#he should have had something regal strong POWERFUL. or at the very least elegant and beautiful. not. THIS.

[x-i-l-verify]

「Dream SMP Daemon AU 」

    ♫ WILBUR SOOT + CADENZA (WOOD MOUSE) ♫

Wood mice are a socially flexible, independent, highly adaptable species of rodent, able to call nearly anywhere - urban settings, gardens, moorland, woodland, grassland, and more - their home. They rapidly colonize new terrains and will make nests in underground tunnels, inside hollow logs, nesting boxes, or in dense vegetation. Individuals nest communally in winter, and males and females may group together when sleeping for warmth. In the spring, females usually take up their own home ranges and nest alone.

During breeding season, females become very territorial and defend their ranges from other females. However, mouse burrows likely survive from one generation to the next, being expanded upon and modified as needed, and there has also been instances of cooperative burrowing documented. Wood mice are also the only other animal apart from humans to place conspicuous objects (twigs, leaves, etc.) at key points in their territory, showing a remarkable aptitude for planning and problem solving.

These mice have many predators (foxes, weasels, cats, owls and kestrels), but they have many tactics at their disposal to ensure their well-being, safety, and survival, such as making impressive leaps to safety, or shedding the skin off their tails to escape predators. They don’t hibernate during winter, but they can enter periods of torpor if conditions get tough enough.

Dominant males may be aggressive, having been reported to chase and even kill juveniles. In addition, before mating, males produce a string of ultrasounds that may pacify the female, indicating these rodents are not averse to using force or other, more underhanded means of getting what they want.

Wilbur is ambitious, charismatic, and conniving, while Caddy represents his insecure, sensitive, self-aware side.

~

NAME MEANING A cadenza is a musical term with three separate meanings. The first is a parenthetical flourish in an aria or other solo piece commonly just before a final or other important cadence. The second is a technically brilliant sometimes improvised solo passage toward the close of a concerto. Finally, a cadenza can refer to an exceptionally brilliant part of an artistic or literary work.

~

SOURCES https://daemonpage.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=25956

[readychilledwine]

Cleavage/Collarbones Headcanons

Warnings - as someone who recovered from an eating disorder, I know collarbones can be a very triggering topic. Please proceed with caution.

A/n - 4 of our main girlies to start.. Let me know if we want a part 2 and who should be on it

✨️Acotar Body Headcanons Masterlist✨️

Feyre

Due to Feyre being an archer, I headcanon she has very defined skeletal-muscular build through her chest and shoulders, including her collarbones

Momma has built shoulders and strong arms. It's possibly the strongest muscle grouping in Feyre's body aside from that human heart of hers.

I imagine it's one of her features Rhysand is secretly madly in love with. They're like the perfect framework for any necklaces he gives her.

Something about Feyre's collarbones in my mind screams they'd be elegant on top of everything, but I see Feyre growing into more of a class sex appeal VS male gaze sex appeal outside of the CoN now that she is a mother.

Breasts change a lot with motherhood as well, so I imagine that's motivation for her to continue working her upper body.

I see deep plunging necklines being replaced with sweetheart cuts that dip a bit more in the center, highlighting her.. What was it Rhysie said? Ripe apple-like breasts coming.

Listen, becoming a mom doesn't mean you can't still be sexy (at least lie to me and echo chamber that for me, please) but I think it would change Feyre's cleavage style significantly.

I honestly would find her dressing like this so powerful. She's gone through her spring phase, her high lords play toy phase, let her have a "this is the only preview you get," phase with a new, fuller, hot mom bod, SJM. Please, your mother readers are begging for it.

Mor

Mor is an engima to me. I don't know why.

I don't imagine her with collarbones that capture your attention, but I think that's because I see Mor with a very regal neck, if that makes sense?

Her neckline creates that flow to her very soft collarbones. They're definitely visible, but not that way I believe other females are.

Mor has her fashion set to follow the flow of her body lines, hence the cutout gowns.

I think with Mor, underboob and inside boob cleavage is more popular than traditional top cleavage.

I may be picturing her dresses wrong, but I always picture those dresses girls bought in like early like... 2010s to be Greek goddesses for Halloween. Some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Others are about to find out.

Mor strikes me as too confident to worry about modesty and I don't hate her for that.

I mean, if I was a female general and had a body like Mor does, I too would show off my underboobs as a way to show my abs.

Nesta

Ness has collarbones you dream of sipping red wine from. I was going to make that all this section says. I was told that was unfair.

There's something about Nesta that screams collarbone. I don't think she's an unhealthy weight by any means, I just picture her with that built there they are deep and pronounced.

Nesta, I see, as very modest despite fanart depicting her otherwise. I do not think you get to see Ness and her collarbones as often as you may like, and when you do it is a treat.

I imagine Nesta in a lot of square neck lines that maybe have an illusion netting to show a bit of cleavage, but I do not see her in the deep dipping dresses she is sometimes shown in. I know they may have been canon, but, it's canon that feels un-Nesta to me.

Elain

Big girls, where we at?

It's no secret I picture Elain as a plus size girly, and while it is possible for plus sized women to have very visible collarbone built (it's as much about skeletal structure as it is the fluff), I do not picture this for Elain.

In general, I see Elain much softer than her sisters both on the inside and in physical appearance, and those who've gotten to know me best know I think Elain is easily the most attractive of the 3.

Elain has the collarbones that are noticeable when her head is angled just right.

She's thought about making a bargain, hoping the mark would high light them more. That was met with a soft smile from Rhysand, his hand gently touching her face, "That's not how that works, Elain." Rhysand would then introduce her to glimmery cosmetics called highlighters she uses to add some sparkle to her collarbones.

Elain is my off the shoulder moment sister and due to that, I imagine her necklines being similar to Feyre's: Sweethearts, but make it cutesy sexy

I think Elain is a little more bold than Nesta cleavage wise, but not as bold as Feyre may be.

Elain is more willing to show some upper chest and I love her for it.

[writtenbybigoceans]

The Witching Hour Chapter 3

Part 1 here / part 2 here

“But whose heart would not take flight?

Betray the moon as acolyte

On first and fierce affirming sight

Of sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.”

