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countrymusiclover · 10 months ago

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3 - The Feast pt 1

Part 4

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

Chezney and I followed Robb's heel's quickly through the winter castle. All our belongings were being brought in by some of their guards and the rooms being prepared by the maids. But none of that matters to me. The ends of my dress had begun being covered in thick mud. "So where are we going now, Robb?"

He glanced over his shoulder causing his curls to bounce as he walked ahead of us. "It's just a little further, my ladies. Don't you worry I won't keep you out long to catch frostbite."

"It's colder than I anticipated it to be, Haelesa." Chezney shivered under her one layer winter fur causing me to pause in my step and drape mine over her shoulders to which she protested. "You'll catch a cold for sure."

Shaking my head I kept walking forward. For most of the remaining trip I didn't notice the cold too bad until we stopped moving and ended up underneath a large red tree in the middle of a winter garden area. "She's right, Lady Haelesa. I would never hear the end of it if you froze to death on my watch." Robb came over sliding his light colored fur cloak off his shoulders.

"Robb, that's not necessary. You'll surely freeze too." I attempted to turn down his offer.

But the Stark boy was raised to be honorable and kind by his parents. He placed the cloak over my shoulders and it almost fell off since it was bigger on me than him. He moved his hands down, tying the laces so it stayed on. "I was born in the North, remember. I'll last longer without a cloak than you and your friend would have."

"Well thank you. So what is this place?" I lifted my head up slightly eyeing the tall red tree in front of the three of us.

He lifted his blue eyes upwards the tree. "This is the Godswoods of Winterfell. My parents were married underneath this tree and someday I shall be too. I thought I should show you since they probably don't have one like it in the south."

"I must say I've seen more of the North than the place I shall call home for the rest of my life." I sadly admit to him.

He apologized. "I'm sorry."

"Not you're doing. It is the fault of my new golden husband." Shrugging my shoulders.

He made a face at me. "You're the girl from the foreign fish house by Dragonstone. My father mentioned it once but I didn't think I would be meeting you during the king's ride here."

"Yes well, my father had legitimate son's. The one he has is only concerned with bedding girls instead of helping the family name. So it all hangs on my head." I explained to him.

Robb eyed me silently for a moment. He wasn't sure what had come over him but he knew he couldn't keep it to himself. "You don't want the marriage to the Kingslayer do you?"

"I told her he might be nice once she gets to know him." Chezney remains the hopeful one.

Turning my head slightly back and forth the wind managed to catch some of the baby hairs that couldn't fit into my braid. "I've heard some good and some bad. Rarely any good ones come from an arranged marriage in this life."

"My mother claims that hers ended well. Five Stark children and an honorable husband." He pointed it out to me.

Nodding my head I kept on. "Indeed it appears so. I dream of the day but it is not my only dream in life."

"An arranged marriage is not my dream either. But I was raised to be lord of Winterfell. I must do the duty of my house." He declared dropping his brown gaze onto me. "What is your dream, Haelesa?"

Throwing my arms away from my sides I raised them in the air feeling a rush of excitement at somebody finally asking me after all these years. "What I want is to see the world. I've lived my whole life in a castle surrounded by water. After the Targaryen reign ended my house fell into the shadows. I assumed I would die in that castle until my father declared I was to wed Jaime Lannister."

"But we are seeing the world, D." Chezney attempted to say.

Sending her a glare I wasn't finished. "Until we're shipped off to Casterly Rock surrounded by the ocean once more. Forgive me, Robb but what I want is something I shall never have."

"I understand, my lady." He replied softly. "You want love and adventure. Same as I."

I chuckled lightly at the eldest Stark boy. "Aren't we a pair."

Chezney turned her attention away from our conversation hearing the galloping of hooves coming our direction. Robb and I soon noticed it and turned our heads over our shoulders seeing a Stark knight. "My lord, my ladies. Lady Stark sent me to retrieve you for the feast tonight."

"Thank you, ser. We were just on our way back." Robb nodded at one of his father's men.

Chezney and I watched the knight remain there where she spoke up. "Was there something else, ser?"

"Ser Jaime wishes to see his betrothed before the feast tonight. I was informed to escort you to him." The knight said.

Tugging the cloak closer around me I huffed following Robb back on foot. Chezney was behind us and the knight followed from behind even though I didn't feel afraid in these woods. "And so it begins." Getting back to the castle I didn't bother with changing out of my muddy clothes if he wished to see me it would be like this. The Stark knight led me through some hallways until we reached the chambers we had been given by Lord Eddard for our time being here.

The Stark knight held open the door and I shooed him away where he shut the door before my betrothed ever uttered a word. "I was wondering if you were ever coming back or had you and your lady in waiting scampered off to the woods with that boy."

"The boy's name is Robb. Now what is it you wished to see me for?" I questioned him.

Jaime smirked, taking a step towards me. "Ah already on a first name basis are you. Tell me are you more intrigued by such danger of getting caught. Because I can gladly help you with your desire before the wedding in a few weeks."

"Hah. I have no desire to share your bed." I scoffed.

He shook his head. "But you'll have to at some point."

"Not by my choice." I sniped, closing Robb's cloak tightly around me. "If you called me here just to make flirty remarks I must be ready for the feast."

"I have something for you actually. If you're interested." Spinning on my heels I headed towards the door until he spoke up. He went over to a crate drawing out something long wrapped in a cloth sheet. He unwrapped it revealing a shiny new blade.

Tilting my head to the side I slowly moved away from the door admiring the newly forage sword that he had placed on the edge of the bed. "Did you have it made for me?"

"I did my best to get the balance right. If it's too heavy I can have the blacksmith change it." He said back to me.

Slowly wrapping my fingers around the handle I took a hold of it with both hands. Swinging it lightly around I could feel much better balance than the one I held at Kings Landing. "This is much better but I don't understand. Why do this for me?"

"It's very unlikely we will fall in love with this arrangement. So I thought I'd do something to make you happy. I saw that we are both in our true element when we were sword fighting. It's yours, Haelesa." Jaime explained resting his right hand on his hip.

Laying the sword down on the bed I sent him a tiny smile. "Thank you, Jaime."

"You're welcome. Now you best get ready for tonight. We can practice before we leave here in a few days." He says while I put the sword back in its holder and headed for the door.

Opening the door I halted in my tracks seeing his sister standing there where I quickly gave her my best curtsy. "Your grace."

"Little Velaryon." She greets me with a stern look walking past me and into her brother's chambers. Once the door was shut behind the young Velaryon Cersei changed her entire demeanor towards her brother. "What exactly do you hope to gain with her?"

Jaime sat down on the bed confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I am talking about. I have spies everywhere in the city. They told me about you sword fighting with her and her lady in waiting. Now you present her with her own sword. Father won't be happy with that."

He rolled his eyes. "Father has rarely ever been happy with anything we've done in our lives."

"Probably because you and our monster of a brother never did what he wanted. Like jumping off the side of the Rock when we were children." She grumbled to him.

Jaime rolled his eyes. "There was nothing wrong with what I did until you told him about it. Now is there something you want to tell me or did you just come to snoop on me?"

"I came to warn you of her. She won't love you. She's a child and she will never have what we have." Cersei stepped closer to him, throwing her bright red dress around as she went.

Jaime dropped his hands in his lap. "Don't tell me you're jealous of the Velaryon girl. She doesn't want this marriage. The only thing I can do is make it look like this can work between us. If I make it clear that I am with you both our heads will be on spikes."

"You let me worry about my drunk husband. And remember that father doesn't care if you make her slightly happy or not." The queen of the seven kingdoms eyed her brother.

He got to his feet snagging her wrist and bringing her to his embrace. "Lannisters don't act like fools. It's the family name that lives on. Nothing else matters."

"So give her a child and then be done with her. That's the plan." She nodded to him in agreement sepering from him and leaving him to prepare for the feast herself.

I wasn't familiar with the rules of many feasts where the royal family was present. Thankfully I wasn't the one hosting such an event. I simply had to represent my house to the best of my ability. Chezney and I made our way down the cold stone stairs that led into the large dining hall. "I can't believe we're here together, Hael."

The feast

"It's not that exciting." I told her where she huffed and I knew I needed to change my attitude about this. "I'm sorry, Chez. This just doesn't feel like me. All the formalities, gowns and accessories. I don't care for it all."

She squeezed my arm that was looped through hers. "Yeah. I suppose you'd rather be running through the woods like a wilding."

"I wouldn't say that - oh I'm sorry." I accidentally bumped into a young girl with dark brown hair and a messy dress. Tilting my head to the side I recognize her as the youngest Stark daughter. "You're Arya aren't you?"

She spun around on her feet. "You're the Velaryon girl. Come sit with me." She takes hold of my hand and drags me to her seat with Chezney trailing behind us and pulling up a chair for herself.

"So how boring are these things normally?" Chezney asked the young girl.

Arya sticks her tongue out. "Extremely. I don't like them. But I can't stand that either. I'm Arya, what's your name?"

"I'm Haelesa and this is Chezney." Following her gaze I saw that her older sister Sansa was gossiping with her friends. She kept aweing the blonde haired prince who was looking in her direction. I couldn't blame her for not liking it. Yes he was cute and had the title of Prince but that wasn't important if he was a brute. "I see that. I never had any sisters to relate to."

"She was stuck with me. I think I do a rather good job." Chezney throws an arm over my shoulder.

Arya smiled, grabbing her fork and getting some cake on the end of it. "Watch this, it'll be funny."

"Arya!" Sansa gasped shapely when the cake from the fork smashed on her cheek. Some of it fell and got on her dress which caused laughter to fill the hall. Covering my mouth with my hands I couldn't contain the laughter that fell from my lips. Chezney nearly fell backwards off her chair.

At that time Lady Stark sent her eldest son a look sending him over to the three of us. Robb began coming in our direction where I warned the girl. "Run Arya."

"Come on. Get some more." Chezney attempted to help her get some more cake on her fork to do it a second time.

Scrambling to my feet I moved around in the blue dress I wore hoping to block him from his sister. "Haelesa, what are you doing?" He chuckled moving but I got in front of him at every step.

"Keeping you from her, what does it look like?" I teased him with a grin.

Robb made a move but I jumped in front of him yet again. He kept his hands at a distance where if he had he could easily beat me here. He was much faster and stronger after all. "My mother wants me to put her to bed before she embarrasses us more tonight."

"Sorry Robb. But it's three against one." I chuckled seeing his eyes shift from me to my best friend and his sister then back to me. "What's the problem, Stark. Afraid to fight a girl?"

He answered my question. "I was raised not too."

"It's all in good fun." I responded.

Chezney nudged Arya who bent her spoon back and launched cake in his face. He ran toward her and he almost grabbed her until I jumped on his back and we went tumbling to the cold floor. "Haelesa!" He called out my name in a fit of laughter.

"Ha we beat you." Chezney teased him with Arya proudly at her side.

Robb rubbed the back of his head while I brushed the dirt off my dress. "Yes you did. Now off to bed you." He forced himself to his feet pushing his sister towards the hallway.

"At least you're not a sore loser, Stark." My best friend sticks her tongue out.

I pushed myself up to stand on my own feet not bothering with fixing my messy hair. I felt my chest rising up and down knowing I was enjoying myself at this moment. "Uh, I need some air." I told the pair sensing that someone was watching me. I was right to assume so because Jaime was leaning up against the wall watching the whole moment between us. I didn't feel comfortable being myself with him watching me.

"I'll come with you." Robb offered me his arm since I wasn't familiar with the grounds and it was nightfall now so it was easy for me to get lost.

Chezney waved bye to us. "See you later." She saw Robb and I walk away from the feast yet she wasn't the only one watching in the room.

Unknown to the young pair King Robert and his friend Lord Eddard were the ones watching them. "Ned, there's something we should talk about."

