#and the 3 headed dragon that resides in my mind as if i were its damn warlock

[gaymars97]

I wish we had seen more of Athenas

I wish we had more on Dido than her relationship with T*phon

I think Athenas should have more populations out of the monastery where theres alot of more rebellious folks who want change in the system

There should be more eridian ruins and finally…

Stormbringer is canon to me�� idc…

Look at this beautiful planet, i sure hope it isnt governed by asshole pieces of shit, that theres only 3 cool characters about this planet (Maya, Ava and Dido <- listen this makes sense if you know me) and that its vault monster isnt from a canadian autistic 17 year old’s wild imagination…

[dollfaced-erin]

𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕠𝕟'𝕤 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕖 (Blade x F!Reader x Jing Yuan)

PART 11

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10

A/n : - I thought we had too little Jing Yuan, so here, I'm giving you some bits to enjoy heheheh though its a little angstyyy Honest question though, should (Y/n) really in between Blade and Jing Yuan ? I mean, I dont mind a full blown harem kalsdjlka

Taglist : -

@rebeccawinters , @nayukiyukihira , @pix-stuff , @fluffy-koalala , @swivy123 , @starxao , @kaoyamamegami , @kimura-uzuri , @rsvye , @seikouryuu , @just-here-reading , @matsulovesyou, @sincerely-aaronette , @prettyliliy , @chibiduck , @hermosacolibri , @la-diablas-thingz , @farelady-fate , @everi-eve , @shadowfoxey

As (Y/n) was busy trying to push away her own thoughts and Bailu's worrying, suddenly she was approached by an individual from behind. (Y/n) looked up to see the blanked face trailblazer looking at her.

"Lady (Y/n), Dahao asked me to bring you with us to the Realm-Keeping Commission. He said there is something you must hear." Stelle said, looking straight at (Y/n) with her golden eyes.

"A-ah, alright." (Y/n) said, her embarrassment washing off and she calmed down. Bailu whined, hoping that (Y/n) didn't have to go, but what choice did (Y/n) have, right ?

It must be important if they're looking for to join the Astral Express team, who were requested by the General himself.

So (Y/n) nodded and got up, bidding farewell to reluctant Bailu. She promised to buy Bailu some snacks next time and Bailu immediately brightened up and nodded, waving off the older Vidyadhara more cheerfully.

"Ah, Lady (Y/n). You're here too," the older man said, looking at (Y/n) as Stelle brought her into the Realm-Keeping Commission. The rest of the team were already there, so it seems like Stelle was the last of them to arrive to go get (Y/n).

"Yes…sorry I'm late." (Y/n) said, bowing her head a little before being dismissed by the Realm-Keeping Commission officer.

"No, no ! My Lady, you were of great help in helping the Dragon Lady to suppress the Mara-struck, even going as far as to assist in combat. The General will hear of this." Dahao said, as if quite flustered by the appearance of the lady even though it was him who had called her over.

"My Lady…? Is Lady (Y/n) another big shot ?" March asked, looking at (Y/n). To which (Y/n) of course shook her head.

"No. I am just but another resident of the Xianzhou Luofu, the same species as Miss Bailu," (Y/n) said modestly, and honestly, not even bothering to look at the group that had turned to look at the horned woman. "I was…just someone highly regarded in the distant past."

"O-oh…"

Dahao coughed into his fist, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. "As I'm sure you're aware, symptoms of Mara have been spreading ever since the Stellaron incident occurred."

"Thanks to the Ten-Lords Commission, had long since become a terrifying but avoidable fate for the Xianzhou Natives…The puzzling thing is that despite the Commission's protection, we're now seeing an increase…" Dahao explained to the Trailblazers, and (Y/n) herself.

"More and more clients -- in particular those dealing with great risks and stress like the Cloud Knights -- are becoming stricken with Mara." Dahao said with a heavy sigh, a hand to his head as if wondering where everything had gone wrong, though the answer was much clear.

"Moreover, the Mara-struck have taken on a horrifying appearance -- as they're turning into some sort of monster… This certainly differs from what I thought I knew about the illness…" Dahao continued, and (Y/n) frowned.

"The mutations are worse than what I remembered. Back then…the monsters were exactly like this, but only those who ere directly affected by the Plagues Author. Not the ones with mere…spores in them." (Y/n) said, recalling of what little memory she had of the times that were said to be the most glorious but most disastrous for the entire Luofu.

"You…you've seen the Plagues Author…?" March asked and in the back she heard Stelle say ; "For real ?"

"No. I've never seen them…" (Y/n) said and she looked to Dahao for help on explaining her situation. And Dahao laughed softly, as (Y/n) looked at him like a little kitten, even though she was as proud just now.

"(Y/n) here…is one of the expert doctors. A veteran with knowledge of old. She had just went through an accident and is slowly trying to regain her memories, so far she had shown some signs of regaining those memories." Dahao said simply and (Y/n) nodded in confirmation.

There was too much about her, too little time to tell. And she was feeling quite insecure about telling everyone how old she actually is and how long she's been asleep. Even though it technically wasn't her fault.

"Oh, I got this paper from one of the Mara-struck soldiers." Stelle said, handing out a paper with writing on it, looking like a prescription.

Dahao read it for a moment and his expression reflects disbelief from what he was reading. He immediately calls over (Y/n) with a wave of his hand, the horned woman came to his side. She leaned over his shoulder to try read out what was given, and her eyes widened.

Even for a woman that had just woken up from her slumber, she was familiar with the words etched on the thin piece of paper. It was much known to all Xianzhou residents.

The history that had the Xianzhou in peril thousands of years ago, the reason for her incomplete rest.

"This...where did you get this ?" (Y/n) exclaimed, looking up at Stelle with surprise.

"I got it when we fought a Mara-struck soldier when we first came here. I thought that since we're in an archive, you might know of this." Stelle said, looking completely innocent.

"Isn't this...a cure for Mara...?" Stelle asked, regarding the letter in (Y/n)'s hands. And the dragon woman shook her head and turned to look at Dahao.

"This is beyond the matters of the Realm-Keeping Commission, Lady (Y/n). You should contact the Seat of Divine Foresight about this matter..." Dahao said gravely and (Y/n) nodded, taking out her phone.

"I think I should call Jing Yuan about this...this is...something the Ten-Lords Commission should jurisdictate..." (Y/n) said as she walked away into the archives to have some privacy.

"Princess ? I wasn't expecting a call from you. Is something the matter ?" Jing Yuan's gentle voice flowed from the device and to her ear.

"Jing Yuan...sorry to bother you. It's urgent..." (Y/n) said, a little guilt in her voice.

"Anything for you, princess. Now tell me, what is it that has you so ruffled up, hm?" "Stelle handed us a letter disguised as a prescription letter, but the contents...were about one of the Seven Unpardonable Sins..."

"I see. It is indeed a grave situation you're faring with there, (Y/n)." he said seriously, all manner of playfulness missing. "Unfortunately, I'm on the way with a meeting with Ten-Lords Commission, so I am unable to personally asses the circumstances."

"But fret not. I will be sending Qingzu in my place. She should know what to do." Jing Yuan said warmly, his voice light with a little smile from his end.

"Thank you, Jing Yuan..." (Y/n) said with a soft sigh.

"You make sure you keep yourself safe, alright, my Moon ?" (Y/n) heard from the other end, causing her cheeks to heat up for some unknown reason.

"Y-yes. I promise, Jing Yuan..." (Y/n) she said softly, ending the call with a small smile of her own.

He knew it was wrong.

But he couldn't help himself.

She was the lover of his friend.

And fate ripped them apart before they could manage to properly tie the red string of fate to each other. After all, they were the infamous star-crossed lovers, tales of woe being sung by the Vidyadhara people.

The Moon Dancer and The Craftsman.

Or known to him as Dan Jia and Yingxing.

Jing Yuan stared at the device in his hands, a frown on his lips.

Was it selfish of him to want her to stay ?

Was it selfish of him to want a companion who had somewhat memory of their glorious past ? A friend who used to know him and still knows him.

Was it wrong of him to think this way when he let go of his once-dear friend into the night to reunite with the love of his life...?

Jing Yuan wondered if they have met yet...?

He just hoped...that maybe she could give him a chance too...

The Dragon Lady was always someone that was admired by eyes of all ages, species and genders. She was a shy, gentle, polite soul, the opposite of her cold, harsh and arrogant older brother.

"Yuan !" the female would call out. She was young, with vibrant (e/c) eyes and clear skin, and lovely (h/c) hair embedded with flowers or accessories. She was neither young nor old, neither a girl nor a woman. She was in between.

"Lady Dan Jia !" the teenage lieutenant would call out, just as he would everyday after he trained. He would set down his weapon, and come running towards the Saltator Lunae who waved happily at him.

Unlike with Dan Feng who had known since his knight years, he had come to know this young lady when he was already lieutenant. Dan Feng thought that she wasn't yet ready to meet with the others.

Since the first time he had set eyes on the beautiful lady, he was awestruck. The shy way she averted her eyes when they first met, the softness and timidness in her voice, now had changed into warm gazes from her (e/c) eyes, and a bright smile forming on her lips.

Though young, he wasn't stupid enough to realize the feelings in him. The thumping of his heart whenever he saw her, the way he would instantly turn whenever he heard her voice, the pique of interest whenever she was mentioned.

Though young, he knew that he was in love with the sister High Elder of the Luofu.

Though young, he understood the cracking feeling in his chest when he heard his crush to be wed to one of his older friends. A more capable and astounding young man, the master of the Furnace of Creation. He smiled bitterly when he saw the two present their rings upon agreeing to tie the knot.

Though young, he knew that he harbored deep jealousy towards his own friend that took away his light.

Though young, he accepted the shattering feeling in his chest when he held the cold, barely living, body in his arms as he returned her to the Vidyadhara egg beneath the sea. The Pearl Keepers were kind enough to allow the General to carry her to the depths meant for her species.

Though mature, he knew that he could never forget the feelings he had for her, albeit unrequited.

With a final gift to her, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead, for the first and last time as tears ran down his cheeks.

Or so he thought.

Imagine his joy when the Pearl cracked, releasing the same woman he loved for years from its walls. He cried in joy, holding her close to his chest, pushing away the worried eyes of the Pearl keepers and Elders around him.

She was still here.

He still had a chance to make things right.

For years he watched over her, never finding it a pain to visit her sleeping body, until the day she opened her eyes. He would tell her about his days, the little grumbles he voiced out from his job in the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Imagine his joy when her eyes finally opened. Though she called herself (Y/n), it was still her.

And he'd still love her either way.

"Are you alright with letting her out of your sight ? She's still quite frail." Yanqing said as he looked up to his master.

"Yes. She'll be perfectly fine." Jing Yuan said with a small smile. "A bird should never be caged, and to let it fly free. The same goes to her. Should I not let her roam the ship ? Let her walk around, take in sights, meet people and learn new things. At least...I can still take care of her from afar."

"I am not as powerless as I was back then." Jing Yuan said with a soft chuckle, making Yanqing perk his head in curiosity, but decided against asking.

"It's alright. I want to let her roam free a little. Then, I'll need her to join me in a few tasks." the lion said, before turning to face his retainer.

"Come, Yanqing. There are matters to settle." he said, before walking off.

[atornpage]

trying to get back into writing so have some of the game of thrones au i had started on my old blog.

the dragon and the wolf part 1 the dragon and the wolf part 3

this would technically be part 2, i suppose.

1.3k words of mess (cw: alcohol, not how the force is used possibly)

The weather in Tatooine was different than anything Obi-Wan was used to. Standing on the balcony attached to his chambers, he looked out over the capital city of Mos Espa, the lights in the tan-colored homes of its residents beginning to flick on as twilight settled in. The air was hotter and dryer than his kingdom, and instead of the lush greens he had grown up with, sand and rock covered almost all the land, with only pockets of green and blue gathered here and there. For over a month, he looked at this view and decided that while it wasn't home, it was beautiful. 

There were many beautiful things in Tatooine. 

The bond flickered at the back of his mind, still new and fresh. Obi-Wan toyed with its edge, running over the threads that created the bridge between his mind and Prince Anakin's. On the other side, he sensed the other man's tiredness and weariness, but at least, with time and practice, these foreign emotions had grown less overwhelming and more... natural, as if they were Obi-Wan's own. They may have been, given that he was knee-deep in a war he'd rather not have been in, but he was seeking justice. 

The first few days of the bond had been a struggle; his mind pressed with unfamiliar emotions and thoughts and the overwhelming presence of another's potent Force signature. Even the Jedi Healers had been perplexed. While the Kingdom of the Jedi was renowned for its Force-wielders, many lived beyond its borders. Some, like Anakin, were exceptionally gifted. The Prince had always known of his Force-sensitivity—they never would have suggested the bond otherwise—but the extent of his power had taken everyone by surprise. Bound together, Obi-Wan saw him clearly in the Force, a radiant and formidable presence.

Across the dunes, the sun dipped lower until only the lights from the surrounding homes pushed away the darkness.

Obi-Wan turned away from the balcony and headed back into the bedroom. Some hours earlier, he had shed his armor and settled in his under tunics as the heat had risen during midday. He felt restless, the urge to be on the move, a feeling he never thought he would get used to, but now, it seemed second nature. He had eaten the late meal with his troops today, mulling about their tents as he chatted with Quinlan and Mace about potential strategies—they had spent so much time perfecting them while in Tatooine, Obi-Wan wondered how much they were overthinking and where, perhaps, they weren't thinking enough; the Force had been particularly quiet regarding the future—but now everyone had retired to their chambers, and he had no desire to remain here. 

Making his decision, he crossed through the rooms he had been given and pulled up the main door, stepping out into a dimly lit hallway. Despite technological advances, the palace seemed to enjoy utilizing fire as a light source. 

"Your Grace." 

Obi-Wan smiled, reaching out in the Force for the familiar presence, and closed the door. "Hello, Cody," he said knowingly, turning to face the man who stood guard outside his door. He had given up trying to get the man to call him by name. 

"And where might you be sneaking off to, your Grace?"

"Now, now, there was no sneaking involved," Obi-Wan protested. "I merely needed to stretch my legs."

"Of course," Cody answered. "I'll escort you."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Cody, my good man, that is unnecessary," he answered. "I promise I'm safe in the palace. You should spend time with the men. They have a rather interesting new drinking game."

Cody smirked at the man. "And you would know this how, your Grace?"

"I am very attuned to those that are under my charge."

"Waxer got you to join in, didn't he?"

Late meal had been an exciting affair. "Perhaps," Obi-Wan answered reluctantly, walking down the corridor. 

Cody sighed and followed. The pair were silent as they walked. Obi-Wan hadn't had a destination in mind, and he let the Force guide him until they reached the solid doors of one of the common rooms, as it opened without any need for handprint or code. Inside, rows upon rows of holobooks shined a bright blue. 

"I think I'm fine, Cody, really," he said, turning back to his guard, who glanced around the room as if double-checking for threats. Obi-Wan pulled his commlink out from his trouser pocket, holding it up. "I promise I will comm if anything occurs." 

"Alright, your Grace," Cody reluctantly answered, still eying the room. I expect you to check in."

"Of course, Cody."

Having sent Cody on his way, Obi-Wan continued into the library, his hand drifting along the shelves as he paused now and again to take in the titles. There were plenty he had never heard of. There was a slight tug in the Force, and he followed it deeper into the library, moving from one room to the next until he had reached the last. A fire was burning in the old-fashioned sandstone fireplace, giving off light and warming the room, which was beginning to chill now that the sun had set. Prince Anakin was sprawled comfortably in a chair across from the fire, his tunic open at the chest as he drank some dark liquid from a crystal glass. He didn't seem surprised to see Obi-Wan standing there, smiling slightly at him as Obi-Wan felt a flutter of happiness and contentment spread across the bond.

"Your Highness," Obi-Wan greeted, stepping further into the room.

"Your Grace," Prince Anakin answered.

Obi-Wan grimaced. It felt wrong for that title to be used by someone who was true royalty. "Please call me Obi-Wan," he said. "None of that king business, not from you." 

Prince Anakin's smile widened, and Obi-Wan felt himself relax. It was a beautiful smile. "Alright then," the Prince answered slowly. "If you're going to be just Obi-Wan, then I'm just Anakin." The other man took a sip from his drink before standing. "Care to join me?" He refilled his glass from a small tray table in the corner and pulled another for Obi-Wan, the same liquid sloshing across the smooth crystal surface. 

"I would be happy to," he answered, moving to claim the seat across from the one the Prince—Anakin—had just vacated, and he accepted the glass as it was handed to him. Anakin returned to his seat with a huff. 

"You're a reader, aren't you?" Anakin asked, his eyes fixating on Obi-Wan. 

"Pardon?" 

Anakin waved a hand at the door leading to the other rooms. "When you entered," he started, "I felt your excitement at seeing all the books over the bond." 

"Well, you have an impressive library," Obi-Wan answered. "But yes, I suppose I am. I was always more interested in researching something in our Archives than anything else." 

Anakin studied him for a moment and nodded. "I can see that." 

"I take it you're the opposite?"

The Prince shrugged. "I was always more of a physical activity type—training, dragon-riding." 

"Now that I can see," Obi-Wan mimicked, taking a sip from his drink and savoring the taste of the smooth alcohol as it slid across his tongue. He moaned a little, eyes slipping shut just a little. 

There was a crackle across the bond, and he opened his eyes to see Anakin staring intently at him. The room seemed to grow warmer in a way that wasn't from the fire before them. In the month since Obi-Wan had arrived, they had never been alone together, always with one of their advisors or a Jedi Healer, but Obi-Wan would have had to have been blind not to notice the beauty of Prince Anakin Skywalker. Blind and a fool. 

Obi-Wan took a healthy sip of the alcohol. 

Hesitantly, he reached out with his Force signature and gently brushed against the other man's. It was like a dam being torn open as Anakin's signature raced to meet his, wrapping around his own like the creature that flew through the skies, and Obi-Wan felt himself falling into the warmth of that signature.

Perhaps a fool was more appropriate.

[kyanitegem]

👁️👁️❓

Hi hewwo hi you've activated the OC infodumping session!

Theres quite a few of them so I'll just throw the big deal ones at you as an introduction!

I will give a quick content warning for body horror and blood for some of the images. those are at the end when im showing off my favourite oc

First up are the main group from my original OC world, the very originals for my cast of many morons who run around in my head rent free 24/7 365

Aurora, Avry, Jessi, Lusikka, Amaris, and Wrath

Aurora was the first oc out of all of them! She started out as my fursona back when i was starting to be online regularly, now though im well past that since Arty borty here has well since become her own character rather than just me but furry

Aurora is a Fennec Lyotternx, otherwise known as a furred folk Chimera in the oc's world. It simply means both her parents were a mix of some form so she's roughly 1/3 fennec fox, 1/3 lynx and 1/3 otter. She come form a long line of furred folk who protect a large forested area outside of a small town called Cedar Creek. She's also a magic user! She uses Phytomancy - plant magic. Though she's not great at it.

Avry Rayne is in fact my daughter i love her so so so much she's great! one of The Big Three ocs who are constantly on my mind at any given moment (you'll see the other two soon). if I were to actually take the time to write anything out for this group of ocs she's probably the closest to a main character. In a setting full of furries, mythical creatures, modern day magic etc etc She got the short end of the stick. literally nothing magic or supernatural wise. She's just you're regular ol average person trying to survive fighting a literal demon of shadow taking over the world for her own amusement. She's got mommy issues and is head over heels for her best friend, Jessi.

Jessi is the resident shapeshifter which Ive done some worldbuilding on and posted about awhile back here and probably the most level headed of the three. She certainly has her head on straight more or less. She's strongly tied to dragons which are a critically endangered species in this world. Jess is part shapeshifter and part werecreature- specifically a weredragon. Due to the fact she can't control it, her shapechange on the fullmoon resembles more the wolfman style of werewolves than just a straight change to the animal itself. The fact she can't control it is one of her biggest fears and around the time of a full moon she'll run off deep into the forest to get as far away from humanity as possible, hoping to lessen the chance of the weredragon hunting anyone she cares about.

Amaris is the shadow demon who is causing problems on purpose for fun. She revels in chaos and wants to see the world turn to absolute madness. in this world she is the source of all your sleep paralysis demon stories. She's actually an entity from another dimension who was cast out for an attempted hostile takeover of her home realm. She has complete control over shadows, to the extent that she has her own sort of backrooms esque shadow passages she uses to get around quickly. So long as she can fit through a shadow she can essentially teleport through it. Its not that hard for her to fit through things though. the small stature of 4'9" helps a bit.

