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corky-the-gluttony-demon · 4 months ago

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DMC: An Absurd Comedy (A Devil May Cry Fanfiction) - Haunted by Dreams Arc - Chapter 2

The story so far: Nero, Nico, Felix, and Corky are stuck in the van during a snowstorm. While trying to fix Nero’s broken Devil Breaker, they come across a mysterious, cursed artifact that puts them all into a deep sleep. Ice demons attack the van while they’re unconscious. Felix, the first to wake up, manages to throw the artifact outside, luring the demons away. Once everyone’s awake, they step out of the van and take down the remaining demons in a fierce battle. Afterward, they regroup, ready to continue on their way to Snowfield, though Felix can't shake the feeling that the artifact might come back to haunt them.

Location: Vivian’s Mansion, Snowfield

January 6th, 8:15 AM

Nico brought the van to a halt in front of a sprawling mansion that seemed to emerge from the snow like a relic of another era. The place had the kind of grandeur that screamed old money—tall, imposing, with intricate ironwork fencing and a massive front door that looked like it hadn’t been opened in years.

“Nice place,” Felix remarked, stepping out of the van and stretching his arms. “Looks like it hasn’t seen a party in decades, though.”

“Yeah, well, I doubt the old lady’s up for hosting any ragers,” Nico shot back, shutting the driver’s door behind her. She gave the mansion a once-over, her eyes narrowing. “Bet the inside’s as cold as it is out here.”

Corky rubbed her gloved hands together, her breath visible in the chilly air. “As long as there’s food, I’m good.” She followed Felix towards the front door, her boots crunching in the snow.

Nero, bringing up the rear, adjusted Red Queen on his back. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, his tone carrying a hint of impatience.

The massive front door creaked open as they approached, revealing a butler who looked like he might crumble into dust if you breathed too hard on him. He was gaunt, with a face like parchment.

“Miss Vivian is expecting you,” he said, his voice a low rasp, before turning and shuffling back inside without waiting for a response.

“Charming,” Felix murmured, stepping inside the mansion.

The interior was exactly what you’d expect from a place like this—grand but suffocatingly still. The walls were lined with heavy, dark wood paneling, and the furniture looked like it had been in the same place for decades, untouched and unused. A thick layer of dust clung to everything, muting the once-rich colors of the drapes and rugs.

A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals dulled with grime. The butler led them through a labyrinth of hallways until they reached a sitting room that looked like it hadn’t hosted a guest in years.

Vivian was waiting for them, seated in a high-backed armchair that looked more like a throne than anything else. She was a slight woman, her frame almost swallowed by the heavy fur robe draped over her shoulders. Her silver hair was neatly pinned back, and her pale, almost translucent skin gave her an ethereal, ghost-like appearance. Her eyes, though, were sharp—almost too sharp, as if they were the only part of her still alive.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice smooth but with a languid quality, like she couldn’t be bothered to put much effort into it. “Please, sit.”

Nico plopped down on a nearby chaise longue, the ancient springs creaking under her weight. She stretched out, looking like she was ready to take a nap herself. “Nice place ya got here,” she said, though her tone made it clear she wasn’t impressed.

Felix eyed the furniture warily before choosing a spot on the edge of a velvet settee that looked slightly less dusty than the others. “Cozy,” he remarked, though his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Corky, more interested in potential snacks than decor, eyed a dusty tray of what looked like biscuits on a side table. She hesitated, then grabbed one and taking a bite. Her face twisted in disgust. “Yep, that’s stale.”

Nero remained standing, arms crossed as he observed the room. He wasn’t one for formalities, and the whole place made his skin crawl. “When we last spoke on the phone you mentioned something about people slipping into sleep,” he said, cutting straight to the point.

Vivian didn’t seem to notice the impatience in his tone. If she did, she didn’t care. She waved a hand dismissively, as if the details of her own story were too tiresome to recount. “Yes, yes… The residents… they’re all drifting into endless sleep. A curse, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just too weary of this world. Who’s to say?”

Felix raised an eyebrow, glancing at Nero. “Sounds like we’re dealing with more than just bad dreams.”

Nico, still sprawled out, chimed in, “Any idea what’s causing it, or do we have to figure that out too?”

Vivian sighed, the sound almost wistful. “Something… ancient, perhaps. Something that thrives on the apathy of the soul. My dear Henry… he would have known. But he’s gone now.” She paused, as if she might doze off herself. “All I have left is this house… and the dreams. So many dreams.”

“Right,” Nero said, his tone clipped. He wasn’t in the mood for a sob story. “So where do we start?”

But before Vivian could answer, Felix’s eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to one of the frosted windows. The reflection of something moving outside caught his attention—shadows creeping closer, their forms jagged and unnatural.

“Hold up,” Felix muttered, standing up and moving towards the window. “We’ve got company.”

Nero turned, following Felix’s line of sight. He didn’t need to ask; the tension in the room shifted as he recognized the unmistakable forms of demons emerging from the snow-covered grounds. Corky perked up too, instinctively reaching for Gladius.

“Guess the welcoming party’s here,” Felix said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Should we go say hello?”

Nero nodded, already heading for the door. “Let’s take care of this.”

Corky was right behind him.

As the three of them moved towards the entrance, Nico watched them go, rolling her eyes. “And just when I was getting comfortable,” she muttered, settling back into her seat.

Vivian’s sharp eyes followed the trio as they exited the mansion, but she didn’t seem particularly concerned. She simply sighed, as if the interruption was just another inconvenience in an endless string of them.

The butler shuffled forward. “Shall I prepare tea, madam?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

Vivian waved a hand lazily. “Yes, yes, that would be lovely. And perhaps something for our guest here.”

Nico blinked, realizing she was now stuck inside with the old lady and her butler while the others got to have all the fun outside. “Uh, sure, tea sounds good,” she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “But if you’ve got coffee, I’d take that instead.”

The butler nodded and shuffled off towards what Nico assumed was the kitchen. She glanced around the room, suddenly feeling like a kid left behind on a field trip.

Outside, the fight was in full swing.

With the immediate threat dealt with, they turned back towards the mansion, their footsteps crunching in the snow.

Inside, Nico was just finishing her coffee, listening to Vivian talk about the curse. The moment the door creaked open and the others walked back in, she turned to them, eyebrow raised. “You guys done playing in the snow?”

Felix shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. “Just giving those demons a warm welcome.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable,” Nero said, his tone serious as he closed the door behind him. “There’s something bigger going on here, and I think it’s time we get to the bottom of it.”

Nico set her cup down, already back in business mode. “So what’s the plan?”

Vivian’s smile was faint, a flicker of something almost too tired to be called amusement. “There are two places where Belphegor’s influence is strongest,” she began, her voice carrying the weight of someone who had seen far too much. “The first is the Somnus Institute, a sleep clinic on the edge of town. It promises peace, rest, a sanctuary from the world’s troubles. But those who enter rarely leave with their minds intact. They are... reshaped. Molded into something compliant, something that no longer questions or resists.”

Felix frowned, leaning against the wall. “Mental enslavement, huh?”

“And the second?” Nero asked.

Vivian’s gaze shifted to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “The Elysium Lounge. An opium den disguised as a luxury retreat. It’s where the wealthy and the desperate go to forget their worries. But what they don’t realize is that they’re being drained of their willpower, little by little. It’s not just about keeping them docile—it’s about breaking them, feeding on their very essence.”

Corky crossed her arms, her expression serious for once. “So, it’s not just about killing these demons. We’re dealing with mind games, too.”

Vivian nodded slowly, as if each movement was an effort. “Belphegor is not like the others you’ve faced. His power lies in his ability to make you doubt, to make you question your own reality. You’ll find that the deeper you go into these places, the harder it will be to hold onto who you are.”

Nico glanced at Nero, her brow furrowing. “This isn’t just a hunt, Nero. It’s psychological warfare. If we’re not careful, we’ll lose ourselves in there.”

Felix smirked. “Well, at least we know what we’re up against. I’ve always liked a good mindfuck.”

“Mindfuck or…?” Corky asked with a sly grin, and Felix chuckled knowingly.

“Gross,” Nero muttered. He straightened up, his eyes locking onto Vivian. “We ran into something earlier, in the van. An artifact that put us all to sleep. We barely managed to wake up. You know anything about that?”

Vivian’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “An artifact, you say? Yes… Belphegor has seeded such things throughout the town. They’re conduits for his power, amplifying his influence. If you encountered one, it’s likely that you were targeted specifically. He knows you’re here.”

“Of course he does,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t be fun if we had the element of surprise.”

Corky leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “So, these artifacts… there’s more of them? Are they connected to the places you mentioned?”

Vivian nodded, her gaze distant, as if she were seeing something far away. “They are placed in strategic locations, each one designed to weaken the will, to draw you deeper into his domain. Destroying them would weaken his hold on the town… but it won’t be easy. Each one is guarded, not just by demons, but by the illusions he creates. What you see, what you hear… it may not be real. But it will feel real.”

Nero took a deep breath, his jaw set. “We’ll split up to cover more ground. Nico and I will hit the Somnus Institute, Felix and Corky will take the Elysium Lounge. We destroy whatever artifacts we find, take out any demons, and get the hell out.”

Felix, who had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, glanced around the dimly lit room and noticed something that hadn’t quite registered before—the faint, eerie stillness. The mansion was quiet, too quiet. The usual hum of electricity, the soft buzz of lights, was absent. His brow furrowed. “Hold on a sec,” he said, straightening up. “Why’s it so dark in here?”

Vivian’s eyes flickered to Felix, her expression unreadable. “There’s been a power outage ever since the trouble began. The mansion’s generator is old, unreliable at best. And without power, this place is… vulnerable.”

He turned to Nero, his voice serious. “We can’t just leave her here like this. The mansion’s a sitting duck. If those demons come back while we’re out, she won’t stand a chance.”

Nero paused, his expression tightening as he realized the truth of Felix’s words. “Shit. You’re right. We need to fortify this place, turn it into a safehouse.”

Corky nodded in agreement, “Yeah, the last thing we need is to come back and find this place overrun.”

Vivian’s gaze softened, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “I appreciate your concern, but… what can be done? The generator is in the basement. It’s old, temperamental. And as for defenses… I’m afraid this house was never meant to withstand a siege.”

Felix smirked, rolling his shoulders. “You’d be surprised what a little ingenuity can do, lady. I’ve turned worse places into fortresses.”

Nero nodded, already formulating a plan. “Alright, first things first: we get the generator running. Nico, you’re on that. You’re the only one who knows how to handle that kind of ancient tech.”

Nico gave a mock salute. “Consider it done. I’ll have this place lit up like a Christmas tree in no time.”

“While she’s doing that,” Nero continued, “Felix and I will fortify the entrances. We need to make sure nothing gets in while we’re gone.”

Felix cracked his knuckles, his grin widening. “Sounds like a plan. We can barricade the doors, reinforce the windows… Maybe even set up a few traps.”

“Traps?” Corky asked, raising an eyebrow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Felix nodded, the grin turning wicked. “Oh, I’m definitely thinking what you’re thinking.”

Nero ignored the exchange, his focus on the task at hand. “Corky, while we’re handling that, I need you to go through the house. Make sure there aren’t any other weak points we missed. If you find anything, let us know.”

Corky gave a thumbs-up, already heading for the nearest hallway. “Got it. I’ll give this place the full Corky inspection.”

Nico made her way down to the basement, muttering to herself as she navigated the dark, winding stairs. “Old, temperamental generator in a haunted mansion? What could possibly go wrong?”

The basement was as she expected—dank, cold, and filled with the musty smell of forgotten history. The generator sat in the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, its metal casing showing signs of rust. Nico approached it cautiously, giving it a once-over before grabbing her tools.

“Alright, old girl, let’s see what you’ve got left in you,” she muttered, popping open the control panel. The wires inside were a mess, but nothing she couldn’t handle. With a few quick adjustments, she began working to coax the ancient machine back to life.

Nero, on the other hand, was focused on reinforcing the windows. He hammered planks of wood into place, making sure they were secured tight. His movements were quick and precise, no wasted effort, but there was an edge to his actions, a tension that had been simmering under the surface since they’d started.

“Not bad, huh?” Felix said, wiping some dust off his hands, clearly expecting some acknowledgment.

Nero barely glanced at him. “Yeah, it’ll do.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, not missing the clipped tone in Nero’s voice. “You got a problem, man?”

Nero didn’t stop working, his eyes fixed on the next window. “No problem. Just focusing on getting this done.”

Felix snorted, crossing his arms. “Is this about what happened in the van? Look, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. The only reason I was able to pull through faster is because I ain’t human. You’re strong Nero, but at the end of the day you are as human as Nico with some super-human talent.”

Nero finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. “What are you trying to say, Felix?”

Felix grinned, leaning against the wall with that easy, cocky confidence that always seemed to get under people’s skin. “Just saying, I’ve been handling things pretty well, don’t you think? There are just some advantages that I have as a Nephilim that you don’t. It is what it is.”

Nero’s jaw tightened, his grip on the hammer tightening just slightly. “I had it under control.”

“Yeah, sure you did,” Felix replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But let’s be real, Nero. You’re good with the whole ‘hack-and-slash’ thing, but this? This is different. Psychological warfare. Gotta keep your head in the game. And if you lose focus, well… you saw what happened.”

Nero’s eyes darkened, and he took a step closer to Felix, his voice low. “I don’t need you reminding me of what happened. I’m not the one who needs to prove anything here.”

Felix’s grin widened, sensing the rising tension. “Oh, really? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you’re a little on edge. Maybe you’re starting to doubt yourself, huh? Wondering if you’re really up to the task.”

Nero’s eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, it looked like he might take a swing at Felix. But he held back, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “This is my mission, Felix. I’m calling the shots. So why don’t you back off and let me handle it?”

Felix’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes. “You sure about that? Because if you’re not, maybe you should let someone else take the lead. Someone who didn’t get knocked out by the first piece of cursed junk they came across.”

Before the tension could escalate any further, Corky appeared in the doorway, dusting off her hands. She raised an eyebrow, taking in the scene with a knowing smirk. “Wow, boys. Didn’t know I was interrupting a pissing contest. Should I leave you two alone to work it out?”

Felix chuckled, stepping back and breaking eye contact with Nero. “Nah, we’re good. Just… discussing tactics.”

Nero shot Felix a glare but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to Corky, his voice carefully controlled. “You find any other weak points?”

Corky nodded, though her eyes flicked between the two of them, clearly amused by the tension. “Yeah, I found a couple. Patched ‘em up, and I set some tripwires in the main hallway. Just in case anything tries to sneak in while we’re out. But honestly, you two look like you’re about to tear this place apart yourselves. Everything alright?”

Nero forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re fine. Just… making sure everything’s secure.”

Felix shrugged, his usual cocky demeanor back in place. “Just a little friendly banter, Corky. Nothing to worry about.”

