#Her merciless protector

[blkgrlsread2]

It's not whom you can live with that matters, but more, whom you couldn't live without.

R.G. Angel, Her Merciless Protector

[shortnspidey]

PROTECTOR BY DEFAULT

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!Reader || WC: 5.7K

SUMMARY: After bringing you up to speed on everything that’s happened, and with the weight of the world now resting on his shoulders, Bucky decides it’s finally time for you to meet the New Avengers.

WARNINGS: Thunderbolts* spoilers! Angst, Fluff, Talks of depression, grief, mental illness, and anxiety, platonic new avengers x reader

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! Although it could technically be a part two for this fic! This was supposed to be short, but I got carried away like usual! 🫣 Another purely self-indulgent fic since I haven't stopped thinking about Thunderbolts* since seeing it in theatres! Hope y'all enjoy! <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

It felt strange being back, surreal, even. The towering silhouette of Avengers Tower had once symbolized hope, unity, and legends. Now, rebranded as the Watchtower, it loomed above the skyline like a ghost of a different era. The architecture hadn’t changed, but everything else had. Hell, even Bucky being part of The New Avengers was something you still hadn’t fully wrapped your head around. A part of you kept waiting for the world to snap back to what it used to be.

As you stood silently in the elevator, the soft hum of machinery and the sterile glow of overhead lights did little to calm you. The numbers on the digital panel ticked upward, each one sending another ripple of anxiety down your spine. Bucky’s hand in yours was the only thing grounding you. His grip was firm, fingers slightly calloused but warm, a subtle tether pulling you away from the mental spiral that threatened to take hold. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to.

His presence alone was enough to remind you that you weren’t walking into this alone. You were still gathering your thoughts, trying, and failing, to find some semblance of composure, when the elevator dinged sharply, slicing through the silence like a blade. The doors parted with a soft hiss, and the cool air of the lobby hit you all at once. You held your breath. Bucky stepped forward first, his body language shifting subtly as he sensed your hesitation.

Without looking back, his thumb brushed gently across your knuckles in a silent gesture of reassurance. You followed, one reluctant step after another, heart pounding behind your ribs like a war drum. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful, if only momentarily that the space was empty. You weren’t ready to see anyone yet, even if you knew everything about them on paper. "You okay?" Bucky’s voice was low, gentle, pulling you back from all the memories crashing into your chest.

You blinked, realizing your shoulders had tensed, spine rigid as a board. Your eyes had drifted to the bar, now sleek and modern, its shelves conspicuously empty, all traces of liquor gone. Yet in your mind, it was still stocked with expensive bottles and louder times. Laughter. Sarcasm. Your father’s voice. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to hold steady. A lump had already formed in your throat, hot and heavy. If you spoke, it just might burst. That fragile quiet shattered as footsteps echoed across the marble floor. You instinctively turned, posture tense.

Hazel eyes met yours, sharp, curious, and brimming with wariness. A familiar face, even if you had never met her in the flesh. “Y/N, this is—” Bucky began, his voice hesitant, a trace of something unreadable in his tone. But he didn’t need to finish. “Yelena Belova,” You breathed, recognition crashing over you like a wave. The blonde’s eyes widened, brows knitting together as confusion flickered in her expression. “Natasha.” The name escaped you as little more than a whisper, and yet it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things.

It clawed at your throat and dragged water to your eyes with merciless precision. Her name was still a wound. “She talked about you all the time,” You managed, your voice thick. “She loved you so much.” Something shifted behind Yelena’s eyes, like a veil lifting to reveal layers of grief, guilt, and something else...something softer. She blinked rapidly, then tilted her head as recognition seemed to click into place. “You’re the little girl,” She muttered, her accent thick and familiar in a way that tugged at your chest.

“She talked about you too. Tony Stark’s daughter.” She paused, her tone softening. “Said she trained you like her own little widow. That you were strong. Fearless. She kept a picture of you in her wallet, even though she always denied it when I teased her.” Your breath hitched, the knot in your chest pulling tighter. Natasha said it aloud any chance she could get, but now you had confirmation. Proof of her love tucked away in the form of a photo. The thought made your knees feel weak. Yelena stepped forward slowly, as if careful not to startle you.

Her eyes held a glimmer of something raw, vulnerability masked behind her usual bravado.“She loved you too,” She confessed, voice quieter now, almost reverent. “Said we’d get along.” You smiled through the ache. It was the first genuine one you’d felt since stepping back into this tower. Before your nerves could betray you, you gently untangled your hand from Bucky’s and closed the distance between you and Yelena. Your arms wrapped around her in a hesitant but earnest embrace. You felt her stiffen, an instinctual pause, but then, something softened. Her grip tightened, her hold grounding.

You clung to her like a lifeline, both of you seemingly drawing strength from the other. “It’s so good to finally meet you, дорогая.” she murmured into your shoulder, her voice wavering just enough for you to hear the emotion behind it. Hearing Natasha’s nickname in her voice, so similar, yet different brought fresh tears to your eyes. You buried your face in Yelena’s shoulder and held on tighter, hoping she’d feel what you couldn’t say. “She’s a keeper, Barnes,” Yelena drawled, pulling back just enough to glance over her shoulder at Bucky.

Her expression sharpened with mock seriousness, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “Don’t screw it up, or you’ll have to deal with me. You laughed, an unfiltered, real laugh that surprised even you with how naturally it came. “I don’t plan on it,” Bucky reassured her, raising both hands in a playful surrender. His lips curved in that crooked little smirk that always made your heart skip. “Message received.” Yelena gave a curt nod, before turning back to you with a gleam in her eye, mischief and challenge dancing in equal measure. “We should spar sometime,” She suggested, rolling her shoulders.

“See if you really live up to your reputation. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you.” You arched an eyebrow, a grin tugging at your lips. “Natasha never did. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”Yelena’s smirk widened as if to say good answer, then she took a step back, eyes still assessing you with that blend of curiosity and silent approval. Before either of you could say anything else, a deep voice echoed down the corridor, thick with a Russian accent and zero regard for volume.

“Lena!” Yelena groaned immediately, dragging a hand down her face and pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh no,” She muttered under her breath. “Why does he always do this…” Heavy footsteps approached from the direction of the eastern wing, and a moment later, the large figure of a man rounded the corner. You recognized him instantly, broad-shouldered, gray in the beard but still moving with the lumbering energy of a man who had never truly grown out of his prime. “Have you seen my—” He started, trailing off as his eyes landed on the three of you gathered near the lobby.

His gaze jumped from Bucky to Yelena to you, and then his whole face lit up. “Alexei Shostakov,” His eyes practically sparkled at the sound of his name coming from you. “Y/N Stark!” He boomed, beaming with wild enthusiasm. “The Winter Soldier’s lady!” And before you could react, before you could even blink his arms were around you. With shocking speed and strength, Alexei hoisted you clean off the ground, pulling you into a bear hug that knocked the breath right out of you. Your feet left the floor, spine popping under the sheer pressure of his embrace as you let out a muffled oof against his shoulder.

“It’s so good to meet you!” He exclaimed, rocking slightly as if that somehow made the hug friendlier instead of terrifying. “Alexei!” Yelena barked, springing into motion. “Be careful! Don’t break her!” She grabbed at his massive arm, trying to loosen his grip. Alexei grunted and reluctantly released you, setting you down gently, well, gently for him. “Lena, I’m simply saying hello,” He protested, waving a large hand toward you with a look of exaggerated innocence.

“She’s fine. All limbs accounted for. Heart still beating. Good bones!” You stumbled slightly, catching your breath with a startled laugh as Bucky steadied you by the elbow. "It's nice to meet you too." You smiled matching his enthusiasm. Yelena shot her father a glare sharp enough to cut glass, then turned to you apologetically. “Sorry. He gets excited.” Before Alexei could get out another word, another voice called out, this one feminine, and laced with barely contained exasperation. “Alexei, what did we say about using your inside voice?”

Her voice had that steely edge you recognized from the briefing files. Ava Starr. Before another awkward silence could settle, a new voice chimed in from behind Ava, laid-back and cocky in the way only one person could pull off. “Yeah, man,” John Walker coaxed as he approached, shaking his head and giving Alexei a sidelong look. “You scared poor Bob half to death. We’re supposed to keep him calm, remember?” Alexei rolled his eyes dramatically, muttering something in Russian under his breath. As the group entered the lobby fully, the shift in atmosphere was palpable.

You felt it before you saw it. Three new pairs of eyes turned to you in unison, each gaze heavy in its own way. Curiosity. Surprise. Maybe a bit of judgment. “Y/N,” John’s voice broke the moment. His tone held genuine surprise, and not the unwelcome kind. “I hear congratulations are in order.” His smirk widened as he shot a glance at Bucky. “Still don’t know how you managed to pull it off, Barnes. You’re one lucky bastard.” Beside you, you felt Bucky go still for a beat. The quiet tension that coiled in his shoulders was familiar, defensive, but measured.

Then, you watched a slow smirk curled on his lips, the kind you’d seen more than once before. “Walker.” He all but growled, voice laced with warning. You stepped forward, intercepting the brewing testosterone with a neutral nod. The clipped politeness in your voice was enough to stall whatever innuendo was seconds from spilling out of Bucky’s mouth. Redirecting your focus, you turned to Ava, her arms crossed tight against her chest, posture rigid and eyes sharp. You offered your hand nonetheless, your tone respectful but firm. “It’s nice to meet you, Ava.”

She hesitated. A brief flicker of uncertainty passed through her eyes, trust didn’t come easily to her, and you didn’t expect it to. But she reached out, her grip strong. “Likewise.” She replied simply. Her voice held no warmth, but there was no malice either. You took it as a neutral win. Just behind her, standing somewhat apart from the cluster, was Robert Reynolds. Bob. He looked entirely out of place. An oversized hoodie draped over his tall, lean frame like a security, the sleeves almost swallowing his hands.

His hair fell in messy strands around his face, and his eyes, flicked up just long enough to meet yours. “Hi Bob.” You offered him a small smile and a casual wave, nothing too energetic, just enough to let him know you saw him. That he mattered. His gaze didn’t hold. He dipped his head quickly, before he turned slightly, half-shielding himself behind Ava. You didn’t take it personally. Bucky had told you enough. About what Bob was. What he’d endured. What he could become if things went sideways. The fact that he was even standing in the room, surrounded by strangers, was a miracle in itself.

“Don’t stand there, come in!” Alexei boomed ushering you deeper into the tower. “This is your home too, don’t be shy!” You smiled politely, the corner of your lips curving upward in amusement as his voice echoed off the high ceilings. Bucky gently placed a reassuring hand on the small of your back, the warmth of his touch grounding you as you stepped further into the room. The space looked different now, though the bones of Avengers Tower still whispered through the marble and steel. Yet the walls were no longer adorned with Stark-tech.

Instead they were filled with mismatched frames, tactical maps, and, strangely enough, a vintage Soviet flag hanging proudly near the corner. A large couch wrapped around the central area, oversized and broken-in, surrounded by oddball furniture that didn’t match but somehow fit. Each step you took brought back echoes of the past. They lingered, not as ghosts, but as memories, vivid and bittersweet. Bucky gave your side a gentle squeeze before stepping away. “I’m going to make sure Alexei hasn’t burned lunch again.” He whispered lowly, already following the scent of something suspiciously smoky wafting from the kitchen.

You chuckled softly, then turned, scanning the room until you found a place to sit between Yelena and Ava, both of whom were locked in a silent mutual tolerance that, somehow, felt like their version of friendship. You sank into the plush cushions, glancing at them with a playful gleam in your eyes. “You girls have plans this weekend? My best friend Kate and I usually grab coffee. You should come.” Ava raised a brow, while Yelena cast a quick, unreadable glance in your direction. “Kate Bishop?” She asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you nodded in confirmation, already making a mental note to ask how she knew about Kate. “We could get out of this tower for a few hours,” You continued, grin spreading as your voice dropped in mock-conspiracy. “Get away from all this testosterone?”You winked, and a low sound rumbled from behind the kitchen island. You didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Bucky, biting back a laugh. A second later, he disguised it with a perfectly timed cough. “We can hear you, you know.” John called out dryly from where he leaned against the far wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

His tone was flat as ever, but the twitch of his jaw suggested he was used to being the punchline. “Wasn’t exactly a secret, Walker.” You quipped back, shrugging innocently. That earned a genuine laugh from Alexei, who clapped his hands together with childlike delight, pointing toward John mockingly. You were almost certain you heard the faintest huff of amusement from Bob, seated half-curled in a beanbag by the bookshelf. It was gone just as fast as it came, but your heart warmed all the same. Progress was progress. Yelena snorted beside you reaching behind the couch to give your shoulder an approving squeeze.

Ava leaned in slightly toward Yelena, voice low but not quiet enough. “I like her already.” You smiled, then looked up, sensing the familiar weight of Bucky’s gaze. Across the room, he leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms folded, cerulean eyes locked on you. That quiet intensity softened as you met his stare, the corners of his mouth twitching into something small and private. The look said it all. Told you so. Maybe this team wasn’t the Avengers. Maybe it didn’t have to be. It was something new. Something rough, imperfect, but full of potential. And maybe, just maybe… it could be home.

Sometime in the middle of the night, you stirred beneath the sheets, restless and uneasy. The room was stuffy and quiet, save for the gentle rhythm of Bucky’s breathing beside you. Careful not to disturb him, you quietly slipped from the bed. The soft glow of moonlight filtered in through the curtains, as you padded silently down the hallway toward the kitchen. You flicked on a small light above the stove, its warm yellow hue illuminating the familiar space.

The hum of the kettle filled the silence as you turned on the burner, hoping a cup of tea might soothe whatever it was that kept you from succumbing to sleep. But then, you felt it, an a subtle shift in the air. You weren’t alone. "You can come out," You called softly. "I could use the company." From the shadows beyond the doorway, a figure emerged, slowly, cautiously. You watched as Bob stepped into the light, his shoulders tense. His eyes flicked around the room but never quite settled on you.

“Can’t sleep either?” You asked, your voice softer now, touched with the kind of quiet understanding that didn’t demand answers. He nodded almost immediately, a curt, vulnerable motion. His eyes dropped to the floor, lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks. The gesture wasn’t dramatic, but it carried a weight, like even admitting the truth was something shameful. You offered a small, knowing smile and turned back to the stove. The kettle began to hum, the first quiet bubbles nudging the surface with gentle insistence. “Want some tea?” You asked over your shoulder. “Always seems to help me sleep.”

He hesitated, the silence stretching for just a second too long, then gave a slow nod. Smiling to yourself, you rifled through the chaotic mess of tea bags shoved into the cabinet: chamomile, lavender, citrus blends, your fingers settling on a familiar green-and-white packet. Eucalyptus. Cool and calming, the kind your mom used to swear by. “My mom,” You began, pulling two mismatched mugs from the shelf and dropping the bags inside with a soft rustle. “Always made me tea when I couldn’t sleep.”

The water hissed as you poured it, a stream of warmth into the ceramic, instantly coaxing the scent of minty leaves and woodsy herbs into the air. You slid one mug gently across the counter to him. “She always said she’d sprinkle sugar in it, just a little to make all the bad dreams and thoughts go away.” You smiled at the memory, cupping your own mug between both hands. The heat soaked into your skin, comforting, anchoring. You swore you saw a twitch in the corner of Bob’s mouth, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, like a flicker of light swallowed by shadow.

“Thinking back to it now,” You thought aloud, letting out a small breath of a laugh. “It was probably all the placebo effect in full force.” You took a sip, the eucalyptus sharp and soothing on your tongue, feeling it trace a warm line down your throat. Across the counter, Bob mimicked your movements, less fluid, more tentative. When the tea touched his lips, something in him seemed to ease. His shoulders, which had been drawn up as if expecting impact, slowly sagged downward. His posture softened, like a held breath finally released.

“Thank you.” He murmured, his voice no longer brittle but still so quiet it could’ve been missed under the low hum of the kettle. “Nothing to thank me for, Bob. I’m happy to help.” He paused, eyes flicking toward you before returning to the tea cradled between his palms, like he was trying to absorb your words through the warmth of the mug. The silence stretched between you, not cold or awkward this time. Then, finally, he spoke. His voice barely a whisper, edges rough with hesitance. “H-How come you’re up this late?”

The question was simple, but his body betrayed how difficult it had been to ask. His fingers curled tighter around the ceramic, spine going ramrod straight almost as if he was expecting reprimand. He didn’t meet your eyes. The tension returned to his shoulders as though part of him still lived in a place where curiosity came with consequences. You took your time answering, glancing around the room with a soft exhale. “Feels weird being back here,” You admitted, voice tinged with something bittersweet.

You walked over to check the kettle out of habit, even though it had gone quiet, and refilled your mug to chase the chill creeping into your bones.“My dad and I had a rocky relationship,” You began, stirring the tea slowly, watching the leaves swirl in lazy circles. “But in the five years after the Blip… we got close. Worked through a lot of our differences.” You paused, the corners of your mouth curling into a wistful smile as the images swirled through your mind. “He wasn’t perfect. Hell, I wasn’t either. But we tried.” You turned to face Bob again, leaning gently against the counter.

“Being back here just brings all of that back." Bob looked up then, his expression open in a way you weren’t used to seeing. Vulnerable. Unfiltered. Like your honesty had offered him permission to be something other than afraid. “He left me with the best mom I could ask for, and two annoying siblings who drive me absolutely insane, yet I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Your voice cracked with a breath of half-laughter, half-sorrow, the words tinged with affection and weariness. You let out a slow breath, the kind that trembled slightly at the end.

As if your lungs couldn’t quite carry the weight of what you were feeling. The tightness in your throat pulsed, stubborn and raw, and you blinked up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep the water gathering on your lashes from falling. The kitchen light, dim and soft, refracted slightly through the moisture, making the world blur around the edges. “Still, being back here… the memories just resurface.” Bob didn’t speak right away. He just sat there, his figure small and still, the mug clutched tightly in both hands like it was the only thing grounding him to the present.

His fingers trembled slightly, knuckles pale under the strain. But then he nodded, once, slow and deliberate. Not out of politeness, but understanding. Real, lived-in understanding. The kind that doesn't need words. “C-Can I ask you something?” He didn’t look at you, his gaze dropped to the steam curling up from his mug, as if the question might vanish there if he spoke it too loudly. “You can ask me anything, Bob.” You replied gently, keeping your tone low and even, not with pity, but respect. Your fingers twitched slightly against your mug the instinct to reach out strong, to offer comfort, but you stopped yourself.

Not because you didn’t care, but because you did. Because you knew what Bucky had told you, about how touch could feel like danger, not reassurance. Bob’s lips parted, then pressed together again. He swallowed, throat bobbing visibly. “Since you’re… y’know, a therapist,” He began, voice breaking on the word like it tasted bitter. “Do you honestly think I can be fixed?” The question hit the air like a weight. No lightning crack or dramatic silence, just something heavier than gravity. Something that pulled the world down with it. Your heart broke for the man in front of you.

