#poole quay

[its-ya-boi-kaz]

"Is my tie straight?"

[Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa | 1633 words | cross posted on ao3]

Meeting your girl's parents can be a scary ordeal, especially when you're the Bastard of the Barrel.

A follow up of chapter 44 of Crooked Kingdom

"That's the laugh," Kaz murmured. But Inej was already moving, her feet barely touching the ground as she crossed the expanse of the quay to where her parents were, running towards her at the same speed as she was. 

Kaz didn't want to interrupt them, so he simply walked, leaning lightly on his cane and eyes trained on Inej. She was face to face with them now. For a moment, she seemed frozen, not sure of what to do. Her mother had tears streaming down her face. She couldn't wait for another moment, pulling Inej into a hopelessly tight embrace. Kaz was halfway up to them by the time they broke apart. 

She didn't say anything. Her lips parted and she croaked something like, "Papa." Her father put a hand on her shoulder. He was looking down at Inej with a smile that made Kaz feel like an intruder, he didn't deserve to witness something so innocent. 

Only then did Inej turn back. Kaz suddenly felt like a spectacle. Should he have worn something else? Surely it was his clothing choices that made their eyes lock on him so intently. Kaz saw that Inej's mother's eyes were the same as Inej. Mr Ghafa had a sense of weight in his gaze that could only be bought with age. But his wife, well, the woman was possibly what the girls on West Stave had in mind when they whined about wanting to look young forever. She seemed ageless. Her eyes were the same pools of darkness as the girl who stood before him. Like she too had taken every dark thing around her and held them in her gaze until she was surrounded by an aura of light, as Inej had been doing for years. 

"Ma, Papa, this is Kaz." Her father extended his hand with the grace of a saviour, but Kaz did not need salvation, not if it came with a handshake. He was acutely aware of the sea breeze on his naked palms. The same sea had once wrinkled his fingers as they clung to Jordie, more afraid of drowning than whatever was in front of his eyes. 

"He helped me survive this city." Inej's voice was an anchor, keeping him grounded to reality. 

Her eyes were on him. He had held her own hand only moments before. Could he do the same for the man in front of him? If it gave her the same comfort? Could he cross the Barge once again, if he knew she would be standing on the shore? 

I would come for you. His bare hand left the metal crow's head of his cane and made contact with the skin of someone else. The waters rose. 

"Ma, could you make skillet bread for me tonight?" Inej spoke, but her eyes were on him. He shook her father's hand firmly; it was a chore to keep his hand from shaking as he returned it to the head of the cane. When he looked up, her smile was a halo of light around her. He fought not to squint against the sheer luminescence of her joy. 

"Of course I will, jaan, " her mother cooed, using the Suli word for 'lifeline'. Inej had mentioned it to him once, in one of her proverbs. "But first you must tell us, what happened ?"

He could feel the weight of the question, the burden of it hanging over Inej. He could only guess what Suli proverbs must be going on in her head to help her cope with the fear and keep her chin held high. 

"We will tell you everything you wish to know, Mrs Ghafa," Kaz spoke in her stead. How many times had she covered for him? He could repay her a thing or two before she started her journey to the sea. "But first shall we go somewhere more comfortable? I must confess, staying standing for long isn't very good for my leg."

• • •

"Veera told me of the slaver ship that was seen leaving the dock. When we didn't find you, we feared the worst," Inej's father said. 

They had come to Wylan's house and were seated on the dining table on which loaves of the skillet bread that Inej's mother had made cooled. Inej and Kaz on one side, her parents on the other. 

"The worst happened, Papa. And then it happened some more."

Kaz listened as Inej explained her days at the Menagerie. Then her meeting with Kaz. Her time with the dregs. She looked at him a few times, to see if he would like to add to the conversation. He would, but he would not speak. 

There came a time every once in a while when he had to look at all the numbers himself. Despite how accurate the reports of Anika and Pim were, he always found something that had slipped from their brain, that would have been unknown to him if he hadn't looked at the scores himself. You could trust somebody with your numbers, but there were some tallies you had to count on your own. This was her story to tell. He had no right to say anything, not when he knew there were wounds in her only she could recall. 

She had steered clear of any mention of the Ice Court heist. But she could only talk so much about the past. "I have a ship. I managed to do something huge, with the help of the right people. I have the resources too. I'm going to hunt slavers. I won't let anyone suffer what I've endured. But before I do that, I need your forgiveness. Papa, Mama, I need to know where… I need to know what I mean to you, before I go out into the world alone and fulfil my purpose in this world."

There were tears in her mother's eyes that were very different from the way she'd cried at the quay. Her eyes were still, determined, yet searching for something to say. She reminded Kaz of the night on Black Veil when Inej had turned back － He was going to break my legs , Kaz, she had said, eyes searching for answers－ and he breathed out a sigh, knowing there was nothing furious in her mother's gaze. If they were angry at Inej, Kaz doubted any of the Ghafas would like what he planned to do in that scenario. Including Inej. Especially Inej.

"You are still our daughter, Inej. You needn't ask for our forgiveness. You did what you had to do." Her father's voice was steady despite the tears. Her mother silently wiped her own. She suddenly got up and crossed the table to Inej, and coddled her face in her hands. She leaned down to press her lips on her daughter's forehead. 

"You did what the Saints asked of you, my child. If that is what you think your purpose is, then let me not be what stops you. You can…"

Their voices faded into the background as Kaz stepped into the backyard. He lowered himself onto the steps, feeling his leg throb with a twinge of pain. He did not want to intrude in what was supposed to be a memory none of them would forget. He wanted them to only remember each other as they too probably wanted to. 

He sensed her presence behind him. He glanced back and opened his mouth to tell her how she should go back to her family and that Kaz could talk to her later, but the words died on his lips. It wasn't Inej behind him, but her father. He turned his gaze back to the canal. The old man sat beside him, posture erect even when sitting down. 

"I'm aware that you are the reason Inej is safe today," he started. He must have left the mother and daughter to do some more weeping together. 

"There's no safe in Ketterdam, Mr Ghafa. I didn't give her safety, it doesn't exist in this city. She fended for herself."

"I suspect you have a hand behind that too."

Kaz stayed silent, feeling the temperature of his face rise as if he was a child that had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. But Mr Ghafa wasn't blaming, he was simply acknowledging facts. 

"I don't have much to say to you, just know that I thank you deeply for what you have done for her." 

He didn't know what to say to that. It was awfully quiet in these parts of the city. He could hear the water of the large canal lapping up against the shore. 

After a while, Inej's father stood up and dusted off his trousers. Only then did he sense Inej, the real Inej's presence behind him. So he'd known his daughter had come and left them alone. Kaz supposed he should be honoured, but he could only feel a pang of jealousy that he hadn't been able to sense Inej before her father. 

She sat beside him now, slipping into a comfortable silence. Neither of them wanted to speak. Every few moments, she would wipe her eyes. 

What had her parents said about him after he'd gone? What had she said about him? What would they say if they came here right now? 

Quietly, she reached for his now gloved hand. Kaz took a deep breath. There was her hand on his. A slight weight on his shoulder where she had leaned her head against it. Sunlight glistened on the murky waters of the canal. His mind was reeling. A jumble of thoughts, but none of them profound enough to be worth being spoken.

"They like you. Both of them."

He could have never known such simple words would be what eased the thumping in his chest. 

#Might write a follow up of inej's mom making the spiciest food they have ever seen and kaz discovering how low his spice tolerance is #booklr #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #six of crows duology #kaz brekker #kanej headcanon #kanej fluff #kanej #kanej fic #kanej fanfiction #inej ghafa

[moonslesbology]

The Lucky One II

previous chapter - next chapter

ELEANOR EVES COULD LAY BESIDES FINNICK ODAIR, WATCHING THE SAME SUNSET OVER AND OVER AGAIN, AND NEVER GET BORED. It sounded odd to say, wanting the same moment to repeat over and over again, but it felt right to her. There was nothing more peaceful than the serenity on Finnick's tanned face, kissed by the sun's grace , his sea green eyes drawn to the sky as he simply stared. He had not had a moment of peace like this in a while, too caught up in the terrors of nightmares and memories to truly enjoy a moment wholeheartedly. Yet, here he was, bathing in the sun's glory, genuinely happy.

Laos Bay had the most beautiful sights in the District, Eleanor was convinced.

It had been Annie's suggestion, a statement she made the moment the pair found her down The Quay, helping her brother cut the heads off some fish their father had caught. Annie Cresta was one of the few people Eleanor knew that genuinely did not mind getting dirty down the docks, revelling in the gruesome nature of fishing. It was quite easy to spot the girl though (something Finnick actively disagreed with). The red haired girl was in plain sight, immediately noticed by Eleanor who cheered when she saw Annie. Turns out, Finnick was just really blind and did not notice the Cresta family's red hair in the sea of sun bleached hair. After much begging from Annie, Mr Cresta, albeit reluctantly, allowed for the trio to huddle away to go to the rock pools. He simply reminded Annie that she needed to be back before six, so she can help unload the fish being sent off to the Capitol.

The trio ultimately decided Laos Bay was the best place to go and muck about, especially because of the rock pools Annie desperately wanted to find shells in.

While Annie scoured the rock pools eagerly, Eleanor and Finnick decided to lay besides each other and watch the clouds. It did not matter that their scalps would be aching of sand, all that mattered for them was the pure peace of this moment. Finnick was a lot quieter, simply listening to Eleanor's nonsensical rambling. It was something that often occurred, Eleanor ranting her soul out and Finnick holding her soul delicately in his grasp. Eleanor was busy pointing out all the drawings she could create from the sky, Finnick simply listening. She would ramble her heart off to him for the rest of her life if she could.

Eleanor hoped that she could do that forever.

It was obvious that the anxiety of the Reaping was getting to them. The fateful day, July 4th, was just a week away and the entire district was preparing. People in the Trawler began hanging banners up and shop windows became pre-occupied with signs highlighting Reaping Day specials. St Magdalene Rossetti was also preparing to shut the blinds for a while, until the Reaping ceremony had passed. Majority of the staff were safe from the Reaping, though many had children who were still eligible. Eleanor had already put herself forward to take the later shift that day, practically going straight into work right after the Reaping ceremony passed.

Annie's name was in the Reaping bowl a total of seventeen times, fourteen of those slips of paper being directly from tesserae. Eleanor was only in the bowl four times due to her fortune as a girl from The Trawler, especially one who worked at St Magdalene Rossetti. Her family had never fallen on hard times and when they had, there was always someone who was willing to help them get by.

But, Eleanor also knew that the anxiety of mentoring was far worse for Finnick. As the newest victor, he had a duty to uphold for the tributes, training them and then watching their days in the arena. He had completely broken down after last year's game; two kids, both seventeen, had refused to listen to any advice Finnick could offer them, and were betrayed by the Career Pack the moment the number of tributes dropped to eight. He had nightmares for weeks after he came home, often ending up at Eleanor's in a sobbing mess.

Eleanor dreaded seeing him in such a state again.

"So, do you see the dog now?" Eleanor asked, after explaining why the cloud he pointed out were not just clouds and were so much more. It was easy to forget that not everyone saw the same thing as you did.

"No." Finnick laughed, jumping slightly when she grabbed his hand, delicately pointing his pointer finger to the sky. She could feel him relax ever so slightly, her touch warm and gentle. "Oh, that looks more like a cabbage than a dog."

"A cabbage?" Eleanor sat up quickly, Finnick copying her motion and laughing. Of course Finnick Odair lacked the creativity to see sights in the clouds. He was one of the few literal minded people Eleanor could tolerate, his literal minded state being the only thing that held Eleanor back from floating away. Eleanor pouted at him, crossing her arms with a judging glance. "Am I the only one blessed with imagination?"