Corky rolled her eyes but didn’t push it further. “Yeah, well, let’s get this place locked down.”

They headed down to the basement, and when they reached the bottom, they found Nico hunched over the generator. The machine sputtered and coughed like an old man on his last breath, but after a few tense moments, it finally roared to life, flooding the basement with light. The sudden brightness was almost blinding after the gloom they’d been navigating.

Nico straightened up, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “And that’s how you bring a relic back from the dead,” she said with a grin, clearly pleased with herself.

Felix clapped his hands together, the sound echoing off the basement walls. “Nice work, Nico. Knew you’d pull it off.”

Nero nodded, stepping forward to check the generator himself. “Yeah, good job. We’ve got power now, which means this place is a lot more secure. But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

As they reached the ground floor, the mansion felt different. The lights were on, the cold gloom replaced by a warm, if eerie, glow. It was still old, still filled with shadows, but now it felt less like a tomb.

Nero paused at the front door, turning to the others. “Remember, stick to the plan. Don’t get separated. And if anything feels off, don’t hesitate to pull back. We’re dealing with more than just physical threats here.”

Nico nodded, her expression serious. “Got it. Let’s make this quick and get back in one piece.”

Felix tightened his grip on Eryx, his grin returning. “Quick and clean. Just how I like it.”

Corky gave a mock salute, her usual grin in place. “Let’s go kick some demon ass.”

With that, they pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold, snow still falling thick and fast. The world outside was a frozen wasteland, but their path was clear.

#devil may cry #fanfiction #devil may cry fanfiction #devil may cry oc #devil may cry ocs #dmc nero #dmc nico #nero sparda #nicoletta goldstein #dmc

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recommend-and-reveiw · 2 years ago

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@sotwk I have no idea where to start on this one, it is fanfiction of the highest order. It's shattered me, and I... I'm hurt. Some of my live reaction: (Spoilers under the cut)

At the same time, something about the ethereal presence of Queen Maereth unnerved Thorin's father. At the council gatherings, King Thrain avoided any direct communication with her, muttering to the side that military dealings should only be between one king and another, as was “proper”, although he never dared suggest dismissing Thranduil’s wife from the meetings. And true to his principles, he left all interactions with the Elven host, their supposed allies, to his lieutenants.

This made me so happy, my queen is so good and pure she scares the dwarf king 😂

He watched in helpless fascination as the Queen settled upon a low flat stone, mindless of the damp dirt on her fine green gown. Perhaps it was the absence of the silver crown she always wore to the councils, or the wildness of their forest surroundings, but there suddenly appeared a pleasant earthiness to the Queen that Thorin had never noticed before. Not an ounce of her Elven beauty was diminished, but it shifted somehow from being a piercing and untouchable flame, to a warm and inviting hearth.

I'll be honest, I may be developing a lil crush on this lady 🤗 your writing is so amazing.

“I do not presume; I see .” The Queen’s kind eyes flashed with firm reproach. “And when I look at you Thorin, I see Durin alive once more. The very same fire that once burned in your ancestors shines bright from your whole being."

Such a perfect discription of Thorin 😌

“He already lost one son to dragons, and he refused to risk another,” said the Queen, her voice now barely above a whisper. “That is the thought that ruled my King’s decision to turn his army back.”

NO- WHAAAA- NOOOOOO who was it? *sobbing* no. I cant. Im gone. Sue you.

"By that favor shall my blessing accompany your dear brother into battle," Queen Maereth said softly. "I shall pray it always leads him to a safe return."

This feels distinctly like foreshadowing and I do not like it.

Thorin shook his head. “There is no future for me in Dunland," he said flatly. “Only in Erebor. As my father’s heir, our people look to me to secure their own futures. I can seek no happiness of my own until I help reclaim our home."

*coughs in Bagginshield*

The Elvenqueen was dead. He might never have believed it possible, but he was one of the few witnesses to lay eyes on her broken body being carried out of the pits of Gundabad, a most wretched sight that would surely haunt him to his last day.

I just threw my phone accros the floor of a building. No. I will remain in denial.

It was not until much later that the Dwarves discovered Thranduil had ridden out all by himself, immediately, without delaying even a moment to rally his guard, or to strategize, or to brief his confused and panicked soldiers. Without warning he simply vanished, leaving his officers uncertain of what they were to do next in such an unprecedented crisis.

*hysterical sobbing* why would you do this to me Naneth, why?

Thrain stared at his son incredulously. “You are a Prince of Erebor, not some Queen's maid!”

And heres where I learn to shift and slap this mf so hard diamonds would be jealous.

The marching Elves paid no heed to the dwarf-prince that came up to walk alongside their lines. Thorin noticed that despite the bitterness of the winter chill, they had all removed their cloaks, leaving their fine golden armor looking oddly incomplete. Instead, long strips of jagged fabric ripped apart by bare hands were tied around the tips of their spears and bows. Thousands and thousands of crimson ribbons fluttered high in the wind, and made the slow-moving column of soldiers appear from afar like a river of running blood.

This description... I'm hurt, but in a good and bad way.

It was a sight both shocking and chilling to behold up close, the tears that streamed down the cut and bruised cheeks of Thranduil's cold, inflexible face. He inclined his head in a small, vague nod.

Owowowoowoowowowowowow

He staggered towards the nearest torch-bearer as quickly as he could. “Frerin. Have you seen Prince Frerin anywhere?!” The blood-stained, swollen-faced soldier merely blinked at him with confused, unrecognizing eyes. Thorin moved on to ask the next dwarf, and then another one, and so on with the same results. Finally he ripped the torch off one of the roaming rescuers’ hands and started searching the field of corpses himself, screaming his brother’s name until his voice ran hoarse.

Stop. Please. Stop.

“Frerin,” Dwalin choked out, cementing Thorin’s fears. “Hurry--you must come.”

No.

Instead Thorin laid his shield to rest with Frerin, and had it molded into the stone that covered the top of his tomb. Your death will not be in vain, brother, was Thorin’s last promise before he bid farewell to the hilltop grave. I will not forget the vengeance you are owed, and I will never forgive the betrayers of your trust.

Curse you Perry the Platypus.

The Broken Shield (Thorin & Frerin brotherhood fic)

Written for the TSF 2023 Event by @thorinsspringforge

Event Partner Artist: @cycas

Story also features Thranduil Oropherion and the Elvenqueen Maereth (SotWK OC)

Summary: Thorin and Frerin, the young Princes of Erebor, rise above the grudges and prejudices of their forefathers to forge an alliance with the Elves of Mirkwood during the War of the Dwarves and Orcs. But the tenuous bonds of friendship are shattered when tragic losses suffered by both sides lead to grievances, misunderstandings, and an even greater divide between the two races.

Word count: 9.5 k

Content: Brotherly bonds, war, angst, family drama, Dwarf-Elf relations, Line of Durin history, Mirkwood and Thranduil history, Thranduil's family, pre-BotFA, pre-Oakenshield

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major character deaths

To Read on AOC: Link

Artist credit: @cycas

The Broken Shield

Third Age 2791, Dunland

With a furious scrape of chair legs against the floor, he was out the tavern's door faster than Thorin could have anticipated.

"Where are you going?!" Thorin scrambled after him, nearly colliding with a hapless barmaid and her fully laden tray in his haste. "Frerin, stop! Wait!!"

But his brother did not listen; he did not even slow his angry pace. This had become a disturbing pattern with Frerin of late. The steady, reliable young dwarf who used to never question anything his elders told him, was mutating into a stubborn goat who seemed to challenge half the orders he was given. Whether the change was due to Frerin's recent achievement of reaching the age of maturity, or because of the lady that had inflamed his passions to reckless heights, Thorin could only guess. He only wished his little brother could have picked a better time to lose his heart and head to a dwarrowdam.

But he probably should have kept this opinion behind sealed lips.

"I said stop!" Thorin finally came close enough to seize the retreating dwarf's shoulder. "If you would only listen--!"

“And what would listening get me?!” Frerin flung out his arm to wrench Thorin’s grip off him. “More reasons why I shouldn’t pursue my own happiness? If I wanted those, I would have gone to Father or even Dis instead of confiding in you.”

His words reeked of a hurt that lashed at Thorin. In happier times he might have beamed with pride to hear himself being compared to King Thrain. Now he flinched at it, knowing it was intended as an insult, especially coming from Frerin.

“My counsel on the matter is for your own good." Mahal! The words stumbled out of his lips before he could stop himself from proving his brother right. That was exactly the condescending line their father would say.

"Why do you all insist on knowing what is best for me?!" Frerin exclaimed. “I love Ezri, and she has always loved me, and I am blessed to be chosen as her One. Do not dare imply that you can offer a greater life than the one I can share with her."

"Frerin, you are a Prince of Erebor," Thorin stated calmly, even though he actually wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake sense into him. "When we reclaim our home from the Dragon, it shall rise back to its place as the greatest kingdom on Middle-earth. Your proper place is home, where it has always been, Under the Mountain. Not…here!"

He threw his arms out at their village surroundings, unconsciously revealing his disdain with a sneer. "You have a higher purpose beyond staying in Dunland, eking out a living as a common blacksmith, peddling your craft to Men for a pittance."

"You know I care not about my crown or title," Frerin declared. "I have said it many times, emphatically, for years now. But you all turn a deaf ear because you refuse to accept my choice."

Thorin guffawed and clutched at his hair with both hands, as though it would help him hold on to his dwindling patience. "You are mad if you genuinely believe Father would ever accept you renouncing your birthright."

"Which is why I came to you!" Frerin shot back. "I thought if anyone still might understand and care about my wishes, it would be my brother. Or is it asking too much for you to take my side on the matter?"

“Frerin,” Thorin sighed. “You have not thought hard enough about this. This cannot truly be what you want in life.”

“Not all of us seek heroic glory in battle, or legendary fame from great deeds, or gold and jewels one could do nothing with but pile and hoard,” Frerin said. “Some of us desire nothing better than a cozy home to return to at the end of an honest day’s work, where a hearty dinner and a wife’s kisses await, and the songs and laughter of little ones.”

Thorin finally softened as he regarded the earnest conviction on his brother’s face. “So is that it?” He shook his head. “You would stay behind and leave us to deal with Azog and his armies, and all the challenges that still lie in the long road ahead?”

“That is not what I said.” Frerin moved close to grip Thorin’s forearms. “It was my grandfather too whom they murdered, and make no mistake, the same fire burns in my belly to seek vengeance. I will go to war against Azog with you, and only after we have won shall I return to make a bride out of my betrothed.”

His grave face cracked into a smile. “I know you need me to watch your back, your Highness . I will not make you beg for my axe.”

Thorin chuckled weakly and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, however can I repay such magnanimity?”

“By returning the favor. By helping me to return home safely so I can make good on my promise to Ezri.”

By my life, I shall. Thorin vowed silently. But before he could open his mouth to tell his brother so, they were interrupted by a shout from further down the dimly lit street.

“Thorin! Frerin!” When the figure in the shadows came up to meet them, Thorin recognized their kinsman, Balin, slightly out of breath. “Finally--I have been searching everywhere! You must come to your father’s house immediately. The King has called for a council and everyone awaits you.”

Thorin’s eyebrows rose. “A council at this hour? What could be so urgent?”

“An elf has turned up requesting an audience with Thrain.” Balin’s voice dropped to a tense whisper as he looked meaningfully at Thorin.

“A rider from Mirkwood, bearing a message from the Elvenking Thranduil.”

Third Age 2793, The Greylin River

Thorin could not recall ever seeing a full moon so large and bright, a great lantern high above the valley, illuminating the military encampment sprawled out by the riverbank. Dwarves preferred to fight their battles underground, in tunnels and caverns where their skills gave them certain advantages, so something about being out in the open, in clear view of their enemies, made Thorin uneasy. But King Thranduil had sent out keen-eyed scouts who reported no signs of hostile elements nearby, and the roving Elven patrols kept constant watch of the perimeters while the remainder of the army took their rest.

At daybreak, a few short hours away, the entire combined force of nearly six thousand strong will commence their march towards Gundabad, and their people’s great war against the Orcs shall begin.

Thorin massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, his right arm resting heavily against the lyre propped upon his thigh. He had tossed and turned uncomfortably in his cot whilst Frerin snored away on the other side of their shared tent, before he finally gave up on sleep. He took his golden instrument and hiked a distance away from camp, seeking out a secluded spot at the eaves of the forest where he could play in peaceful solitude. Music, especially melodies played by his own hands, was usually effective at soothing his nerves, but even an hour later the anxiety that had taken root in his chest ever since they set out from Dunland still refused to be tamed.

Thorin laid his fingers against the lyre strings to try once more, searching his memory for the tune of a childhood lullaby. However, the very faint rustle of shifting undergrowth caused him to leap up to his feet instead. The lyre fell to the ground with a thud, and his hand closed around the hilt of the knife sheathed at his belt.

The tall, lithesome figure of a lady stood just a few feet away from him, close enough that he had to tilt his head back just to gaze fully upon her face. She appeared unperturbed by the dwarf's aggressive stance, although the four Mirkwood soldiers that stood just behind her noticeably tightened their grips on their spears.

"Prince Thorin." The lady dipped into a graceful curtsy before him, sinking so low that the voluminous skirt of her dress pooled against the patchy grass. "Good evening."

"Queen Maereth," Thorin answered, bowing from the waist in return.

The Queen of Mirkwood affixed her soft gaze and warm smile upon him, and the tight knot in Thorin's chest seemed to finally loosen. Although they were only recently acquainted, Thorin had been in the presence of the Elvenking Thranduil's wife multiple times already over the past few months, for she sat at her husband's side in every single meeting held between the Dwarven and Elven leaders. The Queen's beauty, a pure and natural radiance that surpassed the rarest and finest gemstones ever unearthed in Erebor's mines, did not escape the dwarven host's attention, and enchanted most of those who laid eyes upon her.

Frerin surprised them all with how instantly he developed a camaraderie with the Mirkwood elves. It was only a week ago that the Elven army had arrived to join the Dwarves and set up camp alongside theirs by the Greylin River. By nightfall of the first day, Thorin found his brother at the Elven camp, the lone dwarf sitting around the fire with a group of Mirkwood soldiers, deep in his cups and slurring in speech. As an aghast Thorin dragged him away, Frerin chortled about how he shared a name with his new elf-friend, Feren. Since then, the younger prince continued to spend more time with the Elven soldiers than with his own people, and Thorin decided there was no point in preventing the phenomenon, if even the kings of their separate camps seemed unbothered by it.

Unlike his father and brother and their quick judgements, Thorin remained unsure of his feelings towards their new allies. Cautionary tales passed down by Dwarven elders warned heavily against trusting Elves, and the Sack of Erebor, an event that he himself witnessed, gave damning evidence of Mirkwood’s questionable loyalty. And yet there they were, about to launch perhaps the greatest war effort in the history of their race, and they would be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with a previously sworn enemy.

