#also horses are my enemy

[cricket-moth]

going normal about them. will eventually write a high fantasy au where THEY ARE NOT HALF-BROTHERS?? like everything else is the same because Dark Knight of Steel is beautiful and overall pretty interesting but WHAT‼️

my personal conspiracy is that they were way 2 gay for each other and the writers had to retcot that somehow. MARTHA WAYNE WOULD NEVER 👎

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[lulu2992]

And here are the photos I took to decorate the stables:

Happy First Anniversary, Tears of the Kingdom :)

[casadefreewill]

The monkey miraculous should have the power of the rooster

[miharuhebinata]

a lot was covered in this new trailer but i think we can all agree that the most important was that

YOU CAN CHANGE YOUR OUTFIT. YOU LITERALLY GET TO PLAY DRESS UP WITH ZELDA OH MY GOD ALL MY DREAMS ARE COMING TRUE THANK YOU GOD AND ALSO JESUS AMEN 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[persimmontartkisses]

Me, in a conversation: What's going on in Gaza is genocide and objectively abhorrent.

Them: Well, ya know the Palestinians *random bullshit justifications for the slaughter of thousands of innocent people*

Me:

[jheselbraum]

Links love language is that part in every horse girl movie where the plucky tween tames the wild mustang who bucks off anyone else who tries to ride her. "Be sure to take the time to soothe your mount, that's the only way it'll know how you truly feel" wasn't just advice to Zelda about horses it was advice to Zelda about himself. Of course he opened up immediately after Zelda fed him oats from her cupped hands while whispering "whoa girl, it's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

[ruvviks]

🔶, 🖤, and 🤔 for tiberius!!

oc asks for tiberius!

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

tiberius doesn't have a lot of medical expertise despite stella, his sister, being a nurse. she would've tried to teach them some things pre-war but they've forgotten most of it since they never paid enough attention :( that's something he really really regrets now because 1) medical knowledge comes in super handy in the commonwealth and 2) he should've appreciated stella more when she was still alive and he's now just constantly beating himself up for having been such a horrible brother

so yeah if you get injured and tiberius is the only one there to help, best he can do is stick a stimpak in your ass (which is more than what the game lets you do for glory so i guess that's a win)

🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?

tiberius has never killed anyone pre-war, or broken their trust. he HAS had his own trust broken though, since he's going through a breakup when the bombs fall with his girlfriend of three years who's been cheating on him for like, two of those years. so that's not fun

post-war however, the wasteland gives him no other choice than to kill people before they kill him :( most of it would just be trigger-happy gunners, and forces sent by the institute or brotherhood of steel, but it would still get to him a lot more than he'd like to admit. the only person he doesn't feel bad about killing is kellogg, since the guy killed his sister

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

answered here!

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

The enemy of my enemy is ALSO my enemy, Part 4

First< Previous< Masterlist > Next

Jason did not know how to feel about standing in the middle of a teen girl’s room.

Of course, he technically could go back ‘home’ to Lazarus Holdings, but he wasn’t particularly eager to. Bucky and Melisande would not be pleased with him when he came back. Which was understandable, considering he had left them to do his paperwork… but, consider: he does not like consequences.

Besides, who knows, maybe they’ll have patched up the way out and he wouldn’t be able to get back. As much as he hated his current predicament, he hated the idea of allowing Hawkmoth to make more paperwork for him even more.

So, stand in the middle of a teen girl’s room he did.

Or not. He looked around awkwardly before taking a seat on the wood floor as best he could when he was literally intangible. He was really just floating in midair. Star Wars’ users of The Force be warned, he’s coming for your meditation shtick.

Marinette sighed and leaned back in her desk chair, rubbing her eyes. Now that she was no longer transformed, he could see the absolute exhaustion that clung to her like a curse. The bags under her eyes were the size of tote bags, and the raccoon look did not suit such a young face.

“He’s gotta be in the rich district,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything. “Being Hawkmoth requires him to spend all day waiting for people to have strong negative emotions. Can’t do that if you have a real job.”

“Gasp. A rich guy is an asshole. How surprising,” deadpanned Jason.

Adrien sent him a glare. “My dad’s rich and he’s fine.”

“Nono. He has a point,” Marinette said. “Fuck that guy.”

Adrien gave her a mildly offended glance. Marinette hardly paid him any mind. Mostly because she had leaned back too far in her chair and was now in a heap on the ground. She seemed less than happy about this development, but apparently wasn’t bothered enough to do anything about it.

It was quiet for a moment.

Jason cut his gaze between Marinette, who was stretching out on her rug, and Adrien, who was spinning in his chair. “Do you guys seriously not do anything while you’re waiting for akumas?”

Adrien cracked a grin that could only be seen for half a second before he was facing the other way again. “We do our schoolwork.”

“And our day jobs,” Marinette added.

He squinted at them. “You have school? And jobs?”

“Legally required to go to school,” said Marinette, who seemed about as annoyed with this fact as every other person that was forced to go to school. “And yeah, we both work for his dad. He’s a model, I won a design contest a while back and now I have the pleasure of working under his label.”

Neither of them seemed thrilled about this fact.

Jason didn’t particularly like the implications of that. It could be that they just hated their jobs, like the majority of people, but he couldn’t imagine that these kids needed to have jobs – Adrien was, apparently, rich, and from the room they were in Jason figured it was safe to bet that Marinette wasn’t struggling either. So, if they disliked it, why not quit?

But… then again… from the way Marinette had instantly dismissed the idea of Adrien’s father being a good person… and the way Adrien had opted to be here despite not having anything to do… well, it wasn’t looking good.

He sighed and brought a hand up to rub the space between his brows, trying to physically get rid of the tension. “So… you don’t do anything for fun?” He asked, deciding to shelve that for a later date because he had another, different concerning thing he wanted to concentrate on.

“Gotta always be ready,” Marinette shrugged unconcernedly.

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, shaking a couple of strands free of their gel prison. “It sucks when you have to stop in the middle of something fun.”

Damn. These kids are messed up.

He leaned back on his hands, his lips pursing in a frown. “Alright, well, you can always go back to it after, can’t you?”

“Too tired at that point,” Adrien sighed.

Jason mulled this over for all of three seconds before shaking his head. “Well, that’s a terrible thing to do to yourself. Just because your lives are hectic doesn’t mean that you have to ruin your little free time.”

“After we’re done we should be fine,” Adrien waved him off.

Jason gave a wry smile. “I’m proof of the fact that a ‘later’ is not guaranteed.”

It was quiet for a few moments as the other two processed this.

And then, surprisingly, it was Marinette that clapped her hands together and pushed herself to her feet. “Alright, what’re we doing?”

Jason really hadn’t thought that he’d get this far.

But… well, a quick glance around the room gave him an idea.

