#magic of body transformation and all of that

[growth-opportunities]

While it had a hard adjustment to the sights and sounds and smells of our world, there was one thing that Thalwyn adapted to quite easily: food. Lembas bread could keep a grown man's stomach full for days but only the starving would describe it as "delicious." Sure, the elves in her home forest ate other things, but nothing compared to the succulence and opulence and sheer variety that the human world had to offer. Eating purely for sustenance was fairly common among her people, so the idea that an establishment existed purely to offer you as much food as you are physically capable of eating was appalling in some ways but intriguing in more.

There were, however, side effects to Thalwyn's gluttony. Her slender, waif-like, elven form quickly melted and softened, a layer of plush covering nearly all of her. Nowhere was the additional fat put to use better than in her curves. Her hips seemed to widen by the day, by the hour, until chairs with arms proved an indomitable challenge, fitting comfortably in them at the start of her meal and stuck firm in them by the end. Her breasts, however, were even more prodigious in their use of the food being pushed into her body at an alarming rate. Her breasts bulged and swelled in front of her, sloshing and wobbling with each awkward step. Elves are known to be light of foot, but now with so much extra weight on her body, each footfall brought with it a ripple upwards through the newer, softer parts of her. The flowing gown that she had worn when she entered this world had been more than enough to preserve her modesty. As the weeks went by, it became more and more of a struggle to keep it closed.

But Thalwyn couldn't stop. She refused to. The food tasted good and she was entranced by what it was doing to her body. She would keep studying this new "magic" for as long as she possibly could. She was determined to unpack the transformative secrets. No matter how long it took.

[13lunarstar]

The mythology of Ardra nakshatra

Ardra is ruled by Rudra, the fierce form of Lord Shiva, representing thunder, lightning, and storm.

Any planet located here will take on the qualities of this nakshatra - anger and rebellion (also influenced by its ruler, Rahu). However, one of the possible Sanskrit translations of Ardra is “the absence of storm, thunder, and lightning.” This means that this Ardra may bring storms into a person's life in order to transform their consciousness and help them resolve problems once and for all, ultimately leading to Shanti (peace). It's no coincidence that the final guna (nature) of this nakshatra is sattva (divine - purity, harmony).

In myths, Rudra was born to punish Brahma for lusting after his daughter - and he did so by piercing Brahma with an arrow. So the innate anger quality here can be righteous and protective of Dharma (cosmic order).

In general, all nakshatras under the influence of Rahu (Ardra, Swati, and Shatabhisha) are difficult to understand and predict. They often yield results in non-obvious ways and may only be realized over time and on a subtle level. This is because the shadow planet Rahu, unlike other planets, has no physical body.

Continuing speaking about Rahu-influenced nakshatras, Ardra is connected to the 3rd Zodiac sign (Gemini) and the 3rd natal chart house, emphasizing the importance of learning to properly use willpower and to direct one's efforts wisely. For example, Swati is linked with the 7th Zodiac sign (Libra) and the 7th house - focusing on relationships and business matters. Shatabhisha corresponds to the 11th sign (Aquarius) and the 11th house - associated with desires, big aspirations, and the fruits of actions. As you can see, all 3 nakshatras relate to Kama houses (desire, relationships, pleasure). Rahu can bring illusion in these areas and ignite intense, uncontrollable desires - only to painfully strip them away later. So it’s important to figure out early on what to desire, how to build relationships, and where and how to apply personal willpower.

The Shakti (power) of this Nakshatra is effort.

A person with a planet in Ardra may face many life situations requiring serious efforts, especially in areas connected to the house that the planet rules. For example:

If the ruler of the 9th house is in Ardra, the spiritual path may demand great effort.

Ardra encourages us toward great exertion. This struggle can bring great rewards, but only through perseverance and fortune.

Mythologically, Ardra's ruler, Rudra, is a hunter and archer. This also implies aiming a well-directed arrow, which, in turn, requires both a worthy target and the strength to shoot. Rudra is also the Lord of wild animals.

One of Ardra's symbols is juicy young grass or sprouts, which reflect the effort required to grow. A person born under Ardra is like a precious gem being cut and polished until it shines perfectly. But the cutting process itself is harsh. The second symbol of Ardra is the tear, which reflects this. In other words, under Ardra, situations occur that drive a person to tears and turn them toward spirituality and God.

The precious gem also symbolizes realized knowledge, processed through intellect and reason, linked to the head (another symbol of Ardra). Misunderstanding knowledge, however, may "cost you your head." The gem here is like the jewel on the heads of Nagas (divine serpents), representing wealth, wisdom, and magical powers. Ardra people often come into possession of secrets and valuables.

Mythologically, Shiva (Rudra) is the God of renunciation, living in a cave, covered in ashes, wearing a necklace of skulls - and his presence is traditionally considered undesirable at sacred celebrations. Similarly, Ardra people sometimes may feel like outcasts - rejected by society or family, or betrayed by others. There is almost always one key moment in Ardra’s life when they are deeply hurt because they were excluded from a celebration - this ties to the myth where Lord Shiva was not invited by his father-in-law, leading to Rudra’s wrath.

Rahu’s influence gives Ardra people an interest in foreign cultures and religions, which may also lead to rejection by their own. Ardra people or their relatives, furthermore, may have addictive tendencies.

On another hand, Shiva is also the God of healing. So Ardra people can be healers, with good intuition, and potentially great astrologers (especially with Mercury + Rahu combinations).

There are always two sides to their nature: extremely angry and extremely merciful. Thus, Ardra people are often willing to give everything, even things they need and should not give.

Some interesting traits in Ardra's people's lives may include the following:

Their spouse may have had at least one near-death experience

Their spouse (or relatives tied to Ardra) should be careful with fire

They experience betrayal several times in life

Like Shiva, they live well in solitude, without a spouse or children (they love seclusion)

They tend to have independent businesses (they love independence)

There may be a problematic spot at the back of the neck or head

[corruptedcaps]

The Queen of Oz

The Kansas sky was gray and endless. Dorothy Gale stood alone in the field, the wind tugging gently at her dress. She had tried to forget Oz. Tried to live a normal life. But the dreams wouldn’t stop.

Now even all these years later as an adult and with the farm now her responsibility she had dreams night after night of a terrible shadow over all of Oz. She saw a figure in black standing over the Emerald City, arms raised, eyes glowing green, laughter echoing through fire and ruin. A new Wicked Witch had come to Oz, and she was crueler, more powerful, more deliciously wicked than the last. She couldn’t ignore it anymore.

She crept out to the barn before sunrise, heart pounding. Beneath the floorboards, wrapped in an old gingham apron, were her ruby slippers. Their shimmer had dulled over the years, but as her fingers closed around them, a spark jolted up her arm. She slipped them on and closed her eyes.

“There’s no place like Oz.” She whispered.

Again.

“There’s no place like Oz.”

The wind rose.

“There’s no place like-”

A flash of light. A swirl of color. And she was back.

But Oz wasn’t like how it was in her dreams. It was as peaceful and as serene as it had been the last time her feet were on the yellow brick road. Good, she thought, she still had time to stop whatever malevolent force was on the horizon. And even though she had no idea who this new witch was, she knew there was only one place to start.

The Wicked Witch’s castle lair.

