#coins in the garden fountain

[momotonescreaming]

Magic's been restricted in Hawkins for decades. Not by any law, or enforcement of the city guard, but by the fearful nature of man. Rumours of curses and spells, fear of the unknown - it has people scared.

And scared people lash out.

So people stopped doing magic in Hawkins. People stopped doing magic visibly, in Hawkins. They keep it behind closed doors, locked up tight.

Eddie dabbles in it. Small things. Good luck charms, cleaning spells, minor wards to keep the rain from leaking through the thatched roof of his and Wayne's hut. Nothing big, just some things he got passed down from his uncle, from his family way down south. He's thought about more, seeing how far his magic can extend - but he's not the witch, the demon that people think he is.

He doubts that the townsfolk have anything to base their suspicions on. They just don't like him or the Munson name. Him and Wayne are the ones who get the blame, but he knows there's powerful players in Hawkins. Powerful magic that's been at work a long, long time.

Eddie might not be the best mage, the best witch, but he's always been good at feeling magic.

And there's a small courtyard on the outskirts of town that reeks of magic. The strong shit too, been there for a very long time, put down by very powerful people.

Other people don't notice, it's a good courting spot - or so people say. Large trees, bushes covered in flowers, a nice cobbled path, with a large fountain in the middle. It's picturesque, romantic. And atop the fountain, is a statue.

A statue of a boy, or a young man, or however you want to put it. He's handsome, devastatingly so, with a square jaw and muscled arms. A wreath of laurels resting atop his perfectly swooped hair, and an elegant toga like robe draped across his body.

He's posed delicately, but in a way that does not hide his masculinity.

The garden always perfectly kept, always tidy, never any vermin, and no one is ever seen maintaining it. The statue never cracks, never fades, never dirties. He is always perfectly encapsulated in marble. Shining white.

Eddie is a little bit obsessed. There's not a lot to do in Hawkins, and the magic in the courtyard is alluring. It's tricky, encircled and entwined into itself - into the world around it. It's a puzzle, and Eddie wants to figure it out.

So he goes to the courtyard when he knows no one else will be there, and he makes sure to bring a notebook. Write down what he sees, what he feels.

He can feel the sun on his shoulders, the breeze gently ruffling his hair, the birds singing in the trees. Bees flitting from flower to flower, there's a stream trickling somewhere near.

The statue shines in the middle, drawing the eye.

It's perfect. Almost too perfect. Designed by man, and not by nature, perfect.

So Eddie pulls off his boots, rolls up his trousers, and wades into the fountain. Standing on the wishing coins people have tossed in. But he ignores them, of course, and heads to the statue. The more he concentrates, the closer he gets, the more he can tell that this, him, is the centre of all the magic.

The perfect statue.

Eddie can see the nailbeds in his fingers, the moles that dot his skin, the pores on his face, the lashes on his eyes. Perfect. He gets even closer, takes a deep breath, and focuses his magic. The more he looks, the more he listens, the more Eddie can feel the magic encircling the courtyard.

He swears he can hear a heart beating inside the statue's chest.

#Stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #fantasy au #steve is cursed to be a statue au #if that wasn't clear #this idea has possessed me i wrote this in a fugue state #momo.txt #My Writing

[elixirfromthestars]

My Dearest

Pairing: Duke!Bucky Barnes x Lady!Reader (Regency Era AU — Bridgerton Inspired ) 

Summary: On the night of Lady Maximoff’s ball you find yourself in the gardens, troubled by your emotions. As if by fate, the rain pours down reuniting you with the one who is the very object of your troubles.

Word Count: 3k

Warning(s): heartbreak / angst / longing / implications of cheating / rejection / creative liberties for this era (yes I did do research, but bear with me if there are any inaccuracies in this piece of fiction 🤍) / PDA -> stays at a TV-14 level / a surprise cameo / female reader

a/n: This little piece has been in the works since I got into the Bridgerton series. Binge-watching the spinoff Queen Charlotte this weekend gave me the motivation to finish this piece. Thank you for reading! 🤍 Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ❤️

for ambiance 🌧️

Your fingertips poked at the surface of the water in the fountain. Unstemmed red carnations danced along the water to the rhythm of the ripples. The faint music of the ballroom was ever so slightly drowned out by the stream pouring from the fountain at the center of the garden. You were sitting on the edge of it, hoping to ease your nerves with some fresh air. You wished you had brought a coin with you to throw in the fountain and wish your worries away. 

Wishes, however, were for children and the fairytales they believed in. You were no longer a child nor were you in a fairytale—much to your dismay. Your father made sure you knew of this, reminding you of your duties at every possibility. As the only child of the one and only Earl L/n, you were expected to marry into a higher status. Your mother, on the other hand, wished for you to marry for love and nothing more. 

You thought you had found both—you almost had both. 

Unfortunately, the one you truly desired broke your heart before he even fully had it. You pushed the thought of him away, for he was the very reason your emotions were an entangled mess. 

You looked down at your ball gown, its baby blue color muted by the lack of lighting in the approach of nightfall. You tugged at the ends of it lightly, wanting nothing more than to be at home wearing your nightgown instead. One of your favorite romance novels in hand, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. You always dreamed of having your own happily ever after, and for a while, you thought you had. A love story any poet would be over the moon to muse over. 

You were sadly mistaken.

A few droplets of rain plopped themselves onto your arm. You scanned the sky above you, the once royal blue evening turning a smoky grey. A clear sign it would soon start to rain. It was only a slight drizzle, making you realize a few of those fallen droplets weren’t from the clouds above, but from your very own eyes. 

You couldn’t let the prince see you like this.

You rose from your spot and searched the garden for a place to compose yourself. In the near distance stood a greenhouse decorated with overgrown ivy, obstructing the view of the inside. A perfect place to hide away from your troubles and the rain.  

You lifted the ends of your ball gown, making sure to not muddy or tear any part of it, as you made your way to the greenhouse. You stepped inside, immediately enamored with the various flora surrounding you. You knew Lady Maximoff treasured her garden, but never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up the breathtaking view before you.

You strolled along the path, taking it all in. The rain started to come down in a pour, ridding any outside noise from coming through. Thus making it harder to hear the footsteps that were approaching you.

“ Y/n? My dearest, what are you doing here?” You froze in your spot, recognizing the voice of the one who broke your heart. You turned to see James Buchanan Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn standing a few feet away from you, drenched from head to toe. It seems he too was caught in the rain. 

“ Your grace, my apologies. I did not know you were here. Please excuse me,” you attempted to remove yourself from the situation, but he wouldn’t let you. Stopping you by your hands, holding them delicately. 

A frown overtook his features,“ Why do you address me so formally? Have we not grown past this?”

You swallowed hard, not wanting to dwell on this topic of conversation for long,“ We did, but like anything that grows, there comes a time when it withers. We have withered.” 

You yanked yourself from his grasp, his mouth parting in disbelief, “ Y/n, what are you saying? Is this because of the prince? Have you indeed traded your love for me for the status he can bring you?” He threw the accusation in your face with such disdain you felt as though he had struck you. 

A rage bubbled within you. 

“ How dare you? Do you truly think so little of me? I would have given up the world for you. You, however, would never have done the same,” you turned to walk away again and he swiftly maneuvered his way in front of you, blocking your path. You felt tears prickle at your eyes, but you forced yourself not to cry in front of him. 

“ I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. It is only that you have been so cold toward me lately, and I do not understand why. At tonight’s ball, all I wanted was to have you in my arms once more and instead, I had to stand there like a fool watching you dance with the prince. I left for the gardens when the incessant rumors of a marriage between you two were all anyone could talk about,” his eyes searched yours for an answer, resentfulness lacing his every word. 

You looked down, not being able to meet his eyes, “ I do not have to justify myself to you. And those rumors. . .are not rumors. I believe the prince should propose any day now.” By the end of your sentence, you feigned what little confidence you had left and fixed your posture, ready to face James with a steady gaze. However, as soon as you met his eyes you found yourself taking a step back. 

James looked at you like he had taken a bullet to the heart.

“ And what of us? My dearest, I do not understand what I have done wrong. Tell me, so that I may fix it. I cannot bear to lose you,” his hand reached for yours to pull you in closer. You side stepped his advances, his hand recoiling at your relentless rejection. 

You took in a deep breath, a sigh escaping your lips,“ You already have. The moment you decided to entertain other women while claiming your heart was mine. I am the fool for believing your grace was honest about courting me.” Irritation crept its way back into your heart at the memory. 

This caught his attention as he stared at you with a puzzled expression,“ Is that what this is about? Y/n, you must know that was merely for diplomacies—for business. ”

You bit the inside of your lip to refrain from insulting the man in front of you. “ Then that is what I was then, merely a means to a business transaction between you and my father. Did you think I would not find out? My father would have never invested in that mine of yours if it were not for him believing we were courting. It was no coincidence that as soon as the papers were signed you were seen with Lady Natasha alone in your home,” you paused for a moment, realizing you had raised your voice at James, causing you to take a deep breath before continuing, “ You should be grateful my father is not holding you to any responsibilities since he is now focused on assuring I become royalty.” 

James’ fists were clenched at his sides,“ How could you doubt my honor? How could you ever doubt that my heart is anyone's but yours? My business with Lady Natasha is nothing but a misunderstanding. I swear on my honor.” 

You scoffed, “ Your honor means nothing to me. Your reputation of being the most prolific Rake in town precedes you. I should have believed everyone when they warned me.” His lips formed a tight line, an impatience overtaking him, “ You should know by now my darling, I do not care what others whisper in the shadows. You are all I care about, and if that is what you truly think of me then—you wound me.” 

You shook your head, ready to retaliate once more with your words when he swiftly made his way to you and held you by your shoulders. “ I love you. I am certain what fuels this frustration and hatred toward me is the love you feel for me,” his voice was gentle, his features softening. His eyes held you in your place, as your body longed to be closer to him. A mere touch and a part of you was already screaming at you to forgive him. 

The two of you stood there for a moment, staring at each other’s eyes not saying a word. You had no strength to pull away from his grasp, “ Your heart will move on. It will find love in another,” your response was reduced to a whisper by the end. You weren’t sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself with your words. 

He shook his head, “ My dearest, the heart here has no say. I cannot say I love you with all my heart for it will one day stop beating. I love you with my entire soul, for my love for you will live on with it for all eternity. I am forever bound to you.” James’ declaration tugged at your heartstrings. 

“James. . .” his name dropped from your lips in a pleading whisper. Whether that was for him to stop or keep going—you weren’t sure anymore. You were left speechless. Any protests or rebuttals that were initially in your mind were gone with one declaration. He pulled you in closer—if that were possible—and embraced you, planting a passionate kiss on your lips. You returned it with as much intensity.  

