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littlemisspascal · 1 year ago

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Share My Moon

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Din x Female Reader // also referenced Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Summary: If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory but no name or description except having hair, Reader's mother makes an appearance, worldbuilding, Ginger Ale being the supportive friend I wish I had, language, angst, grief, mentions of death, passage of time is kind of wibbly wobbly here

Author Note: I've missed this little universe and felt like pouring out some angsty feels. Expands a bit more upon events referenced in Young Love. Hope someone out there likes it 💜💜💜

Pics in moodboard found on Canva + Pinterest. The Omera + Din pic is merely used for aesthetic purposes and does not depict Reader's physical appearance.

Share My Moon - Candle Cocoon

The times that we exist together. Words not needed. Words not said. Memory past. Baking frenzy, harvest night. Pause, look up, the window is bright. Share my Moon. Feel It’s light. Always know that wherever you go. You just need to know that we share the same moon.

~~~

For as many people called Eldergrove home, there were twice as many who no longer did. They moved on and never looked back. The village and its inhabitants nothing more than tiny specks in the rearview mirrors of their lives. You wondered sometimes, if despite the miles of separation, they ever could feel it when their name was spoken by reminiscing villagers. A pinch of nostalgia in the center of their chest for a chapter of their lives they’d closed.

Maybe that was what led a handful of souls back to their old stomping grounds, even after some swore they’d never step foot on Eldergrove soil again.

The Miller brothers upped and left after the deaths of their parents. Ben was barely fifteen at the time, too stubborn and too emotionally damaged to be abandoned by his older sibling. Years later they returned out of the blue, bringing with them Santiago and Frankie, and moved back into the Miller household alongside their cousin like they’d never left. You were reminded of a pack of feral dogs, dangerously codependent and easy to spook, distrustful of the friendly hands offering to help them.

Pero Tovar and William Garin stuck around long enough to graduate school before they packed their things and disappeared. Nobody in the village could figure out for sure where they went or what they did the eight years they were gone. But once William’s ability to kill any prey with a bow and arrow in one shot and Pero’s complete lack of reaction to bloodshed were noticed, the rumor mill blazed with conspiracy theories each more outrageous than the last.

And it hurt to think about how each of these boys who left came back different. They came back as men. Damaged, bloodstained, and exhausted men chewed up and spit out by the big bad world.

It hurt even worse to think about Din this way. Din with his unwavering faith. Din with his impenetrable armor. Beaten and scorned. Unvalued. He deserved a softer life than the one fate had handed him. Nothing could ever convince you otherwise.

On paper, Din had no reason to return. He’d never called Eldergrove home. He’d never called anywhere home. Mandalorians weren’t meant to form attachments outside of their family bonds. Weren’t built for the apple pie and white picket fence domestic lifestyle.

Still, like the ocean drawn to the shoreline, he came back to you over and over.

You thought that was a constant you could depend upon in your ever-changing life.

And maybe it would have remained one, if not for your brazen act of selfishness. If you hadn't been drowning in grief over the deaths of your loved ones and overwhelmed by Din’s kindness, his fidelity, his everything and stopped yourself from lifting his helmet high enough to slam a kiss against his lips.

If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

If, if, if…They seemed to multiply like rabbits, invading every corner of your brain.

You’d known it was a mistake in the fragile seconds before he pushed you back, so it wasn’t surprising to find him gone by the time you’d summoned up the nerve to walk out of Ivers Forest. His constant absence the several following months without a single word of contact was another puncture driven through your tormented heart. The kind that kept you up at night, white hot and unbearably tender, but deserved all the same for fucking everything up.

It had made sense back then, in its own twisted way, that the anguish would stick with you forever, infiltrating every last atom you possessed. But life had the annoying tendency of moving on and on and on, uncaring of who it pissed off in doing so, and even the most gruesome of wounds stopped bleeding eventually, leaving behind a couple of jagged scars as reminders of lessons learned.

And boy did you learn yours the hard way.

You and Din? The shortest of love stories summed up in four words.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

You were a mere shadow of your former self in the aftermath of the funerals and Din’s departure. Shattered without a plan of how to glue yourself back together again. People noticed, of course they did, looking at you with pity in their eyes and offering paper-thin smiles. Turned you into a bit of a recluse to avoid facing them, feeling too much like an object or statue to gawk at rather than a real human being. Though there were some days you didn’t even feel like one of those either.

Your relationship with The Cupboard was a love/hate one, switching back and forth depending on the week or day or hour. It was funny in a pathetic, tragic sort of way how a building you’d known since birth became almost unrecognizable once it stopped being your grandmother’s shop and now belonged to you. You spent days refamiliarizing yourself with every tool and ingredient, the contents of each drawer, the ‘hidden’ nook beneath one of the floorboards you once stuffed shiny pebbles and bird feathers in like your own personal treasure trove. Nothing in there now except a couple of dust bunnies.

Inheriting the shop also meant inheriting your grandmother’s loyal mass of clientele. They sent in their orders by mail from afar, knocked on the shop door if you had the light on, or asked through your mother when you made yourself purposefully scarce. No one commented on the unpredictable hours. Grief could be used to excuse all types of strange behavior.

Wearing the same clothes for several days in a row? Grief.

Locking yourself away in a tiny room with nothing but molds and candlewax for hours on end? Grief was the explanation.

In your defense, you did spend time outside of the shop and your bedroom. Quite a bit, actually. Not your fault there weren’t any witnesses in Ivers Forest to see you collecting herbs or tending to the graves there. Sometimes you’d personally deliver orders to customers who lived beyond Eldergrove’s boundaries rather than send them by post–Rosedale, Bogcaster, once even Sassashire Falls for a woman with a particularly nasty reaction to a bee sting.

A good night’s sleep was hard to come by, no matter the candles which burned on your bedside table. You’d dream of what you’d lost. Who you had lost. And if you weren’t dreaming, you were having a staring contest with the moon outside the window, full and white, a guardian against the worst of the hungry shadows. Stared until your eyes burned and the questions beating against your skull fell mute. The clock numbers ticked by from midnight ‘till dawn. Life went on and on and on.

Mornings were easier. You’d make tea while Ginger cobbled together a little breakfast meal from whatever could be found in the fridge. She knew better than to comment on your tired eyes or frumpy appearance, instead just nudged her elbow against yours in a silent I’m here if you need me.

You stuffed your mouth with food and stacked the dishes and silverware in the sink to deal with later. Wished Ginger luck on finishing her newest invention designs.

Then back to The Cupboard you went. Same old, same old.

Your mother worried about you–well, that was always a fact. But she worried even more so that year, had a concerned crease between her eyebrows every time you stopped by, hugged you an extra bit tighter as if she could somehow absorb the negative emotions and take them on herself.

“You know, darling,” she told you one evening, a couple glasses of wine too many loosening her tongue, “that boy could never hate you.”

Your mother was your closest confidant–boy troubles, irritating customers, crippling insecurities, she knew just what to say to make every problem shrink down into manageable ones. Easy to fix.

But not this.

“Mom–”

“It was obvious from the minute you brought him home you were tied to each other. He may not be your familiar, but your grandmother and I both knew you would always be in each other’s lives.”

“Not anymore.” You shook your head, a wet sob stuck in your throat. “He’s not coming back. Not again.”

“I know it feels like an ending, darling. Like all hope is lost,” she said, hands squeezing your shoulders. Her eyes were bright and expressive, impossible to look away from. “But sometimes things fall apart because there’s no other way for them to go. And it’s natural to feel hurt and confused and angry. Those challenging moments are meant to teach us new things though, open our stubborn eyes and change us into us. Din will come back when the timing’s right. When you’ve both grown up a bit, walked your own separate paths for a few seasons. Trust me.”

So that’s what you did.

You grew up, settled into your own skin. You made a name for yourself as a skilled mage and chandler. You started smiling a bit more.

Missing Din became easier–felt less like the throbbing absence of a limb, more like the yearning ache of homesickness. Curious, since you were the one who had a roof over your head and a mailing address.