She climbed the cracked stairs, her heels echoing in the gloom. Moss choked the stone, but the castle stood, brooding and silent. She passed the gates. Through shattered halls. Into the ruined throne room. Into the room where she defeated the Witch with a simple pail of water.

Everything was as she had left it then, with the only remnants of the witch being her pointy hat. The water had long dried up, but the hat remained.

It looked lifeless. Torn. Forgotten. She approached, cautiously. Her fingers trembled as she reached out. But as she stepped closer, it twitched.

Dorothy hesitated, a chill rippling down her spine. The hat pulsed once with faint green light. Against her better judgment, her hand reached out. Fingers brushed the brim.

It sprang up, alive, and clamped onto her head. Her scream echoed through the chamber as green lightning shot down her spine. Her knees buckled, her hands clawed at the brim, but the hat pulsed tighter, feeding something into her veins.

“No!” she screamed. “Get off of me! I don’t want this power-”

Then she shivered.

“Mmmm… this delicious power…” Her voice dipped, suddenly sultry. “Yesss… I can feel it coursing through me…”

Her dress began to shift, gingham melting into darkness. The hem rose, flaring with a seductive cut. Her ruby slippers turned into black knee high boots, its heels rising like daggers. Her fingernails glowed green and lengthened into elegant ovals. Her braids darkened, one streak flaring vibrant emerald.

“Fuck yes! I love it! Wait, no!” She gasped. “What am I saying?! I have to fight this!”

The magic surged again, writhing through her body, reshaping her. The hat pulsed against her scalp, sending visions into her mind, of armies bowing before her, of Glinda cast down in chains, of Oz dark and obedient beneath her reign. She realized her dreams of a new wicked witch rising was of her all along.

“I won’t be her!” Dorothy whimpered. “I’m not her!”

Then another wave struck. She moaned aloud, back arching. “Ohhh god but I am and it feels so good…”

As the wicked energy surged through her body, Dorothy gasped as a strange pressure built in her chest. Her breathing quickened, and her hands instinctively flew to her bust as it began to swell, reshaping beneath the tightening fabric of her transforming dress.

“No! Stop it! You’re twisting me! I have to… oh… oh yes… I could rule them all… I should rule them all!”

Her hands started to relax, no longer trying to reach the hat, instead they explored her changed body, its new silhouette powerful and commanding yet undeniably sexy.

“I’d make them obey…” She whispered, a grin curling her lips. “I’d make them worship me…”

The hat pulsed one final time, rewarding her for embracing her evil thoughts. Her eyes glowed pure green and all resistance melted away.

She stood tall now. Her smile was serene, her posture regal, her skin lit with the glow of stolen power. One hand slid along her hip as she turned to the cracked mirror nearby, admiring the wicked beauty staring back.

“I see now.” She purred. “Oz didn’t need saving. It needed me.”

Her laughter echoed off the stone, curling through the air like smoke.

Dorothy Gale was gone, dead. She was the Wicked Witch now. And so she would rule not just the west, but of all of Oz as the Wicked Queen she was destined to be.

[lagt-duck]

Day 27 of Monkey May

MAGIC!!!

Aka

When the eldritch shapeshifting god is also a silly lil monkey

As always the challenge belongs to @vorpaldoodles

[1001aus]

Phantom is a member of JLA when everyone finds out that the Bats have contingency plans against everyone else.

While everyone else is shouting about trust and betrayal, Danny can't help but be relieved. He's seen his bad future, after all. Dan is reformed now, but that doesn't retroactively save the timeline he wiped out.

Danny only has one issue with the contingencies for him: Batman mistakenly believes that his intangibility works the same as Martian density shifting.

It doesn't. In fact, they're very different powers. Intangibility is more of a phase shift where he turns his physical form into energy.

This means that none of the contingencies in his file will work because they don't accurately account for one of his basic powers.

(The shouting actually gets derailed for a bit when he brings it up. All the scientists are a bit horrified about the implied energy conversions happening whenever he uses this "basic" power. As a halfa with an actual physical form, Danny should be giving off enough energy to blow up the planet whenever he transforms.)

[tumblingxelian]

Fox Miraculous - Reimagined:

This is inspired by the fact its "illusions" cannot be seen by cameras. Rather than this being a weakness, its a reflection of the fact most users do not understand the fox.

Name: Trixx Animal: Vulpes Era: Caveasphaera Domain: Mirage and Manifestation Kindred: Horse (Action & Migration) & Butterfly (Transmission & transformation)

Mirage: The Fox is often mistaken for creating illusions, but this is not so, in truth it creates what can be described as hallucinations within a certain range, altering the perspective of those within it to match the imagined perceptions of the user.

Manifestation: The power to manifest one's innermost thoughts, an image, ideas, or more via the Fox can also be applied on others. Just as the Turtles Shield can encase the user or a foe, so two an the Fox manifest a mirage based on the perceptions of someone other than the Holder.

Some Mages Thousands of Years ago: ... and this one lets the handler place hallucinations in someone else's mind, or even externalize their targets thoughts, manifesting them as a sort of shared mirage. Useful for trickery and interrogation.

Trixx, who just got here: Yeah that sounds about right.

(Maybe) Lila/Alya thousands of years later: So what you’re saying is I can use this to make people see the world as I do. That I am essentially eroding the barrier between my perception of the world and theirs, imposing my thoughts, feelings and visions upon the target. Which could allow me to steadily warp and erode their sense of self and view of the world until its either the same as mine, or simply whatever I sculpted them into. Essentially allowing me to steadily overwrite an entire personality and perception of reality? With all it costs me being the risk of my own slower erosion of self as all those around me join together in a panopticon like hivemind?

Trixx & Some Mages Thousands of Years ago:

Note: One can try and reshape people over time, but one cannot always predict the results. So it could go really, really badly.

[witchofthesouls]

Hey, for the other!tfp trio….let's assume that the team remained on really close contact despite the distance after the war (RID 2015 who knows you? Certainly not me). I wanna see a really touching reunion between the bots and their protegees, but here's the twist:

They return to their kids, only to find out that these three are no longer kids, but young adults (maybe late teens for Raf, because our future little Dragon always will be the youngest of the trio) and are no longer humans (cause they have fully embraced their other heritage)

This time-lapse could be explained by either A) the bots spending a bit longer on Cybertron and losing the human sense of time or B) The kids deciding to make a joint trip to elsewhere/the other side after the end of the war, where time doesn't move the same as in the human plane (they went as kids, but elsewhere spit them as grow ups even though this change doesn't make sense to the bots.... because they are seeing things from a human sense of time); now, when exactly these three got lost and then reborn, that's privy to them alone.... I prefer the B) option if you ask me....

Regardless, I think that these three would remain tightly nit, as tight as possible (they could be on the other extreme of the planet or any other plane, and yet they would return to each other...eventually). Cause after all the went through, separation is not an option for them

Reactions and talks/explanations are meant to happen in response to this..... and what roles June, the Esquivels and the Nakadais families had to play in all this

Ohhh, this is interesting. I hinted or understated in some pieces that time can get weird in Elsewhere as a call to the folktales and myths of humans stepping into an otherworldly space to spend a few hours there, and then stepping back to their world to find out decades had passed.

Perhaps it's their heritage, singing in their bone marrow and igniting from the Matrix's influence, June's own presence (haunting and hungry, no matter how muted or how well she hides her own teeth), or a strange combination. Perhaps it's the experiences they shared, forged in fire and blood as Earth's own chaotic nature. But these three are bonded. Intertwined with each other, even across the world.