Wrath meanwhile is whats known as an Incarnate. Incarnates are the physical manifestation of concepts and ideas. So like how we imagine Death as a skeleton in black robes with a scythe would be considered an incarnate in this world. There's only one of Each emotion and as we can guess, Wrath is anger incarnate. She's found herself working with Amaris to help spread chaos and destruction around the world after the shadow demon broke her free of her confinement by the Emotion Manifestation Obtainment organization (E.M.O for short) Wrath is a living weapon essentially and can't die so long as something out there can experience anger. Her limbs can shapeshift into any melee weapon and she gets stronger the more things around her experience her emotion. This can backfire though and she can get overloaded with anger and quite literally explode, having to reform her physical body at a later point.

Lusikka is a petty thief who has a lot of issues. She's an orphan who took to shoplifting for attention and well turned out she got really good at it. She's the leader of a group known as the silverware trio and uses a giant spoon to fight with, as silly as that sounds. She and the other two (Forcella and Kiridashi) started as a team of supervillians in their own world where they had a rogues gallery of food themed heroes who kept trying to foil their plans. This is where Lusi's dislike for tacos comes from. Now its just because she can't handle spice at all. She gets better and ends up with a wife and kids and she loves them so very much.

She still can't stand Avry being obnoxious though. something something shortest temper imaginable.

moving on from that setting,

BLAIR! Blair Daniels-Anderson my beloved! Another one of The Big Three who are ever present. She's my far cry 5 player character and she has like the most stereotypically country song background story imaginable. its fitting for her and her terminal yeehaw brainworms.

Anyways, Blair's first wife divorces her, takes the house and the car and here she is planning to move back home to Calgary to pick up the pieces and then she gets stuck dealing with a religious cult and stuck in hope county Montana where she continues to have a bad time alongside @rainydaze-rhys 's OC Rook. (Rhys if you're reading this hi hewwo hi bestie!)

I Love the wives very much

and of course, we have the scifi setting thats also created with Rainydaze. while theres a spaceship crew of 12 and six of them are mine, you'll find that THE BLORBO of all time resides here.

Meet Colby! I love her, she has many much issues and is named after 3 different cheeses!

yes THIS is the one that has my brain in a chokehold. she is the one who's CONSTANTLY being rotated in the brain like a rotisserie chicken.

Colby grew up on Saturn's moon Titan dreaming of being able to see the universe. She joins the MIRA crewmate system and works on the Skeld ship as the ship's cook. They end up infected with a symbiotic alien parasite that shows up as all kinds of body horror on them. They're inspired by The Thing from the movie... well... The THING.

so like Colby gets their want to explore the universe but it comes at the cost of being permanently infested with an alien parasite that can and will do anything to make sure it and its host survive, which includes eating people. of course the crew has a medical scanner for respawning purposes so they're fine. but there sure do be a LOT of murdering from everyone on this ship.

She also ends up dating the ships medical AI who is an evil scientist and i love her very much also. incredibly normal about both Colby and their GF, Micah, who belongs to Rainydaze-Rhys.

heres more art of the blorbo of all time!!!

Your honour, She is stupidt

[vollzz]

new chapter just dropped for Diverging Paths of Heart, my chaptered eleonora/yura fic exploring them as dragon hunters. small snippet of chapter 3 is under the cut, and you can read the whole thing on my ao3. thanks for reading! :)

Perhaps we will cross paths again, should the grace will it to be.

That word, grace, had wormed its way into Eleonora’s thoughts. It burrowed, a near-constant presence reverberating throughout her mind as she finally set sight on the distant light of a settlement glistening within the darkened horizon.

“You tread on ever-thinning ground, Eleonora. The Land of Reeds is your lifeblood. Do not tarnish the years honing your razor’s edge. This is your life, your eternity. We bloom from blood-soaked soil and one day water it with our own.”

“But I don’t want to-”

“There is no want. We do what we need to reclaim what we have lost. Such speak is the language of exiles.”

Her memory still felt as though a thick layer of fog lingered above everything, obscuring more than the bits and pieces that dared stick through. Eleonora knew deep in her bones that she’d been sent here as an outcast, and there was something about grace involved, but she still struggled to glean anything beyond that.

That mystery could continue as such until another time, when she had food in her stomach and a roof over her head.

It took another hour of travel but Eleonora finally found herself approaching the entrance to the town. It wasn’t anything particularly grand, and had a meager excuse of a boundary consisting of not much more than a row of tall wooden logs. They stood rather haphazardly, many of their pointed tips having broken off or otherwise wrecked, and a loud minority of them had fallen over completely. Looking past the sorry border, she glimpsed that the road she had been walking along continued straight through the town and made a sharp right turn once it hit grassy fields.

The town’s main road hosted a variety of small, rickety-looking stores with signs flaunting a variety of wares, weapons, armor, and food. It seemed that the residents’ homes all branched off of the main road, spread out within the confines of the town. There were very few souls roaming at this hour, though that was to be expected - it looked to be just before dawn.

A tall, pointed building caught Eleonora’s eye as she crossed the town’s threshold. Its facade was fashioned from a truly ridiculous amount of concrete and cobblestone, and an abundance of twisting vines creeping across it betrayed its old age. At the very top of its spire lay a hollowed-out section housing a large bell.

As she approached the building she was greeted by large, wooden doors fastened shut and a huge sculpture of a woman looking down upon her. It seemed as though she’d been crucified, but Eleonora noted the distinct lack of a cross behind her body. Two long braids framed her elegant face, which assessed her with what she hoped to be a warm smile.

---

dpoh tag list- (ask to be added for fic updates!)

@kourumi

[thedegu]

oc master list:

hey there i have a few posts with a few of my ocs but I've decided to put them all in one place. I've reused some text from previous posts but tweaked a few things

details under the cut

ttrpg blorbos

The characters I'm currently playing on rotation.

Omolale "Ale":

(they/he/she/it), Omolale is a mausraman (human subrace homebrew) binder (dnd 3.5 class), They're the old gods specialist little guy, but they really do not like being chosen for four different warring factions. They were put on this planet for a good time, not a long time, and are just baffled why so many people hold them up and say, "This is the dude (gender neutral) I want". Recently found out that they aren't even from the current universe they reside within and are just so in over their head when they want to just hang and get high and maybe smack some monsters for cash, but the multiverse seems to have other plans for them.

Madea:

(she/they/depends on what face she's wearing)A fiendish changling who was raised in a church (did not go well) has a totally normal relationship with the girl she was raised with and has very good coping mechanisms (this is sarcasm). Has so much fire magic and really can only cast fire magic. her highest stat is her charisma, which is 16, and her lowest is strength at 8. Girlfailure is doomed by the narrative and is just falling apart at the seams. Killed her shitty dad at least

Rossien Ted'otha Srylora of House Hollybush:

(he/him) an elf beaskin wizard from the ficcoria (basically the fairy country) who came from a lower-noble family and was blessed to be a bearskin, he looks like a large slender owl with humanoid proportions. He was the second born of four siblings, the second son of a matriarchal family, so once his sister was born, he was left to more or less be raised by his uncle. though that was not the least of his woes, as his family was attacked and he found himself outside of ficcoria accidentally, a one-way trip to anyone who knows. he did try to settle down and make a family of his own, getting married and starting school himself, but that ended with a messy divorce, and now he's somehow a part of an adventuring group with an insanity effect after looking at a cursed book for too long. he's doing fiiiiiiineeee

Tyblin Stonecutter:

(she/her) Tyblin Stonecutter is a reskin/homebrew of the genie Warlock combined with the drakewarden ranger, to make a dragon warlock (seriously WOTC why haven't you made one???), shes a goblin and I love her SOOOO MUCH YOU GUYS. She's just a little guy with a big stupid dog who's also a dragon that loves each other so much. She loves her mom and loves being an adventurer. her core personal quest is finding out who her dad is as she has a bit of a Mama-Mia! situation going on. it's my turn to play the dragon padlock! she's just a little goblin girl now <3

related: Lux

(she/he) Lux is a dragon who Tyblin accidentally summoned when she was tasked with translating some runes. He is Tyblin's best friend ever and loves her soooooo much. She's basically just a Big Dog that can talk and is also a nuclear warhead, but its okay because he loves everyone so much all of the time unless they're mean to Tyblin

npc blorbos

Because any dm has their favorites <3

Dorian:

(he/any) A brass dragon of Othos, he is dead now..... but that's okay, it was a natural death. before that, he was cursed to live as a human for a number of years, and his memories of being a dragon were wiped until one day, a group of adventures freed his mind and broke the curse. he was chill and ran a cool underground city, things are different without him around though....

Joan:

(she/her) Joan was one of my favorites to run. She's 18, she's 50, she's a spoiled brat, she's seen the horrors of war, she's an atheist who works directly for a goddess, she hates adventurers, her brother was an adventurer, she's dead, she kills undead for her job, her best friend is a dog, and she's even asexual. Now she's even more dead because the last vestige of the goddess animating her was destroyed. but the party got a cool undead dog out of it at least.

related: Caine

The previously described dog. A church grim older than the previous death goddess, the goodest boi.

Luna:

(she/her) a moon rabbit from Reath my modern magic setting. when the dark and light sides of the moon, her mother and father respectively, were waring she was sent to earth for protection, she was raised by humans and fell in love with a human before forcibly being returned to the moon. The stories say her memories were whipped when she returned home, but that was just a story to make the mortals feel more comfortable. Now, three hundred years later, she looks back at the earth and finds love again. Maybe a bit obsessively and unhealthily but she's learning. She's young compared to her sisters and parents, so she's a bit brash and bull-headed, but that's why we love her.

Onis:

(he/they) the god of anxiety storytelling. The newest god to join the pantheon of Nebdisc Onis has a lot to learn and is just way over his head. Look, it wasn't his fault he was a small-time fae who unintentionally gained a cult before all of the gods went missing, so once there was that power vacuum, he realistically had one of the biggest worshiping bases. he didn't know that was going to happen, and he needs people to stop asking him questions because he has just as much information as anyone else in this situation. Thank you very much. Thankfully, he has his emotional support personification of winter helping him out.

related: The North Wind

A giant boar who's (pun intended) very chill. Not quite a god but not anything else. The North Wind is the personification of winter, his siblings, the southern, eastern, and western winds control the seasons of the world of Othos. The first Force of Nature I designed, and I was not expecting to become such a huge part of the lore of Othos, but here we are! the first of seven named forces of nature but I'm sure I will design more. Well, seven if you don't count the animal kings, which are technically forces of nature but less so as their domains are less conceptual and more "all of horeses" VS. "spring" or "Entropy"

non-ttrpg related OCs

While most of these were once dnd OCs, they've more or less just turned into generic OCs due to the games they were designed for dyeing but I still like the characters

Alexander "Alex" Grosser

(he/him) oh, my problematic bbg, one of my oldest Ocs and the starting point for Reath, Alex, has always lived in the back of my brain. Alexander killed his father and watched his mother die, one of the most powerful magic users of his age and terrified of death. Obsessive and a genius, all of these ingredients combine to make someone who's destined to fly too close to the sun...

related:sol

(does not have a concept of gender but generally uses he/him) Alexander's familiar, a tome-bound family created by a wizard in the 15th century. He's only been bound to a handful of times because he's powerful and picky; with Alexandar, he's taken on the form of a snake-- the titular Sun Serpent. he is also very ambitious so I'm sure the two teaming up will defiantly be totally okay.

Blake and Annette

(he/him and she/her) a father-daughter duio that was made at the same time as the first rendition of Alex, when he was known as Rann. first designed during my Flipnote days, Blake and Anette are two dragons that are struggling to find a home-- both in their story and for me to find an appropriate world and narrative to place them in. I have like a LOT of Dragon OCs; they all live in a village together in my brain; these two are just their representatives because to list them all, this list would, no joke, be twice as long.

Brhit:

(he/they) now, THIS is my oldest OC. I made him in my childhood home in the basement after my friend told me about one piece (long story). He's been in basically every world I've created, and while he does now have a permanent home, I still want a proper story for my deer-bear-cat-creatue. Right now, he resides within the Somewhen Else, which is a metanarrative location- as while he cannot escape the fourth wall he is acutely aware of it and resigned to his lot in whatever life this is. he is aware that I am his sleeping godhead and he hates me personally for that :)

Clarabelle "Clara":

My fursona, she's a strawberry milk cow :)

Hunt:

(she/her) A tiefling paladin. She went through the horrors and instead of saving anyone, she chose to become worse and mentally unwell; mostly culminating in falling in love with a usurper death goddess and being totally normal about that, wanting to show the love of her goddess to anyone who will listen (by killing them). it is a mutual love though and both wait with baited breath until the day they can once again embrace.

Ida:

(she/her) a retired human werewolf adventurer. Before, She went out for milk (a cure to her lycanthropy) for a decade. Decided that she had enough control over her power to go back home and is not back to being a lesbian housewife <3 Also. She has a loving wife, a biological son whom she has a strained relationship with (see leaving for a decade), and an adopted tiefling son who she found on the side of the road and took home like a mangy dog.

Mauve Cornette:

Back to non-TTRPG OCs: Mauve (they/them) is a dragon of Reath with a hoard of books. In the modern day, they own a library/book store. They have a few employees and had a fling with a very powerful wizard a few years back. They are one of two hundred known dragons who are not in hibernation at this time. and they're real fans of humans! Friendly, outgoing, and a great host, Mauve has had some rough spots (see that fling with a powerful wizard), and even if they were erased from most people's memories, it's not like they care about all of that... nope nope nope not one bit! It's, not like they taught dragon time magic to a megalomaniac because they were in love! that's defiantly not a mistake they made.

Related: anna

my Reath self-insert, the person who is archiving all of the documents in Mauve's library, and the person who wrote the in-universe website that irl holds some of my Reath writings

Rupert Northcroft: (he/him)

(he/any) Rupert is a minotaur raised by humans. he comes from a noble family and, after his father's death, decides to go out on his own-- only after stealing a family heirloom (Sword). Found a cool snake guy and is now chillin' in the big city as an influencer. yes, surprise! Ruppert is a modern character! NOT Reath, an unspecified modern high magic setting. i wuv him

Xavia:

(she/her) my first ever ttrpg character!! my lovely goat girl was originally made in the ttrpg Tephra but has been ported to a number of systems because she lives rent-free in my head. tbh even for my first-ever ttrpg character, I think she's rather strong. probably in no small part she has had many rewrites and revamps over the years. Her story is she woke up in a basement with no idea of who she was, missing her right arm, her head mismatched to her body, goat legs sewn on as well as her horns, one horse eye and tail, and Autopsy scars on her chest. she stumbled out of that basement as a kid and eventually found herself as a watchmaker's apprentice, making herself a prosthetic and a few other bits and bobs-- mostly a gun. after the passing of her master, she ended up on the road looking for answers to her creation that are yet to be solved... (IE: I've never played her past session one)

[confused-red-head]

Dragon!Jotaro x Fem!reader

Masterlist

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Chapter 3: "Family Reunions"

Warnings: fantasy au, dragon!jotaro, violence, implied/mentioned minor character death, fem!reader, breaking and entering, cursing, yelling

Thank you to @helpimhyperfixating for beta reading for me and getting me into jjba! Please go check out her fics!❤️

Thank you to @ahoge-fish for allowing me to use some art from her Witcher!Jotaro AU as a reference for Jotaro's sword here! Please go check her out! She makes AMAZING art and hilarious scenerio comics between Jotaro and her adorable OC!

If you would like to see the art of Jotaro's sword, it's here!

Taglist: Open

Let me know if you want to be added to taglist!

I awoke to a tickle in my nose. Crinkling my face, I attempted to dispel the feeling and return to the land of dreams. Unfortunately, more sleep was not in the cards for me.

AAAAACHOO!

I rubbed my nose with the back of my hand as sleep seemed to wander further and further away, much to my disappointment.

Upon the realization that the room was much too quiet. Instead of chattering children, I hear the chirping of birds. I pry open my tired eyes, only to find myself in a bare, dust-filled room.

I racked my groggy mind, trying to recall where I am and how I got here. Thankfully, clarity soon made itself known as the memories of last night resurfaced.

I recalled escaping the orphanage. Found the hunters and freed a dragon. Learned that said dragon could talk, shape-shift into a man, and was named Jotaro. Traveled to the house with said Dragon. Lastly, I collapsed into this dusty, old bed as all of the exhaustion from the night finally caught up to me.

It all felt surreal. For a moment, I almost believed it was all a dream, but the memories were all too real.

I swung my legs off of the rickety, old bed, stretching a bit before slipping on my boots. Leaving the room, I spied Jotaro slouched over in a chair next to the front door with his hat tipped forward. Squinting a bit, I noticed his breathing was regular

A mischievous smile grew onto my face as I quietly strode over to the dragon-man's large figure. Once by his side, I leaned over to his eye level.

"It's about damn time you woke up.", I spoke, trying to mimic the man's own baritone voice.

I heard a groan as Jotaro lifted his head, clearly unhappy with the disturbance.

"Don't you know never to wake a sleeping dragon?"

"I do, in fact, but you were either already waking up or never slept in the first place. Am I correct?"

Jotaro narrowed his eyes at my small deduction, clearly disgruntled at the fact I could easily read the situation.

"Forgive me, but you clearly aren't someone to easily let your guard down. Leading me to believe you were guarding the door the whole night. With each snap of a twig and the cry of an animal would have left you alert all night, wouldn't it?"

Jotaro only grunted in response, which I took as confirmation. I turn around with a nod.

"Well, since I'm no longer on the brink of collapsing, I'm going to grab what I came here for."

I approach a writing desk nestled next to a large bookshelf and a landscape painting hanging above. I clamber onto the desk and lift the painting from off the wall to reveal a hole in the wall. Within the hole held a few large leather bound books, a pouch of coins, and various other seeming useless nicknacks.

"What the hell is this place?", the male's question sounded more like a demand as I heard his footsteps from behind me.

"My childhood home... or one of them at least. My father and I moved around a lot. For what reason, I do not know. This house was the last one we resided in, until he whisked me off to the orphanage." I reached for one one of the books and dust off the cover, skimming the contents.

The dragon-man only grunted as I took the coin pouch and five books out of the hidey-hole, the fifth containing a singular loose ribbon, seemingly used as a bookmark. I pluck the ribbon from its place, thinking of another use for the strip of fabric.

I climbed down from the table's surface, having gathered what I was looking for.

I could practically feel Jotaro's sharp eyes digging into my back with intense curiosity and wariness.

"If you're so curious you can just ask. They were written by my father." Without looking, I picked up one book and handed it to Jotaro.

He took the book with a wary look.

"Avalon?"

Jotaro flipped through the book, reading excerpts about Avalon: The City of Legend. Avalon itself was supposedly a symbol of unity between man and dragon. The city was believed to simply be a myth, just another fairytale told to children. After years of war and hatred, the tale fell into obscurity.

"Hm? Oh yeah. He was uh... kinda obsessed.", I kept my response relatively short, not wanting to talk about it.

Jotaro only grunted in response. I appreciated that he kept it at that. Most would be asking many questions or spewing criticisms.

"Right...", I cleared my throat in an attempt to disperse the uncomfortable air. "Well, I got what I got what I came here fo-"

"Shut up"

"What are you-"

"I said shut up.", Jotaro growled a bit and latched his gloved hand over my mouth.

I was baffled by his sudden interruption, but realized his focus wasn't on me, it was on the front door.

"I hear voices.", he spoke in a hushed tone.

I didn't hear anything myself just yet. He took his hand off my mouth and set it onto my shoulder, urging me to move to the side of the door. He drew his sword and pressed his ear to the wall.

I stepped back to give him some more room, when I heard the floorboard creak under my weight. I quietly lean down to lift the floorboard to find a small cache of weapons.

'I guess hiding things beneath the floorboards is a family trait...'

All the while I begin to hear muffled voices approaching the house.

"This is it."

"Are you sure?"

"It has to be."

Jotaro stiffened hearing two gruff male voices. He tightened his grip on the blade as the door jiggle.

"Damn it! It's locked."

"Allow me."

Clicking noises were heard coming from the lock, Jotaro took this moment to adjust himself into a defensive position. Then... the clicking halts.

The door swings open and Jotaro lifts his blade in case of attack as a figure crosses the threshold.

...

"JOTARO?!"

"Gramps?"

Both males stood there frozen in shock. Jotaro lowered his blade, recognizing the stranger as his grandfather. The man had slightly tanned pale skin, trimmed, gray hair and surprisingly vibrant green eyes. He wore a brown doublet with a cream undershirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His tan pants were tucked into brown boots he wore.

"Aren't you supposed to be on another continent?"

