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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 1 year ago

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DPXDC prompt. Family? Assemble!

Reporter: Gotham News, and we have a new supervillain on the line. Mr Phantom, what are your demands at the moment? Phantom with lack of sleep and with tears: I..I want a titanium model of a spaceship! And to get a good night’s sleep and to go to the local school…and some fudge and.. Reporter: Oh, my bad. Just one question for clarification, are you by any chance an orphan or are your parents villains? Phantom: I prefer the term mad scientists Reporter: Okay. So, Gotham news! And with me on the line is the new potential child of Wayne or Batman. Want to know how two serial adopters will share a child leading a double life? Stay with us and find out. Now let's check in with Jessie for our weather report. Phantom: Wait, what?

~~~~~

Danny spends the night running from the Red Hood with a bag of fudge, Red Robin with a pot of coffee, Batman with the adoption papers and, for some reason, Brucie Wayne with an idea of internship at a space station. Ha! The Justice League will never let a ghost into orbit. Not that Wayne can blackmail superheroes or smth. Danny: Fuck you all! I’m done with vigilante activity, I’m not your competitor! What do you want from me? And I’m done with crazy billionaires too. I swear, I’d rather be adopted by a local mob boss just to piss you off! ~Later~ Danny *sees peering out of the corner Matches Malone*: Are you kidding me?! Robbie *jumps off the roof and lands right behind Danny*: Stop running, lil brother, No one’s left the family yet. Minnie: What about Neal? Robbie *shakes a knife with a bow on the handle negatively*: He’s on sabbatical, that doesn’t count. Anyway, it’s a gift for you, cub. Danny: Um, thank you, but my lab scalpels are definitely sterile, and your blade was in who knows who before you brought it here. Robbie: It’s brand-new! And Archie decorated it with a ghost on the handle. Look! It's cute! With a smile and… Dick: Hands up! You’re under arrest for trying to steal our new member! Minnie: Why is he yours, damn cop? Selina: Boys, don’t fight. He’s mine. Schrodinger’s cat is still a kitten. Killer Croc: No way, my niece is staying with me. Danny: Uncle Waylon? Long time no see. Ra's: My grandson needs steady access to ectoplasm. Danyal, come with me. Danny: Over my dead body! Oh shiii…I mean no. Anyway, don’t you think the alley’s getting a little crowded?

~~~~

Killer Croc: Is he still mad at me? RR: Danny doesn’t talk to uncles who tried to eat his beloved brother Red Robin. Killer Croc: He wasn’t even your brother then. What do you want? An apology from me? RR: That would be nice.

~~~~

Danny: I didn’t think the GIW agents would really fear the reputation of Gotham and not follow me. What a relief! Jason *quickly throws the knife into the sink*: Wow, you got lucky. Alfred: Master Jones, why don’t you eat your steak? I thought last week you were complaining to Batman that 'cause of him you got not many prey. Croc *pulls a piece of white robe from the teeth*: Well, now there is a lot of it. Bruce *gives Jason and Croc the side-eye*.

~~~~

Ra's: You do realize that Malone, Wayne and Batman are the same person, right? Boy, you were born into a family of geniuses, don’t disappoint Grandpa. Danny: Triple pocket money, triple gifts for the holidays, the opportunity to complain about the same family member three times. No, Grandpa, I definitely don’t understand. Ra's: Smart little weasel.

~~~~

Selina: Okay. Purely theoretical. Do you like to steal? Danny: I wouldn’t say that. But somehow I stole the sword from the fright knight. And also stole few jewels but then I was under the mind control. I returned them. Well, the crown and ring of the king of the ghost zone I also took without permission. Oh, and the answers to the test once. And I’m really sorry about the last one. Neal: I feel the story behind it but I prefer to know nothing about it.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc memes #dpxdc meme #rip giw

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cokoakeostuff · 1 month ago

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Inventory + Minish Link wip

I’m kinda lazy when it comes to drawing gear or swords so I decided to do this diagram (can I call it that way?) primarily for the swords. It's a way for me to visually keep track of their equipment—and now you can too!

Minish and Sky are the only ones who don’t carry a weapon, as they were both living peaceful lives after their adventures. Sky left the Master Sword in its pedestal, and Minish did the same with the Four Sword, however both blades, centuries later, eventually ended up in the hands of Four and Wild.

As for the Master Sword, all Links who wielded it previously returned it to its pedestal at the end of their journey (or, in one case cof cof, it was lost at the bottom of the sea). That’s why none of the other Links are carrying it at this point, this also helps avoid any continuity issues.

Clarification:

I’m still debating whether to give Wind a special sword. Considering the ending of Phantom Hourglass, it’s possible he kept the sword from that game, though it wouldn’t have any time-related properties anymore.

When it comes to shields, not all of them were lucky enough to be carrying one at the moment they were pulled into Wild’s present timeline.

They won’t have all their items with them because some were temporary or situational, and it wouldn’t make sense for them to carry them in their daily lives. However, Time, Wind, Worlds, Warriors, and Hyrule still carry most of their items, as they continue to live a lifestyle where those objects are useful.

Four is a special case. In order for him to carry the Four Sword in this comic, he was pulled from his timeline right after defeating Ganon and Vaati. He hadn’t even placed the sword back in its pedestal when he suddenly found himself with the others, so he still has all his items with him.💀 (You are in the building again honey)

Legend also wields most of his gear, though not because he still seeks adventure, on the contrary, he didn’t want to join another one anytime soon.

The image is more of a personal crappy reference I made with key items. If I included all of their gear, I’d run out of space, lol. So, this is more of an approximation, Yup.

super important: Minish carries with him bread

super important two: Yes, Time has many, many masks.

Super important three: Worlds has a fcking ton of clothes.

my favorite boy wip, thanks for reading.

#hero’s paradox #tloz #the legend of zelda #im writing this at 4 AM I can’t sleep #probably tomorrow #ill post the first chapter

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samodivaa · 2 years ago

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Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 1)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Part 2⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 3 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Warnings - heavy angst, betrayal, smut, non consensual, dom!Soldat. rough!Soldat Words - 2000

Bucky was already waiting on the couch, tormented by the decision he has made – to confront her. Y/n enters their shared apartment, carelessly smiling at him. She seemed so generous about her love – a constant presence and support since the fight on the airport years ago. Grace and patience and consideration is what she made him master once again, these little qualities are in his control, thanks to her kind soul. Y/n helped him forgive himself and he chose to return love and compassion, chose to fight his past. Wakanda was their secret - beautiful and peaceful. Her heart was born open and although his hands were empty at the time, he filled them with the soft fire made from the two ember eyes. The dreamy mind is full, overflows with tender memories… When she enters a room, it blazes with red, pink, roses, but behind her blossomed spirit stood a façade he was not aware of. The floral presence is poisoned, spreading into him. And just like the deadly nightshade, she is indeed is a poisonous flower.

