#he has light magic that matches her deep sea glow ;-;

[sweet-star-cookie]

helloooo! question time, this time about capricorn!

what does capricorn's theater look like?

what constellations help capricorn with his theater?

how does capricorn move around? (because i believe he has a tail instead of legs)

ciara and co are going to watch one of capricorn's plays in chapter 22, give me a random play or show idea for me to write to fruition :3

My incredibly smarmy lad, hell yeah xD Here's his most recent art too!

1. What does Capricorn's theatre look like? Probably what you'd think of when you picture what a traditional theatre would look like; a wooden stage and doors with opulent carvings, stone pillars, warm lights, and curtains and seats made with fabrics that are rich in colour, like a deep red or purple.

Given that he is a combination of "earth and water" as it were, Capricorn has an affinity for plant life, particularly those that are coveted for their beauty. Anything that is his or associated with him will likely have some kind of foliage or flowers growing in or around it, and the theatre is no exception. I can picture hanging vines with flowers that glow with Light magic on either side of the audience that can dim or brighten as needed, like regular lights would. He'd also have strategically placed vases and pots (gifts from Aquarius, perhaps) of flowers strewn about the audience and the entrance.

It's relatively small in size though, which I think fits the more "indie" nature of the stage productions themselves, despite Capricorn's penchant for extravagance. It's partially inspired by the theatre in my home town that seats about 250 people. Unlike that theatre though, this one is more "open" in the sense that anyone can attend without the need for a proof of entry. Any unsavoury types who try to crash a show are either roped into the improv against their will, or will face Capricorn and his pair of hooked whips!

2. What constellations help Capricorn with his theatre? His primary crew consists of Pegasus (The Winged Horse), Monoceros (The Unicorn), and Equuleus (The Little Horse), all of which are siblings. [Symbol design credits here]

Pegasus is the theatre's main player and frequently its playwright, either solo or with Capricorn as a collaborator. Her dramatic and eccentric nature really blooms on the stage, and seeing that potential is what drew the sea goat to her initially. I talk about her more in the zodiac companions ask here if you need a refresher!

In addition to Capricorn, she's usually the recruiter as well. They'll basically recruit anyone on the Astral Plane who will say yes at this point, especially when the population starts to dwindle, so the combination of Capricorn's smooth-toned charisma and Peggy's whirlwind passion and positivity is a powerful one! It can make for quite the combination of personalities and performances when the players are so random, but some are more adept at the craft than others.

The eldest sibling, Monoceros is the backstage and maintenance guy, helping out with everything behind the scenes. He may look depressed or subdued at first, but his demeanour is actually one of contentment, quietly yet happily assisting the theatre. He doesn't possess a lot of Light magic overall (inspired by the real constellation being described as faint) so he's not able to do a full human transformation, but he doesn't mind so long as he has hands to do various tasks that his hoofed cohorts cannot. His height also helps with reaching high levers and ropes. He's modelled after a Clydesdale, a strong horse known for pulling heavy loads, so he is usually a stagehand during a play if objects or background pieces need to be moved. Despite his strength, he is very gentle.

Though an infrequent player of the stage, he is seen occasionally for background or tertiary roles when necessary, usually as a favour to Pegasus. He has a fairly deep voice and speaks a bit slower than most, matching with his peaceful personality. Like a happier cousin to Eeyore, perhaps. ---- Unfortunately I don't have art for Equuleus yet, I've been a bit stuck on what direction I've wanted to take for him visually for a while ^^' Picture a foal of a miniature horse though, so basically the smallest that a horse can be. I also might give him a hat similar to Pegasus's that's too big for him but he wears proudly anyway.

He's a wide-eyed and excitable budding actor who wants to follow after his siblings in many different ways. He looks up to Pegasus's outward and expressive performances, but also to Monoceros's contentment with himself being firmly out of the limelight. Equuleus is still figuring out what kind of player he wants to be, so he admires both of their strong senses of identity, despite how opposite they are.

When not practicing his lines, Equuleus can usually be seen excitedly trotting around the theatre exploring, asking about new sets or plays, or if he can help do something, anything. For better or worse, he likes being involved in whatever he can be, and Monoceros and Pegasus often have to watch their feet when he's around, otherwise they might trip over him! ---- Capricorn also gets help frequently from Aquarius and Pisces for costumes, and Austri for both modelling those costumes and for helping out with posing and staging as a former circus performer. Since she can't speak, she thus relies on motion-based communication, so her unique perspective has shown them ways to better exaggerate their posing for the stage when necessary, and sometimes make entirely silent shows too! When not with Pisces, Austri is a commonly seen performer at the theatre, usually for things with a heavy emphasis on physical comedy or sight gags.

3. How does Capricorn move around? Like all of the other constellations who are sea creatures, or part sea creature in this case, he too gets a share of Pisces's water magic to "swim" outside of water. It doesn't allow for full flight like the winged creatures of the Astral Plane in terms of height, but it still aids in his mobility. He doesn't do this often though, as he's fairly calm overall and generally doesn't feel the need to move quickly, but it would be his equivalent to running when he does.

Otherwise, his tail half can move across the ground in a similar way to that of a snake, though it generally requires more hip motion to move and thus his tail tends to sway a bit while in motion. He'll usually lift his fin up off the ground so it doesn't get tattered or stepped on. Much like the rest of him, he cares for the physical condition of it more than most would deem necessary. The water magic can still aid him here too, making it easier for his scales to "glide" over the ground more than they might normally, and repel or remove dirt from the tail's surface more easily. His weapons can also serve as mobility aids in a pinch, as the hooks can rotate as needed to turn them into grappling hooks. The whip portion is retractable as well, meaning he can either tether and swing through the air with them, or pull himself in the direction of the hook by drawing back the rope.

(Forgive the old art but this is probably the best way to show how they work lol)

4. Give me a random play or show idea for me to write to fruition Oooh interesting! Pegasus will often draw inspiration from the many stories associated with the mythological pegasus that she represents for her plays, so feel free to use any of those as a base! Or any other pre-existing play that you think might be cool or funny to do for specific character pairs/groups. She also makes stories that speculate about the mysterious nature of their world and its creation too, as what little they know about Asteria is fragmented at best, so you can use that if you want to go for something original/tied to my world's lore specifically. Since I couldn't tell you everything about Asteria and what role she plays in relation to the Astral Plane for spoiler reasons, you could speculate on what YOU think her role is or how this Astral Plane came to be, if you want :3c Absolutely no pressure though, please do whatever is the most fun for you! ^_^

#thanks for the ask <3 #apologies for the delay #the eclipse happened and then i wanted to do art lol xD #asks #tabsters #Starglass Zodiac #SGZ #my art #my OCs #Capricorn #Pegasus #Monoceros #long post

[dawnstar-33]

Introducing my TWST OC: Tyche!

I love making ocs, I actually have one for each dorm + Yuusona, but Tyche is probably my favourite of the ones I've currently made. If I've made any cannon lore errors, please let me know so I can adjust!

Character based off: None

Dorm: Octanville

Name: Tyche Aurelia

Nicknames: Ty, ChiChi

Age: 17, Sophomore 

Love interest: None

Sexuality: Bisexual, Asexual

Pronouns: He/They

Club: Film Research Club

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Backstory: Originally from the sea, Tyche, a curious young Jellyfish strayed too far from the comfort of home one day, and found himself rather lost amongst the coral. After attempting to find shelter or a landmark to bring himself back to familiar ground, Tyche himself stumbling across a young Azul.

The two quickly became friends after some apprehension on Azuls part, and the sheer stubbornness that was Tyche wanting a new friend, he was persistent that started coming armed with shiny rocks as gifts, he still continues to give shiny rocks as a form of affection to this day. Later he was introduced to Jade and Floyd, even though their friendship was rather slow to develop because of the Tweels constant pranks at his expense, the group as a whole is now quite close and enjoy eachothers company, despite the constant arguments between Tyche and Floyd.

For all his harmless nature, Tyche has always had a pretty vulnerable emotional state and struggles to regulate his emotions, often leading to breakdowns for little reason, the smallest thing could set him off, it was discovered pretty early on that he struggled with his emotions on account of coming from a household where it was seen as a great sign of weakness.

When the dark mirror chose him, for the longest time he assumed it was a mistake on account of his belief that he possessed no credible magical ability. It wasn't even known to Azul and the Tweels untill he name was called at orientation, looking like more of a nervous wreck than usual. However as time went on, Tyche found that Healing spells and Hexes came to him a lot more naturally than most other spells, and come in handy in a dorm with Floyd in it. Tyche has a very calm temperament, quite the pushover and will avoid conflict at all costs, however should the need arise, it shouldn't be forgotten that he was placed in Octanville for a reason...

He now works at Monstro lounge with Azul and the Tweels and occasionally surprises them and customers with his baking skills for the cafe. Tyche and Floyd getting into arguments isn’t uncommon, as Floyd often pawns his shifts off on him and Tyche long just accepts it.

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Appearance: Tyche’s appearance very much resembles that of a Moon Jellyfish. Standing around 5’6 without heels.  Like Azul, Jade and Floyd, he also kept some of her more “animalistic’’ features even after the potion, mainly being the freckles across his body that appear to resemble those on a Jellyfish. In addition to the freckles, he also kept the deep blue colouration of his eyes that seem to glow in the dark, often scaring other members of the dorm. When he was first granted a human form, the first thing he did was cut his hair into a ‘jellyfish’ style that curled at the ends. Tyche is well known around Nights Raven for his small twists on the Uniform, mainly the hand embroidered sea creatures sewn onto the hem of his sweaters and the cuffs of his blazer. 

Usually donning blue eyeliner and a light brown lipstick, he finishes his outfits, formal or casual with pearl earrings and a necklace that match his multiple piercings. Much like Jade, he has an affinity for jewellery and is never seen without the abundance of rings and nails painted black with nail polish that always seems to be chipped due to nail biting.

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

Signature Spell: ‘Deep Sea Peril’

Temporarily paralyses an opponent who is hit by the spell, reminiscent of a Jellyfish's ability to sting its opponents. Can only last a maximum of 5 minutes without side effects that worsen the longer he continues to use the spell.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst oc #jade leech #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #original character

[jackienova]

Oh, you'll find me, between The devil and the deep blue sea And I'm going under I'm drowning now— come and save me — Between The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, XYLØ

#digital #digital drawing #Digital Illustration #doe #mermay #magic circus au #happy mermay i guess haha #i saw an art by hannah_alexander_artwork on insta that gave me doe vibes so #jelly bb #tldr is a circus in a world that's depleting of magical beings #so he the ringmaster and housing all these creatures etc #he has light magic that matches her deep sea glow ;-; #god i hate her anatomy but everything else is nice

[saphirered]

Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #fjord x reader #caduceus x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 || you and Andy go on a trip to Greece for your birthday and discover the love you have for one another.

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 || fluffy fluff

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 || andy barber × black[birthday girl]!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 || 5.2K

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 || jealousy, some rom com cliches, divorced!andy, i used like six different dividers to match with the storyline so very sorry if that’s unusual to you!

𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒔 || past lives by bornes. mariposa by the peach rascals. apricot princess by rex orange country. out like a light by the honey sticks & ricky montgomery

𝒘. 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 || this is a birthday gift for @areyoustchewpid!!!! happy birthday ingrid!!! everyone go wish the birthday girl the best for her special day! 💗 I hope this fic fulfills your dreams of Greece with lawyer daddy and i hope you cherubs enjoy reading this <33

 + p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡  

THE GOLDEN FLICKER OF PALE PINK CANDLES CREATE A HOLY CHASTE HUE AGAINST BASHFUL SMILE BRIGHTENING YOUR FACE.

an event that you’ve been expecting all day yet while a firm chestnut table sits underneath your crossed legs cools as a sweetpea and seasalt ocean breeze blows into the dining room your expectations have somewhat been granted and changed. where only a three layer chocolate cake sits between you and Andy, both your lovestruck eyes never leaving each other despite the comet rippling starry sky glimmering from the white paneled windows.

everything is all sparkling, soft pink and golden at this moment.

from the rosy dawned blush that grazes against Andy’s cheeks to the blushy tone of your sundress and beating heart. candles sparkling to life as you and him in the very moment, wax melting in rosy dewdrops just like the fear of allowing these caged emotions to fly free. now they seemed to have been unrestrained by the gold bars of worry, aversion, and self committed rejection.

simple cursive writing made of periwinkle icing contrasts against the dark fudge confection this dearest friend of yours created. this friend who might have been something more in a life way beyond this year and century but as your heart beats in a melody casted by the Muses themselves it pirouettes with the cupid bow lights dancing in Andy’s pools of hopeless paradise. it’s all enough for you to lace your fingers with his-which you do- and wish for something else to spread against your lips besides the cake you both will cut in a minute after you blow your candles.

the words below your cupid struck glance read Happy Birthday Y/n in the divine candlelight, a squeeze of his hand only encourages the rapid pace of your heart to jump and for you to swallow your hesitance. a very same feeling floods Andy’s insides but for the past minutes just sitting directly on the table, lighting your candles and enjoying the meteor shower, he hasn’t kept his promise to himself.

a promise he made for himself since the beginning of today when he discovered how his palms sweat when you neared him and how his heart warmed when you spoke his name and how his soul just sang a different song when you took his hand.

he should say something now, he should tell you how much you mean to him in this different roseate light. maybe you’ll say the same words back and maybe with the rush of the rose glasses besides you both one thing may lead to another but what comes out of his mouth makes him bite his tongue. “I hate to break it to you but wax is getting on the cake,”

those words snap you out of your amour aura, eyes fluttering for a second and smiling afterwards when you see Andy fidgeting with the crystal glass in his large hands. cheeks reddening like ripe strawberries glowing in the warmth of spring, it radiates the space between you both and with an almost whisper to your name he has your hands in his soft palms. “what do you wish for y/n?”

the question makes you swallow the raspberry rose laced lump in your throat. the love potion for an innocent drink still glistens in your glass that rests beside your body but it would spill if you would do the simple action your heart has been caressing your mind to just pull his collar down to smash his lips against yours.

to feel the tender roughness of his bearded cheeks in your palms and his lips molded along with yours in a kiss that would put all sculptured lovers to shame. it’s making you sink and float at the same time but the sparking second that Andy leans down you oblige.

“i’m sorry for not realizing it all those years,” it makes your brows scrunch in slight confusion at the confusion, his cool apricot breath wafting and twinning with your airy exhale when his nose grazes against yours. the heat of the candles underneath your close faces, you raise your hand to cup his face.

“realizing what?” its then did the breath escape your lungs and your heart to stop beating.

seeing her open her eyes the very morning brought a different comfort than to watch her sleep- it was a normal thing to wake up but to experience her lashes fluttering to life to reveal the life in her sun speckled eyes was something for Andy. she rolled over, burying her face in the crispness of white sheets with a lazy grin.

through the honeycomb glass of the white portiéres of the hotel room, the soft sunshine of the province morning streams in and lights the bedchamber. the melodic sound of birdsong and light chatter slowly rouses her awake. Andy is seated in front of the swan feathered colored vanity, combing his hair and keeping the time on track on his watch.

the man had loads planned for you both today, a day planned for you both to be bone tired at the end but still reflecting on the memories and experiences once you laid your head to rest to sleep when it was over. the tapping rhythm of his polished tar black dress shoes fills the room, making you part open your eyelids to see who’s disrupting your peaceful second slumber.

“morning sleeping beauty, happy birthday,” he almost sing-songs, a slight whistle in his voice completely overtaking any fiber of drowsy and sleep riddance that enveloped your mind and body.

“morning Andy and thank you,” you grin with your porcelain smile, stretching your arms while simultaneously lifting your sunkissed legs. arching your back in a firm crane, yearning a deep yawn from you as you savour the sunshine on your ankles and naked shoulders.

“so I have a few things planned today but I thought it would be best to eat breakfast out at the cafe we talked about instead of ordering room service. what do you think?” his eyes focused on you in the mirror and you have no choice but to glance back with your remark weighing on your tongue.

so after a smile that was more than enough to let your childhood friend know that you were along with him for the ride you found yourself ready for your special day. a slightly puffed sleeve and flowy mint green sundress adorns your bodice softly, making you radiant in the morning sun that appears to be a glowing lemon slice across the cloudless skies.

arms securely wrap around Andy’s waist as he guides the scooter the same color of the sparkling sea and reflecting powdered blue vault above. hanging on to him as he brings you both to the tiny yet timeless cafe near the roaring pier of crashing waves and ancient cobblestone streets. the bouquet of large sunflowers that were tenderly hugged tightly between both your bodies are now free in your hold. their sunshine yellow petals sway in the morning breeze and take in the virtuous sunshine that rains in golden streaks on this magical day.

taking your seat near one of the outdoor tables, shaded by the umbrella the same color as the satin banner you both order your first meal as the waiter set your beginning entry of cheese, grapes, croissants and wine on a pine wood board in between you two. street cars come and go, along with passing people looking for special sites of eternal Athens Greece. the ocean bringing a calm sea mist breeze that only adds onto the refreshing and ecstatic tangibility seizing your atoms yet as you both talk about the plans you have for today.

although the words of the waiter coming to refill your tall glasses breaks both an uncontrollable smile and laugh between you both. “couples get a discount,” he spoke and you both had a dime for when you both were mistaken for a couple you’d be swimming in a sea as large as the one that captures your irises and heart.

with his confusion Andy quickly nods along, “yes we’d take that discount thank you,” and the waiter smiles back as he steps away after filling your glasses and informing you about your meal which you both thank back.

“Andy I thought we weren’t gonna take advantage of discounts by pretending we’re a couple anymore,” you broke with a raised brow and Andy only rolled his eyes in any way that wouldn’t ever be taken seriously by anyone despite his job disposition.

“awe come on y/n let's relive old times! do you wanna pay full price when we’ve been doing this for years?” Andy looked at you through a playful demeanor that you only recognize when he’s concocting and getting away with something as seemingly harmless as this.

“i’m not really fond of the backlash when it backfires on us in the end,” you speak as you bite into a butter croissant, the rich pastry practically melting on your tongue. “also you’re making us sound like some sort of Bonnie and Clyde duo. doesn’t look good with that attorney license of yours Barber,” you laugh as you return the same eye roll back as you sit up with your glass in hand.

“remember when I booked us a reservation at that restaurant when we were in college and I freaked out over the bill? I ‘proposed’ to you and once everyone cooed and congratulated us we got our bill cut in half-”

“and I nearly kicked your ass afterwards, yeah Andy my foot is remembering the loss,” you intervene which makes Andy shake with loud laughter enough to make all the other pairs -real couples instead of you sly imposters- stop from their conversations to glance at you two breaking into hysterics whilst eating green grapes and sipping on white wine.

“to be fair we were broke college students! money was tight as hell back then but I didn’t see you complain when I got on my knees and put a ring on your finger. I thought the rhinestone looked very good with your dress that night,” popping a grape in his mouth with a humorous smirk etched on his lips.

“i’m sure you were looking forward to saying that when you gave me a kinder surprise from a candy machine.” rolling your eyes as you bite into another golden croissant, pairing it along with a nibble of creamy cheese that taste heavenly on your tongue.

“alright you can hold that against me I still deserve it,” Andy still remembers the other students in his seminar congratulating him and some who didn’t know about his engagement and divorce to Laurie still believe he’s engaged to you. it was funny and seems like something straight out of the cheesy rom coms he and you used to binge together as bored high schoolers.

that you and him used to scoff and egg on the oblivious main protagonists to just kiss and push away the denial to just be together but amongst all these couples in the morning light at this café it’s you two reliving your movie annoyances. it was hilarious and unfortunately ironic but Andy Barber didn’t see anything or comprehend the knot in your stomach when you took his hand and said something he couldn’t quite hear.

all he was paying attention to in the slow-motion picturesque of your gleaming smile, the sparkle in your deep lashy eyes and how your lips moved so theatrically as you spoke his name.

Andy, Andy, Andy

eyes glossing over in wonder, it was possibly the prettiest thing he’s seen and he’d wish to hear you say his name one more time. heart yearning to just catch your lips movement yet as his mind wedges himself back into reality he finally catches what you’ve been saying.

“Andy our food is here,” you said as the waiter came with your large glass plates of oven baked pizzas. the comforting rich smell of toasted cherry tomatoes, mozzarella cheese and freshly baked dough fill his nostrils. it's enough to cover the lush sweetness of your Dior perfume he loved taking a whiff of when you'd lean over the table to sneakily reach for his grapes and croissants.

“um, yeah thanks for the heads up,” he spoke in almost a broken sense of charisma compared to his boyish behavior minutes ago but it’s just now that’s Andy denying the feeling-

the seed of amorous that had been planted in his heart a long ago that’s beginning to sprout now.

after roaming the creaky wooden piers with the sunshine twining divinely against your hair and every inch of revealed baby soft skin. a clementine in his hands and an apricot in yours, feeding the peels to the doves that rest besides the ancient stools as Andy give hands you cardinal slice after citrusy cardinal slice.

dangling both your legs over the docks and enjoying the way the rippling waves brushed against your curling toes. sweet orange and apricot filling your mouths like the sun spreading its orange and blush provenance across the aqua waters. lonely fingers fondle with your citrus fruits that you bought with wo shiny coins from a passing vender in a straw sunhat.

savoring the ocean blue and the sunny sky revealing the cotton white clouds that dot like dollops of whipping cream upon it. the sea breeze dancing with strand hairs, the topic of a greenhouse visit sparks and a sense of adventure rushes though bloodstream. within a matter of seconds you both race to hop back on the forget-me-not scooter.

inciting a school children challenge on who’s going to get there first and with the swiftness of putting your sandals back on and running against the mossy and dandelion cracked cobblestone had you seated on the bike. “I win,” you grin and of course Andy just gives you a fauxly hurt demeanor.