"Now, Jotaro, that's no way to greet your grandfather!"

PEW

CRACK

Suddenly, a bolt shoots out, headed directly toward "Gramps", before it was caught mid-air by a ghostly purple hand and snapped in two.

The bewildered men's eyes snapped towards me and I looked down equally shocked... to the rusted crossbow I was holding.

"Why the hell do you have a goddamn crossbow?!", Jotaro growled low and threateningly.

"Uhhh.... better yet, why don't YOU have a crossbow, Jotaro!"

Jotaro's eyes narrowed and his scowl deepened. I quickly broke under his glare.

"Look! I'm sorry the stupid, fucking latch broke, but I wasn't going to just sit here with nothing to defend myself with! I'm not just going to depend on you for everything!", I threw the now broken crossbow to the side as a small sign of submission.

"You could have killed someone with that thing, you dumb bitch!"

"THAT'S THE POINT OF A CROSSBOW, YOU FUCKING ASSHAT!"

Jotaro and I glared at each other when the tension was suddenly broken with a boisterous laugh.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Ahhh... Jotaro, your mother never told me you had a beloved! You two almost remind me of my wife and I when we were young!", the old man strode over to us.

"HEH?!"

"It's not like that, you senile old man.", Jotaro gave an irritated grunt. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

I practically saw the gears turning in his head.

"Ah! That's right! Avdol! The coast is clear! Come on in!"

At that, a dark-skinned man entered the house. He wore a long, orange robe with a thin, beige doublet, similarly colored pants and short brown boots. Although, what stood out most was the large, golden earrings that connected into a single piece that could easily be mistaken for a necklace at first glance.

Avdol strode over to the three of us as Jotaro's grandfather began introductions.

"Avdol, this is my grandson, Jotaro, and his... companion... excuse me I don't think I ever got a name, young lady."

"Oh uh... it's... it's Y/n.", I stumbled over my words, still reeling over the previous tense situation.

"It's good to meet you! I'm Joseph Joestar! Jotaro's grandfather!"

Jotaro pinched his hat, tipping it forward and muttering a 'good grief' under his breath. Ignoring his grandson's reaction, Mr.Joestar turned to Avdol.

"And this is a friend of mine I met in my travels."

The man in orange robe steps up to introduce himself, "I'm Muhammad Avdol, It's a pleasure to meet you."

Avdol gave you both a polite bow as a greeting.

I straightened up a bit, feeling a tad more confident.

"It's nice to meet you both! I um... I'm sorry about the crossbow... I thought you were hunters..."

A confused look crossed Mr.Joestar's face, "Hunters?! You were being hunted down?"

"We'll get to that. Why are you here?", Jotaro wasted no time in getting back to the conversation at hand.

"Right..." Mr. Joestar's suddenly became much more serious. "I have reason to believe we are all in serious danger. Our family, especially."

"What the hell do you mean by that?", Jotaro tensed up and spoke lowly.

Mr. Joestar closed his eyes in thought.

"To explain, I'll have to start from the beginning. Take a look.", he pulled out an old, waterlogged journal and handed it to Jotaro, who took it in return.

I peeked at the journal the best I can, only catching a glimpse of drawings and script.

"That is a record of a hollow coffin found aboard an empty vessel floating amongst the sea, not far from where my grandfather was killed defeating his nemesis and evil incarnate, Dio.", as Mr.Joestar's speech went on, the more furious he sounded. "Or so we thought. We fear Dio has returned, and not only that...", he reached into his pocket to pull out a small book. He flipped open the book to show the blank pages and tore a page from the book. For a moment the page remained blank but soon an image appeared. The page presented a drawing of a sinister looking man with his back turned and a star mark on his shoulder.

"He's stolen the body of my grandfather! Jonathan Joestar!"

I was in disbelief. This all sounded as if it came out of an epic tale. Never in my wildest dreams would expect myself to even have a minor role in. I found myself lost in my own thoughts as I heard only snippets of Mr.Joestar's speech. Some things about "stands", "dio", and "birthmarks". I almost felt like I had never woken up in the first place and this was all some sort of strange dream.

'This... is turning out to be an incredibly strange turn of events...'

I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I looked up to lock eyes with Avdol as he smiled gently.

"It's alright if you don't understand, Y/n. It can be quite confusing at first."

I felt my head clear a bit as I took in a breath and sighed.

"Thank you... Mr. Avdol, was it?"

Avdol nodded in confirmation.

"Avdol, is just fine. Would you like a ride to town? It wouldn't sit well leaving a young girl here, so far out in the woods."

Before I could even answer, another voice spoke up.

"She's coming with us to the haven."

Both men were surprised at Jotaro's statement.

"She has a dragon's oath. It would be dangerous to let her stay here, so I intend to return her to whoever she belongs to.", Jotaro elaborated, allowing the two older men's faces to fall from surprise to something of understanding.

"You talk like I'm some lost child..."

"If you don't want to be seen as a lost child, then don't act like one."

Mr.Joestar held a fist to his lips in an attempt to stifle a chuckle, while Avdol turned to me again.

"Are you alright with this?", Avdol's eyes showed concern, looking for confirmation in mine.

"Yes, this is fine. I didn't have much else planned after coming here. Besides... I have a lot of questions and if I can find who gave away this dragon's oath, perhaps I can get some answers.", I smiled in an attempt to ease Avdol's concern.

Avdol nodded and smiled in return.

"Alright! Well since that's dealt with, we need to head out. I suggest you gather all you need as quickly as possible and we'll meet you by the wagon.", Mr.Joestar announced as he turned to leave the household, both Jotaro and Avdol following suit.

I grab my pack and satchel from the bedroom, remembering one thing I wanted to do before leaving.

"If you don't mind just... just give me a moment. I have to do one last thing before we go...", I compiled the books and coin purse into my pack, slipping it onto my back.

I leave the building, turning the corner and make my way to the back of the house. I traversed through some thicket to an alcove of trees, plucking a bouquet of wildflowers along the way. I binded the wildflower bouquet with the ribbon I obtained and approached a lone stone slab.

"It's been a while..." I lower myself to sit on my knees before the slab and rest the bouquet down on the ground. " I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, but they would never let me leave the town let alone the orphanage. I'm sure you know... sometimes it felt like you were there. But... I'm here now. Although, I'm sorry I can't stay long. I promise I'll come back to visit after I get some answers. I just wanted to visit you while I had the chance... I hope you like the flowers."

I sat there for a few more minutes as l felt eyes boring holes into my back. I finally stand and dust off my dress.

"... Goodbye, Mother."

I turned back to the way I came from and saw a familiar, dark figure leaning against a tree. I began trudging toward the figure, making my way through the thicket once again.

"I know you don't trust me, but I just want to remind you I want to know whose oath this is just as much as you do."

Jotaro didn't say anything as I walked past him. He just stared at the eroded stone slab with my mother's name carved into it. I ignored his lack of response and continued towards the wagon.

'Things just keep getting stranger and stranger...'

Author's note: So this chapter took a bit longer than the first two. I didn't exactly have a clear image for what I wanted. I had to take breaks from it multiple times in order to figure out what I wanted and because of that I fear that this chapter might be a tad choppy. Choppy Chapter. Fortunately, after finishing this I have a clear image for chapter 4!

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Can I request some hc of everyone meeting DreamXD's child(reader)?

Reader isn't adopted, they're created by DreamXD. Like building a iron golem or a snow golem, XD created Reader with Ender Stone as body, pumpkin as head, and Ender Eye stuffed in the pumpkin, this is how reader born.

They don't looks a lot like XD, but they do dressed like XD and also have creative mode and op power.

XD raise reader in The End. As god-like creatures, this two don't need to speak or do anything to understand what's another thinking, so the reader is generally silence, they don't know how to speak any language.

One day XD finally decided to bring reader with him to the main world, this is the first time reader seeing blue sky, clouds, flowers, and creature that isn't Ender Dragon, Shulker or Enderman.

How would the people on the SMP react to their little god?

Hi I’m actually posting for once in the past like five days, I’m not dead /hj  Buts anyways here’s the post, I hope you like it because I have a ton of fun writing this one! /pos

Summary: You finally get to leave the End and see the Overworld

Pairing: P!DreamXD & Others X Reader (You are DreamXD’s child)

Pronouns: They/them

[A/n]: Requests are open, come on by <3

Being created as a totem-type creature, but with sentience, had its ups and downs. Your skin was rough like endstone, the material used to build your body. It also had a similar color, a soft yellowish with darker colored grooves as your veins. Your father had used a pumpkin for your head, with ender eyes for your eyes. Thankfully you had a proper head, and eyes like the ender pearls, but you often wore a pumpkin on your head anyways. It was a cute way to copy your father while also joking about your creation.

You don’t have wings like your father, but with the magic embedded in your every fiber, you were still able to float and fly about. And with the cute cape you wore, it matched the one your father wears, you were an adorable critter floating about the skies.

Life for you was different though. Your father raised you in the End, and neither of you spoke much, only chatting through a telepathic mind link. This led to you never speaking aloud and thus not verbally communicating at all.

Life in the End was boring, there weren’t many things to see or mobs to interact with, and while you could always spawn the things in, it wasn’t the same as seeing them in their natural environment. So when your father told you that he would be taking you to the overworld, you were fluttering with excitement.

“Calm down little one, can’t have you flying off without me.”

The overwhelming joy of seeing the cloudy blue sky, feeling the grass under your feet, smelling the flowers blooming nearby. You were fluttering about in delight, your pumpkin nearly falling off your head from the ecstatic movements.

“My sweet, please do relax, there is still much more to see.” Your father was right, there were still many creatures to greet and biomes to experience. Most importantly though, you had yet to greet any of the residents, they weren’t even aware of your presence.

“Would you like to meet them?” You nodded excitedly, gazing at the humans your father had brought you to. They were an odd trio, one wore a mushroom on his head, one wore an odd white mask, and the other had a bandana tied around his head. Truly an odd trio, what could they have in common, they look nothing alike.

“Hello boys!” Your father's warm voice flooded their minds, drawing their attention over towards where you stood. You were immediately met with smiles, the blue one seeming fond of you already.

“Who’s this little one?”

“My child, their name is (Y/n).”

“They’re so cute.” The boy wearing a mushroom waved to you, stepping closer and bending down to your level.

“I like your pumpkin!” Not sure how to respond you simply poked the mushroom hat, looking towards your father.

“He likes your hat.”

“Ah thank you.” The boy stood up, returning to stand beside his friends.

“Come along now dear, we have much more to see.” And just like that, you and your father were gone, off to see other folks. The next lot that the two of you encountered were even stranger, a slimy looking man, another man who appears to be part fox, one had yellow wings, one had golden skin and wore a shark hood, there was a young-looking boy with antenna, and lastly a man with lots of armor and green flecks on his skin.

“Would you like to meet them, dear?” You nodded, floating down to the lot with your father beside you.

“Hello Foolish, lovely to see you again.”

“XD you rascal, where have you been? And who is this little one?”

“I’ve been around and about, and this is my child (Y/n).” DreamXD went to motion to you, only to find you staring at Purpled.

“They don’t talk, but they want to get a closer look at your antenna. If you don’t mind.” Purpled looked surprised, nodding his head before bending down to your level. He watched as you studied him, circling around him once or twice to get a proper look.

“(Y/n) likes them, they say that they suit you and are very pretty.”

“Ah thank you.” Purpled smiled before standing up, watching as you headed towards Sam, interested in his trident.

“Woah there kiddo, sorry but this isn’t a toy.” Sam held his trident up high, just enough to be out of the reach.

“(Y/n), come over here, my friend would like to meet you.” You knew it was to get you to leave Sam’s trident alone but you did it anyway, walking over to where your father was stood, still chatting with the shark boy.

“(Y/n), this is my friend Foolish, I’ve told you about him. Say hi.” You looked up at the golden man, giving a small wave in his direction. What really caught your eye was the various bits of golden jewelry that he wore.

“(Y/n) likes your gold accessories.”

“Oh thanks! Here, you can have this!” The fellow god slipped off one of his many rings, a simple gold band with carvings in the metal. He handed the piece to you, watching as you fiddled about with it.

“It’s one of a kind, which makes you the proud owner of that very special ring!” You nodded a thanks, your dad translating, before slipping the ring onto a chain. It was far too big for you to wear as a ring, but it would look lovely hung around your neck.

You and your father set off again, encountering a handful of folk before ultimately calling it a day.

“I know you wish to stay here, so if you’d like, we could build ourselves a nice little home here and you could bring some of your things over and stay there for as long as you’d like.”

Taglist: @joyfullymulti @minty-ghast @rokkyy @duddum-froppers @eatensouls-s

[luminari-mc]

My Human, My Sunshine - Part 2

Pairing: GN!MC x Mammon

Genres: Angst, hurt/comfort.

Word count: 4642

Warnings: N/A

Summary: As a human and a demon get to enjoy the presence of one another again, Mammon knows deep down that behind this ephemeral bliss, hides a looming and powerful storm.

PART 1 - PART 2 -

A/N: it's almost Mammon's birthday! And as promised, here is part 2 of my little series! While part 1 was made to place several plot points here and there, this chapter really starts to set things in motion for future chapters, and especially part 3.

All I have to say here is... Enjoy the fluff while it lasts.

___________________________________________

For the first time in a while... the human world felt much more colorful. Much more silent. It was as if life itself had been born anew, the suffocating darkness engulfing the world having been cast away for the light to reclaim its rightful ownership. The evil dragon of separation had finally been put to rest, and so, the chirping of the birds quickly replaced the self-deprecating thoughts of the people.

The only question left on the people's minds, as their bodies embraced so close to one another throughout the night, rejoicing to finally be back in the other's company, was... for how long, would that blissful respite last?

The night had been deep and short, but much welcoming. The weariness that had taken over the couple's bodies over the past two months had thoroughly vanished, as if all of this had been nothing but a bad dream. How much they wished it had been the case, and that the kisses they had shared the previous night didn't have to be ones filled with the need to feel the other's presence so desperately, for their minds to realize that they were here, and he was here, together in the same room at long last.

A human hand gently caressed a white-haired head, the demon to which it belonged still soundly asleep. Despite it being a few hours after dawn, MC had only recently opened their eyes to the first rays of sunlight, finding themself still in the same position as they had fallen asleep in. Mammon's arms were still firmly wrapped around their frame, their proximity allowing him to breathe in the scent of their skin as his nose brushed against their collarbone each time his chest rose up in his sleep.

Remaining laid down on their side, the human could only keep still and watch the face of their demon in adoration, still unsure whether they really had him in their bed with him, or if the loneliness of the past few weeks had truly made them lose their mind beyond salvation.

But as their fingers gently passed in his hair, their caresses never ending, MC couldn't help but wonder... what had Mammon done since the last time they saw him? How had he spent his time in the Devildom? How were the others? And most importantly, how had he found his way to them? Not that much conversation had been achieved the previous night, to answer all of their questions... The two of them had quickly realized, as MC came to drag Mammon inside the apartment, their clothes damp from the rain that had been dripping from his body, that what they wanted, as their lips met again and again, weren't answers, but to feel each other. And before any of them could notice, they had both fallen into a deep slumber that lasted the entire night.

MC raised their head slightly to look out of the bay window on the other side of the room. Outside, they could partially perceive the colors of the other buildings of the city in the horizon, the sunlight reflecting on their windows brightly and making them squint their eyes in response. They would have preferred to be able to see the green of the trees lined up in the street below, but that was one of the many flaws of this place... the floor that Solomon had chosen for MC to reside in was just way, way too high up.

If it hadn't been for a pair of arms pulling them slightly forward, MC wouldn't have noticed the half-closed pair of blue eyes staring at them in silence. MC immediately lowered their side back against the mattress, their head meeting with the pillow once more. Under the covers, they moved a leg instinctively against Mammon's.

"Good morning." They whispered through a smile, a sound so affectionate to one demon's ears that his hand slid from under the blanket to place itself on the human's cheek.

"Is this a dream?"

Mammon's words surprised them, but only for a short second. The demon's expression was nothing but serious, a slightly furrowed brow adorning his forehead as if he was expecting to receive a positive, yet disappointing answer to his question. Instead, MC's smiled turned only sweeter. They closed their eyes before pulling Mammon closer to them.

"It's not a dream." They felt him place his face in the crook of their neck. "You're with me, and I'm with you. It's for real."

Almost as if he was holding back tears, Mammon inhaled deeply, before closing the empty space between his body and MC's until there was nothing left. Their hand was brought back to the back of his head, drawing slow circles in the hopes of soothing him.

"I still can't believe it." His words seemed to be on the verge of breaking up as they slipped through his gritted teeth. "It feels like you've been gone for a thousand years, even worse... Why the hell did I only find ya now..."

"Mammon..." MC opened their eyes again to urgently place a gentle kiss on top of the demon's head. "What's important is that you found me. It is much better than if a thousand years had really passed, don't you think?"

Mammon's head leaned away from the warmth of their neck, his glassy eyes able to meeting theirs again. His mouth stayed agape for a few seconds, before both of his hands cupped MC's face in place.

"I know I asked last night, but you sure you're okay, right? Nobody has hurt you or experimented on you or anythin'?"

"I'm okay, Mammon." They placed their hands on top of his, a small chuckle escaping through their lips. "I swear, all I did was practice magic with Solomon and live a boring human life."

"But you sure it was normal magic? What if it was some weird spells and he was secretly messing with your body without you knowing?"

His worry made them sigh softly, their thumbs brushing the back of his hands. It was understandable for him to be so concerned for their safety, after receiving no news in such a long time. And the demons had always been wary of Solomon ever since they had known the wizard, to the point where MC themself, had even grown to wonder why Solomon had been acting the way he did, since they had gone back to the human world.

"I promise you." They responded, yet unsure themself of the veracity of their words. "Nothing has been done to me."

Silence fell between the both of them again, a staring contest where Mammon was expecting them to let go of a much harder truth, which never came. He was the first to break eye contact, rather preferring to stare into the space between MC's head and the pillow.

"Solomon... He's hidin' something too. I just know it"

His sudden pouting mouth and words made MC blink. "Too? What do you mean...?"

After marking a wordless pause, Mammon's hands slid off their cheeks, his upper body rising up as he sat himself into the bed. The sheets fell onto his hips, leaving his arm exposed for MC to grab in case he was trying to avoid their question and get up. But instead, all he did was pass a hand through his hair as a deep sigh left his lungs.

"Mammon?" MC called out, their voice starting to show concern due to the demon's sudden secrecy. But as they read his expression a bit more clearly from their laid position in the bed, and as they watched the creases between his eyebrows form, and his jaw clenching, they realized that... Mammon probably knew more about all this than themself.

"A... A lot of shit went down ever since you left, MC." The demon kept his palm in his hair, leaving his forehead exposed. "It's gone bad, and I just... I-I just dunno what to do anymore."

It wouldn't take a genius to see how perturbed Mammon was about this subject- you just had to see the way his fingers had wrapped around his own hair, almost as if he was about to pull a handful, the questions in his mind twirling in a never-ending whirlpool of torment. One thing MC was grateful for, however, was how much more open he had become with them ever since they had known each other.

As MC propped themself on their elbow, they allowed their hand to wander up and down Mammon's arm to remind him of their presence.

"... Do you want some breakfast? I'd rather you explain everything while stuffing yourself with waffles. I make them delicious, I promise."

Although he glanced at them from the corner of his eyes, his pout only seemed to double. MC stopped their hand from rubbing his skin before placing it above his own, their thumb gently brushing the back of it. Like a timid child, his cheeks darkened, letting his voice, now low, respond to their question.

"I... could go with some of your waffles."

After putting some clothes on, apart from Mammon who could only rely on one of MC's loose jogging pants due to his clothes from the previous night still dripping wet on a nearby chair-, MC made their way to the kitchen to prepare something for their demon.

Throughout the whole process, Mammon never left their side. Once his arms had been locked around their frame from behind as they began preparing the waffles, he hadn't let go. His chin remained on their shoulder, his body moving alongside them whenever they had to go to a cabinet to grab a bowl, a whip, or even when they went to pick the different ingredients for the batter. MC had asked in the beginning "are you sure you don't want to sit at the table?", wanting him not to be standing more than his tired legs could bear. But their question was only met with a shaking of his head, before his forehead met with the warmth of their skin. "I'm good there", he had answered. And so MC let him hold on to them, enjoying the feeling of his arms around their waist, and the few kisses he would place here and there alongside their neck and cheek. This calm, this peace, this comfortable silence... they had forgotten what it felt like.

Once all the batter had been changed into hot and steamy waffles, and the rest of the breakfast had been made, the couple sat around the kitchen table.