There were still some nights you’d find yourself watching the moon, its waning and waxing. And it became a comfort, imagining Din somewhere out there in the wilds on his own path, sharing the same view.

Take your time, you would think in the lulling seconds before drifting off. I'm not going anywhere.

If not for the stone markers, the graves in Ivers Forest wouldn’t look much like burial sites. The dislodged piles of dirt had been reclaimed by the earth, smoothed out and replenished with green tufts of grass dotted with dandelions doing what they did best. Thriving where least wanted.

Sunlight trickled in through the overarching tree branches, shimmering beams igniting the dust and pollen floating in the air. The only movement in an otherwise frozen patch of wilderness. Not even the birds or crickets sung their songs there. Used to make you feel nauseous–the silence so still your heartbeat hurt to hear.

You craved quietness these days. Wished you could preserve it in the wax of your candles somehow, then burn its essence and inhale its effects until your racing thoughts permanently settled down. But every kind of magic had its limitations. Capturing the hush of a soul’s final resting place, raising the dead back to the realm of the living…it was all too much for you.

The lit candle cupped between your hands flickered, reacting to the negative dip of your mood. An infusion of lavender, bergamot, and a hint of lemon meant to invoke calmness–one of your grandmother’s favorite recipes. Except it didn’t smell like hers, missing the unique, spicy aftereffect of her own magic that you would never in your lifetime be able to mimic. It was a plain and simple fact: you could run her store, you could copy her recipes, but you couldn’t ever actually be her.

Didn’t stop you from trying to fill your grandmother’s shoes though, to be everything she was remembered and loved for.

A talented mage, a successful businesswoman, a respected member of the community. Accomplishments which matched those of a happy life. Accomplishments you’d earned for yourself, checked off each box through hard work and stubborn persistence.

You should have been happy.

But the feeling remained elusive to you. Hovered just beyond your reach, enshrouded in a mist of uncertainty, not so different from a certain bounty hunter you were dearly fond of.

It was foolish, thinking of him at the same spot everything shattered to pieces. You rubbed at your nose, grimacing against the phantom sensation of blood leaking from your nostrils. If only you’d mourned the loss of your grandmother and Aunt Bunny the way most people did, instead of nearly getting yourself killed trying to bend the rules of the universe to your whim, maybe then things would have been different. Happier.

Your candle’s flame flickered again, angrier this time, nearly snuffing out.

“Sorry, sorry. Brighter days are on the horizon, I believe you,�� you muttered to yourself, staring down at your grandmother’s marker with a rueful half-smile. Some days it felt cathartic to speak out loud, other times a little ridiculous. Regardless, nobody ever replied back.

“It’s always darkest before the dawn,” a familiar voice agreed from behind.

Until then, apparently.

Ginger was a great roommate. She was tidy, thoughtful, far more brilliant than everyone else in the village combined. She also knew how to find you when you didn’t want to be found and when it was time to bring you home again. Even when you weren’t ready to admit so.

You greeted her with an arm nudge as she stepped up beside you, shoulder pressing back against yours. She adjusted her glasses, then neatly held her hands in front of her. The stance of someone who intended to stick around for a while.

“Caught up in the past again, hmm?”

“Guilty,” you answered with a sigh. “Can’t seem to shake the habit.”

“You ever think about, maybe, finding someone to anchor you in the present?” she asked, like the question had an easy answer.

“Someone like who?”

“A boyfriend.”

You hummed a dismissive note. “No. Not even once. Why the hell would I want that?”

“It’s called dating, hon. Lots of single fish out there in the sea, including some of Merlin’s friends.” Ginger tilted her head to meet your gaze, an encouraging look in her dark eyes. “Could be good for you. Why not give it a shot?”

Why not? Because you were still grappling with the consequences of the last (and first) time you kissed someone. Why not? Because dating meant opening yourself up to someone, allowing them to see you. Every crack, every shadow, every shortcoming. Why not? Because someone already had seen you like that…and you’d lost him.

You bit into your lower lip, stared down at the pooling melted wax filling the jar as if the words you lacked were stuck there, waiting to be pulled free. But nothing could be found.

“Change can be scary,” Ginger said after a moment. There was a note of sympathy in her voice, and you didn’t want to hear it. Not there, where out of the corner of your eye you swore you glimpsed the glint of beskar, where the dividing line between past and present had never been blurrier. “But…you’re not happy with the way things are right now, are you?” The expression on Ginger’s face told you she knew the truth. She just wanted to hear you say it.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Something about actually giving voice to the problem that had been weighing down on you so long felt akin to tearing your heart out of your chest. Exposed for one of your closest friends in the whole world to gawk at.

“No,” you answered, shoulders curving with defeat. A sour taste in your mouth, you choked out, “I’m not happy.”

“The first step’s admitting it.” Your roommate slung her arm around your back, squeezing your upper arm. Then: “The next step’s taking a leap of faith and doing something about it.”

Later, you convinced a stubborn Pero Tovar to make you a cottage out of The Cupboard. (That’s a whole other story on its own).

Later, Pero kissed you beneath a sky full of shooting stars. It was unexpectedly sweet. Romantic. (Another story for another time.)

Later, you broke Pero’s heart because (beware of spoilers) for all the potential reasons you might’ve been happy together, there was one glaring detail you couldn’t overlook no matter how hard you tried.

He wasn’t Din.

And life went on and on and on.

On one shelf in The Cupboard, towards the back where you kept your wax molds, there was a row of candles—different colors, different infusions, each created with a different person in mind. There was a pink one for your mother, a grey one for your stepfather, light blue for Ginger and green for Benny and yellow for Frankie. Din’s was gold, Will’s a dark shade of purple and Santiago’s a vibrant orange. Pero had a black one, though with the unpleasant awkwardness still lingering after the breakup his had become the least burned in your collection—well, actually that was not entirely true. There was one you’d never lit at all. An earthy brown shade and still as pristine as the day you made it for a familiar you’d yet to meet.

None of these people asked for a candle. They didn’t pay for them or choose their colors or infusions. You made the candles in your own free time of your own volition. Because there was something about the process of melting wax and adding scents, about infusing strength and peace and creativity and protection that gave you a sense of purpose, of being a positive force.

You burned them sporadically, sometimes for hours while you finalized orders, sometimes for under ten minutes as you drank a cup of tea. You burned them when your magic sensed something was needed, a void only it could help fill. You burned them because nothing hurt you worse than when the ones you loved most were suffering, the hopeful vibrance in their eyes dimming and waning.

There were some tragedies which could not be avoided. Some hardships that must be endured and overcome by one’s own strength. Life was never a smooth path for anybody. For every sunny day there were also moonless nights.

But light would always come again.

Afterall, even the biggest of shadows were powerless against the smallest of candle flames.

Monday: breakfast at your mother’s house, yummy biscuits and troubled lines along your stepfather’s brow, news of a sick relative, a grey candle burned to bring him peace of mind.

Tuesday: lunch with Frankie, tired smudges beneath downcast eyes, discussions of nightmares, the dancing flame of a yellow candle promised sweeter dreams.

Wednesday: stacks of orders, piles of laundry, Ginger lent a helping hand, a blue candle lit over dinner in gratitude.

Thursday: Santiago and his restless spirit, the notes of an acoustic guitar played by scarred hands, new song lyrics in black ink, an orange candle ignited to summon enlightenment of life’s priorities.

Friday: woke up before the sunrise, magic tugged at your chest, a gold candle grabbed and lit before you even registered its meaning, heartbeat dangerously frantic.

It’s happening, you thought with a laugh verging on hysterical. It’s really happening.

Din was coming back.

Night had descended upon Eldergrove by the time Din approached The Cupboard. It was reassuring to learn his preference for the cloak of darkness concealing his presence hadn’t changed. Helped appease something ruffled deep inside you, eased the tension in your spine.

He knocked on the door–and that hadn’t changed either, the achingly familiar thud of leather-gloved knuckles against the wood. Even without the gold candle still burning away on your kitchen table, you would have known it was him by the mere sound alone.