"Of course." He agreed to his friend leaving the feast.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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bucket-barnes · 1 year ago

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Frostbite

This came from my “Isle Christmas traditions” writing prompt, I had several different little details in there and this is one I wanted to flesh out. It’s lost revenge/ Harry centric and based in the year long gap between D2 and D3 when Uma wasn’t on the Isle

CW: alcohol and vague descriptions of frostbite

The isle was always cold in the winter, below freezing temperatures and heavy snow were common, especially by the docks. The pirates would often sing and drink to distract themselves from the icicles forming in their hair and the chill in their bones

During Uma’s…absence the past few months, Harry had become the de facto captain of the Lost Revenge, keeping the crew in line, fixing the ship (Uma would love coming back to the ship in perfect condition!) sure, he missed her…a lot, but having the role of Captain was a dream come true for Harry, finally he was “Captain Hook” (though by last name rather than a tragic accident involving his hands)

It was a cold winter morning, Harry had gone onto the ship early to make sure no rats had gnawed on the ropes or chewed through the wood. The winter breeze was cutting through his leather coat, stinging his skin, Harry didn’t mind, he had work to do. Harry continued inspecting the wood and the ropes, all were clear and he moved on to directing the rest of Um- his crew…Uma’s not here

The morning went on and the breeze became stronger, the cold started making Harry’s fingers sting, but he could just hold onto his hook, he’ll be fine, a little cold never hurt anyone… his fingers felt kinda numb but…it’s probably fine

Gil went with Harry to make the daily rounds for extortion, he couldn’t help but notice Harry was pulling at his hands a lot and that they were looking a little red, whenever he asked if he was alright Harry would just brush him off and say he was fine and if he pushed any further Harry would knock him upside the head. As they went through their rounds, Gil kept looking at Harry’s hands, sure Gil isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but he knew hands weren’t supposed to look like that, it seemed even some of their “clients” knew that too, their eyes shifting between Harry’s hook and his free hand… red, turning purple

The day went on and, despite Gil’s slight worrying, Harry continued his work, though by now his fingers were fully numb and turning blue. Other crew members started to notice the state of their captain’s hands

“Uh…Cap’n?”

Jonas trailed off when he saw the small blisters forming on Harry’s hands, Harry didn’t answer

“Cap’n?”

Jonas tried again, still no answer

“Harry!”

Jonas yelled, which seemed to catch Harry’s attention

“Your hands…”

Jonas nodded to his captain’s hands, cold and stiff from pain, his fingertips a light blue

“They’re fine. Get back to work”

Harry glared at Jonas and then went below deck…coming back with a bottle of rum that he quickly took a large swig from.

The day continued and the sun went down, as did Harry’s general awareness. The pain in his hands had become so much that he took to the pirate’s tradition of drinking until you can’t feel, some of the crew had joined him, if for no other reason than to keep an eye on him. As the pirates drank, some started singing, Gil being one of them. The singing was by no means on key or in any sort of tune, but rum makes anything sound good. As he sang, Gil’s gaze once again turned to Harry’s hands. Blue, blistered, freezing cold

“Harry?”

Gill wearily asked as his singing died off, Harry looked over at his friend, his eyes glazed over with a drunken haze. Gil, not wanting to anger his friend and captain, nodded down to his hands

“The…their fine”

Harry insisted, his words slurring and shaking from the cold

“No…their not”

Gil shook his head, Harry glared at him and took another swig of rum, his face flinched from the pain of gripping the bottle, the bottle slipped from his hand and dropped onto the floor, shattering on impact. The rest of the crew turned their heads to look at the pool of alcohol forming on the deck

“Captain?”

Bonny spoke up cautiously

“Don’t call me that, Uma is our captain, only she gets that title”

Harry raised his voice, it was slurred and angry

“Well Uma isn’t here! Therefore, you are our Cap’n!”

Jonas retorted, matching Harry’s tone, equally drunk. Gil, the only slightly sober one in the moment, quickly tried to diffuse the argument

“Harry, we’re just worried about you”

He tried to explain, but Harry wasn’t in a mood to listen

“Uma is still your Captain and she will be addressed as your Captain!”

Harry drunkenly yelled, he tried to take a step toward Jonas, but he slipped on the puddle of rum, falling backward, his head hitting the floor of the ship’s deck…and he was out like a light

…

I couldn’t think of a decent ending so let’s make this fun- reblog this and write your own ending! I promise you I will look at all of them because I like validation!

#disney descendants #disney #harry hook #descendants 3 #gil descendants #ben descendants #carlos descendants #jay descendants #evie descendants #mal descendants #descendants 2 #descendants #uma daughter of ursula #descendants fandom #descendants fanfiction

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wandixx · 21 days ago

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Hey! As you may or may not have gleaned from my deranged rambling in your comments section, I absolutely love your writing, and I love your Danny/M'gann ship. Anyway, I got super inspired after reading the "relationship reveal with ghost summoning on the side" one shot you wrote, and the rest of the Spearmint one shots, so I made you fanart! It's acrylics on watercolor paper.

It's the scene where M'gann summons Danny during the fight with Desiree! The circle is my take on Danny's summonings; I know you said that it was drawn fairly simply in chalk, but I figured that once the summoning began the circle colored itself in or added detail or something. I like to headcanon that a ghost's personal summoning circle is very, well, personal, and has their death, their mentor, their greatest title, and their obsession on it, plus whatever they hold dearest. So, Danny's circle has the "on" button from the portal, the hourglass for Clockwork, the crown for defeating Pariah, and Danny's own symbol of protection (I kind of just went with protection being his obsession for this painting). The outside flower wreath is for Sam, and the sun is for Tucker. Space is in the background because I headcanoned that he had a space core for this, and the red circle in the middle is Mars, for M'gann (she's literally in the center of his universe)! That is supposed to be her hand reaching over the summoning circle, though I'm not very good at drawing hands yet, so you'll have to excuse the wonky fingers. The circle's supposed to be glowing/splitting as the portal opens for Danny to come through. Oh yeah and the crown is made of ice for Frostbite and the yetis (I tried to include as many parts of Danny's titles/the incantation that M'gann said in your story that I could).

Anyway, sorry, that was a lot of explanation for one painting. Main point is, I absolutely love your writing, and I hope you like the fanart! Have a good day, friend!

From,

Pickle :D

Pickle, Pickle, you're making me loose words in very best possible way. Like, I literally spent last twenty or so minutes just internally screaming in absolute excitement and joy and wondering how I can convey it all into language. I'm dangerously close to opening thesaurus and writing down every synonym for positive emotion I can name in English and I don't think it'll be enough to express all of the feelings I have.

It's absolutely stunning artwork, and level of attention to detail is making me giddy, over the course of these few dozens of minutes I read your explanation at least five times because it all just makes sense and I'm just... ugh, I can't even begin to tell you how much I love the idea you went for when designing this summoning circle and you actually reached to who Danny is deep down and put it in a single painting that is just perfect.

Like, I wasn't really imagining this circle in any way (ah aphantasia my beloathed) but I feel that there is no better way to do it than you. Like, not only did you fulfill this sentence:

"Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand."

but you also did it in a way that we don't need to, you know, be The Universe themself to understand it.

And this thing about what's dear to him being his friends and M'gann as a center of his universe is so cute I can't. Just kjnonkpehwiwjenpiuweriveowvweeweeow

And this hand looks great, different textures are just *chef's kiss* it all looks fantastic, if my friend lived a bit closer I'd brave snow and late night to run barefoot to show her in person to share the happiness but as it is, we're freaking out over messeges because I can't reiterate it enough, this is absolutely breathtaking

Also, serious question, would it be okay if I tried printing it to hang by my desk?

#and to refer back to the begining of your messege #i love seeing you in my comments #your name in notifs is enough to make me smile really #thank you so so so so so much for this beautiful fanart #and for many kind comments you left before #I don't think I'll ever be able to quite explain how much it means for me #wandixx answers #have a nice day dear friend

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the-bats-who-simp · 5 months ago

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Upon Holy Ground

Chapter 1: Magnolia

A Bat Coven LLC Production

Co-authored by @the-bats-who-simp and @alwaysyourshenry

Warnings: Very light smut (kissing, titty touches, etc.)

Ajax rubbed his back, sore with old age as often happens. He looked sightlessly out on the town fondly, feeling the chill on his face that almost felt like an old friend at this point if not for the small freezing bites it gave him. He remembered his mother, one of the very last women to give birth during the last summer. Her face was always clear in his head, even if the background faded away with the years. His memory could only do so much good. His hair and beard were streaked with silver, his eyes wise and as blue as the summer sky he was born under.

On his back he carried his granddaughter, too young to wear the heavy snow shoes they all had to wear to get around the town. In front of him, sled dogs, happy and rolling around in the snow. For as long as he could remember, it was his job to help distribute food amongst the town. It was a group effort, of course, everybody helped out where they could all things considered. It was in their nature to be considerate and selfless, part of the teachings and values they’d been raised by. Helping those in need, treat others with respect and you’ll receive respect in return. That is, of course, not to say hedonism was frowned upon, far from it. One could indulge and be selfless at the same time. Those two things weren’t mutually exclusive.

Ajax now carried the last of the bread. His grandson, Everest, had made it in the bakery in the middle of town with the last of the ingredients from the last excursion beyond Paradiso’s borders. Not even the cold could get rid of the warmth of a freshly made loaf, perhaps through divine intervention or the insulated carriers he used.

The Preacher and the head of the town, Jamie, was currently out gathering more food though. They always timed it so that they’d always return with fresh supplies the moment the last load had run out. They made sure to make every scrap of fabric and bit of grain worthwhile, not a single bit was put to waste. This time, Jamie left with three of his witches. Eva, Theresa, and Mars. They each had their own specialties that helped the gathering of food, medicine, and other supplies, which was why they were often the ones to go on these extensive trips.

Sometimes other witches would go instead of those three to have time beyond the perpetually frozen stretches of land and time. They’d pile into Jamie’s beat up old truck from the early 1970s with burlap sacks that could carry more than they appeared to and leave for a week or two depending on the necessity. It only happened at most four times a year; Jamie was always very good about cataloging exactly what was needed and how that supply could be made to stretch. It wasn’t the perfect living like the name of the town suggested it would be, but they made it work. In Jamie’s stead, Nora became the new head of town as the oldest official witch amongst them.

Nora always stood at the helm of the ship, so to speak, and now led with great confidence and wisdom. Her eyes glowed golden with divine power, a remnant of the blazing hot sun that used to threaten to burn their beautiful Paradiso to the ground, beautiful pastel shotgun houses and all.

Ajax’s granddaughter, Vivian, named after her godmother, covered Ajax’s snow blind eyes. He had never seen her beautiful face, nor that of his wife, daughter, and grandson. The eternal winter had taken more than just heat and carefree mobility from the villagers over the decades. Back in the beginning, snow came to Paradiso only rarely and only for short periods of time. Nobody knew what the proper steps to take were, so several people suffered. Frostbite, chill-borne sickness, and snow blindness. It saddened Ajax that his children and grandchildren had never known life before. He wasn’t sure how many of his line would never see summer blooms and greenery, if they ever would again. Everyone prayed daily that the summer would someday come back, but as of now, it showed no signs of its return.

Vivian (the Younger, as her godmother and namesake had called her) giggled, sitting high upon Ajax’s back as he climbed up the tall walk to his small, shotgun house, painted a nice robin’s egg blue with white trim. The paint was peeling and the wood was slightly bloated with years of gradual water damage. Even if Ajax couldn’t see it, he knew it was there. It was part of the house’s charm, he said, every single scar bearing a story as they often did. From outside, he could hear the laughter of the town's children, whom his beautiful wife, Athen, often babysat. She had always loved children, and even at her age, she could keep up with the young ones with ease save for the occasional crick and pulled muscle. Other symptoms of the oncoming twilight years of life.

As soon as Ajax walked in, the horde of children scurried over to meet him. They called his name, grabbing his hands and pant legs and dragging him over to a plush rocking chair in the corner.

“Please,” one of the children called, “tell us the stories!”

Ajax could feel the heat emanating from the lightbulb in the tall lamp behind him, reminding him of the stories his mother would tell.

“It was a long time ago,” he started, feeling their eyes on him as they all sat around his feet, “The sun was blazing hot. Everyone in town had sweat creeping down their brow. My mother, Harlow, was one of the very last to give birth before the snow fell. She said that it was so hot in the house that she gave birth to me in an ice bath.”

The children ‘ooed’ and ‘ahhed,’ fascinated by someone who wanted to be cold. They shivered, even with the heat all the way up in the tiny little house. Many of them wore hand-knitted jumpers made by their god parents. The cold was always there, always permeating. It was hard to escape, but they made do. By now it seemed normal.