"So... is it that bad?" MC placed their hands around their hot cup of cocoa, taking a sip of the drink as Mammon filled his mouth with a waffle he had covered in strawberry jam. MC had insisted that he was to eat his batch first, with him having barely eaten anything the previous day. Even if he was a demon, he needed to have a proper morning meal.

"It's almost as if you had never been in the house in the first place." Mammon answered after swallowing his bite. "Satan went back on being super pissy with Lucifer for the smallest things, Levi eats his meals in his room and never comes out. I see Asmo buyin' even more beauty products than usual and he's constantly askin' us if "this and that" suits him, to the point where it's ridiculous. Beel almost stopped eating entirely because he was too worried for ya. If it weren't for Belphie, he would have turned into a literal stick. Now Belphie sleeps more often too. And Lucifer, he..."

He stabbed one of the waffles with his fork, before tearing a piece of it with his teeth. MC's brow instantly furrowed with concern.

"He just has to know why we couldn't reach you. He's been lyin' through his teeth for weeks on end, but he thinks he's being so sly and that we're too dumb to see it." Another teared piece of the waffle disappeared into his mouth. "Like, sure, he's been way more on edge ever since you left the Devildom and even more after we've all started askin' why we couldn't talk to you, but that just shows that he knows somethin' and we don't."

With a slower movement, his fork planted into the remaining bits of the waffle. "But it's just... I don't understand, you get it? Why would he try to hide something about you from us? All of a sudden we can't send you texts or call you like we used to everytime you had to come back to the human world, and out of nowhere he starts actin' all weird about it. It's just..."

MC noticed Mammon's jaw clenching, his hand and fork immobile as it stayed firmly planted into the waffle. The demon swallowed harshly, letting the human know how the situation back at home must have been for him. Without their presence, the brothers had turned back into their previous selves, if not worse.

"What about you?" They asked, making the second-born jerk his head upward at them. "How are you feeling?"

"M-Me? It's... not important." He looked away shamefully, the pressure on the fork increasing and his nail starting to dig into his palm.

"Mammon." Their hand reached forward to wrap itself around the one that was holding the fork. "If my absence has been affecting everyone like this... I want to know how you dealt with it, too."

They patiently waited until Mammon finally dared cross his gaze with their own once again.

"I... dammit, don't laugh, okay?" He muttered. "But, I guess when we learned you didn't have your D.D.D. with ya back in the human world, I was the one with took it the worst... I grew tired of Lucifer tellin' me to be patient and wait for a replacement to get to ya, and I kinda ran to Lord Diavolo and ended up throwing a hissy fit in the middle of the throne room. Barbatos didn't like it, and neither did Lucifer. I still don't know why, but Lucifer didn't strung me from the ceiling on that day. Actually, he's mostly been yelling at us more than punishing. But I guess it doesn't really matter, since the others went all back on ganging up on me for any mistake I make."

Just as Mammon finally brought the rest of the waffle into his mouth in the hopes of not breaking up into a groaning mess, MC could swear they felt their heart sink within them. It sounded exactly like what Mammon had said. The brothers had all gone back to their old ways, with Mammon ending up as the punching bag once again. And all because they weren't around anymore?

"I'm... I'm sorry." Their throat tightened, a sense of guilt starting to wash over them. "If I knew you guys were having it this bad, I'd- I should have been way more insistent with Solomon, I should have kept asking to see you more than I did when-"

"Wha- No no, hey, it's not your fault!" Mammon exclaimed, panic settling in as MC started taking the blame on themself. "I mean, no one coulda thought that you'd be gone for this long... And that we'd be all negative for not being able to call you and stuff..."

Mammon passed a hand over his neck, the other covering MC's fist with its warmth. His eyes drifted to the side.

"We just... ya know. Grew used to havin' ya around. Guess it messed up our heads pretty good, and in the end, hatin' on each other seemed like the only solution to keep us busy.... I think."

MC's stomach churned uncomfortably as they sat there silently, slowly processing Mammon's words. What they wouldn't give to have sensed sooner that the brothers were also out of the loop in this situation, and ask Solomon for answers in the first few weeks after being back in the human world with him. How could they have been so passive about this? How could they have been so blind?

"MC."

Mammon's voice pulled them out of their thoughts, as they raised their eyes back onto him. "Huh?"

"What did Solomon say? About you not being able to see us?"

"Hum..." Their brain replayed the fuzzy memories of what happened two months earlier.

"Well, you remember how we all said our goodbyes to each other before I left the Devildom? It was in the student's council meeting room, like usual. But Diavolo had said that I would need to fill some papers before entering the portal, so I guess since we all were used to saying goodbye like this by now, we didn't really see the harm in having you brothers all leave the room before I entered the portal."

They instinctively bit the corner of their bottom lip. "Which left me, Barbatos and Diavolo in the room. Diavolo said something about needing my D.D.D. to replace it with an upgraded version, which I thought was weird at the time since Karasu had always warned me when it needed repairs or to update an app. But I trusted Diavolo, so I gave it to him, and he said I should receive the new one shortly through Solomon. After that, I got into the portal, but never received the phone, and Solomon started saying all these excuses..."

"What excuses?" Mammon asked, pressing on the matter out of curiosity, but mostly because of the bubbling rage that was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

"At first he explained that the new D.D.D. took some time to be shipped to Lord Diavolo, but-- it's Lord Diavolo, the literal demon prince. He knows how much I like to communicate with all of you while I'm up there, so I couldn't understand why he simply couldn't ask for the shipping to go a bit faster?" MC started moving their free hand around as they continued to explain their version of the story. "Then Solomon suddenly switched from the phone taking time to be shipped to... saying that the Devildom was dealing with some dangerous threat that came out of nowhere, and that I needed to stay away until the matter was dealt with. But in the end it just... made me want to know if you guys were okay even more..."

Neither Mammon nor MC had realized, nor heard, that a crack had begun to form under Mammon's firm grip on the edge of the table. The more he learned how many lies had been thrown in their face by the wizard, the more pressure Mammon was putting on his closed teeth. He couldn't believe Solomon had told them that they were in danger, when absolutely nothing eventful had happened during their absence. What was wrong with this guy, Lord Diavolo and Lucifer? The demon searched in his mind again and again, why his older brother would make up such an alliance with Solomon, especially to keep MC at bay- wasn't he supposed to care for them, too?

"I've heard enough." He hissed, the wood cracking even more under his palm. "Once I know what the fuck is going on with those two, I'm bringing you back home."

"Wait-" MC exclaimed, panic in their voice. "I-It has to be for a reason, right? That your story and mine aren't the same? I just- I don't understand why Diavolo and Lucifer would lie to me so that I stay in the human world, especially when they were acting like usual before I left."

"Reason or not, I don't fucking care. Shouldn't they have at least let us know if something was up?" Mammon's hands retrieved from both the table and MC's, the demon grasping the fabric of his pants harshly as he shook his head in disbelief. "Think about it, MC. If they all made up a bunch of lies so that we wouldn't be able to contact you, then it means that you're involved in this. Whatever problem it is they're hiding, they should tell you what it is, and not straight up throw you away in the human world as if neither you or ME would care about it."

The demon let out a frustrated groan as his eyes closed firmly, Mammon not understanding anything of the situation. If he and MC wanted answers, it would require to go back to either Solomon or Lucifer, but either of those options weren't at the top of his priorities right now. All he wanted at the moment, was to make sure that MC would remain safe, if they indeed were at the center of all this. He didn't want to lose them again. Two months of radio silence had already been hard enough. No, now, he would remain with them at all times. No matter if the obstacles ended up being a wizard, the demon prince, or his literal older brother.

MC's arms wrapping around his shoulders pulled him out of his dark thoughts. He opened his eyes, feeling them sitting on his lap as they hid their face into his neck. Their embrace was strong, but at the same time, gentle and comforting. He instantly felt himself melt in his seat. Slowly, his shoulders dropped, and his arms circled the human he loved the most.

"I swear it." He muttered, looking into the empty space behind them. "I'll bring you back to the house. Everyone's missing you, and... I miss you, too."

MC nodded against his neck. "I'd love that. I miss the others. I miss my room there. And you always barging in without notice."

"O-Oh, yeah, about that-" Mammon pulled them slightly away by the shoulders so he could face them. "I kinda forgot to tell ya, but... when you weren't here, I sorta felt really alone, having to sleep in my room without you around, so... uh, what I mean is that- I kinda brought most of my stuff in your-"

The demon's sentence was cut short by the melody of a ringtone at the other end of the table. Mammon looked instantly at MC's phone, arching an eyebrow both for being interrupted, but also wondering who could be calling them on their human phone at this hour.

"Ah- it's probably Solomon. He was supposed to come visit yesterday, but postponed it to today instead." MC said, not without a hint of disappointment in their voice as they got up from Mammon's lap to go grab their phone.

Mammon growled, already preparing himself mentally for possibly having the occasion to yell at the wizard for all the mess he caused, but his plan was immediately stopped by MC, who had put a finger on their lips. While Mammon started pouting, MC pressed the sleep button on the side of the phone, but opened their eyes wide as the name of the caller was written in what seemed like... the Devildom's language.

"It's- not Solomon?"

Their thumb swapped over the Accept button, and just as they placed the phone over their ear and were about to ask who it was, a voice, way too familiar to them, answered first.

"M-MC.. ?" The broken sobs mixed with the voice of none other than Leviathan, almost made MC forget how to breathe. "Aahh, I'm so glad... I-I wasn't sure if- sniffle..."

"Levi?" MC clasped their other hand over the phone, alerted by the state of the demon on the other side of the line. Behind them, Mammon practically jumped out of his seat.

"Levi?! Put him on speaker!"

MC obeyed him, quickly turning the speaker on and putting the phone in-between the two of them. The third-born's voice could now be heard in the entire room, as his desperate cries continued.

"Yo, Levi, why are you crying?! And how did you figure out how to call MC's phone?!" Mammon shouted, before approaching the phone to listen more closely. "Hey, is that Asmo I'm hearin'? Is he with you? What's happening??"

"Mammon... we were so worried- that you wouldn't find them..." Levi continued, as several people could be heard in the background, seemingly arguing with each other. "I tried really hard you know... I'm so, so sorry MC... I really tried... Please, please forgive me, I tried..."

"T-Tried? Wha- What did you try, Levi?" MC asked nervously, a knot starting to form in their throat. But the only answer they received from Leviathan, was a louder sob, soon followed by muffled cries as if the demon had stuffed his face into a pillow.

"Here- Levi, I'll talk to them." Another voice replaced Levi's, this one more composed in its tone. It increased in volume as the owner brought the phone closer to their face. "MC, Mammon? Are you still there?"

"Satan..." MC whispered, a hand placed over their chest. It had been so long since they had heard either of the other demons' voices.

"Hey, Satan, what's wrong with Levi?! I keep hearin' the others talking behind you too! I leave you guys for one day and already one of you is bawling his eyes out?!" Mammon asked urgently, obvious worry in his voice for his brother. As if the whole trip to the human world hadn't already been anxiety inducing, now something had happened within the House of Lamentation, and he wasn't there to check up on them.

On the other side of the phone, Satan clicked his tongue.

"After helping you find MC's location, Levi spent hours learning how to call a human phone with a demon one... literal hours. I'm glad it worked." He paused. "Everything would have turned out alright, if only it hadn't been for him."

While MC blinked in confusion, Mammon's breath was caught in his throat. His face turned pale, and his brow furrowed even more as the realization of what the fourth-born was trying to tell him washed over him.

"Wait... Don't tell me-"

"He's gone way too far this time." Satan hissed. Behind him, the voices of the other brothers turned quieter, the blonde demon moving away from them. "You have to leave wherever you are. While you didn't know where MC was, Mammon, I'm not doubting that he does. I don't know why he's acting the way he is but... I'm worried about MC. Mammon, you have to get them away from him."

"Wait, Satan, are you talking about-"

Two dry knocks came from the entrance door, and MC immediately shut themself up, quickly pressing the speaker off. Flipping their head alongside Mammon's towards the sound, the two's breaths turned slow and their bodies immobile, like deers caught in headlights. Neither of them dared make a sound, nor move a muscle, their eyes glued to the wood of the door as they waited for additional knocks, which never came.

Instead, after a silence that seemed to last forever, with only the now small voice of Satan hurriedly asking them from the phone if they were alright, a hue began emanating on the door. A red circle, shining a light that resembled a laser's glow, drew in the center. Several patterns followed and appeared within it, and before MC could take a step towards it, as they finally understood who was on the other side, Mammon's body immediately blocked them from advancing.

"Mammon-"

The demon raised an arm out, preventing MC from moving further away from the table. The human didn't have to see his face to know that he was preparing himself for anything- his tensed body in front of them spoke for himself.

His inner thoughts from a few minutes ago resurfaced in a flash upon sensing MC's hand on his back. No more separation. He had to protect them- stay with them. No matter the obstacle.

Even if this obstacle, turned out to be his own older brother.

"He's here."

[the-broken-truth]

A Returning Heart - Alcina Dimitrescu x Male Character

Summary: The Bloodline of House Dimitrescu has been destroyed by Ethan Winters, but will it remain that way? A cloaked figure approached the castle with one thing in mind - Can love transcend death?

Quick Note: The Explosion didn't destroy the Castle or that area of the village. Also, the male will not be given a name.

"Here are your purchases, My Lord." The Duke smiled as he handed 4 horizontal boxes out to the cloaked figure before him who took them in his arms but set the 3 smaller boxes down before opening the longest box. The cloaked man opened the long box - the Duke could see a long smile on the man's face as he gazed into the contents of the box before sealing the lid on it again.

"Perfect. What can you tell me about the other lords? Do you have their remains as well?" The man asked.

"But of course - after Ethan Winters killed the lords, he sold their remains to me for a fair amount of Lei. Would you like theirs as well?" Duke asked with a smile.

"Not at this moment. Once I make sure everything is in order, I shall come back for the remaining lords. And what of Miranda & the mutamycete?" The man asked.

"No longer in existence, My Lord. Ethan Winters and his company completely destroyed them - as well as the other Lords' Domains with the limitation of Lady Dimitrescu Castle and the Central and Northern Villages." Duke said.

"I'll take care of that as well." The man said as he reached down and gathered all of the boxes in his arms and started his way up the path to the grand castle that still stood.

"This is going to be interesting," Duke said as he got his notebook to make note of this. "It's not everything someone like that comes to the village."

[At Castle Dimitrescu]

The figure pushed the metal door of the castle open with one hand while the other held the boxes to his side. He looked around the room he now stood in before cracking a smile.

'Not much has changed.' He chuckled to himself before he made his way through the castle until he reached Castle Dimitresc's Hall of the Four (The Location where the masks go.). He opened the first box and gazed upon its contents before reaching in and pulling out the crystalized remains of The Royal Dragon - Alcina Dimitrescu, herself. He smiled at the crystal remains for a while before he placed them in the center of the room before going back to the other 3 boxes and opened them - showing 3 crystals torso that was small than Lady Dimitrescu's but each one had a gem placed in their chests - the first one he picked up bore a red gem.

'Bela.' the man thought as he placed the red-gemmed torso next to Alcina's. He back to the other two and picked up the second one - which bore a yellow gem.

'Cassandra.' He thought before placing it next to the other two in the center of the hall. He rose to his feet again and gathered the last one - a green gem in the chest of its chest.

'Daniela.' He echoed in his mind before placing it with the others.

Once they were all in place - he lifted his right hand which was engraved with runes of an unknown language. He cleared his throat before he spoke in Romanian.

"Din amurg până în zori. Din carne, sânge și os. Din aceste fragmente fragile, poruncesc - întoarce-te la care ai fost odată și mergi din nou pe acest pământ." The runes on his arm began to glow a blinding white light when a circle surrounded each of the remains and consumed them in a pillar of blinding light. The man watched and waited until he saw the remains float and take new form - this made him smile widely.

[About 3 Hours Later.]

A feminine groan filled the air of the Castle Main Hall has eyes began to flutter open, revealing a gold hue. The woman allowed her eyes to readjust to see - she was on a familiar floor. She pushed herself off the ground before groaning again and placing her hand on her head.

"My head...What happened? The last thing I remembered was..." Her eyes widened as memories began flooding back in her mind.

The meeting with her family.

Her daughters bringing her that Man-Thing.

The man-thing escaping and killing her eldest.

The pain she felt of loss.

Hunting that man-thing over and over again before he killed her last two daughters.

Tracking him to the chapel but getting stabbed with the dagger.

Then...dying.

"He killed me... I know he did, but then..." She looked at her hands. "How am I alive?" Alcina wondered as she tried to find an answer. Sudden movement at her right made her eyes dart and widen - instant tears filled them.

"My head...What happened?" the young girl asked.

"BELA!" Alcina said as she scurried to her daughter and engulfed in her a hug; surprising the girl who returned the hug.

"M...Mother?" Bela asked as she looked into Alcina's golden eyes.

"I'm here, little one; Momma's here now." Alcina said as she held her daughter more.

Bela looked behind her mother and her eyes widened.

"Mother - Cassandra and Daniela!" Bela said making Alcina look behind her to see her middle child and youngest also wake up. Alcina and Bela gathered the other two in hugs and all of them hugged and cried for at least 30 minutes before rising to their feet.

"I don't get it." Daniela began. "That man-thing killed us. How are we here?" She asked.

"Dani's right - I remember dying." Bela said.

"Then I ended up dying trying to avenge Bela." Cassandra said.

"And I died the library when that man-thing got the Iron Key." Daniela finished.

"That accursed man-thing stabbed me the Dagger of Deaths Flowers and managed to defeat my dragon form. How are we all here? Did Mother Miranda bring us back to life?" Alcina asked.

"I'm afraid Miranda had nothing to do with this - she can't do anything now that she's dead." A male voice called out. The women looked at the top of the stairs leading to the foyer and saw a figure dressed in a cloak with his face covered - only having the lower part of his chin showing.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my castle?!" Alcina demanded as she called forth her dragon's claws.

Broken Truth: That's what I like to call them. The whole 'A Rat can't escape the dragon's claw' was one of my favorite lines in the game; along with 'CASSANDRA!'.

"Calm yourself, Lady Dimitrescu." the male said as he raised his hand to silence her but that only made her angrier.

"You don't tell me what to do in my own castle, you stupid man-thing!" Alcina snarled.

"Geez and here I thought you would be grateful to the one who brought you and your daughters back to life." That made all their eyes widen.

"You brought us back?" Bela asked.

"Wait - why would you do that? Where're the other lords? Where's Mother Miranda?!" Alcina demanded to know.

"As I have said before - Miranda and the other lords are dead, just as the mutamycete no longer exists. Ethan Winters killed you, your daughters, and all the lords before taking out Miranda and destroyed the mutamycete before taking back that which was his." The man said from his place at the top of the stairs.

"That's impossible... All of our hard work - undone by a stupid male?!" Alcina snarled. "That doesn't explain why you brought me and my daughters back to life." Alcina said.

"Let's say - I was bringing back that which was once mine." The man said as he slowly started his way down the stairs. "A long time ago - I took up residence in this place as a loyal servant and became something more but short-minded humans came here to destroy you and those you held dear but I refused to let that happen and to save 4..." the male stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pulled the hood off - revealing his face: short brown hair, with emerald green eyes, and a familiar scar across his face. "I threw myself on the blade to keep my loved ones safe." He smiled at the wide eyes on the daughters' faces, as well as the tears that began to build in the dragon's eyes. He held his arms open in a welcoming manner. "I've returned to you, my family."

"FATHER/PAPA/DADDY!!!" The shouts of the daughters rung out as they ran into the male's arms, who held them as if they were something precious.

"It's okay, girls. I'm here now."

"I don't understand..." Alcina said as she tried to hold back her tears. "I saw you die - you threw yourself on the sword to save me from getting killed." Alcina said as she walked over to the group.

"I've been reborn since the time I lost you - while in this body, I attended a school and learned about dragons; that reminded me of you, awoke the memories of my past life and my bond to you. I was determined to return to you but I knew I had to become more so I trained myself in the arts of magic. It was a good thing too - when I learned about what happened, I had the skills to return that which I lost back to the world of the living." He explained.

Alcina looked into his eyes - those eyes darker than the tree's leaves during summer - the last time she saw them, they were as dull as sandstone but they were before her again.

He was here.

He was with her again.

And he gave back what she lost.

"MY LOVE!" Alcina fell to her knees and hugged the man and her daughters in one hug. She didn't want to let go of him; scared that this was all a dream and she was never going to see him again, that all of this would fade away and she would be back in the nothingness again.

