#i like the idea that he ended up becoming mates with the queen that dropped the first litter

[cicadagaze]

king of bringing home giant litters of kits. this is only two litters btw.

[greycaelum]

Ok im gonna drop this here for u to write it whenever u want,cause its been hunting me

Royalty au where gojo and reader are living happily,that is until someone poisons his queen when they're having dinner together.

She drinks the wine,and suddenly falls to the ground while throwing up blood and blood running from her eyes. Shoko manages to save her and geto holds gojo back so he doesnt do anything stupid. But when his queen wakes up she's really weak so shoko tells gojo about a flower that'll heal her up,so gojo leaves in order to search for it.

But when he's back,geto leads him to the flower garden the queen loves and he finds her among the flowers,a little better and seeing her not on deadbed has him running toward her,lifting her up and spinning while both of them laugh and kiss

Happy ending

Scribbles & Doodles—Lotus Tears

—Elven Emperor Gojo Satoru X Human Empress Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat. "Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day. He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content. "For you, always, My Flower."

𑁍 Genre: historical fantasy, elves/faes, dark magic if you squint, interracial marriage

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (4.3k)— poison, mad Satoru, elven traditions and cultures, fluff, angst, comfort, implication of major character death, mating bonds, talks of rebirth

𑁍 ✒️☕: Hi to the person who sent this ask. Pardon the very long wait, but I loved writing this one, I just need to say your ask is one of my fave ideas for elf Satoru so I tweaked some things, fantasy tropes are my favorite to write to escape canon~ Grey,

At night when you lay in their bed, your head atop his chest, he cannot sleep a wink for he has forever to spare and only a lifetime with you in his arms. For such a fragile flower, even a man who has grown bleak and untouched over the long passage of time, Satoru cannot help but stroke your head gently, scaring the pixies who would try to sneak in to soak with his mate's presence. He doesn't know if it's a good thing or bad that his mate is loved by the small faes. But one thing is for sure, he doesn't delight that they are trying to pry you awake from his arms. It's no secret he doesn't like sharing... especially when it's about you.

For a human to become the Empress of the High Courts is an unheard thing. Improbable would be the word. And you do not need to know what methods Satoru used to make this happen. Because you already knew that behind his delicate beauty, lies the prickly thorns that wield the absolute power over nature. There is a reason why he was able to rule undisputedly in the indifferent flow of nature over the passage of time.

When he married you, he knew he would uproot the earth and supplant it again and again to give whatever you desired. He is the supreme ruler and Emperor of the High Courts and would only sheath his indifference in the presence of his Empress. He has broken down the millennial walls covering his heart and found himself enthralled by the maiden who never feared the Dark Woods. She found beauty in the mystery of the borders, and he found solace in her presence. She has grown to be his beloved Flower.

Fortunately for you, even as a born human, you have adapted to the faes far quicker. Learning their language and making up for your lack of magic, you learned diplomacy. It was not easy to learn such an intricate affair, but fortune has smiled upon you, with Satoru, who has boundless knowledge of the matter to be your tutor.

"Is this adequate enough?" Satoru hopefully looked at you in the mirror and the craft he had finished for a satisfactory answer.

"Satoru, we are not going to any gathering, are we?" You chuckled as you sat in front of the golden mirror while Satoru stood behind, holding an ivory comb in his hand as he carefully brushed your silky tresses. Small flowers adorned your hair like trinkets as he wove them skillfully into a braid. At this point, your handmaidens have lost their job, with your mate attending to almost everything you need unless he is away for the court.

"At least let me do this before I leave for my duties." He brought the tip of your hair to his lips, kissing it as he stared at you, a longing look on his face. This prompt you to turn the chair and face the elven emperor.

His azure orbs stare as you reach to cup his cheeks with a slight understanding frown painting your brows. It doesn't help that you are wearing the other pair of purple robes. It made his belly warm, and his chest swelled with pride. You are pairing... He was the only one who could wear the purple robes since he was born, a lone star, but not anymore. And that was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Will you be back for dinner?" Your tone carried hope and joy into his day.

He doesn't understand why he has to part with you every day... He heaved a sigh hoping the day turns to dusk soon so he can hold you again to his heart's content.

"For you, always, My Flower." Satoru tilted your chin and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I do not wish to leave." He grumbled and connected your forehead, staring right into your eyes.

Your soft chuckle fluttered through his ears as you reached to cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes. A sense of tranquility floated in your orbs bringing his heart into a puddle of cotton.

"I will wait for you at dinner, Satoru. So the earlier you finish the earlier we see each other. Alright?"

"Alright, as you wish." Satoru sighed and kissed the tip of your nose. "The things you make me do..."

He never thought he would one day sit under the shade of foliage with his Empress on his lap, reading through some parchments while he pilfered some wildflowers to braid her hair. Or to walk while gently pulling the reins of his equine, leading the elk through safe passages whilst you ride on the back. Things he never imagined and things he never thought he would do. But the second you came it all seemed natural for him to indulge you in every way possible.

You are like a brittle glass flower to him that he cannot help but wrap you in the most flawless silks and softest ermine furs. You evoke in him a firm sense of fierce protectiveness.

So imagine the horror and derangement inside him when you were still smiling and talking with him at the dinner table but suddenly blood flowed down your nose, followed by a series of coughs drawing blood from your throat as you dropped to the floor, desperately gasping for air.

If it wasn't for his friend Suguru, a Dragon Lord who he has grown with, who happened to visit the very same day only to pin him down in his rampage of killing the perpetrators hiding in the imperial kitchen staff, perhaps one-fourth of the castle must've already been slaughtered.

All he could see was red. The burning flames consuming the imperial castle and the wilting forest mirrored the despair in his heart. He couldn't hear that his people were wailing for him. All he could ever see was his mate dying each second from the potent poison coursing in her bloodstream.

"Don't touch her!"

He snarled with pure frenzy when Shoko tried to reach out to your unmoving body in his arms.

"Satoru, Shoko is only going to heal her. Your mate needs help." Suguru tried to reason with the livid, elven emperor cradling the unmoving body of his bleeding empress. "She would not do anything to her, only help her."

Suguru could see how unfocused and distraught the dark blue eyes of his friend were, so far from his usual calm and regal sense. Satoru's eyes were bloodshot red. Thankfully, he didn't move when Shoko reached out again to heal his mate. 

A faint color of life returned to your face, but you were still as pale as alabaster, still unconscious. The fire consuming the woods slowly died down... A slight sense of sanity returned to Satoru, who held you close, ready to hide you from the world if not for Shoko's words.

"She's in moratorium state... I've only managed to stabilize her body and freeze the poison to stop it from spreading further. Right now, we need to find an antidote... Or else she will only have seven days to live. For now, let's take the Empress to a safe place." Shoko pinched the bridge of her nose as she looked back to the fire slowly dying down, leaving shared trees and ashes. "And fix the chaos you have ignited, Your Majesty, the Emperor."

There are, but severely few times he let his emotions overcome him. He could count it in his hand. But ever since that sight of your throwing up blood, Satoru experienced a myriad of emotions he thought he was never capable of.

Fear... Despair... Uselessness... and most of all heartbreak...

You don't know how many millions of times his soul has shattered in every second he held your cold hand whilst he channeled all healing spell he knows into your body as you sleep on the cradle of the sacred tree cushioned by wildflowers and vines dangling down the archaic branches of the colossal wood. It seems you're merely asleep, but it feels like it's been forever since he last saw your eyes. The reality is that day by day, you are losing your life while all he can do is sit here, rooted in place, too afraid that if he steps away, he might not see you again.

"Your Majesty..." Shoko came forward. The Emperor has been sitting here for three days straight beside his dying mate in silence holding her hand, unmoving, and would attack anyone who dares to step one foot closer to the lying Empress. The court matters have been neglected, with only the elders holding the court together in his absence. The woodlands are closely related to the essence of the Emperor. The depression of his heart manifested in the woods, which gradually lost the green leaves and were replaced by withered branches...

"I have found a possible cure for the Empress."

Shoko had never felt strong empathy, but she did feel a bit of ache for her friend when he raised his head at her, almost pleading with his bloodshot eyes.

"Speak."

"Do you remember the Sacred Tombs of Tvar?"

The sacred burial grounds of the late Empresses. It's deep-seated in the heart of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs, guarded by the mythical beasts his forefathers have created to protect the resting place of the late Imperial Rulers.

"What about it?" Satoru has only been there once when his Imperial Father has taken him to visit his late Mother. It's a mystical mountain filled with ancient elements, from the creatures to the plants, that can only be heard in folklore.

"For high faes like us, the poison the Empress has induced was nothing serious. But to humans, it is lethal." Shoko sighed. "The spell I cast was only a valve to keep the poison at bay until we can find an antidote. On the seventh day, when the sun rises, the spell will cease to exist, and the poison will corrode her bo—"

"Tell me, what should I do? Anything Shoko. I would kill if I had to." The bones on his knuckles protruded with his clenched fists. The Emperor cut her off. He would not hear her say such ominous words about his mate's life.

He would uproot the earth to find anything that can cure you. Anything.

"Killing might be going too far, but it's not impossible." Shoko took out from her robe a parchment containing a sketch of what seemed like a flower and handed it to her Emperor. She never slept over the three days in a desperate search for any cure. "There's a flower that can only be seen in the Sacred Tombs of Tvar that may be able to save the Empress. As we all know, only the direct descendant of the Imperial Family can enter the Mountain of Hanging Tombs."

The Mountain of Hanging Tombs is as ominous as the name implies. It's a mountain range covered with black mist and ferocious mythical animals and exotic plants. It's not that only the direct descendants of the Imperial Elven Bloodline can enter the mountains, but the lower beasts residing on the foot of the mountains refrain from attacking an imperial descendant since they are born from the first Emperor's blood as well. No ordinary fae can survive these mythical beasts, and could only result in death. Thus, it has become known not to venture deep into the mountains.

Satoru, however, wasted no time to cross the valleys leading to the burial grounds. He needs to find that flower.

Lotus Tears...

It is said that the flower can heal any illness. However, it's impossible to scour for the elusive flower, which roots deep only in the burial grounds of the Empresses and leave unscathed from the toxic plants and mythical animals on top of the Mountain of Hanging Tombs that will attack him at any given second.

"Why do you always put the flower on my left ear? I'm not yet married." You asked him during one of the days he stayed longer to watch over you as you searched for some wild, beautiful flowers in the woods.

Satoru stared at the magenta lilacs he conjured from his hands and tucked them into your left ear.

"You look beautiful in any shade of purple..." It matches the color of his robe.

You pursed your lips and huffed clearly not satisfied by his vague answer.

"You didn't answer my question, Satoru."

He chuckled at your angry face, bopping your nose, making you annoyed as you tried to punch him clumsily. The little girl still has the same pout even as she bloomed into a prim and proper lady. It was too adorable even to be called 'angry.' He jumps down the tree and walks up to you, bringing the tip of your hair to his lips for a soft parting salutation.

"Next time... I will tell you, My Precious Flower." With that, he took you to the borders of the human village and the dark woods, as your Mother was already looking for you. He watches you run into the light while slowly walking back into the shadows.

Maybe... He should have never forced this fate on you. You may have called on him in desperation to flee from the humans chasing after you, but he, being the one who knew better, should have returned you to your realm rather than letting his selfishness devour him and claim you as his mate. If he had done so, then you wouldn't have met this predicament.

You wouldn't have been lying in your blood, cold like a corpse...

"Where is she?" Satoru's heart felt like it was dying when he saw that your body was gone from the bed of the sacred tree. "Where is my mate?! Shoko!"

Did he lose you? Did he come too late?

He stared at the blue lotus he so carefully dug out of the perilous mountain despite the throbbing pain on his shoulders after a chimera managed to bite him before he could slay it.

No, you cannot leave him like this... Oxygen left his lungs, and his feet staggered, unable to support the weight of heaven, crushing his soul. His vision is going black, not like this. He barely got to dote on you. Barely got to drown you with the love he has secretly hidden all these years. No, no, no. Satoru's throat ran dry. He wants to scream as if the tearing of his heart wasn't enough to shout his despair.

The forest closely linked to his essence slowly wilted as if joining their Emperor in his mourning. The leaves slowly dried up. The flowers closed, and the vines started shrinking to twigs. His sorrow is mirrored by nature.

His mind went black, his heart slowly crumbled in every passing second that his eyes could not see you. Why did the gods despise him to tear apart the only joy he has ever touched for what seems like an eternity?

"Satoru!" Suguru found him in haste after the forest slowly grew darker and darker.

Who knew that his apathetic friend could have this vast amount of emotions to turn the lush evergreen forest into a barren land? Suguru wasted no time to drag what seemed to be a lifeless Satoru into a maze-like garden.

Shoko was there. She immediately snatched the mystical lotus from the Emperor. Satoru could care. All things pale in comparison to his mate... All things. He dropped to his knees, holding onto your hand.

"Y-Y/n?" Satoru's throat was parched as he saw your sleeping body, with the wilting grass around, as if you were truly taken away into the underworld... This was your favorite garden... All flowers in here, he has grown with his own hands. Not it seems like he has planted those flowers only to send you off to the afterlife. "No, you can't do this to me, My Flower... I would lose my mind." He muttered like a madman, bringing your cold hands to rub against his cheeks, desperately searching for any signs of warmth but finding nothing...

Suguru tried to pry him away from your frail body, but his malevolence met those who tried to separate you from him until the Dragon Lord had no choice but to use all means to knock Satoru out...

The last thing he saw was your sleeping face as he desperately begged his eyes not to close... He needs to see you, to be beside you... to hold you...

"Satoru...?" You were both sitting under the shade of a magnolia tree with his head on your lap, eyes closed from the glaring sun, meanwhile, you intertwined his lustrous hair into a loose braid, tucking little flowers in your masterpiece.

"Hmm?" It was one of the days when he had enough time to traverse the hills with you and meet other fae tribes so you may have time away from the Imperial Courts.

"Promise me that if the memories we have together start to hurt... you will forget me."

His eyes opened in a split second, and he looked back with furrowed brows only to meet your small smile.

"That is nonsense. I would never wish to forget you. You are my mate." Satoru sat straight and took your hand in his. "What led you to this ominous thought, My Flower? Do not think of such things, we are bonded for eternity."

You gently shake your head.

"You're an elf... I'm a human. Our life span runs differently. Some day... You will have to remember me longer than you have held me..." The bitterness of your eyes was quickly concealed as you closed them. "That's simply the order of nature..."

Satoru was tongue-tied... He cannot face that reality yet... Not yet... If ever the Lady of Light is listening to him, he prays that the sun and moon slow down... Forever never seems to be enough...

Forever will never be enough...

"Satoru...?" 

He wishes never to wake up. If you're not in the world he opens his eyes to, he may as well live in this fantasy. He has lived such a long time in solitude. So even if it's just a fragment of imagination or make-believe, he would choose that sweet lie rather than face the cold reality you're gone...