~

Marinette sent him a dirty look. “Y’know, it’s convenient for you to choose a pillow fort when you can’t even touch things.”

Jason spread his hands in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

A pillow sailed through his head.

~

Eventually, they managed to make a fort out of blankets and pillows (and also a couple of chairs and the bed and a broom for structure), and the three crawled inside.

Marinette smiled and flicked on a set of fairy lights, casting their little safe haven in a pale pink glow.

“That’s definitely a fire hazard,” Adrien said, eyeing them with a hint of nervousness, but then he seemed to brush off the idea like it was nothing. “Alright. Now what?”

“Now,” a high-pitched, unfamiliar voice chimed, and Jason was lucky that he wasn’t corporeal because if he was he would have sent their fort toppling over in his haste to get away from the thing that had surprised him. And he meant thing. His head whipped over to where two tiny beings were floating in the entrance to the fort. Between them, they carried a large platter of… “You can’t do a pillow fort without sweets!”

Neither of the miraculous holders looked perturbed by the sudden appearance of the two beings. In fact, Marinette cracked a half smile.

“Did you guys steal those cookies from downstairs?”

“They were a bad batch!” The black one defended himself, puffing his cheeks out in a strange kind of pout.

Marinette grinned. “I hope you know that you’re not making me want to eat those more, Plagg.”

“Good. More for us, then!” ‘Plagg’ said.

This earned a tiny eyeroll from the other two.

Jason fought the urge to rub a hand over his eyes. That was showing just a little too much emotion for him. He did, however, gesture to them with his hands in a kind of ‘what the fuck?!’ way.

Marinette snorted. “What, did you think we just randomly ended up with powers?”

“... I want you to look at me for a couple seconds,” Jason said. “And wonder why I might think that.”

There was a beat.

Marinette had the decency to blush a little, tugging her hair in front of her face in an attempt to hide her shame.

Jason sighed and looked back at the pair of floating beings – who weren’t floating anymore, in the few moments he had taken to speak to Marinette they had set the tray on the pillow and then taken a seat on the rim of the plate – which seemed to be scrutinizing him over their baked goods.

After a couple of seconds the tiny red one smiled at him and offered a cookie.

He gave a polite little smile in return and shook his head. “Can’t eat.” He stuck his arm through the nearby blanket to prove his point.

And then, to his surprise, the black one huffed and nodded. “Oh, I remember that. Torture that was.”

His eyebrows knit together.

“What? Did you think that us all-powerful beings just wanted to put ourselves at the mercy of any human that got our miraculous? I mean, all the stuff with Hawkmoth just shows how terrible of an idea it is.”

Jason blinked dumbly. His eyes flicked to the ‘magical earrings and ring’ that Marinette and Adrien sported, and then back down at the two kwamis who were eating oh-so-cheerfully.

“So… you basically gave up what could have been all of your free will in return for being tangible.”

The pair of beings nodded in unison, not even an ounce of hesitation nor regret hiding within their expressions.

He considered this. He had only been intangible for a few hours, and already he could tell that he would likely go insane if things stayed this way. After years of sitting around doing mind-numbing paperwork, wasn’t it understandable that all he wanted was to feel the grass beneath his feet again? To be able to eat a pastry? To want to curl up under a blanket? To touch another human being?

He bit his lip. “Do you think…?” He began awkwardly, unsure of how to broach the subject.

Luckily or unluckily, recognition sparkled in the pair of beings’ eyes. They looked at each other.

The red one looked back at him. “I don’t know...”

“Tikki,” Plagg hissed.

‘Tikki’ made a face. “He’s not a god like us, it might not even work.”

“We should try at least! He’s a kid, for fucks sake!”

“Exactly. He’s a kid. He shouldn’t be making decisions like this when he doesn’t even have a fully developed frontal lobe!”

“Well, that’s never going to happen!” Plagg pointed out. “So, if he wants it, he wants it!”

“We are not letting a kid give up his free will.”

“He’s a human, still, or at least partially, right? Something about being kinda dead or whatever? Maybe he can wield it himself!”

“Maybe he can’t!”

Plagg scoffed. “Then we can give him to one of the kids.”

“That’s –!”

Marinette raised a hand hesitantly. “Would he still be able to find Hawkmoth for us if he does this?”

Jason’s mouth dropped open in offense. He hadn’t expected one of the other humans to be against it, especially not for a reason like that, but perhaps it made sense that they might not be on his side. After all, how could they ever understand what it was like to watch everyone else around you enjoy the simple pleasures of life while knowing you could never do the same?

She gritted her teeth. “I’m not saying never, I’m saying that – if it might limit you – maybe it should come after you help us.”

I don’t trust you to not bail immediately, and we still need you, he translated. He suddenly remembered that he very much despised pretty much everyone in this room. Why do they always have to make his death so damn awful? Wasn’t death supposed to be peaceful? Because, if so, he’d been cheated.

And, yes, he understood her reasoning. He was a bat, of course he could understand caution. He would probably do the same in her case. But… it hurt a little being on the other side of it.

At least he had someone on his side, because Plagg was quick to shake his head and come to Jason’s defense:

“Tikki and I still have our powers. He should be fine.”

“Oh,” Marinette said, looking away thoughtfully. She didn’t seem to know what to say now.

Adrien shrugged his shoulders. “I think that, if it’s what he wants to do, we should let him.”

It was silent as the two women considered it. For a moment, Tikki and Marinette seemed to have a conversation with just a couple of vague facial expressions and hand gestures.

And then they both sighed.

Marinette even groaned a little.

Plagg grinned victoriously and turned to him. “What kind of jewelry piece did you want it to be?”

Jason thought it over for a few moments. He didn’t want it to be easy to steal…

“A tongue piercing,” he decided. Not only would it be difficult for someone to wrench his mouth open to even get to it, they would then have to find a way to tear it out as well.

Also, he liked the aesthetic. Sue him.

Tikki nodded once and a flash of black flickered through the air in front of his face. He tried to catch it on instinct, but it sailed through him, and he grimaced a little at the feeling of metal literally slipping through his hand.

Adrien managed to catch it and grinned victoriously as he held up a small, black stud.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open.

“Why does the stuff you make not have the weird ladybug design on it?” She asked, distracted from her mild annoyance by this clear injustice.

“Because you would use your abilities for evil if I let you,” Tikki sighed. “The only thing stopping you is the fact that you care about your aesthetics too much.”

Marinette crossed her arms over her chest in a huff and looked away, glaring at a nearby plush cat as if it had personally offended her.

Jason noted, idly, that she didn’t actually argue to the contrary. At least she’s aware of it.

Plagg jabbed its little paw at Marinette, giving Adrien an almost accusatory look. “Look! Why can’t you be evil like her?!”

Adrien rolled his eyes.