"Shh...It's okay, Alci." He said as he began to wrap his arms around her neck to hug her for the first time in centuries. "I'm here, My Dragoness, and I shall not leave you or our daughters again." And this time - he was intending on keeping that promise.

Translation

"Din amurg până în zori. Din carne, sânge și os. Din aceste fragmente fragile, poruncesc - întoarce-te la care ai fost odată și mergi din nou pe acest pământ." - From dusk until dawn. From flesh, blood, and bone. From these fragile fragments, I command - return to which you once were and walk this earth again.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice Part 3: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: everything is just out of reach.

wc: 1.7k

tw: none (semi-smut will be coming soon! I just wanted a soft moment for our little protagonist who has been through so much)

masterlist

You have until sundown.

Without Geto or Gojo around, things are quiet. No one comes to visit. It’s just you, Clymentestra, Helen, Serena, Danai, and Ariadne wandering around or making small talk in the alcoves of the Temple, while you wait for the sun to sink below the sky and bring you immortality. The Temple... That’s what you decided to call it. Cly called it something like “The Everlasting Residence of His Holiness, Geto Suguru, The Dragon God of blah blah blah...”, but saying “the Temple” was much easier for you and your brain to handle.

You discovered the following interesting rooms in your snooping session earlier: a set of bathrooms that were exactly identical to each other on opposite ends of a hallway, a room filled to the brim with books that you couldn’t read, a locked door that lead to a dungeon (you suspected), and another room filled with portraits of beings you didn’t know. Well, except Megumi. Megumi was in there, looking just like he did when you met him the day before. Boring.

Now, you’re just waiting on someone to come and find you to tell you that Geto is back, or that lunch is ready. Whichever comes first. But as you wait, thoughts of your impending transfer from mortal to immortal cloud your mind. Would every day be like this? Gossip with the others, wait for Geto to command you around, then sleep?

Is that what eternal life held for you?

Your train of thought is carried away on the wind when you see something blue and green winding its way down from the sky and into the field in front of the temple, followed by a white dragon.

Gojo… and…? You consider running down to the field to greet them, but your feet won’t move. Clymenestra doesn’t come to fetch you, so it’s not an urgent matter, you assume. Or she’s keeping you hidden, your mind whispers, and you remember the interaction from the day before:

“Don’t go blabbing your mouth to your stupid father, either. Geto would prefer to keep her under wraps for now.”

Did this have anything to do with your lack of immortality? And why is Geto so hell-bent on you becoming immortal, anyway? You ponder upon all of this as you toss open the doors to your chambers and walk down the left hallway, towards the dining hall. On the way there, you pass the locked door again, and for a moment, you press your ear to the wood to see if you can hear anything inside.

Nothing.

You straighten up, then enter the dining hall moments later, coming face to face with Gojo, who is sitting across from a pink-haired youth. “Oh,” Gojo stands, and smiles tightly, his eyes darting to the doors behind you. “Wrong room, darling. The kitchen is back there,” he prods, pushing you out of the dining room quickly and into the corridor to the kitchen, the youth’s eyes following you.

“Gojo, I have a ques--”

“Can it wait? Listen, you’re not supposed to be out of your rooms right now. And where the hell is Cly?” he hisses, looking about with a raised brow.

“Who is that in the dining room?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Gojo retorts tersely, removing his hand from your arm. “You need to stay in your rooms until Geto comes back. If he knows Yuji saw you, he’d be--”

“Can you at least tell me why Geto wants me to become immortal so badly?”

“No!” Gojo yells, staring at you intensely. “It’s enough that Megumi knows about you. Just do as I say or both of our asses will get hung out to dry, got it?” You shrink away from the angry man and brush past him to go back to your rooms immediately. When you sit on your bed and examine your bruised arm, you wonder why everyone is so secretive. It’s possible that you would glean more information upon your turn from human into immortal, but you can’t wait that long.

Or at least, you don’t want to.

But you’re forced to.

Lunch doesn’t come for another three hours, and by that time, you’ve lost any semblance of an appetite. So when Serena sits the offerings down in front of you, you just turn away and watch the sea tide roll in and out, like the thoughts rolling in and out of your mind.

“Where’s Cly?” you ask, and Selene inhales deeply.

“She’s away. The God of Death has called upon her.” You spin around in your seat, frowning deeply.

“She’s dying?”

“No,” Serena wipes her shaking green hands on her dress, and looks away from you. “His Omnipresence calls upon her from time to time for… entertainment.” By the looks of Serena’s expression, you don’t want to know what she means by that word, nor do you want to ask any further questions.

“Why does Geto allow this?” you whisper, but Serena bites her lip.

“He doesn’t know.” That’s all you need to hear. You turn back around, feeling your emotions stir inside of your stomach. “You should eat something before the ceremony,” she adds, but you shake your head.

“I’m not hungry.”

You fall asleep in that chair, only awakening when you’re lightly tapped on the shoulder by someone behind you. When you look up, you meet the soft eyes of Clymenestra, and you wonder how she’s doing before releasing she’s holding a red and gold robe in her hands.

“Get dressed and meet me in the hallway,” she whispers in the semi-darkness. You take the garment and she leaves the room silently, allowing you to disrobe in private. Once you’re redressed, you exit your room and meet Cly in the hallway.

As you follow her to an unknown destination, your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and you can feel nervousness gnawing away at your resolve. Could you back out of this? Or was it too late? All answers pointed to “too late” as your feet make contact with the warm sand of the beach behind the Temple. There, gathered in the sand, are Geto, Gojo, and the other four women.

Geto is half-clothed and holding a piece of parchment paper - only his lower body is covered in solid black kun pants, but his chest is covered in black swirls and symbols that you can’t decipher. Gojo is dressed similarly, his chest smeared in silver paint, and you wonder what everything stands for. But your curiosity is short-lived when your back is to the sea and Cly is standing behind Gojo, her eyes trained on you.

“Y/n, you were brought to my realm as a sacrifice, but you have accepted my offering of eternal life,” Geto begins, holding up the parchment and reading from it slowly. “As Dragon God and head of all things in this realm, I bequeath this gift to you.” He then hands you the parchment paper, and you accept it tentatively, wondering what to do next.

“Read it,” Gojo coughs, and your mouth dries up. When you look to Cly for help, she presses her lips together and nods at you, encouraging you to go on.

But you can’t.

“I can’t read,” you croak softly, but it’s too soft, as evidenced by Geto’s confused face.

“I’m sorry. Say that again, y/n.”

“I…” You inhale shakily. “I can’t read.” Everyone’s face goes from confusion to understanding, then trepidation.

“You… can’t read?” Gojo murmurs and Geto blinks in shock.

“Then she can’t…” Cly whispers back.

“The ceremony will be postponed,” Geto announces and takes the parchment from you. “We will have to teach you how to read first.”

_____________________________________________________________

Shame accompanies you as you sit on your bed and watch the others eat. Your body, however, wants to close in on itself and disappear. Food is the last thing on your mind right now.

“My cousin never learned how to read,” Ariadne mentions, pulling her fish apart, and other women echo her sentiments. You know they’re trying to be kind, but it doesn’t achieve the effect they desire at all. It just makes you feel even dumber than before.

Your door swings open a moment later, and Cly walks in, followed by Geto.

“Ladies, His Holiness is requesting the room.” The other women vanish in a mess of giggles and murmurs, leaving you and Geto alone as Clymenestra closes the doors. Geto strolls about in your room for what feels like ages until he stops in front of you in the bed.

“I did not know you couldn’t read.”

“No one does, your Holiness,” you reply, looking to your hands in your lap.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he offers and holds up a book in his right hand. You watch him approach the bed carefully, then sit on the edge, his long black locks obscuring his facial features as he flips through the tome. “I’ll start coming by every evening to help you learn. Clymenestra has offered to help you learn how to write during the day. That way, you’re learning both at the same time.”

“Your Holiness, you are too ki--” Geto places his hand on your leg, looking up at you with his bottomless onyx eyes. You’re stunned into silence by his look - which isn’t one of pity. It’s one of compassion and kindness, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the flickering lamplight.

“Y/n, it is my duty and my honor to help you in this way. You returned something very precious to me, and I think it is only right to give you something just as timeless.”

“Did you get an answer from the Rain God?” you ask, and Geto drops his eyes.

“Yuta is displeased with your city for many reasons. He has demanded to speak with you personally about atonement, which is another reason why it is imperative for you to become immortal as soon as possible.”

“And the first reason why…?”

“I cannot answer that right now,” Geto whispers, and then opens the book again, shifting it so you could see the pages. “We should try this one. I like this story; it’s about a mermaid named Mija and a starfish named Nuri.”

You finger the gold-lettered pages carefully, feeling the smooth foil underneath your fingers, and Geto places your finger on the first word, holding your hand gently.

“Once”; the second word: “upon”; the third: “a”; the final word: “time”.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @nostaren @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious @missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sashimeh @ggotgame

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #3: Cider and Gold

Prompt: scale || Master Post || On AO3

So this ended up veering in a similar direction as yesterday’s fill, but ultimately I thought it made a nice contrast, and there’s always my editing phase in October if I’m not ultimately pleased with it later on.

--

Ehll Tou’s pretty bare warehouse had been transformed over the last year into a proper lair: assorted spaces for her various crafts (the kitchen very carefully built to keep it sealed from anything from her little foundry or alchemical lab), the guestrooms for her friends, storage spaces, and of course, her own personal roost. Building the walls and cupboards and tables and decorating had been such fun, but almost as fun had been trading with the residents of the Firmament: her sewn and sawed and smelted goods for pretty glass chimes to hang in her windows, or a sturdy chair for Hautdilong, or a plush embroidered pillow to add to her nest.

Truly, the best thing about being smaller and not as pointy as other adult dragons was the ability to burrow into a giant pile of pillows and blankets for a well-deserved nap and not worry about anything tearing. Such a lovely invention, the pillow.

(She wondered, sometimes, if Ratatoskr had enjoyed soft things. But neither the First Brood nor their elder children nor her sire nor her sire’s broodmates answered such questions; pillows and rugs and comforters could not withstand the passage of time like metal or stone, and if Sohr Khai had ever had tapestries as pretty as the ones that now adorned her own walls, she would never know.)

But recently, with Arvide and Synnove's help, she had partitioned off the front entrance of her warehouse into something resembling a shop front! Some Ishgardians wished to commission her, offering gil in exchange for the items she made, which was both flattering and bewildering. (Though not unwelcome; gil would make acquiring her supplies much easier, after all.)

[I am proud of my skills and crafts,] she had said, [but I am not yet a master!]

“It's the novelty, I suspect,” Synnove had said, rubbing at the ears of the carbuncle around her neck.

Arvide had nodded his agreement. “Aye, the ability to show off to that they owned something made by a dragon.”

Ehll Tou couldn’t say she didn’t understand. Dragons were as boastful of men, of course, just not of possessions. But she had agreed that if she wished to accept commissions, it would be wise to set aside a small portion of her lair’s space to meet potential clients, so that they did not intrude upon the sanctity of her workshops or nest. (Another similarity between dragons and men, though among dragons one didn’t necessarily bring a stranger to one’s lair at all, or let them within.) Arvide and Synnove had rigged a door-ringer for her that would work just as well for social guests as it would clients with a bronze bell that could be clearly heard even in the forge all the way at the back of the warehouse, and with Hautdilong, she had carefully painted a sign to put next to the door advertising when she was open and accepting work.

Today, when her cheery bell rang, Ehll Tou was in her woodworking shop (its walls and ceiling as tightly made as the kitchen’s, for the damage here could be more ruinous than spoiled food), and she looked up from planing a mahogany plank for a bookshelf ordered by Marcelloix and Audaine. She cocked her head and glanced at the chronometer on the wall, thrumming thoughtfully; no clients were due by to check their orders, and it was late enough she should consider taking down her sign and dimming the lights of her little foyer. Curious, very curious.

She set down her planer and shook the sawdust from her claws, grabbing a feather duster she kept to brush away any woodchips or shavings that stuck between her scales before she tracked them all over the rest of the warehouse. That done, she exited the woodshop and closed the door behind her, and trotted quickly down the length of the building, flapping her wings once to allow her to glide a short distance to finally reach the front. She turned the knob and stepped into the foyer-shop, a brief purr escaping her as she did; good, the new hot water pipes were doing an excellent job keeping this room as warm as the rest!

Another dozen steps to the warehouse’s front doors and she hauled one open, peering out into the evening gloom—and nearly squawked like a gull in surprise.

[Ser Aymeric, hello!] she said, pushing the door open wider. [Come in, come in, be welcome!]

“Good evening, Ehll Tou,” Synnove’s mate said, smiling, as he stepped inside. “How do fare tonight?”

[I am well, thank you,] she said, shutting the door behind him. [You’re allowed to the friends’ door at the back, you know!]

Ser Aymeric laughed softly and removed his gloves. He wasn’t dressed in his armor; today must have been a Parliament day, then. “I am aware, thank you,” he said, “though today I’m here on business rather than pleasure, and I felt it rude to use the excuse of friendship to intrude upon your valuable time.”

He had such nice manners. The moogles could stand to learn a thing or two from him, and then perhaps she would consider bending the rules for them as she was about to do for her friend’s mate now.

[Nonsense,] she snorted. [Give me a moment to the put the sign up, please; I do not have tea at the moment, but I do have a cask of apple cider.]

Once the sign had been brought inside, the doors locked, and the foyer lights dimmed, Ehll Tou led the way to the kitchen, briefly pausing to allow him to hang his coat up, and poured them both mugs of fresh cider once they were settled. There were still some cherry scones from her last baking experiment, too, that had survived Hautdilong’s taste-testing, and she plated those to offer, too.

Ser Aymeric murmured his thanks, and made similar appreciative noises as her friend had at the first bite of scone, so Ehll Tou mentally noted that recipe should be properly recorded in her “make more often” cookbook. As the elezen sipped at his cider, she crouched on the other side of the kitchen table so they were roughly at eye level.

[How may I be of assistance?] she said.

He swallowed his bite of scone—oh, they needed to bully the moogles into taking etiquette lessons from this man right now—and smiled at her. “Synnove’s nameday is coming up quite soon,” he said, “and I’d like to seek your assistance in making a gift for her.”

Ehll Tou perked up, a churr of excitement burbling in the back of her throat. She had been asked to make nameday presents for clients before, but never for a friend! [Did you have something in mind already?]

He reached into his pocket, and placed two items on the tabletop with a soft clink: two pieces of golden metal, shaped similarly to a dragon’s scales, only a little smaller than his hand. “These are two pieces of the lining on my armored surcoat,” Ser Aymeric said. “The armorers had performed some repairs, and removed these as they weren’t as sound as they should be any longer. I thought they might be repurposed into something and asked to keep them.”

She cocked her head from side to side, reaching out to delicately pick up one of the scales and hold it between her claws. She hummed thoughtfully as she examined it, twisting her hand from side to side, watching how it caught the light. It wasn’t of a material she immediately knew—she would need Arvide’s opinion, or perhaps Stephanivien’s—but it was quite pretty, and if it had once been armor-quality, it would be sturdy.

[There are a number of things that come to mind,] she said slowly, mind whirring. [Let me get my sketchbook and graphite, and let’s see what we can come up with together.]

Ser Aymeric’s smile was warm and pleased, and Ehll Tou promised to herself that she would make this one of the best nameday presents she would ever make.

(But she would make one for Synnove, too, that came from just herself. And give the Highlander a piece of her mind for not telling that her nameday was approaching!)

[eric-the-bmo]

Tell me more about Ven pls!!

Oh!!!!!! Oh Ven my beloved!!! He’s so awful okay where do I start oh goodness-

{warnings for mentions of cannibalism, manipulation, memory loss, and suicide ideation}

Also all of this is from memory, I haven’t checked his character document in like half a year-

So! Mechanically speaking, Ven is a dnd character I have yet to play (im so sorry, ive got you intrigued by my dnd oc), but I’ve planned out events in my head and he essentially functions as a whump oc, my funky little pathetic magician who will be covered in blood. In regards to Dungeons and Dragons, he’s an Aberrant Mind Sorcerer with the Haunted One background <3

He likes poetry, peppermint tea, the color green, and would really just prefer to live peacefully in Meadowvale with his wife. He’s quiet and a bit nervous, and is reluctant to admit he has magic and has a habit of talking to himself. He dislikes being pushed on certain topics and will erupt in anger if continued to be pushed, and will often stalk off to read poetry to calm down (nerd). He also likes cooking, and carries around a journal that functions as both a poetry book and diary. He has very long fingers, a sign that his body has already begun to change from delayed ceremorphosis. I’m uh, I’m not the best at describing personalities? Maybe I’ll ramble more but here’s his backstory:

Ven showed up to Meadowvale around 8 years ago and bought an empty bookshop to use as his own. He was very religious and never spoke much about his past, even to Ophelia, the captain of the guard who would eventually become his wife. The two of them got married, and it rained, but that was okay. A little over a year ago in the current timeline, he suddenly disappeared. Search parties were sent out but to no avail, and eventually Ophelia hired a passing adventuring party (who called themselves the Dice Crew, and might lowkey be wanted by the law) to go find him. They did in fact find him, in the woods, and while he was a bit apprehensive they managed to bring him back to her. Unfortunately what they didn’t realize was that during his time being missing, he was being held captive in a mind flayer lair (hooray!). He had fit the requirements for the ceremorphosis process, and so an illthid tadpole was inserted into his brain via his eye. Before it was inserted, however, he prayed to every deity he could think of, begging for them to come save him. None of them did, of course, and in his last moments before the parasite ate away at him he vowed to never worship them again. Anyway he has Extreme Memory Loss, and one of the only things he remembers is that the gods did not help him (help him with what, exactly, he doesn’t remember). (Also fun fact it’s implied there are other people like him who got implanted with parasites, hooray)

He eventually get reaccustomed to everything, but due to so many townspeople worrying over him he eventually felt,,, guilty? He dislikes being pitied, and perhaps if I had the words I could explain it better. This is around the time he starts to develop some sort of PTSD from what happened- disliking things going near his eyes, panicking whenever he sees a tadpole or some kind of multi-legged bug, nightmares he can’t quite remember. Ophelia tries her best to help him (genuinely let’s acknowledge how she’s also going through a lot atm, we love Ophelia in this household) This is also when the parasite residing in his brain starts to act up. More migraines, sleepwalking (*cough* it’s possession *cough*), things like that. The parasite also communicates with Ven, although since he doesn’t know of its existence, he merely thinks it’s his own thoughts, and often speaks out loud “with himself” to try and figure out his thoughts. Cere essentially functions as intrusive thoughts, self-hatred and anxiety for Ven. One day in the summer a man enters the shop with a dagger and threatens to kill Ven, implying he knows the poet. Ven, having no recollection of this man, tries to deesculate the situation. The stranger lunges at him, and in this moment of stress- Well, his body’s psionic magics have slowly been building up for a long time. With all of it suddenly being unlocked, well... the man was torn apart, and Ven entered a panic attack. Unbeknownst to himself, he used his magic to make Ophelia hide the body, and he was afraid of this newfound sorcery. His guilt over being a supposed burden to his wife, as well as all of his guilt over murdering a stranger/ his anxiety over being found out, his fears of hurting Ophelia with his magic... There were a lot of factors, one of them being Cere’s manipulation, of course, that pushed him to leave. He reasoned that if he became an adventurer, he could find a way to get rid of his horrible magic. He secretly gathered up everything he felt he needed to become an adventurer, and on his and Ophelia’s wedding anniversary they spent the entire day together. It was nice. He left in the middle of the night, with a letter on the counter explaining why he had gone. He promises her he will write to her (there will be no address listed, to prevent her from tracking him down. He wants to do this himself.), and that he will come home eventually.

While he doesn’t have a good grasp on his magic yet (sometimes accidentally using it), he has a good enough grasp that he can manipulate it enough to avoid killing anyone with it. AKA, his spellcasting primarily focuses on Utility, Enchantments, Area of Effect, anything besides violence, although he does have a few small-damage spells. Despite having a green color palette, his magic is purple, a color that’s primarly used for Ceremorph. When using his Metamagic or using extra Spell Slots (AKA when he uses too much magic ig), it will result in a nosebleed.