“you cheated,” you only hum back at his petty exchange, playing along for his sentiment until he sighs in his defeat. with the engine starting off you and him race to the glass palace that is the greenhouse.

a golden rimmed and sea mist colored empire, it stood out to you when touring the tiny city of colorful roof houses and marketplaces. mossy vines and leafy thorned shrubbery beautifully frame the interior pillars as rich golden sunlight fill in the glassy castle. cement molds create the railing for the lily pad and swan lotuses of the man made ponds. an occasional jasmine frog leaps from pad to pad as the milky pink and yellow koi’s swim about in the shadowy water.

exotic trees and wild plants bunch throughout the establishment, creating shade against the Apollo’s heavy rays as Andy lifts his head to marvel these large and tall works of Artemis. of course, with your polaroid camera you found in the rummage of your closet (that you haven't used since senior year of college) in a tight hold. wandering feet walk through the limestone pavement of the greenhouse, a sunflower in your hair that brightens the deep greens succulents and rich browns tree bark.

the vines of soft pink and purple flowers dangling from the glassy dome roof fall their baby pink petals as a breeze presents itself. some already settling in the brown tawny of Andy's hair, not far behind you smile at your face glossed in wonderstruck marvel. wide honey brown pools trail up the ten foot marble and ivory statue, reflecting in serenity cosmoses from the rainbows that spread from the crystal glass.

a sense of desire takes ahold of you as your slowed hands lift to trace your dark fingertips through the crinkle wrinkle of a marble maidens skirt. such detail and intricate design of the craftsman long ago must’ve took years to perfect, the cloth falling seamlessly upon the maidens body as her body crouches to run your clay hand again at the pond water. lifting your camera to your eyes, snapping your desired pictures that are set to capture all the whimsical aspects and elements that take your breath away.

Andy dares to draw near, it wasn’t like he hasn’t stood close to you at all- he might be making it hard on himself by overthinking ever move and step but you call out his name and his heart paces.

“yes y/n,” making his way to where you sit near a pond, you don’t say anything as you wrap the strap for the camera around your neck. fixing up your dress from any wrinkles from scrunching the hem up when dipping your feet in the sea earlier. checking your hair and make up in your hand mirror that you retrieved from your designer purse. an arched brow raises up at you, which you only respond by rolling your eyes and hand him the camera as you smile at yourself in the reflection of the ponds water.

“can you take a picture of me?” as you reapply another layer of gloss on your lips, the fishes swirling in the water to jump to the service to witness the beautiful nymph who have graced their pond themselves.

cupid bows perk at the fish and blow them kisses, your hands grab at a floating lotus before grasping the tender water blossom. putting it in the raven coils that delicately frame your face, damn it y/n.

it was as if you were torturing him with those mascara bambi eyes and glossy primrose lips, it makes his insides buzz and flutter like the malachite dragonfly that passes here and there.

“you telling me you want a picture or did you already decide for me yourself?” you only smack his chest with the camera once again.

“are you going to take the picture or not Barber? did you loose some of your magic with all that lawyer jumbo clouding your head or did you take those freshman photography lessons seriously?”

Andy rolls his eyes and takes the camera from you with a chuckle, “actually i’m still capable of using a camera y/l/n, god you’re making me feel old. go model for me,” you just laugh and run across to the other side of the pond.

soft skin from your legs revealed from the way your sundress lifts bends against your chest. head resting upon your knees while your arms wrap around them, the sunflower in your gasps and the lotus behind your ear. at this moment as the seconds turn into minutes Andy should be taking pictures, his eyes are looking through the lens as his index finger rests on the button.

with as much as single press he captures the greenhouse nymph but what good would a single picture do to capture every gift and grace you bestowed in the offering of your charm, beauty and heart?

it makes Andy's heart race, your eyes dashing from the godly statues that surround you to the camera. sweet music plays in deep cherry wood cellos and willow carved violins and even with the buzzing dragonfly it seems it found its favorite flower at the tip of your nose.

you certainly are the creation and waking of spring flowers and lovesick tales that took his heart then and its still yours now.

that single snapshot was all he could think about you two drove down south to the coast. searching back the drunk nights before where you and him ran into a little covelete whilst drinking goblet after goblet in the forest of olive and grape vine trees. it was a long ride but nothing suited the wait better than the man on the radio singing with his strung trichordo.

the hands that grip Andy's shoulder slide down to wrap your arms around him tightly when the minutes pass and the forest of green olives and sangiovese grapes. parking the scooter near the shrubbery of some innocent bush you and him look for the wine stash the both of you left in the abandoned cavern of an ancient olive tree. Andy grinning as he grabbed the expansive bottle and before you know it you both head to the hidden beach.

Andy didn't plan to actually go swimming, just settle the gingham blanket upon the finely grain sand and open the picnic you both prepared. and he also didn't prepare himself for the rosy blush to dawn his face when your almond nails grip the hem of your sundress to lift it up and over your head. revealing your matching bathing suit underneath its quick that you throw him a wink and race to the nearby grassy cliff.

"see you soon Barber!" you yell and as Andy gets up from the blanket to understand what you mean by that its too late. the summer air is filled with your laughter and sky rippling cheer as you jump off the cliff and dive into the cloud blue water. the splash nonexistent from your perfect swoop.

if only he had the polaroid on him to capture the way your smile gleamed brighter than the sun reflecting off the sparkling water the the way your eyes cutely scrunched like sand dollars under the warmth of golden sand.

the silver green of the olive trees emphasize the richness of your skin. the rich skin he couldn't keep his sapphires off as you laugh your choir laugh that would make Apollo cease his chariot to listen to the siren of Olympus once more. dancing in the turquoise waves of the coast, they crash against your soft mounds, curves, and dips of sun glistening hips and waist.

how could he have been so blind?

rage and anguish slosh around in his mind that pour melancholic rain onto his heart, you were there for him through thick and thin. a friend he believed but how could he have buried that yearn and longing for you all those years?

it's almost criminal to the highest degree and he'd know his side of the justice system but how could that distract him from you? his head was far too buried in those lawbooks to realize, too oblivious to his emotions when you'd date and hang around other people that weren't him. looking far into the looking glass hoping that his work would pay off in the future, meeting another woman and putting a ring on her finger.

now here he is, a divorced man but a still very much happy man. lonely at times with his only child in the custody of his ex wife but still very happy with the comfort and support of you. it was you who helped him from the tears at night and it was you who he wasn't scared to open up to. even the past few months he didn't realize it but now as you call his name to get in the water he doesn't hesitate to pull his shirt over his head and take his shoes and socks off.

joining you in the water in a mater of a few heartbeats, it was as if you were a sea spirit calling for him and even if you weren't he's happily obliging when the small waves collide against his skin. both your laughs rippling the ocean in this small ocean paradise, swimming in the richness of the present never would have guessing that throughout all these years you be here.

the salt water on your skin has dried as you and Andy walk side by side, your shoes rubbing against the gravel of the cobblestone paths as both you peer at the vendors and food stands arranging from rainbow scaled fish, fresh sesame seed breads, farm produced milks and cheeses, and vibrate fruits and vegetables. hands twined together in a firm hold, unfathomable excitement practically radiating off of you while you chat and giggle with Andy.

the topic of the conversation changing every few minutes when you find a stand that grabs your attention. curious eyes and wandering hands look over organic produce and homemade goods the people had to offer. the golden clutch of your purse being opened multiple times and Andy's mouth being stuffed with jam, cheese and fruit samples on the account of you. as you did you shopping he did as well, the ingredients for a sweet treat he had planned for you later on tonight are in a brown paper bag amongst your purchases.

of course he had to carry them all, not in obligation but because he didn’t want you to worry about shopping too much when you’re in the midst of enjoying your vacation. by all means he certainly wasn’t complaining, if anything he liked having you giddy and bursting with energy. practically dragging him from stand to stand and carrying your bags filled with stuff that you’d bring back home and try.

the village square where the marketplace takes place is tinted in an ambrosial hue, the sun now a glowing slice of grapefruit against the peachy pink carnation sky. lavender clouds that seem so close to grasp tower above you both yet they don't prevent the suns glow from capturing the beautiful soft planes of your face.

luscious and softer than the bouquet of sunflower carnations he surprised you with as you looked at the variety of sunhat options. one that you just purchased rests floppily against your temple but still doing its job at keeping you shaded from the suns glare. wrapped in a silky green bow, Andy smiles at how huge it is but it just makes you look divine and adorable in your sundress.

holding his hand tighter before tracing them up his forearm to softly grasp his bicep, it you who's leaning against him and pulling him close to you. the feeling of your body alongside his is warmer then any sunshine that seeps into his skin and lovelier than any of the flowers the market had to offer.

it’s hard to give you one excellent gift to give back all those years of commitment and loyalty and friendship but the way your lips spread in that enchanting smile it’s enough to make Andy know -despite the both of you not saying it- that you feel the same way to.

the bouquet in both your holds lifting up every once in a while for Andy to smell and for you to admire as you walk away from the noisy market. a little behind the village were the spring green of the countryside clashes within the stone brick city is a valley of flower arbors and hedge mazes. it was the last pitstop Andy the bags in both your hands settle down against the safety shadow of a maple trees shade and with a little laugh and an excited squeal he run to the flower arbors.

green rows of soft shrubbery dotted and laced in colorful blossoms stand in multiple rows upon rows look over of petunias and carnations. small apple and lemon trees in potted beds line up within the flowery hedges and no matter where you look it’s only the divination of spring and the gifts it bestows the Earth with. wooden picnic basket that was once used from your beach picnic is now empty but it’s quickly filling with the sweet smelling beauties of the flowers and fruits and you pluck.

Andy not fair behind you captures your wondering body in the still frame pictures of your polaroid camera. the pictures emerging quickly afterwards, he’s quick to fab them off and place them in your small picture album. turning your head over your shoulder your caught with Andy having the perfect opportunity to snap a picture that would be a bedtime story to tell with a child of his and yours.

it’s perfect and breathtaking, no matter the feeling of his heart thumping in its lingering hesitance you were the star that’s still continues to shine despite being out in broad daylight. it pulled at his heart strings because he knew what this feeling was, this feeling that he been avoiding to come to terms with all day but why was he so terrified?

the fear of rejection wouldn’t burst his heart but it would remind him that he was alone. a man like him wasn’t born to walk this Earth, wake to the sun and sleep with moon alone. the very presence of you besides him made him feel all the things besides lonely and bare to the universes cruelness at times. but maybe you felt the same way about him.

he only had one way to find out and he was set on keeping it, whatever sea he had to cross, valley he had to travel to and the plummeting ends to the Earth he will pronounce his love.

snapping another picture of you, you smile in it and with that he smiles to.

"realize what Andy?" you press on but in the rosy candle light his lips pressed against yours seems to be the only answer he can bring himself to conclude.

it's takes the breath out of your lungs and makes your heart blush and burn deeper and hotter than the tiny flames that decorate the cake. the roughness of his bottom lip that have been occasionally bitten the past minutes of dancing around your feelings. the nerve of you both to push aside your feelings for each other because the fear of breaking each others hearts.

if only your past selves could see you now, shedding your hearts and allowing the key to them to finally open the gates of vulnerability and yearn. the passionate lovesick mess tastes delicious against your mouths and you both could get drunk off it instead of the rose. sweet and inching for more as your lips part to graze against each other, but in order to seal the prophecy of established lovers Andy pulls away.

"that i'm in love with you. that i've always been in love with you. it's been years and i'm sorry for just realizing it now but I need to know if you feel the same way. please tell me now, please," he whispers against your lips.

now its your turn for our heart to skip beats and take in each and everyone of his words. fluttering eyes drowning in his copper blues, you open your mouth to say something but nothing but a soundless nothing comes out. all these years your love for Andy has been buried deep within you and you've tried your best to hide that seed. to plow in new seeds because what use was that seed if it never flourished when he'd feel the same way.

you don't realize until you feel the tear dripping down your cheek, he wipes it with his thumb. pressing a kiss where it once existed and it's now that you realize that it's always come to this. your lives weren't entirely paved in stone but the love that has a faith of its own is something that changes as the pages of a storybook turn.

this virtuous night being the newest chapter and as much as you're scared to follow along your heart has been waiting for this moment for so long. with those teary eyes that bring some to his own you smile and pull his face with yours, pressing your lips with his to mark your answer clear, to make him feel the way you feel.

"i've always felt the same. dear god Barber it took you twenty years and it all worked out didn't it?" you giggle against his mouth, feeling his grin as he kisses you back.

"what did you wish for?" he murmurs and you only smile and wrap your arms around his neck, "this,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

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[nyxicnymph]

The Curse On Hyrule

A Zelink Angst fic based off of some angsty theories for BoTW2.

Enjoy. Or not.

Link gasped for breath, bending over. Dammit, he was so close!

Stupid curses. Stupid magic. Stupid Calamity.

Link reached for the Master Sword with his right hand, before flinching and switching hands. He stared down at both his arms, the right black and blacker, with hints of green, and blue, and that stupid magenta. The left, shaking with the weight of the Master Sword, used to bearing shields or supporting longer weapons, but not wielding a weapon by itself. Link snorted at the irony.

He stood up, ignoring how more than half of his body almost wouldn't obey him. He had to get to Zelda.

Zelda, who knows everything. Zelda, who was close by. Zelda, who had fallen into that abyss at the time. Zelda, who had already been traumatized by one bearer of the cu-

Link cut that train of thought off. He raised his sword, using the shaky light to illuminate his path. He knew she was close. He could feel her. He would shout, but he couldn't.

The closer he got, the quicker he moved. He could feel the curse growing, gaining control of his right side. And moving faster, as if it could feel that the possible end to it's goal was close.

Link almost passed the opening, and had to use the Master Sword to keep himself from moving forward. He entered the cavern cautiously, scanning for traps and monsters. Surprisingly, and suspiciously, there were neither.

Link rushed to the huddled mass in the dark corner, reaching out to her, to let her know he was there, that he needed her help. Then he stopped.

The last time he touched a dark mass in a dark cavern, well. He'd ended up cursed, losing the l- Princess of Hyrule, and accidentally reshaping the entirety of the continent.

He opted for another way. He sheathed the sword, then tapped the sheathed sword against the princess.

She jumped up, battle ready, her golden locks framing her determined face, and backlit by her unlocked power glowing from her right hand. The power faded as she lowered her hand, and her face melted in relief.

"Link!" She leapt forward as if to hug him, but Link sidestepped her. When the princess turned to face him, hurt evident on her face, he lifted his right hand to eye level, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Zelda's own eyes widen as she took in the sight. "W-what happened to you, Link? Is this my fault? Is that why you-?" She choked up.

Link hurriedly shook his head. He pulled out his sheikah slate and pulled up an image of the corpse that started it all.

Zelda's face turned from concern to horror as it sunk in, and she fell to her knees. "No," she whispered softly. "No, it can't be. It doesn't... Does it?" She buried her face in her hands. "We have to fix this. There has to be a way."

Link wanted to help her up. His heart ached to see her that way, broken, on the floor, lost. But he can't touch her. He hadn't touched anyone since the curse, not even his enemies. He sure wasn't going to touch her.

He'd hate himself.

Zelda stood up, and brushed off her pants. "We'll figure this out. Have you gone to see Impa yet?"

Link shook his head. Zelda had and always would be his first priority, and she seemed to gather that.

"Well, then let's start with that. Impa has a good head on her shoulders, she should know what to do. And if she doesn't, she might have an idea." Zelda started walking, and Link, loyal as ever, followed behind.

<Kakariko Village>

"Have you tried using your power, Princess?" Impa suggested, grabbing Zelda's attention away from whatever she'd been glaring at.

"What? My power?"

"If my theory is correct, this curse...."

Link lost track of the conversation, trying to figure out what Zelda had been glaring at so intensely a moment ago. He glanced up the staircase to see Paya disappearing.

Oh.

The knight returned to the side of the princess, but didn't meet her eyes. He didn't want his mind to go down that road, for the sake of the worst-case scenario.

"Link, are you listening?" Impa's harsh voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Link nodded, and Impa scoffed. "You and the princess are going to the field overlooking the Zora domain, and she is going to try to remove your curse. Follow her instructions." Impa turned to Zelda. "Remember. Do not touch him, unless you are absolutely sure it has been removed."

Zelda nodded resolutely. "Understood."

At the field, Zelda and Link stood facing each other, all alone in a sea of green. Even the deer were gone. Link was surprised that the field remained, instead of being hoisted into the sky like many other parts of Hyrule had been.

Zelda cleared her throat. "Link, I have to see how far the curse has progressed." Link looked at her blankly, and Zelda averted her eyes. "You need to remove your shirt."

Link nodded, and did as the princess commanded, but slowly. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He hadn't wanted her to see how much of him had been taken over.

He hadn't wanted her to see him turning into a monster before her eyes.

"Link, I-" she stammered as she looked at his torso, two thirds blackened, and the remaining third crossed over with angular patterns. "I don't know what to say. How did it get this bad?"

Link signed that he thought it was hastened by activity against it, but he wasn't sure.

Zelda sighed, tears evident. "I pray this works. Lanayru help us." She raised her right hand, and it glowed.

Link closed his eyes, and opened his arms, as if to embrace the power that washed over him in the next second. He felt cold, then warmth, then a feeling like his nerves were tiny lightning bolts. Then it all faded.

"No!"

Link's eyes snapped open to see Zelda kneeling on the ground, her hands covering her mouth, and tears streaming down her face. He looked down and saw his torso had been completely blackened, and the hints of green, blue, and magenta were stronger than before.

"This was supposed to work!" The princess cried. "It was supposed to cure you! To cleanse you! What good-" She choked on a sob. "What good is this power if it can't even save my l- loyal knight?!"

Link knelt beside her, trying to comfort her with his presence, since he couldn't hold her. He signed:

I'm still here, princess. We will figure this out.

Zelda cried a while more, before wiping her tears away. "Let's go to the temple at the plateau. Maybe we will get a hearing from the goddess, and she will help us."

Link nodded. This was as close to a back-up plan as they had.

<The Temple, Great Plateau>

The sun shone on the two small forms kneeling in front of the large goddess statue. The figure on the right begging frantically, her tears soaking the stone beneath, and the figure on the left, silently crying as well, but more focused on his fingers than anything else.

How long until the left hand matched the right? Link knew it wasn't that long. He could feel the curse slipping through the veins and muscles of his left bicep, curling around his elbow.

He had to get Zelda away from him before he was completely taken over.

He sat up, which drew Zelda's attention. They turned to face each other, and Zelda looked at him questioningly. Link hesitatingly lifted his hands up, and signed:

I need you to run. Away from me. I'm afraid it's too late.

His hands movements were jerky, some of them uncoordinated. He almost couldn't control his own limbs, and Zelda noticed.

"No, Link! Even if you're consumed, I won't leave you! It's my fault we were down there! And so it's my fault you were cursed!" Her tears dropped, splattering the floor between them.

Link's own tears fell as he signed, And I can't have you being hurt because of me!

"But it's my fault!"

You're the only one who can stop me, Princess! You're the next most worthy of the Master Sword! Link signed in frustration, trying to get her to see his point.

"The... The Master Sword? Why?"

Because the Master Sword will be the only thing capable of killing me.

Zelda stood up and shook her head. "No! I refuse! I- There has to be another way! I will not kill you!"

You have to. Or Hyrule is doomed.

Zelda spun away. "I refuse to listen anymore! You will be fine! You-" She cut herself off when she heard a thud.

She gasped when she saw Link on the floor. "Link!" She halted her dash forward when a dark shadow came over the temple. She looked up and saw the clouds were purple.

She made to run to Link anyway, until he stopped her with a single sign.

No.

She saw the curse creeping up his neck, and she ran up to him regardless. "I refuse to let it end like this!" She told him as she grabbed him under the arms and tried to pull him away.

Zelda, please, for my sake, run!

"No!"

Zelda, please!

"I won't leave you!" She screamed, tears and sweat mingling on her face as she pulled him out of the temple.

You must! Link signed as the curse covered his chin.

"I'm not leaving you, so stop trying to make me!"

Zelda, you have to leave!

"Why are you so insistent I leave?!" Zelda cried as his body slid from her fingertips and hit the ground once more.

With incredibly, increasingly uncooperative fingers Link signed:

Because I love you.

The eyes of the knight met the eyes of the princess, and something passed between them. Link saw the fire in her gaze and knew he had said the wrong thing, but had no idea what. Zelda found confirmation of what she had been suspecting for months.

As the curse consumed Link, and the Master Sword fell to the ground, Zelda stepped forward. She picked up the sword, and felt it hum deep in her bones. She knew what she had to do.

Or rather, what was good for all of Hyrule.

"I've sacrificed myself for Hyrule once already!" She screamed at the sky. "Why should I do it again?!"

She threw aside the sword, and grabbed Link. "If you won't stay with me, than I'm going with you! I never want to be separated from you again! I owe you my life a hundred times over! I refuse to let it end like this!"

She pressed her lips to his, and refused to separate, even as she felt the curse flowing into her own body, moving faster than it had before.

As Princess Zelda died, she prayed one last time for a hero to save Hyrule. One worthy to wield the Master Sword, and stronger than she.

And if Hyrule wasn't saved?

Well, that's what the new calamities were hoping for, after all.

And thus fell the Hope, Princess, and Kingdom of Hyrule.

#breath of the wild #breath of the wild 2 #botw 2 theory #botw2 fic #botw2 angst #angst #zelink #zelink angst #enjoy me hearties #bad ending #ganon's corpse

[bluebellhairpin]

The Perfect Partner

Masquerade AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

A/N: It says Fem!Reader, but I’ve tried to use minimal female pronouns anyways, so hopefully them fem-ness isn’t too noticeable. I hope y’all don’t mind too much. - Nemo

Summary: It’s your first masquerade ball, and thanks to the resident Princess, you got to dance with the most mysterious - and reclusive - guest. The problem? Everyone seems to know the weight of what dancing with him means. Everyone except you. 