Not because he was broken, but because somewhere along the line, someone had taught him to believe he was. That he was a burden. A ticking time bomb people had to "deal with" instead of help. You exhaled slowly, the words forming not from your training, but your gut. “Bob…” You set your mug down carefully, the ceramic making a soft clink against the counter. “You don’t need to be fixed.” He flinched subtly, but you saw it. His shoulders curled in like a child bracing for discipline. His eyes squeezed shut, head bowed low like the words physically hurt to hear, or like he simply couldn’t let himself believe them.

“I know you’ve heard the opposite, probably more times than you can count,” You continued, voice soft but steady. “And yes, I’m a therapist. But that doesn’t mean I get to decide who you are or what’s wrong with you.” You stepped forward, just one step, slow and quiet so as not to startle him.“There is nothing wrong with you, Bob. You have my word, and I will never abuse that title to pick you apart. I don’t see something broken that needs mending. I see someone who’s survived. Who’s still surviving.” His breath hitched, mug trembling in his hands.

You saw the way his knuckles whitened, how his jaw clenched tight, like he was holding back the storm he thought no one could handle. “You, Robert Reynolds,” You deliberately used his full name, grounding him in the truth of his identity. “Have endured abuse. Manipulation. And yet, you’re still here. Still trying. Still fighting. Still protecting people who don’t even know what you’ve given up to do it.” You took another step, until you were standing just a breath away. Slowly, you turned your hand over, open, palm facing up offering, not imposing. An unspoken gesture of trust. A choice.

“You don’t have to carry this alone. We’re here. All of us. For the low lows and the high highs. And all the weird, confusing, terrifying middle ground too.” Bob didn’t speak. Not yet. But something in him shifted. You saw it, the way his shoulders lost their rigid line, the way his breathing began to even out. Slowly, hesitantly, his hand moved. A flicker of indecision paused him halfway. Then, with a trembling exhale, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. It was the lightest touch. Barely there. But it was real.

It was his choice.

And that choice meant everything.

“You’re really good at this.” Bob’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Yet he offered a timid smile, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough. He opened his mouth again, brow furrowing slightly as if struggling to find the right words, but you held up a hand gently, already knowing where his thoughts were headed. “Don’t thank me,” You repeated softly, your voice threaded with sincerity, anchoring him. “I’m your friend, Bob. Anything you need, don’t hesitate to talk to one of us, okay? Promise me.”

You felt the faint pressure of his fingers curling, a tentative squeeze. It wasn’t strong, but it didn’t need to be. It was deliberate. Trusting. “I promise.” You gave his hand another squeeze, grounding him in the moment, a soft smile lingering on your face. That quiet connection was enough, until the soft, familiar sound of bare feet pattering against tile broke the stillness. You turned your head toward the doorway, footsteps light and rhythmically uneven, someone just roused from sleep.

"Having a tea party without me?" Yelena’s voice drifted into the kitchen, low and gravelly with sleep. She stood in the doorway, rubbing one eye with the sleeve of her oversized T-shirt. You turned, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Just helping out a friend,” You replied gently, not missing the way Bob’s shoulders tensed slightly at her presence, then slowly eased when he realized she hadn’t come with judgment, only curiosity. You didn’t elaborate. That part was entirely up to him. “That tea certainly worked,”

You yawned, the fatigue catching up to you like a tide slipping over your bones. “I’m feeling awfully drowsy.” You rubbed your eyes, the pressure a soothing dullness against the sleepiness building behind them. “Goodnight, guys,” Casting a glance toward Bob and giving him a tired but sincere wink. You leaned over to squeeze Yelena’s hand, her fingers instinctively curling around yours. “Bob, I’ll leave you in great hands.” At that, he managed a faint but genuine smile. With that you padded quietly out of the kitchen and down the dark hallway back into you and Bucky’s shared bedroom.

As you slipped beneath the sheets, the cool cotton brushing over your legs, Bucky stirred instinctively. Even in sleep, his body sought yours. His arms found you with practiced ease, one flesh, one vibranium pulling you into the familiar cradle of his chest. The metal of his left hand met the bare skin of your back, a soft gasp escaping your lips at the contrast: sleek, chilled steel against the warmth of your body. But it wasn’t jarring, it was soothing, anchoring. “Where’d you go?” He murmured, voice thick with sleep, slurred at the edges. “Missed you.” He breathed, the words muffled as he nuzzled into the hollow of your neck.

His breath was warm and slow against your skin. A smile bloomed across your face. You turned in his embrace, your legs tangling with his beneath the sheets, the warmth of him sinking into your bones like a balm. Your hand rose to his hair, fingertips weaving through the unruly strands, soft and tangled from sleep. You gently tugged him closer, not that he needed the encouragement. His blue eyes fluttered open, half-lidded with exhaustion but filled with something else, something steady.

“Couldn’t sleep,” You whispered, brushing your thumb along the curve of his cheekbone. “Didn’t want to wake you.” He exhaled slowly, that familiar sound of understanding and quiet guilt mingling together in his breath. At your confession he simply pulled you tighter, burying his face against your neck, the kiss he pressed there slow and reverent. Right over your pulse. You turned your face, noses brushing in the dark, and met his lips in a kiss that was chaste only in its simplicity, not in what it meant. It was soft and slow, an exhale shared between two people who’d known war, grief, loss, and still chose love.

Your hand rested over his heart, where the beat thudded strong beneath your palm, and his settled at the small of your back, anchoring you to the here and now. His touch was steady, un-rushed. After a moment, his voice returned, low and hesitant, slicing through the silence like a thread unraveling. “It is weird, isn’t it?” His blue eyes stared into yours, their usual steel tempered by something softer, uncertainty, maybe. The kind of look someone gave when they were afraid of the answer, but needed to ask anyway. “A little,” You admitted, shrugging one shoulder against the pillow, your lips twitching upward.

“But… it’s not entirely horrible.” He raised a brow, a silent prompt for you to go on. “Yelena, Ava, Bob, Alexei. They’re lovely.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully, trying to find the right balance between honesty and humor. “Not sure how you willingly work with Walker and his ego though.” That made Bucky snort, the sound low and warm. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, lips brushing the curve with a smile tucked against your skin. “This new team will take some getting used to,” You confessed after a beat, voice more thoughtful now. “But it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

You watched as his brow furrowed, a crease forming between his eyes as he turned the thought over in his head. That familiar flicker of self-doubt crossed his face, so quick you might’ve missed it, unless you knew him like you did. “It’s just…” He started, his voice quieter now. More exposed. “I’m not Steve.” Even the way he said the name carried weight. The silence that followed was thick with things unsaid. The shadow Steve Rogers left was long, and Bucky had spent years trying not to live inside it.

“Half the time I don’t know what I’m doing,” He admitted, eyes drifting downward. “And they willingly follow me. What if someday I make a mistake, one I can’t fix? One that costs someone their life?” You reached up, cupping his face gently, your thumb brushing along his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and your heart ached for the man in front of you, still haunted by ghosts he could never quite outrun. “You’re right,” You agreed watching as his expression flickered with disappointment, just for a brief moment.

“You’re not Steve Rogers.” His face fell slightly, a muscle in his jaw tightening. But before he could pull away, you continued, your voice unwavering. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. War hero. Soldier. Congressman. Leader.” You leaned in closer, pressing your forehead against his, your eyes locked onto his with fierce conviction. “And most importantly… my future husband.” You saw the breath catch in his throat. His hand tightened slightly at your back, as if grounding himself in your certainty when he couldn’t find his own. “I don’t need you to be Steve,” You whispered.

“I just need you to be you. And that’s more than enough for me and everyone else.” His lips trembled into the faintest smile, and when he kissed you this time, it wasn’t chaste, it was filled with silent gratitude. A thousand unspoken thank you's pressed to your mouth like prayer. He held you there for a long while, breathing you in like a lifeline, like he could gather up every ounce of warmth you offered and store it in the cracks he still carried. When he pulled back to see your face, his gaze wasn’t burdened by the weight of who he had been or who he thought he had to be.

It was clearer now, tinged not with regret, but something steadier. Something lighter. The silence that settled was different now. Not the silence of things unsaid, but of things understood. The kind that comes after a storm, when the world stills and you realize you’ve made it through. His arms wrapped around you once more pulling you close until your heartbeat found his. Your bodies fit together in that quiet way only love makes possible, each curve and line a map of survival and second chances. You finally let your eyes fall closed, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm beneath your ear grounding you.

Not in the past, but in the present. In this fragile, extraordinary now. The weight of old ghosts hadn’t vanished, but they no longer ruled the room. They faded into the background, overtaken by the smell of eucalyptus still lingering faintly from the tea, the warmth of the blankets drawn over both of you, and the comfort of simply not being alone. Outside, the world slept. Still healing, still aching, but alive. Moving forward. And in that quiet space between what was and what would be, there was something neither of you dared to name, but both held onto nonetheless.

Hope.

There, in the dark, wrapped in each other’s arms, it flickered steadily, guiding you both into whatever came next.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

Remember you are NEVER alone! Do not hesitate to ask for help if you are struggling with your mental health, reach out to your loved ones, check in on people who have been too quiet, and always remember to be kind because you never know what other people may be dealing with! 🤍

Mental Health Help Hotline: (833) 317-4673

[lindira]

I'm mentally chewing on the idea that maybe Caterina favored Lucanis, but would have given the title of First Talon to Illario if not for his evil-mustache-twirling machinations. We know she's astute, perceptive, and ruthless. I don't think for a second that she didn't know Lucanis was soft-hearted, no matter how good an assassin he was. What he did in the Wigmaker Job had to have gotten back to her - that's how Lucanis got the name of "Demon of Vyrantium" after all. He freed the slaves. He administered a punishment to Ambrose Forfex, not just a cold assassination like he was supposed to.

Everyone is also familiar with Illario's style of assassination. The Crows joke about how he shirks his work and how incompetent he is, but it reads more like one of those family jokes that persists forever, despite how hurtful it's become. But even though Illario will never be as good an assassin overall as Lucanis, Illario does have a type of job he excels at that Lucanis can't do. Caterina would have been aware of Illario's skill at charming people, and also that he can be just as ruthless as she is.

There is the assumption amongst all the Crows that Caterina would have chosen Lucanis to succeed her as First Talon, and it's based almost solely because she favors him. And while that may be true, the favoritism seems more affectionate than professional. We don't see Caterina and Illario interact much, so it's hard to definitively say what their relationship is or isn't like. But when we see Caterina speak of Lucanis, she says "grandson" with fondness and calls him "my poor boy". Unfortunately for Illario, I do think it's true that she loved Lucanis more, but I think that also suggests that she probably knew he didn't want the role of First Talon and moreover that he wouldn't have been well-suited for it.

Meanwhile, we know from how she brought up her grandsons that she was focused almost entirely on their survival. Her cruelty to them throughout their childhood was to prepare them for the cruelties they would inevitably have to face as master assassins and - ultimately - her successors. She had to have survived as leader of the Crows by being merciless - especially with such a small House after the murder of almost her entire family - so a future First Talon would have to be equally so.

Lucanis has proven himself to be merciful. The Venatori picked up on it, and Caterina undoubtedly did too. Mercy and compassion are wonderful things, but in a leader who tries to right wrongs and punish evildoers, they are also things that would make that leader a LOT of enemies. Enemies who would - without hesitation - strike at the First Talon and anyone they care about. On the other hand, a First Talon for whom contracts are strictly business, who has no reservations in doing the "wrong" thing, who doesn't keep track of whether the targets "deserve" to be killed or not, is a First Talon who would maintain cordial relationships with clients no matter their morality. Illario would have been that Talon. His contracts are transactional, and despite charming targets and feigning affection for them, has no trouble killing them and barely thinks of them afterward. In "The Wigmaker Job", Lucanis expresses condolences when the lead guard Illario flirted with had died. But Illario didn't even remember her name and didn't care what happened to her.

Given what we know about Caterina, it's reasonable and logical that she - as someone who understood her grandsons and what being a First Talon entails - would have chosen Illario for the position, no matter what her personal feelings about the two were. Illario would have made a ruthless and business-like First Talon, and Lucanis - being the loyal sap that he is - would have been a stalwart protector who could have kept both Illario and himself safe. But after Illario's plotting, and after he lost openly in combat against Lucanis, Caterina couldn't give the position to Illario. He had lost too much face with the Crows, both by striking against someone in his own House and losing the battle in front of literally everyone. So she had to give Lucanis the First Talon title in the end.

I don't blame Illario for coming to the conclusion that he would never be First Talon, because he had been conditioned to believe Caterina thought nothing of him. But the tragedy of most family conflicts is that so much pain and suffering could have been avoided if all of them had just, y'know, sat the fuck down and talked about what all their intentions were before making huge announcements or plotting their brother-cousin's downfall. But no, they all had to be drama queens about it, which I guess is very Antivan of them.

[shizuturnspages]

Hello, I can request genshin impact yandere with a child reader who is a murderer and with powers to control monsters, slime,hilichurl and other(such as a rezero character called meili and her personality), and also belongs to a murderous organization and hitmen, yandere :dainsleif, diluc, kaeya, Childe. Thanks :3

The Monster Within

Synopsis: In a world of monsters, murderers, and merciless vengeance, you are a child born from darkness. With the ability to control creatures like hilichurls and slimes, and raised in a murderous organisation, you are not what anyone would expect. Despite your ruthless nature, you encounter four men, for their own reasons, are drawn into the chaos of your world, captivated by your power and the darkness that seems to haunt you. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe x H!tman Child Reader

Dainsleif — The Ghost of a Past Forgotten

Dainsleif had always been a man of detachment, a relic of an age gone by, a traveller with no home. When he first saw you—barely a child, drenched in blood and surrounded by the remnants of a battlefield—he wasn’t sure what to make of you.

You had a monster's smile.

Not the smile of a child who had innocently stepped into something they didn’t understand, but the smile of someone who had long embraced death. You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

The hilichurls around you had obeyed every whim of your hand, like puppets on invisible strings. You called them like pets, but they weren’t pets—they were tools.

“You’re not like other children,” Dainsleif said quietly, watching as your small hand waved through the air, and the hilichurls scattered.

But there was something about you—something that stirred his own broken heart. He, too, had been shaped by tragedy, had seen the monsters that lingered in the shadows of men’s souls. The difference between you and him was that you wore the darkness like a second skin.

“You should come with me,” he said one evening, his words careful, his gaze unwavering. “There is no reason for you to walk this path alone.”

It wasn’t a request. It was an invitation that came with a promise—a promise that he would protect you. Not out of pity, not out of guilt, but because he had finally found someone who could stand beside him in the ruins of the world they both loathed.

“I’ll keep you safe from them,” he whispered, a secret only meant for the two of you. “From everyone who would try to use you as a weapon. You won’t have to be alone anymore.”

His attachment grew, and in his eyes, you were no longer a weapon. You were a lost child in need of guidance—a child who was his to protect, no matter what it took.

Diluc — The Shattered Protector

Diluc had never wanted a child, let alone one like you.

But when he saw you for the first time—your small frame, too small for the bloodshed you had just wrought, standing tall amidst the aftermath—something inside him cracked. The night had consumed you, but you were still standing, untouched, surrounded by the bodies of those who had dared to cross your path.

His heart burned.

“You’re just a child,” he muttered, his voice low, heavy with disbelief.

You met his gaze, your eyes cold and calculating. The blood of your enemies stained your hands, and yet, you seemed unfazed. You weren’t innocent. You were far from it.

“Do you always look so broken after you kill?” you asked, your voice quiet but sharp, like a blade hidden under silk.

Diluc froze. You were so small. So young. And yet, you carried the weight of a murderer.

“Come with me,” he said without thinking. His words were an offer wrapped in something far darker than care—a promise he didn’t even understand.

He saw the power in you, the potential, the darkness that could consume the world. And for some reason, it only made him want to protect you more.

No one else would understand you the way he did.

No one else would ever accept you.

Diluc took you under his wing, not out of sympathy, but because the broken pieces of his soul saw a kindred spirit in you. He believed you needed him, that you needed his guidance, even if it meant stepping deeper into the abyss.

And as time passed, his obsession grew. He was no longer just your protector. He was the man who would tear the world apart to keep you from harm—and to keep you with him.

Kaeya — The Schemer’s Obsession

Kaeya found you on a night when the stars were hidden behind clouds, your silhouette barely visible against the blood-red sky. The hilichurls around you had been dispatched swiftly, as if they too knew that you were something they had to obey.

You were just a child, but Kaeya saw something in your eyes that made his skin crawl—a hunger, a coldness that reminded him of his own twisted family history.

“You’re dangerous,” Kaeya said, eyes narrowing as he approached. “I don’t know whether to admire you or fear you.”

You didn’t respond. You never did. But Kaeya could tell you didn’t fear him either.

“I’m not sure if I should let you roam around on your own,” Kaeya mused, a smile curving at the edge of his lips. “What would the rest of Mondstadt say if they knew you were out here, controlling monsters like pets?”

He was intrigued.

You were fascinating.

And that was the problem.

Kaeya couldn’t leave you to your own devices. He wouldn’t. Your power was too enticing, too dangerous to let go unchecked. So, he made his move. He offered you protection, not out of kindness, but out of the desire to keep you close—too close.

“If you’ll have me,” Kaeya continued, his tone dangerously sweet, “I can show you a world where you’re never alone. Where you’re always mine.”

He didn’t want to protect you. He wanted to possess you.

And as you accepted his invitation, he found himself tangled in the dark desire to see the world burn for you.

Childe — The Bloodthirsty Saviour

Childe had seen many things in his time—many violent, gruesome, deadly things—but nothing quite like you.

A child, a child, standing among the ruins of slain enemies, your small hand outstretched to command the hilichurls, the slimes, the very monsters of Teyvat. He watched in silence as you reigned over them like a queen on a throne, their loyalty to you absolute.

“You’re a monster, you know that?” he said, his voice a strange mixture of amusement and admiration.

But you only tilted your head, as if you didn’t even realise the weight of what you had done.

Childe had always sought chaos, but you? You were chaos incarnate.

“You’ve got a lot of potential, kid,” he said, a wicked grin forming on his face. “A lot of potential.”

He didn’t try to stop you. No, he admired you. He wanted you. Your ability to command monsters, your ability to take life without hesitation—he saw in you the perfect companion.

“Come with me,” he demanded, no room for refusal in his voice. “I’ll teach you what it means to be truly unstoppable.”

Childe didn’t ask. He didn’t wait for an answer. He simply swept you into his world, bound by the thrill of the kill, the promise of obsession.