You melted into each other, the reciprocated love burning into you. This one kiss ignited within you all of the feelings you were trying so desperately to extinguish. James tasted of wine and smelled of sandalwood, a combination you found strangely addicting. 

One of James’ hands slipped down your back, your own gravitating to the nape of his neck. He pressed his body against yours, a small gasp escaped your lips allowing him to deepen the kiss. The continuous kisses he bestowed upon you grew needier by the minute. If his words weren’t getting through to you, he wanted to make sure his lips did. 

His mouth moved down to your neck, continuing to show his devotion to you. Your body betrayed you as it leaned to the side giving him easier access. You held in a breath at the sensation. It was evident no one could make you feel the way James does.

This was the opposite of what you had been striving for these last few weeks. Your father made it clear to you how important it was for the family for you to rise to the status of a princess. The prince had been kind and charming, but he was no match for James. You knew there was no argument to be had with your father since now that a prince was interested in you, there was no way in hell he was going to accept a Duke as his son in law. You didn't care and figured that in time he would forgive you once he realized how in love James and you were. You hoped he would see what your mother saw and accept this path to your happiness. 

That was before the incident.

  A month ago you took a carriage ride to James’ home accompanied by your Lady’s maid Kate. The purpose of this escapade was to confide in James over your father’s intentions. Unbeknownst to you, his true intentions would be brought to light instead. 

Your carriage was merely a block away when you spotted them. They were laughing as James’ footmen escorted both him and Lady Natasha inside. There was no one else in sight and no one else entering the home with them. This meant they were in there alone and unchaperoned. Only impatient lovers would resort to such means knowing a scandal could break out if they were caught.

You clutched at your chest, overwhelmed with the way it ached. You felt as though James had come up to you and ripped it out of your chest, exposing it to everyone to gawk and laugh at. To laugh at how stupid Lady Y/n had become in thinking the biggest Rake in town had truly, madly, and deeply fallen in love with her. 

Kate took you in her arms and ordered the coachmen to take the long way back home. You sat there, crying into her shoulder throughout the entire journey. You vowed that day to never fall for James’ charms ever again.  

The memories of that day hit you full force and knocked the air out of you. Your body caught up to your brain and with as much strength as you could muster you pushed James off of you. He looked shaken by your reaction, staggering back almost tripping over a cluster of purple hyacinths. 

With your anger at his betrayal still fueling you, you lifted your chin in the air and spoke your final words to him,“ You cannot water what has already withered and believe it will come back to life.” 

You didn’t bother to look at him this time, knowing too well the expression on his face was one that would make your resolve crumble in an instant. You quickly turned and ran out of the greenhouse and back into the garden. The rain was still coming down in a pour, soaking you from head to toe. Tears were streaming down your face and the ends of your ball gown were now covered in mud. In spite of that, you continued to run to the furthest part of the garden closest to the carriages and farthest from Lady Maximoff’s manor.

You were yearning to be home—to be in your mother’s arms and bask in her comfort. To have Kate prepare you the warmest cup of tea and sugary scones to indulge in. Anything to remove the taste of wine and the smell of sandalwood that was now deeply imbedded into your senses. This in hopes to forget the events of tonight ever happened. 

“ Miss Y/n, you are soaked to the brim, we must get you home. I shall fetch the Marchioness at once,” your coachman draped a blanket from the servant’s quarters over your shoulders and helped you into your carriage. You hugged it tightly against you as the coachman walked away to get your aunt, the Marchioness of Syracuse. You had completteley forgotten she was the one who accompanied you tonight. How were you going to explain your current state to her? 

“ Miss Y/n?”

That voice—you know that voice.  It belonged to the person you least wanted to see at this moment. A lady should never let a prince see her like this. 

“ Your Highness, I beg of you not to look in the carriage. I was caught in the rain and I am not proper,” the door of the carriage was wide open, the prince’s emerald green attire coming into view. You angled your body so that he could only see the bottom half of your ball gown, hiding your face from him. 

“ Your wish is my command, my lady,” he stood by the entry of the carriage facing froward, his side profile visible to you. Your shoulders relaxed, relieved he didn’t have to see you at your worst. His personal attendant was beside him, holding an umbrella above him to ensure his royal highness was not touched by the rain. 

“ I must thank you for bestowing upon me the pleasure of dancing with you tonight. I regret we did not get to spend more time together. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress,” he complimented you, bringing a smile to your face. “ You flatter me, your Highness—thank you. I will make sure to not get caught in the rain next time, so that our dances may continue.” You made light of your situation, bringing out a soft chuckle from him. 

“ No matter if there is rain. I would gladly charge right into the storm of it if it meant I could have you by my side,” he stated, a warmth overtaking your cheeks. Any flirtations coming from another man other than James were foreign to you and flustered you easily. James’ flirtations were inviting and expected, while others were far from it. They felt wrong to hear and to accept. In doing so, it was as if you were being disloyal to James. 

You would have to keep reminding yourself there is nothing more to be disloyal to. 

“ You’re too kind, your Highness. I am not sure it is worth catching an illness over this weather for a dance,” you responded, trying to keep your voice gentle and light. You didn’t want any negative emotions to take charge just yet. They could do so once you were in the privacy of your bedchambers. 

“ For me it is. You are worth it, Miss Y/n,” the prince had never confessed his love to you, but with this sentence, it was clear his feelings toward you were much stronger than you had previously believed. Many proposals were given on attraction alone—to have a proposal based on love was the rarest of blessings. 

You stilled in your seat, his words making your heart skip a beat. From the bottom of your heart it was clear to you, you were not in love with this man. Nonetheless, you thought, maybe in the future you would. Maybe if you tried hard enough your heart could move on even if your soul refused to. 

“ Oh! Prince Loki, your highness, what a pleasure to see you here with my niece. . .” your aunt arrived just in time, saving you from having to respond. Your mind wandered off, your aunt’s voice and the prince’s getting lost in the background as they spoke to one another. 

You draped the blanket over your head to cover the stream of tears that refused to stop flowing. If you pretended to be asleep than you could avoid all of your aunt’s pestering questions on where you had snuck off to while the prince was waiting for you. 

No, you did not love Prince Loki.

Yes, you were in love with James Barnes the Duke of Brooklyn.

However, for the sake of a love lost along with fulfilling your duty, you would have to learn how to love another. 

Rake:  A rake is a 19th-century term for a womanizer or a man who flaunts their exploits with women and avoids any real romantic attachments.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #duke bucky #duke bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky oneshot #james bucky barnes

[blues824]

Hello I've seen that you have been getting a lot of requests

But could I request : twst housewardens with nico di angelo/reader, that reader tells them that they're son/daughter of hades and their power? And maybe the battle of labyrinth(feel free to ignore ☺)

Gender-neutral reader (male reader-coded, but anyone can read as there are no gender-specific terms used). English Server player here, btw.

Riddle Rosehearts

You were the only one possibly in the entirety of Twisted Wonderland who could revive the dead… even if they were to do your bidding. Yeah, he was definitely freaked out when you cracked the ground open and made a bunch of cadavers and skeletons attack him while he was overblotting.

Riddle can tell that you have been through a lot of pain. He did not know the extent of that pain until he saw you at the fountain, throwing in a drachma and conversing with your sister’s ghost. You only had one tear slip down your face when you noticed that the tyrannical housewarden was watching. You quickly recovered before using the shadows to travel back to Ramshackle.

It wasn’t until later where he learned about your backstory, and holy shit have you gone through a lot. Chronologically, you were 82, but you had the physical appearance of a 15 year old. You were physically younger than he was. You told him that it was because you spent 70 years in a casino, but this just managed to confuse him more.

Anyways, you first came off to him as rude and distant, which he could understand because you ended up in Twisted Wonderland. You first thought you were hallucinating or put under a hallucination by a god or goddess you weren’t aware of. That being said, you didn’t get close to anyone because you were scared that you could be brought out of the hallucination at any point. However, you started getting closer to a certain red-headed housewarden as he extended a cup of tea “olive branch”.

Leona Kingscholar

When you stepped on his tail in the botanical gardens that day, he was annoyed as we all know. However, since you were in your Battle of the Labyrinth era, you were not about to take the shit he threw at you. Maybe if you were younger, but not now. You were pissed off at Percy and you were on a mission to get out of Twisted Wonderland as soon as possible.

He doesn’t really care that you are a more private person. However, when he sees you display some of your abilities, he does get a bit curious. Like, for example, you opened up the ground and had skeletons attack him while he was overblotting. He easily turned them into sand, but it was still surprising. He had never met anyone who could do that before, as magic in Twisted Wonderland could not do that.

But, there was one time where he was coming back from a Housewarden meeting, and he saw you putting a strange coin into the fountain while you were speaking to an apparition. He hid behind a pillar and saw that there was a figure on the ledge of the fountain. You turned around and Leona saw a tear slide down your face before you melted into the shadow that the fountain cast.

Leona eventually learned of your backstory by Ruggie running around and seeing what he could find about you. You were actually 82 years old, which definitely added to the small pile of “Things that Actually Surprised the Housewarden of Savanaclaw”. You had never actually celebrated your birthday by a birthday party. The apparition he saw in the fountain was your deceased sister. He feels like shit for the way he has treated you thus far.

Azul Ashengrotto

As we know, he was present during Leona’s overblot. So he sees that you can summon a dead army. And he definitely wants to get that under a contract that will put him at an advantage over the dead. However, you have already been in this situation. You were not about to be under someone else’s control again.

That being said, your fatal flaw made its appearance and you held a grudge against Azul. You would go out of your way to not come within six feet of this man. You started making your own meals and you would travel via the shadows. The cecaelia noticed, and he started to feel kind of bad… and so he asked the tweels to find information on you in exchange for less hours for an entire week.

They came up with a lot of things, actually. You were the descendent of Hades, the brother of the father of the King of the Sea. That is how you got your powers. It wasn’t magic at all. You had a full biological sister who joined the Hunters of Artemis group, but died. You were fighting gods and titans left and right… and you were still physically only 15 years old.

Unfortunately for you, your powers did not come in handy when you fought against his overblot. However, your sword did, as well as the potion that allowed you to breathe underwater. You’ve had plenty of experience with fighting in water, so you were well-versed and thus defeated him rather easily. You called him an amateur, stating that one of your fellow demigods at Camp Half-Blood would have posed a better challenge, which made his ego take critical damage.

