#The Protectors of Spiral City | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fullofbees · 3 months

Text

😸💚 anon requested: Hello!! Could I possibly ask for Satan with prompt 55? Maybe with fem!MC who is shy and sweet? I cannot stop thinking about the dynamic of opposites interacting with each other!

CW: Fingering (F receiving)

»»----------► F!Reader

Though his room is nothing but a towering maze of books only lit by candlelight, you find it oddly comforting; as long as you manage to not trip on any of his "to read" piles.

You found the tome you were looking for, a hefty treatise on rare herbs and their magical uses. Carefully, you find your way back to Satan, descending the spiral staircase with the book in tow.

"I was worried you had gotten lost," says the demon as you plop down on his bed with a small "oof."

Dust is sent flying to the floor as you wipe your hand across the cracking leather cover, "We should make a map of your room."

Satan crinkles his nose at the idea, "I already have a system in place."

"I know," you say as you open the book in your lap, carefully flipping through the pages until you get to the table of contents, "I'd like to learn your system. I'm a visual learner, so I think a map would help."

The Avatar of Wrath mumbles grumpily, "Fine. I'll draw one later..." Yet he is already reddening, a delicate blush blooming across his cheeks. He buries his face in his book, though he peers at you over its edge, "Are you going back to your room now that you have what you sought?"

"Can I stay with you?" You ask without hesitation. The implication of your question makes you flush with your own embarrassment, so you hold up the tome as defense, "I mean - uh, this book is so old! And I don't want to risk damaging it. Better if I read it here, right?"

Satan, with a knowing smile and demon strength, wraps an arm around your waist and drags you to sit in his lap. He encourages you to lean into him, back pressed firmly to his chest as he makes himself comfortable, "Yes. Stay."

Fire rushes to your face and to your core. His room always smells of books, a blend of fresh ink on virgin paper and the irreplicable vintages of pages older than time itself. Now Satan's scent comes into the fore; notes of amber, rose, and cedar from his cologne, the simple yet clean smell of detergent that clings to his shirt - it's intoxicating.

You shove the insane notion that you're turned on merely by his scent away. Even if arousal is building between your thighs, you try to distract yourself with the reason you came here in the first place. Finding the chapter you need, you begin the harrowing ordeal of reading about shadow saffron.

But you can't settle down; the author's writing is dry, the pulsing need you feel is becoming uncomfortable, leaving you to fidget in Satan's lap.

The arm around your waist tightens, "Stay still."

"I'm sorry, I just need to adjust--," You sheepishly answer, going to stand up.

Satan's hand shifts lower, fingers splayed across your lower stomach as he stops you. Within a second, he pulls you back to his lap and onto his hardening cock that strains against the confines of his jeans.

"Stay. Still." He warns, his hand now caressing your thigh.

Your voice is caught in your throat, brain short-circuiting at how quickly the situation has changed. It is not unwelcome - Satan's hand is warm as he guides your legs apart. Teasing fingers run along your inner thigh, always stopping shy of your core.

The tome is clutched to your chest, your only anchor to the real world as Satan decides to take you on a fantastical adventure.

"The princess whines under the delicate touch of her knight. He's been her faithful servant, her ardent protector, always carefully watching. His love for her has transcended his role; the city could burn down around him; all he needed was her."

His breath tickles your ear as he reads from the book perched in his free hand. Has he been reading Amour Courtois smut this entire time?

Satan's hand undoes the button on your pants, "He always told himself that he would never let it get to this point. No knight could ever marry a lady of her status; it was pointless to want for something so clearly forbidden."

You softly whine when his hand slips past the hem of your panties, gathering your growing wetness on his fingers as he leisurely drags them across your slit.

"Yet here she was, bare on the bed of the inn, proclaiming her own devotion and need for him. As his fingers made quick work of her clit, he began to palm himself through his own pants. Love that borders on possession is as dangerous as it is arousing; it is damning for them both."

Two fingers easily slide into your cunt, and you have to bite your lip to keep your moan from ringing out. Satan presses a reassuring kiss to your temple.

"Still, he can't help the growing need to own her completely like she owns him. Commanding a princess would surely mean his head, but still, it slips off his tongue: "Only I get to touch you like this, okay?"

•••✦ ❤ ✦••• Submit A Request | Read on AO3 •••✦ ❤ ✦•••

A/N: I based Satan's scent off of this cologne that I keep meaning to buy 👀

#fullofbeeswrite #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me satan smut #obey me smut #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc

130 notes · View notes

whoppert · 6 months

Text

I have a WIP fic for this but just in case it rots in my computer (pls don't steal it)

Unasended Astarion, who frees the vampire spawn and follows them to the Underdark at the end of the game

at first he's paralyzed by depression that he's stuck here in the dark. it's not fair (it really isnt) but over time he realises that the spawn have made a little community and they consider him a... folk hero????

He's shocked and they're like obviously u r a hero, u freed 7000 slaves and killed their master like how much more hero do you get? They give him big fancy titles and he LOVES that - Astarion Breaker of Chains, Freedom Giver, Protector of the Helpless, Light in the Darkness.

He doesn't really believe them (he certainly doesn't tell them how close he got to killing them all) but he'll let them sing his praises.

This sends him into a further depression spiral because this was his fault, he brought these people to Cazador, he's the reason they were enslaved in the first place. He really has to learn to regulate his emotions and process things in a healthy way and for the first time he has more than just his friends but a whole town's worth of people to help him. They're particularly sympathetic to his brand of trauma and help him feel less alone.

Only eventually he starts believing them. Why can't he be a hero?

Overtime he starts to really care about this little community :) he's the defacto leader (even tho he hates that) and so any issues are his to deal with. I like to think they build a town in the Underdark and Astarion's familiarity to the Myconids means they help (they could not give two shits about spawn in the Underdark because they don't eat mushrooms). He and his siblings council the feral spawn until they learn to control themselves, teaching them that it's their decision if they want to feed on animals or people but there are strict rules about what people they can feed on (mostly bad people but there is no short supply of horny drow that are willing to be fed on). When threats come to the village, Astarion is leading the charge against their enemies (not everyone is pleased to have the spawn in the Underdark even if they are being pretty responsible about it). He's learning about Gur culture from the child spawns and learns the error of his racist ways.

Eventually, he becomes the Folk Hero.

He negotiates freedom for Underdark Gnomes ('Do you want 7000 Vampire Spawns let loose in Menzoberranzan? Cause I'll release them. Free your slaves or I'll have my children bring me the heads of all the Great Drow Houses.')

He works with Gale to enchant their little town to have a day/night cycle (it's not sunlight, just light because he misses it) and the City of Spawn is the only place in the entirety of the Underdark you can feel the warmth of the 'sun' on your skin

His friends come to visit and he is so changed for the better. He's happy, he's joyful. He no longer worries about spending eternity alone. He reclaimed his soul, something he thought lost to Cazador entirely

In 1000 years the Underdark is a fundamentally better place - all because he's there

#astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3 gale #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldur

99 notes · View notes

hongthoven · 5 months

Note

Okay, hi my love <3

I can´t stop thinking about Yuyu and Mingi and my brain is like, CRAVING for fluff. Just cuddling or going on a walk and all that stinking cute, tooth rottingly cute fluff. imagine the reader beind shorter and them just being her protectors and best friends or boyfriends and them just showing her how important she is for them!

I´m alreay tearing up at the thought of them (or any of ateez for that matter) proposing to them in the cutest ways and i´m just... yeah, i´m sobbing. it´s a neeed <3

LOVE YOUUUUUU <3

i hope you´ll have an amazing day, my cutie patootie <3

Hi Kittykat ♥

I didn't think this through and fluff isn't my typical comfort zone so I'm sorry if that's terrible, but here's my attempt at fulfiling your needs for some cute comforting moment with Mingi.

Slight angst at the beginning, if that calls for a tw.

Love you ♥ @bethelighthalazia

I doesn’t take more than this for Mingi to immediately call you, cutting the texting short so he can hear your voice, looking for any sign of a breakdown. He knows every crack, every change in your tone and years of friendship have given him the luxury of anticipating that kind of conversations.

« Is it about that jerk again ? » Mingi’s voice is a little hoarse but soft as ever and you can’t help but sigh as soon as it wraps you up into an invisible blanket. While he has been trying his best to keep your mind off of your ex boyfriend, Mingi knows just how much you can get into your own thoughts sometimes, digging your own grave.

You’ve been laying in bed for hours now, spiraling into your darkest thoughts, hating yourself for the most and reminiscing the last time you have felt truly loved and desired, failing to pinpoint the exact moment. It is definitely « one of those days » you typically brush off, unwilling to make a big deal out of it but sadly settling into a pathetic routine.

A pity party you never asked for but still seem to secretely crave.

« No, it’s not » only half a lie. You have been thinking about him, but not quite as much lately.

« I was just wondering why no one ever loves me enough to stay, that’s all » while you’re aware of just how sad you must sound right now, there’s a sense of comfort and safety in your friendship with Mingi that makes i tokay for you to just blurt out anything coming to your mind, including your deepest secrets.

« What about me ? What about Yunho ? »

« I love you both dearly but… you’re my best-friends »

« And ? You don’t feel loved around us ? »

« God, Mingi… You just don’t get it… Nevermind » you sigh, a little hurt not to hear precisely what you need from him at that exact moment. Of course, your childhood best-friend being the stubborn man he is now, isn’t keen on giving up that easily.

« Why don’t you explain it to me then ? »

There’s a knock on the door and you’re suddenly aware of your current state. Hair messily wrapped into a bun, rotting in your pjs and you’re pretty sure your face looks like it hasn’t seen a ray of sunshine in days but still, nothing compares to the absolute shock of seeing Mingi standing in front of your door as soon as you reluctantly fling it open.

« I was in the neighborhood » he shrugs with a smile, ending the call as you stare at him in disbelief with your phone still tapped to your ear. You had noticed the traffic sound in the background earlier and while you could perfectly picture your best-friend walking around the city, heading to god-knows-where as he tried his best to cheer you up, you were nowhere near prepared to have him showing up at your door within ten minutes.

« So what is this all about ? » he adds as you remain with your back against the door for a while, nervous to put some actual words on your insecurities. But as Mingi walks closer to you with his typical gummy smile, his dimple digging into the flesh of his cheek as a reminder of the safe place you have found in this man, nothing seems too unbearable anymore.

« I just… don’t feel desirable lately… »

« That’s bullshit »

« Excuse me ? »

« You are desirable »

« Oh yeah, says who ? »

« I just said so, didn’t I »

« That’s not… »

« The same ? Yeah I know » he adds, his arms pulling you into a hug as you almost face plant into his chest. Sometimes, you tend to forget just how much taller he actually is, and though it’s not that obvious when you two are heading out while you perch yourself on some nice heels, today is quite the opposite. Standing on your tippy toes, you fail to even reach his shoulder and settle for the warmth of his chest against your cheek.

« You know you’re beautiful, right ? »

You nod, not entirely convinced but still appreciative of Mingi’s efforts to boost your confidence through his typical praises. You’ve been here before, seeking shelter into his arms while he tries his absolute best to cheer you up and though you would never admit it, there’s something about the way he looks at you, the intensity of his gaze almost burning through your skin, like there’s nothing left around for him to see but you, that makes you feel a little too special. More than you intend to be.

The sun has been replaced by a pitch black sky outside and the late hours of the night only occurs to you when you wake up, dizzy still, into the heated comfort of Mingi’s embrace. With his arm around you, your leg snaked around his hip as he rests lazily on the couch, the arm that isn’t keeping you safe simply settled behind his head as an extra pillow, Mingi only seems half-absorbed with the movie playing on tv, his attention caught with the very first flinch of your body against his.