You cut the soul-wrenching crying of the music with a yank of your headphones and sit bolt upright on your bed, certain you’re hallucinating. The mid-afternoon sunlight streams in through your window, brilliant and golden and blinding. Flinching away, you turn your attention to your half-shut door, through which your mother’s soft humming drifts from down the hall. Your father sputtered down the driveway nearly twenty minutes ago in the car. Something else had roused you, something that you knew couldn’t be in the song you’d listened to a million times over, nor could it be explained away as your parents or some strange house noise. Now though, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Tap. Tap-tap.

You whirl back around to look at the window beside your bed and flinch again against the light. Squinting so hard you can barely see, you crawl to your knees and lean over to peer down the side of the house. There’s nothing much down there, just a narrow strip of grass between your fence and your house. Once it had been paved with square tiles like stepping stones but now they were so overgrown with moss and creeping weeds they looked more like mounds in an eerie swamp.

Your eyes follow the line of the fence and beyond it, to the thickly vegetated drainage creek that snakes behind your property. Then you see it, half-concealed under a copse of bushy trees just a metre from your fence. A person is leaning against the trunk of one tree, their eyes fixed on your window, dark curls intertwined with shadows. Shawn.

He looks at you for a moment, then turns and vanishes into the parkland. His message is clear.

Follow.

You hurtle down the hall to the back door, passing your mother standing by the ironing board so quickly she’s little more than a blur. You barely slow enough to call out to her, “going for a walk, shouldn’t be too long!”

Then you’re flying down the stairs and through your small patch of garden. There’s a gate cut into the back fence that leads out onto the strip of grassed land that is all that separates your fence line from the trees. You don’t know if anyone in your family has ever used it; why would you? The hinges seem to be rusted within an inch of their life, but they gives with a little tugging and you spill out onto the weed-ridden grass. You spot the trees Shawn had been standing under and hurry towards them, hoping he hasn’t wandered more than a metre or so.

The sunlight can’t penetrate the thick canopy of trees and creeping vines, and the air underneath is cool and damp, unstirred by any breeze. All sound is muffled, muted by a thick blanket of hush.

“That was quick.” You spin around on the spot to see Shawn behind you, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark blue jeans. Suddenly out of breath, you simply shrug. His eyes are nearly black as they run over you, taking in your loose black t-shirt and the frayed cuffs of your jeans. You hadn’t thought to grab a jacket before you left and you were beginning to regret that now feeling how exposed you were to the damp chill.  

“This way,” Shawn says, walking past you and under a low hanging branch. You hesitate for only a second before following him. He’s walking deeper into scrub, heading in the direction of the creek. It isn’t a very big creek, soon enough you’d be stumbling onto the rocky stream that you know is only a metre or so wide.

But you trek on and on for at least five more minutes without meeting any water. You hadn’t changed direction or veered from your course; you should be emerging back into suburbia on the other side by now. The trees around you had changed too. They were spaced further from each other and weren’t the jungle-like tangle of branches and weaving creepers. Though no sunlight could penetrate the canopy, the air seemed to have taken on a honey-tinted glow. The chill still lingered but it was different, almost alive, thrumming with life and energy that tasted sweet and sharp on your tongue.

“We’re here,” Shawn murmurs, the first words you’d heard him speak for five minutes. His voice slices through the air, sounding foreign and wrong in this strange place. He stands before a curtain of delicate draping leaves, his broad-shouldered form a silhouette against them.

“Where’s here?” you ask, glancing between him and the leaves. His lips purse slightly, and this is the first time you properly notice the thin furrow between his brows.

“It’s a sanctuary,” he answers simply.

“For who?”

“Someone who will be able to help you, if she wishes to.”

“A witch?” you ask, eyes wide as saucers. Shawn shakes his head quickly.

“A tree sprite. She’s ancient and knows raw magic better than anyone. Just don’t say anything or promise anything to her, leave the talking to me.” You know your mouth is hanging open.

“Fey?” Is all you manage to ask. A shiver creeps up your spine as the other things you’d been told about the Fey creep into your mind. They were wicked and delighted in tricking humans into making horrific bargains with them.

“Similar, not quite the same. She’s as dangerous as the Fey, but less likely to want to make any bargains with you.”

“Is this a good idea?” you whisper, searching his eyes. His mouth is tight, jaw clenched.

“She’s the only person who will be able help you understand who you are the powers you have.” You don’t miss that he dodged the question.

“But I don’t have any powers.”

“She might have the answer for that too.” He parts the leaves gently with one hand and steps aside to let you through first.

With breath held tight in your lungs and one last hesitant look at Shawn, you step past him into another world. The tree is vast, at least ten metres in diameter and so tall you can’t even guess its height. The branches form a latticework sky, burnished in lime and gold and olive coloured jewels, dripping down into swaying curtains to the leaf-littered ground. A wide, shallow body of water snakes under one edge of the great dome, filling the space with the soft babble of water over pebbles.

You sense Shawn stepping up behind you, hear the leaves fall back in place with a soft rustle. Wordlessly, you glance up at him, awe plastered across your face. You think you spot a flicker of a smile on his lips as he meets your eyes, but it vanishes with the blink of an eye. He takes another few steps towards the thick, wizened trunk of the tree, staring up into the splay of branches that lead from it.

“Sylvana,” he calls into the quiet. “We’ve come to speak to you.”

Nothing but the babble of the water and the distant call of birds answers him, but he remains as still as a statue, eyes cast up to the tree. There is another few seconds of silence and stillness and it’s beginning to look like no one will answer when a deep, regal voice answers.

“Ah, the werewolf. I heard you were looking for me.” Lounging on a wide branch above Shawn’s head was the most stunning woman you had ever seen. She was reclining, her long limbs stretching out along the length of the branch and her head propped up on a bulge in the wood. Her eyes are closed though even from her profile you can make out her elegant nose and high, razor-sharp cheekbones. Ribbons of dirty-blonde hair trail over her exposed shoulders and the branch below her, swaying in a non-existent breeze where they dangled below her. “I did not expect you to bring company though,” she continues, turning her head to look at them and opening one eye to take look both of you over.

“We’ve come to ask for your guidance,” Shawn tells her. The woman snorts, turning her face skywards again.

“I’m sure there are others more equipped to guide you, wolf.”