Distance means both little and much to them now. They ventured onto foreign, alien planets and spaceships, traveled to lands across the world in the blink of an eye, and went on the run from a manhunt.

Miko keeps the Apex Armor and takes it back to Japan. At the right moments and when the urge gets too much to bear, she steps into the sea and goes farther than any of her relatives could go, even the ones that can hold their breath for 20 minutes.

She hasn't been the most filial of daughters, but she is her parent's child. Her sea-blooded mother stole back a human that survived and thrived from Elsewhere and claimed that man as a spouse. Bloodlust and wet works are no distant strangers to her. She's inexperienced but a willing learner. She already cut her teeth on foreign flesh.

Down in the dark depths where there's no difference between going up to the sun and going towards the abyss, but where her steps tread, she meets someone with pearly, iridescent scales across a long, serpentine body and a face so much like her own (and her mother's and her grandfather's and her-) with large, dark eyes with an amber ring.

After meeting the yokai that birthed her lineage centuries ago, Miko finds her way back to the Americas. A blessing and a warning kept in her heart.

(One day, Miko will understand what her sea-blooded mother meant when she told her that her father was a 'good Man.'

Raf's deep fascination (admiration, obsession) with space exploration and technology is taken in stride among the Esquivels. He doesn't raise any suspicion among them because that's how they all are.

He absorbs whatever he can, consuming the hard-earned lessons under Ratchet's care and oft-handed commentary. The Esquivels hunger and Raf is no different as he swallows how Cybertronian theory and application and attempts to further bridge between human and alien equipment.

Raf had found his teeth and his siblings recognized it as their baby brother doesn't disappear on them nor shrink away from their more vicious arguments.

(They are a family whose flesh descended from fire tempered by earth. Raging passion and violent temptations. Wicked protection and immense wrath. Voracious, cruel, and beastly, yet so very kind and vigilant.)

Mama kissed her youngest boy (because Raf will always be her baby boy) on his head and told him to be careful, praying for his safety as he went with Jack.

That protection will save them on a summer trip when Jack retraces his steps to all the places he once called home.

Ever since his mission to Cybertron, Jack dreams of strange, wistful things. An unquenchable thirst, an itch in his bones... he feels bereft for some reason.

He misses Arcee. He misses all of them. But for some reason, Jack still dreams of the timelessness of Cybertron. There's still something that calls to him in that eerie stillness. Not the desolate ruins of alien cities, although they quietly sing between hope and despair, but it's the outskirts that wait with bated breath.

In the summer after graduation, he takes his new-used car and travels across the mainland United States. The windows are down as the radio blares, wind ruffles his hair as Raf laughs and tries to figure out maps since some locations are so off-beat that the GPS can't confirm the coordinates.

Deep in the bones of a decrepit old house he once called a home in his long-distant childhood because June and Jack moved repeatedly, hopping from place to place without rhyme or reason... there are the echoes of a wailing scream buried within it.

A living corpse for a copse of trees that guard the area.

(A mother will tell her son what exactly brews in their powerful blood and what she has done to ensure he grew up safe to make a choice.)

Elsewhere exists in so many ways, shapes, and forms. At one point, the legends and myths had once walked upon Earth and left their marks. Something happened in the unwritten, unspoken past that corralled those legends away.

The trio will venture through the many portals and gateways and have many more adventures as they realize there are far more Cybertronian relics on Earth...

Mermaid queens and Seelie emperors, dignitaries of unearthly shapes painted in enamel and precious jewels, sharp animals with sharper intelligence that speak in prose, the faint imprints in slumbering environments, and empty, the lingering remains of humanity's role among such great and terrible things.

(Humanity was (is) great and terrible themselves.)

(Miko's father is a 'good Man,' and that means something different to such beings.)

"Long ago, Man made peace with Magic." "Long ago, it was decreed that Man would stay."

Time isn't linear in Elsewhere which incorporates so much that a single or several maps would be useless. Time flows in so many directions that it's a constant battle to recognize and travel to and from their own particular section of a river.

Perhaps it's his heritage or a minor blessing from the Matrix, but Jack is more sensitive to flow and can locate the best spots for them to get back to their Earth. To the same week, month, or year they ventured away.

Miko explores her own bloodthirst and prey drive. The singing, thrumming chant in her blood and how the Apex Armor responds to it.

Raf hones his own instinct on his particular guidance to find portals and lucky happenstances. Between him and Jack's instincts for 'shiny' things, little can escape them.

In some worlds, they grow older. Aging and bulking, exploring how to reshape themselves and all sorts of careers. In others, they seem immortal compared to the rapid change around them in a species whose lifespan is a single human year.

"We could be gods here," says a man with a firestorm trapped in his bones and has become a dragon. Not a Dragon because he searches the stars for a mech he once called brother. "Are we not gods already?" The not-man made of shadows and feathers replies. He still dreams of a far-distant metal planet and realizes that it whispered to him back then. "Does it matter," laughs a woman encased in armor that's more like a second skin, tendrils sweeping upon the floor like the gentle motion of a calm tide upon the beach. Pink for her lost girlhood and passion, a warning and a sign from her many great-grandmother. Green as the metal she once called her kin.

When humans are pulled Elsewhere. Three things usually happen: they break there, they struggle or thrive, or they break at home.

"How many times have we done this?" A boy that's not really a boy, who shall become a dragon in so many lifetimes, asks his companions. (Raf keeps his sister's warning close to his heart as she once died in a foreign, strange desert and was resurrected in her own pyre to devour the city that enslaved her and so many countless others. Pilar has become a Dragon and that legacy between mortal and divine shall be her epitaph in a battlefield far sooner than later.)

Ratchet returns. Some things change, while some remain the same.

Jack tastes the grief and repressed anger upon the medic and leaves him be. Raf remembers Ratchet parked in the garbage and keeps the old medic busy between lessons and searches. Miko digs into the festering tangle of emotions, lapping into those wounds as she uses the Apex Armor on the training mats to absorb those fighting skills and grills for information about Cybertron and the rest of Team Prime.

She cares, she really does, but the boys' avoidance of Ratchet's issues won't help anyone, especially if (or when) the medic leaves the planet with no way to contact again.

Ratchet went Elsewhere twice. The first time was a rough pill to swallow as Team Prime never realized its existence. He wondered where the trio had scavenged a considerable amount of Energon crystals and the resources to guard the new base with all the newly acquired. He stiffly apologized to them because he had thrown hurtful words over their travels, calling them "superstitious" and "better than that" and "this is why you never applied yourselves" was the least of the insults. The second time, he realized just how much and fast humans age as he counted each tick on his chronometer as they ventured across new continents and strange seas. Those years and crippling injuries and strange bodies melt away from the trio as they return back to their native Earth and their baseline human form.

June visits them. Ratchet never thought to ask how she found them in Nevada when Agent Fowler would have never told a civilian about them. No one questioned how she managed to bypass all the security with her car.

He tallies all the strange, eerie signs as she leaves hints to solve their challenges, how she seems to appear when food is low and they're too busy to bring anything more substantial than a simple run to the nearest fast food joint or a quick foraging session, how all the security in the world, both Cybertron's and Earth's, cannot track her.

"I am what I need or want to be." The one called June Darby demurely answers.

