#don’t ask why he’s wearing armor in a cave

[winds-of-zephyr416]

BAM. Hot Sauron.

[tragedybunny]

Something Like Love - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has failed to seduce you, but even so, a bond has begun to grow between the two of you. It all comes to a head when Astarion almost loses you.

You infuriated Astarion. At first it was because stopping to help every person you happened upon was delaying dealing with his problems. Now that you had been traveling together for some time, not only were these little side adventures a delay, but you didn’t seem to be careful about how much they took out of you and how tired they left you. Even your other companions didn’t seem to care, letting you agree to solve every problem that you came upon and even adding to the pile.

But not him. Astarion was always right there at your side with a glare and a snapping refusal, which you’d usually brush off, but at least he tried. The rest of them just smiled and nodded, without noticing the circles under your eyes, or how slow you moved some mornings, or how thin you’d gotten. Protector wasn’t a position he normally found himself in, but you were different, you were kind to him, without expecting anything in return, as far as he could tell anyway. The two of you hadn’t even slept together, not for lack of trying on his part. The couple times he’d tried you firmly refused, and yet somehow you stayed kind to him, even still offering him your blood. In fact you didn’t seem to want anyone in camp. That was also exasperating. How could he expect your continued kindness, and protection which he desperately needed, without repayment? And what was he better at than sex?

So he resolved he’d give you whatever small gestures he could. Whenever you tore an item of clothing, he’d mend it at first chance. When the group made camp for the night, he always made sure your tent was up first, in whatever spot you wanted, and helped you pack when it was time to move on. Every battle, he stood at the backline with you while you cast spells, aiming arrows at anyone who got too close to you, his first priority keeping you safe. And he still tried to keep you from overextending yourself, despite no one ever listening to him. Which had led to the shouting match with Halsin earlier. Well it wasn’t really a shouting match, the Druid had remained frustratingly placid in the face of Astarion’s blustering. He’d already been vocally unhappy about looking for this Thaniel or whatever, but you’d found him, and still Halsin asked more. “We need to worry about Thorm, we don’t have time to keep bothering with this!”

“Curing the land could help break Thorm’s hold. I know you all don’t owe it to me.” Gods why did he ask like that, all humble and dissembling. You would cave to that for sure,

“You’re right, we don’t.”

“But…”

“Hells, can’t you see how much all of this is taking out of her!” Astarion had exploded, voice loud enough that some of your other companions jumped.

“It’s fine Astarion,” you’d gently placed a hand on his arm, “let’s finish this.”

With a frustrated growl, he’d yanked his arm away, regretting the hurt on your face. “Fine.”

That all led to this moment, you’d fended off the creatures summoned by the corrupted spirit, and Astarion watches as you calmly approach it. Speaking softly, your words soothe it, and he could see it starting to trust you. As always, you amaze him with your ability to solve things with your words, but he feels a twinge of something else, a want for something like those kind words that fell from your lips so easily. The spirit vanishes and Astarion finally feels a bit of relief it seems over. That is until your knees give way and you collapse to the jagged paving stones beneath you.

He's at your side instantly, a scream tearing itself from his throat. “Somebody fucking help her.”

Shadowheart js the first to respond, hands peeling away the light armor you wear, revealing gashes left by one of those shadow creatures that had gotten close. Teeth bite down into his lip to hold back a sob, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d failed the one duty he had. That ire finds a new target easy enough though, as Halsin attempts to join Shadowheart in tending to you. He’s barely started to kneel next to you when Astarion lunges, hissing and fangs flashing. “No you stay the fuck away from her, this is your fault!” For a second his face falls with guilt, but Astarion is in no state for empathy, all blame now on the Druid in his mind.

Hands fight to grab hold of him, to get close enough to tear his thick throat out. A pair of strong arms wraps around his waist, pulling him back from his murderous goal. “Easy Fangs, she’ll be alright,” Karlach tries to reassure him.

He struggles against her iron hold, still flinging curses and furious words. “That’s not the point, this shouldn’t have happened. But no one wanted to listen to me, none of you selfish idiots care when you’re asking too much!”

That was it, they’d all turn on him now, especially without you aware enough to defend him. To his surprise, Karlach just holds him slightly tighter, and keeps whispering that it was going to be fine. Wyll comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder, face stoic. "Shadowheart has this.”

At least Halsin has stepped back, expression troubled. Good, let him suffer. A spell glows in Shadowheart’s hands, suturing back together your skin, and your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, for a moment before closing again. Karlach wisely releases him, leaving him free to hover over you and ward off Halsin as he takes a hesitant step toward you. He’d be damned if anyone else was carrying you, the lot of them were untrustworthy. Reverently, he leans down, taking you in his arms, and lifting you from the ground. Gods, you were so small, there was almost nothing to you. How did you seem so imposing most of the time?

Silently, the group makes it’s way back to camp, Astarion holding tightly to you the whole way. When they reach the cluster of tents, he goes straight to yours to lay you down gently in your blankets. Turning back to the rest of the party he snarls in their direction. "All of you better stay the hells out of this tent until she's properly healed," he snaps the tent flap shut and wishes he had a door to slam on their faces.

Sitting down next to you, he pulls your hand into his and tried to forget about the stinging in his eyes. "You're going to be alright Darling. You have to be."

For hours he sits there, hand holding yours, waiting, watching your chest rise and fall, the reassurance he hadn’t lost you. Losing you, he can’t even fathom it. His protector, companion, he'd even go so far as to say friend. Even if you didn't notice how he was always at your side whenever you stayed up to launder your clothes, or how you never took a turn to cook alone, or how he was always walking right next to you on the road.

You sigh in your sleep and he feels a tug in that place that sometimes wonders if you could be more than friends. Which was stupid, you hadn't even wanted sex with him. Besides, what you already gave him was more than he deserved considering what he had been planning after sleeping with you.

Finally, exhausted, he drifts into meditation, still holding onto you, until your sleep heavy voice pulls him out of it. "Astarion?"

His eyes are wide immediately and without a second thought, he throws himself into your arms, nuzzling into your neck. "You're awake." Then he starts crying like an idiot; ugly, undignified sobs against your skin. "I was worried," he tries to explain leaping on you and his ridiculous tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." You put your arms around him, accepting him without question, like always.

"You silly, silly girl, you were the one that almost died. Don't apologize to me." He's trying desperately to stop bawling uncontrollably.

"I know, but I don't like to see you upset." Ever so lightly, he can feel your hand brushing through his hair.

"Why," he's managed to get himself somewhat under control, but doesn't move from where you've let him lay. "Why are you like this? Always giving, even when it's too much for you?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Because I care about you."

"You do," he asks, unwilling to let himself believe what he's heard.

"Well, I care about everyone," of course he should've realized, "but I care about you a very great deal, Astarion."

Astarion freezes, the words leaving warmth in that secret place inside that he's been trying to keep from himself and you. "I don't understand."

"I see you. I see how hard you try and how far you've come, and how much you try to do for me." There's a smile in your voice and impossibly he thinks it has something to do with him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" His hand searches yours out and your fingers interwine.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. But today it was almost too late to tell you." You've placed both of your hands over your chest and he can feel your heartbeat.

"I…I don't know how I feel." Inwardly, he quails, worried that will drive you. "But this is nice."

"It's alright Astarion, there's no rush to this." Impulsively, he leans up to leave a feather light kiss on your cheek, grateful for you in ways he can't understand.

[annwrites]

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part three. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you tell john about your childhood & the things you still want despite it, & he tells you about his, knowing once & for all that you’re meant to belong to him & him alone. · word count: 2,409

You’re just beginning to drift off when you hear a soft knock against the glass.

You groan into your pillow and could swear you hear a deep chuckle from the other side of the door in response.

You slowly rise—head spinning from exhaustion—and pad over to the door, silently flipping the lock before throwing yourself back down face-first into the mattress, pulling a thin blanket over your bare legs.

John enters the room, staring down at you, arms folded behind his back. “What? No dinner for your man tonight?”

You mentally roll your eyes at him calling himself that yet again, but don’t reply to that particular comment. “I already ate. I’m going to sleep.”

He huffs, glancing around your small apartment, then back to you. “Guess I’ll just climb in there with y—”

“Not with your suit still on you aren’t,” you mumble into your pillow.

He raises a brow in interest, smirking, surprised you’re not trying to argue otherwise. Maybe that’s the key to getting his way, then, until you start caving all on your own: take advantage when you have no energy to fight back. When you’re soft and tired and at his will to do with as he pleases.

“See you’re finally starting to see things my way,” he states smugly.

You roll over then, looking at him. “You’re not wearing your outside clothes in my bed. It’s not a come-on.”

He toes off his boots, then settles his hands on his hips, as if he’s debating something internally.

It doesn’t take much effort for you to understand what.

His suit is his metaphorical armor. You still have yet to understand why he’s so insecure, though—why his ego is so fragile. That’s the one thing about him that should be ‘untouchable’, so to speak. Then again, being physically bulletproof doesn’t have any bearing on what’s inside.

And what’s inside seems, still, like a little boy living in a man’s body, to you.

He needs to feel wanted. He’d seemed pleased last night when you’d talked about seeing him again—like you were finally giving him what he’s been desiring since that day he first set eyes upon you in your university’s auditorium: your willing attention.

Your eyes flutter closed, throwing a bone his way. “I’m cold.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remove his suit—leaving him clad only in a pair of dark-blue briefs. And it makes him want to crawl out of his fucking skin.

But you’re all but finally asking for him. You want him. You’ve finally come around.

He knew you would. No woman can resist. Not even you. Young and pretty you may be, but you’re still not educated enough to know what’s in your best interest, clearly. Best interest being him. That’s the problem with all these liberal ‘schools’. They don’t teach what they used to: love of ones country. Instead, they’d tried to turn you against him.

But he can still pull you back. It seems like he already has as you lie there, waiting for him.

So, he climbs into bed next to you, pulling the covers over himself, and then he pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He smiles softly when you gently press your palms to his pecks.

“I like you better like this,” you say, cuddling closer, wondering how he’ll react to it.

He tightens his arms around you then and you squeak.

“John, you’re crushing me.”

He loosens his hold, feeling the least bit pathetic.

He’s done this before—held a woman so tightly that it resulted in her life being cut short he was that fucking desperate for affection.

He lets you go entirely then, rolling onto his back, hating himself.

He doesn’t need anyone. Why can’t he get that through his goddamn head? Why the fuck should he care what a weak, useless, lonely little human like you thinks about him—a god? He should just kill you instead. He does that, and you’re no longer all he’s able to fucking think about all day—to a disturbingly obsessive degree. It’d be as simple as—

You scoot closer, sliding a warm, dainty hand up his chest until it’s resting gently against his cheek and his mind immediately goes blank—his face twitching as he fights back tears.

Maybe your superpower is just…comforting maternal gestures, then.

At least with you he won’t have to compete with another to receive them. Unlike Madelyn…and Teddy. The little shit. Taking what should’ve been—had been—his.

But you? There is no competition. He assumes, at least.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks quietly.

You pop an eye open, staring at him as he stares up at the ceiling, his face entirely void of emotion.

Lying would be useless, you’re sure. He works for Vought—or with—you’re sure they could have a comprehensive background check done on you in a handful of minutes…if he hasn’t already done as much. You have half-a-mind to ask, but you’re not sure you want the answer to such a question.

“No.”

His lip twitches, turning upwards into a smile, which leaves you feeling uneasy.

“So you’re all mine, then.”

You open both eyes, blinking at him, heartrate beginning to climb. “I—”

He shakes his head slightly. “No. Wasn’t a question.”

He turns back onto his side then, sliding a heavy hand over your hip, holding you possessively in his grip. “You said you’d tell me about ‘her’ tonight.”

You brush your thumb against his cheek, eyes drifting down to his chest, not wishing to meet his own now.

You want to go back to his comment—one he’s made more than once now, just in varying ways—about…ownership. He surely doesn’t mean it.

But every time you’ve tried to assure yourself of anything concerning him: that he won’t come back, that he won’t really hurt you—you’ve been wrong.

Maybe you’re not as good at reading people as you like to think you are. Most of all him.

You just still don’t understand why you’re a subject of fascination for him yet. Like you’d told yourself the other day…what’re you compared to any of the other women in his life? But maybe that’s it, then. Just like him, they’re forced to put on a mask, not letting anyone in deeper than surface-level, lest the plastic cracks.

It seems like he just…wants to connect.

No wonder you’ve been so tired the last couple of days—constantly wracking your mind, trying to understand him. As if it’s even possible. He’s been an actor all his life.

You sigh.

“I’m sure you won’t…be able to relate. I’m envious of you in that: your perfect childhood, and life. I wish I’d had that…”

You trail off for a moment.

“My mother,” you say quietly. “I haven’t seen her since I was eighteen and left for college. Half the reason I even went was to get away from her. I didn’t care about student loans and living in debt if it got me out of that house. For the first couple of years I lived in a dorm room…and it was the first time I’d ever known peace. No more walking on eggshells, no more fighting, or being called horrible names, or having to cautiously measure what mood I think she’s in each day—or hour—lest I provoke her.”

You slide your hand down to his neck, softly curling your fingertips inward. “I can’t…”

You pause, tears stinging your eyes.

He pulls you closer to him, silently encouraging you to continue.

“Yet I still feel like I can’t get away from her. Not even here. Not even hundreds of miles from home—if you can even call it that. Because she’s always with me. In my head. Beating me down, making me feel worthless—like…all my self-worth still needs to hinge upon her and how she feels. If she’s happy. When did it become my job to look after her, and not the other way around? And even when I did…she still abused me for it. Nothing I ever did was right.”

You bite your lip trying to fight back tears.

“When I was young, I wanted what we’re all supposed to once we grow up: a husband, a home, babies. And then I got older, and because of her I tried to convince myself otherwise. Tried to pound into my head that I didn’t want kids. That what I really wanted was a hysterectomy. That way, I’d never have to risk turning into her: becoming the monster of a mother that she was.”

You ignore the tears running down your cheeks now. “But it’s how I’m different from her that matters most. She’s taken enough away from me. Stolen enough of my life. I want children. I deserve to be a mother. To have a family. To make my own. She doesn’t get to have that, too. She doesn’t.”

Your chin wobbles and you let out a small sob. “I’m sorry.”

He only holds you closer, unsure what to even say. He’s never known how to comfort others. He’s always expected it to be provided to him instead. But only from women. And only in secret. Because he can’t be seen as some fucking weakling.

Because he’s not. He’s not.

He is the strongest man in all the world. The most superior. The master of his race.

You continue to softly cry, and it’s then that he makes a decision, knowing that if it ends terribly—with you emasculating him, or betraying his trust—well, it will take no effort from him to rectify the situation. But he’s sure that you won’t, because, little-by-little, you’ve shown your true colors: how maternal you truly are.

You just said it yourself. And it’d sounded like the most beautiful fucking music to his ears to hear: how desperate you are for a child.

You want someone to look after? Well, here he is. He needs your love. He can admit it now. To himself, at least. Even if it tastes like rancid vinegar to do so.

“I didn’t have it: a perfect childhood. It’s all fucking bullshit. You want to know how I was really raised?”

You grow quiet then, only occasionally sniffling as you slip your fingers into his hair, gently stroking his soft, blond strands.

“I grew up in a lab like a rat. These…doctors kept me locked in a sterile white room with nothing but a blanket for comfort. Not even a bed. Not a pillow. No toys. No TV. Nothing. All while they performed test after fucking test after—”

He clenches his teeth. “Watching me every second of every day. No privacy. Treating me like some…sideshow attraction. Burning me and laughing at me and just—watching.”

Your chin wobbles.

“I never knew my parents because I was designed in a test tube. I was created to be this. The greatest superhero the world has ever known. They tried to make me perfect. And I am,” he tacks on.

He’s unsure whether he’s trying to convince himself of that, or you.

“But I’m just—”

“Lonely,” you say, interrupting him with tears slipping down your cheeks—your heart shattering, for him.

You wrap your arms around his neck then, finally understanding him. Finally seeing a shred of humanity behind his ‘tough-man’ facade.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” you say between sobs. “I am so sorry for what they did to you.”

All you can picture in your mind’s eye is a sweet, blond little boy sitting in a room all alone, waiting for someone to come for him. To care. To hold, or love him. For them to stop hurting him, all while he was left to wonder what he did wrong to deserve such horrible treatment.

How…how could anyone do that? To a baby? To a little boy?

You shouldn’t care. Not after what he did to you just two nights ago, but you can’t help it. Because in this moment you just see a broken man that has nowhere else to turn.

He slides impossibly closer, burying his face between your breasts, quietly crying.

You shoosh him, running your fingers through his soft hair.

Here lies the most powerful—invincible—man in all the world in your arms—a man who has always seemed a larger than life titan…somehow he feels so small now. You’d been right to see him as just a scared little boy looking for someone to comfort him. And it serves only to break your heart all the more.

 “I’m so sorry, baby,” you say.

And it reminds him of a loving mother consoling her child. Something he’s never had the gift of having.

