#he was minding his own business across a meadow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milswrites · 27 days

Text

Somewhere only we know

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel comes to visit you for the first time in a while.

Warnings: Angsty goodness

He could hear it now; your call beckoning him closer.

The dulcet tones of your laughter echoing amongst the evening birdsong as Azriel approached.

It was a path the shadowsinger had walked a hundred times before. The bowing oak trees and the familiar tune of the flowing beck all working to guide Azriel towards his final destination.

Towards you.

Yet even the forest wasn't safe from the golden hands of time. The gnarled roots and overgrown canopy a glaring sign that it had been far too long since Azriel had last come to see you.

Where he was once able to run freely alongside you, Azriel now found himself uncomfortably squeezing through the wild underbrush. Wings tightly curling into his back out of fear of catching them on the thicket of brambles which now lined the once clear path.

Perhaps a year was too long to wait.

Perhaps Azriel should have visited you sooner.

Your voice continued to grow louder with each step taken, the wind beginning to carry the recognizable scent of your sweet perfume.

Azriel inhaled deeply, allowing the delicate aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine to wash away his worries. A calming peace, that only ever makes itself known when in the presence of your company, began to warmly settle in his chest.

"Hello my love"

Azriel called softly into the air, the gentle twinkling of a wind chime greeting him in response as the evening sun broke through the canopy above to lay a welcoming kiss onto his cheek.

"I've missed you," the shadowsinger continued, moving towards the fallen trunk of a tree in order to take a seat, "I'm sorry I've been gone so long."

Another melodic chime answered, assuring Azriel that his absence needed no excuse.

"But I couldn't miss spending my birthday with you, I don't think you would have let me"

The wind laughed in reply, a soothing breeze coming to caress his smiling cheek as Azriel lifted a shaky hand to meet the ghost of your own.

Eyes beginning to water at your phantom touch, the male cleared his throat before reaching into the pocket of his leathers. "I've brought you a letter," Azriel started to explain, pulling out the carefully folded piece of paper, "of all the things you've missed since I was last here. I wrote it all down just so I didn't forget to tell you anything."

The orange sun glowed a little brighter, so as to provide Azriel with enough light to read his letter. The forest falling into a peaceful silence in order to ensure that you heard every word the shadowsinger had to say.

"Feyre is pregnant again, I think Rhys would kill me if I didn't tell you that first," Azriel grinned at the smile of excitement he could picture you wearing at the news, taking the time to burn the image into his mind before continuing, "Nyx is convinced it's a girl, and if it is her wants her to be named after you of course. He always talks about his favourite auntie."

Azriel allows himself to pause, needing a moment to calm his wavering breath before he could say any more, the harsh lines of a frown beginning to cross his face.

"Cas says hello. He'd come here if he could, you know that. But I don't think I'm quite ready to share this place with anyone else yet. He's fine, Nesta too. They're kept busy by little Sofia most of the time, ever since she learnt how to fly she's been wreaking havoc all over Velaris."

A robin flittered down from the trees, perching by where Azriel was sat, its small head tilted in silent understanding. Appreciating the company, a slight smile flickered across Azriel's lips as he turned his watery eyes back to the letter grasped between his trembling hands.

"Elain and Lucien are finally back from their trip around Prythian. They went to Spring - to that meadow I took you to for our anniversary. She . . . she brought me back some flowers, said they reminded her of you."

Azriel's tears finally began to fall as he carefully folded the letter once more, tucking it away into the safety of his leathers, placing it into the pocket right above his heart.

"And me . . ." Azriel started, voice cracking as he tried to recall what he had done since he was last here, his surroundings taking him back to a time when you had once been sat here with him, "Well I've not really done anything at all."

The male's hands move to clasp onto the two rings resting on a chain around his neck, thumb working to brush the cool metal in the hope of receiving some comfort, "Some days it feels like time has scarcely moved at all . . . On those days I like to close my eyes and picture you - us - here in the forest. Running through the trees like we used to do, hiding from our responsibilities for as long as we could."

Azriel deeply exhaled as he watched the robin fly away, tears still falling as he continued to speak, "And then I open my eyes . . . and remember you're gone" Azriel's words are interrupted by a harrowing sob falling from his lips, "I don't know how much longer I can do this. I'm getting old my love, sometimes I worry that one day I'll come back here and you won't recognize me anymore. That our love will fall victim to the hands of time just as the forest has."

The chimes twinkle once more, a gentle reminder that you are never truly gone, the ever-changing wind whispering promises that your love was one to last for eternity.

"I know" Azriel sadly smiles, letting go of the rings in order to brush away his tears, the thought of your heartbroken expression enough to dry his eyes, "I just miss you, that's all. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you."

The trees lightly rustle in response.

Azriel stayed to talk to you long into the night. The conversation never fading, nor growing dull, even when the moon had said its goodbyes and the sun had risen once more.

If time was all Azriel could offer you these days, then his time was what you would receive. For each hour spent in your special spot, was another hour of keeping your memory alive.

Another hour Azriel got to spend with you.

When the time came for Azriel to reluctantly leave the forest, his responsibilities too pressing to ignore for much longer, the shadowsinger whispered a promise into the wind that he would return once more. Swearing that you would not have to wait so long to see him again.

With each step he took, the scent of rosemary and sweet pea grew stronger, your calming aroma fading as Azriel walked further and further away.

And as Azriel turned to look at you once more, he could have sworn he heard you calling after him. Words unintelligible as your voice became lost amongst the birdsong.

But he could feel it, the assurance that he wasn't alone.

The piece of you that had been trapped here, now safely tucked within the confines of his heart.

So carry you home he would.

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel imagine #azriel angst

429 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 1 month

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

16K notes · View notes

weasleyreidstyles · 5 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter one

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): none

series masterlist; next part

The atmosphere surrounding the students on the Hogwarts Express differed massively in comparison to your fifth year last year, when everyone was wholly against Harry. Now, however, people whispered in their compartments about how he was right, the Dark Lord had returned. How everything was changing, especially with the rising death toll, wizard and muggle combined.

You were walking to the designated Prefect's compartment, which sat in the middle of the train, with Hermione at your side, your blue and bronze tie clashing with her burgundy and gold one. Your presence at the Ministry that summer prompted the two of you to be topics of few conversations, you sent glares their way.

"What do you think will happen this year?" the Gryffindor girl asked as you both made your way through the throngs of students in the hallway.

"Considering we almost died in June?" you say, a frown painting your face as your mind brings you back to your traumatic time in the Department of Mysteries to aid Harry in saving (and failing to do so) his Godfather. "We'll probably face certain death this year, Mione."

Hermione swatted your arm in feined annoyance at your attempt of a joke. "Don't put that thought into existence Meadow."

You only shrugged as you held the compartment door open for her. Ron was already waiting inside, glaring at Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, who were sat diagonally across from him.

Unlike your Gryffindor companions, you had no issues with the two snakes, in fact they were two people you would consider your closest friends, if it wasn't for the prejudice that went both ways – from your friends and some of their's.

"Stop glaring holes into the sides of their heads, Ron." you scold. "I've told you before, they're my friends. They won't do anything to you."

He said nothing, but he did stop his glaring in favour of greeting the two of you.

The Prefect meeting went on for over an hour and you found yourself zoning out multiple times.

You're going to miss out on important information if you keep daydreaming, tesoro. Theodore. You admired that he was as talented as he was, but it was annoying when he would invade your thoughts. You narrowed your eyes at him.

Stay out of my head, Teddy.

But it's so fun, and so easy. He smirked and turned his attention back to the Head Boy, who was busy assigning roles to the new fifth year prefects. Pansy nudged Theo's arm, breaking his concentration, as she was obviously using her own legillimens ability to berate him. She offered you a smile in apology, which you returned with one of your own.

You'd taken to learning legillimens at the start of fifth year, having read about it in a book you'd taken from the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. You also wanted to protect your mind, especially with the knowledge that Voldemort was back after Harry had returned with Cedric Diggory's dead body at the end of your fourth year.

"Now onto you sixth years." the Head Girl announced. "Like last year, you're going to be paired off for nightly patrols."

She began pairing you off one by one. Hermione was with Ernie Macmillan; Ron was paired with Hannah Abbot; Pansy with your Ravenclaw counterpart and Theodore was paired with you. She then paired off the seventh year prefects before the Head Boy dismissed you all.

~∞~

Ron yawned as he stepped into the corridor. "Thank Merlin that's over. I'm starving."

"You're always hungry, Ronald." Hermione muttered as she walked out behind him, rolling her eyes at his usual ramblings, causing you to laugh at his expense.

"My my, it's a wonder why Dumbledore chose you to be a prefect with that attitude, Weasley." Theodore spoke up from behind you, Pansy at his side, once again shooting you an apologetic smile.

"Piss off, Nott." Ron snarked, turning to face your snickering Slytherin friend, about to take a step towards him when you put a hand on his chest.

"Leave it Ron. He's only trying to get a rise out of you. I'll meet you both in the compartment in a bit." you say, turning to face a smirking Theo with a berating glare.

"Wanted to get me alone, tesoro? Finally. I've waited all these years." he said with a grin, stepping towards you as your Gryffindor friends reluctantly left.

"Don't flatter yourself, Teddy." you say with an eye roll before you turned to Pansy and brought her into a hug. "I've missed you Pans. Good summer?"

"Abysmal." she muttered, sharing a not-so-subtle look with Theo. You looked between them questioningly.

"What happened?" you ask.

Exchanging glancing, they seemed to come to an agreement and Pansy grabbed your hand, dragging you into the closest empty compartment. Theo followed behind the two of you, closing the door and spelling it from unwanted listeners.

"What's with the secrecy? Guys?" you look between them growing more confused by the second.

"Before I tell you, you have to understand, I didn't have a choice, none of us did." Theo emphasises. "I consider you one of my best friends, tesoro. But what I'm about to reveal....it cannot under any circumstances leave this room."

You look at him confused, but the nagging thought that had haunted you all summer suddenly creeped up on your subconscious. Your eyes widened.

"No. Theo don't tell me-" you stutter and he looks away ashamed.

His son is my best friend. My father wants to get into his good graces, I had no choice. Even his voice in your head sounds despondent.

"Oh Teddy." you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist, hugging him tight.

"I'm to receive the mark during the Christmas holidays." he mumbles dejectively into your hair. "Hell of a Christmas present."

"How good is your legillimens ability?" Pansy asks you. "Can you block people out."

"I have my thoughts locked away into a little mental box, but I'm still working on fully blocking people out." you say, pointedly looking up at Theo, who smiles innocently at you.

"You'll need to practice it then." she says resolutely, but the look on her face indicates nothing pleasant. "Mattheo can help you."

You scoffed. "There is no way Riddle will willingly help me. His father's biggest threat is one of my best friends."

"And you're one of our best friends, Meadow." Pansy says. "Our loyalty to eachother goes both ways. He'll help you, he's the most advanced at it, besides Snape and Dumbledore of course. Trust me."

"What about Harry?" I ask. "And Ron and Hermione, the Order. What am I meant to tell them. They won't be thrilled that I'm taking lessons from you-know-who's son."

"You'll tell them that you're tutoring Mattheo. It's a believable lie. He's shite at Ancient Runes, no matter how much I try to help him." Theo says, nodding his head as a plan forms in his mind. That was true. You don't know how Riddle was still enrolled in that class. "We've already discussed this becoming a possibility. He's more than willing."

"Why are you trusting me with this?" you question, staring between your two friends.

"Like it or not, you're our one way ticket to the right side of this war, tesoro. You know as well as I do that Potter needs as much help as he can get. And you need to protect your mind so that the Dark Lord can't get into your head." Theo says.

"So are you in?" Pansy asks as she heads towards the door. "Because there's no backing out from here, and I really don't want to obliviate one of my dearest friends."

You know the risks. You don't know what this will mean for your current friendships. But you know that Theodore is right. To help Harry, he'll need as much help as possible. Having Theo and Pansy on your side could be a turning point in this brewing war.

"I'm in." you say, nodding your head in agreement. "Just keep the snarky comments to a minimum about Ron, Mione and Harry, please. And relay that message to the rest of your friends too."

"Already done, tesoro." Theo says, ruffling your hair, grinning when you swat his hand away.

You question what he means for a moment when the back of your skull begins to burn with a dull ache. You cradle the back of your neck with your hand, wincing at the sting as Mattheo's deep, raspy voice fills every corner of your mind.

Lessons start tomorrow night, Princess. Don't be late.

He was already in your head, you sighed. It was going to be a long year.

~∞~

You reached the compartment that your other friends occupied at the same time that Harry and Neville seemed to be leaving it.

"Where are you two off to?" you ask as the two boys move away from the open doorway.

"To meet Professor Slughorn." Neville said, although he looked a mixure of nervous and confused.

"Who the hell is that?" you look at Hermione as you go inside, leaving Harry and Neville on their venture.

"New Professor, apparently." she replied. "What took you so long?"

You knew that your friends, minus maybe Harry, had little to no legillimens skills, but nevertheless, you cleared your mind of the conversation you'd had with Theo and Pansy.

"Well Pansy likes a gossip." you said flipantly as you pulled out a book from your never ending bag. "How else are we to know everything that goes on outside of our little circle, now that Lee Jordan is no longer in school?"

Ron and Hermione smile at that, before Ron's face drops.

"Listen, be careful around them this year, yeah." he said, his voice low. "We went to see Fred and George's new shop and watched Malfoy go into Borgin and Burke's with a bunch of known Death Eaters."

Your heart dropped. Theo would be participating in those meeting come Christmas time. That must mean that Draco was already involved.

"Well you know what sort of things they sell there." you say hesitantly. "It probably doesn't mean anything."

Hermione scoffed. "Try telling that to Harry. I think he's convinced that Draco and Riddle have been inducted."

You fall silent shortly after that. The conversation only picking up again when Neville came back to the compartment, Ginny following behind him.

Harry was nowhere in sight.

~∞~

Harry was awol for the rest of the trainride.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop in Hogsmeade station and you all found a carriage to settle in, he still wasn't there.

"Where on Earth is he?" Mione muttered as the thestrals, that were no longer invisible to you all after Sirius' death, pulled onto the winding road up to the castle.

"He's probably already in a carriage and didn't wait for us. Wouldn't be the first time." Ron assured, although his face betrayed his words as he looked as worried as you and Hermione.

You were unconvinced, and more so when you split off towards the Ravenclaw table when the three of you arrived to the Great Hall and saw, not to your surprise, Mattheo Riddle with bloody and bruised knuckles. As you sat beside Luna Lovegood you felt that same prickling sensation that you did on the train. He was watching you, and he continued to watch you with his cold, unbothered stare through the sorting ceremony and Dumbledore's speech.

Your attention was brought to the doors of the Great Hall where Harry seemed to materialise, Snape's looming figure behind him. But what you noticed the most in the bright glow of floating candles that bothered you more than his lack of punctuality, was the bloody tissue he was dabbing at his recently-fixed broken nose, which he did not have when you last saw him hours earlier.

People stared and whispered as he made his way to where Ron and Hermione were sitting. But your attention was pulled to where Crabbe and Goyle were sat snickering from their seats beside Draco. You narrowed your eyes at Riddle, who was still looking at you.

Got a staring problem, Princess?

Merlin he infuriated you. You focused on him as you thought of your response.

Did you do that to his face?

He smirked. Did I do what?

You didn't give him a response, instead turning your attention to Theo, who was chatting to Lorenzo Berkshire. Did Riddle do that to Harry? You asked and you watched as Theo startled before maintaining the same facade of conversation.

No. It was Draco. Harry was eavesdropping his conversation with Blaise. Matt was with me and Enzo.

Your question was answered, but you were still left unsatisfied. And Riddle's stare had not faltered, which added to your growing bad mood.

Stop fucking staring at me, Riddle. And stay out of my head.

He smirked wickedly and finally looked away, taking the prickling sensation along with him.

~∞~

first post on tumblr after lurking for a year 🫢

i've been a little hyperfixated on the slytherin boys (particularly theo and mattheo) so i thought i'd try out writing a short(ish) fic, but i couldn't be bothered with wattpad (i'm procrastinating finishing a fic on there lol)

i'm also writing this instead of finishing uni assignments that are literally due at the end of the week whoops

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #theo nott #mattheoxreader #mattheo x you #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle smut #ravenclaw x slytherin #serendipity series

918 notes · View notes

stardustedsins · 25 days

Text

Gentle love prompts #42. Dreaming about them

Hol Horse/reader (gender neutral reader)

You’re in bed alone tonight, since Hol’s away for the weekend on business. You’re proud of him for getting a more ordinary (and more importantly, legal) job, but you still miss him. As you fall asleep, you comfort yourself with the reminder that he’ll be home tomorrow.

You open your eyes in a lush green meadow. You’re sitting in the grass, and some part of your mind is vaguely aware that it’s all a dream, in that muted way typical of dreams. But more importantly, Hol is lying on a picnic blanket next to you.

“I had fun today.” He says, smiling. “I should’a bought more candy to bring home.”

You know somehow that he’s talking about a trip to the aquarium, and a stop at a candy store on the way home. You smile at the memory of aquatic animals and sweet treats.

“I had fun too.” You say, lying back next to him on the blanket. There are perfect fluffy clouds drifting past above you. Hol’s hand nudges yours where it sits between you, and you lift it to let his slide under so you can hold hands.