Kalim Al-Asim

You cannot tell me that this man is not the Will Solace to your Nico di Angelo. However, unlike Will, Kalim does not have the power to heal anybody via singing a song. He is no archer. He has no super powerful whistle. He can’t put anyone under a ‘couplets curse’. He can’t emit a divine glow. He can’t shoot rays of light. He can’t change the seasons. He can’t control diseases. But he is still yours.

Because of the way he is, you physically can’t hold a grudge against him. But you are suspicious of the Vice Housewarden. You stick to the shadows and listen in on private conversations. Not like Kalim would ever believe you, but you have done what you could to prevent an uprising against him.

During Jamil’s overblot, you were actually able to defeat him rather easily, surprising Kalim. Sure, you were sent into the desert, but you were able to travel in the shadows that the dunes of sand cast. You were actually able to take everyone and travel faster. However, that left you drained, but you knew you had to keep fighting. Using the last of your strength, you summoned a skeletal army, and then your vision started to get dark.

Kalim ended up waking you up in the infirmary. He was crying and pleading with you to forgive him for not believing you all along. You were kind of confronted and put on the spot, wanting him not to make a noise and cause a scene. You patted his head kind of awkwardly, and he was so happy to see that you have forgiven him and that everything was going to be okay since you were awake now.

Vil Schoenheit

You looked like a corpse, and Vil was not afraid to point it out. You bit back and stated that because you were a child of Hades, God of the Underworld, it was understandable that you looked less than alive. That started a beautiful hateship between the two of you, as he’s trying to fix your eyebags and you’re trying to fix his attitude. You didn’t even know much about Neige, but you said something along the lines of, “it’s no wonder that everyone likes him over you.”

Anyways, Vil has sent Rook to go dig up some dirt that he could use against you. The hunter found out many heartbreaking things that made the Housewarden feel horrible about the things he has said about you. You were doing all of this just for Bianca, your deceased sister, because she told you that you needed to move on as she moved on to Elysium. 

When he overblots, you already have enough experience. Your sword has the ability to absorb darkness, and guess what the ink is? Anyways, you used your sword to absorb some of the ink, which weakened the overblotting mess. It was a relatively easy takedown, and you just left silently after. Again, your fatal flaw poked through, and you only helped because of Epel and Rook and how you were friends with them.

In the infirmary, Vil woke up right when you dropped off a single get-well gift. It was a small vase with just one stem of lavender as well as an olive branch. Just one, as you wanted to be stingy, but you wanted to be better than your fatal flaw. You wanted to show that you weren’t unsympathetic, so you extended this purple olive branch and the actual olive branch. Vil knew the language of plants all too well, and he got the message.

Idia Shroud

You both are shut-ins, you both are nerds… It's a match made in the Underworld. Nah, but all jokes aside, you both hated each other at first. You would debate each other on every single fact from any given Fandom. But you were good friends with Ortho, even if you did dislike the fact that he was so naive. He reminded you of yourself in the beginning of your demigod journey, and you did not like remembering all of that.

Anyways, Idia is going total cyber-stalker. He is trying to find something he can fight against you with, kind of like a Redditor. What he did manage to find was depressing and sad, and also made him feel like shit. Hearing about Bianca made him clutch onto Ortho more and appreciate having him, as not everyone could have such a good replacement as his robotic younger brother was for his dead older brother.

When he overblotted, you were just tired at this point. However, Idia proved to be much more of a challenge than you had originally thought. By this point, the Housewarden of Ignihyde had analyzed your powers as a child of Hades as well as thought about any other hidden powers you may or may not have, and prepared accordingly. You couldn’t shadow-travel at all and you couldn’t use the ground for whatever reason (Idia had used magic to keep you from doing so).

It was depending on your assholes of friends that allowed you to win, because the one thing that the flame-haired 18-year-old didn’t expect was for you to suck it up and forget your grudges against Ace just to beat his ass. So, he was left vulnerable as you acted as a weird diversion, using his love for a certain anime against him as you shouted a complete hot-take that he definitely did not agree with. 

Malleus Draconia

Hey, look everybody! It’s the social rejects! I’m just playing… kind of. You both tend to emit an aura that can be portrayed as frightening to others. The only difference was that your aura was intentional, and it even managed to give Sebek a spook sometimes. However, it did not deter Malleus from reaching out to you and extending an olive branch. That was the start of a beautiful relationship between the two of you.

I have a headcanon that this dragon prince is kind of like a goth version of Will Solace. You can confide in him during your nightly walks, and he is not going to judge you for it. You have actually told him about your older sister and her untimely death, and while he did try to tell you that it wasn’t Percy’s fault and you weren’t hearing it, you secretly knew that it was true and it was just your fatal flaw that kept you from forgiving Jackson.

Speaking of confiding within him, you’ve also told him that you were scared that he was going to overblot. He was so attached to his retainers as well as you and Lilia that it would be wrong to qualify this fear as anything but rational. Malleus understood, as you’ve already had to fight six overblots in the relatively short amount of time you’ve been in Twisted Wonderland, and you’ve had to solve the familial issues of an arsonist (Rollo Flamm).

Your fluency in Greek fascinated Malleus, as Greek was not a common language that was spoken. He had no idea what or where ‘Greece’ was, but he was also interested in learning about Hades as well as your [distant] cousins, who were the other demigods at Camp Half-Blood. Then, there was an entire other demigod camp called Camp Jupiter, and you were kind of a ghost story between the two. You, in turn, listened to his silly little rants about gargoyles, as you believed that there needed to be a healthy exchange in interests within the relationship.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst wonderland #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle x reader #twst riddle rosehearts #twst leona x reader #leona #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #twst azul x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #twst azul #kalim x reader

[specialsituationsgroup]

Lego Discworld - Patrician's Palace

Patrician's palace exterior with Ankh-Morpork coat of arms. Giant beehive / pidgeon roost / clack's tower on roof. Statue of old Stoneface and hoho in front. City catacombs under the surface.

Palace interior with secret passage. Palace garden with lilac bush and BS Johnson's exploding fountain. Ginger tom and unprofitable butterfly.

Patrician's palace, closed, front.

Havelock Vetinari, Wuffles and Igor in the puke green room. Includes candle stub on nightstand and candle stick hidden in the chest of drawers.

Mr Pump in Vetinari's study. Incudes a crossword puzzle/thud board, music sheet and the manuscript of The Servant.

Leonard of Quirm, Sybil Ramkin, Erol and Rufus Drumknott in Leonard's atelier. Includes the model of the Kite, device for removing mountains, internal combustion kettle, scultping and painting equipment, and Vetinari's portrait.

Library / secret passage. Includes Oswald, modle of the disc and a death mask / head for young Vetinari.

The low king of Dwarves in the Oblong office. Includes Vetinari's and Drumknott's desks, "world's best boss" mug, and dog biscuit.

Commander Vimes, Angua von Uberwald and lord Rust in the Rat's chamber. Includes sprig of lilac, old Stoneface's axe, and Angua's collar / stygium ring.

Otto Chirk and palace guard in the waitng room / entrance / throne room / ball room. Inclues Vetinari's clock and the gilded throne of Ankh.

Palace Cook / Glenda Sugerbean / Grace Speaker / Interchangable Emma and food taster / Young Sam in the Kitchen. Includes bread, water and hardboiled egg. Roasting salmon, caviar and goblet of blood. Wine, cheese and a spoon.

Foul ole Ron and Rincewind in the treasury. Includes snake and scorpion. Paper money, Agatean gold coin and a head of cabage.

Tears of the mushtoom and Detritus in the saferoom / bathroom. Includes matress and shaving equipment. Bathtub, chamber pot with nightsoil, and shoft lavatory paper.

Moist in the janitor's closet / botomless pit. Includes trap door and chain for mimes. Stoker Blake's shovel and the Sweeper's broom.

Death / mime and death of rats / rat spy in the dungeon. Includes barred door, Dwarven locks, and a plaque inscribed learn the words.

Possible minifig permutations, with acessories:

Charlie, assasin Vetinari, Patrician Vetinari, Stoker Blake

Drumknott, Vetinari, Adora Dearheart, Albert Spangler.

Vimes under the Summoning Dark, young constable Vimes, Commander Vimes, Sargent Keel, Sir Samuel the duke of Anhk.

BLT Sybil, Dragonbreeder Sybil, dwarf opera Sybil.

Buggy Swires, Nobby Nobs, Fred Colon, Angua von Uberwald, Carrot Ironfounderson. Commander Vimes, Reg Shoe, Cuddy, Cherry.

Groat, Moist, Stanley

Ponder Stibbons, Mustrum Ridcully and Rincewind

Mrs Rosie Palm, lady Sybil Ramkin, madam Roberta Mersole

Otto Chirk, Margolata von Ubervald, dragon king of arms

Dragon king of arms, lord Rust, mr Pin and mr Tulip, Reacher Gilt, mr Slant, lord Downey

Low king of dwarves, Bashful Bashfullson, Cuddy, Cherry

Buggy Swires, Tears of the Musroom, Of the lathe the swarf

#lego #discworld #patricians palace #ankh morpork #moc #vetinari

[lullabyes22-blog]

Compromised - A Mel x Silco Piece

Ch: 1 hits this weekend~

Snippet:

"You could," she stretches languidly, and the hem rides up her thighs, "join me."

 "It will be hours before the party winds down."

"Not to sleep. Just to talk."

"About what?"

Silco sits, again, at the foot of the bed. It dips beneath his weight. The mattress, a wide affair, is more than big enough for the both of them.

His palm rests on her ankle. The touch, impersonal before, lingers. Emboldened by this small intimacy, Mel lets her fingers itsy-bitsy-spider up the cuff of his shirtsleeve. The weave is cool; the arm beneath deceptively lean in an armature of sinew and bone.

She thinks of the rapiers her mother kept on display in the gallery: honed, fine, deadly.

But a deft touch, she knows, can disarm even the sharpest blade.

"We could," she says, "talk about our itinerary. The island we'll be staying at is renowned for its beauty. There are waterfalls a stone's throw from our camp. And ruins, where the locals say the gods themselves used to frolic. Or the villa itself: supposedly designed to merge nature with civilization. The rooms are like gardens, each with their own sunrooms and fountains. All of it, with a view of the turquoise seas." She toys with his cuff, and watches his face. "I know you like the water."

"I'd like it better if I weren't sharing the villa with a half dozen coin-gorged parasites."

"Don't think of them," she says coaxingly. "Think of me. Think of you. Think of the possibilities."