“And tell us about Jamie!” One girl from the back smiled, clearly having a little childhood crush on the town’s beloved Preacher. Many did, regardless of age or gender. He was a charming man, bearing hair of spun gold and eyes of ocean blue. His smile was the closest thing to sunlight many of them saw most days.

“He was a different man back then, from what I gather.” Ajax said, remembering the blazing heat of the last summer five decades past. The coven had always tried to be transparent about problems in the spirit of integrity and also understanding the villagers weren’t stupid. The flock could always tell when things were going sideways and it was better for everyone to remain honest and maintain that trust. “He has changed a lot for the better. Did you know, Auntie Lili used to be one of his wives?”

All the children gasped, some even pretended to faint. Paradiso’s children tended to have a flair for the dramatic; most of the witches did anyway and that was a behavior very easily replicated.

“It’s true. Then Jamie’s brother came to town and Lili fell in love with him. You know how we’re always taught that love can happen at random with anybody? They’re a testament to that fact.” Ajax continued.

“We all thought that their squabbling was the cause of the Long Winter, but the longer it stretched, the less we were sure that’s what it was.” Athen put in, wiping her hands dry with an old green dish towel. Dinner would be ready soon, the smell of the roast starting to permeate through the house. It made it seem a little warmer inside.

“It caused the heatwave for sure, though.” Ajax added.

“So why is it always cold?” Vivian the Younger asked.

“We don’t know.” Athen said, shrugging her shoulders and sitting on the armrest of Ajax’s chair. “The witches have been trying to figure it out for years with no luck. Mother Juliet willing, someday they’ll figure it out and be able to bring summer back. It’s tragic you children don’t know the joys of swimming in the lagoon or enjoying a sunset in a fully bloomed flower field. I’m even surprised I miss sunburns and sweating during service. It all seems so long ago now.”

“I’m sure someday you’ll see the sun again, darling.” Ajax said, reaching for her hand and squeezing it gently. She squeezed back, resting her body up against his shoulders. Athen looked out the window and let out a great sigh as her husband continued monologuing. Fresh flurries had started floating their way down as the sky grew darker. Night was approaching. She missed the sun, missed when the moon wasn’t just a pale blur in the sky. She missed a lot of things. It was important to be grateful for what they did have, though. Their health, a wonderful horde of children to care for, grandchildren, a place to live, the protection of their witches…

Just not summer.

***

“Viv, hold still, you’re making the line work shakey.” Lili said, using her arm to keep Vivian’s right calf pinned down in her lap, very carefully dragging the thin green Sharpie marker along her skin, now covered in a coil of ivy wrapping all the way around multiple times.

“But I have to move! It’s getting uncomfortable!” Vivian protested, stretching her arms out at her sides, one resting against the back cushions of the sofa they were sitting on.

“If this was real, there’d be no taking it back. You want tattoos, you have to learn to sit still.” Lili chastised, completing the outline of another leaf.

“I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to take breaks when getting tattoos. Besides, Jamie won’t get us ink, so it’ll never be permanent for the foreseeable future.”

“And for good reason, it’s a luxury we shouldn’t waste our resources on when we have a village to feed and clothe, and he knows we’d all start putting half-mad scribbles on ourselves.”

“Yeah because he knows he’d start doing the same thing.” Vivian sat up, yet kept her leg on Lili’s lap. “But I want my roses!”

“You’re such a child, you’ll get your roses when we can afford the ink… and the patience to put up with your hyperactive ass.” Lili waved the marker in Viv’s face as if that proved her point. Vivian put on a mask of indignance as she took the marker out of Lili’s hand.

“Excuse me, Lili, I can sit very still when I know it’s actually a life or death situation. You’re using markers, not needles.”

“You think tattoos are life or death?”

“Not literally, I’m just saying when I know moving would be a bad idea, I can hold still. Sharpie is hardly a permanent decision in comparison.” Vivian let out an impish grin as she shifted her grip on the uncapped marker and drew a green heart on Lili’s cheek. The other witch balked, snatching the marker back.

“Viv! What the hell?” She snapped, wiping her cheek in vain in hopes it would get the marker off. All it did was smudge the ink, making the mark worse. “God, you’re so insufferable sometimes.”

“You love it though.” Vivian said, grinning triumphantly. Lili scrunched her nose in annoyance, getting up close to Vivian’s face with a glare.

“It doesn’t look professional.” She protested.

“Who even cares, we’re not holding service. It looks adorable… and it’ll wash off.”

“I swear to god, one of these days, I’m gonna–” Lili started before she was cut off by Viv lunging forward, kissing her hard. Startled, Lili let the momentum push her back against the sofa’s armrest, Vivian refusing to break away. She only kissed Lili harder, pinning her down with her body weight as one hand gripped her jaw, the other holding Lili’s hip. She felt the whine escape Lili’s lips, making her smirk as she pushed her tongue past Lili’s lips, deepening the kiss. Lili’s arms came up, wrapping around the back of Vivian’s neck to pull the blood haired witch closer to her. The lip colors they were wearing began to smear against each other, a mix of Vivian’s bright red with Lili’s dark plum shade.

“I’m surprised you didn’t pounce sooner…” Lili said breathlessly as Vivian briefly broke the kiss for air. Vivian smirked down at Lili, snaking her hand underneath Lili’s sweater to teasingly caress her breasts.

“I did say I could hold still if I wanted to.” She purred, pulling the sweater off and kissing down Lili’s neck, her teeth gently scraping against the skin. Lili sighed, tangling her fingers in Vivian’s hair the lower the other witch’s mouth went. She had to give credit where it was due, Vivian was notoriously bad at restraining herself from physical pleasures. Her drive and stamina had been the source of many jokes and gentle jabs at her expense over the years. She chose to wear it like a badge of honor, having come from a repressed upbringing that forbade even thinking about anything of the sort. Lili couldn’t find it in her to shame her for it, especially not when she was particularly skilled at what she did.

Vivian’s mouth reached Lili’s breasts, giving a gentle kiss to each one before shooting back up to resume kissing Lili, the open mouthed kisses hot and heavy. Lili moaned against Viv’s lips, her leg moving to wrap around Vivian’s waist and pull her closer. Vivian just smirked, her hand starting to snake down between Lili’s legs. Her fingers ever so gently brushed against the wet mound, searching for the elastic band of her panties to play with.

“Oh… oh, Vivvy… you–” Lili moaned breathily before being cut off.

“I should know by now to not leave you two alone with each other.” A deep voice spoke up, knocking Lili out of her blissed reverie. Her head turned, seeing Alexander leaning on the doorframe of the living room with his arms folded, an amused smirk on his face. Vivian paused her movements, pouting.

“I can’t help it when she looks so tempting!” She protested. Alex just chuckled, approaching the pair with a teasing smile.

“You think everything’s tempting, little rose. You’re almost worse than my brother. Now, would you kindly let me have my wife back?” He said. Vivian paused before smirking, reaching back down and pulling Lili’s damp panties off in a swift motion. She held them between two fingers almost triumphantly for Alexander to see, an impish grin on her face.

“I would, but look at that wet spot my girlfriend made because of me.” She said. Alexander snatched the undergarments away, towering above Vivian with his own smirk.

“You forget I can do the same thing to her… and you, little rose… In fact, if I recall last night correctly…”

Vivian flushed. “You know that just means that Jamie’s going to go extra hard with ‘reclaiming’ me once he gets back… as he usually does.”

“I know, and that’s clearly why you do it.” Alexander chuckled, picking Lili up in his arms and sitting her in his lap, pulling her sweater back over her head and letting her rest her head against his shoulder. Vivian folded her arms and pouted petulantly next to them, although she had a hard time keeping her face straight.

“I’m a ravenous woman.” She said, toying with Lili’s ink black hair, which had grown out long. Lili giggled, burying her face in the crook of Alex’s neck. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her tenderly and planting a small kiss to her forehead.

***

The old model, faded-red pickup truck was heavy with supplies as it made its way back into the town border. One moment, the path was full of trees, the next, an empty vast wasteland of white. It filled him with the same dred as a blank white page does for an artist with no inspiration. He rolled up the truck windows, Mars and Eva sang together to the truck radio, their voices lilting together in an enchanting harmony. Jamie smiled, his partners always sounded so beautiful together.

He shifted the truck into four wheel drive to climb up the snow covered hill. He looked over at the new passenger next to him, her hair a mix between honey and strawberry blonde. Her eyes an enchanting blue just like his. But, her eyes reminded him of flowers, almost the exact same shade as a cornflower.

He smiled at her, her cornflower eyes were wide with wonder as she looked around at all the snow. He could tell how desperately she wanted to play in it, not yet understanding how cold and biting the eternal winter was. He drove for a while, glancing over at her every now and then. Taking in the wonder in her large sad eyes. The old red backpack in the back of the truck held everything she owned. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a selfie with Jamie, tilting her body so he could still focus on the road.

“Smile!” she said enthusiastically.

And so he did, he put on one of his most charming smiles, turning away from the road for a second so she could snap the picture before he turned back. She set the picture as her phone lock screen before putting her phone back in her pocket with a smile.

With some effort on the poor truck’s part, Jamie pulled up to the church on the top of the hill. He’d put chains on the tires to help with traction, but in his mind he knew he would need to replace them soon. The tires too, perhaps. Nothing here was necessarily built for the snow, let alone for as long as it had endured. Plants couldn’t grow, the animals burrowed where they could… the feel of an eternal summer had long since eluded them. They all spilled out of the truck like water, taking in the surroundings. He saw the young woman pull her– his– jacket tighter around herself as the chill started nipping at her face.

Her name fell from his beautiful pink lips so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world, “Magnolia? Would you head inside the church please? There is a surprise waiting inside for you.” He couldn’t tell if the red in her cheeks was from the cold, or reacting to his cadence.

So Magnolia obliged. She carefully walked up to the big sodden church doors and pulled against them until they unlatched and swung open. Inside were three people. Two women that looked reasonably close to Magnolia’s age and a man that bore a striking resemblance to Jamie even through his beard and wire glasses.

Not the surprise she was expecting, certainly, but they smiled at her, pleased to see her. Almost as if they had known her for years, as if they loved her. If Magnolia was put off by it, she certainly didn’t show it.

She smiled back, “Hi, I'm Magnolia!”

The man spoke first, “I am Alexander,” he introduced himself before he gestured to Lili and Vivian, “This is my wife Lili, and that’s Vivian. We are so glad to have you here with us, Magnolia. Welcome to the coven.”

“Coven? Like…witches?” Magnolia asked, her head slightly cocked to the side. Jamie saw Vivian furrow her eyebrows in a similar expression of confusion. Apparently he hadn’t done much explaining before claiming this new girl, bringing her to the town she’d now call home.

“Yes, exactly. Witches. Just like you.” Lili smiled warmly, contrasted by her eyes glowing mysteriously. Entrancing as always.

#bat coven llc #the bat coven #the bat coven llc #the paradiso saga

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i-hear-a-sound · 2 years ago

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RWBY

Thank you for the ask! Here we go:

Favorite female character? Ilia Penny Pyrrha Ruby Nora(!!!!) Emerald Weiss and most of all… maria😔she’s so fucking funny i loved her energy v6. Further explanations, Ilia has an adorable design, great voice actor and decent enough representation. Nora’s timeskip design was unmatched and she’s very quotable, plus her personality reminds me of one of my close friends irl. Ruby’s struggles in V9 (until they fucked that up) really hit with me as I’d gone through something very similar, and Penny… Penny just makes me happy. What they did with her makes me angry, but Penny makes me smile. :D

Favorite male character? I got a couple but at the moment it’s tied by Sun and Roman. Sun has fun energy and Roman is himself and iconic. Others are: James is hot and so is the bad bird BF he got by being autistic. Mercury is cool for the 5 seconds of screentime he gets every volume now. Tyrian and Watts got impeccable swag and the 5 hour long make out scene between the two of them was very interesting. Adam is cathartic and fun as hell to write my little meow meow. Jaune is best when he’s just a little loser dork, and Ren is very pretty.

Favorite Volume? Surprise surprise, Volume 3. I fucking love tournament arcs. I. Love. Tournament. Arcs.

Favorite Episode? That whole Apathy Arc in V6!!! Great horror in my opinion. I wish they’d show off more creative Grimm like that again. And as a side note, V6 is just… the best looking volume.

Favorite cast member? If they count, Jeff and Casey!! SUCH good music.

