#((but that damn crown !! he's always wearing it in monster world!!)) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saturnsstufff · 4 years

Note

okay as a chubby girl myself I struggle with how I see myself and this idea makes my heart KSHDHSJS

okay so imagine IMAGINE

Request maybe 🤔🤔🤔

Okay,, you’re standing in the mirror yk in your mirror at technos house/cottage in your underwear and stuff, grabbing at the chub and stuff looking upset and not feeling good about yourself, and techno walking into the room and seeing this. yk him being upset that you feel that way Bc he thinks youre just so pretty 🥺.

IT COULD EITHER GO INTO A SMUT( 😏 where he SHOWS you how much he loves you and how pretty he thinks you are in the mirror) OR FLUFF WITH SOFT WORDS AND CUDDLES or both idk

*slams hand on desk* IVE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS

I went with both, because I like options. I also based this off a little personal feelings so I hope it works!

My Goddess- Technoblade

Warnings: self conscious reader, swearing, NSFW

The mirror. Your best, but worst nightmare imaginable. Some days you could look into it and see beauty within your curves. Spend endless minutes hyping yourself up. 'Man I look good' 'I am the fucking shit' 'damn look at that' all little things you tell yourself in pride. Because in those moments, you feel powerful. In those moments you feel like you own the world, that others are just lucky to breathe within your presence.

However, there are bad days. There are days when looking into the mirror brings shame. Days when all you can do is grab at your stomach, and ponder of what you could have done, or what you will do. Its pressed that everyone is perfect in our own imaginable ways. Yet when you look at others, you cant help but be envious. Others can get away with wearing tight clothing, baggy clothing, any type of clothing. Yet when you try it on all you see is a box, if you wear tight clothing, every roll and muffin top pops out. It can be embarrassing.

Techno never saw your curves as embarrassing however. He loved them. He loved the plush, soft skin of your tummy or your thighs. Your hips? don't even ask what he thought on hips, as long as they were yours. They were perfect.

With that said, when he saw you saddened about your form he was slightly hurt. You thought he was beautiful, a hybrid of a monster. But yet you couldn't find the beauty within your rolls? Your plump little form? The very thing that made up you? If he ever found out who planted these seeds of lies in your mind, he would have words.

If you felt confident enough to take the world by the horns, he let you. He would build you up with sweet words of encouragement. 'Well don't you look amazing...' 'you are looking beautiful as ever'. They were small phrases but they meant a lot to you.

Techno isn't verbal with his love, or compliments really. He chooses to show it, words are just that. Words. Actions are done, are shown. They are physically put into motion. That's why he prefers it. But he also understands sometimes words are needed. They are needed to ease your nerves and doubtful mind.

when he catches you glaring at your plump form in the mirror, he cant help but quickly move to your side. Kneeling and kissing up your body. Your arms, your thighs, everything. In the beginning he would let you look away. The idea of someone liking your body type left you uncertain, many times you would ponder if his endless kisses were done as a joke. But each and every time he would reassure you that it was real. That him loving you, loving your body. It wasn't in pity, it was in genuine love.

Tonight was one of those bad nights. With Techno in the bath, you were left to change for bed. Wait for him to come out, and then cuddle the night away until the sun kissed the horizon.

But well you changed your eyes fell to the mirror. Your eyes casually roamed your body. You were used to looking at it so nothing stood out of course. But as you shifted, you caught a few stretch marks within the candle light. They looked like streaks of lightning that were dragged across your skin. With a quick glance away, you pulled something over your form. Wanting to cover your body and deal with that mental baggage later.

Of course the Hybrid that stood tall within the door frame held other ideas about that moment. The one thing that always put you at ease was Techno's size. Before you were in a relationship with him, you feared you wouldn't be able to wear your lovers clothing. Being a bit plumper meant "one size fit all" did not fit all. But luckily, with your roughly 6ish/7ish foot Piglin Hybrid of a lover, all of his clothing was a bit baggy on you. Technoblade was a very Built man, this came from his never ending training and his natural born strength of course. But even with him being built and big, the first time he asked you to sit on his lap had you hesitant. What if he found you too heavy? The idea of him asking you to move off would leave you completely mentally ruined. Of course when you finally sat he didn't utter any words besides praises. His hands running gently over your thighs, with a tight grasp he kept you close. When Techno saw you ease into his lap more often, he took pride in knowing you were comfortable enough to do it on a daily basis. That was when he upped the bar again. The day he asked you to sit on his face was the day you had a heart attack. You were so paranoid you would crush him. Of course he was all bemused smirks well you tried to think of excuses. Yet this man was able to ease your nerves and reassure you until you were comfortable once again. You would never forget how giddy he was to be between your thighs. That was the day he found his favorite spot.

Before you could ease some bottoms over your underwear, this man had his arms around you. Pushing against your hands. His nose was nuzzled into your neck muttering gently "Please, leave them off for now..." with a brow raised you complied. You let the shorts drop to the floor, assuming you would be coming for them in a brief moment. You could smell the lingering sent from his shampoo. The fresh smell giving you great comfort.

Techno moved you back to face the mirror, his head moving briefly so he could see you face yourself. With a light stubble scratching against your neck you felt the goosebumps rise. Your eyes met his ruby ones within the mirror. "Do you know, how beautiful you are?..." he asked rhetorically. Dragging out the words that he felt were important. You wanted to say no, but knew he wouldn't want that answer.

"I think I'm alright..." you said softly. He hummed and pressed a loving kiss to your neck. His hands slowly fell down to the buttons of the shirt you were wearing. Skillfully he undid them without thought. When you had pulled a shirt on you didn't think much, but now saw that it was his you wore. Of course he didn't mind, he never minded.

With the buttons undone he opened the shirt to expose your naked form. Every curve and roll on sweet display for him "You are beyond 'alright'... alright is basic. You know my goddess is beyond mortal definitions..." you gave a gentle smile at his charm, glancing away from his eyes. He didn't allow this tonight however. Instead he took your jaw and gently redirected it to the mirror. Meeting his gaze again.

"My love... My goddess, you know your body rivals the gods, yes?..." you slightly shrugged, unsure if this was true. With another loving kiss he continued. "Persephone had rolls... She was just as plump as you my love..." you fallowed his eyes gently. Him comparing you to the beautiful goddess left you feeling better. If someone so divine could have rolls why couldn't you?

He didn't stop there however. "If you cant see your beauty. Let me show you how beautiful you are..." his tone was pleading. Like a animal begging for spare scraps. You watched his eyes, his finger and thumb having control over your chin. You thought on his words and gave a brief nod to him. Trusting him and whatever he had planned.

Instead of immediately kissing you all over, he pulled away. Firmly telling you to keep your eyes on the mirror. You felt a bit awkward standing there, your legs shifting closer underneath you. He soon came back however, his crown in hand. You could also see he had a simple gray towel around his waist, showing he was fresh from the bath.

Your curiosity with the crown lingered, but you watched as he put it on your head. "You are a queen... My Queen... You will always be reminded of your everlasting beauty for as long as you are with me..." for not complementing a lot, tonight he was on a roll. Your eyes ran over the crown. The delicate and bright stones contrasting the shimmering gold well against your skin.

He walked around to the front of you, leaning down to meet your lips in a loving kiss. His hand found a firm places on your hip, and on the plush skin of your ass cheek. With a gentle, but firm grasp he moved and rolled the skin beneath his hand. Loving how soft you were. With his hands working soft whimpers and moans out of you, his mouth devoured them. Eating every noise you made, cherishing them deep within his heart.

Leaving your lips swollen he moved down. Kissing your jaw and neck. Planning to leave you a work of art. A show of how much he loves you.

After your neck it was your chest. Soft plump breasts fitting ever so sweetly within his hands. With firm grasps he had you flushed red whimpering. Your eyes half lidded with the sweet lingering pleasure. Yet you still watched yourself and him, knowing to not disobey him.

With soft kisses placed to the tops of your breasts and nipples he moved to your stomach. This is where you craved to look away. Wishing to hide yourself in his neck.

"T..T-Techno..." he hummed acknowledging your words. But he still pressed light kisses down to the hem of your underwear.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror." He said, pulling them down. Helping you step out of the discarded clothing. You couldn't see his face. Only his backside was facing the mirror, and even then his long wet hair hid most of his toned back.

His fingers ran through your slit briefly. His rings offered a major temperature difference between your heat and the cold metal. With a little squirm his hands moved and held you in place. Desiring to keep you in place before he moved his head in and started to devour you. Eating you out like it was his last meal on earth.

With a ever so sinful cry, you gripped at his hair. Begging for your knee's to not give out. With one hand on his head, the other one flew to the crown on your head. Trying to keep it on well you easily hunched over from the overwhelming pleasure. Techno never failed to leave you speechless- or should we say, he never left you quiet. Even if you could see yourself, you didn't think you would be able to focus much. Your eyes were tightly shut well your mouth ran between being in a 'O' and being locked shut.

He did pull back from your folds to speak. Earning a cry from you. You were getting close and him pulling away was painful. "You can cum. But you have to keep your eyes open" you nodded profusely. Agreeing to anything if it meant feeling his lips back on you. He lingering a moment. Making sure your eyes opened before he leaned back. Taking his time to show your clit attention before going back to his main course.

With your eyes looking back at you. You were unsure if you were ashamed with how blissed out you looked or happy. The whole scene in itself was erotic. You were incredibly small compared to the giant between your legs. His only drive to please you completely. Your eyes never left the mirror as he ate you out to your climax. Your hips stuttering and bucking, but proving no use to his iron grip. When you came he waisted no time at cleaning it up. He had no shame, that your cum was running down his chin. He was happy when you were pleased. And he knows you are definitely pleased after that climax.

But he wasn't finished. With your legs weakening he helped you down onto his lap. He let you collect yourself against his chest for a few moments his hand ran over your back.

"Doin' ok there Princess?..." you nodded slowly. Your chest rising and falling fast well you try and calm yourself. "Think you can do one more?" You nodded again well he pressed a kiss to your forehead, acknowledging your response. Adjusting his crown on your head, he moved so the mirror was beside you two. Showing both of your bodies, with the towel acting as a thin barrier.

When you both were situated he did remove the towel. With a strong arm he lifted you up and positioned his hardened cock at your entrance, wasting no spare moment to fill you up. Well you did try to hide within his neck, it proved no use. He made sure to turn your head to the mirror.

With your eyes hitting the mirror you saw how his head was beside yours. Your cheek was pressed to his chest well his was pressed to your forehead. His eyes lingeried your body. Drowning in your blissed out form. He found you utterly perfect.

Well your bodies were connected, it almost looked like art. With techno's sharp gaze and your blissed out reddened cheeks, the contrast was there but yet they went together in perfect harmony. With the roll of his hips he made sure to keep your eyes on the mirror. Wanting to drag out every cry and moan you could utter. He set his pace at a rhythmic thrust, wanting to not only pleasure you, but himself as well. Well you griped to his sides, he kept his hand on he back of your head gently. Wanting to keep your head facing the mirror. With sweet sinful praises he coached you to a second orgasm, his fallowing close behind. He kissed your head gently, keeping you close to him well he felt himself soften. when his eyes met yours in the mirror he smiled softly.

“Look at how beautiful you are... Always so, so beautiful Princess...”

#saturnsdarkside #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x reader #techno x you #technoblade x reader smut #techno x reader smut #fanfic #fanfiction #tb

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adxmparriish · 3 years

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everything he needs - read on ao3 track 3 of DEDICATED - a jurdannet roulette collab fic with @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @laequiem

SIDE A: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK FOUR -> TRACK FIVE SIDE B: TRACK ONE -> TRACK TWO -> TRACK THREE MASTERLIST

writer: lizziebxnnet words: 3.2k rating: explicit -> dom/sub undertones, light bondage, orgasm denial, overstimulation, cock ring

Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else. “Let’s play,” she says. Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

tags and fic under the cut

I am edgy.

Anxiety rolls around inside me, a living monster with claws and fangs crawling beneath my skin.

It’s no secret that most days being High King brings me little joy. I’d much rather laze about, drink wine, kiss Jude until I’m senseless, or simply be. The duties, while not always unbearable, drive me over the edge more often than I’d like to admit.

As the moon rises and filters silver light into our chambers, I glance over to our bed. Jude, beautiful as ever, is draped over the sheets looking at me. There’s a glint in her deep brown eyes that scares and arouses me. Her grin is mischief reincarnated, and I stare back at her with intent. Adjusting the crown on my temples, I turn to face her completely.

“I think I’d rather be on the other end of your knife than deal with any of this,” I say.

“I’m inclined to agree,” she replies, flopping over to lay on her back. She still wears her silk nightgown, some flimsy black thing she purchased at the sex shop. The straps are barely there, and a low neckline leaves little to the imagination. It hardly covers the mocha skin of her thighs, although I can hardly complain. “How would you feel about… a little game?”

I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” she says with a wink, rising from the bed and moving to the dresser. It does nothing to calm my anxieties.

She opens the first drawer, rifles through it, and then pulls out one of our new toys. In her other hand, she holds a remote. The skin of my face grows warm. She pads over and shows me what she has.

It’s a cock ring, but there’s a small attachment on the side of it. She flips a switch on it, then presses a button on the small black remote. Immediately, buzzing reaches my ears and the ring begins to vibrate. I reach out to touch it, feeling the vibrations under my fingertips. Jude looks up and when we meet gazes, I can feel her excitement thrumming through her.

The ravenous beast under my skin loosens its grip, and I find want growing in its place. Wanting her, wanting this, wanting to try something new. To be under Jude’s control would be the most wonderful of changes — a much-needed release from duties and being High King. I want to just be hers, to be Jude’s husband, her plaything. I smile at her, my beautifully wicked wife, and surrender to her.

Not bothering to wait for a second longer, she pops the buttons of my pants and yanks them down. I’m half hard already, the mere thought of what this day will bring exciting me. She sits our new toy on the floor beside her as she kneels in front of me. She scoots closer, then looks up to meet my eyes. I stare at her, transfixed by her beauty. Chestnut hair, long and lush, falls down past her shoulders. Her legs, so strong and powerful and covered in soft, tan skin, fold underneath her. Her hands, callused and sneaky, reach out and grip my cock. My breath hitches in my throat.

She strokes me lightly, teasing. I close my eyes and my head falls back, exposing my neck. When I feel the warm heat of her mouth on me, I gasp her name. Her plush lips swallow me down, her tongue tracing the line of a vein that runs down the shaft. I reach out to touch her, to twist her hair between my fingers, but she swats my hand away. She’s such a treacherous, wicked thing.

I feel a fire begin to burn in my belly, my release within reach, but as if she can read my mind, she stops. She pulls off with a pop, and I open my eyes to look down at her. She has the toy in one hand, my cock in the other. She strokes me a few times, then slides it over me, securing it at the base. The pressure is slight but still intense. She licks the tip, collecting a bit of come that has collected there. Damn the meetings, I think. Nothing is more important than this.

She presses a button on the remote, and I see white. The vibrations rattle through me, making me groan. Pleasure ripples in my blood, and then as soon as it begins, it stops. I don’t know if I’m relieved or aggravated. I glare at Jude, but she seems emotionless. I know better, though. I know she’s relishing in the game of her own creation.

She’s switched masks. She’s the same Jude, the same woman I love so dearly, but she is a different version. She’s always High Queen, but now she’s mine, and I am hers. Instead of Faerie bowing to us both, I bow to her. I’m all too willing to oblige. All the anxiety I felt earlier, the rapid beating of my heart I so hated, is replaced by something else. Want, need, pleasure, pain… I am nothing but Jude’s. There is no more room in me for anything else.

“Let’s play,” she says.

Yes, my evil seductress, let’s play. I am your pawn.

* * *

Sweat collects on my brow, and when the vibrations finally stop, I fear I might come purely from relief alone.

I look to Jude sitting beside me and notice the smallest of smiles playing at her lips. The Living Council is either clueless or pretending to be, and I’m not sure which is more ridiculous. I can feel the redness on my skin, and hear the panting breaths leaving my mouth. For more than an hour, I’ve sat in front of all of them and been brought to the brink of ecstasy more times than I can remember, only to be denied over and over again. I feel deranged, manic, unhinged. I want to come so badly that it is all I can think of. My hand longs to grab myself and rip off the wretched ring, but I don’t. I sit. I obey.

I know that, late into the night when Jude and I are in our chambers, I will be rewarded. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded.

“I don’t think it’s wise to trifle with the Court of Teeth,” someone says, and I should know the voice but I don’t.

“High King? What do you suggest?” someone else questions me, and I turn my head to the sound.

As fleeting as a strike of lightning, the vibrations start again. I grip the table, knuckles going white, as sensations rock through me. My eyes are open but unseeing. I can hear nothing but blood rushing in my ears, the pounding of my pulse. I shiver as everything aches, my cock almost sore from being denied for so long. I think someone says my name, but I can’t respond. My normally sharp tongue denies me.

“Are you alright, darling?” Jude asks from next to me, her hand laying on my forearm, and I almost come undone. The mere touch of her fingers against my skin causes a cascade of feelings, all of which crash into me roughly.

The buzzing stops and I deflate, my breathing ragged and slow.

“I fear I am not, my Queen.” I look up and the entire table stares with looks of concern on their faces. My already warm face flushes darker, embarrassment flooding to the surface.

“Excuse us,” Jude says, gripping my arm and pulling me upright. “Cardan needs to lie down and rest.”

I can hear people bidding us farewell but I don’t look at them, don’t even acknowledge that they spoke. I am led forward by Jude’s firm grip and sure steps. All I know is her and my own desire that swims through my veins. We walk for what feels like hours but I’m sure is only minutes, and then we reach our chambers. When we’re inside, Jude makes quick work of my clothes, stripping me carefully. When my pants are off and thrown to the side, I look down.

My cock is bright red, almost angry. Jude’s hand grasps it and I choke on a moan, my hips bucking in her grip. She looks up at me in wonder.

“So good,” she says, stroking me twice before letting go. “My beautiful, obeying husband.”

I ache at her praise. She leads me to the bed and I fall on my back. Jude begins stripping her own clothes, but when she pulls off the belt holding up her trousers, she tosses it on the bed next to me. She climbs on, pushing my arms up to the headboard. Involuntarily, my hands grab the wooden bars.

Jude straddles me, her body completely naked now, and bends forward. If I tilt my head forward just a bit, I could capture a nipple in between my teeth. I don’t, though. In this game, I don’t touch unless Jude instructs me to do so.

“Remember our colors?” she asks, and I nod. It’d been the first thing we established when we uncovered this new world, this new game. Green for go, red for stop, yellow for let’s slow it down.

