#sugar buzzed lore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eruden-writes · 2 years

Text

Room & Board - Part 11 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

x x x x x

The next day, Tabaeus doesn't greet you in the hall or the base of the stairs or in the kitchen. Between it being a new home and the tension the two of you suffered last night, you try not to look too closely into it. It's better if he's pouting or sleeping in his box in the basement. That gives you time to yourself.

And, more importantly, to study the journal.

After checking in on the sugar gliders, refreshing their water and available food as they slept in their little pouch, you retrieve the book from the anti-vampire box in your office. Settling on the couch, you run a finger over the cover. It's certainly an old book, bound in what you hope is animal leather. That finger traverses the edges of the papers, finding them thick and uneven.

It takes you a moment to steel yourself for what you'll find out. If you'll find out anything. You flip the cover open, carefully, and read the first page. Only a handful of words sit on the first page. A scrawling script, one that you can imagine was done by quill and ink, reads:

Property of Dr. Kieran Bennett.

1882

You press your lips together. Okay, so it wasn't Tabaeus's journal. Or was it and his name is actually Kieran Bennett? Your brain is already buzzing with thoughts and theories and questions as you turn to the next, thick page.

March 10, 1882

In the spirit of research, I - Dr. Kieran Bennett - will be keeping records of the creature found in a long abandoned shed owned by one Thaddeus Thatcher.

As the account has been told to me, the town of Thistle had been plagued with "wolf attacks" on their livestock for the last half-year. A creature, big and shaggy and dark, appeared multiple times from the forest but would soon flee back into her dark recesses.

When residents of Thistle began to go missing, the townspeople accused the creature and began a hunt for it.

Over the course of three days, the town managed to flush the creature out. First, from a cave system. Then, from the aforementioned Mr. Thatcher's abandoned shed, upon which they caught the creature in a net and managed to shackle it.

It now resides in the local undertaker's basement, due to its need for darkness, locked in a cage with a collar around its throat.

I have yet to interact with the creature. I shall update upon progress.

So far, it seems Dr. Bennett is not Tabaeus. Part of your mind files the name away for later research. Perhaps the library will have some information, you think, as you read further.

March 13, 1882

It is largely believed the creature is a vampyr of lore.

As such we keep it fed on animal blood, which seems to suffice for the most part. Its appearance has confirmed it was feeding upon humans.

When it feeds upon animals, its visage becomes more animalistic. Inky black sprouts across the expanse of its body' its ears grow, becoming more akin to a chiroptera's large ears; its teeth become so large, the maw barely contains them and its eyes glow with the embers of Hell.

Adversely, when it feeds upon humans, it has the appearance of a man.

Without thinking, you raise a hand to your throat. Your palm is warm against the side of your neck, where two little scabs have made semi-permanent residence. Faintly, you recall that first night. How Tabaeus appeared so fearsome, so animal.

Had they been sustaining themselves on animal blood, until that point? Had they suffered an injury, resulting in hunting you down? Or was it just that you smelled so good to Tabaeus, for whatever reason, they couldn't resist?

We have yet to test any further hypothesis on the creature, though it has yet to harm anyone. On occasion, it has startled anyone that passes its cage with a sudden charge, but beyond that, it is capable of sitting for hours, doing nothing.

March 28, 1882

Sun burns the creature.

Silver burns the creature.

Cloves and garlic have no reaction.

We cannot test the efficacy of wooden stakes until we feel we are done learning all we can.

It makes the worst howling shrieks of pain.

My heart aches with every test, but we must learn all we can for humankind.

Your brows furrow, considering the slight jump in time. A little over two weeks of no entries, only to have rather scant descriptions of what they had found. Your lips press together, puzzling on the thought.

What happened in that time? Had Dr. Bennett grown closer to Tabaeus, at all? It doesn't seem like it, with the continued usage of 'it,' but you continue on, keeping an eye on the dates.

April 3, 1882

Tabaeus. That is what the creature calls itself. Doubtful it is a God-given name, but one assigned to the creature by the Dark Prince himself.

Though I find it hard to believe such a soft-spoken creature could be from the bowels of hell. Father Bartholomew insists it is, since the holy water burned its flesh. The screams had been wrenching, as two men of the town held Tabaeus down as the priest dribbled water upon its form.

Tomorrow, a renowned surgeon will come to town. The town's council knows this may hamper - if not end - ongoing investigation, but they hope to cut Tabaeus open to understand its innerworkings.

Perhaps there is a cure to wrench the unholy creature away from the source of evil consuming it.

Surgery? Your eyebrows tick up, the picture of Tabaeus's scars flashing in your head.

April 8, 1882

Dr. Forsythe has had to put off the surgery, due to insufficient - and often missing - supplies. It will take him time to attain enough to thoroughly investigate Tabaeus's anatomy.

I took the quiet day to question Tabaeus myself. In the past month, I have gained a familiarity with the creature few other researchers here have. I asked it questions, pressing it for answers, for I may not get another chance.

I also told Tabaeus this. Which seemed to loosen their lips.

Tabaeus remembers little of its life. They are scraps, unhinged and untethered. At times, it seems what Tabaeus remembers belongs to another source. They speak of the memories in an almost unattached way, at times.

It remembers times in ancient Europe and ancient Rome. Of travel with Nordic races. Of long journeys through deserts in Africa. It appears to remember so much of human history, but is incapable of tying it together in a coherent fashion.

Where it was born, it does not know.

How it became a creature of the dark, it does not know.

How it even functions is a mystery to it.

I do not think the creature lies to me, but it is most boggling how its own memory fails to function.

Perhaps there is a connection between its alleged longevity and the breakdown of its memory.

I do not know and I fear we will not find out once Tabaeus undergoes surgery.

April 13, 1882

I have attached copies of Dr. Forsythe's findings.

Pausing from the entry, you flip through the book, seeking these mentioned findings. Nothing seems attached or hidden in the pages. Likely lost to time or, perhaps, an intentional hand. You try not to think of it as you read on.

As an observer, there was much screaming and struggling. Tabaeus was restrained on the table. No anesthetic was used, so the patient could be aware and discuss should questions arise.

Very little talk happened. To be frank, I believe the lack of anesthetic, sedative, or even simply being knocked out was from cruelty on Dr. Forsythe and the council's part.

I digress.

They shaved Tabaeus, much as one would an animal, and cut into his form. They cracked his ribs for a better view. Tabaeus's insides appeared no different than a human's.

Except his heart was blackened, though it still pumped blood as a human heart would. Other than the odd coloration, everything seemed in proper working order.

By God's providence or cruelty, Tabaeus did not pass out of shock nor pain. They were awake and conscious throughout, sobbing or screaming at intervals. They would test their shackles and straps, the restraints creaking awfully under the force.

I was relieved when Dr. Forsythe stitched the creature up, but it was short-lived as he hinted at a need to revisit the site again in the near future.

Once the endeavor completed, Tabaeus could not stand, let alone walk. Four men were enlisted to haul the vampy back to his cage in the undertaker's basement.

I sat with him, quiet for a long time. No questions felt important enough to ask of Tabaeus, in such a condition. Even wrapped in bandages, I could see the uneven stitches trailing down his front in my mind's eye.

Tabaeus confessed to needing sustenance, to heal appropriately.

I offered to retrieve fresh cow's or pig's blood for them, but they shook their head.

"Human blood," it said, voice raw and cracked from screaming. "I need human blood to heal quickly."

Once more, your hand finds your throat. You already suspect what is about to happen.

I offered my blood, to which Tabaeus appeared startled at the offer. Their red eyes, puffy and ugly from their ordeal, found mine.

Instead of allowing Tabaeus to feed from my neck, I offered my wrist. They took it in a gentle grip, such a strange juxtaposition to their long, clawed digits.

The sensation of fangs plunging into one's body is both disconcerting and oddly alluring. I had closed my eyes as Tabaeus supped and images flickered through my head.

Images wholly foreign to me. Perhaps memories.

Whether they were Tabaeus's own or that of their victims' or something else entirely, I cannot say.

I only spoke to tell Tabaeus to stop, when lightheadedness made my thoughts fuzzy.

They did so, without argument. As they settled back in their corner, they murmured a small gratitude. Their glowing red eyes still on me.

I left not long after that, woozy from the interaction and intent upon a nap.

"What are you reading?" Tabaeus's soft words slap you across the face, making you sit straighter on the couch.

They eye you from the door between the kitchen and living room - where the basement stairs come up - with confusion, head cocked at your reaction.

You swallow a lump in your throat, trying to clear the heaviness away with a cough. Briefly, you consider hiding what you're reading. Maybe lying and saying it's a silly romance novel or something boring and technical. The longer you stare up at Tabaeus, the more you realize how miserable they appear.

They're wearing the same jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. Their hair is a tangled mess. Their cheeks appear sunken and bags hang under their red-rimmed eyes. It reminds you of someone who spent the night crying and frustrated and arguing with oneself.

There is so much obfuscation in Tabaeus's life, not clearly communicating feels wrong. Even if they cannot - or will not - be upfront, you can be. There's a small part of you that intuits there's something deeper, something more complicated, going on than what appears on the surface.

With your finger marking the spot in the journal, you hold it up. "I am reading Dr. Kieran Bennett's journal. It was in the anti-vampire box you gave me."

"Kieran?" That name makes Tabaeus's eyes fly wide as they strides over the distance between the two of you.

Something prickly climbs up your spine, but you shove it away. "Yes, do you remember him?"

They kneel by your knee, attention on the book in your hand. Tabaeus almost puts their hands on your leg, but hesitates and lets them fall to the couch cushion beside your leg instead. Their lips press together in thought, before they answer, "It is muddy."

You can't determine whether that is better than foggy or not. At least muddy implies there's something there to grasp, you suppose. Tabaeus's red eyes flutter shut, trying to pull the memories forth. Their head dips forward, their forehead almost touching your thigh. "I remember he was sweet, in person. A kind soul, but invariably a coward."

Their hand rises from the couch, softly touching their own lips. "He tasted of coffee and smoke and chocolate."

Something in your chest twinged, hearing such soft words about someone else coming from Tabaeus's lips. It almost sounds as if they are speaking of an old lover. Perhaps they were, you realize. Maybe you haven't gotten to it yet, in the journal. Or maybe Kieran was careful and didn't detail it in writing, considering the time and who would be the object of the doctor's affection.

Despite yourself, you find the question lighting from your lips, "What happened to him?"

"I... I am not sure," Tabaeus admits, their red eyes opening, but still not focused as their brow knots. They were still searching their muddled, conflicting memories. You watch as they raise a hand to their chest, rubbing along the spot where the autopsy scar cleaved their chest.

Though your stomach drops as they press at their own scar, you're not satisfied with that answer. With pursed lips, you turn your eyes back to the journal, lest Tabaeus's large, allegedly innocent, gaze interrupts your almost-damning information. "You told Kieran you had problems with your memory, as well. In 1882. That's almost 140 years of you having issues with your memory, Tabaeus."

"What?" Tabaeus breathes and you hazard a glance at them. The furrow in their brow has deepened, as if this is genuinely news to them.

"What am I supposed to believe?" You press, shaking your head as your tone further solidifies. "That you haven't had consistent memory for that long? Or that this is some sort of trick you like to play on humans?"

