#Rescue Mission

[zhelin-thames]

🎄 Wayne Manor: Operation "Make Danny Like Christmas" 🎄

Danny: [Sitting in the corner, arms crossed] “I don’t do Christmas. Too much fake cheer and traumatizing childhood memories.”

Dick: [Cheerfully putting on a Santa hat] “Well, you’ve never had a Bat-family Christmas! We’ll change your mind in no time.”

Danny: “Doubt it.”

Step 1: Decorating the Tree

Jason: [Throws a box of ornaments at Danny] “Start hanging these, Ghost Boy.”

Danny: [Catches them with ectoplasm] “This feels like child labor.”

Tim: [Balancing precariously on a ladder] “Welcome to the Batfamily!”

The tree immediately falls over.

Danny: “Yeah, this is going great.”

Step 2: Baking Cookies

Barbara: “Okay, Danny, all you have to do is frost the cookies.”

Danny: [Holds up a cookie he’s turned into a ghost-shaped blob] “What? It’s thematic.”

Jason: [Eats it without hesitation] “Tastes like regret. Perfect Batfam vibe.”

Step 3: Christmas Movies

Damian: [Watching intently] “This Home Alone child is a tactical genius. I must learn his ways.”

Danny: [Rolling his eyes] “This is just ghost traps but with holiday branding.”

Dick: [Horrified] “Did he just say Christmas is a brand?”

Final Step: Gift Exchange

Danny: [Opens a box] “…A ghost trap? Seriously?”

Bruce: “It’s custom-designed to avoid injuring you.”

Danny: “Touching.”

Dick: [Hands Danny another gift] “This one’s from all of us!”

Danny: [Opens it to find a photo of him and the Batfamily in ugly sweaters] “...This is stupid.”

Danny: [Smiling slightly] “But thanks, I guess.”

Dick: [Grinning] “Mission accomplished!”

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!

[aventurineswife]

Hi! It's me again. Sorry if you haven't gotten to my requests and there is a limit to how many a person can request at once, pls just lmk <3 I just need to get this off my system because I have been cooking on this for days and haven't found many accounts who take requests

Platonic Boothill, Ratio, Aventurine and Gallagher with a young reader who is a former slave (like Aventurine though they escaped by sheer force) and the characters get the news that they got snatched up by the previous captors.

Stars Don’t Belong in Cages

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Gallagher x Reader, Teen!Reader, Platonic, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Rescue Mission, Angst, Protective, Trauma, Emotional Bonds.

Warnings: Mentions of Slavery, Past Abuse, Violence (Rescue Scene), Emotional Distress, PTSD/Trauma Responses.

Tagslist: @themiddletenmasibling

Boothill had never been a sentimental man. He had no patience for crying, no love for the helpless. But you—kid, you were different. You had grit, fight in your bones, the kind that reminded him of himself.

And now you were gone.

Word had reached him that your former captors had dragged you back into their grasp, and something inside him snapped like the cocking of a revolver.

The saloon quieted as he stood, chair scraping across the wooden floor. He adjusted his hat, the shadow hiding the wild fury in his eyes. The Galaxy Rangers knew what that meant—someone was gonna die tonight.

"Who told me this?" His voice was eerily calm.

A nervous recruit, still wet behind the ears, swallowed hard. "Got intercepted by a merchant ship. They saw ‘em take the kid near Malbura Ridge—"

Boothill was already moving, his cybernetic fingers tightening into fists. His teeth, razor-sharp, flashed in a snarl. "Then what the fudge are we waitin’ for?"

His mechanical legs carried him to his ship in record time. He didn’t wait for backup, didn’t bother with strategy. He knew one thing—he was going to kill every last one of the bastards who laid a hand on you.

And he wouldn’t stop until you were safe.

Ratio rarely lost his composure. Even in the face of ignorance, in the presence of fools, he could maintain his air of superiority. But this—this was unacceptable.

He had raised you to think, to question, to defy those who sought to shackle your mind. And now those wretches had dared to take you? Again?

He had no patience for incompetence. He was above emotion. But for the first time in years, he felt it. Anger. Cold, precise, and all-consuming.

He adjusted his vest, then turned to his fellow Intelligentsia members. "We will be leaving immediately. I expect cooperation."

One of them hesitated. "Dr. Ratio, is this—"

His glare silenced them. "I will not repeat myself."

Within hours, he had tracked your captors’ coordinates. The plan was simple: a precise strike. A devastating lesson. He would dismantle their entire operation, leave nothing behind but ash and regret.