Finnick gestured to where Annie Cresta was in response, busy with a bucket as she grabbed onto any shells she could find. Of course, Eleanor was not the only imaginative person out of the trio, Annie was just as imaginative and had a level of practicalness that Finnick had. She was the perfect mix of the two in that sense. The pair watched as Annie cheered, holding up another auger shell Eleanor knew she would be giving to her younger sister. Annie had way too much energy to truly stay still, bouncing around on the rock pools happily. Eleanor was tempted to join the red haired girl, although the peaceful look on Finnick's face was too beautiful to miss.

"I wish moments like these lasted forever." Eleanor mumbled, leaning down ever so slightly to rest her head on Finnick's shoulder, hands already finding each others as though they were infinitely connected by magnets. "Sometimes, it's easy to forget society exists outside of this little bubble."

Finnick watched her with a curious glance. Before he could say anything, a shriek echoed.

"ELE COME HERE!" It was Annie. Of course it was Annie. "I FINALLY FOUND A SHELL FOR YOU!" Eleanor perked up as she saw Annie bouncing up and down, holding something in her hand. If there was anything you needed to know about Annie Cresta, it was that she adored shells more than life itself. Her entire bedroom was decorated with the shells she had found, she had painted tapestries of shells she imagined in her daydreams, and her love language was finding shells that matched each person she ever met.

Eleanor let out a loud laugh, getting up off the sand, quickly dusting her skirt off, and then eagerly running to where Annie was. She turned her head back, seeing Finnick still looking at the sky with a confused face.

She shook her head at him, finally walking on the side of the rocks carefully. The moment she got close to Annie, the red head thrusted a cockle at her. The cockle itself was as ordinary as it could be - pure white with a faint line of orange.Eleanor rubbed her thumb over the smooth edges of the shell, delicate as she held it. A smile, as wide as it could possibly be, was making its way on her face as she listened to Annie's unapologetic rambling about how pretty the cockle was. Annie rambled about how odd it was for cockles to be this white and Eleanor simply listened.

Annie simply grinned. "Oh my god, I know what I'm going to do!" She laughed, taking the cockle and pocketing it. Though, the moment she turned to explain the idea to Eleanor, the girl was busy holding a hermit crab in her hands with a grin. Eleanor was entirely focused on the small creature, gently holding them.

"Awe, look!" She held her cupped hands up towards Annie, who simply smiled at her, eyes wide with adoration as Eleanor cooed at the hermit crab. Eleanor didn't notice Annie's smile drop ever so slightly when she called over to Finnick, laughing freely the moment he yelped at the crab.

#hunger games #katniss everdeen #annie cresta #peeta mellark #finnick odair #catching fire #mockingjay #peeta #johanna #finnick odair x oc #hunger games x oc #the hunger games x oc #finnick odair x fem oc #finnick odair x original character #original character #67th hunger games #fanfic #haymitch abernathy #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games x reader

[elains]

✾ chapter 2  — magic

❧ Summary: The way Elain and Lucien discovered their mating bond was perhaps not ideal, and the road towards falling in love and accepting their feelings full of thorns — but throughout challenges and adversity, they have made it work. Now, eternity awaits them.

A series of connected ficlets for Elucien Week 2023, set post the end of the series when all villains are gone, following episodes of Elain and Lucien's sometimes quiet, sometimes agitated, life together.

For @elucienweekofficial

Read on Ao3! • Chapter one

 Built on the shores of a glistening turquoise sea, Haemera was a thing of beauty: the lower city rested on white sands like shells on a beach, painted in bright white colors and with gilded roofs. The quays of the rectangular harbor speared the calm, deep water of the sea, where ships from all over the world came to moor, seeking knowledge only the Day Court held. The libraries and the palace district themselves, as well as the Temple of the Risen Sun and the sprawling estates of the nobility, lay perched atop the cliffs, ever-haloed by the blazing sun.

Velaris was the City of Starlight, but Haemera was the City of Sunlight — the entire metropolis shimmered in different colors as the sun rose and set, yellow and orange and pink and purple. When the sun was at its brightest, the white paint seemed to reflect all the colors of the rainbow.

Yet, for all its beauty and bustling activity, Elain and Lucien had elected to move away from it. After years in court, they wanted their own private space, far from prying eyes. Phoebe and Helion had not been keen on the idea, discontent to part with their son and daughter-in-law, but eventually, the four of them came to an agreement.

So Helion gifted them ownership of the Red Palace and all its surrounding lands. It was located on the outskirts of Haemera, far enough that the city walls and its lights were no longer seen, but close enough as to be reached by winnowing once. The construction stood on the slope of a hill flanked by sprawling vineyards and olive trees, a ruby set against the verdant earth, its intricate mullioned windows and latticed walls making for an airy but intimate space.

And the courtyards. The Red Palace had more courtyards than Elain knew what to do with, fountains and pools of water with ivy climbing the elegant columns and archways. They were positioned strategically to allow sunlight and the salty breeze to sweep in, and she could not wait to make every one of them more beautiful than the next. 

She had, of course, immediately invited Nuan to see what mechanical improvements she could think of for the Palace's irrigation systems.

“This is insanity,” Nuan said with a shake of her head, taking a look at Elain's elegant handwritten scrawled all across the parchment. 

Elain huffed, shifting in her seat. “Well, no need to be so blunt. It's merely an idea.”

“An insane idea.” Nuan put down the parchment and removed her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It has been tried before, you know? In the continent, in the long lost fae city of Ashnan.”

“I do know the legend, thank you very much. Ashnan, the City of Pillars, whose fae dug too deep and too hungrily into the sands for water to feed their mighty projects and awakened something they should not, unleashing a maelstrom that dragged the city to a grave at the core of the world.” She waved a hand, wrinkling her nose. “We were told this story as babies as a cautionary tale of greed — ours and the fae's.”

“And even though you know how Ashnan ended, you still want to try and recreate its hanging gardens?”

“I don't want to recreate the hanging gardens of Ashnan, but rather something inspired by it.” Elain picked up her teacup and sipped the warm apple tea. “Besides, the Red Palace is hardly Ashnan. There's water aplenty, no need to dig so deep, and we are not trying to commit folly against the very laws of the world. Which, I believe, might have more to do with the city's downfall than the gardens proper. But most importantly, they didn't have you to think about the mechanics of it all.”

Nuan snorted. “This is madness.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“It will take years to be completed ”

“Most likely.”

“It will also be costly.”

“Not a problem. The treasury is overflowing.” 

“And it will require the brightest, most brilliant of inventors and crafters to pull it off.”

“Good thing then she's a friend of mine and is sitting right in front of me, isn't it?” Elain set down her cup, a smile breaking across her face. 

The other female let out a deep sigh and got up, leaning over the plans and Elain's annotations with furrowed brows.

“To recreate the work of the ancients into something everlasting…” She rubbed her chin with her thumb, biting her nail, thoughtful. The corner of her mouth lifted. “Yes, that is doable, I think.”

“You will do it then?” Elain asked, eyes lighting up.

“Elain, please. I made that decision the moment you first unveiled your plans.” She smirked at Elain, playful and mischievous, the gears in her head already turning, working full speed. “You will need my special kind of magic to pull this off. Why, someone else may get it wrong.”

༻ ❁ ༺

After Lucien and Elain were well settled in the palace and the main living areas properly redecorated and renovated, Helion and Phoebe invited themselves to stay the whole week. The Day Court, Helion said, wasn't so unstable and devoid of administrative talent so as not to handle one week without its High Lord and High Lady.

Elain woke just before dawn, when the sky was still that deep, fathomless blue darker than any black, broken only by the distant reds, oranges, and purples of daybreak. Soon the sun would rise and chase the shadows away.

She was a light sleeper, had always been, and their time living in the cottage had accustomed her to rising with the birds and the wildlife. In Velaris, Elain hadn't let go of her old habits, not in the least because the early morning was the only time of the day the Inner Circle wouldn't be around and she could enjoy some moments alone with her thoughts.

Seldom did she sleep the morning away, and even rarer did she stay awake late at night: that was reserved for when there were parties and revelries. 

Elain turned on the bed, coming face to face with her mate. Lucien was still soundly asleep, shirtless, his chest rising and falling with the tranquil rhythm of his heartbeat. Much like her, he was an early riser and a light sleeper, one forged by necessity, by a lifetime on high alert, expecting a blade between his ribs.

Though he probably wouldn't wake up anytime soon today, Elain reckoned with a chuckle. Lucien had tried — and utterly failed — to beat Helion in a drinking contest and had to be carried to bed like a baby. She ought to ask Feyre to paint two canvases of the scene so she could give one to Lucien and one to Helion.

With a contented sigh, she rose, pulling away the gossamer curtains that separated her dressing room from hers and Lucien's chambers. Her handmaids were nowhere to be seen, as Elain demanded they only start fussing over her after the sun was already up and high in the sky. Mother knew that if they tried to follow Elain's sleeping schedule, they'd get no rest at all.

She grabbed her pink silk robe from a hanger put it on, tying it around the waist with a ribbon. Then, she left the room through the side door, emerging directly in front of one of her moon gardens. The sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine and the newly bloomed rhododendrons clung to the air, carried by a tranquil breeze.

Elain crossed the garden, running her fingers over the marble edges of the fountain, coming to stand at a balcony overlooking a sheer drop in the hill. Down below, the laborers were already up, all set to start harvesting the ripe grapes. She leaned on the balustrade, resting her face on her hand, and closed her eyes. 

She stood like that for a while, listening to the nightingales sing, the wind whispering as it brushed through the vines, the rushing streams sneaking through the nearby woods. 

Footsteps echoed in the hallway and she opened her eyes, turning to where they were coming from.

Helion grinned at the sight of her, shining faintly on the half-light. She smiled back in response and moved aside, making way for him to stand beside her.

“That habit of yours remains?” He inquired, searching her face.

“It seems like I'm doomed to awake at dawn or in the early morning, no matter my best efforts.” Elain lifted her shoulders, long since resigned to her fate. “And what of you? Is the Lord of Day out to bring daylight for us fae or did you just not sleep?”

“You know quite well that telling the sun when to rise and set is far beyond my powers, though I might be able to light up the night for a time if I tried hard enough,” Helion answered with a chuckle. “No, my dear. As you are doomed to awake early, so am I doomed to sleepless nights. It has grown better with my Phoebe with me but… We all have our demons.”

Elain said nothing, staring at the horizon as the light blue color of the morning skies began to emerge and the sun hung over the land like a crown, allowing a companionable, deep silence to settle between them. She could never understand the depth of Helion’s scars, torn away from his mate for centuries and trapped beneath the darkness of the middle, watching helplessly as Amarantha slaughtered his kin. Lucien still had nightmares from it; she assumed Helion did, too.

“Sometimes when it is too dark and too quiet, I fear falling asleep,” she confessed, tightening her grip on the red stone. “I keep thinking that if I sleep, he will be back, waiting in my dreams with that terrible, terrible magic of his, playing with my sense of self until I can no longer distinguish what is real and what is not.”

“Is that why you closed yourself off to your visions?” Helion asked, the famous day court curiosity getting the better of him.

“In part,” Elain admitted, “but not solely because of it. The future is always in motion, always changing. Few things are set in stone. You pull a thread and suddenly, a whole other path opens. Some futures are dreadful, nightmares only. Others are the opposite. Still, constantly seeing ahead can become a burden, and I’m done living in what-ifs and could-have-been.”

Helion threw his head back with laughter. “Who needs those when we have this moment, this beautiful palace and our mates with us, a whole future ahead? I think we are quite well served, aren’t we, my dear?”

“Yes.” She stood on the tip of her toes and breathed in, releasing the balmy air with a chuckle. “And I wouldn't change it for nothing.”

Her father-in-law watched her carefully, with slightly narrowed eyes, calculating his words.

“I wasn't going to give you both this palace, you know,” he said slowly. “I planned to give you both the Sunburst House in the eastern district, where I resided in my younger years, before the war.”

Elain furrowed her brows, head askew. “And why didn't you?”