Your words make Tabaeus's focus swing to your face, their eyes wide with shock and pain. As if you even suggesting something like that was a slap to their face.

"Please, believe me, amata." Their voice crackles with desperation. This time, their hand does land on your knee, squeezing it gently. "I swear to you, I am not playing a trick on you!"

"That's a tall order, all things considered," you say, your attention falling to where their hand touches you. Their gaze follows yours and, as if previously unaware of the contact, Tabaeus jerks their hand away. A small part of you aches as they do so.

Slowly, the vampire tilts their gaze back to you, searching for something. "You think I am tricking you?"

Your eyes are finally drawn to Tabaeus's gaze, the pain that crimps their features makes their already obvious exhaustion worse. Do you think Tabaeus is tricking you?

Something in you can't give a certain yes, just as you can't give a certain no. As you think, your teeth sink into your lower lip. Why would a vampire go to such ends, just to get blood? Especially since Tabaeus could easily enthrall you and essentially make you their unyielding bloodbag. They have relegated a good chunk of their fortune to you, allowed you to buy a house, and seem into it when you are more domineering over them.

Or was it all a joke? A prank? Something to amuse themselves. Get a caring human to give them blood, willingly, while never having to fess up to their murderous past? That doesn't seem like the Tabaeus you know. Though you can't be certain the Tabaeus you know isn't a farce, there's something in you that's more sure of the vampire than it was in earlier instances of your partnership.

"I don't know what to think," you softly admit, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you set the journal to the side. "After last night, how heatedly you talked about Ewan, or even just werewolves in general, you talked like someone I didn't know."

"I, too, felt disconcerted." Tabaeus doesn't even hesitate in the confession. They heave a heavy sigh, their fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the couch. "I apologize for my behavior. I do not know what happened."

Your lips press together at the admittance, wondering how genuine their words were. Or if they were looking for an easy out in the situation. Again, something in you believes them. Maybe it's better to say something in you wants to believe them. But skepticism keeps you a little wary.

"I didn't feel like myself. I felt strange." Tabaeus shook their head. Their hand rises to their temple, tapping there. "There were clashing thoughts in my head. Rage and fear and disgust and hate. All for a person I never met who was a species I don't recall interacting with."

How Tabaeus talks about their experiences makes you think about how Dr. Bennett described their memories. As something detached from Tabaeus. As things spanning across multiple time periods.

That, coupled with their out-of-character reaction, feels like hints. As if you're closer to unraveling what it is about Tabaeus that makes them a mystery.

Once more, it sounds as if Tabaeus's memories - or some of them - are not their own. More than ever, that feels like the correct answer, but not the entirety of it. There's something you're missing. Something that is tantamount to understanding Tabaeus.

Pain throbs at your temples as your stomach cramps. With a deep breath, you loosen the thoughts from the grip of your concentration. The journal revealed more than you were prepared for. You should have planned better and eaten something first.

"I need breakfast," you finally mumble, realizing you have left Tabaeus hanging. You offer them an awkward smile, just as your stomach grumbles.

"As do I," Tabaeus sighs, a small and fond smile tilting at their lips. "Do you trust me to drink from you? Or should I suffice with cereal?"

"You're making me breakfast if I'm making you breakfast." Your retort is more playful than you feel, but you still muster the energy to stick your tongue out at the vampire. A little tension in Tabaeus's shoulders eases, relieved at the return of a more joking element to your interactions. Just before they move to stand, and perhaps even lean over you to latch onto your neck, you put out your arm. "Let's try my inner elbow this time, though. I want to go places and having to bandage my neck is such a pain."

The vampire settles back on their heels again, accepting your arm in their cool fingers. They hold you gently, giving you ample freedom to pull away if you change your mind. There's half a beat, where Tabaeus seems to be testing the waters, before they whisper, "You are too kind, amata."

You're about to ask facetiously if you're also a coward, like Kieran, but Tabaeus sinks their teeth into the flesh of your inner elbow. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, the pain sudden and bright in your synapses. Your head falls back against the couch, as your eyes flutter shut. Tabaeus waits, seeing if you'll stop him, before they begin to suckle.

That odd sensation of the blood pulled from your veins courses through you, making your stomach somersault. Though your toes curl, in a confusing mixture of intimate enjoyment and excitement, your stomach lurches with faint nausea. It's probably not a good idea to do this on an empty stomach, you realize.

The seepage of memories, you find, is less than when Tabaeus is latched to your throat. They are mistier. As if they're projected onto a fog, instead of a solid surface. It reminds you of a laser light show caught by clouds.

Some are memories you have seen before, in your feeding sessions. But there's always a new one to view.

Tabaeus parts from your elbow sooner than you expect. Or maybe you're just a little dazed, you realize, as you blink and lift your head up. There's darkness at the corners of your vision, but you see Tabaeus rise to his feet. They stoop over you, pressing their forehead to yours. There's a distinct beat when you believe they'll continue leaning and catch your lips against theirs.

But they don't, leaving a mingling of disappointment and relief meshing in your head.

"What would you like for breakfast?" They merely ask and you faintly smell the copper-infused heat on their breath.

"Crepes with hazelnut spread and bananas," you say, mostly as a joke as your lips curve at the corners. You don't anticipate the thoughtful look that crosses Tabaeus's features.

They cock their head to the side as they straighten. "Is there a recipe available I may reference?"

For a second, you narrow your eyes up at them, wondering if they are fucking with you. Tabaeus doesn't appear to be joking. And, honestly, you cannot say no to crepes.

You really should get Tabaeus a phone, you realize, as you pull yours from your pocket. After a bit of searching and scrolling, you find an easy looking recipe and hold it out to them. Tabaeus graciously takes the phone with a nod.

"It will be available soon," Tabaeus murmurs and turns to head into the kitchen.

Settling back onto the couch, you sigh and consider the actual chances you'll get an unburnt breakfast. It was hard to argue against Tabaeus's quiet assuredness. As you sink further into the couch, your eye catches on the journal.

Your thoughts loll about Dr. Kieran Bennett's words, the way he phrased things, what his relationship to Tabaeus was. There's a part of you certain the doctor wasn't entirely truthful in his entries. Whether he was taking care due to the time period and homophobia or due to the subject matter involving a 'vampyr,' you're not sure.

Although, the mental trek makes your considerations turn to Tabaeus and the subject of their jealousy last night. You jerk upright as a sudden thought careens through your head. "Hey! Don't you think about deleting Ewan's number, either!"

The rummaging around in the kitchen quiets and there seems to be a thoughtful pause. "Well, I was not planning to, but if that is an option..."

"Tabaeus!" You warn, as you push yourself off the couch and head to the kitchen. There the vampire grins at you and holds your phone high, out of your reach. They wiggle it, in teasing taunt.

The sigh you heave is put-upon as your gaze flicks from your phone to Tabaeus's face. Crossing your arms and leaning your hip against the counter, you choose a smarter route than pouncing on the vampire. "I'm trusting you to not delete his number. Okay?"

"Okay," Tabaeus sighs, lowering the phone. There's clashing emotions on their face. A sense of pride fighting against a small temptation. They hold your phone so you can see the screen, which hasn't left the recipe. "You can trust me not to hurt you, amata."

"Holding you to it," is all you manage to say before Tabaeus turns back to the stove, cooking the breakfast you requested.

187 notes · View notes

tessathegamefreak · 1 year

Text

Headcanon Time...

All Wreck-It Ralph AUs/realities can exist on the same Earth with the right conditions!

Okay, so hear me out...

Now, the vast majority of us Wreck-It Ralph fans were not happy with the results of the sequel we got, AND FOR GOOD REASON!

There was so much wrong with the sequel, from inconsistencies with the original story to the sudden throwback in characters. I was so appalled by what we got that I found ways to consider it non-canon; one of these ways went as far as being a headcanon that this sequel was just a really bad fanfiction Candlehead wrote!

Then, there were many people that said, "well, what if this took place in a different arcade?". Now, they might have something there. There was no mention of Turbo in the new movie, the Sugar Rush game console is different, and doppelgangers are a thing, so maybe Litwak is actually a fully different person or a relative that runs a family business. Plus, the Internet is a wide place, so big that there was no way the sequel could capture and depict every part of it, so everything is possible!

But this goes beyond that... I am here to explain how you can fit your AUs into one world on top of this! I will use a couple of examples to give clearer explanations.

So, I have an OC that is from "Kingdom Hearts Union X", a mobile game that was once online- and once so great. If you are familiar with Kingdom Hearts, you know that they are a big crossover between Final Fantasy and Disney franchises, and Union X was the only KH game that has the Wreck-It Ralph world as a playable location. I have integrated my OC into my WIR roleplays numerous times, despite having lived out the events of the movie through her game. But how can that be possible? Doesn't it get awkward that she thinks she has these memories, but the others have no memory of her? Well, I have 2 reach arounds to combat this...

"The Simpsons" explanation! The Simpsons is so well known as a show, but not just for its revolutionary comedy, but for its "predictions"! Now, the farfetched explanation for how they could have so many accurate predictions is that "Matt Groening is a time traveler!". For the plausible explanation though, it could be said that "there are numerous possibilities in the world, and if you throw one out on the media, it is possible that it will come true". So if you were to write a story where you interact with the characters, but the movie already exists, you could explain it lore wise that Disney had bought licensing to these games, made a movie, and the events from that movie became a reality.

[KHUx OC] Coalette's character arc is similar to Buzz Lightyear. She is so ingrained into her false memories that she will eventually have to grow apart from them by interacting with the real characters in front of her. You could write something similar to this where AU characters meet their original counterparts and vice-versa!

Now, that could account for the potential plot hole of the events of the movie happening across multiple coordinates in the world, but you may think that there is another plothole when it comes to connecting AUs: Turbo. How could I possibly explain the same character from the same game getting greedy in the same way and manner across numerous arcades?...

Well, what if I told you my explanation for that was a flaw in Turbo-Time's programming? Think about it, we don't hear much of anything about Turbo in the sequel, not even mentioned or seen as merch or a fan favorite game, or even as a remastered/revival game anywhere on the Internet! You see, Turbo was programmed to be the "#1 racer" ever, and this held true for the first five years in arcade history. When newer, fancier racing games began to come out, Turbo would then feel his programming being challenged, causing him to go berserk and break into other racing games. What if this issue was common amongst ALL Turbo-Time consoles? They would have all been programmed the same way, so the moment arcades took notice to Turbo causing other racing games to crash and become corrupted, a nation-wide recall was issued on the consoles, preventing the game to become known amongst future generations. The surviving Turbos would remain in their arcades, and Turbo-Time would be put away as lost media. His story would only be a tale that those from before 1987 would be able to tell.

And there you have it, my explanation for connecting Wreck-It Ralph AUs and Realities together! Hope you have fun with world lore writing!

#wreck it ralph #wreck it ralph au #alternate universe #writing #for writing purposes #for writers #for fans by fans #wreck it ralph turbo #alternate universes #alternate universes can co-exist!#fanfiction ideas #fanfic #wreck it ralph headcanon #my headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #turbotastic #gone turbo #turbo tastic

20 notes · View notes

foxglove-the-never-fairy · 1 year

Text

Fairy Names Pt. 2

Fly with you! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Anyway, I’m here for a second part of one of my most popular posts.