« Well hello there, sleeping beauty » he smirks, immediately pressing his lips to your hair and you hate the way your skin reacts to a simple touch, shivers running down your spine as the warmth of his breath hits the back of your neck.

« How do you feel ? Any better ? » Mingi’s eyes are filled with a mix of worry and adoration, his palm reaching for your cheek to stroke it softly.

« Much better » you pause, reminiscing your prior breakdown « sorry ‘bout that ».

« Don’t you dare apologizing » his thumb hooks under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, the intimacy of a simple gesture sending mixed signals to your brain though you decide to ignore those.

« I love you, don’t you ever doubt it » his lips find yours through a quick peck, nothing you haven’t done before but today, you feel him linger for a bit longer than usual, his fingers almost pushing into the plush flesh of your cheeks as you close your eyes to bask in the moment.

#request♥#Kittykat♥#mingi x reader #mingi fluff #that is very much a soft blurb #ateez fluff

57 notes · View notes

citrous241 · 10 months

Text

1.21 is looking fire, but 1.22 has got to be an End update.

Minecraft has always had really good lore and story-telling, but does anyone else feel like the End is just missing something?

It's to be expected, it hasn't been updated for the last 7 years and the last update added more questions than answers. I feel like it's just on the cusp of being as clear as the rest of the game.

It's a dimension that's supposed to feel off, and uncanny. Literally the only track that plays is 15 minutes of warped mash-ups of Overworld tracks. End stone is just inverted Cobblestone.. etc. But even then it's still wrong.

I just have to know, Minecraft lore is built off of head canons but I'm just unable to form one that makes sense regarding the End. Endermen make sense, I believe they're warped and "evolved" humans. Eating only chorus makes them teleport, their long arms and bodies to reach the high snaking chorus plants, their larger eyes to see in perpetual darkness, etc. Their aversion to water is a wrench in that but I'm not perfect and my head canon isn't right. Endermen could have nothing to do with humans.

Shulkers and End Cities are what confounds me. Are Shulkers natural living organisms? The Dragon and Ender-men both have black skin and dark purple eyes but this thing has yellow skin and an almost magenta shell. I think they're some sort of automatons, but built by who? The ancient builders, the ones who evolved into Endermen? But the spiral staircases in the End Cities don't seem designed for humans (or maybe I just suck at climbing them) and the ceilings aren't really high enough for Endermen. Maybe Shulkers are another protector mob of their area. But protecting what? Protecting the means of personal flight maybe, but that looks nothing like the rest of the end - its literally made from the wings of the Phantoms of the Overworld.

End Cities themselves do kind of make sense to me, their architecture mimics the branches of a chorus plant. But whilst chorus seems to be the only natural thing in the End, the cities very much aren't. There's no way that structure would work under normal gravity. But surely the End just has weak gravity? Nope, it's the same as the Overworld.

Everything in the End just feels so artificial. The central island; with Obsidian pillars punching through the whole thing, a material that can only be made using 2 fluids that don't exist in the End, topped with a crystal made partially from the tears of a creature in another dimension and some sort of Eye which we can only make by killing an Enderman and fusing it's remains with the ground up remains of another creature from said other dimension. Also, it is so far away from the rest of the End, as if someone destroyed or moved these other islands away. The Dragon itself to, she works like no other mob. People say that she's a machine which I don't agree with, her erratic behaviour is because she is the only mob of her type and hasn't been updated like ever. I don't think she's native to the End though; Endermen, the only other creature in existence that looks like her, can be hostile to her.

Trying to piece this together as I'm writing this is making me think of a new head canon: The End is just a melting pot of travellers who got lost and stuck. Think of something like the Void from the Loki show. I think the End was initially just a mass of floating islands with the chorus fruit, in the Void between dimensions. Then the ancient builders arrived, constructing the obsidian pillars and the bedrock portal frame. I think they found something, maybe it could be whatever made the End Cities. But regardless, something dangerous. Something that made them separate the only way out of the dimension by several kilometres of Void, that made them create a Dragon to guard said way out. Something that made them sacrifice themselves by sealing themselves into the End.

There are a few holes in this. Maybe the ancient builders did build the End Cities before/after becoming Endermen. Maybe the danger was the Dragon, but why would it guard the exit portal? And I've kind of ignored the fact that Endstone is inverted Cobblestone, maybe the whole dimension if artificial? Built by the ancient builders entirely? Or maybe the End was spawned from ancient humanities collective mind, like a sort of yin to their yang.

I would love an End update to add a few things. I don't like most popular ideas or mods for an End update, as they often stray too far from what the End is. I would like to be able to find whatever gravity-defying sentient race built the End Cities, maybe they could also be warped into Endermen like the ancient builders were - but could still have a sense of self and humanity, or maybe they're some sort of Phantom People. I would like to find this danger that caused the ancient builders to sacrifice themselves, a new huge boss at the edge of the End would be awesome. I would also like, if they made them less annoying that is, for Phantoms to spawn in the End just normally. They feed on Insomnia right? What's more insomniac then an entire dimension where it's always night and nothing can sleep?

I would also like purple chorus wood lol.

#minecraft #enderman #minecraft phantom #shulker #the end #end city #ancient builders #minecraft lore #mineblr #minecraft headcanons

97 notes · View notes

talonabraxas · 4 months

Text

Quetzalcoatl: The Feathered Serpent

The name of the deity Quetzalcoatl comes from the Nahuatl language, and it means “Precious Serpent,” which is a reference to the serpent that is associated with the god. Quetzalcoatl was a prominent deity in the Aztec pantheon, as he was related to various phenomenon such as the planet Venus, the wind, and the sun and was also the patron of the Aztec priesthood. Aside from these, he was also associated with other gods such as Tlaloc, Huitzilopochtli, and Tezcatlipoca.

In ancient Mesoamerica, Quetzalcoatl was one of the most important gods. He was known for his role in the creation of the world and its inhabitants. His name combines the Nahuatl words coatl and quetzal. From 1200, Quetzalcoatl was regarded as the patron deity of merchants and priests in Central Mexico. He was also known for inventing the calendar and was associated with various animals, such as the opossum and also the Morning Star Venus. He also discovered a mountain full of seeds and grains.

Following the arrival of Nahua-speaking tribes in the north, Quetzalcoatl’s cult underwent significant changes. During the Toltec era, his temple was the centre of ceremonial life in the city of Tula and the culture emphasises war and human sacrifice.

Physical Traits Aside from being a plumed serpent, Quetzalcoatl was also known as a man with a beard. He was depicted as Ehécatl, the wind god, and he wore a conical hat and a mask made out of tubes.

Quetzalcoatl was also known to have a flower, a black and yellow feathered fan, jade earnings and spiral shells inside a hat-band holding sacrificial implements. He was also known to wear a cross section of a pectoral that was made from a conch whorl which was in fact a wind jewel called Ehecailacozcatl. He is often black, wears a red mask like a duck’s beak and has long canine teeth. As a god of the cardinal directions, he was associated with various colours representing each of the directions.

Family There are various stories about the life and times of the serpent. In one story, a virgin named Chimalman is said to have given birth to Quetzalcoatl after the god Onteol appeared to her in a dream. In another story, Chimalman conceived Quetzalcoatl after she swallowed an emerald. In another story, a man named Mixcoatl accidently shot an arrow into her womb and nine months later, Chimalman gave birth to a child who would later be called Quetzalcoatl. One of the stories states that Quetzalcoatl was the child of the god Coatlicue, who had hundreds of children.

According to another version of the myth, Quetzalcoatl is one of the four sons of Ometecuhtli and Omecihuatl. The four Tezcatlipocas, each of whom presides over one of the four cardinal directions are White Tezcatlipoca (Quetzalcoatl), Blue Tezcatlipoca (Huitzilopochtli), Red Tezcatlipoca (Xipe Totec) and Black Tezcatlipoca (Tezcatlipoca). It is also suggested that he was a son of Xochiquetzal and Mixcoatl.

Other Names He was known as Kukulkán to the Maya, Gucumatz to the Quiché of Guatemala, and Ehecatl to the Gulf Coast Huastecs.

Powers and Abilities Quetzalcoatl was regarded as the patron deity of merchants, priests, and scientists. In the Nahua tradition, he is also the creator of the universe and the creator of humanity. Quetzalcatl was regarded as the creator of the calendar and books as well as the protector of goldsmiths and other craftsmen. He was said to have gone to Mictlan with Xolotl to obtain the remains of the dead and was also the symbol of death and destruction. Those bones he anointed with his own blood, giving birth to the men who inhabit the present universe.

In an alternative form of creation, Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca worked together to form the first man, the rain gods, and the sun. When they were created, they transformed into snakes and ripped apart a reptilian creature known as Cipactli.

Quetzalcoatl by Talon Abraxas

21 notes · View notes

firewalkzwit · 1 year

Text

runt // jonathan crane x reader. (1)

Chapter 1. Prelude

cross-posted on AO3

masterlist

Meticulous analysis of her own motivations had driven Y/N to come to the conclusion that her hatred was justified. Nothing was done without something profoundly belonging to one's own unresolved conflicts being involved in the decisions and paths of choice. Such was the case of the Batman, she'd concluded. Whoever he was behind that mask, he was not pursuing his role as a masked 'protector of Gotham' without a great degree of personal motive beyond selfless devotion to the wellbeing of the city. Long had she studied this concept meticulously, as to do introspection on her own reasons behind her new objectives. The Batman and herself found congruence in the belief that violence was an indispensable tool to maintain order, humanity after all was nothing but an attempt to break a deeply embedded bond with primitive, animal instincts, such as sin. However it was this particular ethic that took from Y/N the only person who stood by her side since the day she was born.

Her brother, like a forbidden fenix, had found in the drug business what was ethically questionable, but an opportunity to a new life at last. Poverty had reigned in as many generations as their family registered for, which were not many, but enough to bring a loss of hope at ever escaping the circumstances. The drug business was dangerous, but her brother was sly and grown to be a street-smart individual, he knew where he could mess and where he couldn't. Finding also a strike of luck in the fact that where they lived -a little apartment above a Chinese-owned laundry shop, was a precarious condominium where a low-ranked pawn from Carmine Falcone also had his home. This kid had befriended Y/N's brother and recommended him with Falcone, being the crucial connection to begin working for the druglord.

While unable to approve of his line of work, Y/N couldn't find it in her morality to refuse his dirty money. Like Tony Montana he'd return home with the fruit of his criminality and she'd accept it like a gift, one with a catch, but her brother always managed to sound reassuring enough to make the odds of something happening to him seem lower than they were. Oh, was it such a crime to be gullible and young, and believe your older brother? Y/N had once tried to believe that she simply didn't have what it took to stop him, or that it wasn't her place in his story, fate had planted it's seed on him and his demise was only meant to happen the second he agreed to dance with the Devil.

Despite her brother's rapidly increasing earnings, she felt it a moral obligation to maintain her job as a janitor in Gotham University. She was no Will Hunting, but she did find a particular itch of interest in the fields of sociology and psychology; studies of human condition. The job allowed her to ocasionally lean besides the auditoriums to listen to the lectures of intellectual professors. Her mind was like a sponge, and her curiosity drove her to absorve every drop of information she'd hear, and study it later in her free time.

It was one of those days where she spent some hours off the clock on campus, long done with her cleaning duties yet attentively listening to the lesson behind the door. Had she left on time maybe the butterfly effect that spiraled into the end of her brother's life could have somehow been different. Had she left later, perhaps, something in the trail of events could have flipped a switch to prevent what happened to him. But she didn't, she stayed and listened to a seminar on social conducts and masses, while somewhere in Gotham her brother received punch after punch from the Batman as God's punishment for his temptation and greed.