The only family member of Raf's that Ratchet will officially meet is Pilar whose bones are filled to the brim with rituals, survival tips with monsters, gods, and hostile environments, and formal protocols in so many kingdoms, both dead and alive. She grieves as well. She had given up the Dragon to return home but her memories are bursting full of laughter and people and color when the crumbling ruins the new Team explores are long empty of an extinct people or a fallen kingdom.

"Sometimes I think I carved out parts of my heart and left it there. All I have left are the memories as I'm the only one that remembers the campfire songs and the lessons of all those who helped me."

Ratchet will never meet the Nakadai family face-to-face, but he gets a hint of what they are with all the messages and packages they send their only child. Izumi sends pointers on how to prepare certain sea creatures and how to differentiate the signs of an underwater portal in treacherous waters. Her husband will leave cryptid messages and strange, gold pieces. Sometimes he sends coordinates for Miko to dig up a weapons cache or an informant to cultivate.

Of course, things change when the not-quite-human trio spirit back a Primal Artifact of Quintus Prime...

[relaxtimestwo]

Dan Heng Δ Witch Hat Atelier AU ⋆｡˚ ⋆

This is part of a Witch Hat Atelier AU concept I've been cooking up.

Hear me out!

The Astral Express is a moving atelier on rails run by the two witches Himeko and Welt and its watchful eye Pom-pom. The atelier has four apprentices- Dan Heng, March 7th and the twins, Stelle and Caelus.

The pointed cap and cloak designs are based on Pom-pom's outfit in-game, and also the "Welcome" profile pictures.

Hopefully I can develop this concept more when I have time next week!

edit- changed the "armband" colour to black for better contrast (it was bothering me but I couldn't understand why lol)

( ´ ▽ ` )ｏ♡ Witch hat atelier is one of my favourite manga of all time. Shirahama Kamome's artwork is god tier and the magic system and worldbuilding in it is so interesting! I highly recommend it!

➷ "Welcome" profile pic for Dan Heng in-game

➷ rough sketch for Dan Heng's full body design

[cryptid-cuisine]

god i need to be an anthro so bad

[happy10thousandyears]

I love freaky non romantic dynamics it’s crazy !!!!! When one party is a freak and the other party is normal but tolerants the first guys freakishness

[writing-prompt-s]

Magic has returned to the world, and people all over the world have reported transforming into magical creatures. You are the owner of a tailoring business, and you have since gained an influx of new customers who need help modifying their clothes to fit their new bodies.

[deadsetobsessions]

Can you do this fic prompt Danny stuck in justice league dimension, where he can hear and see ghosts in his seated form. A couple of persistent ghosts kept trying to bribe him to get adopted by a fruitloop.

Ghosts are Batman 's parents.

Of course! Sorry for the late response! I seriously never do anything timely.

————

“For the thousandth time, Lonnie, I can’t help you find your gun,” Danny muttered to the air. The people that passed him gave him funny looks but minded their own business. Crazy was crazy and as long as crazy didn’t mean Joker, they figured he was relatively safe to pass. Danny set a brisk pace towards his home, managing to suppress a wince every time a shade flew through one of the living. Honestly, Gotham ghosts— shades, really, since most of these only had enough echo to be visible to him—had no manners. He regrets every single day he’s in this hellscape, trapped with no way back home.

“You never do anything for me, man!” Lonnie complained. “How’m I supposed ta finish my business if you ain’t gonna help?”

“Lonnie, you want me to murder people. I’m not murdering people. I draw the line at making more ghosts, thanks.”

“Spoilsport.” With a pout and a twist of Gotham branded smog, Lonnie flickered out. Danny sighed in relief, hurrying back to his house. Apartment. Hovel, really. When he gets there, he’s hounded by two more ghosts, ones he’d rather not cuss out no matter how much he wanted to.

“Hi, Martha.” He exhaled, glitters of frost leaving his mouth as Danny subconsciously put a little too much ghost in his greeting.

“Danny! Don’t go in, sweetheart. Someone broke into your…” her face flickered with a frown. “Living area…?”

“Thank you for letting me know, ma’am.”

“Oh, dearie, you can just call me grandma!”

“You’re too young to be called grandma, Martha.” He deflected, peering into the dirt clouded window.

“Come now, sport!” Danny jolted as Thomas sparked into existence beside him. “You wouldn’t have to worry about this if you’d just go visit our son!”

“That’s right. Brucie will take one look at you and adopt you on the spot,” Martha said proudly. “I’ll let you know where we kept our magical tomes if you go.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. Your son is, pardon my language, a complete fruitloop. I bet he has a secret basement to do shady stuff like Vlad did, complete with a portal, like a supervillain.”

There was nothing the couple could say to that, as their son did have a secret basement where he did do a bunch of shady stuff. Plus, he does have that portal to the Justice League. Still, it wasn’t their secret to spill. The dead speaks no secrets, after all, even if everyone else failed to get the memo.

“Well, what are you going to do about this intruder then, chum?” Thomas asked, crossing his arms and creasing his bloodstained suit. “You know, if you get adopted by our son, you’ll have access to even better things than this thief is trying to steal. Don’t you want it? Delicious food? Or, we could even do you favors! Anything for our grandson, right, dear?”

Martha leaned in eagerly. “Give him the old one, two! He looks like he has breakable knees, little dove. Bruce could show you how to throw a punch! He’s seen a fight or two in his day.”

“Yeah, or I can just do this,” Danny went ghost, muting the flash of light from his transformation and fading to invisibility and intangibility. He’s not one to overshadow people, but he’s tired and this guy’s looking for treasure in a pigpen.

Danny dumps him three blocks from his house and flies back to flip on his floor mattress. “Gonna take nap. Shhh.”

He paused. “And for the record, I know how to throw a punch, thanks.”

——

“Mom? Dad?” Bruce’s voice echoed in the empty manor hallways. It was a dream; he knew because he was eight again, dressed in the same outfit he wore the day his parents died. He moves his body as he wants to, a trick he learned from a Tibetan monk who could dream walk.

“Brucie!” His dad appeared, lifting him up and cheering. Bruce allows himself to wallow in the memory of the last happy moments he had with his parents.

“Dad!”

“Thomas, set Brucie down.” Mom scolded, walking up and clipping her pearls onto her neck.

“Momma!” Bruce wiggled so that his dad set him down. He hugged her, enjoying the imagery even if he couldn’t feel her. Now… the next few words should be her ushering them to get into the car.

“Bruce, we have something we want to talk to you about.”

Bruce stiffens in shock. What?

“That’s right sport. We were thinking we could have another grandson!” Dad floated to her, placing a hand on mom’s shoulder.

“There’s this boy, on the West End, his name is Danny Nightingale.” Mom informed him.

“But momma, I’m a kid!”

“Are you?” His dad asks, smile creasing into those memorable dimples.

“To us, perhaps. You’ll always be our child, no matter how old you grow to be.” Mom caresses his face, Bruce suddenly sprouting to be taller than her, older. He’s older than they’ll ever be again. “But to him, you’re not, Bruce. Truthfully we didn’t want to resort to this…”

“But he’s stubborn. He needs family, sweetie.” His father clapped his shoulders. “Go get us another grandkid, son.”

Bruce Wayne bolts upright, waking from his dream with a gasp.