Favorite ship? *cracks knuckles* Freezerburn, Catmeleon, Monochrome, Schne//ekos, Pussy Magnet Purrah, Greek fire, nuts and dolts, Bees Schnees, Khali, Spicecream, Seamonkeys, Emercury, If there’s one between Ilia and Ruby put it here, Ginger Snaps, Arctic Winter, Silver Lotus, *looks at writings on my palm* Snow pines, Ironqrow, James x Oz, Crimsun, Strawbana, Nuts and Volts, and Rosebird. To name a few. Some might not be my favorites, these are just ones I like/like in concept. :) Character I’d die defending? Sienna fucking Khan. The whole White Fang, honestly. I do think protesting through violence against your oppressors is very swag and real actually. Plus she’s hot.

A character I can’t sympathize with? Uhhhhhh…… SALEM!!!!!!!!!! Cinder too ish but Salem mostly. Like, I feel a TINY bit bad, only because the gods are undeniably awful garbage horrible terrible. She still sucks though.

A character I grew to love? …Adam. I did not give a single shit about his decently attractive redhead ass until that reveal and his death in V6. He has become my blorbo; my skrunkly. My cringefail loser, my girly pop. Engrained within my brain like a silly silly worm. He’s fun to draw. Fun to write. REALLY fun to write. I can put him in so many situations. So many bittersweet, melancholic situations. And in so many outfits.

My Anti-otp? Ive got a couple.

Bumbl//Bee. Not my thing. Could have been, had they not continually tried making “Only disabled main character losing her arm” something “romantic” as well as paralleling said character to her partner’s… um… ex abuser? Hello?

Embe//rald. Fuck Abusive ships.

Taura//donna. Fuck Abusive ships.

Frostbite. This one is actually one of my least favorite ships, as it is essentially a pairing between the ex-racist ex-heiress of a huge company to the in universe minority said company enslaved and branded while he was a child. Plus, again. Fuck. Abusive. Ships.

Ar//kos. Not… my… thing.

Winter and Marrow or Robyn and Marrow. Nope nope nope. No. Thank. You.

Etc etc etc I could go on all day. Thank you for the ask!

#rwde #guess I’ll tag it that why not

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pondslime · 1 year ago

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find the word wip game

rules: search your wip(s) for the words given to you and share a sentence, then assign words for the people you tag

@visceravalentines MEG TYSM FOR THIS TAG this was so SO fckn fun. what an electric concept!! I shared more than a sentence for each bc I'm a fiend

my words were mouth, fall, dirt, teeth, and open!! cracking my knuckles like wooooooooo let's GOOOO

MOUTH;

from sacramentum (midnight mass // father paul hill x reader)

What happened to Mary in that cave? Alone, having stripped herself of all other pleasures—nothing but her thoughts and the one book she’d allowed herself. Wandering the seaside and building crucifixes out of sticks and roots, tied together by some stray fishing line. Had she looked down on his face, whittled crudely out of stone, and wished for steadier hands to carve his likeness? How many times had she woken with the sound of the sea in her ears? Perched by the mouth of the cave, watching the sky turn from gray to blue to gold to black?

Did she ever see ships on the horizon? What did she think of them? Had she ever thought of flagging one down? And what was the punishment she’d given herself for that?

When did you stop feeling hungry? You couldn’t survive on tears alone.

FALL;

from dancing in the moonlight (an american werewolf in london // david kessler & jack goodman x reader)

“We could’ve gotten frostbite.” Jack mutters.

“In the worst case scenario, yes, I suppose.” David replies, helping himself to a bagel.

“We almost got trench foot.”

“We did not!” David exclaims, laughing.

“That’s why I said almost, poindexter.” Jack counters. “One more night of wet socks and my toes would’ve fallen off. One by one—” He flicks his index finger three times, making a popping noise with his lips. “And it would’ve been all your fault. Good luck explaining that to my mother when we get back in the states. Oh, sorry Mrs. Goodman, I had Jack trekking through miles upon miles of soggy moorland and now he’s toeless. Those socks you knit him, forget about it. Maybe give it ‘til next Hanukkah and he’ll regrow his toes—oh, wait…”

“You’re ridiculous.” David shakes his head.

“Oh yeah? I’ll remember that when I’m decomposing next to you. Toes gone. Rotting.” Picking up the tongs, Jack wavers above the platter of croissants. “Sure you’ll find me real funny then, you schmuck.”

DIRT;

from sometime after midnight (house of wax // bojangles sinclair x reader)

The dull blue glow from the keypad barely illuminates the ground, but you can make out the unmistakable sign of cherry red fluid leaking onto the dirt. A steady trickle of it drips from the underside of the car—and it's not stopping anytime soon.

Your transmission is fucked.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You exclaim.

TEETH;

from serotonin (house of wax // carly jones x reader)

She pictures her tank top, bloody and tattered, stuffed into a plastic bag labeled with EVIDENCE in bold letters. The prosecutor clicks to the next projection slide and there she is, another picture.

“Who are the women in the photographs? Are they still alive? It’s difficult." The detective on the screen grimaces. "We only have remnants of them. We’ve found teeth…clothes. The trophies they kept of these women will hopefully lead us to discovering their identities. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. But they deserve to have their names given back to them.”

“Carly?”

OPEN;

from a handful of bluebonnets (tcm // thomas hewitt x reader)

He’d been young. Young enough to still show his face, but old enough to know that it was the reason people were staring. He didn’t remember much from that day, just open-mouthed stares and the cow at the county fair with big watery eyes. Black, shining irises eclipsing the thin white sclera, framed with long lashes. She was a regal old thing, standing with her neck held high, ears twitching.

He thought he saw her again once, years later.

Her coat was duller, her head dropping. She’d traded her blue ribbons for slippery red blood, splattered along the wall and running down the grate. You use up all your usefulness on pride and this is where you’re bound to end up.

Maybe she’d been the first one. Spoiled with the heartbreak of a life that never came to be.

tagging @possumteeths, @f1nalboys, @pretty-possum, and aaaaaaa I'm blanking on who else might have wips fdjshjhfdsjhsdf

so!! whoever else wants to do this!!! pls consider urself tagged!!

your words are blood, eyes, sleep, skin, & break 👀👀👀

#this is such a cool idea!! luv it #:)#sam speaks #my writing

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deejadabbles · 1 year ago

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hi Deeja!!! I’m sliding through for the OC x OC asks, and I would love to see who you ship with Blizzard, our warm-hearted, snow-loving king 🥰

the highlights: Ace pilot, cold name warm heart, loves the snow and ice, lives for the freedom of flying, puts others needs before his own, sweetheart on the ground, deadly in the skies, tenacious, total flyboy, energy for days, thick fluffy curls, kind eyes, you can take him home to your family

total pleasure dom, will spoil tf outta his S/0

romantic or platonic works for me 🧡🤍 I’m so excited for this one!!!

I ship Blizzard with me look we're already married and buying a house together okay okay but seriously I knew who I shipped him with the moment I saw this and now I'm so soft over these two!! I ship him (romantically) with Jaylee!

Jaylee really admires Blizzard’s warm heart and it's a reminder that there is inherent good in people. She finds it easy to let her guard down around him and that's not something she's used to! It honestly scares her a little, but I think Blizz would just kind of naturally soothe those fears when he's around her!

I hope he's ready to have the coziest, softest sweaters he could ever want because she's making them for him. Sweaters and scarfs, for when he wants to have fun adventures in the snow! (Like seriously she knows that clone armor is temperature regulated but I'm just imagining her still being appalled that he'll run into snow in just his armor and her yanking a sweater over his head like “maker’s sake put this on- you're going to get frostbite!”)

Speaking of snow, I am super super soft while thinking of this: so winters were very harsh on her colony, so she unfortunately always associates the cold with hunger and fear. She never understood how anyone could take enjoyment in snow…until she met Blizzard. Seeing his delight in such a thing had her in awe honestly. And if he confides in her why he loves snow so much? She is very soft and doesn't know what to do with herself! So soft that she'll even let him coax her into a snowball fight!

At first she finds his flying quite terrifying, but he would exude such confidence and, more importantly, competence that her fears are quickly tempered. She still worried over his safety, she can't help it, but she knows that his skills will keep him as safe as possible. Eventually, if the opportunity presents itself, she'll even ask him to take her flying…so long as he promises not to scare her with too many flashy stunts!! If he wants her to cling to him there's other ways to accomplish that!

It will take her forever to admit it, but she absolutely loves to snuggle with him. Will make large blankets for them to share (“I made this blanket too big by accident so we have to share- stop giving me that knowing smile!”) and she doesn't care what they're doing so long as he's close to her. It makes her feel safe, something she isn't used to, and she's very thankful for Blizzard giving her that warm, secure feeling.

Also of note! Once she's sure that he's actually serious about the relationship they're building, she'll start slowly rearranging her apartment to suit both of them. She, like the clones, doesn't have much so it's not that hard to integrate the space to feel like their own and she wants him to feel like he has something to come “home” to. Small acts to make him feel comfortable and appreciated are very important to her and is how she shows love since she has trouble expressing it verbally.

Okay I'm gonna make myself stop there cos I keep having more thoughts (and a few thots 👀👀) about these two!! And I'd love to hear yours if you have any 🥹

#oc ask game #i ship them your honor #oc: jaylee #oc Blizzard #Blizzard x jaylee #my ocs #others ocs

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allisonreader · 11 months ago

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He hurt. His head was throbbing.

Everything felt cold. His fingers were sore, as were his toes. All of them feeling a bit like they were on fire. Even the tip of his nose, cheeks and ears felt like that to a degree.

It took him a moment to realize that he could feel hot water bottles in certain places on and around him.

He tried to bring a hand to his face, only to be surprised by bandages on it. Someone must have caught his movement as a unfamiliar face came into view.

"Good you're awake." He blinked at them, trying to figure out where he was.

"Can you tell us your name? We don't know who you are." He blinked some more.

Who was he?

That was a good question. What was his name?

They helped him sit up and fed him some broth. It wasn't very hot, but it burned going down. He cleared his throat afterwards.

"I don't know."

"You don't know." He shook his head, as they sighed.

"Do you know what happened to you?" He thought hard, closing his eyes for a moment to think. All he got was a blank. He knew simple things, things you'd learn growing up, like there was a God, but nothing personal. When he opened his eyes again, he felt panicked.

"No."

"Do you know where you are?"

He shook his head. He couldn't even begin to guess where he was. A hospital of sorts maybe?

"You're on the Carpathia. You were rescued as a survivor of the Titanic. You have a pretty nasty cut and bump on your head."

Carpathia? Titanic? They were words that he felt that he should recognize, but he didn't. What kind of places had those kind of names?

"We'll be in New York before you know it."

Oh.

He must be on a ship.

He was tired. He hurt.

"Can I sleep now?"

They pressed their lips together before acquiescing to him.

Sleeping was easier than trying to figure out who he was. It helped him ignore the pain. When he was awake, they changed his bandages once, and he learned that he was married upon seeing the gold ring on his finger.

They told him he was a sailor, he had been wearing a uniform, and people had been surprised to find out he was still alive when he was rescued.

He had been found unconscious on a large piece of floating wreckage, and had been thought to be dead, until brought onto the ship. Though no one was quite sure what had happened to him to get him in the state that he was, other than the apparent sinking. The frostbite and hypothermia were from the cold and water, but no one could tell him about how his head was hit.

He ended up sleeping most of his time on the Carpathia, which was for the best. He still didn't remember anything and no one had found anything to identify him with.

He was nameless when he was released off the ship. Immediately taken to a hospital for further care. He was one of the first off ship because of how injured he was considered.

The doctors didn't know what to make of his memory loss. The fact that he didn't know his own name.

Finally they asked that since they believed that he was a sailor to send over a few sailors that might've worked with him to try identify him. The first couple were as clueless as to who he was as he was himself.

The next one they were sending in, he could hear grumbling at the door a bit. Something about the inquiry that was going on.

He had heard about the inquiry and had been told he wasn't going to need to worry about it. They wouldn't be questioning him when he didn't have the memories to tell them anything.

He couldn't quite hear what they were telling the man outside the door, but figured they'd be telling him a little about his situation. That way he'd understand why he was there. Why he was needed. He had to be the only living person who needed to be identified.

He sat himself up right a bit more when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in." The doctor or nurse sent the man in first, following behind him, and standing back. He studied the man in front of him. Trying to see if he might or could recognize him at all.