Alas, Thorin’s father had not allowed him to attend that first meeting with Thranduil, so the prince still did not know what had led to the sudden alliance, and Thrain stubbornly refused to enlighten even his own sons.

"May I join you?"

Queen Maereth’s words pulled Thorin’s mind back to the present, and as his attention shifted back to her, and he beheld her lovely and tender smile, the answer dawned on him, clear as the sun emerging from the cover of dark clouds.

Her. It was because of her. Of course.

Stunned by his own epiphany, Thorin could only utter a vague grunt, but he nodded in assent, which seemed good enough for the Lady.

She addressed her guards with a few words and, much to Thorin’s surprise, all four promptly bowed, turned about-face, and disappeared into the shadows of the surrounding trees.

Thorin stepped slowly towards her, their faces now at level with each other. "You did not have to send your guard away on my account."

"I prefer we have our privacy, and they are not needed here,” the Queen responded. “I told them I will be safe in the company of a great warrior."

A bold assumption to make , Thorin thought, although internally her words made him glow with pride. He was a near stranger to her and had done nothing to merit such confidence. But as he gazed upon the fair vision she made sitting there, like a delicate flower freshly bloomed from the earth, Thorin felt a swell of protective instincts from his gut. A fierce conviction that he would spill his own blood before letting any harm come upon someone so pure and trusting.

A long, unbroken silence hung between them as the Elvenqueen stared at Thorin intently, unabashedly. Thorin did not meet her eyes, nor did he shrink away from the attention. He bent over to pick his lyre off the ground and rest it against the base of a tree, but he remained standing, now closer to the Queen than any of his kin had ever come before.

“Forgive me,” Queen Maereth said at last. “I am sure you are wondering why I have sought you out alone like this.”

“Perhaps you have words for me that you wish not for my father to hear?”

“You are as wise as I thought, Prince Thorin.” She smiled and folded her hands across her lap. “But I also thought mayhaps you too have things to say to me away from the ears of others. King Thrain has made clear that he has no interest in anything I have to say, but I sensed it is not the same with you.”

Thorin laughed, but even to his own ears it sounded uneasy. “You presume a great deal about me, my lady.”

Her unexpected declaration made Thorin freeze. Part of him wanted to wallow in such profound praises of his character, but a voice in his head decried her honeyed words as suspicious. After all, elves were notorious for employing riddles and fancy speeches for their machinations. Still, curiosity rose above all, and when Thorin regained his voice, he said, "You speak as though you knew him.”

"I knew them ,” said the Queen. “I had the honor of calling several of the great Dwarf Kings my dear friends." A fond reverie swept across her face. "But it was Durin the Third whom I loved best, he who ruled Khazad-dûm at the height of its glory."

"You saw Khazad-dûm…" Thorin whispered, finding himself suddenly breathless. His mind spun at the thought of it, of standing in the presence of one who had walked the halls of his ancestors’ now lost and ruined kingdom. An elf . He had heard the tales of Elves from the ancient ages who had been proclaimed "dwarf-friends", who built bridges between the two races, although those alliances never endured past their lifetimes. Therefore Dwarf historians wrote them off as aberrations, and not accomplishments to seek out or aspire for.

"I lived in Khazad-dûm as Durin's guest for several years," said Queen Maereth. Her eyes closed as she paused for a moment, clasping her hands together over her breast, and she murmured something in her Elvish tongue that Thorin could not hope to guess. "I shall always be grateful for the kindness Durin showed me, and to this day, many centuries passed, I have yet to find a more loyal or generous friend."

It could not be. It was too much. Thorin folded his arms across his chest and finally turned away, forgoing his princely manners. Everything she was telling him conflicted with everything he believed about the Elvenking and his family. Faithless, manipulative frauds who cared only for themselves. The Queen's accounts had to be lies…or else the stories told by Thorin's father and grandfather were.

"The White Gems, Thorin."

Thorin whirled around suddenly. "What of them?" He spoke more sharply than intended, but she could not have broached a more sensitive topic. The cause of Thranduil's ire against Erebor, the reason why he allowed the Dragon to besiege the Mountain without lifting a finger to lend aid. Those accursed White Gems that now lay buried in Smaug's hoard along with the rest of Erebor's treasures.

"What reason did your grandfather give for refusing to return them to us?"

Thorin's brow furrowed. He had been present at that fateful exchange, and had witnessed the cold, silent fury of the Elvenking when King Thror refused to relinquish the necklace he had commissioned for his wife.

"He said the gems belonged to Durin's House by birthights," Thorin said slowly. "Because they came out of the mines of Khazad-dûm…" He stared at the Queen, eyes suddenly wide as though he had been struck.

Queen Maereth smiled sadly. "I cannot blame your grandfather for coveting them. It must have pained him to see treasures from his ancestral home in the hands of Elves. But we did not steal the White Gems, or purchase them from raiders. They were a gift from Durin the Fourth himself, who wished to honor us on our wedding day on behalf of his late father."

"Did he know of this?" Thorin demanded, even as he dreaded the obvious answer. "Was my grandfather aware of this history all along?"

Now the Elvenqueen was the one to turn her face away, the voluminous waves of her dark hair momentarily blocking the sorrow that graced her features. "Truth inevitably grows distorted the longer stories are passed on, and prejudices creep into interpretations." She shook her head. "Thror made decisions on what to believe, and those are the versions he presented to your father and to you as truth."

"So this is why Thranduil despises us,” Thorin said bitterly. “Why he withheld his army and merely stood by to let Smaug drive us out of our home."

The Queen’s hand suddenly came to rest upon Thorin’s arm, her touch warm and gentle as a mother’s caress. "My husband does not hate you or your people, dear Prince,” she told him. “His inaction that day is a mistake he has come to regret, even though he would never admit it. He is a proud king, and your grandfather inflicted one too many wounds upon that pride. But my lord did not withdraw from the field that day out of revenge or spite."

“I suppose you have another grand tale to explain his motivations, then.” Thorin could not help the rush of hot anger that flared within him at the memory, and he stepped back, away from the Queen’s reach. “If you can offer a good explanation as to how your husband managed to do nothing but watch the Dragon raze not just Erebor, but the entire town of Dale…" He clenched his fists against the assault of the horrifying images the repressed memory roused in his mind. “...how he could turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to thousands being incinerated right in front of him… I would like to hear it.”

“Had I been at Thranduil’s side that day instead of across the Mountains visiting my kin, things might have been different.” The grief that descended upon the Elvenqueen’s fair face almost made Thorin regret his harsh speech. “We could not take back what had already been done, but in the aftermath, we aided survivors in every way we could.”

“If aid had come sooner, there would have been more survivors instead of dead!” Thorin growled. “If aid had come sooner, we would have stood a chance at defending and keeping our home.”

“Erebor would have been taken, even if our army had marched out to fight. That is for certain," the Queen countered. “And we would have lost so many more lives. Perhaps even the lives of the last two sons that remain to us.”

Another silence dropped between them as Thorin fumbled with her words. It was the first he had ever heard of the Elvenking having a child or heir, and he had not considered that there might be several of them. What sons? No Elven princes had arrived with the army and no mention was ever made of them at the councils.

“I do not understand.” Thorin muttered, pangs of shame now surfacing above his cooling rage. “You have lost a son to dragons? Has your family encountered Smaug before?”

The Queen raised her eyes from the ground, and in holding her gaze, Thorin saw for the first time the truth of her age, hidden beneath her unfaded youth. The wisdom in her eyes, borne from countless years of immortal existence, made him realize the indescribable burdens she must carry upon her shoulders.

He never thought he would ever feel pity for an elf until that moment.

“I have shared enough for one evening,” she said with a faint smile. “It was not my intention to shake your faith in the things you have been taught. I only wish for you to understand better my King’s mind, and to know that our family has always valued our friendship with Aulë’s Children. My people are marching into battle side-by-side with yours tomorrow. I would have you trust that the Elves of Greenwood will protect you as our own.”

“But would they, oh Queen?” Thorin raised his eyebrows. “It remains unclear to me why Mirkwood should now do such a thing for us, when the crime committed by Azog was against our house alone.” He wondered if she suspected his father’s private theory, that Thranduil’s sole motive was to force Durin’s House indebtedness, and the Elves' so-called friendship was merely an expensive service that would have to be paid for later. King Thrain had accepted the Elves into their ranks as mercenaries, not friends.

“That is where you are wholly mistaken, Thorin.” This time the Queen frowned, and the soft lines of her face grew taut. “My family has endured unspeakable losses at the hands of the same Enemy that murdered Thror. This war belongs to us all, and so we shall take our stand together to put an end to these monsters that have taken far too much from us.”

“And what of the sons you spoke of? Might not Thranduil abandon the cause again out of fear of losing them?”

If the Queen took offense at his brazen sarcasm, she did not show it, which only deepened Thorin’s guilt. “Our sons stayed behind in Mirkwood, charged with ruling in their father’s absence.” She tilted her head to the side, pinning the dwarf with a searching gaze. “You are still too young to have children of your own, so it may be difficult to understand the fierce instinct to protect the ones you brought into this world.”

“I have no wife or children,” Thorin responded. “But I still understand the willingness to give my life if necessary to protect someone I love. I have a younger brother, Frerin, whom you have already met, but you may not remember…”

“Oh, I remember Prince Frerin indeed.” Queen Maereth’s sudden laughter was the sweetest, most musical sound that dissolved whatever bitterness lingered in Thorin’s heart. “It has certainly not escaped our attention how much your brother has enjoyed visiting our camp. My King is convinced he is mad, but it amuses him nonetheless, and I for one have not been delighted by a dwarf's charming manners in far too long."

"Just this morning he approached me, very boldly but ever so courteously, and asked me for a favor to carry with him throughout this war." The Queen gestured at her waist, where the intricately embroidered bodice of her green dress joined with the flowing skirt. "I gave him the sash off my gown and told him I would be honored for him to bear it."

Thorin felt his jaw drop, utterly flabbergasted, but when no words could pass his lips, a bark of laughter rang out. "That is the sort of thing Frerin would do," he admitted. "Particularly if he had been goaded by your soldiers, which I suspect is what happened. It was kind of you to indulge him."

"By that favor shall my blessing accompany your dear brother into battle," Queen Maereth said softly. "I shall pray it always leads him to a safe return."

“He left behind the woman he loves to come here," Thorin said abruptly. "His betrothed. I would see to it that he returns to her in Dunland to make good on his promise to marry her and have the future he desires."

"Then may it happen as you say." The Queen nodded. “But what of you, Crown Prince? What awaits your return after this war?”

There was a pause as the Queen regarded him even more intently. "You will lead your people back to the Mountain.” She spoke as though stating a fact, as certain as one would be of the sun rising to usher in a new day. “It shall be achieved by you, in time. So long as you learn to heed the counsel of the wise, of those you might regard as outsiders. Resist the flaws of your fathers, and do not be so hasty to regard the world with suspicion. The greatest victories are won with help coming from the most unexpected of places, so you must keep yourself open to receive it."

"Is that not what we are doing now, my lady?" Thorin swept his arm in the direction of the camp in the far distance. “Who could have foreseen that Dwarves and Elves would ever come together under one banner this way?”

“It is an auspicious start,” the Queen agreed. “I feel hope is renewed strong with this alliance, and that we shall prevail so long as it remains unbroken.”

“It will not fail from our end,” Thorin declared stoutly. “As a dwarf-friend, you would know that we honor our word once it is given.”

"I do believe that, Thorin, Son of Durin." She reached out to offer him her hand. Thorin grasped it, lightly at first, but was surprised by the strength he felt from those slender fingers pressed into his palm. He moved his other hand in to completely encase hers, and they sealed the gesture with an exchange of smiles.

“With all the power in me, I shall see to it that the Elves reciprocate your loyalty. Only hours from now, you shall see for yourself." Deep pride glowed on the Queen's face. "You will see the difference it makes to have the greatest warrior in Middle-earth fighting on your side."

Artist credit: @cycas

Third Age 2793, Mount Gundabad

Thorin pressed his clenched fists over his eyes and pulled in a slow, deep breath that shuddered through his lungs. After the emergency war council ended and all the Dwarven officers in assembly followed King Thrain back out of the tent, the prince sat alone in the dead silence, for a long time motionless as a carven statue upon his chair. His hollow stare bore straight into the canvas flap through which they had all exited, walking off to proceed with business as though absolutely nothing of significance had occurred.

When he thought enough strength might have returned to his legs, Thorin staggered to his feet. But something in the act of just moving returned his mind to the realities of the present, to the memories of the last twenty-four hours, and the tenuous stranglehold he kept on his emotions shattered.

And finally, Thorin wept.

Immediately upon returning to camp with his company, Thorin stood before the Dwarven council to deliver his account of the battle. His report was hopelessly garbled and raised many questions he could not answer, but those present managed to cobble it together with the fragments of news and hearsays picked up from the Elven ranks and form a coherent story.

The news of Queen Maereth’s abduction had reached their camp in the cold darkness of a moonless winter night, and the chaos that had erupted from the Mirkwood host was unholy. The Dwarves were woken from their sleep by the noise of over a thousand Elves scrambling to form ranks as the word spread like literal fire setting their tents ablaze, and there arose a terrible cacophony of enraged shouts and anguished wails, spoken in a tongue they could not understand.

Yet somehow, orders came from the absent king. The Queen had been located. At morning's light the Elven army finally set off in great haste, and after many rejected attempts to communicate with the Mirkwood lieutenants Thorin managed to force an answer out of them as to where they were marching off to, so he could lead the Dwarves to join them in the rescue.

Back to the depths of Gundabad, the orc captors had taken her, barely more than a league away. The Dwarves and Elves had spent the last three months laying a relentless siege upon the ancient stronghold, waging battle after battle, and winning decisively each time. Their armies cut through Gundabad's defenses with overwhelming ease, slaughtering the orc legions until only dredges of their filth remained, withdrawing to the deepest caverns, clinging to their nests like stubborn roaches. The Mountain should have been one final purge away from being utterly won.

Instead, their enemy had lashed out with their most devastating blow yet.

“There was nothing left for us to do,” Thorin told the commanders of the Seven Houses. "By the time our forces arrived, a thorough razing had already been accomplished. We chased down a few survivors attempting to escape, but the Elves had exterminated the rest." He paused and closed his eyes briefly, as a vivid memory flashed in his mind, and he corrected himself. "Or from what I could tell, Thranduil had carried out most of it."

"I heard he was half dead when they found him," one of the officers grunted. “And entirely mad.”

“That preening peacock has always been mad. Charging into Gundabad on his own without waiting for even a single soldier to cover him.”

"Foolish bastard."