Electricity seemed to thrum along your nerves, pulse spasming and fingers trembling as you gripped the doorknob. Your mom had told you Din would return when the timing was right, and you’d believed her. Except absolutely nothing felt right about then and there. It was an impossible clash of too soon and too long without any middle ground to stand on.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped outside. A leap of faith.

And for the first time in over a year, you and Din shared the same moon.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedrostories #din djarin fanfiction #my fic #my writing

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hwashua-luv · 9 months ago

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Echoes of a Melody

An uncanny tradition had nestled into the serenely pretty Eldergrove hamlet, where ancient oaks whispered secrets, and the cobblestone streets curls like tendrils through history. Once young and teeming with life, all its members, upon reaching the age of eighteen, received a song—one special, one ethereal—echoing just out of reach. For one, it was sweet; a mixture of tenderness with others was powerful and dramatic. The songs were more than just a romantic ideal to the elders of Eldergrove; they were guiding forces in finding one's other half.

For Y/N, it was her eighteenth birthday. She woke up with a flutter in her heart and could feel excitement all over her. The day presaged an emotional roller-coaster as it heralded that finally, she was going to hear that song poised to reveal her soulmate. She dressed most carefully in a light blue dress for that day, her favourite colour, and went to the town square to celebrate.

The square was alive with activity. Flags billowed in the breeze, and the smell of fresh pastries permeated the air along with low murmurings of laughter. She saw her family and friends gathered at a huge, ornate stage where a local musician was adjusting his guitar. The anticipation was more than she could bear as the moment approached, and Y/N could barely contain her nerves.

At noon, he strummed a few final chords before saying, "Now, it's time for the highlight of the day—our new eighteen-year-old will hear her soul song for the first time. Y/N, would you come up here?"

She took a deep breath as she stepped onto the stage. Her best friend, Emma, smiled reassuringly back at her from the crowd. Y/N's heart was drumming so violently that she felt scared it would actually overshadow the melody. She gripped the microphone in her hand, and the world literally seemed to stop breathing.

A soft, spellbinding melody filled the air around it. Y/N closed her eyes and let the song engulf her just as if it were a warm embrace—one that spoke of a sweet consolation, with notes that seemed to dance around the heart. Beautiful song, but there was something rather queer in it. Too familiar, as though she had heard it somewhere before.

A thunderous applause followed as the song concluded, but Y/N felt as if her mind still floated on the beauty of the melody. It was no ordinary song for her. A melody that she, for years, has been dreaming of. A song, that inspired amidst comforting dreams, stayed her sole permanent companion. She never understood its significance, but it was here, live and real now.

The longer it got in the day, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that the song was calling her, guiding her toward something significant. She decided to go for a walk around town in an attempt to clear her mind. She went on through streets and streets and found herself standing in a little, beautiful park she had never visited before.

The park was deserted; only an ancient, rusty, sprawling bench under the canopy of a huge oak tree betrayed the presence of humans. When she came closer, she saw a young man sitting on the bench with his back turned towards her. He must have been listening to something on his earphones, for his face was wholly covered with disheveled hair. A feeling of déjà vu swept over Y/N, making her feel like she really had to approach him.

She took a deep breath and went closer; he turned his face. Their eyes met, and for a split second, everything froze in time. That felt a tad too familiar, some magnetic pull she couldn't quite understand.

"Y/N," she began, with a soft, rather hesitant voice. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

He pulled the headphones off, surprise mixed in with a certain level of curiosity displayed across his features. "Not at all. I was just enjoying the park. I'm Mingi," he said, offering his hand.

"Y/N," she replied, shaking it. At the touch of their hands, some kind of electric buzz seemed to spark through them, great forking units of electrical charge, and they both stood, wide-eyed in recognition.

A few minutes later, the strain had hummed softly in the background in something of a perfect echo of the tune Y/N had heard at her coming-of-age ceremony. Realization dawned in Mingi's eyes, and he chuckled softly. "So, you heard it too, huh?"

Y/N nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, it's the song I've heard in my dreams for years. It's so odd to hear it now, in reality.

Mingi smiled even bigger and patted the space next to him. "Looks like we have a lot in common because I've had that song too, and it was driving me nuts."

Now, with the comfort of a couple of old friends, they found themselves talking about their lives, dreams, and that strange pull they both felt toward that song. The more they talked, the more they found out what they had in common—just how much such matters were able to bring them very close: their musical tastes, favourite books, and even the same sense of humour. Never did Mingi take his eyes off Y/N, even as the sun descended and sent a golden, warm light throughout all of the park. He held a softness in his eyes that jolted her heart.

"You know, this feels really special. I've always believed in soulmates, but I never thought I'd actually meet mine.

Y/N blushed with pink as her heart sputtered. "Yeah, I feel the same. Like everything is leading up to this moment."

There was this unspoken connection whereby the air between them was woven into invisible sparks; Mingi leaned a bit closer as his hand brushed Y/N's. She hitched her breath at the closeness of his face. Without any further notice, Mingi closed the gap between them, kissing her tenderly and slowly.

The world fell out as they kissed; their soulmate song melody spilled into the rhythm of their hearts. They drew back, their gazes locking with a new depth of understanding and affection. Mingi took Y/N's hand in his, stroking her knuckles lightly with his thumb. "I think we found something really special here."

Y/N just nodded, her heart swelling with fulfillment and happiness. "Yes, I think we have."And so they walked, both of them, hand in hand, through the park, with the night wrapping them up in its song—the song of their souls in the background. Realization hit that for them, their life journey had just begun. The tune would play on, guiding them through and through the melody of love that was theirs to face.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Word count: 1094

Author's note: The same one-shot has been posted on Wattpad (hwashua-luv). Requests are also open <3

All works written by me do not copy, translate or repost my works without my given consent.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez mingi #song mingi #mingi #mingi fanfiction #mingi fanfic #mingi fic #mingi ff #mingi x reader #atiny

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loeyshandtattoo · 1 year ago

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the lady of moonreach

SECOND CHAPTER, Whispers in the Shadows

chapter summary: Namra still insists on the restoration of Moonreach, and manages to have an upper hand with her new friend, despite that, it doesn't grant her the immunity from the members of the council, not even the feelings that she is slowly growing for the king-conqueror. wc: 3.7k

THE MORNING SUN CAST ALONG THE SHADOWS AT STONEHEARTH, where the scars of war were still evident despite the city's efforts to heal. As I walked through the bustling streets, the contrasts were stark—rebuilt homes and vibrant markets stood side by side with remnants of past destruction. Chanyeol and I had made headway in revitalizing the capital, but the crucial matter of Moonreach loomed large over our efforts.

That is why, the council again has called for a meeting, and this time it was to make peace on the incident the other day about the supposed plans on Moonreach's restoration initiative.

In the council chamber, Chanyeol sat at the head of the table, his gaze fixed on the array of documents before him. The tension from the previous meeting still hung in the air, the friction between us palpable. Junmyeon, Chanyeol’s advisor, was present, and his role in our current predicament was undeniable.

From what I know, Junmyeon owns a piece of land in the Verdantia, where the House Baek rules over in the confines of Greenwood Keep, and Junmyeon managed to have owned hectares of land and named the estate, Eldergrove Keep. His political background is quite remarkable given his family history, whom have been a loyal political advisor to the king, but at this case, he trusts my side, and that is the one he's about to defend in this meeting.

“Moonreach needs to be our priority,” I said firmly, breaking the silence. “It’s not just a castle; it’s a symbol of our commitment to the northern regions and to the legacy of Lord Greenwell.”

Chanyeol looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Namra, I’m aware of its significance, but resources are limited. We can’t simply divert them from other pressing needs.”

Junmyeon interjected smoothly, “Lord Greenwell’s estate was more than just a symbol; it was a vital strategic location. Restoring Moonreach could stabilize the northern regions and reinforce our control there. It’s not only about sentiment; it’s about strategy.”