You stay there for a while, watching the shapes the clouds make (which are unnaturally well defined) and idly discussing your day out. You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear a ringing sound.

“What is that?” You sit up and look around, but things look hazy and indistinct now.

The ringing continues, even when you open your eyes in your own bed. It sounds like it’s coming from the living room, so you slip out of bed and go to check it out.

You find Hol’s phone laying on the couch, still ringing, next to his hat and coat. A few of his things are scattered across the cushions. The front door opens, and he steps in with his suitcase.

“Oh! Mornin’, honey. Did I wake you?” He asks. You pick up his phone and hand it to him in lieu of a reply.

“Damn thing, I thought I silenced that.” He grumbles as he declines the call. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” You wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.” He hugs you back tightly before you pull away.

“And I know just what we should do today!” You say brightly, feeling inspired. “Let’s go have a nice day out to celebrate you being back.”

“I was only gone for three days.” He points out, looking amused.

“Details.” You brush that off in favor of having a fun day like the one in your dream. “I want to go to the aquarium.”

“Sounds nice.”

“And then we can stop at the candy store for a treat on the way home.”

“Were you plannin’ this all weekend?” He asks with a little laugh, and you smile.

“No, it just came to me last night.”

#my writing #sfw #gender neutral reader #gentle love prompts #stardust crusaders #hol horse

8 notes · View notes

foundtherightwords · 3 months

Text

The Firebird - Chapter 8

Pairing: Prince Paul (Catherine the Great) x OFC, Fairytale AU

Summary: When Paul, a spoiled young prince, spots a strange bird in the forest near his palace, he impulsively chases after it, hoping to both escape from and prove himself to his disapproving mother. Thus he is plunged into an exhilarating adventure across a magical realm populated by enchanted princesses, dangerous monsters, and powerful wizards, an adventure that may change him more than he can ever imagine.

Chapter warning: brief mention of blood and violence

Chapter word count: 5k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8 - The Kidnapping of Elena the Fair

They came down the mountains the next day, and, after crossing a small meadow, entered a taiga full of pines. The forest here was wilder than those of Smorodina on the other side of the mountains, the pines growing close together, throwing dark shadows across their path, forming a near-impassable wall around a castle in the distance. Though also made of wood, this castle was almost free of embellishments and gilding, and as austere as Afron's castle was flamboyant. The trees were so thick that Paul had to leave the saddle and take the donkey by the reins, while Zhara flew ahead, her feathers gleaming like a beacon, leading toward the castle. The gloom of the forest made Paul anxious, and he tried to keep an eye out for wild animals, especially those with medallions around their necks, but so far, the place seemed to be quiet.

Finally, the trees thinned, and they heard voices in the distance. Zhara returned to her hiding place under Paul's cloak just as they came to a large clearing, where a lake lay rippling in the twilight, reflecting the pines and the castle. Women, old and young, were gathering flowers and herbs and ferns, singing all the while, their melodious voices undulating like the waves of the lake, like the soft breeze around the clearing. The song brought memories of childhood flooding back in Paul's mind, of songs his old nurses and the Palace servants used to sing while they worked, before they were reprimanded by the grand chamberlain for singing peasant music.

At the edge of the clearing, close to the castle, men were building a large bonfire and setting up tables for a banquet. A young birch tree was placed near the bonfire, and more women were busy decorating it with flowers and fluttering ribbons.

"Is there some fete going on?" Paul asked a woman sitting on the edge of the clearing, expertly weaving wildflowers and grass and herbs into wreaths.

She looked him up and down, eyeing his hodgepodge clothes with mistrust, before answering shortly, "'tis Kupala Night tonight."

This meant nothing to Paul, and he was about to ask what exactly Kupala Night was when he felt a tug from Zhara in his pocket. Not wanting to repeat the mistake of ignoring her warning, he thanked the woman and retreated into the forest. Here, he tied the donkey near a juniper bush full of ripening berries, and Zhara gestured that they should wait. When torches started to light up around the clearing, she emerged from behind the bush in her sarafan and approached Paul.

"This is perfect," she said, as a procession of torches moved from the castle down into the clearing like a column of fireflies.

"Why? What is Kupala Night?"

"It's the Summer Solstice. Don't you celebrate it in your world?"

Paul shook his head. Summer was the time for hunting and country parties; the Solstice, which sounded pagan, must have been forbidden. He had never heard of Kupala at any rate.

"Well, everybody is coming here to celebrate, and then the young people go into the forest in search of the Fern Flower to divine their future," Zhara explained. "Elena will certainly be there. We'll join the fete. She knows me, so I shall find an opportune moment to lure her away on her own. You'll lie here and wait for my signal, perhaps something like this"—she pulled at her earlobe—"and then you'll snatch her—"

"How?!"

Zhara's calm façade cracked. "I don't know!" she said in a furious whisper. "I've never kidnapped anyone before!"

Paul clutched at his head in frustration. "But her mother is protective," he said. "Won't she have guards?" The more he thought about this kidnapping scheme, the more harebrained it seemed to him. After the trouble they'd had with Afron, he was terrified of putting another foot wrong. In the tale, Prince Ivan manages to take Elena the Fair away, only to be murdered by his jealous brothers. Paul didn't have to worry about that at least, but what about Zhara?

"Not on Kupala Night. Kostroma will expect the people to protect their tsarevna." Seeing that Paul was still hesitating, she turned back and took his hands. "It'll work," she said. He nodded, feeling slightly more at ease, less because of her words and more because her hands felt reassuring in his. She tilted her head, regarding him for a moment or two, and added, "You may want to lose that wig though, if we are to blend in."

"What is wrong with my wig?" Paul grumbled, though by the glint of mischief in Zhara's eyes, he knew she was teasing him.

"Nothing. Only... why do you wear it all the time? Don't you have your own hair?"

"Of course I have hair!" Paul cried indignantly, snatching the wig off and throwing it to the ground to prove his point.

Zhara grinned, satisfied. "That looks much better," she said. "Now you look like a man and not a bolonka."

"What's a bolonka?" Paul asked suspiciously.

"You don't have bolonki in your world? It's an animal, a type of pet, I suppose. About the size of a hedgehog, with lots and lots of curly hair. I never like them because they have sharp teeth and love to bite, but they're very popular with the ladies in court." She looked at him again with appreciative eyes. "I like you much better this way." Without thinking, she reached up to brush Paul's short brown curls away from his forehead. As her fingers touched his hair, however, she seemed to remember herself and jerked her hand back, blushing scarlet. "Shall we?" she said and walked into the clearing, leaving Paul standing there in wonder.

A moment later, he recovered his wits and followed.

Most of the older people were standing around the bonfire, which remained unlit, looking up at the castle expectantly. By and by, a procession of young men and women came into the clearing, carrying tapers, singing the same song the women had sung. At the head of the column, riding on the back of a white horse, was a young lady that Paul immediately knew to be Elena the Fair—with her hair worn loose down her back like a sheet of gold, her skin gleaming like porcelain in the torchlight, and her perfectly proportioned features, no one else could have borne that name. With a wreath of daisies and ferns on her head, in a simple white frock, she approached the center of the clearing like a goddess, not looking at any of them but smiling upon all, as though graciously allowing them the privilege of admiring her.

All the men had their eyes fixed on her. Paul, too, found himself staring open-mouthed at this vision of beauty, thinking, Yes, I could fall in love with her. Easily. Then, as though she could read his mind, he heard Zhara's voice right by his ears, "Well, now that you've seen her, what do you think?"

He turned to find her standing next to him. As soon as he saw that freckled, elfin face, those twinkling amber eyes, and that wide mouth twisted into a playful grin, the spell was broken. He looked back at Elena and saw that her eyes were bored, her radiant smile was forced, and her perfectly symmetrical face was lifeless. He couldn't imagine that a mere moment ago, he'd thought he could fall in love with her.

"I—I don't know what to think," he replied. "She's very beautiful, but—"

He cut himself off, for a hush had fallen over the clearing. Even the music had stopped. Coming up from behind Elena, on another horse, was an older, regal-looking woman, with the same golden hair, though slightly faded, and the same features, though a little heavier and more severe.

"Tsarina Kostroma," Zhara whispered to him, but Paul didn't need an introduction. He could have guessed the lady's identity from her air of imperial dignity and her harsh, fierce eyes, which reminded him so much of his mother's. As she swept those eyes over the crowd, he almost shrank back out of habit, and got angry with himself for it.

The tsarina raised her arms. "Good people of Bryansk," she said, her deep, sonorous voice echoing all around the clearing. "Tonight, on the eve of the Summer Solstice, we are gathered once again to give thanks to the gods and goddesses of the forest and the field, of the river and the mountains, and pray that they continue to grace us with their blessings for another year. Let the festivities commence!"

Someone handed her a torch, which she put to the bonfire. A cheer went up along with the flames. The wreaths were handed out to all the girls. Thus adorned, they joined the boys and ran, giggling, to the lake, where they all plunged in, some in their chemises, others, more daring or practical, wearing nothing at all, shrieking in alarm and delight at the cold water, and started swimming around, boys and girls together.

Zhara had gone ahead and was already in the water by the time Paul arrived. "Come on in!" she urged, with only her head poking out of the water, duckweed scattered over her long red braid like tiny emeralds.

He wavered at the edge of the crowd, unsure. "But what about the—the rusalkas and the vodyanoys?"

"They dare not attack on Kupala Night. Come on, the water's delicious!"

And indeed, Paul could spy, in the distance, a group of those pale-skinned, sharp-teeth, green-haired young ladies, huddled together amongst the reeds on the lakeshore, watching the bathing humans with envy. He suddenly felt sorry for them.

"Poor things," he said, mostly to himself.

Zhara tipped her head to the side. "Why?"

Paul took off his boots and sat down by the water's edge, trying not to notice how her curves kept appearing and disappearing between the folds of her chemise, under the water. "They remind me of when I was a child, looking in at the balls and parties of my mother's court." Even as he said so, those memories were fading, their painful grip on him loosening.

Zhara waded closer and rested her arms on the grassy bank, peering up at him with those inquisitive eyes, searching for something only she knew. Then, without warning, she tugged at his wrist and pulled him into the water.

Paul surfaced, spluttering, to find her laughing at him. He was prepared to be annoyed, but the sound of her laugh, warm, infectious, playful, made him splash at her instead. He grinned at the look of shock on her face.

"Wait 'til I catch you, you rascal—" she yelled. A splash of water hit him square in the face.

"Not if I catch you first!"

Laughing, they chased each other around the lake, weaving in and out between the other swimmers, who were also racing each other like a flock of excited swans or a school of fish. Amongst all that laughter and all those bodies, so exuberant, so alive, Paul forgot about Elena the Fair, about Tsar Afron and the horse with the golden man, about elusive witches and murderous brothers. All he cared about was to find Zhara and feel her warmth against him. He managed to catch her once and hold her, before she wriggled away, slippery as a minnow.

Then, still laughing, dripping wet, the young people climbed out of the lake, pulled their clothes back on—Paul turned away so he didn't see how Zhara's chemise was molded to her body—and returned to the feast. Famished after their swim, they got stuck into the pies and cakes and porridge and the sweet, heady wines. Music started up from somewhere, perhaps from the very trees and field surrounding them, and they danced around the bonfire, all together in a circle and in pairs, to the wildly joyful sound of drums, flutes, and the lilting voice of the gusli, until their clothes were dry and they were breathless with singing and laughter. Paul felt as though he was in a dream, a vivid, wondrous dream, and yet, for all the vibrant music, the glowing fire, and the joyous laughs, it was the feel of Zhara's hand in his and the sight of her face beaming up at him that stayed with him forever afterward, more real than real.

When the bonfire began to dwindle, the decorated tree was taken down and fed into it. As the flames roared once again, the young people paired off and, hand in hand, started leaping over the fire.

"Anyone that fails or refuses to jump will suffer misfortune for an entire year," Zhara told him.

"Best not risk it then," Paul said, grabbing her hand. "Shall we?"

She smiled at him, half taken aback, half excited, and squeezed his hand to show her readiness. There was no hesitation. They ran at the fire and jumped over it in one single bound. Paul felt as though he, too, had been transformed and sprouted wings.

But wings he had not, for he stumbled as he landed and went sprawling on the ground, pulling Zhara down with him. They rolled over the grass to the edge of the clearing, giggling like two children caught at some mischief. Zhara's wreath fell onto Paul's face, which set off another fit of giggling. Paul picked it up and set it back on her head, tucking a strand of loose hair under it.

"I didn't realize your eyelashes were so long," Zhara said, hot breath ruffling those very lashes. "I quite envy them."

He realized they were in the same position they had been the morning after the avalanche, with her lying half atop him, her face mere inches from his. Only this time he didn't push her away. Something seemed to hang in the air between them like a strand of cobweb, fragile and almost imperceptible but unbreakable, while he let his hand linger on her cheek and she moved closer, closer still, whether because he was drawing her to him or because she was leaning down willingly, he couldn't tell. He only knew that she was now so close he could see her darkened irises surrounded by a ring of gold, so close he could count the freckles—all seven of them—that curved around the corner of her lips, could almost feel those lips brushing his...

"By Alkonost and Sirin," she muttered, and her weight on him lifted. "Elena. We must go."

Sitting up with more than just a little disappointment, Paul discovered that the fete had broken up. Some girls were floating their wreaths over the lake for the boys to catch on the other side, while others, in pairs or groups of three and four, were walking into the forest together, laughing excitedly about finding the Fern Flower. Elena was among these, more or less being dragged by the hand by several other girls.

He got to his feet and followed Zhara toward the pines. It was much darker here, with only the fitful flames of the torches carried by some of the boys shining through the dense trees, but that didn't slow Zhara down. She led Paul straight back to where the donkey was standing. "Wait here and stay hidden. Be ready to seize her when I give the signal," she said, before running off and melting into the dancing flames in the distance.

Oh, how he wished he could have seized her and held her close and pressed his lips to hers, to see if that sarcastic mouth could kiss as well as it taunted and teased. But this was no time for such thoughts. Paul glanced guiltily at the donkey, who was patiently foraging for grass around the juniper bush, as if it could read his mind. He tried to concentrate on the matter at hand. How does one kidnap someone? How can they subdue her? Afron would probably not thank them if they delivered his bride to him all black and blue. Paul looked at their supplies—they had some ropes. He could perhaps throw his cloak over her head, as he had done to the wolf, to disorient her, and then gag her and tie her up...

For the love of all the Saints, was he really considering doing such things to a young woman? If only things were simple as in the stories! But if things were like the stories, then he must certainly fall in love with Elena, and he wasn't sure he would want that, not when Zhara's eyes and lips and smiles were all he—

Voices rose near, startling Paul out of his contemplation. He peeked through the juniper and saw Zhara and Elena coming toward him, clutching each other's arms, both speaking urgently. They stopped a few steps away from where Paul was hiding.

"—you shouldn't be here," Elena was saying. This close, she looked less perfect but more approachable. "There are those who believe you are an evil sorceress and a murderer—"

"But not you, Lena? Not your mother?"

"My mother has never liked Illarion. But if he comes searching for you, she will give you up to keep me safe. You must go, Zharissa." The two girls must be good friends indeed, for them to call each other by these pet names.

"I'm going, but I need your help..." Zhara gave a furtive look at the juniper bush and tugged at her ear. In the bush, Paul stretched the length of rope between his sweaty hands, trying to gauge the right moment to spring out. His movement caused the bush to rustle, and Elena glanced at it, frowning. "Please, Lena!" Zhara said quickly, pulling at Elena's arm to turn her back toward the bush. Paul's hands shook.

"Of course. What can I do?" Elena asked.

It was clear that Zhara hadn't thought this far. She mumbled, while still furiously tugging at her ear, "I—I need food and—and—some clothes—and—"

"Where do you plan to go?" Before Zhara could answer, Elena glanced at the donkey. "Is that yours? Be careful about tying him next to that hemlock, he may eat it and become sick."

Her comment about the donkey, incongruous as it was, made Paul realize that Elena was far too kind, far too trusting. He couldn't hurt her.

"You can come with us to see Tsar Afron," he said, standing up from the juniper bush.

At the sound of Paul's voice, Elena whirled around.

"Who in Veles' name are you?!" she cried.

Zhara glared at him. "He is with me," she said through gritted teeth. "He's—he's not from here."

"I'm Pavel Petro—" he started to introduce himself, paused, and corrected himself. "I'm Paul," he said with a bow, because old habits die hard.

Zhara continued to glare at him, her eyes wide, mouth working furiously in a way he'd started to recognize, so he turned to her, pleading, "We need not do this. She's your friend! If you betray her, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!" At this, Zhara's murderous look softened. Encourage, Paul went on, "We can try to convince her—"

"Convince me to do what?" Elena chimed in. "And what is this about Tsar Afron?"

Zhara let out a deep, wearied sigh. Turning to Elena, she quickly explained about their need for the Golden Horse and Afron's demand. Elena listened carefully, while her eyes, of a green so dark they appeared almost black, like the pine trees around them, glinted with a light that Paul found familiar. He recognized in it the impatience and eagerness he himself had felt, the impatience that had prompted him to chase after the firebird through the forest of Tsarskoye Selo.

"I shall go with you," eventually Elena said.