“Lucien asked for this place instead — he thought it was fitting. You should ask him yourself why he thought that, though. Perhaps there's a reason to it you do not yet know.”

༻ ❁ ༺

“Not that I’m complaining about waking up like this, love, but would you mind explaining?” Lucien asked, mirth dancing in his russet eye.

Elain lay above him, her knees beside his torso and her long, thin, callused fingers wrapped around his hands, pinning them to the mattress just beside his ears. Her hair fell over her shoulder in unbound waves, casting a shadow over the pale skin of her shoulder blades visible from her loose silk robe. 

She didn’t look very happy though, not with her squinting brown eyes and pink mouth twisted into an annoyed pout.

“Your father said you asked for this palace for us. Why?”

“Elain!” He gasped, faking outrage. “Gossiping with my father already? So early in the morning?”

“He isn’t the one keeping secrets from his mate!”

“That you know of, perhaps.” 

Elain gasped and sat on his belly, leaning down, a flush spreading across her cheeks as she brought her nose close to his. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lucien chuckled, closing his metal eye and turning his head. “That is for you to figure out.”

“Lucien! That isn’t fair!”

“Neither is ambushing me like this, is it now?” She pressed down on him and he groaned, heat gathering between his tights. “Now you are just being mean.”

“I have a reason.” She said with a little smirk, seemingly satisfied with the reaction she elicited. “Now, the truth: why this place?”

“It has lovely gardens, it’s far enough from the city to allow us some privacy whilst being close enough to return for emergencies, the wine weather is excellent and it's a beautiful, historical building that is well suited to us.”

She rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue. “Well, yes, but I already know all this. Helion wouldn’t have mentioned it to me if there wasn’t more. So please, Lucien—” Elain let go of one of his hands, placing a finger on his lips. “— won’t you tell me?”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, cursing his father inwards. Lucien had planned to tell Elain the whole story of the Red Palace eventually as a part of a grand romantic gesture to celebrate the anniversary of their mating. He still had a treasure trove of ideas for the date proper, but it would require some maneuvering and improvisation. Perhaps he ought to ask Nuan for — no, she would just murder him for the added commission in her already full agenda. Vassa and Elain’s sisters, then.

And his mother, if only so she could give Helion grief for ruining his carefully laid plans.

“I didn’t mean to keep it a secret,” he said, “but the right time to speak about it was never right. Not for me, in any case.” Lucien waited to see if she was going to say anything, but Elain only watched him with her honey gaze, patient and attentive. “Right. So, many centuries ago, long before the war, one of my ancestors, High Lord Hyperion, was arranged to marry a Princess from the continent, Nahida. Their partnership wasn’t a happy one at first. Nahida didn’t speak our dialect, nor did she know much about the Day Court and its traditions. No matter how much her husband tried, she felt like an outsider in what was supposed to be her new home.”

Elain gulped, lower lip trembling. Lucien raised his hand, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Hyperion was an honorable man, determined to keep his vows to the Mother to love and cherish his wife. But how could he, when Nahida had wrapped herself so thoroughly in her own misery, not allowing anyone close? There had to be something he could do. Hyperion went to the Oracle of Mount Astreus, the highest of peaks between Day and Night, and asked how he could show his wife his sincerity? But you know how prophecy works.”

“A riddle wrapped inside an enigma encased in a question,” she agreed with a wet laugh. 

“Yes, and one even Hyperion, with all his libraries and knowledge under his domain, couldn’t unveil. It was not until he saw Nahida gazing wistfully at a desiccated lotus, the symbol of her homeland, that he understood that more than anything, his wife missed her home. He wrote to his sister-in-law, asking for her best architects and masons. Hyperion had the Red Palace built in secret and after it was done, he brought Nahida here.”

“And what did she say? What was her reaction?”

“By then, years had passed them by and Nahida had learned the language of her new home, if not perfectly. She was speechless, at first, staring at this little piece of her homeland nestled on the slope of the hill, but when Hyperion went to his knees before his knees and poured his heart out, Nahida broke down into sobs. She threw her arms around him and they both cried for all the time they had lost. Then, they decided to make the most of the years ahead, to fill this palace with happiness and laughter and joy. My family likes to say that the magic of their promise will cling to these walls until we are no more.”

“Oh Lucien,” Elain pressed her eyes close, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“I know you didn’t. I had a whole plan to tell you about it, or at least the beginnings of one.” He offered her a tremulous smile. 

“I would have liked to see it too.” She bit her lip and glanced at him from under her thick eyelashes. “Will you pretend you never told me this story and tell me again the way you planned? All your plans for the future, all your hopes, and dreams, all the magic in these halls — will you share it with me? ” 

“Only for you, Elain,” he whispered reverently against her lips, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Only for you.” 

#elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien #elucienweek2023 #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #shout out to imbutimmortal for reading this over

[dansnaturepictures]

29/09/23-Brownsea Island

Wildlife photos taken today in this set are of: 1, 2, 6, 7 and 8. Enchanting and charismatic Red Squirrels, it was an honour to watch these beauties running around including very close to us, feeding and caching nuts; seeing a huge amount perhaps the most we've ever seen on a day with six in view at once in the woods at one point which is extraordinary. This is always an immersive, uplifting and thrilling experiences seeing these extraordinary mammals and it was so pleasurable to get to do it a second September running and indeed go to Brownsea twice in a year seeing a squirrel briefly on that previous visit in May. And I really wanted to come here in our September week off as getting photos of Red Squirrels today means I've both seen and photographed Red Squirrels in England, Scotland and Wales this year an ambition I had in this unique year of visiting both Scotland and Wales for me. It felt amazing to do this and it's a real staple of the extraordinary year I've had being lucky to see this mammal in different corners of the country. 3. One of loads of Greenshanks seen on Brownsea lagoon also perhaps the most we'd ever seen at once with Teal a bird we enjoyed in great numbers and Moorhen behind, it was a joy to watch seas of these pristine waders. 4. A rosy Shelduck in the sun, it was good to see a few close by at the Avocet hide more great time spent with this bird I love this week and here this year. 5. Avocets and Black-tailed Godwit, the former a highlight again here. 9. Spoonbills another big highlight today, fine birds with Grey Heron. 10. A Pheasant we got close to at the area behind the church where we were watching the squirrels. 11. A bright Speckled Wood it was nice to see.

It was also fantastic to see well a majestic Osprey gliding over near the lagoon as we looked over Poole Harbour from high up in the nature reserve, yet another sighting this autumn and this year bringing me to a pleasing and unprecedented for me tenth occasion seeing one this year of this bird I adore. Other highlights today were top Raven views whilst watching the Osprey, Jay, Long-tailed Tit, Coal Tit, a fair few Red Admiral on the island and on the way over possibly migrating, Peacock (the butterfly and bird also around the back of the church as they often are, the first time I'd seen both in a day), Common Darter, Migrant Hawker, hoverfly, ant, Oystercatcher, Curlew and Dunlin seen together well, Turnstone, Cormorant, Great Black-backed Gull, Black-headed Gull and intimate juvenile Herring Gulls at Poole Quay before boarding the boat. Nice plants seen were St. John's-wort, dock, Michaelmas daisies and beautiful bell heather that looked a great colour. I enjoyed seeing spiders at home this evening and Goldfinches with possibly a Greenfinch, Collared Dove and Starling before going out at home today.

#photography #birdwatching #red squirrel #red squirrels #england #dorset #uk #earth #nature #home #spoonbill #shelduck #avocet #greenshank #cormorant #grey heron #herring gull #osprey #birds #wildlife #wildlife watching #photos #brownsea island #poole harbour #outdoors #world #black-headed gull #poole #europe #walking

[thxnerd]

Verdade: Quais são os 3 pontos positivos que você consegue pensar sobre o Theo?

ou

Desafio: Eu tenho um amigo muito legal, inteligente, gato pra caramba, infelizmente hétero, mas ele é um puta bom jogador de futebol e ele tava querendo ficar contigo. Te desafio a beijar o Theo.

/Jacob

Há alguns poucos momentos na vida de Katherine que ela questiona o motivo pelo qual topou ou topa fazer algo. Poderia acrescentar nessa lista alguns acontecimentos do passado, alguns do possível futuro que já teve, e outros que sabia que iria se arrepender no presente. E, sentar-se junto aos demais colegas em uma roda de Verdade ou Desafio, definitivamente, estava competindo no topo de decisões mais idiotas já tomadas. Não é que Katherine não gostasse de um desafio, de uma brincadeira saudável, de algo para a entreter durante uma festa que ela tinha certeza que não existiu e não deveria existir.

Listando as coisas que poderiam afetar seu futuro brilhante, o desafio proposto por Jacob tinha tudo para alterar a linha do tempo. Iria alterar a linha do tempo, com toda a certeza. Durante o tempo na faculdade, o real é não o retorno, Katherine mantinha distância dos populares, ficava reclusa em seu mundinho e fazia seu comércio clandestino. Theodore era um desses jogadores populares que comprava seus textos, um negócio lucrativo para todo mundo.

Mas, retornar ao passado estava mexendo com a cabeça de Katherine. Na verdade, a faceta Kath estava mais forte, culpem os hormônios, e sua antiga impulsividade estava dando as caras. A Katherine estava odiando cada segundo. A relação com Theo mudou drasticamente de bons negócios para uma irritação acima do normal, e a garota não saberia listar três coisas positivas sobre ele. Tudo que ela pensava era o quão irritante, arrogante e prepotente ele era o tempo inteiro, além de um grande cafajeste que se meteu e meteria em qualquer rabo de saia do campus, mesmo tendo a chance de mudar seu passado.

Sem conseguir pensar em uma outra saída e motivada inteiramente pela adrenalina do desafio, os hormônios jovens e a impulsividade antiga, Kath levantou-se da roda resmungando alto o quanto ela odiava estar ali, dirigindo-se a Theodore a passos rápidos e firmes no chão, como se quisesse conter sua raiva ao pisar fundo nos saltos. O olhar da garota era tão afiado quanto uma espada samurai, pronta para matar qualquer um que ousasse falar qualquer coisa sobre sua decisão e ações.

— Calado. — Foi tudo que vociferou para Theodore, antes de cortar os centímetros que os separavam em fração de segundos, apoiando ambas as mãos em seu pescoço e o puxando em direção a seu próprio corpo.

As mãos de Kath puxaram-no de forma bruta, até que seus lábios tocassem os dele, em um misto de puro ódio e adrenalina. Fechando os olhos fortemente, Katherine inclinou-se o suficiente para angular ambos os lábios e iniciar o ósculo, refletindo sua raiva ao agressivamente tomar a dominância do beijo.

@imperfekt — casino-pool-party by coraline

#𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔’𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 ⌗threads #𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔’𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 ⌗theodore #𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑖𝑛𝑔’𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑚𝑠 ⌗ask #tbthqs.vd&df

[windupnamazu]

like swords to the pit of my belly

ffxivwrite2023 #05: barbarous savagely cruel; exceedingly brutal.

Lunya & Themis. Pirate AU. 909wc. Content warnings: violence ⮞ More than friends but less than lovers to enemies.

Lunya woke to the swaying of a lantern and the creaking of wood and a pair of flaxen Miqo'te ears pricking up into her bleary view.

"Don't move, you'll tear your stitches," a woman's voice commanded, hands much larger than her own pressing her heavy shoulders down into what must have once been a plush bed before it was dredged in seawater. She was somewhat familiar. "You were rescued off the coast of Vylbrand half-drowned and losing blood seven bells past. This is the Invicta—you are safe until you recover, Lunya of the Convocation."

Oh, great. It figures that the ones to find her were her crew, no, her old crew's mortal enemies. Why did they even bother? What was she to the Invicta now that she'd been thrown out so unceremoniously? What was she without her crew? Without—without—

A bead of saltwater rolled down Lunya's cheek. She didn't think this woman nor anyone, really, would be convinced it was just leftover brine from when she was pulled from the sea, but she couldn't help herself.