[bvidzsoo]

Marionette

The second star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female reader

☆ Warning: nudity, cursing, consensual smut, corruption kink, blood, violence, cutting off a hand, allusion to pedophilia (but he pays for it lol karma is a bitch)

☆ Word count: 8.6k

☆ Rating: nsfw

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Yeosang is Aphrodite's son, forbidden relation

☆ Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Second instalment of this series is here, and I swear to God this is the last time I write it in one setting bcz my wrist is falling off currently lol. I really really like this part, I am so curious to hear what you all think of it ! I genuinely appreciate your feedback, and the ones you've left on the previous part legit had me giggling and in tears, I love you all! <3 The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. This is a small side note, but I've read not too long ago a Yungi story that is absolutely amazing and is a Greek mythology au, and whenever I'm writing a part for this series I get reminded of it, so, let me share it with you if you are curious to read it, it's so good!! I'll point out a few things before I let you read the story:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Hera is the Goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth ★ Athena is the Goddess of war, handicraft, and wisdom and the patroness of Athens ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Dionysus is the God of wine-making, orchards and fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre ★ Tartarus lies far beneath the disk of the world, under Hades' underworld, it's used as the ultimate of prisons, unpleasant and inaccessible ★ Elysian Fields is part of the underworld and is where the good go ★ Athenai are a group of women who followed and worshiped Athena ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ★ (Athens is the capital city of Greece) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @madebysvt

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Right by the foothill of Mount Olympus and just a few hours away from the lively village of Dion, hidden in a little meadow of the evergreen forest, almost a day long walk from Lake Naia, lay the fun house of Dionysus. Men and women, Gods and Goddesses were welcomed here, scrutinizing and judgmental eyes turning into indifferent and lustful ones, whatever your heart desired a possibility to become reality if whispered to the right person or deity. Selfless and desperate men found solace in the caresses of nymphs that ventured down from Mount Olympus to the fun house, desperate to get away from the clutches of merciless deities that took advantage of them at the smallest chance given. Gods and Goddesses who were tired of the mistreatment enabled by their superiors and were in desperate need of a night where they could let go, often stumbled through the threshold of the fun house. Dionysus loved calling it a fun house because that’s what it truly was, a house that offered you whatever you had in mind when you thought of the word fun. It came in the form of alcohol, music, entertainment and dancing, but it also came in the form of wanton moans, desperate touches, and whispered climaxes. Whatever you had in mind, you’d probably find it at the fun house. The wine was unlimited here as long as you left something of yours behind and promised to return for another fun time, making you rather addicted to the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you anticipated your reward. Whether this was in the form of a beautiful nymph or innocent maiden, a hunky man that liked it rough or a young lad whose touch was soft, or perhaps the unlimited alcohol that intoxicated your mind and sometimes killed you before your time…it was all the visitors choice. Dionysus took great pleasure in watching the mere mortals crumble at his feet, and he loved it even more when he managed to break a deity beyond the point of madness.

Everyone here knew who I was. The empty jug lay next to my hand almost mockingly as my eyes bore into the table, head slightly buzzing and ears ringing from the loud music the few drunken musicians attempted to play. The harp had a beautiful sound if in the hands of someone that could yield it, but the one mortal that attempted to play it here made it sound borderline scratchy, fingers caressing the strings rather unprofessionally. Despite how crowded the fun house was, not a soul took it upon themselves to share a table with me, and I understood why. I wasn’t necessarily here for company, especially not that of a man, but it would’ve felt nice to lay my worries upon an ear willing to listen. I knew the sharp daggers secured onto the belt around my waist intimidated men, but I expected women to be more than willing to share stories with me. After all, it wasn’t a secret to anyone that I was part of the Athenai, Athena’s loyal followers, the leader of a cult that brought forth possibilities for women eager to become more than what their society instilled on them.

A rather young girl passed by the table, head hanging low as she clutched the large jug of wine to refill the thirsty men’s glasses, and I watched closely as she walked between the tables, pouring more wine for the one’s asking. She was young, too young for a place like this, but I figured her family was living scarcely and they needed every little penny they could get. Knowing the nature of the men that were so eager to frequent places as such, it came as no surprise when the young girl’s shoulder was clutched by a calloused hand, yanking her back violently. The girl’s eyes widened in panic as she looked up, clutching the jug to her chest as if afraid to spill anything. It was pure instinct by now to draw my weapons at the sight of a female getting harmed, and it came as no surprise when I felt my blood boil underneath my skin. The man that dared touch the little girl was laughing, gripping her chin and trying to force her to sit down at his table filled with six more men, all watching her with a predatory glint in their eyes. Athena has taught me her virtues, has passed her beliefs onto me, raised me as a strong and independent woman, one that would not sit idly by and watch an innocent soul get harassed, especially if so young. The cult of Athenai have sworn celibacy to Athena, and have sworn to protect maidens and women in dire danger until their last breath.

I moved stealthily, barely leaving a breeze in my wake as I stood from the table, eyes burning anyone that dared look my way, right hand gripping the handle of my most loved dagger. Hephaestus was a marvelous craftsman, every piece of armor was designed by Athena and myself, and then later on perfected and strengthened by him. I had great trust in my weapons and my abilities, having led a war by Athena’s side more than once. As I made my way towards the table full of vile men, the little girl’s body had started shaking as she struggled to fill their glasses with wine, the man that was holding her had his hand sliding down her fragile body. I tensed my muscles and willed my mind to remain focused, knowing that if I saw red right now, not even one man would leave this house in one piece. As a quiet and scared whimper left the young girl’s lips, my jaw clenched and I unsheathed my dagger, the other men sitting at the table finally noticing me as I came into their vicinity.

A wide smirk stretched onto my lips as I saw the terror in their eyes, and before they could alert their companion harassing the young girl, my dagger had long come down against the nimble skin of the man, the steel cutting through his flesh and bones, severing the hand he had on the table. The cry that left his mouth was gut-wrenching and it made everyone stop in their tracks, eyes wide as the lively music had cut off at once, the young girl jumping away with watering eyes as the man tried to stand and whirl around. But I just chuckled and grabbed his greasy hair, yanking his head back as I pressed my sharp dagger against his neck, making him suddenly become still. His chest was heaving and he had broken out into a cold sweat, whole body shaking as blood gushed out of his severed limb. I leered, leaning down close to his ear.

“You are in great luck tonight, my friend,” I hissed against his ear, his body reeking of alcohol and grime, “I cannot kill you unless you do something unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean I cannot teach you a lesson, you stupid mortal.”

The man had started sobbing, snot running down his nose and into his mouth as he tried to splutter out apologies, his companions frozen as they didn’t know whether to help him or not. I pressed my dagger just a little more against his skin, making sure to draw blood as the man cried out in agony again, making me grin widely as I released him, but not before banging his head against the table hard enough to knock him out. His companions jumped to their feet and rushed over to the passed-out man as I turned my head to search for the young girl, finding her cowering behind a woman that was silently crying. I wiped down the blood from my dagger onto the white cloth I had hidden in my pocket as I walked towards the two, motioning for the woman to step aside. She did so quickly, revealing the young girl to me. I sighed as I leaned down to be eye level with her, gently wiping her tears off her face.

“Do not cry child, you’re safe now.” I muttered to her gently, unlatching a satchel from my belt, “Take this and head to Athens tomorrow, take your family with you if needed. Pray to Athena tonight and tell her that her most trusted apprentice saved you from a vile man, ask for her blessings and protection.”

“Won’t she want something in return?” The girl’s voice was shaky as she reluctantly accepted the coins, probably the sum more than she’s ever made here at the fun house. I smiled and gave a pat to her head as I stood up straight again.

“You are a smart girl; Athena will like that.” I hummed, fixing her hair behind her head, tilting her chin up to look in her eyes, “If you wish to be strong and able to protect yourself, all you have to offer to Athena is a promise to remain a maiden, child, and she will have you. You’ll thrive under her cult and you’ll have a good life in Athens.”

Gratitude graced the young girl’s face and she bowed her head deeply, bending at her middle to go even lower, making me smile at her display of gratitude, “Thank you, my heavenly protector.”

I chuckled as I gave a last pat to the girl’s head, looking around the still deadly silent fun house. I grinned and took my leave, knowing that the mood would be ruined as I wasn’t welcomed anymore for the night. When I reached the door, I turned around and bowed mockingly before I was out of the crowded and warm house, welcoming the cool breeze of the summer night. As the door closed behind myself, the music picked back up and the chatter and shouts resumed like nothing had happened, and I took a moment to clear my mind. I headed to the corner of the house and leaned against its structure, sighing as I looked up at the stary night, wondering whether I should return to Olympus now, or head back to Athens myself. But something snapped next to me and the unmistakable aura of an Olympian God invaded my sense, forcing my body to remain alert as I gently clutched the handle of my dagger.

“No need for that, dear,” I slightly relaxed at the familiar deep voice, but failed to spot the figure in the pitch-black night, “I am not here to harm you—or any of the women you protect.”

“Then why are you here?” I snapped back, growing a little irritated that the God wasn’t showing himself to me.

“I’m here to collect a very dear soul.” The deep voice answered back, sounding amused at my irritation as the nauseating scent of tobacco filled my nose. Sometimes, I wondered whether Death was timeless, whether he could travel between times unseen and unknown to us. Even as deities, we couldn’t predict the future nor if we truly were everlasting, but there was a glint in Death’s eyes that held secrets nobody but him knew about.

“I didn’t kill the man, you don’t have to snitch on me—” His deep giggle cut me off, and there he was, finally, showing himself to me as he stepped out of the shadows. His body was clad in a midnight black suit, tailored to fit his body perfectly as if it was his second skin. He had cut his hair shorter sometime not long ago, and it stood up in a way that made him look like he didn’t belong amongst us. Hades’ sharp eyes were crinkled as he smiled widely, his front teeth crooked as the cigar hung loosely between his teeth.

“I’m not here for that man,” Hades chuckled as the cigar bobbed with every word he said, ��he’s going straight to Tartarus. I’m here for someone else.”

I followed his line of sight as he gazed inside the fun house through the window, eyes settling on an old man who was smiling and chatting by the bar with a beautiful young woman, “He’s lively, but his heart has weakened. I hope he hasn’t forgotten about our little trade back when he was still youthful and handsome.”

“You love making trades.” I sighed under my breath as I watched Hades grin, then take a long drag of his strongly smelling cigar. I never dared ask where he got those from, I never saw anyone else smoking them. It felt like it was somehow beyond me and our times, like it was better if I stayed naïve. Hades was an enigma nobody could fully decipher; it was best if you didn’t ask many questions. He had a way with his words, he could easily trick you into trades and deals that were only beneficial to him. The tale of signing your soul away to him unassumingly was more common than not, and I appreciated my life, cherished it dearly even.

“That I do, indeed.” He hummed, sharp and dark eyes falling on me again. He also loved flirting with people that he wasn’t supposed to flirt with, “Still worshiping the lovely Athena?”

I snorted under my breath, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned against the building again, “It’s what I was created for.”

“Ah, yes,” Hades hummed, taking a long drag of his cigar, smoke wafting up in the air around us, “my bitch of a sister sure loves sending out other people to do the dirty work for her. If only Zeus wasn’t such a man-whore—”

“You speak rather freely, Mingi.” I narrowed my eyes at the God of death, interrupting what was supposed to be his inner monologue.

“Of course, I do.” He chuckled upon hearing his real name leave my lips, throwing the cigar onto the ground as he stepped on it. I’ve seen him do that many times, yet I still haven’t figured out why he did that, “What? What are they going to do to me? Banish me? Chase me away? Kill me? Death is everlasting, my dear, just as birth is. Even when you will stop existing, I’ll be still here. I’m one with Gaea. Unlike many of our kin, I do not need to be worshipped to exist.”

That made me think, made my mind dwell on thoughts that they weren’t supposed to dwell on, “Are you saying we won’t always be here?”

“I’d love to chat more with you, my dear.” Mingi smiled mischievously, his eyes narrowing into playful slits as he stepped closer, caressing my cheek gently. He was perhaps the only man that’s ever touched me—the one I willingly allowed to touch me—his touch lacking the lust no other man could even as much so as hide, “But my old man really needs to go now, and Hera’s called for you.”

“Are you stealing Hermes’ job now?” I chuckled, patting his hand before I removed it, dusting my hands off.

“No,” Mingi chuckled, shaking his head, “I’d rather die then be the messenger of these bored deities that love beefing with each other for no reason.”

“Do you reckon why my mother is asking for me?” I raised an eyebrow as I chuckled at Mingi’s humor.

“No idea, but she looked beyond devious.” He sighed, slowly stalking towards the entrance of the fun house, Dionysus would certainly hate that there would be two deities tormenting his fun house tonight, “Perhaps has something to do with lovely Aphrodite.”

I hummed, nodding my head in goodbye as Mingi disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the darkness of the night. Well, off to Mount Olympus I was.

            And Mingi was right, my mother did summon me due to something concerning Aphrodite. The palace was brightly lit despite it being after midnight by the time I made it home, and my steps were silent against the marble stones despite how lightly I walked. Athena made sure teach me that. As I had knocked on the door of my mother’s bedroom, it opened up instantly and allowed me inside. She sat on her sofa, snacking on some grapes as her two servants fanned her with big leaves, looking stoic and avoiding eye contact at all costs. My mother’s mouth pulled into a wide smile upon seeing me, her eyes a bright color and glimmering under the divine light. I fixed my posture and bowed my head in respect as I walked closer to her, the armor I wore completely the opposite of her satin indigo dress.

“Daughter,” She cooed, her voice warm and loud in the confines of her bedroom, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

That was true, indeed, she only met me when she needed something from me. I wasn’t to any use for her unless she was sending me out to kill the people she didn’t like, or have tried to bewitch her bellowed husband. I have long come to terms with the fact that Athena was more of a motherly figure than my own mother would ever be.

“Indeed, mother, how may I help you this time?” I asked emotionlessly, resting my hand on the handle of my dagger as it brought me comfort.

My mother chuckled as she raised her hand, the servants stopping their actions, “Out.”

They wasted no time in scurrying out, and I watched as they bowed deeply to my mother then to me, and fled the room at last. My mother sat up, pushing her dark brown hair behind her shoulders, her satin dress falling down on one shoulder. She was a Goddess almost as beautiful as Aphrodite, Hera could have anyone she wanted. Many worshipped her and tried to whisk her away from Zeus, but she only had eyes for that tyrant.

“Well, now that it’s just the two of us,” Hera chuckled, her expression twisting into something sly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Aphrodite’s children, my daughter.”

“I have.” I confirmed as I raised an eyebrow at my mother. I have even met a few, but they weren’t very likeable, much like their mother.

“What about Yeosang?” My mother’s voice dripped with venom, palms curling into fists.

“Mere tales whispered by naiads is all I know of him.” I answered, gulping when my mother raised to her feet, a deity easily taller than most men. She stepped off her pedestal and slowly approached me, hand extending as she cupped my cheek. Unlike Mingi’s tender caress, hers was cold and borderline painful.

“I have a very important mission for you, my daughter.” My mother’s eyes sparkled with a vicious glint, teeth showing as she leered, “Someone had spoken ill of poor Aphrodite and she wants the man dead. But we know she never directly dirties her hands, and instead sends one of her children. Yeosang is her most prized child, my daughter, I need you to go find him, and kill him.”

I withheld the snort that threatened to bubble past my lips, impressed by my mother’s ignorance and the irony of her words. Wasn’t she sending me out to take care of her dirty business? The hatred between the two Goddesses runs deep, the two never settling their differences and finding ways to torment not just each other, but those around themselves as well. I was raised to hate Aphrodite, by my mother at least, because Athena’s teachings taught me different things. I wasn’t supposed to hate no woman, nor Goddess, but my mother couldn’t know that. I was more loyal to Athena than to her anyway.

“Is he going down to the mortals?” I questioned and pulled my head back slowly to get rid of my mother’s uncomfortable caress against my cheek. She hummed, giving me a scrutinizing look as her eyes took me in, a small grin spreading onto her lips.

“You’ve become a fine warrior, my daughter, I knew handing you over to Athena was a smart choice.” My mother sighed happily, eyes hardening at once, “You cannot fail me, my daughter, Aphrodite never lets Yeosang out of her sight, this is your one and only chance to kill him for me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” I bowed my head and my mother hummed, turning her back to me as she walked back towards her sofa.

“He’s in Dion, you’ll find him at the brothel in the East side of the village.” She sat back on her sofa, snapping her fingers as the doors opened instantly, the two servants rushing back inside, “And do not worry about recognizing him, you’ll know once you see him. He resembles Aphrodite a lot.”

And perhaps my mother hated that even more than the fact that Aphrodite was more beautiful than her. I didn’t worry about recognizing Yeosang, amongst mortals, an Olympian could be easily picked out in a crowd.

            Life in the village compared to the life of the Olympians was rather lamentable. Few people were well-off to live in spacious mansions that resembled the homes of the Olympians, as most of these mortals lived in humble and small cottages. But no matter how poor or rich, the nightlife in Dion never lacked as inns and brothels were overfilled with rowdy and insatiable people. I had disguised myself as a maiden of the village, a simple white dress that’s seen better days replacing the armor that felt like a second skin and brought me comfort. I felt exposed as my dark hair flowed freely against my shoulders and back, making me more vulnerable as anyone could easily grab onto it. The only time I wore it like this was when I bathed, in a battle you couldn’t allow anything to distract you. The sleeves of my dress were long, covering my arms as my two daggers were strapped tightly against the inner parts of them, I would never willingly bear myself vulnerable around anyone I didn’t trust.

Since I was disguised, nobody could tell that I was Hera’s daughter and Athena’s apprentice, making men boldly approach me and try to flirt their ways into bedding me for the night. I hated every single second of it, narrowly avoiding their touches and turning down their offers in a charming manner, not wanting to anger anyone and draw attention onto myself before I was done with what I was here for. The brothel was overspilling with people at the ungodly hour of the witches, and it turned out to be a hard task to find Aphrodite’s son, Yeosang. I didn’t know who I was looking for, but I would know upon seeing him. After walking around and watching the crowd carefully, I let the people push me towards the bar as I ordered a pint of beer for myself, leaning against the surface as I surveyed the crowd once again. The music was loud and the dancing people grew in number as others disappeared upstairs, occupying the empty rooms for mere seconds of pleasure. I had just taken a sip of the rather bitter beer, when an overwhelming feeling of warmth made me look up alarmed. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to pinpoint the direction it was coming from, my blood boiling underneath my skin as a weird sense of calmness tried to push through my alert disposition. My heart was racing and my ears had started ringing at once, and I knew the few sips of beer weren’t the cause of it. I was in the presence of another divinity. And upon realizing this, through the dancing people emerged an ethereal looking man.

The seemingly white glow that no mortal seemed to notice was almost alarming, coating his skin fair and making it glow as the softest and gentlest smile settled on his blood-red lips upon noticing me. Even from a distance, his eyes were gentle and warm in color, golden swirling around his irises as he graciously walked closer, hands clasped in front of him. Somebody crashed into him, but instead of screaming and pushing them away, he continued smiling as his lips moved slowly, probably reassuring the person that it was no problem. His hair fell around his face in a light brown curtain, framing his forehead and cheekbones as his nose was petite, his jawline sharp. My grip tightened around the pint of beer, suddenly my heart racing in my chest as the warmth I have felt previously only worsened the closer the deity walked. I found myself struggling to intake air, as if the man had his grip around my throat, refusing me the air I desperately needed. His smile only widened as I felt my legs weaken, the man now standing in front of me. His scent was sweet like honey and roses, overpowering the unpleasant odor coming from the humans.

