#We are surrounded by fire in the mountains

[scoupsakakitty]

Snowflakes | idol!Jeonghan x Reader | fluff

It all started as a spontaneous trip. Y/N had been a little surprised when Jiwoo, her best friend, invited her along for a ski weekend, but what really caught her off guard was the twist: Jiwoo’s boyfriend, Seungcheol, had insisted that Jeonghan come along too.

“Jeonghan?” Y/N raised an eyebrow when Jiwoo mentioned the name. “Why him?”

“Well,” Jiwoo said with a teasing grin, “you know how the fans can be. Seungcheol thought it would look less suspicious if Jeonghan came along. Plus, we need to balance it out, so I figured I’d ask you to join!”

Y/N laughed softly, appreciating Jiwoo’s thoughtfulness. “Sounds like a setup for a reality show or something.”

Despite the oddity of it all, Y/N agreed. And soon enough, they were all packed and on their way to a cozy cabin in the mountains, surrounded by the winter wonderland of snow-covered trees and icy peaks.

The first day of skiing was pure chaos everyone falling, laughing, and trying to get their bearings on the slopes. By the evening, they were all back at the cabin, warming up by the fire. A big pot of hot chocolate was waiting, and the group decided to pass the time with a friendly game of Uno.

“I’m warning you guys now,” Jeonghan said, winking, “I’m a professional Uno player. Don’t try anything funny, or I’ll catch you.”

Y/N smirked from across the table. “You’re the one who should be careful, Jeonghan. I know all the tricks.”

“Ah, is that so?” Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “We’ll see about that.”————————————————————————————-The atmosphere was light, everyone was deeply involved in the game, and the laughs kept coming. But Y/N, ever the observant one, started to notice something off about Jeonghan.

She watched as he casually slipped cards between his legs, thinking no one would notice. But Y/N wasn’t that easy to fool.

“Stop! You’re sitting on your cards! Stand up!” she suddenly shouted, her eyes locking onto Jeonghan’s suspicious behavior as she snatched the remaining cards from the table.

He blinked in confusion. “What? Me?” he asked, acting innocent, but it was too late. Y/N had caught him red-handed.

“Stand up, Jeonghan!” she repeated, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, and everyone stared at him in anticipation.

He slowly got up, and as he did, two cards fell out of his ass. With a loud plop, they hit the floor, and the room erupted in laughter.

“Oh my god, really?” Jiwoo cried out, clutching her stomach as the group burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

Jeonghan stood there, utterly stunned, while Y/N was bent over, practically in tears from laughing so hard. “Seriously? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” Y/N gasped between giggles.

“I… I don’t know what happened!” Jeonghan stammered, his face turning bright red as the group continued to laugh at his expense.

It was a moment they would never forget, and as they calmed down, everyone couldn’t help but tease him for the rest of the night.————————————————————————————-After their game, the group settled in for the night. But there was a problem: the cabin only had two rooms, and since Y/N and Jeonghan were the last ones to claim the second room, they were forced to share it.

“We’ll just sleep on opposite sides of the bed,” Y/N said with a shrug. The bed was large enough for the both of them to keep some space.

However, the problem was the cold. The old cabin didn’t have central heating, and the night air was bitterly cold. Y/N pulled the blanket closer around herself but still found herself shivering under the weight of the chill.

Jeonghan lay still in the darkness, hearing the soft clattering of Y/N’s teeth. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should say something. After all, they weren’t close like that… yet.

“You cold?” Jeonghan finally asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N let out a soft, embarrassed sigh. “Yeah, a little. It’s freezing in here…”

Jeonghan turned his head slightly, his voice soft. “Well… I guess there’s no harm in sharing some warmth. Come here.”

Y/N blinked at him in surprise, but without much thought, she scooted closer to him. The warmth from his body was a welcome relief, and she felt her shivering slow.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Jeonghan, noticing the awkwardness in the air, decided to break the tension by talking. “I’m not great at keeping people warm, but I can at least tell some stories to distract you.”

Y/N chuckled. “I’ll take stories over nothing.”

Jeonghan smirked, his voice turning light-hearted. “Okay, well, I have plenty of stories from the tour. Like the time DK tried to cook for everyone and nearly set the kitchen on fire…”

Y/N laughed, imagining the chaos. “I can totally picture that.”

And so, the conversation flowed, from funny tour mishaps to embarrassing moments. But eventually, Jeonghan couldn’t help but ask, “So… how did you know I was cheating at Uno?”

Y/N grinned. “Let’s just say, I’ve used the same trick before. You weren’t as slick as you thought.”

Jeonghan snorted in disbelief. “So, you’re a cheater too, huh?”

Y/N shrugged playfully. “Only when necessary. You should’ve seen me beat Jiwoo at Monopoly once.”

“That’s my girl,” Jeonghan said, laughing softly. The atmosphere had shifted, and it no longer felt awkward. They were just two friends in the middle of a snowy mountain, sharing warmth and laughter.

Suddenly, without thinking, Jeonghan blurted out, “You have a really cute laugh.”

Y/N froze for a second, her heart doing an unexpected little flip. “Um, thanks,” she said, her voice a little quieter. She turned her face away, not sure if it was the heat from being close to him or the compliment that was making her blush.

There was a long, comfortable silence after that, and soon they both fell asleep, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.————————————————————————————-The next morning, they all piled into the car to head back, exhausted from the late-night talks and the skiing. Y/N, still tired, leaned against Jeonghan’s shoulder as the car bumped along the mountain roads. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Jeonghan, too, had his eyes drifting shut. Slowly, he leaned his head onto hers, too tired to care that it might seem strange.

Seungcheol, who was driving, glanced at the rearview mirror and caught sight of the two of them. A small smile tugged at his lips as he nudged Jiwoo, who was sitting beside him.

“Looks like our friends are getting pretty cozy,” he whispered, his voice amused.

Jiwoo peered at the backseat and smirked. “They definitely are. Maybe we’ll go on double dates soon?”

Seungcheol chuckled, nodding. “That’d be nice. But for now, let’s just let them have their moment.”

Jiwoo secretly took a picture of the sleeping pair, capturing the peaceful scene. It was a quiet, content moment one that neither Y/N nor Jeonghan had expected but would both remember forever.

As the car drove through the snowy mountains, the two friends slept soundly, completely unaware of the subtle change between them. Perhaps it was just the beginning of something more.

————————————————————————————-

[mythauragame]

Development Update - January 2025

Hi there everyone, welcome to the January development update for Mythaura! 2025 got off to a strong start: art and writing for the content needed for launch are already well underway and have been scoped out in detail for our team to measure ourselves against, and as you'll see below, Koa and Sark knocked out a TON of work that is making Mythaura into an immersive world that you will eventually be able to play within!

We've got a lot of ground to cover today. We've been keeping fairly quiet on in-universe lore and worldbuilding, but plan on sharing more content about it with you all over the course of 2025. Today's update will focus on the city of Talon's Rest, which is where the player will find themselves at the very beginning of their journey through Mythaura.

We're opening up our first Beast Creator Contest of 2025 as well! We'll be picking three winners, whose characters will be turned into a minor NPC in town. We also have the results from the Ko-fi Winter Quarter rewards voting, Mythauran astrology for the month of February, a beautiful new color for the color wheel, Quetzal expressions, and more!

Talon's Rest

Players will begin their journey in the burgeoning city of Talon's Rest, a garrison-turned-city built around a Cipher Pedestal. The Long War, which carried on ceaselessly for over a century, took almost as long to properly recover from. As formal trade routes began to follow the newly-built cross-continental roads, Talon's Rest found itself in a unique position: they were the biggest city in range of the Arena, a popular destination since Atticus commissioned its restoration at the end of the war. It has become the de facto stopping point for the crowds traveling to the Arena.

Talon's Rest has put the money toward the beautification of its city's public places and the sposorship of artists, scientists, and mathemeticians, but is still grappling with the growing pains associated with a social infrastructure that's not built to support this many people all at one time. Residents have mixed feelings about the influx of new businesses, the changing economy, and the cultural identity of Talon's Rest. Many are willing to air these grievances and sing these praises with whoever will listen to them.

Setting

Talon's Rest is situated at the edge of a north-facing cliff that overlooks both Lake Kali and the dense, dark expanse of the Waspwood. It is situated in an agriculturally rich fieldlands broadly referred to as Wind's End, as it is one of the nothernmost stretches of Griffin territory. The monolithic Arena crowns a dormant volcano off to the northeast.

It sits well above sea level, but not quite alpine. The region is located at the foot of a mountain range and enjoys snowpack melt that replenishes streams and the lake with clean, drinkable water. During the summer, it gets dry and the forests around the town can be prone to forest fires as a natural part of the forest lifecycle.

It experiences all four seasons, with warm, dry summers and cold, snowy winters.

History

Talon's Rest is, all things considered, a young city, built around the Pedestal situated at the highest point of the cliff. The first permanent building erected around the pedestal was a garrison used to house the troops of a prominent drift, who'd managed to secure access to the Pedestal and leverage their significant number of Cipher Bearers to ensure that the only Pedestal in the surrounding region stayed under their control. With the surrounding area primarily subsisting of farms with miles and miles between them, they faced little resistance and enjoyed control over the Pedestal for almost twenty years.

Atticus's campaign to unite all Griffin drifts under one banner (known as the Reformation) and regulate Cipher Pedestal usage saw one of its greatest victories take place at this garrison. Atticus, having wielded a powerful military of his own prior to being forced to act in this civil war, had amassed one of the largest single militaries ever organized in Griffin history. The Battle for Talon's Rest was brutal but decisive: the family that had manned the garrison for decades was rendered extinct, and the fort itself was aspirationally renamed as Talon's Rest. Historians consider this the final turning point for the War, where Atticus's success in uniting the Drifts was all but inevitable.

Economy

Talon's Rest was populated by Beasts who worked the farmlands surrounding it; agriculture has been the primary driver of the economy since the very beginning and still serves as the largest revenue stream for the city. Local farmers hybridized different kinds of wheat until they yielded a soft, sweet white crop--the chaff goes to their livestock and the grain is milled into flour to make one of their main exports. It's famed across the continent for its mild and slightly nutty flavor.

The city's position as a natural pausing point for those traveling to the Arena has meant that more taverns, inns, and other lodgings have cropped up. As it became known as a hub for the area, mercenaries and adventurers flocked to Talon's Rest find work, paying a fee in exchange for being able to audition themselves for work in town. There is never a shortage of Beasts showing up to the Recruiter's tavern, ensuring a steady selection of new Beasts for your adventuring roster.

A prevalence of copper mines in the area means that it is the most commonly used metal in architecture, art, and machinery. A rich blue-green pigment, created from ground-up copper patina, is another popular export. Artisans and masons often infuse this pigment into their work, which is why the facade of the highly-regarded medical university in the middle of the city was made using blue-green bricks with copper accents. This pigment fetches a fair price for regions without ready access to copper mines.

Arena Concept Art

Social Media Refresh

We've created a few new social media accounts, standardized the names across the different platforms, and will be posting content more regularly to each of these beyond just our monthly update! We can't think of a character better suited to be the face of Mythaura than Pollis (he/him), an elderly Quetzal merchant and one of the first NPCs you'll run into on your journey through Mythaura.

Next month we will be running a giveaway on Instagram. In the February update, we'll be doing a deeper dive into Wolfwasps, an enemy so powerful and pervasive that the forest around Talon's Rest is named after it: the Waspwood. We'll have some rather radiant items to give away to some lucky contestants. ✨🐺

All of our offical Mythaura social media can be found at the following:

Tumblr: mythauragame

Instagram: @mythauragame

Note: We also own @mythaura on IG, but we have been indefinitely locked out of the account and had to create a new one!

TikTok: @mythaura

BSKY: @mythaura

Twitter: @mythauragame

Facebook: /mythauragame

Sponsored Color: Flytrap

Courtesy of ShiningMoth we have a beautiful new color for the color wheel: Flytrap!

Flytrap is now active in the Beast Creator. We can't wait to see what you create with it!

Ko-fi Winter Quarter 2025 Winners

Thank you to all the Ko-fi sponsors who voted for the Winter Quarter 2025 rewards. Next month we will show the finalized artwork for the Ornaboros Companion and the Snow Drift Shire Unicorn Glamour. Stay tuned!

NPC Design Contest

As we begin to populate Talon's Rest, we'll need plenty of NPC designs—and that's where you come in!

We've created a Google Form for you to submit up to three Beast designs for consideration. Please be sure to include the Beast Creator code or else your entry will not be considered.

In addition to their design being used for a shopkeeper, winners will receive a bundle of useful items for their adventures through the local Wild Area, the Waspwood Forest.

The winners will receive*:

1x Soulshift Coin (breed-changing item) of your choice

1x Godspeed Potion

3x Lockpicks

3x Crude Torch

3x Travel Rations

3x Small Energy Potion

3x Small Health Potion

1x Beta Key

NOTE: * These rewards will not show up in your rewards lookup tool since that tool only looks up Ko-fi rewards, but they will be applied to your account directly!

Quetzal Expressions

Our art team continues to knock it out of the park with the Beast expressions project. They've completed all Specials/Supers/Mutations for both the young and adult Quetzal models.

Luci, Sour, Koa--you never fail to impress. Amazing job to the team!

Mythauran Astrology: February

The month of Frbruary is referred to as Aurora's Canvas, representing the resplendent and plentiful auroras that billow across northern skies. This month is also associated with the constellation of the Stargazer and the hematite stone.

Mythaura v0.34

Overworld Events: Added events like discovering chests, gathering berries, and more.

Fishing & Lockpicking Minigames: Now integrated into the overworld for interactive exploration.

Shops & Restocking System: Built a system to manage shop inventories and periodic restocking.

Elite Enemy System: Elite enemies are now marked on the minimap with new icons. They produce footsteps as they move and appear with a skull icon in battle.

Sealed Contracts: Added support for sealed contracts, which generate a random beast into your abode.

Contract Termination: Added support for contract termination, which deletes a beast from your abode in exchange for items & currency from a loot pool.

Recruitment System: Developed the prototype UI and logic for recruiting G1 beasts into your abode.

Beast Titles: Introduced titles to differentiate and enhance beasts.

Species Movement Overhaul:

Winged beasts can double jump.

Non-winged beasts move faster.

Beast Profiles & Editing: Progress made on profile management, beast dossiers, and customization options.

Map Travel Support: Added the ability to travel between maps (e.g., entering a building and appearing in its interior).

Stair/Ramp Support: Overworld now supports elevation changes like stairs and ramps.

Wall/Interior Support: Built a working prototype for handling interior building walls.

Temporary Loot System: Loot from events (e.g., chests) can now be stored temporarily before claiming.

NPC Battle AI: NPCs can now participate in battles and make action decisions.

Redesigned Battle UI: Improved the battle action selection interface for clarity and usability.

Image Processing Optimization: Refactored how beast images are generated, significantly boosting performance.

Fixed Frame Rate Bugs: Resolved animation consistency issues where player movement was faster at higher frame rates.

Profanity Filter: Added to maintain a safe and friendly community environment.

Loot Collection: Temporary loot from overworld events (like chests) can now be stored and claimed later.

Various Bug Fixes & Cleanup: Addressed numerous bugs and optimized multiple systems for smoother gameplay.

Thank You!

Thanks for sticking through to the end of the post, we always look forward to sharing our month's work with all of you--thank you for taking the time to read. We'll see you around the Discord.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part II

Word count: 3900+

Warnings: SA (just reminder that Zima is reader's stepbrother and they don't share even single drop of blood - fact that he's disgusting is another story)

Part I | Part III

I woke up early in the morning, soft light poured into my room through open curtains. Snowflakes dance behind the windows on light breeze, new icicles shone in the first rays of winter sun and glaciers in the surrounding mountains cracked loudly.

The urgent knock sounded.

"My lady, are you awake?" Lucy peeked in. "It's time."

I sighed. It was going to be really long day. Fire loudly crackled in the hearth, greeting me and sending waves of heat to the room. I reluctantly got up, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth of the bed. Lucy quickly handed me my cloak and I snuggled up in the thick fur.

Another two maids entered, bringing in voluminous dress and jewellery. I sat down at the vanity and let them do their work. I felt strangely empty, disconnected from my body, zoning in and again out as I had to change position while maids dressed me and did my hair and make up. My mind was completely blank like sheet of paper, the burden of the events awaiting me heavily sitting on my shoulders.

When I looked around, finally taking note of my surrounding, I was already sitting in the sleigh. My father smiled at me weakly as he sat down next to me and wrapped another layer of warm blankets around my shoulders.

"Are you cold, my little girl?" he murmured and I shook my head.

Morena got on and took a seat opposite us, the skirt of her dress visible through slit in the cloak nothing but a fancy fabric of highest quality. She definitely didn't hold back while preparing for the visit of the capital.

"Why couldn't we just go to the capital ahead? They would surely prepare rooms for us. Better spend there night than this. All this haste so early in the morning isn't good for my skin," her complains went on and on, but nor me nor my father paid her any attention.

Father was sitting with his head down, squeezing my hand so firmly, it almost hurt. I, on the other hand, slowly looked around for the last time, committing every wall, every stone, every shiny piece of ice to memory. After today, I wouldn't be able to return home for sure.

The sleigh started moving with a slight jerk and I watched the castle, where I spent my entire life, getting smaller with every mile until we entered the mountains. As we were riding through the pass between two enormous rocks, the icy cold wind grew stronger, biting into my skin until I had to close eyes, protecting my face with hand in thick glove.

I felt a pull that made me nauseous and wind had died down. When I dared to looked around, we were slowly moving forward along the narrow ascending road with steep rocky hills on one side and a gorge on the other. The gorge was so deep that I couldn't see its bottom. The tentacles of milky white fog were climbing up its walls, curling around the the protruding rocks, and the sound of running water echoed in cold but strangely still air.

After a while I recognized shape of a gate from carved stone in distance with a waterfall next to it. Despite the never melting layer of ice, water rushed under it, its sound deafening as thunder. And above it, narrow white towers dusted with snow rose into the sky, disappearing in heavy grey clouds. Two bridges spanned the gorge, connecting large castle on one side with smaller but breath-taking city on its other side. Whether castle or the buildings in the city, it all perfectly blended with the surrounding landscape to the point it was hard to believe that it was built by faeries.

When we were passing through the first gate, we were greeted by one soldier and two huge white bears in armour. It was my first time seeing these beasts, let alone so close. All air left my lungs and I couldn't as much as move when their inteligent black beady eyes narrowed on me. The unpleasant feeling of being watched by them melted only once we got closer to another gate.