"Their security detail? Paid for by my dime. Their staff? Paid for by yours. And the bill?" A scoff. "We're footing that together"

"It's a modest bill. Barely a pittance." Mel's fingertips skitter up his forearm. "Meanwhile, we'll have a wing entirely to ourselves The most luxurious in the villa. Its own beach, white as snow. Its own grotto, with a natural sauna. Its own garden, full of exotic blooms and birdsong."

"And mites, and mosquitoes, and yet more parasites."

She ignores that, continues to speak in that satiny tone she uses for closing deals. "At night, we could light the bonfire and dine beneath the stars. We could take the yawl out and anchor offshore." Her fingers creep higher, and so does her smile. "We'd make love on the deck, and listen to the sea, and make love again, and listen to the sea."

"And all our guests, with their telescopes, would watch, and lay bets on the size of my cock."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward but never forget/xoxo #forward (never forget)/xoxo #arcane mel #mel medarda #melco #silco x mel #mel x silco #arcane zaun #arcane piltover

[blueiskewl]

The House of the Vettii in Pompeii Reopens

The House of the Vettii, one of the largest and richest homes in Pompeii, prodigiously endowed with a fresco of Priapus that has become an icon of the city, reopens to the public on Tuesday after years of complex restoration.

The House of the Vettii was the home of Aulus Vettius Restitutus and Aulus Vettius Conviva, freedmen brothers who made a fortune as wine merchants and ascended the social ladder. Restitutus was a candidate for aedile, a magistrate responsible for holding public games and the maintenance of public buildings. Conviva was an Augustalis, a priest of the cult of the deified Augustus, a position of civic importance that was more akin to a magistracy. In this role he would have funded major public works projects.

The Vettii bought the house, originally built in the 2nd century B.C., after the earthquake of 62 A.D. It was in a tony neighborhood that many of the wealthy homeowners had left rather than rebuild. When the rich moved out, the nouveau-riche moved in. Freedmen who had made big bucks in trade like the Vettii were a prime example of the trend. They bought the aristocratic villa, repaired it and expanded it, adding a huge peristyle garden with statues and fountains. Every room was lavishly painted with frescoes on mythological motifs, telegraphing their wealth and the new status it bought them. Priapus, his massive phallus balancing on a scale against a bag of money, welcomed visitors in the vestibule of the house. Two large bronze strongboxes were placed in the atrium so everyone who got past Priapus would be confronted with the the most literal possible representation of the wealth of the Vettii.

The frescoes are mostly in the Pompeiian Fourth style, a combination of the previous three styles (faux marble veneers from the first, architectural trompe l’oeil from the second, ornate, stylized ornament from the third). The Vettii frescoes provide unique insight into the transition between the Third and Fourth style of mural painting. There is also a remarkable series of striking black and red frescoes depicting groups of cupids performing a variety of tasks, mythological ones like celebrating a festival of Bacchus and a festival of Vesta, sure, but of particular note are the representations of daily work, including the gathering and pressing of grapes, buying and selling the wine, dyeing and cleaning clothes in a fullery, picking flowers and making garlands for sale, making perfumed oil and making coins. The cupids are also captured at leisure, hunting on goat-back, racing in chariots pulled by deer and taking part in an archery contest.

The room adjacent to the kitchen was painted with a series of explicit erotic frescoes. It may have been a visual menu of options offered by an enslaved prostitute Eutychis who advertises her services for two asses (plural of as, the lowest-value Roman coin) on a graffito at the entrance of the house.

The domus was first excavated between late 1894 and early 1896. In the 1950s reinforced concrete roofs were added to the peristyle to protect the architectural remains from the elements. It was no longer protecting it, however. On the contrary, the flat concrete roof was unsound and directly contributing to water infiltration and damage.

Already affected by works in 1995, when the problem created by the concrete roofs of the 50s was evident, the house was partially reopened in 2016, after 12 years of closure and then closed again after 3 years for further restoration. Interventions that involved the roofing but also the paintings, with the removal of the patina created by previous restorations.

The old concrete roofs have now been replaced with sloped roofs formed from hollow blocks on metal frameworks. The wooden roofs added in the 1990s are still functional but needed refurbishment, and a new rainwater drainage system was devised to integrate the new roofs with the existing drainage system.

Conservators also cleaned and conserved the wall and floor decorations and the fixtures of the garden. It was a painstaking process of cleaning, regrouting and integrating interventions from different periods with the aim of recovering the legibility of the images and colors.

#The House of the Vettii in Pompeii Reopens #fresco of priapus #pompeii fresco #ancient artifacts #ancient art #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman empire #roman history #roman art

[artzychic27]

Blame @msweebyness’s post for this… I call this au Miraculopolis

@imsparky2002

Marinette: Goddess of Luck and Chance. Her symbols are ladybugs and clovers

Adrien: God of Family and Children. His symbols are domestic cats and carnations

Alya: Goddess of Messaging and Facts. Her symbols are spectacles and pigeons

Nino: God of Protection and Defense. His symbols are shields and turtles

Nathaniel: God of the Fine Arts and Inspiration. His symbols are paintbrushes and peacocks

Alix: Goddess of Time and Memory. Her symbols are clocks and rabbits

Juleka: Goddess of Serenity and Inner Beauty. Her symbols are mirrors and ravens

Rose: Goddess of Romance and Love. Her symbols are roses and doves

Sabrina: Goddess of Loyalty and Companionship. Her symbols are rings and wolves

Chloé: Goddess of Wealth and Prosperity. Her symbols are gold coins and bees

Kim: God of Sportsmanship and Victory. His symbols are palm branches and eagles

Max: God of Statistics and Possibilities. His symbols are abacuses and horses

Ivan: God of Poetry and Ballads. His symbols are quills and mice

Myléne: Goddess of Nature and Grains. Her symbols are cornucopias and bears

Marc: God of Literature and Epic Tales. His symbols are fountain pens and roosters

Aurore: Goddess of the Sun. Her symbols are parasols and lions

Mireille: Goddess of the Moon. Her symbols are wool and sheep

Reshma: Goddess of Craftmentship. Her symbols are a needle and thread and spiders

Ismael: God of Mischief. His symbols are apples and foxes

Lacey: Goddess of Siblinghood. Her symbols are rope and frogs

Jean: God of Theater and Entertainment. His symbols are comedy and tragedy masks, and songbirds

Cosette: Goddess of Masking and Adaption. Her symbols are a makeup pallet and chameleons

Zoé: Goddess of Rebellion. Her symbols are broken handcuffs and a tiger

Simon: God of Technology and Surveillance. His symbols are eye-shaped pendants and hawks

Denise: Goddex of Strength and Health. Their symbols are barbells and bulls

Luka: God of Music and Emotional health. His symbols are lyres and snakes

Kagami: Goddess of Combat. Her symbols are swords and dragons

Ondine: Goddess of the Sea. Her symbols are a trident and orcas

Different nations, different mythologies and deities

They’re all powerful deities, but they still act like teenagers, get crushes, drink a lot of wine, have wild parties up in the heavens, and crash mortal parties whenever they please

Being the goddess of Masking and Adaption, Cosette can shapeshift into any animal she pleases while the others only shapeshift into the animals they’re associated with

Cosette: Random animal exit! *Shapeshift into a shark and starts flopping around on the ground before shifting back and gasping for air* Random… Land animal exit! *Shapeshifts into an ostrich and walks away*

Zoé: Even as an ostrich, they’re still gorgeous.

Marc and Nathaniel have been crushing on each other for eons

Rose and Juleka have been girlfriends for centuries now. Juleka is not affected by Rose’s romance-inducing aura, and Rose is not affected by Juleka’s almost ethereal beauty. They just love each other

Adrien has almost this maternal instinct due to being the god of family and children, and as such, he adores mortal infants

A former member of the gods and goddesses of Miraculous is Lila, the goddess of deceit and trickery. Her symbols are jackals and masks. She still has her divine powers, but she’s not allowed back in the skyward abode of the gods and goddesses for a multitude of reasons, and has offended each of the others gods in some way

Also… She was just annoying as hell

*During an outing in the divine garden, long before Lila was banished, Myléne is telling the others about a new tree she had come up with. The others are listening intently when Lila suddenly interrupts*

Nino: Someone, make her stop!

*Nathaniel summons his paintbrush staff and slathers a bit of red paint over Lila’s mouth. It dries in an instant, and her words come out muffled*

Nino: *Sighs* Much butter.

Ismael possesses an object called The Golden Apple of Chaos. Basically, when he throws it, it causes some sort of havoc somewhere

He’s always tempting mortal children to cause a little chaos

Ismael: Just think of it, Manon. You, me. All the chaos. All the discord! ALL THE FREE CHICKEN!

Legend from both Miraculous and Prodigious mythology tells of a monster named Kiku, once a mortal man who wanted to become stronger. One night, he snuck into Kim, Denise, and Kagami’s temples, and stole one of Kim’s medals, one of Denise’s barbels, and one of Kagami’s swords. When they discovered this, the god, goddex, and goddess punished him by turning him into a monstrous bear-like creature. He had impenetrable skin and could tear through entire villages with his claws

One quirk about him is that whenever he gets flustered or excited, a peacock tail will fan out from behind him

A tale from mythology of Miraculous talks about how Nino developed feelings for Alya when she protected him and several mortals from a dangerous monster while they were visiting the mortal realm

Wherever Marinette steps, four-leaf clovers grow

When they arrive in the mortal realm, their entrances are all a sight to behold that you’ll wanna punch yourself if you miss them

According to Miraculous mythology, whenever Rose travels to the mortal realm, she descends from the sky in a flurry of rose petals. And when she lands on the ground, several doves appear at her side, and she emits a pink aura that causes people to momentarily fall in love with the first person they see

When Nathaniel comes to visit the mortal realm, the sky becomes an array of colors as his beautiful, iridescent chariot is drawn by several peacocks.