Jason cracked a grin, snickering behind his hand. He could already tell that the group of four seemed to balance each other perfectly. The two girls were more hesitant and calculated, while the boys were more impulsive. The older pair had a kind of wisdom that could only come with existing for centuries, while the two humans brought in new perspectives by virtue of being mortal. Plagg and Marinette were more distinctly chaotic, Tikki and Adrien worked to keep them in line in their own ways. And they all had the kind of familiarity with each other that only came after spending a lot of time together.

He couldn’t help but wonder if there was somewhere he could fit into that.

He grimaced to himself. That was the kind of mindset that had gotten him killed. He didn’t need to fit in somewhere – he wasn’t supposed to, he was just a kid no one wanted. If nothing else, he should at least try and learn the lesson he had literally died to learn.

Jason cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, how do we do this thing?”

Tikki smiled, but it was one tinged with nerves. She pointed at the stud in Adrien’s hand. “You’ll need to transfer a piece of yourself into the jewelry.”

“... how the fuck –?”

There was a knocking sound and the group of five jumped. Everyone except for Jason looked to the trapdoor instantly, and he followed their gaze to find it just barely rattling.

Tikki and Plagg darted out of sight.

Jason cursed and looked around, thinking.

And then he looked down at himself. He hadn’t changed his outfit since he had started working, had opted for a simple business suit because he didn’t want to stay in the clothes he had died in (and, besides, a suit just fit for someone that did paperwork as much as he did). But a suit didn’t make sense for someone that looked his age, and even then the suit was made more strange by the fact that it was in tatters from his climb to the overworld.

He took a deep breath before forcing his clothes to shift into pajamas.

Great. One problem solved. Now for his wings.

He leaned back against the wall of the blanket fort, forcing his wings to phase through, and fought back a grimace.

Awesome. This was working. He looked normal now. He was not suffering. This did not feel strange. If you keep telling yourself things they come true.

Both of the humans were looking at him with wide eyes.

But they quickly brought themselves back to neutral expressions as the trapdoor swung open, revealing someone that looked quite like Marinette, if much older. She wore an apron and a kind smile.

Her eyes widened just slightly when she saw Jason. “Who’s this?” she asked.

“Jason,” he said, giving a small, polite incline of his head.

He ignored the pair of humans jerking just slightly at the mention of his actual name. Clearly, they hadn’t expected that. Robin was technically a name, but he didn’t want to use it in case the woman managed to recognize it somehow. Which left him to come up with a different name, and he had never been good at that. At least he could tell them it was a fake name he came up with on the spot. After all, did he really look like a Jason? Surely, that was too generic a name to find on someone who had two wings sprouting from his back.

For a second, he swore the woman’s soul narrowed her eyes at him. That it glanced around, looking for something. But then the expression was gone, leaving her with the exact same cheerfulness that was on her real face.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jason,” she said lightly. “If you want anything to eat, tell me, m’kay?”

Jason nodded once in understanding. “Nice to meet you, too, Miss. I’ll do that.”

Her smile stretched a little wider. And then she turned her attention away, resting her hands on her hips and giving the two other kids a mildly scolding look. “So it was you that took that batch. Honestly, how you even get your hands on them without me noticing…”

Marinette grinned. “Hey, at least we only take the scuffed batches.”

The woman shook her head with a fond smile and then reached out to pinch Adrien’s cheek. “Fine. As long as he gets some, I don’t mind.”

Adrien smiled nervously. “It’s not a cheat day, ma’am, I can’t –.”

“You’re too thin. Eat just one, okay?” The woman said.

Adrien’s shoulders slumped and he nodded, picking up a cookie with a hint of reluctance and taking a tiny bite.

The woman seemed sated, at least, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek.

She looked back at Jason and, for a moment, her smile stretched a little wider. “I’m assuming you’re the one that suggested the pillow fort?”

He nodded carefully. “I’ll make sure it gets cleaned up –.”

“Nono, keep it as long as you three want. It’s nice to see them doing ‘younger’ stuff,” she said lightly.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed.

Jason was definitely going to tease them later.

But, for now, he smiled a much more real smile and mumbled a quiet “Gotcha.”

Unlike with Adrien, she didn’t try and touch him. She just gave a lighthearted little laugh and started heading down. Thank god. He wasn’t sure how he would have explained away the fact that her hand would move right through him.

It was silent for a minute. If anyone asked, they would just blame it on making sure she didn’t come back.

And then the silence was broken by a phone ringing.

Adrien groaned. “Akuma.”

“Oh come the fuck on,” Jason said.

“Tell me about it,” Marinette sighed.

And then the pair transformed, and Jason brought back his tattered suit, and the three of them all headed out.

~

The akuma was, apparently, an easy one. Mr. Pigeon. The 69th one, according to a very amused Adrien.

And now Jason understood why they had thought he was one of those ‘akuma’ things at first. If all of them looked like that, then he too would assume anything that was not strictly normal would be an akuma.

Besides that, the only thing of any real note was that Hawkmoth didn’t show up. Which really wasn’t of note, seeing as he apparently only did that once in a blue moon. But it was still disappointing.

So, defeated (in that their plan didn’t work, the akuma was dealt with within the hour), they all headed home, exhaustion making their shoulders slump and their steps heavy.

At least, if this went right, Jason could lean back in the comfortable pillows and fall asleep for the first time in years.

He placed his hands over the tiny, unassuming stud on the ground.

“You need to imagine giving yourself up,” Plagg said, hovering by his shoulder. “A lot of magic is about intent.”

If Jason were human, he would have swallowed thickly, but instead he just gave a sharp nod and started concentrating.

“It should come to you…” Tikki said, her tone more careful, as if he were something fragile that could break if this went wrong.

It was very quiet.

He imagined giving up a part of himself. Allowing himself to become tangible at the cost of some of his free will. Limiting himself for freedom.

Nothing happened. He was still floating. The world beneath him still shied away from his touch, his molecules missing everything else despite his best attempts.

He tried not to be too disappointed. They had mentioned it might not work, it was the first thing Tikki had said. He wasn’t like them, he was something other.

He still found himself fighting back tears.

[ebitenpura]

My SW's voice is really nice through his helmet- it's probably my favorite of the synthesized ones.

[transgender-catboy]

The amount of times I've blown myself up because of new bombs and complete lack of spacial awareness in totk is insane

[dakotaawolven]

Depends on the pet. And the day.

[asexual-levia-tan]

btw personally i don't hate march (although seeing the tag full of him gets annoying sometimes pfft) i just think it would be funny if the farmer really Really hated him

[marsontherocks]

I'm like, waist deep in an oc obsession rn its sooo bad anyways heres some oc art

1 & 2- OCs

3 & 4- Sho & Greg kinda angst because I'm normal(lie) about these 2

5- John Dough redesign from my game My Last Speed Date

6- My pfp I drew a while back of my sona :3

Putting more info about stuff in tags lol

[entitled-fangirl]

A sigil of mine.