The sleigh passed through another two gates that seemed to be unguarded and at last we got to the city. The first thing I noticed, was the silence. There wasn't a single person on the streets nor in the windows of the houses even though it was almost noon. The freshly fallen snow creaked under reindeer hooves, puffs of their breaths melting in the air. We all were so nervous that we didn't dare to speak, vigilantly searching the shadows between houses and under numerous evergreens.

Everyone relaxed a little once we passed through the entrance arch of the closest bridge made of ice. On its other side waited another soldier and pair of bears. Nobody stopped us, nor spoke to us. This place was so weird.

We entered the castle's grounds and were immediately surprised by crowd of faeries of all shapes and shades of white, blue, grey and black waiting along the road. So this was the place where all the habitants of the city disappeared to. Smiles shone brightly on their faces, children jumped in the place and shouted in excitement. Everyone was waving and handfuls of white petals rained on us as sleigh slowly moved forward.

It took almost an hour to get to the very last gate separating the castle from the quarters of castle staff and lower aristocrats who lived or temporarily resided here. The crowd stayed thankfully behind the gate and reindeer again sped up a bit. The castle was surrounded by garden of shaped evergreens of different highs, ice statues and fountains that sparkled in the sun partly hidden behind clouds, everything dusted with silvery snow. Under different circumstances, I would enjoy the view, but I was too nervous, my eyes set ahead.

Much smaller crowd gathered near the castle's entrance. By their looks they were all High Fae, undoubtedly aristocrats and wedding guests. They just stood there, unimpressed, their assessing expressions making me feel uneasy. On top of the stairs, in front of closed double doors made of massive white oak wood, waited three figures - two males and one female who stood few steps behind them.

The sleigh came to stop, everyone waiting for the bride to get off first. Father helped me untangle from warm furs and blankets while I took off gloves. My wedding white dress with silver embroidery was lined with fluffy fur of polar fox with a special warm layer inside, but even that wasn't enough for me and I shivered. However, I had to endure this much. Soon we would be inside and this torture would be over. I stood up on shaky legs, hoping someone from the gathered ones would come to help me get down. Landing on my ass in front of the most important Faes of this Court the second my foot would touch the ground, wouldn't be exactly the best first impression.

Thankfully, one white head separated from onlookers, heading to the sleigh. As soon as I recognized the face, my stomach churned and cold sweat ran down my spine. It was Zima, the last person I expected to see here. When he left home after the night he attacked me in my own room, I was told he was expected to return after my departure and nobody mentioned he would attend my wedding. But here he was, unpleasant smirk spreading on his face. All the memories of that night, his cold breath and hands on my skin, all the pain and terror washed over me, leaving me unable to move or speak.

"Y/N? Are you well?" father gently touched the tips of my fingers.

I pushed air into my lungs and nodded. At the same moment, Zime came to stop at sleigh's side and offered me hand, his cruel gaze not leaving my face.

"Sister," he muttered — even his voice made my sick. "I'm so glad I could get here on time. I wouldn't miss your wedding no matter what."

He waited for me to take his hand, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. I wanted him as far from me as possible. There was a rustle in the crowd, all eyes at us and someone cleared his throat. I had to move. Touching him as little as possible, I accepted his help, got off and immediately distanced myself from him. Father got off right after me, helped Morena and then taking my hand he led me to the stairs.

"If you want to change your mind and run away, now is the right time," he whispered to me.

"No, I've already decided. I'll do what they want," I replied quietly. He squeezed my hand. I knew he was against this wedding, but if it meant protecting him and my home, and getting away from Zima, I didn't mind.

We stopped in front of the two males and bowed. One of them was older, the other quite young. It was clear they were father and son, sharing very similar features. Both were tall and good looking, with snowy white hair. I couldn't help it as my eyes were drawn to the younger one. I needed to look at the male I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

My chest heaved as my gaze roamed over him. He was breathtakingly handsome, but even that couldn't balance out the cold that radiated from him. His blue eyes seemed like chips hewn from a glacier, sharp and piercing and his skin was so pale he looked frozen. He watched me closely as well, his face not giving out any emotions, and I shivered.

While we were gazing at each other, our fathers exchanged the greetings.

"You must be cold after such a long journey," Kallias suddenly said, interrupting his father, his eyes still on me. Despite his look, his voice was warm, deep and smooth like honey. "Come inside and warm up."

"The younglings of today," High Lord chuckled and the crown of ice sparkled as he tilted his head. He didn't seemed to be offended at slightest. Something soft and warm crossed his face, but the emotion disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

Kallias ignored him and offered me his hand with long fingers in white glove. My father pressed lips together, but he released me with a light tap on the back of my hand. I looked at him with question and he only nodded, giving me a tight smile.

While the gates slowly opened for us, Kallias turned around, escorting me to the castle. I didn't miss the fleeting look he gave to the female who bowed her head. She stood there quietly all the time, corners of her full lips slightly curled into small smile, her hand rested on the pommel of silver sword. She didn't seem to be member of the royal family as nobody bothered to introduce her, yet she had to be important nevertheless.

The Mountain Home — as they called this castle — was nothing like my home. It seemed to be built out of ice, marble and light colored wood. Every room we passed, was decorated with crystal ornaments, thick carpets and fluffy furs, fire roared in giant hearths. All polished surfaces twinkled and sparkled in the sunlight penetrating through large windows with long icicles hanging outside. It was magnificent.

"You can rest in here," Kallias stopped in front of one of the doors in the long hallway and turned to me. His tone was reserved, almost careful as if he wasn't sure how to talk with me. "Your family will be in adjoining room. If you need something, anything, call for the servants. When the time comes, someone will come to escort you."

I was so busy looking around that I didn't notice that we were all alone here. He raised a brow.

"Your father is with mine in the High Lord's office. There are some details that need to be discussed. Don't worry, your family will come soon."

"Thank you, my Lord," I was about to bow, but he stopped me.

"Just Kallias, please."

"Kallias," I corrected myself, a bit flustered. "Please, call me Y/N."

He just nodded, his blue eyes searching my face, jaw tight. "I should change," he mumbled and last time looking me over, left.

I watched his back until he disappeared around the corner. His shoulders were broad, spine painfully straight, his movements a bit stiff. He was most likely tense, nervous just like me, even though he was good at masking it. At least, I wasn't the only one here who was forced into this union.

Exhaling heavily through the nose, I entered the room. It was just as beautiful and cozy as the rest of the castle, the soft sofas with pillows and furs calling for one to sink down into them. It was hard to resist, though, my first steps led to the hearth. Flames danced around the logs, playfully licking them, sending waves of heat to the room. I lifted up my hands, warming up my frozen fingers above the fire. I sighed with relief. After few minutes, I called for maid and asked for cup of tea and while I was waiting, I sat down as close to the hearth as possible. Everything was so soft, warm and comfortable that at some point I had to doze off. I was woken up by the sound of closing door. Naively thinking that it was the maid with tea, I didn't hurry to open my eyes thus I didn't see it coming.

Two big hands landed on every side of my head, caging me in, knee pushed between my legs. Before I could make a slightest sound, cold lips shut me up. I was punching into the body above me with all my strength, but the male didn't seem to even feel it.

"Ah, sister," Zima sighed mockingly and his head fell to the crook of my neck. "You look so beautiful today. I almost fell on my knees when I saw you. So pure, so.. lovely and so freezing out there."

Catching on my breath, I pushed against his body, unable to make him move even inch. "Get off me," I whined, tears stinging my eyes.

"I saw the way that bastard was looking at you. I won't let him have what's mine," he mumbled, completely ignoring me as he nuzzled to my neck. I felt sick.

"Let go," I cried, but my voice wasn't more than a whisper.

"Once I get rid of him, you will be mine, only mine." His hand landed on my waist, slowly travelling up the corset.

I was kicking and punching around, eyes firmly closed, sobs escaping through my lips. I didn't hear the knock on the door, but Zima did. At last he let go of me and stood up. I was trembling heavily when maid opened the door, eyeing us. She seemed to be startled finding us at first, until she looked properly at me. Her brows furrowed.

"I brought your tea, my Lady. Excuse my impudence, but you look a bit dishevelled after the long journey. Would you mind if I helped you get ready? There's not much time left before ceremony starts."

"She doesn't need-" Zima growled, eager to get rid of her. I couldn't let that happen though.

"Be so kind, please," I mastered to say it aloud enough, my voice uneven.

She put down the tea with kind smile and stared Zima down with raised eyebrows. His fingers curled into fists, teeth gritted.

"Later, sister," he hissed as marched out.

My heart throbbed in my throat, hands shaking wildly. I tried to hide them in folds of the skirt to no avail. The maid already noticed it.

"Are you okay, my Lady? Should I call for someone?"

"N-no, it will s-stop soon."

She smiled at me compassionately and offered me the tea. "This might help you, my Lady. I figured out you would be nervous before the ceremony, so I prepared a calming tea."

"It's kind of you. W-what's your name?"

"I'm Millie, my Lady," she bowed. She was small lesser faerie with light blue skin, pointy nose and hair sticking from her head like fragments of ice. Her intelligent eyes were the deepest shade of blue I'd ever seen. She was lovely in her own unique way.

I accepted the cup and while I was sipping the hot liquid, she pulled out small bag and tissue from her pocket.

"If you don't mind, I would start with your lipstick. It's a bit smudged."

My hand flew to my mouth, eyes wide. "I-I.."

"It's all right, my Lady," she spoke softly with understanding expression, holding my hand. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

After helping me with make up, she stayed with me until I calmed down and then she excused herself. It didn't took long and another knock sounded on doors.

This time it was that female who stood behind the High Lord when we arrived. She was a real beauty with her long hair, bright blue eyes and snow white skin, her cheeks slightly pink. Since I saw her for the last time, she had put the sword away and changed into beautiful light blue dress with silver embroidery. When she spotted me near the hearth, her perfect lips curled into big smile.

"Hi there," she beamed merrily. "We didn't have a chance to introduce when you arrived. I'm Viviane, Kal's childhood friend and captain of the guard. I'm so happy to meet you."

After my awkward introduction, she stepped closer and looked at my skirt, specifically at its lower half where small diamonds were added to the embroidered snowflakes.

"This is so nice and skilfully made. I've never seen anything like this," she marvelled. "Your dress is absolutely dreamy. Such a beautiful bride! Even Kal was stunned when you got off the sleigh and that's what to say. He won't be swayed so easily by anything."

"Thank you," I wasn't sure what else to say. I nervously fidgeted.

She tilted her head to the side, thinking. "Just one tiny little thing, if you don't mind." She reached for the veil that Millie secured to my hair before she left, and smoothed its hem. Viviane backed a bit and smiled.

"Now everything is perfect! You look like porcelain doll." She was so kind and friendly, that I didn't know what to do with it. I'd never experienced anything like this in my life.

"Oh, dear," she took my hands and gently squeezed them. "I really hope you will be happy here and that we will become friends. Kal looks like a heartless and reserved person, but under the hard shell is soft and kind heart. You can count on him in anything. He can be ass sometimes, but if necessary, I'll gladly beat him down instead of you. No need to worry."

I chuckled, feeling little easier. Maybe this place wouldn't be so bad after all. "I'm counting on you then."

"Sure, dear," she winked and got a bit serious, her voice still so soft. "It's almost time. Are you ready? If you need, I brought a bit of liquid courage with me."

"It won't be necessary," I shook my head and took a deep breath. "I think, I'm ready."

"Okay. Your family should be already with the rest of the guests, waiting. If you have questions about Kallias or something else, I can try to answer them while we get to the cathedral."

As it seemed, the cathedral was a place made of clear ice, basically a greenhouse like building, just more bigger and magnificent. It was built on reef above the gorge, visible from castle as well as from the city on the other side. Usually closed white chiffon curtains were wide open for this special occasion, letting anyone see inside. As I walked with Viviane down the passageway connecting it with the castle, I noticed a crowd on the other side of gorge, watching.

That's when Viviane whispered to me: "Entire city came to celebrate your wedding. Everyone is so excited ever since they heard about it. There will be great feast and music on the main square after the ceremony. You should see how beautifully they decorated it."

I wasn't sure what to think or feel anymore — all emotions mixing together until the only one I could recognize was fear. I was scared of this unknown place, of the wedding itself, of the life with male I didn't know, of all the faeries watching me. Most of those I met with here, were kind and friendly so far, but would they be so nice knowing what I was? I strongly doubted that. Viviane must have sensed my unease and squeezed my hand firmly.

"Everything will be fine. You aren't alone. I'm here for you anytime you need. Kal is here for you, too. He doesn't indulge in harming others and avoids such situations if possible. He will protect you and take good care of you. I'm sure he will. I know him all my life. His father is very similar. If you want, you can see your family as often as you like."

However soothing her words were, it didn't help much. My bottom lip kept trembling as I followed her on unsteady legs. I was so glad to see my father waiting outside of the cathedral for me. I threw myself into his waiting arms.

"My little girl," he breathed out into my hair. We stayed like that for a while, none of us speaking. When father pulled away at last, he wiped away hot tears and cleared his throat. "We should go. The guests are waiting."

I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready yet, but I never would be. All I could do, was to let go and leave it up to the fate to lead my steps. I prayed to the Mother for nothing more but a peaceful life. Father took the lead and I followed him, squeezing his arm.

The inside of cathedral was nicely decorated. Snow was falling from the ceiling, disappearing before it could touch anything. Tall evergreens dusted with white and silver stood in the corners, green garlands with cream colored flowers and gold bows lined the aisle with thick beige carpet in its middle.

There were too many eyes watching me from benches, so I found one spot and concentrate at.. him. My gaze was drawn to Kallias who stood at the altar, his back turned to me. He really changed from the military coat, now wearing pure white clothes embroidered with gold. His shoulders were rising and falling with every his breath.

I was almost at the steps leading to the altar when he finally turned around. His expression was guarded, jaw tight, yet he was handsome. His eyes, however, didn't seek out mine, merely stopping for a second at me. It seemed that nobody else noticed that he gazed somewhere behind me. The change in his emotions was so subtle that it was invisible to the eyes that didn't pay attention too closely, but I noticed it. His expression slightly softened at first and then twisted with longing. My heart skipped few beats, suddenly much heavier as realization hit me.

He was looking at Viviane.

[chimkin-samich]

First month on the job and Sun seems already smitten.

They're lonely and touchstarved your honour.

Tari is also practically vibing, which is a nice change for them.

Part 1/2

This was originally just something silly to explain their drastic design divergence from anything even remotely canon in this au, but I went and I turned it into angst cuz that's what I do best 🙃

Part 2/2

[bitstitchbitch]

my family is lucky enough to own a 26 acre mountain property, log cabin and all. Most people would go up there and think that it is fairly pristine nature. There’s the cabin, and a few dirt roads for 4-wheelers, but the surrounding woods look untouched.

But we actually carefully maintain that nature. We cut down the deadfall. We pull invasive plants. We trim the elderberry bushes. We get more animals than almost anywhere else on the mountain because we put up salt licks and water troughs.

some of these same things are true of national parks. A lot of places that you think of as “untouched wilderness” are influenced heavily by human care and maintenance. And this isn’t a bad thing. We are animals too. In many ways, our ecosystems depend on us to keep them healthy. Many “wild” plants that are useful for food or building materials are actually semi-domesticated because indigenous groups cared for them and encouraged their growth so they do better with human care.

we have a place in nature. We just need to be conscious of our actions.

EDIT: since this post took off, I thought I should add some sources

Also a disclaimer that I am not indigenous or an ecologist. I am putting time and effort into learning, but I am not an expert.

[really-fanny-longbottom]

a solstice to remember

summary: nothing could keep azriel from the place where he wants to be the most.

warnings: fluff

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 3.6k

a/n: let's pretend i'm not like a week late with this fic, anyways, happy 2025!

velaris was beautiful during this time of the year.

the city was surrounded by snow, the houses decorated, the frozen river and the streets illuminated by bright lights. 

even the cold couldn't shake the magical atmosphere for the sounds of singing and laughing could be heard from the top of the mountains. 

it truly was a sight to behold.

but it was azriel who had the best view of all.

high in the sky, with a distant flapping of wings from the clouds, azriel flew over the beautiful city of starlight.

the stars kept him company on his return flight, and the wind that blew against his face, his wings, taking all his worries away, welcomed him back. 

there was nothing like home. 

if this were the old days, azriel wouldn't have hesitated in arranging some poor excuse and locked himself in his bedroom in the company of his shadows until morning arrived.

but things were different now—they had been different for quite a while. 

the sight of the house of wind came into his vision, soothing his heart, which azriel had carried heavy all day.  

he wasn't supposed to work today, but with last-minute information coming in through one of his spies, azriel couldn't postpone it.

a conversation with rhys had taken place. the brothers had discussed the best plan of action, both coming to the same conclusion.

and with that, azriel left at dawn with only a promise to try to return today.

a risky promise, knowing what was at stake, but one that he would do and did everything he could to keep. 

with a lighter heart, azriel landed happily on the house's porch. 

still in his spymaster attire, the male made sure to check that everything was in order before opening the double doors. 

the moment the doors opened, he was welcomed with all the scents and sensations he was grateful to experience.

the smell of roast meat, mashed potatoes and vegetables filled the air, the fire in the fireplace warmed the room and the decorations left no room for doubt as to which festivity they were celebrating. 

his family was already in the room, snuggled up in the comfort of the sofas with glasses of wine in hands and with brief conversations and laughter being exchanged. 

azriel closed the doors behind him before stepping forward.

"finally!" rhys exclaimed, a relieved smile appearing in his features. 

at his exclamation, all heads turned in azriel's direction, welcoming him with warm and kind smiles. 

cassian, ever the playful, "took you long enough. we were starting to wonder if we had to send a search party for you."

azriel chuckled, shaking his head while entering the room, "it was work, you know how it is." 

as he approached the sofas, rhys stood up, walking towards him.

"sorry for making you work today, brother," he apologized, a firm hand taking the place on his shoulder.

"nonsense," azriel was quick to reply, "we both know it was the right decision," he finished with a light pat on rhys's back.

rhys smiled, knowing it wasn't easy for his brother to be away from home for long periods of time, especially during the holidays, and now more than ever. 

