fellow warriors

Bound By A Name

Originally posted by thorduna

Thor x reader

Prompt: soulmate au where the name of your soulmate is tattooed on your wirst

 

F/N  L/N

In all the millennia he’d been alive Thor had no idea how many times he’d looked at that name — the one written in black elegant script on his wrist.

He’d memorized it by now and didn’t even need to look at it to remember the words.

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anonymous asked:

Hello! I was thinking about this the other day; the RFA reacting to finding fanfic of themselves? X3

Yoosung

  • It’s not really fanfic of Yoosung as much as it is of SuperYoosung (aka, his online persona)
  • Thing is, he was talking to a girl he met while playing LOLOL and she was awed by him
  • So, she started talking to him regularly, always admiring him and all his hard fought work and so on
  • Then he finds out from a guild member that she’s writing fan fiction versions of his exploits in game (and out, but in the context of in game)
  • He reads them and the character she’s made him out to be is this brave, handsome warrior who travels the land searching for his one true love, fighting evil, helping innocents and fellow warriors alike, and just being a hero
  • Yoosung is embarrassed to admit he got super sucked into the story and the way it progressed like a real fantasy novel, and is so disappointed to find that she’s two chapters from finishing it, although the last two chapters promise to have a reunion, a final battle, a satisfying wrap up, and a happy ending
  • Yoosung talks to his online buddy and learns that she never named the female character because nothing sounded right, so he tells her to use the real love-of-his-life’s name
  • She does, she startled people are so happy with the reveal of the name, Yoosung cries over the ending three months later
  • Now, he’s subscribed to her, so any fanfics she writes about SuperYoosung or based around his adventures, Yoosung will read
  • It’s totally a guilty pleasure, he can’t even bring himself to share it with MC

Jaehee

  • So, you know, she was casually scrolling through some Zen fan fiction when she saw an “RFA” tag
  • So she clicked it out of curiosity
  • First of all, SO much Zen/Jumin porn
  • Just like
  • Wow
  • one of the main writers for these fics username is HackerLoveGod, and she swears it’s Saeyoung
  • Then she finds a tag of her name
  • She clicks and finds an overwhelming amount of fanfics about her
  • It’s mostly really cute fics about her interacting with the RFA, possibly flirting with someone and finding someone inside or outside the RFA
  • Ironically, MC is in very few and is never the romantic interest
  • The only romantic interests Jaehee has is either one of the guys (most Jumin, she’s mortified to find out, with Zen as a close second) or a random guy, once it was even Rika
  • Jaehee never admits that she found any of this, still kind of shaken by the idea that people are actually interested in her so much that they theorize about her happy ending
  • It’s kind of creepy

Zen

  • It’s to be expected with a big name actor, especially when he’s cast in so many romances because of his good looks
  • Plus he canonly has a romance writer who bases a lot of her male leads off of Zen
  • But most fanfics are extremely romantic, long winded stories about how he and MC met, their whirlwind romance, and how they had to fight off Echo-girl
  • They’re all extremely romantic, some better than others, some even becoming soulmate au’s because some fans love and respect his love so much
  • NGL, Zen totally uses a few fanfics as platforms for romantic dates (he takes MC ice skating because of one fic where he did that, she almost fell, he caught her, and it was all very sweet, where as the reality was that he tripped and accidentally pulled her down with him and she ended up pinned under him by accident)

Jumin

  • A woman actually wrote a book with a character loosely based off of Jumin as the main lead
  • It was a rather… inappropriate book, especially coming from a woman that had never met him
  • But one day, he finds MC sitting on the couch, laughing at her phone with Elizabeth in her lap
  • She shows Jumin the hundreds of self-insert fan fiction where women meet and ultimately fall in mutual love with him
  • When he asks why she thinks this is so funny, she points out two things
    • 1. At least a third of them take 2-14 days for them to fall in madly in love, which parallels real life, which she thinks is hilarious
    • 2. All the ones written after MC and Jumin got married, MC is this monstrous, smoking, drinking, possessive, greedy bitch, and the women “rescue” Jumin from such a terrible woman
  • Jumin fails to see the amusement in these, especially the idea that MC is evil
  • She finds a few really bad ones and reads them to him so that he can truly enjoy them with her
  • She also reads some really good ones that are super romantic and Jumin totally takes ideas from (i.e. Gifts to give, restaurants to eat at, things to do together)

Saeyoung

  • “I’ve hacked the world in which you exist. I found the lives you imagined we’d have together. Let’s make one a reality.”
  • Hahaha, ignore that please, it’s mildly creepy
  • Also, there’d better not be fan fiction of him as that could be a terrible thing
  • Seriously, he’s a hacker, he lives in the shadows, so if anything gets out about him, he’s screwed
  • So that means, the only reason he’d find fanfic of himself was if the RFA or someone that knew him wrote it
  • When Saeyoung finds the fan fiction, he’s horribly confused for obvious reasons
  • He reads them, is slightly disturbed that the character dynamics between him, the RFA, Saeran, MC, and others are so spot on, but actually becomes pretty invested in some of these adventures
  • Eventually he backtraces everything to…. his house? What?
  • When he finally figures which computer is posting it, he’s surprised to find Saeran’s writing it, while he was expecting MC
  • Then it hits him; that’s why she’s been giving Saeran feed back about his writing lately
  • Saeyoung totally hacks Saeran’s computer to watch him write, so he can have the next chapter now
  • When Saeran starts to kill Saeyoung off, he can’t help himself, opens a chat box and says “NOooo!!! You can’t kill your own brother!! Why would you do this?!”
  • Saeran types back, “I FUKCING KNEW IT!!”

anonymous asked:

I adore your blog and absolutely obssesed with your new fanfictions! If you would have some free time, please, I beg you, write a story about Nesta and her leaving the Night Court without telling this Cassian - it would be soooo goood to read! I want angst!

Nesta sets off on her journey to seek justice against the human queens and leaves behind a piece of paper for the Commander who holds her heart in his scarred hands. Hope you enjoy this fic!

Parchment fluttered in the breeze on a small table underneath a book on war tactics.

It had been two hours since Nesta left the letter – or what should be deemed as a note considering how brief it was.

Those few short sentences were all she was able to write. Thanking Cassian for being with her on the battlefield. And lastly saying goodbye to him as she decided to leave Velaris.

Vassa had contacted the Night Court – or more specifically Feyre for assistance in concern to the queens who betrayed them to Hybern. The High Lady of the Night Court declined to personally join Vassa.