The first post listed fairy names that were used in the DS game “Tinker Bell and the Great Fairy Rescue” in the create-a-fairy section of the game. While the names provided were feminine, I have pulled all of the masculine fairy names from the original Pixie Hollow game. Some names are repeats from the original post, but I kept them in as I wanted to get this out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy. Here’s the original post.

~🧚🏻‍♀️🔥 Foxglove

First

Aaron

Ace

Acorn

Agate

Ajay

Alabaster

Alder

Alec

Aleron

Alex

Anchor

Andrew

Archer

Axel

Badger

Bailey

Baker

Bale

Banjo

Barclay

Basil

Benjy

Bert

Bevel

Birch

Boomer

Boone

Brock

Bruce

Brynn

Buddy

Burr

Burton

Buster

Calder

Casper

Cecil

Cedar

Chance

Chase

Chip

Clay

Cliff

Coal

Cog

Comet

Cosmo

Cote

Covey

Crag

Crane

Cyan

Dale

Dane

Darius

Darrin

Dawson

Decker

Deon

Devlin

Dewey

Donner

Drake

Dug

Dunn

Dustin

Dusty

Echo

Eddy

Edward

Elk

Emery

Erik

Ernie

Errol

Fennel

Fincher

Finn

Fir

Flint

Ford

Francis

Garnet

Glen

Gourd

Gourdie

Grove

Grub

Gull

Hale

Hare

Harris

Hawk

Henry

Heron

Hob

Jacob

James

Jasper

Jay

Kernal

Koto

Lance

Lark

Leaf

Lore

Lute

Lyric

Martin

Maze

Mica

Michal

Nadir

Nester

Oak

Ollie

Onyx

Otter

Peat

Pier

Pine

Quake

Quarry

Quinn

Rain

Ranger

Reed

Richard

River

Robin

Rook

Rusty

Rye

Sage

Sam

Scout

Sean

Seth

Shale

Shoal

Skimmer

Skyler

Spike

Spruce

Sterling

Stone

Tad

Teak

Thatcher

Thistle

Timber

Tiny

Toadstool

Tobey

Todd

Topher

Torn

Torrey

Vail

Valiant

Vern

Vic

Wedge

Wes

Wren

Wynn

Zak

Middle

Air

Almond

Apple

Aspen

Autumn

Badger

Bark

Beacon

Bear

Bitter

Brave

Bright

Brisk

Broom

Bumble

Candle

Cedar

Chilly

Citrus

Cloud

Cloudy

Clover

Cocoa

Copper

Cricket

Crow

Cub

Dapple

Dash

Day

Drift

Eagle

Elm

Evening

Falcon

Far

Fern

Fig

Fire

Fleet

Flicker

Foggy

Fox

Frost

Frozen

Funny

Garlic

Green

Hail

Hasty

Hawk

Hickory

Holly

Hurry

Ice

Ivy

Jelly

Jumpy

Lemon

Light

Lightning

Lime

Little

Lock

Lotus

Magic

Mango

Maple

Merry

Misty

Moon

Morning

Moss

Mossy

Mountain

Muddy

Never

Nickel

Night

Nimble

Oak

Orange

Otter

Parsley

Pear

Pebble

Pepper

Pine

Plum

Pollen

Pumpkin

Purple

Quick

Rain

Rainy

Rock

Rumble

Sage

Sandy

Sea

Shy

Silk

Slight

Snow

Sour

Speedy

Spider

Spring

Squall

Star

Storm

Stout

Strong

Sugar

Summer

Sun

Swift

Tangle

Thunder

Tiny

Toad

Tumble

Twisty

Water

Whiffle

Wild

Wind

Winter

Wrinkle

Last

Beam

Bee

Bell

Berry

Breath

Breeze

Bug

Button

Buzz

Chill

Chime

Cliff

Cloud

Clove

Crash

Curl

Dale

Dance

Dash

Dew

Din

Drop

Dust

Ear

Elbow

Eye

Feather

Field

Fig

Flame

Flap

Flash

Fleck

Flight

Flip

Flipper

Fly

Fog

Foot

Forest

Freeze

Fruit

Garden

Gem

Glade

Glimmer

Glow

Gourd

Grace

Griddlee

Gust

Heart

Hill

Hop

Horn

Hush

Jewel

Knee

Lake

Light

Lock

Loop

Lull

Meadow

Mello

Mint

Mist

Moon

Muddle

Muse

Newt

Noise

Nose

Peal

Pebble

Petal

Plume

Pond

Pool

Ray

Ripple

River

Roar

Root

Row

Ruckus

Rumble

Sand

Shadow

Sky

Smash

Song

Spark

Sparkle

Sparrow

Speck

Spirit

Splash

Spring

Sprite

Sprout

Stem

Stone

Storm

Stream

Stripe

Swamp

Swirls

Thistle

Thorn

Toad

Tree

Twill

Twist

Vale

Valley

Vine

Weather

Web

Whirl

Whisk

Whisper

Willow

Wind

Wing

Wings

Wink

Wish

#Disney Fairies #Pixie Hollow #pixie hollow online #fairy #fairy names #Tinker Bell #Tinkerbell

11 notes · View notes

bumble-bee-anon · 1 year

Note

*Bee looks at Glass with new understanding* ... Did you make him suffer without killing him?

*She shudders nervously*

Yes of course I didn't have time to kill him anyway

.... Maybe I did kinda leave him there. Technically.. Regardless it was more of a "If you live through this rethink your life"

I honestly wouldn't have gone that far probably just leave him bruised. But he laughed about it like hurting you wasn't a big deal!

*She stiffens and slips off the bed taking multiple steps back* He hurt you in front of me and I let him.....

I was right there and I watched it happen and I'm just as bad as they said - Glass

// Lore? In the same hospital? More likely then you think

*Bee lunges forward and wraps their arm and nub around Glass in a hug, buzzing reassurances, their legs unable to hold them as they sink to their knees* Not your fault. You did so well my beautiful Sugar Crystal. You did perfect. I Promise.

1 note · View note

ainsleycarter · 2 years

Photo

peaks & pine trees ↠ a playlist by ainsley carter

wallows - pictures of girls // dayglow - can i call you tonight? // hippo campus – baseball // lord huron - ends of the earth // the hunts – valentina // wallows - 1980s horror film ii // bleachers – rollercoaster // lovelytheband - buzz cut // bleachers - reckless love // family and friends – amadeus // cereus bright – stella // we banjo 3 – haven // twin forks - back to you // yoke lore – beige // maggie rogers – alaska // of monsters and men - dirty paws // ben howard - old pine // fortunate ones - northern star // the national parks - as we ran // little chief - mountain song // the oh hellos - hello my old heart // rivvrs - i will follow you // chappy – colorado // mt. joy - silver lining // judah & the lion - pictures feat. kacey musgraves // the national parks – 1953 // the national parks - you are gold // vance joy – georgia // city and colour - the girl // oh honey - sugar, you // oh honey - be okay // morningsiders - honey hold me // shakey graves - dearly departed (feat. esmé patterson) // dave barnes - good day for marrying you // benz – spark // king bear – y // volcano choir – byegone // family of the year – hero // birdtalker – heavy // castro - diamond dreams // austin plaine - never come back again // caamp – by and by

press play [HERE]

#are you a life force; headcanons #the beat of her own drum; music

8 notes · View notes

sunsetcurve · 3 years

Text

learn to love without consuming (1/4)

fandom: knight squad relationships: arc / ciara, minor or one-sided arc / oc and ciara / oc word count: 4,603

a/n: eek. it's finally here. if you follow me here you know that i've been working on this for a few weeks (months?), but the idea has been sitting in my drafts for basically forever. almost since i watched the show to begin with. the recent resurgence of the ks fandom prompted me to dig this back up and gave me the motivation to actually try and finish, because fuck it! i love my babes and i want more of them.

so quick note is that this picks up pretty soon after the season 1 finale but disregards basically,,, everything that happens in s2. s1 and the finale proceed the same way except prudy never finds out ciara's secret, so she and warwick don't know at the moment. this chapter was initially gonna have more scenes that drove the plot/romance arc but once i got upwards of 6k with a few major scenes left i decided it would be best if i split the chapter up, so for now it’s just a lot of me trying to work around the convoluted knight squad lore to establish my own. i know that's not exactly what everyone is here for, but i promise things on the romance/action front will pick up soon. i'll place warnings as detailed as i can get without spoiling in the tags and notes as i go, but just anticipate fairly significant violence by chapter 3.

anyway! i have talked enough. the title is from thus always to tyrants by the oh hellos, the rating is t for swearing/violence, there are three more chapters that are in the process of being written, and reviews are like crack as far as i'm concerned. i really hope you like this! thanks for reading <3

dedications: this fic is first and foremost for @ciara-knightly, who is not only my amazing beta but also the whole reason this fic exists. she helped me so so much with the development of the plot and worked through it with me even way before i decided to really start writing it, and i wouldn’t have been able to do this without her. all of the notes she left after beta-reading were so so helpful and really made this whole fic make sense so basically i owe her my entire life. she inspires me to be a better writer all the time and i love her. everyone say thank you shona!!! also tagging my lovely friends and some people who have expressed interest, who are in no way obligated to read this; @juliesdahlias @mistyskiesrambles @dr-rigatoni @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @julies-molinas @soni-dragon @yagorlemmalyn @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @onetwothreefarkle @bitchmilsky

summary: “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”

Ciara nods. “It is! I finally get to meet some of the other nobility, and actually get to be involved in Astorian politics for once. But my dad won’t let me go without an escort,” she says, and then hesitates. “Which is where you come in.”

read it on ao3

The morning before training that day, Arc is testing his skills against a heavy bronze padlock when Ciara enters the squad room and drops a brown paper bag on the table in front of him.

“These,” she announces as he raises an eyebrow at her, “are for you.”

He pulls open the package and is instantly greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of vanilla. “Dragon puffs?” he says, half in awe. It’s a clear bribe, but he can’t help but shove a sugar-coated sweet in his mouth anyway. They’re an Astorian original and possibly the best thing he’s ever tasted; he’d tried them once at a bakery near the castle and hasn’t stopped thinking about them since.

“Okay, what do you want?” he says then, words muffled around the cream and pastry.

Ciara pulls a face at his manners, but still manages to blink innocently at him. “Can’t I just do something nice for a friend?” she tries, but it’s half-hearted.

He swallows and grins at her. “Nice try, Princess. Your dessert deliveries always come with an ulterior motive.”

Huffing a sigh, she sits down next to him. There’s this subtle air of anticipation lingering around her, one he can only sense based on how in tune they are after so long of being teammates. The two of them have this easy way of reading each other now; they’ve been spending more and more time together, something having shifted in their dynamic after the battle against Ryker. He can’t quite place what it is, but he knows it’s only brought them closer. “Do you know what the Council of the Five Kingdoms is?” she asks finally.

He shrugs. “Sure. Nobles from each kingdom used to have a big ball every year to talk trading and politics and other boring stuff…”

“Except there hasn’t been a council since Ryker’s invasion, because the kingdoms have been isolated and preoccupied with their own safety,” she finishes for him. Her fingers tug at the lacing of her leather gauntlets; she’s nervous, but he still isn’t sure why. “Now that Ryker isn’t a threat anymore, the councils are supposed to resume as planned, and Astoria is set to hold the first one two weeks from now.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “That sounds exciting.”