"still, i'm glad you made it. it wouldn't have been the same without you here."

azriel was grateful for his words, more than he let on.

a raise of rhys's eyebrows allowed azriel to hear his brother's silent question—if everything had gone well and if he was okay.

a simple nod was all that was needed, and a quick hug was exchanged between the brothers, ending the conversation about work. 

"here," cassian said, handing him a glass of wine, "we've already started, so you'll have to hurry up to catch us."

azriel chuckled and shook his head, but before he could take a sip, he found himself looking around the room, his hazel eyes hoping to find a pair of green ones.

feyre smiled fondly at her brother-in-law, understanding the feeling all too well "looking for someone, az?" 

the corners of his lips rose, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of those green eyes. 

"indeed," he replied as his eyes kept traveling through the room "where's my girl?" 

and as if the universe had listened, there you were, entering the living room, helping elain to bring out the desserts.

as soon as he spotted you, azriel's heart melted.

affection and love filled his eyes, and shivers ran through his body.

after all this time, his body, his heart, and his soul, they all still reacted to you just as they did the very first time. 

"there she is," azriel said, his voice laced with adoration while setting his glass of wine on the table.

your eyes moved towards the sound—the first one you heard every morning and the last one you heard every night. 

azriel watched you as your features change from reserved and quiet to one of surprise and relief. 

"az!" you said and hurriedly to place the tray of food on the table before running into his arms— your safe haven. 

his heart skipped another beat as he saw the smile that lit up your face upon seeing him and the male didn't hesitate to hug you tightly, his face going down to your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. 

it was both adorable and terrifying, the effect you had on him, but azriel never complained—and he never would. 

"you made it," you said softly against his chest, where his heart was beating faster than he could fly. 

"of course," azriel replied, his scarred hands caressing your back before tangling in your hair. "i promised you, didn't i?" 

you responded by breaking the hug and cupping his face with your hands, your thumbs caressing his skin before pulling him in for a much needed kiss. 

azriel deepened the kiss, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer, however, the kiss was interrupted when your body pressed entirely against his and a small tap was felt by both of you.  

the shadowsinger pulled back slightly, a loving smile already plastered on his features "looks, like we have an intruder." 

you chuckled and rested your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a second to savor the moment, "it looks like we do." 

azriel's smile widened, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin for a beat before looking down.

"hi, little one. daddy's here" he said, his large hand coming to rest over your small baby bump, running his fingers through it.

another kick was given, the baby clearly happy for their father's voice. 

chuckles erupted from the both of you, his hand continued his caress as he lowered his head down to plaster a kiss there.

his hazel eyes met yours when he stood to his full height again, his hand remaining on your bump.

"sorry for being late, love" his fingers caress your cheek, before grabbing a few loose strands and tucking them behind your ear "i tried to hurry up as quickly as pos-" 

you silenced him with a kiss on his lips, both of your hands finding his chest while his hand positioned on the back of your neck.

azriel's heart melted even more, you always knew how to disarm him, at any moment.

"the only thing that matters is that you're here, az," you ran your hand over his jaw, the touch soft and affectionate "the only thing."  

"you're right," he said, before lowering his head to your shoulder once more and placing a light kiss there.

he lifted his head moments later, his hazel eyes scanning the room, trying to find his own eyes in a smaller version. 

a smile graced your face, and you couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. 

"he's upstairs." 

azriel's eyes meet yours, behind them you could find a hint of nerves "how is he?"

you sighed, your heart clenching for the male in front of you. 

"a little sad for thinking that his daddy won't make it for winter solstice" you told him softly, your hand caressing the length of his back to help him relax in a way only you could. 

azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, "i hate to disappoint him." 

at that moment, despite being a little more serious, a laugh escaped you before you could hold it back.

azriel raised an eyebrow in question, his nerves being replaced by confusion. 

"what's so funny?" he asked you, squeezing your hip slightly.

"you're such an idiot" you answered him, another laugh leaving you.

at his reaction, you grabbed his face and looked into those beautiful hazel eyes.

"dorian it's not disappointed with you, azriel. he's sad, yes, but not disappointed. he thinks you're the coolest person of prythian, he wants to be like you when he grows up. you could never disappoint him." you explained, finishing with a light swat to his chest.

your words helped calm his heart. you knew more than anyone how insecure azriel still felt about fatherhood.

even though your son was already five years old, there were still times when he didn't feel worthy of you, or dorian, or the life you had managed to build together. 

it was in moments like these where he needed you the most, your words were more powerful than any other's.

"you're right," he told you, his hand running up and down your hips. "i'll go upstairs, telling him that i'm here." 

when azriel turned to head for the stairs, you were quick to grab his hand and pull him towards you.

"let me go," you told him, "i'll tell him that one of his presents arrived earlier and bring him down." 

a big smile invaded the male's features, excitement running through his veins "yeah, okay."

you kissed his cheek before letting go of his hand and walking upstairs.

azriel kept his eyes on you as you left the room and headed for the stairs.

his eyes studied your purple dress and how the color only helped to highlight your beauty even more, how your hair had gotten longer since you decided to grow it out over the summer, how you always have one hand resting on your bump, and the golden ring with a cobalt blue stone as you placed your other hand on the railing of the stairs. 

he watched you, with a goofy smile, as you disappeared up the stairs and his attention was drawn to cassian when he imitated the sound of a whip. 

laughter reached his ears, and the male let his head fall in defeat, knowing exactly what was in store for him.

"oh, you're whipped, brother," cassian told him as he watched his brother join them on the couch. 

azriel sighed as he took a sip of his wine, shaking his head in response to cassian's comment. he didn't even bother to deny it, knowing clear as a blue sky that he was hopelessly whipped for you.

as he leaned further into the couch, cassian leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs.

"i have to say, i never thought i'd see the day where azriel," he began, a smirk forming on his lips.

"...the feared shadowsinger, the ruthless spymaster, the most brooding illyrian," he continued, earning chuckles from every member of the family, especially the said male.

azriel rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing very well there was no way of stopping his brother, so he embraced the teasing.

"...would be completely whipped by a female." cassian finished, winking a eye in his direction while taking another sip of his wine.

azriel barked a laughter. he didn't correct cassian because there was nothing to correct, everything the general said was true.

he himself had not imagined the day where something like this would be possible—but here they were.

"i never thought about it either," azriel replied, a fond smile on his face, his eyes locked on cassian's.

cassian's face softened at his words, he knew that despite his teasing, the words carried nothing but truth and he couldn't be happier to be that way.

"i bet it feels damn good," the general said, raising his glass in the direction of his brother.

"it does," azriel said on his turn, mimicking cassian's gesture "it really does, it's the best feeling in the world."

they both drink to that, a feeling of gratitude passing through both of them for the life that, after everything they faced, they managed to have. 

azriel couldn't help but smile, his eyes flickering towards the doorway you had just disappeared moments ago. 

•••

as you reached the top of the stairs, the sound of giggles and lively conversation echoed through the hallway. 

as you made your way down the hallway, you smiled softly, your heart warming at the sound of the children enjoying their playtime.

when you reached the door, you stood there for just a moment to hear another set of giggles, a small chuckle escaping you.

you opened the door and were greeted with the sight of your nephews.

"auntie!" nyx exclaimed, dropping his toys to the floor to come wrap his arms around your leg in greeting.

your other nephew, kaden, followed nyx shortly, hugging your other leg.

"hi, auntie!" kaden said, showing you his big toothless smile.

"hi, sweethearts," you caressed their heads, "you're boys having fun?" you asked with a smile mimicking theirs.

"yeah!" the boys answered in union before returning to the floor, definitely to finish their toy's mission.

your eyes stayed on them for a little longer before your attention was drawn to the side and settled on your son.

dorian was seated a little further from his cousins—sadness was evident in his eyes, his head was resting on his hand while the other one was fiddling with the toy. 

the sight made your heart ache, so little he was and yet he already felt such great emotions. 

you approached him, one hand on your baby bump while the other held the skirt of your dress.

you knelt in front of him, your hand caressing his back carefully to not hurt his little wings.  

"hi, baby" you said, your voice gentle and calm.

your voice drew dorian's attention and he lifted his head and you found you "hi, mommy."

your eyes locked on his hazel ones, the same ones you had fall in love with "still sad about daddy leaving for work?"

dorian sighed before nodding his head, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"yes," he murmured, his small voice filled with sadness, "he should be here." 

your fingers found his hair, the one he had inherent from you, and caressed it in a soothing manner.

"i know it's hard, baby," you spoke softly, your tone comforting him, "but daddy's job is important. he didn't want to leave today, you know that right?" 

dorian's eyes flickered to meet yours, a hint of understanding making it's way on his features.

"i know, but i still miss him," dorian whispered, leaning into your touch.

a small smile formed on your lips, and you gave him a mischievous look.

"well, what if i told you that one of your presents arrived earlier?" 

dorian's eyes lit up at your words and he moved closer to you, his small hands reaching out to touch your baby bump. 

"sissy?" he asked you, his sadness being replaced with excitement.

despite not knowing the baby's gender, dorian had been convinced since the very moment you and azriel had broken the news that he was going to be a big brother, that he was having a baby sister.

a small chuckle escaped you at his eagerness "no, my love. it's not your sister, she's still going to take a little longer to get here" you caressed his chubby cheek with your thumb.

his eyes fell at your words but you were quickly to intervene "but," you started, his eyes lifting immediately to find yours "this present is much better." 

his face light up at that, and your smile widened, seeing that your sweet boy was no longer sad.

"do you want to come see it?" 

dorian nodded his head eagerly "yes, mommy" he said and a beat later, he was on his feet.

you laughed and got up too, extended your hand towards him which he didn't hesitate to hold onto.

"let's go then," you said as you led him towards the door.

when you opened the door, you turned around to look at your nephews "you boys come too. it's almost dinner time." 

at the mention of food, kaden got up almost as fast as the speed of light, his toys now forgotten on the floor—he really was cassian's son.

you let the boys go ahead of you, keeping an eye on them so they wouldn't get any ideas about doing something reckless on stairs. 

as dorian walked down the stairs, he suddenly stopped when azriel's voice came from the living room.

your son lifted his head to look at you, "daddy?" 

your response was a smile, and you had to quicken your pace as dorian began to descend the stairs faster, taking you with him.

as you entered the room, his eyes began to search for azriel and you only had a second to register his happiness before he let go of your hand and ran towards your husband. 

"daddy!" he shouted, his voice filled with joy.

azriel's lip formed a smile the moment he son your son running towards him.

the male stood up just in time to catch the little boy who threw himself into his arms, the little boy's arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

"hey, sweetheart," azriel said, hugging dorian just as tightly.

dorian snuggled into his father's embrace, his face on his neck "you're here!" he exclaimed, his excitement echoing through the walls.

"of course," azriel replied, his hand caressing your son's back "i promised you and your mommy, didn't i?"

"yes, yes!" dorian confirmed, too excited to contain his happiness.

your heart melted at the sight, grateful for having your two favorite boys with you.

you approached them, your hand going to dorian's hair and ruffle it a little "did you like your present?" 

dorian lifted his head to look at you, his smile never flattering "yes, best present ever!" 

at the mention of presents, the other boys couldn't contain themselves.

"when can we open the presents?" kaden asked from his seat on nesta's lap.

"soon, we still have to eat dinner first, son." cassian told him, ruffling his hair.

"can't we just have dinner later?" nyx insisted, more than ready to open his presents.

the boys eyes flickered between the adults and all the presents gathered under the tree. 

even dorian couldn't hide his eagerness to open his.

you, living up to the title of coolest aunt, had no choice but to back up the children "since we're all here, we might as well take advantage and open the presents." 

the children cheered and didn't waste another second before launching themselves towards their presents.

your heart swelled with love and affection, seeing that dorian was happy, his sadness from earlier completely forgotten.

you and azriel observed as he opened his presents, his face lit up.

your arms wrapped around azriel's waist, pulling him closer to you "thank you."

azriel's hands found their place on your hips, as they belong there "for what?" 

you studied his features before answering softly "for keeping your promise." 

azriel's eyes softened, his heart filled with pride and love "of course, there's nowhere else where i would rather be than here." 

you couldn't help the small blush that painted your cheeks and drew a chuckle of amusement from azriel. 

you leaned forward to peck his lips, enjoy your little bubble of love for a little longer.

"i love you," you whispered to him.

he rested his forehead against yours, his hands leaving your hips and finding your baby bump.

"i love you more."

you didn't try to argue with him, knowing already how azriel had about a thousand arguments to use in his favor and how he was the one who loved you more.

with a small peck to his nose, you reluctantly pulled away. 

azriel took a seat on the sofa, pulling you to sit on his lap while you both watched your son opening his presents.

cassian passed his present to dorian, a box so big it was almost the size of the little boy.

"that's a big present, dorian. what is it?" azriel asked, his arm coming to surround your waist.

you looked at cassian, silently asking him what could he possibly have got dorian that needed a box so big.

when he replied to you with a mischief grin and a wink of an eye, you knew you were in trouble.

"oh, no," you mumbled.

nyx and kaden let out small gasps as dorian's face lit up so much that it could have been a shooting star. 

"it's a guitar!" dorian exclaimed with widened eyes and a bright smile.

you and azriel freezed, your mouths slightly opening, not believing what you had just heard.

you both looked at cassian at the same time. 

the general dismissed you with a shrug of his shoulders "what? dorian is the baby of the family, he deserves special presents."

you and azriel kept looking at him dumbfounded, your reaction making everyone laugh.

"oh, this is priceless," rhys said, taking a sip of his wine.

 nesta patted your knee, her face red from laughter "good luck."

you and azriel looked at each other speechless, but you didn't have time to try to say something when the sound of the guitar reached your ears.

"this is so cool! thank you, uncle cass!" dorian exclaimed.

"you're welcomed, kiddo," cassian replied while ignoring the glares he was receiving from you and azriel.

he was enjoying this entire situation too much to care about your death stares.

however, when on the following winter solstice, you and azriel offered kaden a drum set, cassian didn't find it that funny.

masterlist

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!young justice x magician and sorcerer!reader

BUUUUUUUUUT,the readed is a part of the team,however,shows no interest in them,and it just there because she kinda just has to,and no matter how much they try to get her attention,she never gives them any of it.

(I love your writing btw😼)

Yandere! Young Justice x magician! Reader

The Cave was quiet, as it always was at night, the hum of machines and distant murmurs of the world outside barely touching the stillness that clung to the mountain like a second skin. In this isolated hollow, surrounded by the cool stone walls, you could hear your own thoughts—the whisper of spells, the pulse of magic, the unspoken words you chose not to say.

You never had to explain yourself here, never had to wear the mask of pleasantries or pretend you cared about anything more than the mission. The others, they didn’t understand. They couldn’t, not really. You weren’t like them, never had been. You didn’t need the comfort of their companionship. You didn’t want their attention, their curiosity, or their pity.

And yet, they tried.

Conner was always watching. A silent presence, brooding and intense, always lingering in the background, his eyes following your every movement. He never asked questions—no, that wasn’t his style. Instead, he observed, the way a predator watches its prey, calculating, waiting. He never made an effort to speak, not in the way Wally did with his incessant jokes or M'gann with her quiet warmth. Conner was patient, cold, waiting for something to crack, for something to change.

His silence was a constant reminder. He didn’t need to speak; you could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, always at the edge of your vision, always waiting.

It was unsettling, but you never let it show.

Wally was a different story altogether. His energy was like a crackling fire, unpredictable, always bouncing from one thing to the next. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t leave you be. "Come on," he would say, leaning over your shoulder as you worked on a spell, his grin wide and carefree. "Show me something cool. You know you’ve got some crazy magic tricks up your sleeve."

His insistence was always accompanied by that grin of his, mischievous and bright, as though his charm could draw you out of your shell. But you never did. You never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, never let him see you as more than just another teammate. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to make the team feel more like a family. But you didn’t care about family. You didn’t care about any of them.

“I’m busy,” you’d say, dismissing him with a flick of your hand, returning to your spell. And Wally, ever the optimist, would laugh and zip away, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he left you to your silence.

But it wasn’t enough for him, no. His persistence was a thing of legend. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you, his gaze fixed, a question burning in his eyes. "Why are you always like this?" he seemed to ask with every look. But he never voiced it. Instead, he’d turn away, hoping that somehow, eventually, you’d change your mind.

Then there was Robin. The dark and silent watcher. He knew how to stay in the shadows, how to be everywhere without being seen. His presence was like the night itself—always there, always watching, never truly gone. Robin was the most subtle of them all. He never asked outright; instead, he would drop little comments, observations that always felt like a puzzle, like he was trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

"You know, you could talk to us more," he’d say, casually leaning against the wall as he watched you work. His tone was light, almost playful, but you could sense the undercurrent of something more—something deeper. “We don’t bite, you know.”

You didn’t respond. Of course, you didn’t. The only response he got was the steady flick of your fingers over the spellbook, the quiet hum of magic filling the space between you. He didn’t try to get too close, not like Wally or M'gann, but his eyes never stopped tracking you, always measuring, always calculating. Robin was patient, the kind of person who knew that some things took time, that some people had walls that needed to be broken down slowly.

And you? You weren’t going to let him.

M'gann was the opposite. Her presence was always warm, soft, inviting. She would sit beside you, her legs tucked under her, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You know," she would say with that gentle voice of hers, "I could help you with your spells. I can be a good study partner, if you ever need one."

Her kindness wasn’t forced, never had been. It was natural for her, as natural as breathing. She wasn’t like the others who were driven by some sense of duty or curiosity. No, M'gann’s attention was genuine, a quiet offer of companionship. She was the one who tried to reach you without asking, without expecting anything in return.

But you didn’t need help. You didn’t need her to reach you. And so, you’d quietly decline, giving her nothing more than a polite smile before returning to the words in your book, the pages filled with symbols that had no need for her warmth.

And then there was Artemis. The sharp, straightforward one. She didn’t waste time on subtlety. Her approach was always direct, blunt, like a sharp blade that never hesitated. "You don’t have to be so closed off, you know," she’d say, her voice a mix of irritation and something else. It was hard to tell with Artemis—her eyes were always guarded, her emotions always hidden behind a wall of indifference. "We’re all in this together."

She had a point, of course. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about being “in it together.” You had your own path to follow, and they weren’t a part of it. You didn’t need to explain that to her, or to anyone. So, you’d give her a nod, a brief acknowledgment that wasn’t really an acknowledgment, and move on with your work.