He mouths it against your breast then, just…wanting to try it—to know how it feels: ‘mommy’.

And it comes to him naturally. Like…this is meant to be.

And he knows in that moment with absolute certainty that you’re the one. You’re supposed to be his. Meant to belong to him alone. You were born to.

He’ll kill anyone who even attempts at coming between the two of you. He’ll rip him in fucking half with his bare hands just to keep you. Just to show you this newfound devotion.

And he’s sure you’d be thankful for it.

Your mother expected you to do everything for her? He can show you the opposite: so long as you love him, he can give you the same.

He’ll take care of you. He’ll make sure you don’t go without anymore. He has more than enough money for the two of you. Is willing to expend the effort to keep you as his sole property.

It’s all he’s ever wanted: to be loved. And now here you are in his arms with an open, maternal heart meant to love him.

Besides…how could you ever dream of doing better than the most singular and superior man in all the world? No other pathetic human specimen could ever compete.

You’ll be thanking him one day for having come into your life. For saving you. But that’s what he does: he saves people. And it seems you—his new purpose—need him most of all.

Before long, you’ll see just how much.

Before long…you won’t have any idea how to live without him. Already he feels the reverse: no idea how to live without you.

Not that he’ll have to, because you’re not going anywhere.

If you tried, he’d simply follow, because there’s nowhere you could hide that he wouldn’t find you.

You’re his.

All his.

His girl.

His woman.

Mommy.

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (11/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: You and Sylus attend the autumn harvest festival

Content Warnings: Emotional damage.

Length: 5k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

“What about this one? Does this look alright?” you gestured to the dress you had on.

Sylus was leaning against the doorway to the bedroom appraising the dress you had changed into. “It looks splendid, as did the others. Why are you fretting so much about what you’re wearing?”

“Because it’s the first time I’m going back to the village in months and the only clothes I have up here are the mourning attire we found in that chest. I don’t want everyone to think I’m so ghostly spectre come back to haunt the village.” you groaned, already tearing off the dress and looking for another. You sifted through the pile of clothes in the chest. “Why do none of these even have a hint of color?”

“Calm, wildfire.” Sylus pulled you back up to standing. “It will be fine no matter what you wear.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t need to bother dressing up, you can’t even wear a shirt.” you sighed, “I really wish I had kept the dress I came here wearing in better condition.”

“If it means that much to you maybe we can search the hoard room for a different dress. I’m sure one of those chests has to have more clothes in it.”

“No…” you grabbed one of the black dresses and tugged it back on. “We don’t have the time. At least when we go back I can pick up my old clothes to take back with us.”

“There you go. Now come along, I know how anxious you are to see the village again.” he pulled on your hand out of the cave. You could just barely see the village down in the glen. The faint echo of music could be heard if you strained your ears.

Sylus picked you up so to fly you both down and it was at that point you realized that he had retracted the armor around his claws to reveal more human looking hands. You knew he didn’t do it often since it caused some discomfort to forcefully recede the scales. So why now? He also had some large swath of fabric draped over his one arm.

Before you could ask what it was about he took off into the air with you. You flew down the mountain closer to the village. Per your instructions you stopped a bit a ways from the actual village. You were going to go in first and assure everyone that you were safe and have your reunions before trying to introduce Sylus to everyone.

When he set you back your feet he took the cloth draped over his arm and swung it across his shoulders. A long dark cape covered him, although part of it was awkwardly pitched up where it caught against the large spike of armor on his one shoulder.

“What’s all this?” you asked, helping to straighten out the cloak since he was having trouble.

“Like you said, I can’t wear a shirt so this is the closest I can get.” he shrugged, “That is all.”

“Uh huh,” You looked him over, noting for the first time how clean he looked. Paired with his clawless hands and the large cloak that covered most of his body you realized that he was nervous. This was his effort to minimize the shock of his appearance to everyone in the village.

You pushed yourself to your toes, cupping his face in your hands and kissing him tenderly. “There’s no need for you to worry. They will adore you.”

“I’m not worried.” he said.

“Liar.” you poked his chest. “It will be alright, I promise.”

“And if you are wrong?” he muttered. “If they chase me out?”

“Then they chase us out and that will be that. I’ll be disappointed but I won’t stand idly by and watch them harass you either.”

“Us?”

“Hm?”

“You said us. You’d still come back with me?”

“Of course. You said I’d be free to come and go from the village whenever I want now so long as I come home to you. In this hypothetical situation why would I stay after they were cruel to you?”

“Because this is your village. Your friends. Your family. Your life.” he gritted his teeth. “If you said you wanted to remain here I would not force you to come back. If…if you would really want it, you may live here again. No need for you to remain in the mountain with me. You paid back the price of protecting your village and then some. You’re not mine to keep anymore.”

You had been so glad when Sylus said you could come back and forth to the village but now you were worried that he intended to return you for good. “Where is all this coming from? Are you trying to kick me out?” you demanded.

“No. But a life with a dragon cannot be what you had hoped for yourself.”

“It was not what I thought life would be certainly but I will not trade it now.” you snapped at him. “So stop trying to convince me! Gods above, what brought this ridiculous talk on?”

Sylus’s eyes widened. “I didn’t--that is I thought--” he cleared his throat. “I just wanted to give you the option.”

“Well you’ve given it, but I do not want it. Now, can we move on? I can smell the food from here and I am starving.”

Sylus smiled, pulling you close and planting a passionate kiss on your mouth. The breath was stolen from your lungs as he kissed you. “Thank you for wanting to stay.” he murmured against your lips.

“That’s not something you have to thank me for, Sylus.” you grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “Now let’s get going.”

You pulled on him as you got closer to the village. The trees became scarcer as glen opened up. You could see the village now. People were bustling about inside. The music was loud and cheerful, the smell of seasoned meats, roasted vegetables, and sweet fruit tarts floated on the wind towards you. Everything you had ever known was just a few yards away.

You turned to Sylus, squeezing his hands. “I’m going to go in and come back for you in a few minutes. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“I believe you.” he seemed reluctant to let you go, but he did.

You took in a deep breath, straightening your appearance and left the cover of the trees. You had gotten so used to the quiet of the mountain you had forgotten how loud civilization could be. The village was a cacophony of noise and laughter. For a minute no one had taken note of you, too wrapped up in their own merriment. But then you looked up and saw one of your childhood friends. She caught sight of you at the same moment and her mouth dropped open.

“Is it…” she dropped the cards in her hands and crept toward you as if you were a ghost. “Is it really you?”

“Tara!” a smile split your face as you embraced your old friend. She hugged you back even tighter, crying into your neck.

“You’re alive! You’re actually alive!” she cried.

At this point you had made enough noise that you started garnering the attention of those nearby. You heard similar gasps and cries of shock as the villagers realized that it was you. The girl they had sent up the mountain to the dragon. You had returned.

So many people crowded you, some to embrace you, others asking a million questions. There were some who kept a distance, unsure what to make of your appearance.

“Oh thank the gods you’re alright!” Tara was still crying. “We thought that you had died months ago. How are you here? Did you somehow escape the dragon? What happened?”

“Slow down. I will gladly explain everything if you give me the chance. But first, I want to see my father. Where is he?”

“His workshop. He rarely leaves it nowadays.” Tara said. “Not after you…”

“I see.” you glanced back at the treeline. Sylus was going to have to wait just a little longer.

You sped your way through the familiar streets until you came to your father’s workshop. It was right next to the place you had called home all your life. So familiar and yet so distant from who you were now. Your hands were shaking as you knocked on the door to the workshop.

“No visitors today.” came a gruff voice that elated your heart.

You opened the door and saw your father standing in front of the large furnace, a piece of molten glass cooling on his staff. “I said no--” he turned and the staff dropped from his hands, the half cooled glass creation shattering into a million pieces.

“Father.” you stepped closer.

“My sweet pea,” he took a shaky step towards you. “Is that really you?”

“Yes father.” you embraced him. “I’m so happy to see you.”

His arms closed around you, molding you to him. “My little girl. My sweet little girl. I thought I had lost you forever. Thank the gods. Thank you for returning her home to me!”

“Father--”

“How is this so? You went up the mountain. No one has seen you since. How did you escape? How are you alive?”

“It is a lot to explain. But you and the rest of the village need to know the truth about the dragon that resides in the mountain.”

Your father nodded. He took off the work apron and gloves he had on and followed you back out the workshop. It seemed the whole village had heard about your return and was waiting for you outside. Well, you were not going to have a better crowd than this. There was an old crate next to the workshop and you stepped on top of it to give the villagers a better view.

“Hello. I cannot begin to say how wonderful it is to be here and to see all of you again.” you raised your voice to be heard by all. “I have missed you all terribly. Now that I here, I know you have questions about where I have been and what happened when I left. I will tell you now.”

Either this was going to go well or end horribly. “I can assure you all that I am perfectly fine. My time away I have not been harmed. In actuality, I have been well taken care of while…while living with the dragon in the mountain.”

The gasps and murmurs started again. You steeled yourself and continued. “When I left this village and ascended the mountain I expected to lose my life to a dragon in return for protecting our village. What I found was not at all what I was expecting. The dragon spoke to me, told me that he had no interest in killing me, and instead invited me to work in his home in exchange for protecting our village. His name is Sylus and he is like no dragon that this world has ever seen. He may seem scary but he is a kind person.”

“Is this true?” your father asked. “You’ve been living with the dragon all this time?”

“Yes. He gave me a bed and these clothes and lets me live as I like in the mountain with him. Over the course of my stay I befriended him. And…” you braced yourself for whatever reaction you were about to elicit. “I invited him here to join in the festivities. I thought that you may like to thank him personally for protecting the village during our time of need.”

The townspeople had gone quiet. No one seemed sure what to say or how to respond to what all you told them. Finally someone shouted out from the crowd. “You invited a dragon! Are you mad! Even if it is kind as you say we have no room for a dragon to be wandering around!”

“Oh, that is another thing. The dragon is not like other dragons, not just in behavior but in appearance. I assure you, he is not large enough to knock over buildings or anything like that. He’s actually rather human.”

This is what caused a bigger uproar of confusion. Your father tugged on your hand. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “There is so much excitement with just you here again, do you really want to bring a dragon into town as well?”

“He’s my friend, father. He’s only ever been spurned by humans in the past and I promised him that things would be different this time. I intend to keep my word.” you looked back out at the crowd. “At the very least you can let me show you him. He deserves your thanks for what he went through protecting this village all on his own.” You remembered his broken wing and the pain he had been in when you had to set it. “I beg you. Please.”

You jumped down and started heading back through the town. The people followed behind until you got to the edge of town. They would not move any farther. You forged on ahead and back into the trees. You found Sylus leaned against a tree. He had drawn the hood of the cloak up over his horns.

“They want to meet you.” you reached up and pushed the hood back. “And they are going to see you as you are and they are going to like it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Now come.” you took his hand and pulled him out of the woods. Even from a distance you could tell that the townspeople were confused by the figure you led towards them. When you got closer the people stared at him intrigued and confused. They whispered amongst themselves, noting how strange Sylus was and questioning if this really was the dragon you had spoken of.

Your father was the first to speak up, stepping out from the crowd to approach you. Sylus tried to pull his hand away but you interlocked your fingers and kept him still. “So, this is the dragon?”

“Yes. Father, this is Sylus. Sylus, this is my father.” you nudged Sylus to say something but he only nodded.

“I suppose I should thank you for not killing my daughter and for watching over her these past months.”

“You do not need to thank me for that.” Sylus said and you watched people gasp once again. Sylus ignored them, his focus on your father now. “She has been a delight to have. She’s brought so much light and life to the mountain, it is hard to imagine life before her now.”

“Yes, she has that affect.” Your father looked to you, a wisp of a smile on his face. “Than allow me to thank you for protecting our village. Allow us.” your father looked back at the townsfolk, ushering them to give their thanks.

The others fell into the expressions of gratitude quick enough, some looking more at ease than others. “There. Now that we’ve all gotten to meet, how about we celebrate? Do we not have much to celebrate this day?”

Everyone was quick to agree and turned back to head to the festivities. Some stayed near you, talking to both you and Sylus as you walked through the village hand in hand. You refused to let him go, scared he may take off into the sky if you weren’t keeping him tethered to the ground. Without his armor over his hands you could feel his palm sweat.

You went to the main square where a series of tables were set up for everyone to sit at. Throughout the streets there were stalls set up with different games and a puppet show for the children. The harvest feast would start soon so everyone was gravitating towards the square.

Anyone that had not immediately left their work to come see you when you showed up saw you now, hand in hand with your dragon. You could see many fingers being pointed your way as other villagers went about explaining the situation to those that hadn’t seen you before.

You settled down at a small table near the edge of the large congregation, hoping to ease Sylus somewhat. He had yet to say anything since meeting your father. His hand was crushing yours in his grip. You leaned in closer to him. “Are you sure you are alright? If this is too much you can leave. I wanted the people to meet you and they have. You don’t need to stay just to please me.”

“I’m fine, little bird.”

“Then can you ease up on how tightly you’re holding my hand? My fingers are starting to go numb.”

“Apologies.” he let go of your hand entirely. You flexed your fingers to get some life back in them.

“So…” your father was sitting across from you. “What have you been doing all this time on the mountain?”

“Well--” Sylus started with a sly grin and you stomped on his foot. Although, given how armored his feet were it hurt you more than it did him.

“Housekeeping mostly.” you said. “Keeping the cave clean, cooking meals, that sort of thing.”

“I see.” your father kept his eye on Sylus. “I’m sorry, I have to ask. You do not look much like a dragon, why is that?”

“Father!”

“It’s alright. I understand it may be confusing.” Sylus said. “The simple explanation is that I am only part dragon, the other half of me is human. But I am a dragon, do not mistake that.”

“Have you been around humans before?”

“I lived amongst humans for a good many years but that was before my draconic bloodline started altering my appearance.”

You knew why Sylus was lying but it still broke your heart. Under the cover of the table you surreptitiously placed your hand on his thigh, trying to give him some comfort.

The celebration continued and slowly but surely the townspeople started to warm up to Sylus. When he had made mention that he hadn’t had human food like anything they were serving in years that instigated many people to come forward with their own dishes, telling him that he just had to try this old family recipe. As nervous as Sylus had started he was doing much better now with food in front of him. He always needed to eat a lot so he took every offered plate with gratitude and a sharp smile. He had even shedded the cloak he had been wearing.

As the meal concluded people started moving tables away to clear a spot in the center for dancing. You turned to Sylus with a wide smile. “Hey Sylus, remember the lessons I gave you a couple weeks ago?”

Sylus stared out at the people dancing in the square and shook his head. “No. Don’t remember a thing.”

“Well then, this is going to be very embarrassing for you cause we’re still dancing. Come on.” you grabbed him and pulled him out of his chair.

“After spending all that time getting the people to like me you want them to fear me again, don’t you?” he muttered. “I’m going to end up hitting someone.”

“No you’re not. It’ll be fine.” you went to the center of the floor and held out your hands for him to take. “Just go through the steps like we rehearsed and keep your eyes on me.”

His gaze softened. “If this is a disaster I am blaming you.”

You smiled as the song began and you helped guide Sylus through the first couple of steps. His feet were heavy as he tried to go through the steps like you taught him before. You pulled him a little closer. “Eyes on me.” you whispered.

He picked his gaze up from his feet and from there he loosened up. He was by no means a perfect dancer and more than once he forgot the next step but he stayed, his gaze never straying from you. He spun you out and back in, your chest pressed flat to his. You half expected him to start flying while you danced, if only to be able to hold you close without having to worry about moving his feet.

“Are you starting to have fun?” you asked.

“I will say, I was surprised.” Sylus said. “I didn’t expect everyone to be so accommodating.”

“I told you there would be nothing to worry about. I’m glad you could be here with me.”

“Are you?”

“Of course I am. I love spending time with you, and now I can share part of my world with you like you did for me.”

He leaned in closer, so close you were worried he was going to kiss you in front of everyone. “Do you think anyone would notice if we snuck away for twenty minutes or so?” he whispered.

Your face went aflame. “Yes, I think they would. Goodness, you are insatiable. Do you know that?”

“Can’t help it. Not when you’re so close and you look so beautiful.”

“I wear this dress around the mountain all the time.”

“You think the dress has anything to do with it?” his hands wandered down to your hips. “My wildfire, kingdoms would fall for a chance at your hand. Which is why I’m glad I get to keep you all to myself.”

Your mouth hung open, unable to respond. How dare this man tell you that he is incapable of falling in love and then say such things to you. Even if he was right and the kind of love that you had grown up knowing was impossible for him to replicate, you still could. And it was a cruel punishment to make you feel such a way when he could not.

You did not ask for this ache in your chest. This uncertainty that hung in the air around you as you realized that Sylus meant something to you. Something much more than a friend or a bedmate.

“My dragon has such a way with words.” you said, biting back the raw emotion in your voice.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. “You look as if you may cry.”

“I’m just happy.” And you were. So terribly happy, and it only made the pain in your heart worse.