"You—you'll marry Afron?" Zhara asked.

"I said, I shall go with you," Elena repeated, "and talk to Afron. Perhaps I can persuade him into lending you the horse."

Zhara turned to Paul, and he saw his hope reflected on her face. Could it work? Could they appeal to Afron's courteous nature? Could it be that simple?

"What about your mother?" Zhara asked.

A look of worry marred Elena's perfect face for a brief moment. Then she pressed her lips together. "She is going to let me make my own way in the world, sooner or later," she said, removing the wreath from her head and tossing it aside in one swift, resolute movement. "Let's go."

"What, now?" Paul said, astonished. "Without supplies or preparations? It will take us a week to reach Afron's at least!" This was the one thing the tales never mentioned—what the hero ate along the way, where he slept, how he managed to survive months of traveling—but Paul had had first-hand experiences with it and did not wish to repeat the days of wandering the fields and villages like a beggar, not knowing where his next meal was coming from.

"If I go back, my mother will never let me leave again," Elena said. "We must go now."

Paul turned to Zhara, who only shrugged and untied the donkey. It appeared he was outnumbered. So he shrugged as well and followed the girls out of the forest. Well, perhaps they could live off the land again. He didn't relish it, but it hadn't killed him yet.

The fete was drawing to a close now. The voices from the clearing had faded, with only the occasional giggle coming toward them from some corner of the forest, and some moans as well, as they came across a blending of two shadows. All three turned crimson, and then the girls caught each other's eyes, burst into laughter, and went ahead, leaving Paul to struggle with the donkey, who was reluctant to leave the safety of the juniper bush to stumble through the forest at midnight. Paul couldn't really blame the animal, for he felt the same.

At last, they saw the familiar shards of Perun's Crown rising above the tree tops. Paul pulled the stubborn donkey forward, eager to be free of the oppressive forest. Zhara and Elena were a few steps ahead of him, Zhara holding up a small flame on her finger like a taper. They ducked under some low-hanging boughs and stepped out from the last line of trees separating the forest from the meadow.

Suddenly, Elena fell back with a scream, thrown by an invisible force, and landed on the forest floor. Letting go of the reins, Paul rushed over to help her up, just as Zhara ran back.

"What happened?" Zhara asked.

"I don't know," Elena replied, brushing the pine needles from her hair. "Something slammed into me..."

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm all right. Let's go."

The three of them went together. Again, Elena staggered back just as she reached the trees, while Zhara and Paul moved past them with no trouble.

"Something is stopping her from leaving," Zhara said, as they helped Elena to her feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Paul spied some movement amongst the trees. A pair of glowing spots appeared on the pines, and the boughs lifted like arms. A leshy. No, not just one. Paul's stomach dropped when several more pairs of eyes blinked into life all along the rank of trees. A whole column of leshies, rising together.

"Tsarevna Elena," one of them spoke. "You are not to leave Bryansk."

Elena's nostrils flare. "What?! Move aside at once!"

The line of leshies took one step forward, bearing down on the three of them. "You are not to leave," the head leshy repeated.

"On whose order?"

"The Tsarina's," the leshy replied, and Elena went pale.

Zhara made a frustrated sound. "We don't have time for this," she said. "Paul, give me your sword."

"What are you going to do?" Paul asked, fumbling for the broken sword he still wore on his belt, for Afron had neglected to provide them with weapons.

Without a word, Zhara rolled up her sleeve, took the sword from him, and, before Paul could stop her, made a cut on her palm. "No!" Paul shouted, but she only calmly returned the sword to him and smeared the blood over both of her hands. Elena looked on, horrified.

Fire erupted from Zhara's hands, but it wasn't the usual flame she used to light their fire or illuminate their way at night. This was a furnace, hot enough to scorch Paul's cheek even when he stood far back. Zhara advanced towards the leshies, the two fireballs blazing in her palms.

"Move aside," she ordered.

"We have no quarrel with you, Lady Zhara of Arthania," the head leshy said. "You and your mortal can leave."

"Not without Elena."

The leshy didn't reply, only took another step forward. Its comrades followed suit. Zhara threw a fireball at them. Fire roared, spreading quickly across the rank, swallowing the leshies in flaming red tongues. The creatures howled and beat at the flames with their boughs, sending up a spray of sparks and suffocating smoke. The donkey shrank away from the conflagration, braying in terror. Paul ducked his head, tightened his grip on the reins, and tried to pull Zhara back, but she shook him off.

"Go, go, go!" she shouted, throwing the other fireball.

Grabbing Elena's arm in one hand and the donkey's reins in the other, Paul ran for an opening between the trees. Behind him, the fire raged on.

"Stop!" a voice rang out.

Something caught at Paul's arms and legs, throwing him to the ground. Then, to his horror, he found himself rising, wrenched into the air on thick vines that snaked around his body, his throat, choking him. Next to him, Zhara was similarly shackled. More vines grew over the leshies, putting out the flames. Fire burst from Zhara's hands once more, only to be immediately quenched by the vines.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Tsarina Kostroma as she approached them from the forest with a retinue behind her, her green eyes cold with anger.

Elena seemed to shrink in front of her mother. She clasped her hands in front of her and stood with her head hung low, like a child waiting for her punishment. Kostroma strode past her and came to stand in front of Zhara. "How dare you, Zhara Artyomovna?" she said. "You came here uninvited and received our hospitality, and this is how you thanked me? By taking away my Elena?"

"Tsarina Kostroma, please," Zhara began, struggling to speak while the vines encircled her throat. "I would never dream of disrespecting you, but I need help—"

"Help! And you thought Elena could help you? If you need help, why not come to me?" Paul noticed that Elena was wincing at her mother's derisive tone, and felt indignant in her stead.

"But Mother, they need my help, not yours—" she said.

"Silence!" Kostroma whipped her head around, and Elena almost visibly recoiled. "How are you of help to anybody? You know nothing! Do you even know where she is taking you, what dangers you may come across? I'm only trying to protect you—"

"You're smothering her, that's what you're doing," Paul blurted out. Kostroma's words reminded him so much of his mother's reprimands. They raised his hackles. He hadn't been able to stand up to his mother, but he was not going to watch Elena getting berated by her mother without saying something.

Kostroma turned to him with a look of utter disdain, like he was some sort of vermin, not worth her attention. "And who do you think you are, mortal, to speak to me with such insolence?" she said.

Paul felt the vines squeezing his neck, and swallowed hard. "Never mind who I am," he said with more bravado than he felt. "Perhaps you really believe you're protecting Elena, but you're only hurting her. If she knows nothing, then that's your fault—"

Kostroma's face contorted with rage. She flicked her hand, and the vines tightened even more, cutting him off. Zhara thrashed at her own bindings, her eyes fixed on Paul in a panic.

Elena, however, seemed to have found her strength. She raised her head, stiffened her back, and faced Kostroma. "He is right, Mother," she said. "How am I to be your heir, how am I to take the throne, when you teach me nothing and let me do nothing? Every year on my name day, I ask you to let me leave Bryansk, to let me see something of the world, and every year you find an excuse to say no." She was becoming more and more animated, her eyes brightening to emerald green in the torchlight. "I am going with Zhara to help her. You can't stop me. And if you don't let us go, I shall renounce the throne and never speak to you again!"

Kostroma flinched, as though Elena's words were barbs flung at her. She clenched her fingers, and vines curled up around Elena's feet, rooting the girl to the spot.

Elena remained composed. "Mother, please," she said, her voice softening.

Kostroma's lips quivered. "But—you're all that I have—Zhara Artymovna is being hunted—" Now she was looking less like an enraged tsarina and more like an anxious mother.

"I promise you, Tsarina Kostroma, I'm not going to let anything befall Elena," Zhara said. "I shall protect her with my life."

Paul, too, tried to put on an expression of confidence and trustworthiness, though he wasn't sure how much he succeeded. Kostroma looked from one face to another. Finally, she lowered her head and gave another flick of her hand. The vines retreated, throwing Paul unceremoniously to the ground next to Zhara, leaving them both wheezing and gasping for breath.

"Go, then," Kostroma said. "But don't come crying to me when you find life on the outside less than agreeable."

Tentatively, not quite believing it, Elena took a step toward the line of trees with Zhara and Paul, then another, and another. This time, the leshies stood aside to let her pass, before closing ranks and becoming a dark, impenetrable wall yet again.

Chapter 9

A/N: I had to make fun of Paul's wig somehow :)) A bolonka (plural "bolonki") is actually a type of Russian lap dog with curly hair. Kupala Night is a real Slavic festival. It was banned in medieval Russia for its association with paganism, but has regained popularity in Belarus and Ukraine in recent years.

Taglist: @ali-r3n

#prince paul #tsarevich paul #catherine the great #prince paul fic #prince paul x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

13 notes · View notes

sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

Note

If only you ever decide to write a bodyguard Steve and a rich girl reader.

1-sensual sex in a secluded meadow during a picnic.

Thank you so much babes! I hope you enjoy.

The grass underneath your naked body tickled your spine, the soft blades caressing your body in a way you were not used to. The earthy scent around you was heightening the moment, a very unexpected moment from Steve especially with being out in the open like the two of you were.

Sure this was a secluded meadow, you insisted on going for a hike today with Steve, but that didn't mean other hikers wouldn't pass by. Or some other darker person Steve could fathom up in his mind.

This, though, your golden Super Soldier looming over your now sun-warmed naked body, where there was once bright blue sky and fluffy clouds was now a mess of golden hair, tugged on from your grasp, aroused blue eyes that right now were far bluer than the skies above and a mass of chest that had your lipstick smeared all across it, making you bite your swollen bottom lip while grinning, was the last thing you expected, but you were thrilled when Steve pulled you close in the middle of nowhere and told you that he had to have you, right here, right now.

Who would have guessed that you being all hot and sweaty from the hike would turn him on.

"What are you thinking Doll?" Steve skimmed a palm against your quivering belly to cup one of your breasts, molding around your fullness. Artists fingers were able to pluck soft sultry gasps from you as he lowered himself over you to kiss you slowly, dragging out any air that was in your lungs.

Those moans and gasps belonged to him and Steve wasn't about to let any of them go.

You slipped a leg over his lean waist, your foot lazily drapping over his backside as you let yourself enjoy the sensations. His cologne was warmed from the sun, an intoxicating scent that left your mind hazy as you bared your neck for his affection.

"Need you Steve." You whined as he took his time pressing kisses down your neck to lace across your collarbone. You could feel his cock, pressing against your aching center, but never pushing further than that. "Please." You added and he groaned as his chest brushed against yours while he pulled himself back up to you.

"I got you, Darling." He pressed his lips to yours, coarser than your own, they pulled you into him with you so willing for him. His tongue slipped along yours and when he pushed his hips forward, so slow, so steady to fill you with his throbbing thick cock, you felt bliss.

Being with Steve was always so good. Steve always made you feel beautiful and cherished. To be with him like this was everything you dreamed of and now couldn't imagine yourself any other way. He made you feel seen, inside and out.

Steve was slow and steady, keeping it intimate with you two close together. Your walls fluttered around him, pulling him back into your heat every time he pulled his hips away. You felt the heat build up, tingling up your spine and the rush of your oncoming pleasure swirling and making you tense.

You wrapped your arms around him, splaying your hands against his muscled back as you felt yourself start to tip, a soft sensual moan escaping while you quivered in his hold, sinking into the sensation that flooded you. "Always so pretty when you cum for me Beautiful." His eyes shone above you, admiring the way your face couldn't hide how you were feeling, your body arching into his while he kept going.

Steve traced his fingers down your quivering belly, sliding to the top of your mound and between your folds to stroke his fingertips against your clit just how he knew you liked. "Again?"

"One more Doll, might be a while before we get to be alone like this again, I want you feeling good, saited for our upcoming business trip."

How were you to deny him such a request? You let yourself reach for the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you, needing that intimate connection. Already your body, so supple and worked over already responded to his touch.

The kiss stayed passionate, each of you unable to fully draw away before the other was ready for more. Your bodies rocking together, a bit more urgent this time, you were determined to make Steve cum with you.

His mouth slackened against yours, eyes screwing tight and satisfaction buzzed through you in bringing your love with you, both of you panting and hugging one another, ecstasy encasing you both into a cocoon, neither of you was willing to pull away from the other.

"Can we come back here, Steve? When we return?" You hummed happily, your hands running up and down his back, savoring the feeling of him all over you. He had his face buried against your shoulder, but he pulled up to look down at you.

"I'm going to insist we make the trip Doll." He glanced at his sketchpad and pencils discarded nearby where their clothes were scattered. "But today you should let me draw you just like this."

"As long as I can snack on the picnic we brought Steve." Your stomach rumbled slightly and he looked alarmed that he wasn't seeing to your needs, making you laugh at how cute it was while pulling him back in for one last kiss.

Send me an request from this list

#smut locations #smut location prompts #bodyguard steve rogers #bodyguard steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #amber writes #sweater writes #amber answers

51 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

16K notes · View notes

m4gp13 · 9 months

Text

Day 4: Colours / Fluff

Ethabaster (Ethan x Alabaster)

Word Count - 1121

@them-awesome-rarepairs

Ethan didn't really believe in hypnosis. He knew there was likely some psychological explanation for a lot of the shit people passed off as 'real hypnosis' but he was sure that no amount of staring into a spiral would make him lose complete control of his own mind.

All that being said, he'd be hard-pressed to answer if someone asked exactly how long he'd been staring at Alabaster's eyes. They both had a free day and decided to spend it in a secluded corner of the Mt Tam wilderness; basking in the late August remnants of the summer sun while they stretched out on the meadow’s grass. When Ethan first arrived on the mountain, he thought it was beautiful. It was like a perfectly preserved capsule of nature that gleamed like an emerald against the concrete jungles he was used to. Next to Alabaster's eyes, however, it all looked quite dull.

They were green like you never saw green before. Ethan could sit racking his brain for hours to find a good point of comparison and come up empty every time. There simply didn't exist anything like them. Wholly unique. Just like Al. The green wasn’t just one shade of green. In fact, it looked almost like he contained them all. His eyes were terrariums housing every tree on Earth. There were deep, sombre tones that narrowed into pine needles, there were delicate flecks of the pale wash that hid on the undersides of sycamore leaves and there were dappled spots and prismatic streaks of the radiant spotlights of the sun’s rays shining through foliage. All the different colours mingled and mixed, slicing through each other or fading together, like a geode studded with a harmonious menagerie.

Had they been spirals, Ethan would have fallen victim to them long ago.

Perhaps thankfully, they weren’t focused on him. Al took them to a luscious spot in the meadow teaming with wildflowers and found a patch of daisy-sized blue flowers that he was busy weaving into a daisy chain. His long fingers danced around the interlocking stems and plucked every perfectly sized flower from the dirt with blind ease as his eyes never left his project. Ethan was content to just lay on his side and watch him. His hand ran through the grass, wrapping a length of it around his finger to keep his body occupied while his mind wandered.

Al reached over to grab a flower closer to Ethan and their eyes met. "What are you staring at?" His brows quirked up as he grinned a purely feline grin. "See something you like?"

"Yeah," Ethan answered casually.

Al's face froze and from the back of his throat came a squeaking sound like a dying kitten. Ethan couldn't help it. He bubbled over in a fit of laughter. “Shut up!” Al cried between his own bursts of laughter. He cast his eyes back down to his project and busied his hands with continuing it but the wide grin remained fixed in place. Ethan propped his chin up on his first and watched him work.

His long fingers were swift and dexterous as they wove the flower stems into an intricate band. They remained steady and light as they formed arches and looped that were quickly filled in or tightened around yet more greenery. He leaned his head forward in concentration, making little curls and stray locks of his light brown hair fall over his eyes. It was messy and unkempt and flyaway strands stuck up in every direction while the rest fought to escape his ponytail but it was a beautiful tawny array. It offset his eyes very well, just like the rest of his face. His golden brown summer tan still lingered and the sun that brought the colour out also deepened his little freckles which scattered across his face like strawberry seeds. The contrast of browns all around and the final ring of white encircling them made his eyes look like they were glowing. Or maybe they actually were. It was hard to tell with Hecate kids.

When Al’s work was finally done, he laid the flower crown over his head. The green stems looked morbidly dull so close to his vivid eyes.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Ethan asked out of the blue.

“Green,” Al answered. There wasn’t a second of hesitation. Ethan wasn’t even sure he’d finished talking before Al told him, still adjusting his circlet of not-daisies. “What’s yours? Wait!” He twisted around to face him; a grin flashing bright on his face. “Can I guess?”

Ethan's face morphed into a matching smile all on its own. “Sure, be my guest.”

“Red? No, wait.” Al leaned closer. “Purple?”

A week ago he might have said yes to either. The truth was, he never really bothered with favourite colours, just ones he felt more comfortable wearing. Reds and purples could be dark but didn’t turn him into a shadow man. Now, though, he had different ideas. “Green as well,” he told him.

Al tilted his head to the side and looked Ethan up and down. “What do you like about it?”

“It’s your colour.”

His eyes went wide; further exaggerating the deep greens in a sea of white. “Oh,” he squeaked. “That–that’s the reason?”

“Yeah, I like all your colours.”

“All of them?” He tucked a curl behind his ear. “Care to elaborate?”