"How long has this been going on?" he asks coldly, taking a sip of his bottle before putting it back on the table. A stressed dove, mournfully looking at her as he gets up. "How long?" he asks again. „Bucky, what is the matter with you?“ There won’t be a chance of escape, he steps closer, towering over her as some sort of a warning. He just came back to life, laying under the warmth of it and is already being burned by the person who he trusted the most. Abstained for far too long, he needs to hear her says it – he needs the truth to devour his life. "Can I ask what happened to your neck?" pointing to her neck, his tone is still neutral, but his eyes are exhausted by the phantom following his mind the past days. Love makes knots, now it is brutally tearing them apart. He ran from the darkness of his nightmares for so long, only to find himself in a situation darker still. „I don’t know“ she is wearing a turtleneck shirt, she hates those – inside she is crumbling as much as her lies. “You don’t know?” his tone strays to the realms of anger – it consumes him, fear ensnares her until her back hits the wall behind, Bucky not withdrawing from her face even for a moment “Who was it?“

"No one, Bucky" she manages to retain her posture, not giving him the satisfaction of telling the truth. The blade of her words hit a nerve. "You’re terrible at lying" He crosses his hands, nails digging into his arms. Silence looms for a while before he nods, his dearest love painting his misery and his eyes ache with the weight of the unspoken truth. “So no explanation, got it" „I don’t know how I got them…“ Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly, trying to shackle his intention of breaking something. "So you have no idea what happened to your neck? Are you making fun of me or do you have brain damage“ his tone finally rises as he takes the collar of her shirt between his metal fingers, pulling it down rashly to reveal the bite marks. The image wraps around his throat as a wreath of spikes. “Who did that to your neck, because I am sure that it was not me“ „Jesus Bucky, why are you so angry, I didn’t do anything. We literally spend most-“ He laughs devilishly, still holding her by the colar. “Just so many bad things happening in my life. Nothing important, nothing new, just one thing after another, you know?” There is no such thing as life for him , it's just catastrophe. Unmoored and alone, his eyes become full of tears. The only still part is his body. He gives her one more chance to say something, to explain herself in any way, but the silence is pain chiselled forever into his chest, it hurts more than words. "Don’t be angry, please…let me go…“ "Don’t be angry…don’t be angry" he whispers as a lullaby, staring into her teary eyes. His eyebrows furrowed at her audacity to even cry. "We shared a life and you to cheated on me" His favorite beauty and terror on myriad levels keep her silence. He decides to let go of her collar, his fingers clenching to fists as their drop weightlessly to the sides of his body. "You expect me to believe this…? Really, y/n?” he says , his expression is still angry, but it appears softer "If you didn’t want to tell me because you‘re afraid, it‘s fine. Just be honest and tell me that, why are you still lying? That hurts me more than you think." „I am not…“ He stands there unmoving, staring at her and it seems like he‘s still processing this realty of her not having any concern towards him. Her mind is resting whilst his is grieving, wondering and reasoning. He can’t gain control of his dreadful spirit, he is the shell he was back at Wakanda. A tear runs down from the wet, dreamful eyes, landing on his cheek as he looks down, trying to hide it from her. Bucky takes a step away from her and rubs his eyes. His hands are shaking and it‘s obvious that he doesn’t want to cry in front of her. Their love is his apparition, a figment of his imagination. He observe her for a moment, he is dying in that house, buried underneath the floor of their shared past and she just watches it unfold. Bucky finally shakes his head in disbelief. "So you‘re telling me you have no idea where that bruise came from?" a weak laugh escapes his lips, choking back a sob. „You’re lying, I know it“ he says in a calm voice, but there was a quiet threat hidden beneath it. „I don’t want to leave, Bucky“ "And I don‘t want to get cheated on" he counters with an angry scream as his pain is infinite at this point. All kind of thoughts stirring inside of him. „I won’t say it wasn’t meant to be, because it was. We were. Only for a short while, maybe. But we were.“ It makes him tremble to remember their daily life, but now he is unsure which pain is worse: the shock of what happened or the ache for what never will. „I can’t tell you...I can’t...I will leave“ she whispers, having found a comfort in hiding. "Fine, leave then!” Bucky snarls, before he spins around as his heavy footsteps resonate through the quiet room, but he stops himself to look at her for the last time – the end of the line.

Bucky watches her leave, already nostalgic for his love. He doesn’t say a word, not even bothering to close the door as he stands in the doorstep, watching her go. Y/n notices him staring from the darkness of the doorway as she makes her way into the world. Bucky’s inner self is shutting down more and more, as though to protect himself, but it became inaccessible even to himself. Over the next couple of days, Bucky shuts himself completely in his lonely home. He only leaves the apartment to buy alcohol and some food. His days are spent either drinking or sleeping, and when he‘s awake and sober, he just sits on the couch blankly, staring at the wall. He is composed of nothing, but illness – a phantom built out of pain. The days turn to weeks. With his heart broken, he despises life. Rising from a grave with each morning, wallowing in his sadness and alcohol. („What went wrong...Did I do something wrong?”) he wonders for weeks repeatedly, tears again rolling down his cheeks. „What did I do to deserve this“ he screams, slamming his metal fist into the wall, there is nothing but a stain in his heart, it grew – infecting the whole heart. He slowly slides down, sitting on the ground as he buries his head into his arms and starts to cry.

- Two days before she left - „Bucky, baby…I don’t wanna do anything tonight, let’s just sleep“ he was getting harder and harder, pressing into her back to let her know. He whispers in her ear, but the voice is huskier than usual and filled with seduction „Цветок...“ (Flower) Bucky’s control is slipping once again and y/n gups at the realization. The metal grip tightens on her hip, drawing her even closer to his clothed cock. Fingers pass through the fabric of the nightdress, pulling it upwards to reveal her butt cheeks. His warm hand, spilled under her body proceeding to lightly trace his fingers over her nipple. She knows to her remove the panties by herself, not wanting to anger the Soldier from the very beginning as it happened last time. He groans, closing his eyes to savor the scent of her hair. Vibranium fingers digs his into her soft skin, leaving prints of evidence. „No, don’t…please…he will see“ she desperately tries to voice her concern, knowing there is no way of fighting him in this state. „Пусть он увидит…“ (let him see) His breath fanned the skin of her neck, sending chills to the bone.

He dragged his length through her wetness, pushing in fully leaving y/n with no time to adjust. Tears roll down her beautiful face, why this keeps on happening? The warm touches of his human arm move to from her nipple to her stomach „Я хочу ребенка...да.“ (I want a baby…yes) She takes a deep breath, sometimes regret settles in for not telling Bucky that the Winter Soldier was very present and real. He never seems to remember, they operate as different people. She whimpers at the cold touch to her clit, he was flicking it, making her body shake. His hand returns to her hip, grabbing it harshly as he starts thrusting deeply. His pace becomes erratic, being closer to his orgasm. Soldat forcefully holds her in place so he can fill her with hot cum. Her reality hurts so much. She wants to get away, but when she had tried before – resulted in him being close to sadistic. His fingers trail to her hair, removing it from her neck and he sinks his teeth. Goosebumps trickle up there, from fear, from pain as he slowly turns her head towards him – there is no sight of Bucky.

#winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x y/n #winter solider imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x f #bucky barnes x female reader #dark fanfiction #angst

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onebadassunicorn · 18 days ago

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The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none so far...

word count: 2.9K

Taglist: @motheroffae

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave me a comment!

Image owned by Velocity Visual Media.

____________________________________________

Trying a new way of writing and dropping the POV before each chapter. The editing was driving me crazy and I can still get both points across without it, allowing the reader to read it as if it is happening to them but also seeing what the MMC thinks and feels.

********

Chapter 1

The Autumn Court was alive with decadence, the air heavy with the scent of falling leaves and spiced wine. Golden and amber lights glittered in the sprawling hall, illuminating masked faces and figures clad in luxurious silks and velvets. The masquerade was a swirling chaos of intrigue and beauty, and you moved through it with calculated grace.

Draped in a gown of shimmering deep red that hugged your figure like molten fire, you were a vision, drawing eyes wherever you went. Your mask, gilded in gold and adorned with delicate leaves, hid much of your face but couldn’t obscure your striking honey-colored eyes, which glimmered like liquid sunlight. Your long dark hair cascaded down your back in loose waves, catching the light as you moved, commanding attention even as you pretended not to notice.