“Another deity,” His voice was deep, unlike his soft features and what you’d expect to hear from him, “it’s rare any comes down to this brothel.”

“You’re here too.” I found my voice, completely surprised by how breathy it sounded. I gulped and took a quick sip of my beer, hoping it would help fix the dryness of my throat. The deity, Yeosang, watched my action closely, chuckling lowly as his lips pursed. The longer I looked at his face, the more I understood why he was Aphrodite’s favourite child. He was beyond perfect and gracious, well-mannered, and soft spoken. Perhaps if Aphrodite didn’t exist, he’d be Aphrodite instead. But nobody, no mortal or deity, could be prettier than the Goddess of beauty herself, and I noticed with mild surprise that Yeosang had a blood-red discoloration around his left temple in the shape of an almost heart.

“Are you here to satiate your vices?” His warm eyes shifted onto the beer again, and I chuckled, looking down at it too. I had to play my part if I wanted to kill him tonight, therefore, I lied.

“Some vices you can never fully satiate.” My expression was serious as my eyes bore into Yeosang’s, “I am tired of the fakeness of the Olympians, I want to feel something real.”

Something alluring flashed inside Yeosang’s eyes as he, too, leaned against the bar, reaching out for my pint of beer, “Mortals are fun little toys—until they start playing Gods and want to replace you.”

“Good thing we are irreplaceable, then.” I grinned as Yeosang chuckled, bringing up the pint to his lips. They parted slowly, his gaze burning into mine, a heated feeling suddenly encompassing my whole being. I have never felt that before, and suddenly I was nervous. Could it be that Yeosang was manipulating me somehow? All deities had powers to a certain extent, but his and mine were limited, we weren’t any major God the mortals ardently worshipped. I tried to reassure myself that it couldn’t have been him as he slowly lowered the pint from his lips, placing it back onto the bar.

“A deity like yourself certainly cannot enjoy that vile thing?!” Yeosang sounded almost appalled as he pressed his bony fingers against his lips, making me chuckle as I pulled the pint back towards myself.

“Someone as sophisticated as yourself would enjoy wine, I suppose.” Yeosang blushed as he hid his mouth with his hand, averting his eyes down to the floor. I smirked, feeling victorious as I raised my hand for the waitress to come over. She was quick on her feet, thankfully, and I swiftly ordered a glass of wine for my prey. My plan was perfectly working out, I didn’t think it’d be so easy to lure him into my trap. Perhaps Aphrodite shouldn’t have kept her precious son so sheltered, he was too naïve for his own good, and it would bring his downfall tonight. As Yeosang shyly looked up, I fixed my expression, trying to look as inoffensive as I could.

“I have always believed there is no point in hiding who we are,” I tensed as Yeosang suddenly leaned forward, invading my personal space as the waitress delivered his glass of wine, “after all, at some point people see through your façade. It usually falls when you think others aren’t watching you, even if it’s the slightest crack, somebody will notice.”

Feeling speechless, I could only watch as Yeosang smiled shyly and took his glass of wine, murmuring a quiet thank you before he took a tentative sip of it. My heart hadn’t stopped hammering against my ribcage ever since he walked over, and I could only pray to Athena that I wouldn’t start sweating now. There was something about Yeosang’s aura that exuded calmness but alure at the same time, and I found it hard to make sense of these new emotions surfacing in my body. Everything tingled and burned, suddenly finding his proximity not close enough, needing him to push me up against a wall and devour me. If Athena were to hear these vile thoughts, she’d be just as disgusted by them as I was. I tried to gulp down the nausea rising up through my stomach, and as I opened my mouth to speak up, a man tumbled into Yeosang. His wine was almost spilled, but he saved it last minute as he helped the man stand up straight.

“Oh,” Yeosang whispered, face lighting up in recognition, “old friend! I thought I have forever lost you to the crowd!”

The man reeked of every odor one could think of, yet Yeosang went and placed his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his side. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as the mortal hiccupped, eyes half lidded as he struggled to stand up straight. The glass of wine was abandoned as Yeosang’s full attention was on the man, and I took a deep breath as I felt my pulse quicken even more. I took a quick glance around myself to make sure nobody was watching us, and then reached inside my dress, finding the hidden vial between my breasts easily.

“You abandoned me, boy!” The man’s words were slurred as he clumsily exclaimed, and I acted in a swift moment, pouring the poison into Yeosang’s glass unnoticed. My fist curled around the vial until I crushed it into small shards, the pain never reaching my skin as it instantly turned into dust. I watched the poison quickly dissolve in Yeosang’s drink just as the deity chuckled and looked back at me. My eyebrows shot up as I quickly smiled, hoping I didn’t look suspicious.

“This old friend of mine loves dancing,” Yeosang chuckled as he maneuvered the man around so that they stood side by side facing me, “I had to abandon him for a while.”

“Yes, you did.” The man’s head fell a little forward before Yeosang steadied him, making me wonder just how strong the deity was. His muscles were lean and not bulging as most Gods liked to look like, yet it was unquestionable that he was rather strong as he held up the man twice his size.

“Old friend, tell me something.”

The old man perked up as he tried to open his eyes more, “What, boy?”

“The young lady you introduced to me earlier,” Yeosang’s smooth voice turned slightly darker, subtly sneering. My eyebrows furrowed as the soft expression swiftly slipped off his face, “what have you said to her?”

“Oh!” The drunk man exclaimed, lips pulling into a drunken smirk as he looked at me, eyes raking over my body. I wished to wipe out my daggers and gauge his eyes out, but tonight I had to behave, “That lady cannot be compared in beauty to anyone else, she’s more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.”

The air seemed to freeze around us as my breath halted. Yeosang’s smile turned cold, eyes narrowing as he hummed, his grip on the man’s shoulder visibly tightening, “Hmm, I see.”

I didn’t know what to do as Yeosang turned his head, one eyebrow raised as if in question. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes as I instead grabbed my pint and threw back the remained of my beer. Yeosang’s eyes slowly shifted onto his glass of wine and he paused, then reached out and took the glass. I watched with a hammering heart as he raised it up to his lips, then slowly tilted the glass, the wine almost touching his blood-red lips.

“Drinking in front of your elderly without offering it to them first?!” The old man coughed a little, giving Yeosang a glare as if his respect had been broken. Yeosang froze, then I watched in mild alarm as he lowered his glass, shooting the man an apologetic smile.

“Where have my manners gone?” He shook his head at himself and the man hummed. I opened my mouth to interject into their exchange, but instead felt my jaw fall open in shock as Yeosang forcefully grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it open, pushing his head back by it, pouring the wine down his throat aggressively. I gasped as I watched the man gargle and try not to choke on the poisoned wine, my palms turning into fists as my muscles tensed.

“There, you can have all the wine.” Yeosang snickered, throwing the empty glass onto the floor, it shattering loudly as he slowly turned his head, tilting it to the side. My eyes hardened in an instant as I noticed the change in his demeanor, the serene and innocent look gone from Yeosang’s face as he smirked, leaning towards me, “Those who speak my mother’s name in vain shall be punished, right, Y/N?”

There hasn’t been a time before where a man won over me. I was trained for war, I have fought battles that took the lives of hundreds of men, I have slain men who have mistreated women and yet…a pathetic son of a Goddess had me fumbling in panic as he released the old man who had started heaving for air, clutching his throat. Yeosang stepped back and watched as I caught the old man, eyes wide as the poison rather quickly brought him to his demise. I didn’t know what to do as his body started growing heavier, and when I made eye contact with Yeosang, he was already backing into the crowd with a poisonous glint in his eyes and a vicious smirk on his lips.

He had won this game.

I felt anger surge through my body, but I couldn’t act on my desires to chase after the deity and have his head. And so, I played the part of my disguise as I released the man. Then, I opened my mouth and shrieked.

            The slap stung no more than a battle scar yet had to, and still, my ego was bruised beyond my body has ever been. I gritted my teeth as I refused to cower under my mother’s seething eyes. Something broke next to us and I jumped, not used to my mother’s hysterical displays. Now I understood why Zeus never tried to anger her, and yet still failed miserably each time.

“You wench,” Hera hissed, grabbing my chin and yanking my head forward, “You’re good for nothing.”

I tried not to snort as I looked down, avoiding eye contact. I have never failed before. I was more than good, but she was too blinded by her childish hatred for Aphrodite to actually notice that.

“You are a disgrace and an abomination!” My mother continued to hiss, her grip turning painful on my chin, “Look me in the eyes, you stupid wench!”

Fury licked under my skin, igniting my veins and making me tense my muscles and calm my mind as I yearned to reach for my dagger and push it through her nonexistent heart. I gulped and looked up into her eyes, remaining emotionless like Athena had trained me.

“You are not my daughter.” Hera hissed, leaning in my face, “I banish you from my home, you are never to step foot inside my temple and sanctuary. Perish from in front of my eyes before I turn you into nothing.”

She pushed me away like I have burned her, and I gulped, biting down on my tongue to keep myself calm and level-headed. I didn’t want to turn into nothing, that I knew. So, instead, I bowed my head and took off towards the door, grabbing the handle of my dagger for comfort, “And to think I nourished you and cherished you for nothing.”

My grip faltered around the handle of the door and something coiled in my chest as I took a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from what was about to come out of my mouth. I ripped the door open and chuckled, turning my head to look smugly at Hera, “Thank fuck I won’t have to see your stupid face ever again, you hysterical bitch.”

The scream Hera let out only made me laugh as I slammed the door shut behind me, fury making my body feel like it was on fire. That feeling was only ever present when I was in battle, and protecting women. I felt my whole being vibrate as I left the stupid home of Hera, steps hurried as I knew who to seek out for guidance. I will find Yeosang and I will kill him, Athena may you be my guide and protect me in my quest.

            Hunting came as second nature; I could do it even with my eyes closed. The ground of the forest was solid underneath my feet and the trees tall and offering shade from the blazing sun as I swiftly advanced towards the meadow. There was nothing in this world I couldn’t track and hunt down. Man, woman, animal, deity. Athena had let me know in a whisper where Aphrodite’s pond resided, a place that only her, her nymphs, and Yeosang knew about. The deity often came here to spend the hot days of summer cooling off in the ever-clear Pond of Beauty. Aphrodite had created it herself for her offspring and those that she considered worthy of her treasure. The pond resided close by the foothill of Mount Olympus, on the territory of the Gods and Goddesses. No human could come here, unless they wished for a painful death.

My bow and arrow lay snuggly in my hands as I held onto them tightly, eyes narrowed as I listened closely to the sounds of the forest. The meadow was just one step ahead, I was hiding behind the bushes and the tall trees, eyes surveying the area before I looked out onto the meadow, the pond vast and its water glimmering under the sunlight that fell directly on it. Sweat had gathered on my brows as I took deep breaths, remaining calm as I noticed ripples on the surface of the pond, a head covered in light brown hair slowly surfacing. My heart started hammering against my ribcage as I watched the deity swim around in the pond, a serene look on his face as he seemed to be glowing in the sunlight, his light brown hair turning almost as golden as the swirls in his warm brown eyes. He floated around graciously, his milky skin translucent as it made contact with the water and the sunlight.

I tensed my muscles and drew my right arm back, aiming my arrow towards Aphrodite’s beautiful creation. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, tuning in to the sounds of nature as I relaxed my body, preparing to release the arrow the second my eyes opened. I felt my body move slightly, align in the direction Yeosang was, and I sighed quietly, feeling the warm breeze caress my skin tenderly all of a sudden. The birds seemed to sing louder here, the grass seemed to brush up against my ankles gently, and the breeze carried a soft smell of pomegranates, honey, and roses. I gulped, feeling my lips part in another quiet sigh as suddenly my ears started buzzing, my skin jittery out of nowhere. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, feeling a little unnerved as my body grew warmer and warmer, flesh burning underneath the heavy silver armor. I gulped and willed my mind to focus, to let go of everything that served as a distraction, and opened my eyes as my fingers holding the string had started slipping, about to release the arrow aimed towards the mesmerizing deity.

But when my eyes opened, my body froze as if someone else was controlling it. Yeosang’s brown eyes shone golden as they bore into mine even at the great distance, and I felt my fingers tremble as I reluctantly lowered my weapon. I struggled to breathe as I felt my legs moved forward, guiding me towards the pond, away from the safety of the trees and the high grass. There was something very wrong as my skin burned and my heart raced, and I couldn’t stop myself from approaching Yeosang. His blood-red lips pulled into a faint smile as my hand raised to undo my bun, my dark hair falling down and fawning my back as I sighed in content. Another step towards him had me unclasping the silver armor from around my torso, my hands trembling as I couldn’t look away from Yeosang. I felt drawn in, mesmerized, and charmed. A madman would say it was witchcraft, but I couldn’t tell what was happening to me.

Yeosang’s lips parted as he whispered something I couldn’t hear just yet, and I felt my hands undo the bindings of my corset as it soon fell from around my body, leaving it bare for Yeosang’s eyes to drink in my exposed skin. I shivered and my arms got covered in goosebumps as Yeosang’s grin turned wider, beckoning me into the pond as he extended one hand. My mind was screaming at me to stop, to unsheathe my dagger from my belt and throw it at Yeosang, but instead, my body moved on its own as I undid my belt and then the bindings of my pants, stopping for a second to push down the garment after I stepped out of my boots.

Yeosang’s tongue darted out to lick at his blood-red lips, and I gasped as my feet came in contact with the cold water of the pond. I was bare in front of a man, walking towards him, offering myself up to him. What I was doing was forbidden, I would be banished and probably killed, but I couldn’t stop. No matter how much I wanted to, my body didn’t stop moving towards Yeosang. The cold water clung to my overheated skin and my heart pounded in my chest as I couldn’t feel the soil underneath my feet anymore. I was forced to swim further inside the pond. I wanted to stop, but my body wouldn’t until it reached Yeosang. My lips trembled from both fright and the cold, and the closer I got to Yeosang, the wider his grin got. He was preening at me, eyes flashing golden like his hair in the sunlight, and suddenly, I was face to face with him. I shuddered out a breath, chest contracting as I tried to yank myself far away from him, but suddenly the water felt like it had hands and had immobilized me to my spot.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice carried amusement, eyes twinkling in the same manner, “it’s rude to impose on someone that’s bathing.”

I couldn’t find my voice, my throat had gone dry, my whole body was trembling. I couldn’t be seen bare by any man or deity, I had to kill Yeosang. I would be never forgiven if I didn’t, if he touched me…I would be punished for an eternity.

“Why are you here?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering himself under the water until his eyes and hair were visible only. I tried to calm my frantic heartbeat, to regulate my breathing once again.

“I’m here to kill you.” I hissed out, eyes hardening as Yeosang pushed his head above water, giggling.

“Without your armor, you’re nothing but a woman, Y/N.” My blood boiled under my skin, and I wasn’t trembling from the cold anymore, it was from anger. My jaw clenched as I glared at Yeosang, still trying to break free of this invisible spell he’s put on me.

“Is this where your mask slips and you show just how rotten you are at your core?” Yeosang’s head lulled back as he laughed, water dripping from his hair once he faced me again.

“You think I’m doing something to you,” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as his eyes darkened, just like at the brothel. He didn’t look innocent anymore, he looked menacing and dangerous, “but I am not. The pond brings out your deepest, darkest desires.”

Something coiled in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up, mortified at what Yeosang was implying, “How dare you?! I am an Athenai, I have sworn to serve Athena. I have no such desires like the one you’re implying I have—”

I stiffened as Yeosang reached out, his warm fingertips softly touching my skin, “Then why is your skin ablaze? Why does your flesh sing to me to come closer? To feel you? To touch you? To devour you?”

I gasped as Yeosang swum uncomfortably close, palm caressing my cheek bigger than it, eyes boring into mine as I felt unraveled by the simplest touch, “Why do you want me to fill you up here until you’re a begging mess, until you have forgotten who you are?”

It felt like the sunlight was cut off and my neck was snapped into half, when, underwater, I felt nimble fingers trace the outline of lips untouched before, slipping between them and drawing out a sound that’s never left my mouth before, “Why does it throb for me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against my ear as I moaned loudly, head falling back when his fingers touched a spot that had the name of Gaea on my lips, praying to be forgiven for the sins I was committing, “Kill me with your bare hands, Y/N, and I shall grant you one wish.”

I whimpered as I finally felt released by the clutches of the water, hands flying out as I clung onto Yeosang’s shoulders, eyes screwing shut when the heel of his palm pressed harder against my core, massaging it in a circular motion, toes curling at the blinding feeling that had my whole body on fire like no battle could ignite it. Yeosang’s blood-red lips pressed against the vein pulsating in my neck, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to muffle the sounds I was making as he dipped his fingers lower, prodding at a hole I didn’t know existed before, “Yeosang.”

“Say my name, my goddess.” Yeosang growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as I felt him grip onto my hip with his free hand, “Tell me how badly you want me dead.”

I moaned as one finger slowly slipped inside that hole, my mouth falling open in a loud gasp as I felt my muscles contracting, clenching down on his digit, “I shall skin you alive and deliver you to your mother myself.”

Yeosang moaned as his lips left my neck, eyes boring into mine as he faced me again. His hand from my hip slowly slipped down onto my thigh and he guided it around his own hip, flushing our bodies together as he moved his finger in and out, making my eyebrows furrow at the unusual pleasure that erupted in my whole body.

“If you do,” Yeosang whispered against my lips, gently biting my bottom lip, “I shall persuade Athena to forgive you for your sins.”

I gasped as the pace of his finger quickened, his thumb pressing on the bundle of nerves again, and his name echoed in the meadow as I cried it out loudly, body shaking from the overwhelming new feelings I haven’t felt before, “Oh, Yeosang.”

“I know,” He whispered, suddenly his finger gone from my throbbing core, and I whined as my eyes flew open, searching his face for an explanation. His golden eyes had glazed over and were a dark brown, his skin and hair not that bright anymore as clouds shielded the sun for us, almost as if they were shielding us from the eyes of the Gods and Goddesses themselves, “it’s overwhelming for the first time, but you’re doing so well for me, my goddess.”

He guided my other leg too around his hip, and I anchored myself against his lean body as I crossed my ankles behind his bottom. I could feel something hard and heavy press against my thigh and Yeosang smirked, pushing the hair out of my face as his lips pressed against mine featherlike, experimentally. My heart was beating fast, skin on fire as I felt the hard member line up at the entrance Yeosang’s finger had been inside previously, and I gulped, feeling fear for the first time in my life. No man, no battle, no war was scarier than the sin I was about to commit. But I wanted it. I knew now, I’ve always wanted it, I’ve just been repressing it desperately in honour of my oath.