She takes the belt and wraps it around my hands, then the bars of the headboard, before fastening it and pulling it taut. I pull and nothing budges. Our eyes meet and the glimmer in hers captures me in a trance. She leans down and kisses me.

Her tongue traces my lip and I open to her immediately, letting her consume me. When she takes my bottom lip between her teeth, pulling gently, I melt into her touch. Her hands are in my hair, fingers tracing the sharp point of my ears. My tail thrashes, then wraps around her leg. The tuft on the end strokes her inner thigh, right below her core, and she gasps into my mouth. I breathe it in, bathe in it.

I cry out as the swell of her ass brushes against my cock, and it twitches, aching for release. Immediately she sits up, pulling away and denying me.

“Jude,” I beg, pulling at the belt that holds my wrists.

“What?”

“Take this damned ring off,” I demand. Her brows raise, and I know at once I’ve made a grave mistake.

Her strong, threatening hand grabs my throat and squeezes, just hard enough to catch my breath. My eyes widen, my arousal grows even more, and my hips undulate. I fight for some kind of release, some relief of the pressure and pain growing, and find nothing. The lack of oxygen makes my head spin, but I force my eyes to stay open.

Jude leans down, her lips brushing against my ear. “You, my dearest Cardan, are not in charge.”

She eases on my throat, releasing me. She traces the line of my jaw with her fingernail, slowly and carefully. I can’t tear my gaze away from her, not that I would want to. In her element, she is ethereal. I shrink under the power she holds in the palm of her hands.

“You want to come?” she asks. It feels like a trick question, but I nod regardless. She shakes her head, disapproving.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, my Queen,” I say.

“That,” she declares, “is too bad.”

Despite her words to me, she turns and reaches down, removing the ring. I groan at the small release. She shimmies back so her sex looms over me, and I lick my lips. She is dripping, heat radiating from it. Any other time, I’d lean forward and taste her, my tongue dipping between the folds. Instead, I wait, my cock practically pulsing as it aches between my legs.

The warmth of her mouth engulfs me and I groan, her name a curse on my tongue. My hands yank at the belt holding them, the leather digging into my skin. I feel crazed, so much pleasure and pain swimming together and making me drown. I can’t focus on anything except her mouth, her tongue, the slick of her core tantalizing as it hovers over my face.

She hums as one hand roams, pinching the skin of my thigh, and tears prick at my eyes. A shock runs through my system and it takes everything I have not to release into her mouth. I am dizzy with desire.

“Baby,” Jude murmurs against my cock, her tongue licking a long stripe, “taste me.”

Like a starving man at a feast, I don’t waste a single second.

I lick at her, tasting every sweet inch of her. It distracts me from the wicked ways of her mouth in the most pleasing way. She moans at my ministrations, her hips bucking when I catch her clit between my teeth lightly. I devour her, unable to satisfy the hunger growing inside me. She is a long drink of water after a hot day, and I am parched.

Every inch of me burns for her, and I feel my orgasm building in my spine again. I moan into her center as it climbs, higher and faster and stronger.

“Jude,” I plead, “I’m going to come.”

Her wet mouth moves away from me, and my eyes sting as I’m denied again, my climax crashing to a halt. Every part of me hurts, longing to release. I feel like a bow, stretched taut and thin. Tears leak from my eyes and through the mist, I can see Jude’s face hovering over me. I blink the wetness away, and her hands brush the tears from my cheeks.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, kissing my face. I almost forget about my throbbing cock through the haze of her words, but it’s still there.

Jude places her hands on my chest and then lowers herself, her sex wrapping around me as she moves down. I whimper at the feel of her, so warm and tight and lovely. Her mouth hangs open at the sensation, and her eyelids flutter closed. Again, I am struck by her beauty. She is radiant as sweat curls the hair by her face, drips down her neck, and pools in the swell of her breasts. I long to reach up, to cup one in my palms, but the damned belt still holds my wrists. She opens her eyes when she’s fully seated.

She wastes no time. She bounces in earnest, taking me under her power even more than I already am. I buck my hips to meet hers. The sound of our skin slaps together, and it makes the sweetest song. She leans forward, changing the angle so I go deeper, and my eyes roll in the back of my head. Pleasure like I’ve never known rolls through me like a wave, and I make an embarrassing noise in the back of my throat. My mind is nothing but Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. It recants through my brain like an enchantment.

“Jude please — “ I begin, but a moan cuts me off when she rolls her hips.

“Not yet,” she replies to me, already knowing my request. I slam my head back against the bed, jerking my wrists against the belt tying me down. I want to come so badly it blinds me, makes me crazy. I whine and Jude looks at me.

“Color, Cardan.”

“Green,” I say immediately, sure as ever. She denies me but I relish it. I will come with her permission or not at all.

She smiles at me, and I glow under her approval. I am nothing if not her servant.

“Harder,” she commands.

I plant my feet against the mattress and bend my hips, pounding into Jude with reckless abandon. She forgets herself, crying out and gripping my ribs. Her nails dig into my skin. She closes her eyes as I meet her, over and over, the slapping of our skin ringing through our room, although I can hardly hear it over the pounding of my heart.

“Cardan,” she shouts, throwing her head back, “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Fuck,” I chant, slowing down and fucking her slower, deeper, hammering into her so hard that it jolts her.

Finally, a sweet release comes as she fiddles with the belt, untying my hands. I immediately have one hand on her hip, the other at her clit. My thumb circles and flicks it, making her groan loudly. Her hips falter as her own release threatens to overcome her. If I can’t come, I’ll be sure she does.

I can tell she’s close. Her breaths are short, her eyes are closed, and her legs shake. I grip her hips and flip us over. I pull her close, letting her legs dangle over my shoulders, and take her roughly. I pick up the pace, grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her hungrily. It’s clashing tongues and teeth, but it drives me wild regardless. Her warm breaths tickle my lips as she pants, completely overwhelmed. I circle her clit with two fingers, and a throaty sound rips from her throat.

“Come for me Cardan,” she demands, meeting my thrusts with her own.

In an instant, my body responds to her command, and like a wave crashing on the shore, I come. My vision goes black, then I see stars. It’s blissful pain as it rocks through me and leaves me breathless, every inch of me completely spent. Jude, delirious all the same, follows me. Her hands grip my back, nails digging into my skin as she unravels. We moan into each other’s mouths, kissing until we’re dizzy with it. I fuck her through the aftershocks of our orgasms, then collapse against her.

I clutch her, desperate for her closeness. She returns the grip, pulling me into her chest. I nose her neck, leaving wet kisses down her pulse. She hums happily as I cradle her in my arms. She rubs my back gently, and when I roll us so my back hits the mattress, she lays her head on my chest.

When I push her damp hair from her forehead, she grabs my wrist. It’s red, lines from the belt creasing the skin. She kisses it, then grabs my other wrist and does the same. My heart, so often cold and hard, is warm. I touch her face, my thumb brushing the soft skin of her cheek. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Your games are evil,” I say to her, making her smile wider. “Although I should have known. You’ve never been an innocent one.”

She laughs. “Neither have you.”

“I cannot argue with that.”

My fingers play in her hair, brush against her skin, and trace the round curve of her ear. Moonlight filters through our curtains and casts shadows across her face. We are both exhausted but I kiss her anyway, slow and sweet. She melts into it, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I love her, devastatingly so. Not telling her seems criminal.

“I love you, darling Jude.”

Her lips meet my jaw, and she kisses me there.

“I love you too,” she says.

As always, I wonder how I got so lucky to win her affections. When her fingers graze my neck, touching my pulse point, I realize for the first time, I don’t much care how we got here. What truly matters is that we are in this moment, basking in the love we’ve built. Whether I’m lucky or blessed, or somewhere in the middle — all of it fades to black in the warmth of Jude’s embrace.

@slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @figonas @laequiem @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @thefolkofthefic @kingandfireheart

#my fic #jurdannet #jurdannetrevels #em tag #laety tag #bri tag #kaitlyn tag #jurdan #tfota #the folk of the air #cardan x jude #tfota fic #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt: Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately. There was something in the atmosphere, almost. It felt… lighter, maybe?

He didn’t like it.

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion. The tendency had saved his life multiple times. Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost. Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with. Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him. Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often. Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha. He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one. Skipped school and everything. The whole high school experience. Ha.

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.

He sighed, heavily. Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding). Stock up on supplies. Get ready to weather a storm. Literal or metaphorical.

But hiding out in the cave was so boring. There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah. Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah. Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts. It was pretty empty around here.

Just like Flynn’s heart.

Ha.

Yeah. That was a good one.

Eh. Life wasn’t so bad. He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time. Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof. Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity. And not having a concussion. Or losing any more teeth.

But, back to his original topic.

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe. Was it directly Flynn’s problem? No. The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.

Flynn recognized that. Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom. But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger. Who knew what could come out of a portal? At least according to the ghosts he talked to. Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.

This was going to suck so much.

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary. Which he had read. Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck. He could take one ghost. Three? Yeah. Not a chance.

Maybe they’d leave? They couldn’t know for sure he was here. With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again. He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either. No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait. They weren’t. Flynn would know. He’d made many unbelievable jokes. They’d never attracted anything but groans.

Ha.

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost. “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.

“We don’t have any choice about her, though. Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out. Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn. Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him. The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago. At least a decade.

But he did scream. Loudly. Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all. He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages. “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.” He examined his fingernails. “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate. Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.” He eyed the eyeballs.

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork. “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn. He adjusted his grip on his staff. “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face. “No. Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby. Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork. He raised an eyebrow. “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip. Hard. Okay. He wasn’t dreaming. And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway? Flynn was nothing. He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands. “Then let us away to the castle.”

Well. That was certainly a castle. Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house. Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.

Or even hole, when compared to all this. Dear god, this place was fancy.

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin. You are not underdressed.

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings. “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost. “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one. I will collect you for dinner in three hours. Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.

… There would be curtains, right? This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.

He opened the door.

Lots of curtains. Lovely.

No, really. It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains. He might be crying.

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft. He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy. Filthy. Covered in years’ worth of grime. He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath. He was craving a human-safe bath. With clean water and soap.

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes? Toothpaste? Unrestrained luxury.

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter. The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.

There was a sink.

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water. Because he made it so, so dirty. He sank into the water, up to his chin.

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause. Because it was always a lost cause. Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available. He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one. Were there ghost dentists? There had to be ghost dentists. They had a lot of teeth. A lot of teeth. Sharp, scary, teeth.

Ugh. His baby cousin was a ghost. He’d probably have teeth like a shark. When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all. Because. Baby. Little, tiny, baby.

Who Flynn barely knew.

Why did he even want Flynn? Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?

Ghosts were weird. Anything could be possible.

He flopped face-first onto the bed. His bed? His temporary and maybe permanent bed. If he was allowed to stay here.

Oh, gosh. Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals. Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.

(Dad? Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed. But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now. He was living in the scariest place out of the world.

Ha.

Yeah.

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe. Oh, boy. Many clothes. He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store. Incredible.

They were so fancy, too. He didn’t know how to choose.

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed. Some of them looked cool. And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet. Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear. Wow. It had been a while.

Okay. The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice. Like, no nap nice.

He wanted to take a nap.

But no nap was occurring.

The bed was too soft. Ugh. This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.

He groaned. He hadn’t thought that was real. He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama. Or something.

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.

Maybe he could sleep here.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover. What cover? Oh. Bed. That was the bed. He was in the room. In the castle. The ghost king’s castle.

His baby cousin’s castle.

He was going to cry. This was so weird.

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand. Which. Might not have been the best of ideas. But, hey, he was dressed now.

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle. Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there. One of his eyebrows went up. “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down. Orange and green went fine together. What was he talking about?

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.

“Come, now. Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back. At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.

He decided not to do that. Running away wasn’t his style.

(Who was he kidding? That was definitely his style. He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing. Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled. “Only the future.” He swung the large, gilded door open.

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates. There were a small group of children beyond it. One of them waved at him. Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

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twilit-hyrule · 3 years

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So I feel bad cuz I’m pretty bad at actually drawing my ideas and uploading them... I have a bunch of doodles and concepts on my ipad that I haven’t finished yet 😅. Pokemon teams, superhero AU, some angst etc. (I have a lot of notes and stuff but comparatively few drawings).

So I decided to just upload some wing designs I have for the boys since I’ve seen some Wingfic stuff going around again! (The writing in-between is just a small info dump on which birds inspired me/what I based their wings on for anyone who is curious! So feel free to skip it or guess the birds before reading (it’s always two bird species per Link btw.)).

(I’m begging, pls ignore the akward standing pose I used for all of them. And the face markings! They look weird...)

I based Sky’s wings on a golden pheasant, and a red macaw. Felt fitting to give him red wings! And I couldn’t miss up the opportunity to add some master sword coloration with the purple and blue hues.

Four is obviously based on a hummingbird (long-tailed sylph to be more specific!), but the second bird I used as inspiration was the quetzal. It added the red underside and the long green feathers that would trail after Four (they would also be a bit longer than they are here).

Both him and Sky (and the hylians in their worlds) are very colourful compared to the others, because the bright feathers wouldn’t attract danger in their eras (the monsters were sealed away (Four) or couldn’t reach them above the clouds (Sky).

Time’s wing structure is based on owls, so he is also the most silent during flight! I wanted his wings to be gold-ish in colour so I based him on a barn owl, but I also wanted something more dangerous for him (barn owls are surprisingly small). So I added some golden eagle into the mix.

(His wings are also the most plain(?) I guess, since I had trouble imagining him with something more decorative/complicated)

I’d imagine when he turns into the feirce deity the wings grow in size and turn snow-white (like a snow owl, maybe with reflective silver instead of black markings?). Maybe grow some white peacock feathers for the tail too, he can afford to be flashy XD.

Twilight has the biggest wingspan of them all. I based him on a bearded vulture (they have the 6th biggest wingspan of all birds! Well, according to one lazy google search at least...), since I thought it fitting that he is a bird with a lot of negative stigma attached (like with his wolf transformation, vultures are rarely -if ever- considered good). They also eat bones, which also matches! And yes, their eyes are red which looks pretty damn cool.

The second bird that inspired me was the turquoise browed motmot (long tail feathers), but I’m still fighting with myself about whether I should make the feathers on the outside turquoise or not... either way I really like the sunset colours :)

For Wild I chose an osprey, I wanted a bird that mostly ate fish and lived near bodies of water because of Mipha.

...admittedly that reasoning made more sense in my head.

However! I was also inspired by magpies. Wild will absolutely pick up and keep any shiny object that he finds! Hurray for scavengers!

Eagle-ish wings! I based him on the secretary bird, it seemed extra enough for him. Though I just really like the look of those birds (really pretty!). Mixed with some major mitchell’s cockatoo for the beautiful fade from pink/light red to white.

(I’d imagine he’s low-key jealous of Sky and Four because their wings are so colourful.)

Again, like with Four, I went with the obvious choice; a seagull. Though I also sprinkled in some bluejay for the beautiful feather coloration.

Wind really likes how closely his wings match those from Warrior (since he looks up to him) both their wings have a softly fading colour on the inside and feathers darkening in layers on their backs. He just thinks it’s neat.

The first bird I looked at for Legend was the southern carmine bee eater, it has a pink-ish body and a blue/green crown of feathers on it’s head. I mean, that just screamed Legend to me.

The second bird I chose was the peregrine falcon, the fastest bird in the sky! After all, Legend is the only one of the chain to always wears his pegasus boots.

One of my personal favourite wing designs! Hyrule was mostly inspired by a starling, I wanted him to appear more... magical? And the white spots remind me of stars (well, it’s a starling). The inside of his wings is very loosely based on the great grey shrike, a slightly brutal bird, which fits well with the consensus that he lives in the grittiest Hyrule.

(They impale their live prey on on thorns for anyone who is curious.)

———

If any of them look kinda strange, it’s probably because I tried to make them all look unique. With the exception of Twilight. I wanted him to look slightly similar to both Wild and Time (main reason why I am contemplating adding some blue-ish colour). Brown and yellow/gold from time, and that dark border on the edge of his primary feathers was inspired by Wild (like Twi he is also mainly brown).

I also actively avoided making their wings green because most of them already wear green tunics, and that’s just too much.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu four #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #making the first three was fun!#everything after made me hate myself :)#they all wear grey because they got a visit from duchess rowena #she is teaching them how to behave more like civil people #and less like forest gremlins #and if you know who I’m talking about you deserve a seniors discount

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geekgirles · 3 years

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Your Heart

Chapter 3 -- Introductions

READ ON AO3

Word Count: 8831

Sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. The Holy Grail Danny had spent his entire high school life looking for, and that still eluded him from time to time. That wonderful feeling when he just collided on his bed after a long day of balancing his secret identity and his civilian one, of ruling over a race whose reputation had earned him the contempt of many, of fighting rebellious spirits...To just let the tiredness wash over and slumber take him was pure bliss.

Could there be anything more amazing?

At this point Danny’s perfect day had evolved from the amazing activities normal people looked forward to ーgoing to the beach with friends, binge-watching an entire season-worth of episodes in a day, ice skating…ーto the simple joys in life, such as getting a full night’s sleep (maybe even sleeping in, if he was lucky), going to the Nasty Burger with Tucker, and just having a normal day.

But, as an aggravating sound would remind him, those days were far and in between.

Twisting around in bed, eyes tightly shut and his face forming a grimace in annoyance, the halfa did everything in his power to ignore that damned noise. Trying hard as he might, there was no turning off the volume of that obnoxious beeping. Giving up, he reached out a hand from under his covers to tap the snooze button.The fucking alarm clock; his worst enemy after Plasmius. And the second most annoyingーthat title belonged to the Box Ghost.

Stifling a yawn with his hand, he got out of bed. Half-heartedly rummaging through his closet, he picked the first thing he could find and went inside his bathroom, having no choice but to start a new day. Once inside, he locked the door and took one look at himself in the mirror, well, as good as a look through sleepy, half-lidded eyes could be. He was greeted by the sight of his ghost form’s nuclear white hair and glowing green eyes. Seeing his reflection, Danny jumped back in surprise, until he remembered the previous day’s events.

After officially meeting the Witch Queen he decided to crash in his lair in the Ghost Zone, too exhausted to return home.

He attributed not realising it sooner to his chambers’ appearance. Soon after he became the Ghost King, he was instructed to create a lair of his own; to cement his current position as ruler among his subjects, and to have a place where they could go in case they needed his help that wasn’t Fenton Works. Clockwork helpfully pointed out that keeping his secret identity from his parents and the citizens of Amity Park would be considerably more difficult if the ghosts had to look for him around town whenever they needed him.

It was also Clockwork who gave him the idea of designing his lair taking himself as inspiration. “Try creating something both familiar and completely foreign; such as your own condition.” the Ghost of Time advised wisely, “Combine things that remind you of your human halfーtry not to make it very obvious, while you’re at itー with the sort of elements typical of the Ghost Zone.”

