#an insider's guide to a court of thorns and roses

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Thirteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1885 in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him.

Chapter Warnings: You and Loki journey to Jotunheim to find the orb. But when events turn for the worse...you decide to ask for help.

Chapter Warnings: Using an oldie but goodie fanfic trope (Court of Mist and Fury does it, so I decided to use it too), some insecurity and mutual pining, and mentions of past cheating with a character who isn't Loki. Fluff and Angst.

A/N: I am not 100 percent certain about the cannon world of Jotunheim, so I threw my hands in the air and cried "fuck it! Give them horses". The next chapters are coming in fast since work was slow and I used the time to write some first drafts. Hence the fast posting.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter

Dressed in your warmest coats and sheathed with daggers, you both went through the portal.

Jotunheim was still as bitter cold as ever. If only Loki could just create a portal within Jotunheim to land you right in the cabin! But no- that wasn’t in his abilities, as he kept reminding you whenever you began to complain. You had to travel through the blasted tundra. You trekked through the sharp wind and snow with Loki for a few hours. Thank goodness your fire floated in your hands and the movement gave you warmth. But you had yet to sense out where the cabin was. And now it was getting dark.

You used a certain creature to travel through- horses only known in Jotunheim. Like a regular horse. Only this one was a little bigger than normal. Bright white as the snow and that had crystals of ice on him. The Jotunheim Horses were immune to the cold- it was where they thrived. In fact, it grazed to eat the snow, swishing its blue tail and mane.

When you both got tired of walking, he used some of the money you had brought to rent a special horse of Jotunheim from a village. Like a regular horse that had crystals on them. Horses that were immune to the cold- it was where they thrived. Only barely larger than normal. You eyed the saddle nervously.

“I never even rode a normal horse before,” you said.

“Now, don’t be nervous my dear- here, I will show you how...” Loki guided.

He helped you up onto the saddle, you in front and him behind. You swung your legs to the side like you saw horsewomen in photographs back home do. He guided the reigns and as you both rode, gave you small instructions- keep your heels down. Stay calm. Flick the reigns to make them go faster, tug to make them stop or go slower. He even let you practice riding it for a couple of miles forward, the horse trotting at a calm pace.

“We’ve traveled for hours…but we cannot lose our place…” Loki said.

He checked the book again.

“It should be close…but it means it’s several hours of riding…”

He looked at you shivering.

“And we’ll need to stop…”

There was a city nearby. Some of the Frost Giant people gaped at you, but you ignored their starings. You checked the few inns in town. But it seemed many were full due to Starfall and those traveling to celebrate.

Finally, there was the third and last inn You both went inside, going up to the innkeeper at the wooden desk in the lobby. Her blue skin seemed to shine in the light and her red eyes were bright.

“We have good news, there is one room available for the night…” she announced.

“Oh, wonderful!” you cried.

She looked between you both.

“However, there is a problem…” she began.

There was only one bed. One comfortable, blanketed, bed in that room.

It was far too cold to lie on the floor for hours. You both would have to sleep in it.

Your heart raced a little- something so intimate! Something you would have never agreed to do a year ago…but now, what choice did you have?

Loki had nightclothes conjured for both of you. You fought back the memory of seeing him sleep semi-naked. You both had warm, thick nightgowns that were as white as the Jotunheim snow. You felt your eyes continue to flutter down to see the V of his own nightwear. The little bit of hair that poked out of his chest. But then forced them away.

Once it got dark, you both got into the bed. You and Loki turned around, him staring at the window and you at the wall.

The wind whistled sharply. Outside there were constant flurries of thick snowflakes. The cold air seeped through the room. Contrasting with the warmth of the blankets…and of your bedmate. Turning about, you had not fallen asleep yet. Your mind refusing to shut down despite the long day.

You kept thinking back, despite yourself, remembering the day you first spoke to him. The day he saved you at a price. But there was one little thing he said that still kept bugging you like an itch you weren’t allowed to scratch.

“Loki… are you awake?” you asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “Why aren’t you asleep by now?”

You heard him flip over and you followed suit. His dark curls out of the way of his face. Both of you on your sides, facing each other.

“Because I was thinking of the day you appeared to me when we made the bargain.”

“Oh yes…and what made you recall that?”

“Well, the fact we keep ending in each other’s rooms in one way or the other!”

His own eyebrows briefly shot up, and there was a smile on the verge of a little laugh on his face, yet he remained quiet.

“It happened when I first met you- not counting when you were a cat…but there’s one thing you said I still muse on…it still makes me a little mad!” you blurted.

“Which one? My dear, I’m sure I said several things that enraged you back then…” he prodded

“That you were surprised I could talk back just because I’m a woman from my time.”

The other thought that was floating in your head was the memory of the letter to Cora you found- that one phrase that seemed like being stabbed in the gut. The one phrase that solidifed her superiority over you-“You are truly not like other women!”

Loki said no reply but merely listened.

“We’re people, like anyone else. We have feelings, like anyone else. Did you assume Just because we embroider and wear corsets that it means we’re boring or weak? We don’t enjoy being pushed around! We don’t like being mocked or hurt. And perhaps we aren’t all warriors, but that does not mean we are unworthy of respect! You should have seen my mother. I think she was far more in charge of our family than Papa ever was. Even Stella-Stella-said so to me that she wants Grendel and his army to, and I quote, ‘burn in hell.’”

“Norns above…” Loki muttered in reply.

“I can’t blame her after what they did to her…” you commented.

Loki furrowed his brow. He kept listening as you continued.

“It’s usually those who don’t know us who make such judgments. Who won’t even try to get to know us it…it…it’s comments such as these that make me so mad that I…I…”

The rest of the words failed you, and you paused. How much were you ranting about what he said…and how much were you ranting at the phrase in the letter? Perhaps he could tell. You were quite sure your shield was down. Loki only looked at you- realizing he had permission to speak.

“You were right back then. When I met you, I knew Thomas…but I never got to know a woman from your time. I made judgements and even jokes about it…but I didn’t truly know you then. I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“Thank you. I forgive you, Loki,” you replied.

You turned around. Facing the wooden wall with a chair and table on the other side. The fireplace in the room was a mere, dying ember. The smoke was so thin, it was nearly invisible.

“I hate to disappoint you, Loki, but there is not much to me other than my magic. I’m just like every other woman…” you said.

You tightened the blanket around you, your knees hugging up to your chest. A lump in your throat. But you heard the trickster god shift forward. His voice right near your ear and his warm body against yours. Part of you fell stiff, yet also…comforted.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” he consoled you.

You turned back over to look at him. You accepted his closeness as you faced each other. His nose mere centimeters from your own. His eyes were as blue as the skies of Asgard. You could smell your dinner on his breath.

“There are far worse things in life to be…but…”

His voice went back to that of teasing, a small smile on his face. He had to be at least a little mischievous while he was still awake.

“You could still improve your taste in wedding gowns…” he poked.

You cocked up an eyebrow.

“That’s rich coming from someone who wears ruffled blouses with his tuxedoes!” you shot back.

You both burst into laughter. You could still hear his rich baritone voice in his laughter. You could feel the rumbling in his body, his chest seemed to vibrate with the mirth.

“What can I say? I enjoy dressing with a little bit more flair...” he sad.

You shot him a smug grin.

“Well, if I can wear a ‘monstrosity of lace’ as you called it, you can wear your foppish tuxedoes!” you teased.

He laughed a little more. Then his voice became gentle.

“Though you did look lovely at the ball the other night,” he said.

“As did you,” you replied.

So close…he was so close. You could have just wrapped him in your arms. Perhaps you should have. His closeness made his warmth radiate toward you. Your own thoughts and memories were spoken, and your concerns were heard like the breaking of a long-held dam. And now that it was released, you began to feel sleepy.

You curled up next to each other, merely brushing each other’s skin. Warm and safe despite the howling wind. You whispered goodnight and turned around to your other side. At once, you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up briefly, it was still dark. Perhaps it was early in the morning. You were facing the wall on your side, but something felt different. Something solid and heavy was draped over your waist. Too heavy to be the blankets.

You looked down and realized with a small jolt of your nerves that it was Loki’s muscular arm.

He wrapped an arm around you while asleep.

Dammit, dammit, dammit, you kept repeating silently.

Should you move him? Wake him up? Oh dear lord, you felt his chest and stomach against your backside. If he was asleep it was likely he wouldn’t be…well, aroused. You would be in the uncomfortable position of feeling something against you that you didn’t want to right now. No- it was a sleepy, chaste embrace from behind.

You heard his small snore. Like that of a cat. It was adorable, you had to admit. So no…you didn’t have the heart to move. You felt in his arms that you were safe…no, more than just safe…wanted. Wanted so badly that his subconscious needed you close.

No, YN that’s an illusion, you mused.

And yet…

This is what my life could be…yet he’s a trickster god and full of mischief and flattery, if I became his beloved, he’ll betray me for another…I’m so…so horrible that even a vicar would break what he preaches for another woman’s bed just to get away from me. If that’s what he did, then, what would a god of mischief do!?…and yet-

It was warm and comfortable. If it was an illusion, One that felt real- one that was only real. If only for a few minutes. The embrace was known to husbands and wives and lovers when they slept with limbs entangled. An embrace you were destined to never know… except for now.

Pretending like it was that domestic, loving comfort…you found your own eyes drooping. Back asleep you fell and deeply.

When you woke up that morning, you saw the window on Loki’s side. You felt no arms and no weight anymore on it. It was empty, save for you. The sun seemed especially bright with the snow reflecting off it. It shot into the window, making you squint.

Shifting over in the bed, you realized Loki was already wide awake. Sitting on a chair near the bed, concentrating on the little vanity with a shiny red apple he placed there. With a flick of his hand, the apple vanished in green smoke. Then it would reappear in the next corner. He gave you a smile in greeting.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Practicing, my dear. It’s one thing to make a portal. It’s another thing to make something just vanish and take it somewhere else,” he answered.

“You’re working on it?” you cried.

“Practicing all morning. The furthest is four things that are not me. They can be sent several miles away…”

You felt the soft blanket, pulling it up to your chest.

He then used magic to have the apple reappear. He then placed it in his hand, shined it on his clothes, and took a bite with a loud crunch.

“It’s actually pretty easy. If I do it enough, I can do it without thinking.”

“Hmmm, It’s impressive…but please save an apple for me.”

He conjured one and threw it over to you. You caught it with both hands and thanked him.

After gathering more food, both of you mounted the horse and continued your long ride to the cabin. Stopping when needed, especially to check the map.

By now it was the late afternoon. But since Jotunheim was a land of eternal winter, the sky was dark. The snow kept falling and the cold wind kept howling at your side. But Loki’s company made it seem not as bad.

You finished the last of your bread and wiped the crumbs off of your mouth when you dismounted. Loki smiled as he showed you the map.

“Here- it’s not far…we’re almost there,” he promised.

You got out a carrot. The horse perked its ears. You offered it and the creature bit into it. It seemed that carrots were the universal favorite food of any kind of horse. You smiled and patted his long nose.

“What do you think of riding, my dear?” he asked.

“It’s a little nerve-wracking being on a living animal…but it can be fun. I’d like to learn more about it- I’m rather new and here we are.”

“When we return, I should let you practice with the horses we have. Perhaps I could show you how to ride with your legs over or even bareback! I’ve had years of training, you can trust me as an adequate teacher,” Loki proposed.

“Oh, Loki tell me- What kind of lessons does a prince have? What kind of classes or education? It must be interesting!” you commented.

He smiled at you. Going up to lift a hand to gently stroke the horse, brushing against the smooth ice crystals on its body.

“Well then, I remember there were etiquette lessons. Which is as fun for a little boy as you can imagine, but I managed to do well. Then we learned about how to use a sword and then we had to learn all of the history of-”

FWOOSH!

An arrow landed near your feet. You jolted with a small cry of surprise. The horse let out a cry with a raise of his front legs. Loki grabbed the reigns to try to calm him.

“Where did that come from?!” you cried.

You turned around and saw the answer.

Behind you were four men on Jotunheim horses of their own. The sadistic smiles on their faces and the dark armor on their clothes made your stomach heavy. They continued to ride, as one reached behind to get another arrow for his bow.

The breath stopped in your chest.

“Grendel’s men,” Loki breathed.

At once he threw you onto the horse and then got up himself. It was everything in you not to panic on the spot.

The horse galloped and held onto it for dear life. Looking back at the laughing, already triumphant soldiers with terrified eyes. Then you gritted your teeth in defiance of them. You let out a shaking hand, and the next arrows that were fired, you burned to ash to vanish in the wind.

But they were still gaining speed. The hooves of their own horses are like that of the drums before an execution. Loki kept urging the horse forward, too focused to create a duplicate or an illusion.

As all of you raced, you gained some distance away from them. Then they then fired another arrow. Faster than your flames could catch it.

Loki let out a yell of pain. You screamed out of instinct- an arrow landed in Loki’s right shoulder. It was black, full of grey smoke out of it like it was burning.

“YN, get it out! Quick!” he urged at you.

You let out a gasp and a small cry on instinct. But he kept riding. You turned around, and swiftly jerked it out, Loki letting out another groan of pain.

He then looked at the arrow in your hand, its swirling magic around it. His jaw dropped.

“No!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?” you asked.

“t’s a Kunnigr arrow! They are known for eventually draining one of magic!” he explained.

“What?! No!”

Loki shot out only a little green light from his hands.

“It’s still there, but it’s running out…”

He then suddenly stopped the horse. He at once pulled you down to your feet.

“Loki- what are you doing?!” you cried.

He looked at you. Sadness and resolve on his face. Your heart beat hard in your chest. He then grabbed your shoulders and looked you in the eye.

“Quick-listen to me- listen to me, YN darling! While I still have a little magic- I’m going to send you far from them. Go. Go find the Cabin. Find the Orb. Here-”

He gave you a pocket watch from his pocket, placing it in your hand.

“When you do, Get a signal to Asgard. Someone will see it- and they will get you.”

“Loki- no! Just transport yourself too! I’m not leaving this realm without you!”

An arrow was shot, and you both narrowly dodged it. But a few inches and- you realized with dread- it would have hit you.

“I am armed, I can fight them- but we’re outnumbered. Their arrows could make you lose your magic. And they won’t stop until they have at least one of us. I only have enough magic to save the horse and the brave woman I made a bargain with. …”

Deep in your gut, you knew he was right. And you hated it. His smile was so beautiful, so sad. You felt as if your heart was both being ripped into pieces and bursting at once.

“This is for you…I’m proud of you, my little mortal.”

“Loki-” you voiced.

He lifted a hand and flicked the wrist.

With the last bit of magic he had left, green smoke appeared around you. The horse whinnied as the smoke surrounded it too And you vanished from the scene.

The Green smoke surrounded your vision. Then at once it drifted away and you were far off into a snowy woods in Jotunheim. It was lined with fur trees full of beautiful snow around them like necklaces. Only some were normal trees where they settled on their branches in blankets. You heard the horse trotting around, brushing its lips and shaking its mane.

You felt light headed You were safe, alive. A far distance off.

Then a few uncontrollable tears began to stream down your face, feeling like they could turn to ice against your skin. You felt like there was a hole in your chest. But your senses were alerting you…the cabin was close. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took the reigns of the horse and you both walked forward. It wasn’t too long- only ten minutes of walking, despite the frigid wind paining your face…

And there it was. Sure enough, there was the cabin.

The door was unlocked. Already there was a blazing hearth in fireplace, a warm bed full of thick quilts, and a table full of food that was still fresh. Chopped wood for the hearth sat in a pile next to an iron pot to use for cooking. When you walked over to the hearth, you could tell, right in the fireplace was the orb glowing bright orange. The source of this light and comfort, though you were certain no one lived here.

You got out the pocket watch from your side… you knew you should alert them. You knew you had it. It was what he told you to do…but could not make it to twelve to give the signal.

Loki…Loki…it then hit you, the weight on you. What he did…for the mission. And for you.

He was armed. He could fight them. The training he had all of his life couldn’t have been for nothing. But he was outnumbered. But still…without magic and outnumbered! Perhaps killed already!

You couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t abandon him…and that was if he was still alive.

Despite your shaking, and your crying, your senses reached back. There was a mountain nearby. A familiar mountain…

And someone who would know if Loki still breathed.

You gathered a bundle of firewood and put them in your bag. Then you mounted the horse, both legs swinging off the saddle. Despite your nerves, your determination shot you forward. You were going to learn of Loki’s fate.

If he was dead, then you would go back to Asgard. It would be too risky to get his body. Tell the AllFather and AllMother of his last deed. So at least after his life, he would finally be seen as an equal, as a hero. And if he lived…you would do whatever you could to find him. Get him back.

You led the horse towards where you sensed the mountain and found the entrance. The place where the Jotun Prophet lived.

You rushed inside the cave. You down some of the wood and lit it with your fire. It crackled against the cave in echoes, its light illuminating the dark cave.

“Prophet! Prophet! Here’s my offering! Hurry! Please! It’s an emergency! I must speak with you- now!” you begged. Your voice echoed off into the infinity of black inside.

Sure enough, there were blue lights that glowed on the wall. And out walked the Jotun Prophet. Still with his proud, knowing smile.

“Oh, Mortal Lady, it’s you again…have you gained the wisdom to become engaged to an ugly priest this time? As you must have figured out by now, They don’t get half the attention from other women as the handsome ones do!”

You took a few steps forward. His red eyes remained calm and his smile remained gentle.

“This isn’t about any of that! It’s about Loki! He’s in danger! He could be hurt- or worse! Grendel’s soldiers ambushed us and he used the last of his magic to send me away! Please, Prophet, tell me one thing at least- is Loki still alive? Or are they going to kill him? Is this how he dies?”

The Jotun Prophet scratched his chin.

“Hmm, a god in distress...” he mused. He accepted the firewood. With some magic, it floated up in the air.

“They might have killed him by now- please! I’m begging you! Is Loki alive?”

The Jotun Prophet held up a hand as if to get you to calm down.