Arc chokes on his second dragon puff. “You want me to be your escort,” he says flatly, once he’s finished coughing, “to the Council of the Five Kingdoms?” Normally he’d jump at the chance to spend a night dressing up and eating castle food. But the council is a decidedly different scene; there’s a set of formalities, politics underlying everything, and too many chances for him to expose his lack of knowledge when it comes to Astorian customs. Not to mention that Catalias’ royals will be there. He doesn’t know if he can stomach looking them in the face, knowing what they did to Seagate.

Ciara grimaces. “Look, I know it’s not exactly your thing, but my dad won’t let me go alone. And this really means a lot to me.” Her eyes are pleading, and Arc feels his resolve chipping away.

“Can’t one of your actual guards go with you?” he tries. “Or, Prudy or Warwick or someone?”

“I’ve already talked to my dad about it,” she explains. “You’re the only Knight School student he’d let protect me, because you already proved you could when Ryker invaded. Besides, if something were to happen…you’re the one person who knows I can handle myself as Ciara.”

There’s this brief stretch of silence where Arc works his bottom lip, and Ciara looks as though she’s debating something. “Also,” she adds finally, with the soft flicker of a hesitant smile, “I thought it might be fun to go with you.”

Arc blinks at her, caught off guard by the admission. There’s this sudden buzz in his chest that he can’t push away; in truth, he doesn’t like the idea of her spending the night with someone else either. Maybe, by some miracle, this will actually be a good thing. “Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be your escort.”

Ciara’s face breaks into a grin. “Yes! Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he’s shock-stilled, a rush of warmth flooding through him as he hugs her back. When she pulls away, her eyes are shining with excitement. “Okay, I’ve gotta go tell my dad you said yes, and there’s a million things to do, but I’ll see you at training later. You are the best.”

“I expect dragon puffs for life!” Arc calls after her as she disappears through her passageway. He leans back into the couch, lightheaded, and in that moment, he realizes abruptly that there’s almost nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

And he is so completely screwed.

Two weeks later, Arc is standing outside Ciara’s bedroom, waiting for her to finish getting ready.

It feels odd to be out here in the open. Generally his visits to her chamber are accompanied by an air of secrecy, but tonight, he’s a guest in the castle. He’s dressed like it, too, decked out in the guards’ typical formal wear: pressed brown pants, a white shirt laced up the front, and a navy leather jacket trimmed in gold, with Astoria’s crest on one shoulder. He looks kind of dashing, honestly.

Despite the confidence boost his new look offers him, his hand keeps drifting to the hilt of his sword. It’s sheer force of habit; he only associates this brewing sense of apprehension with battle, and his muscles are responding in kind. He’s glad, at least, that he turned down the other guards’ offer to lend him one of their ceremonial blades and instead has the familiarity of his own. Hopefully he won’t need it, but it’s a steadying presence all the same.

“Almost ready!” Ciara calls from inside, and Arc carefully unclenches his fingers from around the leather grip of his sword. He has to keep it together tonight; she’s made it clear how much this means to her. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass her in front of nobles from all five kingdoms.

Well, four, he reminds himself. Seagate won’t be attending. There isn’t anyone left to represent them.

The thought makes his stomach twist.

He’s saved from having to dwell on it by the sound of Ciara’s door unlatching. “Better prepare yourself, Princess,” he teases, leaning against the wall, “I look pretty good, and the last thing we want is for you to get too smitten—”

He breaks off as she emerges from the doorway, all the air in his lungs leaving in a sudden rush. He’s trying hard not to be the cliche of a guy scraping his jaw off the floor at the sight of a pretty girl in a dress, especially not like this, with Ciara—but he can’t help but think that it’s ridiculously unfair of her to come out looking like that. Her dress is a pale blue, falling gently off her shoulders and cinching at her waist, and her tight curls are weaved with strands of gold and tied into a low knot, some of them falling loose to frame her face. There’s a crown of gold leaves and rosebuds settled in her hair.

“You...um…” Arc searches for his voice, “you look amazing.” His mouth feels dry.

Ciara smirks and reaches up to adjust the collar of his uniform. “You don’t look so bad yourself. I’m definitely smitten,” she jokes, like it’s nothing for them to be flirting openly. It should be nothing. Except his skin burns where her fingers brush against his neck, and he suddenly wonders if she can hear his heart pounding.

He clears his throat. “We should probably get to the ballroom.”

She nods. “Give me your arm,” she says, looking at him expectantly. When he raises an eyebrow, she continues, “You’re my escort, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He lifts his arm obligingly, his cheeks warm.

“I really wish we’d had more time to go over Astorian customs,” she breathes as she takes it, more to herself than anything. “Between training and helping with preparations, I’ve been so busy…” His nerves must show on his face, then, because she squeezes his arm gently and amends, “Sorry. You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Just stay close to me, okay?”

“Not a problem,” he grins without missing a beat, and Ciara scoffs and shoves him, the smile tugging at her mouth taking all the bite away from it.

They can do this, he thinks. The two of them have kept up appearances for each other for months now, have fought and trained and battled Ryker together. They’re Arc and Ciara, unstoppable duo. One little party should be nothing.

As they make their way down the hall towards the ballroom, flanked by guards, Ciara lowers her voice. “When we get there, most of the nobles should be inside already. The herald will announce my father first, then us, and then each of the other three kingdoms. We’ll be beside the thrones as they come in—you’ll stand by me, left side—and once they’ve all been announced, we can leave the thrones and mingle. Bow to each of the rulers as they come by.”

They had, at least, practiced his bow. Arc swallows back the dread in his throat; all he has to do is stand beside her and greet the other royals, it’s easy enough. For a moment, they linger outside the entrance to the ballroom, until an official-sounding voice announces the King. “We’re next,” Ciara whispers to him, eyes glinting with excitement. “You ready?”

He nods back at her, and the voice calls, “Accompanied by Sir Arc...Princess Angelica of Astoria!” They step into the ballroom, greeted with applause. Arc doesn’t think he’s ever been in a place this lavish; the walls are white, accented in deep gold, and the floors are polished to a gleam. The ceiling looks hand-painted, ornately decorated in constellations and swirling designs, and crystal chandeliers dangle over their heads, casting a golden glow over the whole room. He tries not to look too awe-struck.

They make their way to the platform on which the thrones rest, Ciara nodding and smiling and waving at the other nobles as they pass. She stands next to her father, and Arc takes his place on her other side, placing his hands behind his back and trying, for all the world, to look like he belongs there. He wonders suddenly if he’s stood too close to her, and if it would make things worse for him to shift over now, and if his indecision is showing on his face—

And then, almost imperceptibly and hidden from the ballroom’s view by the folds of her dress, Ciara reaches over and links her pinky with his. It’s a tiny gesture, a friendly reassurance, but Arc feels a tide of warmth swell in his chest all the same. He lets his gaze flit to her for just a moment, and her lips are graced with a small smile as she tugs his finger gently.

His breath hitches, and he fights to keep his face a passive neutral as the herald announces the next kingdom and he turns his attention back to the doorway.

“Presenting King Hugo, Queen Luciana, and their son Prince Isaac of Catalias!”

Arc’s stomach turns as the couple enters, trailed by their son, all three of them swathed in lavish red and gold. Their reputation precedes them; he knows little about the prince, but the king and queen are infamous for their hoarding of wealth, their favorance of the rich nobles and landowners of their kingdom over the common people. Arc knows them best for what they had done to Seagate.

His hand twitches for his sword, but he fights against the instinct.

True to form, the two have a haughty look about them, all starched clothes and stiff smiles as they bow to Ciara and the King. The two of them return the greeting with Arc following their lead—grudgingly.

“I am so pleased you could join us tonight,” the King smiles, a little tight-lipped. “It is high time that Astoria and Catalias united again.”

King Hugo nods back. “I couldn’t agree more. The honor is ours.”

Arc detects a veiled sort of tension between the two of them, hidden well underneath the cordial formalities. He glances at Isaac, whose eyes are trained intently on Ciara even as he and his parents move to greet the other guests. Something about it is unsettling.

He’s so focused on Isaac that he almost misses the herald’s announcement of the next kingdom. “Queen Damyanti, and her children Princess Aadhya and Prince Kavan of Khurjan!”

Queen Damyanti is the picture of elegance, draped in silver silk that almost seems to glow against her dark skin. Aadhya looks around fifteen, with the same deep eyes and regal expression, and Kavan must be ten or so. He grins toothily as the three of them approach the thrones and bow.

The King’s expression is much warmer now. “Queen Damyanti. It has been too long. I trust Khurjan is doing well?”

“Not quite as well as Astoria, perhaps,” she replies, and it’s teasing, no sharpness to it. “This ball is absolutely lovely. Princess Angelica, you look so beautiful. Just like your mother. I was so sorry to hear of her passing.”

Ciara’s eyes go soft. “Thank you, Queen Damyanti,” she nods back. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“You as well. It’s a shame your sister couldn’t make it, but hopefully we’ll all gather again soon.” She gives a small, departing nod and joins the rest of the nobles, Aadhya giving them a bright-eyed smile and Kavan waving enthusiastically as they follow her. Ciara laughs.

“And finally...King Jesper of Vysalt!”

Arc is confused for a moment; he wonders if he had remembered the name of Vysalt’s king wrong. Then a young man with a head of dark curls and a smattering of freckles against tawny brown skin enters, his crown just slightly crooked. His eyes are wide and dark, and a jagged, white scar cuts across his cheekbone. He can’t be much older than they are.

“He’s the king?” Arc whispers to Ciara under his breath as Jesper makes his way over to them. “How old is he?”

Her expression twists a little in sympathy. “Seventeen. He wasn’t supposed to inherit the throne so soon. His parents were killed when Ryker’s army took over his kingdom.”

Arc isn’t sure what to say to that. He knows what it’s like to lose everything to Ryker—he can picture the flames every time he shuts his eyes. But he hadn’t known about Vysalt or the fate of its royals. They had been close allies with Seagate at one point, one of the only other kingdoms without much wealth, and their king and queen had been known for their generosity.

Somehow Arc had thought the damage had been done to Seagate alone, but now he wonders how the other kingdoms fared, if they suffered just as much. If any of them came out as unscathed as Astoria did.

“Your Majesties,” Jesper says as he bows, and there’s a note of pity in the King’s expression as he returns the gesture. Arc can only imagine how he feels about someone so close to his daughter’s age having to run a kingdom on his own.

“King Jesper. How are you doing?”

It’s a more personal question than he had asked the other royals, Arc notes. Jesper smiles easily; it’s soft, highlights his deep dimples and makes his dark eyes glimmer. “Well, thank you. Vysalt is recovering with time. As am I,” he adds, voice quieting for a moment.

The King nods back. “That’s good to hear. Let us know if there’s anything Astoria can do to help.”

Something flickers in Jesper’s expression, hard to read and gone so quickly that Arc wonders if he imagined it. The young king bows again before moving to join the others, but not before he catches Arc’s eye and smiles warmly. It surprises him—the other royals had hardly given him a second glance—but he returns it with one of his own. Beside him, Ciara lifts an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of amusement and something else he can’t place.

“What?” he asks quietly, and she shakes her head, glancing away.

“Nothing.”

He wants to pry, but the King is clearing his throat, getting ready to address the room. The chatter dies down as all eyes turn to him.