“Yeosang, my god, take me.” It was a bare plea against his lips, and then they were devouring mine, coaxing them open as his tongue slid against mine at the same time as my hole was stretched open as the hard and heavy member seemed to split me apart at once, drawing out whimpers of pain as Yeosang’s lips tried to muffle them. I felt full, yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough as his hands gripped my hips bruisingly, guiding me up and down on his member as Yeosang whimpered, tongue tangled with mine as the painful sting in my core resided, but wasn’t as bad as it had been a second ago.

“Promise yourself to me and you shall live.” Yeosang’s low voice demanded as he mercilessly slammed my hips down, turning my mind into a jumbled mess as I was impaled again and again, wondering if the slice of my dagger would ever come close to this feeling.

“I am protector of maidens and women,” I groaned as a hand groped at my exposed chest, fiddling with the nipple, my nails digging into Yeosang’s back until they drew blood, “I will never promise myself to a man.”

“Then savor this feeling,” Yeosang hissed, and a yelp mixed with a loud moan left my throat as the next thrust was sharp, hitting a spot that had my hips moving more desperately on its own, trying to set a faster rhythm than the one Yeosang tried to set, “because Athena is on her way here, and when you leave this pond, you’ll be dead.”

My fingers slipped into his hair and I yanked on the wet strands, moaning as the new pace kept hitting that spot again and again, my mind wishing for nothing but to bring pain to Yeosang, “And you’ll be dying with me, my god.”

Yeosang moaned as I slammed my lips against his, painful and bruising as our teeth clanked together, noses pressing harshly against each other as I found it harder and harder to make sense of my thoughts as I had started succumbing to the pleasure completely.

Whether the promise of giving myself to Yeosang slipped past my lips or not, the clouds were witness to it, and Athena’s arrow would be the judge of it when Judgment Hour comes. Perhaps Hades would be sweet enough to let me reside in the Elysian Fields in the afterlife, “Does it feel real now?”

❱❱ Next star

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - Pawns in a Game

Summary - Familial expectations loom large and Aegon's sincere nature starkly contrasts with her father's power-driven ambitions. Caught in a maze of conflicting emotions, she wrestles with guilt over Aegon's proposal and the decisions that will ultimately shape her fate.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x Wylde reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2065

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Sunfyre is truly beautiful," I complimented watching the dragon glide effortlessly through the sky. His golden scales caught and reflected the sunlight like a cascade of molten gold. 

Aegon turned to me with a glint of pride in his eyes.

"Yes, he is," he replied, his voice tinged with affection for his dragon. "Perhaps we can go for a ride someday," he suggested casually.

My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected proposal. To ride a dragon, was a privilege reserved for few and a dream coveted by many. The mere thought of soaring through the skies, held in the embrace of the wind sent a thrill through me.

"I would love that, Your Grace," I managed to say, my voice betraying a mix of excitement and disbelief. I glanced at Aegon, catching the warmth of his smile as he looked out the window at his magnificent creature.

It had only been a week since Aegon's coronation, yet the court was already abuzz with whispers and schemes. 

My father, Jasper Wylde, was a shrewd man with a keen eye for opportunities. He saw in Aegon a chance to elevate our house to unprecedented heights, securing a royal marriage that would solidify our standing among the great houses of Westeros.

The pressure was palpable. My father was determined to ensure I captivated the young king and secured the title of queen. 

Every word I spoke, every gesture I made was scrutinized for its potential to win favour with the king.

"Tell me, Lady Wylde, what is the purpose of these recent visits?" Aegon asked suddenly, catching me off guard. 

I fumbled with the embroidery hoop in my hands, glancing up at him through my eyelashes.

His question hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications. Did he suspect my father's ambitions, or was he genuinely curious? I had spent countless hours in his company, learning the subtleties of his character. 

Now, faced with his direct inquiry, I had to tread carefully.

"Do you not enjoy my company, Your Grace?" I countered, choosing a delicate yet bold approach. 

It was a risky gambit, but one that could provide insight into his thoughts and intentions.

Aegon hesitated for a moment, his gaze searching mine. 

"If my presence displeases you, I can take my leave," I added, rising from my seat with a feigned air of indifference.

"No, of course not. That is not what I meant," he hurriedly reassured me, standing and taking my hands in his. His touch was warm, his grip gentle yet firm. 

The sincerity in his eyes gave me pause, a flicker of doubt in my father's relentless pursuit of power.

In Aegon, I sensed a yearning for companionship beyond the political games and courtly alliances. For so long, he had been either ignored or treated like a child by those around him.

My presence these past days had been a balm to his soul, a reprieve from the weight of expectations and the loneliness of leadership. He cherished every moment of our time together, and that realization softened my heart toward him.

The night my father stormed into my chambers, the air seemed to grow colder, the walls closing in like a suffocating vice. 

His presence brought a chill that had nothing to do with the night air, and his words, heavy with political schemes, left me paralyzed with a mix of disbelief and despair.

The man I had always seen as a protector, a beacon of wisdom, now appeared as a merciless architect of my own despair. He looked at me not with paternal affection, but as a mere pawn to be sacrificed for his grand designs. 

The betrayal stung deep, leaving a raw, aching wound where trust once thrived.

However, Aegon's unexpected kindness and his genuine interest in me as a person, beyond my familial ties and political potential, gave me strength to endure my father's schemes.

"Your Grace," I said softly, meeting Aegon's gaze with sincerity, "I am here because I value our friendship. If there is anything I can do to support you in these early days of your reign, you need only ask."

Aegon's eyes held a depth of emotion as he regarded me, his expression softening with gratitude.

"Your companionship means more to me than you can imagine, Lady Wylde," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that surprised me. "I hope you will continue to grace me with your presence."

I felt a pang of both joy and sadness at his words. Joy, because I cherished our moments together. Sadness, because I knew that beneath the facade of friendship lay the shadow of my father's ambitions.

"As long as you wish it, I shall be here," I promised, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. 

I settled back into my seat, picking up the embroidery hoop once more. The delicate threads seemed to mirror the intricate dance of court politics, where every stitch and choice mattered.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

In the days that followed, my father's pressure mounted. He reminded me constantly of our family's precarious position and the urgent need to secure an alliance with the king.

His words were sharp, his ambition relentless. "Our future depends on you," he would say, his eyes hard with determination. "Do not forget what is at stake."

Yet, despite the ceaseless demands and political machinations, I found solace in my growing bond with Aegon. He was not the aloof monarch I had initially feared but a young man burdened by the heavy mantle of kingship, yearning for genuine connection and understanding.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and bathed the palace gardens in a warm, golden glow, Aegon and I strolled along the winding paths lined with fragrant blossoms. 

The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses and the soft hum of evening songbirds.

It was in these moments of tranquillity that Aegon felt most at ease, and it was then that he chose to confide in me.

"Sometimes, I feel like a puppet on a throne, pulled by strings I cannot see," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. His usual composure faltered, revealing the depths of his struggle.

I paused, turning to face him fully. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable, and my heart ached for him. I placed a comforting hand on his arm, hoping to convey the strength of my support.

"You are more than that," I assured him, my voice steady and sincere. "You have the power to shape your destiny, to be the king you want to be. You are not just a figurehead, you are a leader with the potential to inspire and bring about change."

Aegon looked at me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance. "But how?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How do I find the strength to defy those who seek to control me?"

"You start by trusting yourself," I replied gently. "And by surrounding yourself with those who believe in you, not for what you can do for them, but for who you are. You have a vision for this realm, Aegon. Hold onto that vision and let it guide you. The people will follow a king who leads with conviction and compassion."

His eyes softened, and he reached out to take my hands in his. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much your words mean to me."

I smiled softly, taking in the depths of his vulnerability. 

Despite his shattered confidence, I could see the potential within him to be a great leader, to enact meaningful change. He just needed the right guidance.

His eyes met mine, filled with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "And what of you, Lady Wylde? What destiny do you seek?"

I hesitated, the weight of my father's expectations pressing heavily on my shoulders. 

"I seek a future where I am valued for who I am, not merely as a means to an end," I confessed, my voice trembling slightly.

Aegon reached out, gently lifting my chin so our eyes met once more. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine. 

"Then let us create that future together," he said with quiet determination, his breath mingling with mine in the cool evening air.

"What are you saying?" I asked, my voice quavering as I took a half-step back.

The pit in my stomach seemed to grow larger, a wave of indescribable guilt washing over me at his vulnerability. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of us, the garden around us fading into the background.

"I am proposing you wed me," he answered, a slight frown etching itself on his features as he took in my expression. His words hung in the air, a mix of hope and trepidation in his voice.

"I would be honoured," I stuttered, feeling a wave of nausea wash over me. 

His proposal, so sweetly offered, was shadowed by the harsh reality of my father's ambitions and the genuine affection I felt for Aegon.

"My lady, you have paled. Is everything alright?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes. I hesitantly nodded, attempting a smile that felt more like a grimace.

"Yes, I apologize. I fear my supper is not settling well with me," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. 

He nodded, placing a reassuring hand on my back. The touch was meant to comfort, but it only heightened my sense of turmoil.

"Very well, I will leave you to rest for the night. We can discuss the details of our union on the morrow," he suggested, his voice gentle. I nodded, avoiding his gaze as I rushed past him and down the corridor.

I barely made it out of his sight before the contents of my stomach came up, the turmoil inside me finding its way out in a painful heave. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, the bitter taste lingering, when a familiar voice sounded behind me.

"My sweet girl, are you alright?" My father's voice was filled with false concern, a tone I had come to despise. I turned to face him, my brows furrowing as I roughly shook off his hand.

"I saw you speaking with the king," he said, a calculating glint in his eyes.

"I hope it pleases you to know he has proposed our union," I revealed, my voice cold. His face lit up with triumph, the reaction I had anticipated but dreaded.

"That is wonderful news!" he exclaimed, pulling me into an embrace. I didn't waste a second before pushing him away.

"Wonderful news for you," I spat, anger and bitterness rising within me. "But have you ever considered what I want, Father? Or am I just a piece in your game?"

He recoiled slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "You are securing our family's future. This is your duty."

"Duty," I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "And what of my happiness? My desires? Do they mean nothing to you?"

"Your happiness will come with time," he insisted, his tone dismissive. "Once you are queen, you will understand."

"Understand what? That I am nothing more than a pawn in your quest for power?" I shook my head, tears of frustration welling in my eyes. "I deserve better than this, Father."

His expression hardened the mask of false concern dropping. "You will do as you are told. The king has proposed, and you will accept."

I turned away, my heart heavy with the weight of my father's ambition. The corridors of the palace seemed colder, more oppressive, as I made my way back to my chambers. The grandeur of the surroundings felt like a prison, each step echoing the clash between duty and desire within me.

Aegon's proposal had been sincere, filled with hope and a desire for partnership. But the reality of my father's schemes tainted the moment, turning what should have been a joyous occasion into one of despair.

The warmth of Aegon's words clashed with the cold calculation in my father's eyes, leaving me trapped in a web of conflicting emotions.

As I lay in bed that night, my mind raced. Sleep eluded me as I pondered my future, torn between duty and desire, ambition and autonomy. The ceiling above seemed to close in, the once comforting walls of my chambers now feeling like a gilded cage. 

Each thought spiralled into the next, a never-ending loop of what-ifs and unknowns.

A/n - Imagine someone proposes and your next move is to throw up :) 

[dreamweave01]

i actually love your tmnt 2012 swap au concept so much

so what does "role" actually mean here? obviously i'm assuming it means shredder takes the role of their sensei/father, donnie as the leader/mediator, mikey as the tech/smart one, leo as the protector/hothead and raph as the silly guy (these might not be the most descriptive i haven't watched much of 2012 my apologies)

but how much of their original personality stays intact? from what you've posted i can assume raph and leo have had some personality change, but! was the swap au's splinter still yoshi?

or is the foot clan the peaceful clan and the hamato clan was wiped out, and yoshi was adopted, and ended up killing saki's wife? if so, why did the turtles "grow up in a not so pleasant household"?

not sure if this makes sense, but what i'm trying to ask is, did the swap au!splinter get his wife and think his child was killed, OR was he the brother that did the killing and burning of the house?

- @asheronangel

Okay, first of all, thank you so much! <3

And second of all, you basically nailed the “role” thing. 

Donatello’s the leader, Michelangelo’s the nerd, Leonardo’s the hothead, and Raphael’s the silly :P 

Despite the change in family dynamics, there’s still a few things that have stayed in tact. 

For example, Leo is still the most dedicated to his training, taking it very seriously, (part of that being Splinter’s influence.)

Donnie is still madly in love with a certain Ms. O’Neil, but though I kept the Donnie-April-Casey love triangle, a couple things have been altered for my own sanity.

Mikey still has ADHD and has retained his catchphrase, “booyakasha"; he’s basically just more smart/nerd oriented and less childish.

Raph is still technically the best fighter of the four, but he’s too much of a softy to ever actually let loose, unlike the classic 2012. (It may or may not frustrate Splinter. A lot. •_ •)

Splinter is still Yoshi, and essentially everything has stayed the same with his backstory, the only difference being that his personality was swapped with Saki’s. 

However, the context of said events were admittedly a little different. 

The Hamato clan was never necessarily “evil,” (same with the Foot) but their rivalry led to many conflicts and contentions.

When the Foot was wiped out by the Hamato due to such conflict, Oroku Saki was spared and adopted by Hamato Youta, raised side by side with Yoshi as brothers. 

Yoshi was always the more merciless and aggressive of the two, whereas the now Hamato Saki was compassionate and thoughtful.

The both fell in love with Tang Shen, and the both wished for her hand. 

However, Shen still chose Yoshi, getting married and having little Miwa together. 

Saki, being the man he is, was willing to step aside and respected her decision completely. 

It was soon after the time that Miwa was born when Saki discovered the truth of his heritage and who he really was.

Though he never sought vengeance, and chose to let go and move on.

When Yoshi revealed his plans to lead the Hamato clan and take over the world, Saki couldn’t just stand by and watch, leading to a confrontation that would cost the life of his love, Tang Shen, in a house fire, (which also left both him and Yoshi physically scarred.)

Presuming his once called brother dead, Saki took in little Miwa as his own daughter and moved to New York, starting a new life, safe from what remained of the vengeful Hamato. 

As further precaution, Saki changed his name to Oroku Kazuo (if you get the reference, I salute you) as well as Miwa’s to Oroku Karai. 

Karai would grow up and go to school, making friends with people such as Casey Jones and April O'Neil (though Casey and April don't officially meet until the turtles come along.)

Saki also made friends, becoming close with Anton Zeck and Ivan Steranko (both of which got mutated into a certain warthog and rhino duo during a "freak accident.")

Going back to Hamato Yoshi, he had of course survived, him in turn thinking that Saki and Miwa had both died in the fire along with Shen. 

Due to business opportunities, Yoshi moved the Hamato clan to New York, (not realizing his enemy was living right beneath his nose.)

While in New York, Yoshi met an interesting man named Bishop, who revealed himself as an alien once from a place called Dimension X. 

Bishop promised Yoshi immense power to fulfill his wishes in taking over the world, if Yoshi in turn could provide him with the resources Bishop needed to exact his revenge on his people, the Kraang, who banished him and his followers, (known simply as the Utrom.)

Agreeing to the terms set, Yoshi was mutated with Bishop’s mutagen into a mutant rat, along with four baby turtles, who would be the first generation of mutant warriors among the Hamato.

Yoshi, changing his name to Splinter, named the four babies Donatello, Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Raphael.

It would only be years later that Miwa and Saki would meet Donnie, Leo, Mikey, and Raph. 

Admittedly, I’ve made little change with Tang Shen. She’s essentially the same, though I guess you could say her taste in men is different than the original, considering she went with Yoshi. . .

Miwa was swapped in the sense that she and the turtles switched places, her being the one hiding out from the big bad guy and the turtles having been raised by said big bad guy.

Before when I said the turtles grew up in a “not so pleasant household,” it was in reference to the living conditions they had to be in, what with being raised to be soldiers in a war they never asked to fight in. 

The easiest way to put it is that their relationship with Splinter is on the abusive side of things. He was always hard on his sons, and “weakness had no place among the Hamato clan,” to put it in his own words. 

It’s probably why the turtles have so many issues.

But Miwa and Saki are quick to take in the turtles and help them through their troubles.

Along with others, like Casey Jones, April O’Neil, Bebop, and Rocksteady :3

That was probably more information than you asked for, but I felt like it was needed to explain everything.

So hopefully that explains everything :')

[moonlefey]

Are we still sharing lambsonas? I feel very late to the party lol

My lambsona's name is Eden! She becomes the God of Dreams and Reality after she dethrones Nerys. The majority of the story stays the same. Nerys, my beautiful maned lioness version of Narinder, wants to have all of her siblings killed for trapping her in the Dreamscape. The Bishops get rid of all the sheep and Eden is the last sheep.

I'll ramble about only Eden in this post because I have a feeling it will get very long lol. If people are interested about Nerys and Inara (Eden's first spouse) I will make separate posts about them and their designs.

Here's some standalone drawings of Eden's design:

Some Eden lore!

In this world, sheep are nomadic and live in large herds. Each herd has its own traditions and customs. Eden's herd was unique in their braid symbolism! This is why she wears a braid.

In Eden's herd, braids were a coming-of-age symbol for rams. When rams were first budding into adulthood, they would keep their wool short. As they came of age, they would be sent on a mission to be victorious in something. It could be anything from a contest of arms, wits, or discovering something new! Once they returned with their proof of victory they then braid their wool. The strongest of rams in the herd wore braids and were more likely to be chosen as mates. When a ram and ewe mated, they would each weave smaller marriage braids into their wool(this is why Inara has a small braid on her design since she is Eden's spouse). Their braids showed their legacies, both familial and personal.

When Eden's herd was killed, they were the last sheep. She was sacrificed by the bishops on a burning pyre. When they awake in the space between worlds, the Dreamscape, Eden is surprised to see a tall figure looming over her. Nerys, the Bishop of Dreams greeted them and told them of her deal. Wear Nerys' crown, become her vessel, and kill her siblings in exchange for Eden's life and freedom. Eden, of course, accepts.

Now, some clever souls may be wondering, "Moon? If Eden died how did she go to Nerys if Nerys isn't the God of Death in this au?" What a wonderful and complex question! I'll get more into that in a post about Nerys specifically.

Eden's body is reconstructed and they arise from the ashes of the pyre. Reborn she now bears twisted and foreboding horns. From then on, Eden becomes a ruthless and merciless force. They slay each Bishop one by one being given many monickers.

"The Ewe", "The Unbowed", "Mother of Dreams"... With each Bishop slain, she grew her wool longer and longer in remembrance of her herd. This is how long her wool is when she slays the last Bishop. This is when she braids her wool to symbolize her victory over her oppressors.

Eden was not a good leader at the start. Inara, one of her first followers, saw Eden's madness firsthand. They were far more concerned with killing the Bishops than taking care of a cult. But when cultists began leaving and her power dwindled, she knew something had to change. Inara helped Eden become a more compassionate and present leader and thus her power grew, and so too did the relationship between Eden and Inara.