Reshma descends from the sky, performing aerial tricks using spider web silk. Her feet never touch the ground as a clutter of spiders carry her about, almost making it look like she’s gliding

Lore has it, that centuries ago, Denise nursed a young injured bull they named Aithen back to health, and infused him with some of their divine magic, helping him grow stronger over time until he was able to pull their heavy two ton chariot on his own

And, there is a tale stating that Simon won Denise’s heart after using his wits to vanquish a monster attacking the mortals

According to mythology, Lacey bestows blessings on mortal children and their siblings, helping to strengthen their bonds and know when their siblings are in need

While Lila may be the goddess of deceit and has done some terrible things over the centuries, she still has standards. As such, she refuses to ever interact with Lucien, the god of Onedience and Power, and Emani, the god of Manipulation, who were also ousted from their heavenly abodes

Max’s sacred object is his golden abacus, gifted to him by Kim. Centuries ago, Kim melted several of his prized golden medals to create it for him

During the annual Olympics hosted by the Miraculous, teams from different nations come to compete for glory. The gods and goddesses watch from the stands while disguised as humans or the animals they are associated with. Kim, meanwhile, is in his god form and loudly cheering for the team representing Miraculous

While Nathaniel is one of the kindest gods of Miraculous, but he also has a fiery temper. When provoked, he’ll fly into a rage, and even the other deities know to approach with caution

One way to piss him off is by claiming you’re a better artist than him. He’ll curse you so that any piece of art or art material you touch will turn into dust. *cough* Louis *cough*

Due to being the Prodigious god of not only Theater, but also Entertainment, whenever there’s a party happening in the mortal realm, Jean is known to make a grand appearance. This is usually when he feels as though the party’s reaches its peak. Guests are to be advised that whenever Jean attends a mortal party, it doesn’t stop unless he wants to stop. The longest was a week

Zoé, the Prodigious goddess of Rebellion is also known to frequent parties, usually ones thrown by teenagers who plan and attend it without their parents knowing. From the heavens, she descends using a charriot drawn by two majestic tigers. She describes parties such as that as, “Rebellion in its most premature form!”

#greek mythology #miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb au #akuma class #science kids #mlb ocs #I like Greek mythology #random au

[imber-rose]

G/t WAC day 14 prompt: Date Night!

Levvie crouched slightly to duck under the doorway and into the warmth of the tavern. It was nice that she could even fit through the door, while most establishments catered to larger species like dragons, few creatures reached heights quite like sea monsters and as such Levvie often had to kneel to enter shops.

She approached the counter where Pumpkin was wiping down silverware. The kôreborne glanced up briefly “aye Levvie, find anything good scavenging today”?

“A few pearls, a bit of gold… oh a picked these up for you” Levvie grabbed a sack from her waist and set it down for Pumpkin to see.

“Oh! Stone Crabs” Pumpkin excitedly grabbed the sack. “Well ,thank you I’ll throw these in the freezer and send out Kal for ya”.

Levvie sat on a stool as Pumpkin jumped down and made her way into the back of the tavern. There was a flurry of sudden commotion before Kal burst through the swinging doors, wings a blur of movement keeping his feet inches off the floor. Levvie tried not to laugh as he crashed into the bar with a gentle OOMPH!

He righted himself and quickly approached Levvie “are you ready” she asked.

“Are you kidding, I’ve been waiting for this all week” he beamed.

It was only a short walk down the docks to the new creamery. Lanterns and lights twinkled in front of the modest building. Kal almost ran up to the counter and Levvie, even with her stride, struggled to catch up.

“One small vanilla cream with honey drizzle and strawberries, and whatever the lady would like” he glanced towards Levvie.

She leaned to be eye level with the human at the counter “a large chocolate cream, with cookie bits please”

The human nodded, Kal handed over some coins and soon they both had their ice cream. Levvie held Kal’s hand and hummed as they walked further away from the docks to the community garden. Taking a seat on a bench Levvie started spooning her dessert into her mouth.

Kal set his cup on the bench, wings flicking. Levvie watched as his form shifted, shrinking, skin giving way to floof and a tail unfurling behind him. Now in his fae form, Kal sat on the edge of the cup and started using his hands to scoop cream into his mouth.

Levvie smirked “You better be careful, or I’ll have to throw you in the fountain again”.

“Hey! You said that was an accident”!

Levvie chuckled “so.. is it as good as you were hoping”?

“definitely, oh you have to try this” he exclaimed, scooping a strawberry into his arms and using it like a spoon. After he decided it was properly loaded with cream and drizzle he leapt up, wings buzzing to get him airborne. His tiny frame rushed to Levvies face and she pulled back slightly to make sure he wouldn’t slam into her.

“I don’t know Kal”.

“Come on, just try it, it's only a bite”.

Levvie opened her mouth, gently taking the strawberry from Kal. She chewed contemplatively as Kal buzzed before her. “Hm, that’s not bad actually”.

“Told you”!

“Now you have to try mine” Levvie lifted her spoon with one hand and held her other up open for Kal to land. He settled into her palm and grabbed at the spoon greedily. He shoved his entire face into the chocolate cream and then pulled back with eyes wide.

“oh” he gasped.

“see! I told” Levvie was cut off as Kal tipped the spoon while eagerly trying to get another bite and dumped chocolate all over himself.

“Oops” Kal laughed, licking his palms.

“Oops” Levvie responded as she leaned down and kissed him, her lips smothering his face. She pulled away “I hope you know you're definitely going in the fountain now”.

“Nooooo”

“Yesssssss”

This is old art, and there’s meant to be an additional sketch of Kal standing on a stool that I CANT FIND!!! but I’ll share regardless

#gtwac #wacprompts #g/t #fairy #seamonster #realmofsollus #imberwrites #imberocs #OCs #writing #fantasy #sci fantasy

[secret-third-thing]

Chapter 1: The Thought that Counts (In Which Nothing Happens)

Eris x OC | Rated E | Read on AO3 | Read on tumblr below the cut

Gianna of Montesere's life is shattered when her family becomes the target of a chilling assassination attempt. Forced into exile at her estranged father's side in the Autumn court, she embarks on a journey that thrusts her into the treacherous depths of Prythian's most perilous family. Amidst the dazzling highs and heart-wrenching lows of cutthroat politics, Gianna discovers an unexpected love in Eris Vanserra that turns her world upside down.

Warnings: Typical violence and scheming, gambling, old-school slut shaming

Read if you like: slow burn, enemies to lovers, political intrigue, worldbuilding, cute dogs

Gianna watched her cousin Ludivine pull wishes from the garden fountain. The dark-haired female stood barefoot near the middle, where four ornate lions were perched on a central pillar, mouths opened wide and spewing out thin streams of water. The female carefully navigated around the creatures, one hand bunching the hem of her purple organza dress so it wouldn't be ruined. Then, humming to herself, Ludivine skimmed her hand across the water and stopped to pick up a coin from the bottom of the fountain. She curled her hand around the metal and held it out, eyes glazing over for a moment.

"They wished for a child," she said with a dreamlike quality to her voice, power rippling around her. Then, when she snapped out of the trance, she gave a haughty laugh and tossed it to the ground beside her.

Gianna's other cousin, Alois, a male several decades older than her and Ludivine, smoothed his hair back and held out a hand, not sparing a glance at his sister's antics. The abandoned coin flew to his fingers before he added it to a growing pile beside him.

"It's rude to read the wishes," he said halfheartedly, turning a page of his book. He had been engrossed in the novel for hours. It took Gianna almost no time at all to realize he had switched the book jacket from a historical text to hide the fact that he was reading yet another erotic novel.

Ludivine threw an accusatory glare at her brother. "Since when have you cared?" she said. She chose another coin and read off the wish. "Good health and a long life. Boring!"

This time she tossed the coin to Gianna, who caught the gleaming piece of gold and added it to her own pile at the table she was sitting.

"It's not like they actually come true," she said, meeting Gianna's eyes and then dunking her hand back into the water to fish out another poor fae's dream.

"It's the thought that counts." Gianna countered with a huff. She would rather die than admit it, but she had come here several times under cover of night to add her own wishes to the hundreds in the fountain's basin. The gardens of the Palace of Splendor were open to everyone, including their subjects, so many fae stopped by to offer their dreams in the hope that the Mother would grant them. So far, none of Gianna's dreams of meeting and falling in love with a prince from a neighboring kingdom had come true, but these things didn't happen overnight.

Gianna shifted uncomfortably in her seat and gazed back at the palace. Tonight may be different, she reminded herself. Tonight was her grandfather's birthday, and royals from across the continent were arriving to celebrate at the palace. The males of Montesere were far too hedonistic for her tastes if her cousin Alois was any indicator. More than once, she had caught him under the influence of mirthroot with multiple females squirming beneath him, equally euphoric and unraveling. If she was being honest, she preferred her males to be more traditional, which earned her endless teasing from both her cousins. Montesere was the one place where fae could live out their desires, and many traveled from other kingdoms so they could indulge. The fact that Gianna actively avoided these activities was unusual, at least according to her family.

"Thinking about your depressing males again?" Ludivine sang from the fountain.

Gianna rolled her eyes. "I'm debating how quickly it'll take for Alois to sneak out of the party and into one of our guest's bed chambers tonight," she lied. Alois snorted and threw a coin across the table at Gianna. Ludivine giggled and stepped out of the fountain into her shoes so she could throw her arms around her older brother.

"Oh, we both know that's not going to happen tonight. Alois is banned from leaving the dancehall without a chaperone." She wiggled her eyebrows and squeezed her brother tightly.

"We all have chaperones," he said, pulling her arm away from where she had it tucked under his chin and around his neck.

"True," Ludivine sighed, "some of us are too fabulously slutty." Gianna didn't disagree. If Alois was indulgent, Lulu was downright obscene, at least from what Gianna had heard secondhand from some of the courtiers.

"At least you're aware," Gianna said, biting back a grin. Her cousins both glared before they all broke out into laughs.

"Don't worry, Gigi," Ludivine said, reaching over to pinch her cousin's cheek. "One day, you will meet a male you like and never close your legs again."

"Lulu!" Gianna leaned over the table to grab at her cousin, but the female ducked out of the way.

"It's true!" she teased.

Gianna fought the urge to tell Ludivine that she was one to talk but saw Alois shaking his head. "If you two are going to have a spat, I will find our uncle instead."

"Fine!" Gianna said, gathering all the coins into a pouch, "We should all go bother him anyway. I haven't seen him since he arrived back here from Prythian." -- They found their uncle sparring with some courtiers at the training fields on the other side of the estate. Gianna hadn't seen him for months, but the time away had suited him. His skin was sunkissed, and freckles bloomed on his face, peppering his nose and cheeks. As Montserre's emissary, Mattheo traveled quite a bit. However, Gianna suspected that the captain of his private boat had more to do with the extended absences than actual work as an emissary.

Today, instead of his usual finery, he wore dirty white stockings tucked into wrinkled pants cuffed just below the knee. He had discarded his embroidered jacket in favor of wearing a simple vest. And despite the aggressive parrying back and forth with his rapier, not a single strand of chestnut hair was out of place.