The song ended and you led Sylus back off the floor. Before you could get back to your table Tara and some of your other friends intercepted you. “We want some time to talk to our friend. We’ll return her later.” they said to Sylus and you were dragged away out of sight.

“What is going on with you all? You could have just asked nicely instead of ambushing me.” you said.

“What is going on with us?” one of the girls scoffed, “What is going on with you?”

“Me? What are you talking about?”

“Well, you see the girls and I were wondering something.” Tara said, looking sheepish. “What exactly is going on between you and the dragon?”

“Nothing.” you said perhaps a touch too quickly. “We’re just good friends.”

“Did you go blind while living with the dragon?” one of them stared at you like you were mad. “Did you not see the way he was eyeing you? Do you now that you’ve been staring at him the entire night?”

“Girls, please, I really do not understand what you are talking about. Sylus was not looking at me in any particular way, nor I him.”

“Is she being serious? The man looked as if he wanted to add you to his hoard and you are acting like you would have absolutely no problem with that.”

“Girls--”

“Are you just his servant or has he been forcing you to--”

“That is enough!” you snapped at them. You sighed, reining yourself back in. “Sylus has not forced me to do anything that I haven’t wanted to.”

“So have you done something?” Tara asked, giving you a knowing smile.

“That is none of your business.” The girls gasped and muttered amongst themselves. You should have just lied and said nothing was happening. They knew your answer meant that you were keeping something hidden from them.

“Listen, the lot of you!” you snapped their attention back to you. “Not a one of you is going to discuss this with anyone else. Do you hear me? It is not your gossip to spread, it is my own personal business.”

“Fine. Fine.” they looked mildly disappointed. “But you have to answer one thing for us.”

“What?”

“Is it good?”

A ripple of heat shot down your spine. “Very. That’s all you’re getting. Goodbye.” You quickly turned and wove your way through the crowd back to your table.

Sylus was standing with a hoard of children crowded around him. You noticed he had his tail up and wrapped around himself to keep it away from the kids. You stifled a laugh and approached your father who was watching the scene with similar amusement. “How did this happen?”

“One of the boys came in with a wooden toy sword and asked if he wanted to play knights and dragons. He said no, the kid started crying and angrily threw the sword at him, he used his tail to break it before it could hit him, that made the kid cry louder. But then the other children saw what happened and thought it was amazing and started crowding around with things like apples and branches for him to break as well. He’s been stuck in the middle of them for a couple minutes now.”

“Oh no,” you laughed. You looked up and saw Sylus staring at you, his eyes pleading to come help him. “Hey kids,” you raised your voice, “He also has wings that grow out of his back.”

The kids started jumping up and down flapping their arms and asking Sylus to please show them his wings. The bolder kids were asking him to take them flying. Sylus only glared at you. You were going to pay for this later but it was so fun to watch in the moment. Eventually Sylus cracked and produced his wings for the kids to see. They cheered and asked him to fly around which he happily granted since it meant he could get away from them. He flew off over the roofs and disappeared. When it was apparent he wasn’t coming back any time soon the kids pouted and walked off.

It was getting late anyway. You needed to think about heading home. You went with your father back to your house. You immediately went upstairs to your room. Everything had been left exactly as you had left it.

“I haven’t had the heart to come in here since you left.” your father said, standing in the doorway. “Good thing I didn’t. It’s been waiting for you.”

“I am grateful that you didn’t get rid of any of my things.” you went to the wardrobe and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them in a large bag.

“What are you doing?” your father asked, grabbing a shirt from you.

“Well I’ve been stuck wearing the same ten dresses for months. I was hoping that now that I’m back I could bring back some of my normal clothes.” you took the shirt back. “I’m also taking some of my books and other belongings. I don’t want to take everything cause there may be a time that I come back and spend the night but considering I’m living in the mountain I’d like my stuff to be there as well.”

“You’re going back?”

Oh.

“Yes, father. I am.” you set the bag down.

“But you’re home now. Is the dragon forcing you to still stay in the mountain?”

“He’s not forcing me. I want to go back. I like it there.”

“With him?”

“I thought you liked him.”

“I respect him as much as I can for protecting our village and I am glad that he has not hurt you, but that is not where you belong. He may be partially human but he is still a dragon. He belongs in the mountain and you belong here in the village.”

“Why can we not belong to both places? I love the village and Sylus has warmed up to it as well. Even the townspeople like him to a degree. I am sure they will only come to like him more if he can spend more time with them. But the mountain is our home.”

“This is your home.”

“Where you call home can change. And perhaps you can even have more than one. This village will always be my first home. Anywhere you are is my home because you are my family and I love you. But I like living in the mountain. I like living with Sylus.” you took a deep breath. “Father, I do not wish to lie to you. The relationship between Sylus and myself is not entirely platonic. I have feelings for him and I believe he may have feelings for me as well.”

“He’s a dragon! Have you lost your senses!”

“Father please! I know this is a lot to take in and I’ve put you through so much already but this is not how I want this night to end. Please.”

“For months I thought you were dead. Now you waltz back in spouting nonsense about being in love with the dragon that everyone thought had killed you. How do you want me to respond? Do you want me to be happy?”

“I thought maybe part of you would be, just a little. I too thought that my being picked to go up the mountain was a death sentence but I see it now for the blessing it was. I have found someone that I really care for, experienced things I never thought possible, and I’m happy. I don’t expect you to understand or even approve, but I want you to know that this has been my choice. And I’m not disappearing again. I’ll be back to visit often. Just please, do not let us end this day that we have been reunited like this. Please father!”

“I…” your father closed his eyes, the deep furrow of his brow crinkling as he thought. “If you are looking for my blessing I cannot give it to you. I will not stop you, but I do not know how to look at you right now.”

“Father…” he walked away, the front door slamming behind him as he left you the house entirely.

You slumped to the floor, your face buried in your hands as you wept. The day had started so well. You thought your father and Sylus were getting along. Where had it all gone wrong?

There was a tapping at your window and you saw Sylus standing outside. You got up and opened the window for him. “You can just come inside through the door you know.”

“Why are you crying?” he wiped the tears from your eyes. “What’s happened?”

“My father, he doesn’t approve of us.”

“You told him?”

“Yes. He cannot fathom that I would want to return to the mountain with you if you’re not forcing me. I do not know what to do.” you started crying again. “I was so excited to see him again and now I fear I’ve lost him in a new way.”

Sylus paused and clambered to the front door, letting himself inside and back into your room. He picked you up, holding you tight in his arms. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry, little bird. You didn’t deserve this.”

“I love him so much and I feel like I’m letting him down.”

“You’re not letting anyone down. You’re a grown woman making your own choices. If he does not like your choices, that is not for you to worry about. So long as you are safe and happy with them, there’s nothing the matter with what you choose to do with your life. Do you understand me?”

“But--”

“But nothing. He just needs time. I promise.”

You hugged him tight, weeping into his chest. “I know.” he pressed reassuring kisses to the top of your head and temples. “I know it hurts now but it won’t hurt forever. It will get better.”

You nodded mutely. “Can we go home now?”

“Yes we can.” Sylus handed you your bag and scooped you up into his arms. You walked out of the house and took off into the sky. The light and merriment of the festival was dying and fading away as you flew back into the wilderness.

[alyakthedorklord]

Agent D to watchtower

(Fic)

Flash And Green Lantern, bored, stuck on monitor duty at the watchtower, cheerfully badmouthing batman together when a notification rings through the room.

Hal snaps to attention, because notifications on monitor duty don’t usually mean good things, but at least they’re things.

Oh holy crap that’s Batman’s caller ID.

Green Lantern and the Flash do NOT scramble like kids caught staying up badmouthing a parent at a sleepover, sending chips and cookies flying. They are professional world savers. Incredibly powerful men. Yep.

“Batman!” The Flash squeaks. “Whats- uh. Whats the situation?”

Whatever it is has to be dire. Batman never calls for help, ever. So it has to be a really big problem. Unless he’s spying on them. And is about to growl at them for talking behind his back.

The line is silent for a few moments, just long enough for Hal and Flash to trade terrified looks, and then…

“This is Agent D, reporting in.”

That voice is not Batman.

It’s not Batman’s deep, growly baritone. It’s slightly accented, boyish and light, despite the serious tone to it as whoever the voice belongs to whispers into the communicator.

Too young. Far too young. Thats a kid.

Hal checks the ID- yep, this is Batman’s communicator. How on earth does this kid have it?

“Uh… nice to meet you, Agent D. Can you tell me what’s going on? How are you calling us right now?”

“I’m deep in enemy territory.” The kid whispers, which isn’t really an answer but definitely catches Hal’s attention. The kid is whispering like he’s scared someone- or something- will hear him. “The darkness is endless. Any and all sound travels here- it’s a massive echo chamber. This is his territory. I’m not sure if I’ll make it out of these caves- if he hears me, I’m done for.”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” Hal says quickly, eyes wide as he stares at the indicator on the screen. “What’s going on? Where are you? Do you need help?”

“Negative on the extraction.” What the hell? Who is this kid? Who taught him to talk like that? “It’s too late for me. But I have urgent info the Justice League needs to hear!”

Hal and Flash exchange a concerned look. The kid knows he’s got a Justice League communicator. It isn’t just some random thing he’s picked up.

“We’re all ears, kid.” Flash says.

“Alright,” the kid says seriously, taking a breath like he’s bracing himself for the words he’s about to say, Hal and Flash leaning closer to the monitor as they wait for whatever he has to say. “Batman…”

“…is a butthead.”

Hal stares at the monitor.

Flash stares at the monitor.

“…what?”

“Batman is a butthead.” The kid repeats. “A stinky butthead. He’s mean and old and dumb and a big butt.”

Is there something in his ears? Is there something in the Doritos making him hallucinate? Did a kid really steal Batman’s Justice League Communicator to call him a butthead?

“He’s such a big butthead, we should call him Buttman instead of Batman.” The kid is saying, glee seeping into his serious tone. “There goes Buttman, in the Buttmobile.”

“These are-” Hal begins, then has to stop to let out a laugh or else he won’t be able to maintain a serious voice for the game they’re apparently playing. Flash has his hands pressed over his mouth, shaking. “These are serious claims, Agent D. Do you have any proof?”

“Yes!” Agent D announces. “He makes me wear PANTS and do GRAMMAR! And! And last Wednesday he wouldn’t let me have dessert, and he won’t take me on patrol with him, and! He was mean to Agent A! Even though Agent A is just worried about him because he got hit on the head and got a concussion because he doesn’t have a skull to protect his brain and his head is all squishy like a Butt!”

Hal is nearly crying with the effort it takes to hold in his laughter, clutching onto the desk for support. Thankfully, the Flash has recovered enough to play along with a shocked gasp.

“Is that why he wears that Armored Cowl?” He asks Agent D. “To protect his squishy head?”

“Yes.” The kid insists, voice dripping with vicious glee. “I saw him take it off once and he doesn’t have any hair. He’s wearing underpants on his butt head.”

“Is it… is it special underwear? Or just normal?” Flash asks, grinning madly and shaking as well. “He doesn’t have legs on his head to wear it right, so-”

“The ears on his cowl are the legs.” The kid says immediately.

That mental image is enough to bring Flash down to the floor beside Hal, cackling madly. They get ahold of themselves, swallowing down their laughter to get back to the kid, but then they lock eyes, setting them off all over again as Agent D’s giggles echo through the comm line above them.

“I can’t- oh god, I can’t breathe.” Hal gasps, clutching at his chest. “Fu- um, gosh, I needed that.”

“I’m never going to be able to look him in the eye again.” Flash wheezes. “That’s an image that’s going to stay with me forever.”

“Good. Memorize it: this information will not be repeated.” The kid says seriously, deepening his voice in what is clearly meant to imitate Batman. Flash cackles again.

“In all seriousness, kid.” Hal says, crawling his way up to the desk to stare in bewilderment at Batman’s caller ID. “Where did you get this communicator? It’s meant to be a secure line. Emergencies.”

“Well,” Agent D says, voice lightening out of his Batman imitation and into a tone of sweet, angelic innocence, “he shouldn’t have left it out in the open then.”

“I didn’t.”

Both Hal and the Flash freeze, hearts stopping in their chests at the familiar angry growl.

Batman.

“Uh oh.” Agent D mutters.

The next thing they hear is the flurry of motion- the thump of the communicator being jughled, the scraping of cloth and shoe on stone, the whoosh of the communicator being swung through the air, and the patter of feet running full tilt.

“ROBIN!” Batman’s voice shouts, the only response a cackle of young laughter.

“Run, little man!” The Flash urges, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Go go go!”

“It’s too late!” Agent D shrieks. “It’s too late! The Buttman is coming! Remember me! I sacrificed myself for the greater good! Like the spies who got the death star plans! Remember me!”

“It’s not over yet!” Hal cheers, even if he knows theres no escaping Batman. “Evasive maneuvers! Keep going!”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!” Agent D bellows, but a moment later the sound of running is cut off with two grunts, one much deeper than the other, and the sound of a scuffle.

Scrabbling and slapping of little kid hands on kevlar armor can be heard between thumps of the microphone hitting something. Finally, the sound settles, enough for Hal and Flash to hear Batman mutter, “you sure about that?” as Agent D groans dramatically.

A moment later, Batman’s voice comes over the communicator clearly for the first time.

“Batman to Watchtower.” he says, voice flat and businesslike as ever despite the kid gighling madly in the background. “Comms have been compromised.”

“We noticed.” Hal smirks. And Batman was the first to let the secure line get infiltrated! He’s never letting him live this down.

“The perpetrator has been apprehended, and will be punished accordingly.”

“Aww, no, Batman, come on.” Flash wheedles on behalf of his new buddy. Hal is kind of worried too- Batman won’t be too hard on the kid, will he? “Agent D was just having some fun!”

“Yeah, don’t be a butthead!” Agent D shouts, before giggling again.

“You know you’re not supposed to be down here alone.” Batman grumbles. “This is probably one of the safer things you could have picked up. And it can send a distress signal that can summon the entire justice league. What would you have done if Superman decided to smash his way through the cave?”

“I know how to use it!” Agent D complains. “I’m not stupid! I’m good with technology, and you showed me how in case of emergencies!”

“And this was an emergency?”

“A boredom emergency.” Oh god, Agent D is sassing Batman.

“Seriously, Spooky.” Hal interrupts, because he’s actually a little worried for Agent D, “whats his sentence?”

Batman huffs, and then there’s a grunt and a small oof like he’s readjusting his grip on Agent D. “Considering this isn’t his first offense of the night…”

“I’ve done nothing! I’m innocent! I want a lawyer!” The sounds of struggling come through the communicator, but Hal doesn’t think it’s working very well. The kid is trying to escape Batman, after all. “You’re always saying we can’t be judge, jury, and executioner! Put your money where your mouth is! I want a lawyer!”

“Alright.” Batman hums, much to Hal’s shock. Is he really playing along with the kid? “Green Lantern. I’m promoting you to Lawyer. Answer my next question carefully.”

Still a little shocked, all Hal can say is, “um… okay?”

“What is twenty-four minus twenty-four?”

Hal frowns. That doesn’t sound like a lawyer question. “Excuse me?”

“Twenty-four minus twenty-four.” Batman repeats.

“Uh… zero?” Why does Batman need him to say this? Doesn’t he know math? Can’t he whip a calculator off that belt of his? It wouldn’t surprise Hal in the slightest. Hardly the weirdest thing Batman’s got on there.

“Lets add some words to that problem.” Batman growls. “If I had twenty-four cookies before someone was left unsupervised in the kitchen, and none after… then how many cookies are currently rallying for a stomachache against Agent D?”

Hal won’t lie. That’s impressive. The kid doesn’t sound grown enough to have a big stomach. “Twenty-four.”

“No!” Agent D shrieks. “No!”

“Sounds like an admission of guilt from your lawyer.” Batman growls. Oops. Hal forgot that was his job! He should have dodged the question!

“No! Leading the witness! Your question was a trick!” Agent D shouts, in an impressive show of melodramatics. “I want a better lawyer! This one sucks! I bet this guy didn’t even go to law school! Also, he wasn’t given all the relevant evidence or time to prepare his arguments! ALSO also he was appointed by the opposition! Rigged jury! I want a retrial!”

How old is this kid?

“Nope, too late. Welcome to Gotham, chum.” Batman huffs. “Now then, stealing a Justice League Communicator, eating all of the cookies, which were meant for both of us and I was very much looking forwards to, and calling me… Buttman.”

He growls the last word, and Hal watches Flashes fist teleport to his mouth to hold in the bark of laughter threatening to escape. The serious way he said that stupid name… even Agent D has stopped his dramatics in the face of the court to cackle!

“Don’t laugh.” Batman growls, in exactly the same tone that made them laugh in the first place. “I am deciding your punishment.”

“You can’t do anything!” Agent D jeers. “I already told the Justice League that you were actually a Butthead! I’ve eaten all the cookies! All twenty-four tasty, tasty cookies and you can’t have any! I’ve won! There’s nothing you can do! You’ll never get your cookies back!”