"Satoru..."

Your voice... It's sweeter than the sirens and softer than the small faes singing with the birds in early dawn...

A soft touch brushed off the fringes on his temples, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Unable to bear the brightness, his eyes opened and looked up to the blue sky...

Slowly, his blurry eyes met your worried ones as you tucked your hair behind your ear while staring at him with his head laying on your lap.

"You're finally awake... Thank goodness!" You sighed and smiled. "Welcome home, Satoru..."

Your hair... It's not the same color as it was... It shone a bright silver like his under the sunlight, which only the imperial descendants can inherit... But he knew it was you... His soul tells him so.

"Y-Y/n?" He reaches out to touch your cheeks that have grown prominent... more elf-like... "This isn't a dream?"

Your sweet chuckle filled his ears as your warm palms held his and pressed it to your cheeks, kissing his wrist.

"I must've worried you so... I'm sorry, but I'm fine now... because of you."

You're really warm... So warm, you melted the millennial thorny wall he built around his heart. Your palms are so dainty compared to him, but they have always been able to soothe him more than anything else.

"You... You look like me..." Satoru slowly sat up as he took in your features. "My Flower... you look like a fae..." Satoru is a bit confused about the sudden transformation. You look just as you are, but the silver hair, pointy ears, and sharper features... 

"It must've been because of the flower's healing attributes," Shoko explained, taking a step forward to assess the changes on you, who indeed looks like an elf now. 

"Explain, Shoko." Satoru looked at the woman as he was adamant about answers.

"The flowers had healing attributes; it's just a speculation, but aside from healing, we all know that lotus also signifies rebirth. The flower may have deemed it necessary to change the human blood running in the Empress's veins into elven blood for her to heal from the poison fully... As for the silver hair, I can only think that since the Lotus Tears came from the sacred buriel grounds of the late Empresses, it must have absorbed most of their remaining energy and passed it on to the Empress through the flower's healing attributes..."

"Does that mean my Mate is now an elf?" Satoru cannot believe how these events have turned out for you and him. He took your hand and studied your features... You are still you, but indeed, there swirls a more mystical air around you, and only a faint scent of human blood is left lingering in you.

"The Empress is not yet fully an elf at the moment, but I am sure before the fortnight ends, her transformation will be complete, and she will truly be a full-fledged fae, like us." Shoko nodded.

You stared at Satoru... The once wilting forest which you woke up to slowly regained life.

For a man so stoic, he is an open book... You can't help but chuckle as the smaller faes slowly creep out of their homes and rejoice at the blossoming life enveloping the woods again. Shoko and Suguru have left, leaving you and your mate some privacy in the garden.

"I..." Satoru cannot confess enough what he had done out of rage and sorrow when he thought you were gone.

"I know..." You shake your head telling him to speak no more as you took him in your arms... This time, you could feel him ever closer, hear his thoughts louder, and see him clearer. Everything he has done and he has said, you knew and felt in each passing second... But no words were uttered, as you can feel the remorse coursing in his being. What he needs the most is your embrace...

Nature can renew itself as long as it is given care and time...

The trees are once again full of luscious foliage, the grass is back to its evergreen hue, and the different faes have returned to their homes and gone through their duties as usual. Satoru is somehow a bit busier with the court matters, while you, the Empress, needed a little more recuperation before you come back to your court duties.

"Your Majesty... We always knew you smelled sweet even before you became like us."

The smaller sprites sat on your finger as they flapped around you, more drawn than ever. It seems that your new form has made you more captivating to their instincts, just like how they are drawn to the presence of their Emperor.

"Really? Though, I know you just want more sugary treats." You played with their cheeks until they perked up and bowed to someone. "See you tomorrow, Your Majesty!"

You didn't have to guess who made the little sprites flee in haste.

You turned around, and sure enough, you were swept off your feet as a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. His sweet sandalwood scent filled your senses, soothing your racing heart.

"I missed you, My Flower... What did my mate get for me?" Satoru looked at the basket you're holding, filled with several flowers from the garden he built for you.

"It's nothing much... It's too loose to be called a crown." You showed him the crown you clumsily made with some lilacs. But Satoru guided your hand to put it on his head, indulging you with anything. You have now fully turned into an elf. Bright silver hair, lucid eyes, and the sweet scent of jasmine and orchid around you with the purple robes that only the Imperial Rulers can wear. Anyone who sees you will immediately recognize you as an Imperial Fae and their Empress.

"I would take anything you offer me, Y/n." Satoru softly kissed her forehead... his lips slowly kissed his way down your nose until he found your lips. "Can I ask for a kiss?"

"What if I say my kisses are not offered?" You raised a brow.

Satoru merely shrugged it off with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure you can make exceptions for your husband, no?" Satoru chuckled. "Can I have my kiss now?"

Your sweet smile and soft giggle drowned in as he captured your lips for a gentle but passionate kiss.

If the lotus has tears, he will shed it only and only for you...

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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General Taglist: @ice-icebaby  @aeanya @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[hitaka5ever]

Here's the written part of my MLP Movie alternative storyline comic I wanna do eventually IDK enough about the prequel to the film when Fizzlepop was becoming Tempest, so I have no idea how accurate the timeline is to the show in this. I may have to tweak the dialogue later if its wrong The story starts in Kludgetown during Capper's song since this is the most crucial part of the story Let me know what you think!

Up above on a roof, a large figure stepped up to the edge, staring at the large group of ponies as they followed Capper through the slums. They followed the group at a distance to avoid being seen. The purple pony was certainly not believing in Capper's song, but her friends were so enthralled by him that she couldn't stop them. So she kept her distance. As the shy yellow one was being sung to that the alleys may be scary, but that Capper would protect them no matter what, the figure turned its paws to the right to continue following them.

Capper was soon nearing the end of his song, throwing out a roll of red carpet for the ponies. He was nearing his hideout when something big dropped down from his roof, stopping his song and the music accompanying it short. Everyone's eyes widened when the head of a large, black and red, furry wolf lifted, revealing red eyes and a blank look on his face. Capper sweat dropped as the look was directed at him.

"Uh…" Putting on a happy face, Capper turned to the ponies. "Forgive me, my friends, I had forgotten I was expecting company today. Let me introduce you to our humble abode's chosen leader, Aah-!"

"Shut up, Capper. The purple one isn't buying your shit." The Mane 6 gasped at the wolf swearing in a kids movie, but he ignored them.

Stepping past Capper, who was whistling as he tried to escape the ponies' wrath at being outed as a liar, the wolf gestured to Twilight with a tiny jerk of his muzzle. "You, come forward."

Swallowing nervously, Twilight walked past the others, standing between them. "Thank you, Mr….-?"

"Just Amon."

"Thank you, Amon, for saving us from a terrible fate. We were on our way to find the Queen of-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Amon interrupted. "Capper may have been lying about wanting to help save your lives, but he was right about the town being too dangerous for creatures like you."

Twilight's brow furrowed slightly. "Were you following us?"

"Yes."

"Then why'd it take ya so long ta reveal yourself?" Applejack asked, annoyed.

"Yeah!" Rainbow Dash piped in, like she always did.

Closing his eyes as he started walking past the Mane 6 and Spike, Amon answered, "I'm sorry to be so secretive, but I was curious about you, that's all. Come with me."

The Mane 6 looked at each other before Twilight took the lead to follow the wolf. She quickly caught up to his side, looking up at him.

"Where are we going?"

Amon glared dangerously at one of the townsfolk as they passed by their opened tent, daring them to try anything. Squeaking, they yanked the flaps closed. Amon looked back forward again.

"I am leading you to the real end of town, but we must backtrack a ways to get back on the correct path."

"Does that mean you know how to find the queen of the hippos?!" Pinkie Pie yelled.

Twilight jerked her head around to glare at her. "Pinkie!"

Amon sighed. "Yes, I know where the Hippogriffs are. Be quiet."

"Hippogriffs?" Twilight asked in a whisper.

"Yes."

"So that's what Princess Celestia meant."

Amon looked at her. "And why did this princess let you leave home alone?"

Twilight looked extremely sad then, and the others had similar expressions. "She wanted her sister, Luna, to ask the Hippogriffs to assist us in saving our home, Canterlot. But they were captured and turned to stone, along with my brother's mate. I almost suffered the same fate."

Amon hummed in thought. "So you chose to tackle the journey on your own… That was very foolish."

Annoyed at being insulted, Twilight ran forward, slid around, and then got into Amon's face, forcing everyone to stop. Amon didn't seem surprised that something smaller than him wanted to confront him.

"For your information! My friends and I are the Guardians of Friendship and Harmony! It's our committed duty to save Equestria from all evil! We barely escaped after the army of the Storm King invaded Canterlot during our Friendship Festival! We are the only ones who can defeat him! So don't you ever call my friends and me foolish again! You got that, stinky Fluffybutt?!"

"Daaaaaaaaaaaang!" the other ponies exclaimed after Twilight was done.

Amon remained impassive, but he gave a nod of his head. "You are right, I apologize. In this land, foolishness gets you sold off or killed, but you are also very brave to take on such a powerful foe yourselves. I am sorry for the circumstances that led you here."

Twilight was staring hard at him a little longer before she returned to her normal height, and then she stepped aside. "Thank you."

They continued onward, having to take quite a few twists and turns.

"So where exactly are we goin'?" Applejack asked.

"First, the magic shop that is located near the airship docks. I have a map for you that will help you find your directive easier. After, the docks, where you will stow away on a ship of your choosing. There are currently two in port, so picking one should be simple."

"So, if it is so dangerous out here, why should any of us trust you, darlin'?" Rarity asked.

Amon took a few more steps before stopping. The ponies looked at each other in confusion. "...This is why."

Sitting down, Amon flexed his body just enough for the light to catch the top of his body. The Mane 6 and Spike all reacted the same way upon seeing the worst scar they had ever seen along Amon's entire spine.

"Oh dear.."

"Woah…"

"Good heavens!"

"Ouchie, that's gotta hurt!"

"I am so sorry…"

"Woah, dude! That is so TOTALLY AWESOME!"

Well, all the ponies except Rainbow Dash, anyway. 

"Shut your apple pie hole, Dash!"

Ignoring them, Amon stood back up, shook himself, and then continued on.

"I am not originally from here. My pack lived on the edge of Everfree Forest. But one day, an evil pony appeared and killed all of my brothers, sisters, and elders while I was gathering herbs and other plants for our healer. When I smelled the carnage and magic used to take their lives, I left my gatherer basket behind and met their murderer upon my return. I tried to make them pay, and that is when they used their magic on me. Since I was pouncing, the magic blast ran along my entire spine, leaving behind this scar months after I had recovered."

"So how did you end up in this nasty place?" Spike asked. "Everfree Forest is way far from here…"

They made it to the shop. Amon turned to the ponies to finish his story. 

"Long story short, I healed my back the best I could, traveled through the desert, and collapsed from pain and exhaustion halfway here. I was picked up by a merchant, placed in their cart, and was brought here. Since I am a wolf with unique colored eyes, they wanted to sell me for parts, but a woman took pity on me and gave me a new life here in Kludgetown.

"Now give me a minute to grab the map, and then I will finish my story during our final leg of our trip to the air docks."

Not waiting for a response from the group, Amon entered the shop. Twilight turned to everyone.

"I actually believe in Amon."

"How come?"

"I remember hearing about the wolf pack slaughter before I moved to Ponyville. There was rumor that only one survived. And that evil pony he was talking about, sure sounds an awful lot like-"

"Here is your map." Turning sideways, Twilight saw Amon step forward, holding a roll of parchment in his mouth. He carefully placed the scroll on the ground. Using her magic (they didn't notice Amon wince), Twilight lifted it off the ground and handed it to Spike. Walking far around the group, Amon continued on their path to the air docks. "We're almost there."

"Thank you for all your help, Amon," Twilight told him with a smile minutes later. "For protecting us from Capper, giving us the map, and keeping us safe."

Amon glanced back at them. "I am just doing what I know is right, there need not be praise for that." Amon looked back ahead. "Just as you are going to the ends of the world to save your home and the ones you love, I, too, am fighting for my own. Storm King and his army wants to conquer all, and I will not stand idly by as he rampages from place to place. But I must keep this town safe, so assisting you in this way is the best I can do. If by some unlikely chance you fail, then the people of Kludgetown and I will band everyone still standing to end the war once and for all…"

"We will not let you down!"

"Yeah, we're stronger together!"

"And there's nothing Twilight and our friends can't do!"

"Oh yeah!"

Amon couldn't help but smile at that. Perhaps there was enough hope in the world to survive the Storm King's conquest after all…

They soon made it to the edge of town before the air docks. Amon turned to the Mane 6 and Spike.

"Here is your way forward, ponies. Beyond this town is nothing but dark, stormy clouds as you make your way to Mount Aris and the Hippogriffs. Take care of yourselves and each other."

Spreading her legs, Twilight bowed to him, her wings extending from her sides. "Thank you, Amon." After standing back up and folding her wings, she turned to the others. "Okay, time to pick a ship. Who would like the honor of choosing?"

Amon rolled his eyes as they started talking amongst themselves about the best ship to take. They soon chose the one to their left. Amon stayed right at the edge of the town as he watched them head for their ship.

"Be warned, Guardians of Friendship!" Stopping, the ponies looked back. Amon lowered his voice. "In this part of the world, trust no one but yourselves. It could mean life or death if you don't…"

Before anyone could react to this, Amon turned around with the swish of his tail and was gone. Everyone looked at Twilight, looking worried. She smiled the best she could.

"Don't worry, guys, we can do this. Together."

"I hope ya righ', Twiligh'."

"Yeah, we've got this!" Pinkie Pie practically screamed.

Facing forward again, Twilight raised her head up high and then led her friends towards their wise choice, where they would sneak onto the ship that would lead them closer to Mount Aris…

In the shadows, Capper came forward, stopping behind Amon as he watched the ponies sneak into the cargo hold of the merchandise ship.

“How do ya expect me to pay off my debt to Verko if ya keep ruining my cons?” Amon didn’t respond. “...You are far too nice for your own good, Amon.”

The airship was taking off, and a look and feeling of relief passed through the wolf. Lowering his head, he turned around and walked past Capper. The feline con artist turned to follow him back into town.

“...I need you to do me a favor, Capper,” Amon said minutes later, as they were nearing Capper’s hideout.

“Keep Verko off my back for another year, and then we’ll be square.”

“I will speak to him later.”

“Good. So what would you like me to do, your leadership?”

They made it to Capper’s place. Stopping outside his back door, Amon turned to him. “Any minute now, and the Storm King’s nefarious crew will arrive. I will meet them first while you stay in the shadows. After I leave, you will tell them where to find Twilight and her friends. Since they are heading for Mount Aris, you will tell them that they’re heading to Black Skull Island instead. That should give them plenty of time to reach Aris. Is that understood?"

Capper gave a bow. "I will do as you say."

"Good."