“They have abducted him. They’re tormenting him…but he is alive. There is nothing they love more than toying with their victims before they kill. But Loki is too valuable a prisoner for them to end his life just yet. They could use him to bribe the royal family of Asgard, hold him for the price of their domination of the kingdom or an alliance…so at least no killing yet. Even the most foolish of Grendel’s men know that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, the dizziness washing down you. Your vision blurred from the high and then returned back. The Prophet wasn’t retreating- so you asked another question.

“Tell me where he is! Where have they taken him?” you pleaded.

“They are…southeast from here, a few leagues.”

The Prophet lifted a blue finger and pointed in that direction.

Once you journey down there, you will sense where they are clear as day. They are camped at the ends of another great mountain. You will see smoke- a fire they made there. There you may find Loki. There you may save him. What a lucky coincidence you found that cabin…just take him there after. Let him rest his injuries..”

New tears came down your face, tears of deep gratitude.

“Thank you…”

You began to turn to hurry off. But after a few steps, you heard The Prophet call out.

“Oh! Mortal Lady! One more thing!”

You turned right around, nearly skidding on your feet. He walked up to be closer to you, the firewood floating by his side.

“Brunhilde flowers,” the prophet said.

“Brunhilde flowers?” you repeated, tasting the words in your mouth.

“Named for the strength of the renowned Valkyrie. They grow in Jotunheim. You can find them growing outside the cabin. It will restore strength and even magic to anyone. The petals and bulb are very bitter to the taste but crushed up and steeped in boiled water, it makes a decent tea. To make it work faster, It should take two days and one cup of tea or one flower per day. Along with long hours of rest. If he exerts himself, it will slow the healing down. Then his magic will return in its entirety. So be patient,” the Prophet explained.

He began to turn and walk into the dark. But you took one step closer to where he walked.

“So all I do is find the flowers and give it to Loki?” you questioned.

The Prophet paused. Then he turned around, with a small, if not mischievous smile.

“That is, if you wish to complete your True Love’s healing.”

#loki my beloved #tom hiddleston #angst with a happy ending #fanfiction #loki fanfiction #hiddlesverse #tom hiddleston characters #carrie writes #tom hiddelston loki #dammit hiddleston #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #loki fic #loki imagine #loki x reader #loki x fem! reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x fem! reader #loki mcu #loki mcu imagine #fic recs #loki marvel #stella ransome #a court of thorns and roses #a court of thorns and roses au #crimson peak #thomas sharpe

[acourtofcouture]

An Insider’s Guide to A Court of Thorns and Roses: the Night Court Mountain Palace and the Gates to the Hewn City, 2/?

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #an insider's guide to a court of thorns and roses #the night court mountain palace and the gates to the hewn city #the night court mountain palace #mountain palace #the moonstone palace #moonstone palace #the hewn city #hewn city #the gates to the hewn city #the night court #night court #the court of nightmares #court of nightmares #acotar #prythian #sarah j maas

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Winter Court Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This has been in my head for a few days and I had to get it out of my head so I could write other stuff XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,356 words... yup it ran away from me again. This one pretends Tamlin isn’t a terrible person so we get Rhys instead 😉 @itscheybaby

^^^^^

“Rhysand?” I called through the town house.

“Yes?” His voice was coming from the kitchen.

I went downstairs, holding the box I’d found in our room. “What’s this for?” I asked, indicating the heavy fur-lined black cloak with silver embroidery of the moon and stars up the sides.

“Can’t I give you a gift just because I want to?” His smirk was almost too casual for me to believe him.

“You know I prefer coats in Velaris,” I replied. “So there’s something going on.”

He sighed, wings drooping. “Alright. You caught me,” he muttered. “We’re going to the Winter Court.”

“What for?”

“Kallias and Vivane’s wedding.”

“Didn’t they get married like an hour after he got back from Under the Mountain?”

Rhysand folded his arms, tucking his wings against his back a little tighter. “Yes,” he said carefully, “but they’re hosting a formal reception for their court, as well as for the other High Lords. I’m sure Kallias doesn’t actually want to invite us, or any of the other High Lords for that matter, but Mor and Vivane are really good friends and I don’t think he wants to harm that relationship.”

“So Mor’s coming with us, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. She has to put out a fire in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Literal or figurative?”

“Figurative. Keir is pitching fits again.”

“Ah. Same old, same old, then.”

“Pretty much.”

I decided to change the subject.

“So, the cloak is to keep me warm in the Winter Court climate, I’m assuming.”

“Yes. Hopefully without damaging your dress. Sometimes your coats rumple the skirts. While we’re in Velaris—and anywhere in the Night Court that’s not the Court of Nightmares, really—I don’t mind. But you know what we look like to the other courts. The image we present.”

Wealthy, dangerous, ruthless, powerful Night Court High Fae. Immaculate and pristine. Never even a hair out of place. Always in control of every situation. The High Lord who always got what he wanted, his thunderstorm of a High Lady by his side. Nary a trace of the Illyrian half-breed with self-worth issues and the Autumn Court runaway who’d never belonged anywhere.

“I know,” I said.

Rhys approached me and pulled the cloak out of its small box. “Besides,” he said, slinging it around me, “it does look rather fetching on you.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Charmer,” I teased.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you, while you were… gone.”

Even though he insisted he was fine, I still did my best not to mention Under the Mountain. The secrets he’d been forced to keep, the things he’d been forced to do to keep me and the rest of the Night Court safe. We talked about it when he needed to, and I would always be there for him, but I didn’t need to force the past forty-nine years on him.

Rhys put his arms around my waist under the cloak and buried his nose in my hair. “I missed you too.”

“So when do we leave for the Winter Court?”

He knew I was changing the subject away from what I didn’t want to bring up, but he let me. “Tomorrow. We may stay overnight, we may not.”

“Shame Mor’s not coming with.”

“Agreed. She’d love to see Viviane again.”

“We’ll find some way to reunite them. How about that?”

“I think it sounds delightful. We’ll put them in a sound-proof room so we don’t have to hear them squealing into the late hours of the night.” His sarcasm was not lost on me. I chuckled. We swayed in place for a bit. “Let’s go get prepared for tomorrow, darling,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

—

I already miss the Northern mountains, I thought at Rhys, wrapping the beautiful new cloak tighter around me to suppress a shiver. Even they aren’t as cold as this.

He hid his amused smile with a lazy smirk, boredly surveying the Winter Court ice waste around us as the reindeer-pulled sleigh whisked over the snow. I agree, he thought back, but it’s not for very long.

The small tiara I’d chosen to accompany my gown was like I’d wrapped an icicle around my scalp. The metal of it practically frozen to my skin.

The sleigh turned a corner.

“By the Cauldron,” I breathed.

The palace was made of ice. It towered into the sky with sharp jags and icicle towers, hexagonal walls filtering sunlight from behind. White-furred bears patrolled the battlements alongside the soldiers. All of whom sported white hair and pale blue uniforms. Snow was falling, but there was only a scattering of clouds. The High Lord’s magic, then, probably.

It might be a good idea to close your jaw, Rhys advised, no sarcasm present. We have an image to maintain while we’re here.

Right, I thought.

The sleigh driver pulled us up to a half-circle drive of packed snow. At the apex of the half-circle were two massive doors to the palace, wide open to the deep blue gloom of indoors. After slowing to a stop, we gave the driver a curt but polite thank-you and swept out of the sleigh. I caught Rhys flicking a finger before offering me his arm. What magic did you just do? I thought at him.

Tipping the driver. It’s polite but I definitely don’t want to be seen doing it. Would ruin the monster reputation I’ve spent centuries building. An image accompanied his reply—of a cheeky wink. I sent him back nothing but laughter.

An attendant—a young “lesser” faerie female with skin the color, texture, and reflectiveness of powdered snow—guided us inside. It was a lot warmer within the ice-crafted walls than I would have expected. I almost wanted to remove my cloak. The attendant looked absolutely terrified of us. Rhys and I barely acknowledged she was there, both keeping impassive expressions on our faces. I wished I could reassure her that everything was alright—that we were friendly—but I knew why I couldn’t.

She led us up what technically counted as a spiral staircase—despite it being hexagonal and not perfectly circular—to a suite of rooms. “His Lordship hopes you will be comfortable here,” the attendant said.

“Thank you.” A curt dismissal from Rhys. She scampered away.

Once she was gone and the doors closed, both of us relaxed. “I hate acting like that,” I muttered.

“Me too. But every High Lord puts on a face,” Rhys said. “You remember Helion. He seems terribly prickly and temperamental in public but is quite amusing and kind in private.” Rhys sat on a white sofa embroidered with sky blue winter flora and a few snowflakes.

“I do remember Helion. I also remember wishing you’d given me a warning about it. I was ready to punch him for being so rude to you.”

Rhys winked at me. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Well, love, there’s nothing to do but wait until the reception. We did arrive a little early.”

“Four hours is ‘a little’?” I joked.

All I got was a shrug. “I like making statements,” he replied casually. “I arrive when I wish and I don’t care about their scheduling. Usually I would prefer to show up late to make it seem like I really don’t care about whatever it is they’ve had the courage to invite me to, but sometimes it’s more fun to arrive much earlier than planned and make that everyone else’s problem.”

I laughed. “You do a good job of making your act seamless.”

“Centuries of practice, darling.” He lounged on the sofa but patted the seat next to him. I sat beside him. It was almost warm enough inside to remove my cloak, but not quite. Rhys’ body heat was helping make up the difference. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself.” Black jacket, immaculately embroidered in silver and gold, deep midnight blue shirt underneath buttoned all the way up to hide his tattoos, black slacks with a single ring of silver thread around the ankles. It had taken me an hour to convince him to wear a blue shirt instead of black. But it really brought out his eyes. Dimmed the blazing, powerful violet just enough to reveal that his irises were actually blue.

“I’m always stunning,” he replied.

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Arrogant,” I accused.

He kissed me. “You like it though.”

I rolled my eyes.

—

The ballroom was enormous. Pillars of glimmering ice reflected faelight bobbing around the ceiling. It was lightly snowing inside. Winter Court High Fae and faeries milled around, talking, eating, drinking. A line extended away from the bride and groom. Well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Rhysand wasn’t going to bother waiting in the line. I knew that. We’d approach from behind or from the other side, offer our regards, and then leave.

But not immediately.

The ballroom was warm enough that I passed my cloak to a waiting attendant. My gown was so dark violet it was almost black. A bell-shaped skirt dotted with beads in the shape of stars swished over the ice floor, lightly dusted with snow. The gown’s sleeves barely capped my shoulders, but the long black satin gloves that ended two inches from the bottom of the sleeves helped keep my arms warm. The bandeau tiara had three dark amethysts glinting among the white diamonds.

The finery wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I knew the effect it had on others.

Rhys and I wandered the ballroom, mingling only occasionally—and only if the other party dared approach us first.

Including High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court and his charming bride-to-be, Feyre Cursebreaker. Both of them looking happy and healthy and more in love than ever.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Rhys,” Tamlin said begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to me. I didn’t have to be daemati like Rhys to know what he was thinking. The whispers of the other faeries milling about followed me the moment we entered the room, and Tamlin was likely in agreement.

Freak. Unnatural. Witch. Lightning was not meant to be harnessed by magic like that. She doesn’t belong in any court.

I thought about snapping something at Tamlin, but Rhys cut in smoothly, “We could hardly miss an important function such as this, Tamlin.” He inclined his head at the female on Tamlin’s arm. “A pleasure to see you again, Feyre.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she replied dryly.

Rhys tsked, but didn’t say anything to her. “Enjoy the party,” he said to both of them instead before pulling me away. I waved at Feyre, letting an apology touch my expression. Her glare softened a moment and she lifted her fingers as though to wave back, but thought better of it.

I turned away. She’d saved Tamlin and freed the other High Lords and their courts from Amarantha. She gave Rhys back to me—and I couldn’t even give her the thanks she deserved. Electricity crackled in my veins. Rhys jolted slightly as I shocked him. No one else would have noticed.

Easy, he thought at me. What’s wrong?

I let him into an antechamber in my shields, to see what I thought and felt without having to explain. Thoughtful silence followed. We’ll find a way to let you thank her. For us both to thank her. She gave me back to you, too.

Thank you, I thought at him.

Of course. I felt a loving caress against my shields. I sent one in return.

Rhys took me through the crowd, occasionally offering greetings to the High Fae and faeries who didn’t cower as we passed. Rhys’s damper on his power had been loosened. Not released completely, but relaxed—allowing tendrils of darkness to drift from him like shafts of steam. It was an intimidation tactic. He did it a lot.

“Kallias. Viviane,” Rhys said as we approached the bride and groom. Both looked resplendent. Viviane in her simple but no doubt expensive gown that glittered like powdered snow under the moonlight. They turned to us. “Morrigan sends her regards and regrets that she couldn’t make it.” Those words were directed at Viviane. She smiled at the both of us. More warmly at me than at Rhys.

“Congratulations to you both,” I said with a genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy with one another.”

Kallias gave me a cold stare. Wondering where my calculating, ruthless High Lady mask was, no doubt. But I did want them to know that I was happy for them. That I was happy they’d found one another after Amarantha.

“Thank you,” Viviane said before Kallias could reply. She reached out and took my hand in both of hers. “And thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rhys said smoothly, smirking slightly.

“We left our gift on the table with the others,” I said softly to Viviane.

She gave me a warm grin. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”

I returned the grin and Rhys bade a curt goodbye to Kallias before we retreated back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” I asked.

“With you? Always.” He smiled at me. For a moment I forgot we were in another court. All I could think of was him. All I could see was those blazing eyes—that lazy smile. His warmth against me.

I didn’t realize I must have been showing that on my face because he leaned down and kissed me. “The rest of tonight is going to be so much fun,” he whispered suggestively, giving me that playful smirk he always had when he knew we were both going to get what we wanted from each other before the night was over.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the Winter Court chill travelled down my spine. Excitement. “Oh, I think it will be,” I replied.

#Winter Court Wedding #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

[the-soupiest-artist]

Legend of Zelda: Lost and Found

Chapter 2: Choosing to Follow the Call

This series of fics contains spoilers for SOH! You have been warned!