“Is that so?” Batman hums, and if Hal didn’t know better, he might think Spooky was smiling. “Well then. I guess I’ll have to tickle you until you toss your cookies.”

“Wait- no!” The kid shrieks, and then the communicator breaks off into peals of desperate, full bellied laughter, interspaced with pleas for mercy and one final, deep voiced line.

“Batman, out.”

The comm channel is cut, leaving the Watchtower’s occupants in an echoing, shocked silence.

Tickles? TICKLES? Batman, the hardass of the Justice League, the no-nonsense, work no play, spooky scary bastard… left his communicator where a kid could get it. A kid who stole all of Batman’s cookies. Who Batman retaliated against for stealing his cookies with tickles.

And his voice had been… not non-growly, but lighter than Hal has ever heard it. Ever. The kid had seemed completely at ease with him, mocking him, grumbling about homework and treats. It was almost as if…

“Oh my god Batman is a dad.” Hal whispers into the silent room, eyes wide. “This is the greatest thing to happen to me ever. I’m so glad I decided to stay to keep you company.”

“So am i, so you can tell me later i didn’t hallucinate that.” Flash says fervently. “He’s a dad. He’s a dad to the giggliest kid I have ever heard in my life.”

“He punished his kid with TICKLES.” Hal wheezes. “His kid calls him a butthead for making him do homework- oh my GOD. His kid grabbed a JUSTICE LEAGUE COMMUNICATOR- he knew exactly what that thing was!”

“Came on the line like a proper secret agent!” F agrees, vibrating. “Oh my god, please tell me we have that saved. Do we have that saved?”

“Quick- before spooky deletes it!”

[apritellointeractive]

Sworn to Devotion: Chapter 2 - Part 2

>>Tie-breaker winner: HOBBIT

>> April decides to take the dirt path.

(Art by @lovelyladylavie)

April points to her right. “Let’s take the path. Maybe it’ll take us back to the main road?” 

Donatello hums as he brings a hand up to his chin. “Potentially, though it could lead us into trouble with your attempted kidnappers. Are you sure?”

April pauses, considering the potential problem he raised, then shrugs. “I don’t want either of us breakin’ a leg tryin’ to go off-road. Besides–” she knocks his chest with the back of her hand “–I’m confident you’ll protect me.” 

She thinks she sees the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks, partially hidden by the purple mask he’s wearing on his face. But she blinks and it’s gone.

Did April imagine it?

The softshell clears his throat. “Well, let’s get moving. We’re losing precious daylight.”

Together they set out on the rough dirt path. Donatello leads the way down the inclined path, his footsteps light on the dirt and gravel below him. April follows behind him, though her steps sound much heavier, the gravel crunching under her heel as she kicks up dust. The shoes she stole from the boxes in the cave are too big for her, but there’s no way she’s wearing her high heels.

Besides, they weren’t in her favorite color anyway. 

They’re quiet as they descend down the mountain. Almost too quiet. April opens and closes her mouth multiple times, trying to find some topic to talk about. But… she’s not sure what to talk to him about. She wants to ask him about what happened earlier. Did she embarrass him? Does he not like being touched? But she feels too awkward to broach the question.

She’s also not sure if it’s the best time to ask him about his inventions. His brows furrowed and his lips are straight, and she doesn’t want to distract him from doing his duty of protecting her.

So April decides to just keep her mouth shut and observe the scenery as they walk through the forest.

They’re making good progress, with April humming quietly to herself while Donatello’s completely silent except for the soft clinking of his armor. At least an hour passes before Donatello suddenly stops in his tracks, and she almost runs into his shoulder.

“Did you hear that?”

April regains her balance and looks around. “Um, no?”

They stand completely still, Donatello holding his bō in a defensive position as his eyes darting around. He suddenly jerks his head forward, looking down the winding path. April extends her head forward, eyes squinting and ears straining to identify whatever has Donatello’s attention. 

“Someone’s coming!” He whispers urgently. “Quick! Off the road. We need to hide.”

Before April can object, she’s being pulled off the path. Her guard’s hustling into the forest and away from the path, fallen leaves getting kicked up into the air. He skids to a stop right before a five-foot drop, the edge surrounded by twisting roots of nearby trees and large boulders. 

He drops down and turns to her, offering her his hand. “Princess, take my hand! Hurry! I don’t want us to be spotted.” 

April furrows her brow. “Why are you hiding? If it’s those ninja dudes you can take them.”

Donatello shakes his head. “I don’t know if it’s them, or how many of them there could be. I cannot risk them injuring or recapturing you. Please! Just take my hand!”

She grumbles but reluctantly takes his hand, letting him help her hide. It doesn’t escape her as she joins him that his hands are so much bigger than hers—her hand is practically engulfed by his, and she can’t help but blush. He guides her to sit down, and she squeaks as he pulls her close to his chest so they’re both out of view of the path. 

For a few seconds all April can focus on is just how strong he is. Well, she knew he had to be strong and capable, as he had no problem saving her earlier. But to feel his gentle but firm grip around her sent a warm flush across her cheeks and chest. If it weren’t for the armor, she bets should would be able to feel his muscles underneath his clothes.

… why is she thinking about this?

April doesn’t have time to ponder over her thoughts as the thunderous noise of what sounds like a whole platoon of people catches her attention. While she can’t see them, she guesses that they’re running up up the path.

Donatello pulls her closer. 

“Hurry up!” A loud commanding voice barks. “The princess might be still in our old base!”

The thunderous footfall continues as they travel up the path, away from their hiding spot and toward the cave. However, as the group gets farther and farther away, it becomes apparent that there are some stragglers.

“Dude, I ain’t meant for running,” one of the stragglers gasps, “Why do they need all of us to find the princess again?”

“I dunno, man,” another whines, “All I know is I need a break.”

The two keep grumbling and whining while Donatello and April remain hidden. However, it quickly becomes apparent that the two stragglers are not moving. They can’t stay here forever or they will be discovered.

April… >> Points forward and suggests they sneak away, deeper into the forest.

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 2)

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki/Reader

WC: 1,904

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’. brief descriptions of fantasy violence.

part 1 : part 2 (you are here) : part 3

Your first impression of the tournament is that it is loud. The stands on both sides of the field are crammed with people, and the sound of chatter washes over you like a wave. The queen had made it a point that her box not be above the stands this year, so you are down in the thick of it. 

It’s a far cry from the peace of your mountain home, where the loudest noise is the rushing water of the glacial runoff that flows through the center of your village. It’s even quieter in winter- it gets so quiet that you can hear the snow fall. 

This is… not that. 

Another thing you miss about your home is how cool it is. Even in the summer, the nights get cold enough that an extra blanket or a sweater feels nice. Here you’re sweating under three layers of skirts. Curse these southerners and their damn formal clothing, you think as you try to subtly adjust your skirts to get some semblance of airflow. 

You hadn’t been informed that this tournament would require even the servants to be in formal dress, so you’d missed the beginning of the tournament while the other ladies in waiting quickly stuffed you into a gown. You’d almost deliberately left the favor the queen had given you on the vanity in your quarters, but then you remembered the hopeful look on the queen’s face when she’d given it to you, and begrudgingly stuffed it in your pocket. 

Unfortunately, since you’d missed the introductions at the beginning of the tournament, you didn’t know any of the knight’s names, and you haven’t been in the south long enough for any of the crests the knights are wearing to mean anything. You watched the ladies around you hand out their favors to knights who came riding up with a bit of interest. Luckily it seemed like they knew the knights who approached them, and blushed and tittered when the knights would tip their lances to them for the ladies to place the favor.

You don’t know any of these knights, and it seems unlikely that any of them will come to you for a favor, so you busy yourself watching the spectacle. You know the queen is going to ask you what you thought about it, so you want to have answers for her interrogation questions later. 

It means that your eyes are elsewhere when a knight rides up to you. They have to clear their throat and tap their lance against the railing of the box to draw your attention. You look to either side of you to see who the knight is trying to catch, when the knight speaks. 

“I was looking for you,” they say, and their voice sends a shudder up your spine. They lift a hand to their visor, opening it just enough that you can see the mismatched eyes underneath, twinkling with amusement. “You’re hard to find.”

“Well you found me,” you huff, crossing your arms. “Do you want a prize?”

“Yes, actually.” The knight smiles, and tips his lance in your direction. “Would you grant me your favor, my lady?”

“Why should I give it to you?” you ask, looking the knight over for any clue to his identity. His armor is plain, and his shield bears no crest, only a red and white field. Like his hair, your brain supplies. 

“I need the luck,” the knight says, his eyes earnest. 

“I’m sure there are dozens of ladies here who could give you luck,” you gesture to the stands filled with women, wreaths of flowers clutched in their hands.

“But I want your luck,” he pleads. 

“Fine,” you cave, leaning down to slide the wreath of flowers over the tip of his lance. “But if you win, I want the prize. It is my luck, after all.” 

He stands up in the stirrups of his saddle, reaching up to grasp your hand in his gauntleted one before you can pull away.  “As you wish, my lady,” he murmurs, keeping his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

You open your mouth to say something, but the horns ring out, signaling the start of the tournament. The knight smiles at you one last time, before he sits back down in his saddle and shuts the visor of his helmet. He waves at you before turning his horse to ride to the start line.

You pull your hand to your chest, unconsciously rubbing the spot where he kissed. His lips really are as soft as they look, you muse for a moment before snapping yourself out of your daze. You do your best to ignore the pounding of your heart as you watch the knights assemble for the first part of the tournament.

Jousting is the first event. You’ve seen knights practice in the training yards of the castle, trying to knock each other off their horses or gather rings on their lances. It’s much different watching it up close, and you find yourself swept up in the enthusiasm of the crowd, cheering at the clash of lances on steel.

As loath as you are to admit it, the queen was right, you muse as you watch. This is more fun than you were expecting. You groan inwardly at the thought of telling her that. She might have a reputation as being refined and elegant, but she can be smug as hell when she’s right about something.

The knight with the red and white shield is one of the last to go in the jousting event. You watch as he takes his place at the end of the tilting lane, lance in hand. The flowers you gave him flutter in the wind at the base of the lance, and you can feel the queen’s knowing gaze on the back of your head. You stubbornly refuse to turn and look, keeping your eyes fixed on the knight. 

The stands quiet as the heralds call the start of the round. The crowd seems to be holding their breath, waiting for the sound of impact. You hear the drum of the horse’s hooves on the dirt as they pound down the tilting lane, and the crowd roars as both lances shatter against the knight’s armor. Both of them stay seated, turning their horses to go back to their starting point and prepare for another pass.

Brushing aside the lance that his squire offers him, your knight clambers off his horse and runs into the tilting lane with a clank of steel. The crowd gasps, watching him root around in the dirt before he finds what he’s looking for- he pulls the favor you gave him out of the dirt and dusts it off, before trotting back to his side of the tilting lane and climbing back up on his horse. You watch as he slides the favor over the tip of his new lance before getting into position. The crowd murmurs around you as the heralds call the start of the next pass.

There’s a clash of wood on steel and you watch as your knight unseats his opponent with a clean hit, the other knight going flying off his horse and landing in the dirt. Your knight reins in his horse and swings down, walking over to offer the other knight a hand up as the squires run down the lanes. 

After making sure that his opponent landed safely, your knight turns to the queen’s box and salutes with his lance, as is the victor’s tradition. For a moment, you feel his eyes on you, even though they’re covered by the steel of his helmet’s visor. You dismiss the feeling as nonsense, but you can’t help the slight flush that colors your cheeks.

Once the jousts finish, you watch the tournament attendants clear the tilting lane markers and reset the arena. The victorious knights gather around the edges, talking quietly with their squires as the tournament attendants finish setting up the arena for the melee. 

Over the chatter of the festival goers around you, you hear the queen call your name. You leave the railing and turn towards her seat, curtsying as you approach. “Your majesty,” you greet, bowing your head with your curtsy. 

“I have a favor to ask you,” she says, inclining her head to you conspiratorially. “Take your handkerchief to that knight with the red and white shield.”

You snap your head up, looking at her incredulously. “What? Why?” You hiss, lowering your voice to not be heard over the crowd.

“You gave him your favor, did you not? Take him your handkerchief to wipe his face, and go congratulate him on his win.” 

You want to say no, but she looks so excited that you can’t bring yourself to deny her. “Yes, your majesty,” you say with another curtsy as you turn to leave. As you walk away, you hear Princess Fuyumi, seated next to the queen, start “The knight with the red and white shield? Mother, isn’t that-”

The queen shushes her, and begins to say something that gets lost in the crowd as you make your way out of the box. You see several other ladies walking toward the field as well, each of them approaching one of the knights with water or towels in their hands.

Your knight has his visor up, a cup of water at his lips as he surveys his competition. His eyes catch you approaching, and they brighten as he turns toward you. He waits for you to approach, varicolored eyes watching you as you walk closer. 

“I told you I needed the luck,” he gestures to the favor, which he now has pinned to his breastplate.

“Your lance broke on the first hit,” you offer your handkerchief to him, which he accepts gratefully. He dabs at the sweat on his brow, and you’re briefly distracted by how unfair it is that he looks so handsome while sweating. It makes his skin glisten in the summer sun, highlighting his high cheekbones. 

With his hair pushed back inside his helmet, you can get a good look at his face, and you notice the scar that surrounds one of his eyes. It makes him look dashing, you decide. 

“But I stayed in the saddle,” he reminds you. He goes to return the handkerchief, but his hand halts midair. “May I return this to you after I’ve had a chance to wash it?”

“That would be preferable.”

“I’ll need to know who to return it to,” he looks at you hopefully. “Will you tell me your name?”

“I already told you, I’m no one of consequence,” you sniff, turning your head to survey the arena and crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re seated in the queen’s box,” he points out. “That makes you of consequence.”

“There are servants in the queen’s box too.” 

He starts to ask another question, but the herald’s trumpets interrupt him. Something in his expression makes you pause as you turn to go back to the queen’s box. “Uh, good luck out there,” you offer, smiling at him tentatively.

His answering smile is luminous, before his squire grabs his attention and begins preparing him to enter the arena. You begin the walk back to the queen’s box, turning over the thought in your head that your knight has a very cute dimple.

[evilwriter37]

Vigcup Week 2023 Day 3

First Contact

Prompt: Nature

Rated: mature

Warnings: none

Pairings: Hiccup/Viggo, Hiccup & Toothless

Word Count: 2,479

Summary: Viggo, Hiccup, and Toothless are trapped in a snowstorm together and must find shelter so they don’t freeze to death.

Hiccup had never predicted this happening. Any of it. First, Viggo had actually surrendered to him. Second, they’d been hit by a snowstorm on the way back to Dragon’s Edge, and were now landing on an unknown island to take shelter.

The whole thing left Hiccup feeling rather suspicious. He’d gone out on patrol only to find a lone Hunter ship and Viggo aboard, ready to surrender. He knew it was a ploy, knew it was part of his game, but he’d feel better playing said game if he had his friends by his side. 

So, he’d accepted his surrender, bound his hands, and put him on Toothless’ back behind him. 

Now, they were still atop Toothless, though the dragon was trudging through snow. Hiccup had an arm over his face to keep out the driving wind.

“My dear, how are you going to see like that?” Viggo chimed in from behind.

“Don’t call me that,” Hiccup snapped. He made a growling noise at Viggo’s words. “And I don’t have to see. Toothless will find us shelter.”

“And how will he do that without your guidance?” He sounded more than annoyed. The two of them didn’t have any winter gear, so he was most definitely cold like Hiccup.

Hiccup didn’t feel like explaining. With his other hand, fingers icy, he patted Toothless on the neck, and Toothless opened his mouth and let out a whistling noise. With that, he changed direction, and the ground underneath them began to slope uphill. 

“Oh, I see,” Viggo said. “He’s like a bat.”

Hiccup said nothing, greatly annoyed by the man on his dragon’s back with him. 

Well, he was more annoyed with himself, if he was being honest. Why? 

Because he liked the man behind him on Toothless’ back. He liked him a little too much, and he was hoping that this surrender was real, that he could talk him into giving them peace. 

But what better way to make Viggo think he didn’t like him than being short with him? Hiccup couldn’t let him know! He couldn’t let anyone know! 

Hiccup couldn’t follow exactly where Toothless was going; there was too much snow. He was shivering, but trying his best to hide it. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of Viggo. Though, maybe he was shivering too. Maybe those were his hands trembling against his back. 

Finally, the snow stopped falling on them, because Toothless had led them into a cave. Teeth chattering, now unable to hide that he was shivering, Hiccup dismounted and shook snow out of his hair. Viggo just looked at him from Toothless’ back, wearing a scowl. 

“What?”

“Well, I can’t very well easily get off of Toothless with my hands tied, now can I?” Viggo asked.

Hiccup realized that was the first time Viggo had ever said Toothless’ name, and Toothless realized this too, because he looked back at him, ear twitching.

Huffing, Hiccup decided he would help. After all, he didn’t want Viggo falling face-first on the cavern floor. (Granted, had Snotlout been here, he knew that he would appreciate it.) 