Nesta volunteered to go in her stead. Perhaps this would provide some relief from the pain Nesta had been feeling. The loss of her father and the soldiers she couldn’t save weighed heavy on her shoulders to the point Nesta imagined she would break at any moment.

It didn’t help knowing that everyone else in the Inner Circle celebrated immediately after the final battle. Nesta didn’t want them to see how the war had shattered her in ways she didn’t think were possible.

Weeks passed by and their laughter would always filter up through the House of Wind. Nesta felt more alone and ostracized than ever before. She wanted to be part of their circle. To be considered their friend and a member of such a close-knit group, but every time her fingers went to her bedroom door handle panic rose from her stomach.

Would they look at her in fear of her powers? Would they remind her of how she failed so many Illyrian soldiers in the war and let them die?

Worst of all Nesta was afraid of how Cassian would see her.

And so Nesta never left the room. It was better this way. Not to taint their happiness with her presence.

They were a family and Nesta was the stranger looking in. Even Lucien had entered the fold with much more ease than Nesta could have imagined. Azriel and Cassian welcomed him as both a fellow warrior and brother.

Nesta can clearly remember his laughter breaking through her depressed state. His deep voice coaxing her to come out even though he hadn’t called out to her.

The thought of it made Nesta cringe. Before the last battle they were finally becoming close. More than close if this thread that seemingly tied her to him was any indication.

But uncertainty clouded Nesta’s mind. She had heard what mating bonds were. Nesta still had yet to ask Feyre or anyone else if that is what she was currently experiencing.

Cassian didn’t appear to notice. In fact he failed to make an appearance more often then not when Nesta made the rare occasion downstairs for food.

Frustration, guilt and sorrow made Nesta’s blood run cold. The fact that Cassian was now ignoring her after their tender moment on the battlefield did nothing to soothe her worries that plagued her mind to begin with.

That didn’t matter now though as she crossed into human territory. It had been hours since she said goodbye to Feyre and Elain. Hours since she had left that note for Cassian in the foyer at the House of Wind.

It would more than likely be weeks before he even read it considering he was at the Illyrian camps. He had been working with the generals for almost a month now in re-arranging the soldiers and helping to train new recruits.

With a weary sigh Nesta entered a large clearing in the forest. A meadow of tall grass and wildflowers swayed in the breeze. From afar Nesta could see Vassa in the distance near a large boulder.

This was where they would begin their journey.

The moment Nesta took another step forward a loud boom echoed from above. The forest immediately quieted and the wind appeared to blow stronger.

As if a force of some kind was approaching.

Nesta turned around. Eyes scouting the sky toward the fae lands in search for whatever created that deafening noise.

Then she heard it. The sound of wings.

A dark shape shot through the clouds heading straight for her. Nesta’s eyes widened in shock as the large mass landed in front of her. The earth trembled under his feet as he righted himself and stood tall in the sunlight.

Nesta blinked as she silently watched Cassian stride toward her.

Sweat shone on his forehead and his chest heaved in heavy breaths. It was clear he made an effort to fly as fast as possible.

His eyes were intensely focused on Nesta. Burning with emotions that almost made Nesta’s knees tremble.

Instead she remained still. Nervously wondering what he would do.

“Shouldn’t you be on a freezing mountain with your troops?” Nesta asked without her voice cracking. A feat in of itself as her fists tightened to restrain the overwhelming need to go to him.

“Shouldn’t you be in Velaris hiding in your room or reading a romance novel?” Cassian tossed back. “Or the better question is why you left without a word?”

Nesta looked at him in confusion. “I told Feyre and Elain my plans. And I did leave with a goodbye if you failed to notice.”

It was then that Cassian unfurled his clenched fingers to reveal the parchment Nesta had left him.

“This,” Cassian raised the paper in his hand, “does not count as goodbye.”

Nesta swallowed at the sight of her writing in his calloused fingers. Could Cassian see how her heart bled into the ink as she wrote down words meant only for him to read? Or maybe he noticed that damned tear stain on the corner that she had been unable to stop from falling.

No matter the reason he was here now. Though she never expected he would fly out to – to what exactly? Why was he here?

“If you’ve come to criticize me then you should consider yourself lucky I even addressed a letter to you in the first place,” Nesta folded her arms in an effort to keep them from shaking. “I wasted precious time preparing for this trip just to write you a farewell that you can’t even have the decency to accept.”

“You’re right,” Cassian took a step forward. Then another. Nesta had to tilt her head up to look up at as he was an arm length away. “I can’t accept this.”

He folded the paper again and stuck it in one of the pockets that no doubt held a weapon or two inside.

“So you flew all the way out here to tell me that?” Nesta let a bit of bitterness seep into her tone.

Cassian smiled. The corner of his lips rose in a way that made Nesta forget that she was angry at him.

“No, I flew all the way out here to join you in search of the queens,” Cassian’s hazel eyes flickered with something Nesta couldn’t quite catch.

“And what if I told you that an invitation wasn’t extended to oversized bats who ought to fly back to train their troops and drink the night away with their friends.”

“Then I guess you’ll be having a handsome bat following you around until you can’t resist his charms.”

“Is that so?” Nesta turned her chin up. Eyes set in a challenge. “I’m sure the others will miss you. Why don’t you go home where you belong?”

Her tone was dismissive. Hardened into steel that was meant to cut and get the point across swiftly.

But Cassian saw through it. And Nesta hated how he suddenly noticed what she vaguely implied. His expression softened and his hand reached to her shoulder.

“Velaris is my home as much as it is yours Nesta,” Cassian gently squeezed her shoulder.

Nesta said nothing. She glanced away from the perceptive eyes that watched her far too closely.

“Besides,” Cassian’s voice lowered as he leaned in close. “I’m exactly where I belong. Right here. With you.”

A small tug in her chest made Nesta’s breath hitch. She shot Cassian a look. Hoping that he felt it too.

His face revealed nothing much to her disappointment. She should tell him to go. Cassian may leave if she requested it, but she wouldn’t put it past him to indeed hold true to his promise by following them during the mission.

With weary sigh Nesta turned to fully look at the Illyrian.

“Fine. But if you do one thing out of line–”

“Then you can punish me all you want,” Cassian winked and made his way to the boulder where Vassa was watching their interaction with veiled interest.

When Nesta turned to follow Cassian she easily caught up to his pace. Their strides matched as they walked the length of the field.

And it might have been her imagination, but Nesta could have sworn Cassian’s fingers grazed hers hidden between the wildflowers as they began their journey.