“I would not have come if I did not believe you were the only person able to help,” Shawn says, voice strong and unwavering. He sounded almost as imperious as her. Sylvana seems unmoved though, tapping her long fingers against her stomach. “You are the only person left here who understands magic.”

Sylvana sits up swiftly, the movement so swift and graceful she looked as though she danced it. Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously and fixed on Shawn, the rest of her features cast in an expression of distrust.

“What would you want with magic, wolf?” she asks, her voice razor sharp.

“Nothing, it’s for her.” Shawn turns to look at you and Sylvana’s slitted eyes follow. For a moment she seems puzzled, as if unsure what she’s looking at exactly. Then she goes rigid, stiffening as if someone had thrown icy water over her.  

“Witchling,” she hisses, her teeth bared in a snarl that contorts her features into something feral and wild. You gasp, staggering backwards at the hatred in her eyes. She slips from the branch, landing silently on the leaf-littered ground without once taking her eyes off you. “I want nothing to do with your kind,” she snarls.

“Five days ago, she had no idea she was a witch,” Shawn interjects, stepping swiftly in front of you.

“Impossible, witch powers present young. She would have known before she was ten.” Sylvana throws a hateful glance at you over Shawn’s shoulder. She’s taller than him, you realise with a jolt, at least by a few centimetres, and she moved with a lethal grace that reminded you of lionesses.

“They didn’t, she’s never shown any magical ability in her life. She had no idea until I told her.”

“Impossible,” Sylvana repeats, more softly this time. Her eyes haven’t lost their poison, though something else lingers there now too. Curiosity, you realise. “Who are your parents?” she demands.

“Marion and Jonathon Y/l/n,” you answer, voice unsteady.

“I know no witches with those names,” she side-steps Shawn and glides towards you. Shawn steps hesitantly towards you, his eyes wary. Your heart is in your throat and you flinch as she circles you slowly though she doesn’t come close enough to touch you. “You are not adopted?”

Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth, so you shake your head.

“There is no magic in your family, that you know of?” You shake your head again.

“Very interesting,” Sylvana muses, stopping her circling to stand in front of you. “I did not sense your heritage when you entered though it is obvious now. There must be some enchantment placed on her to hide her witch blood.”

“But then how did I pick it up the first time I met her? I knew it before I even saw her,” Shawn asks.

“Another mystery, unless the enchantment was weakened by something.”

“But how would an enchantment even have been placed on me? My parents have nothing to do with magic, I had never even met anyone who wasn’t human until I met Shawn.” 

“That I cannot answer.” Sylvana turns and glides back to the trunk of the tree.

“Do you know how to remove the enchantment?” Shawn asks. Sylvana glances back at him as she answers.

“Why would I remove it? I have no loyalty to her or her kind. If you assumed I would help her just because she also has magic, you were gravely mistaken.” Disappointment floods you. Sylvana set you on edge, but she was your only chance at getting rid of whatever was blocking your magic; something, you realise with a jolt, that you wanted with a desperation that cut to your core.

“Why not?” you ask, speaking before you can think. Sylvana’s unnerving eyes settle on you.

“Witches have defiled magic for as long as they have known it. They have chosen to use it selfishly for personal gain at the cost of everyone and everything around them, so frequently that it appears to be a fundamental part of their nature. The actions of witches past and present have contributed significantly to the persecution of all magical creatures. Why would I choose to divulge my knowledge to you at the risk of you doing the same thing? Whoever placed that enchantment on you may have been doing the world a favour.”

You let her words soak into you, speechless in the wake of what she had said. For so long, you had believed that all magical creatures were essentially the same; all dangerous, all evil. But Roman’s and Shawn’s reactions to you were beginning to make sense now. Part of you didn’t want anything unlocked if it would make you despised. You had been safe as a human, whether it was true or not. Now, you faced hatred from everyone around you for things you had never done.

But there was something else deep, deep down, buried next to your heart, that yearned to be free. Of what, you didn’t know. It felt as though since the party you’d discovered a disconnect in you that needed to be bridged.

“Sylvana, please!” The words burst from you as the sprite turns back to her tree. She pauses, and sighs, turning to face you again. You ignore her irritation and stare resolutely into her inhumanly stunning eyes as you make your plea.

“How can I prove to you that I won’t do what all of those witches did?”

You sense a slight shift in Shawn’s posture out of the corner of your eye but you ignore it. She considers you for a moment, her mouth pressed into a razor-sharp line. The silence stretches out like a rubber band, pulling tighter and tighter, only a matter of time until it snaps.

“Fine,” she says, voice resigned. The air rushes from your lungs in one long huff. She turns sharply on her heel and stalks towards the tree, reaching up into a low hanging branch and withdrawing something small. She lowers her clenched fist to her lips, letting her eyes slide closed, and begins murmuring rhythmically against her knuckles.

You don’t see or hear anything happen so much as feel it. Like the ripple of a wave before it’s a wave racing to crash on a shore, the humming energy in the atmosphere seems to surge forwards towards Sylvana and the object in her hand. Her eyes snap open, glowing a brilliant golden-green that just about blinds you, and the humming draws tight around her like a gasped inhale.

She lowers her fist and it seems to hum with something you can’t describe. She extends it to you wordlessly.

With bated breath, you step forward, skin-prickling, and hold your hand out. She drops the object into your hand.

“These leaves, should you eat them, will give you unimaginable power and knowledge for a short time. Have your wolf bring you back here in one week and if you have all of them intact, I will consider helping you.”

You glance up at her and her expression makes your stomach drop. It’s cold and dripping with disdain.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly. She doesn’t acknowledge your words, just turns back to her tree. You know without having to be told that you had worn out your welcome. You glance up at Shawn, still rooted to the spot where he had placed himself between you and the sprite. His face is drawn tight, each feature tensed. His eyes are fixed on your hands, where the leaves rest innocently, as if expecting them to explode.

“Come on,” he says gruffly, managing to unclench his jaw enough to speak. In three long strides, he’s beside you, pressing a firm hand to your lower back and steering you to the edge of the clearing. You can’t quite understand his demeanour.