Kaldur was the calm one, the quiet one. His respect for you was obvious, but it never crossed the line into anything more. He would offer you a nod as he passed, his gaze soft, his presence steady like the water he controlled. He didn’t push you the way the others did. He didn’t try to break down your walls. He simply respected them, kept his distance, and allowed you to be as you were.

But even Kaldur had moments when his gaze would linger on you, just a second too long, like he was waiting for you to finally open up, to let him see more than the cold silence you kept locked behind your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for you to feel the weight of their gaze, the quiet pressure of their attention. They thought they understood you. They thought that if they just tried enough, kept reaching out, eventually, you’d let them in.

But you wouldn’t.

In the midst of their attempts, you kept your distance, always lost in the pages of your spells, your incantations, the quiet hum of power that thrummed beneath your fingertips. They were drawn to you, like moths to a flame, their fascination burning just beneath the surface of their words, their glances, their actions.

But you would remain untouched. You would keep your secrets locked away, your magic a barrier between you and the world they wanted to draw you into.

They didn’t understand it, not really. They couldn’t. You were not like them. You didn’t need what they offered. You didn’t need to be a part of their team, their family, their world. You were the silent watcher, the one who kept their distance while they reached out, always hoping that something would change.

But it wouldn’t.

You weren’t there for them. You were there because you had a purpose, one that had nothing to do with them, nothing to do with the team, and nothing to do with any of their quiet, unspoken obsessions. You would remain distant, and they would keep trying, never understanding why you remained so cold, so unreachable.

And that, for now, was enough.

(A/n: thank you kind fellow fur🤭😽)

[writermani4c]

Me and the Devil | Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a nun at an isolated convent. He is in your mind, eating away your mind bit by bit, soon destroying the pillars of your faith. Until you have no choice but to surrender to him, he will destroy all that is necessary.

warnings: He's a vampire. Of course he doesn't have to play fair, does he? There is mind control and there are some rather bloody deaths. I don't think I'm really good with that, I don't think it's too heavy, but it's good that there's a warning.

:: We girls can't bear to see a vampire who is completely obsessed with a woman, who will spill as much blood as it takes to get her, and who has already fallen in love with her. I'm completely obsessed by Nosferatu, even though I couldn't get a screening where I live. This is basically my brain being eaten away by Bill Skarsgard's hunger… I'm always hungry for Bill, but at this point in time I could be kept in a secluded castle to give birth to all of his babies, and I mean that. I hope you enjoy this. By the way, good luck in 2024!

The high-pitched squeak penetrated the stones of the convent, seeping like moss into the soft, bumpy cracks in the porosity, and imitated the soft voice of a wanderer saying a prayer in a dead language, older than time. His understanding was forgotten by men, but that didn't silence him. That voice was still preserved in the air that surrounded you like a thick mantle covering a thick cotton habit, as light as the coat of a holy lamb, which covered you from head to toe in a sacred enclosure. 

Through the narrow window of his room, all that showed were the orange Carpathian mountain ranges in the middle of a mild autumn, with the taste of hot tea and the smell of a fire burning in the evening, when the temperature dropped at night.

The mountain ranges and that stone fortress, far from the convent and yet terribly close.

Every day, the castle seemed to move. When you weren't watching it with your stoic expression, it seemed to grow tentacles over its foundation and creep up slowly. Depending on the day, it seemed further away, with only the tip of its towers appearing between the hills. But when you were getting ready for bed, tucked up in the modest comfort of your little room and wrapped in the soft blanket of your nightgown, the castle seemed terribly close to you, so close that you could feel its evil aura as you raised your hand in a vain attempt to touch it. 

He was calling you. A strength, a terror, a hungry longing.

Come to me, my eternal beloved. 

Tormented, you choked on your own breath. The deep, seductive sound of that voice crept under your blankets at night, and under the modest garments of your nightgown, finding your soft, easy-to-creep skin. His touch was physical, even if you often groped your skin in search of those hands and found nothing but loneliness, and intimacy. So intimate that not even the devil himself, cruel and cunning, could emulate such evil in his attempt to corrupt the Lord Jesus in his trial in the desert.

It scared you.

The feeling of intimacy that belongs to something, that is lost until it is regained. That invisible hand, as well as the voice that only you heard, shook your sense of self and made you feel the narrow mattress slipping off your back, the thin blanket sliding off your body and your fear of dissolving as you floated above the bed. A demonic, ghostly vision, with your eyes rolled back in a trance that nothing and no one could stop.

You felt it, more intimately than you felt anything else, and that was scarier than any of the other traps in hell.

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— My child — greeted the voice on the other side of the wooden confessional booth. The only voice you could turn to in times of extreme need. Father Lengyel was an elderly authority in the convent, as was Mother Superior Illés. If it hadn't been for that, you wouldn't have had the courage to confide in him your greatest fears, seeking the reassurance of his gentle voice. — In your praiseworthy stillness, I can see that something is troubling you. You owe me your ordeal, child.

— Father, help me! — Tired and sleepless after a night awake, with your knees against the floor praying to ward off the tentacles of evil, you felt your eyes grow heavy as you saw the low, hunchbacked shadow of the priest. — I'm cursed. I didn't do anything about it, but I know that the shadow that haunts me was born with me, wrapped around me like an umbilical cord that has never been amputated. I feel it and sometimes I hear its impatience calling my name.

— Fear not, my child. No shadow of a curse is stronger than our Lord's mercy on your spirit, waking you up every morning with a breath of life.

But maybe it's not our Lord, you thought bitterly. You almost disbelieved that God would even work in your cause, probably deciding to wash his hands of you and leave you alone on your ordeal. This thought angered you, wondering how God, your holy God to whom you dedicated your time and efforts to serve with blind devotion, could leave one of his daughters helpless when the claws of the nefarious one threatened to entangle her? 

And anger, even though it was blasphemy with your Father, was easier to manage in your restless spirit than the fear that perhaps God hadn't let go of your hand. Perhaps he was there, following in your footsteps not long ago, weeping blood for not being able to do anything to prevent the evils that awaited you. Maybe there were forces greater than the salvation you blindly tried to reach like a child afraid of the dark.

That thought you swept from your mind, because if that thing was stronger than the Savior you were turning to, there would be no reason to be reluctant in its evil call.

— I beg you, Father, with all the infinite goodness of your being, pray for my soul. 

— I will, my child. You too, pray for wisdom and that the Lord, in his infinite love, will bring you comfort. 

When you left the confessional, you got down on your knees in front of the proudly erected altar. The suffering face of that poor man in his moment of greatest difficulty never comforted you, but inspired you. If even he, the son and Messiah, found the purpose to remain firm on the narrow road of faith, you too would find the strength to stay in the light. You would have to pass through that tortuous valley to have your healing.

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You weren't the youngest in the convent, but you weren't the oldest either. When you arrived, with your only bag with a few belongings and a photo of the home you grew up in, the home that always seemed unworthy of your torments about the terror that was trying to get its claws into you, there were older girls who took you in as a younger sister, teaching you the trade so that you could also teach those who came to the convent after you. This was the mission: you didn't serve God's pure purpose alone, but learned from your sisters so that you could teach others in a cycle that stretched out like an infinite patchwork quilt. 

Among his protégés, the young Agnes was the most cherished. So young and intelligent, she was your faithful dog in the convent corridors. Agnes, who came from a poorer and more literate family than yours, found comfort in listening to you read the Psalms, the book they were given to study. Agnes' chubby cheeks and earthy brown eyes reminded you of the child you would never have, the one you could never run your hand through and love. The Lord was merciful to you in giving you a sister to fill that void and you gave her all the attention you could. Your beloved Agnes sat next to you while you ate your lunch in silence. The soup was thinner, to save supplies for the harsh winter, and the bread was smaller. All deposits were saved and all fasting was done in summer and fall, because in winter your bodies' strength was tested by the ice that seemed to be trying to infiltrate your bones. They would have to eat better to survive until spring.

Next to him, young Agnes choked on her bread.

— Eat slowly. 

— Pardon me, sister! — She stopped eating, lowering her head as if she expected to be punished. You smiled, running your hand over your protégé's head. 

— Don't be like that. I'm talking for your own good, chew better, it also helps to fill your stomach.

The girl turned her face towards you with a soft, youthful smile. 

A low, loud sound caught their attention. It was as if the ceiling had broken, so you looked up in doubt, but it seemed as firm as ever. Surprised gasps and the sound of footsteps moving across the stone floor made you stand up and look around, at the shocked faces of your sisters. 

— Stay behind me, Agnes. — You stood in front of the girl, shielding her with your body, while you searched for the cause of the commotion among the others. 

Another thud made you find the source of the terror. Your older sister, a girl so genuinely kind that she wouldn't mind giving up her own shoes and going barefoot if she had to. Olga. Olga, who was so generous that she always presented the others with little embroideries on old linen handkerchiefs, making them priceless pieces. Olga who hugged you as soon as you arrived, immensely happy as if you were a relative she hadn't seen for years and who was returning home. Your beloved sister Olga's nose was covered in blood and her front teeth were in an equally miserable state. Her blue eyes were completely covered by dark pupils, making them animalistic as she looked around at the familiar faces until she stopped at you. 

She gritted her teeth painfully, teasing the veins in her neck. Olga no longer knew you. She didn't look at you like her younger sister, but with anger.

— Ungrateful! Damn you! — She pointed her slender, cocked forefinger, the knuckles seeming to ache with the effort. — Ungrateful and  damned, unfortunate creature! Look what I do to what you love so much, look what I do to the object of your efforts!

Olga moved her face away from the table enough to almost fall backwards, gripping the edge of the table with her fingers tightly, before putting all her strength forward and, with a hollow sound of something breaking, smashing her nose against the wooden table. The noise tore you apart. Young Agnes' arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you pushed her back. 

Mother Illés rushed into the dining hall. 

She gave you an appeasing look and you understood. With agility, you gathered all the younger girls, totally terrified, and asked them to follow you out while Olga, surrounded and supported by her older sisters, screamed:

— Love me! Devote yourself to me! Command me if you wish, but don't ignore me, my beloved, don't deny me, for I am your lord and savior! I am the master of your pure and tormented soul, my beloved! 

But you, terrified, denied his call once again. You covered your ears as you led the girls into the courtyard outside. The dry autumn wind enveloped you, your voices, but did nothing to muffle the terror in your minds. Little Agnes was still wrapped tightly in your body and soon the others followed suit, seeking warmth in your shivering, freezing body. Concentrating on them, on reassuring them, took your mind off the torturous thought that, yes, he was impatient.

All those years of “tranquility” were his gift, his way of making you surrender voluntarily. But he was lonely. He was hungry. 

Now he controlled Olga's body. 

But not just her. 

That same night, while Olga was tied to her bed under the watchful eye of Mother Illés, Annabeth began to dance as she blew out the candles. You didn't see it, you were busy with your chores, but the others saw it and told you about it in sad, frightened voices. Annabeth, so young and playful, began to twirl around and the others thought she was just playing. The girl liked to play games, hiding pine cones under her pillows and little flowers in the sleeves of her habits. 

She spun around mesmerized, spinning faster and faster and more violently. Her feet seemed bewitched and she suffered without even being able to move her mouth to do so, her teeth clenched in a painful grind as her jaw unhinged. The candles on the altar grew, fueled by something supernatural and unworthy, dancing along with young Annabeth.

That macabre dance ended in a tableau and the flames touching the young woman's habit. The fire consumed her without anyone being able to put it out; no amount of water could stop the flames. They consumed Annabeth until there was nothing left. In her death, she said nothing, but tearing her clothes to get rid of the fire, her name was torn into the soft skin of my body. Her name was everywhere, written with love, sorrow and anger. Like a love-hate letter, he wrote to you through the skin of an innocent girl. 

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You hadn't slept a wink for three nights. 

At the slightest sign of unconsciousness, as you blinked your eyes a little more slowly, it was as if he was lurking there waiting to take you, and this made you resist even though your body could barely stand.

The mother didn't let you take part in the funeral, allowing you only a brief farewell before you were taken to your chambers to rest. 

You didn't want to rest.

Even so, you didn't have the strength to move. Perhaps it was tiredness or apathy, the feeling that all your efforts were useless.You lay there in your narrow bed, watching the day fade away through the shadows on the wall.

The night was his territory. 

Night was when he hid in the wind and entered his room.

Even though he wanted to, there was no voice in his throat to scream and a hot tear ran down his left eye. 

The door to his room opened and, to his relief, Father Lengyel entered his room. The black cloak swirled solemnly around him, like something divine coming to his rescue.

— What ails you, my dear!

— A large, slender hand, smelling of scrubbed earth, touched his face. There was a certain softness to it, even though the ice in your palms made you sigh with the thermal shock. — My poor little lamb! 

The man held your face lovingly, with such care that you simply let go, allowing yourself to cry in dismay at his attentive care. Father Lengyel, so small and twisted, sat on the edge of your bed. A candle burned on the chair on the other side of the room, the glow of the fire casting shadows on the wall next to your bed and leaving you cloaked in that lonely corner. Father Lengyel kissed your cheek, with those closed, dead lips, so cold they made you shiver.

— Father!

— Poor creature!

— My shadow is growing. — You confessed, leaning your face on the old man's hand. — My shadow consumed poor Olga and Annabeth, casting them into the valley of the storm. 

Father Lengyel pulled the blanket away from your body and, in the narrow space that barely fit a body, he lay down with you. Your eyes widened as the man pressed himself against your body. The man you had always seen as a loving and attentive father, a listener incapable of the slightest judgment, lay beside you with the warmth of a lover. 

— You curse us all, my sweet. — His mouth curved into a smile that only reflected darkness. — Everyone, everyone, everyone. My eyes, so blessed with the beauty of your soft skin and childish eyes, your sweet mouth and the shaggy strands of your eyebrows, became the object of his dark admirer's envy and, look, what he did to me.

In the short distance between your faces, that distance you wanted to increase at all costs, you could make out the old man's wrinkled features. His withered cheeks, the corners of his eyes creased by years and years of study and service to the church. His thinning hair was pearly white on his straight head, with little spots like freckles. The eyes, previously blue, weren't there. 

In their place, there was the emptiness of two hollow holes whose darkness seemed to feed with pleasure. 

The priest smiled in her direction.

— Smile, my dear. Who else in the world would be as adored and cherished as you? What other soul would be as worthy of all the fascination of eyes that have seen the rise and fall of empires as the rising and setting of the sun? There are worse ways to live. In complete ignorance, never seen and never remembered, gradually rotting away like this old man. 

In an unknown breath, you felt the instinct to fight with the same strength as the archangels as you sat up in bed, your body trembling from the effort. The priest continued to lie there, moaning with satisfaction as he enjoyed the smell of your hair against the pillow where you had shed your tears. 

He was totally possessed. The evil had taken hold of the most benevolent man you've ever had the pleasure of knowing, save only his own father, a man so generous that he gave up his beloved daughter to the care of a convent without ever doubting his desires to follow a holy life. All was lost.

You got out of bed, your legs wobbly as you dragged yourself out of the room. There were few lit candles and a long corridor. Carefully, you hugged your body and left your quarters, dreading the next demonic sight you would encounter on your way.

The convent seemed more alive than ever. A complete organism. The walls moved as it breathed and guided you in silence, the cold accompanying you like a guardian, a raven on your sullen shoulders. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly glow illuminating what not even candle flames could touch. And you walked, leaning on the walls, groping for balance. In the dining hall, where Olga's blood was embedded in the wood of one of the tables, you saw the shadows of the feet of all your beloved sisters and your devoted mother.

They all floated solemnly, with ropes around their necks. They all looked at you with pupils consumed by darkness and wide smiles, so big that they seemed to rejoice in your presence. 

— My beloved! — cried Clara. 

— Beacon of my darkness! — said Lucia. 

— Don't you see, my beloved? 

With dread, you walked around the tables, looking into their faces. Every single one of them. The rope wasn't taut, they were floating under the invisible force that kept them alive only for a brief moment. Just long enough for you to see them, to remember their names and their faces, their voices, their lives and their untouchable faith. Because they, like your Savior, had no power to stop the terrors you were cursed with at birth.

As soon as your cry marked his arrival in this rotten, petty and cheap world, he also felt the pain in his chest, where his lungs were supposed to work. Your soft cry marked the raw, lifeless gasp of the thing that woke up to take in its big, slender hands what was rightfully its: that poor soul, which had never found a single day's peace, shrouded in the melancholy of that fateful encounter. 

Nothing could stop her soul from touching him, much less his emptiness from possessing her soul.

It was a perfect fit, an unspoken agreement between heaven and hell. God, all merciful, gave you up for the greater good. You were eternally linked. 

And your sisters, mother and father paid the price for coming between the two of you, for taking you away from your true home and your true master. They filled your days with their miserable little lives, with miserable knowledge, with miserable privations for such... miserable glory. 

— I have set you free, my beloved. I have loosened the nails that bound you to your cross. — Murmured the mother, with jubilant eyes, cheeks streaked with sweet tears. Your stern and beneficent mother. — My obsession is the key to this filthy, worthless prison. Come, darling, and enjoy with me all the pleasures you've been denied. Come quickly, my beloved, put an end to my loneliness.

His shadow has grown over you, outside in the courtyard.

— Spare them! I beg you! — Her voice roared over the tearful smiles of her sisters. Young Agnes wiggled her legs, looking at you with that untouched childish gaze, as if she were throwing herself into dense fluffy clouds and not into the abyss of death, into the blackness of darkness. — Spare them and I'll follow you without looking back. I will never desire anything other than your company, nor will I follow any other path than the one your feet once trod.

Your sisters' laughter exploded through the high ceiling, laden with a mockery that didn't belong to them.

Bewitched, they all looked down at you with equal dark amusement, their voices blending together like a spiral that drained the strength from your legs. 

— Don't you understand yet, my holy lamb? — Smiled sweet Agnes. — There's no bargaining. Whether they live or die, you will still be mine.Even in death, I will pull you back and chain you to me. I myself have suffered many years of being bound to the prison of my desires for you, waiting for you for countless years, feeling the weight of your rejection, cruel lover. 

— But you love me, don't you?

— Every part of me to every part of you, my sweetness. 

— So give me these gifts. Spare my beloved sisters, my fellow human beings, those sweet women with pure hearts who have guarded me long enough for you to come and take your rightful possession. They are not guilty, but guardians. — On your knees, you clasped your hands to your chest, begging the devil for mercy. — I know I wasn't good to you, I was insensitive to your call, but they are not to blame.You'll have all my devotion if you spare them, but if you kill them, even though you have my body and my spirit, you'll never have a drop of my attention. 