Together. They would do this together.

Certain as the Sun: VII

Here is the next part to Certain as the Sun. ***WARNING: EXTREME EXPLICIT CONTENT***  I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as it killed my heart to write it. (That’s all the spoilers I’ll give. Please prepare yourselves). Sorry it’s also super long.

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I could think up about a million different possibilities as for why the hell Tamlin had sent for me to be brought to the Spring Court and none of them involved him letting Feyre go so that she could return home with me.

When I had first received the note from none other than the High Lord of the Spring Court himself, Amren had advised me to ignore it.

“It’s a trap,” she’d said, eyes blaring. “What good reason would he have to send for you?” When I’d addressed the rest of the Inner Circle as well, they’d had similar thoughts. There was one thing we all agreed upon, and that was that Tamlin had not invited me to his home for a nice brunch and some polite conversation.

When I’d tried to reach out to Feyre again I had been met with that dark, infinite void. She had not contacted him at all since she’d returned once again to the Spring Court. And although I was certain she must possess some perfectly good explanation unbeknownst to myself, it still struck some sort of chord that she had severed herself from me so thoroughly.

Nevertheless, I had agreed to meet with Tamlin. Morrigan and Amren were both waiting just on the outskirts of the Spring Court should I need their assistance. I’d ordered Azriel to take to the skies and keep watch from there, Cassian flanking my side. Normally, their roles were reversed, but in great thanks to that bastard King of Hybern, we still had not found any cure for Cassian’s ruined wings.

He had not yet come to terms with it, and over these past months, I could tell that there was something that was a bit off about my fellow Illyrian warrior. I could not begin to imagine the pain that came with being without your wings—for Illyrians we’d sooner lose our lives than the one thing that kept us from being fully tethered to the ground. Every day that Cassian chose to continue was another that my respect for him grew.

Even if that did mean getting rip-roaring drunk with him more than usual.

“Well, Tamlin’s certainly got a flair for the extravagant,” Cassian mused upon coming face to face with a ridiculously gaudy table sat decoratively in a corner. It seemed to have no use whatsoever besides showcasing Tamlin’s less than desirable personality traits.

No sooner did the words come from Cassian’s lips did a servant come to take us to wherever Tamlin was hiding out. He was a small, young Fae. Exceedingly pointed ears were a light shade of green at the tips, his eyes wide at the sight of the two warriors before him.

The boy swallowed before speaking. “Master Tamlin has ordered me to fetch you,” he said, fighting to stop his voice from quivering so much. “Please follow me.”

He promptly spun on his heels and walked out of the room, not bothering to ensure we were following him.

As we were led through the utter maze that was the Spring Court dwelling, I was shocked at how many memories were associated with this place that had once been like a home but was now nothing more than a living hell.

Finally, the boy led us to a set of dusty rose-colored double doors. His timid fingers lightly rapped on the door, followed by a, “Come in.”

As one we all filed inside. The room was big and spacious, a single table set with four chairs instead of just three did not escape my notice. This particular room had been peculiarly made with mirrors on three of the four walls, as well as the ceiling, giving it the illusion that you were standing in a pool of Starlight due to the sun that refracted off of them.

And standing at the lone window in the room was none other than the High Bastard himself.

Tamlin turned upon hearing our arrival, a welcoming smile adorning his lips. “Rhysand. Cassian,” he greeted. As he made his way over to us, I noted that his choice in clothing was just as flamboyant as his furniture. He wore a finely tailored red tunic with bright silver trimmings, grey pants, and black boots. His hair graced past his shoulders, and sitting atop his head was the infamous Spring Court crown. It looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“I trust you made it here without any trouble,” he continued.

“Your trust is accurately placed,” Cassian said with more than a hint of malice.

Tamlin just nodded, keeping that pleasant smile on his face. “Well, please sit. We’ve much to discuss.”

Neither Cassian nor I moved.

“I don’t have time for whatever mind tricks you’re trying to pull, Tamlin. Perhaps you’ve forgotten that that is one area—of many— that my performance supersedes yours,” I replied coolly.

That smile drooped ever slightly.

“I don’t see your Lady floating about,” I remarked. “Keeping her locked away for fear I may meddle with her mind again, are we?”

“Funny you should mention her, actually,” Tamlin’s eyes glittered with something that had my senses on high alert. “Feyre,” he called, “would you please join us?”

A moment later I heard the doors that we’d entered just a few moments ago open and then shut once more. I forced myself to breathe, not to react, to calm myself as Feyre came into view.

She was wearing a dress similar in fashion to what Tamlin was wearing, a pretty diadem sat upon her head. Feyre did not glance our way as she rushed to Tamlin, her lips meeting his as soon as he was within arm’s length.

Tamlin scooped her into his arms, Feyre leaning into his touch as his hand moved further south than should be permitted in front of an audience.

Cassian was taut as a bow, his hands clenching and unclenching were they were hidden behind his back. It took all my strength not to turn Tamlin’s mind to putty then and there, and I could tell similar thoughts were indeed running through Cassian’s mind as well as we were forced to watch helplessly as our High Lady shoved her tongue down another man’s throat.

“How are you today, my love?” He asked. She smiled broadly, one she had only ever graced me with when she was incandescently happy.

“I’m well, thank you,” she replied, beaming at him. “I got some more paintings done today.”

“Did you?”

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip, eyes sparkling. “I was feeling oddly inspired this morning…perhaps due to—”

“Either we get on with whatever business, or the two of you get a room and we leave,” Cassian interrupted. As much as I wished I could say that I would have been able to stand there for a few moments more and let them go about their business, it was killing me to see her this way.

When Feyre had visited, she’d told me she had to do things to keep up appearances. Things that she was not proud of. She hadn’t specified at the time, but there was no need. I knew exactly the kind of things she probably had to do to keep up the facade that she was hopelessly in love with Tamlin.

And yet, the wrath deafening my ears came as a surprise.

Indeed, it was one thing to be told, and another entirely to experience.

“Feyre, you remember Rhysand, I’m sure. And the other is Cassian. His…advisor.”

I couldn’t help the low chuckle that came as a result of his words. “You think you will anger me by disrespecting not only my title but a member of my court as well. It will take much more than a few insults, princeling, for me to reveal my true self.” His brows rose. “And I assure you, your claws would not like to become acquainted with my talons.”

He was quiet for a moment, eyes calculating.

Finally, he spoke. “You know what? You’re right. So very right, Rhysand. How foolish of me to think I could rile you with belittling you insignificant and, frankly, foolish court of savages anyway?” My teeth set. “It would take something much more…personal, I think.”