“My fellow Astorians,” he says in his deep, booming voice, sounding more formal than Arc has ever heard him, “and my guests from our neighboring kingdoms...I am honored to welcome you to our castle, and so pleased that we could all be in attendance tonight.”

Not all of us, Arc thinks, but no word of Seagate comes up.

The King continues, “For decades, our kingdoms have been isolated and divided by Ryker’s armies. We have long suffered under his forces, but his threat is gone for good. Thus, tonight is more than a council; it is a symbol of our victory, a symbol of our unity as we move forward and rebuild. So enjoy yourselves! After all, we have so much to celebrate!”

To Arc, the sentiment feels hollow. He got his revenge, and of course he’s glad that Ryker can’t hurt anyone else, but it doesn’t change the fact that Seagate is in ruins. It feels suddenly difficult to celebrate with the weight of his village’s absence lingering in the air around him. The rest of the partygoers don’t seem to share his hesitance, though; the room breaks into applause and cheers, several of the guests raising their goblets jovially.

Ciara gives him a subtle nudge, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Now we get to mingle,” she grins, leading him off the throne platform and towards the crowd.

He follows dutifully as she heads toward the table where the other kingdoms’ royals have gathered, Astoria’s king staying behind to greet the other royals. Queen Damyanti is in conversation with King Hugo and Queen Luciana, but she doesn’t seem entirely pleased about it, and Jesper and Kavan are laughing at something Aadhya has said. Isaac hovers next to them, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He has his father’s golden hair and clear blue eyes, but the frown on his face is entirely his mother’s.

It disappears, though, the moment he sees Ciara approaching them. “Princess Angelica,” he greets her, with a little too much enthusiasm for Arc’s liking, “I’m so honored to finally meet you. You’re even more radiant in person.” Before she can say anything, he takes her hand and kisses it swiftly. Arc narrows his eyes.

Ciara gives a forced-sounding chuckle and curtseys, pulling her hand back. “Thank you, Prince Isaac. I’m glad you could make it. Allow me to introduce Sir Arc, my guard and escort for the night.”

Arc bows—and if he never has to bow to another pompous royal again, he thinks, it’ll be too soon—and Isaac offers him a dismissive sort of half-smile. Any further interaction they would’ve had then is thankfully avoided by the other royals noticing Ciara’s arrival.

“Hi, Princess Angelica!” Aadhya says brightly, with a neat little dip of a curtsey, “I’m Aadhya.” When Ciara and Arc begin to return the gesture, she waves her hand with a tiny scoff. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Formalities. Just come sit.” She returns to her chair and pats the seat next to her, and Arc decides right there that he likes her.

Ciara takes the offered chair, and Arc takes the only other open spot, in between her and King Jesper. As Ciara launches into conversation with Aadhya, Jesper turns to him.

“Hi,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m Jesper.”

Arc bites back a laugh at the unnecessary introduction. “I know who you are, Your Highness,” he replies lightly.

“I know. I was just trying to give you an opening to tell me who you are.”

Oh. That’s unexpected. There’s no prerogative behind his words, no assertion; Jesper’s grin is almost bashful, his voice easy and bright. He doesn’t sound like a king, just a seventeen-year-old boy trying to flirt. Arc can’t help but return his smile.

“I’m Arc,” he says. “Normally I’m a student at Knight School, but I’m the princess’s guard and escort for the night.”

“Wait,” Aadhya pauses her conversation with Ciara to lean over and look at him, “You’re the Arc who defeated Ryker?”

“I helped,” Arc says with a shrug, and the princess’s eyes go wide. She turns to Ciara.

“Were you there too?”

“I was—” Ciara pauses for a moment, “hiding. I was hiding. Arc got me to safety.”

He grins a little at her, tongue between his teeth, knowing it must be killing her to hide what she was actually doing. She narrows her eyes and kicks his leg under the table in response, a silent shut up. He lifts his eyebrows, like, I didn’t say anything, and she rolls her eyes in an entirely non-subtle manner.

Across the table, Queen Damyanti is watching their exchange with a raised eyebrow, Arc notices belatedly. She has a mildly amused look on her face, but doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, she states, “Battling Ryker face-to-face must have been quite the experience.”

“What was it like?” Prince Kavan asks eagerly from beside his sister.

Aadhya elbows him. “Kavan,” she hisses, but Arc just grins.

“No worries. It was…” he trails, trying to think of what to say and suddenly aware that all the royals’ eyes are on him. He shifts in his seat. “It was scary, obviously. He had the Armor of Astoria, and a whole army with him, and most of the Astorian knights under his spell. But, y’know. We Knight School students are pretty formidable. We all took him on together. Wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise. I wasn’t half as scared as I would’ve been without my squadmates watching my back.”

He glances at Ciara, who smiles softly and nudges his foot, gentler this time. Jesper has that same unreadable look on his face and Aadhya has her chin propped in her hand, her expression amazed, but Queen Luciana gives a snide sort of scoff.

“It’s a wonder it took so long to defeat him, then, if a group of students cut him down so easily,” she says. “Perhaps Ryker was never as great a threat as we all made him out to be.”

There’s a cut of silence across the table in which Jesper visibly stiffens. “With all due respect, Queen Luciana, Ryker’s attacks were devastating. Or have you forgotten what happened to my parents?” he demands, without any respect at all. His eyes are blazing.

“I’m merely pointing out that the only real damage done was to the less...fortified kingdoms,” she sniffs. “Ryker only breached Catalias’s walls once, and he was driven out rather quickly.”

“Well, not every kingdom has Catalias’s resources.” Ciara sounds like she’s choosing her words carefully, frustration masked well behind them.

King Hugo gives a huff of a laugh; his blue eyes are cold. “My dear princess, you have no cause for indignation. Astoria lost the least to Ryker, what with your,” he waves a hand, “magic bubble.”

Ciara opens her mouth but falters, brow furrowed, and across the table, Queen Damyanti speaks up. “Nevertheless, Ryker was still a formidable enemy to all of us. We were only prepared for his attacks because he targeted Seagate and Vysalt first. And Seagate’s destruction is a clear example of his power.”

“Oh, even you can’t argue that Seagate was rotting long before Ryker got to it, Damyanti,” Hugo replies swiftly, and Arc’s breath catches in his throat. Queen Damyanti shrugs in agreement, her expression passive; Arc almost stands up, but Ciara’s hand on his leg underneath the table stops him.

“Don’t,” she hisses, just barely loud enough for him to hear, “Let me handle this.”

Though as it turns out, she doesn’t have to. Before she has a chance to speak, Jesper is already bristling, his voice sharp: “As if Seagate’s corruption justifies the destruction of its people?”

“It’s thieves and criminals, you mean?” Isaac scoffs. “Seagate was a wasteland. The kingdoms are better off.”

The words ring in Arc’s ears, alongside the pounding of his blood. They sound painfully similar to what Ryker had said to him on the mountain—rats and thieves, I did the five kingdoms a favor—and he thinks fleetingly that he’s going to be sick. He’s always known that Seagate was looked down on by the other kingdoms, but hearing them say so casually that what happened, the flames and the destruction and all of the death, was deserved—

“The people were only thieves and criminals because Catalias took advantage of them,” Jesper argues. “I hope I don’t have to remind you that it was your government that poured money into the gangs of Seagate for their own profit and allowed them to stage a coup in the first place.”

The words are deadly and cold, but Arc feels a flash of admiration for Jesper; the king has no obligations towards Seagate, and yet defends it like his own. King Hugo’s gaze hardens. “You’re blaming Catalias for Seagate’s problems?” he says with a derisive laugh. “If anything, Ryker’s attacks only revealed that Seagate was a kingdom full of people that weren’t worth saving.”

“That’s enough,” Ciara says abruptly. Her hand tightens on Arc’s leg, and he can no longer tell if he’s the one trembling or if she is. There’s this burning fire behind her eyes; she looks, Arc thinks briefly, the same way she does in battle. “What happened to Seagate was a devastating tragedy, and I won’t let you treat it as otherwise. Those who disagree aren’t welcome here.”

It’s a weighted statement, one she doesn’t entirely have the formal authority to make, but no one dares to contest it. A heavy silence settles over all of them. Arc doesn’t know how long he can sit there with all the heat under his skin; he doesn’t remember when his hand found the hilt of his sword, only that he’s gripping it tight enough that the leather bites into his palm. He wants to stand up and tell them that none of them would be here if it weren’t for him, a thief from Seagate. In truth, the only thing holding him back is Ciara. In a battle between her steady hand and the storm in his chest, she wins without even trying.

He doesn’t say anything or look at her, but her gaze flits to him for a moment and she just knows, standing up. Before she even opens her mouth, Isaac is on his feet too. “Going so soon?” he asks. “Would you care to dance, Princess?”

She looks at him coolly for a moment. “I would, actually.” And then, she turns to Arc, offering him her hand, “Sir Arc, dance with me?”

Arc blinks up at her and takes it as he stands. “Absolutely, Princess,” he says, letting her lead him away from the table and glancing back only long enough to catch the dumbfounded expression on Isaac’s face.

#oop #knight squad #knight squad fanfic #tiara thief #tiara thief fic #writing #my writing #fanfiction #arc #ciara #ks #//umanawrites #learn to love without consuming

51 notes · View notes

keenie-bopper · 2 months

Text

Character Sheet & Blog Rules

Timeline: After Sir Pentious joins the hotel, and before he dies.

Blog Moderator: BarBee 26 (She/Her)

18+ SFW RP Blog

No NSFW: (Mild Foul Language: ✅ | Mild Violence & Gore: ✅ | Hugs, Kisses & Handholding: ✅ | Sexual Intimacy: ❌)

Anonymous Questions Welcome

Prefers Paragraph RP to Single Line RP

Headcanons and Lore: #sugar buzzed lore

Art Tag: #my art

Inactive text roleplay will be moved to: @sugar-buzzed-reblogs

#hazbin hotel rp #helluva boss rp #hazbin hotel roleplay #helluva boss roleplay #keenie #sugar buzzed au #sugar buzzed lore #my art

10 notes · View notes

angelfishofthelord · 3 years

Text

good tidings of great joy

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.” --Luke 2:10, KJV

--A Christmas SPN fic--

Angels from the realm of glory

Wing your flight o’er all the earth

There’s very little glory remaining, either above or below. The absence has become a part of you, aching between the bone and marrow of this vessel. You walk this earth on feet strapped in the confines of shoes, with back bent carrying the remains of extinguished brilliance. Few can tell the difference between you and any of the other burdened mortals crossing the sidewalk; the aurora that used to halo you is less than a dull sheen.

You don’t mind the invisibility; the seamless stitches that hide you allow you to move unnoticed among humanity, like the air between the falling snowflakes. Humans have always been terrified of your kind anyways. Fear not is the most repeated command in the Bible. It appears 365 times; one sixth of those times is spoken by an angel.

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing o’er the plains

The sweetness was never there in the first place, but you stop to listen to sidewalk carolers singing the lie, their upturned faces flushed with cold and joy. Humans have always written their own narratives about angels, from inventing their own version of your powers to restructuring your appearance and mannerisms. The fairy tales that shroud your essence would do well to remain instead of the nightmare of the truth.