Hiccup guided Viggo off of Toothless, wincing when his hands landed on his armor. The metal was ice to his touch. 

Then they just stood there, the storm whistling and howling outside.

“Okay, we need to get warm somehow,” Hiccup said. He looked at Toothless, and he could read it on his face that he wished that Meatlug was there. Hiccup did too. She’d be able to just leave some lava on the floor that they could gather around to keep warm.

But there was nothing, and Hiccup didn’t have wood for a fire. 

That meant only one thing: 

Sharing body heat. 

Toothless went to the back of the cave, laid down, and warbled to call Hiccup over. Hiccup did so, then sat curled up against Toothless. He wasn’t as warm as a human though, given that he was a cold-blooded dragon. Hiccup looked almost longingly at Viggo. 

“You… cuddle with it-him?” Viggo asked. Hiccup noticed how he changed his language to not call Toothless an “it.” He’d still slipped up, but he was clearly making an effort. 

“Yes?” Hiccup didn’t really know how to respond. It was normal to him to cuddle with Toothless, but he figured to a Dragon Hunter, it appeared extremely foreign. 

Viggo still just stood there, and Hiccup could make out the trembles in his body.

Hiccup cleared his throat, face heating. “W-we should… we should share body heat.”

Viggo nodded, came over, and sat beside Hiccup. 

The instant he touched him, Hiccup yelped.

“Ow! Take off your pauldrons! Why do you wear so many spikes?!”

Viggo held up his bound hands. “Do you want to take them off for me?” He simpered at him, his eyes big and almost coyly pleading. 

Growling behind clenched teeth, Hiccup shakily drew his knife and cut through Viggo’s bonds. Viggo rubbed his wrists after, but gave up, fingers probably too cold to work any feeling back into his wrists. 

Sheathing the knife, Hiccup cuddled closer to Toothless as Viggo began to take off his pauldrons. Or… he was trying to, but his fingers kept slipping.

Viggo cursed under his breath. Hiccup didn’t know what to do. Help him? Help the man he felt attraction to (but shouldn’t) undress? 

Finally, Hiccup couldn’t watch any longer. He found the clasp to the nearest pauldron and, together, he and Viggo were able to unbuckle it and pull it off. 

“Um… do you need more help, or…?”

“Assistance would be appreciated,” Viggo said so quietly he almost mumbled. Viggo Grimborn. Mumbling. 

This is officially the weirdest day of my life, Hiccup decided.

So, Hiccup leaned over Viggo, and together they managed to take off the left pauldron. That still left the belt though… And his breastplate.

“Fuck! It’s freezing!” Hiccup exclaimed, rubbing at his arms through his tunic, trying to not pay attention to Viggo unbuckling his belt.

“Then there is one conclusion we must come to,” Viggo said. He smirked at Hiccup, and Hiccup hated that he liked that smirk. 

“And that is?”

“Think for yourself, my dear.” 

Hiccup huffed. “I’m not undressing.” 

Viggo shrugged. “Then we’ll both freeze to death.” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Hiccup glanced at Toothless, looking for his opinion on this. Toothless just gave Viggo a nod, telling Hiccup he was right.

“Okay, okay!” Hiccup threw up his hands, and then, he too, began taking off his armor. The leather creaked from being frozen. 

It felt counterintuitive, undressing while freezing to death, but really, once the two were naked and… and cuddling, they’d be nice and warm.

“Hang on.” Once Hiccup had quickly yanked off his tunic, so fast that he wouldn’t be able to think about it, he pulled a quilt from Toothless’ saddlebag. Now they wouldn’t have to necessarily see each other’s naked… parts. 

Then, Hiccup was standing, turning his back to Viggo, and shucking off his clothes as quickly as possible. If he stopped to think, embarrassment (and cold), would freeze him solid.

Viggo was standing to the do the same, but he was taking more time with it than Hiccup had. He seemed assured in what he was doing, like this situation wasn’t awkward at all. 

Hiccup huddled against Toothless and pulled the quilt over himself. He couldn’t help daring a peek at Viggo from behind. He was able to keep his jaw from dropping at the man’s wonderful physique. Muscle outlined every part of him. 

To put it simply, Viggo was beautiful. 

Hiccup quickly turned his head away when Viggo turned and sat next to him. He surrendered one side of the quilt to Viggo.

At first they weren’t touching, and Hiccup didn’t know who was going to make the initial contact. They had to be touching to keep warm. They could die out here if they didn’t. 

But the thought of cuddling with Viggo was so strange that Hiccup didn't know if he could do it.

He didn't have to, apparently, because he felt Viggo shift and his arms wrap around him so that Hiccup's back was against his front. He felt like ice, at the moment, but Hiccup knew that in time the two of them would warm up.

Toothless curled tighter around them as Hiccup and Viggo shifted to lay down. Sitting wasn't very conducive to cuddling for warmth.

Hiccup gasped when Viggo's legs touched his, both from the iciness of his skin and the fact that it was Viggo touching him, their thighs pressed together. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that he could slightly feel Viggo's cock, receded into himself as it was due to the cold.

"Is there a problem, my dear?" Viggo's voice was a purr in his ear.

"N-no," Hiccup stammered. "Not-not at all." He didn't want Viggo to know that he was making him heat in multiple ways.

"Sounds like there is."

"Would you... would you stop?"

"Stop what?"

Hiccup made an irritated growling sound in his throat. "You know what."

Toothless warbled, sounding amused of all things.

"Oh, stay out of it, bud."

"You understand him?" Viggo asked.

"I've been living with him for almost 4 years," Hiccup snapped, but then his voice softened with his next words. He realized he was being too snippy. "Of course I do."

"Fascinating." Viggo sounded genuine. "Absolutely fascinating."

Heat was beginning to come back into Hiccup's body, starting in the center. He could feel it beginning to emanate from Viggo as well. It was a comforting feeling in the bracing cold.

Hiccup found himself sinking into Viggo's arms with a sigh, and Viggo held him tighter. The wind howled and shrieked outside, but in the back of the cave, with each other, it felt like it couldn't touch them.

"You know, Hiccup, I think this is the first time I've seen you relax around me," Viggo noted.

Hiccup's attitude from earlier had faltered, and now, he felt like being sincere. There was something about the intimacy of the situation that was putting cracks in the wall he'd put up around his attraction for this man.

"You're a little tough to relax around."

Viggo sighed through his nose. "Well, we are enemies in a war, I suppose."

Hiccup tilted his head back to look at him. "Why did you surrender to me? What game is this?"

"No game," Viggo said.

Hiccup quirked an eyebrow.

"I... Well... It's not the game you think," Viggo admitted. "You think this move has to do with our war, when really, it's something much smaller."

"What is it then?"

Viggo laughed lightly, and the sound raised the hair on the back of Hiccup's neck. It was a rich, deep sound that Hiccup honestly wouldn't mind hearing more of.

"Seduction, my dear Hiccup."

"Of... me?" Hiccup's face flushed pink.

"Who else?"

Hiccup didn't know what to feel. The man he had a liking for had just admitted his attraction to him while he lay in his arms. The feelings were mutual.

But how could they act on them? They had such opposing ideals, and Viggo had done so many horrible things...

"Hiccup?"

"Hm?"

"You've been quiet for a while." Was that a note of nervousness in Viggo's voice?

"I'm... I'm thinking," Hiccup replied. "Just... wow."

"Wow? That's it?"

"Well, no." Hiccup was blushing even harder. He wasn't always good with words, and Viggo just made him worse with them. "I..." Hiccup faltered, unsure of how to continue.

"Face me," Viggo said. It wasn't an order, or a demand, but a request. His words weren't hard.

Hiccup, feeling brave, rolled over to do just that. His back complained about the cold of suddenly not having Viggo's heat against it. However, his front did need warming up too.

Hiccup could feel Toothless watching him curiously. He was the only one who knew how he really felt about Viggo.

Hiccup brought his head up to meet Viggo's gaze despite the fierce blush on his cheeks, and he found himself slipping his arms around his waist in a reciprocal embrace. Viggo was looking at him with raised eyebrows, patient.

"The feelings are mutual." Hiccup was so surprised the words came out, that they were audible. His mouth was dry from having spoken such a truth.

For a moment, Viggo didn't react, didn't say anything, and Hiccup began to wonder if he'd even spoken at all. But then, the chief of the Dragon Hunters was taking his jaw in one hand, leaning forward, and planting a kiss right on his mouth.

Hiccup didn't make any sound at this. He didn't pause, he didn't pull back. Instead, he kissed him back, Dragon Rider and Dragon Hunter locked together in intimacy and warmth.

The kiss was slow and wonderful. It filled Hiccup with a heat not unlike a blush. He supposed kissing someone one was attracted to was also a good way to warm up.

And then his mind jumped to other things.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Especially not while leaning against Toothless. He was surprised his best friend hadn't made a comment about this, but, then again, maybe he had, and Hiccup had been too distracted to hear it.

They pulled away together to catch their breaths, and Viggo rubbed a thumb over Hiccup's cheek. He smiled at him, and it was the most genuine, endearing smile Hiccup had ever seen on him.

"And that, my dear, is why I surrendered to you."

"What are your terms?" Hiccup asked softly. He was surprised that his voice was so calm. He just felt right, holding Viggo like this and being held in return. There was something about it that was like flying Toothless. It had all just clicked in that same way.

"Well, I have a few." Viggo's hand dropped from his face, began to wander down his body.

Hiccup laughed, tugging his hand away, and Toothless rumbled.

"Not in front of my dragon!"

Viggo chuckled, shook his head, and put his hand at Hiccup's waist. "Alright, alright. My apologies, dragon."

Hiccup blinked in shock. Had... had Viggo really just apologized to Toothless?

"Well, I'll have to learn how to get along with him, won't I?" Viggo asked in response to Hiccup's expression.

"I-I suppose so." Hiccup looked back towards the entrance of the cave. It was a complete white-out. He couldn't see beyond their shelter. "How long do you think the storm will last?"

Viggo shrugged. "For now, let's not worry about that."

"No?"

Viggo leaned his head close. "I was thinking we should just enjoy each other's company."

Hiccup tried to snuggle closer, if that was even possible. He put his hand to Viggo's jaw, feeling his beard against his palm.

"I think that's a good idea."

They kissed, and to Hiccup, it felt like flying.

[paintedscales]

disc.02 :: Starlight

Traveling and knowing Coerthas intimately has its perks, and it must have those perks when a particular dragoon wants to share something spectacular with his love who has an aversion to the cold.

Word Count :: 950

“Does it really have to be in the mountains among all this snow?” Nomin complained as she trudged along in the snow after Estinien, who took the lead. He only looked over his shoulder with a slight smirk before pausing and waiting for Nomin to catch up with him. The snow crunched with each indignant and begrudging step that Nomin took before she finally stood beside her partner.

“‘Tis why I told you to dress as warm as your wardrobe permits. I trust that you still have your fire shards on hand,” Estinien said in response with a slight chuckle. He turned away from her and continued walking, only momentarily adjusting the rucksack he carried along with him. He opted -- as ever -- for wearing Iceheart, claiming that the armor itself would suffice in keeping him warm. Not that Nomin ever doubted it with his life in the snowbound Coerthas.

Nomin, however, huffed, her breath clouding into steam, and whatever moisture that clung to her lips stinging her as it frosted ever so slightly. Rubbing at her mouth to remove the sensation, she jogged back up to fall in step behind Estinien. She had no idea where he was leading her, though he claimed that he wanted to share with her something special for Starlight Celebration.

The holiday would not be upon them for another fortnight, and Nomin wondered just why exactly Estinien urged her to come with him on this trip. When she had asked why he wanted to go there before Starlight was officially upon them, he claimed that by then, it would have been too late.

“Here.” Estinien paused at the entrance of a cave, and Nomin only looked up at him curiously before looking into the icy cavern that awaited them. Estinien then reached down and gently took Nomin’s hand. “The ice within has proven itself a slippery obstacle in the past. I shall ensure you don’t fall.”

Nomin could not help but to smile slightly at that. It was a sweet gesture and sentiment. Once she held his hand in turn, Estinien started venturing inside at a slower pace, all so Nomin could keep up with his gait.

The two of them traversed through the cave, and eventually, Estinien paused.

“What is it?” Nomin asked. She looked at him, her head cocked to the side with bemusement.

“Might I-” Estinien started before reconsidering his wording. “I would like for you to close your eyes. ‘Tis not long that we shall be upon it.”

Taking a moment, Nomin slowly nodded and did as requested of her, even bringing up her free hand and covering her eyes. She trusted Estinien, and for the most part, felt that he was truly one of the only people she could trust. If it was as simple as to merely guide her while her eyes were closed, then it was of no consequence.

Estinien kept a gentle pace, and with the anticipation and apprehension both, the trek felt perhaps a little longer than it should have to Nomin. But when they finally stopped, Nomin stood there, her hand still over her eyes as Estinien slowly let go of her hand. She heard and felt him move behind her before he gently took her elbow and lowered it so that she could look.

When Nomin finally opened her eyes and let them adjust, her mouth fell open in awe. Before her in the cave was a clearing, and some sunlight from a hole in the roof illuminated the scene. There was a field of flowers blooming and coexisting among what snow had fallen there, laden among the foliage. What struck Nomin, however, was that the flowers seemed to have been crystalline in nature, as if the flowers were made out of ice themselves.

“... They’re beautiful…” Nomin breathed, stepping forward only slightly. She feared that stepping into the field would have ruined what natural beauty was spread there. Rooting herself to the spot, Nomin looked back up at Estinien. “I…I almost wish you had asked me to bring my painting set. I would have loved to have captured this…”

“Aye…I figured you would have wanted to…” Estinien said, removing the bag from his shoulder. He handed it off to Nomin. “‘Tis why I brought your supplies along with our rations for the trip.”

Nomin’s lips parted in surprise as her attention immediately went to Estinien, and then to the bag he held out for her. Taking it up, Nomin looked inside and saw the familiar brush kit, her palette, case of paint, and some rolled up hides. She was at a momentary loss for words. More than anything, she was touched by this clear consideration for her.

“... You went through all this trouble for me…?” Nomin felt an uncontrollable smile tug at the corners of her lips as she looked around for a suitable place to set up.

“Aye…” Estinien watched Nomin, his expression softening somewhat as he took a moment to find a flat enough surface to have seated himself upon. “I chanced upon this cave during one of my travels, and I remembered it for the season. I was certain it would have appealed to you. Come Starlight, this cave will be all but filled with snow. Now was the best time to have seized the chance to show you ere we return to Falcon’s Nest.”

“I’m…” Nomin let out a small scoff of amusement before she turned to look at Estinien with the warm smile that remained on her face. “Thank you for bringing me here, Estinien.”

Perhaps the cold and snow was not all bad after all.

Estinien gave a satisfied ‘hmpf’ with an equally satisfied smirk.

“Happy Starlight, Nomin.”

[mahvaladara]

Day 2 - Countdown

“Cid, I think it’s counting down to something.”

(yes, one day late. Sue me.)

Setting: FFXIV, Khalil is a Warrior of Light. Makoto is by @inouvasplace and is also a WoL.

lah dem, “passage of time”. The closest word to countdown in the language Drahniir. Drahniir do not perceive time the way the species of men do, but do have words for it. When time is passing, they say “lah dem”, which also mean ephemerity of time.

“Cid, I think it’s counting down to something.”

“What do you mean counting down?” The linkpearl whirled to life.

“I’m pretty sure these symbols are numbers, countdowns and allagan infrastructures rarely mean anything good.”

“Maybe it’s nothing serious.”

“Cid, It’s a bloody countdown!”

Famous last words, he thought, recalling the last conversation he had with Cid. A countdown. Of course it was a countdown for pain, for something to whirl to life and cave his chest in in one blow. To show him the ephemerality of time. How little it counted when one’s time was over.

Yes, he won, but he could barely move and even less breathe. He felt like he was drowning in his own blood. 

So much for being a ‘tank’. If he survived this, Makoto would never let him hear the last of this.

This was supposed to be a relatively easy job. He had gone through this dungeon before, twice now. Both times at behest of the Ironworks, first time a request from Wedge, that earned him the rather deadly Gilly (how he called his companion node, whom he had a habit to use as a spiked throwing weapon by kicking it at enemies’ faces), and the second at request of Philipe, a Hyur from the Brume. 

Both times he had cleared the Allagan Museum of its many technological defenses and chimerical abominations. He had hoped to find the place empty, but once more it appeared to have been raided by sky pirates, if the gear on the dead he found was anything to go by. Why they insisted to dwell in the bowels of allagan monstrosities was besides him.

Not that he was one to speak. Here he was on his own with nothing but a companion node that he could use like a spiked cannonball, a large sword on his back, the many spells on his grimoire, enough spite to move a mountain, and enough vanity to have zero sense to wear proper armor.

Maybe if he survived this he’d start using something more than chainmail and hard leather. He scoffed at the thought.