Eight bells past she'd been arguing as she trailed behind her captain through the lowest level of their ship, past rows of holding cells and the people, the children, withering away within. They docked in Candlekeep Quay under the pretense of restocking on food before heading back out again in search for the Mothercrystal, but never in her wildest nightmares did she imagine coming back to the Convocation and finding a whole village worth of prisoners below deck.

"This isn't right," she insisted. A hostage or two was normal. She could understand that, but on this scale it could only be trafficking. A pirate she was and with questionable morals to match, sure, but this—her captain knew this was crossing the line for her. He knew, so why—?

"Times change, Lunya," Themis said, not looking back at her as he strode ahead, his destination up on the ship's deck. Wasn't it just yesterday he used to match his strides to her own, ever in time and sync with her? Was that a week ago or moons? This wasn't like him at all; the longer she looked at him the less she recognized the boy who held out his hand and promised her they would keep their eyes on the horizon together and never look back. "The Empire moves swiftly—for the sake of everything we've worked for, we must exhaust all avenues. We don't have even a fraction of their coin, but in the New World—"

"Themis," Lunya pleaded again, grabbing at the side of his palm, yanking his arm back towards her as they drew to the top of the steps and stepped out onto the deck, coating his back in moonglow and starshine. "This isn't what you promised me."

But Themis only drew his arm out of her grasp. "Enough," he said, no trace of her dearest friend anywhere but in his physical appearance. "This is my order as Captain Eldibus of the Convocation. We set sail for Tural at daybreak."

"Venat was right," she realized, horrified by just how late she was, how she willingly blinded herself. "You've gone too far, Themis."

"If you would not stand with me, I cannot allow you to stand at all, my friend," Themis sighed, and before Lunya could blink he drew his sword and stabbed her through the belly. Lunya gagged as blood gushed to her mouth, reaching for her axe but unable to move at all. "Letting Venat leave was a mistake. I would not lose you too."

But you have, she thought wildly, shaking hands reaching for the blade in her stomach. You have, and I lost you too. Perhaps even further back than I realized. What happened to you, Themis?

He ripped his sword back out of her, ichor splattering on the deck and pooling in rivulets between the boards. The motion had her stumbling back, friction lost with the blood beneath her boots and Themis stepping towards her, eyes flashing violet and expression unreadable as he raised his sword above her head.

Lunya hit the railing. Or she would have if she were taller.

Keep your eyes on me and only me, she teased him once. Perhaps it really was moons and moons ago when they last laughed together. I won't forgive you if you look away.

Those eyes, clearer than the endless sky over the sea's horizon, watched her as she fell. There was a time when she felt safe in their sight, when if there was a single sea she could willingly drown in it was his. Now there was nothing but apathy there. No recognition. No shine. Just as their line of sight was cut, he turned away.

(Violet. Themis would never turn his back on her. Not as he once was. But in thrall to another..?)

Without the strength to even scream, Lunya clenched her eyes shut before her back hit the waves.

"You should have let me drown," she told the woman, maybe minutes or a bell or more later. In the rocking of the waves the wood around them groaned and the lantern squeaked as it swayed overhead. The Invicta was impossibly familiar and foreign all at once. She didn't belong here or anywhere.

"Don't be ridiculous," her healer huffed, jabbing her cheek with a wet cloth. "If you really wanted to die we wouldn't have been able to bring you aboard, merfolks' daughter."

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #oc: lunya #themis #tales from the warriors of light #v: the wheel of fortune turns #also y'shtola is there :) #im unhappy with this n my gpose but like. moving. yknow how it be #i managed to write something anywayyy #title is from 'the moon will sing' crane wives #accidentally a little literal #pirate au lunya backstory! a bit!

[medusapelagia]

23 AU-gust: Joker (shipwrecked)

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: none WC: 2011

Eddie fucking hates tourists, especially the young Americans that come to his country throwing around their money as if it was nothing.

The last group almost ruined his yacht and all they did was say that they were sorry and gave him some money so they could resolve all his problems!

It’s fucking August and he needs the yacht to sail around the little islands that tourists love!

Thank god his uncle could repair almost everything, so his yacht was back to business in no time, ready for more arrogant wealthy boys who love spending their parents' money.

Eddie always loved the sea, and the Mediterranean is his favorite. It’s like a huge swimming pool, not as scary as the ocean but always full of surprises.

This time he is hosting the son of one of the richest men in the world and his friends.

He fucking hates them, they are obnoxious and more interested in party hard than sailing. He doesn’t know why they choose to book a yacht for two weeks if they are almost always on the islands drinking and partying.

They have thrown up on his yacht more than once and he had to clean after them. Obviously.

Thank god his friend Garreth is working with him this time or he is sure that he might have killed someone.

The most obnoxious of them all is the Golden Boy: Steve Harrington!

Since he explained to him that he doesn’t really speak Italian but some sort of old local dialect he refused to speak with him. Not that he really misses talking with someone who thinks he knows it all and wants to teach him how to drive his boat.

He is just waiting for this week to end so they can be on their way.

“The guys want to visit Stromboli to see the volcano erupting.” Garreth says to him while they are smoking a cigarette.

“Fine. We can get close to the island with the yacht and then get there with the dinghy.”

“That’s what I suggested, but they saw that there is a tour with cocktail drinks and they want to go with them.”

“Fine for me.” Eddie wasn’t expecting a day off but he’ll gladly take it.

“Steve is not going to join them so he wants you to stay available in case he changes his mind.”

For Christ's sake! He fucking hates that boy!

“Ok, there is no need for the two of us, I’ll stay in the port and wait to see what the rich boy wants to do, there is no point in wasting a day off.” Eddie winks at his friend “You should go see Chrissy.”

Garreth blushes “You know that she is too good for me.”

“Just go to say hello. For me!”

“Ok, for you!”

Eddie smiles, Garreth and Chrissy have been flirting since forever so he is pretty sure that she will be more than happy to see him.

He sighs and resigns himself to be at the rich boy’s disposal, while he makes use of his free time to clean the yacht.

He is almost convinced that the boy will not ask for his services when he sees him walking drunkenly toward the tourist quay.

“I want to go to Stromboli.” The boy states.

“You must be joking!”

“My friends are sending me some pictures and I want to see the lava.”

“You will see it another time! I’m not going to sail with you while you are drunk!”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Yes you are and I’m not crazy enough to take you on a boat!”

“We could use the dinghy.” Steve proposes.

“It’s too far for the dinghy.”

“Come on! It’s just the two of us! I’m sure it can take us! Maybe it’s you that can’t drive us.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your opinion. I’m the owner and I said no.”

“Ok.” The boy turns toward another man “Hey, will you take me to Stromboli on your dinghy if I pay you one thousand dollars?”

The man looks at him astonished and quickly nods.

God, this stupid rich boy is going to kill himself and he will not be responsible for that.

Steve tries to get on the dinghy and he doesn’t fall into the water only because Eddie quickly grabs him.

“Ok, ok you win, rich boy. I’ll take you. But you have to stay at my side like a good boy.”

For a moment Eddie sees a mischievous smile on Steve’s face but he agrees.

“What about my money!” the other man asks.

“We both know that you can’t get to Stromboli from here with a dinghy, so let’s say that this never happens and I will not have to report you to the authorities.”

The man growls something but says nothing more.

Eddie gets the yacht ready and they sail toward Stromboli. They are halfway through when the winds start to change.

“We have to go back.” Eddie states, looking worriedly at the sky.

“We are almost there! Come on! I want to see the lava.”

“If we get stuck in a storm you will see no fucking lava!” Eddie replies while he tries to turn the yacht and go back, but the waves become bigger and bigger, and then their motor gives out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“The motor is dead.”

“WHAT?!”

“The motor is dead. We must take the dingy.”

“But you said it was too far!”

Eddie can’t see the island, but they have to find somewhere to stop quickly if they don’t want to spend the night on the yacht, or worse.

“Get on the dinghy!” he yells, throwing the anchor. 

For once Steve obeys and they both get to the dinghy.

There are a few little volcanic islands where no one lives but where they can find refuge if they are quick enough.

“Sit down and try not to fall in the sea, ok?” 

Steve nods, scared, and Eddie manages to take them to a little island in the blackness of the night.

“I’m not going to spend the night on a fucking island.”

“Fine. Go back. You can swim, can’t you?” he mocks him, while he drags the dinghy on the sand.

“Let’s go back, we can still make it!” Steve complains trying to push the dingy back into the water while Eddie is dragging it out.

“Stop it! If you broke the propeller we are fucked!”

A loud crash makes him still in his steps.

He runs to the back of the dinghy and sees the propeller broken.

“Stupid rich kid! Now not only do we have to spend the night here but we cannot go back tomorrow morning!” he screams.

“We can ask for help and…”

“Good luck with that. There is a fucking storm!”

Eddie drags the dinghy to the shore and then finds some pieces of wood and makes a torch.

“You have to make it right! I’m paying you! You have to bring me back!”

“You know what, fucking moron? You can shove your money up your tight ass! I’m sure you can’t make a torch from your fucking credit card!” he replies angrily and then he goes back to search for a place to hide from the storm. He sees a cave, he looks around but he sees no animal tracks, so he decides that he can sleep there.

“This place smells like dead fish.” Steve complaints.

“Go find another place. You don’t have to stay here with me!”

Steve stiffens but doesn’t move.

Good.

For once he is quiet.

The dinghy propeller is fucked but they can still paddle back to the yacht and hope that the yacht survived the storm and the stupid motor would start to work again.

But all these are problems for his future self, right now one of them has to keep guard while the other sleeps.

“I’ll take the first watch, sleep. I’m going to wake you up when I need a change.”

“Can’t I… Can’t I stay with you?”

“Are you scared big boy?”

Steve shivers for a moment, then he slowly nods “I’m afraid of the dark.”

Eddie looks at him astonished. The obnoxious rich boy is scared of the dark?

“Are you kidding me?”

He shakes his head “And I’m terrified of water.”

“Why did you book a yacht if you are terrified of water?”

“My parents want me to overcome the fear. They say that’s ridiculous. But they weren’t there when Barb died. I was thirteen years old. She fell into the quarry. They found her body a week after she disappeared.” he stops for a moment, lowering his eyes “I found her body. I used to swim in the quarry at night. It was a test of bravery.” Steve takes a deep breath “Have you ever seen the body of a drowned man?”

He did. More times than he likes to admit. And it is not nice. He can only imagine what a saw like that could have done to a thirteen-year-old kid.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.”

Eddie sighs, gesturing to the boy to get closer to him “You can stay here with me. I’ll watch over you.”

“Like a guardian angel?” he laughs.

“Something like that. Now try to sleep.” They sit together for an hour, and then Eddie feels Steve’s head on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem such a pain in the ass when he is sleeping. He lets him sleep on his shoulder until he sees the sun rising.

“Sleeping beauty. Wake up. We have to try to go back to the yacht.”

“Can’t we stay here?” Steve asks in a sleepy voice.

“In a cave that smells like dead fish? I’m sure you have something cooler to be.”

“I don’t want to go back. My parents think that I’m not good enough and my friends want to spend time with me because I’m loaded and I can offer them the fun they want.” he sighs “You are different. You don’t give a shit about money. You fucking hate me. And still, when needed you were there.”

Eddie is surprised by Steve’s confession, and when he sees that his sat phone is finally working he turns it off.

“I think we can stay for a little bit. Would you like some fish for breakfast?” he asks with a smirk and Steve nods, eagerly.

“You are going fishing?”

“We are going fishing baby, I think that I can teach you a thing or two if you let me.”

***

When they finally call for help a couple of days later, Steve is not the same person that ruined Eddie’s life.

When he is relaxed he is fun, caring, and a very quick learner.

He ditches his friends as soon as they get back, and when he leaves he promises to come back.