Capper opened his door for Amon, letting him through the hideout and back into the slums. "Have you ever encountered the Storm King's crew before? You certainly sound like you have a disdain for them…"

Amon's eyes narrowed as he pictured a dark figure with flaming pink mane hair and an electric sparking object on its forehead. He then heard a loud howl of pain mute out all other sounds deep in his ears. It instantly vanished when something grabbed his shoulder. Amon shook his head hard.

"Sorry, yes, I know all about Storm King's villainy and the soldiers he has recruited over the years. His second in command and I have a history that sometimes still haunts me in my dreams."

"So an ex?"

Amon snorted in disdain. "That would be infinitely more preferable than the truth…"

The duo continued on their way to the start of the marketplace in silence. Capper moved to the shadows, using his lanky body to move stealthily and without an inkling of a sound. They soon reached a crowd of sellers and scallywags watching in horror as a fight had just broken out. Amon pushed through them to reach the middle of the circle. The remaining creatures started to disperse when Amon made his presence known.

Having just finished harassing and attacking the giant fish guy Capper used to save the ponies earlier, Tempest stepped off him when she got her answer. She was about to turn around when a voice spoke firmly a few feet behind her.

"You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, monster."

Tempest's eyes widened when she recognized the voice. Putting her triumphant smirk back on her face, she started to turn around, saying, "And here I thought you were dead," facing the owner of the voice, she finished, "Amon."

Amon was glaring weakly at her. "Tempest Shadow."

Tempest stepped one hoof towards him. "So you still remember me… I'm flattered."

Amon stood his tallest as Tempest kept walking closer. "I could not easily forget the monster that inflicted such an injury on my person with wicked glee, Tempest."

Tempest slowly began to circle Amon, keeping a close eye on him as she looked him over. "You should learn to get over such trivial nonsense, Amon. Your pack chose to fight me, you just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time when you tried to get revenge. You only have yourself to blame for that wicked scar on your back-"

When Tempest was to his right, Amon turned and snapped his sharp fangs at her face, snarling. "Get the hell out of my town, witch! You will never be welcome here!"

Tilting her head back slightly, Tempest laughed softly. "Oh Amon, you are lucky I have more important matters to deal with than you right now, otherwise I would finish what I started with you." Stepping away from him, she headed back the way she came. "Once my horn has been restored, you will be next on my list of victims."

Fur raising on his back and neck, Amon growled after her. "And I will ensure that you lose more than just your broken magic, witch!"

Tempest snorted in amusement as she and her lackies headed back for their ship. Fur slowly going back down, Amon glared after her. After a few seconds, Capper came out of his hiding spot, having heard it all.

"Yep, being an ex-girlfriend would have been so much better…"

Snorting, Amon jerked his body around, heading back through the market. "Hurry up and go after her. I will be waiting for your return when she has failed her mission."

"Yes, Amon."

"Good luck."

"Luck is my middle name, my friend!"

Amon rolled his eyes. Turning around, Capper went after Tempest, knowing exactly what to say to convince her that the ponies were heading for Black Skull Island…

[ladyartemesia]

ঌ⊙ fic preview ⊙���

Once Upon a Bracelet

Pairing: Prince Jungkook x Sorceress Reader

(Featuring Platonic Jin x Reader Friendship)

Genre: Fantasy • Soulmates • Enemies to Lovers

Predicted Word Count: 7K (Teaser is 1K)

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: You were born to nothing, but your powerful craft caught the eye of a charming prince.

However, his distinctly un-charming younger brother challenged your betrothal and is routinely challenging you.

Jeon Jungkook is (probably) a former necromancer and (definitely) the wrong prince...

But the bracelets tell a different story.

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Prologue: Blood Magic

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Blood magic was the oldest and most powerful of the ancient crafts.

The best and strongest blood crafters hailed from Dionysia, where the heart of all blood magic, the Sanguine Well, rose up from the earth. The people of Dionysia served as caretakers and protectors of the Well and, in time, reverence of the blood craft wove into the fabric of their souls.

Their culture thrived around it. Their beliefs embodied it.

Even love bowed before it.

Bonding bracelets were born of blood magic.

The ritual creation of a bonding bracelet pair marked the transition from childhood into maturity. When a man or woman reached their 20th birthday, they and their family traveled to the Sanguine Well.

Four cuts were made on the right hand. Six drops of blood offered to the water...

Then the Well would churn and rise with violence, swelling till the overflow swept over the youth who fed their blood to the currents.

When the water receded, the bracelet pair remained.

One bracelet for the man or woman who sought the well.

One for their soulmate.

Only the first of any soulmate pair (the first seeker) to perform the ritual received the bracelets. Many who traveled to the Sanguine Well left empty handed because their soulmate had offered blood first.

The first seeker’s bracelet formed fully clasped around their wrist. The second bracelet remained open and would only close for the first seeker’s destined mate.

When an unclaimed bracelet united with its true host, the open ends stretched and intertwined to form a rune.

From that moment on, the first seeker and their mate were blood bonded; their powers and abilities joined in a sacred union that was – to all known craft – unbreakable.

The strength of a blood bound pair could be quite formidable and, over the centuries, powerful soulmates rose to become great warriors, crafters, and leaders of their people…

For this reason, Dionysia did not take the gift of bonded soulmates lightly.

All proposed matches were registered and approved by the Ruling Council before an open bracelet could even be tried on by a potential partner. Both parties were required to present evidence of their commitment to one another. If the alliance was approved, the betrothed pair participated in a public ceremony where the first seeker’s intended mate would activate the bond by finally placing the open bracelet around their wrist.

The Royal Council believed this care and reverence honored the craft and the gods, thereby allowing the sacred tradition to continue.

In 900 years of recorded history, only five bonding ceremonies ended with a bracelet that did not close.

Now there were six…

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Once Upon a Time...

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“Jin!”

Your voice echoed dismally down the dusty corridor of Silent Truth Hall. “I’m sorry…I—”

Jin whirled on you, shaking his head vehemently.

“None of this is your fault.”

“There are many reasons why this could’ve happened,” you offered breathlessly.

“There’s only one reason why this happens.”

He sighed in defeat as you rubbed your temples in frustration.

“I don’t understand. The Council gave permission!”

The Ruling Council was a sovereign governing body of three kings and three queens, one monarch from each of Dionysia’s six royal bloodlines.

“The Council isn’t all knowing… ” Jin collapsed against a nearby wall. “This is a disaster,” he whispered.

And it was.

You had no family, but all of your friends from the Academy were there.

Jin was technically an orphan as well, but his adopted family, the Jeons, were there.

Jeon Alaya was high queen of the Ruling Council, so half the kingdom was there to see her (adopted) son bond with a craft prodigy from The Wastes.

Half the kingdom, but not her blood. Not her youngest son, you thought bitterly.

The two of you were silent for several moments while your minds struggled to process the shock.

“Do you think the rumors—what they say about me—is true?” you asked solemnly.

Jin’s head shot up in an instant.

“No,” he swore, “they’re absolutely not true.”

“But it didn’t close—”

“It didn’t close because we aren’t soulmates—not because you aren’t one of us.” His expression softened. “We were a good idea… just not the right one.”

Tears begin to burn at the corner of your eyes.

On some level you were not surprised. You cared for Jin but–

Yours was not an overly romantic attachment.

It was a strong friendship—one that spanned several years. When you decided to apply to the Royal Council for bonding, it seemed…

Logical.

Friendship was an excellent basis for blood bonding. More than one bonded pair applied as friends.

You believed in the wisdom of the Royal Council—everyone did. If you and Jin were not meant for each other, then surely the Council would see it. They would turn down the application. Someone would object…

Someone did object, your mind taunted.

But you were approved.

The date was set. Announcements made. Invitations sent out. The bracelet was placed on your wrist and…

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

Jin’s bracelet remained stubbornly un-closed.

And you had never felt so mortified, so exposed… so profoundly alone in your entire life.

It was a scandal of epic proportions, one which potentially called into question the judgement of the entire Ruling Council.

“Listen,” Jin said at last, “I need… I need to clear my head and think about the next steps. I know an expert on bonding bracelets. Maybe I can convince her to help. There might be another explanation.”

His hands slid up to grasp your shoulders in a familiar comforting gesture.

“Head to my house outside the city for a while. No one will bother you there, and I’ll be back tomorrow.” He gave your arms a brotherly squeeze. “We’ll work through this.”

You nodded, extremely grateful for the opportunity to be alone for a few hours.

Jin helped you slip out the back corridor to avoid the insanity still unfolding in the Hall (where the failed ceremony took place), then you parted with a final hug and quietly walked the few miles to his beautiful manor near the lake.

Technically, Golden Starlight House was one of many homes owned by the Jeon family. This one, however, Jin shared with his younger brother…

Jungkook

Jeon Jungkook was a sore subject for you. In fact, you preferred not to think about him at all if possible—and you certainly would never agree to hide at his house if you thought he would be there.

But Jungkook left weeks ago… right after the betrothal was announced.

“I cannot stand by and watch my brother make a mistake like this.”

His horrible words echoed in your mind as you unlocked the door, prepared to simply collapse fully clothed on the chaise when—

“Shouldn’t you be off playing bride-to-be literally anywhere else?”

You turned, already knowing who you would see.

“Jeon Jungkook. Of course.” A mirthless laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

Just what I needed right now.

Full story should be posting very soon! Please let me know what you thought of the teaser! 🥺I would really appreciate it and it really fuels my creative process! I promise I treasure every word!

Let me know in the comments if you would like to be tagged for this story!

Tagging: @lemonjoonah @xjoonchildx @ppersonna @hobi-gif @untaemedqueen @underthejoon because you ladies are my heart and I always want to show you what I did right away 🥺

Important Note: I previously published a version of this story for a different fandom (Star Wars). So if you see it elsewhere (though I have made considerable changes) I promise it’s me and I can prove it. Tagging @wwilloww because she read the original way back when 😂🤣

[turtletotem]

AU where everything is the same except that it's traditional that Bright Moon royalty have a harem

aka why have ship wars when you can ship poly!

In season 1 Glimmer is too young to get married, of course. But she and Bow are definitely engaged already, because relationships tend to speed up a bit when you know you don't have to commit to only one spouse your whole life.

When Adora shows up in Bright Moon, she faces a lot of judgment and intolerance and even threats because she's from the Horde, right? But Glimmer has the perfect solution. A solution that will (a) give Adora official royal protection, (b) give Adora status in Bright Moon and the Rebellion, (c) be quite the political triumph in terms of binding She-Ra to the royal house of Bright Moon (this last one is the main reason Angella goes for it).

Glimmer adds Adora to her engagement harem.

Of course she's not going to force anything romantic on Adora that she doesn't want. She swears they won't even have to really get married, when the time comes, if Adora doesn't want to. But let's be real, Glimmer is definitely crushing on Adora, and in this situation? Where Glimmer feels free to act on that, and none of it's going to hurt Bow's feelings (he never expected to be Glimmer's only spouse, and he likes Adora), and Adora is lonely and everything about her situation is encouraging her to return Glimmer's feelings? Yeah, Adora starts reciprocating pretty quickly. I figure their first kiss is in the hot springsat Mystacor.

Of course Catra finds out; She-Ra's engagement to Princess Glimmer is big news. Her jealousy and hatred toward Glimmer and the Rebellion is gonna be dialed up to eleven. Princess Prom is even more intense than in canon. (For Glimmer and Bow, too—Glimmer has much better reason to be jealous of Bow's attentions to Perfuma, but since they're not married yet, she can't technically stop him.)

For what it's worth, I see Adora and Bow as having a relationship that is… romantic in some aspects, but not sexual? Adora's just not attracted to men, and Bow is too monogamous at heart—Glimmer's it for him, he's not interested in being with anyone else. But they still see themselves as romantic partners, because that's expected from harem-mates (at least nominally). They do love each other, and they enjoy things like holding hands, cuddling, and the occasional kiss.

Glimmer's not supposed to actually have sex with any of her harem until they're married, but just sleeping together is fine and even encouraged, so the three of them share a bed. It helps Adora's loneliness a lot, eases the pain of waking up without Catra.

(If, more than once, she sleepily calls one of them Catra, they're not about to bring it up.)

Very possibly, Adora advocates for adding Huntara to the harem. Glimmer is not in favor of this, however, and in the end the idea is dropped when Huntara goes back to the Crimson Waste.

The three of them get married when Glimmer becomes queen. Glimmer offers to release Adora from the engagement, just like she promised she would, but Adora won't hear of it. She loves Glimmer, and she loves Bow, and she wants this marriage. If a part of her is heartbroken over the final death of any hopes she had about Catra, well, that's all the more reason to marry Glimmer.

When we get to season 5, the Glitra subtext gets to be more than subtext. After all, it's totally acceptable for Glimmer to have three spouses, no one would even raise an eyebrow until she hit twice that many. But she feels weird telling Bow or Adora that she might have feelings for Catra, so she doesn't realize how much Adora is torturing herself with guilt about her own feelings for Catra. In addition to all the war-related reasons to feel guilty, Adora feels like she's being unfaithful to Glimmer.

Things might get very complicated after Catra is rescued. Glimmer, of course, proposes to Catra; marrying her will give Catra protection from anti-Horde sentiment just like it did with Adora, as well as helping establish peace between the two factions. Catra resists the idea, but Adora feels obligated to swallow her own feelings and talk Catra into it. Which, of course, devastates Catra, because now she thinks Adora doesn't love her. Poor Bow is the only one who sees what everyone isn't saying and tries, mostly without success, to mediate.

Events at the Heart go just as in canon, so Catra and Adora do face up to their feelings. But they're unsure how Glimmer's going to react. They're relieved and surprised when she's thrilled.

When all is said and done, Catra does marry into the harem. Like Adora, she has a romantic relationship with Glimmer and a close platonic relationship with Bow (even more platonic than Adora's; I'm thinking Adora and Bow eventually have a child, just because Adora wants one). (He and Glimmer probably have several.) Catra and Adora dig up an old tradition of handfasting, wherein members of the same harem can unofficially marry each other (or even marry outside the harem, with royal permission). It's not a legal thing, but it has meaning within the bounds of the harem itself. In their case, it's widely known and respected in the court of Bright Moon.

(Side note: What about Angella's harem? you might ask. Well, Angella's been around for a very long time. She outlived her entire first harem, and was too heartbroken by her losses to try again—until Micah. He got away with being her only spouse because she'd already fulfilled the harem tradition, and because he was able to finally give her an heir, and because the people were just happy to see her married again at all.)

[cartoonfangirl1218]

EoA ship wedding hcs

Eleteo: You pretty much did everything and anything about the wedding. So I offer another honeymoon headcanon for them. Elena with her musical talent and remembering that beautiful serenade of Mateo decided to return the favor wth a few love songs of her own. She even learned the ukulele for one of them. "Hold me close and hold me fast. This magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.

When you press me to your heart. I'm in a world apart. A world where roses bloom.