"He was injured," Thorin broke back into the exchange, grimacing as the nightmarish image of the blood-drenched Elvenking once again crossed his thoughts. "Far more seriously than he has ever been. But he walked out of Gundabad unaided, even carrying the Queen himself. I did not get a chance to speak with him, and have not seen him since."

"He has not shown himself at all since this whole disaster started," Thrain burst out, pounding a fist on the arm of his throne. "What kind of king sends a messenger to deliver notice of his retreat? Or perhaps I should just be thankful they didn’t simply fade into the night without a word of warning!”

"Their queen is dead , Father." Frerin's tone was sharp when at last he broke his silence. Only Thorin caught the slight tremor in his brother's voice and he gratefully realized he was not the only one with grief swelling in his chest. "It is only right that they go home and lay her to rest."

"Pulling out the entire army in the middle of a campaign?!" scoffed a Firebeard chieftain. "It stinks of typical Elf weakness."

Frerin stood abruptly from his chair. "There are rumblings from the Mirkwood camp about a betrayal," he said loudly. "Committed by our people. It is being said that it was one of our escorts sent with Queen Maereth that betrayed her to the enemy, and assisted in her abduction."

A chorus of indignant shouts immediately rose in the tent, but Thorin remained silent. Frerin's friendship with the Elves still gave him reliable sources of information, and this accusation did not surprise Thorin at all. The same suspicion had dawned on him when he pondered how the ambush on the Queen's convoy could have occurred. Meticulous plans had been made to take her by a safe route home over the Grey Mountains, through passes known only to Longbeards who had long dwelt in those lands.

The Longbeards King Thrain had offered up as guides were people Thorin had never met before. They were distant relatives who came forward to answer the call to arms, claiming descent from the Gloin who once ruled over the Grey Mountains. But Thorin knew little else of these so-called relations, and he doubted his father had the time to get any much better acquainted.

“The orcs slew the entire escort to capture her! Dwarves and elves alike, indiscriminately!” bellowed another officer. “How dare they accuse us of treason, when lives of our kin were also sacrificed to shield their Queen!”

“I should have been the one to do it,” Frerin said bitterly. “I volunteered and you forbade it, but I should have insisted upon it. I should have gone to ensure Queen Maereth’s safe passage.”

Thrain stared at his son incredulously. “You are a Prince of Erebor, not some Queen's maid!” he exclaimed. “We were not remiss in our obligation. We gave her a strong and proper escort, but the mission was compromised. Our enemy outsmarted us. It was an unfortunate incident, but one we could not have predicted or prevented.”

“Unfortunate?!” Anger blazed in Frerin’s bright blue eyes. “Is that what you would call it? Bad weather is unfortunate. A spilled barrel of ale is unfortunate! The Queen of Mirkwood was murdered, when she was supposed to be under our protection! How can you be so dismissive about such a failure, that is now a stain on our honor?!"

For once, silence dropped like a stone upon the assembly. Father and son glared at each other for a tense moment, until King Thrain growled, "Leave my sight, Frerin. Do not return until you have rid your head of nonsense and cleansed your mouth of insolence."

Thorin watched his brother storm out of the tent and almost wished he could join him, but he stayed behind to hear the continued grumblings of the Dwarven leaders.

"We brought this upon ourselves, joining with elves, who have time and again proven fickle and faithless."

"We have gotten some use out of them, at least. Gundabad was quickly won, and at barely any cost to our ranks.”

“Hah! Let them be cowards and run back home! We shall advance without them and show them the true meaning of grit.”

“Aye! I never liked the thought of that woodland fairy sharing in our glory anyhow!”

"Thranduil has fought fiercely for our side from the onset of this campaign, and his valor has played no small role in our victories.” Thorin was barely aware that he was shouting, not to be heard above their jabbering, but to release the frustrations that would otherwise cause him to implode. “But this war, which was never truly his to fight, has cost him his wife, his companion for thousands of years, a bond none of us can possibly comprehend. Now you mock him in his grief, calling him a coward for his need to mourn?!”

Just as with Frerin, Thrain glowered at his elder son long and hard, and Thorin thought for certain he too would be ejected from the council. Instead, the King rose from his throne, gave the prince a tight, patronizing smile, and launched into a speech that robbed Thorin of the desire to say anything else.

"I understand you and your brother had been ensnared by the charms of the Elvenqueen. Lovely and fair she was indeed, and I will not deny that her presence gave strength to our hosts. But in the end she is still just a single soul lost, one casualty in this war. And I will not allow the blame for her killing to fall on our people!” The blue gemstone of his great ancestral ring flashed as Thrain waved his hand in stern proclamation. “Thranduil was the one who risked her life by bringing her here, keeping her so close to danger. Perhaps if these Elves treasured and safeguarded their women in the ways we do, this senseless tragedy would not have occurred."

As Thorin wept quietly in the tent at the conclusion of that sickening assembly, he knew that his tears were not merely of sorrow at the fate of the Elvenqueen. He did not think he had ever been angrier with this father in all his life, or more ashamed of his kinsmen, or more disappointed in himself for his inability to tell them all exactly this.

Frerin found him slumped low in his chair when he returned to the tent. The younger prince raised his eyebrows at the pathetic sight but said nothing about Thorin’s watery eyes, flushed cheeks, and damp, disheveled beard.

“Come Thorin,” he said urgently. “The elves have begun their march. They are leaving, right now. You must come!”

“And do what?” Thorin asked dully.

“Let us go speak to them, learn of their plans! Perhaps we can get some idea as to when they will be rejoining us.”

“They are not coming back, Frerin,” Thorin said tersely. "The alliance has been declared broken by both sides. Father and his generals have accepted the Elves' departure. I have certainly heard enough crowing of how we will now triumph in the rest of this war without having to share the glory.”

"Shall we heed the words of those puffed-up wind sacks?” Frerin scoffed. “We have taken very few casualties with the Elves fighting by our side! Is pride really worth more than all the lives we can save by asking Mirkwood to stay with us?!”

When Thorin still refused to budge from his chair, Frerin gave a frustrated growl and grabbed both his arms, yanking his brother to his feet.

"We should speak directly with King Thranduil," he said, pulling Thorin towards the tent exit. "He has as much cause as we do now to want Azog’s head. Surely he craves revenge and will not find rest until the task is done."

“It is not that simple.” Thorin rubbed his temple, where a pounding headache seems to have formed. “Maereth is gone. Can you not see why our enemies targeted her? Much of the Elves’ goodwill towards us rested on her, on the love her husband and their people bore for her. We cannot replace her influence on them, the zeal she inspired in their hearts. Nothing can.”

“I think our relationship with the Elves has grown beyond that, now that we have spilled blood together. The least we can do is try,” Frerin insisted. “Or shall we stand quiet and let her death be for nothing? Because I think she would want us to bring our case to Thranduil, and make him see reason if need be--”

“Just stop, Frerin!” Thorin cried, finally snapping under the weight of grief and exhaustion. “Enough! There is nothing left to be done, and we have to accept that. It is over .”

Frerin did stop talking, for a second, to give Thorin a scathing, disgusted scowl. “Never mind, then.” He released his grip on Thorin’s arm, giving him a hard push away. “Sulk in your corner. I will do it myself.” He disappeared behind the flap of the tent exit.

“Frerin, wait!” As tired as he was, Thorin rushed after him into the evening twilight.

He did not have to venture far to find what Frerin had wanted him to come and see. The Mirkwood soldiers had departed from their now empty campsite and formed a long, wide column that snaked eastward, marching back towards the Greylin, and from there to their woodland home. Many dwarves had come out of their tents to watch the Elven army leaving in the distance, but none were curious enough to approach the giant procession.

Thorin walked quickly to catch up, keeping an eye out for the vibrant blue color and fur collar of Frerin’s winter coat.

Looking ahead towards the front of the procession, Thorin finally spotted Frerin, easily noticed next to the line of towering Elves. As he surged forward to reach his brother, Thorin realized they had come alongside the most important section of the cavalcade.

On a large litter borne by the shoulders of a half-dozen Elves, the Queen’s body lay, covered almost entirely by a thick, richly embroidered coverlet, and draped over that was a shimmering silver cloak that Thorin recognized as the Elvenking’s own. Sheer white silk veiled her face, still beautiful and unscathed, but whose pale lifelessness was too saddening to look upon.

Thorin came up to Frerin, who had finally stopped moving, and was just staring helplessly at the Elvenqueen’s body as it passed by. Thorin saw the fear and despair on his brother’s face and reached out to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

The princes remained that way for a while, suddenly transported back to a time during their childhood in Erebor, when two little dwarves stood by the funeral bed of another deceased queen, scared and confused and unable to grasp what a motherless future held for them.

“We should go,” Thorin finally said.

"No," Frerin said brusquely. Determination renewed, he continued walking up the line, his boots crunching against the packed snow. "He is right there ."

The Elvenking rode at the very front of the column, separated from his soldiers by a good distance. Astride his great bull elk, he towered above the marching elves, but even higher above the dwarf that boldly approached him.

Thranduil's war steed was a violent, ill-tempered creature. Thorin had watched it mow down orcs on the battlefield, and once saw it nearly bite the shoulder off a Ironfoot spearman just for coming too close. The beast had to be part monster, a lethal hazard that could only be controlled by its similarly dispositioned master.

Sure enough, when Frerin strode up within scope of the elk's sight, it immediately halted in its tracks. It did not buck or make any sudden movements out of respect for its rider, but its nostrils flared as it snorted angrily and dipped its head low to challenge the intruder with its massive antlers.

Behind Thranduil, the entire procession also came to an immediate halt, and a profound silence allowed the dwarf-prince’s voice to be heard loud and clear.

"Lord Thranduil," Frerin called, stopping a safe distance before the elk beast, out of reach from being skewered or bitten. Thorin watched, aghast, as his brother sank down on one knee in a manner of greeting. "Forgive my impertinence and allow me to deliver a message on behalf of my King and our people."

Thorin froze when he realized trying to interrupt his brother, or discredit him by denying the validity of his words, would only rouse the Elvenking's notorious temper. And so he held his breath and stood aside, watching as Frerin pulled out a golden silk sash from the folds of his coat, and raised it above his bowed head.

“We mourn your loss with you," Frerin declared. "Queen Maereth was the kindest and fairest soul many of us had ever seen in our lifetime. We beseech our Great Father, Mahal, to intercede for her during her sojourn in the Halls, and to honor her as the dwarf-friend she was."

Then he rose and braved a few steps forward to offer the sash up to Thranduil, who still had not uttered a sound or moved in his saddle.

"Peace be on your journey as you bring her home to rest," he said as he waited for the Elvenking to accept his offering.

“We will await your return, when we shall rise together in arms once more to avenge her.”

At long last, Thranduil bent down to reach for the golden sash. He gripped it tightly in his fist, but still said nothing as the bitter silence droned on unbearably.

Unwilling to continue letting his brother stand there alone, Thorin finally walked over to Frerin's side. His arrival seemed to jar the Elvenking from his trance and he turned his piercing gaze towards the elder prince.

It was a sight both shocking and chilling to behold up close, the tears that streamed down the cut and bruised cheeks of Thranduil's cold, inflexible face. He inclined his head in a small, vague nod.

The elk lurched forward without warning, forcing the brothers to scramble hastily out of its path. As quickly as that, the Mirkwood army marched on, once again leaving the dwarves at the sidelines to witness their exodus.

"They will be back," Frerin whispered, an unquenchable conviction burning in his eyes. "I saw it on his face."

Thorin did not know how much he shared in this optimism, but his heart swelled with admiration and pride in the bravery his little brother had demonstrated. He just never learned how to express it in words.

"You should have kept the Queen's favor. It was her gift to you."

Frerin shrugged. "And I used it as I believe she would have wanted me to," he responded. "Whenever Thranduil looks at it, he will remember my words and the cause she gave up her life for. He will not let it be for nothing."

He touched his fist over his heart as the Elvenqueen's body was carried past them once more. "For now, we will hold the line until they return."

Third Age 2799, The Valley of Azanulbizar

The uproar of bellowing dwarves and the piercing blare of war horns echoing throughout the sunless valley signaled victory. Had they really won? After six long years of underground battles that culminated in a final descent into hell, was the impossible war finally over?

Thorin reached up to swipe aside the hair plastered by sweat across his face, and only succeeded in smearing more black grime into his eyes. He gasped and clutched his left arm, feeling a shock of breathtaking pain run up from his wrist to shoulder. The bones had to be broken in multiple places, with the damage worsened by his fighting on after it had been injured. It would never regain the same strength it once had even after healing.

As close as he had come and as close as his bodily pain still felt to death, somehow he was alive and standing. The battlefield surrounding him revealed a much grimmer fate for most of the eight thousand dwarves that had marched into Dimrill Dale.

The truth of the death toll had been impossible to notice while the bloodshed continued, but after the last axe-stroke had fallen, it became clear that victory for Durin’s Folk was a questionable claim.

A deep, throbbing ache clawed up Thorin’s leg with each step he took, as he limped across the barren plain, struggling to get his bearings in the black darkness of the cloudy night. Several times, he stumbled over what at first appeared to be a boulder or felled tree, but the clink of chainmail or steel armor announced a corpse.

A handful of torches moved in the distance, as Dwarven soldiers began the task of combing through the field, seeking any wounded left lying among the dead that might still be saved. Only then did it finally sink in for Thorin that he needed to find his brother, and that immediately drove out all awareness of his own pain and exhaustion.

They had begun the battle literally side-by-side in King Thrain’s mounted vanguard, charging at the advancing hordes of orcs that flowed down the mountain slopes above the East-gate. Their cavalry rams were quickly shot down, forcing them to plunge into the chaos on foot. In the initial onslaught of the orcs, the company led by the princes succeeded in driving their opponents back, and the brothers managed to stay within reach of each other. But then innumerable creatures, including trolls and wargs, began to pour out of Moria’s gate, and the tide of battle turned swiftly ill. Thorin lost track of his men as they fell at a rapid pace, and he was swept away from the sight of his brother as night’s terrible shadows cloaked the accursed valley.

It felt like an eternity before someone finally responded to Thorin’s relentless cries. He was found on the field by his cousin Dwalin, a dwarf who should have been counted too young to join their ranks but was so robust and strong for his age that his own father volunteered him along with his brother Balin.

“Praise Mahal!” Thorin hugged tightly the cousin he had practically helped raise, glad to finally lay eyes on a surviving relation. But when he pulled back and took a closer look at Dwalin’s expression, he found no shared joy or relief, but a face crumpled with sorrowful anguish. The cold dread swept back into Thorin’s chest.

“What is it?”

“Frerin,” Dwalin choked out, cementing Thorin’s fears. “Hurry--you must come.”

They had set him down underneath a tree by the banks of the Kheled-zâram, far enough from the main battlefield so that the stench of death and decay did not overcome the lakeside air. Frerin’s eyes were closed, and he lay so still tucked between two giant roots that Thorin collapsed to his knees with a wail, fearing he was too late.