Eventually Ven will discover the parasite in his brain, as well as the fact he’s becoming a mind flayer, and it just overall won’t be a very fun time for him (he has a horrible mental breakdown and temporarily goes insane, because the way he finds out is that he blacks out and wakes up in the middle of eating a man’s brain). I’ve a few scenes in mind, such as him considering bashing his head against the wall. My personal favorite is where he considers staking himself with the tools from his monster hunting kit, because isnt he a monster? Isnt it better to destroy himself now, rather than watch himself become worse? He’ll decide against it, saying he promised Ophelia he’d come home. (It’s also because even I don’t want him to die like that, that’s too dark for me. I want this poet to get better.)

he has such low self esteem, he doesn’t want to bother people and so he doesnt bring up his trauma at all and feels bad when he needs to be comforted. He has religious trauma and an avoidance coping mechanism and it’s so terribly bad, bestie u cant run from the parasite in ur brain. He wants to help others to try and prove he’s not a bad person, that he’s not a monster, and despite making bad decisions he doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He likes cooking, eventually he’ll only be able to be a cannibal. He’s a bit of an asshole. He’s against murder and will try to find another way to apprehend enemies, but hates the Gods and will in fact try to stab one (with the Stranger’s Dagger, mind you, because I love parallels), deep down he’s worried he did something that caused him to lose the Gods’ favor. He’s got PTSD from two fucking events, I want him to hallucinate. Ophelia deserves to be really pissed at him. He’s gonna have a horrible time, I want him to have a happy ending after everything he’s gone though.

He’s my pathetic little poet and I adore him, he’s in a psychological horror movie <3

[xiaomomowrites]

home

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary:  “Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Or; Zhongli struggles to define what exactly “home” means to him.

Find it on Ao3!

This part takes place between act V and Zhongli, Come Down. I know I posted this series totally out of order, please forgive me for my lack of organization :,D

A/N: First of all, I finally have a beta reader!! She’s helped me through the process of writing this and I’m incredibly thankful for her support. I accidentally made her cry with this fic though, even if it wasn’t necessarily sad?? Regardless I appreciate her feedback haha. 

Oh my, I feel like I’ve been writing these two being really soft for too long. After this, I really need to face the music and write these two fighting. The time has come. They won’t be in the honeymoon phase forever!! I’m gonna vibe check all of you. 

Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the songs Home by Michael Buble and Sparks by Coldplay after or during you read this. You’re welcome.

Lastly, you can find me on Twitter @/xiaoscribbles where I’m extremely active and talk too much about Genshin. I love making friends there!

Enjoy <3 -u.n.

--

Zhongli never had a place to call home. 

Or rather, he never bothered to find one of his own and commit to it.

He was always too mobile, too nomadic. He had places to be, people and adepti to see, contracts to see through. Zhongli never found himself settling into one place for too long. Sure, when he was Rex Lapis, he had nested many times. He was a beast whose presence was too large to be confined into one space, so he would glide to the highest mountain in Liyue with ample space for a dragon like him, and settle. Zhongli remembered how he would make it as comfortable as possible for himself using all kinds of things he would pick up on his travels. A deep purr of satisfaction would rumble through him as his scaled belly would make contact with the coolness of the earth, and Rex Lapis would allow himself to relax against the stone, body sinking as if he were weightless. Although, no matter how he shifted, tossed and turned when he tried to rest, something was always missing. 

Even the familiar feeling of the Liyuan ground was not enough to fill the void in his chest.

It was satisfying, sure, but never completing. 

Hence, his lack of understanding of the human desire to settle down in one home for the rest of their short, yet meaningful lives. 

Were they not itching to get up and go somewhere else? See the world? Appreciate the land beneath their feet in all its entirety? Zhongli failed to comprehend. Even an ancient being like him fell short in understanding the idea of a “home”. 

Well, what consisted of a home, anyway? Four walls and a roof over their heads? A kitchen filled with food? A soft bed with layers and layers of sheets? What was the meaning of all that, when the true beauty of the world was beyond those four walls, high into the sky, and deep beneath the sea? What kind of pleasure could possibly come out of being domesticated? 

Nevertheless, Zhongli did make an old promise to try to understand humans as they were. So sure, Zhongli supposed he could appreciate the art of architecture. He saw how hard people worked to build these beautiful houses with intricate designs to maximize safety for the residents excited to inhabit them. It was endearing, Zhongli thought, how enthusiastic humans got about a house. The idea of settling down with their loved ones would give them so much serotonin, so much drive. It was inspiring to him. Zhongli had always hoped that one day, he could feel the same way about someone.

So why couldn’t bring himself to understand the joy in this “home” everyone spoke of? What was he missing? Was he missing the duvet? The one thousand thread count sheets? Was he missing the fine China he saw peddlers selling on roads far from town? Because he had tried his best, living in his mortal form, to find the simple pleasure in decorating his home. 

But no matter what he did, no matter how many throw pillows he placed on the couch, he simply could not deny the gaping hole in his chest when he went to bed at night. He had reached a point where even cooking for one every night upset him so, and he would go to bed disgruntled and hollow. The vast margins left on the king sized bed in the middle of the night kept Zhongli awake.  Though he did not even need sleep, he had tried his best to form what the humans called a “proper sleeping schedule”. Apparently, according to Hu Tao, sleeping at four in the morning and waking at seven for work was “not suitable”.

But in truth, what was he supposed to do? Pray tell, what could he possibly do to absolve the issue of the chasm growing in his chest with each passing night? 

“Xiansheng!” A jovial voice snaps him out of his reverie. 

Zhongli looks up from his mundane paperwork to see a familiar head of red hair bounding toward him languidly. Oh, what a sight for sore eyes.

“Childe,” he greets, “did you pester Miss Hu Tao into letting you back here again?”

“Pester?” Childe brings a hand to his chest to mock his hurt, “I hardly have to bother her to come back here. A simple ‘you look fantastic today’ is always my ticket in.”

Zhongli scoffs fondly. “How can I help you, Childe?” He sets his pen down and leans back in his chair, amber eyes following the Harbinger curiously.

“Well your break is in ten minutes, so I figured I’d come grab you for lunch at Wanmin?” Childe plants two hands flat on the cherry red oak desk and leans forward into Zhongli’s space. There’s his signature teasing smile spreading slyly across his face, the one he knows Zhongli won’t be able to resist.

Zhongli hums in approval. “Sure, let me just wrap up this last form and I should be ready to go shortly.”

Childe drops down to his elbows in response and rests his face between his palms. “You sure? We could just go now, you know. I got Hu Tao consulting Ying’er about the new fragrance for the next hour or so.”

Zhongli leans forward and meets him in the middle. “I must be responsible, Childe. If my lunch break is at noon, then I will not leave my post until then.”

Childe pouts, jutting his bottom lip out cutely in an attempt to convince him otherwise. Zhongli, immovable as ever, simply leans forward and captures his lips between his own. The Harbinger makes a happy noise in the back of his throat and presses closer, positively humming when the ex-Archon reciprocates. But the older man is quick to get back to work, pulling away as quick as he came, but not before he nips at Childe’s bottom lip. The ginger whines petulantly at the loss of contact. 

“Have a seat, Ajax.” Zhongli speaks, a hair’s width away from kissing him again. Childe grumbles, but agrees regardless. He seats himself in one of the plush armchairs located in the corner of the office and makes himself comfortable for the next ten minutes. 

Zhongli readjusts himself in his seat and picks his pen back up, glancing back down at the form he had already completed. He blinked owlishly at it. He must have finished signing it while Childe was talking without realizing what he had done. Regardless, he moves onto the next document to peruse silently. Mid sentence, he scoffs playfully, shaking his head at the thought of the ginger distracting him so. Is he even surprised at this point? Not even a little bit. The ginger has an incomprehensible hold on his heart, one that he doesn’t really want to shake off.

“Something funny, Xiansheng?” Childe teases from his seat. He’s reclined in his chair, relaxed, head lolling against the cushioned headrest. His eyes are closed and his shoulders are drooping into the leather. He’s relaxed, for once, and the thought of Ajax allowing himself to let his guard down in his presence makes Zhongli’s heart thump happily in his chest.

“Not particularly,” Zhongli pushes himself up with a groan. Goodness, his joints are getting tired. He pads over to where Childe is seated and forcefully makes room for himself on a chair that is clearly made for one person. Childe lets out a surprised yelp at the sudden intrusion but scoots over to make room, anyway. Zhongli makes himself comfortable by angling his body to where it’s being cradled by the junction between the armrest and the back, and opens his arms as a silent invitation.

Childe takes it happily and launches forward to burrow into Zhongli’s chest. He rests a gloved hand over his heart and snuggles closer, inhaling the deep scent of silk flowers and leather. Zhongli’s arms come around to strap him against his chest, gloved hands petting his sides as he presses a kiss to red hair. The contact immediately vanquishes the discourse in his mind. He squeezes him tight for good measure, forcing a grunt out of his Tartaglia. 

“Xiansheng,” he calls. 

“Hm?”

“You’re working too hard again.”

“Am I?” He questions absentmindedly. “And here I thought I was pulling my weight just fine.”

Childe snorts. “Pulling your weight? You know I make enough for the both of us. You could retire and stay at home, relaxing and reading books, or whatever it is you do at home.”

Ah, there it is again.

Home.

For the second time that day, Zhongli is struck with confusion.

“What is home to you, Childe?” He asks, voice soft and far away. Childe frowns against his chest in confusion.

“Home?” He parrots.

“Yes, home. What is ‘home’ to you, Tartaglia?” 

“Hmm,” the Harbinger hums, tapping a gloved finger against the ex-Archon’s chest idly as he speaks. “I suppose home is Snezhnaya. Home is what I grew up in. The unbearable cold and the old cottage house. Ice fishing with my siblings, massaging my mother’s back. Those things are all home to me.”

Zhongli ponders. Of course that is what home means. Familiarity, yes? So, technically, his home was Liyue. The hustle and bustle of trade by the harbor, the loud sizzling woks at the food stands, the loud marketers on the street that work hard day and night, the enthusiastic story tellers spewing exaggerated lies— that was all home to him. 

So why, then, was Zhongli still dissatisfied with this conclusion? Home should obviously be Liyue. He created this land with his own two hands. Gave people the very drive that keeps them alive today; he gave the idea of mora and fair trade and economic prosperity. He’s watched countless faces pass him every day, every year, every century. He’s seen new faces, young faces, old faces, familiar faces, too, the ones he had seen on older souls. Reincarnated souls. Zhongli knew those souls. He’s had dinner with many of them on multiple occasions. 

And it was no secret that Zhongli was well known in his hometown. Every business owner was familiar with his eloquent way of speaking and ambitious ways of buying. With the arrival of Childe, every business owner all but doubled their enthusiasm now that Mister Zhongli finally had a means to pay. People knew Zhongli, they adored him. They admired his amber eyes and long, beautiful hair, the ends of it looking like it had been dipped in melted mora. When he walked, people’s eyes followed. They would stare longingly at his beautifully crafted coat, his single earring, the fine leather gloves that cover his deft hands, and they would admire the way he walked with purpose, and with fire. A confidence so set in stone, it was almost difficult for one to even approach Mister Zhongli. For so long, he was considered Liyue’s most handsome bachelor, until of course Tartaglia came along and swept him off of his feet, capturing his attention in a way no one else could ever imagine imitating.

Yet, despite all the attention his people lavished upon him, there was always a nagging feeling of isolation nipping at him in the back of his mind. Despite creating the very ground beneath their feet, he simply felt like he did not fit in. Only when he was with Tartaglia did he truly feel like he belonged anywhere. It was rather inexplicable. There was something about the way Tartagali’s presence wrapped around him with a level of tenderness he had never experienced. It covered him like a gentle embrace, welcomed him without judgement, and loved him without expecting anything in return. The thought of Ajax himself made Zhongli’s heart swell

Speaking of which, the said man was now pressed tightly against his chest tracing lazy patterns into the fabric of his coat. Their long legs were tangled where they were dangling off the seat, with Tartaglia’s foot rubbing affectionately against the older man’s ankle. 

Oh, how far they have come. 

“But,” Tartaglia suddenly interjects, jolting Zhongli out of his thoughts. “If my family were to come here to Liyue to stay, then I suppose Liyue would be home, too.”

Zhongli hums. “Naturally. I’m sure they would find the variety of houses here in Liyue nice and peaceful, perfect for a new home.”

At that, Childe lets out a light laugh. “Honestly? They could live in a cardboard box in Inazuma, and I would still call that home.”

Zhongli frowns. Well now he’s even more confused than when he started. Since when was a cardboard box a suitable home for a human? It completely lacked all the appliances the houses here in Liyue had. Why would Childe settle for that? He of all people was aware of the love he holds for his family, there simply was no way he would call that a suitable home for his family. 

“I don’t understand,” he says instead, “a cardboard box, Tartaglia? You do not strike me as the type to settle for such an...unbecoming home. Especially for your family.”

“No, no, Xiansheng,” the Harbinger chuckles, sitting up slightly so he can look Zhongli in the eye. “I was just exaggerating. And, home isn’t always supposed to be a house, you know. Those two things can be mutually exclusive. Maybe not all the time, but, definitely most of the time.”

Well this was certainly new. Now he truly did not understand what it meant to have a home.

“Apparently I do not know.”

Childe sits upright to look down at the ex-Archon.

“Home isn’t always a place,” he taps Zhongli’s chest, “home can mean a lot of things to different people. For me, my home is my family. Wherever they are is where my home is. And maybe that’s in Liyue, maybe it’s in Snezhnaya, or maybe it’s in Inazuma. Either way, wherever my mother is, wherever my siblings are, that’s what I call home.”

Childe is aware he’s rambling, but he can’t help it. Once he starts talking about his siblings, he simply cannot stop. “It wouldn’t matter where I was if I couldn’t hear my siblings from the other room. If I didn’t wake up to Tonia’s loud blow dryer every morning, or if I didn’t hear Anthon trying to talk to her over the blowing, then it isn’t home. If I can’t hear Teucer’s footsteps coming toward me asking about a new Mr. Cyclops toy, it isn’t home. Not to me. But like I said, it’s different for everyone.”

As Childe trails off, he’s suddenly aware of how he’s fidgeting with a button on Zhongli’s coat now. The tips of his ears turn red. He meets his gaze abashedly. “Does that answer your question?” 

Zhongli smiles fondly at him. “I believe it does. Thank you for indulging me.”

Childe pushes himself up and off the chair, stretching and yawning obnoxiously. “Great,” he replies once his jaw finishes unhinging itself from that yawn, “let’s eat, I’m starving.”

—

To put it simply, Zhongli rethinks his definition of home all night. After he gets home from his dinner date (Tartaglia tugged on his sleeves until he agreed to leave his shift early in favor of a new restaurant that had popped up recently), he closes the door behind him to take in the composition of his home. Tartaglia had been the one to pick out most of the furniture, so although it lacked many of the traditional Liyuan decor Zhongli would have furnished the place with himself, it had a nice touch of Tartaglia everywhere he went. 

His couch, for example, was a deep mahogany leather that stayed cool to the touch despite the hottest of summers. Zhongli’s dresser was nice and tall, a deep chestnut brown cut from the forests of Snezhnaya to match his bed frame. His bed was elevated by an incredibly grandiose four post frame that hung a beautiful golden translucent curtain all around the bed, draping the perimeter and creating an ethereal atmosphere for when he sleeps at night. 

(“It’s kinda sexy, don’t you think?” Childe had asked one day, while he was pondering which bed frame to buy for his boyfriend. Not that he needed to, considering Zhongli finally has a stable salary, he just wanted to.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had said disapprovingly, “what about it is sexy to you? 

“I don’t knowww,” the Harbinger hums, “maybe it looks like I would feel like I’m on cloud nine when we’re, you know…”

“You can say sex, Ajax, I believe in you.”

“Oh stop that!” Childe whacks him playfully with the catalogue, “I’m being a good boyfriend and getting you a beautiful bed frame cut from the finest oak tree and sheets woven with high quality silk! You could be nicer to me, you know.” He’s pouting, and he knows it. Zhongli’s eyes soften.

Zhongli shakes his head, laughing. “You know you don’t need to do that, you know.”

“I want to,” Ajax persists, “this is your first actual living space as a mortal! I want it to be perfect. I refuse to have my boyfriend, who is a literal god, sleeping on a bed with no bed frame. Unacceptable.”

Zhongli smiles and watches him as he continues to ramble about all the different bed frames he could buy. Oh, his love for this boy knows no end.)

The hints of Ajax everywhere he goes is how he keeps himself sane each night. His possessive urge to be around him every second of every day (courtesy of being a dragon deity his entire six thousand year life span) is soothed with the smell of him on his sheets and the extra toothbrush by the sink. One of Tartaglia’s scarves is folded neatly on the arm of his couch, and during those nights where he truly feels Ajax’s absence, he’ll hold the red fabric close and breathe the scent in deeply. The smell alone is enough to rock him to sleep on some nights, but on others, it simply is not enough. On those nights, he finds himself reading book after book about Snezhnaya culture until he passes out from exhaustion. 

One would think that it would be better for them to just live together. Given that they spent every second outside of work with each other, even going so far as walking the long route home just to avoid saying goodbye, a person would look at the way they held each other close in public and think that they’ve been married for quite some time already. 

But alas, they had agreed to take their relationship slow in the beginning. The both of them had much to adjust to, given that one of them was a notoriously fierce Harbinger, and the other was an ex-Archon adjusting to the world without his gnosis. They both had complex schedules that they were much too familiar and comfortable with to just up and leave for another person. There was a certain period of time that they had agreed to spend apart, well, as “apart” as they could be, before they decided to do anything drastic, like move in together. 

There was too much to consider, anyway, Zhongli reflects as he gets ready for bed. Would their living habits even align? Would Tartaglia even be a good roommate? Would he take out the trash responsibly? As much as he loves the ginger with his entire heart, he doesn’t think he could do it for long if Tartaglia was the type to walk around with shoes on. Such an act should be considered illegal, anyway.

Waiting was the right thing to do. 

Right? 

The nights Tartaglia spent with him were the nights he could sleep a full, uninterrupted eight hours. They were the nights that Zhongli felt himself truly relax into the sheets and sink into a blissful sleep, knowing his beloved was being held impossibly close. And if nighttime was therapeutic for him, mornings felt ethereal. The mornings where he rose with the sun to be met with the sight of Tartaglia next to him were the mornings he felt like he could fly again, and soar through the open Liyue skies in his rawest form forever, so long as Tartaglia was with him. 

In fact, more often than not, Zhongli thought about the way it would feel to have Childe by his side as he explored the skies again. He would think about the way he would have to strap him down, nice and close so he doesn’t fall off his back, and then take off high into the sky. Not too high, lest he accidentally give his boyfriend a heart attack, but high enough to hear those delightful shrieks Childe will let out when he’s excited. He thinks about the way Childe could grasp onto his mane for security, hands threading through golden locks, legs tightening around his torso to avoid falling. Oh, he thinks about this a lot. 

But, waiting was the right thing to do. The last thing he wanted was for Childe to feel uncomfortable with the pace that their relationship was going and make him uneasy. Besides, just because he was a possessive dragon at heart, it didn’t mean Ajax was willing to cater to his needy tendencies. So, he promised himself that he would create a reasonable distance between them for the time being.

Why then, did he hate this distance with every fiber of his being? 

Why is the distance so unbearable, especially at night? 

Why is he so unsettled with the very few miles between them? It’s not like Zhongli is in Liyue and Childe is in Snezhnaya. Tartaglia is literally only at the inn. 

Yet he craves nothing more but to be close to him at all times. Zhongli’s skin itches with the desperate desire to feel him by his side when he goes to bed, when he wakes up, and all the moments in between. Does that make him clingy? Maybe. But old habits die hard. 

Zhongli huffs and looks down at his flattened pillow with disdain. No amount of fluffing will restore it to a state that is suitable for his likes. Even the elegantly woven silk night robe wrapped around his body offers little to no comfort. 

He glances at the clock. 

It’s only half past midnight. If all went well with Tartaglia’s shift, he should be home now, fresh out of the shower. 

Without thinking twice, Zhongli throws together an overnight bag and rushes out the door. 

—

“Coming, I’m coming,” Childe calls to the incessant knocks at his door. The knuckles continue to rap against the barrier, though, and Childe’s fingers itch to summon a water blade in the case that things go south. Considering that there is rarely anyone that would dare to disturb him at this time of night, Childe would say his precautionary measures are reasonable. He had summoned an angry water god, after all. It was only a matter of time before the angry mobs got to him. 

The knocks sound again, and Childe angrily ruffles his hair against the towel. If they could just wait one second, he could answer the door with dry hair, but no. Peace was not an option, apparently, and neither was a perfectly fluffed head of hair.

He stomps toward the door and swings it open, ready to scold whoever had—

“Xiansheng!” He startles when he sees Zhongli standing in the doorway, donning a simple black t-shirt tucked into high waisted pants that were loose and slightly flared at the bottom, and his feet were covered by simple strappy sandals. Childe vaguely remembers purchasing those pants for him when he had mentioned wanting more loose and liberating clothes. The ex-Archon looks good like this. He looks… impossibly soft. Vulnerable, almost. There’s a distant look in his amber eyes that has Childe mildly concerned, though. Childe tries to ignore the sudden urge to protect him to his last dying breath.