Ethan stretched out on the grass and smiled up at him. “Your eyes are green in a way that makes every other green thing look sickly. Your hair is a very warm brown that reminds me of trees and summers. Oh, and now your face is a lovely rosy pink.”

“Stop!” Al laughed and buried his face in his hands, but Ethan could see his grin past them.

“You’re the one who asked for this!” Ethan sat up so he was face-to-face with Al and wrapped his hands around his wrists. “Don’t hide from me now.” He lowered Al’s hands from his crimson face and took a moment to admire the way the colour contrasted with his eyes. In his attempt to hide himself, the chain of flowers had fallen over Al’s brow and was inching closer to covering his eyes. Ethan pushed it back in place atop his head. “This looks lovely,” he said softly.

“I could make you one too,” Al said. “The blue would look better on you than it does on me.”

“The blue looks fine on you.” Any colour would look fine on him, but Ethan had probably done enough waxing poetic about how pretty his general was. “Could you teach me how to make one?”

Al smiled and the pink undertones of his face flared brighter. “I would love to.”

#pjo #percy jackson #ethan nakamura #alabaster c torrington #alabaster torrington #ethabaster #pjorarepairs2023

13 notes · View notes

pacifymebby · 7 months

Text

Born to Die

chapter one

Autumn had been strangely humid up to now, September had been warm and a little claustrophobic, but with October had come a sudden chill. One which had crept in over the course of the evening and left me caught off guard without a coat as I walked home from work.

It was late, too late to be out on my own but the streets were lit and it was a busy night so I wasn't worried. Still, I didn't dawdle on the dark edges of town. I pulled my cardigan tighter around my waist and kept my head down, walking quickly, eyes on my feet and on my breath which condensed in white whispy clouds when it hit the cold night.

There was a fine mist in the air, thin rain, the kind you only really seem to get in the north of England, and it stung my cheeks whenever the wind picked up.

It wasn't the night to be walking in but I didn't have a choice. I'd not passed my driving test and the bus routes near my flat left a lot to be desired. It was a fifteen minute walk from the bus stop to my flat and that was if you were being quick about it.

I shivered as I stopped at the traffic lights. From the bottom of the hill I could see the warm glow of lights in each of the bars, could hear the rabble falling in and out of smoking areas, different songs leaking through open doors and clashing in the middle of the road. The little streams of rainwater running down the middle of the road caught the light from the traffic and the tarmac glistened in pretty shades of red amber and green and had it not been for the cold pinching my nose and stinging my hands I'd have stopped a little longer to admire the scene.

As it was however I was freezing, tired and growing more inpatient by the second. All I wanted was to be home, in my bed, warm and dry and drifting off to sleep.

So I stepped out into the road before the red man had swapped out, I only checked for traffic coming from my right, and when I heard the beeping of someone's horn it was already too late.

Time didn't slow but I did. I froze, my mind blacking out at the sight of the four by four skidding to a halt, travelling too fast to slow before it hit me. I heard someone screaming behind me from the pavement, a woman who sounded like her blood had curdled. Sounded like she'd just watched a girl die.

But she hadn't because somehow it hadn't hit me.

One second I was frozen, gazing at a set of headlights speeding towards me, the next I felt the air knocked out of me, my body flung across the street, my fall to the floor cushioned by someone else.

Someone who lay beneath me just as breathless as I was. Their groaned out "fuck," airy and distant.

I didn't move straight away, too starry eyed and startled to realise that I could move.

"Meadow..." Weezed the lad underneath me, their arm which had been wrapped around my waist loosening so that I might sit up and free their crushed ribs.

I recognised their voice before I recognised the name they'd choked out but when I did my brow knitted in confusion.

How could they possibly know who I was. They'd thrown themselves across the street out of nowhere, they couldn't possibly have known who they were saving before they'd done it.

"Fuckin hell Med," they groaned, their voice tight and breathy as they pushed themselves up, "no one ever teach you the highway code... Them stop look an listen hedgehogs retire before you started school or what..."

When he pushed himself up I realised just who it was who had saved me. My heart dropping to my stomach at the sight of Johnny Bond. One of my "uncles" best friends...

"Were you following me?" I snapped, not surprised by my realisation, nor when rather than deny the obvious truth he just laughed my horror off and shook his head.

"Saved your life Med, now usually.." he said lowering his voice, one arm around my shoulder as he steered me away from the crowd of gawping onlookers, "usually when someone saves your life like, common courtesys to say thank you..."

"You were following me..." I said again, not about to thank him for something he shouldn't have been there to do.

"Aye and it's a good thing too ain't it or you'd be sorry as a pancake splattered across the main road..."

"I told Van to stop spying on me..."

"Ain't spying..."

"Is spying." I growled hands shoved in my pockets not bothering to try and escape his arm around my shoulders, knowing he was only steering me in the direction I was going anyway. To The Angel, my uncles bar at the top of the hill with its halo of neon held above it by two rust iron bars.

I sang there every Thursday and Friday night as per an agreement made between my "uncle" Van and my dad when my dad was still alive and Van had intended to keep him that way. The agreement had been that our family would always work for his, and when my father had been alive that had meant as a soldier, as cannon fodder for whatever malicious scheme Van had planned. Now I was the only member of my family capable of "working" but I was a girl and so the only real use Van had for me was entertainment. So I sang in his bar every weekend and I let him show me off to anyone he thought he could impress with me. Be it my talents or my pretty face.

I resented him for it and I spent my weekends miserable but I did it because it kept my mother safe, looked after, fed and off the streets.

She'd lost everything when my dad had died, Van had taken everything to pay my father's debts until I was the only asset left.

So I'd all but accepted that I'd be doing this for as long as I could and that when I stopped being useful I'd have to find some other way to look after her.

"So.." Johnny trailed, whistling his S to try and cut through my irritation as we walked up the hill towards The Angel. When I didn't say anything he nudged me in the ribs, "how was work?"

"Hard," I said giving nothing away, starring straight ahead and hoping he would leave it at that. I'd always made it clear that singing in the bars was as close to them as I got. Beyond my duty to Van I wanted nothing else to do with any of them. I'd long since learnt however that my wants meant nothing to that man. For example this wasn't the first time I'd caught Johnny Bond spying on me.

"Oh come on treacle don't give us that face..." He chuckled seemingly not understanding the temper on me. The sulk his face had plunged me into.

"I told Van to stop spying on me Johnny and now you're fuckin followin me home from work!" I snapped shoving my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. Still I didn't bother trying to speed up or shrug him off, I knew there was no point arguing with my uncles friends.

"Ah come on ducklin..." he said, his relentless smile effervescent, "you don't get angry wi' your uncle Johnny..." And unfortunately for me he was right. Of all my uncles friends it was my "uncle" Johnny I was most forgiving of. That was probably why Van had tasked him with spying on me. "An anyway it ain't spyin, it's protection..."

"And if I turn down your protection who is it thats gonna start threatening me eh? Me uncle Larry?" I asked with a childishly bitchy smile.

"Don't be like that Meadow," he warned, his tone friendly enough, the look in his eyes just serious enough to remind me who I was and who I worked for. The choices I really had, how few.

"Oh come on uncle Johnny you don't get mad at your little ducklin" I narrowed my eyes at him, the sweet smile I gave him a saccharine threat.

"No," he said, the arm around my shoulder tucking me into his side a little closer, "luckily for you, I don't..." But when he kept me tucked into his side as we walked I knew he wasn't finished, that this argument was going to carry on until I relented and gave in.

"Been a year now Johnny, whoever killed me dad hasn't even tried to come for me and me mam..."

"As long as you work for Van," he cut me off, "there'll be a price on your head... And Meadow doll between you and me eh, your dad pissed off a lot of people in his life..."

"But that ain't got owt do with me." I crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly, stopping where I stood outside the side door to the Angel. Behind the door I could hear music playing, could hear the rumble of the regulars chat getting louder by the second.

When I stepped up to the microphone I'd hush the whole room, but for as long as I remained outside arguing with Johnny they'd carry on shouting over one another and the songs playing from the jukebox.

"That don't stop vengeful men and you know it love," he said lighting s cigarette and nodding to the door. "Go on inside it's cold, left you a little present in the back room..." He said with a soft smile, blowing his cigarette smoke up to the sky so as not to let me breath it in. A courtesy which was unnecessary because I'd smoked my way through work that day anyway, uncle Johnny just didn't know it.

"A gift?" I raised my brow cynically, knowing I was being cold and a little unfair. Johnny had always been soft on me and the odd gift left in the back room, or on my doorstep wasn't exactly unusual.

So I left him behind to smoke his cigarette and shiver in the evenings cold, his breath rising before him like dry ice.

Inside the bar it was warm and dark, the condensation on the windows catching the red and blue of the fairy lights strung up in the windows. I shrugged my hoodie off as I moved between the lazily discarded furniture which littered the back room. I noted with a smirk the chair whose arm I'd watched get snapped off the weekend before. A drunken brawl had broken out over a spilt pint and a game of darts and when Johnny had stepped in to diffuse the situation he'd drawn blood with the broken arm he'd dug into the neck of the man who'd kicked off.

He hadn't done any real damage though, Johnny was always careful. Far more careful than any of the other men I spent my weekends with at The Angel.

I smirked as I walked my fingers along the splintered wood, remembering how Johnny had turned back to me where I stood behind the bar, how he'd bowed down elegantly to me and blessed me to "sing him out."

Ever the comedian, the eccentric, and always so charming when it came to me.

That was when I saw the "gift" he'd left hanging from the mirror on the wall. I couldn't help but smirk and roll my eyes at the floor length deep blue velvet dress he'd left for me to wear that evening. The set of black balled slippers I wore every week left neatly for me too. However if I'd thought the dress was the gift I was sorely mistaken.

"Fuck sake John," I smirked sighing as I reached to take the dress down from the hanger. It was ever so soft between my fingers as I held it, admiring the rich night sky shade of blue. It would suit me perfectly, I'd look, as Johnny often told me, divine.

I shimmied out of my jeans and studied myself in the mirror. The outline of my tired working girls body making me feel completely unworthy of the luxury Johnny was always showering me with.

I had a bruise on my waist from having been kicked by a patient at the hospital where I worked two days ago and all my muscles ached when I tried to bend or stretch. It spread across my abdomen like an ugly purple flower, yellowing at the edges turning that sickly shade of green which bruises so often fade to.

"Oh well," I sighed softly to myself as I stepped into the dress and closed my eyes.

When the back door opened I didn't flinch because I knew it would be Johnny and when I felt warm fingers on my lower back I let John examine the damage.

"This from work or do I need to pay someone a visit tonight ducklin?" He asked, his voice soft and low, full of a concern so genuine that for a moment it was easy to forgive him for having followed me there and back again.

"It's from work Johnny don't worry about it..." I shook my head stepping out of the hold his hand on my waist had me cupped in gently.

"Get a new job and maybe I won't," he said with a smirk, turning me around to look at him, holding my chin between his fingers before patting my cheek. "Such a canny lass."

"What's all this for Johnny?" I asked checking my face in the mirror and looking for the lipstick I left in the drawer,"Van trying to impress someone tonight or?"

"That hurts Meadow," he frowned reaching his hand into his jacket pocket, taking out a little red box, "you know I don't buy you presents for anythin like that.."

"Then why?" I turned back to him with a frown, a frown which only etched deeper when he told me to turn back around.

"Cause," he shrugged brushing my hair from my neck as he spoke. His fingers moved lightly over my skin, just cool enough to leave goosebumps, "I think the prettiest girl in the world deserves the prettiest things..." he sneered sarcastically at me in the mirror before placing a silver choker around my neck, fastening the clasp delicately.

"Johnny no!" I gasped starring back at my reflection in awe, my hand hovering above my heart in shock, "I can't accept this..." I said gazing back at what was the most beautiful piece of jewellery I'd ever seen.

"Ahh come on now ducklin it ain't that bad is it?"

"Is it..." I trailed off catching my bottom lip between my teeth, hesitating to ask him because it felt rude, "is it stolen?"

His crooked smile lingered then, a chuckle escaping him only cut off when he saw the seriousness in my eyes as I hesitated to brush my fingers over the diamonds which studded the silver stems entwined around my neck.

"No doll," he said brushing my hair away from my cheek, his breath warm as it fanned over my jaw.

He was stood so close to me then that I was sure I could feel his heart beating just behind mine. The delicate way he held me with his arms around my waist, his cheek skimming my cheek, making it hard for me to think straight.

"Then why..." I started, my voice barely a trembling whisper. I was stunned, I couldn't take my eyes off the glistening jewels, the tiny flowers and silver leaves which now adorned my neck.

"It looks like a meadow don't you agree?" He asked letting his own fingers dance over the glittering stones, the celestial meadow he'd given to me.

"Uhuh," I said though his answer really wasn't sufficient to stop my clouded thoughts.

"Well then," he said with a small smirk, stepping away from me leaving me suddenly aware of the chill in the room, "I think that answers your question ducklin,"

"Believe me Johnny it does not..."

"Well that's a shame doll," he said offering me a lazy smile as he gestured to the door which lead onto the stage, "because your adoring fans await and the hour grows later by the second..."

I followed his gaze to the clock on the wall and sighed because he was right and I knew there was no more time left to waist together in the back room. I had a job to do after all and even if Van wasn't trying to impress anyone in particular this evening he wouldn't be impressed if I walked onto that stage late.

"I'll have a drink sent up to you," he said pulling me into a lazy hug, kissing my cheek before I pulled away and turned my back on him. I only hesitated for a moment before turning back to catch one last glance at the only friendly sight I'd see for the rest of the evening.

"Uncle Johnny..." I said, my voice surprising me when it shook, it's softness surprising him too so that he turned to me with a small frown. I left us lingering in silence for a second, my voice catching in my throat, a sudden emotion creeping up on me. One which I couldn't quite place.

"Yeah doll?"

"It's beautiful... Thank you..."

"Like I said..." He shrugged stepping into the open back doorway, sending me a wink, one final soft touch.

Then he left me alone to walk out onto the stage. One last breath, one last moment of peace before I had to become someone else. An ice cold, celestial girl. An angel with an angels voice. Pristine...

But it was easier to pretend when I was decorated with Johnny's gifts and as I stepped up to the microphone and the room bristled with expectation, I felt all the more grateful for his kindness. Because every set of eyes in the room had turned to me. I couldn't see them because the lights were so bright but I could feel them. So many sets of eyes watching me. All those people awaiting my first song.

I didn't usually get stage fright, I wasn't generally a nervous girl, but that night something felt different.

That night for the first night since I'd started working those long evenings at The Angel, I felt watched.

I just didn't realise why until it was much too late.

#sam fender imagines #sam fender fanfiction #catb fics #catb fanfiction #catb imagines #pacifymebby born to die

6 notes · View notes

nikolasongsa · 8 months

Text

When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdenius—a Briton of the Clay, Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?"

And the aged Hobden answered: "I remember as a lad My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad. An' the more that you neeglect her the less you'll get her clean. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen."

So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style — Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile, And in drouthy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, We can trace the lines they followed sixteen hundred years ago.

Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do, And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. Then did robbers enter Britain from across the Northern main And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane.

Well could Ogier work his war-boat—well could Ogier wield his brand— Much he knew of foaming waters—not so much of farming land. So he called to him a Hobden of the old unaltered blood, Saying: "What about that River-piece; she doesn't look no good ?"

And that aged Hobden answered "'Tain't for me to interfere. But I've known that bit o' meadow now for five and fifty year. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but I've proved it time on ' time, If you want to change her nature you have got to give her lime!"

Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours' solemn walk, And drew back great abundance of the cool, grey, healing chalk. And old Hobden spread it broadcast, never heeding what was in't— Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then we find a flint.

Ogier died. His sons grew English—Anglo-Saxon was their name— Till out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came; For Duke William conquered England and divided with his men, And our Lower River-field he gave to William of Warenne.

But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy autumn night And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. So, said William to his Bailiff as they rode their dripping rounds: "Hob, what about that River-bit—the Brook's got up no bounds ?"

And that aged Hobden answered: "'Tain't my business to advise, But ye might ha' known 'twould happen from the way the valley lies. Where ye can't hold back the water you must try and save the sile. Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd spile!"

They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willow-trees, And planks of elms behind 'em and immortal oaken knees. And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away You can see their faithful fragments, iron-hard in iron clay.

Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto, I, who own the River-field, Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs All sorts of powers and profits which—are neither mine nor theirs,

I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. I can fish—but Hobden tickles—I can shoot—but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege, Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge.

Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew ? Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew ? Confiscate his evening faggot under which my conies ran, And summons him to judgment ? I would sooner summons Pan.

His dead are in the churchyard—thirty generations laid. Their names were old in history when Domesday Book was made; And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine.

Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, Would I lose his large sound counsel, miss his keen amending eyes. He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, And if flagrantly a poacher—'tain't for me to interfere.

"Hob, what about that River-bit ?" I turn to him again, With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne. "Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but"—and here he takes command. For whoever pays the taxes old Mus' Hobden owns the land.