After Eden becomes more stable, they are seen as a somber and serious leader. The Ewe is the mask Eden wears amongst her followers and it is the gloomy and reserved face that she normally expresses. Aside from Inara and Nerys, no follower alive currently has even seen them express any other emotion. Not even the Bishops see them express anything else.

When the last Bishop is slain...we all know how this story goes. Eden returns to the Dreamscape to tell Nerys of her ultimate victory, the ancient goddess demands her crown back and for Eden to sacrifice themself to her. Eden, confused and betrayed by this request, refuses and stands to fight. After a long and grueling battle, Eden slays Baast and Ala (Nerys' protectors and this au's version of Baal and Aym) and thus, defeats Nerys.

Nerys pleads for death but Eden cannot grant that to her. Instead, Eden uses their power over reality to erase her memories. Eden decides to give Nerys a fresh start, not wanting to look at or interact with the goddess that inadvertently ruined her life. There's more nuance and complexity to the way Eden and Nerys see each other but that will ALSO require its own post and some doodles to go along with it. If people are interested, and even if they may not be, I will post something going into this lol.

Same for Eden and Inara's relationship. That could also get a whole post of its own. As you can tell, I have made a lot for this au and there's still a lot more worldbuilding and character creation I still have to do!

As for what happens after Eden defeats Nerys that's still in the planning stages. I have to figure out how this version of the Mystic Seller is going to get Eden to bring back the Bishops and if that even is a feasible thing they can accomplish. It's all very messy lol.

Anyway here are some random sketches of Eden because I draw her a lot lol. Oh, and plus a little game accurate sprite of them :)

Anyway, that's all! If literally anyone actually reads this far, you have my eternal gratitude and my soul! If that interests you. /j

[reverieshifts]

𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒅𝒓

Ok, this is hard. Just so you're aware, my backstory in this dr isn't the happiest. It's got quite a bit of messed up stuff in it, and while I know I personally can handle it, I am in no way advocating or suggesting this type of backstory for other people. Again, I know my own limits, and I am using this reality as one where I can heal from some stuff. But if things like child neglect or sibling violence trigger you, please stay safe and skip this one. Also this will be a very VERY long post, so good luck! If you really want to know what happens without reading through all of this, you can just scroll down to the summary.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒉

The night the palace burned was one of terror and chaos—a night that would be etched into the memory of every fae who survived it. For years, tensions between Elodia and the human kingdoms had been simmering. Skirmishes flared, treaties broke, and diplomacy frayed at the edges. The fae, ever reluctant to plunge the world into all-out war, had held back, hoping to avoid a conflict that would shatter entire realms.

But the humans? They were desperate. The war had gone poorly for them. The fae were unmatched—beings of magic and grace, their warriors woven from the fabric of starlight and storm. The humans could not win with strength. But they still had fire. Steel. Treachery.

And so, they struck at the heart of the kingdom—Celestara Keep.

It was the darkest hour of the night when the human forces came. They moved like shadows beneath the moon, slipping past Elodia’s outer defenses in a coordinated, merciless assault. No warning. No declaration. Only fire.

The first explosion shattered the tranquility of the palace. Then came the screams. Then the flames. Magic-tainted smoke curled through the air, thick with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh.

The Radiant Guard—sworn protectors of the royal family—were caught off guard. They fought with fury, their blades cutting through invaders like water. But the attack had been too fast. Too sudden. By the time the alarm rang out through Solaris, Celestara Keep was already burning.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅

Within the palace, chaos reigned.

Queen Astoria felt the shift first—not the heat of the flames nor the quake of distant explosions, but the pull of instinct, sharper than any blade. The danger was not to herself. It was to her children.

She and King Niran moved like twin storms through the corridors, flanked by Radiant Guard and shadowed by falling ash. Nikolai and Alana were found swiftly, their wide eyes gleaming in the firelight, their pale faces streaked with soot but alive. Astoria’s breath eased for a single, precious moment.

Then the absence struck her like a lightning bolt to the heart. One was missing. Ariadne. A mother’s panic bloomed—wild and suffocating. Without hesitation, they ran.

The corridors of Celestara Keep were collapsing around them, a burning labyrinth of smoke and ruin. Arrows sliced through the air, falling like rain. Niran moved ahead, blade flashing, carving a path through the invading dark. Astoria followed, her heart pounding with every step, every breath drawn through lungs thick with ash.

But they were too late.

Where her room had once stood—cradle of lullabies, of soft light and sweeter dreams—there was only destruction. The walls had crumbled to cinder. Flames devoured the rafters, the stones scorched and split. Smoke coiled upward like mourning veils, thick and merciless.

The doorway still stood—barely—a skeletal frame wreathed in fire, all that remained of the last place their daughter had slept. The scent of burning wood was drowned by something worse. The silence, deeper than any scream, was final.

Astoria froze. Her breath caught. The world tilted.

She would have thrown herself into the flames had Niran not caught her, his arms locking around her as she thrashed, grief turning her limbs to fury. Her cries were lost in the roar of the fire. His silence was a shattering thing.

Their daughter—their smallest star—was gone.

𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

The war ended within a week.

After the attack, the fae did not hold back any longer. All their strength, all their magic, all their wrath was unleashed upon the human kingdoms. It was a massacre.

Fae magic tore through human battalions like wildfire. Entire cities fell in a single night. The rivers ran red with human blood, and the air crackled with the raw power of vengeance. The humans were forced to surrender before the second week of war could begin.

But there was no victory in Elodia. Even with the humans’ defeat, even with the end of the war, the kingdom still mourned. Because Princess Ariadne Reverie was dead.

I had been beloved—not just by my family, but by the entire kingdom. Even at just two years old, I had been a child of light and laughter, my little hands always reaching for the flowers in the palace gardens, my laughter echoing through the halls like a melody. I had been the kingdom’s heart. And now, that heart had been ripped away.

So, on the Summer Solstice, the day of my birth and the day I had been lost, Elodia mourned. They lit lanterns in the sky, letting them drift into the heavens. They sang soft, sorrowful songs, their voices blending with the wind, carried beyond the mountains.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔

But I was not dead.

In the chaos of that night—while the palace burned and the kingdom unknowingly mourned—a single act of desperation and courage changed the course of fate. Elara, a young elf servant assigned to my care, had been in the adjoining room when she smelled the smoke.

At first, she thought it was a trick of the wind, perhaps the scent of a distant fire carried through an open window. But then she heard it—the panicked shouts, the clashing of steel, the rising crescendo of terror that only came when death was near. Then the screams began. Her heart seized. The palace was under attack.

Elara did not hesitate. She raced into the nursery, her sharp elven ears already picking up the distant thunder of approaching footsteps—not the graceful, near-silent tread of fae warriors, but the heavy boots of human soldiers.

I lay peacefully unaware, curled in a cradle of silk and moonlight, my tiny fingers grasping at something invisible in the air. There was no time to think. No time to plan.

Elara lunged forward, seizing me and wrapping me in the first blanket she could find. Then, pressing my warm, small body against her chest, she turned toward the only chance of escape.

She could not go through the main halls—the soldiers were already inside. She could hear them cutting down everyone they found. Servants. Nobles. Even the guards. So she turned to the only path left. The servants' passages.

The hidden tunnels beneath Celestara Keep were never meant for escape. They were narrow, winding, meant only for discreet travel between different parts of the palace. But they were her only hope.

Elara moved as fast as her burned, trembling body would allow, her breath shallow, her arms tight around the princess. Every turn, every corridor, every creaking door felt like it would lead to death.

Above them, she could still hear the sounds of battle and slaughter. The roar of fire eating through wood and stone. The dying screams of those who had once walked these halls with pride. She did not stop. She could not stop.

By the time she emerged into the night, slipping through a hidden exit into the wild forests beyond the palace, she was half-broken. Her lungs were raw from the smoke, her skin burned and blistered, and she could feel blood trickling down her arms and legs from wounds she did not remember receiving.

But I was alive. And as long as I still breathed softly against her, Elara would not allow herself to fall.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒔

She did not know how long she ran. The night stretched endlessly, the sky above streaked with the distant glow of burning Elodia.

She fled into the mountains, where the paths were treacherous and the air was thin, her body moving on sheer instinct alone. The Aurelian Peaks were the natural border between fae and human lands, and though the journey was deadly in her condition, she knew she had no choice. She could not stay in fae lands.

Even if she made it to another fae city, even if she found sanctuary, Ariadne would never be safe. The humans had attacked Celestara Keep directly—they would hunt down any survivors, and they would kill me if they ever discovered I had lived.

And so, she did the only thing she could. She crossed into human lands. The journey was brutal. Her feet bled from running over jagged rocks. Hunger gnawed at her insides, and the cold bit into her exposed skin. She had no food, no weapons, no way to protect herself beyond her own dwindling strength.

But still, she carried me forward. I never cried. Elara did not know if it was some silent, innate understanding of danger, or the lingering remnants of magic still clinging to me, but I remained silent throughout the entire journey. Not a single wail. Not a single sob. Only soft, steady breathing—as if even at two years old, I knew I had to stay quiet to survive.

By the time Elara reached a small town deep in human territory, she was barely standing. Her vision was swimming, her wounds infected, her strength completely drained. She knew she was dying. But she had one last task.

With the last of her will, she staggered to the doorstep of the only person she could think of—the only one left who might take in a lost, orphaned child. Her estranged half-sister. Cassia Greze.

And as she collapsed at Cassia’s doorstep, her final words before unconsciousness were not a plea for herself—but for the child in her arms.

"Please… keep her safe."

Then, everything went dark.

𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒛𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅

Cassia never wanted to take me in. She had barely even wanted to let Elara in.

When her half-sister arrived at her doorstep—burned, broken, and clutching a child she claimed as her own—Cassia had nearly turned her away. She had stood there, rigid, her fingers tightening around the doorframe as the past came crashing down on her.

Elara. The reminder of everything she had lost. The reason her father had walked away, the reason her mother had wept in the middle of the night when she thought no one could hear. The half-blood mistake that had ruined their family. But Elara had collapsed before Cassia could refuse her.

The smell of burned flesh clung to the air as Cassia knelt beside her, hesitating only for a moment before pulling her half-sister inside. Elara was dying. And despite everything, despite the old wounds and bitterness that time had never quite dulled, she was still blood.

When Elara pleaded with Cassia to protect me, her voice was barely a whisper, raw and weak. She spun a lie, saying that I was her own daughter, that we had fled from the burning palace when it was attacked. She gave no further details, only begged Cassia to keep me safe.

By morning, Elara was dead. And Cassia was left alone with a child she did not know, did not love, and did not want.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆

Callum had taken one look at me and wanted nothing to do with me. “We should leave her at the orphanage,” he said bluntly, arms crossed as he stared at me. "Or better yet, take her to the church. The priests will find some place for her."

Cassia hesitated. It would have been so easy to send me away. To wash her hands of Elara's last request and move on with her life. She owed Elara nothing—not after everything that had happened.

But when she looked down at me, remembered the desperation in Elara’s voice as she begged her to look after me, to keep me safe.

Cassia had spent years resenting Elara, but now that she was gone, the hate did not taste quite as satisfying as she had imagined. So she said the words before she could second-guess them.

“She stays.”

Callum had scoffed, disgusted. “She isn’t ours, Cassia.”

“She is family,” Cassia said, but the words felt hollow.

One last warning, this is where things get heavy. So once again, please leave if you aren't comfortable with this.

tw for child neglect and sibling violence

𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 – 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅

Cassia kept me, but she never truly wanted me. I was given a new name—Ella Greze—and from the moment I could walk, it was clear I was not an equal to Cassia’s biological daughter, Dahlia.

Cassia did the bare minimum. She fed me, clothed me, made sure I did not die. But that was all. There was no warmth, no tenderness, no affection. Dahlia was the favored daughter. I was the afterthought.

Dahlia was given fine dresses, sewn from the softest fabrics. I wore Dahlia’s old, tattered clothes, the seams fraying, the colors faded.

Dahlia was pampered, spoiled, allowed to lounge in the parlor while Cassia brushed her hair and hummed old songs. I was expected to work—to scrub the floors, to wash the dishes, to take care of the house.

Dahlia was praised. Every small accomplishment, every little effort, was met with approval. I was punished. No matter how hard I tried, I was always too slow, too careless, too much of a burden.

Cassia, still poisoned by old wounds, never showed me true kindness. She was not cruel, not outright abusive—but she did not love me. Not the way a mother should love a child.

And Callum? Callum acted as if I did not exist at all. I was nothing to him. If I spoke to him, he would not answer. If I passed him in the hallway, he would not look at me. If I disappeared one day, I doubted he would even notice.

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒂𝒉𝒍𝒊𝒂

But it was Dahlia who made my life a nightmare.

Dahlia, with her golden curls and her sharp smile, her mother’s favorite, her father’s pride. Dahlia, who had never wanted a sister—especially not one who was not truly her sister at all.

It started small. A shove here. A cruel remark there. Then it became something worse.

Dahlia would trip me in the hallways, then laugh when I hit the ground.

She would rip the pages from my books, smirking as she tore them apart.

She would take my meager belongings and scatter them through the house, just to watch me scramble to collect them.

And when she was feeling particularly cruel—when she knew Cassia and Callum were not paying attention—she would strike.

A slap across the face. A shove hard enough to send me sprawling. Fingers twisting into my hair, yanking hard enough to sting. And no one stopped her.

Cassia saw the way I flinched when Dahlia walked past. She saw the bruises. She heard the cruel laughter. But she said nothing.

𝒂 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒅

The worst part was the binding of my wings.

Cassia and Callum knew that if anyone discovered they were harboring a fae child, they would be shunned—or worse, executed. Even years after the war, resentment toward the fae still burned deep in the hearts of humans. The destruction that followed my supposed death had left scars on both sides. Harboring a fae child—especially one with wings—was a death sentence. So they forced me to hide what I was.

It started when I was barely old enough to walk. Callum was the first to suggest it, but Cassia was the one who carried it out. She forced me to wear my hair long, the wavy chestnut locks falling past my shoulders to try and conceal the point of my ears, and if anyone asked, they just claimed I was only a quarter fae as Elara’s daughter. But even that wasn’t enough. If someone looked closely, if the light hit me at just the right angle, the truth was there in the unnatural brightness of my green eyes, and the way I moved too lightly, too gracefully.

Then there were my wings.

The first time Cassia laced the corset around my small frame, I had cried, sobbed, my fingers clawing at the stiff fabric, unable to understand why my aunt was hurting me. Cassia's voice had been sharp, unwavering.

"Do you want them to find out what you are? Do you want them to come and take you away?"

I didn't understand, but the fear in Cassia’s voice had been enough to silence my cries.

As I grew, the corset became tighter, stronger, the leather straps pulling my wings against my back until I could no longer move them. I couldn't stretch them. I couldn't feel them. What should have been a part of me—my birthright, my freedom—was reduced to something useless, forgotten, erased.

By the time I was grown, my wings—once meant to be strong, majestic, and powerful—were small, frail, and useless. The bones within them had weakened from years of being bound, their growth stunted. They twitched sometimes, a phantom ache, as if they knew what had been stolen from them. But they could no longer lift me from the ground. I had been grounded before I had ever learned how to fly.

Yet, despite the bindings, despite the constant effort to erase what I was, something within me still lingered. There were moments—small, fleeting instances—when my magic slipped through the cracks.

Sometimes, when I was especially sad, when my chest felt too heavy with loneliness, the air around her would shift, almost like it was breathing with me, a silent companion to my sorrow.

Sometimes, when my heart fluttered with a rare moment of happiness—maybe after sneaking a bite of honeyed bread from the market, or when I managed to outrun Dahlia in one of her cruel games—flowers would bloom beneath my bare feet. Tiny, delicate blossoms that should not have been there, reaching for the sun as if pulled forth by the brightness in my soul. I always stamped them out before anyone could see.

But the trees saw me. They whispered to me when I wandered too close, their voices brushing against the edges of my mind like an old memory I couldn’t quite grasp. I didn't know what they were saying—only that it made me feel less alone.

It was dangerous. I knew that. So I forced it down. Locked it away. I was Ella Greze, the human girl, and Ella Greze had no magic.

𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈

Despite the cruelty of my existence, I never lost my fire. It flickered, dim and wavering, but it never went out.

I dreamed of more. I would sit by the window at night, staring at the moon, tracing the stars with my fingertips against the glass as if I could pull them down and keep them for myself. I imagined a world beyond the Greze household, beyond the narrow, suffocating walls of my life.

Sometimes, I would sneak away to the forests on the edges of town—the one place where I could be free. The woods were different from the town. Alive in a way nothing else was. The trees stretched toward the sky like ancient sentinels, and the wind carried a melody I almost recognized, a tune on the tip of my tongue but never quite within reach.

I could feel the trees watching me, feel the way the grass sighed under my feet, the way the air seemed to hum when I passed. They knew me. Even if I didn’t know myself. And the more time I spent among them, the harder it became to ignore the truth:

I was not meant to be here. I was not meant to live like this—small, silent, caged. I was meant for something else, something more. But I didn’t know what. And so, I longed.

I longed for answers—for the pieces of myself that had been kept from me. Why had Elara brought me here? Who had my father been? Why did I feel like a stranger in my own skin?

I longed for freedom—to tear the corset from my ribs, to stretch my wings, to run without fear of who might be watching.

I longed for a home I had never known. A home I wasn't even sure existed. Yet, deep in my bones, deep in the parts of me that had never forgotten—I knew it did. Somewhere beyond the mountains. Somewhere past the trees that whispered my name. Somewhere beyond the life I had been forced to live. It was waiting for me. And one day—somehow—I would find it.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚

I am the lost princess of the fae kingdom Elodia, presumed dead after a brutal human-led attack on the palace when I was just two years old. Rescued by a loyal elf servant named Elara, I was taken into hiding and raised in the human world by her sister Cassia under the false identity of Ella Greze (Elara basically just died almost immediately after coming in so she didn’t really have much of a choice). Forced to conceal my wings and true heritage, I endured 18 years of mistreatment and hardship in a household that never truly accepted me. While Cassia and her husband Callum pretended I didn’t even exist, it was Dahlia that made my life hell. She found great amusement in tormenting me, and making me feel like I was lesser, occasionally escalating to physical harm. But despite all of this, they were never able to fully break me.

𝒆𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂

Ok, so idk why I wrote this in a weird mix of first and third person, but whatever, it works I guess. Also, thank you @lalalian for the ideas of Cassia, Callum, and Dahlia. I honestly feel kinda bad though, because they're so much worse in this dr than in my aethergarde one 😭.

[ghxstlly]

Do you have a general summary of the vampire AU? Like their dynamics and everything? I feel like I don’t know much about that one compared to the other two

Thank you for your patience!

I hope you can accept my apologies, I've been highly slow with sharing stuff about my vampire AU 😭 But here's some now!