They had dared to take his pupil? They would soon understand—ignorance was curable, but stupidity had consequences.

Aventurine had always believed life was a game. A roll of the dice, a well-played hand. But when he heard the news—when he learned that you had been taken—he felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Fear.

Not for himself. No, never for himself. But for you? His little wildcard? The one person who could match his wit, keep up with his tricks?

That wasn’t something he was willing to lose.

He exhaled slowly, adjusting his rose-tinted glasses, his fingers tapping a precise rhythm against his sleeve. "Well, well… Seems I have a debt to collect."

His informants were already at work, tracing your location, your captors' weaknesses. He didn’t act impulsively—no, this was a game of patience. Of strategy.

And when the time was right?

He’d make sure your captors paid.

They thought they could outplay him? Please.

This was his game.

And Aventurine never lost.

Gallagher didn’t speak when he heard the news. Didn’t rage, didn’t curse. He simply set down the glass he had been polishing and exhaled.

He should have seen this coming. Should have done more to protect you.

The familiar ache in his chest—the one he had tried to drown in whiskey—burned anew. Another person, another innocent, taken by the world’s cruelty.

His hand clenched around the flask at his waist.

He had promised himself he wouldn’t get attached again. Wouldn’t let his heart break for someone he couldn’t save. But this wasn’t about him. This was about you.

He grabbed his coat, fastening the police badge at his chest.

"Gallagher?" One of his men hesitated. "Are you sure you wanna—"

He met their gaze, his eyes dull with exhaustion but steeled with resolve.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I’m sure."

He had failed once before.

He wouldn’t fail again.

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

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summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

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Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

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masterlist

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: The Scholar, Scorned

Artsource

Once a brilliant alchemist and favourite of the nobility, Jovanis Hilth fell from favour and kept falling till he hit rock bottom. Some say it was failing to deliver on his grand promises that caused it, others infer a scandalous affair with the wives of more than one powerful benefactor. Either way it ended with Jovanis being locked in a gloomsome battlement in the old city walls, kept alive only for his usefulness in producing gunpowder to fill hits debtor's arsenals.

Jovanis has had a .... tenuous grip on reason in the three decades of his imprisonment, forbidden to talk to the outside world or his guards he's resulted to conversing with the rats. The only problem is that the rats have started talking back, promising the alchemist their aid in his escape if only he repays them at a later time.

Adventure Hooks:

The next time the party is in a tight spot while adventuring in the city, a rat helps them out: pointing out an otherwise inaccessable entrance, dropping a much needed key in their laps, or squeaking at just the right time to alert them to oncoming danger. These little favours accumulate, until one day the rats present a shakily scribbled letter from Jovanis, begging them for their help. This letter and their ratty guides takes the party to a series of secret passages worked through the old battlement, filled with city scavengers and ghosts left over from forgotten wars.

Rescuing the alchemist is not so simple as springing him from his cage and wishing him on his way. The man is penniless, wracked with agoraphobia, and more than a little disturbed by the isolation and exposure to hazardous substances he suffered while locked away. That's to say nothing of the fact that he has powerful enemies that will be hunting him, and the party if they managed to incriminate themselves during the escape.

The party may have to smuggle Jovanis out of the city to one of their allies, or find someone equally powerful who'd be willing to take him. If they happen to have any holdings, they might also be able to shelter him, and if provided with a lab, he'll gladly repay their kindness with a steady supply of unstable creations. All these plans will be complicated by the fact that Jovanis is a wererat, an aftereffect of a misguided attempt to slip his bonds by taking on a new form. Near feral while transformed, rat-Jovanis retains just enough of his intelligence to be truly dangerous, seeking an outlet for thirty years of suffering he's endured. Removing this curse is even more trouble than your traditional case of lycanthropy, as the hardluck alchemist is in thrall to the demon Tivvverrriiik who ensures that everything Jolvanis makes comes to ruin: Cures bring bring madness and itching pox, promising reactions have disastrous and explosive outcomes.

[mydeadgaywizards]

headcanon that sirius and james are not allowed to leave the house without an airtag because both of them have a terrible sense of a direction and a tendency to just ✨wander off✨

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 26

Jaskier has been recognized as the runaway viscount of lettenhove by a band of bandits. Embarrassingly, they seemed to have found him in the midst of buying a personalized gift addressed "To My Beloved." Perhaps a hairclip shaped like a dandelion, or perhaps an embroidered handkerchief, or something else dainty and delightful. The bandits drag Jaskier away for ransom, even as he tries futilely to explain that his lover will NOT be polite to them if they continue down this road. I mean, whatever fancy shmancy noblewoman whose skirt he's chasing can't be that threatening to their operation, right? They write up a ransom note, intending on sending it along with a lock of Jaskier's hair, and a few drops of his blood to show they're serious. They slice across Jaskier's wrist, but there's much much much more blood than they expected, because the man slicing his wrist is suddenly missing his head. Huh. Perhaps they've underestimated Jaskier's beloved. He did try to warn them.