If the Bat had intended to kill him or not was not of her concern, as intentions didn't free the vigilante from having her brother's blood on his hands. It was while checking the stock of a recently dropped off container in the portion of the port Falcone had used his filthy money to buy that Batman had striked. Her brother tried -in a naive act of loyalty, to defend the property of his employer. Poor boy, forgotten as another dog of the drug world, but to Y/N a victim of his circumstances trying to make the best out of the little life had to offer for them. Died in the hospital as he awaited for interrogation, his insides mashed into a gorey pureé of organs that spat their own blood and failed to survive the brutality of their wounds.

Sure, the Batman may have saved damsels in distress from having their purses snatched by low life thieves, or prevented a hypothetical drug addict from getting another taste of their self-indulgence, but was he really saving people? Doing something worthwhile? For all she knew, all his masked activism was of no use if they had no effect in the long-term and the masses, and in the process took the lives and resources of hard-working low income people. She was no fool, Y/N had obviously assessed the possibility that maybe what happened to her brother was, again, a matter of fate, a divine punishment for succumbing to the desire for easy money. But then again, his motivations were only honest, and he was looking out for his and his family's best interest. What more does a man have to do to be noble and worth of living without being punished for collateral misdoings that are only human?

Falcone had presented his distant condolences in the shape of a young man knocking at her door, offering the drug lord's words of comfort and a pitiful offer for a job in his headquarters at The Penguin's Iceberg Lounge. "A pretty face like yours could be pretty popular." spoke the raspy voice of The Penguin as his grotesquely large fingers held her chin. The Iceberg Lounge didn't belong to Falcone, but his connections allowed him to offer Y/N a job as a waitress in the place. Had she any choice? Not really, with her brother now dead, the income as a janitor was not nearly as much as the inviting sum of tips that sweetened her ear with the same voice of temptation that once spoke to her brother. Besides, she did need the money, and building links -even if they were mostly symbolic, with the Bat's enemies could grant her a closer look to the new channel of all her hatred.

It was once that Y/N begun to work for The Penguin that she fully committed in the sinful night-life. Her entire scheme and survival now relied on crime, sin and immorality. She had now signed her own contract, and indulged fully into the world of darkness and depravity, one that was once unknown to her and was now tied to her identity. She fed off of other's lust and crime, making her a criminal herself. But she no longer felt the fear or rejection for the underworld her brother's job had once made her feel, she now embraced it as her own for the sake of greater motivations. Like a legacy she had chosen to carry on, taking the job got her to quickly see first-hand the very embodiment of hedonism and sheer self-indulgence. The energy in the club was heavy, dark and evil, but Y/N resisted her days through it and engaged in her friendlies as a standard procedure for the night, meeting interesting people in the process.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #the batman #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #cillian murphy #batman rogues #nolanverse batman #slowburn #angst

80 notes · View notes

chuckduckling · 2 years

Text

Okay okay, for realsies now, since I did a QiJiu post on Yue Qingyuan’s feelings for Shen Qingqiu, here are more of my thoughts on SQQ’s affection for YQY.

When I think about what initially drew Shen Jiu to Yue Qi, sparking his loyalty and devotion... I feel like it has something to do with SJ's deep craving for safety.

And by safety, I don't just mean protection. In my other post about YQY, I give some examples for why I don't think SJ saw YQ merely as a source of protection. If anything, he saw himself as YQ's protector, as much as the reverse.

In my opinion, one of SJ's fundamental drives is the desire to feel safe and, just as importantly, a desire to feel like he's around safe people. And by that, I mean the kinds of people who won't take advantage of him or hurt him.

More thoughts and quotes under the cut...

SJ is psychologically scarred into seeing everyone around him as a threat to his safety. Even as a peak lord, with more status and power than the majority of people have, he still feels so insecure that literal children count as potential threats.

Right before the scene where he almost qi deviates, we see how his heart demons have driven him into a deeply paranoid spiral where everyone is out to get him:

Furthermore, Shen Qingqiu had told Ning Yingying thousands of times to stay far away from Luo Binghe and that she wasn’t allowed to get involved with him. So why did he see them every day, whispering together before his eyes? Shen Qingqiu was filled with paranoia; he forever felt like everyone was secretly talking behind his back, discussing how he’d been unable to attain Core Formation even after this long. That it was unbecoming for one in his position. That they hoped to secretly finish him off and replace him.

His visits to the brothel are also explicitly due to the safety and comfort that the women there give him. He finds women nonthreatening compared to men, and he sees them as a refuge from abuse.

All those years, whenever one of his beatings from Qiu Jianluo was over, or whenever he had a premonition of another beating, he had crawled to Qiu Haitang’s room and remained there, quivering. As Qiu Jianluo was unwilling to let his sister see the side of him that was perverse and lunatic, that had been the only place where Shen Jiu could hide. And even longer ago, there had been some girl in their group, their big sis. But after she reached a certain age, that big sis had been sold to a withered old man to be his second wife. Afterward, they’d left that city, so they’d never seen her again. Liking women wasn’t the least bit shameful, but treating women like saviors, cowering within their embrace and seeking courage from them…even without anyone saying it, Shen Qingqiu knew that was horrendously shameful.

Even though YQY is a man, I think SJ's attachment to him is similar to his attachment to the women who make him feel safe. YQY is the kind of person who wouldn't hurt or control SJ the way other men in his life have, and I think SJ has always been attracted to that.

(Also, I talk about why I don't see YQY as a controlling person, even during the times when he and SJ argue, in this meta.)

YQY's temper is generally mild and steady, which balances out SJ's more volatile temper. When SJ criticizes YQ for being "too good of a person", I believe that's actually something he greatly values in him. So much so that, despite scolding him, he prioritizes YQY's safety multiple times across his life, even after YQY breaks his promise, even at the end of his life.

This sister from the PIDW comments section hits the nail on the head:

*whispering, silently floating by* Does anyone here like Sect Leader Yue? I like the gentle top type the most.

In short, I believe Shen Qingqiu is a big fan of 温油攻. And honestly, who can blame him.

#qijiu #svsss #meta #shen qingqiu #shen jiu

167 notes · View notes

vasito-de-leche · 1 year

Text

;NSR DJSS - General Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons and analysis about DJ Subatomic Supernova and other related things.

I got an ask asking for DJSS' love languages (don't worry! working on it!) but then it hit me that I don't think enough about DJSS to talk about love languages right away, so I'm getting this out of my system to try and fleshen out the way I write him!

this might be, a BIT TOO LONG BC I GOT CARRIED AWAY RIGHT FROM THE START BC EVE WAS INVOLVED AND I LOVE HER

The most healthy and solid friendship DJSS has is with Eve.

Eve's post is still fresh on my mind, so it got me thinking about how DJSS and Eve are very similar - like, two sides of the same coin, or two opposites in the same spectrum. But before I get carried away, let's talk about DJSS.

Out of all megastars within NSR, DJSS is very clearly the one with the least amount of connections to other characters, at least in the way he's presented in-game. Like, all of them are connected to NSR and Tatiana because they work for her, that's obvious - but the Sayu Gang have each other, Yinu has her parents, Neon J has 1010, Eve and DK West both have Zuke and Tatiana/NSR respectively. Tatiana has Kliff, the Goolings and Mayday.

DJSS is just. There?

Maybe it's because he's the tutorial boss, but very similarly to Eve, themes of loneliness and not being appreciated enough or understood are prominent in his background. The casettes literally show him spiraling from an underappreciated but very passionate teacher to a very influential but egocentric megastar.

There's just something about how DJSS and Eve share loneliness as a theme. And how both of them also fully embody their work, becoming a personification of their craft and passions so that their self-worth and identity is DIRECTLY tied to how said passions are received and perceived. To others, music and art are simply an extension of themselves, an important part of their lives, not the whole of it. But DJSS and Eve? You can't separate them from their work. Again, the Sayu Gang are a bunch of teens bonding over a shared interest. Yinu is a megastar BECAUSE of her family, not by CHOICE, she plays the piano FOR her deceased father. Neon J is, first and foremost, a war veteran and protector of Vinyl City before he is a musician, even if dancing and music are his passions.

There is also something to be said about how their respective journeys are opposites of each other yet end the same way. They've gotten what they've wanted, but they're stagnant and unfulfilled.

We see DJSS starting as a starry-eyed teacher, thanking the THREE students AND A JANITOR who came to his lessons because he's grateful for anyone who will listen to him. He's using his passion and work to teach others and expand their minds and whatever other cool one-liners he says in his videos and cutscenes. This directly mirrors Eve, who starts as a self-loathing, deeply insecure artist who uses art as a way to cope and vent. (If you read my Eve post, throwback to the duality theme - outside and inside. DJSS is channeling his work to the world, to the outside. He's looking for people who understand him. Nadia is channeling her work to herself, to the inside. She's looking to understand herself.)

The middle part of their whole journey shows a moment of introspection and healing for both of them.

DJSS reconnects with his love for music and the reason he even became a teacher in the first place - not out of love for teaching (which is another point I wanna talk about later in this post) but for a genuine love and intrigue for the universe. After years of trying to get anyone to listen, he finally remembers how it feels to look up at the sky. He finds a way to merge both music and space as a means to further his goal.

Eve heals because she believes she's found someone who can complete her, someone who isn't herself but who can understand and see her just as good. She doesn't hide her pink side, she doesn't hide her face with her hair, she is shown to be very, very lively, excited and intense. This is the moment she realizes she can be understood and loved, all the things she saw as impossible before meeting Zuke. Her art reflects this, she can now focus on something other than hating herself.

(It's very important to me that we remember her heart piece with Zuke is made out of recycled bottles. Both DJSS and Eve were shown to have this thing for helping others - DJSS through teaching and Eve through art.)

And then, their last collectible shows them at their worst.

DJSS has finally managed to be influential enough to have thousands of people actually pay attention to what he's saying. And he explicitly says that, even though he's gotten this far, he feels empty. And he feels empty because all of his work will disappear, because he will be forgotten in a few generations. And we see how music has replaced his love for the universe, it's a subtle shift in which DJSS goes from wanting to learn and teach others about something he's deeply passionate about from wanting his music and hard work to live on forever through space.

There's a metaphor somewhere in there about DJSS' legacy being not his work as a teacher, astrophycisist or even a pillar of the EDM movement - but a few of his songs. Attached to an NSR satellite. Going through the empty void of space.

And then there's Nadia, all alone again. Because she's gotten so comfortable with the idea of being understood, that she expected Zuke to see everything the same way she did, and therefore setting his hair on fire wouldn't be that big of an issue. And this is her worst fear, but it doesn't hurt as much as she thought it would - because she's expected this to happen at some point, even when she was at her happiest with Zuke.

I want to draw a line between this moment and the way their loneliness permeates in their words and actions - DJSS who has tried for years to reach out to like-minded people, finally has an audience that respects him, he still feels unfulfilled and empty. And he further distances himself from everything by setting his sights and his legacy on THE COLD VACUUM OF SPACE. Eve, who has always believed she would end up alone, IS NOW ALONE AND ABANDONED (from her perspective anyways, since it would be unfair to say Zuke was a horrible monster for leaving a relationship this complex) and yet she doubles down on finding someone like her.

DJSS states that no one is able to think like him, no one within NSR shares his ambition nor vision - he's resigned. Eve states that she will bring everyone to her level one way or another - she's desperate. Two sides of the same coin. Two extreme opposites in the same spectrum.

It all boils down to believing that somewhere out there, whether in Vinyl City or the universe, there's someone who can really appreciate them.