“What are you doing here?” He sidesteps and reaches out to drag his boyfriend in. “I thought we had already discussed you sleeping so late! I know you’re an adeptus, you don’t require sleep, blah blah blah, but still, you—“

“I missed you,” Zhongli stated so matter of factly. “I wanted to see you. So I came here.” 

Childe gawks at him and closes the door slowly. So he had just walked all the way here?! At this hour?! Goodness, the audacity—

“Xiansheng,” he whines instead, dragging the older man into an embrace. He wraps his arms around his neck and presses his cheek into his hair. “You can’t just say those things. It’s impossible for me to love you more.”

Zhongli holds him with desperation, welcoming the hug so enthusiastically that Childe knows there’s something to be said. 

“Can I stay the night?” The adeptus asks once they pull apart. 

Childe looks at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even need to ask! Go, make yourself comfortable. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner?” 

Zhongli drops his bag by his side of the bed and takes a seat, still watching Childe with careful eyes. 

“I’ve eaten,” he answers carefully. “I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable at… home… so I came here.” 

Childe frowns, and joins him on the bed. He flips the covers open and clambers in, resting back against the headboard. “Not comfortable? Is something wrong with your place?” 

“Maybe,” Zhongli tries, “I really don’t know. Frankly I’ve been conflicted about… many things… recently, and I feel as if I have reached an impasse. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“Zhongli,” Tartaglia says, suddenly serious, “how come this is the first time I’m hearing of this?” His voice drops an octave, the worry seeping into his tone. 

Zhongli reclines and rests against the headrest, too. “I did not know how to express my troubles to you, mainly because I’m having trouble defining it myself.” 

Well, that’s fair enough. Tartaglia can’t find it in himself to be mad at that reasoning.

“Well,” Tartaglia begins, reaching for Zhongli’s hand and hugging his arm to his chest. He scoots closer and uses Zhongli’s shoulder as a pillow. “Why don’t you just start rambling and maybe it’ll come to you.”

“I think I have a vague idea, actually,” Zhongli adjusts himself to make himself more comfortable for Ajax. The both of them find themselves staring up at the ceiling as they converse. “Remember when I asked you what ‘home’ means to you?”

“Of course,” Tartaglia answers. Oh, he has an idea of where this is going.

“Well, I’m unsure of what it means to me.”

Bingo.

“What it means to you?” The Harbinger asks, craning his neck to look up at him. Zhongli hums, affirmative. 

“Yes, I’ve been struggling to define the term for myself. I’ve been observing others much more closely and how they define their own home, but I’m afraid it has made me more confused.”

Tartaglia juts out his bottom lip in contemplation. “What do you mean?” 

Zhongli takes a deep breath, a long explanation at the tip of his tongue. Tartaglia braces himself, as he usually does.

“Today you told me home was your family. Miss Xiangling told me home was her father, and the smell of their kitchen. Young Xingqiu told me his home was within whatever book he was reading, even describing it as his safe space. And Miss Ningguang, most peculiar of all, had told me home was when she was out at sea, but only when Captain Beidou was by her side. Mind you, I had fully expected it to be the Jade palace, considering the built it from the ground up.” Zhongli rambles, “and I just found it strange how so many humans find different definitions for the word home. Such a simple word, too, so imagine my surprise when I discover it’s true complexity.”

“I’ve encountered many things in my life, Ajax. I have met so many people in this lifetime and watched them grow, watched them die, and even watched some be reincarnated. But I think…” he trails off, and the warmth in his eyes glimmer as he reaches an epiphany. “I think I am struggling to define the term because I have never been presented with the idea of stability. Things are always changing. The world around me continues to warp and I have noticed, in my time so far, that humans find the need for stability and reassurance because of the nature of their short lives. That is where I am lacking.”

—

Try as he might, Tartaglia takes slight offense to his statement. 

Lacking stability? The thought was bitter on his tongue.

Was… was Childe not enough? 

No, no, he forcefully derailed that train of thought, he came here tonight because you’re the only thing he can rely on in his life right now. Show him that.

“Well,” Childe starts carefully, and thanks the stars that his voice is steady. “What about me?”

Zhongli makes a confused noise. “What about you?” 

“Do you consider me as a stable thing in your life?” Childe prods, digging his cheek deeper into his shoulder.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Zhongli snorts. 

Childe unironically feels an ache in his chest. He stills against Zhongli. Ouch. 

Luckily, Zhongli is at least able to pick up on his sudden discomfort, and he’s quick to follow up his statement. 

“You misunderstand, Ajax, you being wildly chaotic is a beautiful thing in and of itself.” Zhongli gently pries Childe off his arm to look at him directly. As expected, Childe is upset. He’s got the same glassy eyes he always dons when he’s upset, but doesn’t want to admit it, and his bottom lip is red and obviously bitten in an attempt to keep himself from feeling unreasonably angry. 

“Oh,” Zhongli coos at the sight, “I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine,” Childe blinks hard, “I’m just being dumb.”

“You’re not being dumb,” Zhongli is quick to negate his self-deprecative tendencies, “I must have come off very harsh just now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Childe thumps a fist against his chest, “it’s fine, really.”

“As I was saying,” the Archon continues, “nothing about my life so far has been stable, Ajax. Things are constantly changing. Time continuously flows, and it simply does not wait for any man. Unfortunately, I have seen many people come and go. And unfortunately, one day you will become one of them--”

“Zhongli stop,” Childe interrupts him. He’s angry, now. His brows are furrowed and there’s an evident frown on his face. There’s a slight scowl across his lips where there used to be a precious smile just moments ago. “What the hell?” He asks angrily. 

“Ajax,” Zhongli scolds softly, “it would be in your best interests if you let me finish.”

“Well, not if you’re just gonna talk about death,” Childe retorts. He’s aware that he sounds childish, but such a topic is not to be taken to lightly. Especially when it revolves around him, and what he would be leaving behind. The thought makes him sick to his stomach.

“Whether or not you’re stable, whether or not you’ll be here forever, you are the most important thing to me, probably ever.” He speaks with a certainty that makes Childe shiver. “You are the first person in a very long time that has made me want to try to grasp at the fleeting seconds I have with you, Ajax. You drive me crazy. And I love you for it, because never in my six thousand years have I had as much fun as when I am with you.”

Dammit, Childe is crying now. Zhongli has such a way with words, how could he not? Dating him is just one, huge, glorified emotional rollercoaster. Zhongli brushes a stray, reluctant tear away with the pad of his ungloved hand. 

“Frankly, stability is overrated,” the ex-Archon smiles at the soft giggle that escapes his beloved’s lips. “I have found, albeit slowly, that I would rather have someone loud and rambunctious than someone slow and settled. That is my role, if anything. There simply cannot be two of us, can there?”

A soft “no” is huffed as laughter from Childe. What a boring relationship that would be, truly.

“But if it is stability you seek, Ajax, let me be that for you. Let me be here, solid as stone and steadfast. Let me be the pillar of strength you need to turn to in times of trouble. Okay?” He brushes a knuckle gently across his skin.

Childe makes a sound that sounds a little broken and a little delirious. “When did this become about me, Xiansheng?” 

“To me, it’s always been about you,” Zhongli smiles fondly. Childe feels as if he’s been shot in the heart.

Childe gives him a shaky smile and nods. He can’t seem to control his heart at the moment, so instead, he says, “You’re my home, Zhongli.”

--

The gears seemed to finally click somewhere in Zhongli’s chest. The hollow feeling inside suddenly swelled with a sense of nostalgia, bringing with it a feeling of peace and serenity. Zhongli’s eyes widen, and the ex-Archon looks down at Childe with a sudden air of solid certainty. Childe almost shrinks at the intensity of his gaze. 

“Of course,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Of course it’s you.”

“What?” 

“How could I be so blind?” Zhongli cups his face with both hands, and Childe reciprocates by placing both palms on his wrists. Confused, but following along. Cor lapis eyes stare straight into his soul, unforgiving as it digs deeper and deeper into what makes him whole. 

“Xiansheng?” Ajax asks, dazed by the intensity of Zhongli’s stare. God, his eyes are so golden.

“It’s you, Ajax,” for once, his voice cracks and he loses composure, “you… are home. You are home. To me, that is my definition of home. I only ever feel-- I only ever feel like I belong when I am with you. It was so obvious, and I--”

“Zhongli,” Ajax gently pries off the hands cupped around his face. His heart can’t handle this right now. It’s too much. He’s too in love, he needs to do something or he’ll explode. He stares directly into those beautiful, mesmerizing golden eyes. Ajax cradles Zhongli’s hands in his own, petting over his knuckles, when he asks, “Marry me?”

His eyes widen comically, as if they weren’t already the size of saucepans with his first epiphany.

“Oh.”

So that’s what he was missing. 

“I know we said we would take it slow, and I know I’m young, or whatever” Childe begins to ramble, “but fuck going slow, Xiansheng, it’s been months and all I want to do is go to sleep with you next to me. I know what I want and it seems like you do, too, but if I misread that then--”

Zhongli hushes him with an incessant press of his lips against Childe’s. It is a loving kiss, yes, but it is filled with a desperation that only the both of them understand. It is a kiss that is so different from the others; one full of certainty and ambition, a kiss full of overwhelming commitment. The longing behind the contact is an answer in and of itself, but he pulls away to speak regardless. 

“Yes,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against Childe’s, “yes.”

That night, Zhongli finally comes to the conclusion that home does not have to mean four walls and a roof. It doesn’t pertain to any kind of fancy kitchen appliances, or four post bed frames. Zhongli quickly learns that it doesn’t have to be about a place, and all the stories it tells. It’s not even Liyue, the very land he built himself. It has nothing to do with any of that. In fact, the sheer ridiculousness of Zhongli’s inner conflict has him rolling.

Instead, it has everything to do with the red head beneath him. It has to do with the way he calls his name in the middle of the night, claws his hands down his back and juts his hips forward, desperately seeking friction. Home has everything to do with swollen lips, red from being kissed, cheeks hot pink from the heat slowly filling the room, and strong thighs clenching and unclenching around his waist. Home has to do with his precious Snezhnayan soulmate.

Simply, home is Ajax. 

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time of Magic

Merlin AU

I got really excited about writing this after getting so many great ideas from people! So I spent most of today on it :) I will make it clear now; some parts will follow how it went in canon, some parts will be similar to how it went in the show and other things I will be deviating from completely <3

Taglist: I’ll do my 'general writing taglist for now' but if you would like to be tagged (or not tagged if you have been) then please let me know via dm, asks or comments/tags! 😊💜

@psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships

Summary:  “No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

Tags for this chapter: OC death, (not graphic in any way) description of execution, brief mention of a weapon, alternative universe (Merlin and human AU) 

Word count: 2,818

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Into the Realm of Camelot.

“No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

The young man scrambled up the sandy hill and laughed when the grass brushed under his legs. He looked behind him at the vast expanse he had left behind. The blue and grey hues of the Brighsonee Mountain that would usually loom above him every day now seemed significantly smaller, for the first time in his life, he could actually see the dusting of snow that covered the sharp peaks.

This was the beginning of a new start.

He looked into the distance and saw the last wooden house of village he had called home for the last twenty years. The feeling of sadness threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t go back now even if he wanted to. Home was no longer safe, and he couldn’t put his mother through any more heartache. If he hadn’t been so reckless, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave his mother behind to fix his mistakes. He felt his eyes fill with tears at the thought, but he shook his head and violently wiped away the one tear that made its way down his face. There was no point looking back, he had to move forward.

“You must go to Camelot and find Logan. He will help you and protect you.” He listened to his mother’s words that echoed in his mind. He could feel the daunting pressure of the rising sun push him forward, with one final look at his past. He adjusted the bag on his back full of his meagre possessions and walked down the other side of the hill.

As he continued to walk for another two hours, he found himself in a wild forest. The path would come and go continuously, and he found himself fighting through trees while getting his dark brown jacket tangled in branches. He finally found the path again and stopped to remove a sharp stone that had somehow got in his shoe before freezing in awe at the sight in front of him. As he looked through another set of trees, he could see the walls of Camelot. It was clear to Virgil now why Camelot had been deemed the most powerful kingdom in the entire realm. He picked up the shoe that he dropped in surprise and put it back on his foot before moving swiftly along the path with a new-found burst of energy.

Virgil was so eager, but also anxious, to reach the town that he almost collided with a knight on his horse. The knight nodded politely as Virgil moved out of the way, his bright red cloak with the golden insignia of the dragon billowing behind him. At least Virgil could be reassured that he was definitely go the correct way. The sun began to beam brighter as the trees lessened. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the town somewhere in front of him, so he ran towards the noise. Virgil stopped just before the cobbled path of the town and took in the new surroundings, he was intimidated by how busy everything was. He knew it would be more chaotic than his miniscule village, but this was something else entirely. The main part to dominate his attention completely was the castle that towered over the town, just like the Brighsonee Mountain at his village.

A multitude of lean, square towers dominate the skyline of the castle and were connected by extremely tall, thin walls made of dark brown stone. Virgil was unable to count sheer volume of flags that fluttered in the breeze all around the castle. Small windows decorated are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern, some decorated in stained glass, some left as they were to let the light in. He could also see symmetric crenelations for archers and artillery, that was a reassurance that Camelot was protected. Statues of kings were lined up outside of the castle gates, serving as reminders of the past. This castle had stood the test of time and despite knowing some very rough wars and battles, the castle still stood. It looked like it will do so for many years to come.

As he was accidentally pushed to the side by a townsman carrying goods on his back, he knew it was time to take the first step into his new home. He brushed off his torn purple shirt, then adjusted his classic red neckerchief before taking a deep breath and walking into the town. He smiled as he saw small children giggling and chasing each other through the crowded street. He watched as men and women wandered around the market stalls, Virgil couldn’t help but be fascinated by the food and jewellery stalls he passed. His stomach rumbled and it reminded him that he really needed to eat the food his mother packed for him, but that could wait. Right now, he really needed to find Logan. He caught a glimpse of the familiar red cape of a passing knight and followed him in the right direction of the castle entrance.

There were plenty of people walking in and out of the castle at a rapid pace, smiling as they went about their business and Virgil smiled back politely. As he walked over the drawbridge and caught a glimpse of the water in the moat, he had to admit to himself that he was pleasantly surprised. Part of him was expecting for the castle to be closed off and daunting considering how it looks from a distance, but the fact that it was so welcoming made him feel much more assured that he would be okay here after all.

He saw a significantly large group of people standing in the middle of the castle grounds and he excitedly raced over to see what had everybody so excited. They were standing around a square that had been cordoned off by rope, everybody was desperately trying to make sure they could see the spectacle. Virgil could just about make out a small stage with a block in the middle surrounded by a variety of weapons. There were guards to keep everyone from moving any closer and he saw one more man wearing a black mask over his face standing in the middle of the stage. Virgil was confused, why was there so much protection for a magic show? Before he could think about it any further, he jumped as two guards with bugles began to play a mournful fanfare. A man wearing a golden crown with a burgundy cloak stepped out onto the balcony high up in the castle, Virgil made a note that this must be a member of the royal family, most likely the King. It would explain the gold jewellery around his neck anyway. The serious expression on his face made Virgil tense up. He nodded and another set of guards played large drums at a slow marching pace while a townsman was dragged out into the courtyard wearing heavy chains. ‘This is going to be one intense show.’ Virgil thought.

As the man finally reached the stage with an incredibly morbid expression on his face, the crowd began to mutter excitedly before turning towards the balcony. Virgil followed suit as a loud, authoritative voice boomed out across the courtyard.

“Let this be a lesson to all who reside in Camelot. This man, Peter Robert Sclator has been judged as guilty.” There was a substantial pause, and Virgil took the opportunity to glance at the man before furrowing his brow.

‘Guilty?’ He looked around and saw people bowing their heads and nodding slowly, it started to dawn on him. Maybe this wasn’t a magic show after all. His heart began to fill with dread as the voice began to fill the courtyard once more.

“He is guilty of conspiracy. Conspiracy of using enchantments… and magic.” Virgil’s eyes widened with fear at the sheer distain in the King’s voice as he practically spat out the word magic. The way he gritted his teeth made every word much more sinister. Gasps filled the silence after his words reverberated around the walls. The man was desperately trying to make eye contact with people he must have known in the crowd, but everyone avoided his gaze. Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly, he wished he wasn’t so curious. He shouldn’t be standing here watching this, but if he left now, would he look guilty? If someone could be punished for conspiracy… what would happen to someone like him? He gulped as he trembled waiting for the next declaration to be made.

“In accordance with the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that these types of practices are banned… on penalty of death. I ensure that I am a fair and just ruler. For the crime of sorcery. This is the only sentence that will be passed.” The crowd were ushered into silence and Virgil had to grip tightly onto the handles of his bag so he didn’t gasp or draw attention to himself. Now the man bowed his head, completely resigned to his fate. Virgil didn’t understand, why didn’t he call out? Swear that he was only using his magic for good? He looked around as subtly as he could, and couldn’t believe that no one was standing up for this man, he must have friends… a family. He glanced up and saw one of the castle windows open slowly, someone looked out to the courtyard. Virgil couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming sadness on the young man’s face, almost pitying the situation as much as Virgil did.

As the man was dragged to the stage and pushed down to the block. It finally dawned on Virgil that this was real. This was how life was going to be in Camelot, and the thought petrified him. The drumbeat began to speed up and Uther slowly raised his hand into the air. He couldn’t watch so he focused on the ground, and winced when he heard the axe swoosh into the air before the inevitable groan of everyone who decided to watch the man’s fate. Virgil forced himself to look up and he saw the man in the window; the disgust, pity and rage on his face was palpable and his eyes looked like daggers aimed squarely at Uther’s head. Everyone slowly began to gather their things and walk away from the display, but Uther stopped the people in their tracks. Virgil was desperate to run, but again, the fear of looking guilty plagued his mind. Despite how disgusted he felt, he knew that he was compelled to stay.

“When I first arrived in Camelot. The kingdom was consumed with chaos. It was only thanks to the bravery of the people, that we were able to rise up and be free from the evil of magic. So I wish to declare a festival. Tomorrow marks twenty years since we captured the Great Dragon. Let us celebrate this joyous occasion.”

Virgil’s head began to spin as he saw the smug look on Uther’s face as he raised his arms above his head in pride. How could he look so proud after what he had just done? Magic was a source of good. There had been bad events though, there was no doubting that. If it was harnessed by a corrupted person, that was the only way magic could be evil… He didn’t understand why Uther refused to accept that. Virgil finally realised just how careful he was going to have to be, even though he didn’t even know how to control his abilities. He looked up and saw the window slam shut making the glass crack from side to side. He couldn’t say that he blamed that guy for his reaction. Virgil just hoped that he was okay.

He finally took a step and broke away from the shock of the last hour. He made his way to the far end of the courtyard searching for The Court Physician’s quarters. He needed to calm down, and he hoped that Logan would be able to reassure him like his mother promised. Virgil was still shaking but he swallowed his pride and asked one of the patrolling guards for directions. Despite hearing words coming out of the guard’s mouth, it didn’t process in his mind at all. So he nodded and walked in a direction, hoping it was the correct way.

After about five minutes, and two laps of the bottom of the castle. It was clear that he was lost because he hadn’t seen anything that looked like a space for the Court Physician. He sat in one of the gaps of the castle walls and let everything sink in. He must have ended up being there for a lot longer than anticipated because an older man with grey speckles in his hair looked at him with sympathy and knelt down to his level.

“Boy? Is everything alright? Are you lost?” The caring voice was enough to snap Virgil out of his overthinking mind. He looked into the deep blue eyes and immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him. He looked down and saw the large book on herbs that the man was holding close to his chest. Could this be…

“Logan?” Virgil asked hopefully, he was desperate for this day to end. The man’s eyes glimmered with agreement and he nodded in a calculated way. Virgil sighed deeply in relief, finally, this day might come to an end and he could start from scratch tomorrow.

“That is me, yes... Who are you?” The hint of uncertainty shone through in his voice and Virgil remembered the letter his mother wrote for him to give to Logan. He frantically opened his bag and searched desperately for the letter, he knew it was somewhere near the front, because his mother knew that he would lose it otherwise. He felt paper brush against his fingertips, and he pulled it out to hand to Logan. He was met with an apologetic smile, and he couldn’t tell what he had done wrong.