"Wh- ... Jesse!" The man's jaw dropped before turning into a grin. He looked up, closing his eyes for a moment

"Oh glory be, praise the Lord!" The man turned his attention back to him. "You're alright. You're here!"

"Mr. Winters, please remember that he does not have any memories. He doesn't know who you are."

"Sir, his name is Jesse. Jesse Hudson. Please start to use it." He turned away from the doctor. "Jesse... You're alright." Relief was radiating off of the man.

"As alright as I can be not knowing anything and hurting. I'm sorry am I supposed to know you?"

The man let out a little laugh. "It's good to know you're still yourself even without your memories. I'm John Winters, your brother-in-law. I'm married to your twin sister. Emily, your wife, is going to be ecstatic to see you. She's already been grieving you.... We thought we had lost you... that you were one of the many men who hadn't survived..."

He didn't know what to think.

Could this man, proclaiming to be his brother-in-law actually be who he claimed to be? Was his name actually Jesse Hudson? Did this John, have any reason to lie about knowing him?

He just didn't know.

He could only go by his gut feeling.

He studied the man in front of him critically. Other than relief, he could see a weariness in his frame, that was just barely being covered by nerves and excited energy. That weariness seemed to match everyone else who was directly effected by the apparent sinking.

There didn't seem to be any reason to not trust him, other than he was a bit exuberant for his tastes.

He wasn't sure of where to go from there.

"...We'll have to tell Emily you're alright...." the man who claimed to know him turned to the others in the room.

"Please, I know you only brought me in to see if I could identify him- but because I have.... Can I please be the one to tell his wife that her husband is NOT dead as thought? She'll take it easier from someone who knows him well enough that I'm not going to have misidentified him."

They nodded in agreement as they led him out of the room.

"I'll see you soon Jesse." He fell asleep not long after they all left.

....

"Emily..."

"John? I thought they still had you for questioning for the inquiry?"

"They did, and I still have to go back, but they needed me to try and identify the unknown sailor. .... Emily... that unknown sailor they found alive? It's Jesse. He doesn't have a single memory, but he is alive though in quite a state. It's him though, it's really him." He gave her hand a squeeze as tears started to fall.

"Thank you John.... Am I allowed to go see him?"

"I believe they're expecting as much. I get to go back to that dratted inquiry, but you get to go see him."

....

He was woken and told to prepare for a visitor, but he wasn't sure who it would be. After the nurse left the room, a pretty young lady hesitantly entered the room. Her skirts swishing quietly as she walked towards him. Once her eyes found his, she didn't look away from his face.

"Oh... Jesse...." she raised her hand as if she were going to touch his cheek before hesitating and retreating. Biting her lip as she looked down at her lap.

Somehow they ended up hugging, his shoulder getting a little damp from her tears. He was a little surprised that she wasn't quite as thin as she looked. Her belly seemed to have a little swell to it.

He couldn't place her for the life of him, but figured that she must be his wife, by her reaction alone. He took a deep breath in through his nose, in hopes that her smell might remind him of something. He was a little taken a back when she suddenly leaned back. He looked at her curiously.

"They said you don't remember anything. I'm-..... I'm Emily. Your wife.....Jesse, I'm just so happy to see you're safe-"

#both the Titanic and amnesia with this one #unmentioned in the story because the character doesn't remember is being hit on the head with an oar #definitely not historically accurate but definitely was fun

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khlorhine · 1 year ago

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I keep making ocs that nobody cares about but I like my characters and I spent the last two days drawing them and I’m gonna post the two pictures separately.

I’m gonna put details about them here and feel free to not read it

Conner is the captain of the ship, making him the frontier brain. Battling is something he’s good at but one thing he really enjoys is boats. He’s from Hammerlocke in Galar. He has an older brother named Jasper and their relationship is kind of based on rem and ram from re zero. Basically Jasper was good at a lot of things and better than Conner in everything he liked but it doesn’t really end up like rem and ram. Conner kind of hates him now and moved to Hulbury with his dad who is a sailor and he gave him a clobbopus.

So these two ocs I made them to be battle frontier ocs. These ones are part of the battle ship. There are five facilities including this because I was thinking of making their logo a star and in my head I have the battle tower and battle tower c. (which is a clock tower)

Dock from murdock it's kinda similar to port so what I was going for in his name is like portside which means left in boat lingo so he's left handed. Hoshi means star and starboard means right so Kenji is right handed.

The story keeps going but he ends up travelling a lot and the clobbopus is the reason why most of his team are made up of water type looking pokemon that aren't water types.

Kenji is the chief officer, he’s kind of like the second in command. He doesn’t really care about the ship or this job I don’t know how he starts working there. He lives in an abandoned house in Ecruteak city in Johto that he bought for cheap and fixed up with the help of his Pokemon. He likes double battles and playing video games. He’s a coder and he was extremely reclusive until his Pokemon forced him to go outside. Then they started making him battle which made him really like battling and then he started going to the battle frontier (the one in platinum, heart gold, and soul silver)

I really need to think of team strategies for them but I do have the Pokemon they own

Conner has Pokemon that are kind of water like but not water types such as Chi-yu, Grapploct, Dhelmise, Dragalge, and Eelektross.

I’m thinking of giving him a Gilmmora because my stupid ass thought it was a water type the first time I saw it but that would make a huge majority of his team weak to ground.

Kenji has Pokemon with an evolution in gen two. I don’t know how to explain it but he has a Weavile, Scizor, Gliscor, Honchkrow, Farigaraf. The ones that don’t qualify for that is his tyranitar because he has one for some reason. I might give him some hisuian Pokemon because some of them qualify for the has a evolution in gen 2 and I’m listing them out now because why not: Overqwil, Ursaluna, Wrydeer, Sneasler, Typhlosion (but I don’t feel like giving him a starter also ursaluna is extremely overpowered lol)

Also for Kenji I don’t think those will be the Pokemon he uses in the battle ship because I made the mechanics based around status conditions and I know most of the Pokemon I listed for him don’t have many status moves.

The mechanics for the battleship is all your Pokémon get a condition called wet and it can be removed but I haven't thought how. It can also be reapplied with the move splash so that move is finally useful. After a certain amount of turns every Pokemon will get splashed and become wet again so you don’t stay dry for the entire battle and also to remove the status you already have. When your Pokemon is wet and they get another status (paralysis, burn, poison, frostbite, and drowsy) They can spread it to another Pokemon with a physical move. (don't ask how burn spreads)

What this can do is encourage you to do is use special moves to avoid getting statused and also play around with protect. Or you can flame or toxic orb yourself and spam facade on the opponent because that works.

#art #original character #oc art #pokemon #pokemon oc #oc #battle frontier #Pokemon battle frontier #Pokemon battle facility #Battle frontier oc

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iwasforcedtomakethisbytum · 2 years ago

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Well there's obvious ones that you could go on my account and find but let me introduce some others

California and Florida are brothers

Texas and Alaska are brothers

I've been toying with the idea of loui needing a walking stick i don't know what he'd have for it, i frankly don't care, loui honestly just reminds me of my sister's boyfriend and he's pretty cool and he also needs a walking stick so that's how the hc exists mainly

Another disability based one I've been playing with is texas having cold urticaria, this one is simply projection i have solar urticaria though, i think he would develop it in his adult years because that's often how it works, i mean he lives in a hot state so it probably would take a bit for him to crack down on whats happening, he might get that something is wrong with him if he's having these reactions after showering or drinking something cold but he'd still probably take a while to look into why it's happening. After getting diagnosed he probably wouldn't change his life an insane (it would still change a lot but at the end of the day it's still roughly the same), however i did have this sick (sick as in kinda fucked up) idea where afterwards he intentionally tries to expose himself to cold environments in a attempt to build up a tolerance or cure his urticaria all together, he's probably had to have been dragged back inside by others before due to it, i don't know if urticaria itself can kill you, it hasn't for me yet, but frostbite sure does kill

Well that was long, anyways

Florida is a redhead in my eyes

New York is someone i see as insanely short, i think that comes from my sister i just associate shortness with sassy people

I feel like Florida is weirdly strong like he could lift Alaska like he's paper, despite that he looks slender he has noodles for arms, he shouldn't be able to do what he does

California is nonbinary, it's simple but i like it

I guess i also like the ship I'm choosing to call flouiyork until i find a better ship name

Texas getting one piercing to have a star earring on, before he learns having a single piercing is a simbol of gayness

Unhinged headcanons

Gov just lives in the meeting room, he leaves sometimes but he's a robot, and his charger is in the meeting room

Alaska lives in your walls

California has a shit ton of piercings

New York is hiding his horrible haircut under his hat

Florida has proven that he can kick your ass while on a latter /ref

They constantly injure each other they can never die and they always eventually heal but you still get injured and you can heal incorrectly

Florida and gov are on opposite sides of a really long table, they have to yell really loudly in order to hear each other, sometimes they might just play a game of telephone with the states though if they don't feel like yelling

Yeah i can't think of anything more even as a joke hc so here, I'll come back if i have more good ones

mm. no art today ,.! i ate it.

in other words i simply did not finish it, er well i did but then i decided to color it which i didnt finish.

how 'bout. hrm i cant really think of a prompt. just tell me random state hcs, oddly specific ones like. allergies or something. or birthmarks, i dont see many characters in anything to have those, body types-- i dont know much about the other states as always, other than like, the state symbols and nicknames and flags

#wttt #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #wttsh

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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COLD NIGHTS - Cassian x Azriel x Reader - Prompt:

hi i love your work so much!!! I was thinking a cassian x azriel x reader (i just love them sm, why have one when you can have two ) where the reader is sister of a high lord maybe day or winter court, and reader goes missing (kinda angsty) and her brother (a high lord) panics and goes to the night court for help (bc if her two bat boys can’t find her who will) and az and cassian go full on panic mode and search for the reader, i was also thinking a fluffy cute ending where reader is just cuddling with azriel and cassian while her wounds heal take as much time as you need to write this, don’t pressure yourself. Take care lovely

Kallis would never forget the screams. The terror and panic that rushed through him when he realised that you were gone. He sent half the city to search for you. He called upon Helion to inspect the magic. He was frantic in finding you. But it was like you had just disappeared out of nowhere. No sign of struggle, not a drop of blood spilled. The offender was sloppy in their ways, but their magic was strong. Helion could sense it. They had a deathwish from Kallis himself if he ever found them. + The first thing you saw were your cracked and bloody hands. They were split open from the dry cold wind. Sea air drifted into the cave. The cold brutal howling outside mixed with the roar of waves breaking confirmed your nightmares. Cape Tragedy.

The islands off the coast of winter were known for their unforgiving nature to ships. Hence their name, Cape Tragedy. Also known as the Tragic coast, no stories were ever heard of any survivors of those crashes. If they had managed to survive the churning water, then the false salvation of the islands would kill them. It happened often enough that there were lighthouses set atop many of the bigger islands for ships to avoid on stormy days.

You coughed from the dry air, earning a pair of yellow eyes to dart to you. One of the three lesser fae males noticed you were awake and clapped. "She wakes! We've been waiting for you, sweetheart." His green skin was pale in the overcast light streaming in from the mouth of the cave. Snow Bear pelts lay all around. A disgrace in your culture. No citizen of Winter court would do such a thing. You looked to the walls to find weapons, and strange markings along the stone. Sailors from far away lands.

Not even sailors. Pirates. A chill ran through you.

"We're going to get your weight in gold, pretty one." The scaled male curled a piece of your hair behind you ear. Your stomach turned, and you tried to scoot away. "My brother will kill you first. And he'll take a long time doing it." You promised, trying to make your voice sound strong. Terror had you by it's grip though, and it was hard to do anything other than panic

. "Your brother? The pretty one that shears the Elk?" The green one asked. You laughed, and then were hissing in pain when the scaled male yanked on your hair. "What's so funny?"

"You think my brother is an elk herder?" You spat "You must be dumber than you look." The males glanced between each other, then to the one who hadn't said anything yet.

"Who ye think you are then?" The male holding your hair stammered, trying to keep his panic under wraps.

"Kallis' sister." You said with deadly calm. "And the high lord does not negotiate."

"If you're so noble why you got such a mouth on ye?" The third male finally spoke.

They laughed.