“This is good, isn’t it? I just don’t eat any of these and she’ll help me,” you whisper, glancing up at him. A muscle in his jaw twitches and he meets your eyes. “We got what we came for, right?”

“I don’t know what we got,” he murmurs, eyeing the leaves. “That was too easy. It doesn’t make sense.”

“That was easy?” you question, eyes widening in disbelief. He simply looks forward, at the swaying curtain of emerald leaves before you.

Reaching over you, he sweeps the leaves aside with one hand. The world on the other side of the curtain of leaves is duller than inside, as if it were painted with watered down colours. You glance back over your shoulder at the tree and Sylvana. She’s lounging on a branch again, propped up by one arm with her eyes staring fixedly at you. Was it just you, or did you feel as though the world inside the tree was holding its breath?

You turn away and step through the curtain.

Snap.

[imagine-loki]

The Witch's Familiar

TITLE: The Witch’s Familiar CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 22/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine getting so attached to Lokitty early on that you insist on carrying him just about everywhere.  RATING: T (so far) NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 Click here

    Your head snapped up to see who was intruding, to see if it was a threat. Not that you were in any shape to deal with a threat…

    A woman in a long elegant dress entered the room. She held a regal air about her and you had a suspicion this was the queen. “Explain yourselves,” she ordered, but her voice was still gentle and kind. It was the same voice you’d heard in the healing room. Definitely the queen, since Loki had called her ‘Mother’ in the healing room.

    Loki stood and pulled you to your feet with him. You noticed again that his cat-ears were gone, though again your brain picked an inopportune time to notice that detail. You would have to ask him about it at a better time. “Mother,” he and Thor greeted the woman at the same time. Yep, definitely the queen. You were meeting the queen, in your pajamas, holding a probably illegal egg. Granted, she’d seen you unconscious and whimpering in pain, so this was at least an improvement.

    Still, it wasn’t the best way to meet your boyfriend’s mom… You didn’t think you were making a good impression… at all…

    You sank into a graceful curtsy. Loki looked surprised, but didn’t question it. You had grown up with curtsies as a polite greeting. “Your majesty,” you murmured politely, still holding the egg. Loki wrapped an arm around you when you rose again at the queen’s nod. He didn’t trust you to stay on your feet without help. Wise man.

    “Your majesty, your sons and this lady barged in my workshop this morning to abscond with my project,” he gestured to the egg in your arms. You tightened your grip on it and took a step back. Loki’s arm tightened around you, holding you safely against his side.

    “I believe I have informed you already, Ingris, that experimentation on creatures is not tolerated here,” she told the magician with the same icy tone that Loki had when he was upset. She questioned him further on the nature of his experiments, glowering at his answers which would have harmed your Seraphina the moment she hatched. “You are dismissed from apprenticeship here and are to leave the palace immediately. The guards will escort you. Thor, kindly see that it is done,” she added warmly to Thor.

    “Yes, Mother,” he replied and glared at the magician.

    You held the egg more closely to your chest when the queen turned her attention to you and Loki, afraid she was going to try to take it from you. “Don’t be afraid, dear. I shall not harm the creature,” you relaxed a little, though you were still afraid she was going to try to take it away. “Your lady should be resting, darling,” she scolded Loki gently.

    He inclined his head. “I am aware, Mother. However, the creature called to her to be rescued and become her companion. The need was pressing as you saw. I believe I told you that Midgardian magicians require the companionship of a magical creature for their health and well being?” he asked politely, though you knew that if he was saying he told her, then he had. There was no questions about it. She inclined her head. “It appears that this creature, whatever it is, has chosen my lady,”

    She looked you over. “Then I shall leave the creature in your care. I must warn you both, that it is a creature of experimentation. If it becomes a danger…”

    “Then it will be my duty as its caretaker to remove the danger,” you told her softly, but firmly. You knew your duty and had a corrupted familiar once before… it was not an experience you wanted to repeat, but you would do your duty.

    She inclined her head again. “Very well. Darling, get your lady back to bed. She is in no shape to be up and about after what those…men… did to her,” she told Loki firmly. He grinned at you and swept you into his arms before you could protest. The queen laughed, smiling when you settled more comfortably in Loki’s strong arms, your head on his shoulder, the egg held safely in your arms.

    “Gladly. Thank you for your assistance, Mother,” he leaned down to kiss her cheek without his grip on you changing at all. She touched his cheek fondly.

    “Of course, darling,”

    Loki stepped through the doorway of the workshop and a moment later you were back in the bedchamber. “Don’t scare me like that again, love,” he told you softly as he tucked you back into the plush bed.

    “Didn’t mean to…didn’t know,” you told him softly. You hadn’t expected to find a familiar here, much less be called like that. It usually happened far less dramatically.

     He kissed you lightly. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Rest, love. You still have quite a bit of recovering to do.” That was an understatement. Whatever the witch hunters had drugged you with had been designed to incapacitate you quickly and brutally.

    “You’ll stay?” you asked, your voice soft. You didn’t want to be alone in this unknown world.

    “I will be here when you wake,” he promised.

    You reached up to stroke his hair, starting in the place where his cat-ears had been. “You kept them around longer for me, didn’t you?” you asked him. It was illogical to miss the silly cat-ears. They weren’t part of his natural form and you knew it, but…

    “I did,” he admitted softly, looking embarrassed. “You liked them…”

    “I love you,” you replied. “No matter your form, silly Lokitty,” you added warmly. “Why lose the ears now, though?”

    He smiled. “Because my family would not understand. Also…I am a master magician here… It wouldn’t do for the people to think less of my abilities, which they would if they thought I had lost control of a spell in that manner…” he tried to explain. You smiled warmly at him.

    “You’re a prince. You have to keep up appearances for the sake of the royal family,” you summarized for him and bit back a yawn.

    “Yes, darling. Now go back to sleep. Those drugs wreaked havoc on you,” he snarled softly that you’d been harmed. “And this morning’s adventure didn’t help anything.” You tiredly grabbed his arm and tried to pull him onto the bed with you. He sighed, looked put-upon, and reclined against the pillows next to you, letting you curl yourself into his arms and pillow your head on his chest. “Your mom’s gonna hate me,” you murmured once you were comfortable.

    He kissed your forehead. “Why do you say that, dearest?”