It took less than a heartbeat for Cassian to have his swords drawn, me reaching out to strangle Tamlin’s mind as the room was flooded with ten guards. They all immediately came at us, and I was more than prepared to fight our way out of this cursed kingdom with Tamlin tisked.

“Spill a drop of their blood, and your beloved mate loses her head.” It took me a moment to realize what he was saying, an infinitely longer moment for it to process. For when I looked at where Feyre had once been standing like another pretty piece of Tamlin’s furniture, she was now being held by three guards.

I forced my face into a mask of calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bastard.”

His brows rose in mock surprise. “Oh really? You’ve no clue that Feyre is, indeed, your mate? That she’s been pretending this entire time to love me when really, she had staged everything just to infiltrate the Spring Court. A spy within my own walls, hiding in plain sight.” He paused, as if waiting for me to answer some unspoken question.

“Well then, if you have no feelings whatsoever for our lovely Feyre, here. I suppose you’ll have no problem watching this.” I watched as he snapped his fingers and a table decorated with over a dozen lethal weapons, a whip, and strangely, a bed appeared.

“As you know, the punishment for such treason is death.” He stalked towards Feyre, whose eyes had gone devoid of all emotion. As if she’d shut herself out of her own body. With one finger, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry for this, Feyre. I really am.” A regretful shake of the head and then, “Get on with it, boys.”

Immediately, Tamlin’s guards began to strip Feyre, yanking at her dress, tearing at the pins and beads in her hair until she was entirely naked before us. Once finished, Tamlin handed a long, black whip to the nearest guard. Something winked at the end of the whip—glass, I realized with unabashed horror.

“You’re going to whip her to death?” I asked, somehow still managing to keep my voice utterly bored.

Tamlin shrugged. “We’ll see how well she holds out.” He nodded at the guard, and I was sure my heart cleaved itself in two as Feyre took in a deep, shuddering breath, preparing herself for the pain that was sure to come.

The guard’s arm reared back, time seeming to slow as his arm came down.

The resounding crack of leather on skin was one that would haunt me for many centuries to come.

Feyre only released a strangled cry, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from calling out. And that was how it went as the guard whipped her again, and again, and again. I lost count sometime after fifty.

I knew that Feyre’s back had stopped healing itself when she finally released a cry so full of agony, it was all I could do to stop from ripping that whip from the guard’s hands and using it myself.

Tamlin allowed the guard to bring down that leather ten more times before he finally said, “Enough. Get her up.”

They heaved her up, Tamlin slowly circling around her like a lion before its prey. When he was once again facing her he murmured, “Get on the bed.”

Feyre looked at him, her eyes burning like liquid amber. But she did not respond, and she did not move. Only stared at him with a look that promised death in the future.

“Get on the bed, Feyre, or I will instruct my guards to seize your mate’s cousin and bring her back here.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Pretty little thing isn’t she? Bright red lips, beautiful honeyed hair. The only family Rhysand has left if I recall correctly. It’d be a shame for dear Rhys to be the only left of his name, wouldn’t it?”

And then Feyre looked beyond Tamlin, her eyes locking with mine. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” they seemed to say.

“I’m going to kill you.” My voice was quiet, but it was filled with a vow I had every intention to keep.

Tamlin didn’t turn to me as he said. “I don’t believe you’ll have the chance.” He inclined his head toward the waiting bed. “Off you go, Feyre.”

She hesitated for a moment, gaze still locked with mine before she obeyed.

“Now, Rhys, since she is your mate I figured I’d offer. Would you like to have a go? Feyre has…well, not really two choices but two possibilities,” he finally turned to meet my gaze. “Either you join her in that bed and fuck her…or I will, gladly, as you watch. You’ve thirty seconds to decide.”

“Rhys.” I looked over at Feyre to see her shaking her head, her eyes swimming not with tears, but with a sort of determination that only came with acceptance. “Don’t do it. Do not agree to this.”

“Feyre—”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised.

“Feyre—” Cassian tried.

“I will. Be. Fine,” she said, sternly this time.

And I wanted to believe her, I really did.

I wanted to believe that this wouldn’t be the thing that broke her, being raped by the man who had once claimed to love her. I knew he wouldn’t be gentle with her, even after being whipped. The man who had once been thought to be her savior, lover, friend.

But Tamlin was none of those things.

And I couldn’t, not for the life of me, believe that she would still be Feyre after this.

“Alright,” Tamlin sighed, “I guess I’m—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Rhys—”

“Now, now, Feyre. Let him finish.”

Cassian turned to me, anguish in his eyes. “Rhysand, you don’t—”

“I’ll do it,” I repeated, ignoring him. “I’ll sleep with her.”

“Well then,” Tamlin grinned, “I don’t believe you need me to instruct you on how to go about your business.” He gestured towards Feyre, towards the bed, my damnation.

I watched in horror as Feyre fought back tears at my approach, and all I could pray for was that she’d one day forgive me for this, for this sin I was about to commit.

She slid to the side as I rid myself of my clothing, by back to Tamlin’s gathered audience. Her eyes never left mine as I finally joined her on that bed.

“It’s alright,” I whispered my lips at her ear. “It’s just me. It’s just me.”

She couldn’t respond, she was shaking so hard. I’d never seen her shaking so violently. Feyre lifted my chin with her finger, her head shaking.

“Don’t stop looking at me,” she begged. “Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t,” I promised. “I won’t.”

Slowly, Tamlin be damned, I made sure to honor her body, despite all of the new scars, worshipping all of her newly inflicted wounds. I wanted Feyre to know it was me, that despite this terrible act we were being forced into, it did not mean that I loved her any less.

When I finally connected our bodies, she let out a slight gasp, her eyes, now swimming with tears, still never leaving mine as I moved, my body cocooning hers, careful of her wounds.

“I’m here,” I whispered down the bond, “I’m here. I won’t leave you. I love you.”

But all I was met with was an infinite void.

lesbian/bi Wonder Woman is great but may I also suggest: ace and/or aro Diana

asexual homoromantic Diana who is meh about sex but likes the idea of a wife to go to after a hard day of delivering Justice, or who waxes poetical about the camaraderie of women warriors (which includes post-battle snuggles in the tent)

aromantic homosexual Diana who has enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh with many women and treasures her fellow warriors but her one true love is Justice

aro/ace Diana who is frankly far too busy fighting evil to mess around with genitals and feelings, who has read the treatises on pleasure and decided it sounded nice in theory but in practice she’d rather spar

4

Class Appreciation Week, Day 5: Favourite Relationship

“Too big. Feels like it’s going to consume you. Well, the trick is to keep on living while it does.”