When Steve comes back, a year later, he speaks perfect Italian and he is looking for a job.

“I thought you were loaded.” Eddie says while they are drinking a beer at Chrissy’s bar.

“I was. My father disinherited me so now I own only my luggage and a few bills."

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. That’s the fucking best thing that ever happened to me. So. About the job. I heard that you need help on your yacht.”

“Thanks but me and Gar are fine and…”

“Sorry to break it to you but I think that Garreth is ready to quit.” Steve says pointing to the couple at the bar counter “But I’d like to take his position if you want me.”

“Aren’t you scared of the water?”

Steve looks into his eyes and says “If I’m with you, nothing can scare me.”

It feels like a declaration, so Eddie kisses the boy in front of him as he secretly would have liked to do the previous year “The pay is shit and the work is hard. Some tourists are horrible but cute.”

“And what about the captain?”

“He is beautiful and available for pretty boys.”

#tumblr fic #myfanfic #steddie #au gust 2023 #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #writing challenge #shipwrecked #medusapelagia fanfic #medusapelagia #my fanfic

[savage-rhi]

Mending Shadows // Chapter 6

Summary:

Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.

Click here to read on AO3

Ringing.   That was the first noise Y/N heard. The sound was so jarring against an echo chamber of nothingness, that it urged Y/N to reach out for consciousness; to become aware of what was. Their body bobbed in and out of time, and if Y/N were fully aware of the experience, they would compare it to flight; for the body felt boundless and untethered to the world. From what little understanding Y/N’s mind had about their situation, they could have been drifting out to sea, being carried by a gentle current of waves taking them to their final place of rest. There was a calm surrender to the thought, until light began to leak through their eyes.    Slowly, Y/N woke up and was greeted to colors and shapes. Eos looked like a world under ice, for everything was distorted. The ringing continued it’s pulsing drum, cancelling out all other noise in the world. It suddenly occurred to Y/N, that they were not floating off into a void. No. They were being carried.    As reality began to piece itself back together before Y/N’s eyes, a blur of black and red became hair, clothes, and then a face.    Ardyn.    His clothes were burnt and tarnished. His head dripping with a pool of blood that carded down his face like an elegant serpent. The deep yellow’s of his eyes popped out against the darkness that ensnared the whites of his sclera. He was Adagium; the primordial entity of vengeance and power. This was a man who looked as if he had walked through Ifrit’s very fire and lived to tell the tale, and he was tired. So tired. Not even the scourge could hide the sheer exhaustion against his features.    I remember you…   The ringing in Y/N’s ears became interrupted, by a new noise. A gentle and rhythmic bump. One pulse, then two, then twenty. That’s when they were suddenly greeted by those pair of golden eyes, staring down at them.    Ardyn stopped walking.    Y/N’s body ceased moving across the unconscious sea, and they witnessed the Adagium fade into the background of whatever masks he wore. A mere man looked upon them with both awe and fear.    Y/N couldn’t smell, much less had the ability to communicate. They focused on his lips, his mouth moving but no sound ever graced their ears. His arms that cradled them close to his chest tightened, making Y/N feel secure enough to drift back into the dark without fear. They could sleep, knowing that he was the only thing standing between them and death. 

The memory went back into Y/N’s subconscious while they wiped their eyes. A few sniffles came and went. It had long become nightfall, and the chill winds along the coast crept into the land of Lucis. Clouds hovering above the ocean indicated a storm would pass through. Y/N could feel the bitter snips of cold against their flesh, making them wish they hadn’t been so emotionally compromised to the point of not having the clarity to get something warmer to wear. The throbbing ache of the scourge didn’t help the sensation either. 

For a moment, Y/N was taken out of their sadness. They stopped along the side of the road, and patted at their lower chest, and throat. The flare up they endured while running away from Galdin Quay was quite unusual. It felt as if they had thrown up and simultaneously glitched. The experience was peculiar, almost as if they were in two places at once but that couldn’t be so. The thought troubled Y/N for a time as they resumed their walk, and their misgivings toward the afternoon and night reappeared. 

There were no words to describe how numb Y/N felt in mind and heart. If a rogue Flexitusk were to suddenly come out of the shadows and make Y/N’s flesh a quick meal, they wouldn’t have cared. A morbid part of themself hoped for such an experience to pass, but they would’ve felt guilt for Ardyn not knowing what had become of them, not that he cared anyhow as Y/N recalled their conversation in the Vixen after he fed upon them. 

“Flexitusk or Ardyn, either way I’m getting consumed by some screwed up creature.” Y/N muttered to themself, letting out an amused huff. It was the only solace they had managed to offer themself for the night as they continued to their trek along the highway to the rendezvous point where Ardyn said he would be. 

Y/N looked down at their wrist watch hours later. It was approaching 1:30am. Sighing, they climbed over the guardrail along the highway and ventured off road to where they estimated the imperial airship would be along Cape Shawe. 

Y/N was somewhat amused with a thought. Traveling on foot at night along the road, and walking off into the wilds when daemons lurked throughout Lucis once upon a time scared the living crap out of them. Now after becoming infected, it wasn’t the worst thing that could come. Y/N smiled a little, taking comfort they were feeling a bit more courageous like their old self. 

The moon was quite bright this night, for it cast a glow that allowed Y/N to see far off into the distance. Every so often they needed to squint, just to be sure a tree or rock was indeed just that and not an animal. The winds whispered as grassland began to come into view. Anak’s, tall long necked beasts bellowed out soothing tunes to the herd from afar. The sound of a car rolling by with a smooth engine came and went, barely interrupting the wilds of Lucis. Y/N had traveled at night before, but tonight felt different in a sense. For the first time, there was this peace that managed to calm Y/N’s nerves. They couldn’t help but wonder if this was the result of becoming daemonic. 

That’s when a bright light suddenly rose from the horizon of the grass plain, and Y/N shielded themself immediately. A flashback of the glaive who found them came and went. Their body tensed, and they fought back the urge to take off running. 

“You there, cease your movements at once!” 

Y/N’s breath quickened. The spotlight lowered, and the sound of metal upon metal was heard in tantrum with precise steps. Y/N forced themself to look ahead, and noticed there were both men and magitek soldiers coming into view. 

“Drop any weapons you have, and hold your arms up!”

The intrusive memory of being dragged by their hair and thrown into the back of a grime filled truck had Y/N freeze, and their breathing shook. Nevertheless, they complied with the request, and raised their hands. Fear began to take root, cancelling out the their positive feelings from just moments ago. They fought against the memory of the night the glaive condemned them to MedZin, while listening to the soldiers chatter. 

“What do you make of this?” 

“A Lucian!”

“All the way out here!? How did they know about our location!?” 

“Could be a glaive!” 

“Either way, we should probably dispose of them.”

The sinking feeling of being tossed like garbage gave Y/N the strength to finally speak up.

“I seek peace!” Y/N swallowed, blinking a few times as rain began to fall, coming from a coastal cloud drifting overhead. “I’m with Chancellor Izunia, perhaps he told you about me. My name is--”

“It doesn’t matter what name you have,” One of the soldiers barked. “And there’s no way the likes of you would know the Chancellor! He’s not one for company of any kind, courtiers, the poor or common whores! For all I know, you could be a crownsguard looking to cause trouble!” 

Anger surged through Y/N, and they couldn’t help but counter them. 

“If I didn’t know him, then how would I know to come here? Do you see any other Lucian’s beside me out here in the middle of the night looking for an imperial airship?” 

“Are you being smart with me!?” The soldier exclaimed with great disdain. 

“I’m not trying to cause a problem, and I need to see Chancellor Izunia! It’s very, very important that I---”

“This may be your home turf, but we won’t hesitate to put you in your place!” 

Before Y/N could react, they were grabbed from behind at their neck. Y/N screamed as they were slammed to the ground, then pinned by two magitek soldiers pressing their feet against their back. Lying on their stomach with their arms splayed, Y/N could taste dirt against their tongue while they yelled. 

“Should we arrest the Lucian?” One of of the men aksed cautiously. “Maybe we should report this to the Chancellor…y’know, get this information verified.”

“I say this one is better off slaughtered.”

“No!” Y/N shouted. “No, please!” 

“What is the meaning of this?!” A thick older voice called out from the distance.

Y/N somehow forced themself to look up. They met the sorrowful eyes of an old man, dressed head to toe in imperial armor that far outclassed the likes of everyone around him. Their heart thudded deeply in their chest, wondering if this would be the person to decide their fate. 

“S-sir, commander, this Lucian--” 

“If you vaguely recall,” The man interrupted and raised his voice. “Chancellor Izunia was expecting a guest.”

“But how do we know it’s this one, sir?”

“Well, did you shoot first or ask questions?” 

“I, but--”

“Save it!” 

Y/N watched as the old man’s eyes laid upon them, and they couldn’t help but shirk. 

The old man gave a firm nod to the magitek troops that had Y/N pinned, and with little expression, they removed their feet from Y/N’s back. 

“Dear one, are you seeking the Chancellor?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes. I am his guest.” 

“He was not expecting you until--”

“My plans changed,” Y/N croaked out, trying not to swallow mud while they slowly began to rise. The cold, rain, and sudden attack had them trembling. Somehow through it all, they gathered the strength to say their final piece. 

“Please. I don’t have any other proof but my word. If you need to verify who I am, call him. Tell him that Y/N is here. He’ll know it’s me.” 

“That won’t be necessary,” The commander raised his hands, gesturing that Y/N didn’t need to do anything further. His eyes landed on the soldier who had been picking a fight with Y/N, and with quiet anger ordered that the soldier go fetch Y/N something warm to cover up with to make up for the transgression. Moments after Y/N was presented with an imperial cloak, the commander came to their side to escort them.

“Chancellor Izunia will be most pleased to know of your arrival. I apologize for the terrible manners my men have. It’s been a day of hell.” 

Y/N furrowed their brows, shivering underneath the cloak. “Day of hell?” 

“I’m sure the Chancellor will fill you in on the details. Let’s focus on getting you out of the rain, and to the inn where he is staying.” 

The inn...? The confusion upon Y/N’s features could be detected even among the darkness of the night, however it became increasingly obvious that the commander didn’t have the social bandwidth let alone patience to divulge what had been going on. Y/N thought right now it was best to remain silent, and keep their head low especially as both they and the commander walked past more Niflheim soldiers who were taken aback by the new blood that entered their terrority. It nerved Y/N, how they were so keen on sensing that there was an other among them. Then again, the empire was known for breeding killers, and the way they stared made Y/N realize there might’ve been truth to those rumors especially when it came to the magitek troops, whose red eyes glowed in the darkness. The illumination reminded them of the Goblin in the cave, and Y/N found the familiarity unsettling. On a subconscious level, there was both familial acknowledgement toward the magitek soldiers and their lifeless personas, and a dread that couldn’t be explained with words, only felt through a force that shared common ground. 

These things have the scourge inside of them…The epiphany had Y/N freeze. For years upon years, there had been rumors as to what kind of evil Niflheim had dabbled in to create these undying men. Everything from blood sacrifice, to retro engineering Ancient Solheim technology had been spread word of mouth across Lucis. There was a chilling thought besides the connection Y/N shared with these beings, that maybe they were the only soul in the kingdom that knew the truth. 

“Are you alright?” 

The commander’s voice pulled Y/N’s attention back to the present moment. They nodded quick to avoid looking suspicious. 

“Yeah, just tired.” 

The commander nodded. “All the more reason to get you out of this storm and into the Chancellor’s care. Let’s keep moving, shall we?” 

Y/N nodded yet again and remained silent the rest of the way. As the rain beat heavily against them, soaking the cloak until it stuck to Y/N’s skin, their mind wandered back to the memory of Ardyn carrying them out of the MedZin lab, trying to recall what he said that kept them away from the chill of death.