And hence, he created his lair.

On the outside it looked like a house belonging to the neighbourhoods he and Tucker grew up in, but on the inside he drew inspiration from Pariah Dark’s castle. Only it wasn’t nearly as frightening, just lavish enough to give the impression that someone powerful resided there. But his favourite room was, without a doubt, his own. An almost exact replica of the one at FentonWorksーthe main difference being that this one had its own bathroom and a few large one-way windows he used to oversee his realmー Danny could feel at ease. And, again, it explained why he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t back on Earth. That, and the sleepiness, of course.

Shrugging, he summoned the twin circles of light to surround his body, the familiar, chilly sensation running down his spine. Once he was Danny Fenton again, he stripped off the clothes he’d worn the previous day, got into the shower, and got the water running.

As he showered, his mind raced back to the previous day. In particular, to his meeting with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park. She was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Even with his alter egos, both of his identities were fairly well-known in the public eye. Danny Fenton was the son of Amity Park’s most notorious ghosthunters, not necessarily for their skill or captured ghosts, but his parents had certainly always been very present around town. With their ghost conferences and pep talks, their field trips searching for ghosts around town, that one time they felt like dressing up like back in the 80’s and embarrassed him and Jazz in the middle of the Nasty Burger just because he’d forgotten his wallet…

Between his parents, puberty, and his new-found ghost powers, his teenage years sure were a blast...

And speaking of ghost powers, there was Danny Phantom. The ghost boy that one day appeared out of the blue, first seen fighting a giant meat monster. The public menace who once attacked the mayor. The spectral intruder who trashed Axion Labs, got one of its employees fired, and was responsible for the rise of the Red Huntress...who also happened to be his sorta-kinda-maybe-it-was-complicated ex-girlfriend. The young hero who valiantly fought against the terrifying, tyrannical Ghost King and defeated him, saving both worlds in the process...only to be then crowned King of the Ghost Zone himself and ignite the ire and distrust of the town whose respect he had just won not even a week prior.

The very same Ghost King who was still doing his best, day after day, to protect everyone from the most malicious ghosts who still challenged his rule. But did anyone care? Well, aside from a, thankfully, ever-growing fan club, if the burn he’d received the other day courtesy of none other than Valerie Gray was any indication...Nope.

Summing up, Danny was fairly well-known.

But the Witch Queen, on the other hand… The only reason he even knew of her existence or where to find her was because he’d found a few pages of Sojourn’s legendary journal flying around the Ghost Zone while he investigated the cause for the numerous portals opening. According to the wandering ghost’s notes, although there were several covens scattered throughout the globe, one in particular had settled in Amity Park after years of travelling around the colonies, fleeing from an event they called ‘The Great Burning’. Although Danny had no idea what that was, even if it did sound bad, what caught his attention was both their abilities, therefore his idea to ask them for help, and the last place Sojourn saw them before continuing on with his own search. He remembered his own eyes widening at the location. A location he knew from personal experience.

The fact that his messenger actually delivered the letter was pure luck, though. For all the halfa knew, the witches could’ve left Amity Park in the centuries between Sojourn’s disappearance and his accident.

Reaching his hand to the faucet, he turned off the water. He grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his lower half while he used a smaller one to dry his hair off. Then he grabbed his clothes from the floor where he put them and got dressed. Combing his unruly hair with a hand, since he had long given up on doing anything with it, he stared at his, now, fully-dressed human reflection.

He looked the same as his fourteen-year-old self, except for the more defined physique that came with daily ghost fights. At least there were some perks to getting your ass handed to you on a regular basis. The only other thing that changed was his wardrobe. It was still casual, he wasn’t going to start wearing Giorgio Armani suits anytime soon (it’d make him look like Vlad), but more grown-up, too. In his sleep-induced blindness he managed to pick up some decent clothing: a baby blue shirt over a long-sleeved, white undershirt, dark blue jeans, and beat-up red sneakers. Not bad.

He left the bathroom after brushing his teeth in the sink. Walking down the corridors on his way to the kitchen, his mind went back to his encounter with Lady Arcana. When he became king, Frostbite served as a tutor of sorts. The leader of the Far Frozen made sure he knew everything he would need about the Ghost Zone and its history to be an effective leader. It was because of his lessons that he even knew who Sojourn was! But, most importantly, it was thanks to them that he learned of the existence of witches.

And what he’d learned about them and what they’d done...it was so horrifying he couldn’t blame the ghosts for having a grudge against them that kept them apart for centuries. Thanks to what he’d read and was told about them, Danny knew what to expect from the spellbinding group of women.

Witches were scheming, often fooling people into making a deal with the devil (figuratively speaking, that is) in exchange for things their clients would never be able to afford. They were selfish: the Witch Queen herself only cared about what happened to her people, never mind two entire dimensions! Much like Vlad, they only showed interest in a confrontation or making a deal if they had the upper hand.

Frostbite had every right to be wary of his decision to ask them for help. After all, not only were the witches malicious, they were dangerous. Even if they lacked the standard ghost abilities such as flight, invisibility, and intangibility; their knowledge of magic was enough to give any ghost a hard time. And it was said that the Queen was the most dangerous of them all…

Danny could definitely attest to that. Although he hadn't seen her in action per se, he could feel an inner strength radiating from her the moment they locked eyes. And the way she fiercely fought for her people's safety only proved that. Even if he really found it selfish that she only cared for her people’s sake, Danny had to admit, it made sense, it even made her a good ruler. The only reason he cared about both worlds was because he lived in both worlds. Had he been fully human or fully ghost, deep down he’d only have cared about whatever dimension he belonged to.

Despite all the red flags and warning signs, there was this part of him who truly believed Lady Arcana (what an odd name) was his only hope. He just hoped that part of him had some kind of clairvoyance and wasn’t just indigestion or something.

“Your Majesty, you’re awake!” A high-pitched voice broke him out of his musings. Looking around, he realised he was in the kitchen and the voice belonged to Dora, his maid. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I made everything I could think of.”

When his eyes landed on the food served on the table, he almost had to do a double-take. She sure went all out… Before him lay a carton of milk, eggs cooked in all ways imaginable (fried, scrambled, boiled, Benedict eggs…), over a dozen toasts, a few jars of different jams, bacon, pancakes, around three boxes of cereal, and an arrangement of fruit and juice.

Mouth watering and eyes as big as the saucers set down on the table, he turned to the ghost maiden, “When did you have time to do all this? Did you even sleep?”

The green-skinned spirit raised a hand to politely cover her mouth, chuckling in amusement. “My Lord, you forget we ghosts don’t sleep. So of course I had time to do this.” She smiled at his flushing face, embarrassment for having forgotten about that apparent on his features. “But, please, don’t trouble yourself with such things, your Majesty. Just sit down and eat.”

He did as he was told before reaching out for a few toasts and strawberry jam. He actually hated toast, but then again, that was probably because the Fenton Toaster always made them way too dry. As Dora poured some coffee on his glass, he spoke up, ignoring he was speaking with his mouth full. “I thought I told you to just call me ‘Danny’”, he swallowed, “We’re friends, Dora, remember? You are under no obligation to treat me as anything but that.”

Princess Dorothea, or Dora, was a ghost he met back in freshman year of high school. The first time they met her magical amulet got him in trouble, since it transformed his former crush into a dragon whenever she got angry. The next time they met, though, was when her asshole of a brother was looking for a bride but, being too out of the loop to try online dating, he forced her to organise a beauty pageant with him as the judge. When he defeated Aragon and freed his kingdom, he also freed Dora, who swore to be his ally after that. And the moment he rose as king, she offered to be his maid.

“I know, but what can I say? My brother kept our kingdom in the Dark Ages for 1600 years. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” She defended.

“But you have no trouble keeping up with the current time’s peech pattern.” He pointed out.

Dorothea just shrugged in response.

They stayed in silence for a while after that. While Danny ate his breakfast, Dora cleaned the kitchen. It was usually like that when he stayed in the Ghost Zone long enough to need the kitchen running. Looking at his cellphone, Danny almost spat his food. In an instant, Dora was by his side, making sure he didn’t choke. “Shit! I’m gonna be late!”

With that, he quickly finished his plate with a quick “See ya!” thrown at Dora and transformed, flying around the Ghost Zone until he could make out the Fenton Ghost Portal in the distance. It was still a little early for his parents to be up and running around the lab, so he didn’t have to turn invisible once he reached the lab. Phasing through the ceiling, he was about to make it to the door when the sound of footsteps startled him.

“Danny? Is that you?” came his mother’s voice.

Panicking slightly, he dropped the transformation. By the time his parents came down the stairs, he was nervously waiting for them at the door, fully human. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” He waved at them with a nervous smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Son.” Jack patted his son, who almost reached his 6’1 height, being 5’9 now, on the back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah. Fully rested. And you guys?”

“Oh, you bet, Danno!” the Fenton patriarch exclaimed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I dreamed I had that putrid, ectoplasmic apparition of a monarch right where I wanted him; with an ecto-blaster aimed right at his forehead!” Jack boasted, completely ignoring how his son suddenly lost some colour in his face.

Sipping at her own mug of coffee, Maddie chimed in, “We didn’t hear you last night. Did you come too late from college, sweetie? Did you need anything?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Although he’d got much better at lying to his parents over the years (a fact he hated), that didn’t mean he felt comfortable doing it. “Yeah, sorry. It was late when I was done studying at the university’s library, but before I could get into my dorm I realised I didn’t have the keys with me.” He explained, hating the way the lie naturally rolled off his tongue. “I came here thinking I must’ve forgotten them the last time I came to visit, but no such luck. Anyway, it was too late to return so I decided to crash. Hope that’s okay with you guys.”

His mother went over to place a kiss on his forehead, mug still in hand. “Don’t be silly, honey. This is your home! You’ll always be welcomed here.”

Jack came to stand beside his wife, a hand resting on her shoulder. “That’s right, Son. We were just a little confused. We didn't hear you coming in, that’s all.”

“Care for some toast?” Maddie offered.

“No, thanks. I already ate, besides, I’m gonna be late for class.”

“Then don’t let us keep you! See you later, Danno!” Jack said with a wave of his hand at the same time as Maddie said, “Bye, sweetie! Come back soon!” After closing the door behind him, he swiftly hid behind a nearby car to transform before leaping into the air and speeding up towards APU (Amity Park University). He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to be late.

Besides, he’d promised Tucker he would meet up with him and someone he was dying to introduce him to today.

...............................

When her alarm clock blared, Sam lazily reached a hand out from her covers to hit the snooze bottom. As the weariness wore off, she arched her back in an attempt to stretch and barely managed to cover her mouth as a yawn came to her. Yanking her red comforter aside, she got up from bed and walked towards her vanity, getting ready to start a new day.

Flopping down her chair, she hazardly opened her eyes to stare at her reflection. An over-sized Humpty Dumpty t-shirt she used to sleep hanging low from one of her shoulders; her disheveled black hair sticking out in disarray; a clammy, pale face contrasting greatly with the dark circles under her eyes… “Aren’t you a sex symbol, Sam.” She drawled sarcastically.

Well, things could only get better from there. Walking over her closet, she picked out the clothes she’d be wearing for the day and then got into the shower. Once she was out and dry, she sat back down her vanity chair and picked up her brush. People always said handling straight hair was easier, but they were wrong. Oh, they were so wrong. Untangling her onix mane was a challenge fit of Hercules himself, with all the tugging it required; case on point, whenever Paulina or Star had to work on her hair, they always marveled she wasn’t already bald.

With her hair taken care of, Sam slipped on her favourite tank top, a black one with a purple circle in its centre. Then came her pants; a pair of black shorts that were ripped at the sides she complemented with a white belt sporting a skull-shaped belt buckle. After that she slipped on a pair of thigh-length purple socks and her favourite steel toe combat boots; black with a row of three buckles on each side. When it came to accessorizing, Sam opted for her trademark black choker and bracelets and a purple opera glove on her left arm; Star recommended it, saying, “there’s just something so fashionable about asymmetry.”

Last but not least would be her make-up. Sam went for her usual style; not too over-the-top, but not too bland either. And so, she carefully applied a heavy coat of eyeliner and mascara on her eyelids and lashes, respectively; and her trademark violet lipstick. Now, the only thing left to do was the spell.

After listening intently and making sure no one was coming, Sam conjured in hushed tones, “Mutatio speciei.” With that, a swirly mist enveloped her head and, where once were her back-length inky locks framing her face, was now a different hairstyle. While the right side of her face remained the same, her left side was shaved with purple undertones, a tiny green ponytail in a purple scrunchie sticking out. Her lavender eyes had been replaced by a pair of hazel ones, and due to her hairdo, the two orbital piercings decorating her lower lobe were visible.

Satisfied with her look, she stood up from her chair, closed the door behind her, and descended the stairs to her kitchen. Yes, her kitchen. Not the one at the clan’s manor. While the large mansion located at 917 Maple Street, which the citizens of Amity Park believed to be an abandoned townsend place that could be rented for Halloween (they had to get funds from somewhere), served as her coven’s headquarters, training grounds, and shelter, the relatively lavish home in the upper class part of town was when she was raised.

In fact, every single witch had a house outside of the manor, for it was crucial to keep their identities hidden. Since having purple eyes and ebony hair was a huge giveaway of her real identity, Sam had to perform that one simple shapeshifting spell to make sure nobody ever recognised her. And now that Danny Phantom had seen her face, even if he didn’t know her real identity, all the more reason to be careful.

After her talk with the king of the Ghost Zone, Sam was almost tempted to think he was someone she could trust. Almost. Even with the explanation of their worlds depending on each other to exist, the Witch Queen still didn’t cross out the possibility of having been lied to. Phantom was known for being capable of anything if it saved the day. And lying to the leader of a tribe of magic users was sure to be nothing for him.

Even if he’d seen a lot less arrogant than he gave the impression of whenever he battled a rogue ghost, with all those puns and the constant taunting, he acted rather...humble towards her. He didn’t even show signs of animosity until she tested the waters and sneered at his kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to let her guard down around him anytime soon. If there was one thing dating that lying, good-for-nothing, Hungarian wannabe had taught her, it was that when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

After setting a carton of soy milk, a bowl with cereal and an apple down on the kitchen table, she sat down on her chair. Her dad, Jeremy Manson, read the newspaper with a steaming mug of black coffee beside him. Registering movement from the corner of his eyes, he lowered the paper. “Good morning, Sammy. Did you sleep well?”

Sam sent her dad a small smile. “Yes, Dad. How ‘bout you?”

Jeremy lifted a shoulder up, a nonchalant expression on his face. “Oh, you know… Same all, same all. It’s a bit harder to sleep when your mother’s away, planning events. But that’s how it is, isn’t it? While I oversee the company, she takes care of the social gatherings. We’re a great team like that.” He stated proudly.

“Yeah. You sure are…” Sam commented despondently. She didn’t have the heart to see what being married to a witch meant for her dad. Even though Jeremy was a true Manson, being Ida’s only child, the fact that he was a man meant he had little to no affinity to magic, and therefore, he could never be a part of their clan. The closest he got was marrying Pamela, a witch from a lesser family he somehow fell in love with. Neither Sam nor her Grandma put it past her that she’d been purposely hunting him down, since not only was he the Queen’s son, but Ida’s own father had been a successful and wealthy inventor.

Her Grandma often told her the main reason she accepted her mother was because she, somehow, made her dad happy and she’d given her the most wonderful granddaughter anyone could ask for.

Grandma Ida, on her part, always did her best to show her son how much she loved him, but their circumstances made it very difficult for them to spend time together; especially because Jeremy didn’t even know his mother was a witch. And neither did any other man involved with a woman from their clan, for that matter.

Being part of a secret, women-only tradition made it very difficult for them to have normal lives. It was imperative that the coven never died, which meant they needed children. There were only two ways of doing so: either a witch went downtown in search of a one-night-stand during her fertile days, or she used her civilian identity to start a family. The latter alternative also meant she’d have to protect herself and her children from a possible betrayal, hence, there was a special spell designed to keep their husbands in the dark when it came to their wives and daughters’ activities. In the worst case scenario, that is to say, that they’d been caught doing something suspicious or even performing magic, their partner was bound to forget all about it.

That was the reason why her dad thought Pamela was out planning social events for the sake of the company when, half of the time, she was actually in the manor. It was also the reason why he never commented on the way his daughter’s appearance would constantly change in ways it shouldn’t.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair.” He suddenly said, before taking a gulp of his coffee. “Did you use that new eco-friendly shampoo you wanted to try?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the way his father, who was incapable of remembering or realising certain things due to a spell, never failed to realise others. Especially if it concerned her. “Yeah. It’s got passion fruit, blackberries, and I don’t know what else.”

“Well, I like it!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Jeremy started, giving his daughter his full attention with a soft smile on his face, “since your mother said she’d be busy next Saturday, what do you say we go check out that new vegetarian restaurant you wanted to try out, um?”

Sam’s entire face lit up at that. “Are you serious?”

The blond man chuckled at his daughter’s child-like excitement; it’d been too long since the last time he saw it, “Yes, why not? I’m free that day and you’re always saying how much you want to go. So, what do you say? Do you have any extracurricular activities planned?”

‘Extracurricular activities.’ That was what she and her mother said whenever they talked about her role as the Witch Queen around the house. “I think I’m free, too. Sounds great, Dad.” The young woman smiled at her father warmly.

It was ironic, she couldn’t help but think. Due to all her responsibilities now and growing up, Sam never got to spend much time with her father; she was always near Pamela or her grandma. And yet, she was much closer to him, who actually made an effort to understand and encourage her interests ーespecially if Pamela wasn’t aroundー, than her mother. Then again, perhaps it was precisely because they weren’t together often that she was closer to him. Maybe she’d feel as suffocated around him otherwise.

After all, wasn’t that what people always said? ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’?

“Got any plans for today, Sammy?”

“Oh, you know, same as always. Go to class, pay attention in class, go to the library, my...extracurricular activities,” she coughed nervously at that, “come back home, and repeat.” Taking a bite of her apple, her eyes suddenly widened as she remembered something important. “Shit, I almost forgot! Today I agreed to meet up with a friend and someone he wants to introduce me to!”

Sam facepalmed herself. How could she have forgotten about that?!

“First of all, language.” Jeremy admonished her lightly. “And second, then I guess your day won’t be the ‘same as always’ after all.”

The raven-haired girl snorted at her dad’s sense of humour. Dad jokes. They weren’t her cup of tea, preferring witty remarks and dark humour, but they did the trick. Sometimes. “I guess not, Dad.”

“And who’re you meeting up with, kiddo?”

“Oh, my friend Tucker. I don’t think you know him because we mostly hang out at campus. Last week he came to me to ask me for a favour.”