So much about humans must be entirely alien to Quill, but Tanya’s loss is something she can relate to. We see how Quill turns hesitant, withdraws. She does not know how to soothe Tanya’s fears over her brother’s fate with words. But Tanya pulls her back in, over and over again. It’s surprise. “I want to use the Cabinet.”  “Show me how to fight.”  It’s recognition.

Tanya has proved herself to be smart, a creative thinker, full of bravery. In the face of grief, when the first tears have dried, she is strikingly calm. It is revealing now, to look back at her interactions with the Lankin, the anger she is capable of, the rage she could turn into a weapon, even as she kept steady. Now, she has lost a world - her home. There is desperation, there is violence in her need to to protect her brothers, to seek the destruction of those who murdered her mother and threaten her family. It is an echo of another story, of a freedom fighter who went to war for her people and who will have her revenge, even if it kills her.

And so they fall into a dynamic that is as strange as it is natural. Mentor and student. The leader of an army and her only soldier. Fellow warriors, who do not merely share the same fight, but who look out for each other in battle. Companions on what might be, in some way, the same journey. With strength to give. And legacies to shape.

The dynamic between warriors’ relationships

So far, the warrior group differs from the 104th members who made it into Levi’s squad, because they knew each other since childhood. From how they refer each other, I assume it started when they were stacked in groups, around 5-7 years old, yet their dynamics haven’t changed much despite acting like a bunch of elementary students put through hell.

When I think about it, how would’ve the group behaved if they were all sent on Paradis at the same time? Would they be successful? Would they become the happy warrior family? Would they stay separated in small groups?

Porco ruining Reiner’s mood - Ch. 94

The warrior training program was already a tough selection: unlike the Paradis military, only a handful of warriors can be selected to hold the power of the titans. The program, as stated by Magath, is also quite expensive, since it mobilizes the whole Eldian youth to select the top tier in any specialty. Naturally, children would clash to get a spot, like Porco and Reiner. Others simply roll along with what their parents want, like Annie, others put their talents at profit and don’t mind not being taken, which looks like what Bertolt does. Each candidate responds differently to the goals they’ve fixed or fixed for them.

Falco devoting himself to Marley’s army - Ch. 93

Becoming a Marley warrior entails a gain of honor and bound for a duty for the next 13 years of their life. It’s a pretty big deal, and Reiner’s character was forged because of those conditions, which affected his relationship with members from his group.

All of this means warriors have forged relations based on goals and affinities.

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anonymous asked:

a kit is born unusually large for the rest of the litter, and as such, is called bigkit, eventually becoming bigpaw. however, they only receive their warrior name after settling multiple arguments with a level head, showing their prowess in understanding their fellow warrior's emotions, and their own intelligence, their leader names them bigmood

And as is traditional, everyone in the clan chants “BIGMOOD! BIGMOOD!”

Princess

Originally posted by mr-rinch

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

Reader x Ivar


  • Tha iad a ‘coimhead air adhart - They seem on edge.
  • Sealltainn dha mar a chleachdas tu na sgeinean tilgeil gòrach sin. - show him how to use those silly throwing knives.
  • Cha tig e air ais gu sgiobalta bho mo dhìol. - He will not recover quickly from my lesson.
  • Tha mi làidir, Lochlannaich. - I am strong, Viking.
  • Bidh an Fae a 'dèanamh a’ bhàis a tha fada, beag beag - The Fae will make your death long, tiny viking
  • Nach urrainn dhut a bhith a 'sabaid agus gu bheil thu a’ tuiteam tinn no rudeigin math dhut! - that you cannot fight and you fall ill or something you great fuck!
  • Bi sàbhailte - Be safe

The long boat trip was enough to make anyone irritable. Any normal person would be tired and disagreeable. After your father had agreed to allow some of the Ragnarsson’s army to settle on a patch of the villages land near the sea he had swapped you for the promise that the vikings would not be hurt.

Ivar had turned up his nose at the idea. A princess would be a hindrance. But with the encouragement of his brothers they all came to an agreement. “Tha iad a 'coimhead air adhart”

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The Prologue

‘What if Arobynn Hamel had never saved Aelin,what if she never fell into the Florine river’

Its past midnight here and im tired so I’ll just apologize in advance because i got this idea two days ago and now we are here ​} … So without further ado:

Aelin ran through the darkness, her heart thundering in her ears drowned out the sounds of the hooves behind her. Her breath burned in her throat but she did not stop as the man gained on her. She faintly heard the gushing river far below her as she hurtled onto the rope bridge, her footing was unsteady over the planks and the bridge swayed as another, heavier weight bounded over it far behind her. She managed to stay upright even as the posts at each end began to creak and the sound of planks snapping filled the air. Her focus narrowed on the two posts as she made a running leap onto rock. Crying out as she collapsed onto the hard ground. As the posts at the far end gave way, twisting just in time to see the bloodthirsty face of her attacker a mere meter away before he plunged down into the ruthless waters of the Florine river.

She didn’t wait,  walking into the depth less forest ahead of her, into the unknown. It was so dark. So dark and so, so cold as the little girl navigated her way through the maze of trees shivering and alone. At some point she began to cry, tears of anguish and helplessness, screaming at the stars and the gods and the world until her throat turned raw and she ran out of tears. She clutched her amulet against her chest throughout the night, as if it would somehow guide her in the right direction and lead her home. Lead her to whatever was left of her home. She whispered their names into the darkness, mother, father, Orlon, Lady Marion…

She had never felt so alone, wandering through the forest with darkness and cold, empty air surrounding her. Aedion had been her constant, her rock while she learnt to navigate the court despite her young age. Aedion. Gods, she hadn’t heard any news of him. She was prepared to get on her knees and pray to whatever Deity would listen to keep him safe, protect him. A bitter part of her doubted they would pay any heed to her prayers now, after robbing her of so much.

Her tiredness had been tugging at her incessantly for a long while when she eventually found the abandoned barn, Its roof was in tatters and the wooden walls were splintering, its paint peeling off. The moon had reached its peak in the sky casting a white glow that broke through the roof’s holes, stacks upon stacks of old hay and straw towered above her and she climbed to the top and settled down underneath the blanket of stars, staring at the stag of the north until her eyelids drooped and her breathing steadied.