The two conceal a sense of inferiority, the difference being that Eve's comes from a place of pure, genuine hatred for herself (if her work can't be understood, she can't be understood. if her work can't be appreciated, she can't be appreciated) and DJSS' comes from a place of blind confidence in his own potential and ideas (if his work cannot be understood, it's because no one has the ability to understand it. if his work cannot be appreciated, it's because no one is sensible enough to appreciate it).

There is also something about how, at their worst and/or when they feel threatened, they seem to switch?

This is most notable in Eve's boss fight, in which she acts condescending and dismissive to both Mayday and Zuke - saying all the things she knows will hurt just for the sake of hurting Zuke. She establishes her superiority over those who can't understand her, similar to how DJSS treats B2J initially. And in DJSS' case, hints of this reversal can be heard in his casettes, already explained above. He somewhat resembles Eve during her final section, a resigned and numb acceptance to being alone.

I think these two would be friends because they would be able to recognize their similarities - not openly address them, mind you, that's too much for either of them to handle - but enough to just chill with each other. There is an underlying feeling of understanding between them, even if all they do is hang out to do superficial things, gossip or rant about work.

And I like to think they're both fine with this arrangement, because sometimes people need relationships that aren't mentally or emotionally exhausting or intense! Sometimes you just need a buddy who shares a similar trauma that neither of you will address and who wants to go bitch about Stacy from HR! It's an unlikely friendship that surprises everyone, but once they stop to think about it, it just makes sense for them to click - at least with the façades they present to the world.

No matter how hard he tries to rebrand, DJSS knows that he'll always be a teacher at heart. Not necessarily a good one, but a teacher anyway.

TOOK ME FUCKING YEARS TO GET TO THIS POINT BUT ANYWAY.

I really like that one post I saw through the NSR tag about how DJSS makes sense as the tutorial boss because he used to be a teacher, we can assume that there was a time in his life where he loved to teach and shape the minds of the future generations. It's a little meta connection that makes sense to me!

And I like to think that this is something that DJSS can't ever get rid of - the need to just teach. It can come across as DJSS not being able to shut his mouth when it comes to telling people why they're wrong and why he's right, but at the end of the day, he's still trying to clarify misconceptions and teach others new things. It just happens through layers and layers of his condescending attitude.

Of course, this also doesn't apply to just teaching, it applies to learning as well.

DJSS strikes me as someone curious and very driven, instead of asking others why, he sets out to find out answers himself - either because it's easier and faster, because he has something to prove, because of he's so full of autism and hyperfixates easily or whatever other reasoning you like the most.

I like the idea of a DJSS who knows his worth and knows he shouldn't bother trying to argue with people who clearly don't care about facts, logic and research, let alone putting the effort to learn or have an open mind - those simpletons who aren't worth his time - but still struggles with keeping his mouth shut.

During his boss fight, he immediately dismisses B2J because they're small fry, they're not even here for him, they're here for inconsequential reasons that he doesn't have time for. Why should he even entertain them? AND THEN HE DOES. HE GETS RILED UP AND JUST GOES ON TO TALK ABOUT HIS ENDEAVORS AND GOALS ANYWAY.

He REALLY reads as a guy who makes the funniest of jokes and can't help but explain them anyway - and he gets away with it most of the time.

Very organized, detail-oriented person, loves routine and to plan things beforehand. DJSS cannot stand spontaneous decisions and has a hard time adapting to sudden changes.

Sometimes it might be easy to forget that DJSS is most likely the smartest member of NSR as a whole, specifically because of the way he acts and presents himself typically - even if he makes a point of constantly reminding others of his intellect and academic achievements. But! Nothing escapes DJSS' keen vision.

Out of other members of NSR, Tatiana trusts DJSS the most to keep up with his responsibilities as charter and many other projects benefitial for the company, like the rocket launch! He's proven time and time again that he's more than competent to be left to his own devices. Even if he doesn't care much for the other megastars, he still shows up on time for meetings and speaks his mind on things that need addressing (that he considers worth addressing, at least), never pulling his punches when offering his opinion.

Literally that kind of annoying coworker that loves to nitpick and someone you don't get along with but who makes the best points and arguments ever.

I like to think this is reflected in his position in Vinyl City - he's the furthest away from the NSR Tower, because he requires little to no supersion at all. He's also closest to the heart of Vinyl City: Festival Plaza and the Grand Qwasa, maybe because he can absolutely take care of any problems that might arise with it.

Even if he's extremely dismissive, DJSS does remember the people he works with - mostly based on their skills and how useful they are, just so he can know who to send away and who to keep around. He doesn't remember your name, but he remembers that you're competent enough to do a quick check on his turntables or other equipment. That sort of thing.

DJSS likes when things go his way, the way he expects things to be, the way he planned them out to be. He thinks of every possible outcome and prepares for it, without going overboard as to hinder his progress. So he can live with someone on his team messing up the rocket launch procedure - because that was already something he expected that would happen, even if he throws a little fit about it. But he can't deal with suddenly being told that someone else will handle the rocket launch entirely - because that's just not a possibility in his mind.

I can see DJSS being a fan of to-do lists or spreadsheets to stay on top of his game. He doesn't need them, he remembers everything he needs to, but hey, it's a fun flex!

I also just remembered one of the interactable things in Cast Tech - a drone that Zuke comments on, saying:

"It must have crashed from all the conflicting signals. DJ Subatomic Supernova really likes the idea of blasting his signal into space..."

Which makes me think that yes, DJSS is great at solving things, he's careful and meticulous, doing anything to ensure his success in whatever he sets out to do - but his tunnel vision makes him careless enough to overlook some of the most obvious things in the world. Like how blasting his own signal might disrupt every other drone in the city or mess with other machines.

And this whole point is totally not me subtly trying to write DJSS in a way that compliments the way I perceive Neon J because I think the ship is fun and their dynamic is even funnier, absoluTELY NOT LETS MOVE ON

Cast Tech is the most academic district in Vinyl City. Basically paradise for nerds.

The same way Eve supports the arts in Dream Fever by having a lot of galleries and art studios, it makes sense that DJSS would support academic endeavors by having schools and other academic institutions, funding people's research and etc. It's another little thing that ties in with his background as a teacher.

In-game, Cast Tech is basically a short main road with two or three paths that lead to small areas. It's very lackluster compared to the rest of districts and I blame that on the way the game is structured, showing the boss first and then the district - plus the fact that DJSS is the tutorial boss so by proxy, he gets less content. But it's serviceable enough for the main plot in the game, which is to show us that NSR can be superficial, shallow and careless company.

And I'd like to argue that, maybe, the area Mayday and Zuke go through within Cast Tech, is not meant to be representative of the entire district. It feels more like an area meant for tourists or general NSR propaganda that ended up flopping massively because people weren't that interested?

DJSS is a megastar, sure, but he's not shown being that much of a public figure outside of advertisement. Compare him to any other member - Sayu and 1010's popularity rely on their fanbase, because they're public figures. Eve is an artist, we also see her dabble in all types of art, not just music, even fashion! Yinu is a literal child, but she's still in advertisements for healthy food and drinks.

Did you notice how Cast Tech and Club Planetarium are the only places that lack NPCs? Unique NPCs to be more exact, like Celine in Dream Fever, Mia in Festival Plaza, Yiruk in Metro Division, etc. People who most likely live there?

Once again, DJSS is an outlier. It makes sense to me that, even though this area has a statue of him and a store selling products based on him, literally just revolving around him, playing his advertisements and etc it's not... That important overall within his district. Even the Planetarium where he hosts concerts has a bunch of small stores outside, nothing grand. Even though it's HIS district, he's NOT the focus, ironically.

I would love to get into details about how the actual district works and what goes around, but I dropped out of my bachelor's degree and I don't know enough about science to get super in-depth about it! So anyone who DOES know or wants to develop this more, feel free!

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr djss #nsr headcanons #dj subatomic supernova #is this post anything guys #its like FOUR bullet points #i was also thinking. DJSS feels like a guy who would. in fact. dissociate #a lot #not in that “haha oops. got lost there” way but. actually dissociate. guy doesnt feel here nor real. struggles to stay in the moment #but masks it well enough

41 notes · View notes

mindotaur · 4 months

Text

I find it interesting that syscovery is very rarely linear. Here’s a long post about discovering, rediscovering and accepting our system, filled with mushy feelings at the end because I am quite the sentimental one.

content warning for self-destructive behavior, though we don't go into too much detail about what that was

We’ve mentioned in our writing and in some previous posts how we’ve always been overtly plural, we just didn’t know that was a thing. I remember being seven and interacting with Lim, playing with her when we were alone. I would always talk to myself out loud, sometimes we had verbal disagreements that made our family look at us funny – and that’s how our brother gave us the nickname Sméagol.

There are many memories that we can only explain now that we know about our plurality, now that we have the language to describe what was happening to us. We had flashbacks we thought were hauntings, alters known by name to our friends and partner at the time (who we notably described as ‘the other me’), impulsive and self-destructive behaviors we didn’t always understand because we were missing part of the puzzle, terrible memory gaps that we tried to explain away as being a byproduct of alcoholism (never mind the fact that we started drinking to cope with the memory gaps, not the other way around), and more… less than stellar things. The true sauce on the disordered burger, if you will.

Giselle, one of our previous hosts, found a forum online that talked about DID in the 2000s and she was like “holy shit, that’s me/us!” and tried to get support for our system as a teenager. The trouble is that we lived in a small town with truly shitty mental health professionals who only traumatized us further, and Lim (our primary protector at the time) knew we weren’t ready to deal with the DID. She essentially forced Giselle into dormancy and we completely forgot that DID even existed.

Did that stop the voices, the discussions, the flashbacks, the blackouts? Did it stop our mother from talking about how we “seemed like a completely different person from moment A to moment B”? Absolutely not. We just lost the means to explain it to ourselves and others, and so we were certain we were psychotic. We began to describe the sensation of dissociation as “I think I’m hallucinating”, because the voices would get more intense and our vision would get blurry. Suppressing the system made the cacophony louder, increased headaches and sensitivities, increased self-destructive behavior to the maximum.

We moved states, went to university, had a terribly traumatic relationship as adults and spiraled out of control. We were in another relationship when our partner told us we needed therapy because things were absolutely unmanageable, and they were right. We started seeing our therapist and regularly visiting the psychiatrist, taking medications as prescribed and searching for a name for what was wrong with us.

The first thing we were diagnosed with was schizoaffective bipolar disorder, explaining the apparent psychosis and the episodes of mania and depression that we had since adolescence. Except the antipsychotics didn’t do anything about the voices, they didn’t stop the dissociation, they just acted as mood regulators. Schizoaffective was crossed off after a while.

It took us two years of weekly therapy, at times bi-weekly, and several medication adjustments until we gained any form of stability. We moved out of our family’s home and found our first “real” job, and that’s when the memory gaps got worse. We had our own money, our own time, and access to the entire big city we were now living in. Unbeknownst to us, Giselle was back from her dormancy and ready to make up for the years she had lost, so we were partying every week, I had fresh tattoos I had no memory of getting or even planning for, clothes I didn’t remember buying, money absolutely could not stay in my account.

Giselle was also what you may call a sexual protector, so we would black out during very specific instances, such as visits to the gynecologist. One time I remember I was in the elevator of the obgyn’s clinic, I dissociated, and suddenly I was in a completely different part of town with a bag of goodies she had bought from a street vendor.

I can’t tell you what it was like from her point of view, but for me it was absolutely disorienting. We started seeing a different psychiatrist and we got diagnosed with DID, but a lot of the support we got came from the online community of systems willing to explain things in layman’s terms. Our psychologist is trauma-educated but she had never worked with a system before, so we learned together, and she’s an absolute gem.