Summary: the reader is taken from Winterfell while Cregan is at the Wall. He's a vengeful man.

Warning: kidnapping, dread, guilt, blood, scars, branding, talks of torture, our boy Cregan embodying Joel Miller when Ellie gets taken in the Last of Us

This one is dark

A/n: based on an ask! Also, fuck the Lannisters

I'll proofread later🫡

Masterlist

..............................................

"Lord Stark! An urgent letter has arrived from Winterfell!" A brother of the Wall yelled over the sound of the harsh wind that roared through the icy halls.

Cregan turned his entire body to him, a sudden pain in his stomach. What could be so urgent?

Cregan nearly rips the letter from the man's hand as he nears. The letter is stained with a dark red in places and he feels himself choke a little.

Lord Stark, Winterfell is under attack. By the time you read this, I will be long gone. I tried to protect the Lady as best as I could.  It was an honor to serve under House Stark and see you become a man. Please forgive me. Maester Tinedel

Cregan's hands shook violently as his eyes roamed over the paper another time. Then once more. His jaw set harshly as he looked up to the man that had brought such devastating news. "When did this arrive?" He growled lowly.

"Just this morning. Is it dated by any chance, my Lord?"

Cregan flipped the page and surely enough, the old maester had been wise enough to do so.

The air in his lungs escaped, creating a cloud in the cold air.

"Three weeks now."

The man stared in confusion at Cregan's sudden distress. "Is everything alright?"

Cregan crumpled the paper in his fist. "Ready my horse."

The brother of the Wall shook his head, "My lord, it is the bulk of winter. You can't possibly leave in such conditions. And you are not properly pack-"

"Ready. My. Horse. I leave within the hour."

The Warden of the North stormed away, a heaviness in his step from the sudden weight on his shoulders.

…

Cregan had always thought the travel to the Wall and back took too long on a good day.

Now, he was a mere bundle of nerves trying to tie what he could to his horse.

It would take too long. Whatever happened had happened and he wasn't there to save them.

To save her. 

He knew the guilt would eat his alive no matter how long it took him to get back. 

Surely another letter would arrive soon if things had turned for the better, but he wouldn't wait for that letter to show. 

The odds of one never arriving were too high.

"Are you certain of this, Lord Stark?"

He turned to the stable master with the hint of unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm not sure of anything. But I must return home."

The stable master nodded in acceptance, "And you're really not going to take men with you?"

Cregan huffed in frustration. "I cannot take men from the Wall. Their war is here. I cannot ask them to fight my own war as well."

"My lord, you're fighting both wars. Surely you can allow for some assistance."

Cregan hoisted himself up onto his horse. "I cannot promise when I'll return. But, should everything be righted, I will write back."

"If I may?"

"Yes?"

The man heaved a long sigh as placed his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't wish this feeling on my worst enemy, my lord. May the gods be with you on your journey and at your arrival."

Cregan bits the inside of his cheek. "Thank you."

With that, Cregan clicks at his horse, and the long journey began.

…

As expected, the journey was grueling. The cold was killing him from the outside in, but the constant need to stop and warm up was killing him from the inside out.

He couldn't even eat without thinking of the blood that stained the letter.

He couldn't sleep without thinking of the screams of his wife as another man's hands laid on her.

Even in the best case, the horror was too much to bare.

Despite his initial crumpling of the letter, Cregan kept it stashed away in his few belongings, smoothing it out and reading it every night before sleep consumed him. 

Just to crumple it again.

…

Despite the journey taking a usual two to three weeks when the weather was obedient, Cregan made it back to Winterfell in a week and half.

The consistent shiver to his bones only spurred him faster. 

He had plenty of time to consider his plan, should he truly be in need of one.

And now was the time to use it. 

…

Winterfell laid still. 

Cregan had expected fire and battle. A sound of swords clashing and men roaring.

Quietness was worse.

He had managed to get through the bulk of people with his hood up and his usual dire wolf cloak long abandoned. 

For in this moment, he was no Stark. 

He was a vengeful man.

He managed to sneak into the walls of the very place he should have been highly welcomed in.

For such a burly man, he was deathly silent. His boots made no sound on the stone floors, and his breath was so low that it may be thought that he didn't breathe at all.

He stood outside of his own chamber that he shared with his wife. He reached up and his hand faltered against the wood of the door. He couldn't dare open it.

"Oh, Lord Stark! Oh, thank the gods!" A female voice shrieked in relief.

Cregan flinched at the sound, turning on his heel to see the woman. His wife's handmaiden. He relaxed a bit.

"Oh. Sorry, milord. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just I didn't know when you would return. Or if you'd return at all. And I-"

"Where is she?" He quietly interrupted.

The handmaiden stiffened and her face fell. "I… I dunno."

"She's not here?" He dared to ask.

She wrung her hands nervously. "You don't… you don't know?"

He tried to hold back his frustration. "Are they still here?"

She shook her head. "Left not long after the attack. Left just a few of us to pick up the pieces."

"And my wife? What happened to her?"

She let the silence set. 

He sighed in frustration and his hand moved to the chamber door.

"I wouldn't, milord," she warned.

He threw her a glare and dare to step in.

He should have listened.

The room laid in disarray. The furs from the bed were thrown on the floor. The furniture was moved, an obvious conflict had occurred. But that's not what Cregan's eyes moved to.

It was the scraps of clothing that were strewn across the room in various places. Some bloody.

His jaw went slack and he knelt down and picked up a strip of the cloth. Stark blue. 

His thumb rubbed at the fabric. He knew it well. His favorite dress on her. 

"They came in the early morning." The handmaiden spoke from the doorway. "Lady Stark had just gotten dressed for the day. I was… I was braiding her hair at the vanity when…"

"When..?" Cregan questioned. 

"It happened so suddenly. The screams."

He stood. "Who did it?"

"House Lannister."

Cregan took a deep breath. "Is she dead?"

"Milord-"

"-Was she slain by a Lannister?"

"No. Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"They took her. She could be dead now, I dunno. But they took her alive."

He felt a bit of relief move down his spine. "When you last saw her, she indeed was drawing breath?"

"Yes."

"Then that's enough for me. And Maester Tinedel?"

She tilted her head back and forth. "He lives. But barely."

He kept the fabric in his hand. "Take me to him."

…

"My Lord!"

"Please, don't get up on my account." Cregan stood at the elder man's bedside. "You're still healing."

The maester relaxed and leaned back against the headboard. "It takes more than a blade to change my loyalty, dear Cregan."

"You've been with me since the day I was born, old man," he teased. "And still you defend me when I am not there."