So Princess Aelin Galathynius closed her eyes and followed her body into oblivion.


‘Terrasen has fallen.’

A heavy silence fell among the group as they absorbed the information. The dread that had been building in his chest since the news came of an attack on terrasen finally cracked. There wouldn’t be any coming back from this, his fellow warriors had tried to sail and aid them, but Maeve had refused. Refused for some petty grudge as she was denied the right to see her niece in the short eight years she had lived.

Eight years old. Aelin Galathynius is eight years old, her family dead and she might be dead, was as good as dead. For the first time in centuries he felt hot anger ignite in his chest like the princess’ legendary wildfire, an emotion. The girl was being hunted by assassins and soldiers, she was likely terrified, alone and cold during winter. Saving Terrasen, a country he had no ties to yet still felt it was his duty to protect, protect Aelin of the wildfire.

He looked across the table the six of them had gathered around and saw what seemed to be devastation written on Fenrys’ face as they digested the news. A deafening silence had filled the room since the messenger spoke then abruptly left after scenting the anger that poured of Rowan and the rest of the legendary warriors. Even Salvetterre seemed to take his time digesting the news although his eyes were calculating, perhaps trying to figure the odds that the young princess had survived the attack. Vaughan and Conall were unmoving, sitting next to each other across the round table. It was shock, Rowan realised, that they were experiencing. Terrasen was a strong land that had flourished and rivalled Maeve’s land in that sense. Gavriel was sat to his right and his fight reflected Rowan felt in that moment. Disgust. Horror.

Amidst the sea of anger in Rowan’s gut, there arose a beacon of hope, the princess was not yet confirmed dead. A small part of him knew that she would fight until the last breath, she would not let go and for reasons unknown, he knew that she was alive. He could feel it in the very core of his being although he couldn’t explain it. From the rumours of the young princess across the sea, he knew she had unfathomable power that was still growing, she was strong. And some unearthly presence told him she would fight until her very bones gave up on her so that one day she would grow up remake this world, raise it up from ashes of tyranny and greed. Rowan thought it time for a new world to rise.

So, he looked to Fenrys, the wild one he knew would fight for the girl who in turn looked to Conall. He then shifted his gaze to Gavriel, letting the small, hopeful flame ignite his eyes, who was loyal to the very bone but as honourable as he was loyal, Rowan knew he would fight also. Lorcan’s face was cold, his mouth set in a hard line as the commander’s brain determined whether it was worth it. The warriors communicating silently in a way that had been practised over many years, they all turned to Lorcan who nodded once which was the only confirmation they needed.

They had no idea where the young princess was, what state she was in, but they knew that she was one on them and their fellow brothers and sisters across the sea had been attacked in cold blood, so they would help in whatever form they could.  She was so young. Too young to lose so much. She may already be so broken that she was beyond saving. He knew the others were contemplating the same thing, yet when Lorcan voiced it aloud Fenrys let loose a snarl vicous enough to earn him a challenging glare from him.

The messenger had only given the barest of details, an assassin had killed the king of Terrasen along with the parents to the Heir of the throne, all in their sleep and the princess had not yet been confirmed dead. The attack was confirmed to be from Ardalan when their forces began marching on Terrasen, the king was already in Orynth on a visit that would’ve been planned to every last detail in order to disable it’s monarchy and seize the throne for himself. There was no news of officials in Orynth, nor the young Ashryver prince that was a cousin to the princess. Rowan felt inclined to hunt the messenger down and squeeze more information out of him, but they worked with what they were given until a plan began to form that would develop over their trip.


Maeve considered their proposal silently, in her usual cunning way of hers and Rowan feared for a split second that the girl would not be safe here. But the princess was Terrasen’s last hope and it was necessary. It wasn’t pity or empathy that fueled this mission, but white hot rage the burned in his gut. Rage at Ardalan for attacking his brothers and sisters who were defenseless and weakened without their monarch.

Her majesty agreed easily, to rowan’s surprise, allowing Rowan to go along with Gavriel and Fenrys, they were under a strict order to retrieve the princess then leave without wasting any time and three warriors were more than enough for the mission.

As they began the journey, Rowan felt a dormant part of himself wake up after many centuries, a part of him he thought was long gone. The spark of hope for the young princess turned into a flame that ignited his burning rage that he allowed to swallow him and fuel his determination.

Prince Rowan Whitethorn rallied his fellow warriors and set out to find Terrasen’s lost princess, to find Aelin of the wildfire.

Reyna Writes: Back To Us [UPDATED - 6/20/17]

(art by @edendaphne; do not steal, edit, or repost)

Look at you,” the beast taunted as Reyna struggled to stand tall, because she would be damned if she allowed herself to show so much weakness in front of it. “Still so stubborn. Reminds me of the old days, when I was but a wee thing, hatched anew and taken under your care. Remember those times?

           She did. She didn’t want to, but she did. All that effort she had gone into raising the creature, not knowing that all her love and attention would warp it into…this. How she longed for the easier days, when she had burned with fierce love and loyalty for this creature…but now…

           “I made you,” she said grimly, the consequences of her actions weighing as heavy as her sword and her amulet. “I created the monster that stands before me today. So the responsibility to end you lies with me, and me alone.”

           This made the beast roar with laughter.

           “You can barely stand at this point!” It taunted her, and Reyna grit her teeth in frustration. “How do you possibly expect to finish me on your own? No aid will come to you in this endeavor. You are alone!

           …No.

           No, that wasn’t true.

           Reyna might be (barely) standing here on her own…but she wasn’t completely alone, was she?

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Eren and the titan trio

Comparisons between the titan trio and the Shiganshina trio are relatively common, mostly because they’re following the simple pattern of the leader, the other guy and the girl.

It even goes as far as comparing them in merch, 

Posters from Bessatsu Shonen July (left) and August (right), comparing the Shiganshina trio and the warrior trio

Of course, the only thing they have in common is the trio structure. Their common background, their relationship as well as the roles they fulfill, are too different. In fact, you can’t even compare each member to each other considering they overlap several traits proper to another trio member.

What I found interesting however, is how each warrior was an obstacle to overcome for Eren. As people who legitimately inherited the power of the titans, Eren defeating each one of them, alongside people’s help, helps in his growth as a character. These warriors serve both as parallels and complete opposites, due to them being Eren’s enemy while giving him the impression they were on his side. When the masks fell down, Eren had to overcome a reality he had to face and consider them as enemies he had to defeat in order to advance.