Two moments later, and he sits in front of the BatComputer, street cam footage of one Danny Nightingale pulled up.

[flowersforjude]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Azriel x Fem Archeron!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | After surviving the Cauldron’s brutal transformation, you struggle to reconcile the person you once were, all while grappling with an unexplainable pull toward Azriel.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,813

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Nightmares, Emotional hurt/comfort, Training, Angsty mating bond things, Unhealthy sister dynamics, Protective sisters Nesta and Feyre, Good friend Rhys, Kisses. 

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | Here’s the promised part two of To Keep You From Breaking. It is a long one so grab a snack and buckle up!

masterlist | part one

The water was everywhere.

It filled your lungs, choking you as cold, unrelenting talons dragged you beneath the surface. You thrashed and kicked, but it didn’t matter. Your limbs were useless against the force pulling you deeper and deeper and deeper. The water seemed to whisper to you, taunt you with your weakness, curling around your ears like a lover’s breath, soft and cruel. 

You tried to scream, but the sound drowned in the inky black water. Your body burned; you could feel everything changing, shifting despite your inner pleas for it to stop. Bones stretched, skin seared, and something inside you broke, cracking like fragile glass. 

I never wanted this!

Your thoughts spiraled, desperate and wild, even as the Cauldron’s magic seeped through your veins. It poured into the hollow spaces of your mortal heart, reshaping you into something else—something eternal.

You were sinking.

Down, down, down—until the surface above was gone. Nothing but shadow.

And then you saw it. 

A clawed hand, pale as snow, reaching its talons from the depths, curling towards your ankle—

You shot up in bed, gasping down greedy breaths of air. The room was quiet; too quiet, you could hear your heart beating against your ribs. Your hands trembled as you wiped the sweat from your brow. Your chest rising and falling in rapid, dizzying bursts.

The embers in the hearth glowed just faintly, not enough to warm your frigid skin. Stiff fingers fisted the blanket in your lap, gripping it tightly as you tried to shake the remnants of your nightmare. 

The Cauldron’s water still seemed to surround you. Flowing up through your nose each time you took in a shaky breath. Trying to dispel the leaden water from your lungs was almost always impossible. 

Almost impossible if it weren't for—

A soft knock sliced through the silence.

You couldn’t help it as you flinched at the sound, turning towards the door. You already knew who it was. Seconds after your mind had conjured the thought of him…you knew. 

“Azriel?” Your voice wavered even with your attempt to mask the anxiety in it.

The door creaked open, and there he stood on the threshold. Shadowed and still, large wings looming behind him. He looked so familiar standing in your doorway. Like he belonged here, anywhere you were really. Ever since the moment you shared with him in this very space when he offered you the first solid comfort you experienced since…everything. 

He didn’t speak right away. His eyes scanned the room like he could feel the traces of terror from your nightmare. One of his shadows slipped around his shoulder, darting forward.

It brushed along your cheek in a soothing manner that made you want to lean into it. You could see Azriel’s readiness to call it back if you so wished, could see his hope that you wouldn’t just as well. You wouldn’t, and he knew that, but in the weeks of your growing friendship, he had promised to uphold all limits you set forth. 

Truthfully though, it was rather hard to keep his shadows at bay around you. Their odd behavior had coaxed many laughs from you in the last few weeks. The Shadowsinger had become increasingly more irritated with his sentient companions. It was almost as if he thought they were doing it on purpose. 

“I’m sorry I woke you.” You spoke the apology as the shadow weaved itself between each of your fingers. 

“You didn’t.” Azriel said, his voice rich and seeping with warmth. “They did.” He gestured to his shadows as he stepped inside the room. The door whispered shut behind him, as soft as his voice. 

“They felt your fear.” He explained upon seeing your confused expression. The way he spoke the words sounded so natural, so right. As if the pieces of himself—his shadows, his quiet presence—belonged to you as much as they did to him.

You didn’t know how to respond to that yet. This odd pull between you and Azriel was something you still couldn’t wrap your head around. And he offered no explanation to any of the strangeness. 

He crossed the room with the same silent grace he always carried. His shadows didn’t hover close to him. Instead they lingered at the edge of the bed, rolling over the mattress, like mist reaching for the sun. He knelt by the bed rather than sit on it, his wings folded at his back. A few wisps of shadows curled up your arm, gentle and slow as they offered their comfort. 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Azriel asked, his voice sonorous, but hesitant.

Your throat tightened at the softness in his tone. He wasn’t pressing, never. He would leave if you asked him. If you insisted you were fine. 

But you weren’t. 

And he knew that.

“Yes…” The word felt as fragile as you did. 

It took him a single heartbeat, and then he stood. Settling himself beside you in the bed as you moved over an inch or so. His back rested against the headboard, and his wings shifted, dark and broad, as he curved them slightly around you both. 

His shadows trailed lazily along the bed, blanketing the mattress as they floated towards you. As if craving the closeness. Azriel didn’t call them back either. As if he wanted to siphon off some of the proximity to you for himself. The thought filled your mind with a fuzzy, silly notion.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

The quietness wasn’t unbearable with him. You both often sat in silence with each other, content enough to just have one another for a moment. But blame it on your nightmare; something about it tonight left you restless. You shifted a bit, your hand brushing his for a split second. 

You froze when he whipped his head to face you. His fingers grabbed hold of yours. It was the most forward he had been with you so far.

“Mother! Your skin is like ice.” He exclaimed, thumb ghosting over the back of your hand. “Is it always like this for you?” Something in his voice had shifted, taking on a more rougher tone.

You swallowed, willing your hand not to tremble in his grasp. “I–I guess.”

Azriel studied you for a long moment, some emotions he wouldn’t let you see long enough to decipher, stirring faintly in his expression. 

“Come here.” He murmured at last, the words soft but edged with steady resolve. “Please.”

You hesitated, but whether it was his plea or his hand already curling tighter around yours, you allowed him to pull you to him. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you to lean into him until your head rested lightly against his chest. His wings curved slightly, draping like a shield against the cold air.

Everything felt so right. Correct in a way that you didn’t know existed. His warmth bleeds into you, slow and all-consuming. Azriel’s hand slid over your arm, careful as his thumb brushed absently against your skin—soft, reassuring, as if grounding you to this moment. 

As your breathing evened out, and the claws of your nightmare drifted, you felt that all too familiar tugging upon your heart. Something picked at the thread in your chest, making you shudder. The ache that always followed its arrival settled, causing you to question once more what it was that hummed between you.

—

“What are you doing?”

The deep male voice behind you sent a jolt of surprise through your body. You gasped, stepping back slightly, placing a hand to your heart in an attempt to steady it as you spun around—only to find Azriel standing there.

You were momentarily surprised that you hadn’t heard him approach or that his shadows hadn’t raced away from him to greet you first like they often did. 

Azriel’s lips parted slightly, his hazel eyes flickering with a small amount of amusement. “I’m sorry,” he said after a pause. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” you murmured, forcing a small, sheepish smile.

You turned away from him, shifting your focus back to the training yard below. Feyre and Cassian moved in fluid, practiced strikes, their sparring a dance of strength and precision. It was mesmerizing—the way your sister met Cassian’s blows with calculated ease, her newfound power woven into every step, every block. 