Listening to: ‘Romantic Flight’ by John Powell

Part Two - ‘The Perfect Plan’ 

Masterlist

Making the move from your small hometown to the city of Paris was tiring enough, but adding having to attend a ball in less than a few days - a masquerade no less - made you feel even more exhausted. 

Your small group of servants were tired too, you could see it on their faces, but they diligently sought out a costume and mask for you to wear - perfectly fitted and covered in silk and lace. You swore them tomorrow off work. They more than deserved it. 

Stepping onto the grounds of the Chateau, you had no choice but to take a moment and admire it. It was like the building itself demanded it. 

There were lit torches, blazing a warm glow across every footpath in the grounds. The main walkways, one of which you'd made your way to stand on, were covered in a soft red fabric. Those two things alone made you feel more important than what you were. 

Your family's rank was born from an act of kindness. Generations ago, your great-great grandfather helped keep safe, and nurse a young man back to health. He did not know who the man was, nor did he care. He believed it was his duty to his fellow man to care for each other. That man he helped believed in paying kindness - no matter what form - forward. Your grandfather saved his life, and to the man that was the highest form of kindness anyone could offer. 

That man was the Prince, next in line for the throne of France, and he made your family what it is today. He was why you are here today. 

Still, over the generations, your family has been close friends with the coexisting Princes or Princesses. For you, you'd been passing letters to and getting them in return from the Princess since she could read. Even though you were a good handful of years older, the friendship between you and Princess Historia Reiss was strong. Even though you'd never met face-to-face in her almost eighteen years on earth, you felt an obligation to her. Like an older sibling would to a younger one. 

Finishing mulling over what had brought you here, and the outside decor, you made your way up the stairs leading to where all the other guests were congregating. 

The ballroom was - by far - the biggest room you'd seen in your whole life. Streams of baby blue fabric bled down from the ceiling, paired with the gold and blue wallpaper and the candelabras, it alone would've been a sight to see. But one other thing in the room demanded attention too. The chandelier was absolutely enormous. It shined with layers upon layers of diamonds and gold. You were almost cautious to walk near it because it's weight was too much for the Chateau's old ceiling.

You gently snatched a champagne glass from a passing waiter, taking a quick sip to lull your pumping heart back into submission. You weren't this nervous before, too distracted by the bright lights and colours to realize exactly what being here meant. 

You were alone, in a room full of people you'd only spoken to through letters, or seen in passing and in portraits. Being with them in person was completely different. It was new. It was scary.

"(y/n)! - Oh, excuse me, I'm so sorry -" A woman called to you, nudging a passerby as she came towards you in a hurry of blue fabric, "- (y/n) is that really you behind that mask!" 

You were a little shocked. Those blue eyes, the pinned back blonde hair. Was this Historia? 

"Uh, yes. I'm (y/n)." You stuttered. She slipped off her mask, grinning widely, and pulled you into a hug.

"Oh, after only writing to you for so long, it's absolutely wonderful to finally have you here!" She pulled away. This was definitely Historia. You laughed.

"How did you know it was me?" 

"I know everyone else here. You're the only one that was invited that I've never actually spoken to before." She said, linking your arm with hers and placing her mask back on. "It was all part of the plan." 

"What plan? -"

"- Oh look, here. You must meet these people!" She pulled you into a group, all of people around her age. You were too old to be being pulled around. "(y/n), these are two of our resident Knights, Mikasa and Eren, and this is my bookkeeper, Armin. Mikasa, Eren, Armin, this is my oldest and closest friend, (y/n)!" 

Mikasa offered you a polite nod, smiling lightly, as did Armin, the latter waving slightly. Eren, however, looked a little confused. 

"I thought Yimr was your closest friend?" he asked, tilting his head. 

You'd heard of Yimr, and how 'close' her and Historia were. You didn't know if these three knew what was really meant, but from the look in Eren's eyes, he at least didn't. 

"Well yes, and no, but that's not the point. The point is - oh my." 

"'Oh' what?" You asked, turning to where Historia had been distracted to this time. There, parting the crowd of guests like Moses at the Red Sea, was a man. He was dressed in all black, with a coat of satin red flowing behind him, and a mask to match. He seemed important. He was handsome. 

But you had no idea who he was. 

He approached Historia, bowing lowly, and most other guests went back to mingling and dancing. 

"Your highness," he said, rising to stand his full height, and even though he wasn't that tall he still posed a great deal of authority. His eyes flicked over to you. "And friend." Then he looked back to the group of wide-eyed teenagers behind Historia. "And other friends." 

"Good evening," Historia said, smiling over at you. "Here, I'll introduce you." she said, turning back and adding the new man into your circle. She tugged on your arm again, bringing you half a step forward. "Here is (y/n), she's been my friend since forever, and (y/n), this is -" At the pause in her stentace the man nodded, offering his hand out to you.

"Care for a dance, (y/n)?" 

Historia almost swung you around and into his arms, so you supposed you had no choice but to take his hand.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

You'd never been to a ball like this before. You'd been to them, sure - ones with village folks, filled with farmers, bakers, and other lower-class nobles. You loved those balls. 

This was so different. The room wasn't stuffy, the music was less buoyant, and the food was much more varied. But this man, this stranger - even though everyone but you seemed to know exactly who he was - he was making it feel a bit more bearable. 

Even if he'd barely spoken, he still made you feel awfully comfortable - a far reach from how others acted towards him.

He introduced himself as Levi, and coming from Germany, he was a very good French speaker. You never would've guessed he wasn’t native if he didn't say. He almost smiled at that. Aside from the occasional small talk, and back and forth questions, he wasn't very conversational. You didn't mind, you were too caught up trying to not trip over. 

"Hey," he said, casting you out of your worried daze and straight into his grey eyes, "Stop fretting. Feel the music, from your toes to the tips of your hair. Let it flow through you, and your body will do the rest.”

That was the most he’d said in one go all evening. So you made sure to listen. To the music. To your body, and to his. You felt how his hand tightened in yours and how he pulled your waist closer to him. You saw how his eyes glossed over yours before fluttering to take in the rest of your obscured face, and how he took in a deep breath right before he took you both around the room. He must’ve been magic, that’s the only reason why he was able to make your dancing together feel like you were floating across the marble floor.

It was nothing short of amazing.

He took your attention for three more dances after the first. By the time you were done, you needed another drink, and you were ever so grateful that you wore a mask - he was close enough that he might have felt the heat from your cheeks that returned everytime he pulled you even closer otherwise. But even though your time together dancing was over, he didn’t just up and leave. He hooked your arm in his - much like Historia did much earlier - and guided you back outside to the gardens. 

You could feel the prying eyes on you as you went with him, but you oddly found yourself really not caring. No one spared you a second glance when you were on your own, or even with the Princess. What was it about Levi that they were so curious about? 

Wordlessly, he reached to where your hand was resting in the crook of his elbow, lacing his fingers with yours. He was being so kind to you, so gentle. Even though he - rather unceremoniously - stole you from Historia and her introductions, you didn’t really mind. 

“How are you friends with the Princess?” he asked, now walking in among an empty waist-high hedge maze, and tilted his head over to face you. “I’ve never seen you before, or heard of you, which is odd. Our family and hers are… Very close.” 

“Odd indeed. She’s never once mentioned you or your family in her letters either.” He barked out a short laugh at your quick response. 

“You really don’t know who I am do you?” He asked, a lace of amazement in his voice.

“Well you don’t know who I am either, so we’re even.” He clicked his tongue, releasing a ‘tch’ noise and shook his head.

“I could tell you were new the moment I first saw you. The look on your face when you entered the ballroom earlier, that’s not the face of someone who’s been here before.” He stopped walking, turning to stand toe-to-toe with you instead. “Who are you?” 

“Lowly, at best. Only a rank higher than a knight.” you answered, smiling, “But I am also happy. Very happy.” Levi then got a very soft look in his eyes. The kind that told you, on the inside, he was melting. 

“That’s all anyone could ever wish for. To reply ‘who are you?’ with ‘I am happy’.” You broke into light giggles, smiling and nodding at him. After you settled, you squeezed his hand, and saw he had a smile on his lips too.

“Now I’ve told you who I am. So who are you?”

#masquerade au #medieval au #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman one shot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan one shot #aot x reader #aot one shot

[chatonne-rousse]

Through a Different Lens

This incredible work of art by @lilianmorganart crossed my dash last week and has lived rent-free in my head since then. I made it my phone's wallpaper and found myself getting emotional every time I picked up the phone to use it (If that doesn't confirm my stratospheric level of unrepentant Adrienette trash, I don't know what does).

I told @tsuki-chibi about it and we discussed how Adrien would totally swoon over it, too, if it was the lock screen on his phone. And that's how this fic was born.

I hope you enjoy this little relationship study through Alya's eyes as she and Nino share life and love alongside their best friends.

Read it on Ao3 here.

*****

"Last set of the night, dudes and dudettes. We're about to be upstaged big time." Nino points out the bank of windows toward the already-glittering Eiffel Tower before needle meets vinyl and the music starts, soft and undeniably romantic. "Let's wind it down by slowing it down."

A blue balloon flutters to the floor beside Nino's feet as he hops from the DJ platform and winds through a sea of his classmates to his waiting girlfriend. Alya wastes no time wrapping him in her arms and pressing a kiss to his lips, turning the greeting into dancing with the sway of her hips that he matches after a few beats.

"How many songs did you line up?" she murmurs when they finally part.

He smiles and winks at her. "Four. It's about fifteen minutes till fireworks."

"Mmm. Nice."

The back of his shirt is sweaty under Alya's hands, but she doesn't care. The lovely chignon Marinette had pulled her hair into before the party has come a bit undone and she can feel the damp curls at the back of her neck. That's July in Paris for you; even the air conditioning in Le Grand Paris doesn't make much of a difference. Thank goodness for the ceiling fans that make the white and blue and red streamers rustle above their heads.

She hears Nino snort softly near her ear. "Are they magical or something? How do they still look perfect?"

Alya doesn't need to turn to know he's talking about their best friends, but she twists anyway, pressing the opposite cheek to Nino's shoulder instead.

And of course he's right.

She's spent the evening drinking punch and giggling with Marinette, shimmying and whooping with her in a happy little clump with Nino and Adrien, making the rounds of friends and food and fun over the past few hours. Marinette and Adrien have, too, but somehow the only sign that it's the end of the evening is that Adrien has loosened his tie.

Marinette's hair falls across her shoulders in the same soft cascade Alya styled it into hours ago. Her gauzy white dress drapes better on her figure than it did on the mannequin in her bedroom. Even the corsage Adrien had presented to her when the girls descended the stairs into Marinette's living room, a stunning red rose in full bloom, sits perfectly on her slim wrist, not a petal out of place. Her best friend really does look like she's limned in magic.

But perhaps that's because of the strong hand splayed at Marinette's waist, pressing her ever closer to her dance partner, or Adrien's cheek at her temple, his blond halo a perfect contrast to her deep raven hair. Maybe it's whatever he's just whispered in her ear that makes her smile up at him, a wide grin of exasperated fondness lighting her face before gentling after a moment into an expression of softest serenity.

Alya's first thought is that it's like the bright and beautiful partnership of the full moon reflecting the sun. But that isn't quite right, because her best friend glows from within, providing her own light to meet Adrien's, radiant and returned in equal measure.

Just how they got to this point remains as baffling to Alya now as it was a year ago when her friends finally put themselves and everyone around them out of their misery and started dating. The blushes continued and the occasional shy stammers never quite disappeared, but she'd watched them blossom together like a spring garden before her eyes, though what she'd been sure would be daffodils had bloomed into beautiful irises instead.

Suddenly Mr. Sunshine had gleamed brighter than ever, his giddy joy nearly uncontainable. So many puns. So much laughter. The former would be unbearable were it not for the latter, which always seemed to brighten Nino's eyes as well, a welcome side effect.

And oh, her best friend had come alive. It was more than having someone to love and love her in return. Alya knew from the day they met that love was second nature to Marinette. It practically shone from her pores.

But this was different - a touch more boldness, a blaze of fierce protectiveness in her eyes, an ability to read and respond to Adrien's emotions in just the way he needed, just when he needed it. How did she know to do that? How had this easy familiarity grown between them so quickly, not a tender new sapling but already an unshakeable oak?

She knows the truth is deeper than what she's been able to wrangle from Marinette, but Alya learned long ago that her best friend held those cards too close to ever let her get a peek. But she sure had tried at the beginning.

"You can tell me, girl! I'm so happy for you, but I don't get it! What happened?"

Alya wheedled, needled, begged.

Marinette just smiled and finished watering her roses before leaning against the railing of her terrace.

"I did tell you! Adrien and I talked. We were honest with each other. That's it." She shrugged one shoulder before her smile turned sly and she bumped her hip into her best friend's. "You know, we can't all find love by getting trapped in a panther cage by a superhero. Not every relationship has an epic origin story."

"Damn right! Seriously, though, I can tell there's more to this. There are deets you're not sharing, and your bestie needs those deets!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Als. I just...saw him. All of him."

Alya just barely resisted the urge to make the obvious joke.

"Mari. My love. My best friend in the world. What could you possibly see now that you haven't seen in the past two years of crushing, staring, memorizing, obsessing, and finally just getting over your fears and becoming real, actual friends with him?" She ticked off each point on her fingers, ending with a grip on her pinky and an imploring look she hoped would coax a detail or two from her all-too-cagey best friend. "If you can't throw a bone to your BFF, think of me as the coordinator of Operation Secret Garden and its many, many, many side missions. At least tell me one thing about Sunshine that I don't know, something you didn't know before, either."

Silence fell over them like a blanket. Just when it started to feel stifling and itchy, Marinette spoke.

"He's the bravest person I know," she said quietly, gaze straying across the rooftop horizon.

Alya thought of the myriad times she'd watched Adrien run away in the direction of his house as she herself had run toward danger in the name of journalism and morbid curiosity. He was sweet and exceedingly kind, but she'd never considered him a bastion of courage. Though of course there had to be lots of things she didn't know, details of life at home beyond the isolated loneliness they were all aware of, things that hadn't occurred to her that her best friend now saw through a lens of love and not just friendly compassion. If the reason they were already so close was because Adrien was able to share the difficult parts of his life that he didn't even share with Nino? Well, Alya could understand and respect that.

She reached out and covered Marinette's hand in hers. "His dad is kind of the worst, isn't he?"

"Oh my gosh, you have no idea. The absolute worst. The other day..."

Listening to Marinette that day, Alya had decided that if her friends were happy, she'd be happy right along with them. The details would come in time.

They'd taken silly selfies in Marinette's mirror as they got ready earlier this evening. They'd posed for portraits in the Dupain-Chengs' doorway as though this was a gala event and not a Quatorze Juillet party that Chloé insisted was fancy dress, and snapped shots of their BFF squad together all evening. So without thinking, Alya reaches for her phone - her dress is a Marinette original, of course it has pockets - to document exactly how besotted their preternaturally beautiful best friends are. She grabs three photos in quick succession, thankful for her state-of-the-art camera as she smiles at how it captures the play of light and shadow across their matching white.

"Paparazzi," Nino fake coughs in her hair.

Alya grabs his butt with her free hand in retaliation, and they both laugh.

Marinette and Adrien sway together in a loose approximation of a dance, eyes closed, just barely turning in place, lost in each other. When Adrien reaches for Marinette's hand on his shoulder, Alya has to let go of her boyfriend completely to set her camera to burst mode, but laid-back, ever-patient Nino just huffs a laugh and holds her waist tighter. It's all worth it when she's able to capture the moment Adrien brings Marinette's hand to his lips and presses a series of slow, reverent kisses to her knuckles. She snaps one more photo after he's tucked their clasped hands beneath his chin and settled her against his shoulder.

Alya turns in the circle of Nino's arms and gleefully scrolls through the vast number of pictures she's just taken, pausing near the center of the burst shots and cooing with delight at the treasure she finds. "Oh my god, Nino, look." She shoves the phone under his nose and his eyes cross trying to focus on it.

"Damn. They're too pretty to be real."

She snorts. "Truth. Seriously, though. Have you ever seen two people more in love? I'd say it's gross, but I could also cry just looking at them."

Still smiling, Nino pulls their hips together again and sets them in a slow spin, punctuating the beat with his fingers at the small of her back. Alya pockets her phone and cuddles up to him, grinning into his chest when he speaks quietly for her ears only.

"You know I love you just as much, right? I'm not a model, and um, I'm not as...gooey. But—"

He's cut off when Alya presses her lips to his to stop him.

"You're just the right amount of gooey, mister, and I don't need a model when I've already snagged the hottest guy I've ever met." She delights in his blushing cheeks as she kisses him again. "And yes, I know you do...I love you, too. Thank god it's not a competition, or we'd be losing."

"Naaah," Nino drawls softly, hugging her close. "I've already won."

Alya just closes her eyes and hides her grin in his shoulder, letting him spin them again as the music swells.

*****

Packed on the balcony and ready for the fireworks to start, she and Marinette are giggling over the photos on her camera roll from the course of the evening.

"I don't want to think about how much you pay for cloud storage, Als. You know you have a problem, right?"

Nino can't help his surprised laugh, but has the good sense to bite his lip and look away. Alya nudges him in the side and rolls her eyes good-naturedly. Scrolling through toward the latest photos, she stops on one in particular and flips the screen toward her best friend.

"Bet you're glad I got this one, eh, Mademoiselle Judgy Pants?"

Alya knows she's scored a direct hit when Marinette's eyes widen and her cheeks pinken visibly even in the ambient light of the city. In the same moment, Adrien breathes an "ooooh" in reverent awe from over her shoulder as he stares at the glowing phone screen. Impossibly, the look on his face as he takes in the image is even more tender than it is in the photo itself.

Marinette turns to press her burning cheeks to his chest and he wraps her in his arms, props his chin on her head and mouths, "Send me that, please," to Alya, gesturing vaguely from her phone to his pocket.

Request received loud and clear, she grins and gives him a quick salute.

When fireworks finally fill the Parisian sky, Alya attempts a few action shots, though she's well aware that fireworks photos rarely turn out. Next, she grabs a great picture of Nino with the lights reflected in his glasses that immediately gets posted on Instagram.

And when Marinette stands on her tiptoes, wraps her arms around Adrien's shoulders, and kisses him breathless, well, Alya can't resist snapping one last photo of her friends. Adrien's hair positively gleams in the ephemeral glow of the bright red firework that bathes flushed cheeks and white fabric in a dreamy, perfect pink. This one is sent straight to her best friend; she looks forward to the keysmash text of embarrassed delight she'll receive from Marinette later.

Nino's hand slides around her waist to pull her close and she snuggles into his side, stowing her phone in her pocket and simply enjoying the moment.

*****

"Babe," Nino whispers under his breath, accompanied by a nudge of his knee against Alya's under the cafe table, "he's doing it again."

Sure enough, Adrien is gazing down at his phone. It's not even unlocked yet - he's just looking at his lock screen, waking it up each time it fades back to sleep.

"I know. That's why I'm looking up the movie time. We'd miss it completely if we left it to Sunshine."

"This is technically your fault. You do know that, right?"

Alya shrugs. "No regrets."

Marinette returns to the table, picking her purse off the back of her chair and lifting the strap over her head to settle in its perennial position across her torso. Instead of sitting down, she wraps her arms around Adrien's chest from behind and leans down to kiss his cheek. "Did you figure out if we can make it to the movie?"

The question is clearly directed at Adrien, who was supposed to be looking up the cinema schedule, but he's already pocketed his phone and turned his head to nuzzle into her hair.

Okay, Alya may have some regrets.

It's been months since she took the now-famous photo and sent it to him. To no one's surprise, it became his lock screen wallpaper immediately. It also became a distraction.

Because Adrien melts every time he looks at his phone.

No one can truly decide if it's exasperating or endearing, but there are classmates and friends in both camps.

Nino begged him to change it back to the picture of the two of them together, if only to shorten the time between sending his best friend a text and receiving one in return. Alya is nearly at her limit for heart eyes, but she's still the captain of Team Endearing. She did take the picture, after all.

Max programmed Markov to recognize each time Adrien reached for his phone and the time it took for him to unlock it and use it. Markov has perfected the algorithm over time and now has a saved log of each occurrence down to the millisecond. There's no real reason to track this data besides curiosity, but it does help Markov refine his processes, so Max has kept it up. It is vaguely fascinating, though he does feel that it's a terrible use of Adrien's limited free time.

Nathaniel illustrated a cartoon rendition of Adrien, phone in his hand and literal hearts in his eyes. Alya offered him €10 for it, but Adrien himself came in at €20 and now it sits on his desk at home.

Once, Adrien spent so much time gazing at the lock screen that he never did answer his ringing phone. Of course it was Nathalie calling, and of course his father grounded him when he got home.

(Neither Marinette nor Adrien seemed as bothered by those two weeks as everyone had anticipated. That mystery remains unsolved.)

When she thinks about it, Alya decides there are worse things than Adrien loving Marinette so much that he has an emotional reaction to seeing the evidence through a different lens.

Alya just slips her phone in her purse and corrals her boyfriend and their best friends. They have a movie to get to and they only have twenty-five minutes.

*****

In time, the picture has found a place on the wall in Marinette and Adrien's apartment - printed on premium photo paper, lovingly matted and framed. No one would have expected any less.

And it has always made Adrien smile, sometimes when nearly nothing else could.