"Maybe we will see just how much of a mouth-" He started again. He didnt have a chance to finish his disgusting words. You kicked, bending an ice spear straight up from the rocky ice floor and through the third male's body. Then the beating from the other two came.

They bound your wrists and ankles in rope and tar. Their hands shook when they did it. It gave you a small bit of satisfaction. The potion they gave you to knock you out was just barely strong enough. You fought it as best you could, but it won. You could only hear the faint sounds of arguing then a crash of glass, then the cold winds whipping around you. And when you woke, your body ached. The cold bit into your limbs. Your fingers were pale. Far too pale to be healthy. You knew frostbite when you saw it. Your body refused to move under your own power. Your blood was frozen to the icy ground. They had used a potion and transported you to a peninsula, and you could only faintly hear the ocean below. You could feel the potion wearing off, but you knew you weren't healing. Not yet. You reached down into your own mind, picking up the fading tendrils of power. Of your bond to the two you knew could save you. And you pulled as hard as you could manage. --- "Fuck." The roaring thought shook Cassian awake. Bleary eyed, he glanced about the room as if there was someone actually shouting at him. Then he felt it. The weak tug that had been silent for so long. And he knew it was nothing good. Frenzied, he met Azriel at the dining area. Where they spent the rest of the night planning, deducing a probable reason for you to be calling so weakly. They sent their worries to Rhys, but they were shooed away. "I'm researching. Meet me in the library at dawn." The two males tried to comfort each other. But the worry pulsating through the bond was too much to focus on. So they waited. Kallis appeared that morning. He spat his story and begged for help, practically in tears as he spoke to the three Illyrians. Cassian and Az knew something was wrong the moment you were attacked. Court laws forbade them interfering on Winter Court territory though. As soon as the approval was given, the brothers winnowed to the border of Winter and started flying. + You were coming to terms that you would die in the cold. You had imagined death differently. Battle was the primary way you thought you'd die. Or at the end of a High Lord's magic for being too much of an advisor. Smiling at the memory of putting Tamlin in his place, you gave another tug down the bonds to your mates. And like a snap, they both tugged back. Almost in unison. It was hard to tell. You closed your eyes, listening to the soft waves below. They lulled you into a cold sleep yet again. + Despite the cold, the Illyrians flew as fast as they could. They could sense your light fading, and chased it for mile after mile. Their wings cut through the harsh winter winds, fueled by rage and desperation. Then they spotted the dark figure frozen to the snow below. Cassian landed first, a few feet away. The ice cracked beneath him. "Get us out of here." He growled to Azriel. "We need to make sure she's okay before we move." Cassian growled, but didn't protest. Azriel understood. He felt the anguish and frustration through the shared bond. Az's hands pressed gently to your neck, checking your pulse. He swore. "Baby, we need you to wake up for us. We're here. We got you." Cassian put a hand to your cheek and fought back the tears that threatened. You groaned in response. They both sighed in relief, their breath making clouds in front of them. "I'm stuck..." You managed through your stiff jaw. Cassian stroked a thumb over your cheek. "Stuck? Honey you're-" "Cas..." Azriel nodded to your side, to the ice that crept its way up your damp clothes. Azriel could have taken a very very long time torturing the beasts that did this to his mate. The rage coiled in his gut at the sight of your injuries. The only reason you hadn't bled out was the blood and water mix turning your wounds to ice. Cassian pulled at the ice web that encapsulated you. Under the heat of his rage it broke, and broke and broke. Azriel placed small patches of his shield over your frostbitten fingers. "We're gonna get you out of here. Just stay still." Azriel smoothed back your hair, and darkness swirled over you. The change from the harsh overcast light of Winter court to the soft sun of Night court was jarring. Madja put her hands on you and you were asleep in an instant. Her warm hands were a blessing from the Mother. + "She's lucky she has that Winter blood in her or she'd be dead." Madja wiped her hands off and handed both the Illyrians a small vial. "That is the scrap from a poisoned sword that broke off in her shoulder. I got all the pieces out, but the poison lingers. It may heal slowly, but it should get better." Anguish burned both of their stomachs. Azriel's throat tightened and he looked away, but gripped the vial tightly. Cassian stared at it, his eyes murderous. Madja left without another word. "She was almost killed. And we couldn't do anything." Cassians' voice was low, with violence dripping from it. "We need her here. In Velaris where we can... watch her." He didn't know what he was saying, but the instinct to protect was overriding every other logical thought he had. Anger burned and burned in his stomach, swallowing him with rage. He could feel Az mirroring the same feeling, but with a cold deadliness that begged to simmer out of him. "You know she wont go for that. She loves her home too much. Her brother." Azriel whispered back. "We're her mates. She should be with us." Cassian was looking for a fight. All the tension and anger of the day had to be worked out. Azriel felt it too. His shadows ran anxiously through the room.

The wind outside howled. It shifted the dark clouds that covered the moon. It seemed to be a cold day in all of Prythian. A cold day in your mates hearts to the pirates that had taken you. They spoke their rage mind to mind, imagining the ways to torture the bastards.

How to find them would be the first priority. Azriel kept circling back to that part. + The healer cleared his throat at the door. "She's asking for you." He nodded to Rhys' brothers. They left Rhys behind in unison, walking in perfect step with each other. Their minds hummed together over that bond they shared with you. "Protect protect protect." They both seemed to demand. Azriel knocked softly, his heart flipping when he heard your voice again. "Get in here." You demanded, giving them a broad smile when they practically shoved each other out of the way.

"Come keep me warm." You weakly folded the blanket back, exposing some of the bruising on your skin.

They complied with enthusiasm. Azriel's hands were cold at first, but they got better when he reached around you to hold Cassian closer. They worked in tandem to keep you covered, making sure that you weren't too crowded or too warm. Azriel summoned his cool shadows when you got too warm and had to kick the blankets off. Cassian's warm breath would keep you warm when they became too much. You traced Azriel's cheekbones, the sharp edge of his jaw while falling alseep. Cassian's muscled forearms hugging you from behind were like a heavy pillow.

"Rest now, we can have more fun later." Az winked, making your stomach flutter. Cassian groaned and pulled you further to his lap. You tried not to think of the hardness that pressed to you now. "Goodnight." The shadowsinger kissed your forehead and like a light, you were out. Finally resting peacefully wrapped between your two mates and their warm bond you all shared.

#acotar fic #azriel x reader #cassian x reader

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

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Tumblr has been weird tonight so I don’t know if it went through, but I would love to see what you have for Echo if you wanted to share 💕

i forget that some of yall actually read my tags sometimes.

i feel so seen.

anyway, here's the fic!

echo x (f) reader

warnings: the first half is soft, the second is has 18+ dry humping and kissing and spicy times

note: listen i reference his prosthetics a lot, but i’m sure I got things wrong or headcanon them weird, sorry! please don't hesitate to correct me if need be!

It's fucking cold on The Marauder.

The others have gone in search of materials to repair the ship, and you're stuck in the metal carcass with the only other person who would be considered unfit for these torrid conditions: Echo.

He's not weak, not before it all went south and certainly not after, but Tech had been insistent. It wouldn't be pretty, what the frostbite would do to his mechanics, and you'd leveled your eyes with him, asking him to stay.

For who knows how long, you'd been in this... flirtationship with Echo, all bumps and winks and moments of too-close contact. And underneath that, you probably had never trusted anyone more in your life.

He had his vod of course, but you knew if your eyes asked him to take care of himself, he would listen, just this once, and you were right.

You’re entombed in boxes and blankets, having piled whatever you could in a central area with hopes of keeping the two of you - and everything important on the ship - functioning. There’s the hot-packs Hunter made eons ago, heated from the small generator that still works, and you wrap your fingers around them longingly. And you can feel the cold even still, you’re thinking about moments when you were young, and if someone showed your crewmates how to breathe like mythical creatures in puffs of false smoke.

It’s not subtle, the way he stares at you, the was his eyes greedily take you in, even swathed in thick layers of fabric. To him it hardly makes a difference - your nose is poking out and he can tell you’re thinking by the look in your eyes, and he thinks every time he sees you that you’ve never been more beautiful.

Echo isn’t sure when the silence fell, didn’t mind it for a while, and suddenly isn’t sure if he can contain himself from wanting to get closer to you.

The air is fucking cold, and it suddenly seems like a crime that you should have to even think about it.

He say’s your name, and winces at how roughly it crackles into the air. It’s warm, when your wise eyes find his, lashes fanning as you running thoughts come to a screeching halt, and he hopes fleetingly that it’s because of him.

“Fuck, Echo, aren’t you cold?”

He laughs then, a welcome sound, because of course he is, and because it’s special the way you talk to him. It feels good, good like laughing, and he opens his good arm for you. Neither of you speak for a moment, both recklessly daydreaming about how well you fit against his side, how naturally you mold as he navigates the pocket of blankets to hold you both. It’s warm, of course it is, like it was inevitable, and it seems impossible that you’ll ever move again. Neither of you speak, and then you both do, foolishly, rushed and eager, and more awkward than maybe it’s ever been.

“Do you -”

“Could I -”

When he smiles at you, it’s a little crooked.

“You first.”

“Can I help?” The words are simple, and for a beautiful, blissful moment, all the nerve endings the universe has given him feel aflame. There’s a thought in his mind that maybe he’s been harboring for a while now, budding in the background where he could stubbornly ignore it, and now it hits him win full force.

On cold nights past, he would press hot packs of ration rice to his seams, sooth the burn of screaming edges, and... in the most selfish recesses of his mind, he would envision it was you. He doesn’t share that second part.

His voice is gentle as he explains in frank terms the unique ways his body hurts, sounding almost like an old man speaking of his joints in rain. The things is - he’s grateful he’s alive but he’s a soldier still, not allowed to complain when all but shouldn’t be, and so he’s never had a moment to feel bad for himself.

But you do, you feel a sting somewhere in your eyes, and you feel fierce, outraged that he’s never asked anyone to help him with this. It makes you want to scream, to march like you were someone, into a place where those people claim to fix things and tell them to do better for your... for him. Them.

Instead, you stop thinking about yourself, and the sharp, still air, and press one of the precious hot packs to his form.

And Echo groans.

There’s something in his eyes, something that you know because you know him, telling you that there’s a door open, that it has been for a while, and you just knocked it off it’s hinges. You swallow, hard, because how did it take you so long, so close to your best friend in the galaxy, to think about whether or not he’d let you press your mouth to his?

And then he’s kissing you, careful but resolute, almost calculated, and you forget the cold.

It goes on an on, and you feel his hand, his arm holding you so tightly, it only seems logical that you move into his lap – to keep him from having to turn, it’s only – it’s only logical. It’s not as hot as you expect and you remember yourself, pulling away and feeling your ferocity return. There’s a seam on his chest – you touch it without thinking, trying to heat it through his layers, and there’s a small noise erupting from his throat, deep and timber.

His palm presses to the back of yours, flattening your fingers, guiding you against him, and you can feel the bumps of scars even through his shirt. It’s intimate, it makes you resent the cold so bad it hurts, because you want to feel him, and it’s cruel that you cannot.

When he laughs again, you feel it against your hairline, and his lips on your forehead as he whispers, “Another time, if you’d like.”

When you reply, it’s… far too revealing, almost needy, the please that pushes from between your lips and he’s forced to reconsider. It’s ridiculous, wondering if there’s any explanation the two of you could give if the other’s returned to find… whatever was forthcoming, but it hardly seems to matter.

Because it’s fucking cold, but you’re warm enough to make him steam, and he can almost feel his limbs regaining life as you touch them. And he wants you, kriff, he’s wanted you since you caught one of his under-the-breath jokes and he thought he wouldn’t mind hearing your laughter for the rest of his life.

The problem starts with how you’re no longer kissing him, and he decides instead that this is his first chance to hear the noise you make when he mouths at the soft spot underneath your jaw.

It's addicting, when he get's it, and he wants more and so do you.

There's this moment, between kisses, and it's communication, it's rapid-fire, and neither of you are quite sure what to do because, it's too cold for letting him feel every inch of your skin, too cold to let you explore the parts of him you'd never allowed yourself before, too cold for him to bury.... any part of him into you, even heated as you are.

And then you find it, a place where you’re over him, pressing enough you can still feel how hard he is, and you slide into place like you belong there.