[hurtcomfortguaranteed]

In the movie Knight and Day, Roy works to protect his young scientist friend, Simon, from turncoat agents who want to use him for his inventions.

[missmiaforster]

Always wear a smile on your face, it brightens your beauty 😍💕 have a great day today everyone. 😘 💋

[nani-nonny]

Rescue Mission snippet

A new fic idea? I’m tinkering with it still

Word Count: 470+

“Raph! Raph, the TV!”

Raph drops his weights immediately, his eyebrow rising as he allows Mikey to drag him out of the training room. “What’s wrong?”

Mikey stammers over his words as he continues to drag Raph up the stairs to the TV room. His eyes are wide and tears are starting to bud at the corner of his big eyes. “I was just–just watching–just watching TV with Dad! And–and then we–the TV–the news was on–and we–!”

Raph immediately places his hand over Mikey’s trying to soothe the younger as he’s dragged up the stairs. He pets Mikey’s hand in a singular, repeating motion with a soft voice, “Mikey, try to relax. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mikey coughs and tugs on Raph’s arm as he tries to explain himself without stuttering, but he fails to slow down.

“Dad and I were watching TV and flicking through channels when we got on the news! It looked like a lot was happening because the camera was all shaky like those badly recorded fights! We thought it was super serious because there’s a bunch of officers!”

Mikey trips over the last step, but regains his footing to keep dragging Raph. He wipes his watery eyes but keeps talking.

“And then we saw something weird like a bunch of dudes in suits! They’re all wearing the same color suits and shady glasses! They formed a wall to block the cameras, but some of them found higher places to record!”

“Okay, where is this going, Mikey?”

“Look!” Mikey finishes when they reach the TV room where Splinter is standing in front of the couch watching.

Raph stops behind the couch, leaning left and right when the camera fails to get a better view.

It’s truly like how Mikey told him. Cameras shaking and switching camera views in hopes of capturing the crowd-drawing drama. There are dozens of the men in suits, like Mikey said, wearing sunglasses and standing shoulder to shoulder with their hands behind their backs. They all share the same stone-cold expressions, daring the cameras to push forward. It’s loud and chaotic, voices overlapping the other. Voices reporters seeking answers and crowds of New York citizens asking questions for what’s happening.

It’s hard to understand what is happening, as not even the headline can explain what is occurring. All it states is:

HUNDREDS GATHER FOR A PEEK OF UNKNOWN: FRIEND OR FOE?

Raph frowns at the headline, unable to make sense until he spots it. Amidst the chaos, between the gaps and nearly hidden from the cameras is a splotch of green. Green that belongs to an arm.

Unless that’s a cosplayer, that can’t be human.

“Raph!” Mikey gasps as he rushes forward to point at the lower left corner of the projection.

Blood.

Blood on the street.

Whoever or whatever it is, they need help.

“It’s getting worse, Raph,” Mikey whimpers out.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Grasping for Answers

Throughout their early adventures the party come into conflict with the agents of the mysterious mage known only as "The Ravelling Hand", a villain of uncertain identity who seems to have lots of schemes and no qualms using violence, trickery, and unexpected magic to get what they want.

Adventure Hooks:

The party first become entangled with the hand's minions when they're asked by an innocuous travelling merchant to deliver a small wrapped parcel to the wizard living one town over. The wizard isn't open to receiving guests, and after sneaking or charming their way in, the party will find out why: her apprentice has been kidnapped, the parcel contains both of the boy's index fingers as well as a note explaining that she can have the rest of him back in exchange for several dangerous texts in her collection, delivered by the party to the same intermediary who hired them. A brawl is likely to ensue as the wizard suspects the party is in on the blackmail, but if they can talk her down maybe they can figure out a way to work together to get the boy back before any more harm comes to him.

Most thieves know better than to try and rob a magic item shop, but most thieves aren't armed with dispel magic infused salt grenades to neutralize the shop's ubiquitous defences. A rash of these attacks across the duchy has shopkeepers worried, and one hires the party to stake out their store for the night when they suspect someone is casing it. Do the party trail the robbers back to their hideout, or interrupt them mid heist only for combat to delay them long enough for those indiscriminate defences to start turning back on?