*****

Several years, several revelations, and enough trauma to last a lifetime have led them all to this moment, on this day that shines with as much joy and light and love as they can muster. It's what a day like this deserves, after all.

With too much behind them to call it a beginning and too much hope for the future ahead to call it an ending, Alya decides she's just watched her best friends walk through a door they'd unlocked years ago and finally found the right time to step through together. The path hasn't changed, paved in hurt and heartache and the kind of helpless hope a person chooses when an abyss yawns below and there are no other ropes to grab. But it has always been lit by the glow of an almost unfathomable love, and that's where healing begins, grows, and flourishes.

So here they sit, surrounded by friends and family, in the same room where the four of them had danced all those years ago on a hot July evening. A towering croquembouche waits in the corner and a table full of photos and memories is on display along one wall; that heart-melting photo of the happy couple as lovestruck teenagers has pride of place in the center.

Clad again in radiant white, Marinette is the perfect picture of a blushing bride, and her groom has been unsurprisingly entranced all day. Alya isn't sure Adrien has stopped smiling since they first saw him this morning, and she and Nino are enjoying every moment of it.

Part of the brilliance shining in his grin is natural, springing from a heart so innately kind that it has countered evil and wielded destruction, yet still beats with compassion. But she and Nino know, better than anyone else, that the Adrien in front of them is a previously-shattered vase mended in gold, stronger and more beautiful in the broken places, and some of his gleam is reflected from those gilded seams.

When it's Alya's turn to toast, Nino helps her to her feet with a smile and hands her the mic before sitting back down beside her. She starts with a story only a best friend could get away with telling, bolstered by the laughter of the guests around her and the grins of the bride and groom. She has a toast carefully planned and memorized, but for all her preparedness, Alya also knows how to improvise. When her gaze sweeps across the picture gallery on the table and the faces of two of the people she loves most, she veers off course but finds her words with confidence.

"I've taken a lot of photos in my life - silly, scary, funny, serious, everything in between. Many of those photos have featured many of you here today. I know I caused my saint of a best friend here a lot of undeserved stress by taking a vast majority of my life's photos in places where I shouldn't have been."

She pauses when a laugh ripples through the room and Marinette shakes her head even as her watery eyes beam back at her. "But I was in just the right place when I took that one." She gestures toward the framed picture on the table, sparkling cider sloshing gently in her champagne flute. "Because the right place for both of us—" she reaches a hand back toward Nino blindly, finding and squeezing his shoulder, "has always been next to you, the most ludicrously attractive, kindest, bravest, best people we know."

Alya takes a deep breath that only shakes a little bit on the exhale. "I'm so—" she blinks and swallows around the lump in her throat. Damn hormones! "I'm so lucky to know you, to love you, and to have been part of your lives and your love story all these years. That's why I wish you nothing less than a lifetime of that kind of love," she inclines her head toward the photo on the table again, "that kind of tenderness and devotion. No one deserves it more than you two, and no one will be happier than Nino and I will to be right there beside you on the journey. So...cheers to the prettiest lovebirds I know, Marinette and Adrien!"

Champagne flutes clink amidst applause and hugs and sniffles.

Her best friends grin at her before turning the same soft gaze toward each other again, just like the picture she took all those years ago that turned Adrien to goo each time he looked at it.

Alya knows now, of course, what she didn't understand back then - that in the same way their wedding today was more than just a beginning, so were those early days of soft looks and fierce devotion that seemed to transcend the blush of new romance. Unbeknownst to their friends, they'd had an ironclad partnership and years of trust in place already. Open eyes and honesty allowed the confluence of several different kinds of love, and it only made sense that the resulting alloy stood stalwart and shone dazzling-bright.

Well, it didn't make sense then, but it certainly does now, even if the luster sparkles through a patina of nicks and dents. After all, even the strongest steel and the brightest gold are refined by fire.

Nino hands her a tissue and presses his palm to her back as she settles in her seat again.

When ever-romantic Adrien reaches for his bride's hand to press gentle kisses across the back of her fingers, Alya can't resist grabbing her phone from the table beside her bread plate. They're a little older but just as beautiful and even more in love, and the photo she snaps captures that perfectly. She smiles down at her phone, pleased, before locking the screen and twisting a little in her seat to place it back on the table, face down.

Alya gets comfortable, rests her head on her husband's shoulder, and simply enjoys the moment.

#adrienette through alya's eyes #alya loves her bff #dj wifi #adrienette #snapshot #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #my writing #relationship study #this is so self indulgent #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste

[elliemarchetti]

The Most Beautiful and Golden of the Cages

Nobody cares, but I like it, so bear with me and accept this fourth chapter of my Haldir x half-elf fem!OC fic.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Words: 2677

For the first time since they had left Rivendell, her rest wasn’t disturbed by dreams or noises, and she opened her eyes again only the next morning, when Gimli knocked on the door to make sure she was okay. The days passed almost all the same, each moment illuminated by a clear sun, except when a drizzle fell, leaving everything fresh and clean. The air was sweet and mild, as if it was tender spring, yet everyone felt around them the deep and thoughtful stillness of winter. Even the attentions of Haldir, who at the behest of the Lady hadn’t returned to his usual task, gave her the same feeling: his smile was mild and his actions sweet, but his deep eyes let it be seen that something was troubling the quiet in his thoughts, and even while they ate and drank there was no lightheartedness in his gestures, as if only among the trees and the constant danger he really felt at home. Elva decided it was time to face the conversation in the only moment they had alone, that was before going to rest.

“If you wish to go back to your brothers and mansion, we can sleep with the rest of the Fellowship, there is no need for you to stay any longer in a house you certainly don’t love.”

Her words seemed to take him by surprise, and for a moment she feared he would take refuge in his room without giving any answer.

“To be your guide, even now we’re within the city walls, is a great honour, especially when your mission is so noble,” he replied, always with tender courtesy. He had praise and beautiful words to dedicate to her, but his gaze never rested too long on her figure, nor did their hands touched after they entered the gates.

“Yet you don’t seem satisfied,” she insisted, hoping not to be too intrusive, even though her mere presence within the talan told another story.

“Maybe I'm just unaccustomed to city life: I’ve lived in the woods for a long time now, and although I’m the only one in the family who travels to distant lands, I don’t like to sleep in a soft bed when my brothers face great risks every day,” he admitted, finally, and the subject was no longer brought up, but the next evening, as they were walking together in the cool twilight, silence fell again. They had both felt restless for the whole afternoon, unable to face the shadow of parting, but Elva knew it was something they had to address, mostly because they were going to give up each other’s reassurance for probably a violent fate.

“It’s wonderfully quiet here,” she commented, determined not to start too brutally. “Nothing seems to be going on, and nobody seems to want it to.”

“It’s the Lady’s magic,” he explained, in a neutral tone. “You can’t touch it, but I’m sure you can see and feel it everywhere.”

He was right, but the thing that struck her most was the latent intolerance he expressed toward the land he swore to protect, for which he could also have died at the hands of an Orc while patrolling, or perhaps it was directed to those who commanded it, but Elva didn’t dare to ask, mindful of Legolas’ words about Mirkwood. It’s the most beautiful and golden of the cages, but in the end, it still remains a cage, he said, during a full moon night, to explain to her what drove him to continually piss off his father and get away from his duties as heir to the throne. Even the excessive beauty of Lothlorien reminded her of home, where the benevolence shown hid the trap of a cunning king.

“I don’t think you can do much more to help us, magic or not,” she finally admitted, for the first time aloud. Until that moment, she had kept it in her thoughts, fearing it might become real, but now she knew she must accept it and go on.

“Before you go, you’ll have to see the Lady one more time,” he explained, and as if she had heard him, Galadriel appeared from a lawn, tall, white and fair, silently beckoning them to follow her toward the southern slopes of Caras Galadhon’s hill, where, crossing a green hedge, they entered a garden without trees, which opened to the clear sky where the first stars, glowing with white fire on the western woods, could be seen. The Lady descended a long staircase that led into a deep hollow, crossed by the murmuring stream that gushed from the fountain on the hill, creating a low and shallow silver basin, next to which was a silver jug. With water from the stream, Galadriel filled to the brim a tub with a pedestal carved like a leafy tree.

“This is my Mirror,” she said, in that distant, ancient voice. “I brought you here so you can look at yourself, if you wish.”

“What do I have to look for?” Elva asked, watching full of wonder the pale elf. She wasn’t deluded, probably that place would be or had already been shown to all the other travellers, but at the moment she felt important, as if the Mirror could reveal to her something it had kept silent even to its owner.

“What you wish to see, if that’s what you desire,” replied the Lady. “But the Mirror can also spontaneously show images of things that were, are and still must be, which are often strange and useful. Do you want to watch?”

The half-elf didn’t answer right away: she would’ve liked to know what was happening at home, to her friends and her king, but she was afraid she would only see the reflection of the stars, or something she wouldn’t be able to understand.

“Remember, the Mirror is a dangerous guide, as it shows many things and not all of them have already occurred, while some will never happen, if only who saw didn’t abandon their way to prevent them,” Galadriel warned her.

“I don’t think you’re advising me to look, but rather to see something,” Elva replied. No one in Mirkwood spoke in riddles, but Haldir’s ignorance about the High Elves harbours and all the ceremoniousness of their meeting with the Lord and the Lady led her to assume those elves were no more like them than the dwarves for the hobbits.

“Seeing is at the same time good and dangerous, yet I believe you have guts and wisdom enough to take the risk, otherwise you wouldn’t have revealed to your guide what my spouse and I have been hiding from our people for a long time,” replied the woman, but without any trace of the annoyance or anger she might’ve expected facing the topic. Of course it wasn’t necessary to ask her how she knew, but was she telling that her words had a positive influence on Haldir? She didn’t have the courage to turn to look at her companion’s face to find out, yet, she felt like she needed to dodge even the powerful woman’s gaze, who didn’t need to read her mind anyway to know what she was thinking.

“So, do you wish to look?” she insisted, when faced only with silence.

The marchwarden hadn’t spoke a word for the whole time, and although Elva would’ve preferred for him, who knew the Lady more thoroughly, to advise her, she decided on her own to have a peep, even if it seemed unsafe to be too close to Galadriel’s magic. Without touching the dark water, she leaned over the basin, and as if a veil had been instantly withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey and then clear, to show her the sun shining and trees branches waving and tossing in the wind, golden leaf falling way sooner than the spring buds blossom. Before she could make up her mind, the autumn light faded, and she saw Haldir, dying in her arms with many of his race around him. They were both covered in red and black blood, and she almost thought she could smell the stench of death in her nostrils, mixed with something that reminded her of wet soil, sweat and leather. His lips barely moved, but he told her to go ahead, and take care of his brothers. Without thinking, she looked away to meet his blue eyes, full of concern but at the same time as attractive as a clear sea on a hot summer day. As in a dream, she returned to his side, but everything was too strange and unreal to resist the urge she felt of touching him, a light peck on his hand just to be sure what was happening wasn’t yet another one of Galadriel’s mental games. His skin was warm, not dry with sweat as in the Mirror’s vision, but as soon as she reached out, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might fly away in the stagnant air and never come back. Obviously, the Lady hadn’t missed the whole scene, and when she asked her subject if he wanted to look too, the tone of her words had changed slightly, although Elva couldn’t understand if for the better or the worse.

“Do you advise me to do so?” he asked, but the woman answered with the umpteenth riddle, and the decision became only his. Very slowly, she felt the grip on her hand loosen, and for a moment, everything was suspended, superfluous, their barely touching fingers the only important thing. The separation was almost painful, and it seemed to Elva that between her and the elf, gazing so skilfully into the Mirror’s depth she supposed he had already done it, there were whole kingdoms and not just a dozen steps. If Lorien was apparently frozen in time, that place, like everything surrounding the Lady, seemed suspended above the laws of nature, beautiful and at the same time terrifying. Over time, she had learned that under too much perfection there was always something corrupt, something rotten, a secret to hide, perhaps in the shape of a chain mail sneaked under a tunic, or a ring delicately mixed with other shiny jewellery, slipped on a pale, slender finger. No description could ever match the wonder of seeing Nenya in person. The Ring of Adamant glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light, and its white stone twinkled as if Earendil, the Evening Star, most beloved of the Elves, had come down to rest upon the bearer’s hand, making her suspicions therefore correct: the Galadhrim had deliberately and conveniently avoided mentioning that Galadriel was the keeper of one of the three elven rings, hence they couldn’t be trusted.

“Let what has to happen, happen,” the Lady murmured when Haldir finished his dose of horrors too, so softly that Elva almost feared she had imagined it. “You’re not responsible for Lorien’s fate, but only for the fulfilment of your mission.”

“You’re wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,” he answered, but before Elva could turn to look at her, and inquire what she meant by those words, she found only the marchwarden, the lights dying quickly and the magic of that place  drained by the elf’s absence. Unable to confront with someone, for fear that the woman and her spouse might find out, she decided to remain silent and act as if nothing had happened, even though she was dying to pester Haldir with questions about both Lothlorien’s ruler and his attitude towards them, reverential and accommodating but far from the spell the couple seemed to cast on the rest of their subject, and what he had seen in the Mirror. The Lady hadn’t in itself forbidden them to tell each other what the Mirror had decided to reveal, but even just touching the question would’ve led her guest to ask her what she had glimpsed in its depths, and she wasn’t sure she could admit that he, and his death, were the backbone of the longest, and simplest to interpret, if it could be said, of the two narratives, of which there would be no time to speak anyway, as the Fellowship was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, where the Lord and Lady greeted them with kind words. At length they spoke of the departure and Galadriel confirmed that they all intended to continue, providing them with boats, which would allow the crossing of the Great River.

"Even if you haven't decided your path yet, Haldir will take you wherever you want, as he’s a skilled captain and we can do nothing more to help," the woman concluded, casting a long look at Elva, weighing her reaction. For she was a good diplomat, the half-elf tried to keep her expression neutral, but Gimli’s curiosity about that silent exchange was of no help, while Aragorn was luckily too distracted by the gift to care.

“All shall be prepared at the haven before noon tomorrow,” added Celeborn. “I’ll send my people in the morning to help you make ready for the journey, but now we’ll wish you all a fair night and untroubled sleep.”

The whole Fellowship, plus its temporary new member, took their leave and returned to the pavilion to take counsel together; for a long time they debated what they should do, and how it would be best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring, but they came to no decision, even if it was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas Tirith, and to escape at least for a while from the terror of the Enemy. Some would’ve been willing to follow a leader over the River and into the shadow of Mordor, but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragorn was still divided in his mind, therefore Elva remained neutral, as she seemed to understand Gandalf wished before his early death. Admitting that he would never return still gave a strange feeling, above all because an inestimable number of mysteries would remain unsolved, and so many questions would remain unanswered, but by now she believed she had accepted it, the emptiness in her heart slowly filling up with a new and different feeling, which she had neither the time nor the energy to analyze, mostly because it would’ve been of no use, since, although she couldn’t yet know when, Haldir would still have to turn his back on them to return to the patrols in the woods with his brothers.

“I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,” said Boromir, and after that he was silent for a while, sitting with his eyes fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read the Halfling’s thoughts like the Lady had done in their first meeting. Only at length he spoke again, so softly he was probably debating with himself: “If you wish only to destroy the Ring, then there’s little use in war and weapons, and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help, but if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain, and folly to throw away,” he said, before pausing suddenly, as if he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud.

“It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean,” he added. “It’s a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death, or at least, that’s how I see it.”

Elva hardly heard the last justification, too busy reliving a memory of the council, during which he had already expressed a thought of that kind. She looked at Haldir, but the elf  seemed deep in his own thought and made no sign that he had heeded Boromir’s words, so their debate ended and those who would have slept in the talan took their leave for the last time, while the night grew old and dark on Caras Galadhon, maybe darker than ever.

#haldir x fem oc #lotr fic #haldir of lothlorien #galadriel #gimli son of gloin #celeborn #aragorn #legolas greenleaf #gandalf the grey #boromir #frodo baggins #half elf oc

[saylors-universe]

All Hands on Deck, five

Rowaelin Cruise Vacation AU

masterlist here

word count: 5234

[This is an interactive story! I will include Authorʻs Notes throughout the chapters to inform you when to start a particular song that you can find here in the All Hands on Deck playlist (Also can be found on the masterlist). For the best experience, listen with headphones, AND FOLLOW ALONG WITH THE STORY. Please try to use your imagination when listening and reading - live through the words. Have fun :) - Saylor]

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This week has been HELL. Sorry for the late upload :( Anyways, enjoy the chapter, thanks for reading <3

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Day 4 - AT SEA - “Todays Cruise Activity: SCAVENGER HUNT from 1-3, Find an activities staff for more info!”

-    Aelin wakes in a soft, ivory, long-sleeve undershirt, light blue dress with a matching white apron. Confused by her attire, she finds two large books in her embrace, like she had cuddled with them in her sleep.      -

[A.N.] Play “Beauty and the Beast Medley” by BYU Vocal Point feat. Lexi Walker now, follow along, and let your imagination put on a show. Find playlist here.

-    Recognizing that sheʻs alone in her dark cabin, she leaves her room and notices no one in the dim, candle-lit hallway. She searches for any sign of life throughout the corridors, navigating through the different levels until she appears in front of the bakery, responsible for divulging her deep cravings of chocolates and treats.     -

Aelin:      LITTLE TOWN, ITʻS A QUIET VILLAGE

               EVERYDAY LIKE THE ONE BEFORE

               LITTLE TOWN, FULL OF LITTLE PEOPLE

               WAKING UP TO SAY

-    Suddenly, as if on cue, a parade of crew and staff appear in a flash mob.  -

Cruise Staff:          BON JOUR,  BON JOUR

-     A baker stands behind the counter, kneading dough.   -

                         BON JOUR, BON JOUR, BON JOUR

Aelin:     THERE GOES THE BAKER WITH HIS TRAY LIKE ALWAYS

               THE SAME OLD BREAD AND ROLLS TO SELL

               EVERY MORNING JUST THE SAME

               SINCE THE MORNING THAT WE CAME 

               TO THIS POOR PROVINCIAL TOWN

Baker:      “Good Morning, Belle”

-     Aelin, puzzled by what is happening and perplexed by why she is compelled to sing, magically transports to The Antica. She is ushered by Emrys and Luca in their cooking attire, along with the rest of the ensemble, who seemed to have rehearsed a big musical number.     -

Emrys:     BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

               PUT OUR SERVICE TO THE TEST

               TIE YOUR NAPKIN ROUND YOUR NECK, CHERIE

               AND WE PROVIDE THE REST

               SOUP DE JOUR, HOT HORS DʻOEUVERS

              WHY, WE ONLY LIVE TO SERVE

              TRY THE GREY STUFF, ITʻS DELICIOUS

               DONʻT BELIEVE IT? ASK THE DISHES

              THEY CAN SING, THEY CAN DANCE

               AFTER ALL, MISS, THIS IS FRANCE

               AND A DINNER HERE IS NEVER SECOND BEST

               GO ON UNFOLD YOUR MENU

               TAKE A GLANCE AND THEN YOUʻLL

               BE OUR GUEST, OUI, OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

Ensemble:  BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

                   OUR COMMAND IS YOUR REQUEST

                   ITʻS TEN YEARS SINCE WE HAD ANYBODY HERE

                   WEʻRE OBSESSED

                   WITH YOUR MEAL, WITH YOUR EASE

                   YES, INDEED, WE AIM TO PLEASE

                   WHILE THE CANDLESTICKʻS STILL GLOWING

                   LET US HELP YOU, WEʻLL KEEP GOING

-    They all line up and begin a grand kick line.   -

                   COURSE BY COURSE, ONE BY ONE

                  TILL YOU SHOUT, “ENOUGH, IʻM DONE”

                  THEN WEʻLL SEND YOU OFF TO SLEEP AS YOU DIGEST

                  TONIGHT YOUʻLL PROP YOUR FEET UP

                  BUT FOR NOW, LETʻS EAT UP

                  BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST, BE OUR GUEST

                  PLEASE, BE OUR GUEST

-      Aelin is completely taken aback by the magnificent performance put on by the crew. In awe, she is transported once more to the elegant ballroom, but now she is fitted with a dazzling, gold ballroom gown. A dashingly, groomed Rowan approaches Aelin, wearing a charming black tux. He offers his hand, in silent question for a dance. She places her hand in his and he guides them to the center of the floor where they begin to waltz.       -

Aelin:   TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            TRUE AS IT CAN BE

            BARELY EVEN FRIENDS

            THEN SOMEBODY BENDS, UNEXPECTEDLY

-   Lorcan/Elide, Aedion/Lysandra, Dorian/Manon join them on the dance floor, following along in the waltz as Fenrys and Connal stand by beatboxing.    -

            JUST A LITTLE CHANGE

            SMALL TO SAY THE LEAST

            BOTH A LITTLE SCARED

            NEITHER ONE PREPARED

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            EVER JUST THE SAME

            EVER A SURPRISE

            EVER AS BEFORE

            EVER JUST AS SURE

            AS THE SUN WILL RISE

            CERTAIN AS THE SUN

            TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            SONG AS OLD AS RHYME

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            TALE AS OLD AS TIME

            SONG AS OLD AS RHYME

            BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

            WHOA-OH

“WAKE UP YOU FREAK”

Aelin lurches awake, back in the comfort of her own bed, Manonʻs long, sharp nails digging into her skin.

“OW!,” Aelin massages the crescent indents in her arm.

“You were singing in your sleep ... really loudly. Lys came over to make sure you werenʻt dying, and took a few embarrassing videos of you,”

   Aelin murmurs a defensive sigh and seeks refuge under her comforter, reflecting on her dream, What the fuck? Why did I dream of Rowan? She convinces herself that her subconscious was just playing tricks on her and decided to leave their past in the past. Given the new circumstances, they were merely co-workers, sort of, and nothing would happen between them, well not again. Sheʻs learned what happens when you fall for a Whitethorn, you get your heart broken. 