Sitting on the bed of his suite, Ardyn turned another page to a magazine he had been reading. He held the paper binding up close to his face. Every so often, rubbing at his eyes. The text would fade in and out, then Ardyn would force himself to zero in. Keeping his brain fixated on one word at a time helped a great deal, but at the expense of his quick thinking mind for it felt shackled at not being able to skip ahead. The issue of his sight reminded Ardyn of the vast stack of paperwork he’d have waiting for him on his desk upon return to Niflheim. He made a solemn face at the thought while combing over the gossip section of Lucian Inquiry. 

Reading over the fantastical tall tales people made up about powerful entities and the royal family itself brought him some mischievous joy. The bit about King Regis having a limp due to a sexual injury while trying to create heirs had Ardyn snort rather hard. He considered himself brilliant when it came to lying, but this was too outrageous, even a jester like him. 

“If only they knew the truth about that little problem,” Ardyn chuckled, recalling the epic battle he had with his descendent years ago at the Lucis’s Founding Ceremony, and how he had crippled the young king of yesteryear. 

The vibration of his phone going off had Ardyn turn his head. He furrowed his brows, sat the magazine down at his side and picked up. 

“Yes?” 

“Pardon disturbing you, but you have a visitor.” 

“Oh?” Ardyn raised a brow. 

“Their name is Y/N. They claim to be the guest you informed the commander about.” 

To say that Ardyn was startled was an understatement. He froze for a time, wondering if this was a ploy to something decietful. After the attack earlier, he couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. 

“Do tell me what they look like.” Ardyn murmured. There was a faint shuffling noise in the background, and he picked up on some noises. Whatever was said couldn’t be made out in full. 

The soldier cleared his throat on the other end. “They have Y/E/C, Y/H/C, and they are roughly Y/HGHT.” 

“Send them to me.” Ardyn commanded and hung up. There was no need for further detail, nor caution. 

Many questions traversed through Ardyn’s mind while he awaited for Y/N to enter the room. His golden eyes stared at the door the entire time, until the knob twisted and Y/N weakly walked in, with their escort not far behind. Ardyn’s brows raised as did his eyes widen a little, seeing Y/N soaked from head to toe. Y/N looked as if they had been chewed up and spat out by not only the elements, but something else that bore more weight. The sight caused Ardyn to swallow back a gulp he hadn’t noticed while he stood up quick. 

“Tell me,” Ardyn’s eyes narrowed past Y/N and at the escort. “Why are they in such a sorry state?” 

His voice was so angry, both Y/N and the soldier flinched. 

“I--I’m not sure. I can ask the commander--”

“You damn well better! Or I’ll---”

“Hey,” Y/N piped up before anything could potentially get out of hand. Their gaze met the fury of Ardyn’s eyes, and Y/N shook their head. “Not now.” 

Ardyn glared, closing his eyes while taking in a deep breath. He didn’t bother to say another word, and merely shooed the escort away. The soldier made a beeline out of the suite, and closed the door in haste, not wanting to overstay what little welcome he had been granted. 

With just himself and Y/N left, Ardyn opened his eyes. He inspected Y/N while they stared ahead, seemingly not paying him any mind.

“You’re way ahead of schedule,” Ardyn sarcastically huffed. “I suppose your affairs at the Quay were not as important as you made them out. What were you thinking, traveling at night all the way here by yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N quietly murmured. 

“You don’t know,” Ardyn repeated mockingly. “I took you for someone on the more intelligent end. You haven’t the slightest idea what sort of pressing dangers we have to contend with moving forward. You could’ve been killed! Why didn’t you stay back at Galdin Quay? I could’ve--- never mind. There’s no point.” he shook his head and sighed through his nose, trying in vain to calm his annoyance.  

“While you were saying goodbye to your dear old friends, the airship came under attack. MedZin operatives tracked the Vixen to the rendezvous point. I haven’t the slightest idea how they set up a surveillance patch, but they managed. If by an act of mercy, we are able to take flight, we’ll be leaving quite early. In the meantime, I need your compliance for--”

“Okay,” Y/N glumly interrupted and walked past Ardyn. They kept their gaze forward, focusing on nothing else but getting to the bathroom nearby. Y/N didn’t see the look of confusion that traveled over Ardyn’s face, or how he attempted to reach out for their shoulder to miss by an inch. As soon as Y/N entered the bathroom, they shut the door behind and shrugged off the wet cloak. The material fell with a moist flop against the tiled floor, and Y/N calmly sat down near the tub, bringing their knees to their chest while their arms encircled around themself. 

Ardyn had encountered an array of odd human behaviors, but he couldn’t recall anything akin to this. Even as he briefly combed over his catalog of absorbed memories, nothing jumped forward to help him in this situation. Normally, Ardyn was a man who loved traveling many paths so long as they arrived at his predetermined destination. Now he found himself dreading that he had one too many choices regarding how to approach this circumstance. Moments ago, he might as well been barking orders at the shell of a ghost versus the stubborn human he had fed off of earlier in the day. Rubbing the back of his neck, Ardyn decided to return to reading if only to clear his mind.

For a long while, he waited. At some point they would have to come out, surely. Every so often during the twenty minutes Ardyn awaited Y/N, he’d glance at the bathroom door. Not a sound. The room was too quiet now, even with the pitter patter of rain tapping the window glass nearby. He once more put the magazine down and got up from bed. 

Ardyn took a step forward, hesitating briefly then he walked up to the bathroom door. A part of himself believed giving space was the best option, but his morbid curiosity was too piqued to completely ignore Y/N’s demeanor. Especially with how long they had been cooped up in the restroom. 

Whatever was to happen going forward, he knew he needed to change tactics, start back at square one if only to pry from Y/N what had been unearthed at Galdin Quay. He settled with himself on the matter. 

Ardyn carded a hand through his hair before he knocked three times on the bathroom door. He didn’t bother for Y/N to answer, welcoming himself into the small dwelling. His eyes immediately caught Y/N’s gaze, seeing them flinch from the intrusion. 

“Greetings,” Ardyn offered casually. 

“Hey,” Y/N responded softly. 

Ardyn furrowed his brows. There was a melancholy sensation to Y/N’s cadence that he picked up rather quickly. He also noticed they were sitting on the floor beside the tub. Their submissive posture reminded Ardyn very much of the night he had tempted Y/N to join his side. The irony wasn’t lost on him. 

Ardyn closed the door behind him. “I didn’t expect you back so suddenly. After the fiasco today, I was going to retrieve you at Galdin Quay myself come sunrise after I’ve had a rest.”

“I guess I saved you the trouble.” Y/N smiled and tried to hide the pain in their voice. They shifted their eyes elsewhere. It was a vain attempt to shield how they were truly feeling after what transpired at the Quay. 

“The soldiers, did they mistreat you on the way here?” Ardyn asked. Behind the sincerity, there was a flame of anger in his voice. One that suggested he was already making assumptions about how Y/N arrived at their somber state. 

“No,” Y/N lied, and shook their head. Despite the cold welcome, Y/N wasn’t in the mood to deal with that injustice. “No. The soldiers were interrogative, but given what happened to the airship and you, I can’t say I blame them. At least they led me to you.” 

Ardyn hummed in suspicion and sighed. He offered a small bow with his head.  “My apologies for their behavior nonetheless. I’ll ensure it’s made clear you’re no threat to my being.” 

If Y/N didn’t know better, it sounded like Ardyn was going to give the soldiers a punishment, and not one of verbal nature. A shudder went down Y/N’s spine, followed by a pleasant warmth that spread from their chest and to their heart. There was an honesty to Ardyn’s words that felt safe if there ever was such a thing. 

“You seem rather,” Ardyn paused, trying to find the right word without pushing the envelope too much. “Despondent.” 

“I suck at hiding it, don’t I?” Y/N sniffled, letting out a chuckle to try and hide their feelings further from him. Humor was a coping mechanism they relied upon when they could feel their resolve begin to hit the lowest of lows. 

“I’m afraid you’d make a rather terrible thespian.” Ardyn mused. 

“At least I have self-deprecating comedy in spades.” Y/N countered with a quiet laugh. 

Ardyn smirked at the remark. Sighing through his nose, he carefully approached Y/N and crouched down. He observed the quick glimmer of surprise in Y/N’s eyes and proceeded to sit down beside them. He was careful to leave some room between their bodies, still unsure with himself why he was bothering to get on their level. It’s not like he gave a damn in the end what was going on with Y/N. Their life would be cut short in due time upon his hand, but he found himself further intrigued. 

“You made a substantial fuss regarding your old life,” Ardyn cut to the chase. “I’m not a man that normally gives out extra time for trivial matters, so forgive my earlier shock at seeing you here as you are.” 

Y/N nodded. Agreeing with him without protest. “You and I both wasted time.” 

Ardyn smiled a little. “Finally we agree on something.” 

When Y/N didn’t say anything after and looked elsewhere, Ardyn made a face. His brows furrowed upon feeling an unsteady weight in his chest. He was perplexed, sensing something akin to anxiety pool in his heart. He tried to push it away, not wanting to be reminded of Y/N’s memories that plagued him at the last place they both spent the night. 

“You’re completely drenched,” Ardyn motioned with his right hand at Y/N’s clothing. “I can have someone fetch you dry clothes if you’d like.” 

“That would be nice,” Y/N nodded. Instinct told them Ardyn was trying to figure out what had happened, but he either didn’t have the right words for it or he was scared. Either option was unusual for a man such as himself. 

“I’m fine,” Y/N reassured, putting on their best face. “I’m okay.” 

“I know,” Ardyn murmured. 

“Really, I’m gonna be okay.” 

There was a long pause and a heaviness that permeated the bathroom then. Y/N watched Ardyn’s eyes travel over them. His expression conveyed he wasn’t falling for their false bravado. No. He saw right through it all. The fact he didn’t push it further despite his obvious desire to pry astonished Y/N. There was a tenderness in his honey irises that made him seem almost normal--as if he wasn’t a daemonic entity or the Chancellor--but a simple man trying to find out what was ailing another human. 

Y/N shook their head, looking away from Ardyn, and started to cry. They quivered, feeling self-conscious about their actions. The last thing Y/N wanted was for Ardyn to see how miserable they were.

“What happened at the Quay?” Ardyn asked quietly. 

Y/N felt their throat wanting to close up. It was too painful to conjure what was spoken back into reality, but a dam had broke. Y/N needed to get it out. Let someone else share the burden, even if said person didn’t have a stake in it. 

“My friends,” Y/N began and sniffled. “They had been looking for me for a while. They were scared I got lost in Leide when they didn’t get any messages. I explained what happened at the caves with the goblin. They took one look at the scourge marks, and they--” 

Gods be damned… Y/N thought to themself as they gestured with their right arm as if trying to pull the words out from thin air. 

“They told me they cared but---I couldn’t even finish telling them what they meant to me before I was chased away. They tried to kill me. All of them were terrified of me like I was some sort of--a monster that came out of hell. They threatened to report me to the crownsguard if I didn’t leave. They wished me luck, but they couldn’t--couldn’t be around me. Cause I’m sick. I’m a walking plague.” 

Y/N wiped away at their eyes, shaking their head. “I’m not even mad at them. I just---I didn’t get to tell them I loved them. They wouldn’t let me even--none of it mattered. I’m scared. I’m scared and I thought they’d--I don’t know. I don’t know anymore. I’m sick, and it hurts. It hurts so bad and I can’t--no one wants me. Letting me in, was a mistake.”

It took Ardyn a bit of time to process the weight of Y/N’s words, but when he finally passed through it all, he felt himself reminiscing. He could see it so clearly, his healer years. How he had been beloved and all it took was one crucial moment of weakness to be seen as a monster. The love his people had for him was conditional. Even if the heavens foretold all Ardyn had done to calm their suffering, the people would’ve found a way to turn up their noses. Much like Y/N’s so-called beloveds. Ardyn didn’t need to hear the full details of Y/N’s circumstances to register how miserable they felt then. The abandonment dwelled in the body and in the soul. He knew it all too well. 

