Frozenblade
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“Good morning!”
Illuga jumps out of his skin, clutching his chest. “Oh, bloody crap!”
“Oh. You swear,” Kyryll—that Kyryll—muses, mouth a little open, those off-yellow eyes gone wide, finding the whole ‘catch-up’ amusing, apparently. It lasts a second, that, before he flips from amused to unsure. “But is it right, though? Is that the way one greets mortals here? A great bright good morning?”
—or the one where Flins is a not-so-mortal who just so happened to wake up in the world of humans, out to find answers as to why that is, and Illuga is the one and only oh-so-mortal who can see him. They don’t get on at first, but, just as life goes, they learn to be fond of each other soon enough. The Universe has always had a plan for them.
warning: not your typical crack fic, because this isn’t a crack fic to begin with.
Bookmarked by Frozenblade
26 Sep 2026
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Humans are born small; tiny little things that are often bald and maybe a little ugly. Fae are the same, even those who are not born with flesh and blood. Still tiny, still green to the world—a little ugly.
Yet, no matter the species, the formative years in between opening one’s eyes to life for the very first time and growing into an adult who marches towards inevitable death, may just birth connections to other ugly little things that transcend time itself, making the world they live in utterly beautiful.
Bookmarked by Frozenblade
26 Sep 2026
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“Can you tell me what the world is like in the future?”
(Am I there?)
“What kind of person am I in your time?”
(Am I yours?)
“Eftirvit,” Hroptatyr says his name like it’s made of gold, and Eftirvit startles lightly under his touch, against the cool of his palm that comes to rest against his cheek. He can’t feel Hroptatyr’s pulse like this but he can feel his own, spiking in his chest like a sun bursting into summer. “Can I kiss you?”
Briefly, Eftirvit wonders if he is dreaming. He finds himself nodding before he is able to formulate the right words to say aloud, and the smile that Hroptatyr sends up at him is so fond, so raw, so him that Eftirvit thinks that his heart might bleed out between his teeth and into Hroptatyr’s mouth.
(Eftirvit commits this moment to memory as best as he can, because for this singular moment suspended in time Hroptatyr is his and everything feels right again. And he can pretend, he thinks, that his life will always look like this.)
Bookmarked by Frozenblade
26 Sep 2026
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Pierro enters the prism within the notebook left behind by The Wise and finds himself within a memory. As much as he tries to ignore his emotions in order to get the information he needs from his old friend, his regrets get the better of him. He cannot change anything about his past... but perhaps he can influence the future.
Bookmarked by Frozenblade
26 Sep 2026
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Suddenly, a blur of motion rushed at him from the shadows. In the blink of an eye, Phainon grabbed the fist that was headed towards his face, and pulled a knife from his coat to hold it to his attacker’s throat — only to realize that it was Mydeimos, the very man that Aglaea wanted him to protect.
Warm golden eyes stared back at him, and nearly seemed to glow as Mydei smiled. “Well. Looks like you know your stuff.”
“Is that how you introduce yourself to people?” Phainon asked as he put the knife away and released his grip on Mydei’s fist.
“Just the ones I’ll be constantly trusting with my life,” Mydei said sarcastically. “So far, you’re the only one that’s had that dubious honor.”
Being a bodyguard should have been easy, but Phainon didn’t anticipate falling in love with his charge… and he certainly didn’t know just how dangerous it was going to become.
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Bookmarked by Frozenblade
31 Aug 2026