   She will never forget that afternoon. Rowan had received a large envelope package from Orynth University, his dream school. Aelin, her parents, Maeve, Rowansʻ aunt and legal guardian since the passing of his parents when he was young, his whole family, all gathered in her small living room while he read out his acceptance letter. He was so excited. Not wanting to ruin his news with the sad announcement of her rejection letter, she plastered on a bright smile and consumed the happy energy of the night.

   Once the party turned down, he led her outside on her porch. He knew her better than anyone and could tell that something had been off. She confessed in sobs, excusing that she did not want to take the attention away from his amazing opportunity. He immediately offered to apply to the local college, or other universities in the area, or get a job, anything to stay near her. She forbade him, he had just been accepted to his dream college, where he had been talking about going all his life. She refused to hold him back from his dream so she brought up the option of splitting up, which caused his turn to cry. 

   After hours of tears, talks, and “i love you, to whatever end,” they both agreed to end things, which broke her heart even more. She knew it was mainly her decision, he would have done anything he could to be with her, done long distance, found a different school, anything, but she couldn't let him pass up this opportunity. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she had trapped him in their relationship, no matter how much they loved each other, sometimes the best thing you could do for the ones you love, is let them go. 

   The most painful part was watching him leave. Waving him goodbye as he went up the escalator to security of the airport, praying that he didn't look back. He was her first love, she gave her heart to him. They both had decided to end things, but a part of her hated him for leaving, even though she made him. He left. He left her. He left their dreams. He left their plans. He left their future. He left for his dream, his future. She made him leave. She hated herself most of all.

   Now here they are, eight years later, stuck on the same boat and brought together again by Lorcan Salvaterre nonetheless. In spite of the years with other lovers, the years of not keeping in touch, they were in love once, completely in love. Once youʻve had that kind of love, you never stop loving them, they will always carry a piece of your heart. And damn him if he has more than just a piece, Aelin vowed.

   Her mind wandered to the song he played in the ballroom just the other day. “Do you remember when, midnight drives when youʻd sing, Iʻd play you songs you were in...Do you remember when, with Rome below us that day, you said ʻI wish we could stayʻ?” She didn't want to read too much into it, but the song had to be about her. Right? How many people could he have serenaded on a late night drive? How many girls confessed their love for him under the stars and moonlight by the Trevi fountain? “Do you remember when?” Does she remember? How could she ever forget?

   Before she could over-analyze the situation any further, Manon pulled the comforter from her bed. Aelinʻs body went in shock from the sudden lack of warmth protection, the brisk midday cool kissing her skin, and groans a very unladylike curse. 

“Time to get up sleeping beauty, oh Iʻm sorry, Belle I mean,” Manon heaves into cackles. Aelin swears that in another life, Manon was a witch, wicked and ruthless. 

   In a very unusual, chipper mood, Manon getʻs Aelin up to speed on their plans for the day. She had gotten word of a scavenger hunt Dorian was putting on and eagerly volunteered their friend group to participate. 

   The two got ready for the rest of the day and gathered their friends to grab some brunch before their fun activity. While settling into Emrysʻ section of the bar, a few fans tracked them down, asking for pictures and autographs. Meeting their fans had always been Aelinʻs favorite part of what they do, seeing people enjoy their music and support them. Luca treats them to some bacon and eggs, and they snag some fresh chocolate croissants from the nearby bakery. They stay and share many stories and laughs between the court and the chefs, until it is time to find Dorian and begin the scavenger hunt. 

   Aelin wasn't surprised when Manon had been the one to locate him. She couldn't tell if this would be just another chase for Manon. In the past, sheʻs had a difficult time making attachments with people, everyone but Elide it seems. A part of her hopes that Manon would pursue an actually relationship with him, from what she could tell so far, he had a dark, wild spirit about him, one that would challenge her antics quite well. 

“Good afternoon everyone, weʻre just waiting on one more group,” Dorian flashed a wicked grin and a flirty wink in Manonʻs direction. Aelin watched her friendʻs complexion redden and blush as the Cadre arrived, looking as daunting and intimidating as ever.

“Okay letʻs get started shall we? You guys have signed up for the adult scavenger hunt,” he passes out a list of items, “so how this works is you guys will be split up into...,” he counts the nine of them, “two groups. Each groupʻs goal is to take a picture of someone in the group with an item on the list, different items vary on points given based on difficulty or creativity. Without a member of your team in the photo, it will not get points. You guys have two hours and then we will meet back here to go over the photos and assign a winning group. Winners get free drinks at our private island port,” they cheer at the prospect of free alcoholic beverages.

   Dorian splits them up into teams. Team one being Elide, Lorcan, Rowan, Connal, and Lysandra. Team two: Aelin, Manon, Fenrys, Aedion, and Dorian adds himself to even out their numbers. Dorian looks at his timer, “Two hours starting...Now!”

Both teams, consisting of extremely competitive adults, disperse to huddle up with their groups and assess the list of items to find and capture. 

   TAKE A PICTURE WITH....

-  The shipʻs steering wheel  (10 points)

-  A ship staff member AND team member with a chef hat on  (5 points)

-  Someone playing the piano  (3 points, 5+ bonus for video)

-  A King and a Queen  (5 points)

-  Spa brochure signed by spa employee  (5 points)

-  A staff member (the higher rank, the more points)

-  Someone on your team kissing a stranger  (10 points)

-  Yellow Duck  (5 points)

-  Poker chips  (3 points)

-  Someone on your team posing on a stripper pole  (5 points)

-  Drink umbrella  (3 points)

-  Towel animal  (3 points)

-  Someone wearing a sea sickness patch  (3 points)

-  A Conga line   (5 points)

-  A member of your team in the pool   (5 points)

-  Each member of your team with a different drink   (10 points)

-  Someone on your team playing mini golf  (5 points)

-  Someone on your team using exercise equipment   (5 points)

-  The room numbers for the following rooms: 829, 318, 560   (3 points)

-  Ice Cream cone  (3 points)

-  Someone with a bad sunburn  (5 points)

-   Someone dancing inappropriately  (3 points, +5 bonus for video)

-  3 different food menus  (3 points)

-   A performer in full costume with a mask on   (3 points)

-   Someone in a bikini with the life preserver ring   (5 points)

   Aedion takes charge as group leader. They collectively decide to find the rooms 829, 318, and 560 first since it seemed like the most straightforward, and easiest task. The five of them find the room 318 first, take a group selfie in front of the room number, then proceed to do the same with the remaining rooms, ending with 829. 

   They discuss going to their rooms quickly to change into swimsuits, thinking forward to a few of the scavenger hunt items that require either a change of attire, or the possibility of getting wet. Aelin and Manon retreat to their room and change into flattering bikinis, Fenrys and Dorian to their respective rooms to change into swim trunks, and Aedion to his, right across the hall. 

   Fenrys and Dorian, both shirtless and in all their glory, meet the girls in front of their door. “Wow, you look amazing,” Aelin overhears Dorian compliment Manon. The two go off into their own little world, leaving Aelin and Fenrys to get to know each other better. The two immediately click. Fenrys was the perfect balance of funny and flirty, and that kept a beaming smile and standby laugh on Aelinʻs demeanor. They shared a common sense of humor and both were very quick and witty, so they got along very well. 

   Aedion walks out of his cabin in the silliest blue and yellow duck swimming trousers. “Forgot I brought these,” he fibs, his face plastering a bright ruby shade. The four stay silent for a few seconds, really trying to hold in their laughter. Aelin was the first to break and the rest followed. 

“Ha-ha, laugh all you want, but I just got us 5 points,” he pulls out his phone and takes a selfie of him in his swim trucks, pointing out the yellow duck. “I also snapped a pic with the towel animal in our room, so thatʻs checked off.”

Whenever room service came by to turn in their room, theyʻd leave towels intricately folded into cute animals, todayʻs was a small elephant. 

“Okay whatʻs next boss?” Fenrys says once calmed down. 

Aedion reviews the list once again and the his head darts up, “Hey Ace, youʻre using those sea sickness patches right?”

“Everyday,” she nods and then he whips his phone around to get a selfie with her, folding her ear to show the small, circular patch behind.

“Okay weʻve got the rooms, the towel animal, the yellow duck, and the seasickness patch. Good start guys. Fen you know where the gym is?”

“Yes, sir,” he answers, flexing his biceps. Manon rolls her eyes and falls in line when Fenrys guides the team to the gym onboard. It was a large, well equipped workout room, only a few people occupying different machines. Treadmills lined the mirror wall, cycle bikes adjacent to those. There were squat racks, dumbbells, bench presses, pull up bars, lat pulldown machines, leg press machines, pretty much everything Aelin used in her normal, rigorous routine. 

   Aelin adjusts the squat rack to her height, leveling it at around her chest height, and loads 250 lbs. to the bar. The mens eyesʻ widen, in disbelief that this quaint creature could support that much weight. Aedion knew however, that she had been training all her life. Physical fitness had always been important to her so she made sure she worked out regularly and vigorously. She turns back to Fenrys, “Spot me?”

“My pleasure,” he purrs expecting to rescue this damsel in distress who is in way over her head. He takes position right behind her. With Aelin in just her bikini and Fenrys his trunks, his bare, sculpted chest was flush behind her bare back, her exposed legs guarded by his. 

   Manon opens her phone, prepared to capture the task on video, also hoping to capture Fenrys and Dorianʻs expression. Aelin balances the bar across her shoulders, lifts the bar and steps back from the rack. She manages about eight reps of correctly formed squats with ease, Fenrys following down with her in every one. 

   She hears the gym door open, Rowan and his team had the same idea and came to use some exercise equipment to check it off their list. Their glances met once in the mirror, then quickly, deliberately broke. She canʻt quite explain why she suddenly felt guilty, as if she had been caught doing something wrong, being in the position she was with Fenrys. So she returns to the rack and sets the bar down, finally starting to feel some burn in her glutes. 

“Damn Aelin, thatʻs impressive,” Dorian praises.

“Thanks, letʻs get out of here and go find more of our items.” They leave the gym, letting the other team to make use of the space. 

   They were near the casino and club so Dorian suggested they find what items they could there. Finding and snapping a photo with poker chips were a breeze. They ran across a stripper pole in the dance club and Fenrys stopped to model a sexy, scandalous pose on the pole and Aelin held the photoshoot, both of them giggling endlessly. 

   The team found the show girl performers walking around the club in their full outfit and masquerade mask. Aelin snapped a photo with two of them wrapped around Fenrys shoulders. 

   Drawing from the same chaotic, wild energy, Aelin and Fenrys started a conga line in the club to which Manon, Dorian, Aedion and many strangers added onto. Aelin at the front of the line, selfie recorded a crazy, upbeat video of the dance. 

   The team takes a breather at the bar, trusting the bar tender with the choice of drink for each person as long as she made each drink different. They also requests that one came with an umbrella. Fenrys, being friendly and personable as always, makes conversation with the bartender Ansel, sliding a few flirty remarks in here and there. She takes note of his group and promises to take good care of them, she says with a wink. 

   Ansel prepares their drinks based on what she felt from each person, giving Aedion a Sazerac, Dorian the AMF (Adios Motherfucker), Manon the Aunt Roberta, Fenrys a jungle juice with an umbrella, and Aelin a Tequila Blue Blazer that she lit on fire. They took a group selfie with their drinks, the umbrella and Ansel, then downed their drinks. 

   After another strong drink, Aelin starts to feel a little buzzed. She grabs Manon and they take stage on one of the clubʻs platforms, matching the rhythm of the loud music. They dance with each other, on each other, skin on skin, lips nearly touching, earning the attention of most of the men in the room. Itʻs Fenrys turn to be behind the camera, recording the show, and he enjoys every second of it. 

Their team leader does his duty and puts the pin in their fun, “We better go look for the last few things on the list, Dorian how much time do we have?”

“A little less than an hour”

“Come on guys,” Aedion gathers his team members like a chaperoning parent.

   Aelin has a light bulb moment and shares, “Oh I know where we can find a piano,” she leads them to the ballroom, the grand piano vacant and begging to be played. She sits at the keys, closes her eyes and plays.

[A.N.] Play “Symphony (feat. Zara Larsson) - Acoustic Version” by Clean Bandit now, follow along and let your imagination do itʻs job. Find playlist here.

-  Aedion starts recording.   -

Aelin:    IʻVE BEEN HEARING SYMPHONIES

             BEFORE ALL I HEARD WAS SILENCE

             A RHAPSODY FOR YOU AND ME

             AND EVERY MELODY IS TIMELESS

             LIFE WAS STRINGINʻ ME ALONG

             THEN YOU CAME AND YOU CUT ME LOOSE

             WAS SOLO, SINGINʻ ON MY OWN

             NOW I CANʻT FIND THE KEY WITHOUT YOU

             AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

             AND IʻM DANCINʻ ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

             AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

             SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

             I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

             WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

             SYMPHONY

             LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

             WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

             IʻM SORRY IF ITʻS ALL TOO MUCH

             BUT EVERY DAY YOUʻRE HERE, IʻM HEALINʻ

             AND I WAS RUNNINʻ OUTTA LUCK

             I NEVER THOUGHT IʻD FIND THIS FEELING

             ʻCAUSE IʻVE BEEN HEARINʻ SYMPHONIES

              BEFORE ALL I HEARD WAS SILENCE

             A RHAPSODY FOR YOU AND ME

             AND EVERY MELODY IS TIMELESS

-    Manon moves to sit beside Aelin on the piano bench.    -

Aelin and Manon:     AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

                                 AND IʻM DANCING ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

                                AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

                                SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

Aelin:    I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

            WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

            SYMPHONY

            LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

            WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

-     The women lean into each other.    -

Aelin and Manon:     Ah-Ah-Ah-Aah-Ah-Ah-Ah

                                 Ah-Ah-Ah-Aah-Ah-Ah-Ah

                    AND NOW YOUR SONG IS ON REPEAT

                    AND IʻM DANCING ONTO YOUR HEARTBEAT

                    AND WHEN YOUʻRE GONE I FEEL INCOMPLETE

                    SO, IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH

Aelin:      OH

           I JUST WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONY

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

           SYMPHONY

           LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

          OH, SYMPHONY

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

           SYMPHONY

           LIKE A LOVE SONG ON THE RADIO

           WILL YOU HOLD ME TIGHT AND NOT LET GO?

   The ballroom fills with applause and the boastful cheers from the men. The girls sarcastically get up and bow, like after a recital performance. Realizing that they donʻt have much time, they rush to the Lido deck and seek out Emrys and Luca. 

   They track the two down and ask for a picture, Aelin stands in between the them and as Aedion counts down, “Say cheese, one...two..” Aelin swipes Lucaʻs chef hat and put itʻs on quickly as the picture snaps. They look over the photo and laugh at a mischievous grin on Aelinʻs face and a confused, grumpy Luca not looking at the camera but instead at Aelin.

   Having another bright idea, Aelin runs to the large chess board game on the deck and catches a selfie with the giant King and Queen chess pieces. When she returns to Emrysʻ station, a familiar back is seated in the stool she was just accompanying, and she had another brilliant idea.

“Sam? Hi,” he turns and realizes who she was.

“Oh hi!,” he responds kindly, “Iʻm sorry, I donʻt think I got your name.”

“Aelin,” she gives her hand out for a handshake, he returns with a firm, grip.

“Well itʻs nice to officially meet you, Aelin,” her cheeks warm.

“This may seem like a forward request, but is there anyway my friends and I could see the shipʻs steering wheel? Iʻm told youʻre the captain,” she smirks.

He chuckles, “One of them yes, and totally, let me take you guys.”

   She gets Manon, Aedion, Dorian, and Fenrys and introduces them to Sam and vice versa, mentioning that heʻs the captain and heʻll be showing them the ships steering wheel. He leads them to the command bridge, on the way Manon pulls her aside.

“Ace we can knock out three birds with one stone,”

“What are you talking about?” Aelin says, not quite understanding.

“Kiss him in front of the steering wheel.”

“What?”

“In the photo weʻll have the steering wheel, check, a team member kissing a stranger, check, and a staff member (the higher rank, the more points) aka, CAPTAIN! 3 items, one picture, plus we donʻt have much time left, come on.”

Pressured by the time constraint, Aelin caves. “Fine. Have your phone ready.”

   Aelin hurries back to the front near Fenrys and Sam, staying close to both. They make it to the command bridge and Sam gives them a tour of the different controls, putting on his captainʻs cap, a look that suited him, Aelin thought. 

They stood in front of the steering wheel and Aelin quietly asked Sam, “I apologize, another forward request,”

“Iʻm getting the feeling that thatʻs your thing,” he whispers back. She softly snickers.

“Could I kiss you?”

   Obviously taken off guard, Sam blushes, then cups Aelinʻs face in his hands and brushes a soft, sensual kiss to her lips. Manon takes the photo. Aelin melts in his touch, returning the kiss with more fervor. Aedionʻs forced cough ruins the moment, the two disconnecting, both with warm, rosy complexions.

“Um, thank you for the tour, we have to go now,” Aedion says plainly. Manon and Dorian quietly laugh and the group make their leave, Aelin joins once out of earshot. 

   They return to the Lido deck and split up to try and get the last few items on the list. Aedion assigns himself to find the ice cream and the 3 food menus, Manon and Dorian volunteer for the spa brochure and mini golf game, and they go their separate ways. 

   Aelin and Fenrys stand at the edge of the pool when he turns his back to the pool and faces her.

“You know, I must confess, I find you extremely attractive,” he professes.

“Is that so, pretty boy?” She moves her palms to lay flat on his chest, looking up to him. She starts to tippy-toe, and he leans forward in for a kiss. When their faces get an inch apart she pushes him forward, he flails into the pool, and she laughs her guts out.

   She whips out her phone and takes a photo of an unamused, cock-blocked Fenrys in the pool. She looks around the pool, looking for a life preserver ring nearby. She catches sight of one hooked up to the deck railing. She releases it and returns to the pool, Fenrys just getting out, dripping water everywhere. 

   She hands him the phone and he snaps a few photos of her posing in her bikini with the life preserver ring, satisfied and proud of his work, he whistles back up at his model.

   Dorian and Manon return warning them that it is time to meet back with the other team. Aedion returns shortly after with a mustache of ice cream. Aelin cleans him up and they travel back to their meeting place to determine a winning team. 

   Team one shows their photos and videos first. They had mainly the same idea as Aelinʻs group. For their King and Queen item, they took a photo of the King and Queen from a standard deck of cards. For their yellow duck, Lysandra took a picture of Aedionʻs matching boxer briefs to his trunks, the whole group found that humorous, but made sure he didn't feel embarrassed of his attire choices. One of the photos that Aelin picked out was their kissing stranger photo. In the frame was Rowan kissing a pale blonde woman with bright, cerulean eyes. 

“Ro, is that Remelle?” Fenrys asks, also pointing out the photo. 

“Yeah, Benson and Essar are here too,” Rowan responds, the first thing sheʻs heard him say all day. 

“Whoʻs Remelle?” Aelin asks, trying not to seem too eager to know.

“Remelle, Benson, and Essar are our regular groupies, they follow us literally everywhere we go, theyʻre at every show, every concert. Pretty much our biggest fans,” Fenrys informs her.

“Biggest stalkers,” Lorcan corrects.

“Still strangers though, they know everything about us, we know nothing about them really,” Connal defends, making the record clear that the photo is still valid. 

   Team two takes their turn showing their photos and videos. Fenrys emphasizing Aelinʻs squat video, her and Manonʻs dancing pictures, their song, and the photos he just took of her and the life preserver ring. The other team, especially Elide and Lysandra, hype her and Manon up, calling them “hotties” and a “baddies” every so often.

   Manon shows the photo of Aelin and Sam. Elide and Lys gasp, “Is that THE Sam?” Aelin laughs and nods. “Good work Ace.”

   Dorian calculates the final points and calls for attention.

“Great job today everyone, you all did amazing. Results are in, team one got 112 points,” everyone applauses in congratulations, “and team two got 124, congratulations team two!” 

   Everyone cheers and congratulates each other, very maturely and sportsman-like. They spend the rest of the afternoon splashing each other and playing in the pool.

Night 4 - AT SEA - “No band performance tonight, Live Crew Performances during Dinner!

   The two bands stayed in the water for hours, playing throughout the glorious sunset. They had definitely gotten closer, more comfortable with each other. Throughout the play fighting they discussed possibly teaming up on shows and performing together. Itʻs an idea. It would probably be really fun, adding a different dynamic to both groups.

   Aelin notices Rowan laying on a pool deck chair, staring into the sky. She exits the pool, dries off a little and joins him, laying down on the deck chair next to him, star gazing into the extraordinary abyss of light. Heʻs the first one to break the silence.

“Lyria was really into astronomy,” he chocked a little, not enough to pick up unless you knew him, “she knew all the constellations by name, all the galaxies,” his gaze never leaving the cosmos. “Sometimes I like to think that sheʻs one of these stars now, burning bright, watching over me every night.”

“She soundʻs incredible. I wish I could have met her”

He smiles, “I think you would have liked her.”

She turns her head, adjusting her arm to rest her head on her forearm, facing him. “Tell me more about her?”

   He obliges. He tells the story of how he and Lyria first met, running into each other on their way to class, dropping all her books and supplies and bumping heads when they both reached down to pick them up. He shares of their first date, their first kiss. 

   She couldn't remember being tired but something about Rowanʻs voice soothed her into submission, her eyelids dropping with weight. Before she knew it she passed out, falling asleep right there on a deck chair, listening to her ex talk about his dead fiance. 