Gianna watched eagerly while her cousins chatted with her uncle's friends. They were young and rakish like Mattheo, and she would be lying if she hadn't thought about pursuing a relationship with one of the males. But she was far too shy - skittish, as Alois would say. And they were far too forward. As though she were emphasizing Gianna's point, Lulu had lain her head across one of the males' lap, letting him get an obvious eyeful of her cleavage spilling out the top of her dress. He reached down to caress her cousin's waist and murmured something to her.

Gianna rolled her eyes and ignored the jealousy burning in her stomach. She knew the yearning would drive her mad one day, but maybe the Prythian half of her heritage gave her pause. She returned her attention to her uncle, who had gained the advantage in his match.

Mattheo stepped forward once, then back twice, then lunged. He parried a particularly clever jab and, noticing his niece's rapt attention, gave her a goofy wink. He was the youngest of her grandfather's children and the most entertaining. Gianna had fond memories of him watching when she was a child and her mother was away. Together they would traipse around the palace grounds, fighting pretend dragons until she was too tired to keep her eyes open.

Now she saw only him whenever he was between travels, which was far too infrequent as it was. She had asked to go with him once, but her mother declined, leaving no room for discussion. So, for now, she'd settle for hearing her uncle's stories.

Finally, the two males stopped sparring, Mattheo deftly disarming his companion. He handed his rapier to a servant and grabbed a cloth to wipe the sheen from his forehead.

"What brings you three to this part of the estate?" he said.

"Boredom!" Lulu wailed, sitting up and pouting her lips in practiced sadness. "There's simply nothing to do! We've been kicked out until the party."

Mattheo chuckled and patted her head, "Perhaps it is because you three are the root of all trouble for the servants."

Alois cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at their uncle. "Three?"

Their uncle let out a hearty laugh. "Am I to understand that all of you were not responsible for turning one of the guest suites into a gambling den?"

"The one you gladly attended?" Alois replied cooly.

"The one in which I won all your little games?" Mattheo replied with a smirk. Gianna rolled her eyes at them both.

He was right. Nearly a month ago, they had quietly converted a suite into a betting parlor. It had initially been Alois' idea, but the trio had been bored and spent their evenings slowly bringing in and rearranging furniture. Alois was careful to admit only the courtiers he knew were hungry to climb the ranks of court. Lulu had brought in some of her friends to entertain their guests. And Gianna, well, Gianna had played. Card games were her specialty - something that Mattheo had taught her when she had gotten too old to play dragon-hunters anymore. Eventually, their parents caught wind of their endeavors and shut the establishment down only after Mattheo emptied the den funds with his bets.

"You cheated," Alois said. He had been insisting this ever since Mattheo had won every single game the last night the gambling den had been running.

"Perhaps? Or perhaps you aren't as good as you think you are," her uncle replied. Alois shifted and flexed a hand.

Sensing that neither male would back down, Gianna jangled her bag of coins to get their attention.

"How about a rematch at cards?" she said. "We brought coins!"

Thankfully, the tension melted away at her suggestion. Alois backed down and took the bag from his cousin. Mattheo grinned wide and looked back at his friends, still doting on Lulu. One handed her a handkerchief to wipe her false tears.

"We should," he said, "before your cousin charms my friends away."

#acotar #acowar #acomaf #acosf #acofas #a court of thorns and roses #montesere #eris vanserra x female oc #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra #thanks to friends for point out the mature content label was on?? #so im reposting this

[planet-gay-comic]

The Places Where Love Blooms:

In the infinite diversity of the world, hidden gems of romantic tranquility can be found, places where couples have sworn their fidelity to each other and deepened their love for centuries.

Such a magical oasis spans 1.5 kilometers and is surrounded by majestic cliffs. It's the Aphrodite Gorge. This gorge is named after the Greek goddess of love and is renowned for its beauty and romantic atmosphere.

Another place steeped in love is the Love Garden in Edinburgh, Scotland. The garden is a haven of peace and relaxation where couples can retreat and savor their love. Here, roses bloom in the most beautiful colors, and enchanted pathways lead to hidden corners where lovers open their hearts and pledge eternal fidelity.

In Prague, Czech Republic, you'll find the Love Fountain. The fountain is associated with a legend that claims its water strengthens love. Legends say that the water from this fountain enhances the bonds between lovers. Here, couples toss coins into the fountain and make wishes for everlasting love.

The Love's Gorge of Romeo and Juliet in Verona, Italy, is inspired by Shakespeare's famous tragedy. The gorge is a place where couples pledge their love and remember the love story of Romeo and Juliet.

These places, whether real or symbolic, narrate tales of love, passion, and eternal devotion. They are popular destinations for couples from around the world who wish to experience their love together, focal points in the fabric of romance that draw lovers from all corners of the globe.

#gayart #queer #gaylove #gayromance #Aphrodite #gorge #boylovesboy #gaycomic #loveFountain #romantic #LGBT

[merrylament]

Hi! How you get Jack in Disney dreamlight valley? I’ve unlocked the forgotten lands but I haven’t found a way to find him

Hello Anon, hope you're well! :)

Okay, I feel you, I had some trouble initially too so I'll give you a hand.

Since Jack is part of a free update, you should just get the quest 'Something Comes A'Knocking' after updating the game and booting it up.

I'm going to put the rest under the cut because if others would like to figure this out for themselves and not be spoiled I want to respect that, so, spoilers under the cut!!

I found a little Matryoshka Dolly on the Plazza in front of the steps to the fountain and I knew something was up. SO.

The first dolly can be found anywhere around the Plazza area but I've read that it's more likely to spawn:

Just outside the player's house. 🏠

Near the stairs leading to Peaceful Meadow. 🌳

'Directly east of the fountain' ⛲

And,

Behind or in front of Scrooge's store. 💵

Take her to Merlin and he'll give you the rundown.

While you're here, I'll give you some tips on the locations of the other dolls.

The second, third and fourth Dolls can be found in basically any of the other Biomes so just embrace your inner magpie and look for sparkly things! ✨

According to this guide though, the Dolls are more likely to spawn near landmarks like:

WALL-E's Garden. 🌱

Moana's Boat. ⛵

Bridges in Sunlit Plateau. 🌞

The cave where Olaf is found in Frosted Heights during 'The Great Blizzard' quest. ⛄

And,

The huge tree we locked Mama Gothel in all that time ago. (lol)

Since you've unlocked the Forgotten Lands Biome, you'll be able to get to the Pumpkin Tree. (yay, nice one! :D)

And this is where I struggled because it's basically a very long, thin tree that they've hidden somewhere around Forgotten Lands and mine spawned like... You know the waterfall in Sunlit Plateau? How you can see the top/back of it from the Forgotten Lands? Well, it spawned there and took me an age to find because I was impatient so... Maybe check there first lol.

I also couldn't interact with it and apparently it's a little bug for quite a few people at the moment. Luckily you can just use F and move the tree like a piece of furniture to gain access to the door and there you go!

Now you need to feed it the Matryoshka Dolls to unlock the door and summon our Skeleton Overlord.

Jack's house will cost you 5000 Star Coins to construct.

Hope you have lots of fun with Jack in your Valley!! (send me some screenshots!! or don't. just have fun!!) 🖤 :)

#disney dreamlight valley #ddlv #ddlv spoilers #game help #jack skellington #the nightmare before christmas

[hauntedjpegcollection]

baldur's hero

wc: 3253 au: baldurs gate au ch: xavier, benji

Xavier rarely goes to the courtyard without purpose.

It’s too noisy with too many people and never enough room to breathe—the restoration to the gate had been beautiful to witness. To be a part of, even. But years since the destruction and the noise has returned, like birds returning to the skies or brooks bubbling once more. It was in full swing everywhere but especially in The Heroes Yard. Blooming gardens surround marble statues, lovingly tended by a circle of druids that helped Baldur’s Gate and then never left the city. Their constant humming—occassional singing, even chanting—was the undercurrent to people.

He dodges a throng of young mages in electric colored robes, as they’re lead through a trail by a wizened teacher. She knocks her cane against a statue here and there, imparting wisdom to the sleepy group who follow dutifully. Xavier deftly bends and snags a scroll thats slipped free of one pupil. When he winks to her, she blushes all the way to pointed blue ears and covers her smile with a clawed hand. There’s not a hint of recognition about her silver eyes, just amusement and maybe embarrassment as she tucks herself back in with her group.

It’s nice not to be known. There is no statue of Xavier in this yard. But—he does find the one he’s looking for.

It’s only just past a lovely fountain. A popular spot, where people gather to idle free time. It is rarely empty. Sometimes, Xavier wishes he could have been part of the decision making process that went into this particular statue’s placement. It feels only right, after all, that maybe he should have been able to direct the artist who’d captured his husbands likeness.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Xavier says to the life sized rendition, taller than him only because it sits atop a pedestal. Benji’s pose is hilariously stiff, not just because he’s made of marble. Whoever had been commissioned to fill The Heroes Yard must have spent at least some time with Benji. They’d gotten the heavy set to his brow, the uncomfortable placement of crossed arms, his grimacing (but gorgeous) mouth. A stranger might look at him and find his stance confident, boastful. Strong in the face of adversary. Chin tilted back to survey the very city he’d saved.

Only, there has been an addition to the statue. A fuzzy black mustache made of felt has been taped to it, covering the natural stones rendition of Benji’s actual facial hair. It’s a bit lopsided, admittedly silly looking. Makes Xavier grin staring up at it. But it’s hard not to grin at Benji, even if this isn’t actually Benji.

He sits down at the edge of the pedestal, rustling through his coat pocket for the mutton sandwich he’d brought himself. It’s been hastily wrapped in yesterdays news paper, oil making it translucent here and there in little dots. They have too many copies, because Benji cannot stop himself from purchasing a page from every young busker on the street. So they mill about their home, hoping not just for a glimpse of the hero, but some of his coin.

“I always add too much oil to these,” Xavier complains quietly to himself and to Benji’s hero statue. “What I wouldn’t give for a curry.”

It’s been some time since Benji’s left, so he fends for himself in the kitchen. It’s a lonely part of their home now. But that’s Harper business. Xavier doesn’t ask. Not because he doesn’t want to know but—

They’ve had more than one fight about Harper business. The old argument that maybe Benji should retire, should simply stay home and find something worthwhile, something heroic here has been shelved for some time now. They don’t argue that one anymore, because Xavier understands that one better. The need to be doing something. The need to be helping. But the renewed and much debated (hotly, with both of them saying things sharper than they mean) is about Xavier’s safety.

Because is is safer for Xavier to not know the details. However, a part of him itches for someone to think of him as Benji’s weak spot and come looking for an easy belly to cut open. Xavier is no longer a paladin (if one ever stops truly being a paladin), but that doesn’t mean his hands don’t sometimes ache for the hilt of a sword.