The silence of the souls hanging from the ceiling of the convent refectory echoed their inconsolable weeping.Thick tears and a plea so strong that it could make the souls turn over in their graves. 

The doors opened in a rush, letting the cold wind enter the dining hall. 

For the first time, under the ethereal light of the moon, as if in a macabre mixture of dream and nightmare intertwined by the thin veil of unconsciousness, you saw it.Not its aura or its agonized call, you saw the creature with your own eyes. 

You, who know so little about men, had never seen such a figure. 

So tall that you had to stoop to pass through the door that you would walk through without any difficulty.Eyes so deep that no light could reach them. A face hardened by the spectre of death, with a long nose and a thick moustache of a deep shade of black.He entered the sacred ground with equal parts ease and pain, each step a necessary torture to reach the object of his desire. The soul he so coveted in his millennial solitude, forgotten by the world, completely abandoned under the promise of a single soul that the heavens did not claim, a soul he could corrupt at will. 

Yours to devour, he thought at first, perhaps resentful that he was also chained to a lowly mortal, a wandering and very basic creature. Yours to torment, he thought, when you were very young and saw his shadow in your room for the first time. Yours to worship, he realized now, pulling her by her bare arms to stand up.

The creature, hungry for something, for some compensation for its endless loneliness, brought its face close to his and, with a touch of malice, stuck out its tongue, licking the length of his tears with its cold, inhuman breath. 

— I thought you'd wait for me in your habit, my beloved.I was particularly looking forward to it. — He lowered his cold, vile gaze, delving into the shape of your body beneath the nightgown with which you were forced to rest, a fabric so thin of light cotton that it hung down your body, revealing through the worn nature of the fabric the color of your stiff nipples against the fabric. He gasped with pleasure. — But what unparalleled pleasure it is to see you in such intimate attire, my eternal obsession. 

His hands, holding her face, were huge, with large, aged nails. Nails that would have dug into the earth to escape the grave. Their coldness was uncomfortable, but, given the horrors in your mind, you found yourself accepting their touch as a shred of comfort.

It destroyed your sanity, that it would at least give you the soothing balm of a caress.

— Please! — you sighed with a breath, a breath as anguished as it was tired. 

Your hands touched his, your eyes full of life and fear threatened his darkness with such a benevolent request, something the creature had never witnessed. 

Those like you, mortals, used to beg for mercy on your own life, on your knees and with the greatest promises of riches and pleasures.And here you were, a soul who would never reach heaven, asking for mercy for others when it was your fate that was at stake.

How he loved you! How he hated you!

— Treating it as my personal gift and demonstration of my esteem, these women live by my ability to have mercy on the requests of your heart. — He approached your warmth, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the salt of your feverish skin. All his vitality was more than banal desire, he was madly fissured by every cell of his anatomy, every rudimentary bit of his mortal Anatomy, and so doomed to the horrors of putrefaction. — My eternal living flame, how it tormented me not to be able to touch it. How it torments me right now to feel the softness of your skin. 

The creature's eyes mapped your face, his eyes so vivid and striking in color, the visage on your skin, the softness of his mouth as you breathed audibly, so bruised by fatigue that you didn't even budge when he wrapped you in his arms like a bruised little bird. Her soft sigh, nesting her head against his shoulder, was the fuel for him to release the women from their ropes, gently lowering them until their feet touched the ground.

— As long as you live, my ladies, be the witness of my triumph in having my sweet beloved in my arms for eternity.

He lowered his face in your direction, the ancient smell on his clothes made you scratch your nose. 

The texture of his mustache was thick. When his funeral lips touched yours, you tried to resist. Never before have you felt the pleasure of a passionate kiss or a love that took your breath away. But he knew what he'd been waiting for, holding you tightly by the back of your head, wrapping himself around you menacingly as his mustache scratched and skin immaculate from his face. His lips were hard, demanding and hungry.

His mouth ate you as his last hope, the last of pleasures and torments, a feast for a dying man.

The exchange, life and death, touching each other for the first time ignited an impulse in you. The impulse that matched his kiss, because that was the deal. You gave in, letting your lips submit to the kiss. Your body was surprised as you gasped with pleasure at corresponding with him, stimulated by the passion with which he held you. The human body is capable of many bargains to continue resisting.

And you, who had resisted for so long, gave in to that bittersweet feeling of surrender, feeling it take against your body.

Her body gradually sank into the feeling of being supported. As her dark lover's lips devoured hers, the world became a darker and darker place, the hiss of the wind seeping into her ears like spilled poison.  Between soft gasps, feeling the creature suck on his lips, unable to be completely satiated, his body gave in to the strain, falling into a powerful sleep. Realizing that you no longer corresponded with him, he walked away, looking at her with apprehension. His right hand, large and bony, rested on his chest. 

The beating of his heart was quiet, yet powerful. Each beat rumbling softly against the bones of his chest. 

Under the gaze of the bewitched nuns, he disappeared with the night, carrying with him the only one with whom he could share his eternal night.

♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰♰

[postmoe]

Moe im absolutely DROOLING at capitano 😵 May I request yandere! capitano preeety plees with a cherry on too 😫😫 U CANT TELL ME HES NOT JUST AHHXJSNSNSN HES SO FINEEEE

im sorry it's been so long life is just UGH i think we all need a bit of capitano rn-

i think i made the yandere a little too subtle but I hope it's still okay-

When you first fell to this world, no one believed you to be an outsider. You were just crazy, a patient who escaped the asylum.

It happened when you were out on a job, your last year of med school and you were doing your practical part, following along in ambulances and assisting paramedics. There had been a building collapse, chaos everywhere, dust surrounding the scene. You weren't supposed to stray too far, it's only when you heard a young voice calling from help did you separate, calling out your intentions to your colleague before rushing through the door with your bag of equipment held tightly to your chest. As you began through the doorway, it was as if an earthquake struck, everything trembling and crumbling. You couldn't believe your eyes, the way the ground turned blocky, a red and black colour eating the sides of your world like an 8-bit transition. Gravity hit hard as you fell through, the broken, wooden floors turning into a faraway city, canopies of trees, rivers, mountains - before you fainted.

When you awoke you couldn't find any injuries that would result from a free fall from the atmosphere, namely death. If anything, you were a little tender in the muscles. You found your med bag not far from you before awkwardly making your way, searching for help.

One lonely night you had approached a group of soldier-like people. They were part of the 'Fatui', which people seemed to fear but what other option did you have? You told them your story, begged for food, and out of pity some had helped you. A lot of laughs came your way, but even so, you sat at a table with drunken fatui and got a nice bowl of stew and bread.

Just as everyone was leaving, you felt a large hand on your shoulder. It was their Captain, who the party under his command conveniently referred to him as 'Capitano'. He holds out a small, woven bag once he gets your attention, dropping it in her hands when you hold them out. It feels like coins - Mora, if you remember correctly, the currency of this world - and regards you with only a few words, "I believe you. However, I cannot help you."

It was the little glimmer of hope you needed. You stored some leftover bread in your paramedic jacket, running after him and calling him to wait, to have a conversation but, he was a busy man. He retreated into a nice looking motel on the outskirts of the city, leaving you to sit outside.

So you did. You waited all night on the side of the road, resting until he eventually came back out.

.

Granted, following an 'evil' organisation wasn't the smartest thing, that's only if the words of the people you've met are to be believed. As of now, they're the only people who have reached out a helping hand, and Capitano, the only one to make you finally breathe and remember that you aren't insane; that this is real.

Still, you keep your distance, following diligently like a lost puppy. "Leave her be," Capitano had said when one of his men asked about you, "She is no threat." Later he would say he was hoping you would get the message to journey on your own, to find your own way.

On a cold night he had saved you, though to anyone it appeared as nothing more than an easy kill. Two hilichurls, you were half asleep, focused more on keeping warm than any dangers. It wasn't until you heard the slash of his blade did you even notice he was there, the monsters leaving behind blood and dust in their wake.

Capitano drapes a blanket over you, "Come." You follow him into the camp, beyond the guards and closer to a fire. He points to a sleeping mat, "If you're going to follow me then stay within the group." With that, he retreats to his tent. You can't help the tears of gratitude as you bathe in the warmth, your sleep the best it's been in weeks.

You make friends with the fatui, it's unanimously agreed that everyone in Capitano's ranks are morally... adequate, compared to other Harbingers. "Don't even get me started on Il Dottore's..." one mentions, and you think as a 'doctor' yourself, you couldn't handle hearing his horror stories.

Eventually, you become part of their medic team, showing them all the fun tools and medications from your world. Even if they don't believe you, they pretend to, and they show interest. You've only cried twice when reminiscing.

A few times you've seen Capitano enter the medic tent, he grabs some bandages and some ointment before retreating to his tent. "Would you like some help?" You ask, not for the first time, and it won't be the last.

His usual response is what comes, "No, thank you."

It's a routine, you like to think he appreciates it.

.

You're not a stranger to violence. During your schooling you saw a lot of gore, it never phased you in the ways it would others. Of course, it was sad, seeing children who needed to have a leg amputated, people being victimised by a violent stranger, you could only do your best to give them the rest of their lives.

War, however, was another thing. Footage does nothing compared to witnessing it, the people you eat dinner with being ripped apart by monsters, other factions of the land getting burnt to death by the power of their gods, or frostbitten and forced to watch their comrades suffer until they themselves succumb.

Capitano scared you, in a way. He was always so strong, so willing to give his all to anyone who had the courage to fight back. It was his way in honour. You're lucky he had a sense of justice, apparently anyone else could have killed you and be done with it. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like if he drew his sword against you, or used his large hands and wrap them around your neck, suffocating you until he saw the whites of your eyes...

He was a monster, but maybe compared to the other, real monsters out there, he was the better option.

Tonight he got hurt, enough to show the blood spreading through his clothes. Wounds and scars were normal but this made your stomach churn. You see a glimpse of a monster claw that he's tried to hide with his cloak. There's a tear in his sleeve as well, showing his long glove underneath.

Nope. You can't just sit by as he struggles, you signed a contract saying that you would help anyone, no matter the circumstance. As he walks back to his tent, you follow him closely behind, your bag in hand. He stops, the flap partially open as he turns to you and says in a strained voice, "I'm fine. Go tend to the others."

You shake your head defiantly, staring into the dark abyss of his helmet with conviction.

He huffs, entering the tent and murmuring, "Do as you please."

His tent is much larger than any of the others, perhaps the medical one only being marginally bigger. There's a fireplace, a desk with a multitude of papers, scattered, used bandages and a large pile of bed wrapping and furs. He takes a seat on the chair near the desk, removing his coat and grabbing the claw, about to yank it out when you slap his hand away.

You waggle your finger at him, crouching to get a better look at the wound, "You're only going to make it worse. Honestly, if that's how you treat yourself it's a wonder you're still alive. Help me get your shirt off."

There's a hint of hesitation in him, though you're only a little sure you see it. Your focus is on pulling it over the claw without moving it too much, it had gone through bandages around his stomach as well, wrapping over his chest, the rest of his body... Look over him, taken aback. His flesh isn't normal, what you thought were gloves was actually the decay of his arms. No, decay doesn't seem right either but even so, there's no life. He lets you take it in, waiting until your eyes look to his mask. "My body is rotten, rotting, still," he clarifies, and you realise that perhaps decay is the right word, it's just a different meaning in this world. "I'm fine," he says again, as though expecting this to be too much for you, "You can leave."

You wonder why the smell isn't so bad, the sweet tinge mixing with a sour after scent. It wasn't the most pleasant but if you're being honest, it wasn't horrible. You put this aside and give him a dead stare, "You're so aggravating. Are you just allergic to help? Shut up and let tend to you."

He sits still after that, leaning back in the chair as you get to work. You tell him when it might hurt, he doesn't even flinch when you're prepared to extract the claw. Even the inside of his body isn't normal, his blood seeming to pulse out than continuously flow, the colour off in a blackish way. You had removed the bandages before, so the feeling of his leathery skin was odd, there was an odd sense to it that you couldn't describe. Darkness? How could you feel darkness?

You're priority is the claw wound, which you diligently tend to, cleaning and stitching it until you were satisfied with the result. You have a gauze left that you wrap onto him, sitting back on your heels to admire your work. "I'll have to check on it twice a day. If you need help bathing let me know, or I can instruct one of your men how to assist you without infecting the wound," you tell him, expecting him to blatantly deny any outside help.

Instead, he changes the topic entirely, speaking lowly, "I still can't help you."

"What?" You ask, mind still on the topic of his wellbeing.

He rolls his shoulders and looks to his tattered shirt, reaching to put it back on, though leaving it open, "To get back home, I still can't help you. You're wasting your time here."

Oh, so that's what he meant. You haven't spoken about it with him at all, and you did have questions you wanted to ask but you're not even sure if you have the mindset to discuss your fate immediately after learning the man you've been following is rotting before your eyes. It feels kinda shitty to bring up your trauma over his. You reach forward, fingertips grazing against the damaged skin above his stomach, wishing you could do something more than than bandage a wound, "Does it hurt?"

"I've had worse, at least it didn't come out the other side," he tilts his head to the claw, and you can imagine he might have a disinterested look by the sounds of his monotone voice.

You laugh, and you're not sure if he's saying that so you don't bring up his skin but you honestly can't believe what you're seeing, "No no, your body. Your flesh. Does it hurt?" You distantly wonder if that little vial of morphine you saved would alleviate it. Would it be a blessing of reprieve or a torture since it won't last?

Capitano sighs, probably the first sign of true emotion you've heard from him, "Yes, it's very painful. I'm used to it, however."

"Does the ointment help, the one you get from the medic tent? God I wish I could just," you frustratingly clench your fist before opening your palm to him, exhaling in sombre, "Take your pain away. I'm a medic in my world, but here I feel really useless sometimes."

You sit in comfortable silence, still crouched down before him. He hasn't removed your hand, you're not sure why but perhaps the cool touch it soothing to him? His muscles tense underneath you, and you only open your eyes when you feel him relax again. You're face-to-face with a strange light from your palm, a swirling breeze like a vortex coming inwards. You freaked out, retracting your hand fast but only getting a fraction of a distance before Capitano grasped your wrist, forcing you to press back against him. It's too late, whatever concentration you had fades, as does the light.

The way his shoulders sag gives a sense of disappointment. "What was that?" You practically whisper, a little scared of whatever just came from you.

He finally relents your hand, leaning back in his chair, "I believe... It's an ancient power. I shall do some research."

Capitano is curt, his head turned to the side and away from you. You get the hint, knees cracking loudly as you stand, causing you to laugh anxiously while you dust off the imaginary dirt from your thighs, "Y-Yeah, okay. Thank you. I'll check in on you in the morning."

Your goodnights are brief, the flap of the tent closing gently behind you.

There's a pyroslinger skirmisher standing guard at his tent, you give him a pointed finger and declare, "If you see him take off his bandages without me, you let me know! I won't tolerate my patients disrespecting my orders."

He gives you a salute, playing along, "Yes ma'am!"

.

Capitano's body is corrupted by the abyss, he's been stuck in a torturous torment of decay for over 500 years. Your heart aches at this, a condition your mind struggles to comprehend but there is one saving grace you both had realised:

You have the power to ease his pain.

It's a form of light that counters his darkness, and whilst you can never truly cure him, you can certainly take the edge off and allow him to rest. Physical touch works the best, a few times now as you're focusing on his ailments has he fallen asleep. Now you provide mandatory rest, it had taken a lot of complaining and arguing but you finally managed to get him to take off his helmet.

"I've seen the aftermath of a person's skull from a violent car crash, I don't think it could be worse," you had told him.

To which he responded, "What is a car?"

Seamless to say, you were correct. If you were honest, you were expecting some sort of Freddy Krueger look, though he certainly didn't meet those expectations. What caught you off guard were the piercing blue of his eye. Sometimes, you had thought you'd caught a glimpse of them through the mask, whenever raw emotion truly shined from the Captain. Now, you know you weren't imagining things. One eyes was scarred shut, though he could open the lid, the eye itself was pale and sat naturally closed. The scar across it took up almost half of his face, his skin partially remained its true colour, though he says its faded over time. The blight that covers most of his body travels up his neck, like twisted vines growing along his cheeks and forehead. His long, black hair remained neat, only a few strands falling forward once the mask is removed.

The tent remains securely closed at the time, your back facing it as you both rest in the furs of his bed for extra security. You hum a song that doesn't exist here as you caress your fingers through his hair and down his neck, circling around his shoulders and along his spine. He rests comfortably in your lap while the light from you absorbs his pain. One of his hands reaches out, grasping your left hand and intertwining his fingers with yours, his own hand enveloping yours like a delicate treasure, "I'm not sure I could ever let you leave now. You should have turned around when you still had the chance."

You laugh, because you know Capitano and you know his values. Even as the alarm bells ring from the way he squeezes your hand, like he'll never let you go, you ignore them in favour of your naivety, "If I left then I would have been torn apart by monsters."

He grunts and rolls so he's on his back. Your smile is awkward from the position he's put himself in, your chin tilting up to lessen the double chin from looking down. His hand now reaches up to your face gently stroking your cheek as he thinks aloud, "So as long as I stay in dangerous areas, you won't run away."

His words are making you feel too uncomfortable, so you flick his forehead and scold him, "Stop being so weird. You've kept me safe this far along, right? As long as I'm here, I'm going to help you." You hold his hand against your cheek, hoping to comfort him with a smile, "Besides, who would I follow if not my Captain? Anyone else would just be a downgrade."

Capitano's stare is as piercing as ever. He takes his time sitting up, shirtless and uncaring of the cold temperature. You much prefer this angle, looking slightly up so you can still meet his gaze. True to Capitano fashion, he hits you with a curveball and says something that catches you off guard, "I want you to sleep with me tonight."

Your face goes red, eyes avoidant as you stammer, "F-For the comfort, right? To keep your pain at bay?"

You think this is the first time you've seen him smile and, if this is his joking tone then... What was everything else? "Of course, for the pain. Why, was there something else you had in mind?"

[galactic-magick]

here i come with arcane prompts bestie >:3

but this one might hurt ;-;

also SPOILERS FOR S1 IF ANYONE HASNT SEEN IT YET

/////

how about a reader's reaction to the council getting bombed O_O

their frantic attempts to find their lover(Viktor ofc :3), but who they find may not be the man they once knew TwT

I got a little carried away with this one bestie...