“What sort of favour?” The blond middle-aged man raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“He wants to introduce me to a friend of his. Apparently, he’s writing a paper on a subject I know quite a lot of.” She was just surprised there were classes teaching her subject of expertise that she wasn’t already a member of.

“His friend’s writing a paper on environmental law? Then you probably know them already!” Jeremy stated, setting his newspaper down.

“Dad, I’m in college, not high school, remember?” She sent him an amused look. “Even in regular classes there’s tons of people I don’t even know the names of.” Sam was tempted to tell him Tucker’s friend was probably not writing about environmental law, either, but she held her tongue. Better play along.

“Well, have a nice day anyway, honey.” He pointed at the clock hanging from the wall with a knowing smirk. “You should hurry up, too.”

Following the direction his thumb pointed at, Sam barely held herself back from cursing again. Eating the remaining food in a couple of large bites, she lunged herself out of the house the moment she grabbed her purple, spider-shaped backpack from a nearby chair. Once outside, she slid her arms through the straps before adjusting them. And with that, she ran to the nearest bus stop.

She couldn’t be late.

...................

“Did you have fun last night?”

The bespectacled young man watched as his best friend all but threw himself face-first at his bed on the other side of their room. A groan was all he received as a response. With a sigh, he set his tablet down on the table, directing his full attention to the exhausted half-ghost in front of him. “Could you please repeat that? My Groan-ish is a bit rusty.”

With great effort, Danny rose his head from his pillow, shooting a tired glare at Tucker. “Not in the mood, Tuck.”

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’”. He said before getting up from his chair to grab a mug and pour Danny some coffee. An intense espresso with no milk or sugar. Just like the dolt was addicted to.

Their room was an average one. Two beds, each on either side of the room; a kitchenette as you opened the door to step inside whose only appliances they used were the fridge and the microwave, both college students being way too dangerous to be trusted with their daily food. Each of them had a little, wooden desk on their respective side to work on projects and study, and in the middle of the room was a modest table where they ate.

When they first stepped foot in, he and Danny knew the room would undergo some major changesーor as big as the campus’ rules would allow. As time went by, though, only Tucker’s side looked almost identical to his own room back home. But since Danny often ended up crashing in his lair in the Ghost Zone or back at Fenton Works, that was to be expected. Case on point, while Tucker’s side was filled to the brim with screens, computer parts, wires, and the occasional top secret ghost-hunting project; Danny’s only way of telling there’d been some kind of change since they first got the room were his clothes in his drawers, and the occasional space and rock band poster on the wall. Other than that, it couldn’t be any more impersonal.

When he offered the mug to him, Danny snatched it from his hands like a dehydrated man in the middle of the desert would snatch a water bottle. “Correction: I’m gonna take that as ‘rough night doesn’t even begin to cover it.’”

“You have no idea…” Danny said in between gulps of caffeinated goodness. “Remind me again why I thought organising a meeting with the Witch Queen on a Sunday, knowing full well I had several killer classes the next day, was a good idea?”

“Probably because the rest of your week was booked anyway.” Tucker replied offhandedly as he grabbed his chair and got it closer to Danny’s bed. Spinning it around so its back was facing his best friend, he flopped down, a smirk on his face. “Speaking of, how was it? Was the Witch Queen as much of an old troll as we suspected?”

Turning around on his back, Danny rolled his eyes. “I’d wiー” he stopped himself short; one never knew when Desiree was lurking. Clearing his throat, he went on, “I mean, if only. That would’ve made talking to her easier. But, no! She had to be a purple-eyed, hottie brunette!”

Tucker perked up at that. “Wait, she was hot?” A nod from Danny. “Dude, that’s awesome! Wait a minute. Are we talking about Paulina-from-high-school hot, or regular hot?”

“Believe me, there was nothing regular about her.”

“So she was Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

“No, they’re completely different. Lady Arcana ーyeah, that’s her name. Don’t give me that look; I’m not the one who came up with it!ー has the kind of looks that come with a warning sign: ‘you can look, but if you so much as lay a finger on me, you’re dead.’”

“Okay,” Tucker drawled, “So, again, she’s basically Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

Danny shook his head. Tucker wasn’t there, so of course he wouldn’t get it. “No. If you got on her bad side, Paulina would throw the football team at you. Lady Arcana looked like she could kill you with her bare hands.”

The technophiliac tapped his finger against his chin pensively, registering the new information. “I see, so she was drop-dead gorgeous, but in a literal sense.”

“Are her looks all you’re going to fixate on?” Danny asked flatly, before conceding, “But yes, that is a more accurate way to describe her.”

Seeing as his friend was having none of it, Tucker limited himself to raising his palms up in a placating manner. “Sorry, dude. Just trying to dissipate some of the tension coming off of you. Serious talk, now, though. How did it go?”

The blue-eyed young man ran a hand through his jet-black hair, groaning. “Fine, I guess?”

The techno geek frowned. “Fine, you guess? What’s that supposed to mean? Did she or did she not agree to help you?”

“She did.” Danny nodded, but the uneasy expression didn’t leave his face.

Now it was Tucker who wasn’t having none of it. “So? Come on, man! Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”

“I don’t know. Frostbite has warned me several times now that asking the witches for help might bite me in the ass...Not with those exact words, of course, but you get the idea.” He elaborated as he repositioned himself on the bed until he was seated on it and facing Tucker.

“So you’re afraid that might happen now.” Tucker guessed.

Danny nodded. “But that’s not all. I have the feeling I might have brought this on myself.” Before Tucker could get a word in, the halfa stopped him with a raise of his hand. “I mean, I already knew I’d be risking a potential betrayal the moment I sent that letter butー.”

“Letters,” Tucker scoffed in disbelief. “In the 21st century. Only for that I already have a feeling I would never get along with one of them.” When he noticed Danny’s withering glare directed at him for interrupting him, the teal-eyed young man smiled sheepishly at him. “Uh, sorry.”

With a roll of his eyes, Danny went on. “As I was saying, I already knew what was on the line when I wrote to her, but I had a plan, you know? If she refused, I’d just have to look for an alternative. But if she didn’t, then I would keep my guard up. But something happened.”

He took Tucker’s silence and his raised eyebrows as a sign to continue. “She agreed to come to the Ghost Zone, she and two other witches came to the Ghost Zoneー.”

“Only two?”

“That’s what I said. Anyways, as I was trying to explain the problem, she basically made it clear that the issue with the portals was none of her business and made her way to the door.”

“None of her business?” Tucker echoed in disbelief. “But of course it’s her business. If there’s a problem in the Ghost Zone, that means the Earth’s next! How could she act like she wants nothing to do with the matter?”

“But that’s just the thing!” Danny pressed. “At first glance, it looked like she didn’t know. After I explained things to her, she seemed far more willing to associate herself with me, albeit very reluctantly.”

What was it with his best friend and never making sense? “Okay, so she accepted. She’s going to help you out. Care to enlighten me in regards to what the problem seems to be?” The techno geek crossed his arms, not following.

“I was getting there!” Danny defended. “The problem is that I was supposed to go on with my life if she said no. Well, she said no, and I practically begged her to help us!”

Okay, that sounded more serious, and not only because it must’ve been a huge blow to Danny’s ego. “Why’d you do that, dude? She’d just given you your ticket out of your,” he paused, thinking better of what he was going to say, “of your second death sentence.”

The halfa just shook his head, groaning. “I don’t know, Tuck. It’s just...One second she was making her leave, and the next there was this voice in my head that panicked. There was this...this...feeling that only she could be of help. So, against all common sense, I stopped her and tried reasoning with her. And now I’m stuck working with a woman who will not hesitate to stab me in the back with her magic wand.”

“Whoa. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was fate and you two are destined to be together.” At Danny’s murderous glare, Tucker burst out laughing. “I..I’m sorry...m-man! It...it’s j-just...t-too good!” He said in between wheezes.

Danny huffed. “As if! Lady Arcana might be pretty, but she is so not my type. Too brooding, with too many trust issues, and far too willing to kill me for real. The less I have to interact with her, the better.”

Sometime during his rant, he closed his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his wall, maybe to drive the point home. When he opened them, though, he found Tucker’s smirking face. The sight unnerved him; that was not what he was expecting to see. “What?”

“Are you sure she’s not your type?” The bespectacled young man asked in a teasing tone. “‘Cause you just described Valerie, and, unless my memory fails me, she was so your type back in high school.”

His smirk only widened at his blue-eyed best friend’s dark scowl. “Shut up, Tuck.”

Tucker threw his arms up in surrender, the teasing grin never leaving his face. “I’m just saying, man. Valerie has been hellbent on vaporising you with her ecto-guns for years and that didn’t stop you from crushing on her and giving her lovesick puppy looks even after she ‘broke up’ with you for the remainder of high school.”

Danny rolled his eyes at the reminder. “Trust me, Tuck. Falling for the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park would be like falling for Vlad.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

Finally, Tucker decided to let the issue go with a shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever you say. Just don’t forget we’re meeting up with Sam in an hour.”

That took Danny aback. “With whom?”

Exasperated, Tucker rolled his eyes. “Sam.” He repeated. “You know, that friend of mine I met last year in the library? When you told me you might be working with witches to solve the portal problem I arranged for us to hang out together.”

“Okay, now I remember. What I don’t remember, though, is how this ‘Sam’ is going to be of any help.”

“Dude! Sam knows a helluva lot of stuff about the occult! Probably because she’s a Goth…” He added then, as an afterthought. “Trust me, if there’s someone who can help you take whatever the Witch Queen throws at you, that’s her.”

Danny sighed in defeat. It wouldn’t hurt to try. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be on time for once, would it?”

“No, what would hurt is making Sam wait.”

Suddenly, Danny wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

..........................

The You Mocha Me Crazy was one of Amity Park University’s hidden treasures. While most people gathered at the several Starbucks Coffee establishments spread throughout campus, only a few students knew of the Mocha’s existence or gave the quaint café the time of day.

A small store in the outskirts of campus, near the Law building, the café had more than enough to be the perfect place to relax, or hang out with friends. On the right corner of the store was the counter where people asked for their coffees, with a stand dedicated to displaying the day’s assortment of cakes, sweets, and sandwiches. On the left corner, in contrast, lay a small stage, surrounded by several tables and chairs, that was usually used for the café’s weekly Open Mic nights every Friday. On Open Mic night customers could do basically anything; read their poetry aloud, organise gigs for their bands, try some stand-up comedy… Anything, really. There weren’t organised events for each different artistic approach because the shop was well aware of its obscure status; they didn’t want to attract too much attention.

Summing up, the You Mocha Me Crazy screamed individuality and integrity, which was why Sam was hopelessly in love with the place. The fact that it also had a varied, high quality vegan menu didn’t hurt, either.

“Hi, Sam! Same as usual?” Robert, the barista that was usually manning the counter when Sam went to the café, asked her once it was her turn to order.

“Actually, I’ll start with just a macchiato with soy milk. I’m actually introducing this place to someone and I wouldn’t like to have already ordered without them here.” Sam corrected gently, smiling at him.

“You’re meeting up with someone?” The barista’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he hit the code into the cashier. “Have you found yourself a boyfriend this past week I haven’t seen you around?” He teased her goodnaturedly.

The hazel-eyed witch shook her head slowly with a small smile on her face. “Nah, I’ve been way too busy.” That wasn’t a lie. “Besides, you already know dating is the last thing on my mind at the moment.” That wasn’t a lie, either. “A friend of a friend of mine needs help writing a paper, so we’re going to meet up.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean, you made it pretty clear that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend when you turned me down.” Robert pouted. For a moment, Sam was worried he might still be hurt over it, but his teasing wink soon put her mind at ease.

She felt comfortable enough to joke around a bit herself. “Oh, please! You say the craziest things, Robert. As if I could ever choose somebody else over you; where would I get free coffee then?”

With an amused expression, the young man set her order down on the counter. “Here you go, Sam. Enjoy!”

Taking her drink, she threw him a quick, “I will, thanks!” and a generous tip as she made her way to a three chair table. Sitting down, she brought her laptop out of her backpack to work on her latest assignment to kill some time as she waited for Tucker and his friend to arrive, taking gulps of her drink now and then.

Her friendship with Tucker was an odd one. And by odd she meant they couldn’t be more different, they couldn’t have met in any weirder circumstances, and they couldn’t get along any better.

Sam met Tucker the previous year, during finals. She was busy studying at the library for her Law and Policy of Climate Change exam when this guy approached her.

He was an African American man around her age. Though he wasn’t what most people would identify as an Adonis, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, either, just...not necessarily Sam’s type. He wore thick-framed glasses, a white dress shirt under a mustard vest, fern green pants, black dress shoes, and a worn-off, red beret.

What truly was odd about their first meeting was that Tucker had tried to hit on her, and Sam didn’t even try to break his arm! When she told Paulina and Star about it the next day, the Latina was crying tears of joy while her blonde counterpart made sure their queen didn’t have a fever.

She had to stop him in his tracks the moment he tried setting up a date with her in a nearby grill. At the mere mention of her being ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, he immediately lost all interest. Despite everything, though, they started talking and, even if they couldn’t be more different ーTucker was majoring in engineering with a minor in computer science, Sam studied environmental law; Tucker was a bigger carnivore than a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Sam didn’t eat anything with a face; Tucker believed in progress through technology, Sam was all about an ecological agenda…ーthey hit it off just fine. After that day, they often texted each other or hung out around campus.

Today, however, was the first time she’d be meeting his famous best friend and roommate; Danny.

Sam was woken up from her reverie by the chime of the door’s bell. Looking up, she noticed Tucker, who happened to be wearing the very same outfit from the day they met, and a guy who happened to tower over him. Oh, great! She was going to be surrounded by giants!

Once they stepped foot inside the café Sam had told him to go to, which had to be on the edge separating Earth from the Ghost Zone, judging by how far from the dorms it was; Tucker looked around until he spotted a purple, gloved hand waving at him. There she was. Nudging at Danny with his shoulder, he pointed at the table where Sam was at before waving at her himself and making their way over.

Taking a good look at who she guessed was Danny, Sam had to admit, he looked kinda cute. With his unkempt jet-black hair that was either natural or a product of countless hours styling it in front of the mirror; the defined lines of his body, the awkwards yet somewhat assured way he carried himself…

The moment they made it to her table she got up. “Took you guys long enough. Did you have trouble finding the place?” She said as she pulled Tucker in for a hug. Normally she wasn’t one for physical affection, but she hadn’t seen him in over a month, so it wouldn’t kill her to be a bit more affectionate for once.

“Well, we would’ve arrived sooner if you’d told us this place exists in its own place of existence.” Tucker rolled his eyes as he broke the hug, his hands resting on her forearms. “I think coming here should qualify as physical exercise; my high school gym teacher would be so proud!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye in mock nostalgia.

While Sam rolled her eyes with a knowing smile on her face, she noticed Tucker’s friend chuckling beside him. “Please, Tuck...Knowing Tetslaff, she wouldn’t be proud unless you came here riding a monocycle at the same time as you juggle snakes.”

“Sad but true.”

“You must be Danny,” Sam addressed him for the first time since they entered the café. She held out her hand for him to shake, “Tucker has told me a lot about you.”

“Should I be worried?” Danny joked with a small grin as he took her hand.

The moment their hands touched, however, a familiar sensation ran through their spines. There was something familiar about the, seemingly, natural cold radiating from Danny’s body; and an unexplainable wave of heat coursed through his body the moment he touched Sam’s skin.

Now that he took a closer look, there was something familiar about her as a whole. As if they’d already met. Which was strange, because he was sure he’d never be able to forget a girl with a look as unique as Sam’s.

Before he could ask her, however, Sam beat him to it. “Have I met you before? ‘Cause you look really familiar…”

Somehow, that made more sense. With an uneasy smile, Danny tried to will the embarrassed blush creeping up on his face in line. “My name’s Danny Fenton. The Fentons, the ghost-hunters, are my parents. They...appear on TV often.” Although, in their case, it’s never something to brag about, he thought to himself.

Understanding seemed to dawn on her, for she exclaimed. “Oh, that must be it! Well, Danny, I’m Sam. Sam Manson.”

“As in Samantha?” Danny was immediately confused when Sam’s lazy grin morphed itself into a nasty frown.

“Yes. But call me anything other than Sam and I will bury you six feet under.” Something about the way she said it made him understand she would keep good on her threat. Why was he only meeting dangerous girls lately?

Looking down at their still intertwined hands, an impish grin on his face, Tucker thought it was the perfect time to intervene. “If you guys are done memorising each other’s footprints through physical contact, I’m starving.” He turned to wait in line. “Come on, Sam. You promised this place had food that’s not necessarily green and leafy.”

Looking down themselves and realising they were still shaking hands, the two young adults snatched them away, as if they��d been burned, muttering awkward apologies to each other.

“Yeah, come on...Let me show you what they have.”

As the three waited in line, Danny cleared his throat to get Sam’s attention in an effort to alleviate the sudden tension Tucker’s comment had caused. “Just so you know, I’m not here because I wanted Tucker’s help at picking up girls; I really need your help writing this paper. The topic is a bit hard to find in a school library and Tucker said you really know your stuff, so…”

Sam could only snort at his awkwardness. There was something endearing about his dorkiness, not like she’d ever admit it, though. She meant it when she said she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Besides, cute dork or not, Danny was too...normal, for her taste. “Oh, relax. I know that already. I wasn’t suspecting you of having ulterior motives; don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, do you seriously expect me to believe anyone would ask Tucker for help when it comes to picking up girls?” Putting a hand on her hip, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Please, I’m more popular with the ladies than he is.”

“You don’t say.” A devilish grin made its way to Danny’s face, who was looking at Tucker with what could only be described as endless mischief.

Having heard Sam’s uncalled for comment and sensing Danny’s unforgiving eyes burning a hole on his head, Tucker huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. “Okay, okay! That one cute girl did give you her number instead of me. But I’m not going to complain about not being dating material to a cute lesbian; that’s pitiful.”

“Actually...she was bi.” Sam corrected him, almost doubling over in laughter at the sight of Tucker’s eyes comically snapping open. By her side, Danny was doing a poor job trying to stifle his own snickers. “She just wasn’t into you.”

Under Tucker’s withering glare, Danny cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Once he got his laughter under control, he turned to Sam. “Oh, you’re comfortable enough to make jokes at Tucker’s expense! Either you two are good friends...or you two literally just met.”

Turning away from them in an indignant huff, Tucker muttered. “Introducing you two to each other has been a terrible mistake.”