It wasn’t easy at first. I used to fight every switch, to be terrified of losing control, particularly to Giselle because she was so wild and irresponsible. I didn’t understand then that she was wild because she was locked away and repressed for so long, I didn’t know I was making it worse. Sometimes when we switched it would last upwards of 40 minutes, and I would know we were switching because of the terrible headache and anxiety that would come with it.

Time isn’t something easy for us to track, so I can’t tell you how long it was until I accepted Giselle and she accepted that her actions had consequences. We established a truce, then a friendship. The headaches went away and we could switch intentionally. It was around that time that other system members started showing themselves, and we began to actively work on improving our communication and memory-sharing.

For the first year of this, our now-wife would attend therapy with us and help fill in the gaps where I couldn’t remember things. Eventually, we were able to return to solo therapy sessions and our psychologist started working with one of us at a time, depending on who would front that day. We missed a lot of sessions because we forgot about them, but our therapist is an angel and she never gave up on us.

I remember one of my earlier thoughts about recovery being “I don’t want to be alone”. I was scared of Giselle and whoever else I may not know about, yes, but I had Lim – and I didn’t want to lose Lim, she’d always been with me. When we learned about functional multiplicity, we all agreed it was the way to go.

I don’t know how many hours we put into journaling, planning, talking with our partners and friends, endless therapy sessions, exploring different hobbies, making and testing playlists that would help each of us front, finding out what our positive and negative triggers were, exploring the inner world… it’s been years of hard work to get to the fluid communication we have now.

Giselle eventually fused with Roland. I grew to love them both, and I love who they became together. August is an absolute sweetheart. I can look back now and see everywhere the others helped us survive, every hurdle we overcame together, and it fills me with the deepest love and appreciation for them. We’re a rather large system and I love almost every one of us. There’s one still stuck in abusive trauma cycles, but he’s been getting quieter and we hope to get him to come around.

Overall, we’ve achieved functional multiplicity. We can work, we have a healthy marriage, we have friends, we own a house… we still have some issues (example: our social anxiety got worse during the pandemic), but we’re working through them together and helping each other every step of the way. Lim learned to let go and not be overprotective now that we’re no longer in an actively traumatic situation, we’ve learned to be more flexible with our roles, even if some of us still find them very useful, and we’re almost always cofronting. Switches are easier, we have less episodes of one of us getting frontstuck, almost no flashbacks or dissociative seizures unless we’re in specific high-stress situations… I don’t know, it’s good.

I love my system. I love finding out who we can become together. I love our friends who accept us for who we are, I love being open about us with more and more people. I wish we’d suffered less; I wish the road had been easier, but I would not trade them for anything in the world.

I don’t know if I had a point with this. I was just remembering our journey so far and I needed to get the feelings on paper. I don’t know if this will be particularly helpful to anyone, and we are notably bad at giving advice, so just accept this as a testimony to our lived experience. I am so proud of my system and myself for our growth and recovery I need to shout it from the rooftops.

What I can say is this: if you’re a disordered system and you’re just starting to figure things out, be patient with yourselves. Put in the work to get to where you want to be. It’s so incredibly worth it.

#plurality #pluralgang #dissociative identity disorder #traumagenic system #endo safe #endo friendly #ryan

9 notes · View notes

jknighttoku10 · 7 months

Text

Lexamus-prime: THE DANGEROUS ZAXIS-MAN!!!

LEXAMUS-PRIME/THE DANGEROUS ZAXIS-MAN

NAME: LEXAMUS-PRIME.

HUMAN NAME: Zack Torres.

Other names: Green boy (Hate’s that name), The dark avenger, King of the beasts, Animal, destroyer, protector, Child of the monster. Death, Monster king, The lethal protector. L.P. Hatchling.

Code name: Zaxis-man or GOJIRA CONVOY.

Real name: Lexa Zaxis.

Alignment: Maximal (good, anti hero)

Full robot mode hight: 40 m.

Human size height: 7 feet 6 inches (229 cm)

Human form height: 5'9” (1.75 m)

Alt modes: transmetal 2Gojisauras, human, turbo semi Truck, flight mode/jet.

Strength: 9.0

Intelligence: 10.0

Speed: 8.0

Endurance: 9.0

Rank: 10.0

Courage: 8.0

Firepower: 10.0

Skill: 9.0

Weapons (both cybertronian/full robot and hi-q/human size and beast mode ) : Combat Swords, shield gun, morph gun, combat claws/bone claws, teeth and tail, main sword the Primal Rage, shoulder cannons, arm sword and sawblade, chains(they work like spawn’s, venom’s and ghost riders) , cannons from trailer drone.

Powers and Abilities(both cybertronian/full robot and hi-q/human size and beast mode ): Atomic breath, spiral heat ray, radiation heat ray, durability,prehensile tail, tail spikes, anti-flash protective membrane for swimming, symbiosis, nuclear pulse, durability(not that strong against certain weapons), intelligence (he holds it back sometimes because of his anger and doubt), Amphibiousness, Physical abilities, Plasma Cutter(spiked tail attack), copy ability/power configuration.(on weapons and vehicles only)

Likes: His team/family, meeting new people, being called by his real name and/or human name by his friends, 80’s and 90’s music, Hanging with others, exploring places that are new to him, relaxing, and swimming in the ocean. Seeing others happy and safe (that includes the people of the planet he protects) Food, reading, tinkering with his stuff(weapons, computers and gadgets), Learning new things.Kirby. Dislikes: Seeing those he knows or who are innocent and can’t defend themselves get harmed or worse, psychos, greedy and corrupt people and soldiers, those who talk bad about him and his friends and family. power hungry villains, poachers, the Predacons, some members of his team pickering and arguing, being lied to and secrets being kept from him and people trying to kill him and his friends and family. Those who use those he knows as bait.

Personality: Lexamus is a bot who has problems but tries not to let them get to him. He cares for his team even if they occasionally drive him crazy. Knows how to have fun(sometimes). He stands up for others who can’t stand up for themselves. He is still an anti hero. But all of that he struggles as a person always scared to let others new to Him in and is bad at talking to people sometimes, but he loves to try new things even its unknown to Him and his anger doubt and past will sometimes get the best of him when it comes to himself and/or others around Him.(if they get hurt our worse he will get really mad and show how angry He just like the doom slayer) He is learning to improve His skills on science and combat even tracking from those He meet, but some people See Him as a dark hero, a monstrous brute full of rage when fighting but on the inside, He is A person who’s strong enough to be gentle in his own way. And he prefers not to join parties (sometimes) he just likes to run around and leap and explore the jungle, cities and look at the night skies. Reading, tinkering.

Back story: Back on cybertron Lexa and his twin brother were trained by the mighty Grimlock before and then Dai-atlas one of the great swordsmen of crystal city at a young age but then. The cruel Elitist Sentinel prime ordered His scientist to force Lexa and His brother and other children to be a part of the power master program to beat the Decepticons. The experiment worked but Lexa struggles to take the lives of those who weren't a part of the war even questions His commanders orders but he suffered hard abuse from him and forced to take lives of any age made Lexa sick to his stomach. but after Sentinel prime’s death and after they left to Earth Lexa Took the form of earth’s most powerful creature GODZILLA form before he saw humans where no better than the Decepticons and corrupt Autobots he served under after seeing the wars, pollution and abuse on the planet. he and his team let their anger out on the humans to respect their new home but then was chosen by Optimus primal’s energon matrix to become Lexamus-prime and put his selfish rage and anger aside to protect the humans he hates from the true enemy The Predacons lead by the current leader of the Predacons and Decepticons. Megatron Zero. but he still struggles with his anger and past and doubts.

Teammates/Family: Groundspike/Luke(best friend and advisor) , Aliza/nora, Zontrax/kenny (adopted son), Red-dog/Johnny, Straxes/Wu, Leonix/Mike, Zora/Mei, Amelia-q, T-AI, Quickswitch/Jeff , Blaze Saber/Joey ,Blue, Delta, charlie,Echo(the zilla sisters). Huaman (human sister).

#lexamus-prime #hasbro #toho #godzilla #transformers #tokusatsu #art #maccadam #chains #J-knight artwork #j comics #super hero #anti hero #kaiju

11 notes · View notes

quiverwingquack · 1 year

Text

our lives are made in these small hours(these little wonders)

Drake is a hero. St Canard's brave protector, the strongest superhero this side of Audubon Bay, the scourge of the city's criminal scum. He should be totally fine until Launchpad gets back from his latest adventure, and yet... he finds himself too anxious to sleep. Too worried about not being enough to protect his family.

And he's not the only one.

“Just try and get some rest, okay?” Launchpad’s voice crackles through the phone, weak with static and poor signal. “We’re flying out in a few minutes, and I’ll be home before you know it!”

“I know,” Drake replies. He’s clutching the landline to his ear, the white cord spiraling off into the darkness of the empty tower. His cell phone never seems to connect right when he calls LP long-distance, and he finds himself sitting on the kitchen floor far too often. “I’ll see you soon, just like always. It’s gonna be fine.”

Far, far too often.

Launchpad loves adventures just as much as he loves hero work, and Drake would never stop him from going. He loves the light in LP’s eyes when he talks about the latest treasure they’ve found, or the newest friends he’s made, and they spend plenty of time doing things together when he is in St. Canard. But that doesn’t stop Drake’s heart from aching when they’re apart, from feeling lonely even though he’s not alone.

“I love you,” Launchpad’s voice softens, and Drake knows his dark, beautiful eyes are getting that anxious look that he knows too well. “I just worry about you. You can take care of yourself, I know, it’s just… I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I know, LP. I love you too,” Drake sighs, leaning back against the cabinets. He doesn’t mean to sound upset or to worry his partner. Logically, he knows they’ll be fine, and they’ve always been fine before, but the anxiety doesn’t seem to know that. Or care, really. His hands are still shaking a little and he has to call upon his acting skills to still them. “We’ll be fine, and I’ll see you tomorrow when you get here. I’m just… it—I always sleep better when you’re next to me. That’s all.”

“Aww, Drake.” LP says, his voice melting into a softer, gentler tone. “I promise I’ll be there soon. And I’ll stay with you as long as you want.”

Drake can’t stop himself from smiling, despite the heartache. “Yeah? I—I’d really like that. I’ll do my best to get some sleep, I promise. G’night, LP.”

“G’night, Deedubya. I love ya!”

The line cuts out, static giving way to silence, and Drake is left alone in the moonlit kitchen. For a moment, he just clings to the receiver, eyes following the pale, spiraling cord until it disappears into the shadows. Launchpad always makes him feel better, whether they’re holding hands or a million miles apart. Everything will be better in the morning.

He looks around the room for a moment, taking a deep breath to ground himself. WANDA’s monitor has been quiet for hours, and they’ve barely had any alerts this week. And though it feels as though something is lurking in every shadowy corner, the tower is quiet tonight. Drake can rest for a few hours, and get some proper sleep when Launchpad is beside him again.

It’s not that he can’t sleep without Launchpad, because there are plenty of nights where LP finds himself crashing in Duckburg, whether for family game night or Woodchuck troop events or just plain post-adventure exhaustion. And on those nights, Drake can at least sleep well enough, because he knows LP’s safe. On nights when LP is an ocean away, it’s harder to reassure himself, and he ends up tossing and turning thinking about what if something’s gone wrong or he’s going to get hurt or—

He should probably get to bed now, or he’ll overthink himself into a spiral again.

Drake hauls himself to his feet, stifling a yawn, and reluctantly returns the phone to its cradle. If he’s lucky, he’ll fall asleep soon, and his anxiety will finally give it a rest. And if nothing else, he can distract himself better in the morning. Maybe he’ll bake a welcome-home cake or something, if Gosalyn will help him remember to add the milk.