    “I’m weak…not worthy of you,” your murmurs were becoming softer.

    You felt rather than hurt Loki’s sigh. “Darling, if you only understood how very wrong you are. Mother will love you when you can meet her properly. She is very much aware that you were attacked and will not judge you on your current state. I promise, my love. It means the world that you wish for my family to like you,” he kissed your forehead again and you heard and felt the purrs rumbling through his chest, a relaxing soothing sound. “It is I who am unworthy of you, dearest. Now go back to sleep. You need rest,”

    *

    “Darling? Y/N, wake up,” Loki told you urgently. His urgent tone had your eyes snapping open.

    “Whas-goin-on?” you asked stupidly as you tried to wake the rest of the way. Your brain hadn’t woken as fast as your eyes. Your depleted magic wasn’t helping anything either. You felt something move in your lap and looked down at the egg you still had cradled in your arms. The creature inside was moving, there were cracks already forming in the shell. You sat up quickly. “Come on, Seraphina,” you encouraged the creature in the egg.

    The cracks spread and the egg began to crumble as the creature pushed its way out. You cooed and encouraged and finally the creature escaped from the shell. It was a tiny, scaly black dragon with bright green eyes. “Good job, Sera,” you told her and managed to summon a towel to clean her off. That took more power than you wanted to admit. The little dragon made a happy trilling noise when she was clean.

    “Tony is going to blow a gasket,” Loki commented with a hint of glee in his voice. The little dragon hissed at Loki. You bopped it on the nose.

    “Play nice with Loki,” you told her firmly when she whined. You touched her head, reached for your magic, but it just… wasn’t there. You cursed softly.

    “What is it, love?” Loki asked and kissed the top of your head.

    “Those bastards burned away all of my magic and I need it for this,” you growled softly. The little dragon tilted its head and trilled. You petted it softly. “Shh, I’m not mad at you,”

    “What exactly is this?” Loki asked softly, pondering.

    “Making the telepathic link to bind the familiar,” you answered, pondering how to do that without you powers. It needed done now. Loki’s lips were against your temple, his power suddenly there for you to use. You hadn’t appreciated just how strong his magic was. You felt it now. “Lokitty! I didn’t mean- I wasn’t asking-” you protested.

    “I’m aware,” he whispered, his tone dry. He was offering because he wanted to, not because you’d asked or begged. “Do what you need. I’ll spot you the power,”

    “But-” you protested again. The dragon made another trilling noise. “I know, Sera, I know.” You stroked its head and turned to Loki, kissing him lightly. “Thank you.” It only took a drop of power to make the telepathic link with the dragon.

    /Mine!/ she told you and you couldn’t help laughing.

    “Yes, hush now, Sera,” you replied. The telepathic link still open you gave her all your memories, everything. It was vital, especially with this strong of a familiar, that she know everything about you. “Do you still want me as a companion?” you asked the little dragon when you had finished. It had to be her choice.

    /Mine/ she repeated firmly.

    You smiled, kissed the top of her head and made the bindings. The little dragon sneezed at your use of Loki’s magic. He sighed at the small flame and used ice to extinguish it. You looked more closely at the dragon. It had already doubled in size since it hatched, now roughly the size of a house cat.

    The dragon glared at Loki. “Mine,” it said firmly and hissed softly. Shit. It could talk. You let go of Loki’s power and found the dragon was holding the telepathic link for you. It was so strong already.

    “You have to share, little one,” Loki told the dragon firmly, but kindly. “I’m not going to hurt her any more than you are, but I am also not giving up the lady I am courting,”

    The dragon thought about that, tilted her head. “Mate? Mate can stay. If he behaves,” she finally agreed, with only a smaller glare at Loki. Damn little dragon was already overprotective of you. She thought a little harder. “Is there food?” Loki summoned something for the dragon to devour and cajoled you into eating too. You just wanted to sleep forever.

    You sighed in relief when the dragon and Loki were getting along. You worried about both of them. Loki was so…unsure and scared of losing you most of the time. “Now that that’s settled…” you curled yourself more comfortably in Loki’s arms, the dragon curled in yours like a plushie. It had nearly doubled in size again. It looked displeased about that fact.

    “The humans will be scared of a dragon,” she informed you a bit sadly.

    “I’ll protect you,” you reassured her sleepily. She nuzzled your cheek and trilled happily.

    With a shimmer of magic, the puppy-sized dragon was suddenly a little black cat with wings. “This form is better,” she announced and curled sleepily and contentedly in your arms. She was purring in moments, but there was a slight musical trilling note to her purrs that made you smile.

    “Thank you, Loki,” you told him sleepily. He kissed your forehead.

    “It was no trouble at all, love. Especially to see you so happy again. It is also going to be highly entertaining when the team realizes that your new cat is really a dragon,”

    “That they are,” you agreed, laughing. You bit back another yawn.

    “Rest, darling. Odin has requested our presence for dinner. You need to be up and properly mobile by then,” Loki told you softly.

    “My magic?” you asked softly, already half asleep, most likely because of the lack of said magic.

    “Soon, love. That shit should be out of your system soon. Then I can show you all the wonders of Asgard,” he told you warmly.

    “I hate feeling like this,” you whined softly. The cat perked her ears up and you stroked her head, soothing her back to sleep. Overprotective familiar.

    “I hated seeing you like that more, my love. They-” he snarled, shaking with anger at the memory of your state and what they’d done to you. “I am going to kill those men for doing this to you,” he told you casually, too casually.

    You weren’t quite sure it was an idle threat.

[imagine-wannaone]

Yoon Jisung Royalty Au

Y’all really love Jisung and honestly, same.