But his brother’s eyes fluttered open at his voice, and his lips parted in a blood-stained smile. “What took so long, nadad ?” he croaked. “The Halls await.”

“No Frerin,” Thorin shook his head vigorously, clutching his brother’s limp hand in a grip that would have crushed stone. “You cannot go. Your place is still here with me.”

“I cannot obey, Highness.” His chest heaved visibly in dire gasps for continued breath. “I had nearly slipped away. But had to see with my…eyes that you live and will not follow… where you should not yet be.”

“Frerin…”

“Not yet , Thorin.” Strength seemed to return briefly to the dying dwarf’s hand, and he squeezed Thorin’s fingers. “Not for a very long time still.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Thorin said desperately.

“Take my braid…” His words fell to wheezing, as the final dregs of strength he had clung to swiftly faded. “Back to Ezri. I love her. As much as…love… you.”

Thorin did not leave his brother’s side for hours after Frerin breathed his last. He succumbed to a deathlike sleep with his head upon the younger prince’s chest, and wept once more when he eventually awoke to find that it had been no nightmare.

By morning’s light, the dwarves commenced gathering the corpses and stripping all their soldiers of armor and weapons, reclaiming every single piece so that none would fall into orc possession. Balin and Dwalin helped Thorin carry Frerin a long distance to the Longbeard camp set up outside the valley, where the prince’s body could receive care befitting his station.

King Thrain’s angry curses and anguished sobs filled the tent when he finally arrived, hobbled by his own near-fatal injuries, to grieve his lost son. Only then did Thorin finally leave to give his father privacy, and to seek out his cousin so he could make one more request of him.

“It would be my honor,” Balin said gravely. They sat by a campfire together as they made plans, nursing bowls of hot barley stew. It was the only food Thorin had consumed in almost three days, but it tasted like ash in his mouth as he forced it down for sustenance. “I shall start gathering materials immediately. It seems the plan for most of the fallen is to build great pyres, so while the supply of lumber might run short, there will be enough stone to work with.”

“I will scout for a suitable location.” Thorin set aside his half-eaten stew and reached into a pocket in his tunic, drawing out the braid of Frerin’s copper-brown hair that bore a betrothal bead marked with runes. He turned the small silver bead over with his fingers thoughtfully. “Somewhere on a hill with lots of sunshine. He was an odd enough dwarf to enjoy something like that.”

“Then I will build him the finest hilltop tomb I can manage,” the master stonemason promised. “But are you certain you would not rather carry him back home to his sweetheart?”

“Dunland is not home ,” Thorin said darkly. “One may argue that this orc-infested mountain is more our proper home than that place.”

Balin’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Then do you have plans to return elsewhere when we are done here?”

“I do not know,” Thorin muttered. “It does not even seem to matter at the moment. Right now, I just feel nothing will ever matter again.”

He staggered to his feet, cradling his bandaged arm across his chest, and excused himself before walking off. He cut straight through the Longbeard camp, willing himself to ignore the growing pile of corpses he passed on his way out. But just outside of the campsite boundaries, another great pile caught and held his gaze--the collection of salvaged Dwarven armor and weaponry.

One item in particular ensnared his attention, for it seemed to have magically appeared in front of him at the right moment, when it might have been abandoned by the Great Gate with the orc carcasses.

He remembered the day Frerin presented the intricately wrought shield to him, the product of a whole month’s labor in the forge. There had been no special occasion; just a proud young smith wishing to prove once and for all to his older brother that he had surpassed him in at least one skill. And truly, Thorin had never borne a finer shield into battle, and he knew he never would again.

He picked up the black-and-silver shield by its edges and stared at the burnished surface that barely yielded a scratch. Only the leather strap was actually damaged, ripped apart by the sheer force of many powerful blows that had broken Thorin’s arm before it even managed to break the mighty shield. It could easily be repaired if he wished.

Thank you for reading and your support!

Tagged by request: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @guardianofrivendell @undeniableadrenaline @albionscastle @quickslvxr

Tagging because I'm totally guessing you might be interested (if I'm wrong, please forgive me! XD): @ladyk8tie @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady @sleepyamygdala @jezzibee @firelightinferno @coopsgirl @emmyspov

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

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#the dragon recommends #angst #oneshot #thorin #thorin oakenshield #frerin #the hobbit #thranduil #thranduil x oc #the elvenqueen #sotwk

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that-one-pretty-bitch · 2 years ago

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since you write untouchable lady could you perhaps do a axion berzet x reader where reader has been his personal maid ever since when they were kids?

𝒪𝒻𝒸 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝑒!! 𝐼 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝒜𝓍𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝐼 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. 𝐼'𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒜𝓍𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓎/𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑒𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒾𝒻 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝓀? 𝒮𝑜 𝓎/𝓃 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝒹'𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝓃𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓈 𝒜𝓍𝒾𝑜𝓃'𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓉𝒽 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 ( 𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝟧 )

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

Headcanons firsttt

Okay so first of all you knew each other since you both were 5

Axion was actually a lively kid but grew up to be colder because of daddy issues

Axion’s father is really scary and you were scared of him as a kid

He is cold but only soft for you

Hair kissessss <3

He likes having his neck kissed too

He would probably smell minty

He refuses to take help from anyone else in the mansion except you therefore you have no free time… he is always like “Y/n help me with this” or “Y/n there is this new place I wanted to see. Get ready”.

So dirty minded but you don’t even know?? His eyes are constantly watching you as you work, while he thinks about ✨t h i n g s ✨

He would be very straight up with you kind of like, “I’m in love with you and I want to marry you”

Throws a lot of tantrums for an adult, like if you're not sitting next to him he won’t be eating dinner and then will proceed to ask why you didn’t join him. YOU WERE BUSY THAT'S WHY

You know that feeling when a baby hates everyone except you? That's kind of how it is with Axion. He hates everyone but is a literal golden retriever puppy when it comes to you.

People are like “How tf did you manage to tame him???”

Fanfic / Scenario <333

You opened the curtains to Axion’s ridiculously large room. Letting the morning sunlight make its way in. The rays of sunlight were annoying Axion who had proceeded to pull the sheets over his head but you had strict orders from Axion’s father that he needed to be ready by the afternoon, so here you were waking up your very stubborn boy. You had to pull the sheets off his face and then he gave you a very grumpy look and tried going back to sleep.

“Master please, wake up,” You had sighed

“Okay, okay i’m up,” He said as he got out of bed

You smiled and pinched his cheeks,

“We have grown so much since when we first met,” Y/n smiled

Memories flooded his mind. He was around five, a very small boy when his favorite maid had brought over a small girl. The woman begged Axion’s father to let y/n work with her as well. Since her husband's death they had no place else to go. Y/n’s mother was one of the best maids they had therefore, the head of the house agreed without much convincing needed. He had assigned y/n to accompany Axion as he would have someone else his own age to keep him company and since that day the duo had been attached at the hip. One never being seen without the other!! They had grown up together, y/n’s room was a slightly smaller yet still a big room next to Axion’s. You were known pretty well around the mansion and practically everyone shipped the two of you, believe it or not Axion’s father was also secretly rooting for the two of you after all it was clear that no one captured his heart more than you did. You two had grown up together, you had gone from being little kids to fully grown adults. Axion had gone from being a chubby little boy to a really handsome man and you had gone from benign an adorable little girl to a beautiful young lady. Bringing his head back to reality Axion stared at the shorter girl looking at him with concern.

“You blanked out again,” She sighed

“Ah, sorry y/n,” He said

On Axion’s 23rd birthday he snuck out of the ball with y/n and confessed his love for her at the lake. Although, he had confessed to y/n multiple times. This time he was making it official, slipping a blue sapphire ring on her finger and gazing at the stars as he wrapped his jacket around the two of them like a blanket.

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒹, 𝒾'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎!! 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔. 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 :)

#untouchable lady #manwaha x reader #Axion Berzet #Untouchable lady x reader #Manwaha men x reader #Untouchable lady fanfiction

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babblydrabbly · 3 years ago

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I'm by no means organized enough for something like this, but I thought I'd give it a shot. 2021 has been a lot for me, like I know it's been for a lot of you. I started this blog a few years ago and left it untouched because I didn't think my stories were interesting enough to post. Fast forward to August of this year, when I found some truly amazing pieces of fiction and a community of writers that post such amazing fuckin' shit it's crazy. I spent so much time lurking in fandom, and it wasn't until now that all these beautiful works encouraged me to start posting too. Now there's more than 600 of you putting up with the shit that I write? Preposterous. So here's to all the writers/readers/friends who've kept me sane, and a dollop of fics that have brought me oodles of joy. This list isn't everything I've read this year, but it's a lot of rad fics I recommend anybody read if you haven't already. ILY ♥ My Rec Tag || * = Indicates darkfic/dubcon warning

DCEU/Suicide Squad

♦ Rick Flag ♦ ♦ Jealousy by @fearthespork || rick flag x f!reader ♦ "Friends? I don't think so..." by @cockslut-padalecki || rick flag x reader ♦ Venus Fly Trap by @hxbbit || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Distant Heartbeat by @sweetfictionalworld || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Sleepy I Love You by @lorecraft || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Please by lorecraft || rick flag x f!reader* ♦ Panties by lorecraft || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Love Me Now by @greymoonfeelings || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Just Be by @softmamawrites || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Lurk by @spidershmider || rick flag x f!reader* ♦ Break the Ice by @a-reader-and-a-writer || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Disciplinary Action by @foli-vora || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Sex Pollen by @charnelhouse || rick flag x f!reader* ♦ Cafe Desires by @fairchildflag || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Facade by fairchildflag || rick flag x f!freader ♦ Kinktober Day 28 by @lacontroller1991 || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Thawing of a Heart by @mistycreativelilacs || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Lonely This Christmas? by @loverhymeswith || rick flag x f!freader ♦ Happy New Year by loverhymeswith || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Pledge Allegiance by @klmurr || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Pity Me, I need You by @ohcaptains || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Fire and Ice by @blackbat05 || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Made to Heal Series by @priceof-freedom || rick flag x f!reader ♦ A Sharp Reprimand by @clints-lucky-arrow || rick flag x f!reader ♦ C.M. Ceasefire by clints-lucky-arrow || rick flag x f!reader ♦ It's Something Along the Way by @velocibeewords || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Embrace What I Cannot Control by @lady-of-glass-and-bone || rick flag x f!reader ♦ Ten Out of Ten by fearthespork || Special shout out for this fic, for inspiring me to write rick flag fanfiction in the first place. All of their Rick fics are amazing ♥♥♥ ♦ Digger Harkness ♦ ♦ Dreamin' by @floral-and-fine || digger harkness x f!reader ♦ Robert DuBois ♦ ♦ Kinktober Day 5 by lacontroller1991 || robert dubois x f!reader ♦ Reckless by blackbat05 || robert dubois x f!reader ♦ A Good Show by clints-lucky-arrow || robert dubois x f!reader ♦ Harley Quinn ♦ ♦ Imagine Harley and you doing couple costumes for Halloween by @sserpente || harley quinn x f!reader ♦ One day I just wanna hear you say, "I like you" by @rabesbabe || harley quinn x f!reader ♦ Don't Mind by @thewitchandtheassassin || harley quinn x f!reader ♦ She's One of a Kind by @harleen-isleyy || harley quinn x f!reader ♦ Crazy In Love by @forever-more-never-again || harley quinn x f!reader ♦ Poly!Squad ♦ ♦ Bionic Exile Series by lacontroller1991 & @yelenas-lova || rick flag x f!reader x takeshi kovacs (altered carbon) ♦ Kitty by lorecraft || rick flag x f!reader x robert dubois ♦ More Sharing by lorecraft || rick flag x f!reader x bucky barnes (mcu) ♦ Poison Ivy x f!reader x Harley Quinn by @babyjordy ♦ A Work of Art Series by lorecraft || suicide squad x f!reader* ♦ Kinktober Day 8 by lacontroller1991 || rick flag x f!reader x digger harkness ♦ Within and Without by @rosemaremembrance || rick flag x f!reader x harley quinn ♦ Rick Flag x F!Reader x Harley by charnelhouse

The Killing (Stephen Holder)

♦ Enough series by loverhymeswith || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Addiction by @belovasupremacy || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Girlfriend by belovasupremacy || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Nasty Habits by klmurr || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Blue Pill by greymoonfeelings || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Someone Always Gets Hurt by a-reader-and-a-writer || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Can't Stay Mad At You by @heresathreebee || stephen holder x f!reader ♦ Caught In Between by @yespolkadotkitty || stephen holder x f!reader x erik heller (hanna)

Marvel/MCU

♦ Along Came a Spider by a-reader-and-a-writer || peter parker x f!reader ♦ I Want to Kill You Like They Do in the Movies by @boop-le-snoot || dr. octavis x f!reader ♦ Hot Cocoa Kissing by clints-lucky-arrow || clint barton x f!reader ♦ "It's the day of Anne's wedding" by charnelhouse || eddie brock x f!reader x Venom ♦ Need by @yourbucky084 || matt murdock x f!reader*

The Mandolorian

♦ Take a Bath by @green-socks || din djarin x f!reader ♦ Face Sitting with Din Djarin by @autumnleaves1991 || din djarin x f!reader ♦ Do As I Say by @arahxdjarin || din djarin x f!reader x cobb vanth ♦ This is the Tea by yespolkadotkitty || din djarin x f!reader* ♦ A World that We Design Series by lorecraft || cobb vanth x f!reader x original male character

And lastly, just a Happy New Year shout out to all the people who I see on my dash or on my posts, or who just brighten my day around here. Hello friends, ILY ♥

@reysorigins || @nerdysuperchick || @nikixie || @marvelousmermaid || @knivesareout || @deadangeluniverse || @dangelus || @femalefilmaker || @riddikulus-obsessions || @t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o || @weallhaveadestiny || beardburnsupersoldiers || aestheticallywinchester || princessmisery666 || lawfulgranola || rrtxmct || rexorangecouny || a-girl-who-loves-disney || billhaderginsberg || spookyssidepiece || natashawhinterar || laprvphette || girlnred ||

#babs' reading list 2021 #reading list #2021 #recs #babblybabbles #I have abused the mentions feature and cannot continue #but know that I am three margaritas deeP #and I see u and I love u guys #♥♥♥♥♥♥♥#I have so many more fics drafted with comments that have not made it on this list #but they will be posted to my recs tag...in 2022...

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imbrisvastatio · 2 years ago

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Writeblr Intro

About me

I'm Sarah (she/her), 23. My main is @aestatismors I'm from the east coast of the US. I work weird hours, but I am around a good bit and open to chatting! I am also open to any tags! I'm aro/bi. I spend most of my time writing. But I love reading and playing video games. I watch things here and there but mostly with my bff!