Neither could help bursting out laughing at their friend’s comment. Sharing mischievous smiles, eyes twinkling in amusement, Danny and Sam stared at each other. Maybe they weren’t each other’s first choice for company, but something told them something good would come out of that coffee date, even if it wasn’t really a coffee date since, well, they weren’t looking for a partner in each other. But, hey, they both could use a new friend.

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danurso · 4 years

Text

The Goddess and the Minotaur AU

*A group of four adventurers wander on a labyrinth inside of a empty island in the middle of nowhere, in search of an extremely valuable treasure for their leader *

Sky: are you sure it's here?

Russel: yeah, we've been looking around this damn labyrinth for hours.

Dove: also, i think we're lost, and if the rumors about that monster are real, we shouldn't stay here for much more.

Cardin: you're all just a bunch of lazy cowards, we spent too much time to find this place and I refuse to leave without getting to the center of it first.

Russel: for what!? Just so you can get a hot wife!?

Cardin: haven't you heard the stories you idiot!? This isn't just any woman we've seen before, we're talking about one of the three goddesses of beauty, who got trapped in this labyrinth and is being held hostage by a terrible minotaur.

Sky: we know these stories already, but they're so old that this "goddess" is probably an old hag at this point.

Cardin: i doubt it, they say she never ages so she's always at her peak.

Dove: which makes sense if she's the goddess of beauty.

Russel: i still don't think that's worth the effort though just to find a wife.

Cardin: I'm the future heir of the winchester house! And if i'm going to have a wife, i'll accept nothing less than a goddess to marry me!

Sky: *deadpans* that if she even accepts to marry you.

Cardin: don't worry about that, after I save her from the beast of the labyrinth, she'll surely fall for me, and even if she doesn't. . .well *grins* let's just say that there are other methods i can use to persuade her.

Dove: damn man, that's dark even for you.

Cardin: i'm not paying you guys to judge me, i'm paying you to help me.

Dove: *sighs* okay, fine.

Cardin: good. Anyone else has anything to add?

Russel: nothing, except that we should've left already.

Cardin: we're not leaving until I find my wife!

Russel: just marry someone else! I doubt this goddess is so beautiful to the point of risking our-

Russel's speech comes to a halt when the group arrives at a large open garden, covered with grass, some trees and a small lake in the middle. But it wasn't the sight of the garden that robbed them from their ability to speak, instead what did so was a beautiful girl with long white hair, icy blue eyes wearing a pure white dress and standing next to the lake.

CRDL: *completely speechless*

Weiss: . . .huh? What a surprise, it's been a few years since I've last seen a human face.

Russel: . . .is. . .is she the. . .

Dove: goddess? i don't know, but i've never seen anyone so beautiful before.

Sky: *nods, eyes still glued on her*

Weiss: Tell me, what is your business here? do so and leave at once.

Cardin: *approaching her* goddess of beauty, i am cardin winchester, son of frank and katherine winchester from the winchester house. *kneels, taking her hand* and i came here to ask for your hand in marriage. *tries to kiss her hand*

Weiss: *pulls her hand back* so that is what you're here for? *sighs* Why am I not surprised? I'm sorry but i must refuse your proposal.

Cardin: w-what!? *gets up* you can't do this to me!

Weiss: why not? I clearly already did.

Cardin: I am from the winchester house! One of the most powerful and influential families of vale!

Weiss: i could not care any less for that. You are just another tiny man who thinks you are powerful just because people know your name and your family has a decent amount of treasury.

Cardin: *clenches jaw*

Weiss: You are nothing but an entitled human that thinks just because you were born in a high social status the world has to bend on its knees for you. I would never even entertain the thought of marrying someone like you.

Cardin: SHUT UP! *draws his mace* YOU'RE COMING WITH ME! AND YOU ARE GOING TO LEARN SOME MANNERS AS WELL! OR ELSE I'LL SMASH THIS PRETTY FACE OF YOURS!!

Weiss: Oh? So you're going to force me to come with you?

Cardin: YES!!!

Weiss: . . .farewell then, shall we go?

Sky: wait, what?

Dove: so. . .you're just going to come with us like that?

Weiss: yes, i'm an unarmed girl against four armed men, and despite being a goddess i'm not an avid fighter like my older sister, therefore any resistance that i tried to put up would be futile.

Cardin: good thing you know that, at least you're not only looks but you have some brains as well.

Weiss: unfortunately though, i don't think he's going to like the idea of me leaving.

Cardin: he? Who are you talking- *feels a tap on his shoulder* what is it!?

When Cardin looked to the side to see who tapped him, he saw his three men looking behind him, they all were completely pale and wore terrified expressions. When he himself turned around, all the color in his body vanished and was replaced by the same pale tone of his comrades, they all stood still staring at the nine feet tall creature standing behind them with a huge white sword in hand. It had a human body with several scars and with only a red tattered cloth covering his lower half, but his face looked like it was made of metal, and it was surrounded by a long golden mane with a pair of horns coming out of it.

???: uhr. . .

Cardin: w-what the. . .

Sky: *eyes wide* this is-

Dove: no way. . .

Russel: MINOTAUR!!!!

Weiss: oh gods, you shouldn't have said that.

Cardin: *looks back to her* what!?

???: RRRHAAAAAARHH!!!! *swings his sword at them, hitting the ground and making a crater and making the group fly away*

CRDL: AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!

Weiss: *sighs* you had to call him like that didn't you? He hates being called by that name.

???: *charging at cardin and swinging his sword again* RRHAAARH!!!!

Cardin: *barely dodges* what the hell!? How strong is this thing!?

???: GRRR. . .

Cardin: *getting up* goddammit, hey! Come help-

_RDL: *already running away*

Cardin: HEY!!! COME BACK HERE YOU COWARDS!!!

???: RRHHAAAAAARH!!!! *swings his sword again, this time hitting cardin and sending him to the other side of the garden*

Cardin: GHAACK!! goddammit. . .we're not over yet!

???: RRHAAARHH!!!! *charging at him again*

Cardin: shit! *runs away*

???: RRAAAARH!!! *chases after*

Weiss: *sighs*

*a few minutes later*

Weiss: *sitting near the lake*

???: *walks into the garden and sits in front of weiss*

Weiss: so, are they gone?

???: un *nods*

Weiss: will we ever have to deal with them again?

???: uh *shakes head*

Weiss: good.

???: . . . .

Weiss: . . .so?

???: *tilts head to the side* ?

Weiss: for how long do you intend to keep the mask on? You know i don't like it.

???: ah. . .sorry.

He reaches out for the metal mask, taking it off and revealing his human face. Well, human if you ignore the black sclera around the red iris of his eyes. Weiss noticed the down look on his face when he took the mask off, and she had a pretty good idea of why that was.

Weiss: what's wrong?

???: . . .

Weiss: Is it because they called you by that name

???: *nods* me is monster.

Weiss: *sighs* what is you name?

???: me. . .?

Weiss: yes, of course it's you. Is there anyone else here for me to be talking to?

???: my name. . .jaune.

Weiss: Yes, and what are you jaune?

Jaune: me. . .is weiss guardian.

Weiss: correct, you are my guardian, my protector. Now tell me, what does a monster do?

Jaune: monster. . .destroys, and hurts.

Weiss: and what did you do when those people tried to hurt me.

Jaune: me protected weiss.

Weiss: exactly, you are my protector, not a monster. Understood?

Jaune: *with a smile, nods* un!

Weiss: good. so? What were you doing earlier when those guys showed up? *deadpans* just please don't tell me you were going after butterflies again.

Jaune: *happily nods* un!

Weiss: *facepalms* of course you were.

Jaune: oh! Me remember something! *gets up, running into one of the pathways of the labyrinth*

Weiss: ?

Jaune: *comes back with an excited smile and a big circle of flowers in hands* Here! Here!

Weiss: what is this?

Jaune: *puts on his head* flower crown!

Weiss: oh, you made it?

Jaune: *nods* un! Spring started. . .pretty flowers grow. . .me made crown for weiss. *hands it to weiss*

Weiss: well, as much as I appreciate the gesture, I think it's too big for my head.

Jaune: oh. . . *bummed*

Weiss: don't worry. *puts around her neck* see? It's still a pretty flower necklace.

Jaune: *back to the happy mood*

Weiss: what about you? Where is your crown?

Jaune: me only made for weiss.

Weiss: Do you want to make some more for us?

Jaune: *nods excited* un! un!

Weiss: good. Let's go then.

Jaune: *gets up and picks weiss up, sitting her on his shoulder and skipping away*

Weiss: hey! Don't skip, It shakes too much.

Jaune: un! *nods and stops skipping*

Weiss: better. . .and jaune?

Jaune: uh?

Weiss: *plants a kiss on his cheek* Thank you for protecting me.

Jaune: *with a small blush and a huge smile* me will always protect weiss!

Weiss: *with a small smile of her own* Of course, I'm sure you will. Now let's get those flowers.

Jaune: un! *nods and starts to skip*

Weiss: And no skipping!

Jaune: un!

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #weissgold #rwby whiteknight #rwby white knight #whiteknight #white knight #jaune x weiss #jaune arc x weiss schnee #cardin winchester #ski lark #dove bronzewing #russel #inspired by asterios and euryale from FGO #The Goddess and The Minotaur AU

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sinsbymanka · 4 years

Note

Female Hawke/Varric Tethras + kiss prompt 'on a scar' and it's one of Hawke's scars? :3

Thank you for the prompt @serphena!! For @dadrunkwriting and in honor of my Varricmance March Madness...

The Crossbow Goes or I Do

Words: 2,104 Rating: Teen Chapter 1/1 Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, They did their pining, ten years of it apparently, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Mutually Unrequited, Friends to Lovers, Past Bianca Davri/Varric Tethras, Hawke is a menace, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Flirting, Banter, POV Varric Tethras, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Elodie Hawke is a menace that fits just right into Varric's life and keeps him on his toes. After The Incident with misfiring Bianca, Varric knows he'll let her get away with anything....

...except it's hard to let her get away with leaving.

Read on AO3

Varric doesn’t know how The Incident happened.

Well, that’s not strictly accurate. He knows Hawke the way he knows the best ways to sneak around the Guild Hall, where to purchase the good ink, and how much it’ll cost to bribe Corf when Rivaini gets carried away. He’s well aware of what she gets up to when she’s unsupervised.

Hell, usually when she’s supervised too. The woman is a force of nature and they’re just along for the ride.

What does surprise him about The Incident, as it’s known forever after, is how quickly it happened. He swears up and down every time it comes up in conversation afterward he only looks away from Hawke for a moment. One second, he’s peering down at the short story that eventually became his bestselling Hard in Hightown series, the next…

The sound of a bolt rattling into Bianca’s chamber, the whoosh of another flying through the air, followed quickly by his large, ornate, absolutely atrocious dressing mirror shattering into a million pieces.

He’s better off without it. Honestly, the most upsetting part of the whole sequence of events is that he isn’t holding Bianca.

Varric doesn’t look up from his papers. The room is completely quiet.

“Hawke.”

“Varric.”

He appreciates the deadpan delivery of his name. He really does. Odd how quickly Hawke wormed her way into that special, stupid part of his heart that forgives almost anything. She’s barely off the boat at this moment, fresh faced and lively if a bit too hungry looking.

He’s known her for a few months. And, bizarrely, he feels like he’s known her all his life.

“That sounded like Bianca,” he observes, as if he wouldn’t know the way Bianca sounds anywhere.

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Hawke chirps. “Somebody told me that Bianca is a delicate, complicated lady who can only be fired by one specific dwarf who was trained in her secrets by an Antivan Crow whose life the dwarf saved.”

He finally looks up to take in the damage. Mirror shattered, bolt in the wall behind it, and Hawke standing shamelessly in the middle of the room cradling his crossbow.

“Somebody also told you not to touch her,” he adds pointedly.

Hawke grins from ear to ear. “We’ve already established somebody is full of shit.”

He discards his journal and glides back across the room, arms out and a carefully maintained disgruntled look on his features. “Come here, beautiful. What’d she do to you?”

Hawke takes a step back, eyes widening in clear afront. “What did I do to her? Varric, she’s drawn blood!”

“I told you she’s a sensitive lady. Difficult to handle. Little rough around the edges.”

“She’s a menace Varric.” Hawke relinquishes the crossbow and examines her fingers with a wrinkled nose. On her left ring finger is a nice cut, blood welling and dripping down her palm. “Look what she did!”

There’s a smear of crimson on the trigger. He wipes it away with his shirt sleeve. “You got your fingers stuck in the gears. She taught you a lesson about respecting other people’s property.”

“It’s going to scar!”

“Let me send an urgent note down to Darktown for Blondie. He’ll be thrilled to come stitch together your papercut.”

She laughs and puts one palm on the curve of her hip, leaning into his space. “I’m telling you Varric, the crossbow goes or I do.”

Something lurches in his stomach, a hint of fear he doesn’t quite have a name for, a bit of knee jerk panic at the thought of losing the last bit of her he truly has. But Hawke’s joking, Hawke is always joking, he can see the sparkle in her blue eyes and the twitch at the corner of her lips.

He lets his own tip up in the same playfulness. “You better clean up this mess before you go.”

She sighs in defeat and plops her finger between her pink lips, sucking on it thoughtfully while she looks at the chaos she’s caused. Varric spends a second too long examining the way her cheeks hollow around her finger.

He’s only a man, after all, no matter how taken he is.

“How much bad luck is it to break a mirror again?” she asks.

Varric doesn’t believe in human superstitions, or much of anything beyond the worth of his coin or the power of a well-loved lie, but he answers her. “Seven years at least. And just in time for our expedition too.”

Another moment of silence. Then one single, elegant curse. “Bollocks.”

Somehow, Varric gets stuck with the job of keeping Hawke in bed.

Privately, he thinks Blondie must be out to get him for humiliating the mage in more than one card game. Otherwise Varric wouldn’t get saddled with the most impossible job in Kirkwall. Their newly crowned Champion, and what a laugh that is, sits in her opulent bed wearing nothing but the rattiest shirt he’s ever seen. It’s so large it hangs off one freckled shoulder.

Varric wonders if it isn’t one of Carver’s old hand-me-downs. It’s better than thinking Hawke was plucking her nightclothes out of some moldy trunk in Lowtown, anyway.

Her icy eyes glare daggers into him from where she’s propped against the headboard. “Varric, if you don’t help me out of this bed I will chop Bianca into firewood.”

“Remember what happened the last time you got into a tussle with Bianca?” Varric asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I still have the scar!” she protests, trying weakly to push herself up off the bed. The covers slip, revealing the bandages wrapped around Hawke’s waist. Before Anders got his hands on her, bandages like those were the only thing holding Hawke’s guts inside her.

Varric knows. He put them on.

“You’re gonna have a better one now. Comes with a heroic story and everything.” A story where Varric stands, clutching his crossbow, helpless and afraid as a sword pierces Hawke’s body and hoists her off her feet. A story where she summons a fistful of fire to smother the Arishok as she’s impaled on his blade.

Varric’s still covered in a cold sweat and it’s been four days. Andraste’s ass, what would he have done if…?

But it’s not worth thinking about. He can’t face it in this bright bedroom, with Hawke and the mutinous gleam in her eyes. She swings them from his face to the window, her expression wistful.

It tugs at his heartstrings, it really does. Hawke has barely spent a night in this mansion in Hightown since they dragged Leandra’s body from the monster’s pit and held a quiet, solemn funeral at the Chantry. She bunks at a spare cot in Anders’ clinic, crashes on the moldy old chaise in Fenris’ mansion, falls asleep in Merrill’s bed while Daisy sits in front of her damned mirror all night.

But, more often than not, she’s in Varric’s bed and he’s in his armchair. Or she falls asleep in the armchair and refuses to be moved. Varric should complain, it’s ridiculous that he’s sharing one suite of rooms while she’s got a whole damn house, but he doesn’t. He can’t.

He knows what it’s like to live in a mausoleum to the dead.

In truth, Hawke has not come home to stay since it stopped being a home, and now she’s trapped there with her guts shoved back in and a title she could care less for.

“Play a game of Diamondback with me,” he cajoles. “You win, I’ll risk my chest hair and get you into the garden against the doctor’s orders.”

Hawke bites her lip and considers his offer, narrowing her eyes. “You cheat.”

“And if you pay attention, you may learn something to improve your own lackluster technique.” He pulls the cards from his pocket and hops up, in a painfully undignified fashion, onto her ridiculously high bed. The action brings a spark of humor to her gaze.

“I won’t be distracted by your ridiculous cleavage today, serah,” she teases, watching him shuffle the cards. In the brief moment of silence, Varric catches the way she runs her thumb over her finger, tracing the small silver scar Bianca left all those years ago. It’s a habit he’s noticed with fondness when she’s plotting, and it should worry him to see her scheming…

But honestly, he’d rather have her scarred and scheming than not have her at all.

They stand on the docks with the world on fire around them when Varric finally runs out of things to say.

There’s a joke here... somewhere. He struggles to find it while Hawke stares over his head at the ruined landscape of Kirkwall. He could say something about how she sure knows how to make an exit, but the thought of her exit sticks in his throat, deep in his chest.

Kirkwall without Hawke makes no sense. Varric without Hawke makes no sense, and when did that happen?

She’s leaving and he’s staying. It’s what they need to do. She’ll be free as a bird to ignite the revolution she’s become the figurehead of, thanks to Blondie, and he’ll be here to confuse and confound the authorities while he tries to put his home back together.

But, somehow, it feels like his home is about to get on Isabela’s ship.

“Look on the bright side, Varric.” He looks up into Hawke’s face. She’s got her best Champion smile plastered on, the one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’ve almost burned through those seven years of bad luck, right?”

The mirror. Her face without the wrinkles of worry at the corner of her eyes, on her forehead, Bianca in her arms and a smile on her face. Varric’s chest constricts painfully.

The Hanged Man is gone. Hawke is leaving. All he’s got is Bianca on his back and a pile of trouble again.

“You’ll always have the scar though,” he jokes weakly.

She looks down at her hands. Varric wonders if she can see blood on them, even though she’s done everything she could have. The scar from her run in from Bianca is merely a thin white line across her finger, but his eyes go there immediately.

He doesn’t know what possesses him, but it feels right to snatch that hand out of the air. Long fingers curl immediately over his leather gloves and her blue eyes flick to his face.

It’s a bad idea, but he’s too committed to stop now. He brings her knuckles to his lips like she’s a fairytale princess instead of the biggest menace he’s ever known, like he’s a knight instead of a cheating scoundrel. His lips brush over that thin scar softly before he pulls away, looking up into Hawke’s eyes.

She swallows, hard, and Varric swears he sees tears in her eyes behind a watery smile. Varric’s words are still missing, lost somewhere in the rubble around them, but he has to try. “Hawke-”

She pulls her hand from his and drops it to the side. “Well Varric,” she begins behind her brittle smile. “I’ve been telling you for years. That crossbow goes or I do.”