•You love life in the city, • You grew up moving back and forth between the hustle and bustle of the city and to your family’s farms in a small village in the country, so yanno, an equal balance, • But yeah, you decided to start a buissness in the city after years of internal debate and struggle ™ (because decision making is hard and scary okay), • Because whilst growing up you had strong tactics in making friends: • Baked goods. • 10/10 good thinking, well done. • Because you moved back and forth, it was kinda hard to maintain friendships? • So you did what any wise 9 year old would do: • Bought their friendship (Probably didn’t have to but you likes making cakes anyway so eh), • No, seriously though, people then understood you were really friendly and kind, and it was always good with old friends because it was like a ‘sorry you haven’t seen me in 6 months but look I have pastries’ • So, baking was like a safety blanket with good connotations, and you were seriously awesome at it. • Family recipe? Pffft, you made the family recipe. • So what better investment than a small bakery in the city? • People in the city missed the home cooked feeling you could bake and if business was quiet you could people-watch through the glass front, the royal palace nearby drawing in lots of tourism, • So you make your cakes and chat with regulars in your dainty little bakery, aesthetic goals, • You’re slipping some warm cookies into the glass showcase that you use as your counter when your bell jingles, telling you that you have your first customer, • You smile at the man sliding through your pastel blue door; he’s elegant looking, clean, and you can feel his aura instantly, holding himself well, • His face is covered with a mask, a common accessory, especially in the colder weather, and a bobble hat pulled down adorably all the way down, so you can’t see much of his face, • Although his eyes seem somehow piercing, they’re warm and gentle looking and you can tell the man in front of you can’t be much older than yourself, • You greet him and then make yourself look busy with some cinnamon buns so he doesn’t feel any pressure to buy anything, • “Have you had this place long?” • His voice makes you jump, and you laugh at yourself for being so skittish, but the man’s voice is smooth and oddly familiar, • “Only around 9 months, but I’ve been baking since I was small,” • You see his eyes crease, indicating a smile that warms your heart, • “I enjoy cooking but I never get the time to do so,” • You take your time in appreciating how he pronounces every syllable of what he says, making him sound like he means every word, • You have a feeling he could say 'shrek is a cinematic masterpiece’ and you’d believe him whole heartedly, • “That’s sad, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what stops you? You should be able to do what makes you happy,” • “I have a family business which makes time quite scarce, and I do not entirely know how to make anything as complex as these chocolate cookies,” his tone is quite and almost sorrowful, but lilts upwards at the end, joking, • You can’t hold back the giggle that escapes your lips, although his words hang slightly on your heart, • You push the sliding door open and scoop 4 of the large chocolate cookies into a paper bag, taping down the top with a flourish and presenting it to the man with an exaggerated bow, as if he was royalty, • *nervous laughter* • The man behind the counter starts searching his pockets, but you cross your arms with a soft smile, • “Free for such a lovely first customer,” • He begins to refuse but you sigh and lightly push his hands away from searching his pocket, • Because you’re nothing but bold AmIRight, • His hands are covered in some black silk gloves, a clue that keys in with his speech that this man may be of higher class, • Despite the gloves, his warmth radiates through them and sends a small shiver up your back, • (Someone walking over your grave my ass), • “Listen, if you can’t do what you enjoy, you should at least get to enjoy the finished product,” • The man looks reluctant as you watch something shift in his coffee coloured eyes, but nods anyway, • And that is not the last encounter with this regal man, • He starts to come every other day, making his way through your whole menu, and the two of you becoming casual friends, • You have a habit of watching his eyes, desperate for any type emotion you can read, • You always have the radio on and if there’s no customers you’ll dance and, on rare occasions, get the man to do a jig with you, he swirls you around and it takes an extra 5 seconds for you heart to stop spinning, •  You test new bakes on him, and you can always count on him to tell you the honest truth, • You hug him spur of the moment sometimes, When he comes into the shop or helps you in any way, • Self control, what’s that? •He always freezes at first and then melts into you, wrapping one arm around you, • If he ever has a minute of spare time he’ll people-watch with you, • His shady and sassy comments always make you crack up, • “Those kids running, they have not yet experienced the cruel world,” • “Jisung they look to be 6, I hope they haven’t,” •  or • “ That dog looks to have more swag than you, Y/N,” • So yeah you develop a slight crush on this complete stranger, • Who suspiciously has never taken his mask off but you don’t pressure him, • But tbh how couldn’t you fall for this guy, • Jisung, • He obviously thought the name Jisung was common enough not to raise suspicions about who he was but, • It’s when he tells you his name that you put the pieces together, • Expensive clothes, articulate, little time to himself because of his 'family business’, always covering his face, • Jisung is the name of one of your country’s princes, to be particular, the one who will inherit the throne, the oldest of 11, • And then you start realising things, • How much Jisung composes himself, and how precious the moments he lets himself go are, • Grace and elegance seem to be drilled into him, • His eyes seem to be wise beyond his years, observing and omniscient, the way they track you with a caring sheen making you trip over your own feet, • The way his eyes take in every detail about your baked goods and cozy little shop, • How he always seems to take deep breaths, inhaling the sweet smell of cooked bread that you always have in your store, • Because how could you be a bakery without having that classic smell™, • And how he always seems to buzz and relax in your shop, in the early hours of the day before any customers will arrive, how much softer he is in your shop than he ever is on TV or at royal gatherings or in public, • Upon your discovery, yeah, you have a mini mental breakdown because you’ve been chatting to the future king so casually and he likes your pastries!!!!! • But you don’t tell him you found out, or act differently, because if he wanted you to know he’d tell you, • But man have you fallen head over heels for this gentle, regal Jisung, • “I was thinking, whenever you have the tiniest amount of spare time, head right here. I’ll show you how to bake those brownies you always eye up as if they offer you the answer to your dreams,” • Oh boy, does your heart do the pla dunk when you ask him, trying not to sound awkward or desperate, • But at this point, do you really care? Jisung will judge you anyway, • He laughs and your heart soars because YOU could make that melodic sound come to life, • The next morning when your bell dingles, and your heart warms like always when in Jisung’s aura, • “I thought I’d take you up on your offer,” • Jisung’s stood at the door, an apron in hand and you laugh as he ties it over his jumper, •One of the superman aprons, he’d obviously seen before that you had the wonder woman one, •" But, uh, Y/N, I have something to, ah, tell you?“ He seems nervous, shifty and a little jittery before he pulls himself together to stand tall and confident, probably what he’d been taught to do, before leaning forward onto the counter, • "Would it, perhaps be, I don’t know, the fact that you’re Prince Yoon Jisung, the nation’s cutie?” • You also lean forward in your counter, your faces closer than predicted, but you use all of your willpower, • A l l  of your will power, • To focus on Jisung’s reaction, • His eyebrows shoot to the sky and he straightens immediately in surprise, • “What, y-you knew?” • “Us commoners aren’t that slow, Jisung,” You tease, pulling at his mask and nabbing his hat to slide into your own head, grinning at him, the low light bouncing off his chocolate hair, matching his eyes, • It takes a solid 15 minutes for you to stop giggling at the amount of shocked questions Jisung fires at you, and he seems incredibly revealed you haven’t changed the way you act around him, • But then he admits he wants to bake with you, • And Ho Boy, who are you to refuse a man of achieving his dreams? • So you’re showing Jisung how to make your secret recipe chocolate orange and lime cupcakes (it works with the magic of your hands trust me) when Jisung kinda just stops stirring and just stares at you, • And your like bruh have I got it on my face? I mean you aren’t complaining about the attention but you’re v on edge at his open staring, • “I’m to inherit this whole country, but all I want to do is spend the rest of my days in this bakery with you Y/N, and I can’t bring myself to care that that’s wrong,” • What’s this? You’ve flat lined? Me too bro, me too, • “Everyone’s allowed to have a dream Jisung,” • You smile through your radiating red cheeks and heart that doesn’t want to beat to the right rhythm, • “What if it didn’t have to be a dream, Y/N, would you let me stay here? With you?” • Tbh, you don’t even need to say anything, that soft smile is all he needs, • But through this whole conversation, he has some chocolate mix resting on the corner of his lips and yes this is very important and heart racing but the chOcOlAte MiX Is DisTRacTinG, • So you lean forward to kiss him, the icing seemingly melting into the kiss as well as the two of you, • It’s sweet, quite literally, and slow and exactly like a prince charming, • His hands skim your back and you drape your arms over his shoulders and his hair’s damn soft and there’s fireworks, • It all sorta tumbles from then on, • Jisung has many, many, m a n y negotiations with his family about what he wants to do, • Upside to having 10 brother’s, at least one of them won’t mind taking the throne instead, • And the king and queen are understanding and you pretend not to know they’re a little pissed atm about all the hassle for your own health if nothing else,(They love you after a while dw), • News of Jisung sorta stepping down from royalty to co own a tiny bakery spreads like wild fire and the bakery is swarmed with press and people and pure hell, and some people think it’s cute and your adorable but some think you’re a gold digger and he shouldn’t step down from royalty for something so stupid,