Isayama defined how he should conceive the rival of the protagonist:

Isayama: My editor Bakku-san [Note: Shintaro Kawakubo on Twitter] used to ask me “Who is the rival of the protagonist?” To be honest, I didn’t think about that question very much until Bakku-san sought for an answer. In the movie “Star Wars,“ the protagonist Luke has an rival in antagonist Darth Vader, a counterpart of Luke’s self-image - and he must not turn into Darth Vader. After Luke overcomes many struggles, the story just ends there. In Shingeki no Kyojin, Eren also has something he needs to overcome. It used to be characters like Annie, or his own dark side as he keeps in mind to avoid. However, in the current storyline, there is no such obstacle for him to conquer. As the manga progresses, I want to draw the process in which Eren discovers the existence he needs to overcome. [Source] - @suniuz

A rival is a person Eren should never become. Which is why you’ll find opposite traits in each of the warriors, but also a part of Eren in each one of them.

The comparisons are below the cut!

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youtube

Vicky Holmes Leaves Warriors

By LZRD WZRD

What has for some time been a functional state of affairs has today become a somber reality. Vicky Holmes, one-third of the original Erin Hunter Warrior Cats team, has officially announced that she will no longer be writing for the series. The statement came today, April 24th, by way of Facebook, where she wrote that:

“Warriors has been the greatest blessing, the greatest privilege, the sharpest learning curve of my life. But nothing lasts forever. I won’t be writing for the series again. I will keep this page so that I can update you with movie news (oh please let there be some news soon!). And maybe I’ll pop in to share my new projects with you. But the latest series continues to top the bestselling charts, which proves what a fabulous job the new editorial team is doing (with the ongoing brilliance of Kate and Cherith, of course).”

Vicky has long served as the editor and story architect for the series - while writers such as Kate Cary and Cherith Baldry largely wrote the actual books themselves, it was Vicky’s creative vision that inspired them and much of the series as we know it. She has written much over the years about her inspiration for the series, but I’ve found this post from December 10th of last year to be especially revealing:

“It seems strange to talk as if I don’t have complete control over these cats. After all, I could have typed different words for the storyline … but these characters and their stories often seem to exist independently inside my mind, and my task is to watch quietly from the shadows and record what happens.”

Now, I’ve heard it said that Vicky and the rest of the Erins have only continued to write Warriors books because of money or fame. No doubt the success of the series prompted them to write more for it, but I think it’s clear that Vicky’s writing has always been about self-expression. Vicky’s cacoethes scribendi in many cases seems to come from flashes of inspiration. The character and story of Midnight both came after she decided that ‘Midnight’ would be a cool title for a book. I don’t know about you, but to hear a successful professional writer draw inspiration for an entire book and subsequent arc from merely thinking a title sounded good is really validating to me, especially as someone who’s created more titles than stories. Meanwhile, as I’ve chronicled before, it was a split-second vision of a cat disowning her own adopted kits to save them that gave way to the entire Power of Three arc. Her reverence for books like Watership Down helped to shape the series, while her love of action movies has littered the series with quotes pulled from the likes of Rambo, Gladiator, and The Avengers. And it was her own personal experience with being forced to face her own impending death that inspired the powerful conclusion to Cinderpelt’s character arc.

More so than any other person, the world of Warriors has and always will be Vicky’s creation. That being said, her own role in the series has been largely limited, as she hasn’t contributed to the main series since 2014. The latest arc, A Vision of Shadows, has earned much acclaim from the fandom, especially myself, despite being under the control of a new creative team. Her main contributions lately have been novellas, the most recent of which were Pinestar’s Choice and Spottedleaf’s Heart. Her decision to call it quits comes in the waning days of the controversy surrounding the latter’s inclusion of a Spottedleaf x Thistleclaw romance. The new plotline was poorly received as some fans disapproved of additional romantic interests by both characters, since it would seem in principle to cheapen their motivations and feelings in later books. Additionally others were put off by what to them seemed to be an inappropriate handling of a predatory relationship between a child and adult. I myself haven’t read the book, so I’ll refrain from any sort of formal judgement on these matters. I will however commend Vicky for the way she has faced this barrage of criticism. Staying as professional and thoughtful as always, she welcomed and responded to the criticism openly. Vicky thanked the fandom for their passion and thoughtfulness, stating that “Warriors has the best fans in the world - with the loudest voices and (sometimes) the sharpest claws!” Vicky is a class act and here demonstrates the virtues of love and humility, even in the face of opposition, that are all too necessary for this generation of readers to embrace.

Additionally, Vicky’s departure comes after criticism surrounding her personally anointed ‘super-fan’ Su Susann’s role in communicating Warriors information hit a crescendo. Many have taken issue with her ideas being considered series canon, claiming that they contain contradictions and baseless, needless assertions about the characters. I personally haven’t given her too much thought since I rarely use the Warriors Wiki and focus more on the text of the books themselves and my own reactions to it than any other source, but if you’re interested in learning more, my friend butterflyidentity has written a heavily-detailed piece about her on Warriors Amino.

Despite these recent controversies, Vicky maintains that they were not the reason for her sudden announcement. Quote:

“I’m not leaving because of the Spottedleaf furore. I won’t deny it’s been painful, but I’m tougher than that! I would know when I had written all the cat stories I had inside me. That time came with Pinestar’s Choice. I know there are a thousand more tales from the Clans to be told, but other people are doing a great job of that.I had hoped to go out with a triumphant bang rather than a clatter of outrage, but I guess we don’t always get what we wish for.”

Regardless of the quality of this series, nobody can denounce the content of Vicky’s character. I hope all of you make her exit as graceful as she offered it; leave her all the kind comments on Facebook and Twitter that you’ve ever thought and wish her the best on her future writing endeavors. She’s currently working on a new adult book series called Hope Meadows, with the first book Summer at Hope Meadows scheduled for release this June.

Vicky has already received many gracious and grateful comments from fans. Among others, butterflyidentity stated:

“I would like to thank Vicky for her tireless work on the series, running around the world on book tours, signing books with her iconic purple pen, and bringing joy and happiness to the fans.”

Blixemi, my friend and co-founder of Epic Rap Battles of Warriors, said:

“I’m so incredibly appreciative of her time she dedicates to her work and her fans. It is the most surreal experience to have spoken to someone who’s, quite literally, shaped and inspired all that I’m doing today. Her love and passion will be passed down through those she continually inspires.“

Tom, my occasional CatCast co-host and other good friend, added:

“Through the writings of Vicky I was able to establish dear friendships, some of which have lasted well over 10 years. I’m forever indebted to the joy I get from not only her creativity, but the creativity that she has inspired in others.”