For a brief, insane moment Varric considers slinging his beloved Bianca over his shoulder and into the harbor. It passes just as Hawke stoops to envelop him in her too long arms. He just catches her whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah,” Varric swallows his own bitter emotion. “Me too, Elodie.”

That makes her laugh and lightly punch his shoulder as she withdraws. He barely gets a look at her tearstained face before she flees up the gangplank and onto the boat, leaving him bereft.

“If you were waiting for an opportune moment, you have missed it,” Fenris remarks acidicly behind him.

Varric ignores the remark and the ridiculous insinuation behind it as Fenris appears in his line of sight. His love life is complicated enough, after all. “I can afford to let her go, she doesn’t owe me five sovereigns.”

The familiar, immediate refrain is almost comforting. “I’m good for it.”

Varric huffs a small, broken laugh. “No you’re not.”

“You are not incorrect,” Fenris finally admits. The elf casts a look behind him for a moment before adjusting the pack over his shoulder. “I wish you well, my friend.”

The bastard has enough decency not to add Varric will need it. “Watch her back, Broody.”

“I will attempt to do so,” Fenris murmurs, shoving past him. “Although nobody does it as well as you.”

Varric watches him go with a heavy weight in his stomach.

That is exactly what he’s afraid of.

#manka writes #dadrunkwriting #varric tethras #female hawke #elodie hawke #female hawke/varric tethras #dragon age #dragon age 2 #varricmance march madness

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 4 years

Text

Destiny Calling: Chapter 4

"I cannot believe—" "ow" "How you didn't tell them once— " "Arwen, there is a head under there." You winced as your sister roughly brushed your hair "How could you not mention you were an elf!? Or at least removed the cloak!? I'm sure Aragorn did!" She said. "He did! I just... Felt out of place. I responded to seeing four strangers by pulling up my hood, out of plain awkwardness I never removed it" you admitted. "Did you at least speak elvish in front of them?" Arwen asked. "Yes." You said. "Well that's good, they won't be completely oblivious to every aspect of you." She sighed. "Arwen, when you are on the road trying to not die, formalities tend to be absent." You said. "Clearly." She sighed, setting the brush down. "Your dress is on your bed." She sighed. "Why can't I just wear-" "Do not start with me. Remember I helped you get here." She halted. "You sound less and less like a sister and more like a mother." You sighed.

You looked at the dress, it's blue being soft and nearly matching what your sister usually wore. You grimaced but put it on, putting on your silver crown before walking out. "I didn't have to fight you. Thank the gods." Arwen said. You rolled your eyes. "They're out in the courtyard, go and greet them." She said. One night had passed since the incident, you feeling incredibly anxious. You were sure the trees must've tired of your constant asking of "are they okay? Tell me they're alive". You decided to leave nature alone this morning, rather than pester it again.

Aragorn felt slight relief when he saw your horse. Sam seemed very anxious about Frodo, pacing a lot as Merry and Pippin seemed more... Vocal about their anxieties. Aragorn had to sit through hours of "BUT ARE YOU SURE Y/N IS EVEN TRUSTWORTHY!?" From Merry. Pippin didn't seem to distrust you as much though. Aragorn suspected that you had spoken to Pippin at one point. You actually did go off with him to find herbs for a nasty cut that Merry got after he tripped. It was plausible that Pippin got to know you in that small amount of time.

Aragorn sighed as Merry was ranting over "Who goes on a journey for almost a week, and doesn't remove their hood the entire time!?"Pippin looked at Aragorn and then sighed. "Merry, there isn't anything to worry about with her. She left with Frodo because she was trying to save him, not because she had a plan to kill him." Pippin defended. Merry looked over. "Well— Woah." Merry paused as Arwen walked over. "Your friend is fine. He's alive. Asleep, but still alive." She said softly. "Where is he!?" Sam asked. "I will take you to him. A...Strider, Y/n is fine as well, I found her before she could be seriously hurt." Arwen said. "Where—" You walked out, seeing Aragorn. Sam and Merry gaped, seeing you without your cloak. "She...Was an elf?" Sam gaped as you hugged Aragorn.

"I never removed my cloak because it was awkward to do so by the point I knew all of you." You said. Sam locked onto the silver crown upon your head. "Princess..." He muttered. "I told you that you should have mentioned your status." Arwen muttered. "You're a princess!?" Merry gaped. "Well... What is royal status, really?" You said nervously, earning a snort from Aragorn. "Don't get me started on you." Arwen huffed. He straightened up and you sighed. "I didn't actually intend on hiding my identity Sam. I just—" "She felt incredibly awkward around us. She put up a cold front but she's actually nice." Pippin explained to Merry. You smiled. "Precisely." You nodded. "Just what did you two talk about while getting herbs?" Aragorn asked you.

"You." Arwen said, tapping his shoulder. "Me?" Aragorn asked. "Father wants you at that meeting. Clothes are already set out—" "Oh no." He breathed. "Do not make a scene like Y/n. I swear you two are becoming more and more like each other every passing day." Arwen muttered. "Where's Gandalf?" You asked. "Room next to Frodo's." She said. "I'll take Sam then. Show Merry and Pippin where the food is." you said.

You walked with Sam. "I didn't mean to conceal my identity mister Samwise... I am sorry." You apologized. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you or Strider. And it's alright to just call me Sam" He said, walking with a small frown. You sighed, opening the door to Frodo's room. "Make yourself comfortable mister Sam. If you need anything, ask a healer to point the way." You said. He nodded and you left, walking into Gandalf's room. He was smoking out of a pipe next to the window. "Saruman betrayed us." you said, closing the door behind you. "Indeed." Gandalf nodded. "What do we do?" You asked. "We attend the meeting. We hear what everyone has to say. We come up with a plan and we destroy that ring." He said. You nodded and sighed, messing with your dress's skirt. "Does he know of your plan?" He asked, referring to Aragorn's ignorance to your plan to leave with the group to destroy the ring. "No... He doesn't." You admitted. "What if he's in the group?" Gandalf asked. You swallowed hard. "Who all is going to be there at this meeting?" You asked. "Other elves, men and the dwarves." He said. "Men? Men from where?" you asked. "Gondor." Was all Gandalf said before you felt this shock go through you.

Foresight. Of course on the mention of Gondor. You had this vision of ten people, all faces blurry except two. Yours and a man from Gondor. Your vision seemed to shift and it was of you fighting in battle, the man dead in front of you. You stumbled forward, Gandalf catching you. "One of the men in the fellowship... He's destined for death." you whispered. "Who?" Gandalf asked. "His face was blurry... I couldn't tell you." You breathed. You sat down on the edge of the bed. "Someone in that fellowship is destined to die, whoever he is, is a man. Not an elf or a dwarf. It was a man." you said. "Do you need water?" Gandalf asked, noticing your pale face. You nodded and he picked up a silver pitcher, pouring you water into a glass. He handed it to you and you drank. "Breathe my dear girl, breathe." He said. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Do you think it was—" "No... no. I distinctly recall lighter hair than his." You said. "If you meet him tomorrow, will you recognize him?" Gandalf asked. "Probably." You nodded. "Try to soothe your nerves. Find Aragorn, he always seemed to calm you down." Gandalf said. You nodded, standing up. "Do you think Frodo will wake soon?" You asked. "Yes... I suspect within a few hours." He said. You nodded before walking to the door. "Gandalf?" You asked. He looked over. "I'm glad you're alive." You said. He smiled. "I'm glad you kept them safe." He said before you left.

You walked to your room, making sure your bag was still packed. You sighed sitting on the edge of your bed, putting your face in your hands before you heard the door open. You looked over to see Aragorn. "Gandalf said you seemed shaken up over something." He said. You sighed. "Men from Gondor are coming." You said. Aragorn rose a brow, sitting next to you. "I see...Well everyone has been calling me 'Strider' since—" "I had a vision... One of them is destined to die." You said. Aragorn looked at you, surprised by your prophetic words. "That's been happening more often. Visions..." He noticed. You nodded. "There is a change coming. Something big. And some sort of higher power clearly wants me aware." You said. He looked at you and then looked down to see your bag. "Haven't unpacked yet?" He asked. You seemed to tense up, which of course he noticed.

"Y/n, what are you not telling me?" He asked. Damn it. You could do a lot of things. Lying to Aragorn? Not one of them."...When the fellowship is formed, no matter who is escorting it, I am leaving with them." You said. He frowned. "Y/n, are you insane?" He asked. "My father failed." You said. Aragorn sighed. "There were two people there that day and my father did nothing. Instead he let Isildur walk away." You said. "What makes you think it will be different?" He asked. "Because I want to have a future with you. If we fail, the world will fall into the hands of a sadistic monster." You said. Aragorn looked at you. "Y/n... You've brought up our future a lot as of late, is there a particular reason why?" Aragorn asked. You sighed and shook your head. "I keep having this feeling... Something is going to change. Something is shifting. And now Gandalf is saying there's a possibility of a new age about to be ushered in." You said. "What is the age of?" He asked. "The Age of Men." You answered. "...I see.." he said. You sighed.

"This foresight... It was supposed to be a gift but right now at this particular moment it's more of a burden than anything." You murmured. Aragorn pressed a kiss to the side of your head. "Y/n, I ask that you at least try to spend some of these days in Rivendell as peaceful as you can. You need the rest." He said. You smiled softly at him, holding his hands. "I always find peace when you're present." You said. You absolutely adored the man sitting next to you, and judging by the love in his eyes he was completely in love with you too. Aragorn seemed to look at your hands. "If you leave with that group... I will leave with them too." he said. You frowned. "Aragorn I can't ask that of you—" "You're not asking me to do anything. I'm volunteering." He said softly. You sighed. "Aragorn... What if I lose you?" You asked. "And what if I lose you?" he asked. You sighed again. "I'm not stopping you am I?" You asked. "No." He admitted.

You shook your head. "I can't stop you from making your own choices..." You said. "Can we get something to eat now? We've survived off of lembas bread for so long, I'm beginning to forget what other foods taste like." He asked making you laugh. You nodded. You walked out of your room before you saw Sam running past you. "What's going on?" you asked. "Frodo's awake!" Sam said. Aragorn walked in, standing next to you. Frodo looked over at you with slight surprise. "Elf- you're an elf?" He asked. You nodded. "I apologize for not saying anything before." you said. "It's fine... Really- you...You saved my life." He said. You smiled softly. "Actually my father did most of the work." you said. "Your father?" he asked. "Lord Elrond." Gandalf said. You heard footsteps and turned to see your father. "Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins." Elrond said. Frodo sat up, looking at him. "May we speak?" He asked. Frodo slowly stood up, walking out with Elrond.

"Come on. I believe food was mentioned." you whispered. "Right." Aragorn nodded. "Sam, have you eaten?" You asked. "...no." He said. "Come on then. Rest for a bit." You said softly. He looked at Frodo's bed and then you before nodding. "I don't know my way around... Do you mind?" He asked. "I'm happy to be your guide mister Samwise." you said with a joking salute. He smiled as you walked. "So are you really a princess?" He asked making Aragorn chuckle. He walked with the two of you. "That's what the coronation was for." you said. "You have to be coronated to be a princess?" Sam asked. "Oh yes. It's quite long. And very, very boring." Aragorn said making you laugh. "That sums it up perfectly." You said chuckling. "You were at the coronation?" Sam asked Aragorn. "Yes. As I recall he started taking bets on which guard I was going to make laugh first." You said with a grin. "Did he win?" Sam asked. "Indeed I did." Aragorn said making you laugh.

You all ate, Sam relaxing for a little bit before it was clear he got in his own mind. Would they be able to make it home? Would he be able to keep Frodo safe? How bad was this going to be? Was this truly over? Well, Sam was freaking out now as he packed his bag the following morning, trying to remember what he might be forgetting. Lord knows Merry or Pippin wouldn't know. "No...What have I forgotten?" He asked himself, unaware that Frodo was watching. "Packed already?" Frodo asked, making Sam jump. "No harm in being prepared." Sam said, turning back to his bag. "I thought you wanted to see the elves, Sam." Frodo said. Sam looked down. " I did. It's just..." Sam sighed. "We did what Gandalf wanted, didn't we? We got the Ring this far, to Rivendell...and I thought... seeing as how you're on the mend, we'd be off soon. Off home." He said. "We did what we set off to do..." Frodo agreed, looking at the ring in his palm. "The ring will be safe in Rivendell... I am ready to go home." Frodo said.

You sighed, leaning against the column waiting for the potential fellowship members. "You seem nervous." Aragorn said, his hands on your waist as he spoke in your ear. "Having a fellowship that is potentially saving the world, has a tendency to do that." You muttered. You were trying not to think about your previous vision. A white steed rode in with a familiar face making you gasp. "Oh here we go." Aragorn muttered before you sprinted off. You rushed down, hugging the traveler's next. The elf laughed. "Y/n! What's it been, forty years?" Legolas asked. "That's rubbish, I've written to you!" you said. He chuckled before looking over. "Ar—" "SHH!" you both halted. You both nodded to the hobbits walking around. "Strider!" Legolas corrected. You nodded and Strider shook his hand as another rider rode in. You looked over seeing the man on horseback. The face might've been blurry but the light brown hair definitely matched the vision. You locked onto him, heart pounding as you looked at him. He dismounted and looked over, raising a brow. "Do I know you?" The man asked. You shook your head. "Strider I have to... Go speak with father." you muttered. He noticed that look in your eyes before you left. He was definitely the one you had a vision of.

Aragorn spoke with Legolas watching the man with his sword. He noticed the man's clothes, seeing the horse he rode in on. He was definitely from Gondor. If he was sent to protect the ring, he definitely was of some sort of higher status. "Please feel free to explore while your here." Arwen said to him before walking over. "Legolas, old friend! It's been a long time!" She said hugging him. "Arwen, who is that man?" Aragorn asked. "Boromir. Son of Denethor II." She answered. His eyes wandered back over. He knew exactly who he was now.

The Stewart Prince to Gondor.

#aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn

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kryptsune · 4 years

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Souly Damned Saturdays!~

🌼 Heya! Today we are going to look at the King of the Infernal real, Nas. Along with this info we will be looking at some interesting forces in the Souly Damned universe! Today is Nas day X’D. Let’s get to it! As always my ask box is open!

~King Profile:~

~Prince Profile:~ True Name: Nasaros Alias Names: N/A Nicknames: Nas Soul Flower Type: Narcissus (daffodil) Color Type: Orange/magenta with burnt edges Infernal Hierarchy: King Age Order: Eldest Familiar Form: Lion/ Stag (Phoenix) True Form Appearance Description: ~Skeletal in appearance ~Prominent fangs ~Wears a twisted metal crown ~Fingers with clawed tips ~Orange tongue ~ Spaded almost arrow head like skeletal tail ~ Three sets of wings

Human Form Physical Description: ~Hair Color: Ashy ~Hair Style: Short with a longer “tail” in the back that falls to his mid back ~Eye Color: Orange/Magenta Heterochromia ~Skin Tone: Pale ~Contract symbol mark placement: N/A ~Height: 6’2”

Special Abilities or Powers: All his brothers have and more

Before the Fall:

The Infernal Realm has always existed alongside the Celestial and first Mortal Realm. Originally it was nothing but a prison for creatures of pure evil the same ones that are still considered legends. In this realm are also the imps, infernal blooded monsters with a taste for mortal kind. The Infernal bloods and Celestials have been warring for centuries. A realm closed off from the rest. In essence it is the true Hell. Darrius and his kin used to be the Celestial elite, directing the others. They were revered and looked up to before Darrius turned against his brother Sidriel believing that they should rule the mortal realm as well. His pride and arrogance would eventually be his downfall.

Darrius’ Reign:

During this time period Darrius presided over his son's new territories in the mortal realm. There were no rules, no consequences; they were just able to do anything that they pleased. The Infernal Realm was split open causing chaos to stain the world. Even as his sons were stricken from the mortal realm they found a new refuge in the Realm they used to loathe. The same one that they had once fought wars over. Now they were the rulers of this damned realm. They locked away the Infernal beasts into the depths and took over and with the help of their incredible, yet corrupted, Celestial power the Infernals and their new king began to worm their way into the new mortal realm. Under Darrius they continued their old ways even with the new restrictions placed on them.

The King of The Infernal Realm:

Nasaros is the current king of Hell being the eldest son of his father. Just like his father his angelic blood makes him stand out above his younger siblings. He seems gentlemanly and rather laid back for someone of his status but do not let that fool you. Due to Nas’, blood, he is just as harsh if not more so than his fallen brothers. He is not actually a demon either but rather a fallen angel. He has a silver tongue keeping to flowery language. Nas has an egotistical air about him but it is more subtle. He has an extreme distaste for the Infernal kind as he does not consider himself one of their ilk. Therefore he is not tolerant of any kind of infraction. Demons that do not follow the rules are quickly dispatched without mercy. His abilities are not as well known as the brothers but it can be assumed he can utilize all his siblings abilities as well as some more Celestial ones.

He tends to wear white in the majority of his clothing leaning more toward tailored tail coats and suits. An almost denial of what he has become. He has three sets of wings though they are rarely seen indicating he used to be a seraphim. In his younger years before he was crowned King he was the Prince of the Kingdom of Lust. He began to question the motives of his father asking himself if this was truly the path he desired. When he came to the opposite conclusion, not embracing this new hellish order his father was furious. In an effort to keep his eldest from “infecting” his younger siblings with his ideology he split his son's soul into two separate entities. One as the embodiment of the negative side of his sin and the other the more positive. This creates Naos and Saros.

Unlike his father Nas seems to attempt to reform Hell in a way adding rules and regulations to the more unruly of his subjects. These rules mostly extend to those souls that are wrongly labeled as damned. He knows that any impurity leads the Celestial Realm to shut its gates on some of these souls with no hope for survival. Under Nas’ decree these souls are to not be harmed.

Naos: Out of the two Naos is the more gentle. He tends to be very shy when interacting with others only making his presence known when necessary. He is not the flirty type but rather the romantic if you manage to catch his affection and favor. His appearance causes him to wear darker colors like black. Unlike his unruly brother, Naos enjoys the peace and quiet. He is easily flustered. Sometimes he will sit in the garden and sing a soft little tune. His personality is very soft but he is also very possessive and overprotective.

Saros: If there was a complete opposite to Naos then Saros would be it. He is haughty, prideful, lavish, and over the top. His outgoing demeanor causes him to throw lavish banquets and parties surrounding himself with the elite of Hell. Saros is the negative aspect of lust. He is needy and uses pleasure as a manipulation tool. He drinks and sleeps around not giving it any thought. He is also possessive though it is more treating something like a trophy then someone to be treasured. He is the true embodiment of carnal pleasure and debauchery.