Ardyn understood he was more than capable of going on a tirade about the fallacies of compassion. How giving of oneself leads to dismay and disappointment. How humanity just uses others to get ahead. He had a whole speech prepared, more than ready to tell Y/N the cold realities of their world and snap them back to reason, but he surrendered to something else. 

Ardyn scooted closer to Y/N. He wrapped an arm around their shoulder, then coaxed their body into his. It surprised him how little resistance Y/N displayed, and how fragile and warm they felt against his chest. Daresay the entities in his body felt a twinge of communion. Ease that both ignited the scourge and calmed it, sensing the presence of another of itself in need of strength. 

Two thousand years it had been since Ardyn embraced another soul. He shook at the nostalgia that snuck up in his mind. How familiar yet foreign it all was. He was further perplexed, feeling Y/N’s arms wrap around his form. Part of his face was in Y/N’s hair now, a subconscious instinct had him dedicating their scent to memory. As if it would be of great importance at a later time. He felt nauseous and warm; tongue-tied with racing neurons. 

“I could have them dealt with, you know,” Ardyn murmured his barbaric offer. Feeling Y/N’s tears and the dampness of their clothing stain through the material of his own attire. 

“I know you could,” Y/N muttered in between sobs. “I don’t need you to.” 

As tempted as Ardyn was to follow through with something insidious, he knew right then and there it was futile. This whole situation was strange, and the embrace was the only thing that made sense right now. 

Ardyn remained still for a while, giving both Y/N and himself enough time to process their respective ends. Eventually, he found the strength to pull away from them. He held Y/N’s gaze though, regarding them for a moment while observing they were no longer crying. Their eyes still carried their sorrows, but the sadness, for now, was under lock and key. 

“We should turn in for the night,” Ardyn finally spoke as he got up. He started walking to the door, not wanting to linger any longer than need be. “I’ll knock again when I have new clothes ready for you.” 

“Wait,” Y/N called out right as Ardyn’s left hand grabbed the doorknob and twisted. They watched while he paused, tilting his head to the side some as if lending an ear. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re hurt from earlier,” Y/N remarked. Though they couldn’t see underneath the layers of clothes Ardyn was wearing, they could smell the burns that were no doubt spread across his flesh, especially during the embrace. The pungent scent was akin to leather being tanned over a flame, leaving grotesque room to the imagination as to what ordeal Ardyn had been through. 

“So I am.” Ardyn’s voice was stoic as if he couldn’t have a care in the world regarding his ailment. “What of it?” 

“A deal is a deal,” Y/N said. “I took care of what I needed to do. I can rest in peace knowing that. You need the scourge in my body to heal yourself, otherwise, it's going to be a while. You could kill two birds with one stone tonight.” 

Though Y/N didn’t outright say it, Ardyn understood what they were driving at. If he took all of the scourge Y/N had into himself, it would be more than enough to patch up his body and quite possibly bring him back to full power. His scourge took to Y/N like a barrel of wine; containing the right environment for rich power to manifest. Y/N was open and willing. Ardyn could tell from their tone they had accepted the fate that had been ordained. There wouldn’t be a fight. 

All he had to do was act. 

“No,” Ardyn murmured. He couldn’t look them in the eye but did turn his head more. “Not that I am opposed to your sacrifice, but I’m not in the mood. We can reconvene our little arrangement at a later time when we’re both not dealing with heavy clouds above us.” 

“But our deal--”

“Which I intend to keep,” Ardyn interrupted. “Will happen promptly after I’ve taken care of several matters concerning our security.”

Y/N furrowed their brows, finding it peculiar at how quick Ardyn was to strike down the idea. “Do you at least want to feed?” 

“No,” Ardyn shook his head. “And do quit asking.” 

Ardyn left the bathroom abruptly. The door behind him slammed, causing Y/N to jump. They remained on the floor, legs tucked in close to their body while coming to terms with the new facts and one that stood out above all else: Ardyn was giving them another day at life. It wasn’t going to end there, in the bathroom. Life wasn’t over.

Y/N wasn’t sure if they should’ve felt relieved or miserable at the prospect. There was no doubt their body wanted to give in and perish, but the mind was still at odds with itself. Maybe…Y/N thought. Maybe there was a silver lining to this, they just hadn’t seen it yet. 

#mending shadows #ffxv fanfic #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ardyn x reader #ardyn x you #gender neutral reader #canon x reader

[overdecorated-furniture]

Find the Word - Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me, @annakayy! I love this kind of game.

My words are - snow, love, state and forest.

Snow

“A slight snow was covering the pavement outside, downy flakes falling into the quay where they melted in the sluggish water. The world was brought to a halt, frozen as winter’s icy talons wrapped around its neck for the first time this year. The usual bustle of Lower Ormand Quay, where cargoes were unloaded, and the noise of boot-makers, hatters, tailors and tanners as they plied their trade had fallen into slumber as soon as the snow had begun to fall.”

- from A Monstrous Regiment of Women, Chapter 2. (My Napoleonic novella/fanfic thing)

Love

“There is nothing you could possibly say that would make me wish to part from you, love. Your company is everything I desire, and my affection for you is infinite.”

- from Monstrous Regiment, Chapter 2. (I seem to have surprisingly few mentions of love in EoE or JoD…)

State

“The visions of other places were growing more frequent, and although Melwas did his best to try and secretly practice controlling what he conjured, it was hard to force himself into a calm and detached state of mind during the day, especially with the agitation that flickered and pulsed through the clans, caught on the wind, flashing in firelight and winding though the water, before diving down rabbit holes into the earth.”

- from Echoes of Eternity, Chapter 8. (My fantasy novel.)

Forest

“The scene in front of him, from the awkward position of lying on the ground, was that of a lush valley that brought an ache of familiarity to the youth, although he was certain he had never been here before, from what patchy memories were dripping back into his mind, slowly as the long evenings of summer. He was lying on the edge of grassy slopes, a riot of soft green and the brightness of summer flowers, beyond which the blue-washed crags of mountains supported the azure sky above where the larks fluttered. A river flowed amongst the fields, tumbling angrily from the maw of a waterfall into a deep pool, only to calm its temper, and find its way to a deciduous forest, whispering the secrets of the paths between the many worlds of sky, earth and under-earth.”

- from Echoes, Chapter 2.

Tagging @simonnebethel, @tildeathiwillwrite, @chronicler-of-narrative, @alextheoccasionalwriter, and an open tag for anyone else. No pressure, just if you want to!

Your words are: - sink, paper, hunt and jewel.

Happy writing! 🌿

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy writing #historical fiction #my wips #echoes of eternity #eoe #a monsterous regiment of women #mr #tag game #find the word game

[gauloise-sans-filtre]

(It’s anon with movies!) i’m open to different genres except for horror movies and something too tooth-rotting romantic, and probably i’d like something made after 1990+!

Okay then, so I've had to remove a very big chunk out of the many romantic films in France. Below, a small list to see what you think about with no romance (except maybe a little bit for Amelie), as you wish and according to my tastes. You may know some of them, so let me know if you do, and if you liked them? I warn you that I'm not taking into account the controversy surrounding the directors. I'm only interested in the quality of the movies. I hope you'll find what you're looking for in this little panel. Normally, they are all available in english or with english subtitles.

But I have an objection the 90s were a good area for Luc Besson's action movies :

Nikita (La femme Nikita for the english speakers), Director Luc Besson

Léon (For english speakers Leon the professional), Director Luc Besson

Jeanne D'Arc (Joan of Arc for english speakers), Luc Besson

2000 : Harry, un ami qui vous veut du bien, director Dominic Moll

2000 : Le goût des autres (For english speakers Taste of others), director Agnès Jaoui

2001 : Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain (Amelie for english speakers), Director : Jean Pierre Jeunet

2001 : La chambre des officiers, director François Dupeyron

2001, Le Pacte des loups, director Christophe Gans

2002 : L'auberge Espagnole, director : Cédric Klapisch

2002, Le Pianiste, director Roman Polanski

2002, Monsieur Batignole, director Gérard Jugnot

2003, Les Triplettes de Belleville, director Sylvain Chomet

2003, Swimming Pool, director François Ozon

2004 : Les Choristes (For english speakers The Chorus), director Christophe Barratier

2004, 36, Quai des Orfèvres, director Olivier Marchal

2005, Enfermés dehors, director Albert Dupontel

2005, Joyeux Noël, director Christian Carion

2005, De battre mon coeur s'est arrêté, director Jacques Audiar

2006, Ne le dis à personne, director Guillaume Canet

2006, Je vous salue Sarajevo, director Jean Luc Godard

2007, Le Scaphandre et le Papillon, director Julian Schnabel

2008, Mesrine instinct de mort (part 1), director Jean François Richet

2008, Mesrine ennemi public numéro 1, director Jean François Richet

2008 : Le premier jour du reste de ta vie, director Rémi Bezançon

2008 : Deux jours à tuer, Jean Becker

[charmtion]

today is a good day but like all good days there are bits of bad. a friend I have worked with for the last 8 years is leaving our little haven & when has that not been bittersweet? it’s the dichotomy of life, esp. living in a seasonal town—our lives are dictated by the ebb & flow of the sea just as much as they are by the tide of tourism; things are transitory, fleeting, yet somehow rooted deep; we are swept away come summer by a mass collating & endlessly heaving, amidst it we stand shoulder-to-shoulder & we serve (teas, coffees, cakes, buckets of scalding water to soothe a weeverfish sting) & we scratch a living to survive, & so it is that there’s a camaraderie unique to seafront towns, our little ballasts of home & locality that far outlive the onslaught of new blood come the turning of the whitsun. for the people that visit perhaps we are blots in a book, a few lines in a diary to be reminisced on years later—that place you holidayed in so long ago; the quaint little streets, the waterfront shops, the boats bobbing, & the seagull that threatened to swoop away half your supper from its salt-stained paper, this feeling of time frozen & forever relaying the same stagnant loop; the faces that peopled that place, well they’re nameless figures for the most part, aren’t they? they are the barmaid with a nose-ring who seemed thoroughly unhappy to be serving you, counting down the hours till she can melt into the sunset with her friends & forget her troubles for a little while; they’re the fishermen moving along the quay, knotting rope, hauling nets, neatly coiling everything away for the next time the vessel pushes out to open water, placed like sketched shadows in a picture-book with an inner life you could never guess at; they’re figures in the background of photographs, bearing food or filling cups, or piloting a boat around at your pleasure; they pocket your money (stow it away for the winter; for the firewood when the grey winds sweep in) & provide a service—sometimes with a smile, sometimes not. but first & foremost they are the place; woven into its bricks, its stones, stretches of sand, shade-dappled pockets of woodland that exist in the hills & high places away from the noise, & there’s this bond here, there’s this bond between place & people that I’ve never felt so deeply elsewhere. we’re tied to this place; this place is tied to us. the waves that wash it are moon-drunk, seasonal, but we’re the weathered bits of rock that watch it all with an indulgent smile; sun-baked we endure & in the snow we sow our strength for the next summer—so when one of us leaves, when one of us is carried off to tread water on a separate tide it bites a little deeply at the bones of you; it bites & it lingers there till the next wave washes through & in the buzzing sweep of another summer you’ll look for a familiar shadow & find it gone but know it’s somewhere still, part of the same mirror-like pool in which you yourself are moored: a piece of driftwood picked up & apart by the same current that stirs it. 