• Honestly it’s a lot to take in and there are several emotional points where you question whether this was the right idea but then Jisung walks over to you with some new cookies, warm heart and comforting words and everything’s okay, • but within a year it’s died down, although you definitely still get some press or whatever it’s not so bad, • You meet Jisungs’ brothers, which is an adventure™ oh boy, and your family all swoon for Jisungs’ proper manners and royal charm and at first you feel incredibly judged by the king and queen but then you settle down and everything’s calm,

• Then one day you realize you’re a flippin’ princess! You visit the royal palace and are in love with a prince and this is definitely not how you planned your life but can you complain? • And most importantly, the two of you sell the best cinnabons in the country partly due to the fact you’re both cinnamon rolls, okay? So soft and sweet.

[promptistrashqueen]

A Royal Commission (14)

@fleetstreetfatality

Prompto’s bent over a client, a headband holding back his hair and the gun buzzing in his hand, glasses in place since he had a late start. The bell over the door chimes but he doesn’t bother to look up, just calling a quick welcome as he works the finer details of a wing.

He pauses, wiping away blood and excess ink, allowing his gaze to flick up enough to register unfamiliar boots and their position before he starts working again.

“You can take a seat or look around, someone will be out in a sec.”

The voice the answers makes him freeze, lifting the gun slowly, glad the guy’s he’s working on is too busy messing with his phone to notice his tension.

“Oh? I do hope it’s my other wayward child.”

He finds himself looking into a face he’s prayed to never see again.

“Ardyn.”

The word is barely a ghost on his lips and he sets his tool aside, shaking as he holds himself straight, wishing he was wearing something more substantial than a tank and board shorts, but the heat of the through the large windows...well he’s just going to have to have emotional armor today.

He goes for his best glare, hoping Charlie comes out soon, back up would be great.

“Can I help you sir?”

The man let’s a touch of a smirk curl his lips and dusts imaginary lint from his ridiculous sleeve, “I don’t know, how quickly can you gather your things little artist?”

“I-I’m working on someone else now, but you can make an appointment?” He tries to keep it up, the game of not knowing as he shifts from foot to foot trying to keep himself from losing it.

“You always were good at playing dumb. Well I suppose I will make myself clear, I’m here to bring you home dear. You’ve done admirably, I hear the Prince is eating out of your hand but I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans.”

The guy in the chair chimes in and Prompto feels a rush of gratitude as he does.

“Hey man, you can’t just kip in here and make him leave, he’s still workin’ on me.”

Ardyn just raises an eyebrow and Prompto swallows hard, seeing the gathering magic in the tips of his fingers. Suddenly he’s very aware of the fragility of the Lucian citizen behind him, unaware of how fast this man might end his life. Prompto can’t let that happen, not to a bona fide crown citizen, not when he’s worth so much less. He feels tears welling and forces them back, holding his wrist tightly as he turns to his client.

“Charlie can finish the work, I uh, I’m so sorry. I hafta go now...tell him sorry, on the house okay?”

The guy frowns harder, opens his mouth to protest but the bell over the door chimes and Prompto jerks as blue light engulfes him and a pair of arms appears circling his waist.

“Chancellor.”

Noctis’ voice is cold and Prompto is very glad he’s in the Prince’s good graces. Ardyn’s smile is brittle as he tips his stupid hat.

“Your Highness. I had heard a great deal of this artist, but alas, I believe I can find better quality than this...MT peddaler. However I do have some business with your friend, so if I might borrow him?”

Prompto shrinks into Noctis who presses a pistol into his hand without looking at him, giving him the protection he so desperately wants.

“He is under my protection Chancellor. Anything you need addressed to him can pass through me.”

Noctis doesn’t sound like the man Prompto’s come to know and it’s a glimpse of him as he might be, strong and regal. Prompto hates how it makes his blood pressure spoke, even now.