The sandwich is still good, even if it has far too much oil on it. He leans back against one of Benji’s marbled legs, one of his own tucked up. He stares out across a pretty horizon overlooking the ocean that runs up against Baldur’s Gate. Xavier misses his tiny fishing village sometimes, especially when there’s all this noise (lovers laughing as they sit by the fountain and hold hands, a baby crying loud in it’s mothers arm as she shows the faces of countless, timeless heroes, the wizard and her students). He closes his eyes and enjoys the sun.

“Oi!”

Xavier blinks and looks to the side. Then adjusts his gaze much lower so he can look at this intruding stranger properly.

“You do that?” the tiefling looks furious, pointing at the statue he leans against. Xavier follows the child’s finger up to Benji’s face and the terrible mustache.

“What?”

“Y’think that’s funny then, do ya? Defacin’ a hero like that?” if Xavier were standing, the tiefling would come up to his waist. If that. He’s small, with just the barest hint of horns. A dark umber color, with dots all over his face and bare arms. His eyes are shockingly yellow, the kind that glow a bit when the sun hits them properly. Xavier tilts his head and then looks up to the statue, and then back down to the tiefling.

“This guy?” He jerks his thumb back at Benji with a smile. The tiefling’s face floods darkly, clawed hands balling into little fists at his sides.

“That guy! You new to the gate, half elf? That tief’s a hero, I said.” The child enunciates the word hero so hard it feels like he’s trying to cast a spell with it. He’s slight, but not not waifish, nor is he unkempt. Xavier remembers the refugees. No one could forget the refugees—no one with a heart, anyway. The outpouring of orphaned children, many of them just like this one. But Benji’s fan wears clean clothes and good shoes. His curly black hair is combed back, even if it also fans out around him messily.

“You don’t say,” Xavier ponders, glancing over his shoulder. He’s trying hard not to smile, brushing his hands together to clear his palms of crumbs. “He your idol or something?”

“That’s none of your business.” The little boy adopts Benji’s posture, arms crossed over his chest. He has a dangling earring that is silver, in an interesting snowflake design. Xavier slowly slides his way off the pedestal and stands. As he does, the tiefling child stutters back a bit. He blinks up and up until his head is nearly tilted all the way back—despite that, he still glowers, even if it’s less pointed now.

“What did he do that was so important?”

Xavier watches the tiefling climb his way onto the pedestal. He clings arms around Benji’s statue to keep himself upright. Xavier’s hands begin to raise on reflex, but he quickly lowers them when the child looks his way. However, when he turns back and starts awkwardly trying to snatch at the mustache, Xavier’s hands return to a safe distance. If the boy fell and broke his elbow all because of a mustache that Benji himself had slapped onto the statue, his husband would be distraught about it for weeks.

“They not teach history lessons where you’re from?” the boy asks, grunting with effort and an outstretched hand. The way Benji’s arms are crossed make it difficult for his short arms to reach. “Alright, how about this? A trade?”

“Oh?”

“I’ll tell you the story if you get this blasted mustache off him—s’not right! No one messes with the statue of Gale Dekarios.” He says the mans name with a haughty, sniffling air. Xavier has to bite his lip not to laugh.

“Not a fan of the famed Wizard of Waterdeep?”

“You wouldn’t get it. People are always tellin’ the stories of human men. All the time. Had to hear about them my whole life growin’ up. Even elves, yeah? Even half elves. No ‘fense to you.”

“None taken.”

Xavier understands what the boy means.

Gale was a handsome human man who did not want to save Baldur’s Gate—or maybe he did. Maybe his ideas would have saved the gate and the people within the city. But what would have become of the human man, with all that power? And when did Gale’s desire to save the city become more about wanting the power? No one else knew that story, because Benji was good. Benji was a hero, who didn’t go telling people the truth. That Gale Dekarios, whose statue was never defaced, wanted to take that stupid fucking crown for himself.

He breathes deeply to avoid letting himself get lost back in that day. It’s not what he’d come to the yard for. He’d come, because he’d missed his partner and wanted to see his face, even if it was a marbled version.

“Alright, son,” Xavier says, stepping forward. He takes the tiefling by the hips and gently picks him up. The boy weighs practically nothing and he’s easily set back down on the ground. He doesn’t protest. For a moment, Xavier can imagine a father doing exactly this. Taking a rowdy child and hoisting them around. There’s a twinge inside his chest. Children with parents. How special that it’s not a novel idea anymore.

“Tell me the story then. Benji, right? One of Baldur’s heroes?” He hefts himself up onto the pedestal and throws a lazy arm around the statue’s waist. He can briefly imagine himself doing the same to the real Benji. How warm he’d feel, snug against him. How good he would smell—like healing herbs and something spiced, like a hint of rain or the promise of rain. Xavier stares down into the statue’s eyes.

I miss you, he thinks fondly, smiling. It feels good to miss you, it reminds me of before. A letter sits inside his coat as well. Just like before. He’d meant to drop it at the post before coming to the yard, but he’d been hungry.

The tiefling boy begins telling Xavier the tale. Some parts are wildly exaggerated—Benji rode a dragon, he dual wielded maces blessed by Tyr himself (Lathander, forgive him, Xavier laughs internally). Some are painfully true, like his one mystical hazel eye, the long draw of a scar down the middle of it.

“Mm, he didn’t get the scar from the eye,” Xavier comments softly, finally plucking the mustache free. He cannot stop himself from pressing a swift, chaste kiss to the statues cheek and then hopping down to the ground. The heavy sound of his body makes the tiefling jump back, though Xavier lands perfectly with knees bent. He rises slowly, holding up the mustache with a toothy grin. The boy is blushing even harder than he was in anger.

“He’s married, y’know,” Benji’s fan snorts, pointing to the statue. “Heard his husband’s ferocious—seven a half feet tall with a sword that calls lightning. They say he killed Ketheric Thorm—but I don’t believe that.”

Not just me. It is rarely just one person who kills a God.

“That’s good. Shouldn’t believe everything you hear. It was Dame Aylin that killed Ketheric.” Let her have the glory; she deserved it. Xavier toys with the plain silver wedding band on his finger. He feels a roll of nausea from the memory of Ketheric Thorm, but it is an ancient hurt, a cold and dead fear that he’s mostly grown free of.

“No. It was Karlach Cliffgate—you’ve pro’lly never heard of her, ‘cause she’s another tiefling.” The boy turns his nose up, snorting contemptuously. Xavier does not tell the young boy that Karlach had not been there for that particular fight, but instead a powerful and terrifying Githyanki woman, who stories do not tell of frequently enough for his liking. But that was history.

Favoring the Gale’s of the story—even glorifying Xavier to a seven foot lightning wielding paladin, though nameless as he was.

“You know,” Xavier says contemplatively. “I bet, whoever keeps putting these up there does it early in the morning. Probably right before dawn, so no one can see.”

His thoughts ease into the memory of Benji, the sunlight not even peeking over the horizon yet. The window to their bedroom open, because they’d secured a spot by the water and the smell of it comforted Xavier. Their hands on each other, touching faces or sides or arms. Small kisses while Xavier is half dozing still, almost asleep—Benji’s leaving, is telling him he’ll be back soon. Telling him to write, telling him he loves him.

The boy looks struck by the idea, his grin going sneaky. Then he schools it neutral and huffs.

“Not thankin’ you. Was an even trade. Information for help. That’s fair by Baldur’s ways.” Xavier bows deeply, making the boy look instantly sheepish. He turns to run, down a winding and flowered path. At the end of it sit two tieflings, a fat and happy baby in their lap. Xavier watches the boy crawl up onto a stone bench, whispering conspiratorially into a mans ears. The tiefling is the same shade, with the same spots.

Xavier lets himself have one last look at Benji’s statue before he leaves the garden.

—

Finally in his hands once more, Xavier does not let Benji go again.

Not for the entire night. There is no moment where he is not touching him; from the exact second Benji crosses the threshold to their modest home, Xavier’s palms slide across his forearms, to his shoulders. Their mouths crash together in a desperate, laughing kiss. Benji is lifted off his feet, crushed to Xavier’s chest. His armor clinks. The smell of leather oil and dirt, but also Benji.

His hands stay when they take a well earned bath together in a washing tub that they’d specifically bought for this depth, this width. To fit the two of them. Hands touching while they’re in bed, and not necessarily just for the sex that they have. That ranges from rough and needy and desperate and wild to slow and languid and sore and tired. But his hands stay even after that, just simply cupping ribs. Running over a broad torso, a hairy chest. His fingers roam until they find—

“This scar was not here before you left,” Xavier snips, pushing Benji to his side to stare down at the small healed wound on his side. It’s a tan scar on dark skin, no longer than his finger. It’s minuscule in comparison to the one on his back, or another on his hip, or the burn on his calf. Xavier peers down at it with narrowed eyes. The black kohl he paints around his eyes has run horribly and Benji’s cupped hand on his cheek brushes a thumb through it.

“That’s always been there,” he argues innocently, with wide eyes. One black and beautiful and the other hazel and ethereal.

“Fuck you,” Xavier seethes with a laugh. “I know every single scar on you. I’ve tasted them with my tongue.” He punctuates that sentence with a flat lick to this new, offending scar. It makes Benji shiver, his hand clutching harder around Xavier’s cheek. His other finds a home in his hair, carding through the long red strands.

“Arrow grazed me, s’all.”

“Archer dead?”

“If I said he weren’t?”

“Suppose I’d take my Oath up again and find him and shove an arrow through his fucking—”

“Archer’s dead,” Benji laughs, pulling Xavier closer for another kiss. It doesn’t stay gentle, though it starts with just the press of lips and a sigh of air. It deepens with both their mouths opening wider, their tongues rolling and sliding against one another. Xavier moans into the kiss, sliding himself until he’s entirely over Benji—and his hand stays around this new scar he has to memorize. They kiss until it’s messy and when they part, a string of spit momentarily connects their mouths. Xavier licks it hungrily, greedily, eyes hooded and it snaps.

“Death of me,” Benji mutters dramatically.

“Swear that,” Xavier laughs, ducking underneath Benji’s chin to kiss his fuzzy jawline. He moves until he finds his pulse. He sucks it hungrily, thinks to leave a long lasting bruise so that anyone who sees the Hero of Baldurs will know that hero does have a terrifying, greedy husband.

“What am I swearin’ to?”