-

I Thought You Were Dead: Viktor x Reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Smut about halfway through. I put a *** before the smut starts in case anyone doesn't want to read that part. Reader has afab anatomy but no pronouns or feminine specific endearments are used. Also LORE SPOILERS, if you don't know what happens to Viktor in the League of Legends lore then don't read this!!

Author's Notes: This could be read as a part 2 to my other Viktor fic Nights Like This, which takes place in Act 1 whereas this takes place after season 1.

-

-

-

The explosion was deafening.

You can feel your soul sink as soon as you step outside your house, watching the smoke surround the council building. Your feet start running before you’ve processed anything, pushing through the gasping crowds in the streets with their eyes glued to the same devastating spectacle.

Tears stream down your face against the dusty wind, praying to anyone who will listen that your worst fear hasn’t happened. Running as if getting there faster might change the outcome.

It can’t end like this. Not when you haven’t said everything you want to say. Not when you have so much left to do together.

Not when you haven’t said goodbye.

The truth is, you haven’t even seen your husband in several days, maybe even a whole week. He’s been distant lately, so consumed by his experiments that he rarely comes home anymore. You knew what you were getting into marrying a scientist, especially the finest scientist in Piltover, but it still hurts. It hurts to see him driving himself mad and getting sicker, refusing to let you take care of him like he used to. He doesn’t like when you come to visit him at the lab because it’s too dangerous, and he doesn’t come home because he wants to be in the lab—so you’ve stopped trying. You can’t bear to see him hardly eat or sleep for days. You know he loves you, and you still love him, but right now there’s no getting through to him, and all you can do is wait it out until he either comes to his senses or succumbs to his torturous research.

Your mind flashes back to all the fights you had, begging him to come home, begging him to let you stay by his side. You both said things you shouldn’t have, hearts torn apart in mourning of a marriage that once was so perfect. You miss the nights where you were each other's safe space, where the world didn’t feel so grand and overwhelming. You wonder when it was exactly that you stopped fighting, when you gave up on begging and simply loved him as much as you could whenever you finally saw him.

A large battalion of enforcers encircle the scene, pushing back civilians as they attempt to view what happened. The rubble has fallen into mountains, several of them on fire.

You know he was in there. He must’ve been.

“Where are the survivors?!” you demand, shoving against the enforcers.

“We have not found any yet. Please return to your home-”

You pull out the knife you keep in your pocket for emergencies, pressing it against the enforcer’s throat, “My husband was in there. I am not leaving until I find him.”

The other enforcers turn their weapons towards you, and you quickly realize you’ll never beat them with nothing but a dagger and deep rooted rage.

You drop the knife to the ground and put your hands up, awaiting your fate. Would they kill you? Send you home with a warning? Trial you?

Well, not without a council.

“Please…” the sobs return, their weapons still pointing at you. “I just want to know if he’s alive. Just let me look for his body-”

You’re cut off by hands on your wrists and mouth, handcuffing you and knocking you out.

Several months later...

You should’ve known any retaliation against an enforcer could get you thrown in here.

Back against the stone wall of your cell in Stillwater, you envision that day once again, hating yourself for being so stupid. Without the council, the enforcers have started throwing literally anyone in here. In an attempt to contain the chaos of no longer having a government, even the smallest crime or protest is equivalent to murder. All you did was threaten an officer for information on your husband, but that was enough to banish you from any possibility of ever seeing him again.

If he was alive, would he know to come find you? Or would he go back home to find you gone and assume you died? Would he throw himself back into his research regardless of the tragic accident, not even noticing you haven’t tried to visit him in months?

Most days it’s easier to just tell yourself he’s dead. The man you loved so deeply no longer exists, and you’ll never love again. This is your life now, cold and dark and hopeless.

You sink to the floor, leaning on your side in an effort to get some sleep.

Though your slumber is awakened not long after by terrifying noises down the hall.

A collection of screams, an alarm bell, and loud clanging fill your ears. You jump up, looking through the bars of your cell to get a glimpse. You see nothing, but then begin to hear stomping footsteps thundering towards your end of the hall.

You stumble back to the far wall, shaking as the footsteps get closer.

The first thing you see is a pair of glowing orange eyes staring at you through the bars, and your breath leaves your lungs.

Is this really how you’re fated to die?

With ease, the mysterious figure rips off the door with what looks like a mechanical arm. The dim light hits him, and your entire body trembles. He’s covered in metal plating and armor, his face covered with a thick mask. He doesn’t strike you as human, except for what looks like human hair falling around his head.

He walks towards you, and you cower in his shadow. What does this machine want from you? You have nothing.

He says your name, and you freeze. It’s modulated and echoed from the mask, but you are certain that’s what he said.

And you’re also certain you’ve heard that voice before.

The figure reaches his hand towards you, the cold metal of his fingers touching your face. It tingles, as if there’s energy sparking through. His other hand lifts off his mask and drops it to the floor.

“Viktor?”

Parts of his face are covered with metal plating, but it’s undoubtedly him. Same eyes, same nose, same cheekbones. His hair swooping down the sides of his forehead and the small gap between his teeth.

You throw your arms around him and kiss him, your body hitting his metal torso hard enough to leave a bruise, but you don’t care. You kiss him until there’s not a single atom of oxygen left in your lungs, and even then you risk a few seconds more, his lips worthy of causing suffocation. Your fingers slide into his hair, just as soft as your remember. He gently embraces you back, wary of hurting you with how tightly he wishes to hold you.

“Viktor—I went to find you that day—“ you pant for air. “I thought you were dead—“

“I know, darling, I know,” he kisses your forehead before fervently returning to your lips. “I thought you were dead too before I heard word of people being sent here.”

He breaks apart from you and you let out a soft whine, “Vik-”

“I have to get you out of here now, okay?”

You nod in understanding and grab onto him as he puts his mask back on. He races back down the hall, pushing any leftover guards out of his way. You cling onto him, in disbelief that he moves so fast with ease. So many questions run through your mind, but you know you’ll have to wait for answers.

He carries and holds you in silence until you both get to safety. You don’t recognize the place he’s taken you to, but it’s undoubtedly his space. The tools and gadgets all over the tables and walls, the dim light you don’t understand how anyone could work under, the journals with different equations written barely legibly. You wonder if your old home is still standing or has been taken by someone else. Either way, this is your home now.

With him.

He takes off his mask and you’re once again met with his beautiful face. Scarred and tired, but still more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” he says. “I know I will never be able to make it up to you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I am never letting you leave my sight again.”

Your bodies instinctively wrap around each-other, him picking you up and setting you down on one of his desks. The sensation is so new, since he’s never been strong enough to lift you before. Despite the novelty though, it feels as if no time has passed, as if this is a routine you’ve done every day, his hands all over you as soon as you’re alone.

You want to ignore the insanity of all this, how the love of your life has returned to you encased in metal. You want to forego all the questions, letting him continue his kisses on your neck and the wandering fingers on your thigh. You wonder what he feels like now—if it’s different—if what he can do to you now will make you forget every tear you ever shed for him.

You sigh, completely drunk on his touches.

“Viktor…” You look into his eyes, tracing your thumbs along his now metallic jaw. “I want to know what happened to you. Please.”

His caresses slow, his focus shifting to your words, “I will tell you everything, I promise,”

You grasp his hands, “Then tell me.”

He exhales, looking down at himself. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. He doesn’t want to risk you thinking of him differently or not loving him the same. Without you, he’d have nothing left to stay human for.

After all, he’s more machine than man now.

“I was as good as dead,” he finally says. “My injuries should’ve killed me, but an old…” he hesitates, “...friend found me. He helped me use hextech and shimmer to fix and augment my body. I’m stronger now, I can help more people now, I can protect you now. I’ve evolved beyond my human ailments-”

“Viktor,” you interrupt him. “Who helped you?”

He falls silent, fully aware you already know the answer.

“How could you?” you scold him. “How could you go back to that horrid, vile man? Who knows what he really did to you?”

“Singed may have unethical methods, but I assure you I’d be dead right now without him. You wouldn’t understand-”

“I understand that he sees you as nothing more than an experiment! What’s going to happen when this new body starts to break down? He’ll replace you with more mechanical parts until there’s nothing left of you. He does anything to make his specimens survive, and you know that!”

“So you’d rather me be dead? You’d rather still be in Stillwater, rotting your days away in misery?”

The floodgates of your glassy eyes break, and you let out the ugliest of sobs that have been building up for too long. No, you don’t want him dead, of course you don’t.

But there are fates worse than death.

You clumsily grab for him, pulling him between your legs and surrounding him with your limbs. Your lips crash together once more, this time more carnal and aggressive. Regardless of how angry you are, you can’t deny that you need him desperately. He cradles your face, wiping your tears away as they fall.

“Just promise me…” you beg into his mouth. “Promise me you won’t go back there again. Stay with me.”

“I promise,” he hums. “But you have to promise me something too.”

“What?” your eyes are already fluttering deliriously.

“You have to promise you’ll let me apologize every day of the rest of our lives,” he brushes his lips against your ear while his hands wander up your shirt, “And I think I know how you want me to do it.”

Your eyes widen, shivers already running down your spine.

***

It’s been so long, your body yearning for his as if you’ve been deprived from him for an eternity. You want to feel his new hands everywhere, his new fingers inside you…

Viktor wastes no time stripping you down, your shirt and bra flung across the room. He buries his face between your breasts for a moment before hoisting you up again, carrying you to the mattress in the corner.

“Since when do you ever have a proper place to sleep in your labs?” you laugh, sinking into the unexpected comfort.

“I didn’t get it for sleeping,” he smirks, placing kisses across your chest and shoulders, “I knew what I wanted to do as soon as I rescued you.”

“You’re telling me you got this bed just to fuck me?”

“Of course,” he shrugs, completely matter-of-factually.

You chuckle, a genuine smile stretching across your face so wide it almost hurts. You haven’t laughed or felt the pure joy and bliss of being in love in so long.

“I…” Viktor speaks again, hovering over you. “I don’t know fully what this new body can do. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you smile, intertwining your fingers with his. “Is it...different?”

“Everything’s different,” he leans down to kiss you again. “Let’s just hope it’s in a good way.”

You nod enthusiastically, pulling him down to you. His cold metal torso presses against yours, a surprisingly pleasant sensation. You quickly acclimate to the new textures of his figure, wondering if any skin still exists.

He remembers all the places you like to be touched and kissed, and you grow more impatient by the minute. You’ve needed him—ached for him. You want him in any way he can give you.

He pulls off the rest of your clothes, teasing his mechanical fingers in circles around your clit.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“Mmhmm,” you moan, slithering your own fingers into his hair.

Viktor’s always been good with his hands, being an inventor and all. He’s never once failed to satisfy you with his hands alone since you’ve been together, and he certainly wasn’t stopping now. He goes slowly, constantly needing reassurance that you’re alright. There’s nothing sharp about his fingers, a relief to both of you. They move just like his old flesh did, pulsing in and out with the finest precision. There’s moments where you feel a slight vibration, although you’re unsure if he’s doing that purposefully. Either way, he keeps you in ecstasy until you eventually come undone.

You pull his lips back up to yours immediately, craving his taste. His hands run down your body once again before returning back to the same spot.

You yelp his name as he works more fingers inside you. This is unheard of, him going back for more so soon. You had grown accustomed to his low stamina from before, and you never minded multiple rounds being a rarity. But now there’s not a single hint of exhaustion on his face, his augments freeing him from much of the pain that used to plague him. Instead there’s determination in his eyes, a drive to make love to you until you can’t take it anymore.

He builds you up to your second orgasm of the night, kissing and holding you softly as you come down from it.

“Viktor…” you sigh, completely out of breath. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He shakes his head, watching as your hands slide down his body, “Darling, I...I’m not sure if everything works the same. You don’t have to worry about me—“

“Let me try,” you plead. “Does any of this come off?”

He nods, removing the outer layers of metal with clicks and hisses. It was hard for you to tell where the armor ended and his body began, but the more he takes off, the more you recognize his familiar silhouette. There’s still patches of flesh here and there—warm skin to your fingertips, fused with the augmentations flawlessly.

And it seems the area you’ve wanted to see is one of the places untouched.

Well, not completely untouched. It’s covered in glowing purple veins, throbbing like they’ll explode any second. Viktor looks into your eyes nervously, and you reassure him with a kiss.

“It’ll be okay,” your breaths are hot, hovering over his lips. “Now tell me what you want, darling.”

“You.” he moans as your hand takes hold of his hardness.

“Everything seems to be working fine to me,” you smile, lining him up with your entrance. “I’m ready when you are.”

He’s shaking, for the first time since all his enhancements. He’s been so strong—no—indestructible, yet one look at you and the vulnerability returns in crashing waves. He’s still the same man you fell in love with, but now he could too easily hurt you.

He presses in slowly, eyes locked on your expressions for any sign of discomfort, but they never come. Instead, the noises and faces you make could be enough for him to finish right then and there if he didn’t have such control.

“Viktor…” you sigh, pulling him towards you as he bottoms out. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

He stamps kisses on your jaw, then nuzzles his nose into your neck, “You feel even better than I remembered.”

“Do I now?” you chuckle, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes as he looks back up at you.

“Mmhmm,” he begins to thrust in and out slowly, earning more luscious sounds from your lips.

There’s so much of him that feels the same, but the sensation is so new. Is he bigger than before? Is it just the different texture from the shimmer experiments? You’re not sure, all you truly care about is that he feels divine.

You’re both getting close, whispering “I love you’s” until the long awaited release. He holds you tightly afterwards, refusing to let go until you both catch your breath.

“Viktor,” you ruffle his hair. “As amazing as that was, I don’t think I can handle a round four.”

He chuckles, “That’s alright. I’ll only go as long as you want me to. There’s always tomorrow.”

You giggle, kissing the top of his head. You push yourself up on your elbows, looking at the mess you both made, “I think we ruined your new mattress.”

He glances as well, noticing the cum stains, some of them a light purple color, a supposed side effect of the shimmer, “We’ll get a new one. For now lets get you cleaned up.”

He picks you up in one swift motion, carrying you outside. His new lab is conveniently next to the river, and far away enough from other houses to protect your decency. The water is cold, but not unbearably so. The stickiness rinses off, and you’re left to admire your lover once again in the moonlight.

He glistens under the stars, his gaze soft and sweet, just as it’s always been. His hands never leave you, caressing your wet skin gently and adoringly.

He’s still everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s still the man you’d die and kill for.

He’s still the one you’ll spend the rest of your days with, no matter what he becomes.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

from the flames | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — to signify the newly recognised alliance between the sky people and the grounders, a celebration is held within polis’ market square. a bonfire, alcohol, and the bawdy pulsation of drums is a sure-fire recipe for a stimulating night. add a watchful bellamy blake and his dancing muse into the mix, and, well… i’ll show you the consequences of such a potent combination.

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: i haven’t recently been watching the 100 so the timeline and characterisation may be a little off. also, ik this took me a long ass time, but i’m gonna try and make sure the next two parts come out a little quicker <3 i love y’all!

word count: 2.5k

“People of Kongeda and Skaikru, tonight we gather as one, united by a common purpose and a shared future of alliance. Before us, this bonfire symbolises more than just a flame; it is a beacon of hope, an opportunity to cleanse old grudges and pain that has divided us for far too long.

“Let this fire signify a new beginning and serve as a reminder that unity is not our weakness, but our strength. Let it be known that from this day, we join not as enemies, but as allies, and anyone set upon spilling the blood of our allies is spilling the blood of us all. Let it be known: Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

As much as Lexa’s words intended to inspire harmony, the crowd massed below the second-floor balcony of the dominating tower she resided on reacted in any way but. Fierce declarations of worship were cried out; large fists were pumped in celebration; and misty clouds of brew and saliva were sprayed into the tepid night air.

All was well, for the first time since we landed on Earth.

“Happy Unity Day,” I murmured to myself, taking a sip from the metal cup in my hand. I was standing on the outer edges of the unruly crowd of dark, rugged figures, who were surrounding an unlit wooden mountain and raving as it abruptly burst into vociferous flames.

The monstrous tepee of sticks was raging at the centre of Polis’ trading square, an open area bordered with stalls and operating food vendors that infused the air with a salivating meaty aroma. Glimmers of light chipped away into the familiar starry night above and an orange ambience was cast throughout the square, seeming to blaze beneath the skin of those who orbited the fire.

It was a somewhat perplexing scene: to be together as one people, celebratingratherthan being at war with one another.

A pensive mechanic stepped in beside me, eyeing the mixed crowd of Grounders and Sky People.

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think the fact that the Ark originally had thirteen stations and the coalition now has thirteen clans is kind of…”

“Unsettling?” I finished for her. “Yeah. Probably best not tell these guys the story of how Polaris got blown out of the sky. Don’t want to give them any ideas.”

“Polaris… Polis…” she continued contemplating. “Think there’s anything equally unsettling about that?”

I looked at Raven. She looked back at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath—“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation”—and tipped the harsh contents of my cup down my throat. The liquid was molten in both its ferocity and colour and was infused with some potent earthly spice; it was a blow to the stomach upon consumption.

“Is that such a good idea?” Raven asked, judging me as my head craned back to capture the last few drops of throat-scorching goodness. “I’m all for pouring a glass when the occasion calls for it, but these people have stomachs lined with steel—what do you think yours is made of?”

I grimaced at the taste. “You tell me. You’re the genius.”

The roll of her eyes was deafening. “I’m just saying, they’ve probably spent decades perfecting their drinks to suit them, to match their tolerances. I mean, even that human fountain over there couldn’t handle it.” She nodded towards a cluster of barrels where a titan of a man wearing armoured shoulder pads and breastplates was hunched over, violently emptying his stomach onto the cobbled ground.

I swallowed my own stomach at the sight.

“I just assumed you wanted to spend the night somewhat differently,” she said, a sweet undertone of provocation twisting her words.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her lips twitched at the corners—never a good sign.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she meant. Her unspoken words had already been circling my mind for days, weeks, months even, increasingly accumulating with both heat and fervour.

As ironic as it was, I think it’s fitting to compare my situation to that of a star’s formation.

There I was, a delinquent sitting stagnant in a cold nebula of misery in the Sky Box, parted from my family and friends, sent hurtling to Earth to die, only then to have my cold, miserable cloud intruded upon by a fiery presence, a head of tousled brown waves and a pair of rich, dark chocolate eyes.

An awakener. An activator.