You weren’t meant to draw attention, not truly, but it was impossible not to. The room seemed to part in your wake, the beauty of your long dark hair and enigmatic presence captivating everyone who dared to look too long.

Including him.

Azriel saw you the moment you entered the ballroom.

He had been standing in the shadows, as he always did, his Illyrian leathers hidden beneath a formal jacket of midnight blue. His cobalt mask—simple and unobtrusive—did little to conceal the sharp lines of his face or the cold calculation in his hazel eyes.

But that coldness wavered the moment he saw you.

You moved through the crowd like a phantom, an apparition of elegance and control. There was something in the way you carried yourself—graceful but purposeful, detached yet dangerously alluring. He watched as Eris’s gaze followed you too, the red-haired heir clearly already ensnared by your presence.

That alone was enough to put Azriel on edge.

But it wasn’t just Eris who noticed you.

It was him.

And that unnerved him far more.

Azriel wasn’t accustomed to distraction. Decades of service in the shadows, of mastering the art of secrecy, had honed his focus to a blade’s edge.

Yet here you were, blurring the lines of his thoughts with every step you took.

The way your gown clung to your figure, the way your hair shimmered under the golden light, the way your honey-colored eyes seemed to pierce the very fabric of the room—it all felt like a threat.

A beautiful, maddening threat.

You felt his gaze before you met it.

A searing weight, as though his hazel eyes could strip you of all your secrets if you lingered too long under their scrutiny. But you didn’t falter. You dipped your head in acknowledgment, just enough to be polite, and continued your path through the crowd, your heart pounding harder than you cared to admit.

Your mission was clear.

You were here to ensnare Eris, to weave yourself into his web and extract the secrets he guarded so closely about Beron’s plans. Tarquin had entrusted you with this task, knowing your skill in subterfuge, your ability to become whatever your target needed you to be.

You couldn’t afford distractions.

When you finally paused at the edge of the ballroom, Azriel didn’t hesitate. He moved toward you, his steps silent, his shadows curling faintly at the edges of his form. You turned just as he reached you, as if you had felt his approach, and when your eyes locked with his, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering over him, assessing.

He wondered what you saw.

A threat?

A distraction?

A man you could manipulate, perhaps?

Finally, you inclined your head, offering your hand. “If you wish.”

Azriel took your hand, his scarred fingers brushing your smooth skin, and led you to the dance floor. The music shifted into a slower, more intimate melody as he placed one hand on your waist and the other on your hand. You moved together, your steps perfectly in sync, as though you had rehearsed this dance in another life.

“Who are you?” he asked after a beat, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You tilted your head slightly, your expression unreadable beneath your mask. “No one of importance.”

The words should have dismissed him, but they only intrigued him more. He studied you as you moved, his sharp gaze lingering on the curve of your lips, the way your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked. There was a strength in your bearing, a quiet fire that belied the cool detachment in your voice. He wanted to know everything—your name, your purpose, what secrets you held behind those golden eyes.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a thread of curiosity weaving through it.

Your lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Doubt what you like, Shadowsinger.”

His breath hitched at the way you said it—his title, not his name, as though you knew him already, as though you were peeling back the layers of who he was with every passing second.

But the truth was, you didn’t know him.

You only knew the legend of him: the spymaster of the Night Court, a male who wielded shadows and silence with a precision that had no equal.

And yet, the stories hadn’t prepared you for the way he looked at you, as if you were a secret he was determined to uncover.

Nor had they prepared you for the way his presence made you feel—unsteady, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t explain.

The dance continued, but Azriel’s mind was a storm.

His instincts screamed at him that you were dangerous, that you were hiding something.

But another part of him, the part that had been starved for something other than duty and shadows, couldn’t pull away. You were a puzzle, a mystery wrapped in beauty, and he couldn’t help but want to unravel you piece by piece.

“You’re not going to tell me your name, are you?” he asked, leaning just close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear.

“I don’t see why it matters,” you replied, your voice as steady as you could manage. Inside, your heart was racing, a storm of desire and fear.

“It matters to me,” he said simply, and for a moment, his vulnerability was disarming.

You met his gaze, your walls wavering for the briefest moment. “Some things are better left a mystery, Shadowsinger.”

When the music ended, you stepped back, slipping out of his grasp before he could hold on to you. breaking the spell. You curtsied slightly, your movements fluid and elegant. “Thank you for the dance.”

Azriel’s hand lingered on yours for a fraction too long, his eyes searching yours. “Will I see you again?”

You hesitated, something flickering in your gaze—

A look of longing?

Then you smiled, soft and enigmatic. “Perhaps.”

And just like that, you slipped away into the crowd, leaving Azriel standing alone, his thoughts a tangled web of frustration and fascination.

The music shifted again as you finished your dance with Azriel, your hand slipping from his grasp like a fleeting shadow. His hazel eyes burned into you as you disappeared back into the crowd. His shadows curled around his shoulders like restless sentinels, whispering something only he could hear.

But he didn’t need them to tell him what he already knew: you were dangerous.

And undeniably captivating.

Before you could retreat into the anonymity of the masquerade, another presence intercepted you.

Eris Vanserra.

The heir to the Autumn Court’s throne was as sharp and polished as ever, his crimson hair gleaming under the golden lights of the ballroom. He extended his hand, a sly smile curving his lips.

"Would you grant me the next dance, my lady?" he asked, his voice smooth and tinged with an air of entitlement.

You hesitated for the briefest moment, acutely aware of Azriel’s gaze still fixed on you from somewhere in the room.

Refusing Eris would draw suspicion, and you couldn’t risk that. Placing your hand in his, you allowed him to lead you back onto the dance floor.

Eris was confident, his steps practiced and elegant as he guided you into the rhythm of the music. His amber eyes roamed over your figure, admiration thinly veiled behind his mask of charm. "You move as if you were born to rule a ballroom," he remarked, his tone a mixture of flattery and calculation.

You responded with a small smile, careful to remain enigmatic. "A skill that comes in handy when navigating courts such as this one."

As the song transitioned into another, Eris pulled you closer, his hand slipping slightly lower on your back. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, even as his touch lingered just a fraction too long. You had prepared for this—Tarquin had warned you what it might take to secure Eris’s attention.

Your mission depended on it.

From across the room, Azriel’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange. His shadows writhed, agitated by the sight of Eris’s hands on you, his proximity to you. Azriel told himself he was only observing because you were suspicious, because he needed to uncover what game you were playing here.

But the sharp flare of jealousy curling in his chest said otherwise.

Eris leaned in, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, "You’re far too intriguing to be from the Autumn Court. Tell me, where does such beauty hail from?"

You laughed softly, the sound light and practiced. "Does it matter? I am here now, and that should be enough."

Eris chuckled, clearly charmed. "Fair enough, my lady. But I suspect there’s more to you than you let on."

The dance continued through another song, and then another, with Eris becoming bolder with each passing moment. His hands strayed more freely, lingering on your waist, your back. You allowed it, playing your role, though your skin prickled under his touch. You were keenly aware of the weight of Azriel’s gaze, even if you couldn’t see him. You knew he was still watching.

When the final note of the song faded, Eris leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. "Shall we take a walk in the gardens? I find the company in here far less captivating than you."

You nodded, offering a demure smile. "Lead the way."

He guided you through the golden doors that opened onto the sprawling gardens, the cool night air brushing against your heated skin. Azriel followed silently, his shadows wrapping around him as he melded into the darkness, his jealousy simmering as he watched from a distance.