Echo’s muscles, the ones that haven’t been programmed not to, jump, almost singing at the contact, and he thinks to thank the Maker for the quality of his prosthetics. And then he focuses of kissing you, feeling as much of you as he can with his hand, because -

It feels impossibly, almost inevitably good, how you’re grinding against him, but not as good as your mouth in his, on the slivers of his exposed skin. The sensors are screaming at him that you’re rubbing him through the cloth in all the right ways and yet. It still doesn’t feel as surreal as the way you’re holding on to him like he’s your whole world, like he’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You have no idea but you know neither of you is going back from this moment.

There’s moments, his hand almost gentle as he guides you along his bulge, moments in his breath as he coaxes you closer and closer and closer and it’s not nothing. It’s your best friend, one of the strongest men you’ve ever met, it’s the unspoken chant that he knows you, better than anyone else ever could, ever should.

Throbbing in your core longs for that “another time” he mentioned, but you’re drinking in every single moment you get, every touch of skin and rough, careful movements, because nothing will ever be this, now.

The touches that feel like fire against the frostbite are new, but they feel familiar, they feel like his eyes when he catches you laughing, or when you’re idea works out, or when you almost doze off starring at the stars.

And he’s checking in, not in a doubtful way, not even disbelieving, but “C’mon baby, can you cum like this?” It makes you want to kiss him and you do, trying feverishly to nod at the same time, and you can’t but he gets it because of course he does.

And you get it, its ridiculous because you’re grinding against him like you need it to survive, and he’s spreading his legs so the contact is right where it needs to be, but you get it.

You’re the only one, who can keep him warm, who could press those hot pads and know exactly where he needed them, and you’re the only one now who can - who can -

Echo cums and you feel his surprise, the overwhelming confusion that pours from him before he’s shuddering and rutting against you desperately. He knows you - needs you, doesn’t even ask you to follow him, but makes you, yanking you against him, and drawing your own finish out like it meant more to him than anything else.

It really is fire and ice and the elation of narrowly escaping blaster fire. It’s lewd and reckless, the way your cunt clenches and gushes around nothing, and the way you desperately wish you could feel him twitch, but it’s nothing less than perfect.

Your forehead finds his as you wait for your senses to return, and when your eyes open, you see him watching you.

Maybe he shouldn’t, maybe it doesn’t fit the monumental moment that is... this, but he kisses your forehead carefully.

It’s... cold, really cold, and the other’s are far from back, and looking into the brown of his eyes, for the very first time, you see a flicker of doubt. Like maybe you’re realizing you just dry humped your best friend. Maybe you’re realizing that he doesn’t ever want to not be able to hold you close, and maybe that’s not what you want now that it’s over and the air and cooling like water pouring over hot metal. He’s thinking there’s a chance you’re going to climb off of him and smile that big, beautiful smile of yours and move on like this isn’t the best things that’s happened to him, and he’s not really sure what he’s going to do, because he respects you too much to stop you.

But you don’t, of course you don’t. It seems a little cliche, a little softer than the universe normally gives you, but your head fits nicely under his chin, so you tuck it there.

You’re not going anywhere. He doesn’t need you to ask to curl against his chest, you don’t need to look up to realize his eyes have lost their fear.

Neither of you think this was for the warmth, really.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#echo x reader #maybe i don't know people #replies #i guess

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starfinss · 3 years ago

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Intrigue — Tartagalia 1 / 2

Requested by @magshenn

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Summary: You’re a new Fatui recruit. You manage to catch the Eleventh Harbinger’s eye. You’re not sure if this is a good thing or not.

Pairing: Tartagalia (Childe) x Reader

Rating: Fluff (SFW)

Word Count: 4,615

Characters are depicted as of age for future reference.

The Fatui barracks were cold.

Of course, this wasn’t much of a surprise, you were in Snezhnaya, after all. The cold was something most commonly associated with the country. But still, for a military force so revered, you’d expect them to have some kind of heating system.

You were warm enough, the harsh climate was more than taken into account and soldiers were given goose down blankets to keep warm, but you could barely stick so much as a finger out from beneath the covers without feeling like you were on the verge of frostbite.

As a Snezhnayan, you should be used to this. And really, you were. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of your new surroundings that was getting to you, or maybe it was the more than inevitable thrashing you’d get in combat training in the morning. You were among eight or nine other female recruits. You’d counted at least fourteen male recruits.

Sure, you could fight, you were adept with hand-to-hand combat, you even had a vision to boot. You could thank an avalanche while you were out hunting for that. The Pyro Archon had been gracious to you, and you found yourself cracking a rueful smile at the fact that you’d been rewarded a vision by the Archon who commanded the element exactly opposite of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

Well, c’est la vie. Put your talents to good use, they all said, and you were packed up and shipped here without any room to get your own opinion in or to grow familiar with your newly acquired vision.

You wrapped your comforter around your body, pulling it up around your head like a hood and curling in close, hoping sleep would come. You still had a good while before the sun rose, and if you were going to survive combat training, you’d need to be rested.

After what felt like a millennia of tossing and turning, you fell into a dreamless sleep.

————

“Up! Everyone up! Do not keep Lord Harbinger waiting.”

You were jolted awake when the sun was barely filtering through the high barrack windows, and you groaned as you turned over in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Come on, (Y/N), get out of bed.

“You,” came the officer’s voice, “up. Now. Are you deaf, girl, or just stupid? The Lord Harbinger does not like to be kept waiting.”

You sat up in bed quickly, climbing down the ladder that led to your bunk, and brushing past the officer with a quiet, respectful ‘yes ma’am.’

After wrestling yourself into your coat and boots, you pulled your hood up and crossed the yard to the locker rooms with your fellow recruits. There was a snowstorm brewing, you cloud smell it in the air, but you knew if you couldn’t train outdoors, indoor facilities were available.

You were Snezhnayan. You adapted.

The women’s locker room was milling with other women in various states of undress, and you hustled in with the stragglers, finding your name printed on a card in neat font and pasted to one of the lockers. You opened it, finding a uniform inside.

It was the typical women’s uniform, a purple bodysuit with the Fatui emblem emblazoned on the right thigh, a long black coat lined with fur, tights, and a pair of tall black boots with purple embellishments. You dressed quickly, fumbling with the various zippers and buttons, and you almost left the locker room before another recruit caught your arm.

“Mask,” she said, “you forgot your mask.”

You paused, smiling sheepishly.

“Right,” you said, “my bad.” At the bottom of the locker was the mask. It was a simple thing, silvery grey with a red line going through the right eye. The material was sturdy, the fabric lining smooth and cool beneath your gloved fingertips. A cord was connected to either side of the mask, used to fasten the object to your face.

Concealing who you were. Marking you as one of them. You swallowed your questionable apprehension and tied the mask on, hiding the cord beneath your hair. The woman in the mirror was still you, just masked. You looked crisp and polished. Like you were a part of something.

You felt the warmth your vision permanently radiated against your right hip, hidden beneath your coat. The feel of it, though still a new one, was comforting. It was too much of a talking point, so you preferred to keep it hidden. Keep your head down and do your job. That way you could get time off to go home and see your family.

The black mesh that covered the eye holes of your mask darkened your vision somewhat, but you could still see well enough. You looked around the locker room, but found that you were the last one in there. You made a squeak of surprise and rushed off towards the mess hall.

Breakfast passed in a blur, and because you were a little late getting there, you were one of the last ones eating. You scarfed down your food before rushing off to the training grounds, just as the first snowflakes began to fall. There was already a blanket of snow on the ground, crunching beneath the thick soles of your boots as you hustled through the courtyard, almost shouting in frustration when you heard voices coming from the training fields. You could see a few other recruits scurrying up to the gathered group, but you were the farthest behind.

Great, you thought, I’m late on my first day.

You didn’t know much about the Harbingers personally, but you knew they were absolutely no joke. Some were known to verbally abuse, beat and even kill recruits who disobeyed or disrespected them. The thought alone filled you with fear even icier than the winter air. You didn’t know if you could handle that, and you didn’t want to die. If you did, though, you’d go down fighting. You felt your vision flare at your hip, its heat filling you with comfort.

You approached the group last, and the only spot was your own established one… on the end of the first row. You were screwed. There was no way you’d be able to squeeze in unnoticed, but you couldn’t just turn tail and run. So you took a deep breath, focusing on the heat of your vision as you took your place, standing ramrod straight at attention.

There were a handful of Skirmishers at the front of the crowd, as well as a few high ranking Fatui officials, and one more person.

He was tall, dressed in a long, heavy white overcoat lined with furs. The coat was worn open despite the cold, and beneath that was a high collared grey shirt done up with silver clasps, as well as a red scarf, worn undone so it hung loose down his shoulders. Trousers that matched the shirt were on his legs, sturdy black boots that reached his knees on his feet. Around his waist were a pair of black belts. Attached to one was a Hydro Vision. There was a holster on his thigh with a small dagger attached. Finally, he wore a pair of black gloves on his hands.

His face… He was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen in your life. He was young, maybe a year or so older than you at most. His features were sort of impish, like a smile was always on the verge of showing on his lips. He had pretty, round-almond blue eyes, their color a little dull. His hair was cropped short, worn messy around his face, coppery ginger in color. His nose was straight, the curve elegant and noble. A single earring hung from his left ear, beaded with gold and ending in a red gemstone. Perched on the left side of his head was an intricate red mask, different than other Fatui mask you’d seen before. His nose and ears were tinged pink from the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice.

You took a moment to realize he was looking straight at you. Your eyes went wide behind your mask. He must have registered your surprise, because an easy smile appeared on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He pressed a single finger to his lips before turning away. Your shock turned to confusion as you watched him begin to walk, circling the small group of recruits with the grace of a panther, ocean hues calculating. The chatter among the recruits died quickly, all of your peers standing at attention, their unease palpable in the chilly air.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye until he’d crossed behind the group and out of your line of vision, but soon enough, he was standing beside you. You only knew he was there when the young recruit beside you nearly jumped from her skin, causing you to do the same.

Up close, his height was even more evident, and he stood almost a full head over you. There was a light dusting of freckles on his nose and cheeks, which only added to his charm. He gazed at you with those dull eyes, though they were now sparkling with something that made you somewhat uneasy. He leaned in close, subtly, his voice low when he spoke.

“You will explain your tardiness to me later, recruit. There is no need to make this an issue, hm?”

You blanched. “Uh. N-no, no sir.”

A firm pat on the shoulder. “Very good, comrade.”

He walked away as if nothing had happened at all, and from the way he moved, how he carried himself, you could tell he wasn’t a man to be trifled with. He was calculating, powerful, intense.

Dangerous.

Everything about him spelled danger. Behind that kindly facade, that good natured smile, you could sense a vicious wolf.

“Good morning, recruits,” the man said with an easy smile, crossing his arms over his chest, “I am Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui. On behalf of her Majesty the Tsaritsa, I bid you welcome to our ranks. From this day forward, you will honor the oaths you have made to Her Majesty, and you will stop at nothing to being victory to Snezhnaya.”

He kept talking, but your own fear wrapped icy fingers around your heart, blocking out his words. Harbinger. He was a Harbinger. Had you offended him with your tardiness? You had heard horror stories from other soldiers about dealings with the Harbingers. You heard they were ruthless, bloodthirsty, merciless. The Sixth was subject of many of these tales, the Eighth coming in a close second. Tales told of recruits struck down for smaller infractions than your own, as aforementioned.

Was the Eleventh going to kill you?

Your fear muddled brain remained in overdrive until recruits began to break off into teams of two for sparring, snapping you from your trance, and with another jolt of terror, you noticed Tartaglia approaching you.

“L-Lord Harbinger, sir, I—”

“Follow me, recruit,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, giving you no choice but to do as he asked.

He led you to a small building, opening the door and ushering you inside. You looked back over your shoulder and noticed your fellow recruits watching you go, their masks hiding any sort of emotion they may be feeling. It felt cold and impersonal. You swallowed thickly as you followed the Harbinger inside. The building was a supply shed, but there was a desk stacked with files and writing utensils shoved in the corner as some kind of makeshift office. Tartaglia flicked on the lamp on the desk, flooding the room with soft yellow light.

The light illuminated dust particles hovering in the air, as well as the contours of Tartaglia’s face, making him seem even more intense. He was watching you expectantly, those calculating eyes studying your face with a vigor that made you incredibly nervous. He shifted his weight, flakes of snow falling from his hair and onto the furry collar of his coat, disappearing into the pristine white fluff.