This intruder began filling my head with his words, his laughter, his brooding stare. The weight of his presence began to grow; thoughts of him consumed me. From the most surprisingly vulnerable conversations to even the tensest arguments, he had a heat inside me swirling and it was sweltering to unfathomable heights. It showed no signs of stopping.

Raven’s malevolent brown eyes were pointing plainly at something far behind me as if to answer my question. I knew what I would see even before turning around to look, but moronic as I was, I looked anyway.

Chin hovering over my shoulder, my eyes wandered through the scattered crowd of Grounders and Sky People alike that loitered the bonfire’s outskirts. There, sandwiched between Lincoln and an unoccupied trading stall, was a face that not only had my stomach contents lodged in my throat, but my heart as well.

Bellamy.

He was standing with his arms crossed, each one concealed beneath his distressed guard jacket. And although his stance screamed ‘Don’t talk to me,’ his face said otherwise. He and Lincoln were engaged in some high-spirited conversation, much unlike themselves (although the supply of drinks may have been to blame). Bellamy was speaking through one of his overconfident half-grins while alternating between gesturing to-and-fro with a single hand and tucking it back under his opposing bicep.

My chest was burning; the bonfire somehow must’ve seeped into my heart.

It should be stated here that when a nebula accumulates enough particles, it turns into a protostar—not a main sequence star like our sun, but something that holds the potential to be. At this point, the formation is at its most precarious. If a sufficient amount of mass is not acquired, the protostar will fail to stabilise and will cool into a brown dwarf, forever existing in the cold, lonely expansion of space as a reminder of what it could have been.

Bellamy’s head gravitated in my direction. Our eyes met through the asteroid belt of rugged figures between us. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned back around.

A reminder of what it could have been.

Sometimes I worry my insufficiency has damned me already.

“Oh, my god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my god, Raven, why would you put me through that?”

“In the hopes that you’ll finally grow a pair and do something about it,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink to conceal her smirk.

“About what?” Now I was just being evasive.

She let out a frustrated huff and folded her arms over one another. Her countenance was a reflection of impatience: the raised eyebrows, the slight downward tilt of her head, the pursed lips. I almost laughed at her theatricality; then again, I almost cried because I didn’t want the reason behind it to be true.

I wanted Bellamy Blake.

The confession was boiling inside me; it was burning the tip of my tongue, and I knew I had to let it out to cool. And if the words were never spoken to him, then they at least had to be expressed to someone else, even if I never admitted them in the exactness I felt, for the exact words would be so heinous, so—hedonistic, that if anyone were to hear them, I’d be thrown into lock-up for the rest of my days.

“Fine, I guess I’m… attracted to Bellamy,” I spoke slowly, cringing at my own words. Raven’s face immediately lit up like an overzealous Christmas tree, her smugly curved lips parting to no doubt release an incongruous stew of condemnation and encouragement, which I stopped before it could even start. “Anattraction that I am not going to act on, Raven; our friendship is rocky enough as it is. I mean,” I scoffed, “have I even told how we first met? I held a pocketknife to his neck our second night on the ground because he threatened to pry off my wristband in my sleep. And he actually tried! You know that tiny scar he has on his cheek? That was from me!”

“Yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a self-righteous dick he was for a while there,” Raven mused. Her face then screwed with confusion. “Wait, how did you two even become friends? Because when I came down, you were at each other’s throats every single day over one thing or another, and then out of nowhere, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.”

Ah.

The day the slate had been wiped clean.

A thick blurriness blanketed my vision as my mind withdrew from the present. You know when you get run down with some kind of sickness and your mind gets all scrambled and foggy? Like a fever dream? That’s what that day seemed like to me. Too many unimaginable things had happened, too many emotions and losses were felt, and I’d only shared them with one person before.

“You still there?”

My gaze flickered to Raven momentarily. She was staring at me, half with impatience, half with concern. “Just—” I raised my hand slightly in front of me “—give me a second.”

I inhaled. One, two, three. And I exhaled. Three, two, one.

A vulnerable creature of some sort nestled in my brain, softening the tone of my voice as I hesitantly began, “It was the, uh, the day the Exodus Ship crashed. My dad was on it,” I said, my last words barely audible. “Knowing that he was gone was one thing, but watching the ship crash? That messed me up for a good while.”

Raven, taken aback, muttered her apologies. I just shook my head in return. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memory into the cobwebbed corners of my mind, and then continued, “Bellamy had found me in the woods that night. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. I think that seeing me in such a vulnerable state forced him to set aside his asshole-ry for a while because he actually managed to… comfort me.”

I remembered the tone of his voice, so shockingly gentle yet hardened in his trademarked sort of way as he reassured me endlessly that I would be okay. I remembered the warmth of his body as I lay crumpled and sobbing in his lap on the forest floor, clinging onto his arm as if it kept me from plummeting into a bottomless pit. I remembered his hands, swiping away the thousands of tears that streaked my face, the hair from my eyes.

I remembered our brief conversation as we walked back to camp: “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he had said, to which I whispered, “Thank you,” and after a short pause, he spoke again, “We all need someone sometimes. I know we don’t have the best history together but… I can be that someone if you ever need,” and then, once more, with an unwelcome flutter in my stomach, I whispered, “Thank you.”

A small, bittersweet smile lifted my lips. My voice sounded distant to my ears as I continued speaking. “We still nicked at each other here and there after that—that tension between us has never really disappeared—but there was also this new mutual understanding. And somewhere from mutual understanding came a rough-around-the-edges friendship, and then friendship turned into something else.” I paused to recollect my thoughts. “Well, for me, at least.”

Between the moment I started speaking to the moment I stopped, my gaze had wandered sheepishly to the toes of my boots. I felt so exposed, like the outer layers of my being had been cracked open to reveal a part of my soul to a girl I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago. Suddenly I remembered why I didn’t drink often.

I stood awkwardly, waiting. The weight of my confession and vulnerability were looming above us.

Raven was quiet; she made no witty remark or tease. Her eyes had only softened with understanding, shifting back and forth as my words were mulled over in her brain. And it was only from her foreign silence that I realised what her next question could be: why don’t you just tell him?

I began, “I don’t want to ruin—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she finally interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss my unspoken sentiment. “The age-old ‘I don’t want to ruin what we have right now’. But what exactly is that?” Her eyes once again interrogated mine. “Because I’ll make it clear to you right now and say that what you two have is not just friendship. Come on. You and Bellamy?” She shifted her head to catch my drifting gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see something is there, but clearly, neither of you have a pair.”

Talk about tough love.

A harsh outflow of air exited my nose, and I pushed my hair back out of my face. Everything was much more complicated than I thought it was. Was I really as blind as Raven said? I would have already seen what she does if it were true, right? Did Bellamy really feel the same?

Am I drunk?

I glanced behind me once more, catching a glimpse of Bellamy tilting his head back to finish his drink, exposing the sculptured column of his neck. Heat flushed through my cheeks.

Christ. I couldn’t let this one go. There wasn’t a chance.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, still watching him.

An uproar of hoots and howls exploded throughout the square as the sound of drums and horns began to play, bringing my attention to the second-floor balcony of the Commander’s Tower where the noise floated down from. Drums pulsed with bawdy rhythm; horns bellowed with lewd backbone; a woman purred tribal vocalisations.

Bodies began swaying in disharmonious synchronisation around the bonfire, in pairs, in groups, individually. What tethered them was the raunchiness of their movements and the subtle carnality of their interactions with one another. I’d never seen anything like it; as I looked over at Raven and saw her similar intrigue, I knew she hadn’t either.

That was my mistake—to even acknowledge her in such a moment, especially after speaking about our previous topic. Her lips began stretching and stretching into a particularly wicked grin, and she turned to me. The devil was burning in her dark eyes.

Her answer to my question: “Give his eyes something to look at.”

part two

[thewickedspinster]

Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

[adachimoe]

Persona 4 - Inaba Setting Guide

Happy New Years!

This is all written up from the lore/setting/etc books that Atlus released for fans, Persona Club P4 and the Golden Premium Fan/Fun Book. I didn't wanna do a 1:1 translation because this is multiple full text pages from two books so this is more like a summary or tl;dr of what's in the books.

I put this under a read more because it's a looot of text. I will probably inevitably edit something later when I realize I made a dumb typo.

General / Meta stuff not in the book that I feel the need to note first

Is Inaba a "town" or a "city"? Inaba is Inaba city (市). The qualifications to become a city are having ~50k residents and 60%+ of the central area being homes. Per the Premium book, Inaba does indeed have 50k citizens. The characters in-game also call it a town/neighborhood/area (町). (Think how in English, we have sayings like "back in town" even when we're not talking about towns?)

Inaba is not a real city, but Atlus lists multiple inspirations for it: Fuefuki, which they drove to randomly and spoke to people; Tottori, which is where the legend of the Hare of Inaba is said to have taken place and is where names like "Yasogami" come from (and it also used to have an Inaba province); and "an unnamed developer's hometown" which was used as a reference for the central shopping district and the area around the Dojima house.

A briefer on the Hare of Inaba: A hare tricks a bunch of sharks (wanizame or same) into lining up so it can cross their backs to get to the mainland. The hare is an idiot so it proclaims that it deceived the sharks, and the last shark takes a chunk out of it. Meanwhile, Okuninushi and his brethren (collectively known as the Yasogami) come across the hare on their way to woo a princess. The Yasogami troll the shit out of the hare and makes its back worse, but Okuninushi actually helps the hare by telling it to roll in cattail, and this cures the hare. The hare then reveals it is actually a god, and Okuninushi is given the princess's hand in marriage.

From here on, anything from me that I felt like I needed to note or give my Unwanted Opinion on is wrapped in ( )s.

History

Sengoku period: A feudal lord built a castle on Mt. Yasogami, the highest mountain in the area, and a castle town formed at the base of the mountain. The area was never caught up in any of the major wars or battles of the Sengoku period.

Edo period: After the warring period ended, people began traveling to Inaba because of the hot springs. One winter, someone living in the castle started a fire, it went out of control, and the castle burnt down. The feudal lord's family returned to their old territory and left Inaba.

Meiji period: After the black ships, Japan's opening, Perry, etc, coal was in high demand. Coal was discovered in Mt. Yasogami, people began to move there to work in the coal mines, and this was when Inaba became Inaba City. Presently, many of the people living in Inaba are 2nd and 3rd generation descendants of these coal miner families.

Showa period: During the later end of the Showa era, the world swapped from using coal to using oil. The coal refineries began closing, and by the 1980s, the coal mine also closed, people began to move away, thus leading to the current state of Inaba during the time of P4.

Modern Day

Inaba has around 50k citizens

The city center is a flat area surrounded by mountains called Yasoinaba (so Yasoinaba is a region/district within Inaba, not the other way around)

The local plant is cattail (see the bit about the Hare of Inaba) and there is a lot of cattail that grows downstream on the Samegawa

The local animal is the rabbit and many facilities have rabbit decorations (Namatame's family's delivery service also uses a rabbit with a mail bag)

There has been a recent push to make Inaba Beefsteak a thing as part of the revitalization of Inaba efforts, but... since they have no local cows or beef farms, people don't know where the meat comes from, causing there to be rumors about the meat in town... Atlus notes that it really is beef, but it is unknown where it comes from...

Transport in Inaba

Inaba is sandwiched between other larger urban places (think a metropolis like Tokyo), but the closest one is 3 hours away even by train so Inaba isn't really a place you live in while commuting during the day for work to a bigger city

The only train station in the south part of the city is Yasoinaba Station which is the central/headquarters-like station for the local train line, the Inaba Line

Yasoinaba Station is last stop on the Inaba Line, and the stop before it is called East Inaba. Okina is also somewhere on the Inaba line.

The Inaba Line doesn't take you to straight to one of the highly populated urban areas. You also have to transfer to another train at the Yasogami Hills train terminal (the protag does this in the opening anime movie)

There are only a few bus routes: Less used ones that go north/south and connects the city area with Mt. Yasogami, and others go east/west and connect Inaba with other cities. (Shu's house, the hospital, the Amagi Inn, and the outdoor daycare are all known bus stops. In Arena, Nanako also takes the bus to the train station.)

Even though most people get around by car, the national highway - access to the outside world - only runs for 300m at the southern edge of the city, and there's no regular expressways to quickly take you to other nearby cities

Overall, people tend to live their lives within the confines of the city

Yasogami Hills and Mt. Yasogami

The mountains in Inaba, with the tallest being Mt. Yasogami, are collectively known as the Yasogami Hills

Somewhere in the Yasogami Hills is a hot spring resort district and this is where the Amagi Inn plus other hot springs are located

The Amagi Inn has 30 rooms, half of which are located in a building detached from the main building so that guests can enjoy the mountains

The ski resort visited in Golden is located somewhere on Mt. Yasogami

The Samegawa

Named after the Hare of Inaba tale and how the hare tricked the "wanizame" or "same"; name meaning "shark river"

The Samegawa runs north and south through Inaba

Downstream to go fishing, upstream takes you to the source of the river on Mt Yasogami

Halfway up the mountain, near the headwaters, is a campsite which is frequented by fishers and outdoors lovers

Upstream, you can drink from the water at the source, but it's too cold to go swimming in even in summer (recall the June camping trip)

It is very specifically a "Class B river system"

Yasogami High School

Name comes from Okuninushi's bros in the Hare of Inaba tale, the Yasogami (Yasogami means "eighty gods" but that was figurative language where 80 means "a bunch", so the meaning is more like "many gods highschool")

Built in 1944 as Yasogami Military School. It was built on Mt. Yasogami where the castle used to stand to deter the allied forces from fire bombing Mt. Yasogami, thus using the school / students as a shield for the coal mine. After the war, it became a normal school, though there is still a plane on campus as a memento of when it was a military facility.

The JP name is 八十神高等学校. The school's nickname is 八高, derived from 2 characters in the full name. This is pronounced "Hachiko". (I think this was removed from the English version entirely, but if you ever play in Japanese audio and wonder why students say "Hachiko" sometimes...)

During the coal mining period, there were lots of students and the two buildings (what we know as the classroom bldg and the practice bldg in-game) were both classroom buildings. After the mines closed -> less people -> less births, they renovated the unused classrooms into vocational / practice rooms. This is how Yasogami High ended up with so many different things in the practice building lol.

There is a small baseball field in addition to the other outdoor facilities. (I don't think we see this in-game)

The book notes that there is not actual rule explicitly stating that girls can't wear a boys uniform.

You aren't allowed to ride a scooter to school, but according to Daisuke in one of the Strength hangouts (or so says the book; I don't think I've seen this hangout), people do so secretly.

Students have to get permission from school to get a part-time job. They're allowed as long as it doesn't interfere w/studies and the job is age appropriate.

The cultural festival is open to people outside of school, thus it is treated like an event similar to the shrine festival. Businesses from around Inaba also set up stalls at the festival and get into friendly competition with one another.

Many students who graduate from the school tend to stay in Inaba and get jobs there. Attending Yasogami High gives you an advantage / favoritism over students from private schools when job hunting.

Dojima Residence

A house that was built anywhere from a few years to decades ago

It's located in west Inaba

It's not a family home, Dojima bought it

The house has 3-4 bedrooms, exact number not given

The garden outside was started by Chisato, but of course it's been left alone since she passed

If the protagonist eats Nanako's pudding, she will just assume she ate it and forgot about it............................................... (I don't think Adachi would even do this shit.................................)

Junes

The store opened within the previous year

The manager is Yosuke's dad, Yoichi Hanamura

Many students and housewives work there part-time

Students make 690 yen per hr, adults make 900 yen per hr, but Yosuke is worked like a dog for 400 yen per hr

1F has the grocery department and a line of small specialty shops

2F has the clothing department and home appliances department

The part in July where you find Teddie on a massage chair is part of a special event space where they demo new products. Oh, and the Death SLink, Hisano, wins one of those massage chairs after submitting poetry for Junes' anniversary

The roof has the food court, children's land, and an event stage

1F with the grocery department is open 24/7 and they put out prepared foods every day at 4pm / 7pm / 10pm

The food court has a special called the Ultra Young Set (JP name from the JP slogan) or the Meat Lovers Combo (Eng) that has salisbury / hamburg steak, beefsteak, menchi katsu, and fried chicken; people besides Chie who eat this will be blessed with heartburn. In a dungeon chat, Yosuke wonders if it's made using fox meat since it's so cheap, but it's actually from cows and chickens at farms that Junes has partnered with.

Junes is located in the south area of Inaba and is accessible for people passing through on the national highway, bringing them customers who are passing by, Inaba locals, and even people from Okina

Junes doesn't sell Teddie's favorite snack, Homerun Bars (a real ice cream product, localized as Topsicles in English), so he spends his Junes paychecks buying them at Shiroku

Central Shopping District - South Map

Yomenaido Bookstore: The owner's family name is Yomenai, meaning "can't read". They didn't realize how much of a mismatch their name was for a bookstore until after they opened. At first they were concerned about their business, but have begun stocking books for their own tastes and hobbies, drawing other enthusiasts of certain hobbies to their store. Thus, the majority of books in the store are ones that the average person "can't read". ba-dum-tsh

Daidara Metalworks: JP name is "Metalworks Daidarabocchi", with the bocchi written as a dot (e.g. "Daidara。") Daidara makes pieces of art.

Shiroku Store: Shi and roku mean 4 and 6, and the name comes from an old story about there being a toad with 4 front legs and 6 back legs called the Shiroku Toad. It was originally a pharmacy and medicine seller (the shiroku toad was said to have medicinal purposes), but now the store sells a bunch of whatever. The capsule machine outside was handmade by Shiroku's deceased husband.

Marukyu Tofu: A tofu store that sticks to old-fashioned simple tofu recipes (my opinion here, but I believe this is why it's still around after Junes opened). Run by Rise's grandmother. The people in Inaba call her grandmother "Marukyu" as a nickname (in-game dialogue, the nickname is written differently than the sign on the store). Due to her old age, she has been open less hours and making less product. But once Rise comes back to town, she helps out at the store, and her grandma is back to making more tofu and staying open longer. Rise is in charge of (uhh insert word used in fishmongering that seems to express Rise is in charge of selling?) the first batch of tofu in the morning before school, leading to male customers lining up early.

Central Shopping District - North Map

Souzai Daigaku: The name means Prepared Foods University. It used to be a lingerie store until the new owners took over. They made it a butcher, then converted it into a store that sells prepared foods that are "a taste of mom's home cooking". But in a small place like Inaba, people aren't exactly nostalgic for that, compared to the big city. The owner later added beefsteak skewers to the menu, claiming they're 80% beef, 20% something else, thus fueling the "what is the meat in Inaba?!" conspiracies. Due to its cheap prices, it's popular with students.