“I’m so sorry my boy, I’ve misplaced my glasses.” Virgil looked up and saw they were actually sitting delicately on Logan’s head, but he didn’t want to embarrass the man who would hopefully become like a guardian to him. So he smiled softly and began to introduce himself.

“I’m Virgil...?” The silence between them became almost uncomfortable until Logan beamed brightly as he seemed to recognise the name.

“Hunith’s son!” Virgil smiled back just as brightly. “You’re not supposed to be coming until Wednesday!” Virgil’s smile faltered as he worked out again how to say this in a delicate manner.

“Er, today… is Wednesday.” Logan went to say something but he stopped himself. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and calculated something on his fingers before sighing in realisation. He stood up and held a hand out to Virgil while pulling him out of his seat in the wall. They started walking together towards a set of stairs which led to Logan’s quarters. He had only just realised that it was quite late in the day now as the corridors were illuminated with burning torches. Logan stopped Virgil from coming in, and he could see him scrambling around lighting candles. When the rooms were sufficiently lit, he welcomed him in with open arms.

“Head to the bedroom at the back and put your things in there. I’ll get us some dinner while you get settled in.” He left swiftly and Virgil staggered to bedroom. He looked around and as he put his bag down on the floor, he already felt at home. He opened the window and saw just how high up they were in the castle. The flickering lights of the houses and the still open market stalls made him smile, it looked eerily beautiful. He closed the window and sat on the bed waiting for Logan to return, but his exhaustion got the better of him and he immediately fell asleep.

When Logan came back and didn’t hear any response to his calls of Virgil’s name, he was slightly concerned. He briskly walked to the bedroom and smiled softly when he saw Virgil fast asleep, so he left a piece of pie and a glass of water delicately on the table next to Virgil’s bed and blew out the candle before heading back into the main room.

The night was quiet except for a deep, intimidating voice calling out into the darkness.

“Virgil.”

[lupinlongbottom]

Practically a Weasley pt. 1.5

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: Writers block gets the better of (Y/N). Her loving boyfriend, Charlie, now on the brink of baking genius, plans to get her out of her funk. With a war looming above the world, it seemed only fitting the path that lay before the couple. This path also happens to rhyme with ‘hoping’. 

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A few swears, nothing major. 

A/N:  AH! Eloping! Feelings! Charlie! To say I got sappy in this one is an understatement my dudes. I haven’t had this rush of inspiration for a fic in forever. Seemed fitting Dragon Boi once again pulled me from it’s clutches.

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Epilogue

__

The sweeping hills and dipping valleys of the reserve went on seemingly for miles. Patches of greenery freckled with the fairest pinks and yellows of the wildflowers surrounded the dragon sanctuary, enveloping the tiny village of wizards and dragons alike. Various cottages were sprinkled along the dirt paths, the gentle sloping of their roofs matched that of the hills in the distance. Upon one of the quaintest cottages, an open window allowed the aroma of a freshly baked pie to escape.

“Cherry?” (Y/N) groaned, stretching her arms above her head. She had been cooped up in the study, feverishly working on her next book.

“Nope,” Charlie hummed, rubbing the light dusting of flour off his apron, watching the white powder sprinkle to the floor. “Apple.”

“Damn. Here I thought coming out of my dungeon would allow me to reap the benefits of my favorite pie,” said (Y/N), wistfully looking at the pie, now sitting on the windowsill. “But I guess not.”

“We were out of cherries, flower,” Charlie laughed. “Maureen’s wife had some extra apples from her tree, brought them into work yesterday. I figured a pie is a step in the right direction to get you out of your creative funk. Besides, you know I love to bake.” 

“Creative funk?” laughed (Y/N), weaving through the counters to reside closer to the pie. And perhaps her boyfriend.  

“You said so yourself,” the clatter of dishes hitting the sink rattled throughout the kitchen. “You’ve been trying to write that book of yours for months now.” 

“I never said creative funk!” (Y/N) exclaimed, more laughter trailing the end of her words. “I just can’t figure out where to take the story next. My mind has been preoccupied—”

“I know,” Charlie motioned to his maroon smock, tied just above his hips. “You really can’t get enough of me in this apron, can you?” His brown eyes flickered mischievously.

“Preoccupied with the war, Charlie,” (Y/N) cocked her eyebrow. “I thought that after the move, being closer to the dragons and you, of course would’ve helped my writers block…” 

“My poor princess, locked away in her tower, day in and day out, plagued with a terrible curse,” Charlie sighed, hand clutching his chest. “If only her valiant and ruggedly handsome prince could help… perhaps, with a pie, made with the love of a thousand men!” Now on one knee, Charlie motioned to the pie, resting still on its perch in the window.

“But will a pie slay the dragon along the way? Or will the prince do the dirty work himself?” (Y/N) mused, playing along with Charlie’s fantasy.

“Flower, you know how misrepresented dragons are in the media,” He mumbled. “I could never slay the dragon protecting you, after all,” He rose to his feet, inches away from his girlfriend. “They only protect the finest of treasure,” He leaned in for a kiss, capturing (Y/N)’s lips with his. The crisp taste of apples danced between the two, as Charlie couldn’t resist a mid-baking snack. (Y/N) laced her hands around his neck, feeling his hands do the same to her waist. “Well,” He paused. “That and the eggs.”

“You’re an egg.” She rolled her eyes, continuing their kiss. This was truly the domestic bliss they’d dreamed of.

“I’m sorry that you’re having a rough time with your work,” Charlie whispered. “The Order is doing all they can at a time like this. I’ve been working non-stop, recruiting other members for our cause, protecting the dragons. No one expected it would escalate the way it has.”

“I know you’ve been working hard,” (Y/N) mumbled, releasing herself from Charlie’s grip. “Hell, this is your first day off in about a month,” She motioned to the pie. “And you spent it baking for me, when you could’ve—should’ve been resting.”

“I can rest when I’m dead,” He felt the icy look (Y/N) had shot him in that very instant. “Which I’m not planning on doing anytime soon, don’t worry.”

“All I can do is worry, Charlie. You and your family are apart of something great, something that can help end this war. What am I doing? Writing children’s stories? Living in my own little world and pretending the world isn’t going to shit?” 

“You know how I feel about you joining The Order,” Charlie’s hand moved to the back of his neck, as if holding his head upright, the tension growing. “I want to keep you safe.”

“I’m not going to argue about this again. You know I’m a more than capable witch,” This time, it was (Y/N)’s hand flying to her chest, making a point. “I want to help. I want to support you.” The air in the kitchen was growing thicker, the words lingering around them. 

“I’m not saying you’re not capable, love. Don’t you think I know that more than anyone? I just want to protect you!” Charlie blurted, not intending to raise his voice.

“Then protect me!” She huffed, voice cracking. "Let me be by your side! You can’t protect me if you are hundreds of cities away, can you?!”

Charlie was silent. The gravity of his girlfriend’s words hitting him square in the chest. “You’re right,” He mumbled, voice low. “You always are.” 

“Glad you could come to your senses,” (Y/N) crossed her arms. “I hate fighting you on this, but you need to know how important it is for me to be by your side. Through all of this.”

“You’re right,” His eyes flicked upward, meeting (Y/N)’s. “I want—no—need you standing by my side.”

“I’m very persuasive, I know that I can help recruiting new members! I can pack my bag in two ticks if you can tell me where your next meeting is!” said (Y/N) excitedly, clasping her hands together.

“No, not just that,” He shook his head. “I need you standing by my side forever. Especially after this war.”

“Well of course I will. I’m your girlfriend, Charlie.” (Y/N) giggled airily, slightly confused at her love’s sudden seriousness.

“You need to be more than that,” Charlie shook his head again. “Let’s go to the courthouse, right now! Change our titles.” He laced his fingers through (Y/N)’s, tugging her towards the front door. 

“I’m not following?” She glanced at Charlie, fumbling to put on his brown leather boots.

“You want to stand by my side forever, yeah?” (Y/N) nodded. “Let’s go get bloody married, then.” 

“Married? Right now!?” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, shifting between both of her boyfriend’s own rapidly.

“Right now.” He nodded, only ever so slightly.

“Are you mad? Do you have a fever?” The back of her hand reached Charlie’s forehead. He pushed it away in jest, sitting upon the last few steps of the stairs.

“I’m not mad! What’s stopping us?” Charlie grinned, finally lacing up his boots successfully. 

“For one, a lack of a proposal?” 

“Alright, then,” Charlie moved from the stairs to his knee, grabbing (Y/N)’s hand. “Will you marry me?”

“Well of course, but—”

“Consider yourself proposed!” He laughed, the sound echoing throughout the cottage. “Put on some shoes, let’s go get married!”

“I’m hardly dressed for a wedding,” (Y/N) motioned to her pajamas, a   green top and light pink sleep shorts. “As a matter of fact, neither are you!”

“You look ravishing as always, flower,” He sprang to his feet. “Besides, you love the apron.” 

“I do,” (Y/N) sighed, momentarily distracted. “This is all happening much quicker than I could’ve imagined.” She laughed, a hand running through her hair. 

“But you’ve imagined it before, yeah? Let’s go and do it,” Charlie clasped his hands around hers, looking (Y/N) dead in the eyes. “You mean more to me than anything in this world. I don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to either of us and I didn’t make you an official Weasley.”

“If you died I could’ve married Fred or George,” (Y/N) chuckled, merely teasing. “But you’re right. I suppose tomorrow isn’t promised. Let’s get married.” The two share a kiss. Softer than their kitchen escapade earlier, somehow sweeter than the apples before. “But please give me five minutes to change.”

__

The trip to the courthouse was quick, thanks to their Apparition. Hardly any wait to fill out a marriage license, not many couples were getting married on a Monday afternoon. Charlie rapidly filled out his portion of the license, almost letting the ink flow directly from his heart into the quill. (Y/N) filled it out just as fast, freezing only at the place where she needed to sign. In a beat, she let her name hit the tip of the quill, tracing itself onto the paper.

(Y/N) Weasley

“Alright you two, let’s make this quick,” said the judge. He was a short man, round in every sense of the word. “As much as I love doing these… ‘end-of-the-world’ weddings, I have some chocolate frogs to attend to.”

“Jim, we’ll repay you in plenty of chocolate frogs, I assure you,” Charlie laughed. “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.”

“In my few years of knowing you, Charlie, short notice is the normal amount of notice,” Jim chuckled heartily. “But I’ll take you up on those frogs.”

“As you should,” (Y/N) nodded. “Charlie may need a reminder, though.”

“Well, with a beautiful wife like you, Charlie won’t have much to worry about,” Jim smiled. “Alright. Stand together and listen to me…”

The judge began to speak, reading from a small booklet about the size of a deck of cards. The words flowed into the air, though neither the bride or groom cared to pay attention. Their focus was solely on one another. Charlie granted (Y/N) the five minutes she had requested before, allowing her to change into something more bridal. Close enough to it, anyway. An off-white dress, glittering with small pink roses, growing larger near the hem. She looked ethereal, the very definition of a bride.

Charlie’s bride.

“…and I suppose the two of you have vows?” Jim huffed, glancing up from his book. “Or did you not get that far?”

“Well, I suppose we didn’t have time to write anything down,” Charlie motioned to his apron and chuckled. “But I reckon I could come up with something now.”

“I could too. I’ve drafted mine a few times before,” (Y/N) flushed, glancing down. “Only to help with writers block, of course.”

“I’ll start,” Charlie grinned, gently grabbing (Y/N)’s hands. “(Y/N). My gorgeous, courageous flower. I never thought, nor did I ever dream I could find someone as witty or as tenacious as yourself to love. Blimey, I hardly imagined loving anyone more than dragons if I’m being honest.” (Y/N) chuckled, rubbing her thumb across the back of Charlie’s hand. “Honestly, when I learned that you were best mates with my twin brothers, I thought perhaps you were a bit deranged. But I learned that of the three of you, you’re the one that carries their shared braincell.”

“Hey…” (Y/N) muttered, taken aback slightly.

“I’m only half joking, love,” Charlie beamed. “But, besides your amazing good looks, I love you for your heart and soul. I promise to always take care of you, to prepare your favorite tea when you’re cold. I promise to cuddle you when you’re sick, even when you say you don’t look cute. I’ll even promise to indulge your wildest fantasies, putting this apron on whenever you ask. Even if it’s the only thing I’m wearing,” Another chuckle. “I love you, (Y/N). I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you.”

(Y/N) could hardly keep the tears from falling. A gentle droplet rolled down her right cheek, hanging delicately on her chin. How could she ever top the sap that flew from his lips? Surely her drafts of her vows were written in a dream-like state, normally jesting to herself a reality that wouldn’t come to fruition until much later. Hardly could she imagine standing in the quaint shack—the reserve’s excuse of a courthouse—sharing these feelings with Charlie. But, she had to try.

“Charles Septimus Weasley,” (Y/N) croaked, barely able to recite his full name. He flinched at the mention of his title. “No amount of divination could’ve predicted I would end up becoming a Weasley. I admire the little things about you. Your beautiful brown eyes, warm as the morning sun, ready to accept me at any moment. The never ending list of scars and burns that litter your skin in different patterns, stories of your bravery and kindness,” Her thumb stroked against a seemingly simple scar on the edge of his finger, relaying her point. “Your dedication to your family is the strongest sense of truth that comes from you, Charlie. Hell, how many people would willingly break into a school to rescue a dragon, all to help their younger brother?”

“Not many.” Charlie boasted, puffing his chest slightly.

“Your sense of humility is solid too,” (Y/N) quipped, smirking lightly. “I promise to always be your shoulder to cry on, especially when the dragons ignore you more than usual. I promise to never let you fall too deeply asleep on the couch, always welcoming you back to our bed, even if your feet are colder than the Dementor’s breath,” Another chuckle. “But, above all, I promise to love you, Charles Weasley. I’m dedicating my life to stand by you, through this war and beyond. I love you.”

It was Charlie’s turn to weep. How long had he been crying? Surely (Y/N) crying had been the stepping stone to get to his current emotional state. A sniffle was heard between them, causing the couple to whip their heads towards the noise.

“In all my years,” Jim sneezed, filling his handkerchief with snot. “I have never seen more beautiful vows. Normally it’s the same, rushed shtick. But you two,” he sneezed again. “You two are perfectly in love and I just—”

“Jim...” Charlie started.

“Let me do my job, Charlie!” Jim cautioned, holding a single finger up. “Now, the answers seem obvious, but for legality reasons I need you to answer after me,” Charlie’s ears perked up. “Do you, Charles Septimus Weasley take (Y/N) to be your lawfully wedded wife? Through sickness and—”

“I do,” Charlie professed, eyes not leaving (Y/N)’s for a second. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have said all that sap before, no?”

“Right,” Jim scoffed, a bit annoyed. He turned to (Y/N). “Do you, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N) take Charlie to be your—”

“I do!” (Y/N) chanted, too eager to allow the judge to continue.

“Where was that sense of urgency when reciting your vows?” Jim mumbled, flipping through his book. “Seriously, the one part I get to do…” He took a deep breath. “Well, by the power vested in me by the Wizarding Council, I now pronounce you man and wife. You can, uh, kiss the bride.”

Charlie wasted no time kissing his blushing bride. It was the moment he had dreamed about since laying eyes on (Y/N) in that coffee shop only a few years prior. The promises of their love were overflowing between the two in their shared moment of pure bliss. Never had a kiss felt like this, like a growing spark begging for release. Neither of the newlyweds wanted to part, remove themselves from this moment.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” a woman sang, momentarily stunning the couple out of their bliss. “Congratulations.”

“Ah,” Charlie faltered, face surely shining with the brilliance of roses. “Thank you, Maureen, for being a witness on such short notice.”

“It’s not a problem,” She cooed, waving her hand. “I’m honored you thought of me, Weasley. I’m also glad my lunch break lined up for your happy day,” She laughed. “When the two of you have an official ceremony, make sure to keep Lauren and I on your list, yeah?” Maureen clicked, quickly signing the marriage certificate before exiting the small courtroom.

The certificate was handed to the receptionist, who didn’t seem jaded by the quick marriage that had taken place moments prior. She smiled up at the couple. “I’ve seen plenty of weddings here, but you two,” She paused. “You two give me hope in these dark days.”

“Thank you,” (Y/N) stammered, touched by the stranger’s words. “Thank you, to both of you,” She motioned to Jim. “I assure your payment in chocolate frogs will be arranged promptly.”

“A woman of her word,” Jim cackled. “Shame she’s taken.”

“Taken she is.” Charlie responded, placing a gentle kiss to his wife’s knuckles, his fingers still interwoven with hers.

__

The couple decided to take the long way home, enjoying the purple sunset that blanketed the valley. In almost no time at all, before the sun dipped beneath the earth, the newlyweds entered their cottage. The aroma of pie not yet left the quaint building.

“Shoot,” Charlie mumbled. “I was supposed to carry you across the threshold!”

“It’s fine, Charlie,” His wife laughed. “We’ve been going against tradition anyway. What’s one less thing?”

“I just want to make our wedding day memorable, flower,” Charlie stroked (Y/N)’s hair. “But I suppose I could just carry you to our bed?”

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“We have to consummate it at some point.” Charlie grinned, eyes slanted down towards his wife.

“I’ll take you up on that, my husband,” The new title rolling off her tongue almost mockingly. “But we should have some of your pie first, no?”

“I suppose so,” He hummed. “We should have a proper dinner, I wouldn’t want to spoil dessert.” Charlie’s hands trailed down to (Y/N)’s sides, quickly grabbing a handful of her backside.

“Charlie!” (Y/N) gasped, watching her husband retrieve the pie from the windowsill, acting as if nothing had happened. Before he could shut the window, an owl flew through the crack, landing on the counter.

“This doesn’t look like a letter from The Order…” said Charlie, grabbing the purple envelope from the owl’s beak. In an instant, the owl flew off, back to where it had come from.

“What does it say?” (Y/N) asked, drawing closer to the counter, curiosity growing stronger.

“It’s a wedding invitation. For my brother, Bill,” Charlie laughed, continuing to read. “Blimey! Set for the first of August!” 

“I guess this war is causing everyone to jump the gun and get married, huh?” (Y/N) smiled.

“At least we did it before Bill,” Charlie mirrored the grin. “That’s something I can hang over his head until the day I die.” He lifted (Y/N) up onto the counter, sealing her lips with his.

“But,” (Y/N) fought the kiss. “The pie?”

“Consider my appetite spoiled,” Charlie mumbled against her lips. He sucked lightly on her bottom lip before continuing. “I’ve decided that I want dessert first.”

“Charlie…” (Y/N) moaned, deepening the kiss, hands pulling at Charlie’s hair tie, letting his unruly locks fall into her fingers. She tugged lightly.

“(Y/N),” Charlie groaned, enjoying the sensation. “We should move this to the bedroom. Have to tire you out for a good night’s rest if we’re to travel to France tomorrow.”

“France?” (Y/N) panted, pulling away slightly.

“For The Order recruitment.”

“But I thought you said—”  

“—and I was stupid for saying anything of the sort,” Charlie agreed, placing hot kisses down her neck. “You had said so yourself, my family is apart of something great,” More kisses. “You’re part of that family now, yeah?”

(Y/N)’s eyes glistened with tears, threatening to fall. She shook her head, determined to not cry any more that evening. She held her breath, a realization struck her. “My stars! Your family!”

“Not exactly a good way to keep the mood going, love…” Charlie continued, working his way across her collar.   

“What are we going to tell your family?” (Y/N) gasped. “My family! They hardly know we’re living together, let alone eloped!”

“That’s the excitement of eloping, isn’t it? Not telling our families?” Charlie paused his ministrations, looking at his wife. “But I suppose our families didn’t know about our relationship until a few months in anyway, what’s the harm in keeping this our little secret for a bit?”

“I suppose…” (Y/N) trailed, recalling the passionate feelings their past secrecy had given them. “I suppose it could be a bit of cheeky fun.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Charlie beamed, planting a wet kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, lingering for a moment longer. “Come on, indulge your husband.”

“I just might,” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck, allowing him to pick her up like he had previously lamented about missing out on. Bridal style. “My dear husband…” Her voice fell to a whisper, leaning in to sing sweet nothings only Charlie could hear.

“Keep the apron on.”

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 , @leighxlover , @hey-its-me-rai , @missihart123 , @biatheintrovert , @luna-xxxxx , @chocolaterumble, @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy , @missmulti

Charlie Weasley Tag List: @sungoddessra​ , @crescent-ia , @phantom-pheonix​ , @dccomicnerd-world​ , @marveltrash99 , @graymountaingal​, @storiesbycaroline, @mytinybaguette , @garbdump​

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