And when you speak—Angels sing from above.

Everyday words seems To turn into love songs Give your heart and soul to me And life will always be la vie en rose"

Needless to say as she sang, she couldn't help but getting a little emotional over the fact that here she was, with everything she ever wanted and her soul mate on their honeymoon and it was just so grand and perfect. Mateo helped her out and they ended up singing the songs in harminous duets. Alonsonaomi: Naomi and Alonso agree to split up wedding duties since they agree to be equal partners. Although Naomi kinda takes up a good bulk because she is used to organizing things thanks to her role on the Grand Council. Anyway few months in, the date is getting closer and Naomi is getting a little (a lot!!) bridezilla like with her quinceñera but worse since she's getting married and becoming queen and all the pressure. And her panicking turns on Alonso whose in charge of the music and the reception room and so far she has no idea what is happening. None! She has no clue or control over it and it is drivingher crazy. "Just tell me what you are planning so you don't ruin our special day!" And Alonso is perfectly casual telling her she'll find out on the day. "Is this because you haven't done anything yet?! Answer me!!!!" He doesn't. Eventually it is after the wedding and they go to the reception room and Naomi's jaw drops. The room is like a sailor paradise combined with Venice gondolas and elegance and Alonso is just smirking but also truely smiling because he is so happy that she likes it and he leads her to their first dance and ah love. Gababel: Gabe's parents make most of the food for their wedding. It's just a given. But the big wedding cake. Now that is Gabe's specialty because he has a vision for it to be a pink cake dream since Isabel loves his pink cakes so much. Isabel insists on helping too since he can't do the three large layers on his own. It turns into a family affair. Luisa, Francisco, Esteban, Elena, Mateo, Blanca and Roberto all pinch in to help. The cake turns out to be an extravagant creation with a special touch from each piled with flowers and sugar/marzipan figurines. Isabel loves the cake because she feels it represents the new family they have together full of heart and love and togetherness. Gabenaomi: The wedding is very laid back but the bachelor/bachelorette that took place before it were a wild time 😜 Elena took her role as maid of honor very seriously and wanted to give Naomi a night she would never forget. Their was a pool, there was a stripper, there was many drinks and all that fun stuff. Luisa had plenty of stories to tell the girls lol. Mateo's party was a little less wild but still fun as they had all the guards together no thought of some pretty creative ideas of how to end the last night of Gabe's bachelorhood. But near the end of the night, both sneaked off to Naomi's ship taking in the sunrise together before they head off to their wedding. Estebaomi: Well their wedding was only attended by Chilyo and crew but when the new couple came back to Avalor. Luisa insisted on having another since she wanted to see her only grandson married with her own eyes. Naomi raises a challenge. If they want to experience their wedding, they shall experience it as it was. In less than two hours. So it's a mad dash throughout Avalor as the palace staff and family try to get a wedding dress, suitable decoration etc and a priest at a short notice. They do, in part thanks to no one saying no to the queen and no one wanting to piss off Luisa. The wedding was short and sweet with an added surprise. Esteban and Naomi were able to create short vows as the rest scrambled around. It was overall short and sweet and perfect for them. Estoma: I'll do an engagement one since you haven't. So it's post dinner, Esteban leads her to his office and shows her some constellations. Surprised she remarks she's never noticed the view from that window. Esteban coolly comments that they've always been at work here and to think that it was ? years ago that this was where they first met. It was amazing how far they've come. And if they knew what they knew now, would they have changed what they first said to each other. Doña

considers, "No I wouldn't have. You still needed to be taken down a peg back then. Besides it wouldn't have changed a thing. I think we would still have found a way to be together. After all the scheming and the deals and the fixing problems because of your foolishness." "My foolishness?! What about yours?" "I was being perfectly rational. It is your foolishness that made you think I was being.." Esteban: "Fine— but your arrogance caused most of the problems." Doña: "I'm less arrogant than you." Esteban: "Oh really? What about the time....nevermind. Do you want to know what I would have said if I knew then what we would end up going through together?" Doña: "Oh what?" Esteban bends down on one knee and pulls out a ring, "Will you marry me? Knowing that we will stay by each other's side during the darkest times, and that we may fight but we always have the same side in the end. You are my beautiful, intelligent if not insufferably argumentative rose with thorns. Will you be my wife from now on?'

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible - Chapter 24

Pairing: Eric Northman x Reader + Godric

Warnings: description of death

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had a flareup and haven't written in like three weeks. Everything I've been posting was pre-written. We're nearing the end.

***

Your visit to Sophie-Anne two days later was unannounced. Your father led the small group consisting of yourself, Eric and the Magister through the grounds, dismissing Sophie’s guards as he went. His own men trailed behind you silently taking their places to secure the property.

As usual, Sophie was found lounging in what she called her day room. Your father glanced around and arched a brow. Obviously he found it a bit much. You agreed completely.

“A bit ostentatious for one so deeply in debt. Wouldn’t you agree, Magister?” Roman asked, sounding bored.

“Absolutely, sir.”

Sophie, who up until this point, was ignoring all of you, was on her feet in a flash. Her gaze darted to you and Eric briefly before focusing on the other two men again. “Hailey, leave us,” she said to the blonde that had been lounging beside her. Hailey was Sookie’s cousin and didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. It was how your friend had ended up on Sophie-Anne’s radar to begin with.

Once her lover had left, the queen put her attention back on your group. “Magister, I wasn’t expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Try as she might, the queen couldn’t keep that tremor of worry from her tone. That alone conveyed her youth. Frankly, you weren’t certain how she’d come to the position in the first place. Politics.

Alonso scoffed as he smirked. “I believe we can all agree it is rarely a pleasure when I become involved, your majesty.”

Her smile dropped before instantly finding its way back to her face. “And who is this with you?”

Now your father smirked as well. “Just call me an interested party.”

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Eric in the ribs when he huffed a surprised laugh at your father’s words. The noise caught Sophie-Anne’s attention and she glared at your mate. You fought the immediate urge to smack her. As if sensing your irritation, Eric grabbed your hand in his. If nothing else, his touch grounded you.

Her eyes flicked down to your joined hands and you would have sworn she turned just a bit paler. Sophie-Anne knew who you were and knew you used to work for the Authority. Now, here you were holding hands with the person that had knowledge that could bury her. She wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew where this was heading. That didn’t stop her from trying to talk her way out of trouble.

“I’m not quite sure what is going on here, Magister, but I assure you if any of my subjects have stepped out of line and fabricated some treasonous lie in an attempt to cast doubt on my loyalties, I am more than capable of punishing them without the Authority’s interference.”

“Not your subject and not a lie,” you piped up.

Alonso stepped forward, one hand in the pocket of his immaculate suit. “You have been accused of conspiring to sell the sacred blood for your personal gain. How do you plea?”

As Alonso took another step, Sophie stepped backward. “Not guilty of course. I would never do anything so heinous.”

Roman scowled. “Ordering your subjects to do it on your behalf doesn’t absolve you of your culpability.”

“What-what did she tell you?” Sophie stuttered as she took another step back. “It’s not true. Any of it.”

“How would you know if you aren’t aware of what has been said?” the Magister asked, a smirk curling his lips.

She held out a hand as if that would protect her from the judgement coming her way. “Now, just a minute.” Her eyes found you. “What is this? I trusted you. Why are you doing this? You don’t even work for them anymore.”

“Because it’s shit, Sophie. You’re trying to set him up to take the fall when this inevitably goes horribly wrong. If you were the leader you were supposed to be, you would have at least cut out the middle man. Taken some responsibility for your own actions. But that’s never been your strong suit, has it?” As much as you liked Sophie-Anne, she had some serious faults as a queen.

The Authority had been aware of her failings, but until this point, they’d been able to look the other way to keep from stirring things up where they didn’t have to. Despite all appearances to the contrary, the Authority was very into maintaining the status quo when possible.

Not getting the response she wanted from you, she looked at Eric. “And you? This is treason.”

“Speaking of concerns with my mate is not treasonous. It was she who reported you to the Authority. My apologies, my queen.” He sounded so sincere but he wore that familiar smirk as he lifted your hand to kiss the back of it. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Barely.

“Enough,” your father interrupted the conversation, clearly bored with the theatrics. “Magister?”

“Sophie-Anne Leclerq, you have been found guilty of the charge against you. The penalty is the true death.” He flicked his fingers and Eric stepped forward to carry out the sentence.

“Wait!” Sophie yelled.

Alonso held up his hand to bring your mate to a halt. “What is it?”

“I demand a rehearing. I want a hearing in front of the Authority.”

You arched a brow. You weren’t certain anyone had ever tried that before. But she was a queen, so if anyone was going to try it, it was fitting that it was her.

“You are aware that I am the voice of the Authority in matters such as this?” the Magister asked with a quick glance to your father. “However, given your status, the request is not unreasonable.”

Elation flickered across Sophie-Anne’s face. It lasted about two minutes before your father spoke.

��The Authority has heard your case and affirms the Magister’s decision. Sorry, Ms. Leclerq, but there are sins that even the worst of us can’t overlook.” He straightened the cuffs of his suit as he stared at the queen as if she was a bug beneath his shoe.

“Who are you?” Sophie asked.

“I am the Guardian,” he answered with an arched brow. He glanced at Eric and gestured to the queen. “Mr. Northman, if you would.”

Sophie-Anne shook her head and backed away but Eric was on her in a flash. She attempted to fight but he took her down easily, forcing her onto her stomach. He placed a foot on her back to hold her down while he grasped her head in his hands and yanked upward. A second later and Eric was dropping the late queen’s decapitated head on ground as she dissolved beneath him.

You’d stayed behind your father and Alonso so they were between you and the mess but you still stepped backward. Vampire deaths were so disgusting. “Well done, Mr. Northman. You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you a ride back to your home,” your father said and you frowned. Yes, Eric could get himself home, but it still annoyed you. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to mention his plan for your mate to play executioner until you were almost there so you hadn’t brought anything for Eric to change into even if he cleaned himself up.

“Understandable, sir. I’ll meet you there.” He may have been talking to your father but he was looking at you. He was letting you know it wasn’t worth the fight. You ran your eyes over his blood-soaked form and gave him a nod. He’d make it home before the three of you anyway.

Roman took your arm in his hand and steered you to the exit. His steps were long and quick until he was practically dragging you behind him. You scowled and pulled against him but he didn’t slow down. Finally, you planted your feet and jerked your arm. He stumbled to a stop and turned to frown at you.

“Why the hell are you in such a hurry? Is there something I should know?” Your gaze shifted between him and Alonso. The latter looked amused as his lips twitched. Your father closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry. There’s just a phone call that I need to make as soon as possible. Why don’t you and Alonso take the car back? I’ll ride with some of the men.” He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into the dark.

You licked your lips and shook your head before glaring at your friend. “And just what do you think is so funny?”

He chuckled and held up his hands in surrender. “I was wondering how long you were going to let him drag you along until you said something.”

“You have any idea what that call’s about?” you asked. Roman was up to something.

“Not a clue, sweetheart.”

[ulalumewitch]

A Song of Shadows and Light

Short Story inspired by “Day 6: Book Predictions” by @gwynrielweek - my prediction is that Gwynriel is end game and they are mates. This takes place an undetermined amount of time into the future after ACOSF.

Author Note/Warning: Brief mentions of past abuse. If you find these ideas triggering, please skip. I hope I addressed them with the care and sensitivity they deserve.

word count: 3,279

theme: a bit of angst, feels

please note: light adult language used.

*******

Azriel’s shadow’s did not speak to him. It remained his biggest secret. They did not whisper in his ear. They did not shout, nor did they cry, nor did moan.

His shadows sang.

He always thought people would assume the truth given the name, but they never did. Others sometimes asked, ‘What do they say? What do they sound like? Do they speak to you often? Do they speak in riddles?’ But never did they ask, ‘Do they sing?’

The first time Azriel heard their song had been while staring at young hands wrapped in bandages as he sat in the cold, damp hell of darkness. The inky black he’d learned to survive in had been no life at all but the sort of torture no creature should endure. Especially not a child.

Azriel had always been intelligent. His mind worked in patterns and puzzles. When he’d been allowed to begin an education beyond the fundamentals of reading and writing - when Rhys’ utter saint of a mother took him under a literal wing - he seemed to understand everything taught to him the moment the instruction passed her, or any teacher’s, lips. Initially, Azriel thought it a gift.

Until he realized the curse of it. He never forgot anything he read or heard, and he never forgot a face. His memory remained woefully accurate. While it made him an excellent spy, Azriel used to pray to the Mother to take his memory away, to take his ability to remember the finest minute details away. Or at the very least the bad memories away…

There were seven cracks in the stone on the floor where he used to sleep, where the damp seemed a little less chilling. Twenty stones around his lightless cell. He learned them all by feeling, touching, counting. Games to keep his mind from wondering if perhaps he’d died. If, perhaps, the Mother forgot about him …

Azriel turned his face up at the sky and let the rain fall softly against his face. His wings twitched slightly at the first contact. Warm, summer rain. Refreshing. Revitalizing. The burgeoning storm ushered in cool air and finally broke the suffocatingly hot, humid weather that had plagued Velaris the last week.

He took a deep breath. And another.

The memory of the first song his shadows sang to him was not an unpleasant one. Perhaps one of the only memories from that place that didn’t belong to a nightmare. They did not sing of freedom or of hope. They sang of light. They saved him.

Every once in a while they would sing of that light. The light of stars against darkness, the light of dawn breaking after another battle won, the light of eyes sparkling in love. They wouldn’t sing of it often, but they usually sang when he needed it most.

Or whenever Gwyneth entered the room. They sang of light around her the most. Their song became loudest when she was near him and it always complimented her words, as if providing a symphony to accompany the voice that filled his dreams with rest. Real rest. Those few precious nights they fell asleep side by side doing research in the library had been the most peaceful and restful nights of his entire existence.

Azriel had been a fool. For all of his abilities to ferret out the secrets of others, to become those shadows to learn what words were whispered in the dark, he’d lost the ability to see past his own shortcomings.

He’d searched for the love he’d missed as a child his entire life. Azriel desperately wanted it for his own, to heal those old wounds and to finally become the creature he always thought he could be.

Instead, he’d lived in delusion after delusion. First, the Truth Telling Warrior Queen, and then the Lady of Flowers and Sun.

It wasn’t their fault, nor was it totally his. He didn’t realize how wrong he’d been until the creature the Mother and Cauldron had paired him with left.

Azriel couldn’t blame Gwyneth for leaving. It was the right move for her. The fact that she healed, that she worked so damned hard to be able to start a new life went beyond admirable. And she’d did it on her own. True, she had her Valkyrie sisters, himself and Cass as her mentors, and the Priestesses … and it was because of that support system that Gwyn was able to save herself from the dark and to follow her own dreams and her own path, whole and healed and independent.

And he would never stop her from being herself. Even if it ripped his heart to shreds to see her go. Even if he fought every day not to winnow to that sanctuary on the other side of the Night Court as she and the others began helping others heal from their own nightmares.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen in love with her. Hell, he didn’t even know he’d been in love with her until she left without saying goodbye. Until he found that godsdamned note pinned to his door, rolled up with a teal ribbon around it.

Again, words he wished he could forget burned into his memory …

Do not let the water break you, Shadowsinger. Do not be scared of the warmth light can bring either. Let it illuminate you, every part of you, because you are a creature deserving of every happiness, Azriel, and only you can stop you from finding it. I pray, one day, you will be able to leave your fear behind you. ~G.B.

Azriel lost her because he was afraid. The thing he’d chased his entire life alluded him because he’d finally found it and was too damned cowardly to admit it to himself. To admit that the teal-eyed Priestess Valkyrie Carynthian was in fact the love of his godsdamned life.

And she’d left and he refused to be selfish and to do anything that might potentially ruin the happiness she fought for and won. If anyone deserved living in the light of happiness and peace, it was Gwyn.

Azriel closed his eyes, the rain beginning to fall a little harder. A low rumble of thunder in the distance that belonged to nature and not his High Lord, rolled through his bones. He welcomed it.

“I’m sorry I was a fool,” Azriel said out loud.

The rain fell harder, drowning out his words. But as he said them, a small weight lifted as his shadows swirled around him, keeping some of the drops off of his skin. Their touch soft and reassuring.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

Lightning flashed. Another crack of thunder.

‘She sings for joy and hope, her voice like a snow white dove,’ his shadows lilted, singing in his ear.

Azriel smiled through his tears as they mixed in with rain. She was happy then, she was exactly where she needed to be.

“I love you, Gwyneth,” he shouted to the storm.

Lightning and thunder and rain and his shadows sang melodies to mix with the symphony of the storm as the entire weight of the godsdamned world seemed to be lifted from him entirely. The truth and freedom of it so cathartic he let out a laugh and sob and -

A phantom pull to his middle had the Illyrian warrior stumbling forward, his hands braced and caught himself on the red wall of the training circle atop the House of Wind.

Another tug near his sternum … right over his heart …

Azriel turned as his shadows’ melody, wordless and sweet, crescendoed. A rush of breath passed through his lips as he found wide teal eyes staring at him.

He couldn’t move. For the first time in his life, Azriel forgot everything. If anyone asked him his name he likely wouldn’t remember.

All that he knew was that the beautiful creature walking towards him was no mirage. She stopped in front of him. Her beautiful copper hair somehow still shining through the dark and in the rain as it plastered to her head.

Something sparked in his chest. And Azriel, for the first time in his life, knew true happiness.

********

Gwyneth’s heart pounded as she ran through the house. It closed doors as she approached rooms as if telling her to keep going, the Shadowsinger would not be there. She had dreamed of Azriel every night since she’d been gone.

His hazel eyes, his cheekbones, his lips - those lips that she’d stare at and would forget to actually listen to what he was saying. And she’d have to ask him to repeat whatever it was and he would always quirk a smile - always the left side of his mouth - and then do as she requested. Like he knew.

But when she admitted to feeling something more than friendship. When she finally worked up the courage to broach the topic, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to push her, he gave the worst response possible.

Silence. Nothing. Not a single sound had passed those lips she’d come to love.

So, she’d left. She would have stayed. Would have carried on her work in Velaris because it was just as fulfilling as the work she now did on the other side of the Night Court. But she wouldn’t torture herself being around the Shadowsinger any longer. She’d taken his silence as a sign from the Mother that it was time for her to fly away from the nest that allowed her to grow and heal, and to live on her own.

She still had Emerie and Nesta for support as they were winnowed in a couple of times a week to help with training. The priestesses and faeries she had started to work with and train she already knew would be friends or at the very least amiable students and colleagues. Her new endeavor was exciting and scary and thrilling and all the things that she always imagined life could be.

The new compound that she, Nesta, and Emerie had dreamed up had been funded by the High Lord and High Lady, having agreed that more sanctuaries like the library should be available to others. It turned out more beautiful than she could have imagined. The Home for Wayward Stars included a temple, training centers, stables, medical building, and library. All to offer services as well as to train faeries in whatever they’d like to learn.

The compound had been built along the sea, nestled in a previously untouched basin surrounded by mountains, not unlike Velaris itself. The High Lord of Day, along with Rhysand, warded it to ensure it remained a safe haven for those seeking shelter. It was also guarded by new members of the Valkyrie so that all who sought sanctuary could begin healing in peace.

The High Lord and High Lady had been beyond kind, and even built her a small apartment that had a balcony that overlooked the sea, the waves crashing right below her and faced east. Every morning the light greeted her along with the sounds of the sea and it was perfect.

Except it really wasn’t perfect because when she woke up from her dreams of Azriel she would be alone in bed. And it infuriated her.

And so, Gwyneth decided to do something about it. The silence of his response ate away at her. She wanted a real answer. She wanted to know if he felt the same or if he didn’t. Even if the answer meant heartbreak she needed it. For closure.

But as she ascended the stairs to the training circle atop the house, her heart began to pound in her chest, and she knew he was up there. When she reached the top step she heard his voice and closed her eyes. Hearing it in her dreams was far different than the real thing.

“I’m sorry I was a fool.”

Was he talking to someone she couldn’t see?

But as she went to step out onto the roof, shadows swarmed her. Cool yet comforting, they swirled around her and gently pushed her back. She furrowed her brow but stayed put.

Gwyn loved Azriel’s shadows. When they’d researched together they’d always provide light touches to any knots in her neck and shoulders as she read, or would offer a cool breeze atop the house when training at night. Azriel always seemed to fret they would scare her but she loved them. Just like she loved him. And she just didn’t understand why -

‘Priestess of Light and Sea and Song, wait, it will not be long.’

Gwyneth’s mouth opened as she stared at the swirling shadows around her. Did they … did they just sing to her to stay put?

But Azriel’s raised voice stopped her thoughts.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

She began shaking. Oh gods, what if he’d found someone else? What if she’d read him all wrong. What if he really was just a supportive friend and she had been so desperate -

“I love you, Gwyneth!”

Gwyn clamped a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle the sound of a small cry born from pure relief and joy. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart pulsed in a quick beat. She furrowed her brow and looked down. No, it wasn’t her heart, but very near it. Something around her heart.

‘We sing for our Master and thee, Princess of Light and Song and Sea, we sing for the mates of darkness and light and sky and sea.’

She stepped out onto the roof, the shadows retreating slightly but remained close to her. Out of pure magical instinct Gwyneth reached deep down into that place near her heart. The place that sparked alive whenever Azriel was near her or whenever she wished he was near her. She grabbed a hold of that place and tugged.

Gwyneth watched in equal parts wonder and amusement as the renowned Carynthian warrior stumble forward in response. He whirled and she couldn’t stop herself as she did it again.

Hazel eyes locked on hers and she knew all of the trepidation she’d felt had been for nought. He loved her. He only needed to go on his own journey to find it. And Gwyneth understood that the dreams she’d had must have been Mother sent to bring her back because Azriel was finally ready to accept the destiny that had been written for them in the stars long ago.

Azriel raised a wing out over her head to shield her from the rain. His shadows continued to swirl around them both.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed out, “What - how -“

She smiled as he sputtered slightly. Gwyn reached forward and laced her fingers through his. Her thumbs lightly running over the ridges of some of the raised bits of scars. Ridges and lines that she’d memorized during their moments alone together.

“I dreamt of you,” she whispered, “And I had to come see you. The house led me here and then your Shadows sang for me to wait while you shouted into the rain. Do you always bother storms with your confessions?”

Azriel’s mouth dropped open. His hands began to shake slightly in hers.

“They sang to you?”

Gwyneth nodded and smiled, “Would you like to venture a guess why?”

She watched, fascinated, as his shadows swirled around his ears. His eyes shuttered slightly and then began to glisten in the dark.

“Is it too soon to talk about a mating ceremony?” Azriel finally asked.

Gwyneth laughed, as tears of pure relief and joy stung her eyes. She ripped her hands from his and threw her arms around his neck. And kissed him.

Azriel’s mouth slanted over hers immediately. The kiss soft but heated as one hand dove into her hair and the other held her waist tightly to him. With the first tentative touch of his tongue to hers, fire lit her veins. She tipped her head back slightly and opened further for him.

His cedar and mist scent wrapped around her as surely as his shadows did, keeping them hidden. Gwyn held on to him, suddenly worried that maybe she dreamt again. That maybe this was nothing but dreaming.

But in that very moment of doubt Azriel pulled away from her. He ran his nose long hers and brushed his lips over hers in a way that made her consider how his lips would feel on her skin.

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered, “And I love you and I’m sorry.”

She smiled and brought a hand up to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as she ran a thumb along his cheek bone.

“I love you, Azriel. But for your penance I must demand a couple of things for our future mating ceremony.”

His eyes opened and his lips quirked up. The left side of his mouth. Always the left side of the mouth. Her heart leapt in her chest as warmth spread through her.

“And what’s that Berdara?”

She pressed the front of her body to his, allowing her curves to mold to the hardness of him, to the cut of muscles honed over centuries of being a warrior. Her own warrior called to him, ready to take on anyone who would dare to hurt him. The instinct to protect, she mused, and they hadn’t even officially done anything. Not yet anyway. Hopefully not much longer.

“That we have our ceremony by the sea, our feet touching water and land. That we have our ceremony at dusk as day and night hedge on each other. So that sky and sea and dark and light surround us. So for that sacred moment it will seem like we teeter on the edge of the universe and its us. Just us. And that you will do your duties and live your life and I will do the same and we will carve out a life just for us by forging those parts of us together to make a whole. So that we’re both stronger.”

Azriel leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. He brushed his lips over hers again before placing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. His lips lingered and then slowly pressed kisses to her cheek and jaw line and then … then he kissed the sensitive spot below her ear, warm and pleasant and her knees buckled.

His lips curved into a smile against her skin and she wanted to scream at him to stop - to not stop - to do it again but more.

Azriel moved his mouth to press a kiss to the pulse at her throat, and her toes curled in her boots. All of her breathing techniques forgotten as she struggled to remember how to draw breath into her lungs.

With his blessed lips still against her skin, nuzzling her, he replied, “As you wish, Princess of Light and Song and Sea. It’s a good thing I’ll be able to winnow to you every night. Tell me Rhys and Feyre made your apartment big enough for someone with wings.”

“Our apartment. And yes. Now, kiss me again, Shadowsinger,” she smiled, “And this time. Don’t stop.”

Azriel flashed a grin and before Gwyn could form another thought his lips met hers. And she fell. No matter where she landed, and no matter where her journey led her from here, she knew that she would be living that journey with the Shadowsinger, her mate, beside her.

So they fell together as his shadows sang to them a song of darkness and light, sky and sea, hope and love.

*****************

hope you enjoyed! i love all possible ships and these two give me the feels.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

[ratcandy]

CoGR Abridged/Summarized

Hello hello! My name is Clam, otherwise known as Squeakyclam on Ao3, and this is a heavily summarized/shortened version of my HK fic Camouflage of Great Renown. For anyone somehow finding this that doesn't know what it's about, CoGR focuses on Zote and his story through the game and what preceded it. He recounts his entire life up until the end of what's known in canon, and this includes a whole lot of angst, growth, realizations, and Trauma Revelations.

Oh, and he's a nosk. Zote is a nosk. Yep.

I've had a few requests for a summary, as the work is super long and reading through 130k+ words of Zote dialogue may not be for everyone, hehehe so I've compiled all the important plot points and wrote them out here in order of his story, rather than the plotline CoGR goes through specifically (in which big events in his history are revealed later on).

If I had to recommend reading the fic for anything, it'd be the... impact, I suppose? 'Cause reading the summarized events here will NOT be anything like reading it in CoGR. Seeing as the fic is all in Zote's pov and he actually has to force himself to admit all of this aloud. But I digress!!

Here's a summary of Zote's life according to CoGR.

THIS IS A VERY, VERY LONG POST DESPITE BEING A SUMMARY. I'm sorry, CoGR just has a lot happening! T/W for mentions of death.

A lot more heavy stuff happens in CoGR, but in this summary I do my best to step around those subjects. If you think more T/Ws should be added, let me know, and I'll put them here

Nosks were a species that inhabited Deepnest, specifically living in a den towards the nest's depths. It split off into lots of tunnels and caverns that each nosk lived in. "Society" there was very hostile and unwelcoming, as nosks valued brute strength over just about anything else. Caring for another nosk - be it kin or otherwise - was considered weak. "Burdens" to the den, such as nosks that were badly wounded, would/could not hunt, or were simply getting too old would be killed off. Death in and of itself was very common and hardly anyone would bat an eye at it.

Think the Mantis Tribe but largely feral and without a shred of decency of morals.

Runt donning mask of citizen was born into the nosk den alongside his brother, who would become hunter donning hide of tiktik.

(Before anyone asks, these are just the naming conventions that nosks have. No one but the nosk superiors - the leaders of the den - are granted actual names.)

A third egg was among them, but the brother broke it open and ate the younger sibling not long after hatching.

The two were born under a superior (their mother) and her chosen mate (their father). They were expected to grow up strong and eventually overtake their mother and become superiors. Or, one of them would, maybe.

The runt (Zote) was immediately scorned by the mother, as he was extremely frail and useless, and she just about killed him off right after he hatched - but his father stepped in, and the runt was left alive.

Zote grew up to be a weak nosk who could barely defend himself in a den full of beasts that would gladly kill him if doing so wouldn't be a direct offense to a superior. His brother was cruel to him, his father berated him constantly, and his mother was hardly in the picture at all. Only ever watching him distastefully from afar.

His father did, however, train him, if only sparingly. The least he could do to keep Zote alive. (Doing so would be a death wish were any other nosks to find out about it...)

However, an elder in the den - hunter donning mask of weaver - gained Zote's attention as she told him fantastical stories from outside the den. This elder had spent a good portion of her life among the Weavers, initially being sent to learn about them (to make them easier to hunt) but growing interested in their culture and choosing to stay. Until she did something to get her chased out.

At any rate, she told the stories from the Weavers to Zote, alongside news of what was happening outside of Deepnest. This caused the runt to become obsessed with the idea of being a knight, as the stories just sounded!! So amazing and heroic and awesome and!!! :D Yea!! He wanted to be just like that!

To the point where he even carved a sword out of the shellwood... with the den elder's help. He named it Life-Ender eventually.

At some point, however, his father found out about all this. His father figured that the only way to eliminate this problem - as wishing to be something heroic that saved lives or whatever was SO unnosk-like (and would get him killed) - was to kill the den elder.

Before she died, the elder told Zote to run away from the den, and not to return no matter what. The idiot did not run, and because of this, he witnessed the Den Elder's death at the hands of his father and some other nosks.

Man! this does, however, cause Zote to be more... "open" about his ideas. By this I mean he begins carrying Life-Ender around instead of hiding it in his nest. what do you mean it's a comfort item what! no he's just rebelliously showing off how much he wants to be a knight. totally. 100% /s

well, anyway, not long after this, the idiot's father dies at the claws of his mother. Zote unfortunately witnesses this as well. When he tries to run, his mother catches him, nearly killing him as well. Luckily(?), this attempt is thwarted by Zote's brother, who was very distraught over their father's death. The brother swears to kill the mother before storming off. Zote runs into hiding (still in the nosk den), and begins devising his plan so to get the hell out of there.

Of the few times that Zote leaves his nest after his father's death, 90% of them ended with him getting pummeled by his brother. The latter was livid, blaming the father's death on Zote and frequently bursting into fits of emotional rage. Rage is great for nosks, other emotions not so much.

On one occasion in particular, the brother goes too far, nearly killing Zote. In the scuffle, Life-Ender is shattered, and that sends Zote into a blind anger (mixed with survival instinct as he's About to Die). Zote then kills his brother.

A crowd had gathered around them during the fight. In that crowd was Zote's mother, who looked to him approvingly after he'd killed off his brother. This terrified Zote, so he gathered the pieces of Life-Ender and fled the den forever.

Stopping at the hot spring in Deepnest, he made a disguise for himself based on the vessels that nosks would often capture. He made a new name for himself, took on an entirely new identity, and decided to abandon the idea that he was ever a nosk. He would just go to the City, be knighted by the King (who he'd heard of from the stories the Den Elder would tell him), and live out his life as a knight. Just like he always wanted. Not as a nosk. because he's not that.

The events that follow now are just very short summaries of things that happen throughout cogr.

- He breaks a statue in the Queen's station on accident after a bug finds him there. as a nosk. oops

- He obliterates the entire uoma population /j and burns himself in the process

- He repairs Life-Ender originally using mushrooms in the Fungal Wastes. Fungal adhesion is real I checked I swear

- He makes it to the City of Tears! and while there, he

Gets caught by Hegemol who mistakes him as a vessel

Drowns in the City's gutters

Purchases a cloth to wrap around Life-Ender

Hears the Pale King talk one (1) time and immediately decides he hates him

- While leaving the City, he finds a grub. That grub never really gets named, but as he frequented calling the little thing "Fiend," and the grub eventually began responding to that title, he just considers it a name for them now.

- Zote travels with the grub throughout the Crossroads until he drops them off with the Grubfather, being rewarded for reuniting them but overall feelings pretty :( about it.

- He then goes to the. So you know the houses that are underneath the Gruzz Mother's lil arena? Yea that place. he goes there and "guards" it, becoming that place's self-proclaimed knight.

- then he starts being paranoid about the grub and returns to the grubfather only to see all the grubs have been stolen. he presumes Fiend is dead from this point on (and dodges around ever using the word).

- Then he goes back to the lil town place only to see everyone's infected :(

- We then spend TEN CHAPTERS!! in Greenpath. In which he

eats a plant and dies

Stands in No Eyes's tomb.

Visits the Lake of Unn (and nothing bad happens)

Sees a nosk at the entrance to Fog Canyon and proceeds to have a panic attack

Kills everything

Gets caught by the Vengefly king

Gets saved!

has a breakdown

Yells at Ghost and then Leaves

- Canon starts!

- He stops in Dirtmouth, listens to Elderbug talk, gets told the Myth of the Great old Nosks who are now all Extinct. The news that nosks are now extinct freaks Zote out a little, but he absolutely refuses to return to Deepnest. He doesn't need to make sure. It's fine.

- In an effort to convince himself not to go to Deepnest, he goes to the City again, thinking it can't possibly be all that ba-- oh no everyone's dead!

- he inadvertently steals a map marker from Ghost and decides to use that as a pin for his cloak

- Zote returns to Deepnest. He's very upset with himself for this, but he just has to know if all the nosks are actually extinct now.

The answer is yes

but before that he gets caught by dirtcarvers and put in a web and has to be saved. this makes him angry

Upon seeing all the dead nosks once he gets to the den, and noticing that the last nosk was mimicking Ghost (evidenced by the mask left behind) before it died, he decides that he's gotta Kill Everything again

- more specifically we're going to the Colosseum now.

- Zote's fear of water evaporates as he goes through the secret passage in the King's Station to get to Kingdom's Edge. He only found it because he saw Ghost go that way

- While at the Kingdom's Edge, he gets caught by the Fools, who he stupidly challenges and then immediately gets caught by.

- sits in dumb baby jail for a while. mean to tiso

- Then the colosseum battle happens! He does not win he then gets dropped down into kingdom's edge with little regard toward whether he's dead or alive

- He grabs a Fool's helmet before leaving, going back to Dirtmouth, and intending to bury that thing

- this goes wrong as he bumps into Bretta. He then sits and talks with her for God Only Knows how Long, spacing out while doing so, and not even noticing when she eventually gets up and leaves him.

- He buries the helmet, shuts himself away in his house, and gets stuck repeating his precepts to himself. At the end of CoGR it is revealed that he hasn't been talking to anyone, and is instead talking to himself endlessly as no one is left to listen to him

and that's it! that's cogr. yeah

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Notice Me

Request: Hey Millie :D As I said before, I am subtly crawling my way into your inbox for the first time. After carefully combing through everyone's masterlist, I realised none of you lot had my baby Oliver Wood. So, here I go. Can I please request an Oliver x Reader fic, a bit maybe angsty, but happy ending where the reader is hot tempered and likes Oliver, but he is too invested in quidditch to realise her feelings? Thank you, hun ^^ - @heloisedaphnebrightmore

A/N: My first Oliver fic and it’s for the Queen of his fics! I’m only a tad nervous!!! Thank you so much for trusting me with this request, I have loved writing it even if I am uncertain about his characterisation. ALSO I have shamelessly stolen a nickname from Outlander as a way to fuel my crush on this particular scot. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, panic BUT FLUFF AND OLIVER BEING A CUTIE

Word count: 2.3k

The ticking of the clock insisted on taunting you by getting slower and slower as the lesson progressed. Your knee began to bounce as you counted down the minutes until the bell rang and you could leave the classroom.

You throw your things into your bag as you rush out of the classroom; all the time hoping he would be waiting.

“Sassenach,” A thick Scottish accent calls out, “Where do you think you’re going?”

You grin at the familiar sight of Oliver Wood waiting for you outside the classroom; leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets with the sleeves of his uniform rolled up. You approach him; his hand outstretched for your bag which he shoulders when you hand it to him.

“You know,” You start, “You’re going to get in trouble for calling me that.”

He smirks at you, “I don’t think I will, I’m too loved for that to happen.”

You nudge his side with your elbow, “I don’t believe that for a minute, Wood.”

Oliver throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, “Hush you, let’s go get some lunch, I’m starving.”

You laugh, “When aren’t you?”

“I’ll have you know; I’ve got to be big and strong as Captain of the Quidditch team.”

You snort, reaching to his other side and squeezing his bicep, “Sure you are, Ol. You’re big and strong.”

“You wound me, woman.”

“Take me to lunch, Wood,” You giggle.

Oliver pulls away from you, bowing down to you, “As you wish, my lady.”

You shove him to the side, but he comes back to you, his arm landing back on your shoulder, “You’re a shit, Oliver.”

“But you love me.”

-------------------

Falling for Oliver Wood happened fast. It happened fast and it left a mark.

It happened between one blink and the next, you’re sure of it.

Thinking back to it, it had to happened when he smiled at you one morning in the Great Hall through Sixth Year. His smile lit up his entire face; bringing out the innate kindness that radiates from within his very core. His brown eyes sparkled and between one drink of orange juice and the next, you had realised you’d fallen in love with your best friend.

Simultaneously, everything made sense and your heart stuttered with the fact, but your stomach dropped, and your mind went into overdrive.

Did he already know?

Was he just pitying you?

How would he react if he found out?

Does he feel the same?

You worked through each question internally; barely finding enough to answer one of the questions suitably.

So you let yourself sit with your feelings, wondering whether they were just a temporary crush.

A year later, they hadn’t disappeared, and it was no longer a crush.

--------------

You loved Oliver Wood for a lot of reasons; he was kind, he was charming, he was attractive, and he was passionate.

Especially about Quidditch.

But it seemed that he only had eyes for Quidditch, and whilst you love his passion for the sport – making sure you attend every match and helping him plan strategies, you just wish he would notice you a bit more.

For the last month, conversation only seemed to revolve around Quidditch and its strategy and its history.

And as much as you love the brunette, there was only so many times you could be brushed over before deciding enough was enough.

----------

It came to ahead on a Saturday evening. For the fourth evening in a row, Oliver was ranting about Quidditch strategy and whilst you appreciated the passion he has for the sport – it being one of the things you love about him – you wish you could have a conversation about something else.

“Oliver?”

He hums in answer; still extremely focused on the piece of paper in front of him.

“I need to talk to you.”

He hums again, eyes still on the paper.

You clench your hands into fists, willing yourself not to ball up the paper and throw it into his face. You clench your teeth, “Yeah, I was thinking about asking out Marcus Flint from the Slytherin team.”

It was a petty attempt at jealousy. It was a petty attempt at getting a rise out of him.

It was a desperate attempt to get his attention.

“Oh?” is all he replies, crossing something out on the page, writing a name above it.

It’s then that you realise, Oliver probably isn’t going to ever see you as something more. He’d only ever see you as someone to discuss Quidditch strategy with.

The realisation feels like a blow to the face, and you rock back in your chair from the force of it. You look at Oliver, but he hasn’t noticed a thing. Why would he? He’s bent over the strategy for next week’s match; figuring out the team’s weak points and thinking of solutions.

You blink fast; the sadness coursing through your body and bringing tears to your eyes. It felt as if your heart had been ripped out and smashed to pieces on the very floor of the common room for the entire house to lay witness to.

Yet for them, nothing has changed – they continue to talk, to study, to laugh.

For you, everything’s changed.

And the room is becoming too warm and the walls are becoming too close. It’s all too much, and you need to leave.

You need to get out now.

Clearing your throat, you whisper, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you at some point tomorrow.”

Oliver waves still bent over the plan for next week. He didn’t notice the way your voice breaks, or how vague you were when saying goodnight.

Rising from your seat, you fight back the gathering tears until you’re in your room.

There, you let them fall in heart-wrenching, chest crushing sobs. Mechanically, you take off your robes and replace them with your pyjamas. Your blind to it all; the tears falling too thick and too fast for you to see clearly.

With your wand in your hand, you brokenly whisper a charm to close the curtains surrounding your four-poster bed, desperate for the privacy in which you could let yourself fall into your pit of despair and hopelessness.

You feel ridiculous for having fallen for someone who’s first love would always be a sport. You hide your face in your pillow; letting the cotton of your pillow case muffle the sobs that will not stop falling from your mouth.

--------

The morning brings sore eyes and sad looks from your dorm mates who had heard your muffled sobs and put two and two together pretty quicky. You smile at them, softly apologising, before taking your things to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

There you get a look at the damage. Your eyes already seem duller; the colour dimmed from the agony of your realisation.

Enough, you berate yourself. You have shed your tears, and now it was time to figure out the next move. As you’re brushing your teeth, you think over your options.

You could talk to Oliver but the idea of potentially ruining your friendship has you backtracking.

Running a brush through you hair, you have another idea. You could simply work to get over Oliver whilst maintaining the friendship. You had been friends for over a year before you started having feelings for the Scot; surely you could return to friendship, right?

---------------

Breakfast feels stilted and awkward on your end; you pick at your food; your appetite having disappeared overnight.

Oliver watches you with a funny expression on his face. His eyes flicker between your face and the full plate of food in front of you, “Sassenach, are you alright?”

You want to cry at the use of your nickname, “I’m okay, Oliver. Just not feeling very well.”

He reaches across the table and presses the back of his hand to your forehead; feeling for a fever or anything to explain this change, “You feel fine…” he trails off, eyebrows furrowed.

You bat his hand away with a short laugh; your temper attached to a short fuse with how little sleep you got on account of crying late into the night, “Oh hush Oliver, you are a worrywart! I’ll be fine when I get to class.”

Oliver frowns at your outburst and at the way you bat his hand away from your forehead. He doesn’t get to air his concerns though; you grab your bag, taking a sip of the orange juice, “I’ll see you later on.”

For a long time after you leave, Oliver stares at the doors of the Great Hall wondering when exactly he had started to lose you.

-------

The week passes slowly; like trudging through the deepest mud.

Every time your mind slipped into a daydream with him featuring at the main character, you brought your focus back to the lesson and your work. If this carries on, I’ll have the highest grades in the year, you thought to yourself sarcastically.

You pull away gradually; protecting your heart from the inevitable heart break should Oliver ever find out about your feelings.

He makes it hard though; he continues to meet you outside classrooms and will always carry your bag whether the load was light or heavy – he always insisted. He carries on with the little touches and grabbing your hand at random parts of the day to pull your attention to something he’s noticed, and he always, always talks to you about Quidditch.

And all you want to do is scream at the teenager for making it so damn hard to fall out of love with him. For making it so hard to stop the racing of your heart or the daydreams from your mind. For making it so hard to stop the butterflies that erupted with each lopsided smile and his pronunciation of your nickname.

But you don’t; you remain silent, wondering if he’ll ever notice the shattered remains of your heart caged in your chest.

-----------

The day felt like it was going to be uneventful; if this what getting over Oliver felt like then you were tempted to ask for a refund.

Your lessons pass slowly; the Professor’s making it their aim to drag out the teaching material until the very last moment before NEWTs.

When the ball finally rings signalling lunch, you place your things in your bag mechanically, swinging it onto your shoulder as you leave the classroom.

You sigh as you notice there’s no sign of Oliver waiting for you. You blink back the sudden onset of tears; this was your call, you berate yourself.

You don’t see who grabs you until your pulled into an empty classroom.

You glare at the familiar brown eyes of Oliver Wood, “Oliver!”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” You state, head held high, eyes never leaving his.

“Bullshit,” He shouts, “You’re pulling away from me and I don’t know why.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. I miss you. What’s happened for you to pull away like this?” He asks, his voice breaking a little.

Hearing that break in his voice, you want to take him into your arms and apologise for letting him think the worst.

But your head overrules your heart.

“For Merlin’s sake, Oliver! How could you be so blind?” You cry out.

“Blind? To what?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for your next few words, “Oliver, I like you. As in more than a friend.”

His eyes widen as he takes you in with entirely new eyes.

The silence is deafening; it’s pressing down on you like a heavy stone. The weight of it making it somewhat hard to breathe. The longer he’s silent; the worse it gets for you.

“If you’re going to reject me, you better get on with it,” You snap; dread settling in your gut like a lead balloon making your short temper, shorter.

Oliver seems to shake himself out of his trance at your words, “Why would I ever do that?”

You throw your arms wide, your bag falling to the floor, “I don’t know… because you don’t feel the same?”

“But I don’t… I feel the same.”

Your arms drop to your sides, “What?”

Oliver nods, “I feel the same.” At your bewildered expression, he continues, “I thought you knew.”

“Oliver, you don’t notice anything unless it starts with the letter Q and ends in H.”

He frowns, “That’s not true!”

“Oh? Prove me wrong then, Wood.”

He grins at the challenge, “I noticed you. I haven’t noticed anything but you since we became friends. Merlin, (Y/N), I’ve been in love with you since Sixth Year when you told me to get myself together after we lost a match against Hufflepuff.”

His accent gets thicker the more he talks; he’s getting worked up and the brogue becomes something else.

“Since Sixth Year?” You interject, a small smile breaking out across your face.

Oliver nods, blush painting his cheeks.

You sigh out a breath of relief, “Thank Merlin, I’ve liked you since then too.”

“Then why were you pulling away?” He asks in a hurt tone.

You drop your eyes, “It was my way of trying to get over you.”

“Get over me?”

“It didn’t work!” You rush out at his hurt look, “I don’t think there’s any getting over you.”

Something resembling relief falls over his face, and your heart flutters at the sight of it.

Oliver takes your hand in his, tangling the fingers together. A simple action but one that held so much promise.

He takes a step closer to you; his other arm circling your waist.

You decide he’s taking too much time.

You drop his hand to wrap both arms around his neck pulling him down for the kiss you’ve both hungered for, for so long. He laughs in surprise, but his arms quickly circle around you, his lips responding to your hungrily.

“So you’ve always noticed me huh?” You ask when you finally pull away, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“Sassenach, how could I not?” is all he replies before kissing you once more.

*******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​

[malfoys-demigod]

Thinking Out Loud - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Requested by the lovely @the--queen-of-hell​​​

A/N: We agreed to set their ages to 19 during the post war year 

5 months. 

5 months to be exact when the ultimate wizarding war had finally ended. Some people can agree that 5 months can be so quick that they already forgot that time flew swiftly by in a blink of an eye. For you, 5 months since the war felt like 5 weeks since the war. 

The many things that you’ve experienced first-handedly were still too easily played in your mind. First was when you thought your friend Harry had died. He was the one true person who could have saved the wizarding world from the biggest disaster the world could have faced. Seeing his body roll out onto the floor was just hard to process. But finding out that he was actually alive to save everyone was just a relief. Then there were your parents. The people you have loved the most for your entire life. It was just a shame that they were placed under the situation of being Death Eaters. You obviously knew that they did not have a choice. It was either they played pretend Death Eaters or risking your life and theirs. They kept promising you that you would be alright, that they would be alright, and that you could return to becoming a normal family just like the time before Voldemort chose them to be Death Eaters. 

The possibility of returning to a normal family was so high. During the war in Hogwarts, you were fighting, defending yourself from the other Death Eaters who in their eyes saw you as a traitor. “Traitor!” they’d call you as they tried hexing the life out of you. “You should have joined your parents like the pureblood you are!” they kept telling you. “Let’s teach her the consequences of becoming a traitor.” was the last thing a group of Death Eaters threatened you as both your parents Stupefied the group, running to your aid to check up on you. 

Knowing that there was no time to do this, you grabbed their arms and tried making it to the ends of the corridors which had a door to seal off the Death Eaters who were regaining consciousness from their hits. You could hear them grunt angrily as they started hexing in your direction. When you made your way outside, your parents hugged you tightly and told you, “Our dearest, Y/N. Know that we will always be in your heart as we love you with all our hearts.” as they cupped your face tightly. Your eyes widened, realizing why they had said that. “No.” was all you begged from them. They looked at you sympathetically and gave you one last hug and ran back in to fence off the Death Eaters that were going after you. “I love you, mother and father.” was all you could say as they started closing the doors, looking at you with an uplifting look. “GO! RUN!” your mother said as your father finally locked at the doors. 

Fighting off the tears in your eyes, you turned around and ran as fast as you could, returning to the battle. Aside from Harry and Dumbledor, you couldn’t name a single person you have witnessed that had the same courage and passion as your parents. They were the people that motivated you to become as courageous and passionate as them. You knew in your heart that if you ever became a parent, you would do the exact same thing as them and save the life of your child. 

You were very fortunate enough to have Narcissa and Lucius as your other set of parents. Of course you couldn’t love them enough just as you did with your parents but they have been nothing but welcoming and supportive of you. Ever since the war, you have been living in Malfoy Manor with them and Draco. Aside from being that important person in Draco’s life, they were more than happy to grant you their home as they were great friends with you parents. 

You father was like a brother to Lucius. They were best friends since birth as their families knew each other well. Their friendship grew stronger during their Hogwarts years. If one of them had detention, it was very well known that the other would tag along in their detention because they were the cause of whatever reason the professor had to send them off. After their Hogwarts years, they became work-mates as your father became a respective wizard in the Ministry, just like Lucius as they always playfully competed against each other in their respective jobs. Your mother and Narcissa on the other hand had a similar story. They despised each other during their first years in Hogwarts. Why? They were after the same boy that they have been childishly crushing on. It was a little girl-to-girl competition for them as they tried going out of their ways to have them get noticed by their crush. Discovering that the person they were crushing on was only interested in boys, their small rivalry thawed, apologizing in the end for being obsessive over the same person. They became best of friends after they started helping each other out when they began crushing over different men who were your father and Lucius respectively. According to them, they always had these double dates at first since they were both too shy to have individual dates. Who knew later on, they’d be having catch ups even after they all settled down with children. 

Lucius and Narcissa consider their deaths something always worth remembering. They always get reminded of the good times they shared with their best friends whenever they look at you. Lucius would get reminded of your father’s humor and intelligence whenever you make a joke or study with Draco. Narcissa would remember how much of a beautiful person your mother turned out to be whenever you dressed up for dates with Draco or simply looked exactly like her when you let your hair down. From the minute they heard about your parents’ deaths, they swore to take you in like the daughter they never had and protect you for your parents. 

They were very much happy to have you. It also made Draco the happiest person in the world. This young man loved you with all his heart and it was also his idea to take you in after the war. His heart broke as well when he found out about the death of your parents. They treated him as if he was their son as well. Draco couldn’t stand seeing you sob the minute the war ended. Before he and his parents had the chance to leave, he ran to the entrance doors of the castle to a sobbing you. He thought he lost you but seeing that you were alive by the steps wanted him to drop to his knees and thank Merlin for protecting you. “I’m here, Y/N. I’m here,” Draco spoke as he tried to calm you down. “M-my parents.” was all you could blurt out but Draco already realized what you meant. He didn’t do anything but wrap you in his arms as he tried having you stand up. He kept apologizing for what happened. “I should have been there to protect them, to protect you.” He said, “Come home with us.” He advised. Draco briefly explained how he could take you home with him as you could both heal emotionally and physically from all the trauma. You had no other choice but to follow him since his family was practically family. 

Now, 5 months later, there you were with Draco, laying on his chest as you both cuddled in your shared bed. There were no words being exchanged at the moment as the both of you appreciated the sound of the winds outside as it was soothing to the ears. You were practically cuddling in bed with Draco silently now for an hour that he assumed that you were asleep already. With his thoughts on you swimming around his head, he started thinking out loud. 

“Oh, Y/N. Sweet Y/N,” he started speaking out loud as he stroked the loose strands of hair falling out of your frame. 

“Wouldn’t you believe it has been 5 months since everything happened? It’s still difficult for me to realize how long it has been. It still feels like we had just gotten home from Hogwarts. I carried you to my room as we laid on my bed, exactly the way we’re laying right now. The only thing that changed is the way I feel about you. Now don’t be alarmed, sweetheart. Ever since the day we came back home, there were many things that I've been thinking about but there was this one thought that I’ve been seriously considering dearly. I love you with all my heart. You know that. You’re the reason why I strive to become a better person everyday. Without you, I wouldn’t be this person, a person who is currently transforming to become a whole new person inside. I constantly want to thank you for that but I just don’t know how. I know I’m not completely transformed yet but I really want to be a better person everyday and I believe that with you by my side, you could help me realize that everyday can be a new possibility to becoming a much better person. I know we're only nineteen but I feel like I’m ready to take our relationship to a whole new level. We’ve gone through so much together and I just want to propose my love for you officially. I just want to ask you the big question already which is: Will you marry me, Y/N?” 

With that, Draco sighed as he thought you weren’t awake to hear all of this. Fortunately, you were awake the entire time. 

You stopped yourself from crying the minute he asked the big question. This was very unbelievable. Not because he asked early but that it was actually happening. You were more than proud to hear every word that came from his mouth. He truly was transforming. 

Happily hearing the question, you slowly face your boyfriend with a warm smile. “Yes, a thousand times.” You softly reply to him as you watch his eyes widen with a sudden surprise. 

Draco froze for a good three seconds realizing that he did not come prepared with the best engagement ring yet. He looked down at his family ring, the one he constantly wears to show the Malfoy pride. 

“With this,” he said, removing the ring from his finger and transferring to yours, “I welcome you to the Malfoy family. Of course the ring is temporary. Not to worry, dear. I will bestow you the best ring in the entire world once we get things settled.” 

You cupped his face with the hand that had the ring as you looked at him with sweetness in your eyes. “It’s beautiful. I love you, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

“I love you more, Y/N Y/L/N soon to be Malfoy.”

[writtenonreceipts]

5. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?” For rowaelin, Aelin finding out she’s pregnant. It can be an au, or in their actual world. Thanks so much!

/AN: Thanks so much for the prompt, anon!  This got away from me! I’m sorry?  But not really, I had fun with it, even though I don’t feel like it’s my best. I’d never really thought I would write canon/post canon but here we are...enjoy my dears

#

It hadn’t even occurred to Aelin that anything could go wrong with the day.  It was after all ten years since the war had ended.  Ten years since there was even the smallest promise of peace in her home.  Ten years.

It was supposed to be glorious.

Kneeling over the toilet Aelin emptied the contents of her stomach, again, and did her best to even out her breathing.  If there was anything less glorious to be doing--this certainly was it.

Her Fae enhanced ears caught the sound of footsteps coming toward her.  Lorcan.  Quick and efficient.  Grabbing a hand towel, Aelin wiped her mouth and stood.  She made sure her dress was fit properly and left the bathroom.  The last person she wanted seeing her so weak and vulnerable was Lord Lorcan Lochan.

Granted she could just use his full title on him and call it even.

“Aelin?” Lorcan called from the front door of her chambers.

“Come in,” she replied.  She used her magic to take away the cent of vomit, but she didn’t know if it actually did anything because Lorcan’s nose twitched as he entered. “What?’

“Darrow said that it’s time,” Lorcan said.  He eyed her with a frown.  His dark eyes were intent and unyielding.  Even after all this time she still wasn’t quite used to his silent calculations, the information he seemed to glean from a room with ease and efficiency.  Aelin was suddenly grateful he had become so smitten with Elide that he’d changed his life completely.  Even if he was an ass.

“As if we haven’t rehearsed this enough,” Aelin muttered.  Her stomach rolled again.  Damn nerves.  She was a queen and had been doing quite well at it thank-you very much.  There was no reason for her to feel so ill and anxious at the thought of the festivities tomorrow. 

“Are you all right?” Lorcan asked.  His frown deepened as he looked her over. “You don’t look well.  Have you eaten today?”

“You sound like Rowan,” Aelin grumbled.  She went to her armoire and found the ring Rowan had given her one year after their secret nuptials.  The familiar weight on her finger, settled her somewhat.  “I’m not hungry either, let's get this over with.”

She didn’t add the fact that just the thought of eating made her want to crawl back into bed.  And she would be able to do just that in forty-eight hours.

#

The elaborate ceremony was slated to take place tomorrow evening, the exact day when the war finally ended.  Apparently Aelin needed to practice walking down a straight line to the balcony that overlooked the castle courtyard.  After she addressed her people she would then unveil a sculpture.  She’d asked Rowan to commission the sculpture so she had no idea what it would be of, but she had to trust the buzzard to take well to the task.

When Darrow finally relented that they’d done enough preparation for the following day, Aelin excused herself to her private quarters.  Lorcan following after.

“Don’t you have a wife and baby to go and se?” Aelin called over her shoulder.

“Yes, but their not as high-maintenance as you, so I think it’s alright if I’m a little late,” Lorcan replied.

When Aelin shot a glare over her shoulder at him she caught a brief smile on his lips.

She had a response perched on her lips but something else snared her attention.  It was a familiar scent of pine and snow and home.  Her mate.

Before explaining anything to Lorcan she sprinted the rest of the way to her rooms, flinging the doors open.

Standing in the center of her room was the one person she had been desperate to lay eyes on these past few weeks.  Her husband had been travelling, preparing the outlying villages for the celebration, and bringing the commissioned statue back to Terrasan.

“Fireheart,” he said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

Aelin didn’t wait before throwing herself at him, burrowing her face in his shoulder.

Chuckling Rowan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him.

“I missed you,” she whispered.  She looked up at him and giggled when he started peppering her face with kisses.

“And I you, my heart,” he said before finally pressing a long kiss to her lips.  He pulled away so he could rest his forehead against her, his beautiful eyes staring right into her soul.

Aelin could have stood their for hours, days, millennia.  Just this brief exchange could make up for her nausea from this morning and her anxiety about the coming day.

“I asked for our meal to be delivered here,” Rowan told her, “Elide and Lorcan will take care of the festivities for tonight.”

Aelin raised an eyebrow. “Lord Lorcan Lochan agreed to that.”

“It took bribery,” Rowan admitted.

Aelin threw her head back and laughed before leaning up on her toes to kiss her mate.  She slanted her mouth eagerly over his, grateful to have him back with her.  Despite the promises they’d made to each other years ago about never being apart, things had come up in their kingdom, in their world.  

Rowan ran his hands down Aelin’s sides, nipping at her bottom lip.

By the time their food had arrived from the kitchen, they were free of several layers of clothing and warm with lust.

Sun was barely setting behind the mountains, casting pink and gold rays across the sky.  It was this time of day that Aelin loved most.  The simple beauty of the sky was enough to remind her how far they’d come.

Rowan sat across from her telling a story about the mess he and Fenrys had gotten into while trekking across the mountains just days before.  Even in their other forms, they’d somehow managed to not only start an avalanche of late spring snow, but get holed up in a snow cave.

Aelin smiled as she pushed food across her plate.  Her appetite hadn’t come back all day and she was swimming with nausea again, not matter how much of her own magic she tried to apply to herself.  She needed to send a message to Yrene for a remedy.  

“Fireheart?” Rowan asked. “You haven’t even touched your food, what’s going on?”

She looked up and shrugged. “You’re far too entertaining for your own good King.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed.  “You’re hiding something from me.”

Scoffing, Aelin cut a piece of venison just to appease him.  She brought it to her lips and gave him a pointed stare, but before she could take a bite the scent of the cooked meat and spices ausulted her nose and she was up and running to the restroom before she knew what had happened.

She emptied the scant amount of food in her belly and sank back onto her knees only to find herself leaning against Rowan’s chest.  One of his hand was curled in her hair to keep it pulled back while the other rested on her stomach, keeping her close to him.

His warm breath brushed against her ear. “Are you alright?”

Aelin nodded and let herself melt into her mate.  “I haven’t been feeling well all day,” she admitted.

Rowan raised a hand to her forehead, her cheeks, feeling for a fever.  He grunted.

“I’m fine,” Aelin insisted.  She made to pull away from him but he kept her close.

“You’ve been flaring your magic lately,” he said.

“Because I’m exhausted.  Planning this celebration has take too much out of me,” she said.  She hated to sound the way she did, but between the vomiting and the fears about tomorrow she really didn’t feel too guilty about it. “Besides it’s probably just my--”

Aelin froze.  

Her cycle.

How long had it been?  Since settling into her Fae form the bleedings hadn’t come as often but they were brutal.  She couldn’t remember exactly how long it had been.  Three months?  She couldn’t be pregnant.  After all this time of trying and hoping.  After losing the last pregnancy.

Aelin twisted in Rowan’s arms.  He looked utterly confused as to what was going on.  Couldn’t he see?  Couldn’t he tell?  Of course...she had been using her magic so often to keep her going throughout the day that perhaps it was masking the scent.

Tentatively, Aelin dropped the shield she’d been putting up over herself.  As soon as she did, Rowan’s gaze sharpened.

“Aelin,” he whispered.

Her gaze dropped to her stomach, nothing looked different.  But the more she thought about it, the more her mind flooded with emotion and she settled one hand over her belly.

Rowan dipped his nose in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply, his teeth nipping her skin gently.  Aelin shivered at the contact and forced herself to look at her mate once more.  She twisted enough so she could draw his chin up and look into his eyes as they knelt together.

Emotion laced Rowan’s eyes and told her all that she needed to know.

She let out a weak laugh as tears slipped down her cheeks.  Rowan was quick to catch them with his lips before pressing a soft, tender kiss to each corner of her mouth.

“I’m pregnant,” Aelin said, needing to hear the words out loud.

“You’re pregnant,” Rowan confirmed.

Throwing her arms around her mate, Aelin didn’t hold back her sobs.  This was beyond anything she could have ever imagined for herself.  After the hell her life had been, right up until she’d met Rowan.  Her grip tightened around him.  He had been her saving grace.  Always and forever.

She pulled back enough to look into his eyes and wipe away his own tears.

“To whatever end,” she said.

“To whatever end.”

#

The statue that was unveiled the next day was simple.  And yet it was no less glorious.  Commissioned from a woman in a small country Aelin had visited many times now.  The statue was of two women, their faces blank so as to allow the viewer to see themselves there.  One of the women was carved to be wearing a fine dress that flowed behind her.  The other held two swords.

Two princesses, two queens, one war won.

The country of Eyllwe, Aelin decided, had a way of bringing her home.

#

As always thanks for reading!

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

[caroleyre]

will i feel his ashes as they settle against mine? // self para

Oh, you know what this is about.

If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired.

Rain started when he arrived home from the Capitol, nothing but a suitcase, defeat and bone. The suitcase would be waiting for a full week unpacked. The loss Carol had to address sooner. It’s fine, it’s fine. This is still all fine. This is not permanent, not a disaster, not the end of his fucking life. This is not where he gives up the only symbolic crutch he could stand. 

He took all of his clothes off, and climbed the stairs to his room, where the urn was gathering dust in his absence. Normally, at home, he would dust it off, take it downstairs for breakfast -- he would talk to it. Carol knew it was stupid, too, but it was better than silence, better than utter absence, better than conventional loneliness. He knew Rio was dead and not on the line. He just needed to entertain the idea that there still was something to love, to lose, in there.

And there was. He’d just masterfully lost it.

His eyes photographed the verdict of Rio’s life. Carol did not hesitate. He took the urn into his hands one last time, and slid outside, on the beach, palm resting on top. There was no sunlight. Because it was raining. The clouded warmth made sense. This was not happy, but it wasn’t mean rain either. Rain did awful things to ashes, but the urn was securely closed, carefully held. There was no harm.

Until he dived into the sea, holding the cold urn against his skin. The water, a restless piano of drops, moved aside for him. He stepped for as long as he could, a walk to the bottom of the ocean, holding the furthest thing in the world the closest. At one point, when he got close enough to the hypothesis of drowning, he stopped, in between standing and floating. 

Hesitating, shaking, holding his chin up and the urn above the water, Carol took in the moment. They would never be together again, even this changed, poor definition of Rio that was all gray and flour. The lid opened, and particles came out to play, lion released from its cage, ocean coming home, ultimate liberation. Rio would have loved to become one with the sea. 

The shore was a thin line behind. The rain insisted. Particles of ash stuck to Carol’s chest, fought against his body, wet and dark. Carol did not fight back, and did not look disgusted -- though there was something macabre in how this felt as opposite to Rio’s soft skin. Some of it got into his mouth. He swallowed, and then he swam, for the longest time, holding onto the urn, now empty, now just dumb bronze.

He swam until the ashes were no longer glued to his wet skin. He swam as the rain thickened. The swimming didn’t have to end for the longest time, diving each thought underwater and getting it salted and clean until there was nothing. Once his mind became liquid enough for all this to pour into the ocean, everything felt lighter. Emptier, too -- but empty didn’t press. It only ached by absence.

His skin shivered when he got out of the water, washed away and officially alone. It was dark when he got inside.

Medea waited outside of his house, no regard for the judge’s order, no fear of distance, coming closer and closer like poisonous ivy. She stopped before the porch, but her action had a defining, demanding period to it. From beneath her laced umbrella, she had moved her piece and was waiting for his counteroffer. No, for his surrender, check mate.

Carol froze on the other side of the window. Not with thickened heartbeats and anxiety, but with the sort of defeated fearlessness that had taken all from him. After running a hand through still wet curls, he swallowed dryly and climbed down the stairs from his fort of lonely and timeless. The gesture of opening the door had been performed so plainly they could have been mistaken for friends visiting each other. She didn’t move closer. Her voice had something of a queen negotiating.

“I thought you’d have had the decency to come yourself.”

“I’m not allowed,” he retorted plainly, voice still hoarse. Nothing simpler.

“Give me the urn.” 

Carol somewhat smiled. There it was, the tiny victory in his loss. “Give me the urn,” his words mirrored her own, almost hummed, as he twisted on his feet to reach for the wet recipient. Medea’s gaze darkened considerably. She knew right away. It felt empty

“What did you do?” came her hiss, faltered and trying not to falter. She did not lose it, though. They hardly ever lost anything.

Carol cleared his throat, in between catching a cold and losing his voice from pointlessness in talking to begin with. “Tell your parents he wouldn’t have liked to be boxed on a shelf. I scattered him into the ocean. That’s where he belongs, you know I’m right. He is no one’s nightstand accessory now.”

She saw black, for most of his speech. Black with anger and hurt and fury with this boy, as stupid as Rio had been -- except for the fact that he was not family, and she had no intention of tolerating any of it. “This was not yours to decide.”

“You don’t get it, Carol. I don’t care, I don’t want to know what you think you had with my brother. We are his family. He was ours to mourn however we saw fit.” Her voice almost trembled. Almost. Medea held herself very collected, very eloquently. “He was ours to mourn. After you killed him.”

His breathing cut. There was no way he would acknowledge where he, too, went wrong. This has always been a story of Carol and Rio. The rest is what we call background noise. It didn’t matter. He snapped out of his thinking with a shrug. “The ocean is good. He’d have liked the ocean better than being yours to mourn. Sue me, if you feel like it.” It was whatever. He’d lost once -- now everything else can be lost too without making a difference. With that, Carol nodded a wordless goodbye and shut the door. The ball was in their court. To him, it did not matter. He was all alone anyway.

[sebastianshaw]

"What's that look for, mate?" Jamie's head spun upside-down, his smile widened alarmingly, and, curiously, he seemed to grow cyan-tinted grey fur. It wasn't just Jamie that changed, but the world around them was surrounded in blackness, and Shaw was left...quite small. Curiouser yet, he seemed to be the size of, oh, a child of seven years. "You better pay your surroundings some mind. It's going to take some time to find your way back through the looking glass, Alice." A disembodied hand dropped a basket before Shaw, filled with useful little potions and cakes. One could only guess what they did. Around the world, Sebastian would find various forms of his mad friend, one long and plump like a caterpillar ready to become a butterfly, two of him in the form of round children, and, most fittingly, a Jamie of infinite riddles with a top hat perched upon his head. He was nearly everyone, save for the queens, which were Betsy and Saturnyne. One still wore white while the other smacked the heads right off her subjects, God love that woman.

Suddenly, everyone seemed a lot bigger. And things seemed higher. Shaw looked down at himself, only to find that the ground was far closer. And though he couldn't see himself, it must be said---his proportions were HILARIOUS. "Well, at least you didn't stuff me in the dress, I suppose," he grumped, as if that wasn't going to give Jamie ideas. As the various Wonder-denizens began to appear, Shaw dealt with them accordingly. That is to say, like Shaw. He stomped one tiny but powerful foot down upon the midsection of the Caterpillar, hoping to send its intestines squirting out both ends. He then attempted to kick both twins in the heads, though due to his own decreased height this ended up as a bit of a Charlie-Brown-with-a-football situation, and he would up on his back in the grass. "Ladies," he said in a dignified fashion. @madmanipulation

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 16

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Royalty~

Hmmmm write an ending fight scene or play with the brand new kittens.... you may suffer for my lack of work but I will not.

Ao3

First < Previous

----------

“So Batman sent you,” The Queen asks escorting them through the palace.

“Yes, yes he did,” Marinette lies easier knowing it’s gonna piss off Batman.

“Are you Robin?” 

“Ye...” Damian trails off looking at the ground instead.

“We work with Batman, I promise we will protect your son with our lives,” Marinette turns to her earnestly. Luckily the lens of her domino mask is removed and her eyes are enough to convince anyone of anything.

They are set up in the Prince's room. Just a baby who someone put a hit out on. They are preparing somewhere safe to hide the child but for the time being, security is up to them until they can otherwise solve the issue.

 “So we should probably come up with a new code name for you,” Marinette says once they are left alone, stationed in front of the cot.

“And you,” Damian agrees, “Just for this job,”

“Sounds good, and nothing with birds please, you’re meant to be getting away from all that,”

“Then you can’t do anything with bugs,”

“I wasn't going to,” She was.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Code names are hard,” Marinette admits, relaxing her posture.

“Yeah,” Damian matches her, leaning slightly against the wall, “What were your other ideas before ladybug?”

“Nothing it was a spur of the moment thing,” To say the least, “Besides there's only so many options when you have a red and black spotted costume,”

“Fair enough,” Damian shrugs now fully leaning against the wall.

“So were you always going to be Robin?” Marinette checks on the baby, still sleeping and oh so cute.

“I grew up being told it was my birthright,” Damian sours, maybe not the best topic to bring up, “Part of my legacy to become Batman,”

“... well…” Marinette stalls looking around, “... Panther?”

“Nothing with cats,” 

“Ugh, no animals then,” Marinette huffs, the baby stirring awake, “Bad and good luck?”

“Really loyal to that brand,”  Damian smirks, the prince waking up.

“There's only so many things I know,” They’re both smirking when the baby fully wakes up, “Aw the babies crying,”

She takes him out of the crib rocking him gently and spewing baby talk.

“It’s alright sweetie,” Marinette coos the prince reaching for Damian, “Here Damian take her,”

“I only know so many things,” Damina shys away, taking a step back as she approaches, “Baby care is not one of them,”

“Is holding things one of them?”

“... yes,” Damian spits.

“Then you’ll be fine,” Marinette passes him the child, patting Damian on the shoulder.

Damian holds the baby awkwardly, Marinette will be sure to tease him about it later.

“Baaabbyy,”

“We are not putting Baby in the name,” Damian snaps as if he wasn't just fixing the child's blankets.

“Protector?” Marinette hums.

“Something like that could work,”

“Hey, we’re making progress,” She giggles.

“Yeah we are,” Damian's smiling now and Marinette tries her darndest to keep the blush off her face.

“Alright, forget Robin, forget Batman forget anything the league told you,” Marinette turns to him utterly serious.

“How did you know about the league-”

“Forget that part,” She waves him off pushing forward, “Damian what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” He looks at the ground but Marinette isn’t going to let him, she moves into his line of vision.

“That's ridiculous, come on Damian there's so much about you more than Batman or assassins or anything,” Hands-on hips now Damian is looking at her, albeit hesitantly, “I didn’t see any of that the first time I saw you,”

“When I threatened you?”

“Ok I saw a little of it then,” She shrugs, “But I meant before that when you were just watching me and Titus, and that's one right there, Titus, don’t you want him?”

“Of course I do,” He looks down at the prince, fist twisted in Damian's shirt, “I also want to work on the pet store with you,

“So do I,” There's a hesitant smile shared before he focuses again on the Prince.

“... I also want to make up for everything,” Damian says oh so quietly, “I know you forgave me but I did try to stab you twice,”

“Kill me,”

“Yes, thank you for the specification,” Damian rolls his eyes but won't let himself be distracted by banter, “How about I take you to somewhere snowy?”

“Damian I can’t,” No matter how much she wants to, “After this, I have to go back to Gotham to defeat Hawkmoth, there's just no time,”

“Then after,” Damian compromises, rocking the baby, “After you defeat Hawkmoth I’ll take you as a celebration,”

“If I make it,” Marinette whispers, still too loud.

“You’ll find him one day, I know it,”

“That's not what I’m worried about,” It’s quieter this time. But they stop talking and that's enough for Marinette to know he heard.

“What about you?” Damian asks eventually, a new severity to his words, “You’ve always talked about going back to Paris are you really ok with never being Ladybug again?”

“Yeah... yeah I am, I want to design, I love baking and I love my city, it’s just,” She could live without being Ladybug, she would still be guardian but she could live without that too, “I’ve looked Paris has taken a hit, crimes rising, people can finally let out their negative emotions and people don't have to fear their mugging victim getting turned into a supervillain, it’s in trouble and I do still want to protect it,”

“So you really will be going back to Paris,” It’s not a question, it’s acceptance.

“Yeah,” She answers anyway, “What about you? Do you want to stay in Gotham?”

“The city needs protection too,” Marinette takes the baby off him, it being a too convenient distraction.

“There are plenty of heroes Damian,” She turns to put the Prince back in his crib, “There would be more if Batman wasn't so stubborn,”

“Yeah,” Damian huffs a laugh, they both let the topic drop having plenty to mull over, “... So Marinette about soul mates, I know they aren't romantic but would-”

He doesn't get to finish that sentence, and he never will. The memory of their conversation. Of them. Disappearing in a blinding flash of light.