Marutake: A small hobby shop where the protagonist receives Gundam / Avatar Turner reference plastic models to build. The owner works on farmland during the day and his daughter attends Yasogami High.

Aiya: It used to be an oil store, but now it's a Chinese restaurant claiming to be authentic Shanghai style food. However, the owner is a Mr. Nakamura (hence why Aika in P4 anime's last name is Nakamura) who was born and raised in Inaba. On rainy days, Nakamura serves the Special Meat Bowl which has 3kg "meat" and 3kg rice. The meat is pork (the dish isn't called the Mega Beef Bowl in JP), but when asked what it is, Nakamura replies that it's "authentic Chinese cuisine: sheep head and dog meat" which is referring to the expression "selling dog meat under a sheep head", a saying about selling misleading products. (Btw, the owner speaks in Kyowago, saying Aiyaaaa and ending his sentences in "aru". But during say, Kanji's Social Link, he drops the act. So yes, he is LARPing as a Chinese guy.)

Tatsuhime Shrine: The deity enshrined is Toyotamahime, who's true form is similar to a wanizame (refer back to the hare of inaba story), and story is similar to that of Izanagi and Izanami. She protects against water-related disasters (she comes from an undersea palace) and offers safe childbirths (her story involves her giving birth to Hoori's child). The fox that lives on the shrine grounds heals with Inaba's local plant, cattail.

(If you are wondering about the fox in general, the fox statues at the smaller sub-shrine suggest it is dedicated to Inari Okami, so the fox IMO is a messenger of Inari - not literally, but hey. The red apron/bib it wears is based on the red votive bibs that you find on statues at shrines to ward off evil spirits.)

Tatsumi Textiles: An older store from the Meiji era, from when people used to dye fabrics in the clean streams of the Samegawa. The previous owner, Kanji's father, was a famous dyer. (I believe this is why the store is doing well for itself despite the Junes invasion.)

Konishi Liquors: Saki and Naoki's family's store. Saki was working at Junes as she thought the experience would one day help when she takes over the liquor store. They had been doing poorly lately, but a lot of people began visiting out of sympathy after Saki's death. The store is named after former battle planner and now composer Toshiki Konishi whose family owns a liquor store called Konishi Liquor. The name was used as a placeholder during development and it ended up sticking. (Thus, the YouTube comments on Konishi's remix of Fog talking about "remixing a song that your killer dances to" are kind of on-point...)

And now for the non-Inaba locations visited during Persona 4, because those were included in the Town Guide too lol

Tatsumi Port Island

Kashiwagi books the class to stay at Hotel Hamaguri, the renamed version of the love hotel from Persona 3. Instead of a love hotel, it's now a regular hotel. (The decor, however...) Teddie appears on the building opposite the group and impersonates Takaya with two cats as his Jin and Chidori (Teddie even gets a weapon called the Strega Claw lol)

Two years ago before Rise made it big as an idol, she had an invite-only / secret live at Club Escapade. Due to a power outage, they had to cancel the show. This was caused by a mechanical failure and was not the night when SEES fought the Hermit Shadow. (IIRC, Shinji mentions the club had issues with the power -- due to the Hermit Shadow -- leading up to full moon mission, so it might be that?)

Club Escapade quit serving alcohol last year to protest drunk driving

Akinari's book, the Pink Alligator, was published after Mitsuru found it among a certain person's things. True to the story itself, people like it, but no one knows who the real author is...

One of the Kirijo Group's companies is Kirijo Telecom. Dojima's cell phone service is through this company. When he calls Nanako on November 5th, he gets an automated message about her phone not being unavailable from "KJ Telecom", with KJ standing for Kirijo.

When Naoto takes everyone to the hospital in October, she mentions she has read documents about Personas and Shadows. These are thought to have been leaked from a Kirijo Group research lab.

Okina City

Okina is to the north of Inaba, separated from it by Mt. Yasogami

It has 250k people

Okina was originally a city built around a large shrine

Known for having good water

Used to have a papermaking industry

Recently it became very industrial due to companies making factories there, then the workers and their families moved in, so the shopping mall around Okina Station was built with new retail stores, etc etc

(The station at Okina has a sign for the "Inaba Line", indicating that the local train line goes south from Inaba, to East Inaba, then ???, and then north to stop at Okina I guess?)

Shichiri Beach

Not much to note here except that it is a beach within a distance that high schoolers could realistically access via scooter lol

[goldsainz]

# CL16 — SOUS LES ÉTOILES DE NOËL !

MASTERLIST !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ charles organizes a romantic christmas getaway at his place in the alps.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ none, just fluff!

003. NOTE !

✯ how are you guys liking the christmas specials so far? i’d love to receive some feedback 🫶

word count : 1,8k

The season had been long and grueling, with endless laps around the world’s most challenging circuits. For Charles, the weight of the year lingered in his weary smile as he sent the invitation—a simple text: "Come spend Christmas with me. I have a place in the Alps. Quiet, just us."

The idea of escaping to a secluded chalet in the French Alps was irresistible. You imagined the snowy peaks, the crackle of a fire, and Charles—a vision of peace and charm, unburdened by the pressures of his career. When you finally arrived, the chalet did not disappoint.

Nestled among towering pines, the wooden chalet exudes warmth. Its dark timber beams were wrapped in twinkling lights, and a wreath adorned the door. Inside, a crackling fire bathed the room in golden light. The air smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, as if Christmas itself had taken residence here.

“Bienvenue,” he said softly when you arrived at the chalet, the rich timbre of his accent making the word feel like a gift in itself.

The interior of the chalet was just as inviting as its perfect exterior. Wood-paneled walls gave the space a rustic charm, while the roaring fire in the stone hearth filled the room with both warmth and a golden glow. Cozy blankets were draped over a large, overstuffed sofa, their textures inviting and soft. Pillows in festive patterns—reds, greens, and snowy whites—added a touch of holiday cheer. In the corner, a Christmas tree stood proudly, its branches adorned with ornaments that shimmered in the firelight.

The decorations were simple but thoughtful: glass baubles, wooden stars, and tiny bells that jingled faintly when you brushed past them. At the base, a few gifts wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine added an understated charm.

“It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with quiet awe as you took it all in.

“Not yet,” Charles replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “We haven’t had dinner.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and easy. The world outside felt distant, muffled by the thick snow blanketing the mountains and the quiet that seemed to envelop the chalet. The air inside was tinged with the faintest hints of cinnamon and pine, as if Christmas itself had settled into the space. It was as if time had slowed, and for the first time in months, you felt your shoulders relax, your worries dissipating in the tranquil beauty of it all.

The warmth of the chalet wrapped around you both like a cocoon, and Charles seemed just as content. His energy was different here—softer, more at ease. He moved through the space as though he belonged to it, a calm confidence replacing the quick, determined strides you were so used to seeing.

When dinner was ready, it was as comforting as the setting. Charles had gone all out, planning a classic réveillon feast; a French tradition that celebrated indulgence and connection. The dining table, positioned near a wide window overlooking the snowy expanse, was set simply but elegantly. A garland of evergreen branches ran down the center, interspersed with pinecones and tiny white candles in glass holders.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Charles teased, pouring you a glass of red wine, the deep ruby liquid catching the flickering candlelight.

“Starving,” you replied, watching the way the firelight danced in his green eyes.

The first course was a decadent foie gras served with freshly baked baguette, the crust still warm. Charles explained the best way to enjoy it, his enthusiasm lighting up his features.

Next came the main courses—a perfectly roasted goose surrounded by caramelized chestnuts, a creamy potato gratin with just the right amount of nutmeg, and a small mountain of buttered green beans. Each dish was presented with care, and Charles took the time to describe them, his voice filled with pride.

“And these cheeses,” he said as he placed a platter between you, “are from a local farm. The chèvre is incredible, but this one”—he pointed to a soft, creamy wheel—“is my favorite.”

Course after course appeared, each one somehow better than the last. Between bites, you watched Charles relax further, the lines of exhaustion on his face softening with each sip of wine, each shared laugh. He leaned back in his chair at times, his grin easy and boyish as he recounted a particularly funny story from his last race.

By the time dessert arrived—a slightly lopsided bûche de Noël—he was clearly pleased with himself.

“I helped with this one,” he said proudly as he set the chocolate yule log in the center of the table.

“Helped?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, your tone skeptical but amused.

“Well,” he admitted, his cheeks turning pink in the firelight, “I might’ve just added the powdered sugar. But still.”

You couldn’t stop smiling as you took a bite, the rich chocolate melting on your tongue. “It’s perfect,” you said, savoring the sweetness.

“Not as perfect as this,” he murmured, his gaze softening as it lingered on you.

The moment held a quiet intensity, the kind that didn’t need words to fill the silence. His subtle grin carried something deeper—gratitude, affection, and perhaps a touch of awe. The world outside the chalet seemed to fade away entirely, leaving only the two of you surrounded by warmth, laughter, and the gentle glow of Christmas.  

When the clock neared midnight, Charles stood and reached out his hand. “Come with me,” he said, his tone filled with an almost childlike excitement. “I want to show you something.”  

Intrigued, you slid your hand into his, the comforting strength of his grasp sending a rush of warmth through you. Together, you bundled into your coats and scarves, the wool soft against your skin. His touch lingered as he adjusted your scarf, his fingertips brushing your cheek. “There,” he said, satisfied, as if preparing you for a magical adventure.  

The crisp night air embraced you as you stepped outside. Snowflakes fell gently, blanketing the world in white, their crystalline forms catching the faint light of the chalet behind you. The snow crunched beneath your boots with each step, the sound punctuating the serene quiet of the forest.  

Charles led the way through the towering pines, their branches heavy with snow and glistening faintly under the starlight. The air was so still that every sound—the gentle whisper of the wind, the distant hoot of an owl, and the soft rhythm of his steps beside you—felt amplified, like a symphony composed solely for the two of you.  

The clearing appeared almost suddenly, a wide expanse where the snow glittered like diamonds under the infinite sky. Above, the stars stretched endlessly, their brilliance untouched by city lights, casting a serene glow over the scene.  

“It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if anything louder would disturb the sanctity of the moment.  

“It is,” Charles replied, though his eyes weren’t on the stars. They were fixed on you.  

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small. The item, a leather notebook with edges slightly worn from use, looked humble yet meaningful in his hands. He extended it toward you, his expression a mixture of shyness and vulnerability, as though he were baring a part of his soul.  

“What’s this?” you asked softly, running your fingers over the smooth, weathered cover before flipping it open.  

“It’s something I’ve been working on,” he said, his voice a touch unsteady but sincere.  

The first page held a date, neatly written, and a memory. As you flipped through the notebook, you realized it was filled with moments—days spent laughing over coffee, late nights talking about your dreams, even quiet instances when words weren’t necessary. Each entry was written in his handwriting, neat yet personal, and infused with a warmth that made your chest ache.  

“I started writing these when I realized how much they mattered to me,” Charles said, his gaze dropping momentarily to the snow at his feet. “Sometimes, it’s hard to say everything out loud. But I didn’t want to forget any of it. And I wanted you to know.”  

Your breath hitched as you turned the pages, each one revealing more of his heart, his care, his love. The notebook wasn’t just a collection of memories; it was a testament to how deeply he cherished your time together.  

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of emotion.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, stepping closer until his warmth enveloped you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your cheeks. The snow fell softly around him, clinging to his dark hair and framing his face in a way that made him seem ethereal under the starlight. His green eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that stole the words from your lips.  

When he kissed you, it was unhurried and tender, as if time itself had paused to witness the moment. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours, the warmth of his touch, and the silent promise written in the stars above.  

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His breath mingled with yours in the cold air, and his voice, thick with emotion, broke the silence. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of everything he felt.  

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, your heart so full it felt as if it might burst.  

Hand in hand, you made your way back to the chalet, the notebook clutched tightly to your chest. The fire had dwindled into glowing embers, casting a soft, golden light across the room as you both settled onto the sofa. Charles wrapped a blanket around you, his arm pulling you close to his side.  

The notebook rested in your lap, its pages heavy with meaning. You ran your fingers over the edges, the leather warm from your touch. “I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your voice soft with wonder.  

He tilted his head to look at you, his expression unguarded and tender. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. Even when I’m far away, you’re always here,” he said, his hand brushing lightly over your heart.  

As the flames crackled softly and the scent of pine lingered in the air, you leaned into his embrace, feeling a peace you hadn’t known in months. The world beyond the mountains felt distant, insignificant compared to the quiet perfection of this moment.  

The snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the chalet in serenity. Under the stars of Christmas, everything felt complete, as though the universe itself had conspired to create this magical evening just for the two of you.

[lazysoulwriter]

A Christmas of Our Own - Paul Mescal.｡･:*˚:✧｡

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The cabin was nestled deep in the snow-covered hills, its stone walls and thatched roof glowing softly in the golden light of the fireplace. Outside, the world was silent, blanketed in white. The only sound was the occasional whisper of the wind through the pines.

Inside, Paul stood by the window, watching the snow fall in slow, mesmerizing swirls. A mug of hot cocoa steamed in his hands, and a faint smile played on his lips.

“I still can’t believe we’re really here,” he said, his voice warm and low.

She turned from where she was placing the final ornaments on their small, modest Christmas tree. Her sweater sleeves were pushed up to her elbows, her cheeks pink from the fire’s heat.

“Just us,” she replied, stepping closer. “No distractions, no cameras, no schedules. It feels… perfect.”

He set the mug down and reached for her, pulling her into his arms. She fit against him as if she’d been made for that very moment. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head as he sighed.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured. “Our first real Christmas. I’ve never needed anything fancy… just you.”

She leaned back to look up at him, her eyes shining in the firelight. “You have me,” she whispered. “Always.”

The weight of the year seemed to lift as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. It had been a whirlwind—work, public appearances, stolen moments that always felt too fleeting. But here, in the quiet of the mountains, time stretched. It felt infinite.

“Do you know what I love most about you?” he asked suddenly, his voice thick with emotion.

“What?” she asked, her tone playful but curious.

“Everything.” His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones. “The way you laugh. The way you make me feel like I’m enough, even when I doubt myself. The way you see through all the noise and find the real me. I’ve never known love like this before you.”

Her breath hitched, and she blinked back tears. “Paul,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You make the world brighter. You make me braver. Loving you feels like the best thing I’ll ever do.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, pouring every unspoken word into the connection. When they pulled apart, her hands lingered on his chest, her fingers tracing the outline of his sweater.

“Let’s make a promise,” she said softly.

“Anything,” he replied without hesitation.

“Every year, no matter what life throws at us, we find a moment like this. Just us. Just love.”

His smile was tender as he nodded. “Deal.”

They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in their own little world. They shared stories, exchanged simple gifts, and danced slowly to Christmas songs that played softly in the background. The tree lights cast a gentle glow, and the fire crackled, its warmth mirroring the love that filled the room.

As midnight approached, they stepped outside, hand in hand. The snow had stopped, and the stars stretched endlessly above them, bright and clear against the inky sky. Paul turned to her, his breath visible in the crisp air.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, his voice a reverent whisper.

“Merry Christmas,” she replied, her heart full to the brim.

In that moment, surrounded by the stillness of the night and the magic of the season, they knew they had found something rare. A love that wasn’t just for Christmas, but for all the days that lay ahead.

[borninwinter81]

William Blake - an introduction for Good Omens fans

I have sent @neil-gaiman an ask regarding his feelings toward the poet/artist William Blake a couple of times, but no doubt due to the size of the poor man's inbox I haven't received a response. So I did a Google search to see if he's spoken about Blake before, and it did indeed come up with a fair few hits. I think you might enjoy seeing this Twitter post if you haven't already, the painting is from William Blake's illustrations to Paradise Lost.

It's not surprising that an author like Neil Gaiman might have an interest in Blake. A visionary from a young age, his imagination was such that he was surrounded by angels made visible in his mind's eye, and he interpreted these visions through poetry, painting and engraving, and self-printed and published many of his own works. This gave him complete freedom to say exactly what he wanted.

Though he had a passionate faith in God, he also had a deep distrust of the church as an institution, and disliked the use of religion as a means of control. This poem from "Songs of Experience" perhaps summarises his feelings best:

"I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

A Chapel was built in the midst,

Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,

And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;

So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,

That so many sweet flowers bore. 

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:

And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,

And binding with briars, my joys & desires."

In his poetry there is often an incongruity with the generally accepted religious ideas of what is good and evil, Angel and Demon. In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (there's a title that should make any GO fan sit up and pay attention) he tells us that "in the book of Job, Milton's Messiah is called Satan", signifying that he feels it is Lucifer/the devil who is the true Messiah of Paradise Lost.

He gives us The Voice of the Devil and Proverbs of Hell, and has Angels being transformed into Demons through enlightenment. He tells us that Jesus broke all of the 10 commandments, yet was still virtuous because he acted according to his own morality rather than rules.

The god-figure of his later works, Urizen, generally comes across as malevolent, seeking to bind and control, whilst Los, the Satan/Messiah figure represents freedom, imagination and creativity.

"Restraining desire" and acting contrary to your own nature seem to be the only real evils for Blake.

He expressed his faith through a love of the world and the beauty in it, summed up in this quote:

"When the Sun rises do you not see a round Disk of fire somewhat like a Guinea? O no no I see an innumerable company of the Heavenly host crying Holy Holy Holy is the Lord God Almighty".

He saw "God" in everything, in all the wonders we have around us, and considered writers/poets and religious prophets as essentially the same, since they both have a connection to the divine, and express it through stories.

It's quite ironic that probably his most famous poem, Jerusalem (the one that starts "and did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green"), was made into a very popular church hymn, yet it is supposed to be satirical in nature. The poem recounts the myth that Jesus may have visited England in his boyhood, and Blake is expressing his disbelief at that notion and the unworthiness of England.

Did I have a point to all this? Mostly to show my hand as a massive Blake nerd, but also to hopefully demonstrate that there's a lot of common ground between his ideas and those expressed in a show/book like Good Omens, and hopefully to inspire some of you who may not be familiar with Blake to seek him out. In particular I'd recommend The Marriage of Heaven and Hell to any and all.

EDIT: I should have thought to include this, here's Michael Sheen reading a Blake poem. I have the CD this is from, he reads several by Blake, as well as other poets I love ❤️ 😍