You weren’t part of the flight who first appeared to the shepherds, but you’ve heard the story passed from battalion to battalion. How they were only half-shielded by the night to dim the inferno of their forms; how burnt wool and charred grass had the shepherds crying out in voiceless fear, had the captain begging for them not to be afraid. As if the human heart could anymore contain the palpitations towards the unknown than the heavens could not thunder in its every breath.

One caroler offers you a candy cane and you hesitate to take it.

“I have nothing to give you,” you inform the young woman. Receiving requires something like in kind, this you know. Nothing is free; a cost lies behind every extended hand or smile or place to belong.

“You don’t need to,” she beams. Snowflakes gather around her, glittering in her wool cap. “It’s Christmas.”

The shepherds ran to the village to spread the news, but not out of belief in the lore of a savior. They took one look at the distortion of celestial bodies and immediately vowed to spend their lives in devotion to whatever command was given in exchange for having their lives spared. Their declaration was one of warning, their faith born of terror.

“I can give it to my son,” you say finally. If you are not claiming it for yourself then perhaps the price can be waived.

She gives you two candy canes “so you can enjoy them together.”

The angels knew what was to come

The reason God had sent his son

They knew that it was a test to humanity, to determine how to proceed with future involvement judging by mankind’s reaction to him. You don’t know which archangel came up with the plan; you were still under the delusion at the time that instructions were coming from your Father. The word spread among the hosts was that they should convince mortals that their Father had a single son; not thousands upon thousands cloistered in heaven, misshapen and deformed to the human eye. No, people needed to believe that God’s child looked like them and bled like them, not the other way around. Not the way angels made the earth bleed and burned brighter than the sun.

You pause under the awning of a closed church to check your phone. Dean wants to know when you’ll be back so they can start decorating the tree. “The kid’s impatient,” says the text. “We can only make so many cookies.” You think of Jack half covered in iced sugar and flour, licking the batter off his fingers and taking the tray out of the oven before they’re done. When the boy had called earlier that afternoon to ask if you could pick up some decorations on the way home the word “rainbow lights” had burst from his lips with such delight that you could almost see his smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he was happy.

Your son is happy. The thought is enough to move you out from under the shadow of the wooden cross above and continue on your way home.

Hark the herald angels sing

Glory to the newborn king

There never was any singing among the hosts. Choirs were the measurement term for the size of a flight one commanded. The strength of angel’s voices were used to contact each other midst battle, to send for help or reinforcements, and, on occasion when other weapons were exhausted, as a weapon against the enemy. You remember your own voice when you first spoke to Dean, how the pale faces of windows screamed and the parched throats of radios split. Your Father created you to be a creature that needed to be contained in order to be heard or seen; an anomaly suppressed in borrowed bodies that would remain forever incomprehensible by those you were charged to protect.

You can wrap yourself in cells and hair like them and still remain alien to them. Even as long as you’ve been on earth there are still words in your language this body’s tongue cannot pronounce, and colors you cannot find paints that come close to, and sounds no instrument can come close to mimicking.

There is still you, bundled beneath clothes and tissue and skeleton. You are the unknowable.

Sam brushes snow off your coat shoulders as you step into the bunker and he smiles at the face of the knowable you. Dean looks up from a tangle of evergreen boughs and welcomes you, the you that can fit in the door frame of this structure.

Jack. Jack looks at you, the entire visage of you in every increment of decaying glory.

And says your name like a song.

Sing choirs of angels

Sing in exultation

There hasn’t been any exaltation among your siblings for centuries now. Sorrow and greed and chaos have been the sole harmony they have sung, and not just since the averted apocalypse. Even in the earliest days when the presence of your Father blessed the halls of heaven strife still wrestled among the purity, staining it with betrayal and rejection that bled into Lucifer’s fall.

But here, in the warm womb of the earth with two humans and one child, there are notes of that wondrous jubilation the writers imagined in their seasonal songs.

Jack wraps himself up in the Christmas lights and Sam turns them on before he realizes it. When the boy laughs, unfazed by the buzzing bulbs braided around his arms, the panic disappears from Dean’s eyes. They open up boxes of decorations and scrape glitter from their fingertips, grumbling when it smears onto their clothes. Dean throws tinsel at Sam to put on the higher branches and his brother protests that he’s not a ladder. Jack picks up a small figurine and bends his small mouth into a frown.

“Angels don’t look like this,” Jack says and you look over at the small white fluffy statue in his palm.

Fear not. Humans have always sought to transform that which appeared unseemly. They have sanded down every possible edge and muted the scars of what it means to be angelic, turning an enormous and terrible being into something diminutive and fragile so even a child could smile at it.

“I think if I put a tiny trench coat on that Cas would kick my ass,” Dean remarks from under the handful of silver strands that a disgruntled Sam has dumped back on his head.

“No,” Jack repeats, holding the figurine between two fingers, “I mean, they don’t only have two wings. Or even one head.”

Sam bends back one unruly branch that is determined to attack him. “Do you…do you have more than one head?”

You shake your head. “Jack is a child, but more than that he's half human. He doesn’t have a true form like--” you push a finger against your chest “--we do, and he’s not in a vessel. He might get more wings later,” you add thoughtfully. There’s no archetype for nephilim growth, but when you look at Jack you see the strands of his soul and how the blend of hues there are unlike any other humans. You see the shiver of his two wings, full and bristling against the edges of space and time.

“We’ve seen your wings, Cas--well, shadowy thingies.” Dean stands up and squints as if straining his retina can enable him to better glimpse your frightening truth.

“That’s not how he really looks,” Jack beams and before you can put out a hand to stop him he pushes a finger against either brother’s forehead. “Let me show you.”

“Don’t.” The request escapes your lips too late, trailing after a plane that’s already left the runaway. Jack’s eyes are halos of gold and Sam and Dean stand awash in the tremors of his light, staring at you with speechlessly. You close your eyes, a very human habit that will shield you from nothing at all. Terror can slip through the seal of eyelashes as easily as a shadow under the door.

Fall on your knees

O hear the angel’s voices

There were very few who didn’t bow at the sight of your arrival. You wanted to tell them that they didn’t need to drop to the ground; you wanted to tell them you had no choice over the shape of your being. Eventually you let yourself believe that their reaction was because of the uniform you wore; soldiers are always greeted with trepidation, even human soldiers. They only appear in times of war and death; so you could reason that the hidden faces were because of that and not because of the horror of you.

But Sam and Dean are your family. They should not have to associate you with something as unnatural and ghastly as your mutilated true form. You know how the mind of humans work, how it loves the familiar and loathes the foreign. They see you as one of them because you look like them, and act much like them now, a comfort that will be erased now that they are seeing the difference of you.

Especially this you. Cut off from Heaven for years and eroded by the rivers of poison and possession that have ravaged your form, there remains nothing but mangled remains of monstrosity to see.

“Oh.” The breath swells from Sam, followed by an extended version of the vowel from his older brother.

When Jack pulls his fingers away and the illumination fades you open your eyes but keep your gaze to the floor. It won’t hurt any less but you want to delay being witness to the restrained revulsion in their eyes.

“I didn’t always look like that,” you say, as if it offers any excuse. “I had more…” you try to capture an appropriate English word to describe it “…fingers.”

“Where?” Dean sounds… curious. He sounds curious. Excited.

“On the..ah..faces.” You lift your head a little, waiting for their unease to fall like unannounced snow.

“Ah, the arches,” Sam says with pride, only to be contradicted by Dean.

“Wouldn’t that make them eyelids? Or eyebrows?”

“The faces aren’t structured like that; they could be arches or even parallel lines.”

“Okay, well, I know what I saw, and it was definitely eye-ish. I mean, that face was a leopard right? Leopards have eyes.”

“Cheetah,” Sam returns. “The spots are different, dude.”

“Those aren’t spots, those are the eyes,” Jack interrupts.

“So then the fingers do go on the eyebrow-y things. Like this.” Dean grabs a pencil and paper off the stack of books on the table and starts scrawling hurried lines. “And then the five and a half wings go there--and there---and I think one was there.”

“No, you’re getting the angles wrong, it came out of the elbow there.” Sam snatches a pen and scribbles out a corner of his brother’s drawing and adds something else.

Jack peers over their shoulders. “You’re forgetting the wheels.”

“They’re broken,” you point out shamefully, but no one hears you. Dean is swinging the pencil around the white sheet and Sam is accusing him of not knowing how to draw a circle and then Jack disappears and reappears with a box of crayons.

“Pink? I thought it was purple.”

“More like magenta.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Sammy. Jack, back me up here.”

They cluster around, crayon crumbs smearing into the white and elbows nudging each other for space to draw, and you stand there with a growing lump in your throat because they're not afraid.

Because Dean goes and grabs that little plush figurine and a white board marker and starts dotting the lace wings with spots for eyes. Because Sam gets toothpicks to stab the paper cut heads he’s drawn into the styrofoam body and Jack is twisting pipe cleaners into the bent lines of your wings. Because they fight over which side of the figurine to put two or three wings, and whether or not the rotating ram head should be in the front or back.

When they finally turn around and ask you if the bottle-cap wheel should be taped below or above the waist you try to answer without crying and it doesn’t work.

Fear not then said the angel

Let nothing you affright

There isn’t anyone else awake when Christmas morning first dawns. You leave behind the warmth of your room and go towards the center of this place you’ve christened home. Behind the staircase you find the plug and switch on the lights for the tree. They blink in a rainbow flutter against the synthetic branches, throwing tiny halos across the dangling snowmen and reindeer. Sitting on the table atop a stack of books is the angel figurine, now sporting a variety of hand-made appendages and hand-drawn additions to create some kind of composite creature.

It looks absolutely nothing like you.

You’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Your hand slides into your coat pocket and you find the two candy canes from the caroler the day before. You find a branch to hang the red and white striped hooks on, somewhere between the mismatching socks that have definitely been put there without either brother’s knowledge and the actual baked gingerbread man that has Jack’s distinctive wiggly smile drawn on it in red frosting.

Before the sounds of your waking family come drifting down the hall you pause, fingers hesitating over the newly-crafted angel. You pick it up and move it to the top of the tree, wiggling it back and forth until it stands proud with all three crayoned faces to the sky.

You weren’t there for the first Christmas. And angels don’t sing or rejoice.

But you are here now, in this moment of Christmas.

Later Dean will be humming off-key when he pops marshmallows in the mugs of hot chocolate and Jack’s little squeal will ring out when Sam tries to stop him from opening the presents first. Later Jack will come tuck his arms around you for a sleepy hug and Dean will flash you a grin while he surreptitiously witches his mug for Sam’s. You will sit on the sofa cradling your own mug of hot chocolate and Sam will lean against your knees as he sits cross-legged on the floor flipping through the dictionary of dead languages you wrote for him. Later Jack will be wearing his new gloves and shadow boxing with Dean, both moving dangerously close to the tree. You will whisper “Merry Christmas” right before Dean’s leg twists around one of the lower branches and the six foot evergreen bows to the ground, sending the composite angel flying away on the wings of your laughter.