Chanyeol’s jaw tightened. He was clearly struggling with the implications. “Fine. We’ll allocate the resources for Moonreach. But you, Namra, will need to oversee the process.”

I nodded, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’ll handle it.”

As the meeting concluded, the strained atmosphere between Chanyeol and me was almost tangible. His reluctance was evident, but I was determined to press on. The urgency of the restoration was more than just a task—it was a mission driven by personal stakes and the memory of Lord Greenwell.

As we exited the council room, Chanyeol’s gaze lingered on Junmyeon. There was a flicker of irritation in his eyes, an insecurity that had become more pronounced since our earlier discussions. I could sense the undercurrent of rivalry, a tension that went beyond mere politics.

In the corridors, Chanyeol caught up with me, his expression resolute. “Namra, don’t think for a moment that I’m underestimating the importance of Moonreach. But I need you to understand that this kingdom’s survival is at stake. Every decision we make has consequences.”

His voice was clipped, his frustration barely contained. “I understand,” I said, matching his tone. “But Moonreach is not a luxury; it’s a necessity.”

Chanyeol’s eyes met mine with a mix of defiance and something softer—a flicker of understanding perhaps, buried beneath the surface. “Very well. I’ll support your efforts, but don’t expect me to stand idly by if things go awry.”

Right after the conversation, he returned to his office, where he can continue stressing over the political matters of the kingdom.

The corridors of Ironhold were abuzz with the muted echoes of footsteps and murmured conversations. The high ceilings and grand tapestries spoke of a bygone era of opulence, but the current atmosphere was heavy with the weight of political tension. As I walked through the hallways, my mind was preoccupied with the recent council meeting. The debate over Moonreach had not only been a professional ordeal but a deeply personal one.

Finally, things were turning to my favor.

I turned a corner, my steps slowing as I saw Junmyeon waiting near a grand window overlooking the courtyard. His presence was calm, his demeanor always one of composed authority. His sharp eyes met mine as I approached, a subtle nod acknowledging my arrival.

“Namra,” Junmyeon greeted, his tone warm but measured. “I was hoping we could talk. The council meeting seemed particularly intense today.”

I offered a small, appreciative smile. “Yes, it was. I’m glad you’re here. I was hoping to discuss the next steps for Moonreach. There’s still so much to be done, and your input has been invaluable.”

Junmyeon gestured for me to follow him to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the bustling activity. We stood by a large map of the kingdom displayed on the wall, a detailed depiction of the land with various territories marked.

“I’m glad to see that Chanyeol has agreed to prioritize Moonreach,” Junmyeon said, his eyes scanning the map. “It’s a crucial step, not just for the northern regions, but for the entire kingdom’s stability.”

I nodded, appreciating his continued support. “Indeed. But there are still obstacles—both logistical and political. I worry about the challenges ahead.”

Junmyeon’s expression turned thoughtful. “Restoring Moonreach is more than a symbolic gesture; it’s about reinforcing our northern defenses and showing our commitment to those who have been loyal to the crown.”

I glanced at him, sensing a deeper understanding in his words. “You seem particularly invested in this. Why?”

Junmyeon looked at me with a hint of surprise, then offered a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “You’ve caught me. My family’s history has always been intertwined with the political landscape of Iris. My estate, Eldergrove Keep, has been a center of strategy and diplomacy. Supporting Moonreach is not just a personal favor; it’s a way to ensure that the northern regions remain stable.”

“Your support has been crucial,” I said sincerely. “But I can’t help feeling that there’s more to it. Your involvement seems… personal.”

Junmyeon met my gaze steadily. “Perhaps. I believe in what Moonreach represents. It’s a symbol of resilience, and with the kingdom’s future so uncertain, we need every symbol of strength we can get.”

I sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and uncertainty. “Chanyeol’s reluctance has been palpable. I can sense his frustration, especially with how closely you and I have been working together.”

Junmyeon’s eyes softened with understanding. “Chanyeol has his own burdens to bear. The pressure of leadership can be overwhelming, and sometimes it manifests as frustration or insecurity. His struggle with prioritizing Moonreach is a reflection of his broader concerns for the kingdom.”

We stood in silence for a moment, the gravity of our conversation sinking in. Junmyeon’s presence was a comforting constant amidst the chaos.

“I appreciate your perspective,” I said finally. “And I’m grateful for your support. It means more than you know.”

Junmyeon offered a reassuring smile. “We’re all in this together, Namra. The kingdom’s future relies on our collective efforts. If there’s anything more I can do to help, you have my word.”

As we continued to discuss the finer points of the restoration and strategy, the connection between us grew stronger. Junmyeon’s support was not just political; it was a genuine commitment to the kingdom’s wellbeing, and it was clear that our shared goals were forging a meaningful alliance.

The conversation eventually drew to a close, and as I prepared to leave, Junmyeon gave me a final, encouraging nod. “Keep pushing forward. We’re making progress, and every step counts.”

I watched him walk away, a sense of determination settling within me. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but with allies like Junmyeon by my side, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. As I moved toward the next task, the halls of Ironhold seemed a little less daunting, knowing that support and understanding were within reach.

Chanyeol's POV

As I returned to the comfort of my office, my thoughts were clouded by a mix of frustration and something else—an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability. The tension between Namra and me was more than just professional; there was an undeniable personal undertone that I struggled to understand.

The way she spoke about Moonreach with such fervor, her unwavering dedication—it was both admirable and unsettling. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever I saw her interact with Junmyeon. Their camaraderie, their shared understanding—it was a stark contrast to the growing distance between Namra and me.

I found myself staring out of the window of my chambers, lost in thought. Junmyeon’s influence and his closeness to Namra made me uneasy. I recalled a moment from our earlier discussions, where Junmyeon had subtly encouraged Namra’s efforts. There was something almost calculated in his support, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that his motives were not entirely pure.

I recalled a memory from a few weeks ago, when Junmyeon had suggested a strategy that had seemed to benefit both parties. At the time, I’d appreciated his insight, but now, with Namra so closely involved, I wondered if his intentions were more self-serving. His history with my family, his unspoken ambitions—these were the shadows lurking in the back of my mind.

The way Namra and Junmyeon had spoken in the council hall, the ease with which they exchanged ideas—it made me question my own position. My feelings for Namra, a strange mixture of admiration and frustration, only added to my insecurities.

I was beginning to realize that my feelings towards her were not as straightforward as I had assumed. There was an undeniable connection, a growing sense of respect that bordered on something deeper. Yet, every gesture of support seemed to come with a price, a reminder of the political and personal complexities we faced.

As I turned back to my desk, I felt the weight of the kingdom’s challenges pressing down on me. My thoughts were tangled with doubts about Junmyeon’s true motives and the growing closeness between Namra and the advisor. But beneath it all, there was an undeniable yearning for something more—a connection that transcended the political strife.

Somehow, I refuse to believe that it's anything more than having certain deeper feelings.

Namra's POV

As days passed, Chanyeol’s demeanor remained guarded, but small gestures began to shift the dynamic between us. He made an effort to consult with me directly about the progress of the restoration, and there were moments when his attention seemed to soften, if only slightly.

One evening, as I reviewed plans for Moonreach, Chanyeol appeared at my side. “How is the restoration progressing?” he asked, his voice betraying an uncharacteristic note of concern.

“It’s coming along,” I replied, glancing up. “But we’ve encountered some obstacles. We need additional resources to address them.”

Chanyeol’s brow furrowed. “I’ll see what I can do. We can’t afford delays.”

The brief exchange was loaded with unspoken tension, but beneath it, there was an undercurrent of mutual respect. Chanyeol’s willingness to assist, even in small ways, hinted at a growing recognition of the importance of our shared goals.

In the council room, Junmyeon continued to play a pivotal role, his influence evident in the strategies we implemented. Chanyeol’s frustration with Junmyeon was palpable, but there were moments when he acknowledged the advisor’s contributions, if begrudgingly.