He heads down the hall quietly, stepping around the creaky spots on the floor, and quietly makes his way to Gosalyn’s door. It’s half-open, pouring the soft gold light from one of Drake’s vintage Darkwing night lights onto the hallway floor, and as he peers inside, he realizes she’s not asleep either.

She’s all but buried herself in her blankets, sitting up in bed and staring blankly at the bare sheets in front of her. Even in the soft light, he can see that she’s shaking, and he forgets instantly he was doing something. Instead, he raises his hand and taps his knuckles against the door, catching her attention with a soft knock.

“Dad?” She murmurs, sitting up a little straighter. One of her blankets slips from her shoulders, falling to the floor as she pretends she’s perfectly fine. “Hey. Sup.”

“I just wanted to check on you,” he explains, then gestures to her hair, tangled from tossing and turning. “Nightmare?”

“Yeah….” She admits, rubbing her eyes as if to shake off the memories. “M’fine though. Jus’ the Ramrod thing again.”

“You know, it’s okay if you’re still worried about it,” he steps into the room, and she wiggles free from her blanket cocoon, making room for him to sit beside her. “I still have nightmares about that fight sometimes, and I’m not the one that had to blow it all up.”

“It feels dumb,” she mutters, looking away. “Like… I know I’m safe. Bulba’s in prison and you’re here and the tower’s really secure, so nobody can hurt me, but—I don’t know! It’s just—it’s like all the shadows are gonna want to fight me and take everything away again. And I just—I just don’t wanna….”

“Aw, Gos.”

As she trails off, he sets a comforting hand on her shoulder. He never knows what to do when his daughter mourns the family she couldn’t save—sometimes, there’s nothing he can do—but then she says things like you’re here and it feels like maybe, it’s enough to just be here with her.

“You’re okay, I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you or take anything away.”

Her usually-bright green eyes turn to look at him, wide with worry. “Even—even you? I… I don’t wanna lose you too.”

“Gos,” he says, trying to ignore how much that sounds like his own anxiety. Instead, he opens his arms to offer a hug, and she quickly takes it, wrapping her arms around Drake tightly. “I promise it’ll be okay, kiddo. I’ll be right here, and you’ll be okay. We’re safe.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, voice muffled as she clings to him. “I’m—I’m okay. Um, but can—can you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Of course. I’ve got you.” he strokes her hair soothingly. “Just take a deep breath, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” her voice sounds so small, as if she’s three instead of thirteen. He loves his daughter, and he knows she’s strong and capable. But sometimes there are moments, little and quiet ones, where he remembers she’s still just a kid who’s lost so much. He gives her a moment to breathe, and then, in the softest voice he can, he begins to sing.

“Rest your head, little girl blue, come paint your dreams on your pillow….”

He sings her lullaby for a while, improvising gentle verses until she finally falls asleep and he can tuck her in. He makes sure she’s cozy in her blankets, safe and sound like he promised her, and for a moment, just watches over her. She’s more peaceful now, and he sends a silent plea to the nightmares. Please, just leave her alone and let her sleep well tonight.

Eventually, though, his own exhaustion catches up to him. He drags himself to his feet again, finally making his way to his own bedroom and empty bed. The lonely ache in his chest rushes back full-force when he steps inside, the familiar smell of motor oil and smoke clinging to their whole bedroom. He reaches for one of his partner’s forgotten T-shirts as pajamas for the night, and tries to ignore the vacant half of the mattress when he lies down.

Launchpad will be fine, he insists to himself. He’ll be home before dinner tomorrow, and they’ll go out to get takeout and hold hands while waiting in line. Drake will hug him so tight it feels like his missing piece pops back in place, and everything will be alright. It always is!

It always is.

But… what if it isn’t?

The nagging doubt has crept back in, and now there’s truly nothing left to distract him from the spiral. What if LP just never comes home? What if he’s left for good, and Drake has to go on alone? He couldn’t do it, he can’t be a hero or a dad or even an actor on his own! Every time something’s gone well for him, LP’s been there to share it, if he never comes home Drake’s life is going to fall apart!

Or what if something happens? What if he’s hurt or trapped right now and he needs Drake but Drake can’t get to him because he doesn’t know? What if they’ve crashed the plane and gotten lost on some uncharted island and Drake never gets to say goodbye? What if—what—

Hey, it’s okay, Launchpad’s voice rings out in Drake’s mind, a well-loved memory. I’ve got you. Just take a deep breath, okay?

In… hold… out…

You’re okay, I promise.

In… he’s okay. Out… in… he’s safe. He’s… he’s going to be okay.

He’s always going to be okay.

Launchpad will come home tomorrow. He always does. Nothing bad has happened, and nothing’s going to. LP is brave, braver than Drake’s ever been, he’s the strongest person Drake knows—except maybe Gizmoduck, but he doesn’t count—and he’s smart enough to rebuild airplanes in his sleep, probably.

Plus, Gos is clever and quick, she can find a way out of any situation. She’s twice as confident as Drake is, and could face any foe even if he wasn’t ready himself. She already has before! She can take care of herself—they can both take care of themselves—if they need to. And with their help Drake’s the hero of St Canard. He’s Darkwing Duck, and he always gets back up!

They’re going to be just fine. They’ll get each other through whatever they need to.

He starts thinking about what-ifs again, tossing and turning, but none of the new worries stick around long. What if someone attacks the tower? He and Gos can… outsmart them. Or—if LP gets hurt out there, he’ll just… get back up again. They all do, don't they? They… always get… get back up again….

Drake wakes with his face squished into one of LP’s pillows. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but must have at some point, because dawn light is beginning to creep in between the curtains. The dull gray light tickles his feathers, poking at his eyes painfully, and he rubs them as he wakes. It’s barely past sunrise, what could have—

“Good morning,” a wonderfully familiar voice murmurs. He tilts his head, and sure enough, Launchpad is sitting beside him, kicking off his boots. “Sleepyhead.”

“G’morning,” he murmurs with a grin. He’s probably a mess right now, all ruffled feathers and morning breath, and he doesn’t care at all. “What’re… you’re back early, huh? What’s that about?”

“Oh, I, uh,” LP rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, pulling off his cap. “I got worried about you, and I wanted to hurry home. I know you guys can handle yourselves! I just… wanted to be here.”

“Aww, LP,” he yawns. “Me too. It’s like… you’re okay on your own, but I’d rather be together.”

“Exactly,” LP grins, and it feels like he lights up the room more than the early sunshine does. He leans in for a kiss, and it tastes sweeter than sugar. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Drake blushes, almost overwhelmed with feeling loved, as if yesterday’s heartache never happened at all. “‘M glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” LP replies, reaching for something comfier to change into. His now-discarded jacket reeks of gasoline, splotched and dirty on one side, and Drake already knows there was a plane crash involved. But he can only handle so many sleepy worries, and decides to hold off on asking about it until later.

Besides, his partner is getting into bed with him now, and he can finally rest. He lays his head over LP’s heart, and LP puts an arm around his waist, and everything feels… perfect. He still reeks of smoke and oil, of chaos and adventure and home. It feels so safe, so peaceful and loving, that Drake forgets he was ever worried about anything at all.

#duckverse #ducktales #darkwing duck #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #gosalyn mallard #drakepad #fanfic #jay's fics #mine!#i no longer have the ask(thank u tumblr) but this was a prompt from an anon!#it was for “i always sleep better when youre next to me” with drake and lp #also happy birthday launchpad!!! we love you launchpad!!!

28 notes · View notes

theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

Text

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 27

Every wind that blew through the forest carried a phantom with it. Every shadow, Nesta swore was Cassian creeping closer out of the corner of her eye. A paranoia festered within her in the days that followed the Winter Solstice.

With her gifts, Orla had done something to the bond. Nesta no longer consciously felt it. If she sought out that strange bridge leading her to Cassian, she could still touch it like a numb limb lacking feeling. She never delved further down it. She never wanted to find Cassian at the opposite end.

Another wind curled through the undergrowth, raising fragments of dried leaves into the air with it. Nesta stopped in her tracks, sure she heard the beat of wings. She’d thought that a dozen times already that morning.

Treading carefully over the carpet of leaves that was dappled by the morning sunlight, Eris stopped in front of her. ‘Did I wake you up too early, my love?’

He touched her cheek, warm fingers making her skin tingle.

‘I just keep thinking-’

His fingers touched her lips. ‘It’s not. I’ve warded the area. The dogs would detect his scent. You are safe.’

‘For now.’

To give her hands something to do, Nesta brushed them down her grey skirt. Her palms were clammy but cold. They were always cold when her magic was used.

Eris took hold of them, engulfing them in heat. A flame spiralled around his hands to heat them quicker. ‘Nothing will happen tomorrow. You will be safe.’

A letter had arrived in Rhysand’s elegant script with his sigil sealing the envelope. They requested a meeting in the Hewn City. Not about the bond, she was relieved to read, but to meet Orla. For a while, Nesta had worried over Eris’ loyalties if chaos erupted. He and Orla had spent five centuries as friends. He’d pull her out to safety first. Eris tutted those silly ideas away. Niamh would be in attendance as Orla’s wild protector, if needed – the sisterly bond more powerful than the Archeron’s. Eris would guard Nesta. Ashur and a number of the smoke hounds, with their keen senses, would come as an extra layer.

The thought of going there made her magic rise up in her chest like when a stone is thrown into a bucket of water. It sloshed up the sides, ready to spill out.

‘Focus,’ said Eris in a soft voice, noticing the sudden shift in her magic.

He sent a long ribbon of red fire into the air. It moved slowly, undulating in its path as it flew, before turning gold. Nesta eased out a thicker bolt of silver flame that raced to keep pace with his. Often her magic sputtered out, unused to moving at a slower pace or maintaining it. They had been practising her manipulation of it.

Once, she had teased Eris about his plans, claiming he probably had it all documented. He did. His cheeks had turned pink when he had shown her his copious notes on their training, detailing every little success she had made. He was wonderful.

His magic came to coil around hers so the twin flames flowed together against the backdrop of the forest. She loved to watch their magic dance together. They complimented each other beautifully, one silver flame, one like spun gold. One day, Nesta would become a master of flame like Eris, but for now, she was content to lean against his chest as her flame fizzled out. His continued on, gathering speed until it split into a shower of sparks that rained down on them, never harming. Her husband had another ribbon of flame wrap around them that grew in size until it took flight in the form of a great burning phoenix. Its fiery wings pulsed as it soared higher into the sky then it swooped low over the smoke hounds, purposefully, to set them racing after it.

Eris shucked out a laugh, watching them barrel after his phoenix.

‘Did they ever exist?’

‘Once. A long time ago,’ he replied, wrapping his arms around her chest and resting his chin on her shoulder. ‘Mortals hunted them. All of your stories once were truth.’

‘Even the ones about faeries stealing us away?’

Nesta let out a little shriek as Eris hauled her into his arms. ‘Especially that one.’

He covered her neck with sloppy kisses, making her chortle with unrestrained laughter. The sound tugged the dogs from their pursuit of the phoenix so they leapt at Eris and he lifted her even higher so their muddy paws didn’t touch her dress.

For a while, her husband continued carrying her and Nesta was content to remain curled up in his arms. She couldn’t help but imagine Eris as a father, no longer having to bury the kind parts of him, playing with his children and creating little creatures from flame for them to marvel at. The Mother knew that even Nesta was captivated at night on the balcony when he conjured butterflies of flames or swooping birds. Her eyes slid to his beautiful face. Nesta’s mind had wandered down a path that she couldn’t stop treading as she thought of her own children. They would be with Eris, of course. She couldn’t imagine a life without him.