And ever o’er its Babel sounds

The blessed angels sing

Songs mentioned, in order of appearance: Angels From the Realms of Glory//Angles We Have Heard on High//The Angels Cried//Hark the Herald Angels Sing//O Come All Ye Faithful//O Holy Night//God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen//It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

#my fic #my fanfic #castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #jack kline #tfw 2.0 #christmas #merry christmas #christmas fanfic #christmas songs #christmastime #holiday spirit #holiday mood #angst and feels #feels #fluff #spn #spn fanfic

22 notes · View notes

allthingsroleplay · 4 years

Photo

lemon sugar is an upcoming real life site set in crystal cove, florida. though the weather is gorgeous, it's the off-season, so most of the tourists have gone home and the town has gone quiet, leaving the locals to entertain themselves.

lemon sugar will offer a low-key roleplay environment with a quick and easy application process, town lore and canon groups, and small tourist town events and intrigue. our site buzz is taking place on discord now. our aim is to form in-character and out-of-character connections prior to the site's opening, and our server is an easier platform for chatting and brainstorming. join our server here; reserves are open!

— sarah, drew, & summer

#jcink site #premium jcink #site buzz #short app #city town rpg #submission

3 notes · View notes

jcinktinder · 4 years

Photo

lemon sugar is an upcoming real life site set in crystal cove, florida. though the weather is gorgeous, it’s the off-season, so most of the tourists have gone home and the town has gone quiet, leaving the locals to entertain themselves.

lemon sugar will offer a low-key roleplay environment with a quick and easy application process, town lore and canon groups, and small tourist town events and intrigue. our site buzz is taking place on discord now. our aim is to form in-character and out-of-character connections prior to the site’s opening, and our server is an easier platform for chatting and brainstorming. join our server here; reserves are open!

— sarah, drew, & summer

#jcink #jcink premium #site buzz #real life rp #town rp #submission

2 notes · View notes

rpings · 4 years

Photo

— sarah, drew, & summer

#jcink rp #jcink premium #site buzz #real life rp #submission

1 note · View note

squeakthemonkey · 5 years

Text

So here’s a fanfiction...

I know i haven’t written in a while things have been... meh. So I have began to write a fanfiction on the game CHANGELING by god one of my favorite games ever. I love everyone of the characters and it’s amazing.

So if you could be so inclined to go over to @steamberrystudio who made the game and support them for their new game (which also looks so awesome) it is such a fantastic community over there and i implore you to have a gander and if you likey... well yea!

______________ So here’s my little story____________

So i just want to say that i have kept as close to the lore as i possibly could, but for anything else please think of it as creative license.

---------- Cherry blossoms -----------

part 1

Cherry blossoms.

When ever that woman came in, he could smell cherry blossoms. A lingering fresh smell that the others didn’t particularly seem to notice, or care to notice. But Merle did. It wasn’t overpowering or sickly sweet, but it was getting more and more annoying that every time he smelt it, would be when he had just missed the woman behind it.

She always arrived at a time when he was busy, or not in the room. A near impossible feat she had managed. So naturally of course he needed to know who she was. Though he quickly - and often - had to remind himself it was just idle curiosity and nothing more, he still found himself counting the times he missed her. Noting if there was some kind of schedule or pattern. None of which he found.

Until, one not so special day, he got his chance.

He kept his eyes on the coffee maker as usual when the door chimed its welcome, but also as usual kept his ears trained on his brother welcoming the customers in. Corvin was a good kid, with a good heart, just not very good balance. Having at least one of his senses trained on him at all times helped mostly, even though Corvin always found away to surprise his brother with his clumsiness.

“Oh, hello again, in for your usual?” naturally Merle’s eyes wondered up but with a small surprise he realized he had never seen the woman at the door before. He took the time for her hellos to look over the woman.

She was tall, yet it seemed most of her height was due to heels and she had a surprisingly mature look about her. Her pants suit made her legs look long and she combated the hotter weather outside by wearing a matching vest over her shirt while her jacket was flung over her arm haphazardly. Her short brown hair was tied back though small strands fell out creating a wispy aura around her cheeks and ears. However at his brothers welcome, instead of a business-like impassive greeting, the woman smiled brightly, her young skin radiating off her. She must have been around the same age range as them, she still gave of a strange air of authority.

Yet, as much as her smile was blinding, it wasn’t that which made Merle stop what he was doing. It was her soul. Or at least the Orai that belonged to her. They were amazingly colorful, and buzzing around her, glowing and flickering as if she was surrounded by stars. Flitting around the room and making themselves at home, draping over customers, crawling under tables. The further she got into the room the more entrancing they became. The more he saw the more he wondered how she could survive here - and survive with a smile as bright as she wore. Pine Hollow was a place where Orai were in danger constantly, where the negative energy just swallowed them. How were hers so …alive? As she walked past Corvin he noticed something else.

Cherry blossoms.

At first was the sense of victory, he’d done it, he’d finally seen her. But as fast as it had come it was over taken by the curiosity that she had brought with her. Orai, at least the ones he came into contact with, didn’t usually act like this. The woman just brimmed with… life.

She took a table in the corner by the window, the orai reflecting in the light dazzlingly, so much he almost had to shake his head. Dropping his eyes instead he reminded himself of his mantra. That there was no use for the curiosity, because it would never mean anything.

Besides, he also knew how to keep people away. He was used to it.

Beth hid her smirk as she dropped her jacket to the chair next to her. She had not missed the eyes looking over her as she walked in. Though she hadn’t expected the brother she always missed, it was an enjoyable surprise. A very enjoyable surprise.

Since she had been transferred here she had felt her energy zapping away, life had a way of moving around her whether she included herself or not and she had long since lost her passion. Though she fought to keep positive it was getting harder everyday; especially as neither side of her work wanted to compromise with each other. She had spent many-a-day glaring at paperwork and devouring as much sugar as she could to get by.

But then, one day she stumbled into The Murder and for once, just once, it seemed like life was going her way. The small cafe though obviously popular had a strange feeling of home and nostalgia, the calmness took over her her nerves and the day didn’t seem so bad any more. The delightful drinks warmed her skin and she actually felt energized enough to go back to work with a smile.

Corvin, the sweet boy, brought a smile to her face as did the other brother - who she now realized must have been a twin - had served her over time, yet there was one she always seemed to miss. One, she had heard from the jovial boys, was always asking after her for some reason or another. When ever she had stepped in the boys would look to each other and laugh, in on a joke she didn’t quite get. Even the waitress here, Kaya, had made a comment or two about notifying them.

“So,” The blond boy came up to her table, almost bounding into another table, which was luckily empty. He shook it off naturally. “How are you today, Beth? Looking particularly good if I must say,” He grinned bearishly.

“You say that like I don’t look good everyday,” She grinned back at him. He gasped in mock surprise.

“I would never!” He handed her the menu. Beth’s eyes narrowed but there was no malice there. Corvin laughed and cast a small look over his shoulder, he too hadn’t missed the look.

“Damn, Bran wins the bet.” He huffed dejected and lowered his shoulders without losing any of his positive energy. “We were wondering how long it would take for you two to meet.”

“Oh, you talk about about me?” She flashed her teeth.

“He he,” Corvin shuffled on his feet for a moment. “Sort of. like Merle asks something about cheery blossoms, and we sort of decided to mess with him a bit. Lonen told him you were six foot tall body builder with a penchant for cherry hand sanitizer.” Though Beth wasn’t quite sure what to make of their schemes she found herself laughing along with him anyway.

“Maybe on a good day, we all have our hobbies,” She nodded her head.

The chime of the doorbell interrupted whatever he was about to say. Having already been scolded for talking for too long to Ally who had popped in earlier Corvin wisely decided to go to the table before Merle could speak up. He gave her a another grin before leaving backing into the table and profusely apologizing loudly.

Beth looked over the menu, but the warm memory of the vanilla latte she had the other day called to her instead. As she wondered is she was hungry, another set of footsteps approached the table. Forcing down the blush she smiled up at the new face.

“It seems you’ve made quite the impression on Cory; he’s clumsier then usual,” he motioned over his shoulder to the boy, but his smile was only proud… and perhaps a little annoyed. She looked over her new server as he had, daring enough not to hide it either, she cocked her head to the side.

“I hope its a good impression,” She kept her eyes on him. “Heaven forbid I ruin our introduction,” Her voice dropped a little when she saw his eyes sparkle a little. If he was anything like his brothers, he wasn’t exactly going to be shy, and hell, she liked a good game too. Though she wasn’t a stranger to flirting, she wondered how far she could push it. She had always been bold, with her ability lying or playing around was incredibly dangerous, flirting and flirting with the truth was a challenge she couldn’t resist, especially when someone had looked at her the way he had.

He saw her game dance around the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he responded. “But, don’t introductions come with names?”

“Hmm, given where we are, how about a trade? Name for a name?”

“Sounds fair,” She turned in her seat a little and lent lightly against the edge of the table. He felt the laughter grow in his throat as he spoke.

If he was going to play, she reasoned, she may as well go all in. She looked over him once again. As flirty as his words and looks were, he wasn’t a open as he seemed. She had seen this before.

“Ok, what do I trade to have a coffee with you?” With an pleasant surprise his eye brows raised showing off more of his gorgeous eyes and the natural smile turned into a sly grin.

“Well,” he drew the word out and sucked the air between his teeth. He shouldn’t push it, he reasoned to himself. It wasn’t going to lead anywhere. His curiosity about the woman made her different. The Orai, the confident flirting, all of it tugged at him. Still he found himself leaning down a little to level with her. The closeness of his magic testing the air around her, flushing her skin, he was still searching for his answer. “What to you have in mind? My breaks are far and few, to sacrifice one…” he lead off but it only made her smile more.

Beth only chuckled. True, the ball was in her court but his closeness was an unexpected move, most men found her forwardness somewhat intimidating

“Well, I’ve been told I’m veeery good at palm reading, perhaps I could read yours while we drink? I’ve had one of your vanilla lattes, they are to die for.” Crossing her knees casually as she waited for his answer. She didn’t want to give up, after all he wasn’t unresponsive. If he was genuinely uncomfortable she would stop immediately, but he played along well. His eyes twinkled again a she bit her lip in contemplation. This was intriguing, Merle narrowed his eyes, the Orai buzzing around her again, each smile made parts of her soul dance. She had been around magic, he could tell that much. Not a witch, Esper maybe? With a mockingly defeated grin he gathered her discarded menu.

“Ok then,” he agreed. “I’ll be back with your drink in just a moment,” She nodded her head turning back so her legs were under the table. When he was out of sight she allowed herself to breath the deep breath she was holding back. Holy crap. Beth patted her cheeks that should have been stinging with the amount she was smiling. Was this even real? Her hands fluttered around her hair and and her clothes, half wondering if she had enough time to run to a mirror. But she shook her head to herself. No, her confidence had got her here she would hold on to it.

This was going to be fun.

