional through it all, her own mind had been making up the scenario.

A sigh slipped free from her lips as she replanted her arm at his side. Just as her mind had reconstructed Crisis city, it’d revived many of her childhood fears. When they were small, before and even for a while after they’d first met, she had truly though of herself as one of Iblis’ spawn. She’d bordered on feral, having been ostracised from what few settlements remained due to her pyrokinetic nature. Stones had been thrown at her, she’d been chased through the streets and made to bleed by those who should have been her own.

The hedgehog shifted in his sleep beneath her; she felt his hands paw at her back. He had been the only exception, at first at least. He had d been seen as an outsider too, but a much less dangerous one than her. She’d thought him a fool for wanting to be her friend and, truthfully, there had been merit to that line of thinking; she had been a pyrokinetic entity in a world destroyed by fire after all. But, little by little he’d worn her down and in doing so unknowingly eaten away at her insecurities. 

She’d let him sleep here tonight, as she had many nights prior. While at first she’d felt greedy about these infractions, knowing it wasn’t proper for a royal, those feelings had long fallen by the wayside. It wasn’t at all surprising that she’d dreamed of that place and time, if anything it was odd that she didn’t more often. 

Adrenaline was wearing thin; it was surely too early to wake. Slowly, gingerly, Blaze lowered her head to rest upon his chest fur and clavicle. Like clockwork, a contented murmur sounded from him and again his hands plied to pull her closer. To appease the sleeping psychic, but mostly just because she wanted to, the princess brought her own arms to curl around him.

Blaze the cat knew wasn’t a demon, despite what she’d historically told herself, but Silver? She couldn’t think of a person more fitting to call an angel.

#silvaze #blaze the cat #silver the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #fanfic #sonic

[outofangband]

Birds of Doriath (non Songbirds)

I have songbirds of Doriath here and my masterlist of environmental world building here!

Doriath is a region made up of a variety of forests. There is Region, a forest of holly and other mostly deciduous trees, Neldoreth, an ancient beechwood, Nivrim, a forest of primarily oak north of the twilit meres and finally Arthórien, a forest we have almost no information on, divided from the rest of the kingdom by the river Aros which runs along the Eastern border of greater Doriath.

Greater Doriath (Region and Neldoreth): black billed cuckoo, tawny owl, barn owl and subspecies, goshawk, sparrow hawk, wood grouse, common quail, common swift, moorhen (also found in Nivrim), little curlew, red kites, black woodpecker, green woodpecker, hoopoe (in clearings, glades and outskirts),

Nivrim and the twilit Meres: Barrow’s golden eye, ural owl and ural owl subspecies, northern hawk owl, wood duck, water rail, spotted crake, black stork, common golden eye, horned grebe, marsh harrier, tree kingfishers, merlin

Arthórien (markedly different climate): hill partridge, emerald dove, great eared nightjar, kiwi species, black wood pigeon, rain quail, grey headed woodpecker, Japanese scops owl, grass owl, white backed woodpecker, green pigeon, greater painted snipe (I’ll probably make a more thorough post for this entirely)

World building notes:

I’ve talked about this before but common and rain quails are domesticated for their eggs and meat, primarily by the marchwardens! There are little enclosures built in strategic locations between the temporary huts the marchwardens use between scouting and other missions. There are elves, usually younger ones who might be training as a scout or warden, who care full time for the birds. The quails live good long lives and are often named by their keepers. While in Doriath, Túrin saved four quails from being eaten out of spite

Nightjars and owls are considered sacred to the Silvan of Doriath who reside in Arthórien and appear frequently in song and folklore.

Water birds are most commonly found in Nivrim where ponds and marshlands make up part of the ecosystem. Their images appear upon the walls of Menengroth in the passages beneath the river.

Though birds of prey are not reviled by any means, depictions of the deaths of elves in battle or through other violent means are commonly represented as birds of prey killing songbirds

#the silmarillion #musing and meta #the children of húrin #Doriath #beleriand

[howlingday]

Emerald would hang the Blood Ravens in 40k and help them steal every thing not bolted to the floors.

"You've returned."

"I have returned." Emerald smirked from her perch. She hopped down, looking up to the heavily armored warrior looking past his red, ceramite chest-plate. "And not without information."

"What information do you bring?"

"Little more than rumors and hearsay, but..." Emerald reached into her pouch, pulling out loose her scroll. As she tapped and swiped, he glared over the border, raising a brow at her technology. "There's word in my circles about a transfer of important documents by the Ordo Malleus." She stopped on an image, showing the telltale image of mercenaries commonly used by the sinister order to safeguard whatever insidious secret they held. "Something about moving sealed information from one station to another. Could be a shame if something if that information fell into the wrong hands, right?"

"And how are we so sure this information is so important to us?" Snorted the space marine.

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"

#rwby #warhammer 40k #emerald sustrai #blood ravens #the blood ravens