Ardyn tips his hat again and looks at Prompto, a glint of amusement in his eyes, “Your family misses you dear. Come home real soon,” He looks at Noctis, “before someone gets hurt.”

Prompto feels like the air in the room’s been sucked out as Noctis’ magic flares and Ardyn’s own responds but more than that, the burning he sometimes feels in his chest lights up and he places a hand on Noctis’ shoulder pulling the Prince back as he raises the gun passed to him.

His grip is steady, the memory of darkness that his blood knows even if he does not and his aim is true. Ardyn claps slowly, looking pleased as a strange red light highlights his face.

“And scene. Very good boys, very good. I’ll take my leave. Do tell your father hello, your highness”

The bell chimes and he’s gone, Prompto collapses into Noctis who cups his cheek as he shakes, trying for words that are mostly broken gasps.

“Prom? Prompto?!”

The red light’s still there, washing over Noctis’ cheeks.

“The fucks with his eyes?” Charlie’s voice, and Prompto turns, the red wash swinging with him to color Charlie and the client and his chest squeezes, but Noctis already knew, so there’s no real damage done.

Noctis gently guides him to the floor, holding him and taking the gun from him, letting it disappear into the blue light that helps steady Prompto’s erratic breathing. He’s here with Noct, with his friends, he’s safe. He calms down slowly and blinks at the weird itching that he assumes is his eyes changing back.

“Hey there.” He finally mutters into Noctis’ collar as the Prince rubs his back slowly.

“ ‘S up?” Noctis smiles a little and Prompto wants to melt into the tender look on his face because even after having proof of his past shoved into his face, Noctis still cares, he’s still touching him like he’s a person.

“Holy shit.” The client says, loudly and Prompto can’t help it, he starts to laugh until they’re all doing it.

 Regis looks at Ignis with a raised eyebrow as he carefully stirs a cube of sugar into his tea. The King is trying, and failing, to not appear proud of his reckless son.

“I’m sorry, Ignis, one more time, who pointed a gun at a visiting dignitary?”

Ignis sighs, but Regis can read the same smug pride underneath.

“Prompto did. After Noctis gave it to him. After he warped his way across a good chunk of the city because ‘I just think he’s not safe’ after throwing himself out of the car while I was still going at least 20 miles an hour. I asked and the only thing I got from either of them was that Chancellor Izunia was being especially...as Noctis put it, ‘cringey’.”

Regis scowls and takes a slow sip, “Better write up an apology letter I suppose. Ignis, if you would please take a seat and share a cup of tea with me?”

Ignis sets his paperwork aside, loosens his tie a tiny bit and smiles, “Certainly.”

As soon as he’s comfortably seated Regis leans forward, “Now, how do we tell Prompto that he’s welcome to shoot that rat bastard next time?”

Ignis laughs and Regis grins broadly, because really, tea chats are off the record. Ignis shrugs then, “Perhaps he should be invited over for a family day?”

Regis gives up the premise of being any healthier than Noctis, dumping five more cubes into his tea and stirring even as he see’s Ignis twitch, “Yes. Yes that’s exactly what we need to do. It’s been a long time since the last one...Clarus was lamenting the fact yesterday.”

Family days are tradition among them, Regis, Noctis, the Amicitia’s and Ignis take off, usually to the crystal clear lake outside of the city where there’s a small lake house, and they “slum” it. Regis can see Prompto having a great deal of fun, and really, it’s high time he speak with the two boys about their relationship.

“How about this weekend?”

Ignis huffs, “Tomorrow? Regis, that’s going to cause uproar.”

“I know, isn’t it great?”

Ignis takes a sip of his own unsweetened tea, like father, like son, he supposes.

Noctis brings out the fluffiest blanket Prompto’s ever seen and spreads it with a practiced flourish over them both as he flops down beside the blonde.

“Press play?”

Prompto rolls his eyes, reaching for the remote and finding he’ll have to leave the fortress of pillows and the blanket to get it. Instead he falls back, waving two fingers at Noctis.

“You will get the remote” He intones, his best Obi-Wan impression on. Noctis goes blank faced and Prompto thinks for a moment he doesn’t get it, and then..

“I will get the remote.”

Noctis moves with exaggerated robotic jerks and lifts the remote making small “Sjjjjjjjjuuuush” sounds as he drops it into Prompto’s laughs and pretends to power down.

“Dweeb”

“Not the one who made the reference.”

….”fair”

Prompto hits play as Noctis cozies up beside him again, both of them are shirtless and Noctis’ fingers fall with ease to the roses that climb Prompto’s left side, fingers following by touch alone the path of elegant green as the previews start.

He goes to skip them but Noctis’ other hand stops him, “Hey, you good?”

Prompto takes a moment to think, clicking his stud against his teeth in thought, “Right now? Yeah. Kinda freaked that he might show up again…”

Noctis’ nose wrinkles a little, “Why were you going to go with him?”

Right. He explained what happened but…

“I couldn’t...there was Lucian in the shop and he tried to say something to Ardyn but, he’s a trash panda so it’s not like he wouldn’t hurt to guy for trying to interfere you know? I figured I couldn’t let one of your people get hurt for someone like me, so why not go quiet and figure it out later?”

Noctis snorts and stares at him, “Dumbass. You’re one of my people too.”

Prompto shrugs and they watch a few explosions, advertising some action flick or another, before Noctis’ speaks again.

“You should come train with us. Me and Gladio I mean, you held the gun like a natural and if you get training, I could give you access to my magic, you could have a weapon anytime.”

Prompto grins at that, “Really? That would be so cool!”

Noctis bumps shoulders with him, “Yeah, and the best part is, there’s a bonding thing we’d have to do, usually I just touch someone’s shoulder, but the more physical the stronger the bond…” Noctis wags his eyebrows and Prompto blushes a little, shoving at his shoulder.

“Strongest bond in Lucian history, here i come!”

Noctis laughs and kisses Prompto, the laughter pressing into his lips as they take a moment, breathing each other in, reaffirming that everything’s okay as Prompto lets himself relax, the soft slide of Noctis’ warm lips anchoring him.

The menu pops up and they part at the blare of sounds, curling closer as Prompto flicks the play button again.

“I call Julio!”

Noctis rolls his eyes, “Fine, I’ll do Miguel.”