As you strolled through the maze of hedges and autumn blooms, Eris asked, "I must admit, I’ve never seen you at any court functions before tonight. Who are you?"

You had prepared for this. The persona you and Tarquin had carefully crafted slipped into place seamlessly as you replied, "My name is Kaela. I am from a lesser court, though our ties to the Summer Court have granted me certain... privileges. Tarquin himself encouraged me to attend."

Eris’s interest deepened, his amber eyes narrowing as he took in your words. "Tarquin, you say? I wasn’t aware the Summer Court was fond of sending such exquisite creatures into our midst."

You smiled coyly, your expression perfectly masking the calculations behind it. "Perhaps they saw it as a gesture of goodwill."

Eris chuckled, stopping beneath the boughs of a tree draped in glowing autumnal leaves. "Well, if their goal was to enchant me, they’ve succeeded." He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips pressing softly to yours. For a moment, you let it happen, knowing it was necessary to cement the illusion, to draw him further into your trap.

But Azriel, hidden among the shadows of the garden, felt his jealousy flare into a near-unbearable heat. His hands clenched at his sides, his shadows lashing out in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to step forward, to rip Eris away from you, to claim the place that Eris had stolen for himself.

But he stayed rooted in the darkness, reminding himself of his duty, of the need to remain unseen.

When the kiss ended, you stepped back, offering Eris a faint smile that carried just the right touch of shyness. "You flatter me, my lord. But I believe I should return to the ballroom before my absence is noted."

Eris’s gaze lingered on you, but he nodded. "Very well. But I hope this won’t be the last time we meet."

You inclined your head, turning and walking back toward the ballroom, your heart pounding—not from Eris’s kiss, but from the knowledge that Azriel had seen everything. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you reentered the hall, leaving Eris and the gardens behind.

In the darkness, Azriel remained, his shadows whispering their discontent.

He had come here to gather information about any potential threats from Autumn Court, but now he had more questions than answers—chief among them: who were you, and why the hell couldn’t he stay away?

********

Azriel stepped into the war room of the Night Court, the weight of his observations from the Autumn Court still heavy on his mind. The great windows of the House of Wind let in the cool starlight of Velaris, casting an ethereal glow over the dark table where Rhysand sat, reclining with effortless poise.

"You're back earlier than expected," Rhys noted, tilting his head as Azriel approached. His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity, though his tone carried the faintest edge of concern. "What did you uncover in Beron's court?"

Azriel’s shadows swirled around him, restless and faintly agitated, betraying the tension he kept buried. He recounted his observations—the intricate dances of politics, the subtle shifts in alliances, and, finally, the details of you. He kept his tone even, his words concise, but the moment he mentioned you, the shadowsinger’s usual composure wavered, just slightly.

“There was someone unusual there,” Azriel said, his voice low, his hazel eyes fixed on Rhys. “A female. She claimed to be from a lesser court with ties to Tarquin, though I’ve never seen or heard of her before.”

Rhys straightened, his brows lifting slightly. “A lesser court? Tarquin usually keeps his allies close to the Summer Court. Sending someone to the Autumn Court, especially now, is… odd.”

Azriel nodded, his jaw tightening. “She was… difficult to read. She spent much of the night with Eris, clearly capturing his attention. But her presence felt… calculated. Every move she made was deliberate. And yet, I could sense no immediate threat from her. No allegiance to Beron, at least not openly.”

“And you’re certain she’s tied to Tarquin?” Rhys asked, his tone sharper now.

“She claimed as much when Eris pressed her. Her name is Kaela—or so she says. She mentioned Tarquin encouraged her to attend, though why he’d send someone from a lesser court remains unclear. If she is working for him, she’s operating well outside the bounds of standard diplomacy.”

Rhys tapped his fingers against the table, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve heard no whispers of such a mission from Tarquin’s court. If this Kaela is who she claims to be, she’s done a remarkable job of keeping herself off my radar.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment, his shadows curling tighter around his shoulders. “There’s something else. She… seems to have captured Eris’s attention. He followed her around most all night, taking her to the garden and talking before kissing her.”

Rhys blinked, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And that’s what’s bothering you, isn’t it?”

Azriel’s gaze darkened. “It’s not relevant.”

Rhys chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, it’s relevant, brother. Whether you realize it or not. But we’ll set that aside for now.”

“Do you trust her?” Azriel asked, cutting through Rhys’s teasing. His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it. “Tarquin has been a steady ally, but sending someone so… covert… doesn’t feel like something he’d do without a purpose.”

Rhys’s humor faded, replaced by a calculating seriousness. “I don’t know. Tarquin’s a clever male, but he’s not one for underhanded games. If this Kaela truly comes from him, there’s more at play here than we’re seeing. Until we know what, I want you to keep an eye on her.”

Azriel inclined his head. “There’s an Autumnal Equinox gathering in a week. She might attend.”

“Then you’ll attend, too,” Rhys said firmly. “If she’s there, get closer. Figure out what she’s after. And if she isn’t—” he paused, his gaze sharp, “—then find out why Eris is so smitten with her that he’s letting someone outside his court get this close. That alone is worth investigating.”

Azriel nodded, though his thoughts churned. The memory of you, of the way you’d moved through the Autumn Court’s masquerade like a phantom, lingered in his mind. He didn’t know if he trusted you—or if he wanted to trust you. But something about you had unsettled him, had made him feel… unbalanced. He pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the mission ahead.

As he turned to leave, Rhys’s voice stopped him. “And Azriel?”

The Shadowsinger paused, glancing back.

“Don’t let her distract you. If she’s working against us, you can’t afford to let your fascination cloud your judgment.”

Azriel said nothing, his face an unreadable mask, but his shadows whispered otherwise as they trailed after him, restless and drawn to the memory of your honey-colored eyes.

Chapter 2

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you

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the-artist-grimm · 4 months ago

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one thing im very complexed about is what were baal and ayms rection to narinder after getting resurected. surely they would feel a lot of anger towards him because of what he did.

When Aym and Baal are revived they’re more concerned for Narinder than anything else. Like how can their master, their father go from agonizing for MONTHS over ways to spare the lamb, to in the span of a single week telling them he’s found a way but not elaborating, looking completely heartbroken the next few days after, then when the day of reckoning finally comes telling the lamb in this muted, emotionless tone to sacrifice themselves out of the blue? It didn’t make sense.

While Aym and Baal are 11 year old kids but they’re not stupid-they know this isn’t how their father usually acts, and something’s wrong. It's why they intentionally get hurt (and accidentally) die fighting Anthea, they're trying to snap him out of it since they didn't know what else to do since he didn't want to talk.

From there it takes 4 months to revive the twins-during that time their souls are trapped inside the gateway by the remains of Narinder's metaphysical chain. Not quite awake, but not quite asleep either-only able to tell they were alone until the voices of their parents wake them up before being yanked into the mortal realm. They’re scared, they’re shaken, they put brave faces on while dying yeah but they can feel the phantom of blade and mana caught in their flesh all over again, but their twin is beside them, and before they know it their Baba has them in their embrace wailing, yet their father is nowhere to be seen.

Cue them being seemingly ok-ish (read: in shock) while being fussed over by Anthea for the rest of the day (given warm meals, constant hugs and kisses to the head, warm bubbly baths then a long brushing, soft nightgowns that smell like lanolin, all while their comfort kitten plushies they'd given the lamb a day prior to the betrayal in preparation for the 'move' have been returned to their arms), and while they keep asking what happened, the Lamb doesn’t know how to answer them anymore. A month before they would've said Narinder betrayed them all, but they're no longer sure anymore.