Your sister was back from the Spring Court, having dismantled it from the inside, exposing Tamlin’s allegiance to Hybern for the betrayal it was. It was good to see her again, truly. You think you would have been used to Feyre leaving and coming back by now. But you found yourself still missing her each time. Her stay in the faerie lands the first time around had left you missing her, even when Nesta told you not to because she wasn’t coming back. And now, even with you all back together again, she was still High Lady, still someone with a world on her shoulders.

You had missed her.

You missed all of them even if Nesta and Elain were still in the same house as you. 

You really did love your sisters, all three of them, even if it didn’t come across that way sometimes. Things between the four of you had been…tense to say the least. Even before everything had changed. Nesta and Elain, like you, were still coming to terms with what had happened to you all. And Feyre playing her role as High Lady of the Night Court left her with a never-ending list of duties.

Even with your sisters always surrounding you, you felt alone so often. Alone and weak. It had been months since the Cauldron remade you, but there were still days, too many days, when you felt like you were dying and being reborn all over again. Still days when you looked at your hands and barely recognized them, when your own body felt like something borrowed rather than something yours.

It was pathetic.

Nesta had her anger and icy resolve to help her through. Elain had her quiet grace and subtle strength. And Feyre had…well Feyre seemed like she had everything. You were happy for her; she deserved nothing less than the happiness she found here in the Night Court.

But you…you had nothing it seemed. 

A booming laugh sounded from below as Cassian guffawed at Feyre managing to sweep his feet out from under him. Graceful and quick and powerful. 

Your fingers curled over the balcony railing. You wanted that. The skill, the confidence, the ability to protect yourself. You didn’t want to fight, just to know how if you ever found yourself in the position of having to defend yourself or your sisters again.

Azriel’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You want to train.” It wasn’t a question. It was a knowing statement, one spoken as if he had reached inside you and plucked the truth from your mind.

You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the yard below. “Yes,” you relented. “But I don’t ever want to have to fight someone…hurt them. So it would be useless for me to learn.”

He was silent for a long moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze settle over you like a second skin. His shadows curled at the edges of your vision, shifting restlessly, as if they had something to say on the matter. Finally, he spoke. “Knowing how to protect yourself isn’t the same as wanting to fight.”

You glanced at him, at the way the wind tousled strands of his dark hair, at the flickering torchlight casting golden glows against the sharp angles of his face. His expression was leading, like he was coaxing you to the decision he knew you wanted to make. And his voice—his voice—was nothing but gentleness and patience. 

“I know,” you admitted, looking away. “I just…I've already changed so much.”

Azriel exhaled softly, the sound barely audible over the howl of wind and the distant grunts below. He came to stand beside you, close enough that his wings brushed your shoulders and his warmth seeped into you as his scent of night-chilled wind and cedar wrapped around you. 

“I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been through,” he said quietly. “But we are likely going to war soon.” His wings shifted slightly, a sure sign of some internal debate, and his fingers flexed against the stone railing. Then, carefully—hesitantly—he spoke. “I would feel better if you at least learned the basics of defense.”

Your breath caught slightly.

When he looked at you, there was something attentive in his eyes. Measured, as if he was weighing every word as he said them. There was no demand or expectation in his voice. Just gentle concern, wrapped in a layer of caution, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d take it. 

You paused, not because you disagreed, but because the idea of it—the idea of war, of needing to know how to fight—made your stomach tighten.

“I don’t know if I can,” you confessed, voice softer now. “I—I don’t want to hurt anyone, Azriel.”

His expression shifted, not to pity like you would expect from anyone else, but to a kind of hushed anguish. Like he was pained by the thought of you being forced into yet another thing you didn’t want. 

“You won’t,” he said, and though his voice was still careful, there was something firm beneath it. “It’s just to be sure no one can hurt you.” He went silent again, only for a single beat this time, before something resolute took root in his eyes. “It’s about making sure I don’t lose you before you ever get the chance to see how strong you really are.”

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you could do nothing but look at him. 

Azriel, who barely knew you, not really, not yet. Azriel, who kept his distance unless you gave him explicit permission to come closer, who treaded so lightly around you like he was afraid of pushing too hard. Azriel, who had just admitted—however indirectly—that the thought of something happening to you was something he thought about.

You swallowed thickly, glancing away. Grimacing as that pull in your chest flared again. If his words hadn’t stolen your breath away, the tugging around your heart would have. 

“Okay,” you whispered at last. “You’ll be training me, though, right?

His shoulders seemed to relax. He allowed his lips to turn up just a bit at the corners in a ghost of a smile. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to teach you,” he said. “We’ll start tomorrow.” And even though his voice was as steady as ever, you could hear something else beneath it.

Relief.

—

You weren’t sure what to expect the next morning when you met Azriel in the training yard. He was already there when you arrived, the sky just barely touched with the first hints of the sunrise. He stood at the center of the ring, wings tucked in but still imposing in the most alluring way, his cobalt siphons catching the pale morning light. He didn’t say anything as you approached, but his shadows stretched out towards you in greeting.

“To start, I need to see what you’re capable of.” He was all business today, apparently. His voice held an air of detachment in it that you hadn’t heard from him yet. But there was something about the way he watched you, the way his shoulders remained a little too stiff. His shadows curling more instinctively around your wrists, your ankles—like they weren’t entirely convinced this was a good idea.

Both them and their master seemed…nervous.

Azriel started towards you, closing the distance between you to catch your wrist in his tight grip. “Lesson one,” he murmured. “Try to pull away.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept your face neutral, your heart hammering as you looked up at him. His eyes were unreadable, but the warmth of his skin, even through his fingerless leather gloves, was startling against your own.

��Try to pull away,” he demanded again. 

You jerked your arm back, not surprised when nothing happened. He didn’t tighten his hold, he didn’t need to—he simply absorbed the force like you weighed nothing.

You huffed in mild frustration. This was going to be a long morning. 

Azriel’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting back a smile. “Again.”

You did as he instructed, yanking, pulling, and jerkering against his grip on your wrist. It did nothing. After your fourth failed attempt, you scowled. “This seems unfair.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t let you go, didn’t even loosen his hold. “Most things in a fight are.”

You exhaled sharply, shifting on your feet. You hated feeling weak. Hated how easy it was for him to hold you in place, to remind you just how little control you had over your own body.

He must have sensed your frustration because his voice softened slightly. “You’re thinking about it the wrong way. Strength alone won’t get you out of this.”

You glanced up at him. “Then what will?”

He finally let go, stepping back just enough to give you space to breathe. “Leverage.” He reached for your wrist again, this time slower, and you let him take it.

He guided your free hand up to press against his own, showing you where to aim. “If someone grabs you like this, don’t pull back. Use their grip against them.” He tightened his hold slightly. “Step in, twist your arm—like this—and push against the thumb.”

You hesitated but followed his instructions, stepping into his space and twisting just as he’d shown you. To your shock, his grip broke. You stumbled back a step, blinking. “I—”

He nodded in approval. “Again.”

You swallowed and let him take your wrist once more, forcing yourself to ignore how effortlessly he handled you. This time, you moved faster, following his guidance until you wrenched free in a smooth motion.

A slow smile—real this time—curled at the edge of his lips. “Good.”

Something warm flickered in your chest. 

He stepped back and lifted a hand. “Now, try to hit me.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel’s expression remained calm, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “You won’t hurt me.” That wasn’t what you were worried about.