Favorite book: House of Leaves

Favorite show: The Librarians

Favorite movies: Straight Up and A Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Favorite musicians: Matt Maeson, Andrew Montana, Kailee Morgue, Xana, Halsey

Favorite color: Green

What I Write

I write all sorts of things. I am a lover of fantasy and horror. I have original projects. I write fanfiction here and there. I have original and fandom based roleplays. I also run some duet d&d based campaigns.

Writing Projects/Things I may mention

Main Project: Unnamed WIP, so far leaning into magic and horror with three povs

Shapeless: previous WIP, xmen inspired originally, large cast, "magic" and cosmic horror, possession

previous previous WIP: fantasy, sapphic, Zorah's mother disappeared so she began training to be an assassin/thief in order to find her

Crest: my d&d campaign! set in my own world, Zorah's story's continuation, in attempts to gain more power, Crest broke out in a war. Eventually Verenn, goddess who was given the Well to protect, cut magic off from the world. Now magic and worship of the gods has been outlawed

House of Unrest: horror, d&d based campaign, Vol 1: Abigail Biggons went on a hike with friends and disappeared in her home town of Marrowstone. Now it has been a week and there are no real leads. But staying at the Mirron Inn has proven that there is much more to this small town than meets the eye.

Larsen: My character for my peaky blinders roleplay! She is from London, but now resides in Birmingham. She has lots of connections and she has been trained to read people well. She is Michael Gray's lover who has spent too much of her life with no regard for her own life.

Matthews: My character from my stranger things roleplay! She has recently moved to Hawkins after an incident with her previous assistant coach. She is a track star with shitty parents. She is related to the Wheelers. Her lover will be Steve Harrington, but for now their non-friendship is quite promising. Crest is also featured as the central d&d campaign. Our Upside Down is tied to the gods of Crest. And it seems even Matthews isn't untouched.

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #my text #new writeblr #creative writing #writeblr intro #writing tumblr

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golatcxr · 2 years ago

Text

Quick ChiLi fanfiction at night [Gambling AU]

Idea belongs to my friend

Genre: sfw

TW: mild swearing

This is part 1, to be continued.

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

"Checkmate! Now this belongs to me." Said the champion, hoarding all the chips in sight to his side as his opponent could do nothing but sat in defeat.

"I'm not going for another round."

"Aw, leaving so soon?"

The youngster, known by the name Tartaglia, was an addicted gambler at that infamous V.I.P casino. Every single bets from BlackJack, solitaire, to lucky pulls - none of those methods were untouched by the talented entrepreneur. Nevertheless, he never ran out of money on this form of entertainment despite losing so many times.

To be frank, he didn't give two shits about winning.

All he ever cared about were the adrenaline rush he got from those games and the shots he had.

There were days when he got beaten up after losing, and there were times when he dragged ones into torture if he won. In spite of having too many warnings, he always demand for a second, third or fourth round as long as he could still keep his focused eyes opened.

What a maniac.

Apart from him, certainly, were some other big names that usually showed up at that Casino.

Some of which were "Discerner of Emigma: Yelan", "Calvary Captain: Kaeya" and "The fair Lady: Rosalyne"

However, he had only one untaunted challenger left, whom Tartaglia hadn't called for a match before.

"Vago Mundo: Zhongli"

He was described to be a calm yet astute man, agreeing to have any bet he was invited to and read through every games he had been in. If there was a word to describe this player, it would be tacticle. An intelligence to break any traps before him. Tartaglia never really bat an eye at Zhongli when choosing opponents, he would be wise enough to make their gamble more interesting but the ginger headed was sure that the result of the whole thing would be more boring than listening to a lecture. The path was set and there was little to no chance of changing it.

Unless the bet wasn't all about chips, shots and money.

His eyes shot up to the thought of that, a new method, it seemed, sent chill down his spine.

By then, no one would haven't been his old enemies.

Tartaglia looked around the area to find the fellow smart man, but he was nowhere to be found.

"I guess I'll have to save this for another day."

The very next night Tartaglia spotted Zhongli at the entrance of the building, he was in a trench coat with glasses on, adorning his handsome face - they made him look even more intellectualistic than he had been.

"You look out of character, I mean, not dressed like you are. What are you? A professor?" Tartaglia joked sarcastically.

"I AM a professor."

"Such a bad example for your scholars." He scoffed. "I'm asking for a game or two with you today, Mr. Professor. Mind sparing some time with me?"A cunning smile formed on his face with temptation.

Zhongli turned around to look at the gambler behind him, "Under the condition that you don't cheat, then fine."

Tartaglia watched the man walking away in anticipation, only had that teacher known what he was planning to do.

#childe x zhongli #tartagalia genshin impact #childe tartagalia #tartaglia x zhongli #modern au #fanfiction #zhongli #childe #zhongli genshin impact

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flowerbloom-arts · 3 years ago

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Mymble please

Pffffffuuuhhhhhh... Mymbleeee... Mymble... Maybe it's mymbeline... I don't wanna disappoint since I know you're a big ol' fan of the big lady so I'll give it my best.

First impression: "Ohhhhhhh big lady, big lady cool, she's funny. Face is kinda weird tho."

To be honest I don't really remember my initial opinion of her, I think she kinda... Popped into my consciousness when she was introduced in the first episode of the 2019 series and stayed there quietly as I didn't take much interest in her story. She was nice and oblivious and a little funny and then I was forgetful about her as much as she was forgetful of Little My.

Impression now: "Big lady's cool, but didn't have the mysterious intrigue or really lovable personality for me to fixate on her at any point."

If my lack of Mymble content's proven anything it's that I'm... Not super interested in her, but I suppose I still haven't given her a big shot at trying to figure her out as a person, then again I have alot of characters I'm really interested in already so I don't quite have the room for her until I feel motivated enough to shove her into my brain space. But I don't know, maybe there's something there to be had with her near-mysterious backstory that is left untouched by the fandom (I don't read fanfiction but that's what I'm getting I suppose). Maybe I should look into her more at some point.

Favorite moment: The iconic "pouring lemonade on the kids to stop them from fighting" is the most memorable part of her character taken straight out of the comics, I think it shows alot about her character in that yes she's kinda oblivious or willfully ignorant of what her kids do alot but she has enough experience to deal with them quickly and easily if it gets out of hand. Makes you wonder what other tricks she has up her sleeves in child discipline.

My other favorite moment is from the comics where Little My bites one of Mrs. Fillyjonk's kids and Mrs. Fillyjonk's like "Your smallest child just bit one of mine!!" and Mymble's like "Well you should teach them how to fight better :)" while she's knitting. The smug side eye expression of Mymble's is too perfect.

Idea for a story: I think an exploration of her backstory is in order. Perhaps she was one of many Mymble children like her own offspring, maybe her family wasn't so lucky and her siblings kept dying/disappearing/being unsuccessful, whatever the case may be. I think there's a friendship she could've had with young Fuzzy as they both lived on Jones' island, maybe they started drifting apart as Fuzzy became quiet and disciplined from her family after she got in trouble big time and Mymble became more outgoing as her flirty Mymble instincts kicked in and started having children.

Unpopular opinion: I'm not... All too familiar with opinions or characterizations of Mymble. I guess I could say she wouldn't be too attached to Joxter as a lover in my opinion? I don't quite ship them terribly atleast as a long-term domestic romantic relationship especially since it doesn't seem to have worked that way with Mymble's other lovers, they could work amazing as friends though, being absolutely care-free creatures who (accidentally?) stir up trouble with their combined obliviousness and love for fun.

Favorite relationship: I think Mymble and Little My have something there. Mymble is very much an enabler and My is the leader of the newest batch of Mymbles, but opinions on eachother may be up in the air. What does Little My think of her mother? Does Mymble pay much mind to Little My as the rest of her kids or is there a more distinct feelings towards her physically smallest adult daughter? Do they love eachother actively or is it really just a super passive familial love, if they love eachother at all? There's something to think about with them!

Favorite headcanon: There's alot of theories/interpretation of Mymble's antennae out there. Some draw it as a general Mymble characteristic (even though only Mymble is shown with them only in Memoirs), others think it's a Mymble puberty/adult thing; I personally think it's a Mymble pregnancy thing to indicate when a Mymble is ready to have more children (has antennae = already pregnant/can't reproduce more at the moment, doesn't have antennae = ready to reproduce)

I hope this is satisfactory for you!

#moomins #moominvalley #moomin mymble #the mymble #mymble #mymblemamma #ask game

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rosethornewrites · 3 years ago

Text

Fics I read this week!

MDZS/The Untamed, entirely. Including Tumblr fics here now, even if I shared them as well.

A lot of these are super short since I decided to embark on a journey to clear my AO3 “Marked For Later” list of anything under 3k words by reading them.

This is also a lot of fanfiction and I might have a problem. Any fanfiction addict support groups out there?

Also, I learned that I can only post 100 links. So this is going up early and I’ll separate the Not Rated, E, and M ones into a different post for next week.

Finished:

Not Rated (or Tumblr fics):

Parents, by @bloody-bee-tea

Untitled, by @mondengel

Untitled, by @cerusee

Xue Yang - The Third Jade of Gusu, by inawritingfrenzy

As Long as You're Here, by Aitheriomeraki

You are the last person I need to tell me exactly what I already know. You’re going to tell me to go back to cultivating the righteous path. You’re going to tell me that this is against the principles of a cultivator. I’m going to hear you drone on and on about what’s wrong with what I’m doing. You’re going to tell me that I’m acting like a pure disgrace, completely out of line, extremely unhinged and unruly and every other word your Lan vocabulary can muster up.” His words felt heavy but unstoppable, tears making their way to his eyes.

“You’re-” He was about to continue before getting cut off.

“Wei Ying… zhiji.” Lan Wangji breathed out like a plea, like a prayer. -------------- OR Lan Wangji talks to Wei Wuxian the day after killing Wen Chao.

Things we lost in the fire, by KatAnni

Three instances in Lan Wangji's life that involved fire. One of them certainly ends better than the others.

OR Wangxian can be cute in any situation, even when someone sets fire to their inn.

Sleep Talk, by breezebrocolis

"...But being awakened through such ungodly hours is worth it after all, because Wei Wuxian discovered that, contrary to popular belief about his boyfriend's sleeping habits, there’s a moment when Lan Zhan sleep talks, and he's the only one who knows it."

and

"...for now, after all and a year more, he'd never choose to have those lonesome minutes back. It turns out that filling the gaps with emptiness was necessary once, but it doesn't really fit him anymore. Lan Wangji has Grace on his side for now, the print of Wei Ying's delicate fingers into his skin."

In other words, a study about WangXian's sleeping habits.

Hold On, by voxnoxsox

“And really,” Wei Ying continued, “it makes no sense. Why would they not want to hug you, Lan Zhan, or, like… Do you warn them off or something? Give them the ol’ icy Lan glare?”

“No,” Lan Zhan said, when it was clear a response was required. His mind was a little preoccupied with Wei Ying’s hands still running up and down, up and down.

Rated E:

The Dreams of Youth, by Sami (25 chapters)

"Mother, I have to go, with or without you. Please come with me."

"A-Zhan, you're five years old," she says.

"With or without you, Mother," he pleads. "Please come with me."

Lan Wangji starts again from the beginning.

Rough and Tumble, by SugarMilkTea (3 chapters)

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are paired together for sparring, because of course they are.

Wei Wuxian is better than the rest of the disciples, because of course he is - so Lan Wangji takes him to another field to train privately.

Things escalate, because of course they do.

and if we choose to fall (who's to say it isn't flight?), by KiaraSayre (2 chapters)

Wei Wuxian has an idea and makes a talisman. A sexy talisman.

to live this way is not for the meek, by la_muerta

Yiling Laozu and his band The Restless Dead are one of the biggest names in the rock scene, playing to thousands of screaming fans in sold-out concerts all over the world.

But underneath the black leather, makeup, and untouchable, arrogant facade is a side of Wei Ying that only Lan Zhan gets to see.

Awareness, by syriala (last in a series)

Awareness is slow to come to Jiang Cheng, mostly because he doesn’t want to be aware. He’s warm and comfortable and Jiang Xiuying is bound to be still around and that is really all Jiang Cheng needs in life.

But then there’s an open mouthed kiss to the hinge of his jaw, Jiang Xiuying slowly trailing his way down Jiang Cheng’s throat, and it’s enough to get Jiang Cheng’s eyes open, however reluctant he might be.

Jiang Xiuying seemingly knows him better than Jiang Cheng does himself because he is already looking up at Jiang Cheng, his eyes sparkling and a teasing grin on his lips.

“Good morning,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice still rough from sleep and Jiang Xiuying leans up to capture Jiang Cheng’s lips in a kiss.

The heat behind it tells Jiang Cheng exactly where Jiang Xiuying wants to take this today, and Jiang Cheng can’t say that he minds too much.

yours for the taking, by SugarMilkTea

“There’s still time to back out, you know,” Wei Ying says, quiet enough that even the attendants waiting at the corners of their table won’t hear.

Lan Wangji pauses in the middle of reaching for the sash on Wei Ying’s—on his husband’s—outer robes. A pit opens in his stomach. His hand falls to his lap, and he lifts his eyes to meet Wei Ying’s. “Is that what you want?”

---

The components of the marriage ceremony are easy in theory. The handfasting, the bows, the feast... and the Taking.

housed by your warmth, by wangxiians

wei wuxian may never grow to enjoy mornings but he enjoys this, he really enjoys this – stolen time together, bodies reuniting, waking up before the world.

Rated M:

Heaven Hath No Fury, by Lady Mythos (Lady_Mythos)

The two biggest mistakes Yu Ziyuan has made are as follows: assuming Wei Wuxian was the cause of all her problems and assuming Cangse Sanren was dead.

Or, Cangse Sanren has a lot of things to say to the bitch that abused her son.

weird and awkward, by sami (3rd in a series)

At the age of sixteen, Lan Zhan falls in love, somewhat against his will.

Have Your Cake and Eat it Too, by adrian_kres (4 chapters)

Like half of all sound-tied people, Wei Ying was born with words in his heart and needing the melody they belong to. It’s his soul marker, and he’s been searching for his soulmate his whole life. Things change when he hears a tune being hummed in a cafe that matches his lyrics perfectly. Except he didn’t see who was humming it! To help, his brother’s soulmate puts him in contact with the beautiful pianist Lan Wangji, who makes Wei Ying question if he wants to find his soulmate at all…

Until The End, by abCEE (40 chapters)

"When I - when I tied my ribbon around our wrists, I knew what I was doing and I privately honored it." Wei Wuxian's brows continued to meet as he tried to understand where the conversation was going until realization dawned on him. "Wa - wait! Lan Zhan, is it what I think it is?!!" "It is usually done at the end of a wedding ceremony -" "What-" "But it could have been acknowledged as an engagement." "Lan Zhan!" He cannot believe what he is hearing now. "But my ancestor revealed herself -" "And we bowed… three times. We bowed, Lan Zhan!"