(Narinder betrayed them. He betrayed them, but then why did he help them with the resurrection? Why did he stabilize them as they struggled to break the chain, why did he lose sleep the whole week leading up just to help? Following their every word, their every order perfectly, never getting upset when they got snappy? Why did he the leave the chapel without greeting the boys he mourned over. Why hasn't he tried to take back the crown since his arrival? Why isn’t he fighting them, angry, bitter, anything? Why is he making it so hard to hate and ignore him?)

Anthea eventually has to take the twins over to Narinder later that night since the nightmares are setting in now that the shock's worn off and they both wake up crying for him (they can’t remember the 4 months but that isolation left both with intense separation anxiety from both each other and their parents, and not having seen Narinder was really messing with them), and while that first reunion is them just launching themselves at him to cling to his nightshirt crying, followed by them then refusing to let Anthea leave either and thus both parents are stuck trying to get the boys to fall asleep in Narinder’s room, come morning they’ve calmed down enough that Anthea can leave to do cult things and they can question their father.

They just want to know what happened, and is he ok-he scared them by acting so strange and they're worried. Which kinda breaks Narinder a little because he left the chapel expecting that they hated him. That they wouldn’t want to see him since he betrayed Anthea, is the reason they died, and that their Baba deserved them more than him but here they are worried for him, and it’s the first time in months someone’s said they’re worried about him and he actually believes it. So he tells them everything.

He heard something he wasn't meant to hear, took it out of context, and in his fear over being betrayed again made a mistake. A mistake he thinks he can NEVER fix, and was a mistake he thinks he should NEVER be forgiven for.

(He didn't trust them. Why didn't he trust them? The Lamb was his friend why would they ever betray him he's terrible Shamura was right to 'hate' him why can't everyone just abandon him already he doesn't understand-)

He thinks that’ll do it, but rather than the twins getting mad, it just clears up what they had already assumed-that something went wrong, and their dad thought he had no choice. They're not angry because he made a mistake since why should they? That just means he has to apologize.

It's that childishly innocent idea that all mistakes can be fixed by talking things out, and while it's more complicated than that, it does hold weight. Aym and Baal are the breaking of the cycle of hiding your emotions, hiding your pain, assuming the worst and self-loathing and destroying yourself as a result. The cycle of not talking to the people in your life and just letting things boil over. Narinder may have held back in some ways when raising them by not telling them to call him ‘dad’, but he raised them as he wished he’d been-teaching the twins that it’s ok to be hurt, scared, to make mistakes, and that they can go to him for anything and he won’t get mad. Anthea’s presence reinforced that-that you gotta talk to people when something’s wrong or else they can’t help.

The boys are very empathetic and emotionally aware, and thus if they can make mistakes and fix things, why can’t the adults? So no they're not mad at Narinder, they just don't understand why he thinks it's not worth trying to make amends.

#breaking generational trauma and cycles babyyyyy #this is the miscommunication AU where people don't talk and if the children can figure out that's not good then maybe the adults can too #Anger and rage can be fun to write-but I kinda want to explore a kinder more people learning to heal side of things here #since anger isn't gonna fix this-it'll just continue the cycle and make things worse #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl aym #cotl baal #crimson angel au #cult of the lamb narinder #ask #crimson angel au lore

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dc-megatournament · 1 month ago

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A Master List of fighters in the “Batman vs Everyone” tournament so far

If a character isn't listed here, they haven't been submitted.

List of the Fights Already Posted (in Alphabetical Order)

Amazing Man/Will Everett

Ambush Bug/Irwin Schwab

Amy Rose

Angus MacGyver

Animal Man/Buddy Baker

Ant-Man/Hank Pym

Aquaman/Arthur Curry

Arsenal/Roy Harper

Artemis

Atom Smasher/Albert Rothstein

Avatar Aang

Azrael/Jean Paul Valley

Aztek/Uno

Baked Beans

Barbie

Batgirl/Cassandra Cain

Batman Beyond/Terry McGinnis

Batwing/David Zavimbe

Batwoman/Kate Kane

Beast/Hank McCoy

Beetlejuice

Ben Tennyson

Big Barda/Barda Free

Big Hero 6 (Hiro Hamada, Baymax, GoGo Tomago, Honey Lemon, Fred, Wasabi No Ginger)

Black Canary/Dinah Laurel Lance

Black Cat/Felicia Hardy

Black Lightning/Jefferson Pierce

Black Orchid/Susan Linden

Black Panther/T’Challa

Blade/ Eric Brooks

Blue Beetle/Jaime Reyes

Blue Beetle/Ted Kord

Blue Devil/Dan Cassidy

Booster Gold/Michael Jon Carter

Bucky Barnes

Buffy Summers

Bugs Bunny

Captain America/Sam Wilson

Captain America/Steve Rogers

Captain Atom/Nathaniel Adam

Captain Cold/Leonard Snart

Captain Jack Sparrow

Captain Marvel/Billy Batson

Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers

Cassie Hack

Catwoman/Selina Kyle

Citizen Steel/Nathan Heywood

Cosmo and Wanda

Cyblade/Dominique Thiebaut

Cyborg/Victor Stone

Darwin/Armando Muñoz

Deadman/Boston Brand

Deku/Izuku Midoriya

Detective Chimp/Bobo T. Chimpanzee

Doctor Doom/Victor Von Doom

Doctor Fate/Kent Nelson

Doctor Fate/Khalid Nassour

Doctor Fate/Linda Strauss

Doctor Light/Kimiyo Hoshi

Donald Duck

Dr. Mid Nite/Charles McNider

Dracula (Castlevania)

Echo/Maya Lopez

Eda Clawthorne

Elektra Natchios

Elongated Man/Ralph Dibny

Elsa

Emma Frost

Enchantress/June Moone

Etrigan/Jason Blood

Finn & Jake

Fire/Beatriz da Costa

Firestorm/Jason Rusch

Firestorm/Ronnie Raymond

Ghost Rider/Johnny Blaze

Godiva/Dorcas Leigh

Godzilla

Goku

Green Arrow/Connor Hawke

Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

Green Goblin/Norman Osborn

Green Lantern/Guy Gardner

Green Lantern/Jessica Cruz

Green Lantern/John Stewart

Green Lantern/Kyle Rayner

Green Lantern/Simon Baz