Spoiler Alert: The mage is in fact an arcanely gifted lesser kraken by the name of Dlexx who seeks to avail itself of all the magical knowledge amassed on land. Sure the deep has its own mysteries but there's a thriving trade in spellscrolls and arcane tomes that don't make it below the waves. Using an old lighthouse as a disguise for its massive form while on land, it uses telepathy and sendings to direct its minions without ever revealing its true nature. Imagine the party's surprise when they roll up to the villain's lair expecting to bully some crusty nerd with a ratty beard and instead the lair sprouts tentacles that drag them into the crashing surf.

Challenges & Consequences

Finding Dlexx is an adventure in and of itself. When questioned, most of the mage's minions admit to never having met their employer, and those high ranking enough to have been summoned to a place called "saltbite tower" in dreams only to later have their memories muddled. Careful interrogation and study of local maps will have the party realize that the tower is infact an abandoned lighthouse, which will narrow their search as they comb the costline for their enemy's lair.

Actually defeating the Ravelling Hand might prove too much for early level adventurers, as in addition to being a powerful mage the kraken is literally in its element, able to breathe and move while the heroes flounder. Dlexx will toy with them, throwing unconscious foes out of the water the way a fisherman throws back a catch that is too small. When the battle is over and it's proved it's point the kraken will collapse the tower and leave into the wide ocean, telepathically taunting them with their inability to follow.

Though the Ravelling Hand will not resurface for some time, the destruction of the tower and Dlexx's retreat into the deep is partially a bluff. The kraken chose that particular lighthouse because it was a short distance away from the coral reef into which it scribed its arcane learning the way a wizard records spells in a book, coiling arms etching formulae into hundreds of yards of living stone. Dlexx must periodically return to the reef to add spells to it, and sightings by locals (or the occasional fish manifesting with magical talent) might clue the party into the reef's existence.

A pair of merfolk siblings named Crashing-Tide and Arcing-Mirror serve the Ravelling Hand as apprentices and scribes, having promised seven years of utmost loyalty in exchange for the chance to bring the arcane knowledge of the surface back to their community. They tend to the reef, and allow the Kraken to borrow their eyes from afar so that it might study the spells scribed there. Several years into their pledge, Crash (the sister) has come to idolize Dlexx and the power it wields above and below the waves, wishing that the whole of their shoal to come into its service. Mirror (the brother) is skeptical, well aware of the kraken's manipulations and distantly suspicious of the conflict that it invokes. Perhaps if the party can intercede with these two they can learn more about their enemy's plans, though doing so will take some careful diplomacy.

Artist

[rexsokaficquotes]

"Which one are we taking?" Rex asked.

She didn’t hesitate. "Mine. Smaller. Quieter. Easier to hide from sensors."

He nodded, getting to his feet. "Makes sense." He didn’t like it, not really, especially after what she had just said. His ship was sturdier, had more firepower, and didn’t have the look of a Skywalker special. This wasn’t the kind of job that needed muscle, it needed subtlety. She was good at that, and he trusted her instincts.

Still, something about it all unsettled him.

She must have caught the doubt in his eyes, tilted her head. "I’ll get us there, Rex."

He swallowed. "I know."

— LadyLucksRogue, from Carry You With Me

[sonic-wachowski-hedgehog]

Alright, flying into airspace. We'll do a circle and then drop in! Once we get Thrasher we can close the tear and stop Cooper!

Trasher's chaos energy has been out of control since his initial kidnapping. Let me handle him and get it under control.

@ratticatti @theycallmethrasher @erintheweasel @popcorn-the-rabbit

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets with the Shadowsinger

Summary:

Y/N, a representative from the Spring Court, and Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster, have been hiding their love due to the dangerous political climate and Tamlin's hatred for the Night Court. When their secret is discovered, Tamlin forbids Y/N from leaving the Spring Court. Azriel must risk everything to rescue her, leading to a dramatic confrontation and a daring escape. Their love, though hidden in the shadows, proves to be a powerful force as they navigate the perilous challenges that lie ahead.

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: None

The tension in the grand hall of the House of Wind was palpable. Representatives from the various courts gathered to discuss the increasing threats from Hybern. Y/N, the emissary from the Spring Court, stood tall and composed, her eyes scanning the room. She was known for her sharp mind and even sharper tongue, particularly when it came to dealing with the Night Court's spymaster, Azriel.