Meanwhile, the situation in Dawnspire remained tense. Lady Ambers was grappling with political instability, and her challenges were a stark reminder of the broader issues facing the kingdom. Chanyeol’s focus on these issues sometimes overshadowed his interactions with me, but there were brief instances where he seemed to appreciate the gravity of our situation.

As I worked tirelessly on the restoration of Moonreach, the weight of the task was ever-present. The castle’s rebuilding was more than a physical endeavor; it was a symbol of hope and renewal for the kingdom. And despite the ongoing friction, Chanyeol’s sporadic gestures of support hinted at a slowly thawing relationship.

The early evening light cast long, dramatic shadows through the grand windows of Ironhold, painting the stone floors in warm hues. The hallways were quieter now, the clamor of the day giving way to an eerie calm. I had been heading towards the archives to review the restoration plans for Moonreach, seeking solitude amidst the castle’s grandeur.

As I rounded a corner, I nearly bumped into Chanyeol, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. His sudden presence made my heart skip a beat. I looked up into his intense gaze, and for a moment, time seemed to stretch between us.

“Namra,” he said, a hint of surprise coloring his voice. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I stepped back, regaining my composure. “Just heading to the archives. The restoration plans need my attention.”

Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I was actually on my way there myself. Perhaps we could walk together? It’s been a while since we had a chance to talk without the usual constraints.”

His suggestion was unexpected, but I agreed, and we started down the corridor side by side. The space between us seemed to crackle with an electric charge, our proximity heightening the tension.

“I’ve been thinking,” Chanyeol began, his voice low and deliberate, “about our last conversation. You were quite insistent on Moonreach.”

I turned to face him, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “Moonreach isn’t just a restoration project. It’s a symbol of hope and commitment. It’s personal.”

Chanyeol’s expression hardened momentarily. “Personal, yes. But what about the broader issues? The instability in Dawnspire, for instance—are they less important?”

I chose my words carefully. “Every issue is significant, but Moonreach holds a deeper meaning for me. It’s not merely about strategy; it’s about honoring a legacy.”

Chanyeol’s eyes darkened, his internal struggle evident. “And yet, sometimes I wonder if you’re more invested in this project than in the kingdom’s other needs.”

Before I could reply, we reached the archives. The room seemed too large and impersonal for the conversation we were having. Chanyeol’s eyes met mine with a mixture of frustration and something else—an unspoken vulnerability.

“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he suggested, his tone softer but charged with an edge of tension.

We found a small, secluded study room just off the main corridor. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of evening light filtering through the narrow windows. It was intimate, the warmth of the setting creating a cocoon around us.

As we entered, Chanyeol’s demeanor shifted subtly. He leaned against a table, his posture relaxed yet exuding an air of controlled intensity. “Namra,” he began, his voice dropping to a hushed tone, “I value your dedication, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more behind your actions.”

I stood close to him, the proximity causing my pulse to quicken. “And what makes you think that?”

Chanyeol’s eyes bore into mine, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “It’s the way you speak of Moonreach. As if it’s not just a task but a deeply personal mission.”

The space between us seemed to shrink, the air growing thicker with tension. Chanyeol’s gaze flickered between my eyes and my lips, his breath coming slightly uneven. “Sometimes,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, “I feel like there’s a part of you that’s deliberately hidden.”

The moment hung heavy with unspoken tension. Chanyeol’s vulnerability was palpable, and I could feel the magnetic pull between us. The briefest touch of his hand against mine sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’m driven by my commitment,” I said, my voice low and steady. “But if you feel there’s more, you should be open about it.”

Chanyeol’s gaze lingered on me, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—an unspoken longing. “Perhaps you’re right. But it’s hard to ignore the way we seem to clash and connect simultaneously.”

Our faces were inches apart now, the warmth of his breath mingling with mine. The tension was almost unbearable, and I could see the struggle in his eyes—an internal battle between restraint and the pull of something deeper.

Before I could react, the door creaked open slightly, a distant sound breaking the moment. Chanyeol took a step back, his expression a conflicted mixture of desire and frustration. “We should focus on our tasks,” he said, his voice returning to its usual clipped tone. “There’s too much at stake.”

I nodded, trying to steady my own racing heart. “Yes, of course. We both have our roles to play.”

As we left the room, the silence between us was charged with the residue of our interaction. The connection was undeniable, yet shrouded in the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Chanyeol’s guarded demeanor and the intensity of our exchange left me with a sense of anticipation—and a lingering tension that promised further complications.

However, a part of me can't help but of the feeling being watched. As if someone is monitoring my every move, and that wants to make me plan step ahead.

Third Person POV

As dusk fell over Stonehearth, the grand halls of Ironhold were cloaked in shadows, the fading light casting eerie patterns on the stone walls. Junmyeon, having just finished his duties for the day, decided to take a walk to clear his mind. His thoughts were still occupied with the ongoing tensions between Chanyeol and Namra, as well as the looming threat of unrest in the kingdom.

He wandered through the dimly lit corridors of Ironhold, taking a path he rarely used. His steps were muffled by the thick carpets that lined the halls, and the soft glow of wall sconces provided just enough light to navigate by. As he approached a secluded part of the castle, he noticed a faint glow coming from under a door slightly ajar.

Curiosity piqued, Junmyeon moved closer, pressing his ear against the crack of the door. Through the narrow opening, he could hear the low murmur of voices. The room on the other side seemed to be a private chamber, often used for discreet meetings. Junmyeon’s instincts told him that something significant was happening behind that door.

Carefully, he inched the door open just enough to peer inside. What he saw made his pulse quicken.

One of the councilors, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, was speaking in hushed tones.

“We can’t let this opportunity slip away. With the unrest in Dawnspire and the focus on Moonreach, this is the perfect time to act.”

A second councilor, a woman with sharp features and calculating eyes, nodded in agreement. “The kingdom is divided. Chanyeol’s obsession with Moonreach has left other regions vulnerable. If we make our move now, we could strengthen our position significantly.”

Junmyeon’s eyes narrowed as he listened intently.

“We need to leverage this,” the burly councilor continued. “If we can undermine Chanyeol’s support in the northern regions, we can weaken his hold on the throne. Our allies in the northern territories are already feeling the strain. We just need to push them further.”

“The resources being diverted to Moonreach could have been used elsewhere, possibly in ways that would benefit us. We can’t let him consolidate his power too easily,” the first voice continued.

"The restoration plans should not be overlooked as well. See to it that what can be done to weaken the loyal alliances of the conqueror should remain that way."

"Agreed. The northerners have always been the easiest people to deal with especially now that we have the Lady of Moonreach at the palm of our hand."

Another councilor, a younger man with a nervous demeanor, chimed in. “And what about the reports of Chanyeol’s increased consultations with Namra? It seems he’s growing closer to her. Should we be concerned?”

"Definitely, saw each other earlier, the king-conqueror is on his knees for the beauty of that whore."

The woman with the calculating eyes leaned in. “Good. We’ll use that to our advantage. If Chanyeol’s focus is divided between Namra and the kingdom’s issues, he’ll be more susceptible to our plans. We need to keep an eye on their interactions and find a way to exploit any weaknesses.”

Junmyeon’s mind raced as he absorbed the conversation. The loyalists were not only scheming to strengthen their position but also to exploit the growing tension between Chanyeol and Namra. Their plan was more dangerous than he had anticipated, involving manipulation and strategic moves to destabilize Chanyeol’s rule.

Realizing the gravity of what he had overheard, Junmyeon quietly withdrew from the door, careful not to make any noise. He needed to report this information to Chanyeol immediately, but he also knew that he had to tread carefully. Revealing that he had been eavesdropping could raise suspicions and complicate matters further.

The evening’s revelations only deepened the intrigue and danger surrounding the kingdom, and Junmyeon knew that the coming days would be crucial in determining the fate of Iris.

He knew what must be done.

Namra's POV

As the night continue to grow, I walked beside Asia through the dimly lit corridors of Ironhold. The weight of the day’s events lingered, casting a shadow over our conversation. Chanyeol’s reactions, the looming issues with Moonreach—everything seemed to be tangled in an intricate web.