"There has been no greater honor."

Cregan pulled a chair to his bedside, sitting down. "Tell me what you remember."

"It's not a pleasant story for you, my lord. But very well." He leaned back in thought. "I was in my chamber. It was morning. I heard sounds from the corridor and I dared to go venture out. I defended as much as I could, but an old man is no match to young men with longswords. They took the lady from her room. As far as I know, they still have her-"

"-Do you know where they are now?"

"I'd assume they moved back to Casterly Rock. I have reason to believe that you have been betrayed by one of your bannermen, my lord. How else would they have gotten through the North so quietly?"

Cregan considered the man's words, running a shaky hand over his growing beard. "Who?"

The maester grunted as he sat up further. "I could hardly guess, my lord.

"Whoever it is, I'll murder him where he stands."

…

Gathering men together quickly was not a difficult task for Cregan.

Many men had skin in the game of thrones, and equally so, most were loyal unto death for their lord.

While most banner men would have answered a call to war, there wasn't enough time to gather an army while he was there, leaving the job to one of his closest bannerman, the Lord of House Bolton.

His mind laid in constant worry. 

…

In time, the men made it to Lord Reed, the last of the Northern Lords before being out of the North entirely. 

"'Tis truly a shame of what happened to the castle," Lord Reed said as he ushered Cregan further into Greywater Watch. "Any ideas of who might have done such an act?"

He shook his head, eyeing Lord Glover next to him. "No. No, we haven't. Hence why I don't have an army behind me."

"Well, that's understandable. Whoever did such a crime should be punished by all the gods alike, sneaking such an ambush like that."

Cregan nodded, "Yes, yes, they should. I thank you for housing us on such short notice."

Reed forced a smile. "Of course, Lord Stark." He continued moving down the hall. "The North would never sit by while a Lord's wife was taken from him."

Cregan's foot faltered. He paused completely. His voice was low. "I never said my wife was taken."

Lord Reed froze in pure fear at his mistake.

And he was shoved against the wall with Cregan's wolfish growl in his face. "Where is she?"

Reed gasped and fought against the man, but was no match. "I… I don't know what you mean, my lord… p… please.."

Cregan pulled him away by the throat to hit his head against the stone wall again, repeating himself. "WHERE IS SHE?"

Reed sputtered and groaned at the pain. "I… They didn't tell me… I swear…. I swear that to you."

"Your word means nothing to me." Cregan looked over his shoulder to Glover. "Write back to Winterfell. Tell them Lord Reed is dead."

"…My Lord?" Glover faltered.

"Tell them."

"Aye, my lord."

Reed shook violently in Cregan's grip. "I swear. I swear! I don't know! Please!"

Cregan leaned into the man's face. "You're gonna tell me what you do know. Aren't you?"

…

"Fucking Lannisters!" Cregan's voice roared through the Watch. "Get Glover. We're leaving now."

"My lord?" One of the men asked.

"Do what I said."

"Aye."

"May house Reed learn from its mistake."

…

Little did Cregan know yet, Loreon Lannister's brigade had been stopped by the Blackwoods, just shy of Lannister territory. 

The young Lord Benjicot Blackwood had rode out to meet them when word was sent of a brigade sneaking through his land. 

He raged at the sight of a terrified woman clad in a Stark blue dress. He vowed that the Lannisters would not see to their land should they refuse to surrender the woman to him.

Hence the small battle that had commenced.

But that was two weeks ago. 

Cregan looked over the land, the blood still staining the grass. "Think they made it?"

Glover hummed. "Lord Benjicot is a formidable enemy, I've heard. Wouldn't want to anger that boy in the slightest."

"Thank fuck!" A voice yelled over the field.

Lord Benjicot rode his horse out to the group in a fast trot. He spoke when he got closer "Knew you'd be quick but I figured it would be another few weeks."

"Don't underestimate angry northern men," Glover grimaced.

"Or Blackwoods, it seems," Cregan chimed in, looking over the field. "I believe I'm indebted to you in some capacity."

"Don't speak too soon, Lord Stark," Benjicot smiled. "You haven't asked how we faired."

Cregan's brows furrowed. "And how did you fair?"

Benjicot's smile grew. 

"We have her."

Cregan reached a hand out to steady himself on his horse from the sheer relief that swept through his body. "Gods…"

"Fucking bastards should have journeyed by sea if they were smart. Should've known that any ally of the Queen is an ally of mine."

"You have her then? In Raventree Hall?" Glover asked what they were all thinking.

"I do."

Cregan voice recovered. "Take me to her. Please."

…

"My lady?" One of the Blackwood handmaidens spoke up.

Y/n looked up at the woman. 

The faint hints of scratches and bruises were still on the lady's skin, but she had been given time to heal due to the Blackwoods' bravery. But regardless, the tremor in her hands remained. 

"I've been sent to inform you of a visitor that will soon be arriving."

Her heart leaped from her chest. She found herself moving more to the window and peering out. 

Cregan.

The man and his horse moved as one. It had always impressed her. 

Her sluggish behavior left the second he came into view. 

Not caring for her shoes, her cloak, anything, she ran past the handmaiden quicker than her feet could move. 

Tripping and stumbling along the way, ignoring the pain, she finally made it to the large doors of Raventree and bolted out of them.

Cregan had just pulled his horse to a stop when he caught sight of her.

He couldn't remember actually getting down from his horse he had gotten to her so quickly.

His strong arms held her to him in a vice grip, his hands indecisive of where to stay- her waist, her back, her hair, the constant need to feel her wholly gripped him.

Equally so, her arms wrapped around his neck firmly, as if to make sure he was real. 

"Fuck. Don't ever do this again," he sighed as he placed his chin on the top of her head. 

She sobbed lightly against his chest and her hands gripped his cloak so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked in worry. 

She hiccuped through tears. 

Cregan pulled her away, cupping her cheeks so he could study her. "Speak to me, pretty girl. Where are you hurt?"

She hiccuped again. "I… I'm fine."

"Where did they touch you?"

"Cregan…"

"Where?"

Benjicot had caught up at that point. "I wouldn't say they were delicate with her, Lord Stark. Most of it is faded, but the ones on her arms are rather nasty."

Cregan never looked away from her, keeping her eye contact. He tilted his head down, silently asking to gaze at her arms.

He hesitantly pulled her sleeves up and gawked slightly. 

Green bruises still remained at her wrists, no doubt from dragging her along. He tried to ignore the faint scabs from the scrapes that laid in various spots. 

"They did a number on you, didn't they?"

She looked at him fearfully, beyond nervous for his reaction to all of this. 

Benjicot spoke up again. "You've no idea." He placed a steady hand on the woman's back, ignoring Cregan's protective glare as he did so. "You're safe here. Why don't you show him?"