---------------------------------------Part 2 coming soon---------------------------

So there it is. :D

#changeling #Merle Beltran #merle x OC #Corvin Beltran #the murder #visual novel #fanfic #Fanfiction #@steamberrystudios #romance #please be gentle #story #please go and support the game creator #thankyou #oc character

6 notes · View notes

moderncolors · 5 years

Quote

The Ultimate List of Alternative Baby Names { bohemian, hippie, offbeat, fantasy, goth baby names} So you've got a wee one on the way and you're looking for a name as unique as your new baby is going to be, am I right? Well, check out this great list of offbeat names for I've created just for creative moms and dads-to-be like you. A lot of these names are form lists I made when thinking of names for my two tots and some inspired by my favorite celebrity kid names and some are from the top of my head. Yes, some of these names are "out there" and I've gotten a lot of hateful comments about this post (that's why comments are disabled) but what do you expect from a post called THE ULTIMATE LIST OF ALTERNATIVE BABY NAMES? If you like the names. Awesome! If you don't, that's cool too. To each his own! NOTE: I didn't separate the names by gender as many of these can work for both boys and girls! Last updated 9/28/18 ▲BOHEMIAN & ARTSY▲ Arlo, Allegra, Alto, Ariel, Art, August, Avery, Beau, Bell/Belle, Blue, Burgundy, Cass/ Cassy, Cobalt, Cosette, Cruz, Dali, Dancer, Delia, Delilah, Donatello, Early, Eartha, Flannery, Frida, Golden, Harper, Haven, Hawthorne, Hendrix, Henna, Holden, Holiday, Honor, Hugo, Indigo, Isa, Jazz, Kahlo, Kodak, Langston, Lazareth, Legend, Lennon, Leonardo, Limerick, Lyric, Magenta, Mandala, Mandolin, Marlowe, Merlot, Michelangelo, Monet, Muse, Orlando, Paloma, Pen, Picasso, Piper, Poem, Quinn, Raphael, Red, Rigby, Ringo, Royal, Rufus, Shakespeare, Sonata, Sonnet, Story, Symphony, Tango, Tempo, True/Tru, Truman, Tuesday, Uma, Vellum, Vin/Vino, Xuxa (Shusha),Yoko, Zora amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "e98f453f5cf9b08a37caad8372b2923c"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07HR5SS5B,B079H2V79B,B07GZPGJYW,B072TY48WK,B00OVJJUFM"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲COSMIC▲ Aries, Callisto, Cassiopeia, Celeste, Celestial, Cloud, Comet, Constellation, Cosmic, Cosmo/Cosmos, Earth, Eclipse, Elara, Jupiter, Libra, Luna/Lunar, Mars, Mercury, Moon, Nebula, Nova, Orion, Pluto, Sirius, Solar, Star, Starbright, Stardust, Starlight, Starshine, Vega, Venus amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00XQKJGVA,B07FDXY48N,B01DU228AO,B07J1CF5JW"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; ▲DESTINATIONS & TRAVEL▲ Africa, America, Asia, Austin, Brooklyn, China, Cairo, Columbia, Dakota, Dallas, Denver, East, Egypt, England, Everest, Geneva, Georgia, Germany, Holland, India, Ireland, Israel, Jordan, Journey, Kenya, London, Morocco, Nazareth, Nevada, Niagara, North, Paris, Odessa, Orient, Peru, Rome/Roman, Russia, Scotland, South, Traveler, Venice, Vienna, Wander, West, Zion, Zanzibar amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B01ASVCW6K,B00408AA9O,B07KK5DSYF,B07JH8LKPR"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲FANTASY, MYTHOLOGY & SCI-FI▲ Amidala, Anakin, Apollo, Aragorn, Aries, Arwen, Artemis, Aslan, Athena, Atlas, Avalon, Dalek, Data, Elron, Elvin, Eros, Fairy/Faery, Faramir, Freya, Geordi, Gimli, Gulliver, Hera, Hermione, Isis, Jareth, Járnsaxa, Jean-Luc, Jedi, Lando, Leia, Merry, Odin, Oz, Padme, Pan, Persephone, Philomena, Phoenix, Pippen, Pixie, Samwise, Sisko, Sirius, Solo, Sprite, Sulu, Tardis, Thor, Titan, Trillian, Troy, Venus, Xavier, Zeus amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B075FC488Z,B071Y215TY,B075K5S2DR,B07CG4P4VJ"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲GOTHIC▲ Alabaster, Armand, Ash, Belladonna, Blade, Blaze, Chalice, Cinder, Crimson, Damien, Dante, Draegan, Draven, Echo, Eclipse, Edge, Ember, Enigma, Essence, Eternity, Flame, Gabriel, Garnet, Gossamer, Gotham, Granite, Grimm, Hamlet, Illusion, Jet, Labyrinth, Lace, Lazarus, Lenore, Lestat, Loki, Lore, Lucretia, Maleficent, Maze, Memory, Midnight, Mist, Moonlight, Morrow, Morticia, Mystery, Nightshade, Noir, Obsidian,Onyx, Ophelia, Pandora, Panther, Poe, Porcelain, Prism, Rain, Rapture, Raven, Razor, Requiem, Rogue, Rosary, Sabre, Salem, Satin, Scarlet, Seraphim, Shade, Shadow, Steel, Stone, Storm, Talon, Thorne, Twilight, Veil, Velvet, Winter, Wolf, Zane amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B01MF8K902,B00I3Q5A4E,B00MMJR8KW,B00NYIADBG"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲HIPPIE▲ Breeze, Buzz, Chakra, Cheer, Cherish, Cosmic, Crystal, Dancer, Dawn, Daydream, Deja, Desert, Destiny, Dharma, Dream/Dreamer, Earth/Eartha, Echo, Feather, Flight, Flow, Flower, Free, Freedom, Grace, Gypsy, Harmony, Heart, Honesty, Hope, Janis, Joplin, Journey, Joy, June, Justice, Karma, Kind, Lennon, Liberty, Light, Lily, Love, Marley, Meadow, Melody, Mild, Misty, Morning, Om, Paisley, Patchouli, Peace, Peaceful, Promise, Rain, Rainbow, Serenity, Smile, Soulful, Spirit, Sunny, Sunshine, Windsong, Yogi, Zen, Zest, Ziggy amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B079LRGX9M,B079LNJFGS,B01FH6MRMU,B00IWTF4N4"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = ""; ▲NATURE▲ Almond, Apple, Aspen, Barley, Basil, Bay, Berry, Blossom, Canyon, Cayenne, Cedar (my daughter's name!),Cherry, Cinnamon, Clay, Clove, Clover, Coriander, Cove, Cypress, Daisy, Dayspring, Desert, Ebony, Fern, Fig, Flint, Flower, Forest, Ginger, Heather, Herb, Hill, Holly, Honey, Iris, Ivory, Ivy, Jasmine, Juniper, Kale, Land, Lavender, Leaf, Lilac, Lily, Linden, Lotus, Magnolia, Mango, Maple, Marigold, Meadow, Moss, Navy, Nest, Oak/Oakley, Olive, Parsley, Peach, Petal, Plum, Poppy, Posy, Rainbow, River (my son's name!), Rock, Root, Rose, Rosemary, Saffron, Sage, Slate, Snow, Spring, Spruce, Stone, Sunflower, Sweetpea,Thyme, Timber, Vine, Violet, Violet, Wheat, Willow, Wind, Woodland, Zinnia amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00EKRCCVO,B07MNWTX92,B00I2XNK4K,B07C432N49"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲NAUTICAL▲ Anchor, Aqua, Ariel, Bay, Captain, Coral, Crew, Cruise, Fleet, Harbor, Lake, Marina, Ocean, Oar, Pearl, Pike, Pirate, Reed, Reef, Sailor, Ship, Tide, Water, Wave amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00X236HEA,B01FMYE4TQ,B01M5DM815,B00MYWGTGQ"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲OFFBEAT & QUIRKY▲ Ale, Alos, Argyle, Banjo, Bloom, Buzz, Cab, Cajun, Cale, Canon, Cash, Chapter, Channel, Chartreuse, Chili, Chip, Cobb, Coco, Clear, Close, Creed, Curry, Cutlass, Day, Daily, Dax, Django, Domino, Dot, Ever, Faire, Fin, Flash, Flip, Gesa, Glass, Go, Happy, History, Hopper, Iggy, Isla, Jagger, Jax, Lemma, Lesson, Libra, Limmy, Link, Linny, Little, Lucky, Kafe, Kid/Kyd, Kin, Kit, Knox, Magic, Mardi, Match, Message, Mixon, More, Moxie, New/Nu, Nico, Nomi, Nori, Only, Pharr, Pilot, Plan, Rango, Rebel, Reign, Right, Rip, Rocket, Rocky, Rogue, Roller, Rush, Setter, Seven, Share, Silk, Skill, Skip/Skipper, Stak, Sugar, Sully, Tall, Teal, Temple, Tex, Time, Tin, Trip, Vella, Valda, Virtual, Watts, Welcome, Wilder, Wire, Xan/Xantha, Zale, Zana, Zara, Zeb, Zeen, Zip, Zory, Zuma amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B00W7399FU,B01LWWDM1F,B00008XL18,B00RCLGNT2,B0797PZWCT"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲PRECIOUS STONES▲ Amber, Amethyst, Cameo, Crystal, Diamond, Emerald, Garnet, Gem, Ivory, Jade, Jasper, Jewel, Jett, Lazuli, Malachite, Opal, Pearl, Ruby, Sapphire, Topaz amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07779GK1D,B07DH5F6TQ,B00EV5C7CY,B00M9R28XY"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲SPIRIT ANIMALS▲ Akita, Bear, Bee, Bird, Birdie, Bison, Bonobo, Buck, Butterfly, Cat, Colt, Coyote, Crane, Cricket, Cub, Deer, Dingo, Doe, Dove, Dragonfly, Eagle, Emu, Falcon, Fawn, Feather, Fox, Gecko, Hare, Hawk, Ibis, Lark, Lynx, Nightingale, Otter, Phoenix, Pika, Puma, Quokka, Raven, Robin, Seal, Sparrow, Swan, Tiger, Wren amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07KFS6SST,B011RV2I1Y,B00II6QO8A,B071W25VTS"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; ▲WARRIORS & TRADESMEN▲ Archer, Arrow, Author, Baker, Bard, Bishop, Captain, Carver, Chief, Cooper, Deacon, Dancer, Drummer, Editor, Farmer, Fifer, General, Harper, Hatter, Hero, King, Knight, Marshal, Mayan, Messenger, Paige, Porter, Ranger, Rider/Ryder, Roper, Runner, Sailor, Saint, Scribe, Shepherd, Sheriff, Singer, Soldier, Tailor, Thatcher,Weaver, Wheeler, Writer amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B01GRXY428,B06X6MYRGY,B07GQ8TBFP,B07HJ9FS88"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "c59c0f86e61a2f79d07a89219045df92"; amzn_assoc_design = "in_content"; amzn_assoc_title = " "; Click HERE for more of my baby naming lists! Pin me plz! ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ ▲ If you're expecting, go ahead and do yourself a huge favor by setting up your baby registry on Amazon! amzn_assoc_placement = "adunit0"; amzn_assoc_tracking_id = "mocotw-20"; amzn_assoc_ad_mode = "manual"; amzn_assoc_ad_type = "smart"; amzn_assoc_marketplace = "amazon"; amzn_assoc_region = "US"; amzn_assoc_asins = "B07BP7KYWS,B07DC6JYFD,B075F6K9ZX,B07434Z763,1845436741,B077XBF74Z,B01FH6MMRU,B0779LQ6MC"; amzn_assoc_linkid = "114bad81b422b35f5c8daa39bd08c9fd"; amzn_assoc_title = ""; amzn_assoc_search_bar = "true";

http://www.quirkybohemianmama.com/2015/05/the-ultimate-list-of-alternative-baby.html

#SEO #Local SEO training

2 notes · View notes