Yes, that’s never going to happen. He was a vain man, he wanted two things in life: good reading and good looking.

He should have brought Makoto with him. Had he brought Makoto with him, he could have traded the large odachi for his smaller rapier and crystal and spells to do damage, while Makoto shielded and kept the heat away from him. But they had decided to divide and conquer, in their exploits to find their fellow Scions. 

And of course, Khal, who had grown increasingly more lonesome in the past year or so, had chosen to go alone, certain there would be nothing to worry about after clearing the place twice already. What was the worse that could happen?

Oh, I don’t know? Countdown to death? How many seconds do I have left until I drown in my own blood? Must be the adrenaline keeping you so conscious throughout this. Survived several ascians and primals to get killed by a robot bull on potions because you got distracted with the blowing sirens. Gosh, you’re such a great Warrior of Light. Last hope of this world. 

He’d slow clap at himself if it didn’t hurt so much to move. He could cast living dead, but he had nothing to leech aether from and he forgot about it in the heat of the moment he could use it.

Of course the defenses had been triggered again and he found himself having to kill a few naga and chimerical monstrosities as well as machines he could barely describe, despite the Companion Node doing well to tell him what they were.

“Are you certain this aetherical localization module is here?” Khal asked.

“By the readings Wedge recovered from your previous excursions, this object seems to be part of the curated collection in there,” Cid explained through the linkpear earlier. “Some early prototype for interdimensional excursions. It was specifically used to locate certain voidsent and teleport them into our reality. We’re hoping it’s just what we need.”

“Why can’t we just ask for help from Kan-E-Senna and have her find them like she did before when Y’Shtola was in the lifestream,” Khal repeated. 

“Oi! That was my suggestion. I remember you saying something about them not being in the lifestream but out of it in another world-”

“Making it nearly impossible for her to find their souls,” Khal sighed.

They found a terminal and Cid had instructed Khal on how to activate it and proceed. It teleported them to a room where the object they had wanted was conveniently stored, and everything was running well, everything was going too well.

Until Khal tried to leave. At this point puzzling instructions that stunted both Cid and Khal’s attempts to solve them, resulted in a series of symbols in a steady rhythm changing, hence replaying the dialogue again.

It was a countdown, he was certain it was a number.

Following Cid’s instructions, Khal tried to disable whatever that countdown was, for he was sure it was not a countdown to send him home. Alas, despite their attempts, the timer reached 0, and on queue a mechanical abomination caught him completely unaware as he yet tried to deactivate the machine that whirred with a cacophony of sirens worse than the Garlean Castrums back in Eorzea.

A grotesque fusion of flesh and machinery—its hulking mass layered with thick plates of tarnished steel, the blue hue of the aether that moved the allagan monstrosities, hissing from its joints as it shifted in the dim light. Khal didn’t see it raise its metal club, all of his senses muffled by the sirens and stirring of Aether in the chamber. 

There was a sickening crack as the blunt force slammed into the center of his side, the impact so powerful it felt like the earth had opened beneath him. Ribs snapped with a sharp, splintering sound, and the air was driven from his lungs in an instant. He had no armor to protect him from the blow, as he was launched across the room like a ragdoll, limbs flailing. 

He slammed against the metal plating that framed the room, collapsing to the ground, gasping, struggling to breath as the pain seared like a hot rod through his chest. Something broke, several somethings broke.

The countdown restarted and Khal had no time to mind the pain, or the coughing. That thing turned to him, ready to finish what it started. Clear the site of the intruder, the deafening sirens still flooding his senses, making it hard for him to think over the cacophony.

“Khal?! Khal?! You there?! What’s happening?” He heard Cid’s muffled voice from the linkpearl that had been dislodged from his horns and sent tumbling by his side.

Grabbing his sword, Khal got up, activating rampart and other mitigation spells as he felt he needed. He knew something had broken, he could smell and taste the blood. He could feel the splintered bone rattling inside him. Perhaps it had been the surprise, or the flow of blood to his head, or the cut in oxygen to his brain. Maybe the noise. But he didn’t recall to use Living Dead. Had he cast that spell, he wouldn’t be as damaged. Regeneration would have kicked in.

Tank panic, Iswa would have said.

And the damned countdown was still going down! All while he fought, wincing with each step, each swing, each dodge, each spell. 

Finally, realizing the core of the abomination’s engine was in the back of its head, he was able to jump over it into its exposed neck, sinking the odachi deep into its neck. Sparks burst as metal cracked and wires were torn, blood spraying out. The creature howled, twitched and whirled, until, with fire bursting from the broken engine, it fell over. 

Khal relaxed his posture, limping over to make sure it was dead. The pain flared, suddenly reminding him of the first blow. Potions, healing spells, something. But before he could, he stumbled back, falling against the very terminal that started all that.

The sirens blared the symbols, and he could see the countdown. He coughed, seeing blood on his hands as he tried to hold back the coughing and the dizzyness that flooded him, feeling the blood gurgling in his lungs, wheezing noises coming out with his breath. 

Numbers going down.

Would it be a boom at the 0?

At least he didn’t die down Witchdrop, he chuckled to himself. Though he’d rather the kiss of the cold and the starry skies of Coerthas to the metallic noise of Azys Lla. 

7… 6… 5… 4… 3…

He never made it to 0 until darkness claimed him.

The Sirens were silent when light, although fleeting, came to his senses. He still heard metallic noises, he was still in the Fractal Continuum, but not in the room he was in before. Someone was carrying him over their shoulder, and with a grunt he tried to grasp at what he recognized as a bright white, gold and blue armor plate and what he assumed was a shield. Trying to straighten himself enough to see who was carrying him with such ease. Not that that would be hard, he was neither heavy or big.

He had been healed, not fully, but enough, the type of battlefield healing only a paladin knew how to do. But with every breath he took, the same searing hot pain flared on his lungs as if they were being filled by water. 

The person felt him stir as he gave up trying to straighten himself.

“I got you…” A familiar voice assured him. 

“What… was… at 0?” He managed to mumble.

“Oh?”

“Countdown… zero…” He tried to focus his mind. He was curious about that.

“Oh. More monsters,” came the answer plainly. “Had to fight a literal hoard to get to you.”

“How?...”

“Cid,” came the answer. “Apparently he was unable to bypass the defense system and only managed to descend near death upon you. The moment he realized he had messed up, he called Iswa for help, hence, here I am.”

“Oh…”

“Wear a damn armor next time! This vanity of yours is going to be the death of you.”

That was more words than he remembered Makoto speaking. He must have been really worried about him and Khal couldn’t stop a painful chuckle from escaping his lips.

“At least… I’ll die… looking good… The glam is… the endgame.”

He felt his friend shake his head and just closed his eyes, fading back to the abyss as he wished he had seen what came out at the end of the countdown. He was sure it was something as formidable as the biomechanical abomination that nearly ended his career as an adventurer.

[aqua-loves-writing]

Rebellious Flame chapter 3 part 1 is here!

cw for threats of violence

Part 1: Chained

Inside of an underground cave, water dripping from the ceiling and rats crawling around the ground, people all over the place mined, their clothes all ripped and their hands covered in wounds. A guard, clad in red and black armor, yelled at them for the smallest of things. The lamp he carried was the only thing giving off light in the mines. While they did light the way, it made everyone exhausted, as it reminded them that they are unable to escape.

“What did I say about slacking off,” a guard yelled at an old man who fell to the ground, “Get back to work this second!”

The old man slowly tried to get up. He checked his pocket and immediately went back on the floor, seemingly looking for something.

“The hell?” the guard said, “Get up!”

The elder kept looking at the ground ignoring too focused to hear anything that the guard said.

“Oh, is this how it is then,” he pulled out a whip, “You had this coming you piece of-”

“Enough.”

Right as the guard was about to hit the man with his whip, someone grabbed it behind him and pulled it. The guard fell to the ground, everyone chuckled seeing that.

“Who in the world-tch you again,” he got up, now covered in mud shouting at the girl wearing ripped clothing, “Why doesn’t this surprise me? Do you have a death wish Zvezdoprah?”

She silently looked at the man who ruffled his short blonde hair, looking at her with condescension as he rubbed his chin.

“Well, if you won’t answer, I’ll take that as a yes-”

“I’ll take over.”

“Now you'll-What?”

“I finished for today,” she threw a giant sack into the ground, “I still have the rest of the day to work, so let me do his fill for today while he’s resting. Is that too much to ask for?”

“Finished you say, “ he grabbed the sack and opened up to see several black rocks inside, dark like a starless sky. He looked back at Alice and smirked.

“Fine, my shift is over anyway,” he walks away from the scene, leaving the old man still on the ground, “But because of what you pulled just now, you’ll have to fill 4 sacks.”

“Four,” she yelled out, “That will take me the entire night-”

“Ahem,” he hit the ground with his whip, “Did I not make myself clear? You’ll fill four sacks even if you lose your arms and legs, got it?”

“Tch,” she rolled her eyes.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I’ll do it.”

“Good.”

When he left, Alice grew furious, almost sparking some flames, “No,” she puts her hand now looking at the shackles on her feet, “Agh.”

Again today? You’d barely call these flames! These stupid-

“Teodora.”

“Huh?”

“Teodora.” The elderly man kept repeating himself as he crawled on the ground, “Where are you?”

“Mister,” she crouched down to his level, “Are you alright?”

He ignored her as he kept searching.

“Mister-”

“Agh,” when she touched his shoulder, he panicked, keeping his eyes shut, “Please don’t hurt them, they’ve done nothing…wrong.”

He opened his eyes, seeing everyone around him startled and even annoyed,

“Uh,” she gives out her hand, “Mister? Are you alright?”

“Little one? Oh. Oh, Ignia,” he slapped his face, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

“Oh, I’m fine, don’t worry,” she helped him get back up on his feet, “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Ah,” he looked back at the ground, squinting his eyes. “It’s…nothing.”

“You sure? You suddenly fell to the ground and began searching for something. What is it? Need help?”

“Please,” he looked away, his scarred lips forming a fake smile, “There’s no helping me.”

While the prisoners looked at him with concern, they decided to keep working instead. Alice noticed quickly how the others were too scared to try and help him, so she sighed.

“Welp, here I go,” she grabbed his arm and put it over her shoulder, 

“Uh?”

“Let’s see?”

“Little one? What are you doing?”

“Aha! Over there!”

She brought him over to a flat rock, “Sit here and rest! Hope it’s comfortable! Oh, also this,” out of her pocket she pulled out some bread.

“What next,” she picked up his pick-axe and sack, and walked away, “I’ll finish this in no time! So rest until then!”

“But-”

Before he was able to say anything, she already walked away and began working, the people around her giving her weird looks.

“Tch, what’s her problem,” they gossiped, “Constantly causing trouble with the other knights. How the hell did she even get here anyway.”

“That’s the thing, she's been here for over three years now and no one knows what she did to get here. There have even been rumors that she’s not even from Unia.”

“Huh? An immigrant? That’d explain the magic resistance shackles around her legs..”

“Eh, either way, she’ll get herself into trouble if she keeps this up.”

“What the hell are you standing around for?” a new guard came up, “Get back to work!”

They all did as they were told, and Alice just blankly looked into the ground.

Has it really been three years? That long since I’ve been here? Since that day? Mom, everyone, where are you? Are you even alive? 

[dogmomwrites]

Find the Words!

This tag came from @ghost-town-story, so thank you for including me in this game!

I'll pass it on with soft tags to @ravonosify, @leebrontide, and @menagerie-of-monsters, as well as an open tag! Your words will be vicious, interrupt, and halfhearted. If you can't find one, leave a fun fact about your WIP, OCs, or writing process!

My words were turn, study, burst, vengeance, and noise. These excerpts were taken from the first and fourth books in my fantasy series.

Turn (taken from Castle 1)“I don’t know.” She stared at the door. “I’ve spent years trying to find a way past it only to turn up empty. I don’t see why the only thing you two have done is keep asking me questions. I brought you here to find a way past it, not go over how impenetrable it is.”

Aero watched her for a moment, then focused his attention back on the door. All three of them were watching the door now, as if it might do something for them. After a few minutes of that, Aero announced, “We will find a way past it. They had to open it someway, did they not?”

“Yeah, but how?”

Before he could say anything, there came a stern, gruff voice behind them. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Study (taken from Castle 1)Nightwish led them across the polished floor with brisk steps. Despite being spattered with blood and soot, he struck a fine figure in his feathered hat, his back straight and his head held high. The decorated stone walls threw the echoes of their boots on the floor around like a game, and the splashing of the fountain was the laughter. Once they stood before the throne, he stopped, studying the king for a moment, then placed his arm over his chest, fist on his shoulder, and bowed his head. When he straightened back up, the others did the same.

The king blinked at them. “It’s not often we get visitors, much less humans.”

“We dinnae mean to intrude, Highness. We lost our way.”

Burst (taken from Castle 1)When Tobias started to say something, Caleb interrupted him. “They will be much safer on their journey than we will be on ours,” he said in an ominous tone, imitating Tobias’ low voice. “Steal the words right out of your mouth, Toby?”

“I would say you’re an incompetent fool, but I see you’re proving that beyond a doubt,” he said.

Raising a hand, he used magic to clear the snow away from the entrance. The packed snow and ice burst away in an explosion of cold white that showered them all. Then he walked into the caves’ darkness.

“Huh,” Seen said as they watched him disappear. “Does anything faze that guy?”

“He has magic,” Jay said as if that was an answer. He followed Tobias without hesitation, and Caleb was right behind him.

Vengeance (taken from Castle 4)Saben told them to be quiet by waving a dismissive hand at them without looking. “I do not wish to push our luck, but did they maybe mention anything about where they might be going?”

She shook her head. “No, sorry, honey boy. Wish I could help you, you seem like a good sort. That and the armor your friends are wearing looks kind of like what the handsome Highlander and his men had on. I only remember that much because I’ve never seen it before. I don’t know if you mean what you say and you’re just looking to reunite, or if you’re looking for vengeance, but if you are, just be careful. We see a lot of warriors come through here, so I know a little about trusting my judgment, and I tell you, none of those men would go down easy in a fight.”

Noise (taken from Castle 1) A loud roaring rushed after him with a sudden, searing heat that followed him to the door, and he almost couldn’t avoid the flames. Slamming the door, he pushed everyone away from it and fell on his knees. The noise of the inferno continued for close to a full minute before it ceased.

They waited in stunned silence, listening for any more, but it was all quiet in the room. “Was—correct me if I am wrong,” Aero said, his voice hoarse. His entire body was tight as a drawn bowstring. “But was that a—was that what I think it was? Was that a dragon?”

[thecrimsonhelmet]

@therebetterbepie continued from here

Is that what you think? Jason didn’t respond, he just waited. Because of course, that was what he thought. Nothing else made sense. Jason must have finally found that invisible line he couldn’t come back from, must have finally done something Bruce couldn’t forgive, must have finally broken the condition for Bruce’s ‘unconditional’ love.

Bruce hated older him, and that was why he wasn’t allowed back at the Cave, and why they weren’t going to Bruce for help. And it hurt. It hurt so badly, but if Dean just told him what he’d done wrong, maybe Jason could fix it. He could stop himself from ever making that mistake and everything would be fine.

Dean was asking for his trust, and while Jason didn’t trust him—he didn’t know him, had only just met him recently, how could he possibly actually trust him?—he didn’t have many other choices. Or any other choices.

Dick trusted Dean enough to leave Jason alone with him, and Jason trusted Dick. He supposed he could extend that trust to Dean. Just a little, and only for now, but he could.

I don’t lie to you, kid, he said, and that sure sounded super fake, but whatever. Jason would just have to deal. Dean said he didn’t want Dick knowing about what he was about to say (and that was either the truth, or the man was a fantastic liar), and that would have to be enough.

His brow furrowed in confusion when Dean started off with something that had nothing to do with Bruce. “I just haven’t hit my growth spurt, yet,” he huffed, a little annoyed at being called short. But to hear he’d end up taller than Dick was a surprise. He’d heard Dr. Leslie talking to Bruce, picked up on words like malnutrition and stunted growth. They didn’t think he’d wind up all that tall, as an adult, and he was fine with that, as long as he didn’t stay this shrimpy forever. But taller than Dick? He couldn’t even imagine.

Immediately, he opened his mouth to argue, when Dean said Bruce didn’t hate him, because what other reason was there? It snapped shut again when Dean gave one. Jason…was mad at Bruce? “I’m twelve, you can say ‘fuck’,” he muttered absently, turning everything over in his mind. Bruce did something. Something that made older Jason so angry that, knowing himself, he’d probably pitch one hell of a fit if he found himself in the Cave when things were back to normal. It was hard to accept, because yeah, Bruce messed up sometimes, but it was almost always because he was trying to care in some weird, ass-backwards way. And yeah, it made Jason angry sometimes, but it was never anything so bad that Jason would hate getting his help with something this big, that badly. It didn’t make sense.