Lord Nikolaevich III — Stolen from his home as a young man and sired by the fearsome, cruel vampire lord Byron Nikolaevich, Friedrich was little more than a lowly thrall for a long time. Weak, timid, he was forced to carry out menial tasks for his vampire lord master and was content to stay on the down-low. However, when a crusade led by the Church of Targoviste stormed Lord Byron's castle, intent to kill him, the vampire lord, determined to preserve the Nikolaevich bloodline, passed all his titles and power to Friedrich... who just so happened to be in the room. When Byron was slain, the castle was destroyed, leaving Friedrich and a handful of thralls loyal to the Nikolaevich bloodline as the only survivors of the attack.

Rising then as the new Lord Nikolaevich, Friedrich had little idea what to do. He wasn't cut out for the cruelty and mercilessness needed for being a vampire lord at all, and opted to hole up in a different castle nearby the small village of Tusavichy, where he tries to pretend he doesn't exist.

Juliane Lecarde — Juliane is a young woman who lives in Tusavichy, a friendly face in a cold mountain village. Though by day she is a simple peasant, a husbandless one at that, by night she is a secret witch, spending her time reading and learning the art of medicine. Though not particularly superstitious or religious, she does harbor a healthy fear of vampires, and finds herself frustrated and mistrustful of the efficacy of Tusavichy's defense against night dwelling creatures.

Sir Idris Trantoul — Idris, the Knight Commander of Tusavichy, is a fiery spirit who harbors a deep-seated hatred for evil. Having been selected as his predecessor’s squire after his fighting spirit was noticed, he rose through the ranks as his victories in battle grew in numbers. Unfortunately, however, he finds himself needing to prove his worth to the people of Tusavichy as a shield against the darkness, for an attack by a werewolf one night left him severely defeated and humiliated. Thus, he has vowed to stop at nothing to kill the elusive Lord Nikolaevich, the one called The Ghost of Tusavichy— the vampire that no one has ever seen— to prove himself a worthy protector and Knight Commander.

Adella Viscardi — Adella is a sireless thrall— a weak vampire with no master. Having witnessed her own brother, Friedrich, be stolen from her family when she was younger, she could not understand why he never came back for her. And when she was stolen away and turned into a vampire herself, she heard that he had become a powerful lord and felt betrayed and hurt, slowly growing a resentment for him which culminated in a plan to usurp his powers and titles.

Elie Lavaude — A mysterious, suspiciously powerful vampire, Elie was discovered by Adella during her efforts to find a way to destroy her brother. Though she was highly intimidated and afraid at first, to her surprise, Elie was willing to hear her out and was rather easily convinced to join her cause. Apparently seeing it as a mutually beneficial arrangement, Elie's intentions are unclear, though she did seem particularly swayed by Adella's promise that she'd never have to hunt for her own food again if they succeed.

[perpetuallyobsessed0613]

Fontaine Characters Headcanons/Theories

Some of this info is known cause the siblings info got released but still:

Focalors

Hedonist

Really only in it for entertainment (she’s just….kinda a loser 💀💀💀😭😭😭)

Hot-headed, a little childish, gives Neuvillette a hard time (yeeeah)

Would give up her Gnosis in a heartbeat if it was needed to place a bet

But would fight tooth and nail to get it back if she lost the bet

Hydro Archon (confirmed)

Hydro (confirmed, duh) /Sword (confirmed based on her Statue of the Seven)

Arlecchino

Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers

The Knave

Used to be an actress

Method actress, used methods so outlandish she was kicked from theater

From Fontaine originally (HAH I WAS RIGHT)

Used to be an orphan

Runs an orphanage called House of the Hearth, uses it to recruit Fatui agents (!!!!!)

Those aren't gloves on her hands, she bears a curse or she's been turned into a non human entity

Pyro vision/Sword (leaks confirm she’s a Polearm!)

Cryo Delusion

Neuvillette

Stone cold serious type (he’s literally the sweetest I love him????)

Huge proponent of justice (yup!)

Chief Justice of Fontaine

Puts up with Focalors’s attitude (Pretty much 😭)

Loyal to Archon (or is he)

Descended from mermaids (YALL YALL APPARENTLY HE'S THE HYDRO DRAGON SOVEREIGN???????!!!! WTF OMG)

Waiting for Wriothesley to slip up so he can put him in the slammer once and for all (political rival mayhaps idk)

His name deconstructed means "new city": mayhaps he's awaiting a moment to dethrone the archon and reconstruct Fontaine?

Hydro/Sword (apparently he's a Catalyst user,,,,missed the opportunity to give him a fencing sword as a weapon but whatever ig)

Clordine

Assistant to Neuvillette

Bodyguard (yeeeah)

Prosecutor of Fontiane

Detail oriented, nothing gets past her

Vicious and Merciless (literally kinda the opposite but kinda not)

Eventually goes up against Arlecchino

Navia is her arch nemesis, seems as though Goldilocks is the only one having fun with their game of cat & mouse (the way I was off)

Electro (confirmed) /new weapon: Gun (Sword!)

Lyney

Super protective of Lynette (rightfully so holy shit) 

Loves the chase

Cunning (eeeeh)

Very street smart (I mean kinda yeah)

You can’t tell whether he’s putting up a front, actually enjoys his web of lies, or a little bit of both

This man's gonna get used while thinking he's using the person that's using him at some point (oh Arlecchino I swear to god you better not)

Pyro (confirmed)/Bow (confirmed)

Lynette

Something has happened to her in the past (…..well that was dark)

She’s not temperamental at all (yup)

She doesn’t smile too easily (mhm)

Strongest bond with Lyney (they twins lesgo)

Perceptive and agile (very!)

Lynette escapes her brother’s net of safety to save the traveler at some point (not so likely)

Anemo (confirmed) /Sword (confirmed)

Freminet

Youngest sibling (yup)

introverted/enjoys personal space and quiet (lmfao I knew it)

Love for the water

Renowned Diver of the Court of Fontaine (confirmed)

Silent protector of both his older siblings (idrk)

Highkey that smartest book-wise out of the siblings (again idk)

Cryo (confirmed) /Claymore (confirmed)

Sigewinne

Healer

Alchemist

Provides treatment for Wriothesley’s visual impairment

If not treatment, then she prefers sweet tasting drinks and Wriothesley prefers bitter but she still tries to get him on her new concoctions

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Wriothesley

Hydro/Catalyst

Wriothesley

May or may not be somewhat visually impaired

If so, not particularly compliant with treatment

If not treatment, then he prefers bitter tasting drinks and sometimes humors Sigewinne by trying her new concoctions, mostly just pretends he’s converted to sweet and then goes for coffee or tea anyways

Likes to tease Sigewinne

Sibling dynamic/found family w/ Sigewinne

Investigator for Fontaine justice system (woeful news, he's a police officer. like not even a detective dude?)

Seems pretty chilled out, strategic, could be leading the organized crime w/Navia in secret

if he is secretly running robinhood-esque crimes with navia, then...Neuvillette sniffs something suspicious but never has the evidence to back it oop

Pyro/Claymore (He’s a Cryo Catalyst but his fists go boom boom like Heizou)

Navia

Gives off Focalors vibes (was very wrong)

Playful (yeah I mean yeah)

Career Thief OR

Notorious organized criminal in Fontaine (literally what was I on)

Robin Hood of the sewers (I mean I was kinda sorta a tiny bit right)

Crafty, craftsman (ummm I guess her mind is?)

Super sweet, wonderful character (loved her so yes)

Loves messing with Clordine by making her think she's got her but escaping right in the nick of time (….needless to say I was way off)

Geo (confirmed)/Catalyst (claymore actually)

[fantomyoshi]

OCs Emotes Part 2!

Part 2 and final part of my OCs Emotes! And with a special guest at the end! Hope you all enjoyed looking and reading them up!

First is Hector the Vindicator! Shuteye's younger brother and definitely the most mean and aggressive of the two.

Unlike his older brother, Hector seeks to conquer and take over territories with his Clan, and he doesn't care what Shuteye thinks of it. He is easily annoyed and angered, so watch your back!

Next is Korith the Vindicator! Arguably the strongest character I have after Nerus in his Powered form! This mentally unstable man is a force to not mess with. Capable of killing dragons with nothing more but his bare fists...

He has deep anger issues, and does NOT take well to insults. Never engage with him... He owns a massive and dangerous Clan in the Dead Lands, and is a merciless and ruthless Leader.

Next is Raito the Albino Evoker! This young lady was born with albinism to a family of powerful Evokers who later moved away from her parents to a calmer Village. She is a sweet and innocent soul and is extremely shy and nervous around new faces.

Her Evoker powers were never really practiced, and it is so strong that if she were to accidentally use too much of it, or force it, she could blow up the entire Village she's living in!

Puff the Warden is next on the list! This Pogger-looking guy mayblook threatening, but in fact he's just a teddy bear in disguise! Ritu's best friend and personal guard!

Beware, despite his gentle nature, Puff retain his violence deep inside. One wrong move on his family and you can bet you'll end up in heaven...

Oh what's this? We have a guest! Meet Obelisk, @shinyillager's Iron Golem! This fancy looking Golem is a fierce protector of his Village, but a gentle giant towards the weaker ones nonetheless. He may seem threatening, but you'll see he is just a friendly character!

And to finally finish off this list, we have Stonerust the Iron Golem! My first Golem character and definitely a special one! This Golem is massive. A lot bigger than normal Golems!

His threatening size and grumpy nature makes sure his enemies stand clear of his path. He may be 72 years old, but he can still very well pack a punch! The scars on his body were never healed despite the use of Iron Ingots, proofs they are permanent.

[richincolor]

And we're back! The Rich in Color team is looking forward to spending another year with you reading and reviewing books. Our first post this year is to catch up with all of the January releases on our radar:

Breath of the Dragon (Breathmarked, #1) by Shannon Lee & Fonda Lee Wednesday Books

he first novel in a sweeping YA fantasy duology based on characters and teachings created by Bruce Lee!

Sixteen-year-old Jun dreams of proving his worth as a warrior in the elite Guardian’s Tournament, held every six years to entrust the magical Scroll of Earth to a new protector. Eager to prove his skills, Jun hopes that a win will restore his father’s honor—righting a horrible mistake that caused their banishment from his home, mother, and twin brother.

But Jun’s father strictly forbids him from participating. There is no future in honing his skills as a warrior, especially considering Jun is not breathmarked, born with a patch of dragon scales and blessed with special abilities like his twin. Determined to be the next Guardian, Jun stows away in the wagon of Chang and his daughter, Ren, performers on their way to the capital where the tournament will take place.

As Jun competes, he quickly realizes he may be fighting for not just a better life, but the fate of the country itself.

Reign of the Talon (Talons #3) by Sophie Kim Entangled: Teen

How do you kill a prophecy?

The Prophecy has arrived…and with her, war.

A prisoner caged within the walls of her own mind, the once-fierce assassin known as Shin Lina can do nothing but watch as a tide of blood and chaos sweeps across the Three Kingdoms. After all, Lina is the one who unleashed the malevolent Prophecy upon her world.

So many secrets. So many lies. And it’s all her fault.

Yet Haneul Rui—the immortal Dokkaebi Emperor who stole her heart—refuses to surrender. He alone leads the armies against the dangerous, serpentine Imugi. He alone wields his scorching fire atop blood-soaked battlefields, and he alone rallies his soldiers against a terrifying future of death and destruction.

Now the red thread of fate ties them all together in love and hatred—Rui, Lina, and the merciless Prophecy herself. And the more Lina fights against her destiny, the tighter the thread becomes. For they are bound in both life and death; to wound one is to wound them all. To kill the Child of Venom is to kill them all.

And soon, not even the wrathful gods themselves can stop their inevitable ruin.

The Mirror World (The Upper World, #2) by Femi Fadugba HarperTeen

The explosive sequel to the genre-bending, time-bending YA debut The Upper World —a fast-paced, cinematic thrill ride perfect for fans of Neal Shusterman, Marie Lu, and Jason Reynolds. Eighteen-year-old Rhia is far from home in the hallowed halls of Oxford University. Struggling to find herself as a freshman, Rhia uncovers a disturbing link between the secret society recruiting her and her recent apocalyptic visions in the Upper World. But as the doomsday clock ticks louder and her worst nightmares seem destined to come true, Rhia must finally Who she is Where she belongs And if telling the truth can save her soul …And the world.

Togetha (Pritty, #2) by Keith F. Miller Jr. HarperCollins

Perfect for fans of Angie Thomas and Jason Reynolds, this highly anticipated sequel to Lambda Literary Award finalist Pritty finds Jay and Leroy togetha again as they fight to save not only their home but themselves from the powerful Bainbridge family's treacherous endgame to retake Savannah for themselves, no matter the cost.

After finally reuniting, Jay and Leroy have never been in more danger. Caught in the crosshairs of the affluent Bainbridge family, who they've learned is determined to reshape Savannah in their own image, the duo has only just survived a series of near-death experiences before reaching the safety of the Black Diamonds. But the BDs' ability to protect the Black neighborhoods of their city is slipping....

Missing the key piece of evidence that could have broken the Bainbridges' hold over Savannah, everyone is scrambling for options. But when one of their own is kidnapped, Jay and Leroy realize they can't rely on anyone but themselves to save them. Recruiting old friends, former enemies, and their most risky ally, Jay's once-upon-a-time crush, Will, they set out to do the impossible: find the evidence they lost in order to finally expose the Bainbridges' corruption to the world, by any means necessary.

But even as their plans bring them closer to revealing the Bainbridges' treacherous endgame, Jay and Leroy's own secrets from each other threaten to pull their love apart, just as old feelings between Jay and Will begin to blossom again. And as the battle for a brighter future boils over into the streets, to save their homes--and everyone they love--Jay, Leroy, and Will must decide: When the cost of justice might be each of their happiness, will they be able to make the sacrifice togetha?

This is the Year by Gloria Muñoz Holiday House

"In outer space, no one will know me as the girl with the dead sister." Seventeen-year-old self-proclaimed Goth and aspiring writer Julieta Villarreal is drowning. She's grieving her twin sister who died in a hit-and-run, her Florida home is crumbling under the weight of climate disaster, and she isn't sure how much longer she can stand to stay in a place that doesn't seem to have room for her.

Then, Juli is recruited by Cometa, a private space program enlisting high-aptitude New American teens for a high-stakes mission to establish humanity's first extraterrestrial settlement. Cometa pitches this as an opportunity for Juli to give back to her adopted country; Juli sees it as her only chance to do something big with her life.

Juli begins her training, convinced Cometa is her path to freedom. But her senior year is full of surprises, including new friendships, roller skating, and first love. And through her small but poignant acts of environmentalism, Juli begins to find hope in unexpected places. As her world collapses from the ramifications of the climate crisis, Juli must decide if she'll carry her loss together with her community or leave it all behind.

Told in gripping prose interspersed with poems from Juli's writing journal, this genre-bending novel explores themes of immigration, climate justice, grief, and the power of communities.

Bemused by Farrah Rochon Disney Press

The untold origin story of the 5 Muses from Disney's Hercules is revealed in this rollicking YA fantasy filled with mythical adventure, music, and the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood. The Muses narrated Hercules's story. Now, in this novel for fans of the New York Times bestsellers Go the Distance and Fire & Fate, they'll narrate their own "gospel truth."

Living in a quiet seaside village with their overprotective mother, teenaged sisters Calliope, Clio, Melpomene, Terpsichore, and Thalia are talented performers with no audience. If Calli had her way, she'd pursue her dream of writing epic stories in the city of Thebes. But family comes first, and as the eldest, she'd never leave her beloved sisters behind.

Then, following a disastrous public music performance, their mother reveals a shocking secret: she is Mnemosyne, the Goddess of Memory, and for nearly two decades, she's been on the run from the gods of Mount Olympus, desperate to keep her daughters safe from their machinations. Before she can share more, she is kidnapped . . . and though the girls don't know it yet, the villain pulling the strings is none other than Hades, fiery God of the Underworld.

Under Calli's leadership, the sisters embark on a journey to save their mother and to learn more about their own divine origins. But the path ahead is filled with mythical trials and tribulations, and they'll need to rely on both their individual talents and the strength of their sisterhood to ensure that they ascend from "zeroes" to "heroes"--or more accurately, heroines.

The Wishless Ones (Dark Ascension #3) by Hafsah Faizal Disney Press

From #1 New York Times bestselling author Hafsah Faizal comes the untold origin story of Agrabah's future royal vizier Jafar and his brother Rohan. Before Jafar became Agrabah's grand vizier, there were two brothers wishing for a different life.

Living in the shadow of their mother's death and their father's cruel whims, Jafar only longs to protect one person--his soft-hearted younger brother, Rohan. But Jafar knows he is destined for more, and if he has his way, he'll soon be an apprentice at Maghriz's elite House of Wisdom, studying alchemy.

Then a fire destroys the remains of their shattered life, and Jafar has no choice but to resort to ruses and trickery, including convincing Rohan that the House of Wisdom is their only chance at rebuilding their lives. But Maghriz holds more danger and intrigue than either brother can imagine. Its powerful Sultana is plotting a grand deception that could shape the nation's future, and she believes the brothers are the missing piece of her scheme.

For the first time, Jafar can envision a future where he puts his own desires before Rohan's--and Rohan feels ready to escape his brother's shadow. As the brothers contend with their darkest impulses, they must decide: is their ambition worth their brotherhood?

Brewed with Love by Shelly Page Joy Revolution

Plant witch, Sage Bishop, is determined to run her family’s old apothecary one day. She spends her time trying to invent the perfect tonic to put Bishop Brews on the map. And she’s going to need one quickly, too, because their biggest competitor is drawing away customers.

Short-staffed, her nana hires Ximena Reyes, Sage’s ex-best friend and first crush, who’s more of an unwelcome distraction than anything. Ximena has always dreamed of leaving their small town behind while Sage wants to tend to her roots. And during one of their first shifts together, someone breaks into Bishop Brews, stealing several tonics, including the one Sage has been working tirelessly on, the same one that wipes a councilmember’s kid’s memory.

To avoid being shut down by the sheriff, Sage decides to investigate. If so much wasn’t at stake, she’d do it alone. But with her grandmother’s legacy and her future on the line, she must partner with her ever smug and unfairly pretty new coworker. As Sage begins to fall for Ximena (again), she’ll have to decide if the comfort of the familiar is worth missing out on a chance at real happiness.

Honeysuckle and Bone by Trisha Tobias Zando - Sweet July Books

On the run from her own dark secrets, a teen girl becomes the nanny for a prestigious family on their extravagant Jamaican estate—but things aren't quite as they seem, and she quickly discovers even paradise may be haunted.

Carina Marshall is looking to reinvent herself, and what better place to do it than Jamaica, her mother’s alluring homeland where she conveniently has access to an au pair gig for the wealthy and politically powerful Hall family.

After months of being the target of vicious rumors and hate online (which she just might deserve), the luxurious Blackbead House seems to hold everything she wants, a world of mango trees, tropical breezes, and glamorous parties—and a place to disappear. Once there, Carina joins up with her fellow junior staff members, the self-named Young Birds, and finds herself sinking right into her busy, but comfortable, new life. Yes, the Halls run a tight ship, and yes, there is some tension amongst the family, but she’s content flying under the radar, doing her job, and hanging out with her new friends—not least, the handsome and charming Aaron.