After hearing of what had happened between Chanyeol and I, Asia whispered my name.

“Namra,” Asia said quietly, her voice breaking the silence. Her tone was serious, and I could sense the weight behind her words. “We need to talk.”

I looked at her, noting the concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

Asia hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become with Chanyeol. I just want to remind you of something important.”

I frowned, my curiosity piqued. “What about Chanyeol?”

Asia’s expression was a mix of worry and resolve. “You need to be careful. I understand that there are feelings involved, but you have to remember why we’re here. It’s easy for emotions to complicate things, and I wouldn’t want that to jeopardize what we’re working towards.”

I took a deep breath, trying to understand her perspective. “I’m trying to keep my emotions in check. It’s just that… sometimes it’s hard to separate everything.”

Asia’s gaze softened. “I know it’s not easy. But our focus needs to remain clear. We can’t let personal entanglements distract us from our goals.”

Before I could respond, Asia signaled that we had reached our destination. “Junmyeon is expecting us. He wants to meet us in the observatory tower.”

The observatory tower was a secluded place in Ironhold, offering a panoramic view of the city. It felt like an appropriate setting for a private conversation.

As we entered the tower, Junmyeon was already there, standing by the large window that framed the night sky. The room was dimly lit, the glow of lanterns casting soft shadows across the stone walls.

“Namra, Asia,” Junmyeon greeted us with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”

I nodded back, exchanging a glance with Asia before we moved closer to Junmyeon. His demeanor was serious, and I could sense that he had important information to share.

“Before we begin,” Junmyeon said, his voice low, “I need to bring something to your attention. There are troubling rumors circulating among certain factions within the council. It seems that some members are plotting against Chanyeol.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Plotting against Chanyeol? What do you mean?”

Junmyeon’s expression darkened. “I’ve overheard discussions suggesting that there are plans to undermine his authority. The details are vague, but there are hints of a scheme to discredit him and destabilize his rule.”

Asia’s eyes widened slightly. “And who’s behind this?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “I don’t have a clear answer yet. It could be individuals who are dissatisfied with the current leadership or who have their own agendas. What’s certain is that Chanyeol is at risk.”

I exchanged a worried glance with Asia. This revelation was unsettling, and it only heightened the complexity of our situation. “What should we do?”

Junmyeon’s gaze was firm. “For now, we need to be vigilant. I’m working on gathering more information, but I wanted you both to be aware of the potential threat. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

As Junmyeon spoke, the cool night air from the observatory window seemed to chill my bones. The stakes were higher than I had imagined, and the sense of urgency was palpable.

When the meeting concluded, Asia and I left the observatory, the weight of Junmyeon’s words hanging heavily in the air. The cool night breeze did little to ease the tension. I could sense the danger that loomed over us, a shadow of uncertainty that added to the already complicated situation.

Asia’s earlier warning about maintaining focus seemed even more relevant now. As we walked back to our quarters, the city of Stonehearth spread out below us, its lights twinkling in the distance. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, and the potential threat against Chanyeol only added to the precarious balance we needed to maintain.

"I need to leave for Silverhaven immediately," Asia announced as we found the comfort of our bedchambers.

I took a deep breath, "Why, I need you here at this time and hour."

"As Lady of Silverhaven, I must ensure that my domain remains loyal and secure. We can't afford any surprises."

I felt a pang of anxiety. "Be careful. We don't know who might be involved in this plot."

Asia flashed me a reassuring smile. "I'll take every precaution. And remember, stay vigilant."

With that, Asia prepared to leave, her departure adding another layer of urgency to the situation. As she gathered her things, I felt a lingering growing sense of unease.

The morning sun spilled its warm light over Ironhold, casting a gentle glow on the bustling city below. The air was filled with the soft murmur of early activity, a stark contrast to the tension that had characterized the past few days. As I stood at the gates of Ironhold, I felt a pang of sadness mixed with resolve. Today was the day Asia would leave for Eldoria, and I was determined to make sure she departed with all the support she needed.

Asia approached, her travel attire neatly pressed and her expression a mix of determination and nostalgia. She carried herself with the grace of someone who was both a noble and a warrior, her presence commanding respect and affection. Her dark hair, tied back into a practical braid, framed her face, highlighting the seriousness of the mission ahead.

"Namra," she said softly, embracing me in a tight hug. "This is a crucial time for us. I’ll gather as much intel as possible and rally our forces. We can’t afford to endanger Moonreach—it’s too important." Her voice was steady, but I could sense the weight of the task she was about to undertake.

I nodded, holding her close for a moment longer before stepping back. "I know you will," I said, trying to inject confidence into my voice despite the heaviness in my heart. "Your presence in Eldoria is vital. Lord Roderick and Lady Eveline will need your support, and I trust you’ll convince them of the urgency. Moonreach has been our home for the past five years, and it’s a part of us. We must ensure its safety."

Asia’s gaze softened as she looked at me, her eyes reflecting both affection and a shared sense of purpose. "I still remember the look on his face when he adopted us," she said with a wistful smile. "Lord Greenwell took us in when we were just lost souls, and he gave us a place to call home. We owe it to him—and to ourselves—to protect it."

The memory of Lord Greenwell’s kind eyes and the warmth of his embrace flashed in my mind. He had been a beacon of hope in our lives, offering us sanctuary and a new beginning. It was this very memory that fueled our determination to see Moonreach restored and safeguarded.

"We do," I agreed, my voice trembling slightly with emotion. "And we will. The future of Moonreach depends on us. We must ensure that the restoration is not just a physical rebuilding but also a symbol of hope for the kingdom."

As the carriage prepared for departure, Asia adjusted her cloak and gathered her belongings. Her resolve was evident in the set of her shoulders and the determined sparkle in her eyes.

"I’ll be in touch," she promised, giving me a reassuring nod. "Stay vigilant, and don’t let your guard down. The situation is delicate, and we can’t afford any missteps. Oh, and Namra, we keep our blades sharp."

With one last embrace and a final exchange of determined glances, Asia climbed into the carriage. The vehicle, drawn by sturdy horses, began to roll out of Ironhold, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. I watched it disappear down the road, feeling a mixture of pride and apprehension.

As the carriage vanished from view, I turned back towards Ironhold, steeling myself for the challenges ahead. Asia’s departure was a crucial step in our strategy, but it also marked the beginning of a new chapter in our fight to secure Moonreach and restore our home to its former glory.

Moonreach has been our home. It always has been. My thoughts drifted back to the moments right after my father’s death. I vividly remembered being taken by Ser Gareth to my sister for safety. Ser Gareth, now serving diligently as a Queensguard in Eldoria, had always been a pillar of strength. His commitment to his duty was unwavering, and I knew he continued to do his utmost best, improving with each day.

Despite the reassuring memories of Ser Gareth’s dedication, my mind kept circling back to that fateful evening months ago. The image of smoke swirling in the air, the roaring flames consuming everything in sight, and the blurred exit as I desperately sought escape were vivid and haunting. The destruction of Moonreach was a tragedy I could never fully erase from my mind.

“In the moon’s shadow, we stand strong.” Our house motto echoed in my thoughts, a constant reminder of our resilience. It was a mantra that had guided me through the darkest times. Standing strong wasn’t just about physical fortitude—it was about inner resolve and the determination to rebuild what had been lost.

The decision to return to Moonreach was not made lightly. It was a choice that required days of contemplation, a recognition of the urgent need to restore what was rightfully ours. As I packed my belongings, preparing for the journey back to Skybound, I felt a mixture of resolve and apprehension. Moonreach needed me, and it was my duty to ensure its revival.

Returning to Skybound would also provide me with the opportunity to set clear boundaries with Chanyeol. Our recent interactions had been fraught with tension, and I needed to establish a more defined separation between our personal and professional relationships. The complexity of our situation required a clear focus on the task at hand, without the added confusion of personal emotions.