-The Land, "Diversity of Creatures"

#Rudyard Kipling #Poachers #Poaching #Wild nature #Poem #English Poems

6 notes · View notes

rockyjulesxx · 1 year

Text

the correct marauders & co. head cannons pt. 2

Lily Evans

bisexual icon. uses she/her pronouns but does not correct someone if they use something else because even though she loves womenhood and feels connected to femininity, she doesn’t really care about gender.

raging activist. this is seen through her style because even though she dresses very light in pastels and soft skirts and dresses, all of her tote bags have activist propaganda sewn onto them.

she knits all of her hats and sweaters and makes a bunch for remus too.

she loves her light cottage core aesthetic, but she also heavily delves into grunge styles.

she has long wavy red hair, styled with curtain bangs.

she’s plus sized and loves showing off her tummy.

freckles <3

she has some light patch work tattoos that aren’t very noticeable across her body.

she has beautifully sculpted eyebrows that are frequently complemented upon, and has rich forest green eyes that james won’t shut up about.

shes 5”3-5”6 in height but will stomp on you with her chunky heels.

lily is welsh and loves talking to remus in their shared native tongue.

Marlene McKinnon

RAGING LESBIAN.

loves her punk style constantly says “it wasn’t a phase mom.”

she has platinum blonde dyed hair that she purposely let’s her natural hair peak through at the roots. it’s roughly shopped just above her shoulders with bangs.

has a medusa piercing along with many others and tattoos.

wears an excess amount of rings and eyeliner.

docs everyday all day with leatherjackets she steals from sirius’s closet and decorates with her own patches and buttons.

shes 5”6-5”9 in height (constantly tries to gaslight everyone that she’s taller than sirius even though they’re clearly the same height. she refused to see it though because “she’s not the same height as a little bitch.”)

loves boobs, especially her own, and often wears bralettes as shirts.

she’s an italian immigrant and constantly tells everyone that italy is better than britain.

she’s also bipolar and originally bonded with sirius due to similar struggles he experienced with bpd. she was the only person sirius felt comfortable with telling everything about how his mental illness truly effected him.

Dorcas Meadows

unlabelled but used they/them pronouns.

they’re very spiritual and love astrology. they keep crystals on them nearly all the time.

they're black and have their hair braided (they braid their own hair and think about opening up a small business to do others). they weave castles and charms into their hair too <3.

loves wearing long skirts with crop tops. it’s their go to staple outfit that never fails.

they love walking around barefoot. they say it feels more freeing (very much daisy johns and the six of them).

doesn’t really like to be called a hippie, they think that they dress more grunge than anything.

they’re about 5”5-5”7 in height. (marlene loves that they never wear heels, she likes being a lot taller than her partner).

they don’t mind being referred to as feminine terms such as girlfriend because they believe that “feminine” words are just words and have no real meaning because societal gender ideals are fake.

Regulus Black

asexual and biromantic. uses he/him or they/them pronouns because they’re autistic and don’t really care or align with societies ideals on gender.

he has a constant frown on his face that causes his brows to pinch together (sirius always tries to smooth the line forming there, telling reg that “wrinkles aren’t pretty, what does he have to be frowning about anyways?”)

whereas sirius has high cheek bones, regulus has a strong jawline and a prominent chin that points out.

they also have a very prominent brow bone that casts a dark shadow over their eyes, making them look almost black instead of blue. this eye structure is different from sirius’ double lidded eyes (regulus hates when people say that he looks similar to sirius and constantly looks for facial differences between them- there are a lot, the two don’t actually look THAT similar).

his style is very minimal, he often wears a plain white tee with black jeans.

their hair is short, dark and curly. they let their curls fall over their face and refuse to slick it back because that’s that his father used to do.

he’s 5”8-5”10 in height (he loves the few inch difference between him and sirius because it annoys his brother to no end).

they’re also half french and east asian.

i could honestly make more for the rest of the gang, this headconnon shit is fun because i’m just so right

#regulus black #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans #the marauders #marauders era #marauders headcanon #oppsimadethemallgay #dead gay wizards

33 notes · View notes

climbthemountain2020 · 4 months

Text

Hope of Spring - Chapter 8

Here we are, back again with some favorite characters--new and old!

Find this also on Ao3

Find Ch. 7 here

Penny awoke from a night of absolutely worthless sleep disoriented and exhausted. She’d stared at the ceiling half the night, talking herself out of sprinting across the hall to break down Tamlin’s door. When she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she was plagued by dreams of emerald eyes and the regret of not just putting her lips on his when she’d had the chance. She knew it was the right thing to do to let him take his own steps at his own pace, but she was truly beginning to struggle to fight the pull that drew her to him–a constant buzzing in her blood that wanted him closer, closer, closer.

When she came downstairs, Penny found a note from Tamlin letting her know he’d gone into town to grab some things, and that he’d be back for lunch. She went to help in the kitchen and grab some breakfast before she decided what she would do for the day.

“I heard someone was out very late with our High Lord last night,” said Ira, the scullery maid, with a pointed look at Penny and the collective oohs and ahhs of the rest of the kitchen girls. Penny’s cheeks shone scarlett and she hid behind her apple before she murmured that it wasn’t what it looked like.

“Yeah? Then what’s the blush for, Miss Penny?”

“Oh, hush Ira,” said Tally as she breezed through. “Leave the poor girl alone. She and the High Lord’s business is none of yours. Even if they were cuddling by candlelight on the gazebo.” The kitchen burst into laughter, and Penny felt she might burst into flame on the spot.

“It’s not like that!” She groaned, throwing her hands over her face. “Tamlin and I are friends. And, even so, he doesn’t feel that way about me. It wouldn’t matter regardless.” She could almost hear the brow Tally lifted in her direction.

“You can deny it all you want, girl, but males don’t look at their friends the way the High Lord looks at you. And the High Lord doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you.” There was a collective mumble of agreement amongst the kitchen staff.

“Like you’ve hung every star in the sky!” Ira practically sang as she loaded her pots and pans and headed out of the kitchen.

With a sigh, Penny left the kitchen and decided to take a walk, but not before snatching a still-warm basket of spiced fruit tarts to take with her.

The weather here was a delight to her every single day. She’d only seen rain maybe three times since she came, and even those days were absolutely beautiful, the rain turning the already lush greenery into something deep and magical. Tamlin had told her that it would be spring here year round, as the name implied, but that towards what would be the Winter Solstice that they occasionally got some spring snows. She wouldn’t mind, she didn’t think, in the lovely manor. There wasn’t much of a chance to use the beautiful fireplaces that adorned each room, but she’d make sure that hers was well stocked long before any snow came to the court.

Penny traveled out to the barracks, catching a few sentries she knew by name leaving. She dropped off the basket of tarts to much thanks from them before securing one for herself, then she meandered off towards the meadow near the woods. The breeze skittered over her bare arms as she tipped her head back to feel the sun on her face. Paradise. This must truly be paradise.

She thought about what Ira and Tally had said to her. She knew Tamlin had wanted to kiss her last night. She could feel it in a way that had left her so painfully certain that it had felt like an iron grip on her heart when he’d chosen to walk away. What was worse? Him not wanting her back at all? Or him wanting her and hating it? She sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she walked. She didn’t want to ruin what they had, and she would continue to let him take the lead on things, despite what the staff thought or didn’t think about the way he watched her.

The tiniest tingle up her spine gave her pause, but she tried to keep her face neutral as she walked. It didn’t feel quite the way it did when Tamlin was nearby, but it was a similar, milder feeling. Was this the magic of something else? Or someone else?

She continued walking, hoping to draw whatever it was out of the edge of the woods. It didn’t feel dangerous to her, but she was also too aware that she was out here alone, and she wasn’t nearly adept enough at fighting yet to hold her own for any real period of time. So she aimlessly wandered in a bit of a loop, drew a bit closer to the forest’s edge, and started to head back towards the manor with a forced air of nonchalance.

As she brought her path towards the woods, she could feel the lightest of brushes on her back and arms, though nothing was showing in her periphery. She began to hum to herself, hoping to draw out whoever lurked nearby, sensing again they meant her no harm. Once the manor was almost within her sights again, she sighed and turned to the trees with her hands on her hips.

“Are you going to come out at some point? Or just lurk there?” She demanded pointedly.

Without any other prompting, a massive winged male stepped straight out of the shadows. Dark hair tumbled over his forehead, and his hazel eyes focused on her. There was the slightest smirk on his lips as he asked “How long have you known I was following you?”

“Oh, a while.” She returned the smile. “Azriel, right?” He seemed mildly taken aback, though the emotion flickered on his face and was gone as quickly as it had come.

“It seems Lucien was right in his warning to not underestimate you.” His smirk deepened. “The new Lady of Spring, then?” He raised an eyebrow in a friendly challenge. Penny let out a laugh.

“No, just Penny will do. Nice to meet you, Shadowsinger. I assume Rhysand is having you survey after Lucien’s report back yesterday?” Azriel walked out of the woods into the light, the midday sun catching on his tucked wings and painting them a beautiful red.

“You assume correctly. Not that we don’t trust you but–”

“You don’t trust me.” She cut in. “It’s okay, I haven’t done anything yet to make you trust me. Is there something you’d like to know? Or shall we dance around it a bit more?” She leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. His smirk widened into a grin.

“Oh, Penny, I think we’re going to get along. Tell me first, how is it you knew all of the information that you put in the letter?”

“I’m not from here. I fell through worlds, not entirely unlike the female Rhys and Feyre saw on Starfall four years ago. The only difference is I stopped here, and I have no idea what triggered it. In my world, we have books about all of you here in Prythian, so I was aware of all of the history up until the point where the books had stopped, about three years ago from now. How’s Gwyn doing, by the way?” The Shadowsinger’s cheeks tinged pink as his eyes widened.

“She’s–we’re–she’s just fine.”

“Hmm, flustered, are we? I’m awfully glad to see it. She was always my favorite story. Maybe you can introduce us one day.” A fondness bloomed across his face at that. “So, anyway, I don’t know how much help I can truly be to you all, but I wanted to see if perhaps there was something I might know that you don’t. I know the Koeschi storyline hadn’t developed yet, but there are many theories and bits of information I might be able to share with the Night Court. Whether or not it will help at all is unknown, but I couldn't simply sit by here and not offer.”

“I’m sure Tamlin was thrilled.” She grimaced.

“He…was not. But he agreed to help me.” Azriel nodded in confirmation. “Please let Rhys know that I am willing to discuss whatever I can to help. Tamlin will be amenable to this, but Rhys must be respectful of him and his boundaries. The second that Tamlin is made to feel lesser or is hurt intentionally, the deal is off, and I will no longer be helping. Please make sure that’s entirely clear to anyone coming here.”

“Understood. I can do that.” A smile bloomed on her face.

“Thank you, Azriel.” She was quiet for a moment. “So, I need to know what in the world you were thinking with the whole necklace debacle? PLEASE tell me how you got that sorted out.”

Embarrassment flooded his face as he began to say “Listen, it was not my proudest moment, but–” He didn’t finish his sentence before a wall crashed into her body, flinging her into the woods.

________________________

Penny came to with her ears ringing like a bomb had gone off. She groaned as she craned her neck to look at the scene around her. She could see blurred figures fighting a few yards away. What the fuck had hit her? As her sense of hearing came back, she could tell Azriel was fighting a group of strange looking creatures, and by the looks of it, he was wildly outnumbered. She could make out serpentine features on the bodies of men, and there were six of them against just Azriel. Were these the naga?

Though Azriel had his powers, it looked as though his sword had been knocked away. Penny, slightly hidden by the bushes near the road, pushed herself to standing and hid behind the trees. She could tell her shoulder was injured and maybe her left ankle, but she could also feel panic and adrenaline humming through her body.

I could get to the sword. Slowly she crept forward, hoping she could escape their notice if they thought she’d been knocked out. At the very last minute, one of the creatures saw her movements and lunged away from the pack towards her. She jerked to her feet and sprinted for the sword, diving at the last minute, and rolled, slamming the hilt upwards right as the monstrous thing fell on her. Dark, putrid blood spilled out of the naga’s chest and onto her neck as she sputtered and pushed to roll out from under it, pulling the sword out as she rose.

Azriel had killed another one, but his wing appeared to be injured, and the others had noticed their fallen friend. In the distance, Penny could hear frantic hoofbeats, and she prayed it was the sentries coming. She lifted the sword to help face the remaining nagas in order to try and buy time. They didn’t pause. They leapt forward, slashing deep talons at her face.

“What are you?” One hissed at her in a voice that chilled her to the bone. She swung her sword upwards in an arc, but miscalculated how heavy it would be, only gouging through the creature's upper arm. As it lunged again, a great horse barreled into the clearing as the creature cornering Penny lost its head.

“Tamlin!” He was here. He had come. She could have cried with relief.

“Penny, run! Run back to the manor right now!” She scuttled backwards, but in the fray, a single remaining naga had crept behind her in an ambush. His horrid, slick arm hauled her up against him, pressing harshly against her neck and leaving her no room to even struggle. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This is how you’re going to die. She thrashed against the creature’s hold, trying to execute any of the learned maneuvers Tamlin had taught her, but the creature was too tall and had her gripped too tightly. You should have kissed him last night, she thought distantly. Now you’ll never get the chance.

The anguish in Tamlin’s eyes was palpable. “Let her go! I’ll give you whatever you want. Let her go.” But Azriel, having killed another beast, took a heartbeat to throw his knife and strike the naga holding her in the shoulder. Penny had been ready for an opening, and jammed her elbow back into the creature's sternum as she twisted, causing it to lurch forward right onto the knife she’d ripped out of its shoulder. It pierced through the creatures chest with ease, and the naga slumped forward and knocked them both to the ground

Azriel ran over to heave the monster off of her and offered her a hand up.

“Thank you. I thought I was done for.” She panted. A roar guttered through the air and their heads jerked to Tamlin. The two remaining naga had him pinned to the ground, one holding his head back by his hair and the other seconds away from going for his throat with those rows and rows of sharp teeth.

An anger older than time itself wound its way sharply though Penny’s body. Without thought, with no planning or foresight, she threw her hands forward at least hoping to summon some of that flame from the other night, praying to every god that would listen that it would miss Tamlin.

What happened instead was a blue surge of power shot forth from her hands, cutting the naga at Tamlin’s throat clean in half. The remaining naga released its hold on Tamlin, terror in its eyes as it began to flee, but Penny was faster. She stepped forward and held her hands up once again, stronger this time, tearing the naga apart on the spot with what looked like a bright azure surge of pure energy.

Tamlin and Azriel both looked at each other and then back at Penny, who couldn’t pull her gaze away from her hands. She was distantly aware she was crying, but everything suddenly seemed very far away.

She could feel the deep gouge on her arm bleeding down to her fingertips now, and the panic was beginning to set in.

Tamlin sprung to his feet and sprinted to her, grabbing her to him tightly and putting a hand to the back of her head to press it to his chest.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You saved my life, Penny. I didn’t know you could do that.” A sob left her chest unbidden as she gripped his shirt in her hands. She was out of control, the sobs heaving her chest so deeply that the world started spinning. Tamlin pulled back and gripped her arms. “Penny, breathe. I need you to breathe.”

She looked down to where her hands clutched his and froze when she saw talons beginning to appear from between her knuckles. She felt like she was going to be sick. “What’s happening to me?” She cried out, her breaths coming in fast pants that she couldn’t control. The corners of her vision were blacking out, and her neck began to tingle.

“She’s having a panic attack. Penny, come lay down.” A rogue wing sprouted from her back, just like one of Azriel’s, and she shrieked.

“What’s happening?!” She shrieked hoarsely.

“Let me call for help. Tamlin, please.” She could distantly hear Azriel.

“Yes, okay. Do it. Please hurry.” She barely heard Tamlin begging her to breathe before she succumbed to the darkness.

#tamlin #tamlin oc #tamlin x oc #acotar #a court of thorns and roses au #a court of thorns and roses #lucien #elucien #feysand #gwynriel #nessian #pro tamlin #hope of spring

4 notes · View notes

accio-peach · 2 years

Text

new beginnings

Skyrim fanfcition - AU with no Dragonborn or dragons

Brynjolf x OC x Niruin

How many parts??? Who knows?

Part one

I wasn’t made for confrontation or fighting.

Growing up when we would race across the meadow I would always fall behind– teased for being the slowest. When we grew older the boys began fighting to see who was the strongest. I never even was given the chance to see. My parents were strict and protected me from the dangers of the world the best they could, but I was so curious. Many nights I snuck out to gaze up from the roof to the night time sky and watch it change its hues from purple to green, till it turned to almost daylight. Though I was not fast I needed to learn to be calculated and quick on my feet. I wasn’t strong, but in a quick getaway being able to sneak myself into a small area and hide in the shadows till they passed seemed to work. My sneakiness only heightened when my parents died. I had to make my own way without them. No family. No friends to take me in. I wasn’t able to maintain a job with the inn till I was 17 where I learned how to make the best money Solitude could offer me.

Being a bar maiden had its bad days, but the good nights rained gold.

Men from all over Skyrim came every night flaunting their wealth to anyone who would pay them mind. I would serve them all night, batting my eyes, laugh at their jokes, let them squeeze me wherever they liked. When I got them where I wanted, I slipped a small, tasteless, powder into their ale.

I never killed.

Drugging men for their money wasn’t the worst thing I could do. I needed to earn coin somehow and some men love to flaunt it for pretty girls in low cut dresses. I would let the final drink sit in them for a few minutes before suggesting we go into the last room on the left.

My luck was going to run out eventually and I was bound to get caught.