Also thank you to all who have been supporting me through this endeavor!! This wonderful story wouldn’t have happened without the beautiful minds of @s-kinnaly and @ridersoftheapocalypse

~~~~~~~~

A quiet hum filled the courtyard of the palace, as the citizens of the grand capital started to fill the courtyard, and as the people gathered the quiet hum, turned into quiet singing. What was at first a small gathering turned into a choir of Healer and Hylian voices. All singing, waiting to see their chosen leader.

 The singing never ceased even in the grand hall of the palace. The walls lined with the elders of each district, each one singing, waiting for the leader and her family to enter.  As the side curtains to the main hall parted, the singing seemed to crescendo as the three daughters of Orlaithe entered. All dressed in white and gold but each had their own accented color.

 The eldest daughter present, Lilija. Dressed with accents of a cool purple. Her jewelry and flower details shimmering with an almost iridescent shimmer and complimented her brown curls. The youngest, Camelia, accented in a mixture of bright fuchsia and soft pink, her reddish hair dotted with her patron flower, Camelia. Finally, the Leader entered. The middle child and 3rd child of Orlaithe. Amaryllis, Her black ringlets under control and pulled up into her gold crown. Her dark indigo waste scarves flowing down to the floor, much like the statue of Din. 

 The elders bowed, their singing didn’t falter, the stone-faced leader outstretching her arms towards the crowded hall. The oldest of the elders, Sister Zillah, stepping forward. The other elders following, they all met in the back of the hall, Sister Zillah ahead of them, and in her aged freckled hands sat Akane’s Token. The necklace was gold, as was the color of the healers and of the divine goddesses who breathed them into existence. A beautiful green gem, set in the center of the gold metal of Akane’s Token, glinted in the light streaming through the curtains of the hall. Amaryllis stepped down from the marble platform she was standing on, meeting Zillah in the center of the hall. The Sister smiled and before her frail hands dropped the token into The Leader’s hands, she leaned in a whispered, “es deveenes weorkin behere fores netortum tore cheorsere hera.”  

The goddesses would be fools not to choose her

As the gentle touch of cold metal fell into Amaryllis’s palms, the leader nodded. Her eyes still cold and serious, as Amaryllis turned around and went back to the platform, the line of elders parted, yet they did not hug the walls as closely as before, instead, they lined the aisle. 

The double doors to the great hall opened, three young girls, entered. Each represented the golden goddesses, all of them dressed with their patron colors. As they walked down the aisle, each girl tossed a handful of colorful petals on the aisle. The girl representing Din, throwing petals of red. Nayru, petals of deep blue, and the girl adoring the green of Farore sprinkled her green leaves and flower petals. The young girls bowed towards the leaders as they came to the end of the great hall, the group giggling quietly to themselves and lining up against the wall. One of the elders, Oryn, shaking his head with a smile as he continued singing with his brethren, knowing the girl dressed in blue was his daughter and probably started the giggling. 

Entering last, was the chosen girl. The one whose entrance everyone anticipated. Stepping into the dim hall, Mara. Dressed beautifully in the garments Camelia designed and crafted for her. 

Her palms sweaty, and nervous. The outside much more graceful than the inside, Mara felt like she was going to puke. She wanted to run by GODS RUNNING AWAY SOUNDED SO MUCH MORE FUN THAN THIS

ANYTHING BUT THIS

But it was her duty….what would her mother say?? She was doing this for her, and her family. As she continued to walk down the aisle Mara couldn’t help but miss her parents.

The warm smile of her mother and the strong hugs and words of affirmation she used to give. Her father’s kind but determined voice telling her that she was the greatest thing since sliced bread. She missed them….she wished they were here, encouraging her..telling her that everything would be just fine.

She thought all these things to herself, then stopping at the platform her aunts looking down at her with so much pride and hope. Mara knelt as Leader Amaryllis started whispering the sacred prayer, Akane’s token held high above her head as the words of blessing in their native tongue were whispered on her lips. 

Amaryllis finally unhooking the clasp and attaching it around Mara’s neck her aunt tilted her chin up by her fingers with a proud smile. “I’m so very proud of you,” Amaryllis whispered.

Amaryllis was never one for feelings of any kind. So when Mara heard those words and saw her smile, she knew her Aunt was telling the absolute truth. Mara did well.

In fact, she did very well!!

That approving gaze and smile was all she needed to make her believe, for that moment, that she was ready for this weight that seemed to settle on her as soon as the little necklace hung around her neck. 

As Mara rose from her kneeling, Amaryllis composed herself as if that split moment of actual emotion was never there presenting her nice before the eyes of their goddesses and people. “GREAT COUNCIL OF OUR PEACEFUL NATION!” Leader Amarylis’s commanding voice boomed, “I PRESENT TO YOU OUR CHOSEN LEADER! MAY THE GODDESSES LIGHT HER PATH WITH COURAGE, WISDOM, AND POWER!”

Amaryllis raised her arms to her court as Mara stood before the council with her head lifted high, although her eyes flickered with anxiety. 

“AND WHEN HER TIME COMES MAY THE GODDESSES CHOOSE HER TO CARRY OUR PEOPLE INTO A BRIGHTER FUTURE!” The council cheered in response, “WE ACCEPT HER SHOULD THE GODDESSES CHOOSE HER!! LONG MAY SHE REIGN!” ~~~ The party and celebration went on without a hitch! Camelia got very drunk and ended up staying the night at some unknowing suitor’s home, which was not surprising to any of the family.

Amaryllis went to bed as soon as making the required appearance was met. She wasn’t a fan of parties, or rather any fun for that matter. 

Lilija made sure everything went according to plan after Amarylis went to bed, she even straightened out the beginnings of a drunken fight between a Hylian and a Healer. Lilija of course escorted the Healer to the infirmary while she healed the Hylian instantaneously with her magic. Although it seemed all the authority had excused themselves to other matters the celebrating did not stop, even the guard was off duty and spent their time drinking laughing, and singing harvesting songs with tankards in hand. The same songs their ancestors, and even the people still sang today while harvesting their herbs from the hanging farmland built into the side of the mountainous valley the Healer Capital was birthed in. 

As Mara laid in her bed the echoes of joyful singing rang in her head as she drifted off to sleep with a smile. Although she was forced to socialize without Link by her side, she still had a good time. Which she spent in the courtyard of the palace, watching the dancers and various magical shows of the many other talented citizens of the city.

Her head full of good dreams and the Healer CIty went to sleep for the night, all windows dark and the mood shining at its full beauty, there was an unsettling air that started to settle, even Din’s fiery light flickered and went out as the winds of change kicked up and swept through the palace or more specifically in the room of their newly Chosen. The call

There it was again…

Like a beautiful call to war, or an eery temptation the sound echoed and interrupted the slumber Mara had just started to drift into. She pushed the noise away, turning over in her blankets trying to fall back asleep. Again the voice called out to her, a bit louder. Mara groaned and snuggled her head beneath her pillow, hoping that would stop the intrusion into her pleasant dream. 

But the determination of this call penetrated all logic and shattered the state of unconsciousness that Mara really wanted to fall into. With a frustrated sigh, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking sleepily around the room. “I can hear you,” Mara mumbled. “I don’t want any trouble I just want to sleep.” 

Looking around the room, seeing as it was still empty, and yet the curtains that swayed with the eerie wind, the wind beckoning her to leave her room and into the hall. 

“Whoever you are…” 

Giving in to the voice’s alluring demand she slid off her bed, her white nightgown joining the curtains in their trembling dance. Mara peered into the hallway, it was empty, dark, and quiet. A little too quiet for Mara’s liking.

The call tempted her father into the hall, she followed the call that seemed to resonate and shake her soul pulled her body outside of the palace. Not in the courtyard, but in one of the side entrances. It was like a secret meeting as if whoever was calling her wanted to lure Mara in private. Like an assassin, or thief in the night. Mara’s breath hitched out of a new fear from her anxiety’s newly formed thoughts. Even still she followed. “What do you want? Is this a trap?” As if whatever this call was could sense her unease, a trail of Healer Flowers, her people’s symbol, appeared and lead her exactly in the direction in which the alluring call in Mara’s heart wanted to go. Mara’s eyes grew wide as her mind tried to make sense of what it was seeing, and what magic was being displayed. “Honorable Goddesses…” she exclaimed quietly, “Hylia is this your doing?” She touched the token that hung around her neck, there was no answer, she followed farther into the unknown. The voice guided her farther up the mountain and to The Great Thorn wall. The wall that secluded their city from whatever the outside world held. There the path that was once lit faded behind Mara and trapped her in a ring of Healer Flowers. Mara does a quick turn to determine the fact that she was indeed in the center of these flowers.

The voice echoed its trill

Mara waited silently for something else to happen. The notes the voice sang echoed again, begging her to sing. Without thinking for one second she sang the melody the calling had been repeating to her. The call harmonized with her as Mara sang with it. As she sang the golden flowers, Mara noticed, they were releasing their pollen, at first in a gentle sprinkle, and then in a thicker sheet as Mara felt herself fill with magic. Is this supposed to happen after The Choosing??

Are the Goddesses asking her to lead NOW??!!

OF ALL TIMES NOW?? Before her mind could swell with more anxiety Mara was given several obscure visions. She seemed to run on another force as she was frightened but the song still carried out through her lungs without any interruption. War

A land scorched, hurt, and trampled by battle, she could feel the very earth in the vision weep in sorrow and pain. 

A towering king with fiery hair and yellow eyes and his queen, wise and sure. She looked an awful lot like some of the paintings her people displayed in their palace. Several Other figures she didn’t recognize but all of them stood in front of the king and queen. 

The Three Goddesses. Din Nayru

And Farrore, split in half with a single swipe of a blade.

 Famine

And…

And Spring, with petals of pink, new life, and a promise for a bountiful harvest. That image stayed strong in Mara’s head as she sang, the power that seemed to course through her veins grew in its potency and Mara had no way to channel it, it was too much. She was a weak Healer as it was and this divine power, if she couldn’t get it out of her system fast, it could tear her apart from the inside out. As she belted a final note, all of that power was released. Mara forcing her hands down and a forceful golden flash scattered across the space. The divine power leaving her and Mara felt normal once more. The Healer Flowers disappeared as if they were never there, to begin with. Mara stood there, panting. She...she wasn’t dead, she even pinched herself to prove it. Mara lifted her head from staring at the ground, her jaw-dropping and her blue eyes glowing with excitement as she saw what laid before her. The Great Thorn Wall had been compromised.

As there, caused by Mara’s blast of power, stood a small gash in the wall. It was enough for a horse and rider to pass through. Whatever mysterious call she followed and whatever divine power it gave her in that moment, it gave her and Link their guaranteed safe passage to the kingdoms beyond the Healer Capital. If there even were Kingdoms anymore in the land beyond.

#spoilers for soh #the soupiest fiction #soup makes fics #soh #the legend of zelda: lost and found #legend of zelda fanfiction #LOZ #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fandom #lost and found

[twinkleallnight]

Marshmallow

(Part-12) Hope

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC, Drake x Hana

For previous chapters: catch up here

Prompt 1: This fic is my submission for this week’s #WackyDrabbles. The prompt is appears in bold.

Prompt 2: This is a submission for choicesweeklychallenge. The prompt appears in bold.

Word count : 1916

Tags: @ao719 @aloneautumn @bebepac @charlotteg234 @choicesficwriterscreations @choiceskatie @cordonia-gothqueen @cordonianroyalty @sfb123 @drakewalker04 @gardeningourmet @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @kat-tia801 @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @idontknowwhysblog @islandcrow @jovialyouthmusic @jaxsmutsuo @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @mrswalkers-blog @mom2000aggie @no-one-u-know @ntoraplayschoices @princessleac1 @ritachacha @speedyoperarascalparty @shanzay44 @texaskitten30 @queenrileyrose @sanchita012 @theroyalheirshadowhunter @wackydrabbles @xpandabeardontcarex @yourmajesty09

I get behind the wheels while Max is yelling something from his SUV. My phone buzzes right at the same moment. I roll down the glass to listen to him, and receive the phone call with my other hand.

“Hello!” says the sharp voice over phone.

“Livy?”

“Happy birthday…” her sound is drowned against the shout out from Max, “Happy birthday grumpy guy!” Hana and Riley laugh out loudly.

I give him a glare and roll the glass up and focus back on the call.

“Umm… thank you.”

“I see you are busy with someone.” She says with a sarcastic tone. “Since when did you start partying? Seems you are a changed man.”

“Look who's talking!” I sneer back.

“What do you mean?”

“At least I don't keep secrets.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Anyways, I think I should leave you with your commoner friends to enjoy. Bye.”

And just like that she drops the call.

“What the hell!” I shout at my phone.

Why did she call? To wish me or to irritate me? Why does she spoil everything! Damn! I was so happy, for once, but she had to call up and mess it all. I rev up the engine and hit the road with a surge of anger. I drive down to the Applewood manor and decide to call it a day.

-----------

Morning comes with a fresh start. The court and nobles are all busy celebrating the Apple blossom festival with their king and queen while I keep myself occupied by the stables. I check the horses selected for next day’s event -the foxhunt, where a mountain trail is to be covered on horse’s back. I know as soon as they conclude the festival in orchards, the excited nobles will turn to stables to tend to their rides for tomorrow. I want to make myself scarce before that.

I am about to leave when Riley visits the stables with Bertrand. She is the first one to come, as she doesn’t have a horse of her own. Liam follows them.

After exchanging pleasantries, we get to business of choosing her ride.

“I love horse riding but I have no idea how to choose the horse.” Riley says perturbed.

Liam takes the opportunity before Bertrand can reply. “Why don’t you let me do it instead?”

“That will be great!” Riley claps excitedly.

They both start looking at the unclaimed horses, and Bertrand tags along. I observe the couple keenly. They are so relaxed in each other’s company. Liam forgets all his worries around her, and Riley is like a live wire in his presence, full of energy and enthusiasm. I love to see them together. I wish…!

They turn around and Riley jumps up. “Hey Walker, I am not just borrowing, I am buying a horse.!”

“Really?” I look at Bertrand wide eyed.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Bertrand says in an annoyed tone, looking between Liam and Riley.

“ Congratulations!” I try to distract Bertrand.

I help Riley by checking Belle, the horse she selected. While Bertrand starts discussing official things with Liam, Riley is enraptured in narrating the events that she experienced at the festival. “You should have been there. We had such a good time. I was in Olivia’s team.”

I am busy inspecting Belle but I stiffen on mention of Livy’s name. I curse myself for the reaction. I need to get over the differences between us. I promise myself to act better next time.

Riley continues, “ We made an apple pie and you won’t believe our team won. I think our winning streak was Hana’s specially crafted roses on the crust. I tell you, that girl has so much talent!” I can see Riley’s eyes trying to find some reaction from me but I simply nod in agreement.

I pat Belle and give my approval to Riley.. “Here, all good to go!” They wrap up the deal, and we all walk out.

There are other nobles who pay visit. The stable boys help them out. There is nothing major, where my services are required. So, I take a stroll around the lush gardens of the manor. I have my plans to sit near the lake, my favourite hideout since childhood. But when I walk down to the edge of the gardens, my eyes fall on the figure who has seized my special place already.

She is lost in her thoughts, her eyes staring far away into the horizon, where the sky is pink and the golden ball of sun is about to drown itself into the unknown lands. The ebbs in the water are shining with the ochre reflections. Her calm form is adding into the serenity of the landscape. I stand there absorbing the beauty of nature for some time before I walk towards her, as much discreetly as I can.

“Hana!” I call out softly. I don’t want to disturb the tranquillity surrounding her.

She turns to look at me. Our eyes meet and she beams, “Marshmallow!” She stifles a laugh. Her teasing brings a smile on my face.

I rub the back of my neck, beaming at her. She moves making space next to her and pats her hand guiding me to sit beside her. We both sit there quietly, listening to each other’s breath, till she leaves a sigh, and shakes her head, as if disagreeing with her own thoughts.

“What is it Hana?” I ask with concern.

“I don’t know what to do. Since my childhood, I have been trained to be part of the court. Each class, each lesson was meant to place me at a higher pedestal in front of the nobles. This continuous struggle to achieve something, fulfilling their expectations” she purses her lips, “it’s tiring. I want to live a carefree life, where I live for myself. Where it is okay to make mistakes. Where I can build up a small house and fill it up with my desires to make it a home.”

“That’s a beautiful wish. What is it that’s stopping you?”

“My parents want to see me married to some noble.” She lowers her eyelashes avoiding eye contact with me. “I know they anticipate of something I can’t live up to.”

“It’s your life Hana, your parents should not be the ones making decisions for you.”

She gets up, frustrated, and takes few steps towards the waters. “That’s the whole problem.” She says. “The culture from where I come is very different. Its closed environment with families dominated by parents. It’s hard for me to explain that even if they pressurize me to do things, I still love them. I don’t want to hurt them. I want them to understand my choices.”

I walk up to her, and clasp her shoulders to turn her to me. Her usually peaceful eyes seem to be deep into some storm, piercing into mine, searching for the shores. Yet, it doesn’t falter my mind, instead it seems to be encouraging me to make stronger resolutions. “Take baby steps. Break your desires into tiny goals and try achieving one at a time.”

Her mind is still out on a wild chase as she rests her soft little palms on me. Her touch acts like a pacifier for my pacing heart. Her lips quiver to pour out the questions her eyes have stored. “How will I answer them? What will I say if they ask?”

“We will cross the bridge when we reach there.” I reply. I see the storm in her eyes calming down as the soothing honey colour dances in them again. She closes the distance between us. Her head rests on my chest and our arms embrace each other.

My eyes take in the view at the horizon. The pink of the sky has changed to purple. The waters are dark and the twilight sparkles over the lake. The storm that left her eyes suddenly is hitting the waves of my mind. 'We will cross the bridge… I said to her. Why did I promise myself into it? What am I doing? I am letting myself fall into valley of flowers, except that these flowers are going to be roses, roses with thorns. I don’t know how many wounds they will create before the eternal bliss.

“Thank you for being there for me.” Her mellow tone creates another smooth wave, overpowering my self-destructive thoughts. ‘We WILL cross the bridge…' a voice inside me resonates.

We start walking back to the manor. “Ready for tomorrow’s hunt?” I ask her.

“Yes. It’s going to be fun. I can practice my dressage.”

“You have a training in horse-riding?” I stop in my tracks and turn to her, wide eyed.

“Yes. Why are you so shocked?” She says in a casual manner.

“You never cease to amaze me.” I shake my head and start walking again. “It’s definitely going to be fun tomorrow.”

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

We start early morning with the trail. There is a long line of nobles trotting on their horses across the countryside. Liam is up ahead with the king, while I am at the tail end of the group with Max. We are talking about the turn of events since our new york trip just before the social season.

“What made you take that instant decision of sponsoring Riley for the social season?” I ask Max.

“Have you ever seen Liam so happy? Have you observed the way he looks at her?”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same the other day.”

“It was this look, that made me take the decision.” He confirms as our eyes gaze at Riley riding beside Hana at a distance ahead of us.