As the carriage that would take Asia to Eldoria disappeared into the distance, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenges ahead. Moonreach awaited, and the path to its restoration was fraught with obstacles. But with the motto of my house guiding me, I was determined to face whatever lay ahead and honor the legacy of those who had come before me.

#exo imagines #exo x reader #park chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fic #chanyeol x reader #exo #exo baekhyun #exo smut #chanyeol angst #sehun #oh sehun #suho #kim junmyeon #junmyeon #kim jongin #jongin #kai

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blairsonwillis · 10 months ago

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A PARTIR DAQUI, SEGUE A FICHA OFICIAL DA INTERATIVA

Dados de nomenclatura (nome & sobrenome, apelidos etc);

Dados de nascimento (idade, mês e ano de aniversário e se desejarem, coisas como signos);

Gênero e sexualidade (podem fazer o que bem desejarem, porém levem em consideração tudo o que já mencionei. novamente, estamos em 1978, não 2024);

Dados de aparência (descrições não são obrigatórias, porém são bem-vindas. fiquem a vontade para fazerem pastas no pinterest para que eu possa conhecer mais do estilo de seus personagens. caso tenham quaisquer alterações corporais, deficiências físicas etc, é obrigatório mencionar);

Dados de personalidade (novamente, fiquem livres para fazerem o que quiserem, porém levem em consideração que somos humanos. possuímos falhas e nem todos somos perfeitos, porém nem todos somos monstros. se desejarem fazer um personagem mais filha da puta, fiquem a vontade, estarei aceitando no critério do quão interessante e bem feito seu personagem pode ser);

História (a parte mais importante de suas fichas. quaisquer dúvidas podem me consultar, mas fiquem a vontade para fazerem o que desejarem);

Relações (cite aqui como se relaciona com sua família, amigos, par romântico etc. não é necessário fazer relação com nenhum dos fixos, mas se desejarem, fiquem a vontade);

Você escuta algo vindo de Eldergrove, o que faz?;

Você sente que algo está lhe seguindo, como se sente? O que faz?;

A polícia não acredita em você. O que você faz? Como se sente?;

Já tentou sair ou pretende sair de Blairson Willis?;

O que faria caso alguém com quem se importe desaparecesse?;

Curiosidades e extras* (opcional. fiquem a vontade para adicionarem quaisquer informações e tópicos que vocês acreditem que seria interessante que eu soubesse sobre seus personagens);

SE DIVIRTAM!

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writescope · 1 year ago

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A Deal in the Mist

This is part one of a four part origin story for one of my OCs, enjoy

Eldergrove was a beautiful campus. Three hills overlooked the campus below. Most of the campus buildings were situated on that valley except for three. The first was the Chapel of St. Bede, almost as old as the university itself. Next was the Elderwood Gardens. Lastly was the series of row houses where some of the faculty lived, affectionately called “1% Row” by some of the students. Maybe that’s why Seth liked going up the hill so much. He felt above the world for once. He walked over to the usual spot and pulled his cigarettes out. The town laid on the opposite end of the hills, providing the perfect backdrop for a secluded moment. Seth looked past the sleepy town lights and into the stars above. The flame from the lighter brought to life the face of his shadow as he raised it to his cigarette. The smoke trailed as he continued to enjoy his solace, he knew it to be bittersweet. Killing himself slowly for a bit of joy. “A little nicotine to shut it off,” he thought. He then tossed the cigarette and stomped it out before walking slowly down the hill, disappearing into the campus below. A crimson mist began to swirl around him, thickening with each step he took. The air grew heavy with an unsettling warmth, and shadows danced within the red haze, twisting and contorting like malevolent spirits. He started running, horrified at what his eyes saw. The fog kept following him and getting thicker until it began to choke him. Seth's heart pounded in his chest as he sensed a presence, something dark and powerful, manifesting before him. After what felt like hours of running, Seth dropped to his knees from weakness as the fog enveloped him fully in the otherwise undisturbed campus grounds. “This is it, I’m going to die, a laced cigarette is going to kill me.” as Seth lowered his head in acceptance. Then something grabbed his chin from the fog. A warm, metallic scent filled his nose as the hand raised his head up to look into the mist. “ You’re a pathetic whelp aren't you.” a smooth condescending voice remarked. Seth felt tears descending down his cheeks as the voice continued. “You hurt yourself with your own head and I don’t even do anything.” The voice amused as he pulled Seth to his feet. Seth's eyes stared at the ground. “Look at me you pathetic creature!” The voice bellowed forcefully. “I am Agongath, the face of suffering and misery in hell and you’re the most pathetic human I’ve ever graced with my presence.” Seth looked up slowly and saw a fiery grin staring back at him. The flames warped around a spiral of barbed wire and chains, giving the demon an almost hypnotic appearance. Seth finally responded “What the fuck do you want from me?!” The voice responded “It’s not what I want, it’s what you want.” “You want to feel above it all, you want to feel like you’re above the other rats, scurrying around this world pretending to be something greater.” The voice grew smooth again “I can give you that, Seth Grayson… Just step towards my voice.” Seth’s tears stained his hoodie as he felt even more terrified. Not only were demons real, but this one in particular felt called to him. Seth had always felt like there was nothing special about him or unique about his life. His own anguish has been greater than anything inflicted on him by other people or even random chance. He slowly wiped the tears from his eyes and took a small step. Then another. Then he walked into the spiral of barbed wire and chains.

#OriginStory #FantasyWriting #CreativeWriting #HorrorFiction #demon oc

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ao3feed-ateez · 1 year ago

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Whispers of the Enchanted Forest

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8QOizWg by Sangie_Fluff In the tranquil, enchanted forest of Eldergrove, Yeosang, a small and kind-hearted fairy, finds solace in his morning walks and the simple joy of picking wildflowers. One fateful morning, he encounters San, a demon with a fearsome appearance but a gentle soul. Despite their initial differences, an unexpected bond forms between them. Words: 1558, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Choi San (ATEEZ), Kang Yeosang Relationships: Choi San/Kang Yeosang Additional Tags: Demon, Fairies, Fairy Kang Yeosang, Demon Choi San (ATEEZ), Fluff, Love at First Sight, Rumors, No Smut, Soft Kang Yeosang, Soft Choi San (ATEEZ), Cute Kang Yeosang read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/8QOizWg

#ao3feed #ateez fic #ateez rpf #ateez fanfic #kpop rpf

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rennsational · 17 days ago

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Prologue

The Veil shuddered all around Phirra—alive, hissing against the power sparkling at the fingertips of her outstretched hand and shrinking back into itself as though burned. Threads of silver light rippled through the air, bending unnaturally, responding to nothing but its own ancient authority. Behind her, the sound of horses galloping echoed like distant thunder, cutting through the silence of the forest. They were getting close.

The woman looked down at the sleeping babe cradled against her chest, whose flushed, chubby cheeks peeked beneath the edge of her dark cloak. The child stirred faintly, unaware of the chaos closing in. If they caught them, if the Black Cloaks laid hands on her daughter, she'd face the same fate as those poor children back at Eldergrove. Chained. Drugged. Twisted by rune-forging and whips. Brainwashed into something monstrous—obedient, soulless. A weapon.

Hot tears pricked Phirra's eyes, blurring the vision of the night-clad trees, each breath stinging with the cold bite of despair. Her arm tightened protectively around her child's body. The Veil trembled again, resistant and watchful. It was alive and sentient, and it needed time to decide. Phirra didn't have time. In a last resort, her hand shot out again, nails digging into the splinters pulsing along the Veil's body.

"I beg you. Please. I have to save her. Take anything you want–"

The light cracked and peeled away from the hair-thin splits like dead leaves from a dying tree. It spiralled in the air—golden, mournful, searching. It danced around the babe, whispering, observing, testing something only it could sense. Then it settled against her pale cheek and sank slowly into the skin, vanishing in a faint glow that made the infant sigh and stir.

The gallop of horses grew louder—now unmistakably near—followed by shouting voices, sharp with fury and triumph. Through the blur of tears, she saw torchlight flaring between the trees, flickering like fireflies in a storm. In the distance, a voice bellowed, rough and hate-filled.