These two Princes, though two halves of one whole, eventually become one once more. This only happens though when Darrius is usurped and Nas takes the crown. He then goes on to reform the old Infernal ways impressing an almost Celestially similar level of organization and rule of law.

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The New Order:

The new shift in power causes some unrest among the denizens of Hell. Their old order was to corrupt and damn souls for all eternity no matter the cost. The spilling of blood was of no consequence. That however changes when Nas comes into power. His decree is that demons (his brothers included) should be conducting themselves with more decorum then they used to. No more earthly rampages. No more innocent deaths. The souls not meant for Hell are put under his protection. He cleans up Hell by holding demons accountable for their more sadistic tendencies. The humans have long since forgotten their presence. To them they are nothing more than superstition and Hollywood fabrication. The new global ability to communicate in mere seconds leaves them with a poor reputation.

Nowadays they are known for making more deals. In fact under the royalty the most prestigious job in Hell are the deal makers. The demons that are associated with soul collection t is one way to gain more power as a demon. The more souls the stronger and potential more abilities gained as well. These demons appear on earth offering their services disguised as humans tempting wayward souls. The Dukes, Lords, and even Princes also do deals of a higher caliber though they rarely leave Hell (currently). It would take a very powerful soul for them to gain any interest even if they are summoned. An example of this would be during the 1920’s.

Each demon of high status also has a specific sigil used to summon them. It is, as stated previously, very dangerous and usually only 30% effective. Some demons, Crimson as an example, will gladly show up for a little bit of carnage or to mess with souls. Contrary to mortal belief demons do not take to sacrificing lightly in fact it is highly frowned upon. Any mortals of an occult stupid enough to try and summon any of them usually end up choking on their own blood.

The Red String of Fate:

The Red string of fate is a constant in the world that has consequences when altered. It is very similar to the idea that our destinies are intertwined with others and if that string is cut it creates a butterfly effect. Demons tend to do as they please but when it comes to altering the course of humanity it is a very harsh offense. Under the Prince's father this offense was minor but when Nas took control of the throne that sentence increased. A demon tampering with or severing the string of fate is exiled, banished, or executed. If one string is severed it is possible to re form however multiple could cause an apocalyptic event of biblical proportions. Contrary to human belief demons have no desire to obliterate earth. They rather like their little playground. Anything that would jeopardize the fate of either Hell or Earth is grave.

The Blood of the Innocent:

Innocent souls subjected to the selectiveness of the Celestial elite are thrown into the Pit just by association with any type of demonic ritual. Innocents sacrificed for summoning are branded as corrupted and therefore unworthy to enter Heavens gates. These souls are considered pure and are housed in the Capital away from any demons that may cause them harm, especially that of children. If a mortal is sacrificed to a specific demon then that Prince is made responsible. This occurrence however is rare as the horrors that befall those that try this kind of act… are too horrible to describe. It takes someone really greedy or stupid to even attempt such a thing.

Pure souls are constantly in danger as demons feel their power and have an almost instinctual desire to devour it. This is an outcome for those types of souls but the process is painless (if the demon in question desires it). It is better than living an eternity in Hell anyway. Some are kept at the palaces if a Prince sees fit though that is an even rarer occurrence than the former.

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#demons #Souly Damned #SD Saturdays #Nasaros #worldbuilding #info #askbox is open #original content #Nas

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melon-wing · 4 years

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The Void [Gren]

[Fanfiction Masterlist]

Ren really enjoyed the company of their newest member on the server. Grian was overall a nice addition. He was so open with all of them and spread fun everywhere he went. Sure, Ren had been on the receiving end of quite a few pranks, but he really didn’t mind that much.

There was a quiet noise and he looked at his communicator, putting his shovel to the side.

Grian fell into the void.

Ren winced. Again? Now that he thought about it… How many times had it been this week? He knew Sahara needed an ungodly amount of Shulkerboxes, but why send Grian, when he was so unlucky?

And not just this week. Since they had cleared the path to the other dimension that same message of Grian dying had come up again and again

The first time he had seen the message pop up on his communicator, he hadn’t been bothered at all. A lot of Hermits had managed to fall into the voids if their Elytra broke, they went out of rockets or just simply lost orientation. Or in the beginning when they needed to bridge over the endless nothingness.

But this? This was getting weird. It was as if Grian fell into it every time he went to the end. And it worried Ren. Falling into the void wasn’t a quick and painless death. It hurt like hell and it took really long.

<Ren> You alright, G-man? Need any help?

It took Grian a while to respond and Ren could just envision it: Grian lying on his back, being still a little out of it from respawning.

<Grian> I’m fine. I just miscalculated the landing.

<Ren> Need some help to get your stuff back? I can help you grind a bit.

Ren waited. The answer took unusually long. it had just been a nice offer since Ren knew how much it sucked, falling into the void and losing everything. Finally, there was a beep and Ren already got up, expecting to be called away to help.

<Grian> It’s fine. I had most of my stuff in my Enderchest already. That was really lucky.

Ren raised an eyebrow at that. Hadn’t Grian also said that to Mumbo a few days ago… Ren was pretty sure he had heard this a couple of times already. Now the question was, did Grian make that up as an excuse so nobody needed to help him or did he really put all his stuff away because he was so prone to dying.

<Ren> Alright! Maybe we should go to the End together next time. Then I can make sure you won’t fall! You really should take part in the buddy system we got going on.

There was no reply this time and Ren sighed. Grian always went to the end alone, declining every offer for help. Heck, even Doc in the middle of their Civil War had offered to accompany Grian when they had run into each other at the End portal.

If Ren ever met Grian at that portal, he swore he would make sure to stick to his side no matter what Grian said.

Weeks passed and Ren grew more and more worried. Sure, Grian was completely normal and healthy, but the constant deaths in the End still kept going, sometimes more often and sometimes few and far in between. And Ren was pretty sure that Grian didn’t even go to the End when there was a long time of him not dying in the void.

They had been getting closer and closer during the season and Ren had seen Grian fly around, easily landing on a tiny block mid air at almost full speed. This wasn’t a person who would miscalculate a landing or run out of rockets at the wrong time. Grian was too graceful for that, too good.

Ren looked at Grian through the flames of the campfire, his flower crown slightly crooked, but a bright smile on his lips. And Ren couldn’t help but smile as well when Grian looked at him, eyes sparkling.

“Well, thanks for this lovely evening Ren”, Grian said, a slight blush on his cheeks as he got up. “We really should do it again soon. But I really need to go now. Sahara needs a ton of Shulkers again and Mumbo and Iskall are busy with the redstone and-”

Grian stopped when Ren suddenly grabbed his hand, keeping him from moving away.

“Don’t.”

“Ren, what…?”

“Don’t go into the End. Or don’t go alone. You can’t… I don’t want anything to happen to you. I’m worried. All this dying can’t be good for your health.”

Grian smiled. A sad smile and he gently tore his hand from Ren’s grasp.

“I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

“But-”

Grian put a finger against Ren’s lips and Ren could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

“I promise, I’m alright.”

And as if he had known that Ren would still be too stunned to react he took out his rockets to take off quickly. By the time Ren had snapped out of it Grian was long gone. Damn. How could he let his stupid crush keep him from staying by Grian’s side like he had vowed to do?

Ren quickly jumped up, going to his RV. Of course Grian had kept all his stuff on him already while Ren had to get his Elytra and rockets first. And in which chest had he thrown it again? Damn, he hadn’t paid attention earlier, too nervous from the fact that he had managed to invite Grian over to a fucking dinner date.

It took him way too long. He knew Grian would be gone by the time he arrived. That still didn’t stop him from rushing towards the End portal. When he stepped into the End, the main island was deserted. Well, deserted except for a bunch of enderman.

Ren put his head back slightly, trying to pick up a noise or a scent in the wind. His senses were slightly better than the average human’s and the full moon was close. It was faint, but Ren would recognise that scent everywhere. Grian! He dashed to one of the portals and threw an Enderpearl inside to get whisked miles and miles away.

He searched everywhere. Endcity after Endcity. Sometimes he picked up Grian’s scent, but it got less strong by the minute. Ren was falling further and further behind. And then, when he hit the next Endcity he lost the trail altogether. Damn it! He had wanted to protect Grian. He wanted to be there for him.

With a sigh Ren let his head hang low and trotted back out of the building to look for one of the Endportals. It took him a while, but then he was standing on the Main Island again. And a familiar scent hit him full force. Grian! Ren jumped up the stairs leading to the main area and then he stopped. There was Grian, kneeling in front of the portal leading home, not wearing any of his equipment, an Enderchest standing next to him.

Ren stepped closer, quietly until he was behind Grian.

“Grian… Are you-”

Grian’s head whipped around fast and Ren gasped. There were trails of tears on Grian’s face and he looked so small and scared.

“R-Ren. I didn’t think you’d- I thought you were… Why are you here?”

“I was worried.”

Grian smiled, if only a little and then got to his feet.

“I’m… I was just…”, Grian seemed to search for the right thing to say, his eyes slowly traveling slightly to the left and Ren already knew then. He was able to read Grian by now. Whatever left his mouth next was a lie. “I sprained my ankle a bit when I missed the portal. I hit the ground too hard. I’m… It’s a bit better now. Why don’t you go ahead and jump in and I’ll be right there behind you, yes?”

“No worries. We can jump in together. I can carry you.” He’d believe that lie if it meant he would be able to get Grian to the overworld again safely.

“I…” Grian’s hands were shaking as he spoke, his eyes darting to the portal, a haunted expression on his face and that’s when it hit Ren. For whatever reason Grian was scared. Scared of…

“You never once jumped into this portal, did you? You jump into the void on purpose to get back to your spawn point.”

Grian flinched and Ren knew he’d found the answer. This was the reason Grian died so often in the End. It was his way home.

“Why, Grian? Why are you so scared of going in there? We all do it. It doesn’t hurt. It’s safe. It’s-”

“I don’t want to leave.”

Ren knitted his eyebrows in confusion at the statement. It seemed so random.

“I don’t want you to leave either, but the portal will just transport you home.”

Grian shook his head and tears welled up in his eyes again, he was holding himself now, his whole posture seeming so small and uncertain, so unlike the confident and cheerful Grian that Ren had fallen for.

“The- The last time... I jumped into it before. They took me.”

“They?”

“The Watchers…” Grian’s voice was barely above a whisper but he sounded so scared as if saying the word too loud might call the ones he was talking about.

“Watchers? But they are nothing but an Urban Legend. A myth. They’re not…”

Grian sobbed and Ren stopped talking. Something changed in the air between them. A red haze surrounded Grian and suddenly his eyes were glowing golden and black wings appeared on his back. And on Grian’s arms glowing markings appeared, lots and lots of drawings of open eyes, all seemingly staring at him. Ren gasped and stumbled back a few steps, which in turn made a grim smile appear on Grian’s face.

“I look like a monster, I know. When I jumped into the portal I lost everything. They turned me into this. What if they take me again? I don’t want to leave this world. I don’t want to lose everyone. And I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. Not you. And now you know I’m a monster and everything will be different and you’ll leave me and-”

Ren rushed forward, his arms moving around Grian, careful not to disturb his wings, pressing him close to his chest.

“I’m here. I won’t leave. Ever. I love you.”

The shaking stopped and Grian raised his head slightly, looking at Ren. And while his eyes might be glowing golden, Ren could still see the emotion in there. Hope.

“You do?”

“Yes. And no matter what, I’ll protect you. I don’t know what happened in your last world, but Xisuma’s magic is strong. He has made sure nobody and nothing can get into our world. You’re safe here.”

“Are you sure…?”

Ren nodded and then stepped up to the portal, guiding Grian to go with him, both of them standing on the edge.

“I won’t force you to jump in, but we can do it together.”

“Yes, please.”

Grian’s hand was shaking and Ren pressed it reassuringly as he took the last step needed, pulling Grian along with him.

He felt the magic of the portal wash over him and then the hand in his was gone as he landed on his soft bed in the RV. Respawn points. Fuck. Of course he wouldn’t stay with Grian. They hadn’t set the same respawn point.

Ren jumped up and ran out of his RV, hurrying to get to Grian, praying that he was still there. Just as he was about to kick in the door of Grian’s RV it opened and Grian stood there, back to his normal self, wide bright blue eyes looking at Ren.

Both of them just stared at each other for a second and then Ren pulled Grian into a hug once more, holding onto him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Thanks, Ren…”, Grian muttered into his shoulder and then turned his head slightly to be able to look at Ren. “I love you too.”

#🍉 stories #hermitship #hermitshipping #gren #🍉 advent calendar #this is probably the last one :P #unless creativity hits me tomorrow for my unfinished ones

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lysissisyl · 4 years

Text

6 months

To @patricia-von-arundel, who is the most wonderful woman in this world and the love of my life. Thank you for changing everything. 💜

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Byleth was late. Byleth was never late. It was part of her mercenary training: timing is vital for a mercenary.

Edelgard also knew her schedule and she was always in her study at that time of the day, so why wasn’t she, today of all days? She was sitting at the table, the teapot in the middle, pastries on an elaborated tray. It had taken her 5 attempts to manage to brew tea the way Byleth did; not Bergamot this time, a rare, exotic green tea that Byleth had been looking for for a while. She really hoped she had made it right... At least she knew the pastries were good. She had spent a week practicing, burned a ton (when they actually reached the oven), made a mess balancing the ingredients more times than she could count. She probably fed all the fauna in Enbar, rats included. Damn! She threw away and distributed so many of her disasters to the animals there that one day she had found a rat waiting outside of the kitchens! She couldn’t help a yelp and had Hubert running in, his hands wrapped in dark magic, ready to fight a monster probably. He had almost pulverized the small beast. He would have if she hadn’t stopped him. She hated the damn rats, but she had seen the tiny mice waiting under a bush nearby and realized that bold critter was trying to feed its family. Thinking about family made her soft. Silly. She had taken an half burned cookie from the bag, cut it into pieces and thrown it to the rat. Then she had shut the door as fast as she could, hands shaking. Stupid. But the cookies were perfect today. So was the tea, as far as she could tell. The teapot and teacups were matching and matched the colors of the glaze: a mix of red and blue that reminded her of them. Everything was where it was supposed to be, except for Byleth. She stood up and started pacing; she went back and forth, from the table to the window, three times, then three more, to check the gardens, but also to be able to think. She looked at her own reflection in the glass. She wasn’t wearing her regalia; in its place, a much more simple attire, more practical, something that would have been comfortable enough for basically anything, fishing included. Long, stretchy, black riding pants, a jacket with golden buttons and red trimmings, a white blouse with golden embroideries barely visible under it. The high boots completed the unusual look. Her long, white hair was loose, with only the two familiar ribbons adorning it. It looked a bit different from her Garreg Mach days, a little bit more savage, perhaps, free to move when she did, occasionally forcing her to brush them aside from her eyes; it often leant on her shoulders, caressing her cheeks. She found it unnerving, but Byleth found it cute. Only six month...and she looked so different. It wasn’t just her outfit - that was just for the day - or the absence of the crown. Her posture wasn’t as tense, her eyes were still sharp, but not as angry, and the faint smile that curved her lips when she thought that it was all because of Byleth was natural and sweet. She still had bad days, she still felt overwhelmed by all the responsibilities, by how demanding her routine could be, sometimes she still felt exhausted in the evening. She still had nightmares from time to time. Not everything was perfect as the tea table set behind her, but...Byleth was there on the bad days as she was on the bright ones, reminding her everything was going to be alright. When she felt overwhelmed, she took her hand, made her take a break, let her rest her head on her shoulder and told her stories, beautiful stories and dreams. She told her about how they were making them true. When she woke up shaking from a nightmare, she could hide in her arms, listening to her heart beat until hers stopped screaming and running. The reason her shoulders and back weren’t stiff today was that Byleth had massaged them gently yesterday, washing all the tension from the day away before going to bed. She had taken that habit after seeing her in pain. Edelgard had protested more than once, but they were both stubborn and, in the end, she had realized that Byleth loved feeling her melt under her touch. She sighed at the thought: she could almost feel it... Hearing the door brought her back to reality. She blushed realizing Byleth had chosen that exact moment to come in. She shook her head to chase away that thought that still made her shiver. Even being late, her timing sure was perfect. She let out a very different sigh.

Byleth looked at the table, then at Edelgard, a warm smile making her eyes shine in a way that was getting more and more common. Edelgard had to fight the instinct to run to her and kiss her until the tea got cold. She gestured for her to sit and went back to her chair, pouring some tea for them both before doing the same. Byleth kept observing her every move, a faint smile still on her face. “Thank you, El.” “There is no reason to thank me. At least try the tea first: I don’t have your expertise.” Edelgard stared while she took a sip, almost holding her breath. Byleth widened her eyes in surprise. “You found it! Oh, El...” Her eyes were so hard to read now, but also so warm... “it’s perfect, just perfect.” Edelgard was suddenly aware of how rigidly she was sitting. She let go. “I want to make today perfect.” “You always want to make things perfect, El.” Byleth teased. “This is different.” She was sulking just a bit, then her voice grew softer. “Today is special.” “Is it?” “Do you remember what happened six months ago?” “We won the war. Is it why we’re celebrating?” Edelgard sighed, playing with her ring with her other hand. Byleth could be so oblivious sometimes! It didn’t hurt her. She knew her well, she knew she loved her. She was just...Byleth. “It’s been six months since the day you gave me this ring, the day I knew you wanted to stay, you were choosing me...” she hesitated “forever.” Byleth tilted her head. “Why do people care about this kind of things? I love you every day, I feel lucky every day I spend by your side. Why should today be different?” Edelgard giggled. That was so very Byleth and so sweet. She didn’t care at all that she forgot about their anniversary: she just wanted to look that beautiful woman in the eyes, tell her what a gift she was and kiss the crumbs off her lips. Speaking of crumbs, Byleth was staring at the other half of a cookie in her hand. “This is peculiar.” “In what sense?” She tried to hide the worried note in her voice. “They’re different from any I’ve found around here. Very rich on cinnamon. Are the cookies exotic too?” Edelgard paled. “Is something wrong with them?” “No, not at all. I actually like them a lot. I want to know where I can find them.” Edelgard’s cheeks turned a delightful red. “I...m-made them.” “That’s great! That sure makes it easy to get more!” She looked like a happy kid. Edelgard’s smile was smug and wide. “You can have them anytime, my love.”

After finishing their tea, it was time for the next step. Edelgard had thought about that day a lot, about what Byleth would have loved, but, in the end, she had realized Byleth was still learning that herself, so the best gift she could offer her was probably a day to just improvise and discover things together. No planning for once. “I cleared my schedule for today. As I said, I want to make this day perfect for you, so...make a wish, make all the wishes you can think of. We can do anything. Today, I’ll be the one following you.” “No plans, no organizing, no schedules, nothing?” Byleth raised an eyebrow, teasing again. “Don’t make me regret it!” “I promise you won’t.” The smirk on her face made her wonder which troubles she had just gotten herself into.”