‘You remind me of a phoenix. Always rising from the ashes. Rising through it all,’ he said softly, before setting her back on her feet.

If Nesta had been worried that the bond might drive a wedge between her and Eris, she was woefully wrong. It had brought them closer, so they acted like two limpets. In the days that had followed the Solstice, Nesta had rarely any time away from Eris. She’d accompanied him for an army inspection, to a dinner with one of his father’s lesser lords, and in every free moment. The only time they’d been forced to separate was in a council meeting which Eris knew not to argue with Beron over.

Instead, Nesta had spent the time practising her needlework with her mother-in-law in silence – or it appeared that way to the guards. Eliška had pressed into her mind so they spoke freely across a mental bridge while dutifully embroidering cushions under the watchful eyes of her guards. Nesta pleaded with her mother-in-law to forgive Eris for what he had done to Phelan, explaining what had happened to turn his mood so sour. At one point, her fingers had twitched as if they were about to reach for Nesta’s then knew they couldn’t with so many eyes on them. If Beron got wind that there was a relationship developing, he’d put a stop to it. For now, Eliška and her daughter-in-law appeared like two cold acquaintances, barely exchanging more than a polite greeting as they were forced to occupy a room, engrossed in their sewing.

Back in their rooms, Eris lay on the rug tossing an apple between his nimble hands while Nesta read. Maceo had set her the task of writing an essay comparing the classification of lesser faeries across the seven courts of Prythian and it was proving a challenge. Eris was her source for the Autumn Court, but for the others, she had to delve into his vast library of histories.

‘I’m sure I wrote that exact essay five hundred years ago.’

Nesta raised a brow. ‘It is surely dust by now.’

He touched two fingers over his heart. ‘You wound me. I am a spry, young fox still.’

‘How will it be when I am your age. Will you be any more than bones?’

‘I give you permission to kill me when I grow too old and ugly for you, my darling wife.’

She flicked a page over to a section about the lineage of the Dawn Court’s high lords. ‘Maybe I’ll find myself a new model.’

Eris crawled to her to raise the hem of her dress. His lips pressed against her calf. ‘You will be hard pushed to find a male as beautiful as me.’ Another kiss against the curve of her muscle then he was sliding her skirts all the way up her thighs.

‘We are expected at dinner soon.’

Warm fingers kneaded the flesh of her thighs to tease. His head was buried beneath her skirts so Nesta knew there was no chance of talking sense into her husband.

‘I’ll have the first course now.’

Another kiss was pressed against the thin material of her underwear which made her breath hitch.

‘I need to write my essay.’

‘I’ll dictate. You write.’

‘That’s cheating,’ she breathed as his fingers slipped into the waistband and pulled them down.

His tongue swept against her core so all arguments dissolved. Any thoughts that Nesta had been clinging to slipped between her fingers.

This male had enchanted her, body and soul.

***

Like a thread pulled too tight, Eris was ready to snap. For his wife, he gave a reassuring smile and extended an arm for her to take before winnowing to the Court of Nightmares. Her hand was cold, as cold as the grave, against his skin. Although Nesta had got better at keeping her defence up, her eyes gave away the unease that rattled in her bones. Those beautiful, storm cloud eyes swirled like a maelstrom. The only one of their group who did seem at ease was Niamh because she was too insane to care for danger, it only ever excited her. She had been positively frothing at the mouth in the build-up to visiting the Hewn City. Where other females would crumble in the place, Niamh would surely flourish.

A different room was selected for their purpose that day rather than the usual one in the Hewn City. They’d been led down quiet tunnels, away from any prying eyes with such a large contingent from the Autumn Court. Did the high lord not trust his subjects to hold their tongues?

Eris kept Nesta close to try and calm both of their unsteady hearts. Orla remained at Ashur’s side with two smoke hounds flanking them. Niamh made up the rear, swaggering along without a hint of fear. She’d love a fight.

The whole rotten group was assembled, even Amren. At their entry, Eris noticed that Cassian’s wings tucked in tight to his spine, but he made a conscious effort not to look at Nesta – and she did the same. That was the best outcome any of them could hope for. Elain had certainly been doing the same to Lucien for the last couple of years.

‘Hello,’ she said in a clear, but quiet voice.

Eris swept her slightly behind him, shielding her out of habit as he took the lead. ‘Night Court. Allow me to present your salvation, Orla.’

The healer swept her head low in greeting then pushed her thick braid over one shoulder.

‘Hello stranger,’ came Lucien’s voice.

Orla, always welcoming, always gentle, gave a warm smile to Lucien then he moved first until they were face to face in the high-ceilinged room. Her arms went around him then his tightened around her. Orla tucked her face against his, savouring his touch.

He had once been as much her younger brother as Eris’. He remembered bringing little Lucien along with him when he met with Saban, and Orla would lead Lucien out into shallow streams to catch frogs or have him stood on a chair teaching him to bake. There were times when he’d fall asleep in her lap with a story book propped up on her knee or she’d put him on a pony and lead him around the garden even if he couldn’t reach the stirrups.

When they peeled apart, she held his face, examining all of the changes that had occurred since she had last seen Lucien. Her thumb traced along his brutal scar, lips pressing together. If Orla had been in the vicinity, Eris knew she’d have been able to do more – maybe not save the eye, but at least prevent most of the scarring.

‘Lovely Lucien,’ she breathed.

‘Move over. It’s my turn.’

Before either could react, Niamh barged her hip against Orla’s then threw herself against him. He was polite enough to embrace her.

‘I had such an infatuation with Lucien,’ Niamh announced, oblivious to the tension in the room - or his attempts at escape. ‘Oh, you had me writing poetry to try and get you into bed.’

Lucien made a choking noise then tried to prise his arm out of her grip, but a smile curled Niamh’s lips and she held on tightly – a lot like a cat bearing down on a mouse.

‘There was once a male of good stock, Who charmed the females at the dock. In his blood, there was fire, and all females desire, Lucien’s massive c-’

At the same time, Orla, Eris, and Nesta all barked Niamh’s name to try and reel her back into order. It was little wonder that Ashur’s teeth hadn’t cracked from gritting them in his attempts to not laugh.

Poor Lucien had turned the colour of a tomato – his pretty, little mate in corner had too. Niamh might have done Lucien a favour with her poem though.

Rhys blinked at the sight of Niamh in her too long skirt, mismatched and scuffed shoes, and the hair that could do with a good brushing. ‘What have you brought to my court?’

‘Name’s Niamh. Autumn Court. Orla’s little sister. Bit of a menace but she’s never locked me in a house to try and cure me, thank the Mother.’

Nesta’s eyes went wide.

Across the room, Mor scoffed, ‘Maybe she should have.’

Niamh wasn’t one to back down. Maybe it was a bad idea to bring her, Eris thought with a sudden plummeting feeling dropping through him. She was like a terrier that would never come to heel.

‘You piss your pants each time your failed engagement is mentioned so I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut before I say something that really ruins your life.’

‘That is enough,’ murmured Eris, catching Niamh’s eye.

He didn’t need that betrothal brought out like dirty laundry. A tongue licked against Niamh’s lips. Her smile was difficult to quell. Niamh had never cared who she spoke against, her spine was strong enough to stand any words – plus she was a quick runner if she needed to flee.

Mor had gone pale, but she did open her mouth to speak then stopped. Across the table, Eris noticed Rhys lay a hand against her own – and at the other end, Orla had given Niamh a hard pinch on her thigh to stop her from talking.

Somebody pushed out a breath in the otherwise silent cavern. The throb of Eris’ own pulse echoed in his ear. He kept glancing to Nesta, ensuring she was still beside him, despite the feel of her thigh pressing against his.

‘I can heal that for you.’

Orla spoke gently in a soothing tone meant for an injured animal or an infant. Eris had heard her use it many times on the dying.

Beside him, Nesta had tensed. Her eyes were fixed upon the shadow singer. Exposed on his bare wrist was a strange, charred burn where he hadn’t fully fulfilled his portion of their magical deal. It served him right, Eris thought, for not bringing Nesta straight home on that cold December morning.

Torn between wanting to shield his mauled hands and wanting to prove that Orla was safe to be near Feyre Archeron, Azriel remained rooted to the spot. Nesta opened her mouth to speak at the same moment that Rhysand sat forwards in his seat, lips moving to break the silence.

But Orla had already laid her warm hands on the shadow singer’s skin to roll his sleeve back.

Where their ink had been, Azriel’s remained like smoke, etched into his forearms as retribution.

Unperturbed, Orla sent her magic to curl around his wrist in a display of soft-golden light.

‘It’s magic. It cannot be removed by simple-’

Amren’s words stopped abruptly as the tattoo began to lift off of Azriel’s skin, curling into the light and dissolving. A crease had formed between Orla’s brows as she continued working in the silent room.

Then the mark was gone.

‘How?’ Rhys managed.

Orla released her hands so Azriel could veil himself within the comfort of his shadows once more. ‘I am a healer.’

An utterly extraordinary one, Eris thought. His heart swelled at the sight of her, so level-headed and brilliant. A steadfast friend and sunshine of a person. There were many lives in the Autumn Court that owed Orla their thanks for keeping them in the realm of the living.

‘This healer could make the Mother envious.’

A blush stole across her cheeks at Eris’ compliment.

Mor tipped back in her chair, eyes narrowing at Orla. ‘I wouldn’t think Beron would allow females to train their magic. They might get ideas like not being stamped beneath the boots’ of males.’

‘My high lord is not foolish enough to deny healing magic in any gender, so rare it is,’ replied Orla, with just a little bite.

That little bite made her sister sit rigidly in her chair, brown eyes flickering between the two females like a bare flame, desperate to catch.

‘Does your high lord know his favoured healer commits treason by being here and assisting an enemy?’

Niamh slapped her palms against the stone table. ‘Treason? If you want us to depart then your high lady dies. Think very carefully before you toss that word out. I wonder, if your high lady dies because you scorned the one healer who might be able to help her, is that treason on your part, Morrigan? Do you want your lovely family back on the throne instead?’

‘That is enough,’ snapped Orla, in a tone that Eris had only ever heard from her a handful of times. He’d never seen her so livid before. ‘I will not have you speak of such things. I am a healer regardless of my allegiance. If my enemy was bleeding at my feet, I would heal them because the Mother gave me this gift to do good. I will not remain here listening to you both causing more stress to a mother who should be enjoying these months. If either of you cannot hold your tongues then get out.’

When neither female moved, Orla blew out a long breath then turned her attention to Feyre, face softening, ‘I believe you had questions for me.’

For the next hour or so, Orla departed to a connecting, private room with Nesta at her side and only the high lord and lady in attendance. Eris’s stomach was in knots the entire time. He could handle the tension in the room – that was nothing out of the ordinary. After all, it was only his exiled brother, his brother’s estranged mate who doubled as Eris’ sister-in-law, his wife’s mate, his once-betrothed, and a creature that had lived for millennia. Nothing out of the ordinary. For their part, the Night Court did not speak. Cassian had not shifted from his spot, had not even made one comment about Nesta, though his mouth was set in a hard line – which may have been due to Orla tinkering with the bond. No, the real problem was trying to stop Niamh from being so Niamh-like. The female had slunk out of her chair to languish on the hard ground with the smoke hounds, oblivious to the grandeur of the place. She fired questions at Ashur about going drinking that evening then dared to ask Amren how she decorated her cell in the Prison.

Before Eris could throw her from a window, Lucien decided to intervene like the good emissary he was. ‘Do you still make it your personal mission to cause chaos wherever you go, Niamh?’

Niamh thrust her hand in the air, brandishing her missing digit to all gathered. ‘After my high lord chopped my damn finger off?’