In which wangxian are married since the Cold Pond Cave incident, knows how proper communication works, and had confessed in the middle of the Sunshot Campaign. Things went up and down from there.

Breaking The Ice, by aflaminghalo

“Why are are you asking for punishment?”

Bring Your Honor, Bring Your Shame, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (21 chapters, third in a series)

Nie HuaiSang has a problem. His brother is losing his mind.

Rated T:

don't close your eyes, by howodd5ever

In which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian actually talk about the porn book.

Another Road, by Rynne

Something in the Guanyin Temple goes wrong. When Lan Wangji opens his eyes, he's fifteen again.

Phobia, by yougetsomekisses

What if Lan Wangji had been thrown in that dungeon with Wei Wuxian?

Snow Hunt, by InsanitysxCreation

A short scene of a winter hunt.

Entirely self indulgent, in that the idea of Lan Wangji in white leather gloves arrived in my brain and wouldn't let me continue until I'd written this.

真金不怕火炼 | True Gold Fears No Fire, by adrian_kres

In the immediate aftermath of a successful Sunshot Campaign, Wei Ying is kissed by Lan Zhan at the Phoenix Mountain Hunt while blindfolded. But when the blindfold comes off, Lan Zhan is nowhere to be found. Now, Wei Ying must deal with this heartbreak on top of forced therapy he was mandated to complete due to using demonic cultivation to end the war. Through it all, Wei Ying learns he has value, and that his assumptions about what happened at the hunt may not be entirely correct.

Fantasy, by snowberryrose (3 chapters)

In which Wen Qing leaves Or: Wen Qing rescues herself

Canon divergence from episode 20

Chapter 2: Qin Su’s choice Chapter 3: Xue Yang’s end

Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar, by masked (6 chapters)

“You know,” Ouyang Zizhen says thoughtfully over dinner one day, “I’ve never seen Wei-qianbei get jealous before.”

Lan Jingyi pauses for the briefest second, remembers the sect rule of keeping silence during meals, and decidedly forgoes it. “What?”

“Well,” Ouyang Zizhen continues, “Hanguang-jun always has a lot of admirers everywhere we go, but Wei-qianbei never seems to mind it.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Jin Ling asks flatly.

Four times Wei Wuxian doesn't get jealous, and the one time he does.

sweet dreams, by ShippersList

Distance won’t hinder Wei Wuxian from giving his Lan Zhan a goodnight kiss.

Sugar Baby, by nirejseki

“Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, and uh oh, that sounded like his ‘bad news’ voice. “We need to talk about your spending.”

That was worse than Nie Huaisang had thought.

“Is the talk going to be about how amazingly economical I am in making intelligent and aesthetically appropriate purchases?” he asked hopefully, clutching his latest and most aesthetic fan.

“Oddly enough,” his brother said, “no.”

Somehow, Nie Huaisang hadn’t thought so.

He was...No, He was Incompetent, by Corundum_Creations

He was Lan Wangji, a Twin Jade of the Lan Clan and he could face anything... so how did he become so incompetent with taking his Wei Ying and hiding him away?

The Resentful Cultivator Who Cried 'I'm Fine', by Mikkeneko

"Who's possessed?" another voice joined the scrum, and Wei Wuxian moaned in despair as Jiang Cheng came marching over to join the rest of the party, glaring daggers at Wei Wuxian for being the source of all this trouble. Purple lightning crackled on his wrist as his eyes narrowed. "This idiot got possessed? I can take care of that with Zidian! Stand back!"

"Ahaha, Jiang Cheng, there's no need for that!" he protested hurriedly. "Really, I'm not possessed!"

"Ah," Lan Jingyi nodded knowingly. "That's exactly what someone who was possessed and trying to throw us off the trail would say!"

---

While on a night-hunt with his friends and family, Wei Wuxian takes a near miss from a dangerous beast. Fortunately he wasn't hurt... but for some reason, they have trouble believing him when he says I'm fine.

Why I Can’t Help But Love Red, by spiralingbutmakeitanimerelated

Lan Wangji takes a bath after a night hunt. Wei Wuxian has questions about the night he branded himself.

Not Till Then Dare I Part From You, by forgottenenvy

WangXian share a tender moment as Lan Wangji braids flowers into Wei Wuxian's hair.

Snowmelt, by sugar_shoal

Lan Zhan has been badly injured on a night-hunt. Wei Wuxian panics only a little. Jiang Cheng drags them all to a nearby abandoned hut to wait out the encroaching blizzard.

Head Empty, Only Wei Ying, by nana_banana

Wei Ying is getting married? To someone not Lan Wangji? Fuck. Not if Lan Wangji has anything to say about it.

sparrow heart, by CeliaBlair24 (fourth in a series)

They pass notes through the spaces between their desks about nonsensical, inconsequential things. About the weather and birds, romance novels, and the forest behind the Cloud Recesses where they spend all their afternoons playing.

And Wei Wuxian is smart, both by the books and on his feet. If he wanted to, he could easily play Lan-xiansheng’s favorite class pet --studious and diligent about being studious; creative besides-- but he doesn’t. He listens to Lan-xiansheng and Jiang Wanyin’s complaints with half an ear and when all is said and done, he turns his back on them both and greets Nie Huaisang with his cheeky smile.

Otherwise known as "Nie Huaisang falls into like."

Retrospective on the State of the Field: Qinghe Patron X (QPX) Studies, by bladedweaponsandswishycoats (jeweledichneumon)

"Qinghe Patron X, eh?" Nie Huaisang chuckles, noticing the heading. Licking his lips, he circles the listing for the conference panel with a yellow highlighter. Despite the moniker having become common several years ago, he still gets a kick out of it. Of course he'd have to go to that one. He takes a moment to feel the faint touch of regret that he isn't on the panel himself; it is always more fun messing with people as a panelist than trying to rely on the Q&A period to say something provocative but relevant.

In which immortal cultivator Nie Huaisang likes to fuck around with scholars attempting to study what they think they know about him, and other shenanigans he gets up to (both with and without the help of his friends) in the modern age.

The year is 2021. Lan Wangji still goes where the chaos is, though these days that can mean a lot more than night hunts. Especially when Wei Wuxian and Nie Huaisang are dedicated to making sure being immortal never gets boring.

A Story for the Ages, by Supernova_Sage

Lan Wangji saunters over to the mystery section. He can hear people whispering, but he isn’t close enough to make sense of the conversation. The lilt in the voice makes it sound like one person is asking a question. Hmm. If he can hear whispering, they’re still being far too loud. He shakes his head and continues his browsing. He pulls his phone out to check the time. It’s nearly 6p. He really should get home. He still needs to feed the bunnies and feed himself and look over emails and—

He stops in his tracks. Stops when he sees the book that he’s been waiting to check out for months now. Every time he’s stopped by, though, it’s been checked out by someone else. And now it’s finally here. Sitting on the shelf in front of him. Once he manages to collect himself, he reaches for it. His fingers don’t touch the spine of the book, though. Instead, he finds his fingers brushing against the fingers of another.

DanTian - Into the Dark (LWJ), by ArchiveWriter (fourth in a series)

Wangji's memory holds images of Wei Ying. Wangji does penance by reliving his memories, and by making sure Wei Ying is loved. Wangji burns the millet porridge he's supposed to stir whilst Wei Ying fetches water for tea.

chasing echoes, by SWANPYRE

Lan Wangji must learn to co-exist with what he has learned his entire life to despise.

Snowfall, by nightflower

During a winter storm in Cloud Recesses, Wangji's old scars ache. Wei Ying takes care of him.

relics of love, by cl410

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Lan Zhan pinched the bridge of his nose. “The bunnies were almost eaten.”

“Our son was almost traumatized for life,” Wei Ying said, choking on a laugh. “Lan Zhan, he almost witnessed a double homicide on our own balcony.” He wheezed with laughter, clutching his ribs.

“We will install higher locks,” Lan Zhan said grimly.

Rated G:

A-Yuan's guide to eat the rich (a.k.a. How A-Yuan single handedly stopped a siege from happening and saved everyone), by fanficaddictXOXO

A-Yuan is only three years old. But he knows many things. He knows how to write his name. He knows potatoes are better than radishes (Xian gege said so). But the most important thing he knows is that the handsome gege with a white forehead ribbon is rich.

Obviously You Hate Me, by Sarehz

Wei Wuxian leans across the round table. "Okay, this isn't going to work."

From across the very same table, Lan Wangji raises one puzzled eyebrow. "Mn?"

"This!" Wei Wuxian gestures between them.

Begotten, by ecorie (6 chapters)

“He’s mine.” He echoed what had once been teasingly said in jest, and added, “This is my son.”

Against all odds and without a choice, Lan Zhan brings A-Yuan back to Cloud Recesses. Xichen keeps his brother’s secrets, and shields the child when Lan Zhan could not.

Alone Stands the Quiet, by ecorie

The story of the Yin Iron starts with a celestial war and ends with Lan Sizhui.

A Good Plan, by nirejseki

“The…Lan sect?” Meng Yao said doubtfully. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” his mother said, her mouth tight. She looked upset, the way she always did these days when he referenced, intentionally or otherwise, the original plan that she had had to send him to join his father, sect leader of Lanling Jin. She’d raised Meng Yao on a steady diet of stories of what his life would be like when his father finally took him back the way he’d promised her he would, stories that had filled his days and nights for years and years and years, and then just last year she’d suddenly stopped talking about it entirely. It was as if the person who’d told those stories had nothing to do with her.

Meng Yao didn’t know what had happened, but he assumed it must have been pretty bad.

“It'll be a good fit,” she added.

The Late Great Custody Debate, by stiltonbasket (5 chapters)

"You owe me child support," Lan Zhan blurts, before Wei Wuxian can open his mouth to say hello to him. "Take responsibility."

Or, the one where Lan Wangji's pet rabbit has a better love life than he does, and single father Wei Wuxian develops a healthy fear of attorneys, courtesy of his next-door neighbor.

Switcheroo, by nirejseki

Mo Xuanyu thought that this Wei Wuxian person whose body he’d stolen must have been a really interesting person, mostly because he’d been here for three days so far and nobody’d noticed the switch yet.

A Kiss for you, my love, by Speechless_since_1998

"Ladies and gentlemen."

Suddenly the attention of the whole hall turned to Nie Huaisang, near the orchestra with a microphone in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, "On this wonderful evening I would like to share with you all the happiness I feel. for a wonderful couple who got married today. " Wait a minute did he say marriage? He must have heard right, even Lan Zhan had stiffened. “Let's give him a wonderful round of applause. To Wei Ying and Lan Zhan newlyweds. " Hot shit. They weren't supposed to attract attention.

The attention of the room focused on them, whispers in the crowd, some scandalized, some excited. Nie Huaisang motioned for him to keep the game, but what was she supposed to do ?! "Lan Zhan, we mustn't ..." He didn't have time to finish the sentence as Lan Zhan kissed him. In front of everyone.

Soulmates, by Yacs_Weasley

Ever since he was a little boy, Wangji had longed to find his soulmate.

Stay with me, by KatAnni

Sizhui's memories come to him in pieces, and some of them in dreams. This time, he dreams of Wei Wuxian putting him in a tree. He runs to the Jingshi immediately, to find his Baba.

The truth, by syriala (first in a series)

“Do you even remember a single person of those you killed after the war?” he demands to know and Jiang Cheng turns his glare on him.

“Why should I?” Jiang Cheng asks and a fearful hush falls over the crowd. “Do any of you remember even a single person you killed in your lives?” he asks them and is met with a pretty telling silence.

“You’re a monster,” someone whispers, but in the quiet it rings out loud and clear.

Jiang Cheng has heard these words a lot in the past sixteen years, and so he simply smiles at them, even though they sting like always.

He reminds himself that the people that matter know the truth, that they know him for who he truly is, and that it has to be enough.

Boys, by nirejseki

“Hey,” Lao Nie protested mildly. “Who’s the father here, me or you?”

“If a-die wants a new wife, little uncle will find one that isn’t inclined to kill him.”

That sounded like a recitation.

“Then what’s even the point,” Lao Nie grumbled, and reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, enjoying how Nie Mingjue yelped when he did, glaring up at him with offended dignity.

Loss, by FlutterFyre

Lan Wangji knows something is wrong.

Hearsay, by syriala (second in a series)

“A girl went missing a few days back,” Wei Wuxian says, voice serious, and Jiang Cheng can just imagine the accusatory look on his face. “Coincidentally you were seen in that area during the same time.”

“So?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Wei Wuxian makes a frustrated sound.

“What did you do with her?” Wei Wuxian asks him, even though he clearly already made up an answer for himself.

An ally, by syriala (third in a series)

“I just don’t want you to force yourself to face them,” Jiang Cheng finally says and Jiang Xiuying smiles at him.

“I’m not forcing myself. I am going on my own free will. It will be fine. And besides, Lan Xichen was never the reason I left.”

“But he didn’t stop you either,” Jiang Cheng mutters, and then rolls his eyes. “Fine. Accompany me, see if I care.”

“All I see is you caring,” Jiang Xiuying honestly gives back and Jiang Cheng flushes bright red.

Escalation, by syriala (fourth in a series)

“How can you lie to him like that?” Lan Wangji wants to know but it seems to be morbid curiosity more than anything else, because he goes right on. “You’re coming with me to the Cloud Recesses. There will be a trial.”

“A trial,” Jiang Cheng scoffs out, because it’s a farce and nothing more.

Lan Wangji has already decided on his sentence. And they all know it's going to be death.

Resolve, by syriala (fifth in a series)

“Regarding the accusations made against me today,” he starts and cuts his glare over to Sect Leader Yao, who has the good grace to shrink back at the venom in that glare, “I have something to say.”

“Speak,” Lan Wangji demands, but he doesn’t sound too sure all of a sudden, doesn’t seem too happy with the proceedings, and Jiang Cheng does rather enjoy the feeling of triumph it brings him.

“I am innocent. I did not kill any demonic cultivators, nor did I torture them.”

His voice rings out in the courtyard because everyone is silent for two seconds, but then chaos erupts. The voices calling him a liar are the kinder ones, and Jiang Cheng shakes his head at them.

“And I have proof,” he continues, raising his voice so that it carries over the others.

Devotion - Gather, by syriala (sixth in a series)

“What?” Jiang Cheng asks, because for once he is in no immediate danger of being murdered by the other Sects and Jiang Cheng really doesn’t think that look is fair.

“You absolute asshole,” Jiang Xiuying hisses at him and Jiang Cheng knows that if he wasn’t injured Jiang Xiuying would try to slap him over the head or shake him until he sees sense.