Azriel stood across the room, his shadows curling around him like a protective shroud. He was watching Y/N with an unreadable expression, their last argument still fresh in his mind. The animosity between them was well-known, their bickering a source of amusement and frustration for those around them.

"Y/N, perhaps you can enlighten us with the Spring Court's perspective on this matter," Rhysand said, his tone diplomatic.

Y/N stepped forward, her gaze flicking briefly to Azriel before she spoke. "The Spring Court believes that we must take a more aggressive stance against Hybern. Waiting for them to strike first will only lead to more devastation."

Azriel couldn't help but interject. "And rushing into a conflict without proper intelligence will lead to unnecessary casualties."

Y/N shot him a glare. "We need to be proactive, not reactive, Azriel. Your cautious approach will cost us valuable time."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. "And your reckless approach will cost us lives."

The room fell silent, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Rhysand stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "We need to find a balance between caution and action. Let's continue this discussion without the personal attacks."

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Fine. Let's focus on finding a solution."

As the meeting continued, Y/N and Azriel exchanged sharp looks and cutting remarks, their apparent dislike for each other on full display. But beneath the surface, a different story was unfolding.

Later that evening, Y/N slipped away from the House of Wind, making her way to a secluded spot by the Sidra River. She glanced around to ensure no one had followed her, then leaned against a tree, waiting.

A few moments later, Azriel appeared, his shadows swirling around him. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the harsh tone he had used earlier.

She looked up, her expression softening. "Azriel."

He moved closer, pulling her into his arms. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I hate fighting with you."

Y/N sighed, resting her head against his chest. "I know. It's necessary, though. We can't let them suspect anything."

Azriel's grip tightened around her. "I wish we didn't have to hide. I hate pretending to dislike you."

She smiled sadly. "It's the only way to keep us both safe. If anyone found out..."

He nodded, understanding the unspoken danger. "I know. But it doesn't make it any easier."

They stood there in silence for a while, the sound of the river flowing peacefully beside them. Azriel's shadows enveloped them, creating a cocoon of privacy in which they could share these stolen moments.

"Sometimes I wonder if this is worth it," Y/N whispered. "All the secrecy and the danger."

Azriel cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes. "You are worth it, Y/N. Every moment we have together is worth the risk."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "I love you, Azriel."

He kissed her gently, pouring all his love and longing into that one kiss. "I love you too, Y/N. More than anything."

As the night grew darker, they reluctantly pulled away from each other, knowing they had to return to their respective roles. Azriel took a step back, his expression torn. "Stay safe, Y/N. We'll find a way to be together openly someday."

She nodded, wiping away her tears. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," he said, his voice filled with determination.

With one last lingering look, Y/N turned and made her way back to the House of Wind, her heart heavy but filled with hope. Azriel watched her go, his shadows whispering words of comfort and resolve.

The next day, the tension in the grand hall was palpable once again. Y/N and Azriel resumed their roles, bickering and arguing as usual. But now, each cutting remark and heated exchange was laced with a secret understanding, a hidden love that only they knew.

As the discussions continued, Rhysand observed the two with a keen eye. He had long suspected there was more to their interactions than met the eye, but he respected their privacy and the roles they played.

The meeting ended with a tentative plan of action, a compromise that balanced caution and aggression. As the representatives began to leave, Y/N and Azriel shared a brief, knowing glance, a silent promise of love and support.

That night, as Y/N lay in her room, she clung to the hope that one day they could be together without hiding. Until then, they would continue to fight for peace and for each other, their love burning brightly in the shadows.

And as Azriel watched over Velaris from his perch on the roof, his thoughts were consumed by Y/N. No matter the challenges they faced, he knew they would find a way to be together. Their love was a force stronger than any enemy, and it would guide them through the darkest of times.

Weeks passed, and their secret meetings continued. But one fateful day, everything changed. Y/N returned to the Spring Court to report back to Tamlin, unaware that her secret had been discovered.

She was in her chambers when Tamlin stormed in, fury etched across his face. "Y/N, what have you done?"

She looked up, startled. "Tamlin, what's wrong?"

"Don't play dumb with me," he snarled, his eyes blazing with anger. "I've heard the rumors. You're involved with Azriel, the Night Court's spymaster."

Y/N's heart sank. "Tamlin, I can explain—"

"Explain?" he shouted. "You've betrayed us! Consorting with the enemy, my own sister!"

Tears filled her eyes. "I love him, Tamlin. You don't understand."