Gundam Aerial

Gwen Tennyson

Gypsy/Cynthia Reynolds

Hatsune Miku

Hawkgirl/Kendra Saunders

Hawkman/Katar Hol/Carter Hall

Hawkwoman/Shayera Hol/Shiera Hall

Heather (TDI)

Hellboy

Hello Kitty

Hua Cheng

Hulk/Bruce Banner

Human Torch/Johnny Storm

Huntress/Helena Bertinelli

Invincible/Mark Grayson

Invisible Woman/Sue Storm

Iron Man/Tony Stark

Jade/Jennifer-Lynn Hayden

Jar Jar Binks

Jenny Wakeman/XJ-9

Jerry (Tom & Jerry)

Jesse Quick/Jessie Chambers

Jessica Jones

Jim Gordon

John Constantine

John Wick

Katana/Tatsu Yamashiro

Katsuki Bakugou

Kim Possible

Kirby

Ladybug/Marinette Dupain-Cheng & Cat Noir/Adrien Agreste

Light Yagami

Lobo

Luke Cage

Luke Skywalker

Madame Mirage/Angela Temple

Madame Xanadu

Magik/Illyana Rasputin

Man-Bat/Dr. Robert Kirkland Langstrom

Manhunter/Kate Spencer

Mariah Carey

Mario & Luigi

Martian Manhunter/J’onn J’onnz

Maxima

Megatron

Metamorpho/Rex Mason

Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (Jason Lee Scott, Zack Taylor, Kimberly Ann Hart, Billy Cranston, Trini Kwan, Tommy Oliver)

Mister Miracle/Scott Free

Mizu

Mon-El/Lar Gand

Monkey D Luffy

Moon Knight/Marc Spector

Mr. Rogers

Mr Fantastic/Reed Richards

Ms Marvel/Kamala Khan

Mystery Inc (Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy, Scooby)

Naruto Uzamaki

Nightwing/Dick Grayson

Nimona

Oracle/Barbara Gordon

Orion

Percy Jackson

Phantom Stranger

Phineas & Ferb

Pikachu

Pink Panther

Plastic Man/Patrick "Eel" O'Brian

Powergirl/Kara Zor L/Karen Starr

Powerhouse/Naomi McDuffie

Power Puff Girls

Queen Hippolyta

Raven

Red Hood/Jason Todd

Red Tornado/Ulthoon

Regina George

Rick Grimes

Robin/Damian Wayne

Robin/Tim Drake

Rocket Red/Dmitri Pushkin

Rocket Red/Gavril Ivanovich

Rogue/Anna Marie LeBeau

Sailor Moon/Usagi Tsukino

Saitama

Sally Jackson

Sanderson Sisters (Winifred, Mary, Sarah)

Sara Pezzini

Shade, the Changing Man/Rac Shade

Sharon Carter

She-Hulk/Jennifer Walters

Shen Qingqiu

She-Ra/Adora

Snoopy & Woodstock

Sogeking/Usopp

Sonic the Hedgehog

Spawn/Al Simmons

Spider-Man/Miles Morales

Spider-Man/Peter Parker

Spider Woman/Jessica Drew

Spoiler/Stephanie Brown

Squirrel Girl/ Doreen Green

Star Butterfly

Starfire/Koriand’r

Starman/Mikaal Tomas

Star Sapphire/Carol Ferris

Steven Universe

Stitch/Experiment 626

Storm/Ororo Munroe

Strawberry Shortcake

Supergirl/Kara Danvers/Kara Zor-El

Superman/Clark Kent/Kal El

Terezi Pyrope

The Atom/Ray Palmer

The Atom/Ryan Choi

The Bride/Beatrix Kiddo

The Crow/Eric Draven

The Cullens (Carlisle, Esme, Edward, Jasper, Rosalie, Alice, Emmett)

The Darkness/Jackie Estacado

The Doctor

The Flash/Jay Garrick

The Flash/Wally West

The Punisher/Frank Castle

The Question/Renee Montoya

The Signal/Duke Thomas

The Warner Siblings

Thor

Tigress/Artemis Crock

TMNT (Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo)

Toph Beifong

Troia/Donna Troy

Uncle Iroh

Vampirella

Vibe/Cisco Ramon

Vixen/Mari McCabe

Walter White

Wasp/Janet Van Dyne

Wolverine/James “Logan” Howlett

Wolverine/X-23/Laura Kinney

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

Wonder Woman/Nubia

Word Girl/Becky Botsford

Xie Lian

Yami Yugi

Zheng Shang-Chi

Fights That Have Yet to Be Posted (also in Alphabetical Order)

Adam West Batman

Alfred Pennyworth

Alphonse Elric

Andros (Power Rangers)

Annabeth Chase

Arceus

Baldi

Batman/Jace Fox

Batwing/Luke Fox

Bill Cipher

Bingo Heeler

Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

Bluebird/Harper Row

Bluey Heeler

Brody Foxx

Captain Kirk

Crazy Jane

Cybersix

Cyclops

Danny Phantom

Daredevil/Matt Murdock

Darth Vader

Dazai Osamu

Dolly Parton

Donald Trump

Duolingo Owl

Ed Dillinger (TRON)

Edward Elric

Element Woman/Emily Sung

Eliot Spencer

Ellie (TLoU)

Elon Musk

Elric of Melninbone

Elsa Bloodstone

Eva-02

Ezio Auditore

Firestar

Flamebird/Bette Kane

Gabby Kinney

Geo-Force/Brion Markov

Ghoulia Yelps

Giovanni Zatara

Green Lantern/Hal Jordan

Grumpy Bear

Hawkeye/Clint Barton

Ice/Tora Olafsdotter

Iceman/Bobby Drake

Ichigo Kurosaki

Jean Grey

Jenny Sparks

Joel Miller (TLoU)

John Egbert

Joker - Persona 2

Joker - Persona 5

Jubilee/Jubilation Lee

Katara

Kazuma Kiryu

Kisuke Urahara

Kuchipatchi

Lan Wangji

Legion/David Haller

Lieutenant Columbo

Link

Lin Manuel Miranda

Lionblaze

Luo Binghe

Mary Poppins

Max Tennyson

May Chang

Mickey Mouse

Midnighter

Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

Nightshade/Eve Eden

Obsidian/Todd Rice

Onyx Adams

Optimus Prime

Ozymandias

Plastique/Bette Sans Souci

Prodigy/David Alleyne

Puss in Boots

Roronoa Zoro

Ryu (Street Fighter)

Santa Claus

Scar (FMA)

Slenderman

Sokka

Solid Snake

Spectrum/Monica Rambeau

Stan Pines

Stargirl/Courtney Whitmore

Steel/John Henry Irons

Steve (Blue Clues)

Swamp Thing/Alec Holland

Taylor Swift

The Flash/Barry Allen

The Immortal Snail

The Pope

The Question/Vic Sage

The Ray/Ray Terrill

The Shredder

The Thing/Ben Grimm

Tin Tin

Tom Cruise

Tyson

Ultraman

Vacuum from Teletubbies

Velvet Crowe

Voltron

Wei Wuxian

Winry Rockbell

Zatanna Zatara

#dc #dc comics #dcu #dc mega tournament #justice league #batman #batfam #marvel #mcu #marvel comics #batman vs everyone

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criticallyinneedofadar · 4 months ago

Text

Alliance of Shadows (5)

A/N: I'm thinking this will end up being between 10-12 parts so we are only halfway through!!

Pairing: Adar x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: slight violence, no spice yet but I SWEAR it's coming- patience is a virtue lovelies.

Taglist: @zoya-olenko, @annatartastic

Previous- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The path to Eregion stretches out before you, winding through dense forests and craggy hills. The air is crisp, the scent of damp earth and pine heavy in the air. Your horse's hooves clatter against the uneven stones as the path narrows, forcing the party closer together. Two of your apprentices, Revan and Ysha, ride slightly behind you, ever-watchful, their dark blue robes marking them as members of your inner circle.

Adar rides beside you in silence, his eyes sharp, scanning the wild landscape with a practiced gaze. His Uruks—silent, powerful figures draped in shadow—move with an eerie coordination around your group. Though they had been bred for war, there is an undeniable discipline to them, a loyalty you hadn't expected.