“What? What did I do now?” Jiang Cheng wants to know because he was asleep! There is no way he could have done something to upset Jiang Xiuying like this!

“I don’t even know where to start,” Jiang Xiuying says and starts to pace Jiang Cheng’s room, without giving any thought to the fact that this is Jiang Cheng’s bedroom and he really shouldn’t be here.

Well, Jiang Cheng is not going to say that to him, because with the mood Jiang Xiuying is in right now it wouldn’t go over well for Jiang Cheng, Sect Leader or not. Not that he actually cares anyway.

It’s Jiang Xiuying after all.

Home in Lotus Pier, by syriala (seventh in a series)

Jiang Cheng's angry frown turns into a confused frown when he sits down for breakfast and finds a box next to his bowl of congee.

“What is this?” he asks into the room, because someone is bound to be around, but he doesn’t get an answer and Jiang Cheng heaves out a sigh.

He tugs the box close and opens it and he’s surprised to find that his favourite tea is in it. It’s hard to come by lately, as it is entirely seasonal and only grown in a small spot in Sect Leader Yao’s territory, and after everything that happened at the Cloud Recesses a few months back, he already mentally said goodbye to it.

He wouldn’t be getting any more supplies from Sect Leader Yao after all, so this is more than surprising.

But the gifts don't stop there.

Parallelism, not equivalence, by DreamaholicsAnonymous

Wei Wuxian reminded him of Xingchen, Song Lan thinks, not for the first time.

Bring Your Secrets, Bring Your Scars, by Terri Botta (Isilwath) (fourth in a series)

Nie MingJue keeps his promises.

All Your Madness, I Will Tame, by Terri Botha (Isilwath) (fifth in a series)

Wen Qing in the Burial Mounds.

Puppy, by Speechless_since_1998

Returning home, Lan Zhan found his husband hiding behind the sofa and A-Yuan sitting on the ground playing with a puppy dog.

The puppy must have been a few months old, probably hadn't even been weaned. It was harmless, but Wei Ying didn't care. It was enough that it was a dog to be afraid.

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You finally arrived! Take that monster away!" Wei Ying pleaded, refusing to come out of hiding.

A-Yuan puffed out her cheeks, "Shiro is not a monster!"

Heaven, he had already given it a name.

Being Good, by ricochet

Lan Wangji tries to be good.

no shadow can touch, by sunflowersfield

When it is time to hand out the mics, Lan Zhan forces himself to lower his expectations. Their exchange will be fleeting, and Wei Ying will barely even look at him.

Or: Wei Ying is cast in a musical at his local community center. Lan Zhan is the theater technician.

make a mess (inside my heart), by avenqelic

Wei Wuxian looked comfortable against Lan Wangji’s white sheets, curled up in his blankets. Lan Wangji’s chest ached, mind swirling with possibilities – falling asleep looking into Wei Wuxian’s eyes, waking up in his arms, holding each other close as the moon shifted across the sky and the sun rose.

Finding a way home, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

Prompt idea for a less than one thousand words one shot! Lwj walks into a coffee shop and barista wwx cannot stop flirting with him while both of them are dying on the inside because the other is so handsome! Wwx writes his number on the cup! Up to you if lwj has an existencial crisis after finding the number or if he even finds the number. Bonus points if the oneshot ends with lwj going back to the cafe and wwx smiles at him when he sees him! — this is a.a. now with a prompt

DanTian - Planting Gentians (LWJ POV), by ArchiveWriter (1 chapter plus art)

Wei Ying's been up their old mountain early in the morning. Wangji does needlework and indulges in watching Wei Ying's hands. A slice of domestic contentment because I like them happy.

Tease, by annjellybean

Now, Wei Ying had long outgrown teasing his husband mercilessly the way he used to back in their childhood days, they had been through so much since then, he had honestly forgotten how to do so. That being said, it did not mean Wei Ying had completely forgotten his gremlin roots, and as a self-proclaimed gremlin husband, today he wanted to tease.

Pure Morning, by ShizunThirst

It’s on mornings like these that Lan Wangji can love Wei Wuxian the way he deserves to be loved.

deeper etchings, by fensandmarshes

“And remember, a-Yuan,” comes the voice, lowered but still loud as though it shuns the petty boundaries of the house, “you absolutely cannot tell diedie about this.”

Lan Wangji pauses, there in the middle of the portal array, halfway through setting down his bag, and tilts his head just slightly.

Caring Warmth, by MountainMist

Wei Ying is sick and lonely. Head empty only Lan Zhan.

And how Lan Zhan takes care of him.

just them, together., by adeptiwings

It was okay, now that it was just them.

the boy with rabbit ears, by dragontea

Lan Zhan got lost in an amusement park and found his way home in the company of the boy with rabbit ears.

heart-shaped knots, by twigofwillow

There’s been a ghost in Cloud Recesses for over thirty years, but no one has talked to her until now.

Setting Suns and Dawning Realisations, by wereworm

Wei Wuxian's plans for a romantic night out in Caiyi with Lan Zhan are ruined when he works late, the sun already setting by the time he makes his way home to the Jingshi. Instead, they enjoy a quiet night in and Wei Wuxian comes to terms with the peace that he'd fought so hard to earn and the life that's he's finally allowed to have.

[For the prompt: a sweet wangxian date night in]

Won This For You, by Preludian_Staves

He looks up as his husband comes into the room with something suspiciously large hidden behind his back.

A single soul (no more), by Lysdance1

The core transfer surgery goes as in canon BUT it leaves the spiritual link open between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and, well, what goes one way can go both ways.

"It's what keeps him (mostly) sane, a tether in this dark place where he cannot feed and cannot sleep and cannot escape; through the link he feels - trickles of love, Jiang Cheng's worry for him. It shouldn't be enough, but somehow, in this dark, dark place, it is. It reminds him, faintly, of home, and in the dark he hears the rhythm of one, luminous, far away soul."

To Need Someone, by Preludian_Staves

"A-die?"

"Hm?"

"What does mean to need someone? To want them with you?"

Approval, by Speechless_since_1998

"You look tired, "he said, sipping his tea. He shouldn't, it wasn't kind. But he couldn't resist teasing him a little.

Lan Zhan stared at him blankly, "I've been drinking."

"I saw."

"I kissed Wei Ying."

"I saw that too."

And thanks to the gods there was no uncle because he hated worldly occasions, otherwise he would have a heart attack.

"We had sex at his adoptive parents' home."

"And?"

Lan Zhan raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you surprised?"

"Oh, sorry, now I'll try again ... Really? !!"

"You're not funny."

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

An Obsidian Among Jades, by bluebeads

What happens when a sad lost mantou cheeked Lan Zhan teams up with a cheerful one to find his family in the unfamiliar streets of Yilling. A Yu Ziyuan Ultimatum AU which I submitted a while ago on angstymdzsthoughts Also a Gusu Lan Sect Wei Wuxian.

I've had enough, by pluma1007

He is ascending. They’re minds unhelpfully supplied.

Then, Wei Wuxian is gone.

The cultivators are in disarray.

“Wei Wuxian… Wei Wuxian ascended!”

“How can this be?! A monster ascended?!”

“No! My core! My powers had diminished!”

Hearing that, the cultivators checked their cores. Gasps rang out the mountains. Enraged cries are heard, cursing Wei Wuxian. There are also those who kowtowed, praying for forgiveness. There are others who praised him.

Song of Joy and Regrets, by HelloKitten

The Archery competition at Qishan this year has hit a snag. As the Sects face the wrongs perpetrated by their future selves, Wei Wuxian finds himself adopted by half of the cultivation world who are determined to save him from himself.

Baby Wangxian suffers. Adult Wangxian's job here is done.

"I'm starting to see a pattern to all his plans..."

"Do they all involve him being bait?"

"Yes" came deadpanned responses.

Hua Cheng is not amused.

Rated E:

the long way back home, by Misila

Wei Ying always knew he was the single discordant note in the Jiang household. That was why, after graduating from university, he didn’t return home. With him gone, Yu Ziyuan wouldn’t have anyone to compare her son to, and Jiang Fengmian wouldn’t have to keep avoiding his own family to prevent further conflict.

…Right?

(Seven years later, married to the man of his life and with a four year-old son, Wei Ying returns to his hometown and tries to reconnect with his siblings and befriend his nephew; but, most of all, he struggles to figure out what’s wrong with his brother and how to help him, despite Jiang Cheng not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore.)

Will You Stand Beside Me, by trashgavin

Wei Wuxian takes all his strength and spits blood in Wen Chao’s face. His eyes narrow and he speaks, though his voice is quiet and full of pain.

“Go to hell.”

It only makes Wen Chao laugh. He releases his hair and stands to his feet. “Bring me a whip.”

Rated M:

For the Dust and the Dirt, by Nyxelestia

His breath came out in shaky gasps, but still he could do nothing as the demonic copy of himself brought the blade down to the bare skin of Wei Wuxian’s uninjured shoulder. He whimpered when he felt a small cut, then when the blade lifted. He didn’t have time to even think of relief before it came back, right next to the first cut in a different direction, then again below in a line, multiple small lines in multiple directions like…like a character.

“Like I said,” the demon mused as Wei Wuxian realized what it was doing. “I’ll write it down for you.”

A brutal assault on a Cloud Recesses student leaves the Cultivation world reeling. Wei Wuxian struggles to recover, while everyone else tries to make sense of an ominous message. But since when do demons care about sect politics, anyway?

Between Wen Ruohan's rising aggression, simmering tensions across the guest disciples, and the mysterious fierce corpses still popping up all over the place, Wei Wuxian would rather ignore the confusing, horrifying visions the demon left him with.

If only the demon's taunting predictions didn't keep coming true at every turn.

I Know How Those in Exile Feed on Dreams of Hope, by rabbit_habits & saltedpin

“What does it mean, that Wen Ruohan has all the Yin Iron?” Jiang Cheng asked, dragging himself up into a sitting position – her medicines must have worked quickly, because his ribs gave only a twinge when he moved.

Wen Qing settled down beside him, head bowed as she packed away her supplies, her shoulder brushing his arm when she moved. “It means that no one in the cultivation world can oppose him,” she whispered.

—

Canon divergence AU in which Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are captured by the Wens after escaping from the Xuanwu's cave, before they can return to rescue Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji.

Misunderstood, by Silver_Flame_2724

There is something called a memory ball that shows the memories of a chosen person.

In order to further incriminate the already dead Yiling Patriarch, the cultivation world decides to use this memory ball at the next Discussion Conference to show how evil the demonic cultivator can truly be.

What appears, though, truly shocks them all.

laughing shadow, by ich_bin_ein_stern

During the commotion involving Wei Wuxian, A-Ling refused little sleep. His screams carried across Koi Tower, putting wailing ghosts too shame. He was inconsolable by everyone. It was only when Jin Zixuan unintentionally passed the room holding Wei Wuxian while trying to calm down his son did A-Ling miraculously settle down. Since then, he has slept peacefully every night. Yanli expressed, in the quiet and security of their bedroom, that perhaps Wei Wuxian's spirit soothed A-Ling and continues to do so.

At the least expected times, Jin Zixuan swears he can hear the distant sound of a flute.

But when he stops to actually listen for it, he hears nothing.

Come From My Inkstone, by magicgenetek

“So your plan,” Nie Mingjue said dubiously, “is to move into the Burial Mounds to write and illustrate erotica about you and Lan Wangji seducing the Yiling Patriarch to earn his trust and sell the public on the idea that he's not a threat, then convince him to give up the Yin Tiger Seal?"

“The way I said it sounded better,” Nie Huaisang said. “And you forgot the part about me seducing the Ghost General, that is crucial.”

“I hate this, and as your brother, I am begging you not to actually stick it in a fierce corpse. How much money do you need?”

Rated T:

Here We Go Again, by Alliandra

He looked over to where the swordswoman was still fighting, but her focus seemed entirely locked onto that fight so it was unlikely that she could have had anything to do with the energy drain. He was still wracking his brain for something else to do to assist, so this thing didn’t kill them both, but now he was feeling weak, dizzy and currently not far from helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~

It has been several months since the events at the Guanyin temple and Wei Wuxian is wandering around on his own. After he helps a stranger kill a very dangerous beast he uncovers what seems to be a conspiracy aimed at ending his life. He heads back to Cloud Recesses with his new companion in tow, looking to get Lan Wanji's help in working out what is involved.

Meanwhile, Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling made a surprising discovery under Koi Tower that may well be linked to the threat against Wei Wuxian's life.

Can they all work together to find out what is going on and put a stop to it, before something disastrous occurs?

A place of Gold, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

A few days after Wei Wuxian has parted from Lan Wangji on a forest path, he gets surrounded by Jin officials in an Inn, who formally ask him to return to Jinlintai to fill in the position of Sect Leader, as is his right and duty.

Wei Wuxian thinks it is an artful prank. Until it is not.

Blossoming flowers in a full moon - 花好月圆, by ThisIsWhereTheMagicHappens

What if Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to get out of Lan Wangji’s grip at the cliff in Nevernight? What if Lan Wangji refused to let go?

All will be well when the day is done, by abCEE

The one where Yu Ziyuan time traveled but she thought that it was her visions of her alternate life.

She learned that there is a brat named Wei Ying who brought destruction to her and her family's life.

And so in her present, she vowed that she will never allow that to happen.

In which Yu Ziyuan found the four-year-old Wei Ying, newly pushed out of the inn where his parents left him, and decided that no, this child must never be associated with her, her family, and their sect at all.

And so Yu Ziyuan thought that she could bring him somewhere where someone may or may not find him but definitely far from where her husband could find him. If he's lucky, he'll survive that winter, if he's not, then death awaits the fevered child.

This is the extent of mercy that Yu Ziyuan could give a child.

With this, she'll raise her children without having to deal with a brat that brings trouble where he goes according to her visions of her alternate life.

Like the tag stated, this is definitely not Yu Ziyuan centric.

Rated G:

How Jin Zixuan Helps Everyone, by BryxcrSt

The Yunmeng Heroes, Twin Jades, Nie Huaisang, The Peacock, Cinnamon Roll Ghost General and Lan Qiren suddenly transport back to the past before the Conference in Qishan, with their very memory of how all their clans battled Wen Rouhan's and now they're all ready to prevent it from happening now that they're back to the past. Especially Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian.

Surprisingly, Jin Zixuan wants to help them instead of standing out of the front line like how he used to but what can he do?

To Repeat, Repay, and Repair, by adrian_kres

Wei Wuxian has died again and his family grieves. Lan Sizhui, now married and with children of his own, grieves the loss of both fathers, as Lan Wangji has entered seclusion. But somehow, he unknowingly sends himself back to the time he spent in the Burial Mounds at three years old. Will his family take his confused, nonsensical warnings seriously? Are they doomed to repeat the same fate?

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #chen qing ling #cql #mdzs #wangxian #untamed fanfiction

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