A bosmer in rugged brown leathers and a hood with a wide smile watched my work from afar without me realizing. I was never so easily caught off guard, but he managed to catch me as I led the wealthy Orc to the room in the back.

“Bit sloppy.” He whispered into the nape of my neck with a dagger pressed to my back.

“Taking a woman from behind? Cheap,” I groaned at the sharp point dug into my spine. I allowed my newest victim to slide down the wall while the Bosmer turned me to face him, the dagger now at my navel.

“You have to be ready for anything, pretty thing.” He withdrew the dagger as his gaze traveled all along my body.

In a swift movement I pulled my concealed dagger from my thigh holster, pressing it to his neck, pinning him to the wall.

“Quite the student,” he winced with a smile.

I rolled my eyes, with my dagger still pressed to his neck I dug into his front pocket retrieving the coin purse I felt him take from me only moments ago.

“Thanks for keeping it warm for me.” I took a small step back and holstered my dagger. Digging into the purse I pulled 40 septims out. “Keep your mouth shut?”

He huffed and rubbed his neck. “You are wasting potential here. Keep your coin. Use it to take a carriage to Riften. Find a woman named Vex in The Bee and Barb. Tell her Niruin sent you.”

I sneered, “Go across Skyrim on a whim? Thanks. I am fine, Niruin.”

“Call this good intuition,” Niruin pulled out a small rock with a diamond etching on it with a circle in the middle. “I am part of a little group–”

“You’re part of the Thieves Guild?” I replied in a hush. I moved further down the hall, pulling him with me.

“Don’t get excited,” he replied in a hush with a grin sprawled across his face. “I want Vex to look you over. I am impressed. Watched you the past week. You do this every night, multiple times a night? If I wasn’t from the Guild I would be in one of these rooms right now I bet. Happily by the looks of you.” He grabbed hold of my hand and placed the smooth river stone into it. “Head over to Riften. I’ll be back over there after I wrap up business here.”

=============================================================

Riften had a different feel to it than Solitude ever had. Felt cozy compared to the tall, overbearing, Solitude walls. The air felt different.

I stuck out like a giant’s thumb I noticed however.

Solitude being one of the wealthiest cities in Skyrim meant my clothes never appeared dirty. I owned clothes in colors uncommon to most. My hair is clean regularly so my black hair would maintain shine.

I looked wealthy as I came off the carriage. I smoothed my dress and hiked it up to my hip, pinning it there. Attempting to try and look less affluent.

This was not what I wanted to give off to bystanders in a city of thieves. Showing off wealth carelessly shows you are willing to lose it as well.

Once I had checked myself into The Bee and Barb I pulled open my bag and found the extra dress I had. Plain brown dress that fell off my shoulders with a tight fitting darker brown leather bodice. Much better than the other finer dress adorned in a purple color I had been wearing.

I gathered the dress, hoping the goods store was still open.

“Welcome to the Pawned Pra– you’re a new face. We love to see new faces!”

“Just passing through,” I smiled, setting the dress on the counter.

“This is a beautiful dress. Couldn’t possibly be selling?”

He began to inspect the dress and my persistent eyes began to wander.

Ice Wraith Teeth. I needed more for the powder.

“Unfortunately, I do have to sell it,” I pretended to pout. “Could you give me a good price?” I mustered one of my sweetest smiles as the Ice Wraith Teeth cradled my dress pocket.

“I’m positive we could give you a fair price for it. Let me grab my wife.” He smiled and stepped around the corner behind a door frame and I listened intently as his voice grew further away. My eyes looked briefly over the counter. They danced around a full coin purse beside a ledger. I tugged on my lip between my teeth, but abstained from my temptation. I continued to palm ingredients on the shelf into my pouch and pockets that could be used to make some needed potions and powders.

“My wife loves the dress. You both seem to be the same size as well,” the owner spoke from around the corner. “She told me to pay whatever price you want.” He met the counter with a grin. “Your lucky day I suppose.”

“I suppose it is. 150 septims,” I tested.

“Pretty steep. You’re lucky it is for my wife,” the owner looked under the counter, coins cluttering as he counted. He came out from under and handed the amount to me in my hand. “Try to not come back in for a while unless you’re looking to buy,” he laughed.

=============================================================

The Bee and Barb came alive at night and the room filled with the townspeople. Their laughter echoes and the music played by the bard hums throughout. I made my way through the tables as I found the counter.

“Just an ale,” I nodded, pinning my hair up with a metal pin. The Argonian woman looked unpleasant as she handed me the ale. I couldn’t control my own reaction and sneered back at her. “Here’s your coin. Didn’t realize I was inconveniencing you.” I threw the septims on the counter and turned to see a tall woman with snow white hair. She was attractive, but not in the most conventional sense. She had extremely defined cheekbones and jawline. She was quite a bit taller than me and appeared to have some muscle on her. One feature that I immediately noticed was what she was wearing.

She was wearing the same armor as Niruin. Thieves Guild armor.

I worked my way towards the white haired woman. “Vex,” I started.

“What is it to you? “ She spat, cutting me off, her eyebrows furrowing

“Niruin sent me.” I glanced around us and moved us to the side. Vex seemed interested and followed. “He sent me–”

“Is that why he isn’t back yet?” She scoffed as she rolled her eyes. “Get to the point. Why did Niruin send you? Is he okay?”

I rolled my tongue against my cheek in irritation. “If you stopped cutting me off I could get a word in, you know?” I brushed my hair back behind my shoulders as I began to explain, “He liked how I worked. Watched me for a bit and thought I should come out. I am, well–” I struggled to get the words out. I paused and looked Vex in her eyes. “I’m a thief from Solitude. I worked in an inn as a bar maiden. I got men very drunk then I drugged them and robbed them. I also am quite good with sneaking away when needed. I was only caught once and that was by, well, Niruin. He put a dagger to my back and I pulled my dagger from my thigh and brought it to his neck and disarmed him.”

“Bullshit. Niruin wouldn’t have been disarmed by a twit like you,” Vex laughed and glanced around the room.

“He wanted you to look at me. He thought I worked well. Specifically, he wanted you to see me and watch how I work.” I pulled the smooth river stone from my pocket and offered it to Vex. I raised my eyebrow to Vex.

She picked it up reluctantly and tucked it into her pocket. She stepped back and looked me up and down. “Stupid, son of a bitch,” she groaned. “Well, you can’t do anything in a dress. Are you going to change?”

“Niruin watched me do everything in a dress. I am sure he actually liked watching me do everything in a dress.” I grinned, testing her.

“Watch it,” she sneered. “Go on then. Show me.” She waved her hand to the crowd. “Dress and all, princess.”

My grin didn’t waiver as I removed the pin from my hair letting my black wavy hair fall down. I walked over to a man who was speaking with a blonde-haired woman. His attention waived from the blonde’s once I had made my flirtation known. She huffed and stormed away in aggravation as I twirled my hair. I learned the gentleman in fine clothes name was Bolli from just the quick conversation that I was able to have.

“I’m new to town, Bolli, you have to show me around sometime!” I purred as I rested my hand on his shoulder.

He fell in closer to me and smiled at me, “What is your name again?”

“Ila. What is your profession?” I smiled, my hand drifting further down his arm, twirling small circles.

“That’s a beautiful name–”

“Whoops! I am so sorry.” I lost my balance and opted to fall into him, allowing my hand to fall further down and drop to his pocket where I quickly retrieved a few items and palmed them into my pocket.

“You alright there, Ila?”

“Yes, yes, quite. My apologies. The heat– you see, I am not quite used to the warmth of Riften and I must have drank a bit too much. I am going to get a glass of water,” I nodded and walked away back to Vex with a giddy grin.

I pulled out a blue gem and looked it over in my hand carefully. “This isn’t a sapphire, but he had it in his pocket. Let us see. Hm,” I pulled out a couple other smaller things. “Few septims, a silver ring–”

“Practically nothing,” Vex spat, annoyance tainting her voice.

I smiled and pulled out the last item I had taken. A silver, dirty, key belonging to a door.

“Practically nothing, you’re right. Care to take a look around his house?”

That was the first time I saw Vex grin.

#fanfic #skyrim au #skyrim #brynjolf fanfic #brynjolf #niruin #brynjolf x reader #peach’s fics

22 notes · View notes

gritsandbrits · 1 year

Note

001 for Sonic the Hedgehog, 003 for Chris Thorndyke, 002 for SonElise

001 Fandom Sonic

My favorite character is Tikal

My least favorite is Mephiles

5 Favorite ships: antoine x bunny, sallicole, khanally, Sonudis (sonic x @crusherthedoctor 's fancharacters Trudy) & Tom x Maddie

Character i find most attractive: Shadow

Character I would marry:

Character I would be best friends with: Rouge

A random thought: why aren't there any aquatic anthros :(

Unpopular Opinion: Marine > Sticks

Canon OTP: Khanally

Noncanon OTP: Sonic x Lani (my OC)

Most badass character: Too many to count but a quick shoutout to KNUCKLES

Most Epic Villain: EGGMAN OF COURSE I love how his inventions span from servants like Orbot to fucking GUNDAMS movie Eggman especially for actually having him be the main threat instead of getting Upstaged or written OOC "Eggdad"

Pairing I am not a fan of: Sonally, made them both OOC, too soap-opera for my tastes and personality clashes

Character i feel the writers screw up: Elise, could've gotten a badass equivalent to a disney princess (though they're already badass) instead we get a poorly thought out Self insert

Favorite friendship: Shadow and Rouge, Amy and that little bird. Also Blaze and Marine

Character i most identify with: Big the cat I just be minding my own business but get dragged into sum bullshit anyways 😫

Character I wish I could be: blaze because she's rich duh also fire is my birth element

002 Sonelise

When I started shipping them: a couple of years ago after seeing cute fanart. But coming across @solarhood 's blog really increased my liking for the pair.

My thoughts: Gets way too much hate, i see it has lots of potential in fanfics, it is not and never was bestiality, and it can be a good romance or a good friendship. Plus Amy isn't unfairly demonized.

What makes me happy about them: their interactions were so sweet, especially the scene in the meadows.

What makes me sad about them: that they had to give up their memories :(

Things done in fanfic that annoy me: when people try to improve Elise by making her a Blaze Clone. Or turning her into a hedgehog just to make her ship with sonic more "palatable" listen Elise can still be badass without being turned into another Blaze/Sally copy

Things I look for in fanfic: again better characterizing that isn't turning Elise into Xena, also amy not being demonized for melodrama. Sonic & Elise more time together (with in character Sonic)

My Wishlist: that elise comes back with a new design that (let 👏 her 👏 wear 👏 different clothes!!) & reuniting with Sonic

Who I'd be comfortable them ending up with if not each other: with Sonic I don't mind him with Amy or a new character. With Elise, Surprisingly KNUCKLES. Both were isolated and had to spend their childhood into roles they didn't ask for so the parallels are already there. Difference is Elise can help Knuckles be comfortable around girls without overstepping his boundaries, and he can help her learn to master her power and be more open with her emotions even especially the negative ones.

My happily ever after: Sonic and Elise somehow recovering their full memories and becoming friends again. Elise decides to travel the world with him not just for personal pleasure but to instill alliances and gain more life experience

003 alright last one and it's *uighh* chris....thorndyke 😒😒😒

How I feel about this character: TERRIBLE he's the reason why I made Noelani in the first place!! Unnecessary audience surrogate who didn't even do a good job in the role he was that hateable!

Any/all people i ship romantically with this character: the only person I ship him with is with a therapist!!

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Okay maybe his relationship with his servants were a little sweet then again not surprised if they forced to act like that because he signs their paychecks

My unpopular opinion about this character: he isn't the worse creator's pet I know he wasn't as awful as Kicker from Energon or Light Yagami

One thing I wished. Would happen/had happened with this character in canon: That he faced some actual damn consequences especially in the last episode of s2! Ground that boy! Don't just let him get away with dooming two planets!

Favorite friendship for this character: Surprisingly him and Tails, too bad it wasn't enough to salvage him

My crossover ship: him and Adrien would make great friends and that's not a compliment

#gb asks #my opinion #sonelise #anti chris thorndyke

8 notes · View notes

y0url0caln33dy4rtist · 12 hours

Text

Writing a book ~ but there are mentions of characters from ana huyans “twisted” series (read it. It’s amazing!) and I have some WRITERS BLOCK. The story is pretty good so far. I’ll write it in down below.

———————————————————

ANGEL

I snorted in disbelief as I strode into Bridget’s castle, prince Rhys had accidentally ripped her dress and now I needed to design a new one. I groaned as I thought of how many hours it would take. I sighed and then walked into my room. I sat by the desk and started sketching, after a while I gazed at the country of eladorra and it’s beauty. My hand flew over the blank page easily sketching and pricing together a design that was blue, a sky blue like the skies of Eladorra and green gems that you could only see when the light was right. I sighed smiling. I chewed my lip and then sketched a brilliant bold red dress with a glitter corset for Ava, my eyes almost shone with happiness as i finished off the others dresses. I sighed and sketched a simple black dress for myself, I added silver streaks and small diamonds that shone like stars. I smiled and then took a picture and sent it to Stella my best friend. She replied immediately with a love heart emoji and in all caps “OMFG SO GOOD 😍” I laughed as I read it to myself and then I flopped on the bed, I frowned reasoning there was two beds. Maybe someone else needed to bunk with me? I shrugged and then walked outside and spotted Bridget cuddling meadows, the royal cat, by the picnic spot. I sat down and then smiled “why is there two beds in my room?” Bridget chewed her lip sheepishly “It turns out you are having to bunk with one of Rys friends” I laughed softly shrugging my shoulders “that’s no problem! Is it Casiano I’m bunking with?” I named Rhys best friend. Bridget sighed apologetically “no sorry…it’s his older brother Alexandrov Volikov…” I frowned because I hated sharing a room with strangers but when I saw Brigets stricken face I painted on a smile “it’s not biggie. Who knows? Maybe he can help me with dress ideas” I said enthusiastically and Bridget winced and then nodded smiling widely. I flashed a grin and then turned back to my room, I walked into the bathroom and then turned on the shower and stripped. I climbed into the shower and then started washing myself.

Alexandrov.

I scowled annoyed as I exited my black SUV. I would only ever go to the other side of the world for Rhys, no matter how much I say I hate him with a passion. He doesn’t believe it and I’m half certain I’m lying but it’s our usual friendship pattern. I glanced around and then nodded at Rhys. He smiled and nodded back, I smirked and then stride up the stairs to my room. I narrowed my eyes as I heard the shower on, must be the cleaners I thought as I dropped my stuff and then chucked it onto my bed. Another bed was tucked away in the corner and a suitcase stowed under it, i scowled deeper. I hated sharing a room with someone. Even my own little brother and I’m usually tolerant of him. The shower stopped and I scoffed, i suppose I’ll meet him then I sat on an armchair and started reading a book. The sound of a lick being turned made me glance up and the door to the bathroom swung open to reveal a woman standing around 5,4 with long wavy dark brown hair. The end of her hair was bleached to a pale blonde and she stood still soaked from her shower blinking in shock at me. I scoffed studying her “your my…roommate” I said pushing as much disdain I could muster into my tone. She crossed her arms and scowled at me. I blinked in shock that she actually had more backbone than most of my “partners” in business. I narrowed my eyes and then glanced at her face, colossal mistake. Her face was heart shaped and her lips full and plump, my cock twitched and I thought those are some cock sucking lips, my eyes widened a fraction as the thought crossed my mind. I scowled deeper and my jaw tightened. I hated loosing control. Fuck. Anyway. She had a small dusting of freckles across her nose, that was slightly tiled up but still in a button shape, her eyes were brown starbursts around the pupil with green soaking the whole thing up. A lilac grey lined the outer rim of her eye and blended into the bright green. She had curtain bangs that framed her face perfectly making her look like a goddess. I silently blinked and then she frowned and walked to the closet. She huffed as she saw that I had my clothes strewn and shoved into it, I smirked tamping down a chuckle. She scowled and then I leant over and grabbed her suitcase, I emptied everything out and then grabbed her clothes and threw them into the river below the window. The woman shrieked in horror and glare viciously at me, a man lesser than me would of flinched hard at but due to the years spent dealing with worse I faced her calmly with a small smirk pasted on my face. She hisses and then stomped over to the closet and tugged on one of my black designer fitted shirts. I suppressed a laugh as the button down fell to her knees and then I frowned as I looked at her “your fucking tiny” she glowered darkly at me and then sat down.

angel

I swear I will gut this man like a fish! I though angrily to myself as I typed on my phone sending the designs to my boss and then a smooth deep masculine voice cut me off my train of thought “I’d rather not get ‘gutted like a fish’ thanks” I turned to find alexandrov standing behind me smirking as if he hadn’t just thrown thousands of pounds worth of clothes out the window, it took a lot for me to pause and think about what he said. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment and I glared at the wall “I said that out loud didn’t I?” I mutter

0 notes

bidstrup92hewitt · 2 years

Text

Have You Ever Heard the Rhino Story?