The tension between you and Adar had only grown since your duel, the memory of his hand around your throat, the burning fire in his eyes, lingering like smoke in the back of your mind. While you might have claimed victory then, it had opened something—a crack in the walls between you. That spark flared with every passing glance, every moment of silence.

Still, you focus on the task ahead. Eregion lay far to the west, and there are many dangers between you and your destination. The farther you travel from your hidden domain in the mountains, the more exposed you become. Wildmen, beasts, and worse roam these untamed lands.

Adar’s voice cuts through the stillness. “We are not alone.”

He didn’t need to say more. You feel the ripple of foreign minds brushing against the edges of your awareness—wild and unfocused, but dangerous. The apprentices sense it too, their postures stiffening, hands inching toward their staffs.

Then, from the shadows of the trees, they appear.

Wildmen, scraggly and desperate, with crude weapons raised high. They surge from the underbrush with guttural cries, their faces twisting with greed and hunger. Their disorganized charge is met with the thunderous roar of Adar’s Uruks, who spring into action with frightening precision. The clash of steel on steel fills the air as the two forces collide.

The first attacker comes at you, swinging a rusted axe in a wild arc. You extend your hand, drawing on the magic that hums just beneath your skin. His eyes widen in surprise as reality itself shifts around him—the air rippling, bending—and then his body stiffens. You’ve reached into his mind, twisting his will with the ease of a puppet master. The axe falls from his hand as he turns and, without hesitation, buries a dagger into his comrade’s side.

Beside you, Ysha’s magic flares in bursts of violet light, weaving illusions that send the wildmen stumbling, attacking phantoms that aren’t there. Revan, more brutal in his methods, unleashes waves of force that send enemies flying through the air, crashing into trees with bone-shattering impacts.

But the wildmen are relentless, their numbers greater than you had anticipated. More spill from the forest, overwhelming the Uruks with sheer volume. You feel the strain as you pull harder on your magic, manipulating the minds of those around you, sending them into confusion or turning them against one another.

Next to you, Adar fights like a storm incarnate, his blade slicing through flesh with deadly precision. He moves like a shadow, slipping through the chaos with terrifying grace. His Uruks follow his lead, cutting down the attackers with practiced efficiency. One of his lieutenants, Sherak, shouts orders in their guttural tongue, and they respond as one—unstoppable, ruthless.

Had you a moment to spare, you would be more than a little impressed. Still, the battle presses on. You feel the sharp sting of fatigue creeping into your limbs, the constant strain of bending reality and controlling minds weighing on you. From your peripheral you notice a rogue figure moving toward you—a wildman, silent and quick, slipping past the Uruks’ defensive line, eyes locked on you.

You turn too late.

The wildman lunges, a wickedly curved blade aimed directly for your heart. In a heartbeat, you raise your hand, ready to summon a defense, but exhaustion makes your magic falter. The world seems to slow as the blade comes closer—too close.

Then, a shadow slips between you and death.

Adar.

With a roar of fury, he slams into the wildman, knocking him aside with brutal force. His sword flashes, and the wildman crumples to the ground, lifeless. The space between you and Adar shrinks to nothing as he turns, his face inches from yours, his chest heaving from exertion. His hand lingers on the hilt of his sword, the other hand brushing against your arm as if to steady you.

For a heartbeat, the world falls away—the battle, the danger, all of it fading into the background as your eyes lock with his. His breath is warm against your skin, his gaze intense, burning. You can feel the weight of the moment—the pull between you, raw and undeniable. There is something primal in his gaze, something that mirrors your own desires.

His hand moves from your arm, up to your neck, his thumb brushing the line of your jaw. Your heart pounds, the air between you thick with the possibility of what could happen if you just leaned in, closing the distance. His lips hovered so close, the taste of the moment electric.

“My Lord!” Sherak’s voice slices through the tension, shattering the fragile spell. “We need to move. Now.”

Adar’s expression shifts, frustration flashing briefly in his eyes before he steps back, the connection between you severed. You swallow the rush of disappointment, steadying yourself as you turn to face Sherak. The Uruk is covered in blood, his eyes sharp with urgency.

“There are more coming,” he growls. “We must move quickly.”

Adar’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “Fall back,” he commands, his voice steady once more.

You are regrouped quickly, with Revan and Ysha taking up the rear as you press on. The battle has slowed your progress, and now the urgency to reach Eregion weighs heavier on your shoulders.

______________________

You ride hard for the next several days, the adrenaline of the battle slowly ebbing away, replaced by exhaustion. You glance at Adar, who has resumed his silent vigil at the front of the party. His presence is steady, his leadership undeniable, but there is something else—a tenderness beneath the stoic exterior that you hadn’t noticed before.

One of the Uruks, a scarred creature with a sharp intelligence in his eyes, rides beside you. His name is Ghor. He speaks in a low voice, careful not to draw too much attention.

"You fight well," Ghor grunts, his voice respectful. "But our Lord Father... he saved you."

You raise an eyebrow. “And?”

“He does not save lightly,” Ghor continues, his gaze flicking to Adar. “He calls us his children, and he means it. He fights for us, protects us. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He would fight for you too- if you asked it of him.”

The words send a ripple of realization through you. You glance at Adar again, seeing him in a new light. He is not just a leader of his people, but something far more complex. His devotion to his Uruks is fierce, paternal, and their loyalty in return seems unshakeable.

As the final stretch of your journey comes to an end, the dense forest gives way to an open plain where Adar’s legion of Uruks have made camp. The setting sun bathes the rugged terrain in a deep crimson glow, though you notice most of the Uruk stick to the shadows where they can, pulling up hoods when they must step into the fading sunlight. It is a stark, harsh place—little more than a collection of crude tents and hastily dug fire pits scattered across the rocky ground.

The air is thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and earth. It is a people that have known no peace, no luxury—only survival.

Your horse slows as you approach the camp, and your eyes sweep across the scene before you. Uruks move about in near silence, a few sharpening weapons, others tending to their injuries. Their faces are hard, lined with the scars of countless battles. Their armor is mismatched and battered, but there is a determined resilience in their movements, a kind of discipline borne from years of hardship.

You catch sight of the tattered furs they wear to protect themselves from the sun, the meager rations they share—little more than scraps of dried meat and stale bread. Even the water they drink is drawn from muddy streams, unfit for any other race to consume. Yet they endured.

Your gaze lingers on the ragged tents they sleep in, barely enough to keep out the cold of the night. And though their eyes are sharp and their bodies strong, you can see the toll their endless war has taken. The Uruks have known no home, no place of peace. Only this. Only the battlefield.

"They’ve lived like this for years?" you ask, the question slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

Adar, riding beside you, gives a small nod. His expression is unreadable, but you sense a deep, quiet sorrow beneath the surface.

“They have had no home," he replies, his voice low, steady. "The one they gained they may lose just as quickly."

You pause as you take in the weight of his words. These Uruks—his children—had been cast out, much like you and your people. They have lived in the shadows, in exile, scraping by with nothing but each other and their will to survive.

Your heart aches as you watch a young Uruk, barely old enough to fight, crouch by a fire, his eyes hollow and tired. The living conditions are brutal, a testament to their resilience, but it is clear they can not continue like this forever.

"They deserve more than this," you say softly, almost to yourself.

Adar’s gaze flicks to you, his eyes dark and intense in the fading light. “That is why I fight,” he says, his voice carrying a deep, unspoken promise. “To give them the home they deserve.”