   When she finally awoke in the middle of the night, she was back in her bed, her comforter tucked into her sides. How did I make it back here? She didnʻt have the energy to investigate her questions, the night claimed her once again and she drifted off one last time. 

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

All Hands on Deck taglist:   bolded tags aren't taggable, lmk what I can do

@smalltddygothgf 

@booksbqueen

@underworldboxers

@live-the-fangirl-life

@islabyrnex

@kathi2599​

@booknerdproblems​ 

@rowaelinismyotp​ 

#all hands on deck #rowaelin #aelin galythinius #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #tog #manon blackbeak #manorian #dorian havilliard #fenrys moonbeam #elide x lorcan #aedion x lysandra #cruise

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 14)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:  20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt  began.  

A/N: wait i forgot i left you all on a cliffhanger akjfhjf. Here’s an update (finally) im a bitch blocked about where the next chapter is going so it might take...about as long as this one took to be uploaded. Its gonna have some smut tho. This chapter has new characters and PLEASE appreciate my fucking bubble conversation, i wanted to use the whole “she came down in a bubble dawg!” convo but i didnt

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

There are certain experiences you’ve lived through enough times to consider yourself a pro at handling. Situations like being handcuffed to a bed. Like being left on an island with no food or water. Like having to fight your way out of a bar when someone is getting too rough with the other patrons.

Drowning is quickly becoming a situation with which you are getting too closely acquainted.

When the ocean swallowed your little dinghy, your life flashed before your very eyes. This was truly the end. The last thing you would ever live through would be the song of Atlantis tickling your ears, the sight of Junmyeon glowing blue, and the feeling of Baekhyun’s skin beneath your palm.

All in all it wasn’t the worst way to go, but there was still so much more that you wanted to experience.

You’d never gotten a chance to return home, to sit at that cliff where you sent off your mother’s body and tell her about all of the things you’d done with your life. To describe to her the ship you’d bought, the friends you’d made, the adventures you’d gone on and the memories you’d made. You wanted to go find Victoria again and thank her for taking you in.

You wanted to find that boy that saved your life when you were but a child and to thank him properly. You wanted to tell him all that you’d done and repay him for giving you that chance at life. You wonder if he’s grown up into a handsome man now. If he has a spouse and kids and a happy home on that island you once called home that you left as soon as you could. You wonder if he’d even remember you.

You’d never gotten a chance to get the Storm Chaser those new upgrades that you’d been saving up for. An extension to the crew cabins, sturdier masts, a new set of sails.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to fall in love, to have your heartbroken, to have a baby or even hold one for that matter. Would you have made a good mother? Would you have made a decent wife? Would you have been able to find someone willing to spend the rest of their life with you, on the seas, on land, wherever your hearts could make a home?

Would you have tried to make a home with Baekhyun?

The feeling of being sucked down into the depths of the ocean doesn’t get any less terrifying the second time that you go through it.

As a matter of fact, having it happen again is more terrifying than the first time. Maybe it’s because you can actually feel the pressure of the water crushing your chest. You can feel the way you’re being sucked farther down and the way the water rushes into your nose from the shock of being suddenly dragged under.

It’s nothing like the storm, nothing like fighting the waves and catching the flashes of light as you fought to climb to the surface. Of being tossed around and dropping and rising hundreds of feet seconds at a time. At least then you had a purpose. You aren’t trying to save a life this time. You aren’t able to fight the invisible force dragging you farther and farther down into the water. The water around you is calm, the movement of your body whizzing through the water feels scarily misplaced.

Magical. Unnatural.

Then it all finally stops.

The force pulls you into a pocket of air and gravity takes you by force. Your body collapses on solid ground, and you can breathe. You gasp frantically for air and cough violently as you attempt to catch your breath and your bearings.

You sit up and position yourself on shaky hands and knees as you heave on the dark basalt beneath your splayed fingers.

It takes a few moments of panicked breathing to realize –you’re alive.

You’re alive.

You realize that you’re alive and then you regain enough brain power to panic over if Junmyeon and Baekhyun are also alive. You hear dramatic coughing and hurling to your left and when you investigate you find Baekhyun on his ass with his head between his knees as his spits out salt water.

He looks like a miserable wet dog. You would laugh if you weren’t sure that you look the same.

But where is Junmyeon?

You look left and right, in front of you and behind you but you see no trace of him. No sign of him in the underwater cave you’ve somehow found yourself.

“How did we even get in here?” you spit more salt water on the ground and look for your area of entry. Down. It felt like you fell down. So maybe there is something above.

A gasp gets caught in your throat at the sight above you. Open water somehow suspended above. If you weren’t nearly positive that you somehow fell from there, you would think there was some extremely strong glass blocking the water from falling through the hole above. You can see the glow of deep sea fish swimming by and you’re hit with just how far below the surface you are.

Dizziness pounds through your skull and you hurl out more water all over your hands.

Disgusting.

“Are you guys alright?”

You lift your head at the sound of Junmyeon’s voice and feel your remaining strength seeping from your bones. He looks between you and Baekhyun’s pathetic forms with distressed eyes.

Baekhyun looks up from between his legs with an incredulous open-mouthed frown. He looks your first mate from his toes to his head. “How the hell are you dry?”

It’s then that you notice he looks remarkably put together. As if he never even experienced the sensation of being pulled straight towards hell through water. The patterns on his skin have dulled down to a pale blue, but they are still there as clear as day.

“An Atlantian thing,” Junmyeon answers with a shrug and a smile. He reaches out a hand to help you to your feet but you wave him away with a shake of your head.

“No, give me a second. I just- I need,” you point to the hole above, “This is just-” you close your eyes and wave him away weakly. “Fuck, I need some time.”

He laughs lightly and chooses to help Baekhyun up while you gather your wits. This is overwhelming. “Did you just materialize down here what the fuck?”

“No, I came down in a bubble.”

“A…bubble.”

“Yeah you know one of those things filled with air-”

“You couldn’t lend us one of those bubbles?!”

“I didn’t know how. I don’t even know how I got it around me. Must be an Atlantian-”

“If you say ‘Atlantian thing’ one more time I will, and I swear to Poseidon, strangle you with my bare hands right here.”

“…Atlantian thing,” Junmyeon finishes cheekily. Baekhyun groans loudly and you can hear the weak thumps of him trying to smack your first mate and being deflected.

You struggle onto your feet as Junmyeon and Baekhyun argue. Typical back and forth between the two of them, you know Baekhyun is all talk when it comes to most people; he won’t hurt Junmyeon.

Letting your eyes fully wander the cave, you take in the shiny crystals in the rock around you and the way everything glows a tranquil light blue.

You hear the thundering footsteps before you see the people coming charging towards you out of the alcove hidden from your view.

“INTRUDERS, DROP TO THE GROUND NOW!”

“We just got up,” Baekhyun whines at your side. You lower your still shaking body back down to your knees and hold your hands up in the air to show your willingness to cooperate. In the corner of your eye you catch Junmyeon landing a swift kick to the back of Baekhyun’s legs with his good leg and sending him to the ground with a painful crash.

You flinch at the noise and the people in matching outfits in front of you hold out their swords, ready to strike at any moment. Once Junmyeon has lowered himself to his knees, the group of people break apart to make way for who you assume must be the leader. If the aura of dominance and the extra sparking pink embellishments on their otherwise plain white uniform is anything to go by.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” The man asks gruffly. He’s tall, handsome, big eyes rimmed in dark black kohl. His analyzing brown eyes drag from you, to Baekhyun, and finally land on Junmyeon. You catch the exact moment that recognition crosses his face.

His eyes widen and he blinks rapidly in disbelief, the sword in his hand clatters to the ground and resounds through the cave. “S-Suho? Prince Suho is that you?”

You turn to look at Junmyeon who has locked eyes with the leader with a look of confusion on his face.

“Do they know each other?” Baekhyun whispers to you.

“Shut up,” you hiss.

Junmyeon gasps and climbs to his feet. “Minho? Minho! I can’t believe it,” he says elatedly. The two of them run (Junmyeon more hobbling than running with the shitty cast still on his leg) into each other’s arms to embrace and you watch with a kind of fond sadness as they grip one another as if the other will vanish into thin air.

The other guards slowly lower their swords and break out into disbelieving whispers. Baekhyun grabs your left hand and lowers it to your lap. “I think you can lower your hands now prisoner. I don’t think they’re going to kill us yet.”

“It’s as if nothing in this world is enough to keep you from annoying the absolute hell out of me,” you grumble.

He beams, a wide and happy smile. “It’s my charm.”

You snort out a laugh while he stands up on both feet and holds out a hand for you to take to get up. You slap your hand in his and let him heft you to your feet.

Junmyeon calls out your name and you whip in his direction in alarm. He drags over the leader of the guard with a hand on his bicep and matching grins on their faces. “I want you to meet my childhood friend Minho!” He looks up at Minho with eyes beaming with happiness. “We grew up together, and Minho here is the Captain of the entire Atlantian military.”

Minho looks down at the ground bashfully.

“It is an honor to meet you. Junmyeon says that he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. I, as well as all of our people owe you our highest form of gratitude,” Minho says with a deep bow.

You blink at the gesture, stupefied into immobility. Junmyeon gives you a pointed look and a subtle bow of his own to hint that you should bow back. You quickly bend at the waist and rise up. “It’s- Uhm, thank you. It wasn’t just me though, there are lots of people to thank for his return up on the surface,” you say with a nervous smile.

Minho laughs. “I’m sure. You can all amaze us with tales of your time above at breakfast in a few hours. I’m sure you would all like a moment to settle and…” he looks at Baekhyun and your soaked clothing. “…clean yourselves up.”

The two of you frown indignantly.

As if you planned on showing up soaking wet.

Minho whistles loudly and a smaller man comes scrambling out of the group of guards. “Hendery, show our two outsiders where they can rest. I will take the prince directly to the Queen.”

The smaller man nods vigorously. “Yes sir. I would like to have Xiaojun assist me, if I can.”

“Take who you need,” Minho gives you both another once over before leaning down to whisper, “Make sure there is plenty of soap in their bathrooms.”

You squawk in embarrassment. Junmyeon offers an apologetic smile before coming to place both of his hands on your shoulders and lowering his voice to talk to you and Baekhyun as privately as he can. “Just follow them and relax. I will come find you once I am finished talking to the Queen. They won’t do anything to hurt either of you.” He squeezes your shoulder. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod in affirmation. Baekhyun grunts at your side.

Hendery and another young guard lead you away and out of the cave. You are only allowed one final look over your shoulder before Junmyeon vanishes from your sight.

The bleakness of the cave gives way to a wide low hallway covered from top to bottom in blue crystals, or maybe it’s glass.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you murmur to the man at your side. Neither of the guards bother to turn around at the sound of your voice.

“I’m trying to take it all in. This is insane I never thought I would ever actually see this place,” Baekhyun whispers back. You’re shocked by the genuine way he explains himself. “Why? Do you already miss the sound of my voice? I can keep talking if you want.”

“I’ll pass. I already miss the silence.”

His giggle resonates against the walls. You bite down on your lip to keep from smiling in return.

Your group reaches the end of the tunnel and the guards suddenly stop. Hendery turns around first. “Because we are unable to trust you we will have to transport you while keeping our city and location a secret.”

“Huh?”

“I think we’re going to get blindfolded,” Baekhyun whispers to you.

The other guard reaches into his coat and produces two pieces of cloth while Hendery slams a fist on the wall. A hole opens up where seamless wall once stood. You watch dumbly as the other guard, Xiao…Xiao something sits in the human-sized hole and then lies on his back before disappearing through a tube.

What the fuck is this place?

You’re blindfolded first and led to the hole. “Sit.” So you do. What kind of transport requires you to sit in a hole blind? You’ve lived a couple of years now and that's long enough to know that this doesn’t feel quite safe.

Before you can argue your way out of it, you’re pushed and then careening through space. With your eyes covered and the jolt of bewilderment at sliding too fast to be humanly possible you don’t have any choice but to let out a scream.

You’re on your feet again before you know it –albeit dizzy and shaking. The blindfold is removed and you’re met with the impassive face of the guard. You look around yourself to figure out what in the deep sea hell you just slid through.

“You might want to get out right about now,” he suggests.

You hear the telltale sound of Baekhyun’s yelling and cursing getting closer by the second, so you hobble out of the exit compartment and watch in wonder as the top of the compartment opens up and air blasts from the bottom to decrease the force of gravity as Baekhyun drops to his feet.

He’s shaking like a log and his wet hair and clothes are even more disheveled than they were before.

Maybe it’s the overload of being exposed to all the new technology and scenery, but you can’t stop yourself from loudly laughing at his appearance.

Xiaoxi…Xiaode…Xiaojun, that sounds right-

Xiaojun walks forward with a smile twitching on his lips to remove the blindfold from the once one-eyed troublemaker. But, Baekhyun has his eyes squeezed closed, refusing to open them. You take it upon yourself to physically pull him out of his spot.

“It’s over, you’re on solid ground now,” you tease. He peaks open one eye and it darts around distrustfully before he opens them both and leans forward with his hands on his knees to let out a dramatic exhale of breath. Another humored giggle escapes you. “You look like shit and the way you screamed-.”

He stands up straight with reddened cheeks. “Never speak of it,” he threatens in a low voice. You roll your eyes and lift a hand to fix his messy hair. You hear the hiss of air from the tube, knowing that Hendery will be arriving soon, but you busy yourself with smoothing down the unruly strands.

The red darkens on his face as you rake your fingers through the hair at his fringe. You aren’t sure what compels you to initiate the act, but he doesn’t stop you so selfishly you continue to take what you can. Satisfied with your work you smile shyly and turn away to hide your face and the heat you can feel creeping up your neck.

A cough snaps you back into attention.

Right, the guards.

Hendery has a creepily knowing smirk on his face while Xiaojun covers his mouth with his hand, but you can see mirth shining in his eyes.

Baekhyun clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. “So…where are we supposed to rest exactly? Or are we supposed to wander around and find it ourselves?”

Hendery motions to the right. “Down this hallway.” He nudges Xiaojun and they both walk forward. You resist the urge to smash your head into the wall as you follow behind. Into one of the…beautiful smooth white walls. For the first time you take in the interior of the building where you have ended up.

High ceilings and pillars. Enormous windows that go from ceiling to floor to show an expansive view of what awaits outside.

You’ve had plenty of time to image what Atlantis would look like, but seeing it in front of you now, bathed in a light like that of early dawn, with the reflection of water moving over the architecture…it’s too unreal, too magical to put into words.

“Keep up. You’ll be able to see the city after breakfast with the Queen,” Xiaojun advises. Both you and Baekhyun pick your pace back up after having fallen behind trying to take in all that around you.

Attempting to keep your gawking to a minimum you keep your eyes ahead and try to quickly take in as much as you can.

“We’re here,” Hendery says. You almost tumble into his side when he suddenly stops; and Baekhyun trips over his own feet at your side. “These will be your rooms. There will be drinking water and a bathroom for you to clean up. We have already notified the castle staff of your arrival and there will be clothes delivered to you for you to change into for the meal.

“Breakfast will be served in 3 hours. One of the castle butlers will come for you to show you to the dining area at that time. Until then we advise you entertain yourself inside of the room.” The door is opened and a grand suite awaits you. Your mouth drops at the extravagance of it.

A large bed rests at the very center of the room, draped in iridescent white curtains that look as creamy as milk. The floor is covered in cold white marble and speckled with shells and pearls embedded into it. A large couch is perched near the entrance, a lit fire in front of it keeping the room comfortably warm. A book shelf stretches across a third of the room only stopping at a golden archway that you assume leads into the bathroom. The room is decorated in soft golds, creamy whites and pale blues. You catch little accents of pink in the wall paint and on the couch pillows.

The dome-like shape of the room makes you feel like you’re in a bubble.

“What is with you guys and bubbles?” You grumble to yourself.

Xiaojun shrugs. “It’s an Atlantian thing,” he says simply.

You close your eyes in frustration while Baekhyun grumbles at your side.

“So whose room is this?” Baekhyun asks once he’s done cursing Atlantis and its obsession with bubbles. Hendery and Xiaojun share a look and you catch the sneakiness on their expressions.

Hendery is the one who decides to answer, cheerily as if he isn’t intentionally planning to ruin your time here in Atlantis. “Both of yours.”

“I’m sorry what did you just say?”

“This room is for the both of you.” Hendery casts Baekhyun a wide smile. “You’ll have to share because…uhm..”

“Because we’re low on rooms,” Xiaojun chimes in.

“Yes! Low on rooms,” Hendery agrees quickly, conspicuously. You narrow your eyes. “You see we have a lot of guests recently because of a…” he looks to Xiaojun for help.

“For a uh, for a wedding!”

“Who is getting married?” Baekhyun asks, just to catch them in their lie.

“One of the princes! Ah we must be returning to our Captain now. Rest well!” Hendery says quickly before he and Xiaojun rush away with their hands over their mouths, giggling like school children. You’re adults, you can share a room. You won’t let the giggling of the younger boys worsen the pounding in your chest.

You exhale and shake your head. “Come on.” You enter the room first and immediately feel relaxed by the colors, the roundedness, and general softness of everything around you.

The fire feels like it’s calling your name so you wander over to warm yourself up by its flames. Your wet clothes are beginning to feel bothersome again now that the excitement of being in Atlantis and being alive have begun to fade.

The sound of something sopping wet hitting the ground heavily pulls your attention from the flickering flames. When you turn around you don’t expect to see your roommate getting ass naked…

But alas that is what your eyes land on. His shoes and shirt are already in a wet pile by his feet.

“Baekhyun,” you admonish. He stops with his pants halfway down his legs. You look at his soft naked dick only momentarily before you raise your eyes back to his anticipatory face. “Really?”

“I’m cold and wet. I need a shower do you want me to get sick?”

“You couldn’t even wait to go change in the bathroom?”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he responds before shucking the last of his clothing and standing in the middle of the room proudly.

In all his naked glory.

You can’t help but feel a bit put off by the fact that he doesn’t have any issue getting naked around you. He’s not even hard. It’s like your presence doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

Bitterly you wonder if you’d been Jongin would he have a different reaction in this situation. You stand up abruptly. Fuck Baekhyun.

Pettily you strip out of your clothes as you walk towards the bathroom, leaving the wet articles in your wake. “I’m cleaning myself first,” you state coldly as you all but rip the last of your clothing off at the archway of the bathroom.