This is a new story about just how we all proceed through life being conditioned to think a certain way to keep some else happy. This particular will hopefully start your eyes up to the options you have is obviously, so I am going to explain what I actually mean by typically the Rhino story in that case relate it to be able to the way you are the Rhino. It had been about a new herd of bovine that had developed up together. They each ate together, rested together, grazed jointly. Day in day out, year in year out they performed a similar thing all typically the time. They have been conditioned to be the certain way plus were fine using that because they were taken attention of by the particular farmer. They had been given as well as protection and in go back they did while they were advised. But in the middle of them was one which felt different, acquired thicker skin, acquired different aspirations and even wanted more in life than just residing the life of mediocrity. He knew their heart wasn't within being like typically the rest of the particular cows. But did not realise why he would want to quit the security associated with being cared for about the farm plus wanting to get different from almost all his friend and even family. Having been puzzled and didn't know what to do about his feelings. ( and zero I am not necessarily talking about your pet taken from the closet). Eventually instead of being in the center of the field this individual made a decision to just sit down on the advantage associated with the field on his own. It was below that whenever he appeared around he noticed a greener pasture through the inclines and mountains, in addition to knew that was where he wanted to be able to be. He knew there and after that of which was what he was going to do, even though this individual didn't know precisely how to arrive there. That will was all he would dream about intended for days. It absolutely was the dream big plenty of to wake your pet up early plus keep him upwards late every single day. Therefore one day he or she broke free from the fences and even made his solution to the greener pastures. Along the way he came across road blocks, hurdles and info reasons for him to turn back and get back into his / her comfort zone, but still decided to keep working at it because he knew they had made their mind up in needing something better regarding himself. He has not been focusing on just what he didn't would like he just visualised being on typically the greener pasture. Ultimately he got to the greener meadow and the sense of satisfaction associated with was amazing. If he looked back from what he had to overcome in order to get there this individual saw the meadow where he arrived from, and do a person know what they saw? He saw a read about Rhino's. He then realised this individual too was a Rhino and understood precisely why he felt diverse. It all manufactured sense all involving a sudden. The only concern was that the rest regarding the heard have been all made to believe they have been cows. They were all conditioned to consider and act the fact that farmer wanted these to be. The plus side was that will he knew this individual had finally busted free from the particular brainwashing. He knew he probably had not been the only 1 who felt the way he do, but he has been the only person to acquire action on his / her dream. That will be the only distinction between the productive and the unsuccessful within life, taking activity on dreams in addition to carrying on when others surrender. Ideally you can discover how this pertains to people who find themselves applied and internet marketing business owners. The employed will be the Rhino's that are led to think these are cows. An individual can proceed becoming brainwashed to believe that will the job experts that gives you a pay check and hence enables you to meet your economic commitments and appearance after your loved ones. An individual can carry on thinking it's FINE to climb someone else's career steps, get paid the tenth of precisely how much you create your employer, have your working hrs and holidays dictated to you. Oh yea and have the particular threat of benefit cuts, reduced pay, redundantcies etc coupled with functioning for a manager (who is almost certainly not qualified to be able to be in of which role) and most the stress in addition to pressure of the goals and objectives you need to achieve marinated with the red video tape buearocricies of work. I bet you decide to go residence with a huge smile on your own face and bounce out of bed eager to be able to get there every morning... right? Almost all because you get a regular give check? If you are employed all your life and were underneath the impression there this type of thing as a responsibility of life the current economic system is probably beginning your eyes upwards to the severe realities of the particular world, specifically if you have got been laid away from work however still have the ability to your own financial commitments to be able to honour as properly as a household to support. This kind of is where a bunch of people resort to be able to the internet as their alternative because of the bigger pay checks to be had. Although if you are a technophobe this could be this sort of frightening thought, right? Additional and more technophobes are turning to be able to the internet and also making a lot involving. The time old myth involving 'you have in order to be your computer nerd to make cash online' is out and about of the window now( apologies to be able to all the computer system geeks ). Individuals from all taking walks of life, with different educations, backgrounds in addition to occupations are finding success as on the internet marketers. They can be residing the lifestyle of the design, working typically the hours they selected and writing their unique pay checks from the safety of their individual home. Everything halts lots of individuals from joining this kind of entrepreneurial revolution will be the mindset and even the fear involving doing something fresh. more info are brainwashed to thinking they may be cows and of which they need to work for someone otherwise, because that is all they have completed. But in living the biggest foe you can face is usually the voice within just your head. Once an individual control this a person can achieve anything, just like the particular Rhino that got destroyed free within the tale. The concept regarding working the hrs which you chose, through home and publishing your own pay checks, being your boss and having the capacity to spend more period with my family completely floored me. It absolutely was then I actually decided to consider my life in to my very own hands and that I was planning to learn typically the skills necessary to be able to write my very own shell out check for living. Now that some sort of technophobe such while myself has accomplished it, my mission is to encourage others who are wanting to get from the rat race of life in addition to achieve their desires though internet marketing and advertising. If you happen to be fed up with your existing situation and wish to help to make a lasting change, join me about this path to freedom, and empowerment. We PROMISE i will provide you along with all the equipment necessary to permit you to publish your own pay check and simply no longer allow your existing situation hold a person down. Anytime individuals succumb to typically the mediocrity of existence simply by certainly not knowing precisely what options are available for them. All I desire to do will be give people typically the options and if they decide to be able to come out of their comfort zone then I will give you them with complete support and enhancement to help them achieve their very own goals and dreams in life. It's just like that scene coming from 'The Matrix', when Morpheus gives Neo the option regarding taking red tablet or perhaps the blue tablet. Let me show you how deep the rabbit hole will go my friend. The particular mission is to inspire and allow individuals to change their particular circumstances so these people can live some sort of life they choose, with the financial freedom they deserve. In case you are needing the assistance and guidance regarding mentors to aid you come up with a solid long term organization, and work inside a community of entrepreneurs that actually care about each others accomplishment then you might want to check away; [http://www.LearnToEarnWithShiraz.com/?t=ezinearticles]

#How to Develop Great Customer Service #click here #more info #here #read more #website #get more info #check here

0 notes

kazuharem · 3 years

Text

"Whispers of Love in the Wind" ↠ Kazuha [FLUFF]

"Just run away with me darling, we'll get real lost"

Characters: Kazuha x GN!Reader (You)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5,686 (I’m very sorry, this is a behemoth)

Warnings: Kazuha's voicelines, Archon quest spoilers (up to most recent), some mentions of bullying at the beginning

A/N: I love this man so much that I really wanted to write him (and ended up with this monster). Enjoy this little bit of fluff before the angst start coming ;) Yes, I did get lazy on the last haiku. The story is split into seasons, but there's some time that passes between seasons. Prompts supplied by @tartagilicious and @seerie:

➳ "I promised to love you forever"

➳ "I still find myself falling asleep with you on my mind"

Also, I want to thank you guys so much for getting me to 400 followers! I never thought this would happen! I am so honored so many of you like my writing and I will continue to work hard!

Spring

Mouth pursed, vermillion eyes squinting in concentration, a little boy carefully holds a brush to paper. He watches as inky rivers flow together, blossoming into beautifully crafted words. The paper ruffle softly from the boy blowing gently on the glistening words, and he makes to wet his brush when-

“There he is!”

Raucous shouts of gleeful laughter fill the air. The sound of stampeding feet could be heard as a group of children rush into the once serene meadow.

Kazuha sighs. Quickly, he rolls up the paper with practiced hands and tucks it into his maple-leaf print sleeve.

“Oi Kaedehara!” A boy with shifty eyes, burly for his age, calls out as he approaches. “What are you doing?” The other children jeer when they get closer.

“Nothing that should concern you,” Kazuha replies, standing up slowly.

A scowl darkens the boy’s features, “You got something to say to me, Kaedehara?”

“Not really,” Kazuha says plainly, carefully putting away his brush and inkstone, a gesture that does not go unnoticed.

“What’s this?” The boy grabs a few papers scattered on the ground, the subject of Kazuha’s idle thoughts which had been long discarded hours ago. He scans them quickly and turns to his eager audience as he brandishes the paper like a trophy, “Kaedehara’s writing poetry!” He announces gleefully, saying the words with such a bite that he may as well have been saying that Kazuha was talking to himself.

The crowd guffaws noisily.

“Can I have that back?” Kazuha asks calmly as he crosses his arms.

“Is this what the Mighty Kaedehara clan is reduced to?” Another boy calls out amidst the clamoring. “Writing poetry?” His outburst incites another round of laughing.

“Poor Kaedehara,” the first boy mocks, “From samurai to starving poet is a long way to fall.”

Kazuha sighs inaudibly. He opens his mouth to say something, but another voice beats him to it.

“HEY! PICK ON SOMEONE YOUR OWN SIZE!” An incredibly furious, albeit tiny, voice sounds from the edge of the clearing. Everyone turns to look for the source. Kazuha watches, slightly amused, as you stomp across the field and stop in front of the boy who had taken the papers.

The boy sneers, looking down at your small figure, “Mind your business, kid, this is between Kaedehara and me.”

“Why are you picking on him?” You glare fiercely.

“Cute,” the boy proclaims, “Kaedehara the samurai needs a kid to protect him!” He mocks and the crowd jeers. “Is this the legacy of the Kaedehara cl-”

The boy suddenly stops speaking, mainly because you sock him in the stomach, a very solid thump!resounding through the air. Everyone gasps as he makes a choking sound, the wind knocked clean out of him.

“You got more to say?” You make a fist threateningly and the boy gulps.

“Come on…. let’s go,” He rasps, gesturing to the other children. They eye you warily as they leave.

Kazuha watches them go, until every last one of them is no longer able to be seen, before he speaks. “That was quite impressive.” There is a hint of admiration in his soft voice.

“My sister, Beidou, always told me to stand up for others. I don’t like bullying,” you shrug, finally turning to look at your white-haired companion. “Why didn’t you fight for yourself?”

He smiles at that, “Sometimes, there is no need to fight.” He kneels to collect the hastily thrown papers, “But I guess in this situation, I had you to thank for,” Kazuha adds, straightening up to turn to you, “Does my rescuer have a name?”

You tell him your name absentmindedly as you gaze down at the black words. Though they were results of Kazuha’s wandering thoughts, each word was written beautifully with care. “Is that a poem?”

“Yes, it’s called a haiku,” Kazuha hums. With a firm hand smoothing out the crinkles, he straightens the papers.

“Haiku,” you repeat curiously. “It looks incomplete,” you study the words.

He reaches into his sleeve then and produces a neat roll of paper, “That’s because it is. Here is the final version, if you care to read it.”

Slowly and carefully, you unfurl the paper and read out loud:

Whispers of the wind,

Once on a gentle spring day,

My worries gone away

Your eyes widen slightly. The meaning of the words was lost on you, but the way the words sounded as they exited your mouth was beautiful, lilting like the notes of a babbling brook. It was like you were singing, without any melody.

Kazuha sets himself down on the ground, arms and legs sprawling without a care in the world as he awaits your verdict, vermillion eyes holding a touch of intelligence beyond his years.

You follow suit as you settle next to him, handing him back the honeyed words. “It’s very pretty,” you nod shyly. Kazuha smiles at the childish compliment and turns onto his stomach.

“Would you like to learn how to make your own haiku?” Kazuha asks, voice as soft as the whispering breeze and just as gentle.

Your head tilts in childlike wonder as you watch him set the paper and brush with the utmost care. “Me?” You ask in disbelief, “I can’t write like you! I don’t even know that many words!”

He shakes his head, pouring out a bit of water into his inkwell. “It’s not about the words,” he says as he picks up his inkstone. “It’s about the feeling.”

The soft scraping of the stone against the clay sounds oddly soothing and you move to peer closer at the inky puddle that is beginning to form in the tray.

“Poetry is all about your emotions,” Kazuha explains, handing you a brush. “Write down how you’re feeling, at this very moment.”

You push your sleeves back as you follow suit, clumsily dipping the brush into the ink.

Kazuha chuckles and he places his hand on top of yours, steadily guiding you. “Well?” He asks expectantly, “How are you feeling?”

You pause, thinking. Kazuha’s hand is warm. As is the sunlight beaming down through the trees.

“Comfortable,” you say finally, “Warm. Happy.”

Scarlet eyes widen slightly in surprise, before curving into pleased crescents.

Kazuha takes your hand and the two of you watch as black words begin to appear across the pure white paper.

It was spring, that you meet Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai who prefers wielding a brush and ink rather than a sword. His words was as soft as the spring breeze whispering through the trees which made pink blossoms dance. It was spring, that you learn how beautiful words can truly be.

Summer

“Hurry up!” A blue-eyed boy with two fluffy ears calls out, his tail whisking behind him impatiently, “Where’s Thoma?”

“Checking stock, I bet,” Kazuha laughs as he passes you a bundle, which you set down with care into one of the two rowboats waiting in the water. “You know how he is, Gorou,” he adds when the boy makes a face.

“Does he know we’re only going on a trip to Yashiori, and not Liyue?” Another boy in red says lazily from where he is sprawled out on the floor of the rowboat. You nudge his leg, and he barely moves for you to make your way in. A blue-eyed kitten peeks at you before burrowing further into his kimono.

“Tomo, stop sleeping on my fireworks!” A blond-haired girl yells as she comes running down the sandy beach.

“Yoi, why would you even bring them?” Tomo huffs as he picks himself up from the boxes.

“Just you wait! I’m going to make this trip unforgettable!” Yoimiya sticks her tongue out at him, climbing into the second rowboat. Tomo rolls his eyes.

“Sorry I’m late!” Someone barrels onto Yoimiya’s boat and Gorou grabs the person by the shoulders before he could fall into the water. “Thanks,” Thoma straightens up sheepishly.

Tomo finally gets up, “You’re just in time,” he says dryly as he takes upon the oars in your boat.

Yoimiya stretches and passes Thoma the oars. “You’re paddling first.” Thoma nods without complaint.

“Let’s go!” Gorou barks from where he is standing, bouncing his bow against the wood. His excitement is palpable, however, as his tail wags happily.

Kazuha chuckles as he settles in next to you, vermillion eyes sparkling with mirth. You could tell he’s in good spirits. The warmth of his body seeps through his clothes and it’s the comforting presence you’ve learned to associate with him.

“This calls for a poem,” Kazuha announces. You’re close enough to hear the way the words tumble out of his chest, that little rumbling soothing to you.

Everyone except you groans half-heartedly but waits for Kazuha to speak.

“Sun beat upon brow,” Kazuha muses, and he inhales. You follow suit. The air is humid, but not too uncomfortable.

“Well?” Tomo asks, pausing in his rowing. Kazuha motions with one hand, indicating that he’s still mulling things over, and everyone loses interest once more.

“Sea and sky like gifts from gods,” Kazuha turns to send a gentle smile at his rapt audience of one. You sit up a little straighter as you await his final line.

“A good time with dear friends,” he finishes, and you clap gently. The two of you have gotten older since you first met, but the wonder and impact of Kazuha’s words have not left you. The way he speaks, so sure and light, always manages to leave you in awe.

Later that night, everyone settles down to unwind after a day out at sea. Voices are muted as you talk in hushed tones, simply content to enjoy the time with friends. You’re resting against a tree trunk, Kazuha right next to you as he blows lightly on a piece of grass. You hum along to the tune he’s playing, and he smiles.

“It’s starting!” Thoma suddenly announces and everyone sits up a little straighter. You turn your face skyward and wait.

A brilliant streak of cobalt flashes across the sky with a thunderous BOOM! before bursting into gorgeous glimmers of gold. It’s the only warning you get when the entire sky explodes into a myriad of colors. Hues of reds, purples, greens, blues, oranges dazzle your eyes thoroughly. Everyone gasps in delight. In a fit of bravery, you set your head down on Kazuha’s shoulder. You can hear his heart resounding with the fireworks, a gentle beat that echoes your own. It was like you shared a secret, privy only to the two of you. Kazuha doesn’t speak, but he shifts ever so slightly, and then you feel the weight of his arm settle around you. He holds you like that as you watch the rest of Yoimiya’s fireworks show.

It was summer, that you find your friend group. There was Thoma, strong and dependable. Gorou, steadfast and fiercely loyal. Tomo, who enjoyed living life to the fullest. Yoimiya, bright and bubbly. The only constant, however, was Kazuha and you. While others came and went, it was always the two of you against the world, ready to take on anything. It was summer, the season of festivals, that you watch a fireworks show you’d never forget, with a platinum-haired boy by your side.

Autumn

The air is crisp as you inhale, a tiny puff of water vapor exiting your mouth when you exhale slowly. Kazuha looks back at you and extends a hand to you. “Not long now,” he assures you, helping you up the mountainous path.

You hum in reply as you survey your surroundings. The two of you were on a tiny island near Ritou, in time to see the red maple leaves. Just as the seasons had changed, members of your little friend group had come and go. Thoma had been offered a job working for the Kamisato Clan and he had accepted, taking care of the Clan’s affairs. Yoimiya had taken over the family business and had been quite busy making memories for various clients. Gorou had been scouted by the Sangonomiya samurai. There were talks of growing unrest between the people of Watatsumi Island and the Shogunate. You weren’t sure where Gorou stood on the matter, but you figured it was best to remain in the dark about such topics.

“What’s on your mind?” Kazuha asks quietly, breaking through your thoughts, as the two of you maneuver over uneven ground.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of worry. “Just thinking about the rumors,” you admit with a sigh, “Do you think they might be true?”