“Lord Harbinger,” you said, breaking the silence, “sir, I’m deeply sorry for my tardiness. P-please, don’t hurt me.”

Your plea felt pitiful, but you didn’t know what else you were supposed to do. You pressed your hands together in prayer, head bowing, but to your surprise, Tartaglia began to laugh. You looked up in surprise, watching as the Harbinger covered his mouth, mirth rising in his eyes and making them glitter with humor. You felt your own uneasy smile form on your lips, and you let out an awkward chuckle.

“Hurt you?” Tartaglia repeated, his laughter still leaking into his voice, “oh, no, comrade, I am not going to hurt you, I promise you that. I merely want to know the cause of your tardiness. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You hesitated, shoulders relaxing just a little. “You… That’s all?”

He nodded sincerely. “That’s all.”

So you told him. Having his full attention on you was more than a little overwhelming, but you somehow managed. You told him about the locker room, then breakfast, and about trying to get to training as fast as you could.

“Well,” Tartaglia said, “no harm, no foul. It could have happened to anyone. I’ve been late to things before, the best of us have. Just try not to let it happen again.”

You were taken aback by his benevolence, and he must have sensed this, his mouth quirking upwards at the corner. He gazed at you like he was seeing something for the first time, but as soon as that appeared, it was gone so quickly you were unsure if you’d seen it at all.

“What is your name, recruit?”

He… He wants to know my name?

“It’s (Y/N),” you said, “(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Charming,” he said, “a fine, strong name. Befitting of a Fatui recruit.”

You were unsure of how to respond to the praise. You’d never expected a Fatui Harbinger to be so… Normal. Sure, he still radiated power and his very presence commanded respect, but underneath that he was just a man. Perhaps there wassome kindness in the wolf you sensed he was.

“Er, thank you, sir,” you said finally.

“I do not doubt you’ve heard of other Harbingers treating their men poorly, and you do not have to worry about that with me, (Y/N),” Tartaglia assured you, “I may not be a great guy, but I do not mistreat my subordinates. No harm will befall you at my hand.”

“I am… very relieved to hear that, Lord Harbinger,” you said after a beat of silence.

A short, friendly chuckle. “Let’s get back to training, yes?”

You took a deep breath, standing at attention. “Yes, Lord Harbinger, sir.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back as he led you back outside. You broke off from him, aware of his eyes following you as you walked towards the group to find someone without a partner. You eventually spotted one of your lone classmates, Anya, who was standing awkwardly and looking very out of place. She brightened a bit when she noticed you. You and Anya were friends, having met in boot camp and bonding over shared favorite authors. You were comfortable sharing information with her.

Anya was a pretty young woman, tall and slim with white blonde hair braided down her back. She hurried to meet you as you approached her, hands catching your upper arms.

“(Y/N), are you alright? What happened with Lord Harbinger?”

You sighed. “Nothing. He let me off with a warning. It was… surprising.”

“You’re not hurt? Not at all?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m fine, Anya. Lord Harbinger Tartaglia is… benevolent.”

Anya would have said more, but one of the officers sent the pair of you a sharp look.

“We should start sparring,” she said, and you nodded, getting into a fighting stance.

You blocked Anya’s first punch with ease and ducked under her kick, swinging your leg out to knock her off balance, but she jumped at the last second. You barely had time to roll out of the way before she tried to bring an axe kick down on your head. She was good. Strong. As expected of any healthy Snezhnayan. But you were also Snezhnayan.

You sprung to your feet, blocking her next kick, and knocking her fist out of the way when she attempted to punch at you. Instead, you grabbed her arm as she was caught off balance, twisting and sending her sprawling onto the snow, stunned. You extended a hand to help her up, and she accepted with a chuckle.

“Not bad,” she said, “still as sharp as always, I see.”

You offered a smile. “Of course. So are you.”

“Well played,” came Tartaglia’s voice, “good attack power, good execution, flawless form. Who taught you to fight?”

Both you and Anya jumped, turning to face the Harbinger.

“My mother,” you said.

“Your mother taught you very well,” Tartaglia said, and coming from a Harbinger, that was high praise. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger, sir.”

He studied you head to toe, a luster of intrigue in his eyes. He stepped closer to you, a grin finding its way to his lips. You shared a glance with Anya, but didn’t move away from Tartaglia.

“Train hard and you will be unstoppable. I look forward to seeing what you become.”

You could do no more than nod, watching as he stepped back a few paces, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well,” he said, inclining his head in your direction, “don’t stop at my expense. Please, continue.”

So you did. You sparred with Anya for what felt like hours, until your muscles were burning and sore and your breath was thin and the snow was falling in flurries around you. And Tartaglia watched you, interjecting with pointers, praise, and every so often stepping forward to demonstrate a move. It wasn’t every day you get personal attention from a Harbinger.

And then, he put a hand on Anya’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear. She gave you a glance, its meaning indiscernible because of her mask, but she stepped aside, taking Tartaglia’s place at the sidelines. And he took hers in front of you.

“L-Lord Harbinger?” You stuttered, and Tartaglia smiled.

“Try and hit me, comrade.”

Your eyes widened behind your mask. Most recruits would absolutely jump at the chance to spar with a Harbinger. It was an absolute honor to spar with one. And you were honored, but you were also terrified. You stared at Tartaglia blankly until he spoke again.

“Are you refusing a direct order, recruit?”

You straightened. “No, Lord Harbinger, sir.”

With a deep breath, you got into a fighting stance, and Tartaglia did the same. You looked over at Anya, and noticed that a few other recruits had stopped to watch. You swallowed your fear, your apprehension, and remembered what your mother taught you, what she’d continued to teach you until you left to join the Fatui.

Let the opponent strike first. Let them show their hand, then exploit that weakness.

But Tartaglia knew that too, and he watched you with practiced ease, eyes scanning for any opening you’d give. He knew what he was doing. You were not a Harbinger. You were not an elite. But you’d been taught by one of the top martial artists in Snezhnaya, and the fact that you were her daughter didn’t stop her from training you harder than even her most skilled students. So you knew what you were doing, too.

And you were going to use every weapon in your arsenal.

You were smaller that Tartaglia, so you could use your own speed and his momentum against him.

“Hit me,” he repeated, and you took a slow breath, completely calm now.

“You first, Lord Harbinger.”

His eyes widened, just a fraction, at your sudden change in demeanor, but a sort of manic glee took over his face for a split second when he realized just how seriously you were taking this now. You watched him sweep your body with his gaze, eyes scanning for weak spots, anything at all. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, making you realize the extent of his hunger for battle.

You were probably going to lose, you knew that much. But you’d sure put up one hell of a fight.

It was clear he was growing impatient from the restless shuffling of his feet, which was almost comical in a rather dark way. So you let that impatience brew until he struck.The kick was so fast you barely had time to duck beneath it, using his momentum against him to meet him with a high kick of your own, sending him toppling into the snow while his balance was off.

The training grounds were utterly silent, save for the whistling of the wind and your own heartbeat thudding in your ears.

Have… I done something wrong?

“L-Lord Harbinger—”

Tartaglia laughed, rising to his feet. His eyes were wild, but intensely focused. He shrugged his coat off, and an officer rushed to collect it from the snow, then clearing away from you and the Harbinger.

“(Y/N),” he said, his grin growing, “you intrigue me more and more every second. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

You blinked, taken aback, but you answered earnestly. “I have been training my whole life, Lord Harbinger, sir.”

“You have a warrior’s spirit,” he said, “show me more, would you, comrade? This time, I won’t let you surprise me.”

You let your own smile overtake your face. “I count on that, Lord Harbinger.”

Sparring with Tartaglia was nothing like sparring with Anya. He was quick, precise, calculating. You were doing all you could to keep up, ducking, dodging, blocking and trying with all your might to land a blow, and you did land a few, but his form was even more perfect than your mother’s. He quickly adapted to your momentum based fighting style, using power based hits instead of momentum based ones, making it harder for you to counterattack. You noticed that your fellow recruits had stopped sparring to watch your battle with awed silence, but you pushed the anxiety having an audience brought to the back of your mind.

“Having trouble keeping up?” Tartaglia huffed, blocking your kick, and you shook your head.

Confidence is key. Don’t let the enemy see your doubts.

“Not at all, Lord Harbinger, sir.”

“Good,” he said, grin wide and bordering on manic, “give me all you’ve got.”

You were panting, growing tired, and you were pretty sure you were covered in bruises, but your veins were singing with adrenaline and you felt alive. Every strike and block left your body stinging with aches and your mind buzzing with energy. You were sure you’d feel it later, once the rush faded, but right now, you were running on pure instinct and the pain was secondary.

The sun had begun to sink and the cold had dropped to biting levels when you finally stopped, chest heaving and sweat sticking your hair to your temples despite the frigid air.

“Every morning,” Tartaglia said, clapping a hand on your shoulder, “you will meet me for training. You, comrade, are one of a kind. And with my guidance, you will bring glory to Snezhnaya.”

You were stunned by what he said. The other recruits who had remained to see your sparring match were muttering amongst themselves, looking at you like you were a Harbinger yourself. And with the praise Tartaglia was heaping onto you, you had a feeling you wouldn’t be treated as a mere recruit any longer, not when someone like him had taken a special interest in you. You knew Tartaglia had been going easy on you. You knew restraint when you saw it. If he were to go all out, you most likely could have been killed. No, scratch that. You would have been killed.

And yet, why had he held back? Was he afraid of hurting you? The other Harbingers didn’t go easy on their men. But Tartaglia had promised you no harm would come to you, and from what you were quickly learning, Tartaglia was different from the other Harbingers.

You were also starving. The last time you’d eaten was at lunch when you’d had a brief pause from sparring to have a meal, and after that, you went right back to it. But that was hours ago. And as soon as you came to that realization, your stomach growled so loud it started you.

“Go eat,” Tartaglia said with a huff of laughter, “shower. Take care of yourself. And do not keep me waiting tomorrow morning. At least, not for too long.”

He said the last bit with a mischievous smirk, making your cheeks flush.

“Y-Yes Lord Harbinger, sir!” You said, standing at attention. Tartaglia waved his hand dismissively.

“At ease.”

You did as he said, but didn’t have time to say any more before he was collecting his coat and walking away, leaving you to watch his retreating figure.

You headed off to the mess hall after that, scarfing down your dinner and then heading to the locker room to take a shower. You had to get under the spray off water in increments since your chilled flesh wasn’t used to the heat, but once you were fully under, the water felt heavenly on your sure muscles. You were correct about the bruises, they covered your skin like patchwork and we painful to touch. You’d have to visit the infirmary to get some solvent for the abrasions, you figured. You’d do it tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning.

You felt your nerves gather into a tight knot in the pit of your stomach. You had no idea what sort of training Tartaglia had planned for you. It was probably harder than general training, which made you nervous, but you took a deep breath, focusing on the positive. A Harbinger had taken you under his wing, which was a huge honor. You’d receive training from one of the Fatui’s elite, and that would in turn make you one of the Fatui’s elite.

It was frankly a lot to take in.

You switched off the water after finishing with watching your hair and body, dressing and drying off as best your could before going back out into the cold. You took your sweaty uniform to the laundry room, leaving it on the table for the cleaning staff to take care of. You had a few uniforms, so that was covered for tomorrow. After that was taken care of, you went back to the barracks.

The barracks were full of your fellow recruits, some gathered in broken circles and chatting, some curled up in their beds, asleep. The chatter died when you entered the room, careful eyes studying you, and you dropped your head as you climbed the ladder to your own bunk, ignoring them. You tucked yourself under your blankets, running your fingers through your still damp hair, which had frozen when you went outside. It had begun to thaw once you were indoors, leaving it cold and wet. You tucked the blanket up around your head, curling in on yourself.

You were unable to fall asleep until lights out was called, and everything was quiet save for the howl of the wind outside. You had no idea what to expect tomorrow. It scared you as much as it excited you. You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling exhaustion tug at your consciousness.

You supposed you’d have to wait and see what happened.

#I’m so sorry this is late #I was writing something else and wanted to finish it first #genshin tartagalia #childe #tartagalia x reader #childe x reader #fluff #well #for this part #we’ll get to the smut eventually #don’t worry #fanfiction #My writing #genshin impact #genshin x reader #Let’s get funky

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