"Find the damn witch and bring me the child!"

Phirra cursed silently. Her brown eyes closed, jaw trembling as she gently rocked her most precious treasure. She whispered apologies the girl would never understand and kissed her head with maternal reverence. Her knees trembled beneath her. There would be no second chance. This was it.

The voice that answered her prayers was so eerie that she almost didn't catch it.

"Save your daughter, Phirra of the Northern Steppes."

The Veil split open with a deafening groan, like the cracking of ancient ice. From its depths, hands woven from mist reached forth, tender and cold, cupping the woman's face as if in mourning. The air smelled of old snow. Light exploded around Phirra. Her cloak billowed in unnatural wind as the world turned sideways. The last thing she saw as it took her away was a pair of furious amber eyes and a face she once loved, now twisted by the promise of violence. His expression was not one of grief, not regret. Vengeance.

The Veil closed with a haunting laugh.

#fantasy romance #fantasy #romance #romantasy #fae #rivals to lovers #slow burn #elemental magic #strong female lead #trials

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psychicangeldreamer · 18 days ago

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The Mysteries of Eldergrove. (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/397940013-the-mysteries-of-eldergrove?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_myworks&wp_uname=Pepertheslay12429 In the timeless village of Eldergrove, nestled deep within an ancient forest, magic stirs beneath the soil and whispers through the trees. Lila, a curious and spirited girl with a deep connection to nature, finds herself drawn into a quest that will shape the fate of the forest she loves. When a mysterious spirit reveals a creeping darkness threatening the balance of the natural world, Lila must journey into the wild to find three sacred stones-each representing Courage, Wisdom, and Love. Along the way, she faces shadowy creatures, riddles of the heart, and trials that test her spirit. Guided by ancient magic and her unwavering compassion, Lila discovers that true power lies not just in bravery or knowledge-but in harmony with the world around her. A tale of wonder, growth, and connection, The Heart of the Forest is a magical adventure for readers of all ages.

#book #fantasy #forest #magic #books #wattpad #amwriting

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khrysomallos · 1 month ago

Text

ideas for a story i'll probably never finish (or officially start)

the morning was cold. not because of the temperature, but because of the tension that still hung in the air from the argument the night before. kailin had came home from a long shift at the hospital to find the apartment empty. chase was at a meeting again. forces at the border were moving faster than anticipated.

kailin knew that her partner was doing good work. she knew that times were tough and that all of this work meant something. she just wished the growing distance between them would stop.

when kailin confronted chase that evening , chase's frustration bubbled over. kailin retaliated. both said things they shouldn't have.

"you don't understand and you never have"

"you're not starting this again are you?"

"starting? it's never stopped!"

"because you literally never let anything go!"

"i don't have the mental capacity for this shit right now, there's more important things on the line."

kailin had slept on the couch.

she swirled her coffee in her hand replaying the evening in her head. she heard the bathroom door open. chase came down the stairs towel drying her short hair, hesitantly approaching the kitchen.

"hey," chase started. "you didn't come to bed last night."

kailin turned to face her partner, giving her a slow once over. "no i did not." she stated simply.

chase inhaled through her teeth, taking a step forward and reaching for her. chase knew this tone of kailin's and knew the way her face schooled into an impenetrable mask of no emotion. she was hurt.

"listen, last night was-"

"i'm late. i waited up for you last night until 2 chase. 2! after having the shift from hell. all those border forces you're working to stop? i still get our wounded people. they're still injured and they still need medical attention." kailin stood up and rubbed her tired eyes. "you're a million miles away. all the time."

chase closed her eyes and took a levelled breath. "i understand." chase knew last night that she was tired and she reacted before she should have. she knew she said things she shouldn't have.

"but you don't! you're still not here."

chase took another step forward, "i know. it's going to change soon."

"you've said that before."

"i mean it this time."

kailin stood up, "i need to go. i'm late."

"please just stay for a few minutes, i didn't mean-"

and kailin was out the door.

-------------------------------

chase spent the rest of the morning replaying the events of the day before. the meeting. the fight. draxhaven's forces have been moving faster than anticipated, and made an attack on ashvale's capital border last week. ashvale's forces weren't prepared, resulting in brutal loses and fatalities.

kailin worked at the nearest border triage center. chase knew that things this week have been particularly rough there because of the attack.

she laid out the border maps with the rough sketches of what battle intel they have received. ashvale doesn't have an official battle force or army, being a small neutral country used for trading between the larger countries surrounding it. draxhaven had been showing interest in some of ashvale's more valuable resources, like the aetherium crystals hidden in the eldergrove forests. the writing was on the wall for some time, and chase knew it but no one would listen.

she went through all her information about draxhaven, reviewing and revising. what else were they missing?

chase was taken out of her thoughts by a loud clap of thunder. she hated thunder. she looked out the window and saw three things. one - it was storming out. two - so much time had passed as she went through her archived information that it was the evening and three - kailin hadn't taken the car to work.

chase texted kailin

chase: do you need me to pick you up?

kailin answered almost immediately

kaitlin: i'm walking home

chase: it's raining

kailin: i'm still walking home

chase: dont be stubborn

three bubbles popped up and stopped on chase's phone. she smirked to herself waiting for kailin's witty response. but it never came. odd but not unusual. chase began collecting the items in the table and organized them into her file folder. deciding that she would cuddle up on the couch with a blanket and a movie until her partner got home. it was her favourite way to spend a stormy evening.

chase was 20 minutes into her movie when it dawned on her that kailin wasn't home yet. as she went to check her location, kailin's name appeared on her phone. chase accepted the call.

kailin's panicked voice came through the phone immediately, "chase?"

"what's wrong?"

-------------------------------

kailin hauled her backpack onto her shoulder and waved bye to her coworkers. it was a long shift. four new admissions right from the border all with life threatening injuries. her body was tired, her head hurt and she cursed herself for not driving to work. she pulled her hoodie tighter around her head hoping to try and stifle some of the rain. she shot off a text and put her phone into her hoodie pocket.

the busyness from work helped to take her mind off of the fight with chase. after some time away she felt bad. she knew chase was doing good and was spread thin. she knew the potential of chase being pulled to the border was becoming all too real and she was lashing out.

her thoughts came to a stop as she heard someone call out from behind her. "hey there," a deep voice rang. she ignored it. she's walked home from midnight shifts numerous times and could count on her hands the amount of times she's seen someone.

she continued walking, giving the man no attention.

"hey! i'm talkin' to you!"

kailin began to walk faster and tightened her grip on her backpack straps. she thought maybe if she ignored him he would just - she heard footsteps behind her now.

her heart beat wildly in her chest as she quickly looked behind her and having her fears confirmed. the man was following her.

she shakily reached for her phone. rain drops splattering the screen making it difficult to dial the number she needed. her phone rang once before the person picked up.

"chase?" she shakily asked.

no matter what was going on between them, not talking all day, she knew she could rely on chase. she knew chase would be there. and without saying more than her lovers name, chase knew. chase knew from the tone of her voice that something wasn't right.

"what's wrong?"

•••

leaving this little idea off here. something that's been on my mind for a bit. love the concept of lovers being in an argument then coming to the rescue! bit vulnerable to be posting something that's much more original (as in characters lol) but i've been feeling creative lately and just haven't known what to do with it.

anyways ashvale is the city the two characters live in, it's basically a neutral country that bigger countries use for trading. ashvale has aetherium crystals that are found in the eldergrove forests. these crystals enhance magic abilities (yes believe it or not this is actually a fantasy idea i have that's based more in modern times) and the forests themselves house ancient magic! chase is actually a retired soldier from another country and is doing good deeds in ashvale and helping out its forces etc etc we love chase in this household

#wlw #wlw angst #kaity writes #my own writing #original characters #writing #short story #wlw story #wlw love #wlw post #wlw fantasy #fantasy writing #aetheria story #aetheria snippets

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