You hesitated, flexing your fingers. “I’ve never hit anyone before.” You paused. “Well, unless I could count that time when I was ten and I punched a boy for picking on Elain.”

His brows arched in barely concealed amusement. “Did it work?”

You scrunch your nose in distaste. “Not really. I mean, he cried, but Nesta had to handle the rest.”

His lips twitched again, but he didn’t let the moment linger for too long. He lifted his hands, palms open in a silent invitation. “Consider this your first fight then.”

Your stomach twisted, but despite that, you lifted your hands in an awkward stance.

Azriel studied you, his gaze flicking over your posture, assessing. You braced yourself for some harsh critique, for him to tell you that you weren’t ready, that you weren’t strong enough—

But he only nodded. “Relax your shoulders. Keep your weight balanced.”

You did as he said, exhaling slowly as you adjusted your footing.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, hit me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “You want me to punch you?”

A glimmer of challenge crossed his features. “I want to see what you’re capable of.”

You scowled, but before you could talk yourself out of it, you threw a punch. He dodged it effortlessly.

Your fist cut through the empty space where he had been a heartbeat ago, and then—before you could react—his hand caught your wrist and twisted gently behind your back, guiding you into a hold you had no hope of escaping.

Your breath caught as his chest brushed against your shoulder, his wings shifting behind you. He didn’t press too hard, didn’t restrain you in a way that felt overwhelming, but—Mother above, he was close.

“Too slow,” he whispered against your ear, his voice a low rasp.

You barely heard him over the roaring in your own head. The same warmth that always flickered to life when you were with him—the same inexplicable pull—tightened in your chest like a thread being wound too taut. And he tensed behind you just for a moment, but it was there you were sure of it. Like he felt it as well. 

You felt like you were overheating. Wherever his body pressed against yours was blazing like a wildfire, even with the thick leathers separating you both. You couldn’t speak, but it wasn’t like the way your throat closed up when the Cauldron’s waters drowned you over and over again. It was because your very soul seemed to thrill at his touch, and if one word was spoken, it would shatter this marvelous moment.

The only thing you could think was yes! This is right. You and him. This close…sharing the same breath. 

“What is going on?” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.

Azriel had moved before you could even register the sound of your sister’s voice. One second, his warmth was pressed against your back, his breath feathering against your ear, his hands carefully but firmly locking you in place. The next there was nothing.

A rush of cool air filled the space he had occupied, and you barely had time to blink before you turned and found him standing a few paces away, his expression once again unreadable, his shadows curling tightly around his shoulders as if he’d reined them in at the last second.

Nesta’s piercing gaze swept between the two of you, her arms crossed, suspicion and scrutiny written all over her face. “I thought you said he was training you,” she drawled, arching a brow.

You swallowed, willing your pulse to slow as you turned to face her fully. “He is.”

“And that is what training looks like to you?” She snapped, her voice like a whip. Her eyes went to Azriel, hard as tempered steel. “I suppose you told her it was all alright.”

Your face flamed, but before you could say anything, Azriel spoke up. “Nothing untoward was happening.”

Nesta scoffed, taking a step closer, her expression twisting. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure you painted a grand picture of bravery and glory all so you could sink your hooks into her,” she hissed. “You fae males are all the same. You think I don’t see the way you follow her around with that love sick puppy routine, how your shadows are always twisting and curling around her. She doesn’t need to train like some warrior; she needs you to leave her be!”

“Stop it!” You shouted, unable to bear hearing her further degrade Azriel and his intentions. “Azriel told me I could train, yes, but I asked him to be the one to do it.” You took a deep breath as Nesta surprisingly kept silent. “And he’s been a wonderful teacher so far,” you continued. “I want to do this, Nes. I have to, for myself most of all. I cannot feel weak anymore; I won’t.”

Your sister simply blinked at you, her eyes showing no recognition or understanding of your emotions. “You’re throwing yourself into something you don’t understand.” Without another glance at either of you, she left. 

You could only stare after her, her last words ringing through your head. You couldn’t help but feel like she was right in some way. You didn’t understand. Not this new world you had to call home, not this body that didn’t truly feel like yours anymore, and certainly not whatever was between you and Azriel. 

You didn’t understand the way his presence soothed you. Didn’t understand the way his shadows wrapped around you with a possessiveness they didn’t show to others. Didn’t understand why you felt like you needed him close, like your very bones ached in his absence.

And he hadn’t explained it either. Almost like he refused to. 

The silence that lingered after Nesta left was heavier than a thousand bricks, pressing against your ribs, weighing down your breath. Azriel stood beside you, unmoving, his shadows curling at the edges of the ring like they weren’t sure if they should reach for you or retreat entirely. His face was carefully neutral, but there was something dark flickering in his hazel eyes. Something he wasn’t saying. And you had seen that expression of his before.

Your throat tightened. You should have let it go. Should have taken a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and moved on. But you couldn’t.

Not when your sister’s words still rang in your head. Not when doubt curled in your gut like a living thing. Not when that pull—that strange, unrelenting tether between you and him—had been thrumming inside you since the moment his hands had touched you. 

You turned to face him fully, lifting your chin. “Why didn’t you tell her she was wrong?”

Azriel’s gaze flickered, but his expression remained guarded. “Would it have made a difference?”

You clenched your jaw. “That’s not the point.”

His wings shifted. “Then what is the point?”

You exhaled sharply. “That she thinks you have some ulterior motive. That you’re manipulating me into—”

“I’m not,” he cut in, his voice quiet but firm. 

You swallowed, something hot crawling up your throat. “I know that.” But that wasn’t what you were really asking. And from the way his shadows coiled tighter, from the way his gaze searched yours as if trying to decide how much to say—he knew it too. Your heart pounded, but you forced yourself to take a step closer. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Everything around you went still. 

You met his eyes, searching his face. “I don’t know what this is,” you admitted, voice bordering on pained. “Why do you feel so… familiar to me? Why is it easier to breathe when you're around? Why are you able to comfort me more than my own sisters?”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, but he didn’t say anything.

“Why?” You cried.

His breath came slow and measured, but you weren’t imagining the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but was forcing himself not to.

You took another step forward, desperate now. “Azriel—”

“I can’t,” he murmured.

The words hit you like a slap as your stomach twisted. “You can’t?” You asked. “You can’t what?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to take the words back. But he didn’t. He only exhaled sharply and took a step away. The space between you was small, but it felt like a chasm. “I need to go,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper of despair. 

Something in your chest cracked. You could feel it opening up like a split in the earth. Before you could say anything, before you could ask, beg, or plead—he was gone, shadows swallowing him whole. And you were left standing there, fists clenched, your heart aching with a truth you couldn’t grapple with.

—

Azriel

The past days had been unbearable. Every hour without you—without your voice, without your presence—felt like something had been carved out of him, leaving only raw, open space where you should be.

And yet, he had stayed away; he had made himself stay away.

Because if he got too close, if he let himself give in to the pull of the bond—the bond you didn’t know about—he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Wouldn’t be able to keep the truth from spilling from his lips. And he had convinced himself that you weren’t ready for that truth. He had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing.

But now, standing in the town house library, facing Rhysand’s scrutinizing stare, Azriel was beginning to wonder if he had been wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Rhys leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest, one brow arching in a way that said he had already figured out why Azriel was here before he even opened his mouth. “You look like hell.”

He didn’t bother denying it.