You don’t turn around and you don’t bother to investigate why he seems stunned to his spot or why he averts his eyes as you walk by.

~~~

The bathroom is just as opulent as the main room. A creamy white with pretty pale pinks streaked through the marble and coloring the crystals that illuminate the room in a soft pinkish glow.

A tub the size of a small pool is carved into the corner of the room. Oils and scented salts in jars cover the expansive shelf built into the wall at its side. A wide mirror stretches across the room with a spout and basin to wash your hands in front of it. A varied range of brushes and facial oils and paints are neatly organized across the counter, settled in front of a thick patterned chaise. You find candles nestled snuggly beneath a shelf of towels and unused sponges on ropes.

Looking at your appearance in the mirror, your hold in the need to physically recoil. You skin looks blanched from the overexposure to water, and the hair on your head is knotted beyond belief. Not wanting to look at your naked form for too long you twist the knob at the tub to release a steady flow of lukewarm water. You toss in some oil that smells good and a soap that catches your attention. The bottle is make of glass and has writing that you can’t read as it must be in Atlantian, but it smells and looks good and bubbles up when it comes in contact with the running water.

Grabbing a comb from the counter of goodies and the specialized hair soap left at the side of the tub, you decide to make an event out of pulling your appearance back together. You will be meeting the Queen in a few hours.

Gingerly, you lower yourself into the water and shove your head under the spout before lathering it in hair soap and detangling the strands on your hand. Rinsing out the suds and then turning off the water, you allow yourself to be semi submerged in the water.

“Yah, you can’t steal the bath and then spend an hour using it. I could have been in and out already.” You crane your neck to find Baekhyun’s complaining form leaning against the archway.

“You weren’t fast enough. Not my problem. You can wait.”

“No I can’t.”

“You can, and you will. I’m not fucking moving.”

In the month you have spent time more intimately with Baekhyun aboard your ship as a fellow crewman, you’ve learned one thing about him that you didn’t know before. He can be astoundingly petty.

His intelligence, his wit, his strength and skill as a pirate, his ability to charm and talk his way out of anything –you knew of it all before. But this petty level of childishness is new.

That being said, you aren’t surprised to find him padding over and then climbing into the large tub across from you. He settles and then his bottom lip juts out.

“Happy now?”

“No.”

You snort loudly and his pout breaks off into something like a smile. You push a handful of water in his direction, not enough to do much and not with enough strength to even be called a splash.

The little shithead he is takes your push of water as permission to send a small tidal wave in your direction, splashing you directly in your face.

You splutter and wipe the water from your eyes while he laughs his loudest most punctuated laugh at your expense. When you squint at him through the water still in your eyes you see pure relaxed happiness in his features, and you can’t find it in you to even attempt to be mad.

This Baekhyun is the real one. The one he covers up with cocky smiles and biting words. The one he leaves locked away and protected from the heartlessness that is required of your jobs.

Happy Baekhyun is a vulnerable Baekhyun. A soft version of him that makes your heart hammer in your chest and sparks a juvenile desire to keep him at your side safe from anyone who dares try and take that side of him away.

His laughing calms to muffled chuckles hidden behind his hand. “Okay, now I’m happy.”

“That makes one of us,” you scoff out. The water begins to agitate your eyes so you run the water from the spout to flush out the fragrance laced liquid. Blindly you reach out for the stream only to continuously miss.

“Come here,” you hear at your side. “Here, lean back.” You’re moved to the side and you lean backwards only to come in contact with his chest. You tense before giving in and letting yourself relax against him. You feel his muscles shifting as he reaches around you to cup water and pour it over your eyes. You blink away the water and scrunch up your face in discomfort. “I’m not done, try and keep your eyes open this time,” he says gently.

You reach up and hold open each eyelid as he cups the water and lets it flush out the soap. Finally you can blink without agitation. You contemplate thanking him, but decide to do it once you’re safely on your side of the bath. As you’re making your escape, arms wrap around you and pull you back securely down between strong thighs and against a warm chest.

“Can you…uh can you let me go?”

“Nuh uh,” he grunts with a head shake.

You look down at where his arms are crossed over your chest and swallow thickly. He perches his chin on your shoulder and takes in a deep relaxed breath. You feel stiff as a board. “This is nice,” he sighs out.

This is too intimate. This is too intimate. This is too intimate.

“How long have you been in love with Jongin, Baekhyun?” you ask in a rush of breath. His grip on you loosens to nothing and you pull yourself away from him, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the hardening of your nipples. From the cold of the air and the all too close embrace you’d found yourself enjoying just a tad too much.

He splutters. “I- wh-” he starts to cough violently. You feel your heart sinking with each noise he makes. “I don’t- I’m not in love with Jongin!”

You let your silence and your frown portray your disbelief.

“I’m serious. I’m not in love with Jongin he’s like my younger brother, what would make you think that?!” He fake gags. “Oh gross, just the thought-” he covers his mouth to fake gag again.

You gawk at him. Is he overcompensating to hide the truth?

“What in Poseidon’s name would lead you to believe that I’m in love with Jongin? I nearly raised the kid.”

You feel embarrassment creeping up your neck like snakes. “You- the…Minseok said…”

“Minseok said I was in love with Jongin?!”

“No! Wait let me-” you smack a hand to your forehead. “Minseok said that you took the compass with you when you came to find the three of us and I guess I just I don’t fucking know assumed you had to want to find your crew most in the world and then I figured you were actually in love with one of them and Jongin seemed like the most likely of him and Chanyeol because Chanyeol doesn’t really seem like your type but I guess it could also be him since he’s kind of goofy and airhead at times too-”

His hands come out of the water to cup your cheeks and then –lips.  

“Stop talking,” he says softly. Another quick press of his lips against yours. “You’re wrong and you’re stupid and you need to stop thinking before you overload your dumb little brain.”

“Hey-”

“Ah ah. What did I say?”

You purse your lips and let him squish your cheeks closer together until your lips are puckered ridiculously. The look in his eyes is fond almost, the smile on his lips and the shine in his eyes soft as he squishes and unsquishes your face.

You bat away his hands. “You still didn’t answer my question,” you whine despite yourself.

“Aw the baby getting upset?” he makes a face of exaggeratedly fake concern. “Come here, sit on daddy’s lap and I’ll make you feel all better.”

“Baek that was gross.”

“The invitation still stands.” He waggles his eyebrows and shimmies his shoulders. When his gaze drops down to your uncovered chest and a bit of the playfulness gets swallowed up by want, you feel a bit of that desire rushing through your veins again.

He isn’t in love with Jongin?

That only leaves more unanswered questions, but you let them go easily at the sight of Baekhyun reclining lazily against the side of the tub, rubbing up and down his thighs slowly and watching you with predatory closeness.

He is so sexy, you are so fucked.

Squashing the tiny feeling of shame, you crawl over and wrap yourself around him. You can feel him rising in excitement from beneath you. You let your arms rest lazily around his shoulders while he busies his hands with massaging circles on your hips.

“That feels nice,” you whisper in a puff of breath. You know that he can see how affected you are –can feel it in your impatient squirms against him as you attempt to subtly relieve the ache growing inside of you. He hums in agreement and focuses his eyes on your mouth.

You can take a hint when it’s staring you in the face like this. You lean forward and connect your lips softly. A peck. Another one. A kiss on the corner of his mouth. A kiss on the tip of his nose. Another on his smiling lips.

When you pull back there’s emotion swimming in his irises that sparks a heat in your core. You nip at his bottom lip.

A lick, a nibble, a juvenile laugh against pressed lips.

He sticks his tongue out through pursed lips, waiting for you to try and kiss him with his ridiculous expression. You pull away to grimace, only to laugh and lick a messy wet stripe from his upper lip to the tip of his nose.

“You’re a dick,” he laughs, wiping your saliva off his nose.

“And you’re a bastard,” you respond easily. You look at your deeply pruning skin with disdain. “We should dry off.”

“But I like it here in the tub; I haven’t even scrubbed the dirt off.”

“We can clean ourselves properly after I get your cock inside me.” You feel him twitch from beneath you. You cock your head to the side teasingly. “Oh, now you’re ready to get out?”

He scrambles from under you and over the edge of the tub right to the towels. You roll your eyes playfully and climb out just as he plops a towel on your head and quickly tries to dry your hair, only messing it up further.

“Hurry up. We’ll get sick if we stay like this for too long. We need to go to the bed and warm up, I can already feel a cold coming on.”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo story #exo stories #exo imagine #exo pirate story #exo fanfic #exo pirate au #baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun story #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun pirate au

[vcsecretgifts]

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

#2020 VC Secret Santa #VC #Vampire Chronicles #submission #plopofcolour #auburnandamberangel

[sabineelectricheart]

The Oracle Vault [Pt. 1]

Summary: Byleth and Sylvain take refuge from the cold and prying eyes at the Abyss.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 2435

Notes: So, a new series. I hope you enjoy this one, too.

The Oracle vault.

The large, stone salon was tucked somewhere on the face of the stone that held up the monastery main buildings. A wrong turn away from the Abyss settlements, the chilly, mysterious room had always elicited some strange regard from the new Archbishop.

Before the war, Rhea would use the room to make predictions about the future and the wishes of her mother, trying to communicate with the Blue Sea Star. The monks tasked with the prophecies used all sorts of methods, from magical objects, narcotic substances and, mainly, ritual dancing. So much so, the White Heron Cup was usually held to identify students with a particular talent for it, as, upon victory, they were brought here to further education in magic.

Of course, the former Archbishop’s attention to it was uneven. At the dawn of the Church of Seiros, Rhea would invest heavily upon the art, hoping to bring forth Sothis through their magic. After the Four Apostles failed so shamefully and were purged away from the religion, the woman started investing in Crestology and alchemy instead, returning every so often, after another failed experiment and lidden with guilt for perverting her mother’s creations in such a manner, hoping for absolution and guidance.

Byleth does not know why she cares for this room, as she is unsure about its power to predict the future and the will of the Goddess. She understands why she appreciates the gardens and gazebos, and do have fond memories of her old classroom, but, prior to the war, she had never even heard of this place.

It was far more contrasting from the others, consisting simply of stone walls and arched ceilings, a large empty space in the middle, as if what should go there was yet to appear. On the dark and damp corners, mismatched tapestries draped in ruffles from the walls in bursting colours, equally so in the various sizes cushions and chairs with rugs to match. Other objects as pebbles, scales, magically-infused items and strange clothing were discarded around, as well.

Regardless, it laid empty and forgotten. The Oracle mages and dancers were seen by Edelgard as the consubstantiation of everything that was wrong and corrupt about the Church, just short of the Immaculate One in foulness, and so made her personal business their systematic persecution and murder. Seteth said it was unlikely any of them managed to survive, and if not, they had no news of any of them. Their art is mostly lost, and it elicits a bit of a melancholy in Byleth’s heart, knowing that.

“Why is it that we are coming here?” Sylvain asks with a sigh, trailing behind her as Byleth ascend the last few steps of the winding spiral staircase.

The green-haired woman turns to him with a slight wicked grin and a raised brow, a look he soon returned as he grasped her hand in his own.

“I think we could do with a change of scenery, after all.” She responds with some ease. “I am growing rather tired of the Goddess Tower and the Star Terrace.”

“What is wrong with the Goddess Tower?” He scoffs in faux offense, his brows furrowing as she tugged him along with her into the vacant room as he looks over his shoulder once more.

“It is far too cold and cloudy to go up there tonight. Besides, this is one of my favourite rooms in the whole monastery if you must know. You will survive mingling with the Abyss people just this once, Sylvain.” She jests light-heartedly, releasing his hand to skip ahead of him as he groaned at her sudden absence and he had no choice but to follow her.

Though, he felt that he would follow her anywhere, and this was a proven fact with the conflict that came to a head only a few Moons prior.

“And if I do not?” He calls after her just to be difficult, pinching a piece of red velvet fabric between his fingers before his eyes roam back to her.

Byleth turns on her heel and purse her lips at him, narrowing her gaze as she fights her bemused smile. She shakes her head as he holds her stare in just the same manner, his head tilting and eyes squinting as he challenged her and she readily gave up on suppressing her grin for a moment longer.

“You did not have to join me if this is not to your taste, you know?” The Archbishop says, and he rolls his eyes as he tugs her close to him by a gentle grip on her hand. “If you have such a strong opinion of my wards, you are more than welcome to turn around and leave, but I have a feeling you would miss me too much if you did.”

The horseman silenced her very logical words with a kiss, her chuckle dwindling as she relaxed against him. His kiss was soft and tender as he hummed against her lips, his hand coming to brush her hair behind her ear as his lips moved from her own to sweep across her cheek. They linger just under her jaw before pressing chastely under her ear, his nose brushing over her skin.

“Must you always pick on me, darling?” Sylvain murmurs, his breath tickling against the shell of her ear.

Her soft laughter starts up again at his words, pulling his attention back to her gaze as he pulls back to look at her. She rests her hands on his chest, her fingers splaying across the azure fabric of his wool-lidded coat and smoothing over his furred collar.

“Yes, I think I must.” The woman concludes and, with that, she turned away from him and left his loose embrace much to his dismay.

She walks over to the centre of the salon, and twirls around slowly, taking in the static air buzzing on her skin. She knows her companion can feel the magic, too, and was just being a contrarian for sport. Besides, they were deep underground, behind complex magically-protected doors. If there is a private, unassuming room in all of Garreg Mach, this is probably it.

Sylvain watched as she smiled contently, her eyes falling closed as she tips her head back and bask in the peace that came with nightfall. In the enchantment of the room. For it was the time where they could love one another as freely as they would like, for as many hours as the moon remained in the deep navy sky. He wanted desperately to love her in the light of day, without fear of prying eyes and listening ears, but she knew why things were the way they were.

The House of Gautier were devout followers of the Church and loyal subjects of the Kingdom. The Margrave’s assistance on the Homefront during the war against the Empire was undeniable, and absolutely invaluable on their struggle for resistance.

However, for all the decoration and respect the family has amassed throughout their existence, and above all the more recent achievements, are believed by the current house head to be thanks to their Crest, and its consequent ability to yield the Lance of Ruin. As such, the blood must be protected with all zeal.

In Fódlan, that usually meant inbreeding, but the House of Gautier has not birthed a girl in one hundred and fifty years, and so incest was a material unpracticality, even between cousins. So, it was established a rotation between the Crest houses of the Kingdom: Blaiddyd, Dominic, Galatea and Fraldarius. It was believed that, through this system, the family would profit from the influx of blessed blood, but no one other Crest would be able to supplant the Gautier, as it happens from time to time with noble children.

In this regard, while Byleth carries a valuable and powerful Crest, coveted by many houses throughout the continent, a match between her and the only heir to Gautier seemed like an existential threat to the Margrave. Not only she carried the Crest of Flames, the sign of the Goddess’ favour, the Church documents seemed to indicate that both her parents carried the Crest of Seiros. They would certainly overpower the Minor Crest of Gautier the old noble and his son carried.

While Byleth cannot say for certain which Crest her children would bear, or even if they would bear one at all, or even still if she is able to have children of her own, the Church does know of ways to make one carry any Crest. From blood reconstruction surgery, to Crest Stone rituals, to even a valuable collection of Dragon Seals hidden away, if there is a pressing need for a bearer of the Crest of Gautier, she is guaranteed of its supply.

Nevertheless, it was widely agreed amongst the war generals that Crests were an undesirable feature of their society, and they should be let naturally purge away in the coming centuries. She cannot go back on such an important and consensual position for her own personal gain, especially if it means announcing to the world that the Church could have granted Crests to anyone all this time.

So, Sylvain’s father pressured him to sever his ties with his girlfriend, he is constantly pressured to wed either Annette or Ingrid, and they continue their liaison under the clandestine guard of the Garreg Mach nights. It was not a situation that would be left standing for long, but the dices will fall where they must, and Byleth has decided to deal with them as they do.

For now, to his great delight, the nobleman watched the way the torchlight glowed against her divine beauty as it shines against her verdant hair, falling like a protective veil over her head. It danced across his girlfriend’s unmarred and soft skin, as soft and jovial as a new-born’s, in bitter spite of the many years of probations she endured.

Such an ethereal beauty left him wondering how someone so perfect could love someone so flawed. He found himself to be an anchor tied to her at times, his grievous mistakes and current standing in the nobility something he felt kept her from thriving the way he knew she would, the way she deserved. She already was, far more than he could say for himself.

His girlfriend still had that unsettling unfazed look on her face, that tendency of over-rationalize what is said, but, as he grew accustomed to it, he found it more endearing than disturbing. In her own way, she radiates warmth and, above all, acceptance, something he so desperately craved and found he could not keep himself from. To him, she was the embodiment of sunshine and he felt he was quite the opposite, rather bringing storms and rain. Yet still, she chose to love him in spite of it.

He felt guilty, really.

Guilt for having a father who made her feel like their relationship was in jeopardy without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man. For not being able to love her as fully and openly as he so desired.

“Are you going to join me or are you going to stare all night?” Byleth quips, breaking him from his pestering thoughts.

His gaze flickered from the vacant spot she once stood in to where she sat on purple velvet cushioned stool. She smiled as the crystal sphere flowed before her and a grin of his own tugged at the corner of his mouth. He took a seat on the small crimson stool right next to her, finding himself a bit too tall for such a small seating arrangement but he decided against complaining.

The sphere before she contained a fog-like haze that swirled around much like the clouds many floors above their heads.

“Just what are we doing?” He asks, an amused smirk on his lips as he raised a brow.

The green-haired woman shrugs. “As the Archbishop, I suppose I should be proficient in every aspect of the religion I am expected to lead. Perhaps I would be able to see something on these. I was told they were quite easy to operate, in fact.”

“Are you having any luck with it?” He asks, as his girlfriend peers ever closer to the object.

“Unfortunately, no.” She says, laughing at his scrunched nose and the way he gripped her stool and tugged her closer with one swift pull. “Tell me, what will our future be in five years’ time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he looked from the crystal to her. “That is quite simple, I do not need some silly crystal to tell me that.”

She raises her brow in amused curiosity. “Is that so? What lays ahead, Oracle?”

The redhead nobleman looks at her attentively, his smirk softening to an adoring smile. “Of course, Your Grace. The future is that I will love you as long as you will have me, and even more.”

Byleth nearly rolled her eyes at his sappy words, but she found them too earnest and the look on his face far too endearing to do so. She cannot deny the fact that she appreciates his steadfastness, too, but she also did not have it in her to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“Is that so? The crystal ball seems to disagree from you. As I see here, I shall sustain a wart on my nose in the next five years, and you, heartbroken from the lost beauty of mine, shall flee with a travelling minstrel.” She jests, and he rolls his eyes as he fights his smile.

“I am convinced you love to torment me.” He frowns, even in spite of his half-amusement from the stupid joke.

Despite the light-hearted moment, he finds he cannot enjoy it fully with the worry weighing heavy on his mind. Her question was merely playful, but it had been one that frequented his thoughts far more than he cared to ever admit, more than he ever will admit.

In a perfect world, one there were no Crests, that there was someone to shoulder the responsibilities he is so eager to shirk, Sylvain would have felt confident with the idea of loving her for the rest of his life. Would have felt rather excited for their future together because he loved she entirely too much for his own good.

However, it was much too difficult to indulge in thinking of such dreams when there were things in particular pressing down on his shoulders.

That one night in particular, to be specific, he would never forget that.

*_*_*_*_*

The Oracle Vault Masterlist

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

#fire emblem #Sylvain Gautier

[thewritingstar]

Gruvia Week 2020: Day 2

I forgot to post yesterday so you’ll get two fics today!!

Prompt: Alluring

——

The day was sweltering and hot. He was thankful that his magic was in the cool realm. He had left his team to track down one of the strongest members of Phantom Lord, they had to win for Lucy’s sake, they had too.

He finally reached the roof top and soon the clear summer sky turned dark and muddy grey. Even though he was immune to the cold, a shiver ran up his spine.

Across the threshold a dark figure emerged through the shadows. A bright pink umbrella and a dark scowl to match, she wasn’t what he was expecting.

She made a foul remark but it barely registered as he looked her over. His face was matching hers, frozen and stone like yet on the inside, he was burning with a raging fire that would make a certain fire wizard jealous.

Everything about her drew him in. He felt a pull, a connection of some sort and her bright blue eyes contrasted the dark threads she wore.

Her magic. Her presence. She oozed confidence and had a mysterious aura.

He had lost thought as soon as his body was engulfed in a hot swarm of water. It burned at his skin rivaling his cool insides.

She had a dark glow around her and she stared him down.

He blinked as his magic took over and soon thousands of shards of ice were shattering around them. He fell to his knee and looked up as she came back towards him.

She was breathtaking.

His head was clouded with too many thoughts. Every thing about her was screaming for his attention but he kept his poker face on. He had a battle to win. 

His ice magic was pairing with hers in a way hes never countered before. he has always been with rivailing magic, fire, steel, weapons. But water?

It was fluid and quick as it praictakky danced around him efotlessly. 

His ice flew at her without hestiation. He waited for the impact, for her to give up and surrend. But it didnt. 

Instead his magic broke behind her, passing through her as if she were a phantom, a beatufil ghost. His eyes widened and breathing took a still. The clusters of water particles reformed her shape and he was stunned as nothing could touch her. 

She was invunclbel. 

But even incivnable things have a crack, a weakness. 

Her body was falling from the roof, mimiching the rain storm from above. She was the enemy. The one he had to beat, yet his hand grabbed hers without hestation. 

He could see it now. That sheltered stare. Those blue eyes that held no emotion were no bursting with light as if he had restarted her heart in that moment. He couldnt feel the droplets pelting him any more but pulling her up so she was safe. 

The sky returned to its summer glory and he sat there panting from their personal war. 

She whispered something to herself and he barely heard as his eyes were trained on her. 

She was a mystrious girl. Captruing him sefotlessly. 

SHe was aulluring. Stunning to say the least. 

They parted ways, leaving each other behind and he wished that he could gaze into those blue eyes again. Become captiavted by the sea of her well being. 

His head hurt, from the fight, it must be. But there was a feeling deep within that had shifted insdie, breaking free from his stubborn heart. 

She was amazing. He thought to himself as he brushed away those unknown emotions. 

Even after the night fell and the stars rose in the sky, the only thing he could think of was how those blue eyes glistened in the summer sun.

----

Hope ya like it!

#gruvia #gruvia week 2020 #gruvia week #gray x juvia #fairytail #thewritingstar #fairy tail #juvia loxar #gray fullbuster

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Love You Like This

When The Rain Washes You Clean: the Sam Winchester x Rowena MacLeod Love Story, continued Prologue: Closer Chapter 1: So You Wanna Play With Magic Chapter 2: Love You Like This

Sam x Rowena, platonic side of grumpy Dean, 2100 words Sex, sexytimes, more sex AN: So I’ve done this story before, kinda, as a Sam x Reader, in Like Art, Like Fire, but in that one the mirror was a happy accident, and the reader was so self-conscious that she really had a hard time enjoying it. I wanted to write something with a woman who is fully conscious of her beauty. Thanks @there-must-be-a-lock​ and @mskathywriteswords​ for the read

*** 

Rowena wanted to plan a surprise for Sam. 