But when inexplicable things start happening to her in the house, only getting worse each night, Carina realizes that someone—or something—is out to get her. Is it the house itself? The Halls? Or, worse, is it her own past catching up with her? With the help of Aaron, she must figure out what is haunting her, and fast, before she is forced out of Blackbead House for good.

Eerie, propulsive, and full of intrigue, Honeysuckle and Bone is a deliciously atmospheric, young adult novel, following an imperfect yet courageous teen as she seeks to remake herself in the homeland she always idealized, only to discover that new beginnings don’t always come easy.

First Love Language by Stefany Valentine Penguin Workshop

Taiwanese American Catie Carlson has never fit in with her white family. As much as she loves her stepmom and stepsister, she yearns to understand more about her culture and find her biological mother.

So Catie is shocked when an opportunity comes knocking on her door: Her summer spa coworker, Toby, says he'll teach her Mandarin. In exchange, she needs to teach him how to date so he can finally work up the courage to ask out his crush. The only problem is that Catie doesn't actually have any dating experience. But she can fake it.

With her late father's copy of The Five Love Languages and all his annotated notes, Catie becomes the perfect dating coach. Or so she thinks. As she gets dangerously close to Toby and to finding out what really happened to her biological mom, she realizes that learning the language of love might be tougher than she thought.

Stefany Valentine's debut novel is both a fresh, fun romance as well as a profound, luminous story about grief, family, transracial adoption, and what it means to truly follow your heart.

Build a Girlfriend by Elba Luz Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

A teen deep-dives into her dating history to uncover her mistakes, become the perfect girlfriend, and get revenge on the wrong guy so she can ride into the sunset with the right one in this debut rom-com.

To the surprise of no one, Amelia Hernandez is once again single. It’s her family curse at work; whether it’s by heartbreak, scandal, or even accidental death, every romantic relationship that a Hernandez woman has will meet its demise eventually. And that may be fine with Amelia’s sisters, mom, and aunts, but definitely not with Amelia.

So, convinced that she is the problem, Amelia decides to embark on an “Ex Retrospective:” tracking down her exes, finding out where she went wrong, and using that information to finally become un-break-up-able for whenever her next relationship comes along. Because Amelia is determined to be free of the family curse…and her family.

However, when Amelia is unwillingly reunited with Leon, the ex to end all exes, she can’t resist having a little revenge on the side, too. After all, what better way to test out her new persona of perfect girlfriend traits than on the boy who broke her heart?

But old loves die hard, and as Amelia’s feelings grow more complicated, she suspects that she may be in for more than she bargained for.

The Queen's Spade by Sarah Raughley HarperCollins

In this riveting historical thriller that’s loosely inspired by true life events, The Count of Monte Cristo meets Bridgerton as revenge, romance, and twisted secrets take center stage in Victorian England’s royal court when Sally, a kidnapped African princess and goddaughter to Queen Victoria, plots her way to take down the monarchy that stole her from her homeland.

A young lady can take only so many injuries before humiliation and insult forge a vow of revenge . . .

The year is 1862, and murderous desires are simmering in England. Nineteen-year-old Sarah Bonetta Forbes (Sally), once a princess of the Egbado Clan, desires one thing above all else: revenge against the British Crown and its system of colonial “humanitarianism,” which stole her dignity and transformed her into royal property. From military men to political leaders, she’s vowed to ruin all who’ve had a hand in her afflictions. The top of her list? Her godmother, Britain’s mighty monarch, Queen Victoria herself.

Taking down the Crown means entering into a twisted game of court politics and manipulating the Queen’s inner circle—even if that means aligning with a dangerous yet alluring crime lord in London’s underworld and exploiting the affections of Queen Victoria’s own son, Prince Albert, as a means to an end. But when Queen Victoria begins to suspect Sally’s true intentions, she plays the only card in Victorian society that could possibly cage Sally once again: marriage. Because if there’s one thing Sally desires more than revenge, it’s her freedom. With time running out and her wedding day looming, Sally’s vengeful game of cat and mouse turns deadly as she’s faced with the striking revelation that that the price for vengeance isn’t just paid in blood. It means sacrificing your heart.

Loosely inspired by the true story of Sarah Forbes Bonetta, Queen Victoria’s African goddaughter, The Queen’s Spade is a lush and riveting historical thriller perfect for fans of A Dowry of Blood and Grave Mercy.

Bingsu for Two by Sujin Witherspoon Union Square & Co.

Meet River Langston-Lee. In the past 24 hours, he’s dumped his girlfriend, walked out of his SATs, and quit his job at his parents’ cafe in spectacularly disastrous fashion—even for him.

Somehow, he manages to talk his way into a gig at a failing Korean cafe, Bingsu for Two, which is his lucky break until he meets short, grumpy, and goth: Sarang Cho. She’s his new no-BS co-worker who’s as determined to make River’s life hell as she is to save her family’s cafe.

After River accidentally uploads a video of his chaotic co-workers to his popular fandom account, they strike viral fame. The kicker? Their new fans ship River and Sarang big-time. In order to keep the Internet’s attention—and the cafe’s new paying customers—River and Sarang must pretend that the tension between them is definitely of the romantic variety, not the considering the best way to kill you and hide your body variety.

But when Bingsu for Two’s newfound success catches the attention of River’s ex and his parents’ cafe around the corner, he faces a choice: keep letting others control his life or stand up for the place that’s become home. And a green-haired girl who’s not as heartless as he originally thought . . .

Dreamover by Dani Diaz Top Shelf Productions

In this captivating debut YA graphic novel, two best friends becoming more than friends feels like a dream come true. But when one sleepover literally turns into a dream, will they ever want to wake up again?

“I wish we could stay here forever.”

Amber and Nico would make an odd couple. She’s a headstrong goofball with a temper. He’s a shy, self-conscious emo boy. But they’ve been best friends since third grade and are both very good at video games, and she can’t hide her feelings for him any longer. During the end of their eighth-grade class beach trip, she confesses her undying love to him. To no one’s surprise except hers, the feeling is mutual! Thus begins a glorious, blissful summer of first love.

But life gets complicated once high school starts. Amber and Nico are faced with their toughest challenges yet: getting to school by 7:25 A.M. every day, dealing with bullies, and juggling their relationship, friendships, and homework. Things start to spiral out of control, causing Amber and Nico to cling to each other and neglect their friends. Soon, they find themselves stressed, depressed, and friendless. Amber wishes she could run away with Nico and escape the never-ending nightmare of high school.

One night, as they play video games together, Amber gets her wish: She and Nico mysteriously fall into a shared lucid dream where anything they imagine becomes possible and endless adventure awaits. Will they run away together forever or choose to return to the real world?

Girl, Ultra-Processed by Amara Sage Faber & Faber

A searing look at diet culture and all its ugly consequences, from the talented writer of Influential.

New year, new me!

That's what Saffron Saldana tells herself as the clock strikes midnight on New Year's Eve.

Her resolution is the same every year: lose weight. Because Saffron has it hard-wired that weight loss equals happiness. It's what she's been told her whole life - online, in magazines, especially by her own diet-obsessed mother. But dieting is hard.

So to escape her own reality, Saffron creates Sydney, a super-slim, AI-generated 'perfect' version of herself. Boys online love Sydney, and for Saffron, it's just a bit of harmless fun.

Until the boundaries of her life online and offline begin to blur . . . And one boy in particular makes her question her desire to be someone she's not.

Can Saffron find a way back to herself, and learn to love who she actually is?

Girl: Ultra-Processed explores what it is like to be a teenage girl in our current body-obsessed world while juggling family drama, friend dynamics, dating, betrayals and major life changes.

Love on Paper by Danielle Parker Joy Revolution

The daughter of two prestigious writers, Macy Descanso has decided to take her own writing seriously. So what if her mother pulled some strings to get Macy into a prestigious writing retreat? Macy belongs here. But when she arrives, she learns that the theme has been changed to romance, per the bequest of the late, prolific romance author Betty Quinn. Though a cynic, Macy lives for a challenge.

What she’s not prepared for is to be partnered with Caleb Bernard, also the child of two prestigious writers. The Descansos and Bernards notably have beef—a rivalry that has lasted generations. With something to prove, Macy and Caleb decide to put their family squabbles aside to work together as critique partners.

But this retreat is anything but ordinary. According to lore, every year, authors leave easter eggs behind for new students to find. Macy and Caleb are eager to solve Betty Quinn’s mystery. And in the process, Macy and Caleb find that they have a lot in common. Still, will their connection be enough to surpass their families’ feud? Can the relationship they’ve built continue after the retreat?

The Scorpion Queen by Mina Fears Flatiron Books

Deep within the imperial palace at Timbuktu, Amie has suffered a devastating loss. Once the daughter of a prosperous salt merchant Amie’s life was cruelly overturned in a matter of months. At sixteen, Amie now finds herself disinherited, framed for a scandalous crime, and forced to serve Princess Mariama of Mali . Her father, Emperor Sulyeman, has created a series of impossible trials for his daughter's suitors. When they fail, he publicly boils them alive, littering Mariama’s path to marriage with ninety-nine corpses.

At first, Amie’s life at court is drudgery—the chores are difficult, the servants despise her, and Princess Mariama is prone to mood swings—but the more she learns about the princess's circumstances, the closer the two girls become. Amie and her intended, Kader, plan to escape Timbuktu and make a new life far away from the shadow of death that has fallen upon the emperor’s court, but she finds herself increasingly drawn to the princess in ways she doesn’t understand.

When a mysterious discovery forces her hand, she must choose between fleeing with the boy she loves or helping the princess to end the trials forever. Amie will need to draw on all of her strength and courage to make the perilous journey through the desert to seek the aid of an exiled god in a final, desperate attempt to take charge of her own destiny.

On the Wings of la Noche by Vanessa L. Torres Knopf Books for Young Readers

Noche is a Lechuza by night, an ethereal jet-black owl who guides the dead to the after. Except now, Noche cannot bring herself to escort her dead girlfriend, whose soul is fading the harder Noche holds on—an aching romance about first and second loves and finding the strength to let go.

Death waits for Estrella (Noche) Villanueva. In her human form, she is a lonely science girl grieving the tragic accidental drowning of her girlfriend, Dante Fuentes. At night, she is a Lechuza who visits her dead girlfriend at the lake, desperate for more time with her. The longer Dante’s soul roams the earth, the more likely it is that she will fade into the unknown, lost forever, but Noche cannot let go . . .

That’s when a new kid comes to town, Jax, another science nerd like Noche. They connect in a way she can’t ignore, seemingly pulled together by an invisible thread. For the first time, Noche begins to imagine a life without Dante. As Noche’s heart begins to beat for two people, her guilt flares. Then, she finds herself at risk of losing both Jax and Dante, and Noche is forced to question her purpose as a lechuza and everything she has ever believed in.

I Am Not Jessica Chen by Ann Liang HarperTeen

After getting rejected by every single Ivy League she applied to and falling short of all her Asian immigrant parents’ expectations, seventeen-year-old Jenna Chen makes a wish to become her smarter, infinitely more successful Harvard-bound cousin, Jessica Chen—only for her wish to come true. Literally.

Now trapped inside Jessica’s body, with access to Jessica’s most private journals and secrets, Jenna soon discovers that being the top student at the elite, highly competitive Havenwood Private Academy isn’t quite what she imagined. Worse, as everyone—including her own parents—start having trouble remembering who Jenna Chen is, or if she ever even existed, Jenna must decide if playing the role of the perfect daughter and student is worth losing her true self forever.

[margaretkart]

Why did Artemis demand Iphigenia's death. Why specifically her when she could have demanded a soldier or another willing follower. Isn't she meant to be a protector of women?

A lot of people wonder why Artemis ( a goddess known for protecting women and especially young girls) would demand the sacrifice of Iphigenia. On the surface, it feels brutal and contradictory. But here's the thing: gods in Greek myth don't act out of modern morality, they act based on honor, cosmic balance, and hubris.

Agamemnon committed hubris by either killing Artemis' sacred deer or claiming he was a better hunter than her. That wasn’t just a rude comment it was a direct insult to a goddess's power and domain. In Greek myth, hubris always brings divine retribution, and it usually comes at a price that hits where it hurts most. In this case? Agamemnon’s family.

So why Iphigenia? Because she's Agamemnon’s daughter, and therefore the perfect “offering” to match the offense. Artemis wasn't punishing her, she was punishing him. And unlike modern ideas of justice, Greek gods didn’t always give you a clean or fair way out. Actions had consequences, especially when mortals disrespected the divine.

Also, being a protector of women doesn’t mean Artemis was always gentle. She protected balance, purity, and respect for the divine. When mortals crossed that line, gender didn’t shield anyone. Think of her more as a fierce guardian of her principles, and sometimes that fierceness had deadly consequences.

(That said, some versions have Artemis saving Iphigenia at the last moment, swapping her with a deer so not all stories paint her as merciless!)

[aliciavance4228]

Finally Made a List With Modern Interpretations of the Greek Gods Which I Personally Dislike

Zeus is an incompetent asshole uncapable of rulling who took Hades' rightful position as the King of the Gods by cheating during the Division of the Cosmos;

Poseidon is just a cool funny chill uncle who likes swimming and probably smokes weed;

Hades is an emo feminist woobie who only wants to love his pastel goth wife and his beloved dog Spot;

Hera is only a victim of Zeus and every bad thing that she does is 100% because of him;

The polar opposite where Hera is a complete monster and a psychotic bitch who only cares about cursing and killing the women her poor innocent husband has slept with and his bastards;

Demeter is a Helicopter Parent/Overbearing Mother who still used to treat her daughter like a child before Hades kidnapped her and is completely horrible for standing against their pure and innocent love.

Hestia is a hypocrite lesbian (you know what I'm talking about);

Hestia who?

Athena is a shy, socially awkard nerd;

Athena is a feminist who only wanted to protect Medusa and hates love (and men);

Athena is a pick-me girl who never helped nor supported any woman during her entire eternity;

Hephaestus is an Incel who deserved to be cheated on;

Ares is the protector of women who is unfairly hated by the other gods, never raped nor abused any woman during his entire life and wants to overthrow his father for being a patriarchal figure;

Aphrodite is a brainless slut who only cares about herself, and the only way to redempt herself is being together with Hephaestus again;

Apollo is a piece of shit who thinks that he's better than anyone else and ruined Patrochilles FOREVAAAH!!!

Apollo is a bicon and femboy who never raped, murdered or cursed anyone.

Artemis is a lesbian misandrisst feminist icon;

Hermes is just the comic relief;

Dionysus is a dirty drunk old man;

Dionysus is an LGBTQ+ feminist icon ready to kill the bigots; (Yeah right, the LGBTQ+ Community of Ancient Greece...)

Persephone is an innocent flower girl who still looks and acts like a child and had no idea what sex is until she had her sexual awakening in the Underworld;

Persephone is a bad bitch, she's more dreadful and merciless than Hades, hates flowers or being a goddess of nature and 100% wanted to be kidnapped/willingly went with Hades;

Feel free to add anything else.

[bardic-tales]

Day 25 | Day 27

31 days of FF 7 Headcanons: Day 26: Encounter with the Turks

Encounters between Bianca Moore and the Turks were never destined to be alliances or rivalries. They were tragedies waiting to unfold. Born from the severed ties between herself and Shinra, Bianca’s inevitable clash with a Turk would serve as a brutal reminder of her transformation from experiment to harbinger.

What followed was not negotiation, nor mutual understanding, but a swift and merciless annihilation: an omen of the devastation she and Sephiroth would unleash upon the world. In a silent crossroads near Rocket Town, loyalty, ambition, and the desperate remnants of humanity met an unstoppable force and were erased without a second thought.

Possible Trigger Warnings: blood, body horror, burning, death, gore, mutilation, trophies, violence

Bianca Moore’s encounter with the Turks was less a meeting and more a silent, brutal end to someone else’s story. It occurred a year and a half after the Nibelheim Incident, during the fragile interlude when she was little more than a broken vessel, unconscious and dying (as at the time Sephiroth nor Bianca knew of how her body reincarnated) in Sephiroth’s care. As he carried her stolen body across the Western Continent on a chocobo, a Turk named Kaela was dispatched to intercept them. Armed with Shinra’s orders and an almost religious devotion to the company's cause, Kaela sought to reclaim what she saw as property: a rogue experiment that needed to be dragged back in chains. But what awaited her on the outskirts of Rocket Town was no mere retrieval mission. It was an execution.

After she saw and tried to approach, Bianca's unconscious body, Kaela never even reached it. Loyal to the promise of Bianca's survival and place in his grand plan, Sephiroth slaughtered the Turk without hesitation. It wasn’t a battle. It was an annihilation. With surgical precision, he drained Kaela of her blood, offering it as nourishment to Bianca's broken celestial body: sustenance in the form of stolen life. As a fallen daughter of Asmodeus and after her awakening, Bianca’s needs were monstrous and sacred: blood, souls, or life-fluid were her sacraments, her necessities. She had no awareness of Kaela’s death at the time, lost to consciousness.

When she awoke later, weak but alive, Sephiroth presented her with the grim trophies of that encounter: several of Kaela’s severed fingers, severed and preserved. This was his proof that no hand would ever dare try to claim her again. After all, she was his.

There was no rivalry between Bianca and the Turks because rivalry requires mutual recognition. Kaela was nothing to Bianca. She was no more than a lamb led to slaughter by its misplaced faith. If anything, Kaela’s death marked a deeper realization for Bianca when she learned of it later. The world and Existence itself would send endless pawns to try and leash her again, and it would be her and Sephiroth’s duty to obliterate them without mercy.

In Kaela’s blind loyalty, Bianca saw the hollowness of Shinra’s empire laid bare. Its servants were not protectors or warriors. They were cattle branded with numbers and orders, marching to their own deaths without ever questioning why.

In the aftermath, Bianca felt no guilt. If anything, she felt an unexpected surge of vindication. This was proof that her existence was no longer something Shinra, humanity, and the divine could own or retrieve. Kaela’s quiet death was not just an end to a mission. It was a small, silent victory in Bianca’s greater war against the existence that had mutilated her. Her blood, her body, and her soul? All of it now belonged solely to her and to Sephiroth (and, in the shadows, Jenova). That moment solidified the truth Bianca would live by. She was no longer someone’s creation to control. She was destruction incarnate and sealed in blood.

Thus, Bianca’s encounter with the Turks was never a relationship in any traditional sense. It was an early omen of what the future would hold: endless bloodshed between her and the armies of men who would try and fail to stop the inevitable. After the Nibelheim Incident, Kaela’s death was only the first of many. And Bianca, still bearing the severed remnants of Kaela’s fingers as grim keepsakes, would go into Meteorfall carrying that memory like a talisman: not out of mourning, but as a reminder that loyalty to a dying world would only ever lead to an individual's ruin.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy