#hes mythical... hes majestic.

[jrueships]

sittin pretty 🥰

[bunilet]

i refuse to elaborate.............just take it as it is-

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

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[baelarys]

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖗

cregan stark x reader velaryon

Word count:2277

Warninig:Spontaneous abortion,angust.

You hated this place. Even when wrapped in countless layers and furs, the cold always found a way to seep through to you. It was a cold that not only chilled the bones but also the spirit, reminding you of how foreign you felt in this inhospitable land.

From the start, you had considered this marriage unnecessary. Lord Stark would have supported your mother’s cause without the need to wed you. At least, that’s what you believed. The Starks always honored their promises, or so you had heard in Dragonstone. You arrived in Winterfell with your brother Jacaerys, thinking it would be just another visit. However, that same night, before his return, the plans changed: your marriage to the Lord of the North was sealed, unexpectedly.

Fear consumed you. You didn’t want to marry, and certainly not him. The Lord of Winterfell was as cold as the landscape that surrounded him, distant and reserved. Although you now bore the title of Lady of this house, you knew that to the people of the North, you remained an outsider, someone who neither shared their blood nor their customs. The looks they gave you were not of respect but of mistrust.

You wondered if you could ever come to consider this place your home, but every gust of icy wind that struck the stone towers reminded you that you did not belong to this realm of shadows and ice. The Stark promises of loyalty may have been steadfast, but their hearts were as cold and distant as the winters that ruled these lands.

However, not everything was so bleak. Despite the discomfort of your new surroundings, you were far from the war and the conflicts that divided your family. In Winterfell, the echo of battles and internal struggles was silenced by the vast expanse of snow and mountains. Here, in the solitude of this fortress, you found a strange peace, a temporary respite from the intrigues that had always marked your life.

You walked from the courtyard, leaving behind the cold, gray walls, toward the gates of the fortress. Your feet sank into the snow, soft and frosted, as the wind swirled small flakes around you. In the distance, you spotted the imposing silhouette of your dragon, Sunset. Her wings, a coppery color that contrasted with the cloudy sky, stretched out majestically as she settled on the ground, her enormous body creating a temporary refuge from the cold.

At the sight of Sunset, a familiar warmth enveloped you. The dragon, with her majestic form and scales that seemed to glow like embers in the snow, was the closest thing to a reminder of home in this distant corner of the world. You approached slowly, and she, with a soft rumble, lowered her head toward you, awaiting the touch of your hand. The warmth of her scales against your skin and the hot breath she exhaled as she relaxed immediately comforted you, driving away the cold that had seeped into your bones since your arrival.

Suddenly, the crunch of snow under boots interrupted the peace of the moment, but you didn’t turn around. It wasn’t necessary; you knew only he would dare approach you and the imposing creature that had accompanied you since your youth. You expected him to come closer, but his steps halted as Sunset’s violet eyes fixed on his figure.

“Come closer, boy,” you said with a slight smile, barely tilting your head to glance at him. “She won’t eat you... unless I command her to.” Your words hung in the air, laced with a hint of challenge. You watched Cregan Stark, with his severe expression and indomitable presence, usually accompanied by the sword that rested in its sheath. Today, however, something about him seemed different. His hair, which he always wore tied back, fell loose over his shoulders, giving him a less restrained, more wild appearance, like the North itself.

His dark eyes remained fixed on the dragon’s, cautious but determined. He was not a man easily intimidated, not even by the mythical creature that posed a constant threat to anyone but you. Yet, in that moment, there was more than just respect in his gaze; there was an unspoken understanding of the power you shared with Sunset, a power he could not ignore.

“Do you not trust her?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, as you continued to stroke the dragon, feeling the powerful muscles beneath her scales relax under your hand.

Cregan kept his distance a moment longer before speaking, his deep voice resonating with the gravity of a man accustomed to the dangers of the North but still unable to fully comprehend the bond between rider and dragon. “I trust you,” he finally said, taking a step closer to you, though still with a cautious eye on Sunset. “But any man who approaches a beast like that would be a fool not to do so carefully.”

You smiled at his response, sensing that despite the cold façade Cregan Stark usually displayed, he wasn’t indifferent to you or to what you meant in his life.

“They're asking,” he suddenly blurted out, breaking the silence that surrounded you. His tone was grave, loaded with a tension that needed no further explanation. It took you a moment to realize who he was referring to.

“Oh... they already have Rickon, why do they insist so much on this?” you replied, your voice tinged with bitterness as your fingers continued to stroke the warm scales of Sunset. The simple act of caressing your dragon helped you contain the frustration you felt. “Do they really care that much about having dragon riders?”

Cregan remained silent for a moment before responding, his footsteps crunching in the snow as he slowly approached you. “Rickon is not yours,” he said, his words slow and measured, as if wanting to make sure you fully understood their implications.

You felt a pang in your chest upon hearing those words, though they were not new to you. Rickon, Cregan’s son, had been an important part of your days in Winterfell. Still, you knew that no matter how attached you had become to the boy, he was not your blood, and that fact was impossible to ignore.

“I know,” you responded with a hint of resignation in your voice. “But they think I’m not trying,” you added sincerely, lowering your hand from Sunset’s scales and starting to walk back toward the fortress.

The weight of your words hung in the air, much like the mist that enveloped the towers of Winterfell. With every step, the coldness of the stone and the northern wind seemed to tighten the knot of pain in your chest. The whole process had been painful, more than anyone outside of your situation could understand. You had lost three pregnancies, each one more devastating than the last. Some of those children had never seen the light, born deformed; others had barely survived a few hours, leaving in their departure a void difficult to fill. The bleeding, the unbearable pain, each loss had left an invisible scar that marked both your body and spirit.

Cregan walked a few steps behind you, silent, but his presence was palpable. There were things he could never fully understand, and though you had tried to keep him distant from your pain, you knew you couldn’t hide everything from him.

“They don’t see it,” you continued, stopping at the threshold before entering. “They don’t see how much it hurts. They don’t understand what it’s like to lose… over and over again.”

The cold wind seemed to remain outside as you crossed the door, but the weight in your chest was as present as ever. Cregan, walking beside you, appeared to be carefully considering his next words, as if knowing that any attempt at comfort could break the delicate calm you both shared.

“We could try again,” he suggested, his tone as practical as ever, as both of you entered the intimacy of your room. The fire crackled weakly in the fireplace, barely offering warmth compared to the tide of emotions bubbling within you.

You stopped abruptly, turning your back to him for a moment before facing him again, your eyes locking with his, defiant. “For what? So the next one can die or kill me?” The harshness in your voice surprised even you. It wasn’t just anger you felt; it was the weight of despair, of a constant struggle against something that seemed beyond your control.

Cregan held your gaze, his expression hardened but not unfeeling. “That’s not what I want,” he finally said, his voice low but firm, as if his intention was to pierce through the armor of pain you had built over time. “But I also can’t ignore that the North needs an heir, and everyone’s eyes are on us, waiting…”

“Waiting for me to give them a child,” you finished for him, your words bitter but real. You knew the burden of producing an heir weighed as much on you as it did on him. It wasn’t a matter of desire or affection; it was a political necessity, one that came with impossible responsibilities and expectations.

You turned toward the fireplace, staring at the flames for a moment, trying to find in the fire some kind of answer that wouldn’t come. “I’ve tried, Cregan. I’ve tried to the point of breaking. And each time, the result is the same.” You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it before continuing. “I don’t know if I can take any more.”

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind outside. Cregan stepped closer to you, his presence firm but respectful. “I’m not asking you to break for them, not even for me. What I’m asking is that we think together, that we don’t make decisions out of fear or desperation.”

His words, though sensible, did not alleviate the weight you carried. But in his tone, you could perceive something more: a willingness not to let that burden crush you alone. Despite the circumstances that had brought you together, despite the emotional distance that sometimes imposed itself between you, there was an attempt, however clumsy, to share that load.

Still, the pain remained yours. And in that moment, you didn't know if you would be able to face another loss, another disappointment.

Cregan, as always, was pragmatic, but in his pragmatism, there was also a sort of acceptance. "If you decide that you don't want to try again, I'll understand," he said, and though his words were calm, there was a resolution in them that you recognized as genuine. "I just want whatever you choose to be because you want it, not because they demand it."

You carefully settled down next to Rickon, the little one absorbed in his game with the wooden figures representing wolves and other creatures of the forest. His tiny hands skillfully moved the animals, making the wolves howl in their own imaginary world. His hair, darker than Cregan's, was a striking contrast to the cold landscape of the North, and although you never knew his mother, you could guess that Rickon must have been the spitting image of her.

You adjusted yourself, resting your hands on your rounded belly. It had been five months since that conversation with Cregan when, after many sleepless nights and doubts, you decided to give the possibility of an heir another chance. This time, without the shadow of fear looming so large, though anxiety still lurked in the darker corners of your mind. Every movement, every sensation, was a reminder of both hope and risks.

The voice of one of your handmaidens pulled you from your thoughts. "My lady," she said softly, approaching with a parchment in hand, the unmistakable seal of House Umber presiding over the paper. You took it carefully, breaking the seal as Rickon continued to play by your side.

You unfolded the parchment, and a small smile appeared on your lips as you recognized Cregan's firm handwriting. He had set off north weeks ago, leading his men to confront the wildling raids that were disturbing the lands of House Umber. Winterfell had been strangely quiet without him. Though the fortress was never empty, his strong, unwavering presence had been missed. With each passing day, you had grown more accustomed to his company, to the silent security he offered.

His words on the parchment were concise, typical of a man like him, yet they contained enough details to assure you that he was well. The issues with the wildlings were being resolved, and while there were still some pockets of resistance, he expected to return soon. He also mentioned how the Umber, despite their stubborn and proud nature, had offered their hospitality, though it was clear he missed the tranquility of Winterfell and, less directly, your presence.

You lingered over the parchment a moment longer, stroking the edge of the paper with one hand while the other rested on your belly, where the life you had feared so much seemed to be developing normally this time.

Rickon, oblivious to everything, lifted one of his figures toward you. "Look, mother," he said, using the title that Cregan had taught him to call you for the past few months. Though it had surprised you at first, you soon realized it was a gesture as natural as it was necessary. Rickon had accepted you as family, and in that moment, as you held his father's letter, you felt that perhaps this cold and distant North could start to feel a little more like home.

You felt so happy to have him back, enjoying his warm hands and the long conversations you shared about your childhoods. The warmth of his presence filled the room, and every moment together felt like a gift after his absence.

As you quietly contemplated the dance of the flames in the fireplace, you felt his hands wrap around you tenderly. Your back rested softly against his chest, where the steady, comforting beat of his heart resonated. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your cheek, an intimacy that enveloped you and made you forget the cold outside.

His hands, now resting on your belly, left gentle caresses, as if he wanted to connect not only with your skin but with the life growing within you. That physical connection transformed into an emotional bond, a reminder of everything you both meant to each other.

Cregan leaned his head closer, whispering soft words that resonated in your heart. "I’ve missed you," he said sincerely, his voice enveloping.

"I’ve missed you too," you admitted, feeling how vulnerability mixed with joy. "Your absence has left a difficult void to fill." The words came from you with an honesty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As the fire continued to illuminate the room, you both shared a moment that seemed to suspend time. In those moments, every caress, every whisper was a step toward building a shared life, one that embraced the hope of a future together, filled with love and the promise of a family that, one day, could become a reality.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Blooms Of Serenity ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: comfort fic, chan being very sweet and comforting toward a reader who has had a hard time with their anxiety/panic attacks lately, cute boyfriend chan, NON IDOLVERSE, established relationships

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Sliding out of the seat carefully you held your hand out to Chan who was still refusing to let you take off the blindfold he'd put on you about an hour ago. Part of you was a little sad he'd refused to let you see, you loved going on night drives with Chan since you'd spend all of your time looking up at the stars that were scattered across the sky it was one of your favourite things to do.

"Are you going to pout all night?" Chan whispers in your ear, his breath catching on your skin making your whole body shiver. 

"No, but I'll stop sooner if you let me see," You giggle trying to tempt him but it wasn't going to, Chan had been working on this surprise all week long and he wasn't going to ruin it now. 

In the heart of a packed city, where life echoed everywhere and it didn't matter how far you went you'd still hear the sounds of car horns or people yelling there existed a small haven of tranquillity known as the Serenity Garden. After extensive googling, Chan had managed to find the little slice of heaven for you.

Its charm lay not only in its lush greenery and vibrant blooms of flowers but also in its ability to soothe troubled souls. And it was here that Chan decided to bring you.

The gardens were said to be completely silent, breaking away from the hustle and bustle of life which was exactly what you needed right now.

As Chan stepped into the garden, the air seemed to change, becoming lighter, and more fragrant and turned his attention to you, his hands shakily taking off the blindfold as he studied your reactions. As soon as the blindfold was off and your eyes had adjusted to the light your once tense shoulders relaxed slightly as you took in the sight of the colourful flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The place looked like something straight out of a fantasy romance book.

"Chan...Where did you even find this?" Your voice barely came out as a whisper as you walked further into the gardens, being careful of the flowers as you strolled.

"I'll never reveal my secrets,  Google did play a huge part," He winks at you playfully as he smiles to himself. He was pretty proud of his find and happy with himself that it seemed to ease you, even if just for a little while.  

Your eyes were still busy trying to take everything in, the garden stretched out like a patchwork quilt, with winding pathways meandering through lush greenery and colourful blooms. Huge trees provided perfect picnic spaces underneath them.

"This place is...beautiful," Your voice cracked a little as you turned to look back at Chan, who had a giant grin on his face.

"You needed time away from everything, so I found a small home away from home," He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing it softly before making his way through the garden with you.

Every corner of the garden held its own enchantment, there were clusters of roses in shades of pink and red, and beds of vibrant tulips that swayed gracefully in the night breeze. There were even patches of wildflowers dotted around the landscape, something you truly never thought you'd see in person. 

"This is like something from a book," You whispered to Chan, somehow it felt wrong if you were to speak too loudly, like somehow you would disturb the peace that was around.

"I knew you'd love it," He chuckled softly, taking you toward the centre of the garden where a majestic water fountain was sat. It was a marble basin adorned with intricate carvings that all depicted mythical creatures and flowing vines. The water trickled from the spouts filling the night air with the sound of cascading water.

"I love it and you," You told him as he carefully sat down on a brick bench that was sat in front of the fountain. 

"I love you too, this is your sanctuary," He told you as you carefully sat down beside him, smiling and letting out a sigh of relief as you just let the world be.

Sitting there amidst the blooms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a welcome respite from the storm raging within your mind. But even in this serene setting, the echoes of your anxiety lingered, threatening to pull you back into its grasp.

As if he could sense your distress Chan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

"I'm here, Yn," He whispered softly, his voice soothing your frazzled nerves as if like magic,

"You're not alone." You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his presence, something you'd always managed to do with your boyfriend. There was something about him you couldn't quite explain, something you never thought could be possible but he calmed you.

He made you feel safe and secure whenever you were together, safe enough to let your mind go blank as you just relaxed against him. Sleeping next to someone had never been easy for you before but with Chan you always found yourself able to fall asleep with ease and even sleep through the night. Your body trusted him.

"Just close your eyes and let it be," Chan whispered, you closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water fountain and the sweet scent of flowers envelop you like a protective cocoon, Chan's strong arms around you helping all the more. With each breath, you felt the tight knot of anxiety within your chest slowly begin to unravel.

"Listen to the leaves." He said, his breath warm against your ear as you kept your eyes closed.

"Each one carries a message of hope, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, light is always there to be found." Chan pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hands gently running up and down your arms as you felt a lump in your throat beginning to form.

"You're stronger than you realised, Yn." He continued, his voice filling you with hope and confidence.

"You've faced so many challenges before and you've emerged stronger every single time...You have the courage and the resilience to overcome this..." He stilled his hands before moving closer to your ear,

"I believe in you," He whispered as your tears began to flow, you turned to bury your face in Chan's chest and he smiled weakly.

"I know it's hard," He told you as his arms tightened around you.

"But you're not and never will be alone in this. I'm here for you, every step of the way." He tells you as you snuggled closer to him.

"We'll face this together and we'll be stronger on the other side." He promised you, and you knew you could believe him, you just knew.

As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, a beacon of light in the darkness you'd been consumed in for days. With Chan by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm, and conquer any fear. Together you'd be able to emerge from anything victious.

"Thank you, Chan...for everything," You sniffled a little and Chan smiled using his hands to gently swipe away the tears that had fallen.

"You never have to thank me for something like this, I just want you to come to me in the future." He told you as you nodded, cuddling into him and smiling warmly.

After a few hours of sitting there, enjoying the night sky and the sounds of water you knew it was time to head home but there was something different. It felt as though there was a renewed sense of purpose coursing through your veins. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but you also knew that with Chan by your side, you were going to be able to face anything that came your way.

In the days that followed your visit to the  Garden, you found yourself leaning on Chan more than ever, which he was adoring every second of. All he ever wanted was to be there for you, it was part of being a boyfriend he was supposed to be there to support you in times of hardship. He became your rock, your steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. With his unwavering support, you began to face her anxiety head-on, armed with newfound courage and determination.

The two of you had developed different coping mechanisms that would help you out whenever your mind would become stormy. You took walks to the park almost every other night, leaving your phones at home and just walking hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air as you tried to let things go. Throughout every single part of it, Chan had been there, a constant source of love and encouragement, never once letting you go through any of it alone just as he had promised.

Through everything, Serenity Garden was your sanctuary, a place of refuge and where Chan would take you when everything would get too much again. You both returned to it often, seeking solace amidst the flowers and fountains and every time you came back you felt a little lighter as if the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders, even for a short time. The two of you were back again tonight, cuddled together on the brick bench, surrounded by the gentle melody of the water fountain and the fragrant embrace of the flowers. Chan had his arms around you, pulling you close to him as his arms were a comforting shield around you.

"I love you, Yn," He whispered, his voice soft but fulled of unwavering sincerity. 

"I will always be here for you, through the good times and the bad." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stared up at him, overwhelmed by how much Chan truly meant to you and how deep his love went for you. At that moment, you knew he was absolutely your soulmate, your partner in life's adventures.

"I love you too, Chan." Your voice choked with emotion/

"Thank you for being my rock, for never giving up on me even when I felt like I was giving up on myself." Chan brushed a gentle kiss across your forehead, 

"I'll never give up on you and I'll never let you give up on yourself," He whispered to you, kissing your forehead one last time before you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, your love burning amidst the tranquil beauty of Serenity Garden and you felt peace completely wash over you.

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[serverusslaype]

The Yule Ball, pt. 1

Severus Snape x professor!reader

omg wow two posts in one day? who am i?

i also wanted to post this because i asked about it a while ago lmao, but i'm going to split it into two parts and finish the end of the second part tomorrow after work, it's mostly done, i just need to tidy it up hehe. this isn't very long, however, in part two, it gets good of course. pls don't hate me :( </3

i hope you are all doing well!! :)

warnings: slight harassment? ew, karkaroff

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was sparkling and lively as loud laughter and chatter filled the wintry and festively decorated room. Several large round tables were dotted around the sides of it, laden with beautiful white centrepieces and matching silver cutlery and glittering glassware. Long, blue-grey curtains adorned with artifical snow hung from the walls between the majestic and mythical stone statues, as if imitating frozen waterfalls. A warm and fuzzy feeling settled in your body as you glanced around the gorgeously decorated Hall, a small smile finding your cherry-red painted lips. 

You sat alone at a table in a silky, backless, long-sleeved dress with only a goblet of wine for company as you watched students and teachers alike dance joyously on the floor to a melodious tune. You had to bite back an amused grin as your eyes caught sight of Hagrid's hand slipping down to Madame Maxine's rear. She quickly swatted it away, and you couldn't help but chuckle quietly to yourself. Ever since the international schools arrived at Hogwarts, Hagrid seemed to be smitten with the enormous witch, and you could see why. Madame Maxine was stunning and classy; always dressed in the finest attire you could ever imagine - and of course, always carried herself with elegance. You envied her slightly as you watched the pair sway sweetly together.

Speaking of the international schools, a certain Headmaster had taken a liking to you during their stay and Hogwarts, and it didn't please you at all. In fact, it made you rather uncomfortable. Well, he made you uncomfortable. You shivered slightly at the thought of Igor Karkaroff and lifted your goblet of wine to your lips, downing the rest of it carelessly. You'd been avoiding him all night, and you hoped you wouldn't have to speak to him for the rest of it. 

As you placed the goblet back down, you glanced around, catching sight of Minerva stood to the right of Dumbledore and Snape who were currently observing the dancing students. Though you were looking at the older witch, your eyes were magnetically pulled to the wizard dressed in all black - surprisingly without his signature cloak.

Professor Snape.

You'd spoken to him a few times, but not many - he wasn't the most welcoming man you'd met. In fact, he was rather cold and short with you, which wasn't too unsurprising since he'd taught you back in the day when you attended Hogwarts as a student. So, you knew exactly what he was like. In those days, despite his harsh and cruel attitude towards you and your classmates, you developed a silly little crush on him. You weren't exactly sure why - perhaps it was the mysterious aura that he possessed, or his deep, sultry and silky voice he spoke with, or maybe it was just the plain simple fact that he was... attractive to you. Gods, your classmates would have disowned you, had you admitted such a thing.

Regardless of your history here, being the youngest professor here was a little intimidating to say the least, and the need to prove yourself was overwhelming. At times, you felt as if you didn't deserve your post as the professor of Astronomy - how could a twenty-something-year-old be qualified enough to teach students less than ten years their junior? Doubting yourself was bound to happen, especially in the presence of such talented, wise wizards like Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall - Flitwick was a duelling champion, for goodness sake. And what were you? Merely infatuated with the nightsky and everything that possibly dwells beyond it? Merlin.

A deflated sigh swiftly fell from your lips as you quickly stood up from your seat, beginning to reluctantly head over in the direction of your fellow colleagues. It's not like you didn't want to stand with them, you just felt awfully out of place, and you didn't want to look weird by sitting all by your lonesome all night. Being the new person at the new job was never fun.

As you neared them, your eyes were drawn to the gloomy Potions Master again. As if he could sense someone watching him, his deep black eyes flicked to you, and you quickly glanced away with burning cheeks, walking forwards to stop beside Minerva. Maybe your crush never went away, and you winced slightly at the thought.

Turning to Minerva, she looked at you with happy eyes, a smile gracing her lips. "Y/N," Minerva beamed, her shoulders relaxing in a cheerful manner, "we'd wondered where you'd disappeared off to."

You hummed happily at her words, your stiff body relaxing slightly. McGonagall had been your favourite professor when you'd studied at Hogwarts, even though you didn't exactly excel in her class of Transfiguration. She never berated you for your lack of skill in the subject and that was probably what solidified your preference.

You looked at the witch beside you, though a silhouette of a prominent nose and a mop of black hair clouded your vision. "Just needed a sit down, really." You replied with a soft voice, smiling as you linked your fingers together in front of your waist. "Also, I fancied some more wine, it's rather moreish." Minerva and Dumbledore chuckled at your light-hearted joke, but Snape did not. You swallowed awkwardly.

"Perhaps it isn't wise to be drinking in the presence of students, Professor L/N." Snape drawled in a demeaning tone from beside Dumbledore, side-eyeing you.

"What makes you think I'm going to get drunk?" You frowned, his subtle dig at you twisting your insides. Crush or not, he was getting under your skin.

Snape snorted slightly, "A history of misbehaviour at Hogwarts doesn't bode well." He said, turning his head to face you. You fought the itching urge to roll your eyes at his words, remembering that one time you had pranked his class.

"That was one time, Snape." You sighed, fighting hard not to groan. Apparently, he wasn't going to let this go. "And it was years ago now."

"I wouldn't want to take any chances." He sneered at you, and your stomach twisted horribly. Did he really despise you that much? It hurt to say the least, you thought he would've put that in the past and moved on, but apparently grudges are the next best thing.

"Right." You huffed quietly, and Minerva cast an awkward glance to Dumbledore who also looked rather uncomfortable. Yes, this was a terrible idea coming to stand with your colleagues. A fucking terrible idea. Snape always had to make you look childish. Suddenly, you pathetically wished that Karkaroff would suddenly appear and bother you so you wouldn't have to deal with this awful interaction. Anything would be better than this right now.

As if on cue, someone called your name. "Would you excuse me?" You sighed, casting an apologetic smile towards Dumbledore and McGonagall, purposefully ignoring Snape. Dumbledore also excused himself, leaving only the Heads of Slythering and Gryffindor together.

As you and Dumbledore walked off, Minerva turned to Snape with scornful eyes. "You shouldn't be so harsh on her, Severus," she huffed, "she's not a child anymore. Y/N is an adult, capable of making adult decisions. There's no need for such hostility." 

Snape didn't reply, he only sighed heavily at Minerva's comment, prompting the older witch to roll her eyes at his petty behaviour. Though, underneath his cold and dismissive attitude towards you, there was something else. Something he did not want to unfold, nor understand. It wasn't a familiar feeling, and that was what worried him. And so, each time you spoke to him or looked at him, he had chosen to push that feeling away by being malicious to you. Snape wasn't fond of it, and he did resent himself slightly by acting so horribly towards you. Something inside of him tugged at his heart each time your face fell due to his sharp words, or the way he'd glare at you whenever you looked at him. It was the only thing he knew. Snape wasn't familiar with nor welcoming to feelings other than hatred or disdain.

The Potions Master cast his eyes over the crowds of students, absent-mindedly looking for your small figure. It's not like he wanted to check on you, he just wanted to see who had called for you, out of... curiosity. And there you were, chatting with the Weasley twins. Snape couldn't remember your exact age, but he was sure you were mid-twenties, perhaps early-twenties. Your youthful face and essence said so. As he observed you, his chest burned unusually as you laughed at something the twins had said, and it burned even hotter when he saw them hand you something. What were they doing?

"It's just a little something," Fred grinned goofily in his tuxedo as you held a small, neatly-wrapped box in your hands. It was a pale red, with a shining green bow. You looked up at them and smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, we just wanted to say thanks for being a brilliant teacher," George added after his brother, making you grin amused. The two of them always made you laugh in your classes, it was like they were the same person from how well they bounced off of each other.

"Oh, thank you, boys," you grinned, a little shocked at their kindness, "you didn't need to get me anything." Both Fred and George grinned together, their fluffy ginger hair bouncing a tad as they glanced at each other.

"You're our favourite, you know," George said, and Fred nodded with him, beaming. You chuckled at their silly smiles.

"Yeah, you're a thousand times better than any of the other professors," Fred agreed cheerfully, folding his arms against his chest.

"Especially Snape-" George interjected. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, he's a right old miserable git, he is." Fred grumbled, nodding behind you. "He's staring right at us, too." Your stomach dropped the second Fred said those words, and you quickly whipped your head around, your eyes meeting with Snape's own fierce ones. As quickly as you looked at him, you turned back around, your face becoming hot and pink.

"Are you blushing, professor?" George grinned wickedly, glancing at his brother who also shared that same expression.

 "No!" You answered quickly, gasping.

"Don't tell me you like that horrible arse," Fred laughed, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"I wouldn't have expected you to fancy a Slytherin like him." George frowned, his nose turning up in slight disgust. "I mean, he hates everything and everyone, why would you-"

"I never even said I liked him! You two just assumed so!" You scoffed, folding your arms against your chest. The twins laughed at your reaction, glancing at each other. "Anyway, boys, thank you for the gift, but this conversation is over." Another hefty sigh fell from your lips as you looked between the two of them, smiling politely.

"Professor L/N," A raspy, deep voice came from behind you, and instantly, your blood went cold. You knew that thick accent very well. Fred and George Weasley looked like they were on the verge of busting out laughing. They knew of your dislike for the Durmstrang Headmaster, and you were sure that the majority of the school knew of his weird, little thing for you.

"Headmaster Karkaroff." You turned around hesitantly, fighting back a scream of utter frustration. He looked a little more groomed than usual - his messy, dark brown hair with specks of gray in it was brushed through, and his long goatee had been neatly manipulated into a sharp point. You were also surprised to see him dressed in such expensive looking clothing. The dress coat he sported was a creamy-beige, adorned with a shining black leather belt around his middle, accentuating his lanky figure.

"You look like you need a dance," The corners of his lips turned upwards into a mischievous smirk, and an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine. "May I help with that?" Karkaroff held out his hand, and your eyes shot down towards it.

"Erm," you stuttered, "well-" You couldn't find the words at all, and it wasn't helping that you could hear the twins behind you snickering to themselves. Before you could even answer, Karkaroff had his hand grasping yours and tugging you to the dancefloor. You stumbled slightly at how fast he had pulled you, and with your other hand, you reached down to grab your skirt to hike it up so you wouldn't trip over.

As the pair of you reached the floor after winding through hoards of dancing students, Karkaroff spun you around a little too quickly, and you ungracefully fell into his chest with a squeak. "Sorry," you mumbled, using a hand to push yourself away from him, "I wasn't really expecting you to do... that."

"You know," Igor chuckled, ignoring your previous comments, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since I arrived here at Hogwarts." He admitted with a wicked smirk, allowing his rough, bony fingers to slide down your bare back, gripping you a little too tightly for your liking.

"...To dance?" You frowned, using your free hand to fidget with his hand that laid flat against your bare back, silently telling him to ease off a little. "Don't be silly." You chuckled awkwardly, casting a glance over to where you had previously stood with the other teachers as you and Karkaroff swayed. Only Snape remained, and your face grew as hot as a firepit as you noticed his eyes were already stuck on you. His face was the usual unhappy, scornful, sour frown.

"Oh, but I am not being silly, little bird." Igor murmured, pushing his face closer to yours. Instinctively, you pulled your head away from his, scrunching your nose up at the awful pet name.

"Little bird?" You repeated, almost choking the words out. You squirmed within his uncomfy grip, casting another glance to Snape, hoping that he'd have just an ounce of human decency to realise that you were asking for help. Surely, he wouldn't be that much of an arsehole to ignore the sign of a colleague in trouble.

"Yes," Igor smiled, making your skin crawl. "You remind me of a little bird - tiny, beautiful..." Your eyes widened at his words, and again, you glanced to where you had seen Snape. Your heart dropped like a rock as you noticed the empty space where he had previously stood. You knew he was a dick, but not so much of a dick to let you get taken hostage by a man you hardly knew - and didn't want to know. "So beautiful... why don't we ditch this party and head back to my quarters? I could show you around." Karkaroff muttered and pulled you even closer, grinning lecherously as he brushed his nose against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched - but not in a good way.

"Igor..." Your voice was shaky, yet low, indicating that you weren't comfortable at all.

"How about we go somewhere more private?" Karkaroff's hands tightened even more as they slipped down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his. A quiet gasp left your lips as you pressed your palms flat against his chest, attempting to push him off of you. Your eyes flicked to where Snape once stood again, but he was no-where to be seen.

"Something caught your eye, pilentse?" Karkaroff hummed lowly, his eyes narrowing, evidently upset that your attention is busied with something or someone else.

"No." You quickly replied - almost too quickly. "I just need a refreshment, do you mind?" You forced yourself to glance up at Karkaroff's intense, wrinkled eyes.

"Oh, no, that can wait. I've waited almost the whole night for this moment..." Igor grumbled with a sneer as his grip on you became deeper and a little tighter, as if to say you weren't leaving until he deemed it so. That was until you saw that same sneer fall from his face, replaced with what looked like fear. Instantly, your brows furrowed together into a confused frown as you noticed his eyes dart from yours to something behind you, and so you turned around, curious to see why Karkaroff looked like he was about to flee.

"Karkaroff." Snape's deep, almost threatening voice reached your ears, and immediately, your mouth went dry as your heart leaped up into it. So... he did notice you? A rush of relief filled your body and your shoulders relaxed a tad. Snape glanced down at you, his thick mop of black hair framing his pale face. The blue-white light from above highlighted his prominent, handsome features perfectly, and you felt a sense of warmth prickle your skin, pooling in your stomach. You looked away, certain that if you kept staring, he'd assume you were weird or something along those lines.

Igor swallowed thickly, his bony fingers digging into the skin of your back in fear. You winced slightly at the sharp prod, catching Snape's attention. His eyes darted down to where Karkaroff had an iron-grip on you, and his lip twitched into the beginning of a sneer as he looked back to Igor's worried eyes. "Snape," The Durmstrang Headmaster greeted the gloomy Potions Master, clearly a little afraid of him. Apparently everyone was fearful of Snape, except for a select few, you realised. "What can I help you with?" Karkaroff's thick accent had slipped slightly, his voice wavering. You had to stifle a laugh at that - how was a man like Igor Karkaroff afraid of Snape? There was definitely something that you were missing here.

"Professor L/N," Snape ignored Karkaroff and shifted his bored expression to you, though you didn't miss the venomous look that he'd shot at the Bulgarian. You were still in disbelief that Snape had answered your silent cries for help, let alone actually come to save you from Karkaroff's slimy grasp. "I believe we have some important matters to tend to." Snape said matter-of-factly, arching a brow at you expectantly. 

"Wait, what?-" You choked out with wide eyes. You'd been staring a little too hard at Snape, and so you stumbled over your words, unprepared. "Oh, right, yeah- the, erm, the... valerian root." You finished, turning a bright shade of red as Snape's brows furrowed at you in a judgemental fashion, as if to say 'seriously?'.

"Yes," Snape drawled, dragging his disappointed eyes from you to Karkaroff. You huffed quietly, embarrassed. "The valerian root." The Potion Master repeated, shooting you a glare. He held out his hand for you to take, and you reached out to grasp a hold of it, when you were suddenly tugged backwards by Karkaroff. Snape's narrowed eyes darted to the Headmaster's hand wrapped securely around your waist, his nostrils flaring in slight anger. This old, despicable man had no business holding a young witch like you in such a manner.

"That can wait, surely?" Karkaroff said, his voice low as he tucked you closer to his side. You shot a desperate glance to Snape, begging him to help you again. A frustrated breath shot out of his nostrils.

"Tragically, no." Snape quipped sarcastically, his dark eyes piercing a burning hole through Karkaroff. Snape looked furious - his body was rigid. He hadn't moved a muscle apart from his eyes to look at either you or Igor. "Professor?" He glanced to you, stretching his hand to you once more, and you took it happily, allowing him to pull you out of Karkaroff's slimy hands and to his safe side. Your cheeks flushed pink at the closeness between you two, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Snape shifted his hand to sit on the small of your back, guiding you away from Karkaroff.

Part 2! (wip) Masterpost

there is part 1, i hope you enjoyed it, and i hope it was sort of what you expected! i can't remember what i said i was going to do but this is what i came up with hehe. i'm always a sucker for jealousy.

let me know if you liked it/what you thought, i do apologise that it was kinda short, but it'll be finished tomorrow! <3

i hope you're all well! :)

[bones4thecats]

Can I please ask for Poseidon and Thor and Hades

But how would they react to kianna giving birth to a child that looks exactly like her

Same brown hair and brown eyes and same cat like pupils

But the child has their personality

( the God's personality)

Hopefully this isn't a bad idea

A/N: Hello there again, @nunezs-stuff!! For this request, I didn’t really lure it towards being focused on your OC, Kianna, but it’s just a reader there. I also named the children after their first, mythically correct, children, like Triton for Poseidon, but they are not the same person mythically to the dot. Anyways, enjoy~~

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

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🔱 You had never imagined Poseidon wanting a child, but after the two of you had married and he saw the nymphs of his kingdom underneath the oceans

🔱 When he first learned you were pregnant, the smile that graced his face was something you hadn’t seen since the night after your marriage

🔱 Poseidon looked down at your son, Triton, and saw that his skin didn’t match his father’s, but your, and the slight amount of hair that grew from his scalp was your majestic color

🔱 He tilted his head as his son’s eyes opened and his eyes shimmered your shade, but not with the same sparkle that your’s carried

🔱 They looked just as empty, with hidden emotions positioned deep within

🔱 Poseidon held his son in his arms, watching him grip his finger with a strong grip, his father’s grip

🔱 Maybe this child wouldn’t be as bad to raise as he initially believed

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🌩️ Magni, his son, his first of many to come from you, and you alone

🌩️ Thor had proven himself to be viciously loyal, and when he heard of your pregnancy, he proved to be even more loyal, somehow

🌩️ He watched as you held your son and rocked him to sleep in the rocking chair

🌩️ That was when he first noticed how similar you both appeared

🌩️ Magni’s hair matched your’s, his eyes did, heck, even his skin did, even if you were the same shade, it looked closer to yours for some reason!

🌩️ Thor walked up to you both quietly and patted his boy’s head, looking at your now closed eyes and smiled gently

🌩️ He grabbed his son carefully and laid him in his bed, kissing his head, and with how his son stared at him with the blank, yet faintly happy expression he used with you and him, he knew

🌩️ They had something in common, personality, and that was something he was alright with him having

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💀 Your husband was quite the family man

💀 He raised his three younger brothers, and he took care of everyone who he believed needed it, he was perfect to be a father to your daughter, Macaria

💀 She looked a great deal like you, it was hard to tell at first, but she had just a slightly lighter shade of your hair, possibly tinted his shade of white, and the exact same eyes and skin color

💀 When your second daughter, Melinoe, and your son, Zagreus, was born, Macaria would watch over them with the same look Hades gave his brothers at meetings at the God’s Council every thousand years

💀 Hades was walking through the castle and looked inside Zagreus’ room and saw how Macaria looked at her younger siblings mess around

💀 You laid your head on his shoulder after approaching him and smiled as he saw how she patted their heads and hugged them, not knowing her parents watching her

💀 Hades definitely felt more connected to her afterwards, she may look like you, but she was a daddy’s girl inside

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Yan! Alucard post season 4 with a targaryen reader and has dragons like daenerys from game of thrones or house of the dragon, how would they meet and interact? Would the first meet when the trio see the dragons flying over the village and think it is a threat or a attack, sorry if I'm ranting I just think the idea has so much potential and I can't write to save my life so I'm passing it to you❤️❤️

A/N: Okay so full disclosure, I’m not the hugest Game of Thrones fan, but I did watch a fair amount of the series (mainly for Khalessi lol, they did her so dirty in the finale!). And sorry for being MIA, just lots of real-life crap I’ve been dealing with. 

Yandere Alucard (Post S4) w/ a Targaryen Reader

When our Targaryen reader first hears of a village founded under a famous monster hunter's name, yet supposedly run by the Alucard operated out of Dracula’s castle, she decides she has to see it for herself. 

Much like Trevor Belmont, she is the last of her kind, the bloodline ends with her, and as such, the dragon(s) in her possession are her utmost responsibility. If she cannot find someone worthy of continuing the Targaryen line, then she will have to settle for her family’s legacy existing solely as one more relic in the Belmont hold. Without any remaining relatives to marry to keep her lineage pure, she sets atop her noble dragon steed and sets out for Village Belmont, determined to find a worthy successor, and if not, then at the very least, a worthy grave. 

When she first flies over the village, it is a cloudy day; her dragon’s looming shadow initially goes unnoticed. But soon enough her dragon’s large wingspan wafts the gray skies away, leaving her and her majestic beast very little coverage. 

At first sight of the beast, villagers cry and scream out, as they mistake her dragon companion for yet another wandering night creature, hellbent on eating their children and pillaging their livestock. 

They alert Greta, who arrives on the scene at the same time as Alucard, his heightened vampiric senses having heard the loud thwap, thwap of the dragon’s wingspan long before the villagers could see it. 

Greta organizes her troops to gather their weapons- pitchforks, swords, scythes- those sorts of things and stand ready at the entrance to the castle while at the same time, the less athletically inclined villagers are ushered inside to safety. 

As the Targaryen descends with her dragon, she gives clear instructions not to harm the humans gathered before her, even though the mob before them has their weapons drawn and ready. 

Descending from the sky, our Targaryen reader looks like a goddess, some sort of mythical queen, the elements of both wind and flame at her command. Alucard is immediately drawn to her, her presence, and her power. Although, he is weary of her as well. Too many have come to claim the power vacuum left by his father’s death, and he will not tolerate any vampires or supernatural beings staking a claim on his childhood home, his new village. Even if they are both insanely beautiful and a dragon rider. 

Sypha and Trevor make it outside by the time the young woman dismounts. As she does, she raises her hands in surrender. 

“I am not here to cause anyone harm. I am here to ask a great favor of the keepers of this Village Belmont.”

The trio approaches her, Greta staying behind, her army of villagers at the ready. 

She explains who she is, how special her bloodline is, and how she, the current mother of dragons, is the last of her kind. She speaks mainly to Trevor, as he is the last of the famed Belmonts which angers Alucad greatly, although he doesn't understand why. All he knows is a rather impudent voice inside his head insists that she should be talking to him! Not that stupid Trevor! After all, it’s his castle and his hold, Belmont gifted it to him for safekeeping! 

The young Targaryen asks Trevor if he would accept the privilege and the honor of keeping her dragon eggs safe deep within his hold until the time is right for them to be called upon. Of course, Alucard interrupts, saying that while dragon eggs would certainly be a first for the Belmont hold, he should like to examine them, as well as her and her dragon before making any commitments. 

There’s a tense moment. Behind her, her dragon’s nostrils flare as it heavily breathes out. It seems she doesn't like to be questioned, and neither does her rider. 

Alucard must be careful here. Yes, he’s smart and manipulative as a yandere but we are talking about a Targaryen here. Make no mistake, if he steps out of line enough, or causes her enough harm, he and his whole town will get barbequed. (Despite the threat, this incredible amount of power is one of the things about her Alucard finds the most sexy lol.)

I imagine the group forms a fragile allyship at first. The Targaryen teaches the villagers about her people and dragons. The orphaned children of course fall in love with her dragon, who to their credit, is very patient with them, but also lets them know when to back off with a shake of their large head or a deep growl from within their belly. She wants them to experience some bonding with the creature but she also doesn’t want them to grow too friendly and become complacent when encountering wild beasts outside of the village. Dragons are not to be trifled with, and should they encounter any one of them in the wild they are to react with wisdom, but more importantly fear. 

Alucard, of course, watches all of this very interestingly, in awe of the Targaryen reader's fortitude and dedication to her companion and her role as mother of dragons. In watching her interact with the children, he can’t help but feel a swell of pride, and a longing in his heart loins for her to perhaps bear his children so that they can become keepers of dragons too. 

He can't stop fantasizing about it, how perfect it would be, how incredible she would look housing their combined legacies. Their offspring would be unstoppable. With his vampiric abilities and her draconic bloodline… Not to mention his mother’s medicinal knowledge and Belmont’s collection knowledge within the Hold… By god, they could form an empire! One for creatures and humans alike, all who wish to live in peace and choose knowledge over ignorance. If only his mother and father could see him now…

Alucard knows though he must tread lightly. The Targaryen reader is smart and cunning. She did not come to be the last of her kind by being naive, no. She’s hardened, and she’s been through a great deal. She will need time to adjust to his affections. 

Alucard doesn’t mind though. He has all the time in the world. 

[eliotrosechild]

The Seven Archangels

Lucifer – The majestic archangel of unparalleled beauty and power, Lucifer was once the brightest of the heavenly beings. His presence commands respect and awe, as he radiates elegance and grace. His wings of pure energy and amber light represent his divine origin and his connection to heavenly realms, even after his fall. He stands tall, regal, and mesmerizing, a figure of both light and shadow, embodying the complexity of rebellion, pride, and the quest for ultimate freedom.

Michael – The fierce warrior archangel, Michael stands as the eternal protector of righteousness and the leader of the heavenly armies. His wings blaze with pure amber energy, symbolizing his strength and determination. Michael holds a sword of light, prepared to defend against any threat to divine order. His presence is intense and commanding, inspiring courage in those who follow him and fear in those who oppose him. He is the ultimate force of justice and divine power.

Gabriel – The majestic archangel of revelation and messenger of God, Gabriel carries an aura of peace and divine wisdom. With wings of amber light that spread gracefully, he brings messages of hope and guidance from the divine realms. Gabriel’s presence is serene, calm, and full of grace. His trumpet symbolizes his role in delivering important divine messages, sounding the call to awakening and transformation. He is the voice of clarity, speaking the words of the heavens.

Uriel – The majestic archangel of wisdom and enlightenment, Uriel stands as a radiant guide, holding an orb of divine knowledge. His amber wings shine with the light of ancient truths and higher understanding. Uriel’s presence is calm yet powerful, representing insight, foresight, and the illumination of the mind. He is the one who brings clarity in confusion and light to those walking in darkness, offering the wisdom of the ages and a connection to the divine mysteries.

Samael – The mythical archangel of death – The majestic archangel of wisdom and enlightenment, Samael stands as a radiant guide, holding an orb of divine knowledge. His amber wings shine with the light of ancient truths and higher understanding. Uriel’s presence is calm yet powerful, representing insight, foresight, and the illumination of the mind. He is the one who brings clarity in confusion and light to those walking in darkness, offering the wisdom of the ages and a connection to the divine mysteries. destruction, Samael is a figure of mystery and power. His wings of amber energy exude an ancient, almost primordial force. Known as both an angel of death and a figure of temptation, Samael walks the line between divine judgment and rebellion. His role in balancing creation and destruction gives him a complex and enigmatic nature. His presence is both alluring and terrifying, embodying the mythic forces of life and death intertwined.

Azrael – The fierce archangel of death, Azrael stands as the guide for souls transitioning from life to the afterlife. His wings burn with amber intensity, signaling his role in escorting souls through their final journey. Azrael’s presence is both comforting and formidable, representing the inevitability of death and the solemn duty of releasing souls from the physical realm. His fierce demeanor reflects his role as the angel of death, who stands firm in the face of life’s greatest transition.

Raphael – The mythical archangel of healing and protection, Raphael’s wings shimmer with a soft yet powerful amber light. His presence is one of warmth, healing energy, and divine care. Raphael holds a staff, the symbol of his connection to health and the healing arts. His aura is infused with a gentle strength, capable of mending both physical and spiritual wounds. As the healer of God, Raphael guides and protects those in need of restoration, bringing peace and harmony wherever he goes.

[littlest-w01f]

Papillon

Eris x Lesser Fae!OC (Celastrina)

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: During one of his hunts, Eris comes across a mythical lesser fae, he keeps coming back for her as she is way too happy to befriend the lonely high fae.

Cw: Hunting for leisure

A/N: This is a pure fluff series cause this got too angsty

part one

The forest was silent, not an insect in sight, it was the time when most of them hid, the time of hunting for the High Fae, the creatures of the forest were in tune with the hunting, knowing where to hide to not be found, what most of them had hoped would bore the High Fae the death only urged them to go deeper into the forest to hunt them down.

Eris drew his bow sharp, hands and eyes trained on a doe a few meters away, he kept himself steady, exhaling softly to not startle the creature. He'd been hunting for hours, following a trail that led to the majestic doe, the doe's skin looked like it was made of gold, humming with magic, its eyes black and a grace with which it ran that couldn't be found in many others. Eris had shot an arrow at it earlier, but the doe had managed to evade it with a jump unnatural for an ordinary deer.

He was drawing closer to the Spring Court border, he'd have to keep away from that place if he didn't want the High Lord to write a rather angry letter to his father to make sure he was kept in check, Eris rolled his eyes at the thought, yes, he was young but it didn't mean a High Lord could just rat him out to his father.

He tilted his head to the side as he watched a butterfly land on the doe's snout, with a little more focus, he saw the fairy, eyes wide at the creature. Fairies were harder to find than most creatures, even if they lived in a hive like the winged insects they could turn themselves into, the little things even harder to shoot with an arrow.

A few hunters had seen fairies, but even fewer had seen them in their full size. They were known to camouflage with the insects, the one Eris was looking at would be invisible with a few butterflies by her side. None of those hunters were believed, after all, fairies were what children's storybooks had, a sad little fae could find himself being befriended by a fairy, and everyone else would be jealous of that fae for their ability to draw out a fairy, to have a heart pure enough that one would be willing to befriend them. Eris had nearly rolled his eyes at that while his mother read him the tales.

Not many had believed that there were fairies in the Autumn woods, most of them were known to wander in Spring, till one of the hunters that now Beron held to a high respect, a hard thing to earn of Eris' father, had brought to their court wings that couldn't have belonged to a normal lesser fae.

The doe soon began to run, taking Eris' focus, but it was drawn back to the fairy almost instantly, the butterfly scenting of magic as she hid the tracks of the doe that Eris had followed. Eris looked back to where he had come from, without the tracks or trail, it would take him hours to figure out how to return to the forest house.

"You know, it's a horrible thing to hunt for fun."

A soft voice called to him, he spun on his heel to come across the fairy, now grown, still shorter than him but more of a High Fae's height, supporting large butterfly wings on her back, wings both of them knew people would die to have, to hunt down.

Eris did a double take, then another one, before he earned his footing back, there was something about her he hadn't seen anywhere else, "Ah, so you're one of these fairies that go around ruining people's hunts?" He'd meant to say the phrase as an insult but the way she smiled he wasn't sure he had.

"Yeah, I am." She was smiling like he was throwing the best of compliments at her. "Mama and Papa said a couple High Fae would be out for us..." She trailed off, marvelling at the sight of Eris, taking in his face, how it was different from hers, where Eris had sharp features, hers were soft, her ears were rounding, his pointed, his hair was burning red like a bright fire while hers matched the multicolours of her wings. "I've never seen a High Fae before."

Eris caught her eye, giving her one of his warmest smiles, or trying to, his thoughts should've been on her wings and how much they would earn him glory if they were the product of his hunt, but somehow they weren't. "Well, I've never met a fairy such as yourself, and may I say, you are exquisite." He took a step towards her and like clockwork, she took one back, "Not the trusting kind are you?" He chuckles.

"Your smile isn't pure." The fairy in front of him tucked her wings behind her tight, her warm expression turning into a frown.

Eris held in a scoff, of course, she could feel the 'purity' of his emotions. "You wound me, darling," Eris placed his hand over his heart, faking a grimace.

The fairy giggled at his grimace, "That didn't actually hurt you, did it?"

"Clearly," Eris cracked a real smile at the sound of her laugh.

"See, that's a proper smile," She mirrored his look.

"Fine, you have me." Eris leaned against a tree bark, "I've never seen a fairy before, I'm... Mesmerised." Eris was honest, there was something about her that pulled him to her.

"Most people are," The fairy smiled. "It's a natural reaction."

"I'm Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn," The male dipped his chin in the form of a formal bow, "I'm a pleasure to make your aquantance."

"Celastina, my lord." Celastrina gave him a curt bow, one leg crossed behind the other.

"Quite a pretty name, butterfly." Eris hummed, taking in her bow, "And quite a perfect form for a bow from someone who lives in the deep woods."

"I'm a lesser fae, my lord." Celastrine stood up, smiling, "Not a savage."

"Of course, forgive me for asuming-" Eris paused, picking up the sound of footsteps and the growls of hounds approaching them. "Hunters are approaching us, you should hide."

Celastrina's eyes snapped to the rustling from deeper into the woods, "Are those smoke hounds I hear?" Eris was sure he had hit his head somewhere because the fairy smiled as she spoke, her doe eyes wide from excitement.

"Yes, butterfly, hounds, not damn puppies." Eris scoffed at her reaction, "They are used to hunt your kind. Run." He didn't know why he wanted her to escape, he could've taken her himself, but instead he stressed, "Run." If she would found with him he would have hell to pay with Beron for making conversation with a lesser fae of all things.

Celastrina in an instant turned small, her form nearly the size of his pinky and shot up into the tree, in a second Eris couldn't place where she had gone and he exhaled a deep breath to calm himself before the hunters found him.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate}

[tylermileslockett]

OLYMPIANS INTRODUCTION

Having defeated the Storm God Typhon, Zeus and his siblings: Hera, Hestia, Poseidon, Demeter, and Hades now reign supreme, along with Zeus children: Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Hermes, Dionysus, and Hera’s son Hephaestus. After the Titanomachy war, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades divide up the three major realms, with Zeus taking the heavens, Poseidon the seas, and Hades the underworld.

One key point to remember is that the Olympian gods are ageless and immortal but not invincible. This results in fascinating episodes in The Iliad when the Greek hero Diomedes wounds Aphrodite and Apollo in battle, or the Poem by Hesiod “Shield of Herakles,” where Herakles wounds Ares with a spear thrust to his thigh in a chariot duel. Indeed, it is the consuming of Nectar and Ambrosia which sustains the god’s immortal blood like substance called Ichor.

Please keep in mind that Hades, although one of the original children of Cronus and sibling to Zeus, was given the realm of underworld to reign over, and because he does not live upon Olympus, is not considered an Olympian. Before we dive into the individual Olympian Gods, lets first turn to their Acropolis kingdom sitting majestically upon the peak of Mount Olympus.

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[isnotwhatyourethinking]

The Warrior & The Healer - Chapter 3

Cassian x Winter Court Healer Reader

Summary: Y/n's healing powers are unparalleled, a gift from the Mother that she wields with precision and care. Sent to Velaris under the guise of a diplomatic mission, Y/n is secretly bound by a darker duty—spying for the Winter Court's ruthless war general, Isarn, to protect her imprisoned mother. But as she works to heal the wounds inflicted by Hybern, a chance encounter with a certain Illyrian warrior changes everything.

Word Count: 5.8K

A/N: sorry this took so long, I had to organize an auction T.T though I loved loved loved diving more into the plot and introducing new characters! hope u like this one, angst and all xx

Warnings: girl can't catch a break, angst, mentions of family abuse, blood, violence, waterboarding, language if you squint, some fluff at the end, sorry if I missed anything!

All ACOTAR rights to the genius of Sarah J Maas✨

Upon arriving at the Winter Court, I was greeted by a too-familiar frigid air that clung to my bones, making me long for the warmth of Velaris, and by a structure before me that loomed like a minatory giant, challenging me with its sheer presence. 

The Hailstone Citadel stood majestically atop a rocky hill, its towering spires piercing the frosty air. Constructed around a grand meeting hall where the leaders of the Court gathered for official events, and made from spotless white marble with delicate veins of silver, its walls shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the pale winter sun. The battlements, adorned with intricate carvings of long-forgotten runes, were fashioned from pale blue quartzite, their surfaces glistening as if perpetually coated in a thin layer of frost. 

Inside, the grand halls were lined with smooth alabaster, casting an ethereal glow that mimicked the natural luminescence of ice. Blue calcite pillars rose to support the vaulted ceilings, their icy hue deepening the castle's wintry ambiance. Even the floors, polished to perfection, reflected the cold beauty of the surroundings, with inlaid designs of glacial stone that told tales of ancient winters. 

I stared at the mythical beasts that welcomed me, standing as majestic statues at the base of the blue pillars, symbols of the Winter Court’s strength and ferocity. Great white glacial bears, their fur eternally pristine like the marble walls, were carved to perfection. Snow griffins and frostfang wolves, their watchful gazes following my every move, guarded the halls with silent vigilance. They had always made me feel so small, as if they might jump and shred me to pieces at any second.

The entire structure exuded an icy aura, both in temperature and in its hauntingly beautiful design, perfectly encapsulating the essence of my court. I was caught off guard by the subtle shudder that thought caused.

As I made my way to the tactical wing, I felt a shiver run down my spine, and not just from the cold: a large group of soldiers greeted me with their imposing presence. Isarn might be playing the role of a vigilant warlord, but the overabundance of soldiers spoke volumes about his paranoia. Still, they were a formidable sight, their uniforms a mixture of elegance and intimidation. Each soldier wore a long, icy blue tunic of thick wool embroidered with delicate silver snowflakes. Over this they wore white, fur-lined cloaks, fastened at the shoulder with silver clasps in the shape of direwolves—the well-known beast form of our High Lord. 

Trying to shake off the thought of what Kallias would do to me if he discovered what I was doing, I shifted my attention back to the formation of the soldiers, the details of their armor gleaming in the pale light, silver breastplates intricately engraved with frost patterns and beasts, polished to a mirror-like finish that reflected the icy surroundings. 

I slightly nodded at the formation, heading to Isarn’s office. I raggedly filled my lungs and held my pendant before walking into my cursed fate. No fear. One deep breath. No hesitation. Another deep breath. I knocked once announcing myself, and opened the door.

❄❄❄❄❄❄

Isarn's office bore none of the elegance of the grand halls of the Citadel. The walls were adorned with detailed maps of Prythian, some marked by battle plans. Shelves lined one wall, filled with tomes on warfare, tactics, and the history of the Winter Court. Weapons of all kinds—swords, daggers, and axes—were meticulously displayed, the room was lit by a single obsidian chandelier, its dark crystals casting sharp light across the space. 

In the corner, a fireplace donned with a shiny grease black tile crackled with blue-tinged flames, the firelight casting eerie, flickering shadows across the room. The hearth was decorated with carvings of snarling beasts, and despite the warmth it provided, the fireplace only seemed to add to the cold, merciless atmosphere. A large desk dominated the center of the room, made of dark, polished ebony that looked almost black in the dim light. Behind it sat a high-backed chair, its design as austere and commanding as the man who occupied it. 

Despite his stature, the General's presence was overwhelming, his authority radiating with sheer force. He was a short, chubby male with skin so pale it almost appeared gray, the black ponds of ink he had for eyes missing nothing—a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to see through any facade. His gray hair, balding at the crown, was meticulously combed straight and sleek in a strict military fashion that only added to his stern demeanor. Dressed in the immaculate regalia of a warlord and topped with a prominently displayed black onyx blade, he projected an aura of intimidation and behest. I loathed this visit, though I was looking forward to hearing news of my mother.

"Sit down", he commanded in his screeching voice. 

"I’d rather stand", I spat back. An evil smile crossed his features. 

"Y/N… You’re in no position to negotiate, and I’m not in the mood for insubordination. Sit. the fuck. down". 

Prick.

My back tensed as I reluctantly sat in one of the chairs located in front of his desk, hands still in my pewter cloak’s pockets. 

"I hope, for yours and your mother’s sake, you’re not wasting my time."

I nervously looked at his chubby hands, adorned with rings shaped like bears, tapping rhythmically against his desk. Every other plump finger was wrapped in a band of platinum, a showy attempt to command respect, as if a reminder of his authority had to be displayed at all times, I thought. 

"The Night Court is heavily secured since Hybern’s attack," I began, trying to keep my voice steady. "Thanks to the Ancient One’s powers and the Cursebreaker defending the city, Hybern did not stand a chance." 

Isarn’s expression remained inscrutable as he leaned back in his chair, calculating. "Go on," he pressed, his voice a dangerous murmur.

I took a deep breath, the weight of the pendant around my neck grounding me. "Amren’s powers are… unlike anything I’ve ever heard of. She can seamlessly control mind and body, the Cursebreaker herself was impressed by her skills."

"What about that winged bastard? Did the treacherous High Lord reveal anything useful about their plans against Hybern?" he said in a mocking tone, each word a poisonous blade cutting through the tension in the room. 

I hesitated, the memory of Rhysand mentioning a book to Feyre flashing through my mind. I knew, I knew this was wrong, and I hated the thought of putting the Night Court at risk. But the desperate need to gain leverage gnawed at me. No, I couldn’t reveal this information before negotiating my mother’s release. "Where is my mother?" I asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Isarn’s eyes narrowed, and he stood, moving around his desk with the grace of a predator. "Information first," he said, his voice unyielding.

A power struggle unfolded as he circled me, each step calculated. "Your dear mother is expecting you to fulfill your side of the bargain." He hesitated for a second, carefully measuring his next words to avoid giving anything away. "And the Night Court is not your concern," he added with a tone of casual malice, as if the subject was of little importance to him. 

Interesting.

In a blink, he was beside me, and before I could react, I felt the cold touch of his onyx blade at the nape of my neck. Isarn was faster than I had anticipated, his military training evident in his swift, lethal movement.

I summoned a burst of chilling force to my upper body, just in case, trying to remain grounded. 

"Tell me… what you know," Isarn demanded, slowly pressing the blade harder against my neck.

I felt a warm liquid trickle down my back—he had pierced my skin. The pain was sharp, but the realization of my vulnerability was even more cutting. My wound was healing quickly, though the gash hurt like hell. 

He kept pressing with intent and what felt like... pleasure? I fought back tears until they finally broke. 

"I heard Rhysand and Feyre talking about a book the Ancient One is working on. It could be a weapon, I don't... I don't know anything else." 

Isarn’s smile was victorious as he released the blade from my neck. "A book?" His eyes gleamed with greed. "See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?" he taunted, his voice mocking and triumphant. Then the bastard licked my blood from the tip of the blade, never breaking eye contact. Repulsive, dishonorable, evil shred of a male. 

I forced a gag down my throat and kept an impassive expression on my face to avoid giving him a reaction, but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. I was disgusted, enraged, frustrated and tired. How much longer did we have to put up with this prick? From the moment I was recalled from the Boreal Retreat to the Citadel a few weeks ago, Isarn had made it his personal mission to humiliate me every chance he got. The Commander, Gods only knew how, had managed to convince Kallias to assign me to aid the Night Court, so I hadn't even had time to delegate my duties, and I often wondered how my patients at the Retreat were doing. 

Fortunately, a knock on the door interrupted my torment.

"Sir?" A soldier peeked his head in with hesitation and fear. He had been summoned by the Commander but clearly did not want to disturb him. He knew better than that.

"Alfson. Take the lady here to the lower chambers. Make sure she sees how her mother is being well cared for." Isarn snarled with disdain. Then he pinned me down with his resolute obsidian eyes as he reclined on his desk, their fixed stare anchoring me in place. 

"We are done here. You're to remain in the Night Court until I say otherwise, and you better not try any funny business." He tapped the ebony with his fat fingers, emphasizing the last three words. "I've got eyes and ears everywhere."

"I've got eyes and ears everywhere," I scoffed in my head. Honestly, what was his interest in the Night Court? 

What is your endgame, Commander?

A surge of strength coursed through me, a defiant fire igniting in my chest. While my resilience had always been a silent force, manifesting through actions rather than words, this newfound courage startled me. 

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth.

"You mean Hybern’s?"

His head suddenly snapped up, a shadow crossing his face. Without warning, his hand lashed out, striking me across the face with a force that sent me reeling. The sting of his platinum rings bit into my skin, and before I could even touch my cheek to ease the pain, his gaze shifted to the soldier. With a slight nod and a silent command in his eyes, he conveyed his next order.

A sudden, searing pain exploded at the side of my head, and my world turned black.

The barren, snow-covered ground crunched beneath our feet as we searched for anything to stave off our gnawing hunger. It had been two weeks since my father had left us to fend for ourselves, his absences a common trial we had learned to endure. The biting wind whipped through my thin clothes, but I barely felt it, my focus solely on survival. 

I ran ahead of her, a small figure stood out a few meters away in the sea of whites and grays around us.

“Mama, look!”

We had stumbled upon a rabbit, its fragile body barely clinging to life. I looked at my mother with young, inexperienced eyes, searching in hers for an answer to the rabbit's pain, though knowing this could be our dinner. 

She knelt beside the animal, examining it with gentle hands despite the harshness of our surroundings. Her eyes, a blend of resolve and sorrow, met mine with a weight that belied her calm exterior. She cupped her hand on my left cheek, a mother's heart breaking at the lesson she was about to teach her little girl. 

"You must choose," she said gently, her voice trembling yet firm as strings of mist came out of her mouth. "Help it get better, or let it go peacefully. The decision is yours, my love."

Her tone carried not just the necessity of our survival, but a plea for understanding. 

I hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on my small shoulders. The rabbit's labored breaths filled my ears, and I felt a pang of empathy for the creature. But the growling of my stomach and the desperate look in my mother's eyes forced my hand. With trembling fingers, I reached out, knowing that this choice meant survival.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering my strength, then made the call. 

I snapped the flimsy neck, ending the rabbit’s suffering to provide us with a meal. The act felt heavy, its significance settling deep within me.

My mother’s gaze hardened as she stroked my hair and looked into my eyes. 

"You did good. Sometimes we must do not what our hearts desire but what our needs demand, without fear nor hesitation” 

Her words replaced the feeling of guilt and grief, they had etched themselves into my soul, becoming a cornerstone of my resilience and determination.

I bolted upright on the cold stone floor, my mother's voice echoing in my mind. The nightmare, the memory, had faded, but the longing for her warming presence remained.

As my senses returned, I realized I wasn't in my bed but in a dark, dank dungeon. The chains binding me were a deep, otherworldly blue, shimmering faintly in the dim light. Each link felt like liquid metal solidified into an unbreakable structure, wrapped tightly around my wrists and ankles. The subtle chill from their touch seeped into my bones, sapping my strength with powerful magic. 

I groaned as I tried to reach for the back of my head where an intense headache originated, pounding behind my eyes, likely from the blow Alfson had delivered in Isarn’s office. My vision was still blurry, but as I blinked rapidly trying to clear my sight, the full extent of my situation became painfully clear: I wasn't healing.

I struggled against the chains, my movements slow and sluggish. Each effort to free myself only seemed to tighten their grip. Panic began to set in, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. Then, amidst the silence of the dungeon, a familiar whimpering voice reached me over the ringing in my ears.

Across the cell, through the dim light and shadows, I saw her. She was huddled in a corner, her once-vibrant form now frail and broken. 

No. No, no, no–

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized the horror of her imprisonment. Isarn hadn't been keeping her in some quarters as I had hoped; all this time, she had been held captive in a dungeon cell. 

"My child," she murmured. 

It pained me to hear her voice barely audible carrying the weight of all the suffering she had endured.

"Mama," the call came from the bottom of my heart, out to my lips, hoarse and desperate. The sight of her, more than the chains, more than the cold, more than the headache, shattered my core. I fought against the bonds with renewed desperation, my mind racing to find a way to free us both. A thousand questions swirled in my mind, and I could see the same confusion and urgency reflected in my mother's eyes.

I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady, "I've been out assisting the Night Court."

Her eyes widened, a spark of shock briefly flickering through her weariness. I wanted to tell her everything, about the beautiful city of Starlight, the people I had met, the mission I had undertaken, about my mate, but there was no time. The sound of boots echoed faintly in the background, so I continued.

"Mama, I’ve been well, but I can't talk for long," I said, my words hurried. "They're coming."

She nodded, understanding the urgency. Despite her frail state, she reached out to me as if she could hold my hand from a distance. "Bjorn," she said, her voice dry and raspy, "he's been aiding me."

Bjorn. The mention of his name brought a flood of emotions. My uncle, my mentor, the one who had always been there for us. While my father abandoned us, Bjorn had stepped in, teaching me everything I needed to know to survive in this frozen hell. As the Captain of the border forces with the Autumn Court, he had been a figure of fortitude and tenacity, walking alongside me every step of the way, from treating soldiers in makeshift tents to becoming indispensable to the court. He was more of a father to me than my own ever was. 

"He sneaks in when he can... Isarn still doesn’t know," my mother continued in a whisper, forcing a gulp. "He doesn’t know you’re related. It’s our only advantage."

I nodded, tears welling in my eyes. The thought of seeing Bjorn again gave me a glimmer of hope. I had kept it together up to this point but gods knew I needed a lifeline. 

"Do what Isarn says for now, my love. Find Bjorn. He’s been looking for you, too."

My mother fought a cough, struggling to talk. As her eyes met mine, I silently pleaded with her to stop, to save her strength, but she pressed on, defying my unspoken request. 

"He mentioned tensions at the border are growing, and that he’s been looking for a way to undermine Isarn's influence, to exploit his vulnerabilities."

The sound of boots grew louder, the guards getting closer. Panic surged through me, but I held on to my mother’s words. "We’ll get through this," I promised. "I'll find Bjorn." As soon as Isarn grows bored of this hissy fit and sends me back to Velaris.

The Mother must’ve heard my prayers, as two soldiers finally approached the cell’s gate, each carrying a large bucket filled with what looked like water, and two thick linen cloths. This couldn’t be good.

"Rise and shine, ladies," one of them sneered.

Fuck, how long had it been?

The soldiers walked into the cell with a menacing air. "This is a mercy from the General, a little reminder." one of them said, his words dripping with that characteristic malice of Isarn’s personal guard.

Before I could react, they grabbed us and forced us to the cold stone floor. The first splash of icy water hit my face like a thousand needles, the shock making me gasp for air. The cloth was pressed over my face, and the torture began.

I struggled to breathe as they poured more water on me, each inhalation bringing it into my lungs. Panic and pain overwhelmed me as I heard my mother's muffled cries close by. I fought against the restraints, desperately trying to break free, but the chains held me fast.

Just when I thought I would drown, they stopped. I laid there, coughing and gasping for breath, my body trembling. The soldiers laughed, their eyes savoring their making.

"If you don’t comply with the General’s orders," one of them said, leaning down to whisper in my ear, "or if you dare to question him again, he will personally stab you both with faebane, bathe you in cold water, and leave you out to freeze to death."

The other soldier removed the dark indigo bonds and spat on my face.

“Scum.”

But I ignored it all as I crawled towards my mother, every movement a struggle. "Mama, please," I begged, "stay with me."

Darkness was closing in, my strength fading. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was my mother’s frail form, her eyes filled with love and desperation. 

I drifted in and out of awareness as rough hands grabbed me, dragging me out of the dungeons. My body felt heavy, my limbs barely responding. Through blurred vision, I saw the dimly lit corridors of the lower levels of the Hailstone Citadel pass by, the cold seeping into my bones.

"Keep moving," one of the soldiers muttered, his grip tightening on my arm.

They hauled me through a hidden exit at the back of the citadel, into the freezing night. The biting wind stung my face, jolting me closer to full consciousness. They dragged me into the bailey, the snow crunching under their boots, until they finally dropped me unceremoniously onto the ground.

I laid there, shivering, hardly breathing. I had to move. Summoning the last of my strength to heal the tightness in my muscles, I pushed myself up, staggering towards the stables I knew were nearby. Each step was a battle as I reached a horse conveniently saddled, its breath visible in the cold air. I had always prided myself on being self-reliant, I’d been taught to never depend on a male for strength or comfort. But now, as my body temperature kept dangerously dropping, I found myself wishing for Cassian’s warmth, his strong arms wrapping around me. I held onto that feeling for solace, while focusing on mounting the animal. 

I urged the horse south, towards the Autumn Court border where I knew Bjorn was positioned. The ride was a blur of icy wind and snow-covered trees. I fought hard to stay awake and to listen to the rhythm of the horse’s gallop—it was the only thing keeping me from slipping back into unconsciousness.

When I finally reached the border at dawn, the outpost where Bjorn was stationed came into view. It was a watchpoint where the soldiers of the Winter Court kept an eye on the shifting lines between territories. Tents erected around a tall brick structure dotted the landscape as far as I could see, blending into the snow-covered ground.

A soldier approached as I dismounted, recognizing me from past encounters at the recovery camps. "Y/N," he greeted, his voice filled with concern as he saw my condition. He helped me unmount, his hands steadying me as I stumbled. 

"I have urgent business with the Captain," I muttered as I could.

The soldier nodded, understanding the urgency. "This way."

He tied the horse to a post and guided me through the site as I made my way to Bjorn's tent. The sounds and faces of the outpost, once familiar and comforting, now felt distant and blurred as if they were fading away. At last, we arrived at Bjorn's tent. The soldier stepped inside first, clearing his throat before speaking, "Captain, someone’s here to see you." I followed, my legs barely holding me up.

Bjorn turned around, shock registering on his face when he saw me. "Y/N," his voice broke, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and worry. 

I couldn't contain my tears any longer. I ran to him, collapsing into his embrace. He wrapped me around tightly in a fatherly comfort I had longed for since I left for the Night Court.

As we stood there, memories of our time together surged through my mind. I recalled the countless hours we spent in the training grounds, his voice calm and steady as he instructed me on how to hold a blade, how to keep my balance even on treacherous ice. He drilled me in the military structure of the Winter Court, ensuring I understood the hierarchy and strategies that could one day save my life. 

His patience never wavered as he guided me in harnessing my healing powers, teaching me to channel my energy and focus it precisely where it was needed. Every lesson, every word of encouragement had shaped me into who I was today. He had been there for me in my darkest moments, offering his support and wisdom when I needed it most. Our familial tie was forged in those early days of hardship, and it had only grown stronger over the years.

"I thought I'd lost you," Bjorn whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "My mother…" I pleaded, "she needs help."

Bjorn’s face set with resolve. "We’ll take care of her."

He turned and called for the soldier who had brought me to the tent. As the soldier approached, Bjorn drifted to his work table, quickly scribbling something on a piece of paper. He handed it to the soldier. "Take this to Eirik," he instructed. "He’ll know what to do."

The soldier nodded and swiftly left the tent, leaving me sighing with a sense of relief. Bjorn finally faced me, studying me with worry. 

"I look like hell, don't I?" I managed a weak smile.

Bjorn chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. "You always did have a flair for understatement," he teased, his teal blue eyes scanning me for injuries. He quickly urged me to sit, gently helping me as I sank onto a nearby stool. As he helped me remove my wet cloak, no longer pewter but a light charcoal due to all the dirt, and my boots, he gazed at my wrists where they were still hurt. My powers were almost depleted.

When he took off my boots, he noticed the bargain tattoo. His lips pursed. "Your mother told me about..." He pointed at the tattoo with his chin. "When you left... I couldn't, I haven't forgiven myself. I should've been there for you. I'm sorry." 

I reached out for his arms, like I always did many, many times when I was younger and none of this mattered. 

"You had no way of knowing, and I won't let you carry the guilt of Isarn's doing," I whispered in our embrace.

I took a deep breath and slowly let go, still holding his hands. "I was in the Night Court, sent to work as a healer, but I was spying for Isarn. He..." I looked down at my wrists, cuts from the chains still open, "did not hold back when I returned. The moment I mentioned the King of Hybern, he snapped. I don't get it, why is he so interested in the Night Court?"

Bjorn's face hardened. "Because he’s an ambitious prick. I have spies within Isarn’s close circle. He's working with Hybern. He’s promised him the Winter Court in exchange for his help." 

He saw the blood leaving my face as my heart sank, waves of blame and dread suffocated me. 

Dear Mother. What have I done?

"Is that even possible?"

"The fool is a loyalist. He’d gladly sell his own pathetic life to bring back the days of human enslavement."

Weariness was creeping in. I hadn’t slept all night, though the gravity of the conversation was enough to keep my mind alert. 

"It gets worse," Bjorn continued. "Isarn plans to help Hybern destabilize the Night Court by kidnapping the Cursebreaker. Apparently Hybern wants to use her powers against all humans down the Wall, though we still don’t know how."

"Feyre... But why would Isarn do this?" 

Despite his cruelty, Isarn was a military commander through and through, his loyalty to the Winter Court woven into the very fabric of his being. Betrayal felt out of character.

Bjorn's eyes locked into mine, his demeanor to the brink of desperation. "Isarn has long harbored resentment towards Lady Viviane for commanding the Winter Court armies during Under the Mountain. He felt..." 

The soldier that brought me to the tent interrupted, bringing two steaming bowls of stew, the savory aroma filling the tent. 

"This might not be a feast, but it'll keep you going," he remarked while he offered me a shy smile, approaching me with a bowl.

Ever the overprotective parent, Bjorn grabbed both from his hands, dismissing the soldier with a nod, and continued. 

"He felt small and undermined—no surprises there." He winked at me conspiratorially. I would have laughed at the joke if the guilt within me wasn't drowning me.

"Especially after discovering Lady Viviane's leadership role. His supposed captivity by Hybern was a ruse; he was collaborating with them all along."

I felt a sickening twist in my gut. I lowered my head into my hands, resting them on my legs, overwhelmed by exhaustion and frustration, and unable to process any more information. Telling Isarn about the book had been a mistake. A grave mistake. But I couldn't burden Bjorn with the weight of my call, I'd rather keep him focused on my mother's well-being. Then there's the safety of my mate… I had to fix this. I knew what I had to do. 

"I have to go back to the Night Court." I uttered with a stammer. 

Bjorn's eyes blanked with a resolve that startled me, he’d seen right through me and instantly knew my intentions. He stood up and started pacing around the tent. 

"If you plan to share any information about Isarn and his plans with the Night Court, you need to be prepared, Y/N.”

He was right. If I approached Rhysand and Feyre, laying out everything I knew about Isarn while also proposing a solution, they could not only be warned but might also offer resources and intelligence to our advantage, in a joint effort. A pang of gratitude hit my core when I realized that, in the rush of the moment, Isarn wasn’t too specific with the terms of the bargain. 

A fool, indeed. This might just work. 

I felt a hint of pride in my chest.

"Not bad for an old captain," I winked at him, and replied with a smirk when I shared my conclusion. 

"I'll need to devise a plan that ensures Isarn can't retaliate. If I can present them with a strategy to counter his, they may be able to support us."

Bjorn agreed, his expression serious. 

"Exactly. They have as much at stake as we do."

He slowly leaned towards me, placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes, his gaze full of emotion. I knew this moment would come once more, the moment we part without knowing when we’ll see each other again, but I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It seemed like all we had now were these fleeting moments, and there was still so much I wanted to share with him.

"You can do this, Y/N. But remember, you must keep up the facade with Isarn until the very end. Any slip, and he will come down on you hard. On both of you.”

"I understand," I said firmly, taking his calloused hands in mine. 

Then he searched my eyes for the tenacity he'd taught me to maintain in these situations, and found another emotion seeping in instead.

A longing for the male I'd been relentlessly pushing away, leaving him behind at the Night Court.

"Alright, spill it, child. What’s going on?" Bjorn pressed, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated, my thoughts a whirlwind. I wanted to tell him about Cassian, but how could I explain this to Bjorn when Cassian himself didn't know about the mating bond? Not that I was planning to tell him either. 

The risk of exposing such a deeply personal truth made me feel incredibly vulnerable. Still, I wanted him to know. I needed his guidance and support, now more than ever.

"I..." I started, struggling to find the right words. "There’s someone at the Night Court. Someone... important to me."

Bjorn's thick eyebrows burrowed, but he waited patiently for me to continue.

"I think... I think I've found my mate. He's very well known and a person of trust in the Night Court. He doesn't know though, about the bond."

Bjorn's lips drew a line. 

Oh, Gods. 

I hadn't been this nervous since the first time I met Kallias. I forced a swallow down my throat and continued, the words coming out of my mouth in a hurried tirade like a child who had been caught being naughty.

"I cannot, will not risk this mission for a male I barely know, though," I continued, determination hardening my voice despite the pounding in my heart. "There's too much at stake, and I need to focus on what matters now."

Bjorn’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I saw the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. 

"So, you’re just telling me now that you found your mate?" he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "And here I thought you were keeping all your secrets from me."

Despite the tension, a small smile crept across my face as I lowered my chin and looked at my bare foot. "It's not like that."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I know, child. I’m just teasing. But seriously, a mate? And an important one in the Night Court, no less,” his hands reaching his hips. “You sure know how to pick them."

I mentally sighed as all the light-hearted taunting eased some of the anxiety gnawing at my insides. 

"I didn’t exactly choose this, you know." 

Bjorn’s expression turned more serious, though the warmth didn’t leave his eyes. "I admire your determination, Y/N. And I’m happy for you, really. But you need to be cautious. Especially if he’s a significant figure in the Night Court."

He elbowed me with complicit eyes, "Can I know who this significant other, I mean, figure is?"

I rolled my eyes, tempted to fall into more of his tease but instead I hesitated, thinking about the answer. 

"You’ll know, Bjorn. In time. If everything goes well after Isarn is dealt with. For now, we move forward with the plan."

Bjorn nodded, understanding the boundary. "Fair enough. Just promise me you’ll be careful. And be smart. Remember your training."

"I promise," I said, knowing that I would cling to those words when the moment demanded it. I stood there for a moment, trying to hold on to this precious instant with him. His concern for me was evident, and it mirrored the worry I felt for him. 

"Good," he replied with a reassuring smile. Bjorn’s blue eyes softened as he pulled me into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of mist and pine enveloped me, grounding me in the moment. 

“Please be strong, petal,” he murmured, his tone carried a hue of anguish. I nodded against his shoulder, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall upon hearing the affectionate nickname he’d given me since I was a child. “I will.”

We pulled back slightly, our hands still clasped together. His rough palms were a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I looked into his eyes again and recognized the unspoken devoted love that had always been there. 

"This isn't goodbye," I said softly, squeezing his hands. "Please keep her safe. Who knows, the next time we meet I may bring some allies, Mother willing."

"I'll hold you to that. Now go," he held my chin up gently, with a caress. "Go back to the Night Court and show them what you're made of," his eyes shone with affection. 

With a final nod, I gathered my now somewhat-dry cloak, and some clean clothes and supplies for the journey he'd packed for me. 

Before I walked out of the tent, he called after me.

"He better be good with a sword."

I hid a grin, knowing the answer. "Something like that."

taglist:

@bravo-delta-eccho @yamisuke @randomperson1234sblog @anxious-cactus @lilah-asteria  @darkbloodsly @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden

dividers by @estrelinha-s

[sirenizer]

The Warm Embrace

[part 1] [part3]

As you made your way through the dense forest, the thrill of exploring for treasure filled your mind. You were so focused on the adventure ahead that the small dangers of the wilderness barely crossed your mind. That is, until something cold and many-legged crawled up your leg. Your body froze for a moment, and then, without a second thought, you let out a scream loud enough to send birds scattering from the trees.

Back on the ship, the crew’s conversations halted as your scream echoed over the water. Whitebeard let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. The older crew members exchanged knowing looks; they recognized that scream all too well. Grace might be one of the toughest people on the crew, but everyone knew there was one thing that could get that kind of reaction from her—centipedes.

“That had to be Grace,” Haruto said with a grin, glancing in the direction of the island.

Marco chuckled, shaking his head. “Probably another centipede. She doesn’t hold back with those things.” He looked over to Ace, who had a slightly bewildered expression, clearly unfamiliar with the situation. “Hey, Ace, mind checking on her?”

But before Marco even finished speaking, he noticed that Ace had already bolted, racing toward the forest.

Tartch smirked, watching Ace disappear into the trees. “Didn’t even know what was happening. He just took off the second he heard her scream.”

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Ace was dashing through the trees, concern etched on his face. His mind raced through possibilities—maybe she’d encountered some dangerous animal or enemy. He pushed forward, brushing aside branches, leaping over rocks, and following the sound of your scream.

When he finally reached you, he found you frantically shaking your leg, your eyes wide and filled with panic as the centipede crawled higher. You didn’t even notice Ace at first, too focused on trying to get the insect off without actually touching it.

“A centipede?” Ace’s voice broke through, half-relieved and half-amused, as he took in the scene.

You didn’t care about his reaction; your only focus was on getting rid of the creature. “Yes, and it’s disgusting!” you said, practically hopping on one foot as you tried to shake it off, a trace of genuine fear in your voice. “Just get it off me!”

Ace tried to hold back a laugh as he stepped forward, brushing the centipede off your leg with a quick flick of his hand. He shook his head, amused at the sight of you so calmly demanding help despite the scream that had led him to think something terrible had happened.

"Really?” he said, grinning. “All that noise for a bug?”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his teasing grin with a serious look. “If it’s got more than four legs, it’s got no business near me,” you replied flatly. “And I don’t care who hears it.”

Ace laughed, thoroughly entertained and a bit impressed by your honesty. “Alright, noted. I’ll be on centipede duty from now on,” he said, smirking.

You rolled your eyes, brushing off your leg. “Better be prepared,” you said with a smirk of your own. You continued down the path, glancing at the ground to make sure there were no other unwelcome creatures in sight, while Ace followed, still chuckling to himself.

As you and Ace ventured deeper into the lush island, the thick foliage gradually gave way to a stunning clearing bathed in golden sunlight. Before you stood the ruins of an ancient civilization, their stone structures looming majestically against the vibrant greenery, draped in vines and moss. Intricate carvings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of bravery, adventure, and mythical creatures.

Ace’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he strode toward the archway leading inside.

“Look at this place, Grace!” he called, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Bet we’ll find something incredible in here!”

You gave him a wary smile, unable to deny his infectious energy, though your instincts urged caution. “Just remember, ancient places like this often come with traps.”

But before you could say more, Ace dashed forward with a grin, disappearing inside. You sighed, quickening your pace to follow him. It felt nice being by his side, even if it was a little intimidating. In those moments together, especially after sharing watermelon and laughter under the stars, something within you had started to shift. You couldn’t ignore the spark that ignited whenever you were close to him, the way his presence warmed you from the inside out.

As you stepped onto the stone floor, a loud crack echoed through the ruin, and the ground beneath you gave way.

“Ace!” you shouted as the stone crumbled under your feet.

Reacting in an instant, Ace whirled around and lunged for you, his hand catching yours as you fell. You gasped as he pulled you close, his arm wrapping securely around your waist as both of you tumbled down into the shadows below.

For a moment, everything was a blur of motion and muffled sounds. But as you came to a stop, you found yourself still in his arms, your faces mere inches apart in the dim light. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his strong, steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips as his gaze softened, his surprise melting into something more intense.

“You… alright?” Ace asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant as his dark eyes lingered on yours. His face was so close, you could see the flecks of amber in his gaze, feel the heat of his breath.

Absolutely! We can seamlessly weave in the earlier moments from the story, emphasizing the emotional connection and development between Grace and Ace. Here’s how the narrative could flow, connecting the two parts while building on their feelings and experiences:

The ancient ruins loomed ahead, their towering stone structures cloaked in vines and shadows, promising mysteries and long-lost treasures. Ace’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he strode toward the archway leading inside.

“Look at this place, Grace!” he called, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Bet we’ll find something incredible in here!”

You gave him a wary smile, unable to deny his infectious energy, though your instincts urged caution. “Just remember, ancient places like this often come with traps.”

But before you could say more, Ace dashed forward with a grin, disappearing inside. You sighed, quickening your pace to follow him. It felt nice being by his side, even if it was a little intimidating. In those moments together, especially after sharing watermelon and laughter under the stars, something within you had started to shift. You couldn’t ignore the spark that ignited whenever you were close to him, the way his presence warmed you from the inside out.

As you stepped onto the stone floor, a loud crack echoed through the ruin, and the ground beneath you gave way.

“Ace!” you shouted as the stone crumbled under your feet.

Reacting in an instant, Ace whirled around and lunged for you, his hand catching yours as you fell. You gasped as he pulled you close, his arm wrapping securely around your waist as both of you tumbled down into the shadows below.

For a moment, everything was a blur of motion and muffled sounds. But as you came to a stop, you found yourself still in his arms, your faces mere inches apart in the dim light. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his strong, steady heartbeat beneath your fingertips as his gaze softened, his surprise melting into something more intense.

“You… alright?” Ace asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost hesitant as his dark eyes lingered on yours. His face was so close, you could see the flecks of amber in his gaze, feel the heat of his breath.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, a bit breathless, surprised by how your heart seemed to race at his touch. “Thanks for… catching me.”

He chuckled softly, his usual easy grin returning but not quite hiding the way he, too, seemed caught off guard. “Guess it’s lucky I was close enough,” he said, though there was a new warmth in his voice, his grip around you firm but gentle.

You found yourself momentarily forgetting the ruins, the dark cavern you’d fallen into, as you met his gaze—both of you suddenly aware of the closeness. There was a spark between you, something unspoken but undeniably there. It was fleeting, gone in a heartbeat, but it left a strange, lingering warmth in your chest.

Realizing the moment had stretched longer than usual, you both drew back, slightly awkward as you steadied yourselves. Ace’s cheeks had a faint flush, barely visible in the low light, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle.

“We should… probably figure out where we are,” he said, the usual confidence in his voice softened.

“Yes, right,” you nodded, feeling the heat fade as you regained your focus. Taking in the darkness around you, you noticed that the walls glowed faintly with symbols, giving the place an eerie but beautiful light. “It looks like some sort of hidden passage,” you said, stepping closer to inspect the symbols as your heart settled.

Ace moved to your side, but he seemed unusually quiet, stealing glances at you as if he, too, felt something new between you. He’d always been bold and carefree, yet in that instant, he appeared as uncertain as you, his usual bravado tempered by a new, quiet awareness.

As you both continued down the dark corridor, the silence between you felt different—not awkward, but charged with something unspoken. You brushed it aside, focusing on finding a way out, yet a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

After a while, you both emerged into a massive chamber, your footsteps echoing in the vast space. Tall pillars reached toward the unseen ceiling, adorned with carvings that told ancient stories. The room was silent, a tranquil yet eerie presence filling the air.

“This place is something else,” Ace murmured, his usual grin returning as he took in the sight.

But as you both stepped further inside, a faint rumble reverberated around you, chilling the air. The temperature dropped, sending a shiver down your spine—though this time, it had nothing to do with the centipede.

“Ace,” you whispered, instinctively moving closer to him. “We should stay alert. There’s… something here.”

As you ventured deeper into the ruins, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of your adventure, with treasures and secrets still waiting to be uncovered.

[eevylynn]

Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame

Sterek || eventual Alpha Werewolf Stiles [ao3]

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years. In fact, the youngest recorded case of a bite resulting in a transformation and not death was previously eleven years old, so imagine the Hale pack’s astonishment when they learned of a small seven year old who was bitten and miraculously survived, challenging the known boundaries of possibility.

Chapter 2 - Perception Ignited

The late afternoon sun broke through the thick canopy of trees on the long, winding road through the dense preserve casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on Roscoe. The lush green leaves danced in the gentle breeze, creating a picturesque scene of nature's vibrant beauty. The summer heat wrapped itself around the vehicle, adding a sense of warmth and anticipation to the air.

Seated in the backseat, Stiles' imagination soared amidst the seemingly surreal surroundings. His young mind, now awakened to the existence of supernatural beings, conjured images of mythical creatures running alongside the car. Perhaps a majestic unicorn with a gleaming horn or a fierce griffin soaring through the sky? Stiles yearned to encounter these fantastical beings, unsure of which ones were mere legends and which ones held the truth. Now that he knew werewolves were real and that he himself had become one, his entire world, his very perception of reality had forever shifted. Anything seemed possible, and the boundaries between the ordinary and the extraordinary blurred in his mind.

Stiles marveled at the fact that he had been discharged from the hospital yesterday after being there for only a day. He’s still amazed at his own healing. He pulled his sleeve up to look at his arm where the giant werewolf had bitten him and still found it astounding that there wasn’t a single trace of injury.

When they had arrived at Beacon Hills Medical Center two days ago, Melissa McCall happened to be on duty, a stroke of luck that would prove crucial. It was Ms. McCall who first noticed something extraordinary about Stiles' injuries - they were healing at an astonishing rate. The sight both relieved and alarmed the Stilinski family and the medical staff, leaving them bewildered.

Unbeknownst to them, Alpha Talia Hale had cultivated connections within the medical center staff, ensuring that she would be promptly informed of any supernatural occurrences. As soon as she received word of Stiles' condition, she wasted no time and made her way swiftly to the hospital. Talia sought out the bewildered parents, Noah and Claudia Stilinski, to deliver the astonishing truth: their son had been turned into a werewolf.

With utmost care and compassion, Talia explained the physical implications that Stiles would now face, including the transformations, the influence of the full moon, and his heightened senses. She also shed some light on the intricate dynamics of werewolf packs and the profound impact they have on the mental and emotional well-being of their members. Overwhelmed and nervous, the Stilinski family found themselves grappling with the magnitude of the revelation. Noah especially struggled to accept this new reality unfolding before him.

Being a parent herself, with three children of her own, Talia could relate to the stress and uncertainty that accompanied such circumstances. She provided them with her personal contact information and assured them that she would be available whenever they needed assistance, guidance, or simply a compassionate ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on.

As the jeep came to a halt in front of the imposing Hale house, Stiles glanced up and caught sight of a boy not much older than himself standing at one of the upstairs windows. His black hair framed his face, and thick eyebrows added intensity to his piercing green eyes. Though Stiles couldn't comprehend the significance of the moment, he felt an inexplicable pull toward this mysterious boy. With a friendly wave, the stranger acknowledged Stiles' arrival as the younger boy climbed out of the old jeep. Stiles grinned and waved back.

“Mischief,” Claudia called softly, gaining the boy’s attention, and he joined his parents as they headed to the large covered porch.

By the time they reached the stairs, Talia had already opened the red door, ready to greet them with a tall teenager standing at her right that had the same long dark hair and dark eyes as her mother.

“Welcome to our home!” the Alpha said regally. “This is my eldest, Laura,” Talia added, gesturing to the girl next to her. “She has recently started her training to take over as Alpha after myself, so she wanted to join us. Laura, this is Deputy Noah Stilinski and his wife Claudia.”

Talia paused before crouching down to be level with Stiles as she continued, “And this little one here is our newest pack member, Mieczysław.” 

Stiles blinked and raised his eyebrows over at his parents at the correct pronunciation of his name. No one outside of their family had ever been able to say it correctly before.

“Nice to meet you all,” Laura said kindly, “especially you, Meechslav.”

Noah smiled at Laura’s stumbling, “You can call him ‘Stiles’ if you want.”

“I am so sorry!” Laura looked horrified, like she had offended them or something, “I’ve been trying to practice saying it. Everyone has the right to have their name pronounced properly.”

Claudia put a calming hand on the girl’s shoulder, and replied, “Sweetie, we appreciate it. Honestly!” She added, seeing Laura about to interrupt. “Mieczysław was my father’s name. They were first generation immigrants from Poland, and, trust me, as a native speaker of the language, I completely understand that most Americans would have issues pronouncing it. Even my little Mischief here has problems saying his own name at times.” Claudia smiled down at Stiles, running her fingers through his shaggy hair. “For the longest time, he pronounced it ‘Mischief’, which is both adorable and, admittedly, accurate,” Claudia laughed lightly and everyone joined in.

“Stiles was originally my own father’s nickname,” Noah added, “so in a way, he’s named after both of his grandparents. We won’t be offended which you choose to call him by. You’re good. I swear.”

Talia smiled at Stiles, still crouched next to him. “What would you prefer, pup?” she inquired softly.

Stiles fidgeted as all eyes turned towards him. He shrugged, “Stiles is what everyone at school calls me.”

“Stiles it is!” Talia said cheerfully before she stood up, clapped her hands once and motioned for everyone to head inside. “How about we show you guys around real quick while Elijah finishes up lunch.”

[continue reading on ao3]

[wianes]

My Take on Griffith and the Solar Symbol

Introduction and Overview of Symbolism

I acknowledge that Griffith is typically associated with the moon as a key symbol, and its role is evident. Nonetheless, in my interpretation, it is not the moon but rather the sun and solar principles that primarily and inherently represent his character. The lunar motif seems to have emerged with Griffith, particularly due to the presence of Moonchild, and is primarily linked to transformation. In this text, I will explain why this is the case. Similarly, in future works, I intend to explore how the sun connects with his other symbols, such as the hawk and the falcon. Those who have seen Ladyhawke will understand what I mean. In any case, I believe that qualities also associated with yang, such as solar, active, and masculine principles, fit his character very well.

Moving on to the specifics:

As most 'normal' readers probably know, Griffith embodies a complex nature, woven into a rich tapestry of allegories and motifs. His persona resonates with numerous spiritual and philosophical layers that are intricately tied to symbolism and mythology, transcending conventional concepts. By exploring how the sun symbolizes Griffith, I will analyze various authors' interpretations alongside my personal viewpoint. It is essential to note that while he may embody a singular principle, this does not exclude the presence of contrasting elements. A deliberate acknowledgment of these opposing forces is also important. His character is intricately crafted and transcends boundaries, encompassing all aspects of the universe.

The sun is arguably the most prominent feature of the natural world. Without it, life as we know it would cease to exist. Its radiance defines not only its appearance but also its symbolic essence. Mythical narratives often depict the sun’s movement as a luminous chariot crossing the celestial expanse. Gold, known for its resistance to tarnish and corrosion, symbolizes immortality. Even under intense heat, it retains its color and luster, further enhancing its symbolism of endurance.

Diverse cultures regard the sun as the essential cosmic force, key to life’s preservation and growth. It embodies vitality, passion, and enlightenment, while also serving as an emblem of royalty and empire. In some traditions, the sun is revered as the Universal Father.

The sun’s daily journey of rising and setting symbolizes profound concepts such as birth, death, and resurrection. The sun’s daily journey, from rising to setting, symbolizes profound concepts such as birth, death, and resurrection. The winter and summer solstices mark significant celestial events, inspiring myths and festivals worldwide. The solstice, in particular, symbolizes the triumph of light over darkness and marks the transition between cycles of light and growth.

For millennia, sun worshippers have attributed magical properties to solar rays, including fertility, creativity, prophecy, and healing. Alchemists even saw in the sun the potential for wholeness and spiritual enlightenment. As a result, this symbol has attained a revered status, reflecting celestial prestige and authority, similar to that of rulers with sun-like crowns. The sun stands as the symbolic heart of the cosmos, shining brightly as a celestial entity, embodying majestic qualities and imperial splendor.

Solar Cycles and Rituals

Daily Cycle- From sunrise to sunset, the sun's path marks both the everyday passage of a day and its deeper spiritual significance. In sacred rituals, the sunrise symbolizes creation and renewal, while the sunset signifies death and transition.

Annual Cycle-Through the solstices and the equinoxes, the sun's cycles symbolize the cyclical nature of life. They also represent the eternal dance of light and darkness. The summer solstice heralds the peak of vitality, whereas the winter solstice represents a time of introspection and renewal.

Symbol of Regeneration

Ancient cultures revered the sun’s daily rise and set as symbols of eternal rejuvenation. This reverence mirrors the cycles of birth, death, and rebirth in life. The sun's daily journey—rising, setting, and rising again—embodies this cyclical nature. It symbolizes the concept of the eternal return, prevalent in religious, mythological, and primordial narratives. Its cycle reflects a belief in the continuous revitalization of the cosmos and human existence.

Examples Across Cultures:

Native American Traditions: The Sun Dance ritual celebrates the sun’s power to regenerate life and maintain cosmic order.

East Asian Traditions: The sun is associated with the emperor and the state's revival. It symbolizes harmony between the heavens and the earth.

Christian Symbolism: Christian symbolism connects Christ's resurrection to the sun's rising, symbolizing ultimate rebirth and triumph over death.

Egyptian Mythology: The sun god Ra's daily journey across the sky symbolizes rebirth and regeneration. Each morning, Ra's rising represents the rejuvenation of life and energy.

Hinduism: The Sun god Surya is associated with health and vitality. The daily practice of Surya Namaskar (Sun Salutation) in yoga represents revitalization and physical regeneration.

Ancient Greek Religion: The sun god Apollo is connected with healing and revitalization. His daily journey across the sky symbolizes restoration and the constant renewal of life.

Griffith’s journey symbolizes a profound connection between the celestial realm, the earthly realm, and the underworld. He starts as a mortal leader and descends into a state of brokenness. Nonetheless, he emerges as a transcendent being. This transformation parallels a metaphorical ascent along a celestial path, linking the human and divine realms, and deeply altering the narrative’s spiritual landscape.

Griffith's journey begins with the evening, which represents the end of a cycle and the uncertainty of night. His quest can be interpreted as emerging from chaos or darkness, focusing on overcoming a state of despair and the struggle against nightfall. This descent into darkness shifts the narrative from one of renewal and hopeful ascent to one of redemption or recovery from a fall. Starting in the evening alters the metaphorical resonance of Griffith’s odyssey, aligning it more with themes of overcoming nightfall and emerging into a new dawn.

This signifies the start of a transformative phase. The cycle mirrors themes of renewal and regeneration, illustrating pivotal shifts in the entire storyline. Griffith casts off his former self and ascends to a higher plane of existence. By doing so, he reshapes the world according to his vision. In essence, his quest embodies the cyclical nature of life's challenges and triumphs. It illustrates the potential for profound transformation and spiritual evolution.

Cosmic Order, Axis Mundi, and Harmony

People perceive the sun's predictable movements as a manifestation of the cosmic order. This contrasts with the chaos and unpredictability of profane time. The sun's consistent path across the sky signifies the universe's stability. Ancient rituals and myths sought to align human actions with the sun's cosmic order. This alignment was meant to ensure harmony with the rhythms of nature.

The sun’s regularity, embodied in its daily journey, instills a sense of security and predictability. It reflects the structured nature of the universe. The cycle reaffirms this cosmic stability. It represents the supreme harmony of the cosmos and illustrates the natural laws that govern existence. Thus, it ensures a harmonious life.

Quite literally, the Axis Mundi translates as the 'World Axis.' It is the axis around which the world revolves. It links the heavens to the earth and the dominions below. This concept is universal and is symbolically represented by a tree, a standing stone, a mountain, the omphalos, the lingam, the Vajra, or the Pole Star.

The sun's "light," its active influence and emanation, functions as "information" to the Earth. This light guides reactions and changes. By consciously sharing this information, one can affect all aspects of the solar system.

The concept of the Axis Mundi, or the world's center, often aligns with the sun's path. As the sun rises and sets at specific points on the horizon, it establishes the cardinal directions. It also serves as markers for sacred geography. Temples, altars, and religious buildings align with the sun’s path. This alignment symbolizes the synchronization of human actions with the cosmic order.

Represented by mountains, trees, poles, temples, pyramids, and altars, the Axis Mundi connects the heavens, the earth, and the underworld. It reinforces the sacred structure of the world. The daily movement of the sun embodies order and stability. It highlights its function in sustaining harmony and continuity in the universe.

In the Context of Berserk

Guts is the main character through whom readers engage with the story. Nevertheless, Griffith remains the focal point of the narrative, symbolizing the most conscious cosmic entity. He symbolizes the most conscious cosmic entity. This mirrors the heliocentric model of our solar system, with the Sun at its center. All the planets, satellites, asteroids, and comets orbit around it. The cosmos, connected by endless energy links, organizes itself around his existence. The series' plot actively incorporates his meticulously crafted destiny, ensuring that it fulfills a specific role within the narrative.

Griffith's significance within this grand design is evident. We understand the tasks he must perform to maintain the balance of the universe. As the executor of the shaping will, he realizes his own desires. The character restores order to the chaotic world around him. His leadership of the Band of the Hawk initially brings unity, purpose, and stability to his followers. This exemplifies his role as a catalyst for establishing order in turbulent times.

His deep awareness of others' situations prompts him to expand his horizons. Wherever he goes, a sense of solid attachment and connection follows. Griffith acknowledges his responsibility for all lives and events, including those he has taken and humanity’s fate. The broad spectrum of responsibilities he must fulfill is fully comprehended. With unwavering resolve, he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

He could not afford to neglect his responsibility to those who chose to fight alongside him. Having given all he had, he reached an irreversible point. Sacrificing everything, he went too far to turn back. He specifies the sacrifices he is ready to make for success and what has already been relinquished to achieve his goal. The sole remaining task is to defend his prize with every ounce of might left.

Solar Deities and Hero Myths

Ancient myths often highlight solar deities or heroes associated with the sun. These myths frequently emphasize qualities such as courage, strength, and transformative power. By regularly reenacting these narratives, people sought to ensure the perpetuation of life and the prosperity of their communities. Solar myths, therefore, functioned as archetypal models for how to live. By aligning themselves with the myths of sun heroes, individuals and communities endeavored to partake in the divine saga of creation and reactivation.

Heroes in mythological narratives often undertake quests for greatness, spiritual enlightenment, or divine favor. Griffith’s journey parallels this archetype as he navigates personal and astral challenges to achieve his goal. This journey culminates in his transformation into Femto and his subsequent ascent to a higher plane of existence. Griffith embodies a complex blend of solar deity motifs and hero myth archetypes. This challenges conventional interpretations of heroism and divine aspiration. Griffith’s journey from mortal leader to transcendent being underscores themes of destiny, sacrifice, and the pursuit of cosmic significance. This transformation takes place within a narrative marked by its dark and introspective themes.

Divine Kingship

Solar deities play a central role in many mythologies. They are often linked to kingship, with rulers perceived as their earthly representatives. In both mythological and psychological narratives of heroism, the sun holds paramount significance. It symbolizes authority and power. Throughout history, rulers have often been seen as chosen by divine will. Many have traced their lineage to solar gods. Freud might interpret this as humanity’s unconscious desire for dominion and power.

The sun, with its dominant presence and life-sustaining energy, frequently serves as a symbolic representation of masculine vitality and power. Its daily journey—from rising to setting and then rising again—captivates the imagination. Freud might interpret these symbols as manifestations of the unconscious life force that propels human behavior and personal motives.

In the context of dreams, the sun’s appearance may symbolize a renewed sense of energy, motivation, and determination.

Jungian psychology connects this life force with libido. Libido is defined as a core energy driving human behavior that extends far beyond its sexual connotations. Thus, the Sun’s daily cycle represents transformation, renewal, and the continual regeneration of vitality

In alchemical and esoteric thought, the sun represents spiritual growth and transformation. This parallels the concept of masculine generative energy. This interpretation aligns with esoteric traditions that view the sun as a source of profound transformative power. Its daily journey through the sky illustrates a perpetual cycle of ascent and descent, mirroring the dynamic yet eternal nature of cosmic consciousness.

In ancient Rome, emperors were often linked to Apollo, the sun god. This connection continued into later eras with mentions of "golden ages" and "solar kings." The sun, as the ruler among stars, has long been considered sovereign over all beneath its light.

Ancient Egypt: Pharaohs were believed to be descendants of Ra, the sun god, ruling as living gods on Earth with divine authority to maintain societal order.

Japan: The Japanese emperors trace their lineage back to the Sun goddess Amaterasu, a divine symbol of authority.

Hindu Tradition: Kingship is often associated with Surya, the Sun god. Rulers derive their authority and righteousness from his divine light.

Christian Tradition: The divine right of kings linked rulers with Christ, who played a role in legitimizing their reign through miracles and empowerment by the Holy Spirit.

France (Louis XIV): The "Sun King" embraced the solar symbol to assert his absolute monarchy, reshaping his kingdom in accordance with his authority.

Griffith exhibits extraordinary conviction and self-confidence. He seems born with a natural capacity to lead, as if he embodies the universe’s fundamental laws. He is not a despot; people follow him willingly, inspired by his innate ability to lead. The character embodies a reformative spirit. He is fully aware of his responsibilities and willing to make sacrifices for his vision. Divine kingship often involves a sacred pact or sacrifice for the greater good, and Griffith embodies this through his actions. He seeks to change the existing order, creating a new world based on his ideals.

The The Eastern perspective emphasizes virtuous leadership and inspiration through example, aligning with Griffith’s pursuit of creating a new world order.

The sun’s role as a radiant celestial body is metaphorically associated with themes of power, conviction, and assertiveness. This broader interpretation links the sun to leadership and influence, often tied to masculine imagery. Its presence symbolizes an indomitable spirit, resonating with the idea of a visionary leader who persists in the face of adversity, embodying determination and fortitude.

Griffith exemplifies unparalleled dedication to a singular cause, reflecting a passion reminiscent of ancient deities. Driven by a singular focus, he propels events toward his vision, never needing guidance to grasp his purpose or direction.

Light and Illumination

The symbol's resplendence captures the essence of enlightenment. It illustrates the intellectual and spiritual awakening of both mind and soul. It dispels darkness, signifying the pursuit of truth and insight by revealing the essence of existence. Just like the sun’s ascent, enlightenment heralds the dawn of intellectual awakening. This marks a shift from old beliefs to new ones in favor of deeper truths. It represents a divine presence, fostering a spiritual connection with the universe and transcending boundaries to achieve higher states of consciousness.

Veritably, sunlight frequently represents clarity and awareness. It breaks through the obscurity of ignorance or the unconscious mind. In dreams, sunlight illuminating a previously shadowed area can signify the dreamer's journey toward self-awareness and understanding. Freud, although he did not specifically use the golden orb as a dream symbol, explored light-related symbols. These symbols metaphorically align with the attributes associated with the sun. He interpreted dreams as expressions of unconscious desires, fears, and conflicts. Symbols in dreams mask deeper psychological content.

The sun's rhythmic cycle of illumination and shadow embodies a profound duality rich in symbolic significance. Light, in this context, represents vitality, clarity, and sacredness. Darkness signifies mortality, chaos, and the secular. The transition from night to day signifies the triumph of order over chaos and life over death. This dualistic framework underpins many religious rituals and myths. Here, the rising sun signifies renewal, hope, and divine intervention.

These instances illustrate the celestial fire's role as a global symbol of light. It bridges cultures and becomes deeply embedded in spiritual and philosophical beliefs worldwide.

Griffith’s nomenclature in reference to light is deliberate. This applies both cosmologically and in the minds of people and apostles. He is effulgent and lucent in silver and white. He reveals himself at night and within the minds of people. Spiritually, in religions such as Christianity and Buddhism, the concept of true light refers to an authentic source of enlightenment or understanding. This phrase signifies the divine or transcendent reality. It represents love, salvation, or communion with the absolute.

Light and Darkness Dynamics

In psychoanalytic theory, light symbolizes consciousness and awareness. Darkness represents the unconscious and the unknown. The interplay between these elements in dreams reflects the dynamic tension between the conscious mind and the repressed aspects of the psyche. Jung emphatically stressed the significance of integrating the shadow. The shadow represents the unconscious aspect of the personality. The duality of light and darkness, symbolized by the presence and absence of the sun, illustrates this process of integration. Embracing both the light (conscious) and the dark (unconscious) facets of the psyche is crucial for attaining inner completeness and holistic equilibrium.

In alchemical philosophy, the sun (Sol) embodies a blend of energies akin to its physical counterpart. It represents the radiant "day" aspect of the psyche and also symbolizes the sulfurous "active substance" that directs consciousness toward specific objectives. As a royal figure, the sun signifies the authority of guiding principles that shape consciousness. The sun also symbolizes "gold," the "yellow balsam," and the truth behind consciousness's capacity for self-healing and rejuvenation. This rejuvenation occurs through immersion in moist, lunar-like feelings and moods, manifesting the magical and mercurial aspects. The regenerated "Sun of the Philosophers" is paradoxically both transparent and opaque. It embodies both light and shadow and endures perpetually.

Even as it sets, the sun carries away the light—never dying—and is always everlasting. This epitomizes eternal renewal.

Across various cultures, the sun serves as a potent symbol for illuminating the unconscious. In alchemy, a field deeply influential to Jung, the sun symbolizes the Philosopher’s Stone, representing an aspiration to transform base materials (the unconscious) into gold (conscious awareness). Likewise, in many religious traditions, the sun embodies a divine presence that reveals spiritual truths. The sun’s journey aims to illuminate everything that remains in the shadows and gradually diminishes the pursuit of discretion. Its character underscores the theme that light and darkness are not merely opposites; they are interdependent and essential to understanding the nature of existence and the human condition. Through this lens, Berserk invites readers to contemplate the complexities of morality, the cyclical nature of life, and the eternal dance between light and dark.

The Self in Solar Representation

In sacred symbolism, the sun embodies the divine presence. It highlights the relationship between light and darkness. Griffith’s portrayal provides a profound exploration of these themes. This ancient motif, characterized by its radiance and resplendence, reflects themes deeply resonant with the psychological exploration of duality. Jung perceived this duality as pivotal in human psychology. The sun embodies the quest for equilibrium and integration.

The sun, with its radiant and all-encompassing nature, functions as a metaphor for the self. It embodies qualities of wholeness, integration, and the realization of one’s full potential. The sun’s warmth and light symbolize the nurturing aspects of the psyche. They foster growth, enlightenment, and balance. Its glowing and opalescent nature symbolizes the cosmic light that nurtures the self’s evolution.

Griffith’s character exudes mystery. The trepidation in his depiction conceals much of his inner emotions and thoughts. It is observed that Griffith attempts to maintain a hermetic, closed state, except for a few strategic moments designed to create an impression of being larger than life. The character’s role as an archetypal figure is both a symbol of societal shifts and an embodiment of cosmic significance.

It's probably obvious that during the during the Millennium Falcon arc, Griffith unified light and shadow, the conscious and unconscious, as represented by the apostles and humans, through his own person.

Miura highlighted that Griffith’s narrative complexity stems from his role as a symbol for entire communities. He advocates for collective and cosmological interests. This portrayal showcases his transformations and expressions as manifestations of broader societal and global vices. Griffith's actions traverse various segments of society, reflecting both his personal evolution and the ongoing upheaval of collective consciousness.

These cultural examples illustrate how different societies, throughout time and across various mythologies, have interpreted the sun as a symbol of enlightenment and the integrated self. In each tradition, the sun serves as a metaphorical representation of spiritual awakening, inner harmony, and the universal principles guiding human existence.

Griffith embraced a philosophy of dualism, believing it could be immanently unified as the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. This unification would be achieved through the absolute realization of self-consciousness and human freedom. He developed a concept of the absolute that both creates and opposes itself, embodying its essence and its contrary. In this framework, Griffith's role was to act as a steady vector, assimilating disharmony and facilitating the flow of ideas. He represented both the external substance and the universal essence of the mind. The divine presence manifests not through miracles but through transformative epochs, leading to something new and more joyful, akin to dawn.

[sageandlily]

October 2023 favourite reads (Kpop boygroup edition)

🕸Hi! another month come to an end quite fast this year and it's the spooky season month, Ocrober. I didn't read that much fic this month because I got caught by a lot of stuff in my life and social media has been draining me for some reason. But, this month fic recs mostly in greek gods, mythical creatures and bridgerton-ish theme. Once again I always wish that both the stories and the writers (who are amazing, beautiful and talented!) gets more recognition and appreciation.

May November be an amazing month for all of you who came across this post🖤

Viewfinder (🔞Seungmin x reader x Lee Know) by @seospicybin

Absolutely love the dynamic between reader and the boys. What a roller coaster!

Collateral (🔞I.N x reader x Hyunjin) by @seospicybin

As somebody who currently trying her best to applying job in magazine industry, this fic really hit something on me.

Gladius Maximus (Son of Zeus!Bangchan x reader) by @neo-shitty

I'm a sucker for anything demigod or percy jackson inspired so when this fic came on my for you page, I immediately click on it and I'm not regretting it.

Star Lost (Son of Zeus!Bangchan x reader) by @neo-shitty

The sequel for the fic above.

Enemies to lovers (Son of Aphrodite!Hyunjin x reader) by @taelme

I just wanted to tell you how much i love this fic and you're such a talented writer bcs i re-read this fic 3 times!

Too Hot Too Handle (🔞Felix x reader) by @seospicybin

In conclusion: the title tells you all😵‍💫🥵.

The Secret Admirer (San x reader) by @edenesth

I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers trope and San is so ashuekwlfh.

For Me (Mingi x reader) by @hwanchaesong

I'm waiting for the sequel dear writer!

Patience (🔞Seungcheol x reader) by @fantasyescapes17

I'm in my bridgerton rabbit hole when suddenly this fic came out in my for you page and I am HOOKED.

The Siren's Call (🔞Felix x reader) by @petrichor-han

Just a beautiful writing also Felix as a siren?? i can imagine how majestic he is.

The Most Lonely Creature (🔞Yeosang x reader) by @atzfilm

Honestly as a Yeosang biased atiny, this was one of my fav mythical creature fic of him. I've re-read this twice hahaha

Project Omen (🔞Wooyoung x reader x Hongjoong) by @atzfilm

I just wanted to tell you how much i really like this fic bcs this one has been in my mind since i read it last August?? I decided to re-read it several times and it still got me. Kudos to you, such a talented writer!

Thank you for checking this post! See you next month🖤