#tbd

[grandmaster-anne]

Court Circular | 28th March 2023

St James’s Palace

The Princess Royal, Royal Patron, National Coastwatch Institution, this morning visited Felixstowe Station, National Coastwatch Institution Lookout, Martello Tower, Wireless Green, Old Fort Road, Felixstowe, and was received by Mr Stephen Fletcher (Deputy Lieutenant of Suffolk), and afterwards attended a Reception at Orwell Hotel, Hamilton Road, Felixstowe, and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Suffolk (Clare, Countess of Euston). Her Royal Highness this afternoon opened Suffolk Fire and Rescue Service’s new Combined Fire and Police Station, Princes Street, Ipswich, and was received by Mr James Lowther-Pinkerton (Deputy Lieutenant of Suffolk). The Princess Royal, Patron, the Excelsior Trust, later visited the restored Great Yarmouth Shrimper Horace and Hannah at Ipswich Waterfront, Neptune Quay, Ipswich, and was received by Commodore Robert Bellfield (Deputy Lieutenant of Suffolk).

Kensington Palace

The Duke of Gloucester this morning presented The Queen’s Award for Enterprise: Sustainable Development to the Wates Group, Station Approach, Leatherhead, and was received by Mr Timothy Wates (Deputy Lieutenant of Surrey). His Royal Highness afterwards presented The Queen’s Award for Enterprise: International Trade to Silent Pool Distillers, Shere Road, Albury, Surrey. The Duke of Gloucester this afternoon visited Guildford Cathedral and was received by His Majesty’s Lord-Lieutenant of Surrey (Mr Michael More-Molyneux). His Royal Highness later presented The Queen’s Award for Enterprise: International Trade to Stanhope-Seta, London Street, Chertsey, Surrey.

St James’s Palace

The Duke of Kent, President of the Board of Trustees, Imperial War Museums, this evening attended a Reception at Imperial War Museum London, Lambeth Road, London SE1, and was received by Colonel Simon Duckworth (Deputy Lieutenant of Greater London).

#court circular #princess anne #princess royal #prince richard duke of gloucester #prince edward duke of kent #british royal family

[buffalojournal]

Two Poems by Morgan L. Ventura

A Brief Synesthetic History

When I look around it could be said we are living in dark times, the walls & skies & sea & clouds & spaces within me, obsidian smoke, pitch tar, pooled oil. It tastes of ash & petrol & mould & the edge of a boiled knife & I hear the whooshing whooping of distant stars – black holes – ebony arias bending, twisting vibrations. What’s true is I want brighter times, amber & magenta times, spirals of smiling roses & giddy peonies, & detonations of laughing citrine. Times that carry the blush of wisteria, caramel popcorn, earnest eucalyptus. I was born in green times – aventurine smiles & verdant yards blooming viridian jewels, emerald & jade hanging from low branches, wistful and content. The 80s rainforest transmutes blue. Periwinkle times, the 90s breathed cornflower winds and bluebell gales, husked sapphire on metal plates, glimmering robin eggs on cedar porch chirping an unearthly jingle piercing aquamarine eyes of my father who knew only sadness. The sky only spoke rain, it was falling sea, shredded wave, lacerated labradorite, cascades of troubled cerulean. Shocked like glaciers arguing, raging because all’s spilled into red. A time of crimson, furls of fuchsia in the tide of blood after flames across New York, after strikes in Chicago, after death in the family. The 2000s were carnelian, lay the bead beneath my tongue, the rubies on my eyes, enshrine me in magma, encrust me in this livid tomb. Vitrine of vermillion, what is a body but stained glass, medieval sun never modern. The next era’s violet, arched, mutilated candy blossoming from irises in the back. In the evening light it all shivers purple, bruised lilacs yammer & portend a luminous love. Amethyst troves in the attic squirm & emit warmth, simmering with snapdragon & grapes, pisco vineyard from a decade ago, time punctured by lazy lost lagoons. Take me now into what seems like blank times, off-shades of pale peeling into crystal pears & glass shards as we wait, & the iridescent soul in the body of the future, the cloud high above spitting quartz & splitting mirrors, declares these are rainbow times, & I have to tell you, I love all the colours, I want all the colours. World, let me bathe in your prisms & drink your light. This marbled soil, this striated sky. I’d be no one & nowhere without.

 Internal Monologue of an Anthropologist in Paris

i.

My mother said if I fail on my new adventure I can live in her closet.

My French roommate has shit in my bed after having a midlife crisis at 29.

On television I look like an idiot. Even smart, floral blazers from the 10th Arrondissement make me look like a cartoon character because I’m very small.

They want to hire me as a curatorial fellow at the Musée du Quai Branly but then I have to stay here and oh, how I know the Parisians suffer.

Every Thursday there is a voracious vacuuming in the flat above me at 6am and I am suddenly murderous. I strike the ceiling with my broom and the ceiling strikes back.

ii.

My life is an Antonioni film. At the Sorbonne, I’m asked to describe my unwritten doctoral thesis in front of four medieval historians and a self-proclaimed spiritualist who spends most of his time at Père Lachaise by the grave of some important figure whose name I can’t remember. I whirl around in my seat and quip, “It is about nothing with precision.”

iii.

The community in Oaxaca wants me to ask the Mexican government to return the collection it stole but I’m merely an anthropologist, when did we ever hold power?

Margaret Mead was barely 5’0” and carried a walking stick taller than herself, which she’d use to intimidate men. That’s power.

I’m invited by the History Channel to appear on Ancient Aliens after my undergraduate advisor, a certain Mayanist, declines and thinks it would be hilarious to give them my personal email. “We will pay you $300,” they tell me. I think seriously about it.

Pseudoscience is absurd but my life is absurd. My next-door neighbour smokes cigarettes naked while his parrot shits on the patio. A colleague informs me they irrationally hate my surname.

“Would you like a career in anthropology?” my PhD advisor asks me after I tell him about the invite. This, coming from a man whose faculty headshot features him sacrificing a chicken.

Anthropologists don’t deserve careers, I think. But I sure enjoy all the grant and fellowship money, society’s conviction that we are worth something because “we are scientists.”

I don’t want a career, I conclude.

iv.

Over lunch in the EHESS cafeteria, my friend says everyone here complains too much and that the Parisians are insane and create their own chaos.

My brother texts me because my mother is in jail. She should stay there.

I go for coffee with an artist in Le Marais. The owner comes out to scream at all of us who dare to use their laptops and take up too much time – or space.

Claude Lévi-Strauss helped found UNESCO. Franz Boas died in his arms. Claude’s a structuralist and I despise structure. Will I die in the arms of anyone?

When Bronislaw Malinowski died, we all found out that he was a pervert. His field notebooks were festooned with scribbles of his interlocutor’s boobs.

“Anthropologists are very interesting, no?” asks the barista I’ve befriended at perhaps the most hipster café I could find.

I don’t know, are we?

Am I?

[bikepackinguk]

Day One Hundred and Four

Well rested and up at 7am this morning in a pleasantly sheltered patch of trees a little outside of Wareham, it's time for another day at it!

On to the road, it's an easy start to the day with a gentle roll over the River Frome and through the nice little town of Wareham.

The place still seems to be in the process of waking up currently, and the streets are nice and quiet as I ride through and out over the River Piddle or Trent.

Rather than getting the overpriced ferry down at Shell Bay, I'm tracking around the bay and heading up the A351, which has a nice compliment of cyclable pathways running up past the busy dual carriageway junctions and into Upton.

A bice long run of road down through Hamworthy brings me back to the waterside once more to the nice quayside down at Poole.

It's now time for a stretch of riding that I've been looking forward to since seeing its potential coming up in the map, with many decent flat miles ahead of waterside riding. Let's get to it!

Around Poole Quay and past the harbourside, the trail leada on through Baiter Park with the water lapping up right next to the paving.

The path rolls past the boating lake before a short leg through some busy roads, before dropping dowj back onto the shore road.

I follow the road out for a loop around Sandbanks and past the ferry terminal, before heading back and turning off to hit the beach.

Ahead is a beautiful long run of promenade next to the lovely sandy beach, running for miles below Bournemouth's pretty cliffsides.

The day is a little grey still which is keeping tue seaside a bit quieter so far, which means fewer pedestrians to navigate around as I enjoy a nice gentle flat ride around the beach.

It's a lovely bit of riding as I roll up and around Bournemouth Pier and onwards along the full run of promenade up to the far edge of Southbourne, where I pick back up with NCN Route 2 as it heads up over the River Stour and in through Christchurch.

The town is quite busier than the beach today, so I keep at the trail as it heads out around some nice trails through Stanpit Marsh and then up along the side of the River Mude.

Past some busy road junctions, the route does a good job of keeping out of traffic is it twists through some back roads and out into the countryside once more.

It's time for another unland diversion here with a bit that I've been looking forward to as Route 2 heads up into the beautiful woodlands and moors or the New Forest.

After meandering through the roads here, the route heads past Holmsley and hits the offroad trails through open land filled with horses and cattle roaming freely.

The terrain isn't ideal for my loaded touring bike, but I'm setting a gentle pace and ensuring the bumps and rocks aren't too much of a hazard.

The route heada down some lovely forested trails and along a lovely old rail line before swinging into Brockenhurst.

Even the more urban parts of New Forest are amazing to see, as horses and donkeys roam the streets here and do not give one single damn about the flowing traffic.

With a bemused smile on my face, I roll through and out of town and back to the trails, where I have to navigate through another herd of horses.

I also catch sight of an elusive grass snake speeding out of my way, which causes a laugh of joy. They're an animal I've loved since I was a child and seeing one is a highlight of the entire trip.

Slowly making my way along the stoney trail, the route through the forests lead out past the campsite at Denny Wood and onto the road across the wide open moors. There's a good bit of crosswind blowing along here, but the cycle route soon turns once again to set it at my back.

Past more moorlands and patches of woods, the route heads past a busy bypass and into the edges of Applemore with a convenietly placed supermarket for me to stop off at.

With the day getting in and a long urban stretch ahead, it looks like a good position to settle up for the day!

It's been a very enjoyable run today and the terrain is getting so much easier to tackle now I'm out of the real tough hills and cliffs if the West Country. A check of the map suggests that I may only be around 400 or so miles from the end of my ride now, which is a scarily short distance considering how far I've come! We'll see how the rest of the week unfurls!

TTFN!

#bikepacking #bicycle touring #wild camping #cycling the coast of great britain

[rurpleplayssims]

The following day, Phillip had a few visitors as he had a day off. 

Jada and Louise were supporting Althea in her re-election campaign. It was easy training wheels for them, especially as Jada worked directly in Althea’s political office. Louise was a close friend of hers who worked in the clinic, as one of Zoey’s new hires.

“I think the boss is going to walk it” Jada said simply. “She has no competition and everyone here is still so new. They’ve not grown used to seeing Campbell Quay as their home, so they don’t have any inclination to boot the woman who founded the town.”

Louise nodded along diligently “Althea’s so lovely and she’s effectively handing out money to people to move here. But isn’t it a conflict of interest for her to run for office whilst handing out donations?”

“They are incentives for residents to move here” Jada corrected her. “And the money comes from the Campbell Quay Trust, not her pocket directly. All funds, like taxes, go into that pool of money. And we’ve introduced new guidelines so that families or households below a certain income get their funds boosted to a baseline from that money and no more.”

“Althea is very aware of the possible conflicts of interest” Phillip said, stepping in. “She knows that as the town has grown, she has to change her approach. She was far more generous with us founding residents, but she isn’t going to resist the change. She wants to make it fair and reasonable for everyone moving here.”

“That’s why she relies on those surveys that she asked Briony to put in the Chronicle” Louise said. “She’s always wanted to hear what residents think and want, because the town is more than her dream now.”

“Quite correct” Phillip said, nodding. “Althea accepts that she cannot please everyone, but she will try to help as many people as she can.”

#CampbellQuayBaCC #Campbell Quay #CampbellQuay #The Sims 2 #TS2 #BaCC #Build a City Challenge #The Sims 2 BaCC #Morgan II Household #Morgan II Round 2 #Autumn: Second Year #Phillip Morgan

[tommytourettes]

Sunset skinny dip at Studland nude beach and the tail end of bike night at Poole quay. Dorset, UK

#motolife #motorcycle #glamour #moto #luxury #cafe racer #caferacer #travel #adventure #sunset #beachstyle #beachvibes