To Edelgard’s surprised, Byleth’s first request was to go to town for some shopping. Even stranger, she came back with an elegant pair of trousers a formal jacket and a blouse, an outfit that looked like a fancier version of what Edelgard was wearing. She sure appreciated seeing it on Byleth. She tried not to stare. And failed. Byleth giggled.

Their second stop was at a flower shop. Byleth went in alone and came out with some roses and a carnation plant in a vase. She offered it to Edelgard with a smile. “I thought you could like a plant for your study or we could keep it in our room. I prefer plants to flowers. Flowers die. This plant is something we can keep and nourish. And I want to give you life.” The look on Edelgard’s face went from confusion, to surprise, to endearment. The way Byleth thought sure was weird, but so was hers and they could understand each other amazingly well. She had appreciated and cherished all the flowers Byleth had given her in their monastery days, but she knew she would have loved this plant a hundred times more. She loved how Byleth had started questioning things, reading them in a completely different wa now that her emotions were so much stronger. She wondered how hard and exciting everything could be to her. That was part of why she had structured the day like that, after all: she wanted Byleth to express herself.

Byleth’s third request surprised her in a different way. She asked to go by the river, right south from Embar, to the cove where it met the see. She hadn’t been there in years, so many years... Walking there with Byleth felt so nostalgic and so different at the same time… She could feel her hand in hers, holding gently, but firmly. She could feel the warmth of her skin and the marks left by the sword. Familiar. Reassuring. She had run to the cove many times in the past, wild and excited, but it was another time, another life, another El. Walking there like this felt a bit like going back, a bit like going on. She turned toward Byleth. “Have I ever told you about where my love for the opera comes from?” Byleth shook her head. “One of my older sisters was very fond of the opera. I was still too young to be brought to the theater and definitely too young to properly understand it, so were most of my brothers. One day we teased her a little too much about her daydreams and ended up making her cry, so later we wanted to surprise her, to make up for it. We asked our oldest brother; he tried to explain us what an opera play was at his best and we went to the cove and tried to set up a show for her. She was so happy and we had so much fun that we decided to make it a small ritual between us. We did it every time one of us was down or when we wanted to celebrate something. It was a way to tell each other ‘I love you’. I started to grow pretty fond of it myself. One day, my sister took us girls apart and told us our father was concerned about our future, that she could see it, that he had told her; she believed she was going to be engaged soon and that we would have followed. She was a very romantic young girl, always reading some love story or daydreaming about her future husband. She asked us to celebrate the day of her engagement with one of our plays, one inspired by the cheesy stories she liked. I said I wanted an adventurous tale for mine, full of swords and mighty fights. She told us we could all choose one, that that could be another little siblings rituals. When she told the boys, they all made faces, but they all agreed in the end. It was very silly. It was the week before I was taken to Faerghus.” She stopped, staring into the distance for a few seconds, then shook her head again. “Sorry, I rambled.” Byleth smiled. “The story of the heroic imperial princess who fought terrible monsters and saved the innocents, uh?” She glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me!” She didn’t sound truly irritated. “I’m not. Actually...that’s more or less what happened.” Edelgard’s eyes met hers. “Don’t laugh at me.” She sounded sad and bitter. “I am not. You changed everything, El.”

There was a strict passage between high rocks to cross before reaching the shore. It looked smaller now, tighter. Edelgard sure didn’t mind walking pressed against Byleth. Once they crossed it and got to the other side, she froze. There was a stage on the sand, not made of old boards and branches found on the shore, a real one. The curtains were fancy and velvety, not white sheets and colorful blankets stolen from the palace. (How many times had the servants yelled at them?) There was a huge blanket on the sand in front of the stage, with a full dinner for two displayed on it. Hubert was standing at its right. He bowed and gestured them to sit. Byleth nodded. “Thank you, Hubert.” He showed them a small grin in response. “Anything for Lady Edelgard.” Edelgard shifted her focus from one to the other, then gave Byleth a questioning look. “You hadn’t told me about that story, not until today. But...Hubert did, a few weeks ago. He was there too.” She explained. “When I told him I wanted to organize something special for you and that I was thinking about bringing you here and to the opera right after, he told me about the past. He wanted me to be aware and careful. I thought about something else.” “You...” but the curtain opened. To Edelgard’s surprise, it was Dorothea appearing on the scene. She hadn’t properly been back to the company after the war, but she still liked to perform from time to time, as a hobby now. She had convinced the Mittelfrank company to do her a favor that day. Manuela had written the script. For a while, Edelgard wondered why her former classmate wasn’t playing the main part, the emperor's part, then remembered her own words, years ago, when she had said that no story about her would have been complete without a Dorothea. The fact that she wanted to strangle both her and Byleth for making a play about her was soon forgotten, except for when Dorothea sang that song from their Garreg Mach days again. ‘Hail the mighty Edelgard...’ The mighty Edelgard was as red as her regalia. Byleth made a comment about it being a shame that she wasn’t wearing it, that earned her a very cute glare.

At the end of the play, Edelgard was at a loss for words. When Dorothea approached them and Byleth handed her the roses, she wanted to say thanks, but all that came out was “Why?” “Byleth contacted me around a month ago, telling me about her crazy plan for your anniversary, so I pulled some strings. She also helped me setting things up this morning, before Hubert could get here without raising suspicions.” She winked. That’s why she was late... Then another thought crossed Edelgard's mind, making her frown. “Anniversary?” Her eyes moved from Dorothea to Byleth. “You were wondering why people actually cared about it earlier.” Byleth grinned. “I was. And I still believe what I said. I love you every day. I feel lucky to be with you every day. Anniversaries aren’t different. But...why would I miss a chance to make you smile?” She smirked. “You liar!” Edelgard was only half-pretending to sulk. Byleth greened. “I didn’t lie. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” It looked like deceiving could be vital for a mercenary too.

#Edeleth #FE3H #Fire Emblem Three Houses #Edelgard #Byleth #RedInk #6 months (and 3 days) of us #Late like Byleth 😅#I love you so damn much!#💜💙

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ad1thi · 4 years

Text

@starklysteve rhae asked for some winteriron recs (read: i volunteered to spam rhae w buckytony fics because i adore them), so in no particular order, and based on my memory alone, here are some of my favourite buckytony fics!!

(please remember to leave kudos and comments!!)

American Memorial: @/spqr

“Pick up the shield,” Tony said. Understandably, Bucky told him to go fuck himself

Losing You (Is My Supervillain Origin Story): @amethystinawrites

There are a lot of things that Bucky regrets. The list is, quite frankly, longer than he can handle on most days and, right at the very top, is lying to Tony about who killed his parents. Bucky has known even from before they started dating, but he simply can't bring himself to say anything — to ruin one of the few good things he has in his life. It's selfish and wrong, but Bucky just doesn't know how to tell Tony that he is the one responsible for Howard and Maria Stark's deaths.

So when he starts receiving anonymous emails, threatening to expose the truth to Tony and the rest of the world, Bucky is desperate enough to agree to the blackmailer's terms, even if it means breaking up with Tony. Bucky cannot, under any circumstances, let Tony find out about his parents from anyone but Bucky himself.

Too late Bucky realizes that there is much more to the blackmailer's scheme than just having Bucky break Tony's heart. Too late Bucky realizes that despite his best intentions, he will still end up losing everything — in a much more permanent way than he could ever have imagined.

Hindsight: @amethystinawrites

Ever since he was a little boy, Bucky has dreamed of becoming an astronaut together with Steve, and he can hardly believe their luck when both of them are picked for the Ares 3 crew — the third expedition sent to explore Mars. It is, quite literally, a dream come true.

Things get complicated when Bucky finds himself inconveniently attracted to their mechanical engineer, however. Tony Stark is funny, competent, and absolutely captivating, but considering NASA's strict non-fraternization policy, Bucky knows it's better to keep his interest to himself — at least until they return to Earth. He can wait.

Not once does Bucky consider the possibility that all of them might not make it back alive, or just how much he'll come to regret not acting when he had the chance.

Arsenal: @tangodancer91 (part of a series) (also my all time favourite buckytony series ever)

Two years after the Civil War that tore apart everything she’d bled to build, Toni Stark sacrificed herself for her newly-reinstated teammates and ended up stranded in the past. Freed of her name, her fortune, and her hostile ex-teammates, she built herself a life as an agent for the OSS, the American secret service, and, having nothing to lose, accepted a mission to infiltrate the newest player in the war: an organization that call themselves HYDRA.

Then, she met a young draftee with a dreadfully familiar face, and they clicked like she had never clicked with anyone before. By the time she realized she’d fallen for the man who’d cost her everything, it was too late, but she’d always been an all or nothing type of girl, and if she was damning herself, well then…might as well go all the way.

Yield: @aurumacadicus (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

All Bucky has ever wanted was to win the contest for Tony's hand in marriage. It's a bit harder now that he's down to one arm, but luckily his friends are willing to help make up the difference.

Barnes Family Motors Inc: @phlintandsteel-ao3 (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

In a world where alphas legally own omegas, Bucky is just a small time mechanic from Brooklyn who gets lucky in a poker game. Tony is an omega whose life is fraught with abuse, until his luck suddenly takes a turn for the better.

In the grand scheme of things they may only be able to make little differences in the lives of those around them, but that doesn't mean it's not worth making them. After all, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

The Long Con (don’t kid yourself): @phlintandsteel-ao3

When Tony finds out that Howard is thinking about changing the terms of Tony’s trust fund, he embarks on a not-so-elaborate scheme to prove that he’s totally settling down and not in continued need of Howard’s “guidance” until 25 instead of 21. Step 1: Get a fiance Step 2: ??? Step 3: Profit (Finally be free of Howard)

Unfortunately, Tony Stark is the worst con-artist ever, and may only be kidding himself..

Hot Mess: @/niki

“Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”

Imperceptions and Assumptions: @/NarutoRox

Afterward, Bucky would look back on their first meeting with fondness and a healthy dose of amusement. At the time, though, he’d mostly been confused - and more than a little embarrassed.

Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to the media in his early days, and hadn’t bothered really reading up on the team or anything, either, so when Steve had said ‘Tony Stark’, Bucky had just assumed.

The same way he’d looked at the three people who’d walked through the door - an imposing redhead in heels, a bored-looking brunette who dimpled when she saw him and Steve, and a sturdy-looking man wearing a slight glower - locked eyes on the man, and assumed him to be the infamous Tony Stark Steve wouldn’t shut up about.

It was Bucky’s first lesson when it came to Natasha Antonia ‘Toni’ Stark - never assume.

In which Tony Stark is actually Natasha Antonia 'Toni' Stark (which everyone knows) as well as Iron Man (which everyone does not know), assumptions are made, and there are misunderstandings.

From this prompt: How about a cross between my two favorite tropes? Nobody knows who iron man is other than Natasha/Antonia Stark's bodyguard but Bucky is in love with one or both of them

i know, you know (that i’m not telling the truth) : @imposter-human

psychic tony stark is called to work a routine case with detective bucky barnes; only, he seems to be more connected to the case than anyone thought

or, a psych au!!

the new romeo and juliet: @imposter-human

Bucky and Tony weren’t dating, because a firefighter and a detective couldn’t date (never mind that Tony hadn’t slept with anyone else since their thing had started, and he and Bucky hung out with an alarming frequency, and the whole precinct thought that they were an item). It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how Bucky had a drawer of Tony's things and vice versa, they just couldn't.

It was a classic Romeo and Juliet situation, if Romeo and Juliet actively disliked each other on top of everything.

if found, please return to: @capnshellhead

Tony Stark shows up at Bucky's bar after a really tough break up and Bucky decides to look after him

gods of carnage: @deathsweetqueen (part of a series)

On May 29, 1970, the Winter Soldier feels a burning sensation and looks down at his wrist to find a single name written in enduring ink: Antonia Margaret Stark.

HYDRA, fearing the defiance of their greatest asset due to a bond that cannot and will not be denied its due, immediately dispatches the Soldier, to locate, collect and deliver this newborn girl to HYDRA, which will become her new home, her new family and her entire world - to be raised as another one of HYDRA’s great warriors: their Engineer.

But the Engineer is a faulty asset. She thinks things that may get her killed one day. She wants things that she shouldn’t, that are not hers to want. She has a mind and body that belong more to herself than any handler, than any commander she may have.

And if she cuts her strings, when she cuts her strings, well, when you put sheep next to wolves, you ask for a bloodbath.

where i walk, you follow (where i burn, you burn): @deathsweetqueen

At his father's command, Anthony Stark trades in his northern keep for a southern crown, wedded and bedded by Alexander of House Pierce, First of His Name.

Tony does his duty, becomes a wolf in name only, toothless and clawless, and a dark, gleaming ornament for the King, even if he would make himself a widower a hundred times over.

Honour demanded it of him, and so he did.

But it is Ser James Barnes, named the Kingslayer for his sins during the Rebellion, that draws his eye, gives him comfort in this pit of liars and monsters

So, what is honour compared to a good man's love? They are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.

[Fic by deathsweetqueen, Art by MassiveSpaceWren]

Cat Parenting (And Other Meet Cutes): @singingwithoutwords (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Of all the ways Bucky could have finally gotten a chance to speak to his crush, why did it have to be his cat getting Tony's cat pregnant?

Codename Heartbreaker: @rinnwrites (part of a series)

Today was a day that, contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark had most certainly not been looking forward to. It was election day, or election night, rather, and the polls were closed, the results were in; Howard Stark was the next President of the United States of America.

Tony Stark Bingo - R3: Election Day

Fate Strings Not Required: @akira-of-the-twilight

“Hey doll,” a new voice said from Tony’s side.

Tony glanced at the person approaching.

Someone was working the rugged, bad boy look. The new guy rocked a leather jacket and blue jeans.

His blue eyes lit up with joy as he approached Tony. “Something wrong here?” The new guy gave the first guy--the one insisting he was Tony's soul mate--a once over then turned his full attention on Tony. “You’re looking a little stressed, anything I can do?”

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Siren’s Treasure: @akira-of-the-twilight

Prompt: I really love the idea of playboy!Bucky flirt of the seven seas first-mate to Captain Rogers, falling completely overboard in love with our Blacksmith-Inventor Inexperienced!Tony who goes from confident captive to shy woe-begone man in the presence of Bucky's fierce affections. Virgin!Tony wonders what a siren like Bucky could possibly want with him. Bucky wants to know what the fuck Logan thinks he's doing flirting with the man who stole his heart like sunken treasures. Happy ending please?

“Sirens killed your crew?” Steve repeated.

The dark haired man nodded. Just an hour ago the Avenger crew had found the man clinging to driftwood in the middle of the ocean. Now he clutched the flask of rum Bucky had given him like it was all that kept him buoyant during these tumultuous times.

The man—Tony—had already downed more than half the flask and was still sober. “Not exactly my crew, but close enough. Yeah.” Tony uncapped the flask and threw back a mouthful.

Steve frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Tony shrugged. “I wasn’t captain of the ship.”

“So what were you?” Steve pressed.

Road hazards: @riotwritesthings

Steve and Bucky's BFF road trip is not going well. For starters, Steve couldn't even make it, and for some bizarre reason asked Tony to take his place. The fact that it’s only a couple days before someone is trying to kill them isn’t nearly as stressful as the fact that Bucky and Tony have never really had an actual conversation.

It’s hard to avoid someone when stuck in a car with them though, and if they manage to stay alive they just might learn a thing or two.

Once Upon a Wintertime: @iam93percentstardust (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Look, Bucky knows that he’s fulfilling every cliché in the book right now. He knows that, as a bodyguard, he’s not supposed to fall in love with his client. But Tony’s good and sweet and so, so lonely and how could Bucky not? He thinks he’s got a shot after Tony breaks up with his boyfriend but on a trip across the country, he finds out that Tony needs a bondmate or the board will steal SI—and Ty’s already said yes.

little bird: @thxngam

Bucky laughs, and it’s loud and unbidden, a way he hadn’t laughed for years before, tugging his giggling omega into his lap. Tony quiets and nestles into Bucky’s chest like he was made to belong there, and Bucky has noticed several times that Tony is much smaller than he is, but he never quite noticed how Tony always seemed to curl into him as a reason for his size.

Tony nestles like a little bird.

Teenage Dream: @anthonyed

Tony Stark develops a crush on the school's bad boy who is too cool to hang out with anyone. At least, it's what Tony thinks. He never considered that James Barnes is probably as lonely as he is.

(in the process of editing)

The Best Laid Plans (of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

A Kitten and a Soldier: @/ThatDamnKennedyKid

Bucky hadn't heard from Rumlow in years - since the whole Winter Soldier fiasco in Siberia. They've been discharged for nearly six years, but when he gets a message that only says "I need your help" , he grabs his jacket and keys.

The Prince’s Bride: @hddnone

After Tony loses the love of his life to pirates on the high sea, not much matters to him. He agrees to wed Prince Justin Hammer to gain access to vibranium and shut himself away in his workshop until the end of time, but a group of ruffians kidnap Tony to take him to Hydra.

Tony's rescue takes on an unlikely form - the Dread Pirate Rogers, who killed the love of his life five years ago.

A Princess Bride AU

A Kind of Destiny: @weethreequarter

A chance meeting at a wedding brings together an American war veteran and the Prince of Wales. Little do they know, the wheels have been set in motion for a relationship which will change not only their lives, but the monarchy itself. Bucky and Tony strike up a friendship at Steve and Peggy’s wedding, a friendship that soon develops into more. But it’s not so simple: Tony is the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne of Great Britain and the United Kingdom. Any relationship is played out in the press and public eye, and then there's that pesky issue of succession to consider too. But Bucky is no coward, and when he finds something he wants, he’s prepared to fight for it. And fight he will, at Tony's side, for their very own fairy tale ending.

#adi's rec list #buckytony #winteriron #bucky barnes/tony stark #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky/tony #bucky x tony #i should create a tag for fic rec lists #this got sort of long so ive hidden some of them under a read more #that doesn't mean they're any less good though!!

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monicawoe · 3 years

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spn fic masterlist

(updated 5/29/21)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Between Hell and the Hunt - Dean's deal is due, but Sam has found a way to save him. He's made a deal with someone else - someone Lilith can't touch. (2k words, Wild Hunt season 3 AU)

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU. Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes. (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Best Self - written for @alyndra9 for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell: Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side. After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford: Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960 - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking - John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU - Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror)

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#spn fics #spn fanart #sam winchester #boy king sam #monicawoe's fics

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