There is something in his tone—something raw and true—that stirs something deep within you. You have always believed in protecting your own people, and have kept them safe in the hidden sanctuary of your mountain. But now, as you look out over the Uruks, you see a reflection of your own past, your own people’s struggle.

They have been denied safety, denied peace. And in Adar’s eyes, you see a fierce determination to change that.

"I will ride with you," you say, your voice firm with newfound conviction. "Not just for my people’s sake, and our allegiance, but for your children as well."

Adar’s gaze holds yours for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you. Respect. Understanding. And something more. He gives a slight nod, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest hint of a smile.

“Good,” he murmurs. “For they will need someone as powerful as you by their side.”

As the moment lingers, a slow awareness of your shared purpose settles between you. You had both fought your own wars, built your own defenses, and now—perhaps for the first time—you were aligning your strength with another.

The night was creeping closer, and the urgency of your mission pressed in. In a few days time, you would leave this camp behind, and the true battle would begin. But tonight, as you stand at the edge of the Uruks’ camp, you make a silent vow to fight for more than just power. You would fight for something far greater.

And you know Adar will be at your side.

#adar #adar rings of power #adar x you #the rings of power #adar x reader #fanfiction #rings of power s2 #trop #adar series #adar fanfic #alliance of shadows

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sapphicseasapphire · 1 year ago

Note

ok, so, this has been bugging me for a bit today, but, what was Sky's reaction to when he first met Warriors? like there's got to be a strong emotion there given that Fi is also a sword spirit.

so yeah, I'm just wondering what you have planed for that.

(also great artwork it's absolutely stunning and looks really yummy)

((dont question it))

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS, I HAD TO DRAW IT.

(Lore under the cut. Sorry, I have a lot to say about this haha)

Sky’s reaction when he first meets Warriors? Awe.

They find Wars last- or, well, they find his sword. The others are notably confused because they were looking for the hero. The temple that they were led to is completely empty except for a single sword atop a pedestal. Surely their lead was wrong- this can’t be it. Maybe this is the hero’s blade? And he will return to the temple? Or is this just the wrong spot entirely?

While the others are arguing with each other about what to do next, Sky steps up to the blade. It’s… a lot fancier than the ones that the heroes are accustomed to. Gems are inlaid into the guard, fabric is woven around the grip in a familiar pattern. There are diamonds that run down the blade and a piece of blue fabric is tied around the ring of the pommel. This level of decoration is not usually suited for a sword to be wielded in battle. In fact, the only sword that he’s known to be this beautiful and but also effective is currently strapped at his side. As Sky walks closer, he can see the blade glow unnaturally, and his voice echoes through the temple:

“It’s a Sword Spirit,” he’d say, reaching out to the blade but not touching. Not yet.

There’s a mix of emotions when Sky looks upon the blade. He’s relieved, for he had feared that Sword Spirits had been forgotten entirely. His heart aches at the cold weight of Fi at his side, empty and quiet where she used to be full of life. It’s good, he thinks, to see a new sword shine so bright. He’s a little afraid, he’d admit, since he has unsavory memories of a different Sword Spirit. Phantom hands at his shoulders, tongue at his ear, black blades arcing in the air.

Still, Sky can’t repress the way his heart leaps in excitement, a smile at his lips, even as his hand falters in the air. Another Sword Spirit, here, right in front of him. Another opportunity to make things right, to fix things. Oh, how he misses Fi.

“This is the hero we’re looking for.”

And the others would approach, their curiosity piqued by the reverent tone of Sky’s voice. (Note that Sky had just joined them about two-ish days ago? He was the second to last to meet the Chain, the last being Wars).

No one else has met a Sword Spirit before, not even Wild or Time (who, at this point, everyone thinks is a spirit), so they’re all a bit hesitant to accept Sky’s words at face value. Sky explains that he’s met Sword Spirits before, that the Master Sword herself is a spirit. Puzzle pieces click into place but they still need more convincing. They’ll believe that Sky’s correct: that the sword in the pedestal is indeed a Sword Spirit, but they don’t agree that it’s the hero that they’re looking for.

At least, not until the spirit bursts from his sword in a flash of white light, floating in the air as Fi had done so long ago. The eight heroes stand, eyes wide, before the glowing metallic figure. Sky could cry in at the joy he feels as the spirit utters his first words to them:

“Hello, Masters.”

. . .

• Sky inherently trusts everything that Wars says because he trusted Fi. Fi didn’t lie, she was always helpful, and she told him exactly what he needed to hear every single time, even if he didn’t like it. She was calculating and intelligent and Sky (well… Link) could not have survived on the Surface without her. He trusted her with his life. Sky has no reason to think that Wars would ever lie to him, either. Especially in the early days, when he’s more robotic and less human. And so, he trusts Wars to always be honest.

• This will totally definitely 100% not be a problem guys, I promise. Wars would never lie to Sky about something dangerous. And it totally would never result in Sky getting hurt. And it’s definitely not why Wars looks so upset in the sketches I did yesterday. You can trust me. I promise.

• Sky and Wars talk a lot about Fi. Wars is curious about her, since he’s met her before in his own era and doesn’t know what happened to her. So Sky would explain that she went to sleep after his first adventure, and Wars would stare at him blankly.

“Sword Spirits do not necessitate sleep, Master.”

“I-” Sky would look away, something terribly vulnerable in his eyes. His voice would be sad and quiet as he continued: “I know.”

• I know I’ve talked about this before, but Sky is the most knowledgeable about Wars. He understands. And so his interactions with Wars are a lot easier for the Sword Spirit than with the others. The others don’t like being called “Master.” They don’t like the matter-of-fact way he talks, how he calculates every sentence before speaking it, how he uses percentages and simulations to back up his arguments. (How he always wins arguments). And Sky doesn’t necessarily like these things either, but he’s always patient. Always gentle. He allows Wars to call him “Master” because he understands how much Wars needs it. When Wars goes off on tangents and describes every bit of data he can think of, Sky sits and listens and they talk and it’s just so easy. Sky is probably Wars’ favorite, just for that.

• The REASON that Sky is so supportive of Wars goes back to the one thing that drives him through literally everything in his life: guilt. He said goodbye to Fi much too soon. She was just starting to open up, to feel and express her emotions, when their time ran out. He never got to know the person she’d end up to be, and he’s not making that same mistake again with Warriors.

I think I’ve talked about this before? How when Sword Spirits are young, they talk robotically and don’t express themselves, but as they mature and are around more people, they kind of adopt their traits and become a more well rounded person? Fi, for example was only around for what? A few months? Ghirahim had thousands of years to develop. That’s the difference between “According to your social customs, I should provide you with my personal designation. Fi is the name I was given,” and “You may call me Ghirahim. In truth, I very much prefer to be indulged with my full title: Lord Ghirahim. But I'm not fussy."

Sky wants to see Wars grow in the way that he never got to see Fi. He wants to know Wars. Not just as a spirit, but as a friend.

#I answered questions #fanart #my art #chain as cryptids au #cac art #cryptid lore #sword spirit #sapphire rambles way too long #sorry for the lore dump #cryptid sky #cryptid warriors #the legend of zelda #links meet au

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ravenyenn19 · 2 years ago

Text

Six of Crows future head cannon:

Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.

Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.

The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”

In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”

Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”

“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.

He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.

“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.

Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”

Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.

(His blood never did bleed emerald.)

More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”

The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.

“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.

“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.

Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.

Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.

He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.

Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”

Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.

The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.

Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.

I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree

Crap now I have to put it in a fic

Should I do it?

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