Kazuha pauses, pondering your question. “That the Shogun is seizing Visions?” You nod and your eyes fall on the blue-green Anemo Vision swinging lightly on Kazuha’s back. “I won’t pretend to know the Raiden Shogun’s thoughts, but I can’t understand why she would want to do so if the rumors are true,” he muses, “Seizing Visions will not have anything to do with her promises of Eternity. But I fear that Inazuma is entering a period of uncertainty.” He notices the way your brows draw together and the hand that’s holding yours tightens, “Don’t worry, whatever happens, we’ll get through it together, won’t we?” Kazuha offers you a warm smile. It’s enough to chase away the brisk air. You squeeze back and his smile widens. “Now let’s go see some maple leaves.”

You finally laugh, “It’s a shame Tomo is going to miss this.”

“His loss,” Kazuha shrugs, “This is what he deserves for wanting to sleep in.” You’re about to chortle when your breath gets caught in your throat.

“Wow…” You breathe, as the two of you exit out of the woods and emerge into a grove of scarlet maple trees.

It was absolutely breathtaking. A gentle wind ruffles the trees, and ruby leaves shake in their boughs, some flitting through the branches to land softly on the ground.

“What a beautiful red color,” Kazuha muses. You turn back to look at him. Kazuha’s vermillion eyes mirror the leaves, mirth sparkling within them. Grinning widely, you hold up your fingers in a box shape and make the sound of a camera’s shutter.

“Let’s come back next year,” you announce, filling your lungs with big gulps of air as you raise your arms above your head and twirl. Your steps throw the leaves into tiny whirlwinds.

“Sure,” he agrees readily, “When the maple leaves next bloom red, we shall return.”

You should’ve known that all good things eventually come to an end.

You awaken to the sound of someone calling your name frantically. In the darkened hut in which an old farmer was so kind to lend the two of you for lodging, you make out the image of Kazuha pressing a finger to his lips, sword at the ready.

“It’s Beidou,” he murmurs, passing you your katana, “Something’s happened.”

The two of you move out of the hut. “Sis?” You tap Beidou’s shoulder gently and she whirls around. She puts down her claymore once she sees it’s you. “What’s going on?”

“Finally! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Beidou speaks in a rushed tone, grabbing your arm.

Next to you, Kazuha stiffens. “Someone’s coming,” he says quietly as he draws his sword, vermilion eyes scanning the surroundings.

Beidou nods grimly, “It’s the Shogun’s forces, come on.”

“Why would the Shogun come after us?” You are tugged along, Kazuha making up your tail. The three of you move stealthily through the forest, bodies on high alert.

Beidou looks back at you, expression unsure as she stops. “It’s…our parents,” she says finally, “They tried to fight the Vision Hunt Decree…” Her words trail off, but the meaning is clear.

“No…” You breathe, unable to process the news. A hand lands on your shoulder. Kazuha. The comforting weight lends you strength.

The three of you start when you hear a clamor in the distance. “As the Shogun have declared, hand over your Visions!”

Beidou grabs your arm. “We have to hurry,” she hisses, throwing a look over her shoulder. “Thoma managed to get us a boat out, but we have to get there safely first!” You look past her, past the edge of the forest, and you’re close enough to make out a silhouette of a boat bobbing in the water.

The steps get closer and all of you draw your weapons, grim expressions mirroring one another. “We can’t make it in time,” you say softly.

Kazuha’s hand tightens around his sword, “Go,” he says, gesturing to the boat, “I’ll give you time.”

“No-Kazuha! What are you saying?” You reach for him, but Beidou pulls you back. “You can’t! Come with us!”

“I can’t leave Tomo behind,” Kazuha is calm. Too calm. It makes you want to hit him.

“But-” You are muffled by Beidou clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Silence,” Beidou whispers, her body is tense, and you hear fast approaching steps. “We have to go!”

“Go!” Kazuha hisses as he readies his sword.

“Kazu-” you reach for him, and he grasps your hand, interlocking your fingers together. “Will-will we ever see each other again?”

He tugs on your hand then and you collide into his chest. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your forehead, “Even if today is the day that we go our separate ways, I am certain that we will meet again, in some corner of the world. The fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut.” His voice is so sure, so confident, that you had no choice but to believe him. “I’ll be fine,” he quells the worries that were about to pop up on your lips. There is a faint sensation of something warm upon your brow, but the feeling is fleeting. “Go, I will find you in the wind,” he promises before shoving you into Beidou’s arms.

“I owe you one,” Beidou nods at him, “Stay alive, won’t you?”

The last image you see of Kazuha is one where his feet is planted shoulder-width apart, sword raised, ruby eyes glinting with determination as Beidou pulls you towards the awaiting boat.

It was autumn, that you flee from Inazuma, leaving behind your home, your friends, and a scarlet-eyed samurai. The air was as cold and sharp as the blades of the Shogun’s forces hunting you down. It was autumn, the time of farewells, that you learn that when the leaves turn red and gold, they symbolize departure and that you had to say goodbye to the one who wore the same patterns as the trees.

Winter

You pull your blanket tighter around your shoulders as you sigh, a white puff of smoke unfurling from your mouth. Every so often, there is a crunch as the Alcor scrapes against ice. A commotion breaks out on the deck below you and you peer over the crow’s nest just in time to see the children tackle one another playfully. Sea Drake barks something at them, but you’re too high up to hear. Another sigh escapes you and you turn your thoughts to what has been the subject of your worries for over a year now. A certain figure clad in scarlet maple leaves with a gentle smile. Kaedehara Kazuha. You had no doubt you would see him again. After all, Kazuha was not one to go back on his words. But it has been well over a year, and you were feeling antsy. Has something happened? You aided Beidou in helping lost Inazumans escape the wrath of the Shogun, but none of the people you picked up were of any familiarity. Hope had never seemed so bleak.

“Man overboard!” A shout breaks you out of your thoughts. “Man overboard!”

The words register in your brain as you lean over the railing. “What?” You yell to the lookout in the crow’s nest above you.

“Man overboard!” He replies as he points at the water. You follow his arm, and you can see a figure struggling in the water. All your breath leaves your chest in an instant. Whoever the person was, they had platinum hair. Could it be? Before you even realize what you’re doing, your body throws itself out of the crow’s nest as you slide down the mast with ease. The burn of the rope is what makes you come to your senses, but you pay it no heed. You’re fixated on the figure in the water as you drop onto the deck.

“Hey, where’ve you been--” you ignore Beidou’s greeting. With leaden legs, you walk unsteadily towards the rowboat waiting to rescue the man.

Time seems to stagnate, and your limbs feels like you’re trapped in amber. Please, you plead silently, although you don’t quite know what is it you’re asking for. You watch as Sea Drake grab the sodden figure to haul him into the rowboat and your breath catches in your throat. There is a red maple leaf emblazoned on the sleeve of the man’s kimono.

The man coughs and you stare as he opens his eyes. Startling scarlet eyes meet yours and you feel a year’s worth of relief cascade upon you.

“Kazuha…” you whisper, fearing that this was a mirage, a trick of the light, your longing manifesting into this hallucination. If so, the archons were playing a cruel joke indeed.

The man in question smiles and there is nothing that stops you from launching yourself at him. Familiar arms, albeit freezing and soaked, wraps around you. You inhale shakily, feeling the culmination of everything you have experienced in a year. It burns through your chest. The beat of your heart roars in your ears and drowns out everything. Your fingers reach out and touch something solid. He was real. He was here. “Kazuha!”

“I’m here,” he murmurs. You can feel his breath against your ear, and you knew he was no hallucination indeed. “I’m here,” he repeats softly until all your doubts, all your qualms disappear. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

It was winter, that you reunite with Kazuha. The weather was cold enough to freeze even the mighty ocean, but Kazuha’s arms provided you with the ever-familiar warmth. It was winter, that Kazuha finally fulfilled his promise whispered to you long ago, when you were fleeing from the unforgiving metal of the Shogunate’s swords.

Spring

You’re fuming as you watch men load boxes onto the Alcor. In the distance, you catch sight of Kazuha chatting with the Traveler on the deck and your mood sours further. The Crux Fleet was preparing to bring the Traveler to Inazuma, and you were banned from coming along. Worse still was Kazuha planning to spend some time with the Resistance to give them his aid. You scowl harder as you kick a pebble viciously down the street. Ever since the Traveler arrived, Kazuha had been spending more time with them. He was undoubtedly fascinated by someone who could control the elements despite being Visionless. The frown on your face deepens, unbeknownst to your knowledge.

Why do you care?

A voice asks, uninvited, and it makes you pause. Why did you care?

“What’s on your mind?” Someone speaks behind you, and it startles you out of your thoughts

You lurch forward with a yelp and is about to fall off the dock when an arm wraps around your stomach, holding you securely. You gulp as you turn around to face your rescuer. “Ka-Kazuha!” You splutter, feeling like your heart is about to burst out of your chest.

“Sorry,” Kazuha waits until you steady yourself to remove his arm from your waist. “You seemed really deep in thought, did I ruin anything?”

“No,” you shake your head and sigh, averting his eyes. Kazuha follows your line of sight to the Alcor.

Kazuha stops to regard you seriously. You squirm under his piercing gaze and know he’d seen right through you. “It won’t be too long,” he murmurs.

“Must you go?” You ask hesitantly.

“Gorou needs whatever help he can get,” Kazuha admits, “And I think with the Traveler’s help, we can get the Vision Hunt Decree abolished. If I can help even the slightest, I want to.” There is a steady determination running through his voice. “After all, Tomo died for this. I want to honor Tomo’s last wish.”

“Do you really think this could be solved with the Traveler’s help?”

Kazuha nods, “The Traveler has already defeated dragons and ancient gods. I truly believe that changing times are upon us.”

You smile bitterly, ignoring the pang in your chest when Kazuha mentions the Traveler. Why were you so affected by this?

You were so focused on your internal thoughts that you miss Kazuha’s look of concern as he gently holds your arm to stop you. “Are you okay?” He asks you carefully, ruby eyes scanning yours.

“I’m fine,” you brave a sad attempt at a smile, but Kazuha’s expression tells you he’s not convinced. Truth be told, you didn’t even know why you were acting like this.

“It’ll finally be over soon,” his voice is the gentlest you’ve ever heard, “I’ll write you whenever I can,” Kazuha promises, vermillion eyes shining earnestly.

It was spring again that you send off Kazuha back to Inazuma, with the hope that the Vision Hunt Decree would be removed. Kazuha said his farewells with the promise of sending you letters. It was spring that there were some things left unspoken between the two of you. It was spring that you discover that foreign feelings would sprout within you whenever a certain ronin with the spirit of a wanderer comes to mind.

Summer

You tear open a letter eagerly, scanning the name of the sender. Kazuha’s name is printed neatly on the envelope, as is custom of his letters. True to his promise, Kazuha wrote to you regularly over the past two months he was gone. Inside each letter, he always tucked in a red maple leaf with a haiku printed neatly on it. His haikus ranged from daily events to descriptions of beautiful sceneries. You kept every single maple leaf as each one was a dear treasure.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you read Kazuha’s latest letter. In it, he tells you that the Traveler had successfully defeated the Shogun and that the Vision Hunt Decree had ended.

“By the time you read this, I shall already be on my way back.”

You reread the words. Hope soars in your chest and you can’t stop the broad grin that splits your cheeks open. Kazuha is coming back. You flip over the letter, expecting to see the customary red maple leaf attached to the back, when your smile slides off your face. There is no leaf, no haiku. You pull open the envelope to double check. Nothing. Why is there no haiku?

Over the next two days, you’re unable to sleep, staying up late to ponder what had changed. The next morning, there is a hint of excitement in Liyue Harbor. Whispers of “The Crux Fleet is back!” and “The Traveler defeated the Raiden Shogun!”ring through the air, as you make your way to the docks. Your heart hammers nervously at the sight of the Alcor pulling into the harbor. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess as you search for the first sign of Kazuha. The missing haiku had plagued you for several nights. You want to know the reason why, but you’re scared that something had changed, that Kazuha had changed.

The Alcor gets closer and you’re able to see the faces of the crew members. You spot Kazuha leaning over the railing and raises your hand to wave at him. Suddenly, you’re unable to breathe. There is a dull roar in your ears as you stare at the sight in front of you. Kazuha is smiling at the Traveler, with the crinkles in the corners of his eyes that only come out when he is truly happy. You’ve only seen that smile twice. The first time during the fireworks show so long ago and the second when you pulled him out of the ocean. A sharp pain pierces through you, and you stagger. Your lungs feel like they’re squeezing together. It’s crushing. It’s the worst pain you have ever experienced.

That’s why there was no haiku, a voice whispers from the depths of your muddled mind.

A sob breaks out of your mouth, making a nearby child look at you curiously. You slap your hands over your mouth as you rush from the harbor. You miss Kazuha scan the crowds, however, frowning when he sees your fleeing figure. You miss Kazuha excusing himself politely as he takes off after you.

You collapse onto your knees, when you’re a safe enough distance from the harbor, before you dissolve in tears. Your reactions don’t make any sense, but you’re unable to stop the sobs wracking your body and you curl into yourself.

Why are you acting like this? The part of your brain that remains rational screams at you. Why are you acting like some lovestruck fool?

Love.

Something clicks then and you break down into a fresh round of sobs when the realization struck.

You’re in love with your best friend. You’re in love with Kaedehara Kazuha.

But why would he want you, when there’s the Traveler, who can manipulate elements without a Vision? The Traveler who defeated the Raiden Shogun, the one who helped get rid of the Vision Hunt Decree.

Thoughts, so thick and poisonous, rob all traces of reason, that you don’t notice a gentle breeze fluttering around you.

Kazuha lands next to you, out of breath. His hair is plastered to his forehead. Panic crosses his face when he notices the state you were in. He calls your name urgently as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“S-stop,” you whimper, trying to hide your face.

He ignores your attempts, “What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” Kazuha is frantic. You try to fend him off weakly, but he’s not having any of it. Kazuha gathers you into his lap, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping his arms around you.

“Kazuha…please,” his gestures are warm, but they only send more daggers of pain into you.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he commands softly, but you shake your head.

How would you tell him? How do you tell him you’ve loved him for this long?

There is a finger under your chin. It tilts your face upwards. “If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, then would you mind if I tell you something?” Kazuha asks quietly. You’ve calmed down enough to answer him with a shaky nod. Sanguine eyes search yours and for the first time ever, Kazuha seems hesitant. “Did you notice something different with the last letter I sent?”

Your eyes widen, but you nod slowly. “A…haiku,” you breathe out.

“Yes,” Kazuha affirms your answer. “Did you wonder why?” You press your lips together as you avert your gaze. You’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answer.

“W-why?”

Kazuha smiles then. It makes your chest simultaneously soar and squeeze together. “It’s because I needed you to hear the haiku in person,” he admits, and you notice that the tips of his ears are tinged pink. “You were always my top supporter, so I figured it was best that you hear this haiku in person.”

You gape at him, mind furiously trying to process his words. “What is the haiku?” You finally managed to say.

His chest moves up and down as he takes in a breath, before he recites:

Sun and moon rejoice

Birds of dawn sing songs anew

Far from home, with you

Kazuha finishes as he awaits your verdict. You process the words carefully, “Kazuha…do you mean…?” You’re unable to finish your sentence, not daring to hope the words meant what you thought they meant.

Kazuha smiles and it’s that smile, the one he shows only when he is absolutely happy. “Did you know,” he begins casually, “Since that night you had to flee from Inazuma, I made a promise to myself. ‘I promised to love you forever.’”

All the breath you were holding leaves your lungs in an instant. If you had not been sitting down, you would’ve collapsed. “Ka-Kazuha…what are you saying?” Your voice is not louder than a mere whisper, for fear of breaking this wondrous dream that you were obviously in.

“I thought this was quite clear,” Kazuha states softly, “Ever since we’ve met as children, I’ve always held you in high regard, always admired your strength and your resilience. But I think it was being apart from you that I realized the admiration has morphed into love. I didn’t want to tell you when everything was uncertain, but now since things have been resolved, I wanted to be honest with my feelings. Every night, I find myself falling asleep with you on my mind. I want to be able to journey together with you for a long time. I want to see the beautiful sights with you. You allowed me to dream of things I’d never even dared to think of. So, if you accept, would you like to accomplish these things together with me?”

You’re speechless. Out of all the outcomes, you’ve never even dared to consider the one where Kazuha might return your feelings. You meet Kazuha’s eyes as he awaits your answer.

If this is a dream, then never let me wake up.

Instead of saying anything, you clumsily reach up to press your lips against his. There is a sharp inhale, and Kazuha takes ahold of your jaw before kissing you with the utmost care.

Three words are uttered in unison between the soft brushes of your mouths.

“I love you”

It was summer, that Kaedehara Kazuha, whom you’ve known since childhood, became someone more than just a friend. Summer was when the two of you affirm your affections for each other. It was summer, that you discover love came in the form of ruby-red eyes and platinum hair. Love was Kaedehara Kazuha, your wandering partner for life.

Fin.

Tagging

@ohmykazuha, @tartagilicious

If you would like to be on the taglist for my future works, please send an ask or a message my way! 💖

Upcoming works:

Part 2 of Childe Angst (Part 1: Hiraeth)

“Jar of Stars” 2 part fic with Diluc and Kaeya (separate)

Also, please don't be afraid to be mutuals with me! I'm looking for more friends!

For more of my works: 📖

387 notes · View notes