"Show me what?"

She turned to look over her shoulder at Benjicot, "Must I?"

Cregan was growing frustrated. If there was one thing he hated, it was no knowing things. "Show me."

She hesitantly nodded, and Benjicot stepped up to her, untying her bodice from the back. Once he did so, he spun her around to have her back face Cregan. Then he gently pulled down her sleeve until her right shoulder blade was exposed. 

A Lannister sigil was burned into the skin. Ugly scarring around the marred flesh. 

Her head was hung in shame as she stood there, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

Cregan's hand came up to brush the skin achingly slow. He couldn't find words. 

Benjicot broke the silence. "Amidst this, there is good news."

"I guarantee there isn't," Cregan growled back quickly.

"I have Loreon Lannister under my care as well."

Cregan's head snapped to him. "What?"

"The man is in my dungeons, Lord Stark."

Cregan's hand moved up to Y/n's hair, brushing it aside to fully view what was exposed of her back. 

But his eyes couldn't move from the brand.

"Inside, you say? Still breathing?"

Benjicot let out an amused chuckle. "I refused to take that privilege from you."

Lord Stark's hand brushed her shoulder again. "I fear I owe the Blackwoods more than I own."

…

Not long later, Cregan stepped into her room. 

She turned her head towards him.

Cregan was covered in blood.

She stood suddenly. "Are you harmed?"

His brows furrowed, looking down at himself, as if forgetting all he had done. "Oh. None of it is mine."

"You killed him?"

Cregan sighed and shut the door. "We'll not discuss this now."

"Cregan-"

"-No. Don't ask again."

Her face fell a bit. She moved to the window and sat again. 

He watched her. "Forgive me. There's still rage in my heart."

"Still? Is it because of me?"

He faltered. "No. No, of course not." He rubbed his chin. "You did nothing wrong."

"If I had journeyed to the Wall with you that day, would you have been as angry if Winterfell was attacked?"

He paused as considered her question. "You know the answer."

She hummed and looked out of the window.

He followed her gaze. "Forgive me for taking so long."

"I watched out this window."

"I know you did."

"What if Benjicot hadn't have found me?"

He sat down next to her. "He did though."

"But what if he hadn't?"

Cregan dared to reach out and pull her hair aside, tugging her sleeve down to see the brand again. 

She finally turned to look at him with teary eyes. 

"I'd rather not think about those things," Cregan answered softly.

"Will you wash yourself, please?"

He paused, remembering the blood all over him. "Sorry, sweet girl. I didn't realize that would bother you so much. I will, I promise."

She looked back to the window. "Will we go home soon?"

Cregan stood to go to the washbowl across the room. "We will in time."

"What's stopping us, Cregan?"

He didn't have the heart to actually say that it was her. "Be patient, my girl, alright?"

…

Benjicot walked with Cregan down the corridor. "I apologize that I did not manage to capture Lord Jason. That will haunt me."

Cregan shook his head, "You've done much for the North. We'll not forget this act of kindness."

Benji grinned, "The North remembers."

"Indeed."

"Tell me something, my lord?"

Cregan nodded.

"What did you do in those dungeons?"

Cregan sighed, crossing his arms over his  chest. "I wouldn't want you to think differently of me, old friend."

Benjicot shook his head, "Nothing could do so, Cregan. You've seen me rather bloody. It's only fair."

He paused and considered his words, carefully phrasing himself. "A part of me hopes that his son doesn't find out what I've done to his father. It was almost too much to bare."

"What do you mean?"

Cregan pulled his dagger from his belt, running a hand over the blade. "I'll have to sharpen this later, if you understand what I'm saying."

Benjicot nodded. "I believe I do. But more context might be beneficial."

Cregan leaned forward and spoke lowly. "The dead man wears a sigil of mine in return."

The Blackwood's eyes looked down to the dagger and back to Cregan. "I see."

"If there truly is life after death, my friend, I hope he lives the next with my reminder."

"Surely, he would. I'd say you were merciful in ending him regardless."

…

Cregan rubbed her thigh absentmindedly as the maester inspected the brand. 

"It's healing well, but as you can imagine, it will leave behind a nasty scar."

Cregan clenched his jaw at the thought of his own wife living with a lion burned onto her. "No risk of a fever?"

He shook his head. "A clean burn like this rarely risks such a thing."

"Well, the north thanks you for your work."

The maester excused himself.

Since finding her again, Cregan had a difficulty understanding what she was going through. She was bottling everything up, he could tell. 

"Sweet girl?" He asked gently, continuing to rub at her leg.

"Is it ugly?" She responded quietly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Cregan wasn't sure what to say to that. "It looks painful. Is it?"

She hummed, eyes still anchored. "It didn't hurt as much as the laughs."

"They laughed? While they did this to you?"

She nodded. 

Her hand moved up to pull her sleeve back up, but Cregan was quick to stop her, placing his hand over hers. 

She looked up questioningly.

"You're as gorgeous as the day I met you." His other hand moved hair behind her ear. "And as beautiful as the day I married you. As well as when I left for the Wall this winter." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently. "You're just changed is all."

"But the-"

"-Yes. Yes, it pains me to see it. But not because of what it is, but because you were hurt and I did not defend you as I should have."

Silence fell over them until she spoke up.

"Tell me I'm yours."

Cregan froze. "What?"

"I need to hear it. To really know."

"Well, you are. You know that."

"Please, Cregan."

Cregan stood from the bed, rounding it until he was behind her. He reached out and brushed the brand again, trying to ignore the shiver that went down her spine. "You're mine."

The words relaxed her, her shoulders moving down.

Cregan placed his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. "You belong to the Warden of the North." He grinned. "A vile and vicious beast intent on killing anything that nears it. Almost anything."

She smiled lightly, the first one in weeks. "And what is that one thing that the wolf likes?"

"A pretty she-wolf that brings down his defense."

One of his hands moved to the back of her neck and she all but melted, her head leaning back now. 

He continued this for a while, letting the silence sit, but he soon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the marred skin of her shoulder. 

"You're mine." He kissed her shoulder. "And I don't need a brand to prove so." He kissed behind her ear. "You know who you belong to, don't you?"

"…you, Cregan."

"Hmm?" He feigned. 

"You."

He smirked and nipped at her ear. "And who is that? Tell me."

She turned as much as her injuries could allow. Her voice softened as his eyes gazed into hers. "Cregan Stark. I belong to Cregan Stark."

"And I do to you, pretty girl."

He closed the distance, placing the softest kiss he'd ever managed onto her lips.

When they pulled away from one another, she spoke. "Do we get to return soon?"

He nodded, twirling her hair between his fingers. "Soon. I'm only waiting for Lord Bolton to arrive with the men."

"Th… what?"