A standing full-length mirror, that was easy enough to order on Amazon. More candles, as she loved nothing more than to light them all at once and bask in their flickering glow. It was beautiful, but she did tend to burn through them quickly that way. And another tapestry to add to the eclectic collection that covered the bare walls of her bedroom. 

Then she found a beautiful robe, cobalt blue with peacock feathers all around the hem and gold stitched trim. It looked luxurious, and she deserved nice things, so she bought that too.

She had it all shipped to the Men of Letters bunker. She planned to contact Sam with an excuse, a need for a book that was in their library, or some other easily believable thing. Anything to get her near to him, close enough to work her wiles on him.

Rowena miscalculated the timing of the delivery. Instead of texting Sam that she would be dropping by, he texted her. 

Did you get the address wrong on your latest online order?

No, I ordered a few things to be delivered there. Surprises, for next time I saw you. 

Oh it was a surprise, all right. Dean is fuming. You’d better get over here and deal with this. 

Rowena ordered a driver, taking just enough time to pack her bags. She arrived at the bunker rather more quickly than she had planned, just as dusk fell.

Dean was waiting at the foot of the stairs, a scowl like thunder on his face. “What part of ‘secret bunker’ do you not understand, woman? The delivery driver has been here at least three times.”

He stepped back, sweeping one arm in the direction of the map table, laden with packages. “Also, what is all this crap? How many dresses and shoes do you need?” 

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Not all of us want to wear the same flannel all the time. But this isn’t all for me.” She looked past Dean to where Sam stood, filling the doorway. He shook his head with a look of fond tolerance on his handsome face. 

“Samuel,” she cooed. “Carry these things back to my room?” 

“That, too.” Dean spoke up. “Since when do you have a room here?”

She gave him her best simpering smile. “A lady needs a place to keep her things.”

“You have plenty of those, that’s damn certain.” He huffed, waving a hand at his brother’s armload of boxes.

“And after all, I cannot always be sleeping in Sam’s bed.” She swept out of the room, leaving Dean speechless.

***

Rowena coaxed Sam to stay while she opened them, although she tucked certain boxes away. It took little effort on her part to convince him that he should put the standing mirror together for her. 

While he was occupied, she carefully placed a selection of beautiful candles amidst the ones already arrayed around the room and lit them, old and new together, filling the room with a wash of warm golden light.

Sam was bent over the mirror, his gaze directed to the floor. While he was distracted, she slipped off her traveling clothes and cloaked herself in her new robe. As she tied the sash around her narrow waist, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over Sam’s lowered shoulder. 

Her robe was perfect, silky against her skin as she traced the fine gold embroidery with one manicured nail. In the candle light, her pale skin was luminous, her hair a waterfall of fiery curls against the deep blue and purple cloth.

“I don’t know why you need another mirror,” he scoffed as he fastened the last screw. “How much can you look at yourself?”

She stood behind him, watching her reflection as she draped the fabric clinging just so over her curves and waited for him to notice. When he finally sat up, he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror. His eyes went wide with surprise and he huffed out a deep breath. 

“I don’t know, Samuel.” She let the robe fall open around her breasts. For a moment he was still, transfixed, his gaze locked on hers. “Are you tired of looking at me?”

“Never.” Finally he turned and sat down on the bed, gathering her in his arms as their lips met passionately. For a long moment they enjoyed rediscovering one another, hands roaming one another’s bodies as they kissed, full and deep.

“So the mirror was just a pretense then?” Sam murmured.

Rowena threw back her head and laughed. “Oh my sweet boy. No, the mirror is part of the gift.” 

She looked back over her shoulder as she shrugged the robe a little lower. His gaze followed her eyes. 

“Oh.” He blushed endearingly and then reached for the dark silk, whisking it off to unveil her bare form. “So beautiful.” He murmured before his lips closed over hers again. 

She kept her head turned, showing off her profile and following his every move. Her skin prickled under his touch as his hands roamed her body. His palms were warm and strong, skimming down her ribs and into the dip of her waist before caressing the curve of her hips and caressing her buttocks. His lips strayed slowly from her mouth to the angle of her jaw, down her neck to her breasts, pressing a trail of hot kisses over her freckles before he took her nipple in his mouth. 

She moaned softly and reached for him,  laid a hand on the base of his neck and felt his pulse jump under her touch.  Wordlessly, she undid the first two buttons of his plaid shirt. He pulled back just enough to stand up and quickly shed his clothes.

When they were bare before one another, he settled back at the end of the bed, pulling her onto his lap for more heated kisses. After a moment he directed her to turn around.

“I want to see you, my queen.” 

She had been waiting for him to ask. He knelt, and she straddled his knees, her back pressed into the solid muscular warmth of his chest. She looked in the mirror as he slipped his fingers between her legs. She watched herself breathe harder, watched his eyes light up, as he rocked into her slowly. 

She met his gaze as her lips trembled. She gripped his arm with one hand, and pressed the other down lower, lacing her fingers in with his where he was touching her, so they were stroking together. He began to thrust, and she moved with him, matching the way his body and hers fit together, as he was filling her and fingering her and working her over so perfectly. Her orgasm built gradually, like a rolling wave in a lazy summer sea.

She smiled, seeing a soft peach flush rise over the pale freckled skin of her breasts, towards her neck. She didn’t look away even when her mouth dropped open in a soft moan, when the wave of her orgasm finally crested over her with a wash of pleasure. 

She let her head drop back against Sam’s shoulder, sinking into his strong embrace, riding the sweet high of their bodies together. 

“Look at you,” Sam said, cupping her chin in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. When she lifted her eyes to his face in the mirror, his eyes were dark with lust. 

“You gorgeous little peacock. You’re so vain, you’re still posing in front of the mirror even when you come.” He shook his head, chestnut hair falling into his face. “Wanna make you come so hard you forget yourself, wanna watch you fall apart.”

“Ohhh…” Before she could say any more, he spoke again. 

“Elbows on the bed.” His tone was steel and brooked no argument. She shivered in anticipation.

His hands settled around her waist, bracketing her hips in a firm grasp. He slid one hand up her ribs, ghosting over the curve of her breast, pressing her down into the mattress as she bent over the bed. His touch grazed her collarbone before he tightened his grip around her shoulder and began to rock his hips again.

“Hold on,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned over her. “Don’t come until I say.” 

She whimpered at the burning stretch as he filled her even more completely. His next thrust was deep, and she moaned as he hit that sweet spot inside of her. 

Sam was relentless in pleasuring her, pinning her down and pounding into her. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, desperate and grasping. She gasped and swore, begging to no avail. 

He kept telling her to wait, letting her orgasm build again until the tension was almost painful, until her whole body shook with the effort of holding back. Her words ran together into a stream of incoherent nonsense, her breath coming in ragged sobs. 

His fingers dug into her shoulder as he hauled her upright. His arm crossed her ribs, holding her back against him like a band of steel. His other hand slipped over her hip, low over her stomach, fingers brushing between her legs again as he pressed in with the heel of his palm.

“Sam!” she cried his name.

“Yes,” was the only thing she heard before she let go, coming in a rush of hot fluid all over his hand and their intertwined legs. 

He shuddered, and moaned, throbbing inside her as he finally gave in too. The feel of him set off a ripple of aftershocks through her, and when they finally settled, they were both breathing hard.

“Look at you now,” Sam said, his tone proud and satisfied.

In the mirror, she was a shameless mess. Mascaraed tears tracked her cheeks, her lips were bitten and puffy, and knotted curls stuck to her shoulders with sweat.  She could already see the marks of Sam’s fingers, bruises rising against the freckles on her skin. Her mouth was open, her eyes wet, and she was almost limp in his embrace. 

She drew in a deep shaky breath and let her eyes flutter closed again as she relaxed back against his chest. He embraced for a moment before he lifted her, easing her off his lap to lie back against the pillows piled at the head of the bed. 

He spoke as he covered her body with caresses and kisses.  “I’ve never seen you so beautiful, all wrecked and wanton. Love you like this, love to watch you come undone for me.”

She reached for him but he rolled away, off the bed, and walked on unsteady legs to the sink. He came back with a basin of warm water and a washcloth. She watched again in the mirror as his hands roamed her body, cleaning and soothing her, caring with every touch. 

Before long, she turned away again, not because she was ashamed of how she looked; she was proud of the two of them and how perfectly they enjoyed their bodies together. She turned away because if she looked at him for one more moment, she felt like she would melt. The look on his face, the love in his eyes, was so blindingly bright. Raw and vulnerable as she was, she ached to see him.  

When he was cleaned up too, he discarded the water and cloth, and spread a clean towel over the end of the bed before handing her the discarded peacock robe. She sat up and looked at him, not in the mirror, but full in the face. His eyes were wide, his face soft and a little flushed. 

She met his gaze openly, for as long as she could, then she took his hand and tugged him gently onto the bed. He stretched out and she curled up against him, running her fingertips lazily over his face as he wrapped her in his arms. He tipped her chin up with one hand for a kiss and she hummed in soft satisfaction. 

“Was the surprise worth it?” she murmured teasingly. 

She felt Sam chuckle, low in his throat. “Order whatever you want for us to enjoy like this. With or without your peacock finery, you’re the most beautiful woman, and I love you just like this.” 

He slipped a hand into the folds of her robe, around her waist to hold her close. 

She was still smiling, smug and sated, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.  *** SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @defenderrosetyler​ @defenderrosetyler​ @emoryhemsworth​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @idreamofplaid​ @kalesrebellion​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @maddiepants​ @magssteenkamp​ @onethirstyunicorn​   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tloveswriting​ Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff​ @lilsylvia​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach​ @lilsylvia​ @marril96​​ @pansexualdarling @songofthecagedmoose​

#sam winchester fanfiction #rowena macleod fanfiction #sam x rowena #samwena #when the rain washes you clean #love you like this #samwitch #rosam

[creativerogues]

Player’s Guide: Meet The Archmages of Capitol!

Well the Player’s Guide is coming together really well, and thanks to @dnd-chamyra-studies, as well as @paradigmanomaly and @nickle-snatcher for providing so much help on building the City of Capitol.

But without any further delay, let’s get into the details...

Archmage of Illusion, The Archmage Indefinable

The Archmage of Illusion never shares his actual name, and often creates elaborate illusions and personas to hide himself.

He’s a High-Level Wizard (obviously) with the magical capabilities to create up to 8 Illusory Duplicates thanks to his ability to cast Mirror Image at-will, and he’s almost accompanied by his Simulacrum, who can do the same...

He’s used many fancy names and personas to hide his identity: Example names include Salem, Owahl, Zakalis and Morgan.

The Archmage of Illusion became famous for being so powerful that when the rival Kingdom of Rassumurait attempted to sail to the shores of Capitol, he disguised the stars they used to navigate so that they ended up lost at sea and where forced to retreat...

What does he look like?

He’s an older Halfling Man, lightly hunched in posture with wild curly grey hair with an arrow through it like a makeshift hairpin. He’s well over 3-foot-tall, even while hunched over, with gross old barefoot hobbit feet with excessive foot hair, his toenails have clearly never been trimmed, and he seems to have some sort of exotic fungal disease on his feet, even starting to develop small mushrooms...

Because when you literally always have a disguise or illusion on you, you don’t really need to look good or wash at all...

He carries a small wooden staff like a cane, and in his other hand he often holds a pipe.

The Archmage of Illusion is known for levitating in conversations with the other Archmages, so they can speak eye-to-eye rather than top-of-head to crotch; and he has a nervous habit of letting out a little giggle whenever he tells the truth.

He’s also recently become addicted to the Laumadorian Plant known as ‘Weeping Flak’, smoking it and adding it like spice and sugar to everything they consume, since Weeping Flak (also known as Bluegrass) is also known to increase one’s arcane powers for a short time after consumption.

Archmage of Enchantment, Father Jack

Father Jack? Well this handsome dwarven wizard used to get every girl he wanted into bed since his beard started to grow. You may be asking why the Archmages call him Father Jack, better pose that question to his 122 Sons and 99 Daughters...

He’s short, stocky, and very clearly dwarven to anyone that looks at him. His skin is slightly tanned from his days on the coast, and his face carries a big bulbous red nose at its center.

His beard seems quite magnificent, with ornate brass and bronze bands adorning their beard. Their beard is also very obviously dyed. There are streaks of grey that have been colored to match their original shade, but don’t quite match.

Another odd feature is his left eye, since he’s missing it, and it appears he’s had a chunk of solid gold carved to look like an eye implanted in the place of his left eye.

He wears a copper ring on one finger, a ring with intricate carvings on its surface, and this Archmage always seems to be followed by a smell of rum and alcohol on his breath...

Archmage of Conjuration, Archmage Butterfly

Her full name is ‘Clawed Butterfly’. A Conjuration Wizard who is always accompanied by her Faithful Hound and her Unseen Servant. She often chooses to use Misty Step rather than walking...

She’s feline and cat-like in appearance, she often wears an ombre-dyed hood that reminds you of a hunting cat. Meanwhile the feline tail of the Archmage winds and flickers with a mind of its own.

She has cat-like slits for eyes, and just to confirm; Yes, she’s a Tabaxi Wizard.

She has tattoos across her face, starting from the corner of her mouth to the edge of her eye, but barely visible under her tabaxi hair.

Her right arm is bizarre and unnatural: One of her arms is a slightly different tone, and slightly shorter in length than the other one, her right-hand having steel claws that appear to be artificially attached to her fingertips.

Her left arm is even more bizarre: She has an extra hand coming out of her left wrist. This extra hand is as small as a child’s and is blackened and seems to be of no use: A failed conjuration experiment perhaps?

She also has an eye on the palm of her left hand, something she hides behind her back in her always regal-looking pose while speaking.

Archmage of Evocation, Archmage Damascus Iados

A Tiefling Evocation Wizard with bright flames that flicker across the back of their hands, and smaller, heatless flames seem to flicker across their skin while the earth seems to tremor slightly while he walks.

In charge of the Tower of Evocation, Archmage Iados is a Tiefling Man with bright red skin, a bald head and two curling horns atop his head like those of a wild ram.

He wears blue and green robes that flow down to his feet, and every so often has heatless flames flickering across his skin before sputtering out on their own.

His left hand has three fingers, while his right hand has seven, and both hands seem to glow very faintly with a low white flame...

Archmage of Abjuration, Archmage Neskul Nyultin

Urban legends say that there used to be a Silver Dragonborn Wizard so skilled in the magics of Abjuration, yet so paranoid, that he stayed deep underground within his Tower, surrounded by a bubble of powerful magics, though when forced to go outside in-person, he sits cross-legged on a Tenser’s Floating Disk, with a globe of protective magics around him at all times...

Archmage Neskul Nyultin is a Dragonborn Wizard with glimmering silver scales, as is usually seen cross-legged on a small disk of force that floats above the ground. His legs seem withered from atrophy, and his body seems very thin for a Dragonborn...

A shimmering globe of arcane wards almost always surrounds him, as he’s almost always seen with his hands inwards, his fingers intertwined and seemingly always concentrating on the many spells that protect his being.

This Dragonborn Archmage has several scales missing and a long deep gash running along his face. He has two long, spiny and membranous ears, and a slightly off-center snout, akin to a poorly reset broken nose.

Upon his head sit two overly curled horns, and in his chest glows a dragonborn heart, a heart that glows bright enough to be seen beneath his scales and through the sphere of arcane wards that surround him.

 After an encounter with a Red Dagger Assassin as a young Archmage, Neskul has become paranoid, as he knows the Red Daggers are master assassins that always get their target, one way or another. 

This paranoia has caused him to become shut-off and shut-in, though he still teaches the students of his Tower through the use of Simulacrums, Projected Images and various other methods of magic, all while hiding himself away deep within the underground of his Tower of Abjuration...

Archmage of War, Archmage Leowynn Wynanthal

A High Elf War Wizard and Bladesinger, Archmage Leowynn is probably the most prominent figure in Capitol aside Archmage Iados.

An elf with pearl-colored hair that seems to glow in the light, with long and curved ears and incredibly long eyebrows with a small pointed nose. He has pale skin, his face having splotches the color of red wine, with exotic runes carved onto his forearms and a long thin rapier by his side.

He wears flowing robes that looks as if they’re made from specks of starlight, he also wears elven ear clasps made of spun silver and an engraved leather archery bracer on his left wrist.

He has many scars and callouses along his forearms, perhaps formed over many brutal sparring sessions.

But his hands can sometimes be the most fascinating thing about him. He has a recessive finger on each hand, and a Holy Symbol of the Black Hand of Bane branded onto his right hand.

Leowynn is maybe my favorite Archmage out of the lot. He’s the Archmage in charge of both the Tower of War that trains War Wizards, and the War College that trains up the regular infantrymen and soldiers.

He’s probably the most publicly seen figure, and his whole host of magic items, from Bracers of Archery to his Robe of Stars to everything else he carries, also makes him look the part of an Archmage (he’s also the only Archmage to travel to another Plane of existence...)

He’s also known for his spats and arguments with the other Archmages, since the War College has always had an uneasy alliance with the Edhel Halls Library, and with Archmage Leowynn being one of the few Archmages to of taken part in the War Underground between the Elves of the West and the Drow of the East over 50 Years ago, he’s probably the oldest Archmage in the King’s Council, but he seems to favor Archmage Iados and students from the Tower of Evocation especially...

Archmage of Necromancy, Archmage Froja Dundrek

Ya haven’t heard of the old tale of Froja’s head? Well let me tell ya!

There was once a Wizard called Froja who got sentenced to death for using Necromancy and black magics back when it was still a crime, before the War Underground basically. She managed to break free and sneak into the Archives of the Edhel Halls, the place that holds all the scrolls with the old magics in ‘em. She found a spell in those forbidden pages, one that granted her eternal life.

After she cast the Spell, she went in-front of the King himself and asked for forgiveness before demanding her freedom, he refused. Put her in Jail and chopped off her head the next day.

Well as it turns out, she’s still alive! And she now teaches other Wizards. But they still keep her head as a training object for young students...

The best way to describe Froja’s apperance is that of a headless corpse.

She’s a shadowy and shrouded figure, wearing boots and thick black leather straps around the ankles. She also wears grey patterned pants and a slender thin belt made of the same black leather.

A shimmering feathered shawl drapes from her shoulders like a pair of dark wings, and a brooch that seems to be made of woven strands of pure silver hangs from her left breast.

And above her shoulders is a collar made of woven tree twigs, the twigs and sticks thorny and withered black. 

And finally, above this collar, where a head would be, there’s nothing at all! No head, and yet the body lives on...

Archmage Neskul has been at odds with Archmage Froja since the beginning, with Archmage Neskul begging Froja time and time again to reveal whatever magics and spells she used to maintain this life (or un-life) for eternity, never being able to truly die. And time and time again Froja had refused his advances, never revealing even a single detail about the spell she used to gain this eternal life...

Archmage of Transmutation, Drasaaria Argal

There once was a Transmutation Wizard so prolific that eventually any gold coming into her city was treated like scrap metal to her...

Archmage Argal is a Half-Drow Transmutation Wizard, and probably the only figure with a dark elf bloodline that’s tolerated by most people in the Capitol. When she joined the King’s Council, the uproar was tremendous, as the War Underground between the Elves of the West and the Drow had ended not a decade before...

But you wouldn’t think she’s a half-drow if you looked at her, because her skin isn’t dark... It’s metallic!

Her skin has a shine to it like a fine polished metal, and some might even mistake her for a statue standing in the room if you didn’t know her...

She wears very little actual clothing, but hold onto your thirst because she still wears clothes, specifically a pair of white gloves woven from the finest spider silk, while an ornate ear-cuff in the fashion of an orchid spirals around her left ear.

Her leggings have an opalescent sheen, and she’s also one of the many Archmages that likes to stand and walk barefoot...

Argal is another one of my favorites, and I knew I wanted to put a Drow on the Council because I just wanted to see what would happen...

And trust me when I say she’s no pushover, as my Players have found out time and time again.

That shiny skin she has: That’s Adamantine. Yep, she transmuted her skin to become living adamantine, so you try facing down a 20th Level Archmage with 23 AC...

 And she’s also been known to horribly torture people the Council wants dead, or wants answers from. She’s turned a guy’s brains into mercury, polymorphed a guy into a robin before turning said bird into a tiny solid gold statue, she’s even wiped a Player’s memory clean using Programmed Amnesia... She’s a mean one...

She’s also one of the Wizards (alongside Archmage Froja) who’s at odds with Archmage Neskul, since he keeps asking her how she got her adamantine skin and she keeps refusing to answer him.

And due to most of the other Archmages just barely tolerating the presence of a Drow on their Council, that just means she trains up her students in the Tower of Transmutation even harder, which often results in the Tower of Transmutation producing some of the most powerful Mages...

Archmage of Divination, Archmage Ofyne Yuvidet

There used to be a Wizard so skilled in divination magics that she never bothered having a conversation, because she already knew how it was going to end...

Ofyne is a Human Wizard and the Archmage of Divination. She wears old dull blur robes over tattered clothing. She has long and frizzy graying-brown hair that falls just below her shoulders, with what looks like small woodland critters wriggling around in her hair...

Her body seems incredibly damaged. Her hands are stained multiple colors of brown and green, and acid burns that run along both hands.

On her right hand is a small blackened sixth finger that twitches of its own volition. She also possesses what’s left of a still-attached left hand. It looks like it was crushed but was never amputated. She also has a horrid burn mark running down from her left elbow to her crushed hand.

One leg seems severely deformed: Ofyne uses a set of double crutches to walk, but more often floats and flies around as she finds it far easier on her body. She’s also one of the Wizards that walks barefoot, and smells of burnt tea leaves!

She seems blind, her eyes pale and clouded over with cataracts in her old age, with bags under her eyes that suggests she probably hasn’t slept comfortably in many years...

She has no nose, instead having a big hole where her nose would be, and her mouth is permanently crooked, giving her a cocky smirk and almost wicked grin. However, Ofyne wears a prosthetic nose and mask made of silvery-blue mithral, which keeps the prosthetic in place while partially obscuring her face to prying eyes.

Small mushrooms emerge and grow from her neck and shoulders, she also has several scars around her neck, some apparently self-inflicted, almost like she’s had her throat slit multiple times and healed from every wound...

Ofyne (or Archmage Yuvidet if you want to call her that) is probably the most interesting Archmage. She hasn’t cut or groomed her hair in over 8 Years, and her eyes seem to glow when near poison or fresh blood.

She’s in charge of the Library of Saturnity in Fostin, ans she’s also one of the very few Archmages that’s actually allied with Archmage Neskul.

However, the Archmage of Divination is currently missing and has been missing for some number of months now, but this has yet to become public knowledge...

Ofyne is probably the oldest Human on the Council (aside from Archmage Froja and that eternal life thing she has going on...) and Ofyne’s seen a lot.

You’d think for a Divination Wizard she’d be fine right, no scratches at all because she knows the future...

Well when you have to take orders from the King, the Hand of the King, and a bunch of Archmages (lest you be straight up murdered), you’re forced into situations where you know you’re going to get messed up. (Google ‘The Seven Against Thebes’ if you want to see where I got some inspiration...)

And that’s all the Archmages!

And yes, I know there’s other Wizard Schools like the School of Invention and the School of Onomancy, but since those aren’t Official Subclasses yet, I’m yet to make them canon in my world, so no, there is no Archmage of Onomancy or Archmage of Invention... Yet!

But tell me what you think of the Archmages of Capitol, what are your first impression, are they to be trusted?

Let me know in the Comments with your Replys and Reblogs!

#dnd #DnD 5e #worldbuilding #Players Guide