“Your death is to me only.” Xavier pulls back. Their breathing has both gone harder. There is a flicker of Benji’s youth around his eyes; but they are both so undeniably older now. Gray to their hair, wrinkles at the corners of their eyes, scars everywhere. “An archer can give you a scar. Maybe some Zhentarim fuck surprises you with a dagger—maybe you come home with a scar here instead.” Xavier cups underneath Benji’s knee, touching the soft skin that is never touched by anyone but him.

“But you swear that, Benji. No Harper business takes you from me, I’m there the day you die, or you don’t fucking die, got it?”

Because it all felt unfair sometimes, for Xavier. The city got it’s statue. Boys got their heroes. Harpers got their cleric. He leans forward until their noses are nearly touching. Benji’s eyes have gone dark. Possessive. His hands touch Xavier’s lower back and shove firmly until they are touching every place they can touch.

“Swear,” Benji says in a husky voice.

—

“Tyr’s fucking greatsword,” Xavier moans through a mouthful of food. Breakfast sits, hot and loving prepared on their kitchen table. It’s wooden and long enough to fit company, when they eventually have company. That morning, it is only the two of them, Benji sitting on one side with a mug of steaming tea and a satisfied and sleepy expression.

“I missed your cooking.”

“Could learn to do it yourself.”

“I made sandwiches.”

Benji’s head rolls back with a loud crack of a laugh. Xavier has never heard him laugh like that around anyone, save maybe Maran. Lark’s never gotten that laugh—Benny’s never gotten it either. Matilda gets his soft, snorting laugh when she’s making too mean of a joke. Nettie gets his chest deep chuckles, whenever they visit the grove. Children, that swarm him in droves on the street when they recognize who is he, get humored, if not sometimes awkward laughs.

Xavier scoops more food into his mouth, goes for quick sips of the slowly cooling tea. If he were in the right frame of mind (certainly not the messy, debauched, fucked senseless and tired version of himself that finds getting out of bed harder and harder with every year that passes) he might have ruminated more on that laugh. On how much of Benji stays his, despite how much of Benji is also for others.

Instead, he clears his plate and flips the sign on his blacksmith shop to close—and they spend the evening together, the windows shut to the noise of the city.

#writing #xw #bp #xw x bp #bg3 au

[scribble-dribble-writes]

hey,

i requested the recent obi-wan one-shot u wrote and i absoluetly loved it.. but since I didnt watch sanditon I wanted to ask if u would write a 2nd part (or reworte it -thats up to u). I just love the dynamics of couples that love each other just as much as they did at the beginnig of their relationship when they have been married for 10 years and I‘d love to have a Moder!Obi experience that.

Lots of love (and maybe this is my sign to watch sanditon, haha)

No problem! Here's the new version haha.

Also you should definitely watch Sanditon, one of my favorites!

---

First Glance

The morning sky welcomed you gently just as it had done ten years ago. Time was a silly little spindle that kept spinning, allowing you to weave a fabric of reality that was filled with a love that kept you warm. The weather was cold, heading towards winter, all the leaves had fallen, the pavements ran wet with sprinkled rain and everything felt crisp although it wasn't spring. Maybe that was just his presence that was a constant, making you forget the changes in the season because no matter what happened on the outside, he still remained the same.

As he held your hand now, walking down the garden trail by the local park. He wore his woolen coat and you wore your puffer jacket. The yellow taxis drove past as the leaves held a distinct crunch beneath your boot. You have walked the same trail the past decade that it began to feel sacred now, that as you passed by certain places, it held milestones for your relationship.

His soft laugh broke you away from your thoughts to look at him as his eyes sparkled with the same love he held back then.

"I saw you for the first time by that green gate.", he said pointing towards a garden gate that was now worn down with ivy grown over it.

"You were running late for your class at university.", you reminisce along with him. He pulled you in closer to kiss your forehead.

"And you were heartbroken.", he said.

It was true. It all seemed bleak then, that you were convinced you would never love again but looking back now, that was when your paths were meant to cross. But he went on to attend his class while you sat there mending your heart. It was the start, the first glance.

You continued down the path to walk past a fountain. It still sat there happily spouting water over giggling children and young lovers tossing in their coins. This was where you found him again, a year after that moment by the gate. The night sky had turned magical with faint stars, he sat alone tossing in a coin as he pursed his lips thinking of a wish.

You were there to do the same. But even before you could toss in your coin, his eyes found yours and there was that spark again, that tug in your heart, you didn't need a coin for wishes. He was right there in front of you.

You rested your head on his shoulder. "I was wishing for love.", he said quietly, to which you hum.

"And I was searching for you.", you look up to him but as usual he leaned in to kiss you. Nothing felt different and you loved the comfort of stillness. That though the world rotted around you, this feeling never withered.

The final point in this pilgrimage was the gazebo, no one used it anymore but it held that magic as it sat by the pond. The floorboards creaked under your weight when he spun you out of his embrace, your mouth filled with laughter once again that over these years you had forgotten what sadness tasted like. You couldn't care for it either, this joy was all that you needed.

The birds chirped and the trees swayed as he led you into a slow dance.

"This will always be my favorite spot.", he whispered and it brought forth a smile on your lips.

"Why?", you asked having heard the answer a million times.

"Here, I had found my person.", he looked at the weathered structure but his smile still remained entranced as when he had asked you to marry him right in the spot you stood now.

"Obiwan.", you said softly, as you looped your hand behind his neck.

It always made you emotional, whenever he said it, that you were his. Because long ago you believed you were no one's.

So you pull him closer by the lapels of his coat, his cheeks turning red as always, somewhere between where your lips found his or his hands held your waist he said he loved you making the world fall away.

Time can continue to spin, you'll be here, in his arms, spinning along in this little music box of yours.

#obiwan kenobi #obiwankenobiedit #obiwan x fluff #obi wan #obi wan needs a hug #obi wan my beloved #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan imagine #obi wan x you

[thatphantomtroupelady]

~Coin~

----------------|Prompt 5: Coin|----------------

Ingredients: Yandere!Chrollo, kidnapped, manipulation, angsty Kurapika

Characters: Kurapika, Chrollo

Summary: A frustrated Kurapika spends some 'quality' time in the garden, watching Chrollo read a book.

Word Count: 0.5k

Kurapika is tired. Exhausted, if he is to be honest with himself.

It's one of those days again. One of those days when he realises he has not gotten used to living under Chrollo after all-- that he never really will.

How long has it been? He wonders idly as he watches Chrollo read the book he got Feitan to steal for him a while ago. With a tilt of his head, he steals a glance at the cover. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Kurapika wrinkles his nose. Ironic.

"Kurapika." Chrollo's voice is smooth and smug. "Do you want me to read it out to you?"

Kurapika rips off the blades of grass his fingers had previously been twirling around. He hates it when Chrollo says his name, tainting the one thing he has left of his clan like everything else he gets in contact with.

"Well, do you?" It's Chrollo's turn to tilt his head now, almost in a mocking imitation of the other. Nothing he does is without meaning of course.

Stop talking to me like I'm a toddler. Kurapika wants to scream. He wants to do a lot of other things. But he doesn't. He knows the consequences by now. Either Chrollo's eyes will go blank again or his actions will simply feed his amusement.

With a deep shaky breath, Kurapika answers. "No." His voice is quiet and he hates himself for it.

Chrollo gently closes the book, resting it on his lap. As he raises his head high, the sunlight falls straight on his eyes. He doesn't blink.

"You should let yourself enjoy it, you know. Every once in a while. I believe that'd be good for you." His voice is quiet too, but not in the way Kurapika's is. It's low but still heavy. Gentle yet commands attention.

"It would be good for me to have you stay the fuck away from me; but do you give a shit about that? Of course you don't." There he goes again, only fueling Chrollo's amusement at the cost of his own emotions.

Chrollo's staring at him now, like he's infinitely more interesting than any book could ever be.

Stop. Kurapika wants to scream. And this time he does-- because really; does it matter anymore?

"I'd never let you go, Kurapika. You should know that by now." Chrollo's tone turns solemn-- like he's upset by Kurapika's outburst. Upset? Like he has any fucking right to being upset.

Kurapika scoffs, standing up. He's tired. Tired of this fucking game. Tired of wasting his time in the garden with Chrollo sitting against the fountain, reading another dumb fucking book that never seems to reward him with any fucking sense of self. Tired of pretending to be okay. To be normal. Because he's every fucking thing but that.

He's mad. He's angry. He's tired.

"Why?" He tries to yell again, but it only comes out as an awkward croak.

Chrollo smiles, eyes crinking at the corners. It's pity, Kurapika can tell. The last thing he fucking needs. From him of all people.

His vision is turning red again. Fuck.

"Because we're two sides of the same coin, Kurapika. And I could never understand myself without you."

#hxhtober #mewrites #kurapika kurta #chrollo lucilfer #yandere!chrollo #kidnapping #manipulation #angst #i still don't think this breaks the rules?? #bc if anything the fic isn't technically condoning the ship??

[aaronburrdaily]

October 30, 1809

Catteau says that it rains usually every day of October in Zealand. Since I landed in Elsinore, I forgot when, but you may see by looking back, it has been every day fine till Friday last, excepting only the day I came from Elsinore to this place. But since Thursday we have not seen sun or moon. A constant fog, and, generally, mist so heavy as to wet you. Called on d'C.'s; the King and Queen have arrived on the Island of Zealand. Will be this night at Fredericksberg, and to-morrow make their entrè in town. G.H. Olsen called this morning; and at 12 Professor Ramus, by appointment, to visit the collection of coins and medals at Rosenborg. This palace built by Charles IV. or V., I forget which, and is at one end of the gardens, which are open for the public as a promenade. The palace and garden are in the same enclosure. A wood extending the length of the garden, and about one hundred yards wide. The collection is immense. Ramus says forty thousand, being in value and number next to those of Paris and Vienna. The coins of all times and all nations; Europe, Asia, America, and from the early days of Athens. Several of Alexander and Philip. Most of them are described in a work printed at the expense of the government, three immense volumes in folio, and sold for the inconsiderable price of ———. The Flora Danica¹ is published and sold in like manner. Being with the Professor, paid nothing. Hosack and Robinson accompanied me. Din. a table d'hôte.² Evening to Fredericksberg, a very muddy walk of more than two English miles. The park and gardens must be some hundreds of acres. Water, bridges, fountains; the effect (of the illumination) in some places pretty, but nowhere answering my expectations. Almost total want of music. The crowd such that one was in a constant struggle. The sentinels on each side prevented any one from going out of the walks. Got home at 10 and consoled myself with Tem.³

1 The Danish Flora. 2 For diner à [la] table d'hôte. 3 For Tempe, a girl previously referred to.

#aaron burr #the private journal of aaron burr