And then Dean was saying even more random shit that didn’t have anything to do with anything, and Jason’s frown only deepened. “…I’m not Robin anymore?” Dick said Dean knew the Secret, so it was okay to talk about it. And he’d sort of figured that much, already, given what he’d been wearing when he wound up in his older self’s place, but having it confirmed still sucked in a major way. Did Bruce fire him? Was that why Jason was angry with him?

“…’Least his uniform now is better than it was. ‘S not showin’ off half his fuckin’ chest. That vee practically went down to his damn bellybutton.” He scoffed, turning back to the vegetables to try and deal with the thoughts and feelings swirling around in his head without having to look at Dean. “Stupid. ‘S just givin’ people a bigger target to shoot at. And he’s still basically wearin’ spandex! At least mine’s got body armor.”

[paganwitchisis]

"What Love Can Change" Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: The Attempt

Rated: E for Explicit!!

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav/Spawn Astarion

Words: 8,327

TRIGGER WARNING -Breeding kink, violence, descriptions of trauma, sexual assault, torture, suicide attempt and mention/idealization, self harm, starvation, depression, pregnancy, hyper-sexuality, Dead Dove Don’t Eat and rape

NOTE/ WARNING: This chapter has a planned attempted suicide. Please be aware of the subject matter as you read this chapter. Additionally, if you feel this way, please know there is a number (988) for help in the states. You are worthy and amazing <3 As usual, thank you @alyssac9 for the proof reading, the story is so much more enhanced because of you!

AO3 link is here!

Story:

“So why did you come out here? On your own!? You know how dangerous this city is. We get attacked for almost nothing when we have a squad of people, yet you ran for what? Because of sex? That is all it is.” Astarion admonished his wife who sternly glared back.

“Just sex? I don’t want to watch my husband have sex with another person. You're supposed to be loyal! How can I trust you after this?” Tav replied.

“Trust? You want to talk about trust after you ran the hell away for this? I have half a mind to…” Astarion snarled almost for real, but Tav knew otherwise; he was being playful. On the outside, he seemed to be seething mad and upset.

At this point, Sebastian had stepped in and was making his way deeper into the cave.

“To what?!?”

“To find some kind of punishment for you. One you will NOT be happy with. More than watching me have sex tonight. Do I like this situation? No. But was your reaction justified? NO! You cannot put yourself in danger just because you get fucking emotional!” Astarion yelled, and Tav wondered if there was a grain of truth in there he wasn’t saying about the emotional bit, but that was not for now.

“Am I interrupting?” Sebastian asked, obviously very amused by the spat the married couple was entertaining him with.

Astarion turned to see the other vampire and scoffed. “I see you got the note.”

“Rather hard to miss,” Sebastian replied. “So, how is this going to work?”

Astarion went to the metal gate, shoved it closed, and locked it. “Now my wife can’t run the fuck away like before.”

Sebastian seemed amused all the same and not worried.

“We should get started,” Sebastian said as his hands went towards his belt, seemingly oblivious. Astarion smiled.

“I couldn’t agree more. Sisters! Shadowheart! Gale! Tav! You know what to do!”

Astarion got into his combat stance, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his wife was not retreating. He glanced to see her situation since silence was already cast on Sebastian and found her to be holding her great sword. Flabbergasted, he noticed she was poised to attack as well, and he was very upset but could do nothing until Sebastian was disposed of. Mage Armor, Astarion was told while coming to the docks, would be useless because it works for those not wearing armor. Sanctuary was cast, but if Tav attacked, he knew it would end, but it appeared Sebastian was also a rogue. He could not cast due to silence, and so in anger, he threw what ever scroll he had on his person to the side, but he pulled his daggers out. Astarion knew the closest and easiest target was his wife, but Sebastian was closer to her than he was.

Tav, however, wasn’t thinking like she did those previous fights with the self-serving attitude, and although she wanted release from the pain, she wanted it on her terms. Not his. How dare he try to take what is hers…well… soon to be previously hers. She thought tactically like she used to. She knew she wasn’t healthy, but before telling Astarion, she was still active and doing things including battle. It wasn’t like she became an invalid overnight. She could function albeit a bit weaker, with more complications and she was to use as little energy as possible. When Sebastian dropped his shoulders as he stood in front of her, she knew his attack and knew the least amount of energy response she could give to kill him.

Astarion watched in horror as Sebastian took both daggers and tried to jab them into his wife’s stomach, but she dodged it, and in an incredibly astounding feet of acrobatics and strength, she jumped over the attack and rolled over his back effortlessly. She had her great sword in hand and retaliated with a punishing swing across the stomach horizontally. She used a great deal of strength to cleave the man in two. Astarion almost forgot the reason he didn’t notice her condition. It was because of how muscular she was and how strong she was in battle. She could easily handle herself when she was thinking tactically, and she was a master fighter. Astarion was extremely angry at her, but damn was he longing for her, to touch her and taste her again. The adrenaline of battle and the fear of losing her propelling these feelings.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR TRYING TO TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKER.” Tav yelled in anger at the dying man bleeding out on the floor; his innards spilled out, and she was covered in his blood.

“I thought you said she was ill? What the fuck? She is amazing! No wonder you both killed mas… um… Cazador.” Aurelia mentioned in awe.

Astarion snapped out of it for a moment. He needed to speak to her.

“Are you out of your mind?! You can't burn calories! You and the baby remember? Your health! You’re so damn stubborn!” Astarion was close to his wife now, inside her personal space.

“You think I’m going to let others fight my battles for me? He tried to take you from me in a way. I will not stand for it.” Tav defended herself and only leaned forward, their foreheads close to touching.

Astarion growled, and although he was very frustrated, he didn’t care he had an audience. He took his left hand and threaded it effortlessly into her hair behind her head, his right hand on her ass and pressed them both together. This pressed their hips together and crashed their lips onto one another. He began kissing her passionately as he pressed against her as hard as he could and ran his tongue against hers. She mirrored him, and he didn’t care about the others; he knew his wife’s body was concealing his hard-on. He pulled away for a moment.

“Don’t do that again. I don’t want to lose you. Either of you. I love you.”

Astarion deeply kissed her again, ignoring the audience behind him as he heard the unmistakable squeal of Dal and her commenting about their love and his change. He knew he was in a pickle now; he couldn’t exactly pull away from his wife and reveal his hard-on and he couldn’t adjust himself in his pants without being seen. That was until his wife turned the both of them as they were pressed together, loudly exclaiming not wanting to see the dead man while kissing him because he dared to mess with them. This meant that with Tav’s back to the audience, he could slip his hand in his trousers to adjust himself appropriately.

“I plan to take you when we get back, you know,” He whispered in her ear and pulled away, fully knowing it was possible his sisters heard him but not finding that he cared at that moment.

He kissed her again and pulled back. “It will also test my theory,” Astarion added.

After pulling away from her, Astarion looted the body to find that Sebastian had a supreme potion of healing, which would come in handy, and pocketed that immediately, a paltry amount of gold and then the scroll. He went to check it and was in shock. It really was a scroll to dominate a person!

“There is no way a rogue could use that spell. That is a higher-level spell.” Gale said behind him.

“So, he was bluffing the whole time,” Astarion asked.

“Possibly. It is possible he didn’t know he was unable to use it. That scroll is worth thousands of gold because it is so rare though. I wonder where he found it.” Gale pondered.

“Well, let’s get everything and everyone back to the Elfsong. It’s getting chilly, and I don’t want the mortals in our party to be uncomfortable,” Astarion said to the group.

“Ha! More like you want to fuck your wife! Don’t think we don’t smell you both,” Violet joked and laughed.

“What! I…”

“It’s okay brother! We understand the drive between mates,” Aurelia commented.

Tav is chuckling in the distance while Gale and Shadowheart are broadly smiling and laughing.

Astarion gave up and threw his hands up in defiance, “Fine! Can we get going?” He stashed the items in his bag, threw it on his back, and without preamble, he picked up his wife, who yelped in surprise and began walking to the inn. Eventually, the others caught up, and Tav made an odd request. She asked that one of the sisters visit Astarion the next day. Neither Astarion nor the others knew why. Only Tav knew why she requested this. She only said it was a surprise. Of course, her surprise was supposed to be her death. She wanted more support for her husband when she passed and to help him move on. She wasn’t surprised when they got to their room and the door was locked Astarion dropped their packs near the door and began quickly divesting her of her weapons and armor. He took off her boots and started a bath. She was still covered in blood, and it was in her hair. He pulled his armor and boots off as fast as he could. He began getting himself stripped bare and then his wife. He claimed her lips again while his hand went between her legs and stimulated her clit. She went with it even if she couldn’t feel her body most of the time, even if she wanted the day to end so she could start her plan. He picked her up and got into the tub. He rutted his hips into hers while kissing her neck and her breasts. His hands playing between her legs.

“Let’s get you cleaned up my love so we can do something dirty.” Astarion chuckled.

He began bathing her while sensually touching and occasionally kissing her. He ran his hands through her hair as he washed it and massaged her scalp with his fingers. It felt nice but Tav still couldn’t contend with the hurt in her chest. It was stupid. It was silly. It made no sense but it fucking hurt! It was still her pain, and because it made no sense, it wasn’t like she could just talk to anyone about it, and even if she did, what the hells could they do about it? What was the solution? No one could erase the thousand and more fucks he had that Cazador forced him into doing. None of this was his fault. None of it. He was forced into this against his will. His body was used and abused. She didn’t want him to suffer a wife who kept reminding him of his past. A wife who couldn’t handle his past. A wife who was broken. He just got a new life. He can have anything or anyone. He deserves everything good and wonderful this world had to offer, and she was holding him back. She made sure to write that in the note she left. He needed to know and understand. He needed to understand why she needed to die. She was an obstacle in his way to his success, and she loved him too much to hurt him, to stunt his growth, and she loved him so much that she was willing to die for him. She also made sure she had that written in the note. She wanted to make sure he knew how much she loved him. She cares and loves him so damn much now. She wished she could have that future where she could bare his children. She wished she could live away somewhere with him for a happily ever after someday. She wished she could see how wonderful he would be as a father. It wasn’t meant to be. Another woman would do that. Another. Someone who he deserves. Not her. Like the rest of her thoughts, this was also in that gods forsaken note. She just kept thinking about the contents of what she wrote and hoped it explained her pain and thought process enough. Soon the ending would come. She wondered if…when the time came, and the world ended, or Astarion ran into something horrible, although she prayed that would never happen, if she would see him again in the afterlife. She didn’t have to speak to him. Just see him for one moment. She didn’t deserve it, though, so she would be asking too much. She deserved nothing but pain and misery.

Astarion didn’t notice the turmoil as Tav was great at hiding it. They eventually got out of the tub and moved to the bed. He was kissing her and kept kissing and talking to her belly. If she didn’t have the thoughts and plans that she did, she would have thought it was cute. Then his eyes glanced down.

“This is my prize. I have you memorized my love.” He brought the flat front of his tongue up the middle of her slit and she couldn’t help the moan escape her lips.

“You are delicious. My cock likes to taste you too but for now, I want to test a theory. I’m going to get you close then, I want you to push yourself over the edge with your fingers. Im going to be over you, almost straddling your lap, so I can come on your stomach if the result is what I think will happen. Just…try it out, please. I’ll explain everything later. If you’re not sated then, we can make love after. If you are too tired, you can sleep, and I’ll wake you up as a surprise, and then we’ll make love. You will eat though. A lot. I will be calling for a lot of food from downstairs. Before bed, you are having oatmeal. That is non-negotiable.” Astarion stated, he didn’t exactly ask.

Tav just watched as Astarion spread her legs more, looked up at her with a smile, and went to work at the junction. Her head was thrown back as she moaned. He was quick to use his fingers to speed up progress toward her crest. She began crying out his name as she started to get near.

“Astarion, I’m...” Tav began to say, but Astarion grabbed her hand and brought it to her core to continue; he then straddled her, his aching and hard cock kissing her belly. He didn’t touch it. He refused. Tav kept working herself as she masturbated, and he watched as he turned his head to see. It was beautiful in his eyes. Soon, she came with a cry, and Astarion, who had not been touched, grunted and clutched her shoulders and kissed her to swallow his cry shortly after. She felt his cum on her stomach shortly after. She looked down and saw the proof of his ejaculation on her soft tummy. How did this happen? He wasn’t stimulated?

Astarion was going to speak when he noticed something. Her left hand. He put his hands on both sides of his wife’s head against the headboard.

“At first, I thought this issue was the telepathic bond from the rings, however… Darling,” Astarion said with sass and coldness on the last word that partly scared her. “You're not wearing our wedding ring. Now… why could that be? Either you’re hiding something about yourself. Which I would really hope not because I thought we decided we would be truthful and no more secrets. The other option is you're hiding something concerning another. I doubt you found another cock. I would have smelled them on you. So, the obvious answer is you’re hiding something. Now, where is your wedding ring? Hmm?” Astarion asked with a cold tone and narrow eyes. It sent a shiver up her spine.

“Top drawer of the nightstand.”

“Good girl. Now, how long have you had it off?” Astarion kept being cold towards her and she knew she deserved this.

“A few days.”

“Hmm,” Astarion opened the drawer and retrieved the ring, looking at it a moment. He took Tav’s left hand and placed it back on her hand gently. “You’re mine,” Astarion whispered.

“Now, the big question. What the fuck are you hiding from me again?” Astarion was angry and cold. He was demanding and insistent. He looked at his wife as if she was an enemy or someone detestable. It furthered Tav’s pain. She couldn’t tell him. She was hiding this for his own good. The fact he was looking and talking to her like this was making everything hurt more. The last moments she has with him before she leaves Fae’run behind and it is to be filled with pain? She deserved it. She knew deep down. She was never to get a happy ending. She was always destined to suffer. She loved him but she needed to make sure he was safe and happy later. That was all that mattered.

“None of your concern.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew something would come from this, but she didn’t care. She knew she deserved the consequences and trembled. After she said those words, she felt her body get shoved sideways. She was sideways on the bed, Astarion over her. She reached over to a rag they had on the nightstand and cleaned his spend off her stomach.

“It must be big if you won't say anything.”

“Look…I’ll tell you. Tomorrow. I promise. I’m tired and hungry.” Tav said. She must have said the right words because Astarion got up and off of her. He used the dumb waiter to request oatmeal and gave it to her. While she was eating, he told her his theory.

“I—I’m sorry.” Astarion tried to place a hand on Tav’s leg, but she flinched from him. This bothered him. Why was she flinching now? What is going on? It is like the last few days have been going wrong.

“My theory… As I mentioned, we have a telepathic link. At first, I thought it was the rings, but considering you didn’t have the ring on. I had to rethink it. It is definitely a telepathic link, but in regards to vampires, I have only heard of it happening between a vampire master or above, more or less, and their consorts…er…vampire brides or grooms. They weren't changed the way I was, and so they develop a special link that can span hundreds of miles. You're alive though. You're not a vampire, so how in the hells do we have this link? The only thing that keeps coming to mind is maybe it’s because you're my true mate?” When Astarion saw that she was confused, he elaborated, “A mate is someone you take on for a long-term relationship. A person you were to be with. A true mate, however?” Astarion cupped his hand to the side of her face to look at him. “It means you are my one and only person, the only love I am ever intended to have for eternity.” Astarion chuckles. “Essentially, YOU, for all eternity, will be the only one I can love and the only one I am fated to be with… ever. I will never know love or care with anyone else but you.” Astarion let go of her face to let her keep eating. “I wonder if that is what happened because, to be honest… the idea of a true mate is mostly considered folklore. It’s so damn rare that we never see it. I thought all of this was hogwash, but… here you are, my love…” Astarion had a loving smile on, but he seemed worried. Maybe about the secret? He would find out soon. They all would.

Soon she finished her food and replied. “I guess we need to figure out that bond so we’re not accidentally doing anything to the other or worse.”

“So, what would you like to do? Read, figure out baby names? I promised you that. You were excited to…” Astarion was talking when Tav interrupted.

“Just sleep”

Astarion looked taken aback. She was acting out of character, and she was acting suspicious and short.

“Okay, love… if that’s what you would like,” Astarion replied. After making sure everything was cleaned up, he got into bed with his wife and was going to snuggle, but his wife pulled away and laid on the opposite side. He did not like this. Something was very, very wrong and he swore he would get to the bottom of it. This bothered and agitated him so much that as his eyes stayed closed, he could not dream or trance. He knew his wife was awake based on her breathing and heart rate, and he wasn’t sure how long he was not asleep. He had his eyes closed while trying, but he felt the bed move. He knew his wife had moved and he heard some papers move. He heard something heavy move and he wondered if this was her secret. Whatever this was, it had him concerned, especially when she left the room. He got up and saw what papers she laid out and, at first glance, made his already cold body even colder. He knew what she intended to do based on the papers. He looked over to the right and grabbed the potion they acquired earlier in the day but noticed it was next to his daggers; his favorite was gone and missing. She was going to kill herself and their child.

Note: I don't want to get banned on Tumblr for the attempt so it is on AO3. That and it won't let me post because it is too long. Go here for the continuation of the story!