Tamlin's expression hardened. "I understand perfectly. You will not leave this court. You are forbidden from seeing him again."

Y/N's heart shattered. "You can't keep me here."

"Watch me," he said coldly. "Guards!"

As two guards stepped forward to escort her to a locked room, Y/N felt a surge of desperation. She had to get word to Azriel. She needed to find a way out.

Back in Velaris, Azriel was pacing in Rhysand's office when one of his shadows brought him the news. He felt a cold dread settle over him. "Tamlin knows," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "Y/N is in danger."

Rhysand's eyes narrowed. "We need to get her out of there."

Without wasting another moment, Azriel spread his wings and took to the skies, his shadows guiding him to the Spring Court. He moved swiftly and silently, his heart pounding with fear for Y/N's safety.

When he arrived, he slipped past the guards with ease, his shadows cloaking him in darkness. He found Y/N in a locked room, her eyes filled with fear and relief when she saw him.

"Azriel," she whispered, running to him.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I'm here. I'm getting you out of here."

They moved quickly, Azriel using his shadows to cloak them both as they navigated the halls. But as they reached the courtyard, Tamlin and his guards appeared, blocking their path.

"You won't take her," Tamlin growled, his voice filled with rage.

Azriel's eyes blazed with determination. "I won't let you keep her prisoner."

Y/N clung to Azriel, her heart pounding. "Please, Tamlin. Let me go."

Tamlin's expression twisted with anger and pain. "You chose him over your own family. You betrayed us."

"I love him," Y/N said, her voice breaking. "And I can't stay here. Not like this."

Tamlin hesitated, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. But Azriel didn't wait. He spread his wings, his shadows enveloping them both, and with a powerful leap, they soared into the sky, leaving the Spring Court behind.

When they landed back in Velaris, Y/N was trembling with relief and fear. Azriel held her close, his shadows wrapping around them protectively.

"You're safe now," he whispered, his voice filled with love and determination.

Y/N looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I couldn't stay there, Azriel. Not without you."

He kissed her gently, his heart swelling with love and pride. "We'll find a way to be together. No matter what."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, they knew that the road ahead would be difficult. But their love was a force stronger than any obstacle, and together, they would face whatever came their way.

In the safety of the Night Court, surrounded by allies and friends, they knew that their love would guide them through the darkest of times. And as the stars sparkled above Velaris, they made a silent vow to protect each other and their love, no matter the cost.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Early on in their friendship, there came a year where Geralt and Jaskier’s paths did not intersect at all.

Jaskier had full confidence in Geralt’s abilities, but he couldn’t keep himself from worrying when he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his witcher for 14 months! He had a dangerous profession. One full of blades and blood and enemies and monsters. What if his dearest friend and muse was dead?!?

He wasn’t ready to write that song! He didn’t think he ever wanted to write that song.

Thankfully, his witcher was not dead. They had a tearful reunion—well, Jaskier was the only one who cried, but it counted!—and continued their travels together.

However, the bard now insisted that they agree on meeting places before parting. He would not be deprived of his witcher again, thank you very much.

Jaskier also commissioned some magical items to give himself peace of mind.

Jaskier had a mage enchant a pair of talismans with dandelions painted on them. The enchantment was activated when a person smeared their blood over the talisman, which would then reflect the person’s health. If they were injured, the dandelions would wilt in proportion to the injury. If the person died, the dandelions died too.

So, Jaskier explained to his fierce friend that they would exchange talismans in order to stay informed on the other’s welfare.

There was a part of Jaskier that worried Geralt would refuse, but the witcher immediately unsheathed a knife to prick their fingers.

The talisman always brought comfort to Jaskier during their separations. It soothed him to have proof of Geralt’s wellbeing.

Even after getting his heart broken on the mountain, Jaskier kept his talisman. Him being sad and angry didn’t mean he was done caring. (Though sometimes he considered chucking the thing out a window)

Then, Nilfgaard captured Jaskier. Their mage made sure to disenchant Jaskier’s person to ensure that he didn’t have any means of calling for help or escaping.

Not even Geralt would know of his plight.

***

Across the continent, the moment the mage disenchanted Jaskier, Geralt watched the dandelions on his talisman burst into flames.

YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[luchicm04]

Man I was so hooked with bnha... I remember making this sooo long ago. I was just starting on tiktok too and when I heard this audio I just had to do it.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[lovetgr76]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65801002/chapters/170323765

Ch. 4 Fault Lines of the Safe House Reunion story has been posted on AO3!!