I have another question in my mind, and ask,“What is wrong with Bertrand though?” I remember his annoyance at the stable a day ago. “He is so serious nowadays.”

“House Beaumont is juggling a bit with some financial matters and since father left, Bertrand has taken it up as his sole responsibility to keep up the name.” Max's expressions brighten up, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing much. Lord Maxwell is here for the rescue.” He strikes a knight pose riding his horse.

We laugh it out. Max makes sure to keep everything cool and under control, always. A quality, I admire.

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

“You are not the one to lose. What’s the secret?”

We have covered mountain trail, and reached the tiny village. Hana did not fail to impress with her horseback skills. But when the king announced the horseback race at the last leg for the suitors, Hana finished second.

Throughout the trail she has been either with Riley or Penelope or Kiara, and now finally I get a chance to talk to her. That is when I ask her.

“You noticed.” She smiles. “I would be sitting with the prince for the dinner had I won.”

“So?”

“So, who would have given our poor little marshmallow a company?” she pouts her lips.

I know I am grinning, ear to ear, with that comment. “Thank you Lady Hana for giving me the honour!”

We sit down for the feast. My friend’s all around me. Riley and Liam making me believe that there will be that one person in your life who will make a difference. Max, bringing the best out of worst and Hana, my new person, making me realise that not all is lost when there is still one thing that keeps us going – hope.

#pixelberry #playchoices #the royal romance #drake walker #liam x riley #trr #trr fandom #twinkleallnight #hana lee #drake x hana

[penny-beee]

Lady Wendy

REWRITE (1/?)

Summary. Lady Wendy is an Eternal Elemental and heart broken, Loki the God Mischief is very much alive after Thanos.

Description. LokixReader(Provided Name)

Word Count. 2300

AN. I have a board for a story inspo if you want me to post it (:

Shouts from the castle help shattered and tore at my heart as they ran after me - the skirt of my dress held between my arms as I ran for my life. The people I had grown up with, the kind people that raised me and took care of me now viewing me as a monster. A witch. The one time I slip up of course being in front of the entire royal court.

I had held my power in for so long - only my mother and sister knowing of my impurities. We were sitting in the garden, watching the men play croquette (as we did every Saturday) together. Mother was sitting besides me, my head resting gently on her lap as she fondled with pieces of my hair. The relaxation soothed me - broke down the walls I had built for so long. I hadn’t realized I was making little tornados with my pointer fingers. Mother’s gaze being elsewhere but Queen Elizabeth’s being very present, the look of horror unknown until she stood from her seat.

“Witch.” The Queens voice just higher than a shout - pure hatred poured from the corner of her mouth, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched up high.

Instantly, I jumped from my mother’s lap. The word I dreaded to be called - shook me from my peaceful afternoon. I looked at my surroundings- the men had started to close in on me. One last gaze over to my mother - she mouthed the word ‘run’ silently. With a quick flick of my hands - I sent the men flying backwards to give me a head start. Running from a dozen men in a 40 pound dress was not going to be successful but I would die trying.

I trudged through the lawn - the sacred forest just a few feet ahead. One way or another I would make it through this trial. I peered over my shoulder one last time as I stopped at the edge of the forest. The crowd of angry people halting as well - I could hear the last piece of my heart shatter as they taunted me. A single salty tear crawled through my parted lips and into my dry mouth.

I turned on my heel and entered the abyss of mystery. No one had ever made it out of the forest alive - many men would go in looking for treasures beyond riches and never be seen again. Women would tell stories that the men disappeared simply to get out of their marriages. Men spoke stories of a ghost that lingered over it as if it was possessed. I however believed the forest could breathe. From my room in the castle - you could see the forest. The trees shifted in the breeze - when I would go near the tree line I could hear the groaning of the earth stretching with every breath. Nature is more than dirt and rock - its the way of life - it is life. The creator of all. In conclusion - the forest never scared me, only peaked my curiosity.

The wooden beasts surrounding the forest were dark - blackened. Grass dead and crisp under my steps - a warning sign for intruders to ‘beware’. A scent of green apple and pine carried through the air - kissing the inside of my freckled nose. A feeling of warmth caressed the places of bare skin on my figure. A strange feeling for a feared and uncharted place. The feeling was familiar though - father was similar. A knight - he towered over everyone and was a forced to be reckoned with. Father was a cold man - never showing emotion on his scared up face unless drunk off mead. I never understood how mother could do it for all those years.

A loud crunch of a twig tore me from my thoughts - my head whipped towards the location of the sound. Nothing in sight but trees. A soft airy giggle in the form of a breeze caught my eyes. Little pieces of leaf floated through it. Another wind bender? I wiped the few tears from my heated cheeks and stepped deeper into the forest - following the sweet sound. My dress ripped and shredded from the thorns - sleeves falling apart and hair going back to its natural wavy form. My feet bruised in the uncomfortable pointy shoes I had been expected to wear.

Just as the giggling stopped - a curtain of ivy shielded my vision in front of me. Curiosity took over my body, a soft grin of hope grew on my face as I pulled the ivy to the side. Bewildered at the beauty - I took every inch of the sight before me in.

The sun shown brightly - casting a slight yellow haze on the bright green and huge pine trees. Birds flew so carelessly up above my head. Wild flowers from Cornflower to Chicory adorned the ground - the grass now healthy and perfectly kept. A single white tailed Eagle in a tree across the field. The bird watched my every move, his eyes bore into my soul. I slipped the pointy shoes off my roughed up feet and shed the first layer of my dress off. The weight lightening quickly and sending a happy shiver up my spine. I stepped out into the light - the wind coming back to guide my attention to the eagle. He fluttered down - shifting into a human form effortlessly. Something I’d only heard in stories - a prince many years ago casted out just as I had been today for being a shape shifter. That was him, Prince Carter. My mouth fell open - leaving room for a little fly to crawl in if it felt fit. The Prince was as described in all the stories; pale blonde hair, almost white, pale skin with red freckles, tall and lengthy. I stood frozen for a moment before his hand on my shoulder awoke me.

“Lady Wendy, I’ve been waiting for you.” He confessed smoothly - his voice of honey in a warm black tea.

“For me? Why is that?” My voice cracked at the odd statement.

“My dear girl, you’re the protector of these woods - the winds - the animals. You’re our voice.”

“You’re our voice.” Rang in my ears for the millionth time today. Over the course of these 200 something years - I never forgot what Carter had said. I protected these woods - any soul for seen to have ill-will on my beloved home was rid of before they could step foot inside. I had grown - my powers more than a gust of wind or a tornado in my palms - I connected with the animals and plants. The persuasion of my tongue helped guide the plants in times of battle. The time of war, destruction and chaos was past us now. My home hadn’t been touched in over two decades - something I was proud of.

My hair grew out to my bum, the waves of chocolate brown would fall over my shoulders every now and again when I’d crouch down. A wooden crown adorned my head every so often - maybe a flower crown of daisies as well. I grew to love armored dresses and long simple gowns - my all time favorite being my emerald green cape and maroon red leather suit I mended ages ago. My face never fell with age - hair never grew grey - a few would come in every 15 years but nothing crazy. My hands stayed soft, a quality I never found imperfections in.

Carter had led me to a cottage one day - I had grown tired of sleeping under a willow tree. A woman with almost the most purest of intentions was allowed in the woods and had stayed in a stone lined cottage just a little deeper into the trees. I trudged barefoot through the wilted leaves and freshly watered grass. The cottage was buried under some trees, big flower bushes hiding most of the sides of it. A cozy and delicate home - something very different from what I had grown up in.

I couldn’t help but feel a tug at my heart strings, excitement filled my body. It was so incredibly adorable and it was all mine. I looked up at Carter - his almost black eyes staring back down at me. He was proud, the goofy grin gave it all away.

I grinned softly at the wholesome memory of my old friend. Oh how I miss that crazy bird. I sighed as I stood up to make my way inside - the sun was to set soon. I made my way to my little kitchen - a few dishes stacked up in my ancient sink. A task as simple as dishes - kept me level headed and humble.

Although, Carter explained many times my purpose and who I was. I never thought of myself as a “God” or Deity. I had met other benders throughout the years - some stuck in eternity with me and some down the path to die a humanly death. One of closest friends Aura was of the water element - she could feel every emotion of every wave - the heart and soul of every animal. Aura is an Eternal Elemental as I am. Cursed to protect our element(s) until another comes around to fill our shoes. The thought of death was something light to me - I had seen it so often in my animals and plants. It was peaceful, no pain came after just silence.

I sighed in content as I started washing the few dishes - times like this I wished for someone to come keep me company. I loved my animals and the earth around me but the lack of human connection killed my morale. I finished the little chore and sauntered over to my fluffy bed - over the years I realized if I didn’t have a man in my life a handful of pillows was going to come in handy. I chuckled at the thought of any man sharing my sleeping chambers - I shook the thought away and ruffled my hair up. Slipping out of my leathers and into a cotton sleeping gown. My limbs dove under the sheets - letting the warmth take over. I closed my hazel green eyes to only be consumed by rest.

I awoke the next morning just as the sun rose - my eyes fluttered open, my nose sniffing the at the familiar scent of morning dew. A personal favorite. Today felt good - my body was rested, my heart full of happiness and mind clear of any negativity. A day for dressing up. I squealed goofily as I made my way over to my closet of dresses. A newly mended gown sat in front of my pale face. That one it is. The beige gown kissed the floor and laid gently behind me - bronze metal embroidery outlined my bust and torso - creating a little corset. The sleeves were skin tight - little bronze cuffs keeping my wrists safe in a time of battle. I smiled at the beauty I felt but something was missing - my head felt too light. Cockily, I smirked at myself in the mirror. A crown. I grabbed my bronze and ruby crown - placing it perfectly upon my wavy locks.

Happily, I made my way out of my cottage and down to the meadow. A tall walking stick helped me trudge through the path. A few deer/doe laid in the grass peacefully - babies jumping around them. A few tweety birds flew besides my head - saying hello sweetly. A somber moment of pure joy - happiness from every creature I could feel the emotions of every animal and every plant - something I often casted away after the disappearances five years ago.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Nothing of my doing - I searched around the field to spot, scanning through every hint of darkness, nothing. The tree-line. A quick whistle escaped my peach lips as I summoned Clay my White Tailed Eagle to my side. I darted quickly over to the area of possible intrusion. There sat just a few feet away from the entrance, a black jet. I didn’t emerge, not yet. If they were a threat I couldn’t show my face just yet - I watched as three men stomped out of the back. A man of metal, a one eyed man and a man of mystery. My eyes furrowed as I watched them make their way towards me, my hand stiffened around my walking stick.

“Lady Wendy, we are here on good intentions. My name is Tony Stark, we met about five years ago when we came to recruit you.” The familiar voice boomed.

“You decided against me - do you remember that?” I sneered, the awkward memory of their director rejecting me because of my lack of motivation to help.

“Well we were hoping the motivation had changed after the disappearances.”

I stepped from behind the trees - my dress flowing behind my body. Clay perched himself on my shoulder and watched the scene unfold with me.

Amused - I stepped just in front of the three men. “What makes you think you can bring him back?” My poor Carter one of the vanished. My heart ached for him - he was kind and good. A man I could proudly call my brother.

“We think we found a way to get the stones together one last time.” The man I presumed to be Thor spoke up.

“And if this doesn’t work out?”

“Then we die.” The mysterious man stated - no feeling in his voice.

I sighed teetering over the weight of the two options, gazing over at Clay. Clay was only bird - I could feel like approval radiate from his feathers. Clay and Carter were my best friends - the two I could count on forever.

Finally, “You’re in charge.” I whispered to the bird before I brought Clay to my wrist and sent him off back into the woods.

“Alright, let’s get Carter back.”

#imagine #spotify #loki odinson #loki #loki x reader #loki odinson imagines #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston #avengers #avengers imagines

[dragonshoard]

Charlastor Fic: A few months into their courtship and Alastor is convinced that it’s all still a game. 

His heart had stopped beating years ago yet, somehow, looking at her made him feel something stir deep in his chest, a tiny ember lit aflame. At first, he had assumed that it was borne from amusement or perhaps even anger or annoyance; however, the unfamiliar feeling didn’t disappear. Instead, it festered inside of him, growing as the months passed.

One day, upon entering the building, he was hit by something. Well, two things to be specific. The first being the comparatively tiny slip of a girl he was courting (who was, in reality, rather tall and larger than life if she allowed herself to be). The second thing that hit him was not annoyance, as would have been his usual reaction to such an action, but what he tentatively recognized as fondness.

The... thing in his chest only seemed to grow larger the more he took in her smiling, excited demeanor, unable to help but wrap his arms around her tightly after dematerializing his cane.

“You’re finally here! I missed you!” The last part seemed almost unconscious and her smile faltered for a split second in a moment of hesitation before brightening the room once more with a small dash of hesitation. Despite the past few months they had been courting, she was still more than a little nervous around him (rightfully so). 

The only thing that kept her from stepping out of the embrace was his own arms, wrapped tightly around her, and the claws that dug themselves slightly into her coat.

Alastor’s own smile grew bigger and brighter without his permission in response to her reaction. The flame in his chest grew unnaturally at the slip of tongue and he was quick to encourage the greeting.

“I̸ ̸m̶i̵ssed you too. Every hour I’m away from you is an hour I spend dreaming of you, my sunsh̶i̴n̵e̸.̵” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his static affected voice, pairing naturally with his charm.  

“Ahh,” the blush on her face overtook the ghost white pallor of her skin. “I-I It hasn’t really been that long u h m, oh! I’ve finally got the list of improvements for the hotel ready for you to see!!”

And she was off like a rocket, taking advantage of his loosened grip while still grabbing his hand to pull him along. In the past, the action would have sparked an indignant anger at the audacity of anyone presuming they could touch him, much less move him.

These days, he looked on it as a sort of achievement of how far they’ve come. In the first month, Charlie had been extremely hesitant to even touch him, much less guide him or hold his hand. He found it particularly endearing and filed it away to tease her about it later when she was more comfortable with “them”.

Her previous hesitation came back full force when she seemed to realize that she was still holding onto his hand when she went to grab her paper.

Disappointment and annoyance nearly dimmed his smile when she took a small step away from him before he forced himself to smile wider. He neatly stepped back into her space, putting an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and leaning in under the guise of looking at the paper she had presented him.

Absently, Alastor skimmed the sheet of paper. The draft had some good talking points but was unorganized and had too many colors and drawings for Alastor to take seriously. Regardless, he gave a few comments, adding some points to consider, and gave suggestions for expansion on other topics. He relished in the fact that she often leaned back into him without realizing it when she was addressing him. 

When he felt like they had gotten to a decent ending point for the moment, he led the conversation to what he had originally come to discuss. 

“S̴p̵e̴aking of the futur̸e̶,̵” he paused to present a rose with flourish, lightly glowing green from the use of his magic, “h̸o̷w̵ ̷w̵ould you like to go out tonight. I found the most fabulous little restaurant in the east side of Pentagram city. It is absolutely to die̸ ̶f̴o̴r̷.!” He casually pushed the paper Charlie had shown him away and positioned them so that Charlie was inches away from planting herself directly into his chest.

“I... uh I had a great time last week!” She gave him a big smile that looked a bit too fake for him to believe. “But, I don’t think I’m ready for another restaurant after last time.”

Alastor cocked his head at that. “A̵h̴,̸ ̵m̸y apologizes. Was the food not to your lik̸i̶n̵g̶?̴” He made a mental note to visit the owner after he left the hotel.

His intentions must have shown on his face because Charlie was quick to respond.

“No! The food was great! There was just...” Charlie looked unsure, glancing down at the vibrant red rose with not a single spot of decay before looking back to his grinning face.

“T̷h̶e̴y̶ ̶h̸ave a band and it will be oh so fun my̶ ̶d̴e̵a̴r̷,̶” He teased, the arm around her shoulder squeezing slightly. 

Charlie blinked and visibly seemed to struggle with herself. Alastor took it upon himself to take her arm and press the rose into her hand, carefully avoiding the thorns (though he wondered how gorgeous blood red would look against her pale skin, he preferred it not be her blood).

“A̴ ̶r̵o̴se for a demon beaut̵y̷.̴” He raised the hand that was around her shoulder to cup her cheek. “I̴t̴ ̶p̶a̶l̷es in comparison to your charm but, then again, I would be looking for an eternity if I were to try and find a flower that compared to your stunning smi̷l̶e̵.̷”

Hearts practically flooded her eyes as they gazed into his own. A charmed smile melted into her features, taking over nearly her entire face. 

Pride and, to his chagrin, warmth overflowed within Alastor. It burned through him and he suddenly had the thought that, yes, he would do anything to have her keep smiling at him just like that.

Despite reason and how his heart had ceased to beat many decades ago, he found something of the like burning inside of him for this girl who was naive, yet had so much potential that she was practically brimming with it. The ember had turned into an inferno and he burned for this girl who had somehow taken a part of him that he didn’t know he had needed to guard.

He almost frowned at the stream of thoughts and shoved them out the figurative window. The demon wanted her the same way he wanted everything else: entirely. He would have her. All of her. It was as simple as that.

What did it matter if he lost a bit of himself if it just meant that he would get it back in the end? 

(Hint: he doesn’t get it back)

#origin #hazbin hotel #charlastor #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbinh #1920sAU

[poemsforpersephone]

The third and final book rec list for fans of The Last Sun!

The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen has really cool empathy powers which, although not the two way bond Brand and Rune share, does remind me of the emotion reading aspect in TLS. The m/m relationship in it is also super sweet. 

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzie Lee. This one I’m recommending because the protagonist is a snarky asshole just like Rune, and the writing style is so well done. It’s m/m and genuinely such a fun and quirky book. Also the cover art is gorgeous!

Silver in the wood by Emily Tesh. This is an LGBT novella where a wild man called Tobias lives in a place called “Greenhollow,” , where, and I quote, “Old secrets better left buried are dug up, and Tobias is forced to reckon with his troubled past—both the green magic of the woods, and the dark things that rest in its heart.” So im recommending this one simply because of the involvement of secrets and troubled pasts haha. 

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. The front cover of this one gives me The Hanged Man vibes like, all the way to the bone, which is initially what prompted me to rec it on this list. But also: “Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead bullshit.” Idk about the dirty magazines but the rest of it scREAMS Rune. and the main character is a lesbian!!! yay!! 

The Black Veins by Ashia Monet. “In a world where magic thrives in secret city corners, a group of magicians embark on a road trip—and it’s the "no-love-interest", found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” It’s like someone looked into my heart and picked out my deepest desire and then wrote it and gave it life. This book is super diverse and super awesome. 

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargrave is a f/f take on Dracula basically. I’m recommending it because the main character and her sister go through a traumatic event similar to the loss of the sun court, when men come and burn their home to the ground along with their people and they’re captured and taken as slaves. It’s about family, friendship and survival, and it’s beautiful. 

The Never Tilting World by Rin Chupeco. An LGBT book where climate change deniers are the villains? ... you have my atttention. 

Prosper’s Demon by K.J. Parker. This is about a morally questionable exorcist!  It’s a satirical, interesting take on the topic of possession with a kick ass cover. 

The Wishing Heart by J.C Welker. An LGBT fantasy novel where our protag, Rebel, finds a jinni’s vessel and is thus thrust into a whole new world of trying to keep said jinni from everyone else and find a way to free her! The world building is awesome and so are the characters.

Tarnished are the Stars by Rosiee Thor. “A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher's chest: an illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog -- donning the moniker Technician -- to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner's tyrannical laws.” i have the hardbook version of this and the cover??? is so?? beautiful.

The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum. TALKING OF PRETTY COVERS. “Ryann Bird dreams of traveling across the stars. But a career in space isn’t an option for a girl who lives in a trailer park on the wrong side of town. So Ryann becomes her circumstances and settles for acting out and skipping school to hang out with her delinquent friends.”

Predatory by Brooklyn Ray. WERELEOPARDS FRIENDS!!!! god damn wereleopards im?? so happy. m/m 

The Lost Coast by Amy Rose Capetta. FOUND FAMILY QUEER WITCHES. need i say more. 

Portraits of a Faerie Queen by Tay LaRoi. The fey run amok in this one! f/f with a gorgeous front cover.

Unbroken by Brooklyn Ray. step 1: rent haunted house. step 2: fall in love with witch-turned-demon who inhabits it. step 3: profit???

The High King’s Golden Tongue by Megan Derr. This one is lovely! Nice world building with an emphasis on languages and kingdoms, and a lovely m/m romance that builds from kind-of-enemies-but-not-really to lovers. the audiobook of this is great. 

Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch. SORRY YOUR BOOK IS SET WHERE? MY HOMELAND? MY COUNTRY MY COUNTY MY HEART? we never get any attention imma go cry in the corner. its a historical fantasy m/m romance in YORKSHIRE gosh im here for it. And let me tell you... this is one fantastic book. I really, really enjoyed it.

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner. fantasy, m/m, lotsa swords!

Of Fire and Stars by Audrey Coulthurst. f/f fantasy with a princess who has fire magic in a kingdom where magic is forbidden! 

Freedom’s Fate by Jennie Taylor. SPAAAAAAACE i love books in space.

Pegasi and Prefects by Eleanor Beresford. “Charley's final year at Fernleigh Manor is complicated by a runaway pegasus, unwanted Games Captainship, a dangerous new rival and, most of all, falling head over heels in love with another girl. What is a reluctant Senior Prefect to do?” catch me while i swoon.

The Necromancers Dance by SJ Himes. m/m vampire/necromancer romance, urban magic and fantasy, very fun and smooth read, a little bit insta love but not totally. 

The Star Host by F.T. Lukens. “Ren grew up listening to his mother tell stories about the Star Hosts – a mythical group of people possessed by the power of the stars.” a m/m fantasy book set to a sci fi fantasy background.

Empty Vessels by Nicholas Williams. “Lucas Mahler babysits clones all day, but he's trapped under the legacy of his body-builder father and his genius girlfriend. When Lucas tries to rise above, he's murdered. Waking up in the body of a clone, Lucas embarks on a mystery full of blood, old friends and lost loves.” idk the whole clone thing in this just always reminds me of lord tower making all the different fake versions of people he knows lmao. 

BOOKS NOT YET OUT

So, the thing is. 2020 is very close friends, and some awesome books are even closer. These below are books I’ve not read yet, since they’re not out and I am a poor ARCless girl, but they’re books you definitely want to keep an eye on.

Witches of Ash and Ruin by E. Latimer. Bisexual OCD protagonist who is a witch D: its everything i could want. 

Wild Sky by Zaya Feli. LGBT fantasy with dragons! It sounds so, so fun.

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust. “A captivating and utterly original fairy tale about a girl cursed to be poisonous to the touch, and who discovers what power might lie in such a curse...”

The Fascinators by Andrew Eliopulos. “The Raven Boys meets Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, about an openly gay high school senior in small-town Georgia.” m/m fantasy which looks super sweet.

Cemetery Boys by Auden Thomas. “Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him.” THIS SOUNDS SO COOL oh my god. Yes PLEASE. 

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey. “A sly, witchy dark comedy about four teens whose magic goes wildly awry.” Magic, darkness, comedy, what’s not to love for fans of the tarot sequence??

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune. I absolutely love T.J.  Klune’s writing so I can’t wait to get my hands on this. m/m superheros!! friends!!! get excited!! I think anyone who likes how witty K.D. is will enjoy this writing style. 

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune. YES ANOTHER ONE this looks so good too we are BLESSED. “A magical island. A dangerous task. A burning secret.”

Fragile Remedy by Maria Ingrande Mora. “Sixteen-year-old Nate is a GEM—Genetically Engineered Medi-tissue created by the scientists of Gathos City as a cure for the elite from the fatal lung rot ravaging the population. As a child, he was smuggled out of the laboratory where he was held captive and into the Withers—a quarantined, lawless region.” The idea of the Withers kind of reminds me of the westlands.

The Fell of Dark by Caleb Roehrig. UHM im always here for lgbt vampires in young adult fantasy fiction. The author says that “this book is gay and filled with monsters” which also fits the last sun so i figured it belongs on the list lmao. 

Ruinsong by Julia Ember. “In a world where magic is sung, a powerful mage named Cadence is forced to use her power to torture her country’s disgraced nobility at her ruthless queen’s bidding.”

#book recs #lgbt book recs #scionsofatlantis #hangedmanpromo

[logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit]

Briar Rose

PART ONE: 

Once upon a time there was a happy kingdom, it prospered and the people were happy. However, the queen and king were growing older and the queen was unable to produce children. The couple had gone to every witch they could find, but hadn’t been able to concoct a way for a child to be born. 

Finally, they had gone to their last chance, the Fae. The king had always tried to have a good relationship with the good neighbors, everyone knew what happened when you did not respect them.

In the late of night, as not to worry their subjects, the queen and king made their way toward the hill. In their hands they held rosewater, honey, and cakes for offering, as well as strings of pearls. 

The two walked through the deep forest for hours until they found the hill, a sentry keeping watch. Even a guard was as beautiful as an angel. 

“We come to request an audience with the rulers of the Seelie Court.” The queen stated, speaking for both her and her husband. “We bring gifts of honey and pearls.” 

The sentry said nothing but nodded to the human rulers, holding up a hand to ask them to stay put as the fae slipped into the hill. Even their footsteps made no noise. 

It was a few minutes before the guard came back, nodding once again before gesturing toward the open hill. Another one of the fair folk stood inside, hands clasped behind their back. “The Kings welcome you into our home. Please follow me.” they said curtly, not unkindly, just formal. They looked to be an important figure, wooden armor covered with moss and a stone circlet resting on their forehead. 

The queen took her husband’s hand and squeezed it, following the fae. “We appreciate the hospitality.” She nodded a goodbye to the sentry, choosing her words carefully as to not offend the kind fae.

The guide led the regents into a circular room, two thrones set atop a raised platform and sitting atop these thrones were two fae. They both radiated an aura of power and leadership and had stone circlets not unlike the one who had guided the king and queen. 

“Hello,” The faerie on the right throne stood, a wide smile on his face. The smile held too many teeth. “It’s not every day when two human royalty come into our kingdom. I am King Avaron, this is King Lunme and you have already met our husband Admiral Iri. How may we be of assistance to you?”

The queen and king bowed as the kings introduced themselves. They may be rulers themselves, but the queen and king knew that respect was key for anything.

“We are more than willing to make a deal if you will help us get a child. I am unable to produce children.” The queen explained, her husband’s hand tightening against her own. 

The fae kings shared a look between them before turning back down to the humans. “And why would you want a fae child? We are well aware of the way you are the only kingdom willing to even interact with us, much less treat us with respect. A faerie child would not be welcomed by other humans.” King Lunme asked, head tilted and unsettling eyes staring right at the human regents. 

The human king answered this question, freeing his hands from the queens before signing something in quick succession. The queen was about to translate when the general spoke up. “He says that they want their child to be protected and have a home here. For their kingdom and ours to have a good relationship- And… they want to prove that humans and fae can love each other. It would not matter if the child was a faerie anyhow, they would still love the child no matter what.” 

King Avaron blinked. “Well, that was certainly honest. I can say that we wouldn’t be against it…” He looked to Lunme. “Briar Rose is still in the nursery isn’t she? She doesn’t fit with the other children ever since her village passed… We would have to ask, but do you think she would like it?” 

“I think she would, she does have her collection of human trinkets and… she would benefit from socialization. I don’t think we could give that to her here.” King Lunme answered finally, nodding as they both looked down to the humans. 

“We agree. For our terms, we simply wish for you to make it a law for humans in your kingdom to not harm our people. We have been trying to stop any of our subjects to hurt your humans, but relationships are strained when humans keep iron above their doors. For that, we will give you a child, Briar Rose, a spring fae. She would like it in your kingdom, we think.” King Aravon nodded, eyes closed as stepped down from the throne. “Iri, can you please fetch the child? Tell her we have found her a family, and make sure she promises to visit. It’ll be terribly lonely without her in the palace.” He quietly asked his husband, the mentioned fae nodding before vanishing into a wall of moss. 

The human royalty were smiling widely, they had finally gotten their wish. A child of their very own. 

PART TWO:

Years later, the fae princess of the human kingdom had grown into an enchanting young woman, filled with laughter and love. On her twentieth birthday, the peace that had blanketed her home fell away.

Both her parents had died and she went into a deep abyss of grief. She usually had a pretty good control on her fae magic but… she wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming grief. The moment she heard about her parents’ deaths, a large wall of brambles and roses formed around the kingdom. Everyone but Briar herself fell into a deep sleep. At first she had thought everyone had died as well, but she checked the nearest person’s pulse and had found them to be simply asleep. 

She went into her garden and didn’t leave. If anyone were to look into the garden, they would see something that used to be the princess. They would see what looked like a statue covered in plants. Curling vines and thorns in the shape of a weeping woman. 

It was weeks before anyone noticed that nothing was coming from the kingdom, no exports or travelers. It was total silence. 

The first to notice was the fae kingdom, the court was in the unseelie at the moment. The queen of the unseelie sensed a huge disturbance in the forest. She usually delt with the darker sides of nature, so went out to see for herself what was wrong with the plants.

She traveled from shadow to shadow before coming upon the wall of thorns. 

“Oh dear…” was her only response to the growth, she could feel the plants’ anger and… something else. Something more fae then plant. There was a fae in there, drowning in darkness. 

She stood tall and placed her hands on the wall, not even flinching as thorns pierced her flesh. She began to speak to the plants, her voice low and echoing. 

“Those with thorns and vines and roses

Let me in i wish to help

I do not hurt, i only come to bring assistance and let you grow naturally” 

Eventually, a small hole opened up, just enough for the queen to slip between branches. She stepped into a deserted courtyard, following the pull of anger. 

“Hello, I’m not here to hurt you… I’m Elenaia, the Unseelie Queen, your walls are disturbing the other plants in the forest…” She stoppecd when she realized that no one was responding, shaking her head she went towards the place with the largest amount of plants. 

It was a garden, a beautiful one filled with roses of every color. She marveled at the flowers before coming across the person covered in plants. “Oh dear, this is… worse than I thought.” The queen muttered. 

She placed her hands on the growth and muttered the same words as she had before, this time adding: “I can feel your anger but it’s alright, you’re harming your roses. They haven’t been fed in a while, can’t you feel them?”

The woven vines fell off. The woman who had been draped in the plants fell as well, the queen being able to catch her. The only noise from the rosemaker were sobs. 

The Queen ran her fingers through the woman’s hair. “Hey hey, shhh, it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you…” 

The crying faded away and the woman looked at the queen. “Who… Who are you miss?” She stuttered out, voice hoarse and scratchy. 

The queen smiled, continuing to run her fingers through the other’s hair. “I’m Elenaia, Queen of The Unseelie Court, Autumn court to be specific if you wanted to know.” 

“You’re… a fae?” 

“As are you.” 

“Well… yes. I’m Princess… or I guess queen… Briar Rose. My name’s Briar Rose.”

“How’d a seelie end up in human royalty?”

“I never said I was seelie-”

“You didn’t have too, I know every fae in the unseelie court so you’d have to be seelie.”

The woman- Briar Rose wrinkled her nose. “Oh… that makes sense. Erm, my mother and father made a deal with the kings of the seelie court, they couldn’t have any kids themself and it was a good chance to strengthen the bonds between the kingdom and seelie kingdom.” The words seemed to tumble out, voice nervous. 

The queen stood up, offering up a hand for Briar to take. “Well, how about we go fix this mess? I think your subjects are all asleep and you’ve got a mighty big wall still up.” 

The seelie took the offered hand, pulling herself up. She looked sheepish. “Yeah… That might be my fault. I- It’s all kind of fuzzy. I would appreciate the help though.” 

They got married a month later

#representation re-writes #sleeping beauty re-written

[benoitblanc]

books read in 2019

(given the state of things and how cooped up we all are, i thought i’d publish this rec list i forgot to publish at new year’s. hope people enjoy :) )

red queen by victoria aveyard (4 books + 5 short stories)

goodreads: 3.98

what it’s about: in a world where class is divided by the color of your blood, “red” mare barrow is thrown into the world of the “silvers”- nobility with silver blood and magical powers- and discovers her own deadly power.

good for fans of: the hunger games; renegades

shadow and bone by leigh bardugo (3 books)

goodreads: 4.07

what it’s about: when ravkan foot soldier alina starkov saves her best friend’s life with a power she doesn’t know she possessed, she’s taken to train with an elite force of magical fighters, but not all about their charismatic leader is as it seems.

good for fans of: throne of glass; red queen

six of crows by leigh bardugo (2 books) **

goodreads: 4.54

what it’s about: a gang of unlikely allies must work together to pull off an impossible heist. their reward? unimaginable riches, if they can get out alive... 

good for fans of: harry potter; heroes of olympus

lovely war by julie berry 

goodreads: 4.28

what it’s about: in 1940s europe, the goddess aphrodite tells the tales of two world war i romances in an attempt to save her own relationships.

good for fans of: the night circus; the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society

the folk of the air by holly black (3 books + one novella)

goodreads: 4.34

what it’s about: human jude, living in the world of the faeries with her sisters and parents’ murderer, must fight for the place she’s come to call home when embroiled in a web of spies and treachery.

good for fans of: a court of thorns and roses; monsters of verity

the eyre affair by jasper fforde (8 books) **

goodreads: 4.06

what it’s about: in an alternate 1980s england where literature is prized beyond all else, literary detective thursday next must work with classic characters to maintain order inside the pages of books.

good for fans of: neverwhere

the black witch by laurie forest (2 books)

goodreads: 4.21

what it’s about: when elloren, the magicless granddaughter of the fabled black witch, goes to school to become an apothecary, her worldviews and prejudices are turned upside-down.

good for fans of: the school for good and evil; shadow and bone

neverwhere by neil gaiman

goodreads: 4.17

what it’s about: when richard mayhew stops one night to help an injured young woman, he discovers a world underneath london full of magic, adventure, and terrible danger.

good for fans of: harry potter; thursday next

norse mythology by neil gaiman **

goodreads: 4.09

what it’s about: norse mythology. duh.

good for fans of: the song of achilles; magnus chase

caraval by stephanie garber (3 books)

goodreads: 4.13

what it’s about: for as long as they can remember, scarlett and tella have dreamed of participating in the legendary caraval circus, but they soon discover that the games may be more than they bargained for.

good for fans of: the night circus; renegades

the wheel of time by robert jordan (a ridiculous number of books. disclaimer i have only read the first one so far so it may all go to shit. unsure.)

goodreads: 4.19

what it’s about: when their town is plagued by attacks and disappearances, five teenagers journey with a witch and her stoic guard in order to save their home.

good for fans of: the lord of the rings; a song of ice and fire

the gentleman’s guide to vice and virtue by mackenzi lee (2 books)

goodreads: 4.14

what it’s about: when playboy aristocrat monty’s tour of europe is rudely interrupted by bandits, he, his sister felicity, and best friend percy find themselves on the run from the law.

good for fans of: six of crows; percy jackson

throne of glass by sarah j. maas (7 books + 5 short stories)

goodreads: 4.47

what it’s about: in a world without magic, assassin celaena sardothien is pulled from the slave camp of endovier and entered into a deadly contest to become the king’s champion. 

good for fans of: the hunger games; the folk of the air 

renegades by marissa meyer (3 books)

goodreads: 4.33

what it’s about: the renegades are a group of elite superheroes who stand as pillars of justice for everyone except nova, who wants revenge for her parents’ deaths. but when she infiltrates the renegade base, she’s forced to question everything she thought she knew.

good for fans of: shadow and bone; monsters of verity

circe by madeline miller **

goodreads: 4.28

what it’s about: circe is remembered as a villain, but time, history, and the greeks have not been kind to her true story.

good for fans of: percy jackson; neil gaiman’s norse mythology

the song of achilles by madeline miller**

goodreads: 4.33

what it’s about: exiled prince patroclus and achilles, the best warrior of the greeks, have loved each other since they were children, but a war and a prophecy threaten all they hold dear.

good for fans of: romeo and juliet; the night circus

the night circus by erin morgenstern **

goodreads: 4.04

what it’s about: magicians celia and marco have been engaged in a dangerous contest for years. their battleground is the extraordinary cirque des reves, only open at night. but when they fall in love, their lives- and the lives of everyone in the circus- are thrown into peril.

good for fans of: basically anything. magic + romance + victorian era + beautiful prose. please read this book.

the starless sea by erin morgenstern

goodreads: 4.09

what it’s about: when zachary ezra rawlins finds a mysterious book in his college library, he isn’t expecting to be drawn into the starless sea, a world where sentiment is dangerous, but love conquers all.

good for fans of: neverwhere

good omens by terry pratchett and neil gaiman **

goodreads: 4.25

what it’s about: armageddon is nigh. the armies of good and evil are preparing for war. but crowley and aziraphale, renegade demon and angel respectively, have grown quite fond of humanity. and someone seems to have misplaced the antichrist.

good for fans of: doctor who

the kingkiller chronicles by patrick rothfuss (2 books + one novella) **

goodreads: 4.56

what it’s about: when circus performer kvothe’s troupe is brutally murdered, he resolves to discover the truth about their deaths. his search leads him across the globe, to the most revered school for magic, to far-off kingdoms, but not far enough for his past to be unable to catch up with him.

good for fans of: harry potter; the lord of the rings

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire saenz 

goodreads: 4.34

what it’s about: unlikely friends ari and dante navigate the unfamiliar worlds of friendship, identity, and romance.

good for fans of: simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda; the raven cycle

monsters of verity by victoria schwab (2 books)

goodreads: 4.16

what it’s about: in a world where monsters plague the streets of what used to be america, monster-hunter august and monster-supporter kate must team up in order to survive.

good for fans of: renegades; divergent

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society by mary ann schaffer and annie barrows

goodreads: 4.16

what it’s about: when writer juliet begins to exchange letters with one of the residents of guernsey shortly after world war ii, she journeys to the island to research a book about the german occupation- but never expected to find a home.

good for fans of: the book thief; lovely war

the raven cycle by maggie stiefvater (4 books) **

goodreads: 4.23

what it’s about: blue sargent has always been told she will kill her true love. richard gansey has been searching for an ancient legend ever since his near-death as a child. when blue meets gansey and the rest of the raven boys, her life is changed forever.

good for fans of: percy jackson; the folk of the air

#arwen makes stuff #book recs #books

[acourtofcouture]

An Insider’s Guide to A Court of Thorns and Roses: Map of Hybern, Prythian & the Continent, A Court of Silver Flames Edition

#a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #an insider's guide to a court of thorns and roses #map of hybern #map of prythian #map of the the mortal lands #the wall #prythian #the solar courts #the seasonal courts #acotar #the spring court #the summer court #the autumn court #the winter court #the dawn court #the day court #the night court #the court of dreams #the court of nightmares #velaris #the hewn city #under the mountain #spoilers

[mrs-hollandstan]

ik eastsr was like 2 months ago but imagine single dad!harry doing a Easter egg hunt for his daughter at his parents house

Look. Look. It is NEVER too late for Easter. P.S. I love dad!Harry.

[[MORE]]

"Alright angel," Harry says in a sigh, carrying Goldie from the somewhat warmer, rowdy Holland house, "you know how you asked me for a Easter egg hunt this year?" Goldie nods, holding Harry's neck in her tiny hands, little frilly skirt if her dress hiding his forearm,

"Well, nana and papa helped me set one up for you. So," Setting her down, he held the small pink and white wire basket out to her, "there's twenty little eggs out here." Goldie's amber colored eyes light up and she nods, running off from her father. Harry watches with a proud smile, listening to her sweet little voice count out the various blue and pink and yellow plastic eggs she collects. Once nine are found, she turns towards Harry, stood with his hands tucked in his pockets,

"Come hep me daddy!" She squeals. Harry's smile widens before he takes the steps to reach her, crouching in his mother's rose garden and pointing to a neon orange egg hidden beneath the fire colored roses his mom had planted the same year Goldie was born. She coos and retrieves it gently as to not get pricked by the thorns before she turns to Harry and together, they find the rest of them with Harry guiding her along. Sitting on the small hill leading up to the next door neighbor's gate, Harry spreads his legs so Goldie can stand between them, picking the first egg up and popping it open. She squeals down at the bite size Snickers bar, setting it aside and opening the next few eggs to find more candy and some play jewelry, Harry chuckling when she holds each piece out for Harry to put on her tiny fingers or around her wrist or neck. He watches her reveal a handful (her tiny handful) of jolly ranchers before licking his lips,

"Did you have fun princess?" She nods, chocolate curls bouncing. He cocks his head,

"I miss you when you're with your mummy." Looking up, Goldie looks between her father's eyes, her little, full cheeks she inherited from her Uncle Tom allowing her plump lips to hang open just a small bit,

"Why don't you visit more?" Harry smiles softly,

"Mummy and I don't get along anymore." She cocks her head just as Harry did, playing with the sparkly egg in her hands,

"Why?" Harry's lips turn down as he shrugs,

"We just always fight. But with your mumma goin back to work I'm hoping to get you around more. Pick you up from school and take you to mine and Uncle Sammy's apartment. You like that idea?" She nods. Harry smiles, reaching up to play with her hair before he pulls her in, cradling her close to his chest. He kisses her forehead as she holds his sides,

"I love you my sweet girl. I'd do anything for you, ya know that?" She nods and Harry can feel the tears sting his eyes. He so desperately wants to go to court for a custody battle and keep his girl full time. She feels like a stranger, seeing her father every so often. It sucks and he knows it because that's not what he and Goldie's mother agreed to, but he can just see her running off with their girl to never be seen or heard from again. And he can't have that. He blinks his tears away when she pulls back, Harry smiling down at her,

"Open your last two eggs baby." She reaches down, pulling them both out. Harry knows they have money in them, per Uncle Tom's request, and he holds one while she opens them, gasping at the five ten pound notes rolled up inside. Harry's brows furrow; he was only told she was getting forty pounds in total. Pulling the other egg from Harry's palm, Goldie opens it to find another roll of fifty pounds in tenners,

"I got a hundred pounds daddy!" She squeals again. Harry clicks his tongue,

"Yes you did my love. Uncle Tom and I are gonna have to have a talk about that one." But Goldie isn't listening, too wrapped up in her candies and plastic jewelry and new money. Harry smiles down at her, wondering how he got so lucky to be called her daddy.

#harry holland oneshot #harry holland imagine #harry holland smut #harry imagine #harry holland imagines #harry holland x reader #harry holland #dad!harry holland #dad!harry #my writing #blurbs

[throneofglassisking]

Maeve glanced at Arthur's sleeping form, wondering what he thought of her now. Seeing what she had done to her Uncle Cassian, the dark gleam in her eye, maybe he was beginning to see the monster beneath her skin. She couldn't blame him.

Her parents didn't want her either, after all.

Her father was likely to have read Uncle Cassian's mind by now. Meaning he would know how determined she was to keep away from Velaris, the Inner Circle, her mother, him... Their new child.

It was getting harder and harder to deny what Hybern... What Gabriel said to her. He wanted her parents dead, she wanted their new child dead. Opposing thoughts, but he had guided her thus far. And he didn't leave her or replace her like her so-called family had. New baby means the firstborn loses it all. And she had.

Her mother had been holding her stomach when she'd flung out that dark power. The vengeful fury of a young girl scourned by what her father and mother had done. Adding to their family, they called it. She called it betrayal.

So here she was, running from the Inner Circle and her father, as her pregnant mother was much too weak to look herself. And Maeve, oh she was determined to ensure she went somewhere they'd never find her.

No sibling, no betraying parents, no idiotic relatives. Just her and Arthur... And the dead King of Hybern lurking inside her head. But she figured she could ignore that part.

She heard a crunch, and looked up to see Arthur, golden eyes gazing into her starry violet ones.

He sighed, crossing his arms. "So... Your parents are having another kid? And that's why you ran?"

Mae shrugged. "More like I tried to kill the unborn bastard and run for the hills because I would've killed my mother and her unborn spawn."

He clicked his tongue, and slumped down beside her. "You... Make a lot more sense now."

"What, was I supposed to make sense?"

Arthur laughed, the rumbling sound sending sparks through her chest. "No, I suppose not. Just... Good to know you're at least a little human inside."

Maeve smiled weakly. "Guess Mother wasn't completely fae when she had me after all."

They looked up at the stars, silence stretching between them. And after a moment, she took a breath, and opened her heart to the one person who understood her thunderstorm of a soul.

"You won't let my..." She shook her head as she almost said family. "...Them, take me back to Velaris, will you?"

Arthur's eyes glittered in the dim fire light, his calloused fingers slipping through hers. "Not a chance in hell, Starlight. You don't want to go back, and they won't make you."

She teared up, griping his hand. "Even if he takes control? Even if I succumb to the demon inside me and I become what he was centuries ago? Even if-"

Arthur brushed her tears away with his free hand, cupping her cheek. "You can tell that bastard that if he even thinks of taking you over, he'll have to answer to me."

She laughed weakly, leaning into him. "I'll be sure to pass it along."

Arthur wrapped his arms around her, letting her tears stain his shirt. "You and me, Mae. Against them all, you hear me? Two outcasts who need nothing but each other."

She looked up slowly, laying her head on his shoulder as she held out her pinky. "...Promise?"

He laid a swift kiss to the top of her head. "Promise."

And when his pinkie tangled with hers, their fingers didn't separate until the sun rose over the mountains and they rose with it.

(Hi, creator of this blog here! This story is part of a fic I want to write, which is somewhat of a next generation A Court of Thorns and Roses story. The story is centered around Feysand child Maeve Archeron, and her companion Arthur as they run from the Night Court while Maeve tries to combat the dead King of Hybern lurking inside her head. Now, I would really appreciate some questions about this story! So please, please, please, ask me about Mae, the story, give me a suggestion for Arthur's last name, or even just ask about the original characters and their role in the story! Help motivate this girl by showing your support!)

#a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #azriel #acotar next gen #mae archeron

[ferian-gap]

The Ultimate A Court of Thorns and Roses Playlist

The Ultimate A Court of Thorns and Roses Playlist

Spotify (x)

YouTube (x)

Throne of Glass Playlist (x)

Feyre x Rhys:

A Fine Frenzy - The Beacon

"You say your time has come. You're tired of waking up. Don't be obscene. I can't conceive of living without you. Burning beacon in the night, can't feel it's heat or see its light. That single solitary guide. It must get lonely there sometimes." 

Beth Crowley - Please Take Me

"What do I do if I'm no good for you, but you might be good for me? Why aren't I brave enough to make a move instead of second guessing? My defenses are down. I've lost all resistance, and when you're not touching me, I can feel your distance, so if you're gonna leave, wherever you go, please take me." 

Beth Crowley - Warrior

"You fascinated me, cloaked in shadows and secrecy. The beauty of a broken angel." 

The Civil Wars - Dust to Dust

"You've held your head up. You've fought the fight. You bear the scars. You've done your time. Listen to me: You've been lonely too long. We've been lonely. We've been lonely too long." 

Hozier - Work Song

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her." 

Inquillery - Alive

"You bring me back to life. End this darkness inside. You make me feel alive. Eyes lit with star-kissed fire. Your touch taking me higher. You make me feel alive. Again."

Lady Gaga - The Cure

"If I can't find the cure, I'll fix you with my love. No matter what you know, I'll fix you with my love, and if you say you're okay. I'm gonna heal you anyway. Promise I'll always be there. Promise I'll be the cure." 

Laurel - Blue Blood

"Before you came to me, I was in the pretty darkness, praying for the end. You made me feel again. After the last time, didn't think that I could love." 

Ruelle - Carry You 

"I know it hurts. It's hard to breathe sometimes. These nights are long. You've lost the will to fight. You are not alone. I've been here the whole time singing you a song. I will carry you. I will carry you." 

Ruelle - I get to Love You

"Whatever may come, your heart I will choose. Forever I'm yours. Forever 'I do'. And they say love is a journey. I promise that I'll never leave, and when it's too heavy to carry remember this moment with me." 

Ruelle - The Other Side

"Is it fair or is it fate? No one knows. The stars choose their lovers. Save my soul. It hurts just the same, and I can't tear myself away. I don't wanna know what's it like to live without you. Don't wanna know the other side of a world without you. Can't live without you." 

Sleeping At Last - Turning Page

"I've waited a hundred years. I'd wait a million more for you. Nothing prepared me for what the privilege of being yours would do. If I had only felt the warmth within your touch. If I had only seen how you smile when you blush, or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough. Well I would have known what I was living for all along. What I've been living for."

Sleeping At Last - Two

“Like a force to be reckoned with. A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss. I will love you without any strings attached.” 

Tangled - I See The Light

"Now she's here shining in the starlight. Now she's here suddenly I know if she's here it's crystal clear I'm where I'm meant to go. And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light, and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted. All at once everything is different. Now that I see you.”

Rhys:

Echoes - Gold

"All I feel is emptiness here, searching for what you want me to say. I'm terrified of their eyes when they stare. This loneliness won't go away. Nobody knows who I am. I've got intentions of gold with my plans."

Olafur Arnalds - Old Skin

"Where the woods would wear the wafting sounds of sea, roams an oath in search for something more to be. Still hard for me. Treading lightly, tightly, shedding its old skin. Leaving trails of night for light to bring chagrin while air grows thin. Roaring lungs as oath becomes a flight past trees. Only the rhythm of love escapes the harmonies, leaving us a beat."

Sia - Bird Set Free

"Clipped wings. I was a broken thing. Had a voice, but I could not sing. You would wind me down. I struggled on the ground, so I lost. The line had been crossed. Had a voice, but I could not talk. You held me down, but I fought back loud." 

Feyre:

EVEE - Lone Wolf

"I'm howling at the moon like a lone wolf. I'm tryna move the night ‘til the sun breaks through. Abandon all the fear that surrounds you. The only thing to do. Broke the chains around me, and now I'm running free. Time to make my own way. I can hear voices say, ‘Don't look back.’ “

First Aid Kit - Wolf

"Wolf mother where you been? You look so worn, so thin. Holy light, guard the night of a forgotten land. See it fall, child of war. Lend a mending hand."

Laurel - To The Hills

"I feel it here on my skin like demons. Cry with joy ‘cause I know hell follows me. Out here in the garden of angels, I felt what it was like to be free."

Madilyn Bailey - Survive

“All the way down, finding my way around. Stars and night cover me. Back and forth, searching for my way north. I’m broken down, wandering. Mountains will always need to be climbed, but we only got one foot at a time. Don’t just survive. Don’t just survive.”

Mor: 

Kelly Clarkson - Catch my Breath

“Catch my breath. No one can hold me back—I ain’t got time for that. Catch my breath. Won’t let ‘em get me down. It’s all so simple now.”

Court of Dreams:

Inquillery - The Ones Who Dream

"Hold on. Wait for new dawn. Look up at the stars, wonder who we are, beneath a galaxy of broken things. This world is not what you hoped it could be. Take my hand, here with me stand. We are not carefree, but we're the ones who dream." 

Lauren Aquilina - Way Too Good

"Don't need anything else. I don't wanna cry anymore tears for anything, anything I've wasted. Don't need anyone else ‘cause we got it all as long as we're here, but everything, everything is changing. Everything is way too good. If nothing is meant to last maybe we should drink to that. Cause it's way too good, morning's gonna come so fast. Pour another drink in my glass." 

Feyre x Tamlin:

Eurielle - You Said 

“You said I would swim, never drown. You said I’d never be buried underground. My breath would always breathe in and out. Your love makes me immortal.” 

Kesha - Praying 

"I can make it on my own. I don't need you. I found a strength I've never known. I've been thrown out. I've been burned. When I'm finished, they won't even know your name. You brought the flames, and you put me through hell. I had to learn how to fight for myself, and we both know all the truth I could tell. Let's just say this is 'I wish you farewell.' "

Little Mix - Towers

"I feel loved when I see your face, but all these scars I can't replace. So don't knock on my door and tell me you don't wanna fight ‘cause I've heard it before, and I'm not going back this time. You never brought me flowers, never held me in my darkest hours, and you left it so late that my heart feel nothing. Once we were made like towers. Everything could have been ours, but now my heart feels nothing. Nothing at all." 

Liza Anne - Lost

“I’ll be damned if I do it. Damned if I don’t. I’ll be lost if I love him. Lost if I won’t. My human heart won’t mend itself when my own two hands are ripping out the seams. Oh it seems, I am my own worst enemy.” 

Sara Bareilles - Gravity 

"Cause you're neither friend nor foe though I can't seem to let you go, and the one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down." 

Elain: 

Zella Day - Compass

"We can build a tree house in the pine trees. We can keep our secrets buried underneath. Wild flowers crash between your fingers, clinging to the wild things that raised us. Take me to the garden of your ecstasy. Make myself a headband from your fallen leaves. Woven in the fabric of your tapestry. Cover me in honeysuckle memories."

Big thanks to @queensairai @bookobsesed-effy @amren-rhyssecond @astrologically-indecent for recommending some excellent songs to go on this playlist!

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #acowar #sjm #playlist #acofas

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Halloween 2018 Perfume Blends

Calling all witches, hags, demons, goat-lovers, and assorted tricksters! 

We've truly outdone ourselves with the Halloween 2018 collection, exploring strange new depths in diablerie as well as perfumerie. In addition to many classic treats, we've also got a spooky Chaos Theory, a timely Poe tale storyboarded in scent, a pile of Dead Leaves, a ribald new series of blends inspired by goats in classical art, and more! Never fear -- Trading Post's hair gloss and atmosphere sprays will be coming soon! 

You’ll find the full compendium of Halloween scent descriptions below, but BEWARE... You may find more thrills than e'er you bargained for.!

++ HALLOWEEN 2018

ALL SOULS A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

BLUE GHOST BLUES I feel myself sinkin' down I feel myself sinkin' down My body is freezin' I feel something cold creepin' around

My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round My windows is rattlin' My doorknob turnin' round an' round This haunted house blues is killin' me I feel myself sinkin' down

I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today I been fastin' in this haunted house Six long months today The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord And I can't get away

They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They got shotguns and pistols Standin' all round my door They haunt me all night long So I can't sleep no more

The Blue Ghost haunts me all night The nightmare rides me all night long The Blue Ghost haunts me at night The nightmare rides me all night long They worry me so in this haunted house I wished I was dead and gone

- Lonnie Johnson

A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.

BONFIRE TOFFEE Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.

DIA DE LOS MUERTOS A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte... Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "...chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love." This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.

FEEDING THE DEAD A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

GHOST MUSIC Gloomy and bare the organ-loft, Bent-backed and blind the organist. From rafters looming shadowy, From the pipes’ tuneful company, Drifted together drowsily, Innumerable, formless, dim, The ghosts of long-dead melodies, Of anthems, stately, thunderous, Of Kyries shrill and tremulous: In melancholy drowsy-sweet They huddled there in harmony. Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.

- Robert Graves

Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.

GHOULISH Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron.

THE HAG The Hag is astride, This night for to ride; The Devill and shee together: Through thick, and through thin, Now out, and then in, Though ne'r so foule be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr She takes for a Spurre: With a lash of a Bramble she rides now, Through Brakes and through Bryars, O're Ditches, and Mires, She followes the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast, for his food, Dares now range the wood; But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischiefs, by these, On Land and on Seas, At noone of Night are working,

The storme will arise, And trouble the skies; This night, and more for the wonder, The ghost from the Tomb Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.

Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.

THE HARE In the black furrow of a field I saw an old witch-hare this night; And she cocked her lissome ear, And she eyed the moon so bright, And she nibbled o' the green; And I whispered 'Whsst! witch-hare,' Away like a ghostie o'er the field She fled, and left the moonlight there.

A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.

Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.

HUESOS DE SANTO On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.

Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.

INSIDE THE GOLDEN AMBER OF HER EYEBALLS A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place your sight can knock on, echoing; but here within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze will be absorbed and utterly disappear:

just as a raving madman, when nothing else can ease him, charges into his dark night howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels the rage being taken in and pacified.

She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen into her, so that, like an audience, she can look them over, menacing and sullen, and curl to sleep with them. But all at once

as if awakened, she turns her face to yours; and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny, inside the golden amber of her eyeballs suspended, like a prehistoric fly.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

Sleek black fur and gleaming amber shining in the shadows, a rumble of myrrh, and claws as sharp as ti leaf.

LAMBS-WOOL According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool."

A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

MAGNIFICENT AUTUMN By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.

Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.

The scene changes.

It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and

A filmy mist,

Lies like a silver lining on the sky.

The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!

Another change.

The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.

A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.

MIDNIGHT BONFIRE Lighting the path between worlds, the beacon at the threshold: night-blooming jasmine, smoldering maple leaves, a cluster of patchouli and blackened ti leaf, black sage, and pinewood smoke.

PUMPKIN CRÈME BRULEE With vanilla bean scrapings.

PUMPKIN DUST Shavings of white pumpkin rind and honey powder.

PUMPKIN MUSK AND BLACK OUDH A strangely romantic, disturbingly erotic perfume.

PUMPKIN TOBACCO Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.

SAMHAIN Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

SAMHAINOPHOBIA The Fear of Halloween

Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

SCARECROW TURNED PHILOSOPHER Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this lonely field.”

And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I never tire of it.”

Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have known that joy.”

Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”

Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.

And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest under his hat.

- Kahlil Gibran

Corn husks waving on an autumn breeze, beams of amber sunlight, hay bales, and late summer wildflowers.

SUCK IT Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.

THIS WAN WHITE HUMMING HIVE And where should the living feel alive But here in this wan white humming hive, As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold, And one by one they creep back to the fold? And where should a man hold his mate and say: "One more, one more, ere we go their way"? For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night, When the living can learn by the churchyard light.

White patchouli leaf, beeswax, ambergris, and pale incense.

WHEN COLORS ALL TO BLACK ARE CAST In night when colors all to black are cast, Distinction lost, or gone down with the light; The eye a watch to inward senses placed, Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,

Gives vain alarums to the inward sense, Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny, Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense, Doth forge and raise impossibility:

Such as in thick depriving darknesses, Proper reflections of the error be, And images of self-confusednesses, Which hurt imaginations only see;

And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils, Which but expressions be of inward evils.

- Lord Brooke Fulke Greville

Ink-black musk and dried blackberries, midnight opoponax and sweet labdanum.

THE WITCH BRIDE A fair witch crept to a young man's side, And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But a Shape came in at the dead of night, And fill'd the room with snowy light.

And he saw how in his arms there lay A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.

And he girded himself, and follow'd still When sunset sainted the western hill.

But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side, Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

YIPE In the vein (GET IT?) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.

++ ALL HALLOWS CHAOS

Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent.

Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and each bottle is unique.

Hail Eris! After a long hiatus, Chaos Theory is back!

This year, the aforementioned chaos is expressing itself through decidedly seasonal metaphors associated with gathering the harvest and welcoming the “dark half” of the year. Is it comfort you seek, or incantations whispered through a tear in the Veil? Thanks to the options below, you don’t have to choose — you can have it both ways! This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each bottle is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.

Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that’s the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:VIII or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.

By purchasing CT:VIII, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project.

Each CT:VIII scent has a base inspired by one of our favorite ‘Weenies, in wildly varying proportions:

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: PUMPKIN SPICE

Variety is the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”

― William Cowper, 1785

Forget about the War on Christmas — the year’s most contentious seasonal battle is actually waged over this inescapable melange of palate-massaging flavors. We’ve got the formula down pat, and invite you to join us in a mad-science experiment: Just how far can we bend it before it breaks?

ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: SAMHAIN 

“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.” ― Mary Shelley, 1831 This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”

++ HALLOWEEN: MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH

Art by Tenebrous Kate

Words by Edgar Allan Poe

THE RED DEATH The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

Splatters of red musk, bruise-purple violets, vetiver, and pimento.

HAPPY AND DAUNTLESS AND SAGACIOUS But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.

Imprisoned in frenzied joy: ribbons of raspberry and red currant streaming through thick goat’s milk.

IT WAS FOLLY TO GRIEVE, OR TO THINK The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.

Ginger-squeezed champagne with crushed diamonds, orange blossoms, and peach blossoms.

THERE WAS BEAUTY, THERE WAS WINE The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."

Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.

A MASKED BALL OF THE MOST UNUSUAL MAGNIFICENCE It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.

Opulent golden oudh, red benzoin, and bitter almond.

A GIGANTIC CLOCK OF EBONY It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.

The chiming of the clock: ebony wood and black pepper, narcissus blossom and tuberose, clanging with dull, heavy opoponax and thick olibanum.

THE TASTES OF THE DUKE WERE PECULIAR But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.

The swirl of a thousand glittering vices: absinthe and laudanum, opium poppy and neroli, star anise and black currant, whip leather and iron shackles, gilded vanilla flower and King mandarin.

GLARE AND GLITTER AND PIQUANCY AND PHANTASM He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.

Delirious fancies such as the madman fashions, arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments: orris absolute and leather contorted by cherry and orange blossom.

A MULTITUDE OF DREAMS There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.

A blackened lavender mist, thick with opoponax, licorice root, and benzoin.

ALL IS SILENT SAVE THE VOICE OF THE CLOCK And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.

Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.

THE NIGHT IS WANING AWAY But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.

Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.

THE SOUNDING OF MIDNIGHT UPON THE CLOCK And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.

Terror, horror, and disgust: a bowel-churning sweet clench of myrhh and green musk in a pool of suffocating black moss and a shock of white cognac.

THE SCARLET HORROR In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"

Blasphemous mockery: blood musk and vetiver.

A GROUP OF PALE COURTIERS It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.

It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.

A sycophant’s polished stench: green musk fougere, lime, and rose-tufted wig powder.

A CERTAIN NAMELESS AWE But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.

Death unimpeded: bone-white sandalwood, dry cognac, and chilled ambergris accord.

A DEADLY TERROR THAT HAD SEIZED UPON ALL It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.

He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.

The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.

ILLIMITABLE DOMINION OVER ALL And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death: blood musk and black tobacco, birch tar and bleeding cypress sap.

Listen to Poe’s complete tale here, on our YouTube Channel:

++ PICKMAN GALLERY 2018

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: ARKHAM’S PICKMAN GALLERY ACQUIRES CURIOUS COLLECTION OF GOAT ART, DEEMED ‘GREATEST OF ALL TIME’ Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra on view at the Pickman Gallery from September 22 to December 28, 2018, Arkham, MA — On view from September 18 through December 28, 2018 at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra. Greatest Of All Time is guest curated by the Santa Fe Art Institute’s Antonia Vasquez-Thackeray, who also holds a degree in Livestock Science.  In this first-of-its-kind exhibition, Mx. Vasquez-Thackeray explores the social co-evolution of humankind and goatkind, a history which stretches back at least 10,000 years. Researchers note that goat remains have been found at archaeological sites in Western Asia including Jericho, Choga Mami, Djeitun, and Çayönü. Via their innate curiosity and horizontally-pupilled eyes, goats have enjoyed a unique view of human civilization, and our ancestors’ myths and legends have proven us nothing if not fearful of their scrutiny. “Our projections in terms of goat consciousness and goat archetypes have eclipsed anything a goat might tell us about us, or itself,“ Vasquez-Thackeray writes in the introduction to her upcoming MY GOAT, MY INQUISITOR, a salvo against the bias and anthropomorphism that has infected the relations between these two closely interrelated worlds -- but which carefully does not disavow the propensity for deceit, diabolism and witchcraft within the Caprian mind. Greatest of All Time consists of works hand-selected to commune with our species’ most recent common ancestor. About this evolutionary MacGuffin, Max Robinson, Ph.D. Molecular Biology and Biotechnology & Evolutionary Genetics, University of Washington, has written: “Millions of years ago, there was some kind of animal that eventually evolved into both goats and humans. It probably had claws rather than hooves or hands. It had a liver, four legs, eyes, and a brain, just like humans and goats still do.” Unfathomably, a lineage extends directly from that ancestor to this season’s exhibition, which will serve as a family reunion of sorts: several goats from Vasquez-Thackeray’s personal herd will be in residence as docents throughout the duration of the show. (Their reactions to the art as well as to the guests will be recorded via motion-capture and analyzed by individuals from SFAI, MIT, and, by special request, members of Arkham’s Thousand Young Lodge.

A BOAR AND A GOAT 18th century Russian lubok, illustrator unknown Red amber, frankincense CO2 absolute, green fig, labdanum, King mandarin, Atlas cedar, and bitter almond.

A HOARD OF CREATURES WITH THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS BEFORE A TAVERN Cornelis Saftleven Peru balsam, leather, castoreum accord, frankincense, and hay.

A YOUNG BOY AND HIS BROTHER SEATED ON A GOAT Christoffel Pierson Polished mahogany, copal resin, Java sandalwood, teakwood, and Sumantran patchouli.

AN ENCAMPMENT OF SHEPHERDS Tassili N'Ajjer, 4000-1500BC Tonka bean, red clay, rose tobacco, and oudh.

ANIMAL ALLEGORY Cornelis Saftleven Dust, dry incense, parchment, and tobacco leaf.

BOY WITH GOAT IN A LANDSCAPE Rudolf Koller Grapevine and ivy, olive blossom, lavender, cypress, bay leaf, honey myrtle, Tuscany sage, and jasmine sambac.

CABRAS Giuseppe Palizzi Black pine, white sage, creeping ivy, and wild juniper.

EEN SATYR Jacob Jordaens A heavy, animalic musk with cognac, fir balsam, grapevine, black cypress, patchouli, honey, and copaiba balsam.

THE GOAT AND THE VINE Harrison Weir Golden apples, cedar and redwood trellises heavy with grapevine, beeswax, hemp, vanilla benzoin, and bois de rose.

THE GREAT HE-GOAT Francisco Goya Haitian vetiver, Egyptian amber, carnation, black musk, pomegranate, patchouli, and smoked ginger.

HALF-HUMAN, HALF-MONKEY BARBERS SHAVING A GOAT Engraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.

JACOB WITH THE DAUGHTERS OF LABAN

Louis Gauffier Lebanese cedar, chamomile, frankincense, and cinnamon.

JUPITER NOURISHED BY THE GOAT AMALTHEA Engraving by Jacques Jordaens Goat’s milk, nectar, ambrosia, and honey.

LITHOGRAPH OF A MOUNTAIN GOAT H Weir White sandalwood, black pepper, muguet, agarwood, labdanum, and 3-year aged patchouli.

RUHENDE ZIEGE MIT KITZCHEN

Johann Christian Reinhart Brown musk, leather, castoreum accord, white cedar, amber oudh, and clove bud.

STUDIE EINER ZIEGE Pieter Boel Sweet labdanum with clove, tobacco absolute, and guiac wood.

TWO SHEEP AND TWO GOATS RESTING TOGETHER IN A FIELD A. Ducote Sweet vetiver, bourbon vanilla, and wool.

VENUS PANDEMOS Venus Pandemos Hay, rose otto, red benzoin, torch smoke, and pink carnation.

THE WITCHES’ RIDE

Otto Goetze Red roses and vetiver with cashmere incense, rue, and cauldron spices.

ZOE AND THE GOAT

Lorenz Frølich Caramelized patchouli, cream, and thick golden honey.

++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE

About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery. - Pausanias

POMEGRANATE GROVE: ALICE

POMEGRANATE GROVE: DORIAN

POMEGRANATE GROVE: EMBALMING FLUID

POMEGRANATE GROVE: MOROCCO

POMEGRANATE GROVE: SNAKE OIL

++ HALLOWEEN: PILE OF LEAVES

Every leaf tells a story.

DEAD LEAVES AND MAPLE SAP

DEAD LEAVES, BLACKBERRY, AND RED PATCHOULI

DEAD LEAVES, GREEN COGNAC, IRIS ROOT, AND WHITE LEATHER

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET MYRRH, LEATHER, GREEN POMELO, AND RED CURRANT

DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON VETIVER, NAGARMOTHA, AND VANILLA ABSOLUTE

DEAD LEAVES AND RED CARNATIONS

DEAD LEAVES AND PUMPKIN SEEDS

DEAD LEAVES AND SCOTCH

DEAD LEAVES AND WARM SUGAR COOKIES

DEAD LEAVES, SWEET OAKMOSS, WHITE SAGE, AND CHAPARRAL

DEAD LEAVES AND VANILLA INCENSE

DEAD LEAVES, APRICOT, AMBERGRIS, AND TOBACCO

DEAD LEAVES AND COFFEE BEANS

DEAD LEAVES, BLACK TEA, AND TOBACCO LEAF

DEAD LEAVES, MAGNOLIA CHAMPACA, AMBERETTE SEED, PERU BALSAM, AND SUGARED CHESTNUTS

DEAD LEAVES, RED WINE, AND BLACK OUDH

#halloween #perfume #halloween perfume #dead leaves #goats #edgar allan poe #poe #the masque of the red death

[deathbyvalentine]

Prompts

http://ko-fi.com/illjolras

Yellow Roses Only Grow There Now.

Alice touched the petals of the rose with her fingertips. They were not how she remembered. They didn’t need paint, nor water, nor pruning. They had started taking care of themselves, somewhere along the way. They looked like how they were supposed to. Not pristine. Not artificial. 

The rest of the maze had followed suit. There were more dead ends than not now, walls where there were once entrances. Alice thought she liked it better like this - the hedgehogs rustling away through the undergrowth, the flamingos calling to each other without their wings being clipped.

It was lonely though. Toppling a monarchy did have it’s consequences, and the entire court had moved. At least, she thought they had. It was entirely possible they just faded, becoming not even the shadow of ghosts. After all these years, she still wasn’t sure how this place worked. But she liked the nonsense now, rather than fighting against it. 

She walked the maze, the bits she could. She recognised some chunks from her childhood, her dreams, memories that came to her in the moments before sleep. It had changed though. As she had. It had grown, gotten bigger without getting smaller again afterwards. Gotten darker without gaining light. 

She came here often, to be alone without being disturbed. To trail her fingers in the river and watch the rockinghorseflies scatter. To lie in the sun in the forest of forgetting until she dozed, hearing the gentle crooning of far off bees. She would find pocket watches and gloves shoved in the hollows of trees, as though discarded in a hurry (predictably). Bits of white armour scattered in the long grass. Even songs written on wisps of paper, caught in blackberry bushes after being thrown by the wind.

She wasn’t sure she liked it better, not necessarily. But it felt more like her.

A Whittle Goes a Long Way

If anybody else had carved it, she might have been afraid of it. But she was incapable of finding anything her father made frightening. His hands were too soft for that, his eyes too kind. And so the carved face sitting on the tree at the head of their path became not stern, but kindly. Not twisted, simply old. The branches that seemed once to be grasping hands now resembled an open palm. 

It still discouraged intruders, especially at night. Better than any guard dog. Anybody that didn’t know her father wouldn’t see the love carved within the lines. Wouldn’t see the affection. What you didn’t know could utterly blind you.

Which is why she never saw the ribbons of flesh hanging from the branches after dark dark nights, or the missing posters littering the lane like dead leaves.

100 words, step by step putting on a shirt.

First, make sure you have left the shirt on a foolish place on the floor. The buttons still done up, apart from a single one at the top from where you shrugged it off the night before, too lazy to undo them all.

Then, leave your bedroom door open while you slumber, naive to the chaos that is about to happen. Then, crucially, own two cats. One will be an observer, the other the model.

Your model cat will wiggle into the shirt from the bottom and rapidly become trapped. You didn’t ask for a guide how to take off the shirt. Good luck.

The Booted Angel

People saw him fairly often actually. He wasn’t a rare sighting. A lot of new people on the scene failed to realise they had seen something special at all. It would only be later, days or years when they would hear a story, and it would click, and they would sit bolt upright, remembering. Or sometimes they wouldn’t realise until they were in the middle of their salvation, and they would put two and two together.

He always showed up when he was needed. If you could deal with something on your own, don’t even bother asking. He wasn’t here to coddle you. But about to get jumped in an alley with five homophobes and no escape route? Have to carry a hundred bags out of your transphobic dad’s house with no car in the pouring rain? Creepy dude twice your age in a club refusing to respect your personal space?

He would appear. As if from nowhere. Leather cladding him like armour. His boots made a resounding, satisfying thud with every step, and you could hear him clench his fist, the meeting of leather on leather. And he would show no fear as he talked to the homophobes in the only language they understood, meticulously cleaning the blood from his gloves afterwards. Or he would effortlessly shoulder the bags you couldn’t carry, and introduce you to a friend he knew who ran a shelter. He would put himself between every creepy dude trying to touch you or your drink, face as impassable as a stone wall until they finally fucked off. And he didn’t ask for anything in return. 

He saved people in more ways than practically. He reminded queer kids they were not alone, that not all adults in their lives would be so shit. Reminded the lonely that they had a whole family waiting for them, because love is more important than blood. Reminded the religious that their god loved them, or the atheists that there was good in humanity. Though, admittedly, it was hard to explain away the shimmering rainbows that formed his wings when he stood underneath the nightclub lights. People stopped looking for an explanation, almost worried that questioning it too closely would make him disappear.

He never did disappear. He stayed, even as the clubs, bars and pubs around him changed. He stayed when others his age fell sick and faded. Stayed when schools wouldn’t speak of their existence. Stayed when the pardons were finally issues. It became a rite of passage for the new kids to meet him, usually stumbling home with someone unadvisable as the first fingers of dawn touched the horizon. He stayed where his people were and his people were right here.

Where the Mind Goes Under Anaesthetic 

I guess it was foggy or something, I don’t know, but either way I couldn’t see. The fog wasn’t cold but it clung, forming swirls and following my hand when I waved it in front of me. It wasn’t dark or anything, in fact, there was light all around. Somewhere I could hear birdsong but it was too far away to get to, or at least I thought it was until I looked down and saw a path lying at my feet and decided to follow it.