He puffed out his chest in pride. "I don't do well with spoiled southerners. Bolton is riding an army to the border of Lannister territory, with Benjicot's permission, of course."

"An army? You can't start a war over me."

"I didn't start anything, my love." He kissed her again. "I only finish it."

.........................................................

Taglist: @strengthandstay, @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867, @helpmedecideaname

[nymphea0]

Kurkans Mate.

Beast and his mate.

Yan! Ishakan x Reader

Part 1.

Manhwa :약탈혼 / predatory marriage

/ 약탈혼 (완전판)

: Adult Manhwa (18+)

Author/Illustrations : Saha / Hera(Art)

Halloo is neva again, is beens longs i had no post any story TvT... well i had some busy stuff to do, so hope you all forgive me.

And this first my series Manhwa chara, soons will be much chara came out, so stay alwalys love🦋🦋.

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

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Fire, blood and corpses'

is a view from a small village in the far west which has unspoiled natural beauty.

However, all of that was damaged when an invasion from a foreign continental kingdom came into conflict with another kingdom, resulting in several villages being affected by the conflict.

Day and night only the sound of screams, sadness, wrath, and much more, the beautiful village has become a sea of ​​blood of innocent people.

Village of a thousand nights, a village for nature people which has a million cultures and also unbeatable beauty. village for the Antrabeth race.

Hair is blue as bright as the sky, the brighter and smoother the hair, the higher the inner bond with nature.

They are a closed people, living in a mountainous environment covered by forests and sunlight. However, their blood is their curse, the anthrabeth race is famous for their blood which can cure all diseases for those who drink the blood and also the blood of those who seek a long, eternal life.

The Antrabeth race is the enemy of the witch and the kurkans, the witch really like experimenting and some stuff unormalize thing and the kurkans believe that marrying an antrabeth race will produce invincible offspring.

However, the world thinks that the Antrabeth Tribe is just a myth, because their existence cannot be proven.

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The stomping of feet and gasping for breath were silent witnesses in the night.

You, running with your aunt, managed to survive the post-war tragedy between the neighboring kingdom and the kingdom where you live.

The war between these two kingdoms caused damage to small villages, one of which was Antra village, a village for the Antrabeth tribe.

You and your aunt Reane are running from the pursuit of knights from an enemy kingdom who are ordered to kill women and kill men for blood.

Entering the border of the dense forest, your aunt stopped running, you who were running beside her also stopped, your breath was short, with the throbbing of blood flowing very quickly.

Your aunt could only stare at you sadly as you pressed your foreheads together.

"Run, nephew, don't let them catch you!" Your aunt's voice shook violently, ordering you to run as if this was a goodbye.

"What do you mean aunt?! We'll be safe, okay?" Enough lives have been lost tonight! I don't want to lose you too auntie!!." With a voice shaking with sadness you rejected your aunt's idea as if asking you to run.

"Don't be stupid!, they won't stop chasing us until one of us died. Listen nephew, the antrabeth tribe, our family is on the verge of extinction because of our blood, you have to run, save yourself."

"But auntie?! I can't!" you could only cry as your aunt pushed you hard.

"Run, don't let they catch you!" That was the last sound of your aunt running against the current, the voices of the enemy kingdom's knights shouting with a joyful hum as if they had caught a good catch.

You could only stare at the light of the torches and the sound of the horses' stampedes that were getting louder and louder. disappear. Your aunt, has been captured by the enemy knights.

Certainly, once they get your aunt's blood, your aunt will be killed just like that.

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you can only run forward, entering the forest deeper, the dark forest with the sound of animal sounds and moonlight are the only things that accompany your sad night.

Running with all your might you can only feel deep sadness, your mother and father were killed cruelly when your father and mother tried to save you, the inhabitants of the antrabeth tribe, the men were killed very cruelly, the women women and children were also killed old and young.

They only seek 1 thing, blood, the blood of the antrabeth tribe against the laws of nature, blood that can give long life like eternity and can cure all kinds of diseases.

Your blue hair is tangled, many leaves and twigs that's caught in your hair, the sweat that sticks to your forehead, the roar of your heart beating so fast that it adds to your running adrenaline.

Until your body is at the very high threshold because of tiredness from running and pushing yourself too hard, you stumble and fall, you faint on the mossy ground lit by the moon and surrounded by trees.

A thin mist covers your figure lying pitifully, as if nature is afraid if there is who tries to hurt you again.

Just when your eyes are almost completely closed, you see the silhouette of an old woman looking at you sympathetically. Until total darkness envelopes you.

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A young woman with her hands and feet covered in bandages to heal abrasions, lay weakly and helplessly on an old mattress that had not been used for a long time.

An old woman slowly wiped the dirt that covered the body of the young woman who was lying weakly.

In a soft voice the woman said

"What in seven hells did this poor girl actually experience?"

After cleaning the young woman, the old woman put on a long, soft nightgown.

Carrying a tray carrying a small bucket of murky water and a dirty towel.

Walking slowly, closing the bedroom door gently, leaving the young woman to rest.

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The sound of birds chirping melodiously decorated the beautiful morning in the middle of the dense forest.

Rays of light entered the slightly open window and illuminated a woman resting peacefully on the bed.

Frowning slowly, you opened your eyes slowly but surely, blinking to adjust your vision.

You see a room with minimalist furniture and decoration, with a very pungent smell of dust entering your respiratory tract.

Slowly waking up you look around, wondering who saved your life.

Then you slowly pull aside the blanket that covers your body, staring in shock, your hands and feet are covered with bandages that have a strong herbal aroma.

When you are about to get out of bed and try to stand up you fall onto the wooden floor, making a fairly loud sound.

'Dug'

'Dug'

'Dug'

The sound of quite heavy footsteps can be heard outside this room.

You who fell could only look towards the closed wooden door, until the door opened, indicating that someone had opened it.

There you see an elderly woman, her hair has white strands, skin that is no longer young, with a slightly hunched body.

"Why are you getting out of bed?!, you are not fully recovered!"

Walking slowly, the woman helps you to sit on the bed.

With a still weak voice, you asked the woman.

"Are ... you the one who saved me?"

The woman just nodded her head.

"My name is Esmera" the woman introduced herself as Esmera.

You also introduced yourself to her.

"You're from the Antrabeth tribe, right?" Emsera asked while gently stroking your bright blue hair.

You looked at her warily, thinking that Esmera might have saved you with another intention.

"Don't worry, I don't need your blood, this is just the first time for me to see the Antrabeth tribe directly."

Esmera, the old woman just chuckled softly seeing your confused face, while sitting slowly beside you she said.

"The Antrabeth tribe, everyone on the entire continent thinks that you are just a myth."

You could only stare in confusion, if the Antrabeth tribe is just a myth, why does the enemy kingdom know the existence of the Antra village?