[coutelier]

Irongate - Dawn

~1400 Word Excerpt of my WIP.~

It was getting too dangerous. Now other people were getting involved. If Tenley didn’t find a way to end it soon they’d end up hurt. And she was just so tired. Harder and harder to stay awake, but every time she closed her eyes she was looking out the window, mother looking back, wondering how she could still be so weak.

She returned to the forest, to one of the glowing fairy circles. Kneeling she placed her hand in its center. The mycelium beneath began to light up, spreading out from her. The forest warped and spun and then she was in the caves illuminated by shining crystals and more brightly colored fungi. She thought perhaps she could rest here, but found Titania sat on her twisted throne flanked by Lilian and Ella, several of the bark-skinned soldiers, and humans being made to kneel before The Queen. Tilting her head Tenley could hear their rapid heart-beats. They were terrified.

Titania leaned forward toward a man cowering in front of her, wearing what she might have thought a friendly smile but like everything else about her was wrong enough to be disturbing. “Who are you, little man?” She asked.

“Hir-“ he gulped, his heart not slowing down, “Hiroki.”

“You are the leader of this merry band?”

“We - we have no leaders. But I-I… I speak for the collective.”

“Of course you do,” The Queen grinned, “sit here, Hiroki.” Before he could make any effort to move on his own he was dragged and lifted by some invisible hand then dropped just to her right. Titania then turned to a woman barely containing her sobs holding on to a flute. “You will play,” The Queen instructed, “and the rest of you, dance!” She clapped. The remaining prisoners shared panicked and confused glances as the music began. Titania flashed red, roaring, “DANCE!”

Tenley frowned, not completely understanding what she saw. Just that it was cruel and unnecessary. Klaus was also in the room, haggard and bent into a little folding chair surrounded by camping equipment. In one hand he held a tiny figurine - a knight in armor carrying a shield - while with the other he drank. As she approached he shook his little flask, offering, “drink?” Her frown intensified. “Ah,” he looked down at a cooler, “there is probably some juice or soda in here somewhere.”

“What is going on?” She asked.

“Oh, whenever Titania is mad or upset about something she has Lil and El drag some poor souls here to ‘entertain’ her.”

“What will she do with them?”

“After she has had her fun, she will either use them, or,” he swigged, “well, she won’t let them go back to where they were.”

“And you just let her?” Tenley’s face crumpled in disgust, “you’re just going to sit here and watch? I thought you were a Knight?”

“I am,” his hand closed over the figurine, dust falling through his fingers as he slowly shook his head. “I am just an old man. Every time I have tried to help it just blows up in my face. I am tired.”

“You’re a coward.”

Around the throne the music had stopped. The flute player drenched in sweat and tears was pulled to Titania. “Tell me,” The Queen said, skin pulsing a calming blue as she gently stroked the woman’s hair. “Where did you learn to play?”

“Um… i-in school,” the player wept.

“And your parents; did they ever come to hear you?”

“Yes.”

“When they did, did they tell you that you were flawless? Perfect?”

“I-I… yes?”

“They lied,” Titania said. Her hand stopped stroking, pulses changing from blue to purple. “They always lie. They tell you that you’re perfect, but behind your back, they,” she grimaced. “Why would they try to destroy something perfect? What about you? Do you think I’m perfect?”

“I-I… I-I don’t…”

“Simple question. Yes or no.”

“Yes?”

“LIAR!” Titania burst fully red seized the woman’s throat, flinging her to the ground scattering the other prisoners. Rising from her throne she took a spear from Lilian, and threw. The humans all winced and held their breath. Even Klaus slowly rose from his chair, shocked by what he saw; Tenley standing in front of the prone woman having deflected the spear with her own. Titania’s lips peeled back as she hissed, “you…!”

Ella cracked her knuckles, “let me teach her a lesson!”

“No!” Titania inhaled as if the air cooled her temper, returning her body to a more greenish hue. “No; she is quite right. I overreacted. It has been a stressful day,” she said returning to her throne. “There is to be no more fighting among yourselves. Understood?”

Ella was disappointed. So was Tenley - until she had proven herself against her Ella was never going to stop picking fights. Which meant she would get plenty of opportunities. There were more important things to finish first. “Alvin Stag,” she said as she relaxed her stance.

“Who’s that?”

“He sent the people that murdered my mother.”

“Ah, yes - coming back to me now. I believe he is the CEO of Stag Corp. Vain, obviously, and paranoid. But as is the way with humans, what power he wields is an illusion. A delusion that others have bought and support because humans are weak and fear change.”

“How do I find him?”

“Well that’s easy; the man hardly ever leaves his fortress. Unfortunately, you cannot use the dampening crystals to get inside. Still, you are creative and resourceful. That’s why I chose you. I am sure you will find a way.”

It seemed she would get no more help from Titania. Tenley would have left then and perhaps never returned, but the prisoners. They saw hope in her, silently mouthing ‘please’. She knew she couldn’t fight everyone here, but she also a knew a temper like Titania’s. She knew no matter what she said that wouldn’t be her last outburst. “What will happen to them?”

“So long as they amuse me, nothing.”

“And then?”

“Then?” Titania gripped the edges of her throne, bright white stripes rippling down her orange skin as she brought her head lower toward Tenley. “They are not your concern. You need only focus on finishing what you started; destroying those who tried to take everything from you. Then you may rest.”

It was hard to look at her. Hard to keep her eyes open. She had to finish it, but Tenley couldn’t walk away from here just yet. She shook herself. “You could change them,” she suggested.

“I could,” Titania sighed, “but few are worthy of my gifts. You were chosen because I saw talent in you. Skill. But these wretches have nothing.”

“Then they’re not a threat. You might as well just let them go.”

“Oh,” Titania groaned, “very well. As a favor to you, I will return them to their world.”

“Thank you,” Tenley blinked. The pulsing and rippling stopped. She had done all she could here. Now she had to finish it. Then she could rest.

As Tenley left Ella scowled, “I told you she was soft.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Klaus said as approached the throne, another swig before his eyes settled on Titania. “She’s resisting you.”

“It matters not,” The Queen assured him, “everything is already in place.”

“Why don’t you just kill him yourself?”

“Because it’s more fun this way. Besides, there are other things I must attend to. If the little one actually succeeds in killing Stag, it will just be a bonus.”

“What are you up to?”

The Queen grinned. “Hiroki,” he was still panting on the ground not convinced he had been saved before finding himself lifted to her eye level. “You consider yourself a servant of nature, yes?” He meekly nodded. “You know, I have seen many worlds. Most are barren, toxic, irradiated wastelands - that is the true face of nature. Life… life is precious, but always hangs in the balance. Sometimes it needs help fighting back against those who would do it harm, wouldn’t you agree?” He nodded more enthusiastically. “Good. You will come with me; keep being so well behaved and you may yet see the dawn of a new age,” she turned to Ella as she stood. “Kill the rest.”

“B-but,” Klaus spluttered over her broken promise, “you said-”

“I never said I’d return them alive.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Digital Heart

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst Warnings: Falling, fighting, minor injuries, nausea, breathlessness 

In which Genshin is an interactive RPG accessed through an immersive headset, and you find yourself pushed to play it by your friends.

~ * ~

It started with a game.

For thirty days and thirty nights, your friends have been pleading for you to play it. Genshin Impact it was called, an free immersive open-world RPG with hundreds of weapons, characters, and power ups. Accessible through a specialized headset that tracked movement, it had only been a month since the freely downloadable game’s release and it was already a success, garnering praise from the customizable main character and the interactive playstyle. Play it. Your friends beg. You’ll love it. We can play together. 

You refuse at first. The game might be free, but the headset isn’t, and you need to save that money to pay for food and clothes. Alongside your financial state was your schedule, a long list of work and chores that left little time to play games with constant updates like Genshin, so you told your friends- politely, as that’s how you were raised- that it’d have to wait. They agreed, quietly.

Then the next day, they ask again. You make an excuse- too much work. They agree, again.

The second day, asking. You’re too tired, you say. Of course, they respond.

Everyday, the same question. The same request, the same demand. It wears on you, amused exasperation drawing a sigh from you everytime you open your notifications.

Play it.

You can’t.

Play it.

You don’t have time.

Play it.

You need to focus!

Play it.

…

…Alright.

Finally, you cave. You create an account, a headset en route to your house. You clear an area in your house so you don’t accidentally hit anything. The headset arrives, and you insert the batteries, said to last up to an entire day playing nonstop, a stage you dearly hope you never reach. You pull it down over your head, cringing at the thought of your hair getting so mussed, and switch it on. A long and potentially worrying warning flashes before your eyes and you blink, not used to the in-depth cameras yet, as the screen goes white.

Welcome to Genshin Impact! Please name your character… appears, and you subsequently slip down the rabbit hole.

It’s fun, you find. Your friends were right, you did like Genshin Impact, although you thank your lucky stars that you weren’t as attached as some players were, as you still had work and life to attend to. The combat and story were enjoyable, and the characters were funny and diverse in personality and playstyles. The main character, who was also your customizable avatar, was quite literally you, the story explained, a traveler from distant lands who fell face first into Teyvat by mistake and tragedy. Of course you still haven’t gotten entirely used to the whole immersion thing, and sometimes shuddered under the eerily real programming of the NPCs and characters, but that was nigh unnoticeable when focusing on fighting monsters. Your deep love for exploration and discovery surfaces, and you take as long as you want exploring every inch of the wonderfully modelled map as you follow the main story, or “Archon Quests”. You calm the great dragon Dvalin and bid your friends at Mondstadt- Kaeya, Amber, Lisa, Diluc, Jean, and Venti- goodbye, Liyue sprawling out before you in wooded forests and cloud-covered mountains. A mysterious man runs across you at the Inn, the immortal Adeptus Xiao, although you would’ve thought he was quite young due to his short stature, and you encounter Zhongli in the Harbor, along with Lady Ningguang and her subordinates, Keqing and Ganyu. A member of the malicious-seeming Fatui also greets you and introduces himself as Childe, a name you don’t trust for a second, yet find yourself getting strangely attached too. The story progresses with you at Zhongli and Ningguang’s sides, the suspicion being pointed more and more to the Fatui, and you find yourself staring up at the elegant pillars of the Golden House, the mora mint building.

You gulp. You know this is where Childe’s boss battle takes place, and you’re not sure if your team is prepared, even if you stocked up on food right before leaving the Harbor. Inhaling a deep breath, you shove the enormous front doors open, and a cutscene pulls your fear tight against your throat. Everyone’s suspicions were right- he was here to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis, and you have to stop him. 

Easier said than done. The cutscene of your face shows a determined, fierce expression, instead of the nervous one you had in real life, and you almost laugh. You dearly hope your characters are strong enough, and step into the arena.

Phases One and Two are relatively short, as you quickly learn to avoid using Childe’s respective elements of his Vision and Delusion while his shield is up. The battle is fun and fast-paced, and you feel a thrill in your bones as you dodge another attack before swinging your sword in retaliation. Childe stumbles, and Phase Two ends with a cutscene. The corpse of Rex Lapis, something you considered a bit gruesome, is discovered to have no gnosis, and you can feel the raw anger in the Harbinger’s voice as the air crackles and hisses. A horrible, blinding light shines, and Childe is gone.

At least, human Childe is gone. In his place floats a monstrous version of himself, nearly 14 feet tall and complete with horns and armor, and your mouth drops open slightly as you gaze at him wide eyed. But your focus is violently shifted when the floor cracks and turns to dust, sending you tumbling down into the belly of the Golden House. You land with an unceremonial thump, thankful that the creators hadn’t been cruel enough to make you feel the damage you took in-game.

And Phase Three, the final phase of Harbinger Tartaglia, commences.

He has considerably more health, and his attacks can range from irritating to deadly, you just barely dodging the falling Hydro arrows that would’ve slaughtered your current character. Of course, it doesn’t help that you’re sneaking glances at your attacker every few minutes. Your mind wanders to the lore as you shield yourself from violet lightning. Does this transformation hurt? Where does it come from? Why does it look like a moth? Maybe one day you’ll get answers. 

Despite the raised difficulty, Phase Three also ends rather quickly. Your characters, it seems, were overleveled. The remainder of the Archon Quest passes, Childe reappearing once at the end, and it’s over. The screen blips off as you log out and place the headset on a table before laying on your bed and using the last few hours before bed to contemplate what you’ve just seen.

The next days quickly fall into routine. After completing all your work, you’d take an hour or two to play Genshin, leveling up your characters even more and going through various quests, Childe’s included. You see his transformation, dubbed the Foul Legacy form, again, and almost swoon before stopping and giving yourself a harsh scolding. You fulfill requests and tasks for various people around Teyvat, or at least the parts of Teyvat you can access, and improve your skills and stats. You have a talent for dodging, you find, and use it to your advantage while fighting.

And every Monday, when the clock resets, you re-enter Golden House to battle with Childe and claim your just rewards.

Of course you could do it everyday, but a squirming, guilty feeling in your gut stops you, making you feel like you’re hurting him, no matter how many times you try to tell yourself that he’s simply a video game character, a program in an electronic system.

This thought makes you a bit sad, you think.

The fights are getting easier, something you credit to your rising stars of characters, and you stand before the Ley Line Blossom quicker and quicker each time, something you expect to be no different today.

Phases One and Two are just the same as you take advantage of Vaporize and Overload, drowning out Childe’s pre-programmed sounds of pain with your own abilities. The battle pauses, and you’re transported to the same chamber underground, with its fiery walls and glittering arches, as the fight resumes. With the same attacks and characters, it’s becoming a tad dull, and you frown, wondering if you should try to get another character soon.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you slip and fall.

This you feel in the real world, having landed hard on your back and knocked the air out of your lungs. For a few moments you struggle to breathe, and Childe takes the opportunity to appear right over you, his spear flashing purple. You swear internally, bracing yourself as he readies his weapon.

But the strike never comes. You inhale desperately, oxygen finally flowing into your chest, and open your eyes. The graphics of your game are gray and fuzzy around the edges, framing Childe as he slowly puts his spear down and, to your amazement and slight terror, jerkily reaches towards you. Voice clips play overhead, pieced together to make not words, but a static-interspersed whining sound, much like a concerned beast. Your eyes widen, and Childe stops, withdrawing slightly almost as if he’s worried that you’re afraid, and you whisper his name once, as a tentative question.

Then with crackle and a ping, your game crashes and everything goes black.

You gasp and rip off the headset, chest heaving as you struggle to comprehend what just happened. You’re shaking, nervous and fearful, but curiosity runs strong through your veins. Your finger slides towards the On button, and you press it and slip the device back on.

You’re standing outside, the doors of the Golden House closed as if the battle never happened. The guards surrounding it look ordinary, occasionally repeating phrases you’ve heard and ignored countless times. Glancing around and trying to squash the nauseous bubbling feeling in your gut, you push the doors open again.

It’s different this time. Instead of being in the upper room, you fall a short distance into the Third Phase Chamber, your shoes clicking on the tiled floor. Childe floats in the center, his back to you, and you take a tentative step forward. He turns and looks you dead in the eyes, before flinging his spear to the side and rushing towards you on his feet, kneeling to your height. Instinctively, you jump away as he sits on the ground before you, letting out joyful chirps and trills, sounds you didn’t even know he could make. You approach him, sword held loosely in your hand as an extra precaution, and he tilts his head and coos as you cautiously sit with him. Your hands are trembling as you try to understand that this is real, he is real, all of this is happening.

And if it’s not, then it’s some damn good programming.

Questions start to fill your mind, one after another, and you ask him, responses coming as a nod or a headshake.

Is this real?

Yes.

Or programming?

No.

Could you always do this?

No.

Just today?

No.

Over a period of time. Yes.

How…?

The final question hangs in the air, and he shrugs slightly, then points at you. You did this. You woke him up, made him feel pain, sorrow, and happiness, all stemming from you, his love for you. From the minute the Archon Quests let you meet, he was vaguely curious, the most emotion he’s ever felt in his cold, empty programming since before. And when the code broke, he adored you, not like Childe viciously adored battle, but a soft adoration, one with all his digital heart could muster. You smile, and he purrs at what a wonderful smile it is.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye. Then another. And another. You turn and squint, then gasp as your surroundings begin to dissolve into colorful squares, the game taunting you as it glitches and lags. You and Childe leap to your feet, only to watch helplessly as the world crumbles away. You look down at your hands and see them beginning to break apart into pixels. Childe reaches out to hug you, to hold you close, but his hand passes right through you, a sickening reminder of how unreal he is. He wails in anguish as you both try to grasp each other, only to shatter more, the pixels covering your screen like rain on a windowpane.

Your game crashes for a second time, the only sound a desperate whimper that soon fades into an electronic squealing.

It takes a week to fix your device, the tech people saying that it was “overloaded”. Finally the repairs are finished, and you’re back at the Golden House, the doors already ajar. You slip into the room, expecting either a battle or, hopefully, someone to greet you.

But the room is empty. No one, human nor monster, stands in the center. Instead there is one lonely Ley Line Blossom, waiting, the final gift from an impossible love.