Mor blanched and even Elain’s face was stark with horror.

‘I have nine more fingers to lose,’ she grinned. ‘Last year, I got thrown out of the summer solstice celebrations by your father himself. Scruff of my neck like I was one of his smoke hounds.’

Lucien’s lips twitched at the visual. ‘You’re lucky it wasn’t your neck on the executioner’s block.’

‘Your father likes me too much,’ she said, winking.

It was true in a sense. Niamh was a jackal the majority of the time, even managing to once make Beron snort his wine out of his nose during a dinner. Even Eris didn’t know how he hadn’t murdered her yet. She was untameable. Unpredictable. But, Eris knew that Niamh had spied for the high lord many times. Under the Mountain, she had been a valuable asset. She loved her court, but above all, Niamh was loyal to only one – her sister. Wherever Orla’s allegiance pointed, Niamh would follow.

At long last, the four exited the room. Thankfully, there were smiles on their faces. Not true smiles of joy, but smiles of relief that suggested hope might be reachable. Hope was not a far-flung dream now that Orla had entered their lives.

When Eris began to rise, Nesta shook her head slightly then slipped back into her seat. Her face had shifted, becoming the poised courtier Eris knew she could be.

‘The weapons then.’

Amren tutted. ‘You still negotiate over your sister’s life.’

‘It’s not a negotiation,’ replied Nesta swiftly. ‘I am requesting my possession be returned.’

That steely glare could cut the skin. Nobody else would challenge Nesta. They didn’t know how powerful she was becoming. Her magic was flourishing to the point where she’d surpass Eris soon. He was glad in a way that the Night Court had never sought to weaponize her, but the fact they had never encouraged her to train her magic infuriated him. She’d have been ruled by it.

With a sweep of the high lord’s hand through the air, three weapons appeared, wrapped in velvet, on the table. Eris could feel the thrum of magic from them. Magic that was so unmistakably Nesta. But also not. There was a wildness to it, more feral and borne of the earth than Nesta’s magic. Interesting.

Eris parried the move, sweeping his own hand towards himself so that the swords vanished from sight.

‘Like looking in a mirror,’ Niamh said with a whistle.

‘Good. And the Prison?’ Nesta enquired, tilting her head slightly.

Mor knew better than to speak now, but her sour face told the story enough. Still, Cassian beside her, remained like a stone behemoth, unspeaking and unmoving.

‘Next week,’ replied Feyre. ‘Rhys will winnow you from here and allow your access. Two hours only.’

‘Two hours will be more than enough time,’ said Eris.

‘Cassian escorts you,’ added Rhys.

Finally, a reaction from the Illyrian. His brow pressed downwards, hands curling into fists at this new information.

‘Why?’ demanded Nesta. ‘Why not Azriel?’

‘Because Cassian has imprisoned the bulk of prisoners in there. If there’s any you need information on, he is better tasked for it.’

Eris was prepared to wage war on his wife’s behalf, if she wished it, but Nesta just gave a roll of her eyes and snapped out a fine as if Cassian was too insignificant to warrant more of a reaction. Then she stood, sweeping her hands down her skirts.

‘Must you leave so soon?’ Feyre asked, a hand cradling her stomach.

‘Yes. I have a ball to attend with my husband tonight – and he’s promised to write my essay for my tutor.’

‘A tutor?’

Eris lay a hand against the small of his wife’s back, unable to stop himself from doing such a thing before the eyes of the Night Court. Her body leaned into his out of habit. ‘My wife will rule at my side,’ Eris replied. ‘Better that she’s well educated on Prythian rather than leading a court with no knowledge of our lands.’

Niamh was unable to stop her smirk at Eris’ backhanded words. ‘And she is brilliant. We have to thank the Night Court for letting her slip out of their grasp. Your loss was our gain.’

Before Niamh could spark a war – and she was definitely itching to do that – Eris summoned the smoke hounds to his side and Orla slipped her hand around Ashur’s arm.

‘One week,’ Eris said.

Only Lucien and Elain offered a weak smile at their departure, the remaining cold faces were blank – no doubt Rhysand was already rumbling through their minds. Niamh said farewell with a deep bow and a flourish of her arms in the air.

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430 @embersofwildfire

#acotf #a court of tangled flamses

74 notes · View notes

zinbu · 2 months

Text

In the twilight haze that draped the city like a fragile veil of smoke, Wolf moved with the precision of a shadow, his form slipping through the labyrinthine streets as though he were part of the dusk itself. The air was thick with the fragrance of decay and rain, mingling to create a scent that clung to the soul. His thoughts were a whirlpool of urgency and defiance, spiralling in sync with the rhythmic beat of his heartbeat—a drum that marked time’s inexorable advance.

Wolf’s eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, zeroed in on the other with a mix of protectiveness and resolve. Each step he took was a whisper against the cobblestones, each breath a silent pledge.

Wolf's thoughts surged like a tempest, a voice of commitment and desire to shield Fuu from the encroaching darkness. No harm would touch him on my watch, Wolf thought fiercely, feeling the weight of his promise anchor deep within him.

With a predator's grace, Kim approached, the world narrowing to a tunnel of intent and breath. He was the silent guardian, the unseen shield, and as he slipped behind the familiar body, his movements were fluid, almost reverential. The space between them vanished, and Wolf’s palm, warm and firm, came to rest gently over the other's eyes. It was a gesture both tender and commanding, a silent vow to be the barrier between innocence and the brutal edge of reality.

The man’s hand was like a firmament, encompassing the blocked vision with the security of a storm’s eye. He drew Fuu closer, their bodies melding into a single entity, a seamless shield against the world’s capricious malice. He became the umbrella sheltering against the pelting rain of threats, the vest of armour prepared to absorb every curse, every bullet of cruelty. In that close embrace, Wolf’s presence was a sanctuary—a fortress of warmth and unspoken strength.

With a breath that carried the weight of unspoken fears and promises, Wolf leaned closer, his lips brushing against the ear. His voice was a hushed growl, roughened by the resolve that drove him. "You left me once, little piglet," he murmured, his tone a mixture of anguish and fierce protectiveness, "I won’t let you leave me behind anymore."

The words hung in the air, a binding contract between their souls. Wolf's heart beat with a protective cadence, a relentless drum that vowed to fend off every whisper of harm. And with every heartbeat, Wolf fortified his shield, the certainty of his role as protector unshakable. The city around them continued its indifferent spin, but in their cocoon of darkness and light, Wolf’s thoughts remained resolute. He was the unyielding bastion against the storm, the protector who would bear the weight of all that sought to inflict harm. His thoughts were as steady as his resolve, and the question that lingered, spoken softly into Fuu’s ear, was a plea wrapped in the guise of a statement. "You’re not going to leave me, are you, Fuu Fuu? Answer me, please..." // @astarab1aze

#astarab1aze #ooc / n : okay.. but i have a soft spot for these two.. like truly!#ch: wolf #ooc / n : hope this works tho !!!!#if not - i shall feed you with my soup!

3 notes · View notes

m00nveil · 1 day

Text

i really haven't talked much about my w101 story that i made up around my characters, but i feel like my characters are very well written and i tried going against their respective schools' stereotypes with some of them. i think i did that best with my life and storm wizards. this is gonna be long, so if ur reading this then beware!!

my storm wizard galena, who ends up being luna's best friend, despises her at first. she comes from a very influential and rich family of storm wizards who are by no means weak, and she has been a prodigy ever since she was born. naturally, her parents had put a lot of pressure on her from a young age to hone her skills at divination. they had already decided her future for her, and that is what she believed she has to go with. she grew up to be narcissistic and absolutely egotistical, not even entertaining the idea that there could be somebody out there who is better because there's just simply noooo way...

until this mf luna from earth comes along and gets put into HER class, and she outdoes her at everything. gardening classes, crafting classes, life classes (cause everyone needs to learn some life magic amirite?), history classes, all the classes they shared, somehow this 'outsider' always did better at them than her. it was luna that was sent to various missions by the headmaster, it was luna that was always praised by the headmaster, it was always luna, luna, luna, luna. of course, galena got praise as well. but she just couldn't fathom somebody else getting it as well. and she also couldn't fathom that perhaps, being praised so much by the headmaster and being sent on various missions was not exactly the best thing ever.

it pissed her the FUCK off to the point where she resorted to sabotage. ruined textbooks, rumour spreadings (frequently combatted by another popular student at ravenwood who loved luna), all of the stuff. but, luna had always remained cordial. initially, she was the brightest star, eyes twinkling, ready and excited for this new and defining chapter in her life in the spiral. she couldn't fathom being mean back, so she never was. she just dealt with it silently as her mental health continously deteriorated due to all the things she had gone through. dragonspyre did a big number on luna, after that, she never really returned to ravenwood the same. taking a man's life, even if he was a threat to the spiral, just did not feel good.

she stopped being even cordial. she actually had no reactions to anything at all. not one jab that galena took at her. it was as if she was a living corpse, and galena noticed. and then galena wondered. "what is up with her? why is she like this?" those were her thoughts up until a confrontation happened. galena went up to her to interrogate her in typical galena fashion, luna said something insulting back which surprised galena and then proceeded to try to slap her. however, luna caught galena's arm and told her, cold as ice, that maybe she should start considering how traumatic this all is and to get her head out of her ass.

long story short, that made galena think and she basically started reevaluating her entire life. her ego was crushed and she felt something unnatural inside of herself, something she's never felt before - empathy. she mellowed out, and shortly after that followed an argument with her parents where they disowned her. her and luna found a mutual understanding and she proceeded to move into luna's dorm. they became best friends, but luna only continued to become more and more damaged by the things she went through.

my life wizard, rya, was a dragonspyrean refugee who escaped the dragon titan's wrath alongside her twin brother, shen. they were taken in by a childless widow in wizard city who rya never warmed up to because she was too distrustful. the only thing rya knew her entire life, was how to be a protector. she was the elder sibling between the two, and shen had always been so timid and shy. he needed somebody to watch over him and take care of him, and rya had no choice but to become that somebody. their parents simply did not understand, and that irked her to hell and beyond.

shen was subjected to bullying and life generally seemed to have it out for him, so rya always tried her best to protect him from harm in every way, shape and form. she developed anger issues that were very alarming, though she made sure to let them out in other ways and to never let it affect her brother. escaping from a g3nocide at the dragon titan's hands and losing all of her friends and other family besides shen made those issues way worse.

when she and her brother enrolled at ravenwood, she was assigned life, which was weirdly fitting - destined to be a protector and a healer to everyone, and even though she could always heal herself physically, nothing could mend her heart. always healing others when she herself is irreperably damaged. she's what is known as a "mom friend", and that is precisely what she was to luna. like many others, either in a good or a bad way, she was drawn to luna and the two shortly became friends. galena had earned rya's ire multiple times, but they were always stopped by the teachers before it could become an actual physical fight.

rya noticed how the things luna was going through was affecting her, and she attempted to take it up with the headmaster multiple times but didn't want to jeopardize shen's and her own education, so she always let it be. however, she did NOT let luna be. luna was slowly becoming a self sacrificing hero with no boundaries of her own, no consideration for her own well being, and rya could not stand to see it. she knew it all too well, how all of that feels. but rya, being the ever-angry person that she is, just couldn't approach the topic normally. it always ended up in her shouting at her. and luna always forgave.

there's so much i could write but this post is already long enough so see yall next time, i promise my lore is really good frfr

#teehee #wizard101 #wizzy fandom #w101 #wizard101 oc #🌩️ [ galena. ]#🍃 [ rya. ]#❄️ [ shen. ]#🔮 [ moonveiled. ]

4 notes · View notes