Fellow Warrior Cats analyst Tennelle Flowers remarked that:

"I can’t thank Vicky enough for the world she has created and fostered through years of love and hard work. Warriors has shaped who I am as a person, and I would not be the same without her writings. In many ways, Warriors has given me more inspiration than any other form of media, and continues to inspire me to this day as an artist, and I hope Vicky knows that she has raised generations of artists who have found their calling through her books. I wish her the best in life and look forward to seeing where she goes next.”

And finally, fandom animator and comedian Moonkitti said:

“There was a time in my life when all I needed to hear were Midnight’s words of reassurance to three cats who had recently lost their abilities. I want to thank Vicky for not only Dovewing’s Silence, but every warrior cat book she’s worked on, because without them I would be a completely different person. I wish her all the luck in the world as she moves on to "adult books” from one of the most mature and thoughtful children’s series I’ve ever read.“

Personally, I owe Vicky a great deal of gratitude for creating Warriors, a series that got me through some of the loneliest years of my childhood and today has served as the basis for my current YouTube channel and more importantly many wonderful friendships. Going forward, this decision likely won’t have much of an effect on the books themselves, but now is as good of a time as any to reflect on the series and to share your gratitude and prayers with a person who has given us all so much joy.

anonymous asked:

Some nessian hurt/comfort pretty please???

Just warning you now. This is a LOT of hurt and loss from both Nesta and Cassian.

Nesta has only recently discovered she is pregnant with Cassian’s child, but he spends most of his time at the camps before she ever has the chance to tell him. When tempers flare Nesta leaves with an Illyrian scouting group in an attempt to salvage a day that was supposed to be happy. But loss is never easy nor is it what we ever expected. This lesson is going to be taught to Nesta and Cassian in the harshest of ways.

Read on AO3 | TAGS: angst, hurt, comfort, pregnancy, miscarriage 


Frigid anger kept Nesta silent as she pulled on her flying leathers and packed a small satchel to take with her on the surveillance sweep along the edge of the Night Court. Cassian hadn’t come up the stairs. He was either in shock or fuming at what he had discovered while they visited the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Granted Nesta wasn’t sure what he was feeling since she created a wall on her side of the mating bond. She had to do so or else she would drown in a storm of emotions.

Her hand drifted to her stomach. A small bump barely visible underneath her grey shirt. She had kept her pregnancy a secret for three months in the hopes of surprising Cassian when he returned from the camps, but somehow they had gotten into a heated argument about him needing to be home a bit more often instead of with the troops.

Nesta merely broached the topic as a hint to her pregnancy, but then it all changed when they started fighting about it. Cassian still had no clue about the pregnancy until they left for the House of Wind.

It was an unexpected visit from the Suriel that ruined Nesta’s surprise. The creature had originally arrived to bring news to Feyre, but as it was leaving it offered its congratulations to Nesta and Cassian on the unborn child.

Needless to say everyone was brimming with happiness, but Cassian didn’t – couldn’t say a word as he was shocked by the reveal. Nesta knew he was excited though. They had been trying to have a child for years now. All the others in the Inner Circle along with Elain and Lucien already had children of their own.

But the fact that Cassian was silent ripped Nesta’s heart little by little until she finally decided that a trip with a group of Illyrian scouts was needed to get her mind off of things.

Nesta sighed in the bedroom she shared with her mate. She almost hoped he would ask her to stay, but perhaps it was better for them both just to take a moment to breathe before their emotions got the better of them.

She walked down the hall of their home in Velaris and entered the living room. Cassian was seated at the kitchen table reading a book about military strategies. His eyes drifted up and saw her attire.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’m going to scout along the borders with a few other Illyrians,” Nesta said. “Just a routine check.” Please ask me to stay.

Cassian was quiet for a moment. His hazel eyes assessing her and flickering down to her stomach.

“Fine,” he clipped out as if he hated himself for it. He knew there was nothing in his power to stop her though he desperately wished she would remain at home where it was safer. But he wasn’t going to ask that of her. He wasn’t going to be one of those males that pressured his pregnant mate to be extremely cautious to the point where it was smothering. He couldn’t do that to Nesta. Not after what the war and everything had done to them. “I might be gone when you return since I have to survey one of the camps in the farther mountains.”

“Did Rhysand ask you to do that?” Nesta tried to hold in her venom. Why couldn’t he be here when she got back? Why did it seem like she was always the one waiting at home for him? Sure he was the Commander of Rhysand’s armies, but that still didn’t mean he couldn’t join her when she returned home herself from Illyrian missions.

“I volunteered to go,” Cassian said. When he saw the look on Nesta’s face his brow furrowed. “Nesta I can’t just abandon the troops. They’ll still need me-”

“Right as if our family won’t need you,” Nesta rolled her eyes and didn’t hold back her words. “You’ll be here one day when this baby – our baby arrives, and the next time you come back the child may already be growing up so fast that they will see you more as a visitor than a father.”

Cassian stood up. His body tense with restrained anger at the thought of being considered a terrible parent. “You know I wouldn’t do that, but I also have a priority to protect this court.”

“Your family should be more of a priority Cassian! You’re hardly here it seems and when you are it’s like you’re not even truly with us,” Nesta swung her arm out. “Your trips to the camps have progressively gotten longer to the point where I might not even see you for months. Months! Do you not understand how that makes me feel?”

“I can’t just drop everything and come home-”

“Can’t or won’t Cassian,” Nesta interrupted. “There’s a difference.”

A muscle ticked in Cassian’s jaw as he gritted his teeth. “You think I enjoy being away from home. From you?”

“Well you’re making it feel that way,” Nesta admitted softly. “And honestly I hope our baby won’t ever feel that way either.”

Hurt flashed across Cassian’s face. Nesta flinched at his obvious pain as the words struck a deeper chord between them.

Cassian who was abandoned as a child. Left without a home or anyone to care for him.

“Cassian,” Nesta said softly and reached a gentle hand down the bond. But was met with a searing defensive wall of flame that made her stumble.

“Just go,” Cassian whispered. He turned away and began rifling through the kitchen.

Nesta bit her lip wanting to take back what she said and offer him an apology. But her throat clenched and a day that was supposed to be filled with love and happiness turned silent. Only the pain of their previous exchange of words echoed between them.

Without another word Nesta left and closed the front door with a soft click. It sounded too loud in her ears. As if that one little noise was the final sounding toll in her horrendous day.

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