You think, for the first time you finally realize one thing... the antrabeth tribe is a tribe that is close to nature, a village of a thousand nights, a village covered in thick fog and located in a dense forest, how could the enemy kingdom find the village where you live.

Many questions crossed your mind.

"I don't know what happened to you, , but from what I know, your presence can endanger you.".

You who were confused asked Esmera why that was.

The old woman just sighed while looking at you she said.

"Your tribe has not appeared on several common continents for more than 100 years, just your appearance is enough to shake the world."

You could only be silent hearing Esmera's words.

Then when you were about to speak, Esmera cut you off first.

"You are even more unsafe once you meet the Kurkans."

You who have been living in the depths of the forest just stared confusedly and chanted the name of the Kurkan tribe, asking Esmera what Kurkan is.

"Kurkans, are a tribe that has an extraordinary appearance and physical strength and is very strong, they are more often known as barbarians."

"In short, Kurkans will make you a partner if they find you, they are famous for kidnapping partners they choose through their animal blood instincts"

"The Kurkans consider partners important, and if they have acknowledged them as their partners, they will kidnap the person they consider to be their partner, forced or not, they will not let go of the partner they choose easily".

You just stared at Esmera who was busy checking the wounds on your hands and feet.

You then told me about what you experienced, the war, and the massacre.

Esmera looked at you sadly, the woman did not expect the tribe that was thought to be a myth to disappear overnight.

"Of course .... maybe you are the only one left"

Patting your shoulder, Esnera said.

"Let's change your hair and eyes first, because your hair and eyes are the most striking."

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That afternoon you passed by trying to walk slowly.

Esmera is a witch, you as an antrabeth tribe know from the elders to stay away from witches, especially dark witches. At first you were quite afraid of Esmera, but Esmera assured you that she had retired, because Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who guards this forest, the same forest where you fell, the same forest where you will live with Esmera.

Witches have many types, but the most famous are dark witches, because they like to hang their victims from trees, create blood rain, during the blood moon and legal witches usually have the ability to hypnotize their victims and do what they want.

And Esmera is a natural witch, a witch who is usually tasked with guarding a forest or natural environment, and they are witches with a retirement age, when they are 40 years old, they are required to retire, in short like that.

But you remain vigilant, because you have only just met Esmera not long ago.

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It's been 3 months since the incident you experienced before, now you live with Esmera, the woman is willing to take you in, because Esmera also said that sometimes she lives lonely, even though there are forest animals that accompany her.

Your hair and eyes have been changed by Esmera with a potion of drops, just 1 drop is enough.

Your bright blue hair and galaxy-colored eyes have changed to black and brown.

At first you were not used to it, but the effect of this potion only works for 5 hours, Esmera said to use this potion in certain conditions, such as going to the market or when you are being chased by something that could harm you.

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In the afternoon, as usual, you explore the forest with 1 white ferret and a wild deer. Of course you are in disguise, even though this forest is protected by Esmera's magic, you still have to be careful.

Walking enjoying the forest with your two friends on the path you usually take, only to find a man covered in a robe holding his injured stomach.

You who can't see injured people unconsciously approach the man,

"Hello?" you were surprised almost tripping when the man's face appeared in front of you, a handsome face, very exotic brown skin, and... his eyes that had a sharp structure that was bright gold shining.

You have never seen someone with such bright and beautiful eye color, unfortunately you are not aware that your eyes are also very bright and beautiful.

This is the first time you have interacted with someone other than Esmera and the Antrabeth Tribe, and you also don't know who this man is? And from what tribe. That doesn't matter, what's important now is to heal this man and ask him to leave here immediately.

"Go away! Leave me alone!" A harsh and mocking tone.

You don't like this man, okay face, very bad character. But you have the instinct to help others, obviously you won't let this man go just like that.

"I'll help you, in return please get out of here quickly."

The man just looked at you with a suspicious look, but he wasn't as rude as before.

You realized that Esmera would be here soon, and this man might die, because Esmera has a rule that men are destroyers, and they are not allowed to enter this forest.

You think of a quick way, 1 drop of your blood is enough to heal this man's wounds.

"Can you open your mouth?" Asking in a soft and friendly tone. You were only answered with a rough and arrogant voice again, seriously you are now thinking why is this man so arrogant and rude?.

"Why should I open my mouth?! My wound is in my stomach, not in my mouth!".

You dislike this man more and more, you know he suspects you but being rude is also not right and you also realize the two animals that come with you are moving more restlessly.

With one needle prick, you forcefully direct your index finger into the man's mouth, making him inevitably taste 1 drop of your blood.

The man, of course, was surprised and wanted to push you, but he stopped moving when he tasted your blood, blood usually smells like iron and has an unpleasant taste, but your blood, as sweet as nectar, has no iron smell at all.

You wipe your fingers on the man's robe, because there is his saliva left behind.

Then you stand up and say.

"Go immediately, don't ever come back"

Ride the wild deer and ferret that have stayed on your shoulder, you leave the golden-eyed man.

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The man just stares at you with a look that is difficult to interpret, then he lifts his shirt a little and sees, the stab wound in his stomach, slowly heals and leaves no scar at all, the man who feeling tired before, became fit and full of energy.

The man slowly stood up out of the forest, his mind still processing who are you?, how can blood heal a very deep and poisonous stab wound?. There were many questions in the man's mind.

The man walked and a few moments later, 2 other women and man came to the man's side bowing slightly.

"Your Highness, we have been looking for you, it is a relief to see you are okay" the women with a scar on her face spoke, with exotic skin too.

Then followed by a man who had blue eyes with exotic tan skin.

"The rebellion has succeeded your Highness, now all the Kurkans are waiting for you, Your Highness Ishakan".

The man... The King of the Kurkans, the new king of the Kurkans tribe, a tribe with animal blood, a tribe that has extraordinary physical abilities and looks, the King of the Kurkans tribe.

Combing his hair slowly, Ishakan only answered briefly to his two aides, Genin the women with a wound on her face, and Haban the man with blue eyes just stared at Ishakan in confusion.

Then Ishakan said.

"Have you two... ever heard of a case where blood can heal wounds in an instant?"

Haban and Genin just looked at each other. Genin as Ishakan's aide and right hand answered.

"I don't think there is any case like that and it sounds very unreal, your Highness".

Ishakan grinned and said.

"Too bad I just experienced it." Ishakan looked back into the dark forest covered in fog.

"I found something very interesting, a very interesting rabbit."

chuckling while grinning, Ishakan walked away followed by his two aides who just stared confusedly at the forest behind them and walked away, towards their kingdom, the large oasis at the western end of the continent.

Ishakan had found a figure that made his instincts scream ripples, the instinct to claim something that was rightfully his, his mate.

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*source Images : Pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Series.

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