It didn’t get louder but it did get closer and before long I was in front of a glass house, the type you grow exotic plants in. The glass might have been crystal or something because it was turning the light into rainbows and throwing them inside, and when I looked inside that’s where the birds were. All singing, all bathed in rainbows. There were so many species I couldn’t name them all and I think some were like, undiscovered and shit. I could be the first maybe, and they’d name them after me.

But when I get inside they stop singing and all look at me and I realise I’m bleeding. And I’m embarrassed, like it’s something to be ashamed of as this gash opens right in the middle of me, and I have to press my hands to it to keep my insides in. I can’t do anything else, just cover the wound and hope they stop looking at me, the blood and gore pooling on the floor at my feet. I want to cry, not ‘cos it hurts, though it does, but because I’ve spoilt this lovely place with my pain.

I wake up then and I’m sewn up and they say the bad thing is taken out of me now and things will be better. I hope they’re right. I really hope they’re right.

Roses and Bluebirds

Alexei plunged his hand into the basket, finding a blossom and crushing it into his palm. Red juice painted his palms and it took him a moment to realise that the roses hadn’t been removed of their thorns, and some of the red was his own blood. He cursed, pulled his hand back and spent the next several minutes pulling thorns from his flesh. He supposed there was a lesson in here somewhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He was never the learning lessons type. 

Another noble might have complained to the palace gardener, but at least he had just enough self awareness to know this was very much his own fault. He thought his self awareness was often the only real thing that set him apart from the other idiots here. He wandered further into the snow-covered gardens, enjoying the cold bite of winter. Everyone else was inside, curled up near open fires and drinking hot chocolate. Alexei wasn’t even wearing a coat. The cold had managed to add the softest brush of red onto his cheeks however, and he wouldn’t be able to stay out much longer.

The birdbath was frozen over. He lit a cigarette and sat on the bench opposite, telling himself that he would smoke it then go find Stefan to warm him back up. There was a fluttering of wings and Alexei half expected to see a bullshit fairy or something come to bother him, but was surprised. A small bluebird flew to the edge of the birdbath and pecked at the frozen water. Was it stupid? Couldn’t it see there was no winning here?

Yet he found himself rooting for it all the same. The bird with no idea how futile its actions were, trying its hardest because to it, it had no other option. Imagine his surprise when the beak broke through, and it managed to take a long draught of water. Alexei blinked, astonished, his cigarette burnt halfway down with not a single pull taken.

“Huh.”

Under the Wallpaper/Infection 

She couldn’t stop picking at it, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what lay underneath. It was like a scab, begging to be picked at. It had started several weeks ago, the dark mark on the lush green wallpaper. It had grown day by day, going from a spot the size of a fingernail to a palm to a book case. Then it had started smelling. Not exactly unpleasant, but something like rotting leaves or wet earth. 

The oddest thing was that it appeared nowhere else in the apartment. And there was no leaking pipes, no other mould, no sign of what it could be. Once it had stopped growing, it just sat there. She didn’t like to look at it. Not directly. When she tried, her eyes slid straight over it, her thoughts wandering to somewhere else before she realised. When looking at it indirectly, something heavy and sickening settled in her stomach until she stopped.

Her nail slipped under the edge of the paper and she hesitated. Was it her imagination or could she hear rustling? She battled the push back from her mind. She had to know. She pinched the corner and tugged. It peeled away like a damp plaster from a sore, almost dripping with moisture. 

It was not black underneath. It was dark, dark red. It was not smooth underneath. It bubbled, darkened lumps under a layer of the scarlet slime. It seemed to pulse and move, like some monstrous heart beating in the centre of the house. She let the paper slip to the floor, fingers as slack as her now open mouth. Some perverted part of her mind urged her to touch it, to reach out and see what it felt like. She also got the feeling that if she did that, it would get into her skin, her veins. 

And then maybe she wouldn’t be able to leave.

Coarse/Youth 

They were not elegant young men. They owned no kid gloves or gold watches. They would inherit no wealth, no lands, no titles. But they did have something their masters didn’t have. Each other.

Jonathan first fell in love with Tobias when they were tilling the fields. Tobias took his shirt off, and Jonathan’s eyes followed the single bead of sweat down between his shoulder blades, down his spine, and to the top of his trousers, where his braces lay slack against his thighs. Tobias caught him looking, and a smile broke over his face like the dawn sun breaks the horizon.

They first kissed in the stables, damp from the persistent drizzling rain. Jonathan’s hair had curled, getting in the way of his eyes and Tobias had pushed them back with a coarse hand before he paused. They looked at each other, the only noises the water and the horses huffing to themselves. Then they were kissing, lips hot and desperate, arms winding around each other as though they were drowning. The chill soon was dashed from Jonathan’s skin, though the goosebumps were not. 

Tobias fell in love slower, though it was a sweet, sure thing. All the hours of lying in fields, exploring the forest, taking care of new lambs, washing their clothes, falling into bed exhausted. They saw each other as they truly were, and once you’ve seen someone in their most vulnerable, unselfconcious moments, how could you not love them? Tobias fell in love a little more every time he watched Jonathan wash his face, or yawn before his morning coffee, or concentrate while darning a hole in his sock. 

It was of course, not always idyllic. Tobias could be vain, Jonathan could be headstrong, and they were both often convinced they were entirely right. But they kept coming back to each other, an irresistible pull they were unable to resist. Broadly, Jonathan decided, he was okay with that. A lifetime of summers with the man next to him was something akin to paradise.

Training Days at the Academy

He found it weirdly soothing in a way. Nobles got special treatment, of course they did, but there was only so far you could push it. So here he was, on his knees, scrubbing the floor from where he had left muddy boot marks from shore leave. 

He had never scrubbed a damn floor in his life. Therefore, it had the air of novelty. Therefore, it was fun. He was something of a simple soul and he took a huge amount of pleasure in setting things in order. He was sure a psychologist would say something about how it ordered his mixed up thoughts, but that was probably poppycock. 

It showed mostly in his work with his machines though. Cleaning his gun, modding his implants, even just checking status updates he did with a methodical concentration that was present literally nowhere else in his life. It became muscle memory with some of it, weapons particularly, his mind simply picturing the metal as an extension of himself.

It was nice that he had some parts of the training he was happy with. His disdain of tutors had very much remained from his childhood, and he found himself biting back retorts so hard he cut his tongue. His instinctive reaction to criticism was to lash out, to criticise back, but that wasn’t so much of an option here. The superior officers had dealt with little shits like him before and made sure he knew it. 

But the routine kept him busy. Finding things for his hands and mind to do was a constant challenge. He worked for as long as he could simply to put off the time he’d have to go to bed and stare at the ceiling, skin itching, mind buzzing.

Grendel Raiding

Matthias whooped, leaning as far over the prow of the ship as he could without falling into the tossing sea. The sun was beating down on them, throwing sparkles and bright beams into the air. He forgot how much he loved this. He had only been a ship for short trips before, nothing like this. He was Freeborn, it was in his blood to walk on ships as easily as on land, but it was easy to forget that.

Harlequin’s ship was decadent. Full of wine and cushions and fine Leaguish food. A bit too rich for Matthias, truth be told, but enjoyable all the same. It wasn’t all luxury though. There were also weapons being polished and maintained, shields being repaired and carved, arrows being made faster than could be counted. When you looked towards the horizon, you could see yet more billowing sails.

It would be easy to let the sense of excitement permeate and let you become giddy. To think of this almost as a festival rather than the deeply dangerous mission it was. Matthias had never fought before. Only sparred with his Kohan, never stepped foot on a real battlefield. And now here he was, waging war.

He could feel the spirit of the Coast inside him, calling out for Grendel blood. For vengeance. To take their gold and bring it back to its new home. To call the names of his dead as he slashed and fought, to know he was celebrating their lives in the best way possible. 

He would make them bleed for himself, for his nation.

Josie’s Picture

The Weasel King furled and unfurled, curling it’s tail in long, looping swirls. It placed it’s paws before the comparatively tiny knight and sniffed at her, cocking it’s head curiously. 

“What brings you here?” It’s voice was a drawling thing, filled with a thousand years of life or more. It took all the time it needed, would not be rushed or hurried. It’s voice was deep enough that the soil trembled and the knight could feel it through her feet.

She knelt, remembering her manners in the nick of time, and presenting her sword up. There was an approving murmur from the gigantic creature. “I come seeking answers, your... highness?” She trailed off, peering up to gauge the reaction. 

“Highness, your majesty, lord, almighty will all do fine.” It tittered. “What answers do you seek child?”

“I wish to know how to be as wise as you. Your knowledge is spoken of for miles around, and it is whispered that you are never wrong. I hope to be the ruler of my kingdom one day, and I hope to be a wise one.”

The Weasel King considered. “This, I can teach you child. But first, you must shed your armour and lay down your sword, and renounce your questing.” The Knight blinked. “Why?” “Because, small one, you cannot be the wisest if you meddle. I have learnt all I have learnt because I have observed. I travel and leave no footsteps. I watch and make no sound. I have seen heroic achievements and grave injustices, and committed them to memory. I am a record keeper, a witness.”

“But... It’s said you’re magical. And powerful. That you could stir armies to your name and weave enchantments that could alter our world. That you have a people to rule, not just a title.” “That is also true child.” “Then... I think I’ve found the first thing you’ve been wrong about. You cannot be a ruler, well, a just ruler if you refuse to lift a paw when people need you. How many famines have there been? How many wars? And you justify your cowardice by framing it as an intellectual exercise? No! I retract my words - I do not want to be wise if it means being unfeeling.”

She threw the sword at the Weasel King’s feet, and began the long walk home. She did become the ruler of her kingdom. She did what she could for her people, pouring her blood and hope and love into the very soil she watched over. She did not live a long life and many would argue she was not wise. But she was beloved and Great.

From the Ashes of Disaster In her dreams, the sky was red and it was snowing. When she bared her hands, palm up and caught the flakes, they did not melt. They smeared. Soon, her palms were painted grey. It was ash, still hot, still burning. Kasimere woke up, her skin covered in sweat and the smell of burning was in the distance. The world was lit up with screams, from animals and human alike, and for a moment she wondered if this too was a nightmare. 

Something in her felt different. Fundamentally changed. Like she had glanced inside her mind and found something rotting, and now it was tainting everything it had touched. And her heart was beating faster, and her fists were clenching so tight they were painting her palms with blood-red crescents, and her jaw ached from how tightly she had been wound. Part of her mind thrashed against the rage, thinking of the Emperor, of the grounding earth, of the harvest, but quietly, quietly, it sunk under the wave of Khorne. Soon, there was little of her mind left.

Her mind did not become slow, or lethargic. Rather, it moved quickly, making calculations and decisions at the speed of light, callously discarding anything and everyone that didn’t matter. She knew, deep in her heart, that nobody else mattered, not really. All the parishioners she had cared for - sheep. All these imperials on her planet? Dogs. The food chain was so clear to her now. She was a wolf. She wanted to bear her teeth.  She wanted to rip and rend and tear and show them exactly where they stood.

When she left her small cottage, tambourine in one hand, scythe in the other, her village was in Chaos. There was only the dullest thud of grief as she saw the body of a sister, a cousin. The grief turned into anger so easily, and she no longer had the means to resist it. Some music whispered at the edge of her hearing. The words blamed the off-worlders, these soldiers that had utterly failed to protect her. They pointed out how things had only went wrong when they arrived. They laughed about how rude they had been, how inhospitable, how unkind. All the things that were the antithesis to Kasimere. Once, it would have made her sad. Now, it made her furious.

She was the predator here. She knew that now. And so would they.

Sail Away from Hush-a-by Mountain

He trailed his hand in the cool, pale water, watching the ripples spread out from the tips of his fingers. It was so clear he could see the mosaic of pebbles sitting at the bottom of the lake and the quick silver fish that darted between them. Above him, the sky was pearly white framing the tips of the mountains topped with snow. The only sounds were the sail snapping quietly against the wind, distant bird song and the ever-present ripple of water. Peace reigned. 

When We Weren't Looking the Tide Came In

The water lapped at our calves, insistent and tender. The sky was the soft blue of the evening, the once golden sand turning grey as the moon rose. Soon, there would be stars. We were going to die here but at least it was beautiful. 

We had waited too long to leave and an island had formed around us. There was only a small circle of sand left, and soon it would be overtaken. The land seemed all the more beautiful for knowing it was the last time we would see it. Something being temporary rendered it all the more precious. 

We sat, burying our toes in the still warm sand, the sea running over them. She sat close enough to me I could feel her heat too, the hair on my arms prickling from sheer proximity. There were worse ways to die than falling asleep on a beach with someone you loved. We didn’t speak - the air was too soft to disturb. But she reached out and took my hand, and together we waited. 

How Can You Tell I'm Under a Spell

The buzzing started quietly at first. Just on the edge of hearing. Enough to set your teeth on edge but not enough to really notice. But your skin was prickling, and your nails found your skin, and suddenly you were angry.

At some point the buzzing starts to make sense of itself. It starts to sound like music. Jarring notes and harsh melodies, but music all the same. It took root inside you, deep and demanding, thrumming in time with the beating of your heart. 

Maybe, soon it starts to sound better. It starts to sooth. You lean into the anger and it doesn’t hurt you. But you know that you can turn it into a weapon and it can certainly hurt someone. For once, it can be someone else. For once, you can be at the top of a hierarchy, not being crushed underneath. 

You realise you might even like it.

The Brigadier and the Batman

They had known each other from childhood, always in each other’s shadows, always tripping over each other. They liked it that way. There was a comfort in knowing someone as well as you know yourself. It was like always counting the number of steps correctly in the dark.

And then the war came, and they needed that support more than ever. The rest of the world had ceased to make sense. They had to have one constant, something that could be relied on. So one rose to dizzy heights, and the other stayed at his side, as was only right and proper. James had always been the one looking after the idealistic Theo, always with his head in the clouds. And in the trenches, on the boats, curled in close quarters, they were together. They shared everything, rations, letters, cigarettes and when the winter came in, warmth. 

Morning was their favourite time. Shaving each other, fingers tenderly pressing to the underside of his jaw to tilt his head up, the utter trust in allowing someone so close to the throat. James liked straddling Theo, bare chested, close enough to not miss a single spot. James was never good with words, this is how he showed his love. With service, with tender acts, with taking care of someone. Theo was the poet. He traced words on James’s back while they lay together. They couldn’t afford to have anything that could be found, so he declared his love in whispers and traced patterns. It worked, somehow. It worked.

The bombs tumbled from the sky and shook the earth. You could place your palms to the ground and feel the vibrations. Theo stroked James’s hair, curled up on the bomb shelter mattress, feeling like they were the only people on earth while hoping desperately they would not be by the time this was all over.

Elsie has a natural affinity with wolves; Othello likes cats.

He leaned on the windowsill, looking down into the courtyard below. There was a light dusting of frost coating every stone, the sky a threatening pearly white. There would be snow soon, and they’d all be even more contained within the castle. It could turn into a prison in more ways than one. Perhaps that was why Elsie was making the most of it. Othello couldn’t help but smile at the sight below. 

Elsie was sitting cross legged, ruffling the ears of the huge creature dead in front of her. Elsie was not a small woman, but the wolf made her look tiny by comparison. She bared her teeth at it when it growled at her, the threat soon turning into a laugh as it lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and proceeding to lick her face with some enthusiasm. It was the first time Othello had seen her look so carefree, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He realised not only how young she was, but how young they all were. Too young for this.

There was a chirping from by his feet and he glanced down to see the castle’s cat curling around his ankles, headbutting him every now and again in a desperate bid for attention. He squinted for a moment, making sure it wasn’t Strahd in disguise and fucking with him, before picking it up, placing it on the window ledge so it too could observe the scene in front of them.

Othello liked cats. He liked their independence, their sleek nature, the amount of personality differences they could have. You couldn’t make a cat like you. They either did or they didn’t. Dogs were easily bought. He scritched the ears of the creature beside him, hearing the approving purr that told him he was tolerated. Below, the playfighting had stopped, and Elsie had buried her face in the wolf’s fur, clutching tight. She might have been laughing, she might have been crying. It was impossible to tell. She was never like this around them.

Maybe he was starting to see the appeal of dogs.

"Hello, I'm Sam, and this is my friend, Lex."

The aforementioned Lex peeked around the taller man and waved his perfectly manicured fingers. They could not have looked more different. The ultimate odd couple. The smaller one looked vamperic, pale with scarlet lips and eyes. The taller was more rugged, more handsome. Warmer too, as if his nature softened his edges, took away any cruelty. Lex was all sharp corners and angles.

“We’re here to help.” Sam continued, fumbling in a pocket to find a small note. “The manager of the inn sent us. Said your house is haunted?”

They were shown in, Lex clearly trying to hide his disdain for the humble surroundings. The floorboards were faded, some places worn into grooves from hundreds of years of footsteps. The curtains were stiff with dust, their scarlet colour faded to a dull rust. The wind blowing over the chimney top made a whistling fill the house. It was eerie, they had to give the inn manager that. But Lex didn’t scare easily, and this was not even scary enough for him to love it instead. Sam, by contrast, had started exploring, whistling in time to the howling wind, apparently in high spirits.

They heard it when they got to the second floor, below the trap door that lead to the attic. The hurried scratching, scuffling, like fingernails on planks. According to the current occupant, a moody girl of thirteen who’s parents were at work in the mill, two years ago their grandmother had died up there. Since then, they couldn’t rent the attic. People woke up with scratches, reports of seeing unblinking eyes, and of course that horrid scrabbling noise.

“Is it dusty up there?” Lex inquired. “This coat is expensive.” Sam nudged him in the ribs, and with a sigh Lex shrugged it off, folding it gently and placing it to the side. “I’ll let you go first darling.” Sam took a deep breath and tugged on the trap door, ascending once the ill-constructed ladder had clattered down. Lex, for all his huffing and puffing, followed. What occurred after was apparently a great battle. An hour passed with much cursing, shouting and thumping. The girl half wondered if she should shut them up there and cut her losses. But then, triumph! 

Sam descended first, his arms torn with claws, a grin on his face. Lex came after, smiling much, much less and holding by the scuff of the neck a very angry raccoon.

#larp #prompts #prose #short stories