Rhys exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Let me guess—it’s due to you and a certain pretty Archeron sister still avoiding each other? I’m sure it’s been nothing short of agony for you.”

His jaw tightened. “It’s not just me.”

Rhys’s expression softened slightly. “I know.”

A shift in the air made Azriel glance toward the doorway—just as Feyre stepped inside, her gaze not unkind but determined. His stomach twisted; of course she was here. You were her sister after all. 

“Feyre, darling.” Rhys cautioned his mate. 

She didn’t spare him a second glance as she settled her gaze on Azriel. “She’s in pain.” She said directly, crossing her arms over her chest.

He looked down in shame, unable to find the right words to say. 

Feyre sighed, her voice more subdued but no less forceful. "I won’t say anything about it to her, Az. It’s not my place, but she’s my sister, and she’s hurting. You have the power to stop that, so stop it.”

The words hit him like a blade to the chest. Because he knew. He knew you were hurting. Knew you were confused and aching and searching for answers that only he could give you. But still, he waited, shied away from telling you the truth. That you were his mate, the one made for him just as he was made for you. The one who he would move mountains and oceans and cities for.

Rhys watched him carefully, his violet eyes sharp with understanding. “You’re afraid she won’t accept it.”

Azriel clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—admit it, but the truth was written all over his face.

Feyre exhaled, shaking her head as she moved closer, her expression shifting from stern to something gentler. “It’s alright to be scared.” She hesitated, then softer, “I know what it’s like to have a bond dropped on you before you’re ready. But she’s already suffering trying to figure out what’s happening between you two. You can’t keep avoiding her.”

Rhys studied him from where he sat, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “You know she’s going to figure it out eventually.”

Azriel nodded along. “She shouldn’t have to figure it out on her own.”

“Then tell her.” His brother said simply.

He turned away, tension rolling off him in waves. “She just got thrown into this world. We’re on the brink of war. She’s still trying to find her footing. How am I supposed to burden her with this?”

Feyre scoffed, exasperation flashing across her face. “Do you hear yourself? The only thing burdening her is not knowing why she feels the way she does around you. I see it, Az. She looks for you everywhere. And when you’re not there, she just looks…lost.”

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, guilt lancing through his chest like a dagger.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” Rhys added.

He turned, frustration sharpening his voice. “What if she doesn’t want it? What if she doesn’t want me?” You were still reeling from everything, from the Cauldron, from the war that loomed over them all. What if adding this to your plate made you resent him for keeping it from you?

Feyre softened slightly. “She already trusts you more than anyone.”

He swallowed hard.

Rhys sighed. “Look, we’re not telling you to confess your undying love for her, but at least tell her what this is. What you are to her. Let her decide what to do with that.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, battling with himself on what he should do.

Rhys leaned back again. “Or, you could keep avoiding her, letting her think she’s losing her mind over something she doesn’t understand.” He arched a brow. “Your choice.”

Azriel glared at him. But he knew the longer he waited, the more he risked losing you. And that thought—losing you before he even had the chance to try—was something he didn’t think he could bear.

—

The window seat in your room seemed to be your favorite place in moments of personal crises. You couldn’t draw yourself away from the pane of glass; there wasn’t even anything interesting to look at out of it. But your body remained rooted in place, your nails picking and pulling at your cuticles on their own accord.

When a knock sounded at the door, you felt a sense of deja vu come over you. But you weren’t foolish enough to believe it was him again. Not when he’d been running away from you so intensely. You had spent the past few days in a haze, going through the motions, trying to shove down the ache that had settled in your chest. The absence of Azriel had been practically unbearable. You hadn't even realized how much of your world he had become until he was gone.

You had searched for him everywhere. Looked for him in the training yard, in the halls of the House of Wind, in the shadows that used to brush against your skin as if they missed you, too. But he had been avoiding you.

And it hurts.

You swallowed, your throat tight as you stared at the door. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that it was him. But maybe…"Come in," you murmured, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

The door opened slowly, and your heart felt like it might give out. But then Azriel stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a gentleness that felt deliberate. His wings were tucked in tightly, his shadows curling and shifting at his feet, restless and uneasy. He looked… exhausted. Tiredness lined his hazel eyes, his jaw taut as if he had spent days grinding his teeth.

You sat up a little straighter on the window seat, hands clenched in your lap. Neither of you spoke for a long moment. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“You’ve been gone.” You said, hating how fragile your voice sounded. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something pained flashing through his eyes before he schooled his features into neutrality. He stepped further into the room, but not close enough to touch. Not close enough to give you the answers you so desperately wanted. “I thought it was for the best,” he said quietly. 

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “For who?”

He flinched, just barely. You saw it in the way his fingers twitched, in the way his wings tensed ever so slightly. “For you,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Because I—” He exhaled sharply. “Because there’s something I need to tell you, and I didn’t know how.”

Your heart pounded, that strange pull tightening in your chest like an invisible thread being drawn taut. “Tell me now,” you said, the words coming out more like a plea than you intended.

Azriel stared at you, searching your face, his expression unreadable. And then, as if coming to some silent decision, he moved. He crossed the room in two strides, sinking to his knees in front of you. The sight of him like that—kneeling—stole the breath from your lungs. His hand lifted, hovering inches from yours, as if he wanted to take it but wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

"You've felt it," he murmured. "Haven't you?"

Your breath hitched. Felt what? The way his presence soothed you like no one else could? The way your body seemed to recognize him before your mind even had the chance to? The way your soul ached in his absence? "Azriel," you whispered.

His eyes were burning embers as he finally—finally—took your hand. His thumb brushed along your skin, a barely-there touch that sent shivers up your spine. “There is a bond between us,” he said at last, his voice hoarse. “A mating bond.”

The words hit you like a physical force, knocking the air from your lungs. You stared at him, your heart slamming against your ribs, your mind reeling. A mating bond.

You were Azriel’s mate.

The world tilted. Everything—every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every unspoken word—suddenly made sense. You felt like a fool for not putting the pieces together before. “You knew,” you whispered. It wasn’t a question.

Azriel closed his eyes briefly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Yes.”

You inhaled sharply, a storm of emotions swirling inside you. “For how long?”

His throat bobbed. “Since the moment I had to watch them toss you into that cauldron, not being able to stop it.”

You sucked in a breath, your hands trembling in his. A sharp breath rattled out of you, and suddenly, the room felt smaller—too small. The walls pressing in, the air too thick. Memories surged forward, slamming into you with the force of a tidal wave. You had tried so hard to bury them, to pretend they were nothing but fading nightmares, but at his words, the dam broke.

You saw it all.

The dark, swirling water.

Nesta’s screams.

Elain’s hand torn from yours.

The hands shoving you forward, forcing you down, down, down.

But you also remembered through the haze of terror there was him. He’d been lying on the ground; you remembered him crying out in pain. His body and wings were wrecked from whatever injuries had been inflicted upon him. You hadn’t registered it at the time, but now in your memories you swore you’d seen him try to crawl to you. You had been too lost in your own fear, too overwhelmed by what was going on. 

“That long,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“Yes.” His voice was barely more than a whisper now, filled with something jagged, something broken. "I had to watch them take you, hear you scream, and I didn’t know why it tore me apart. And then I felt the bond snap into place as you were dragged from the waters.”

You sucked in a breath, your hands trembling in his. The thought of him going through that all on his own. Injured, in pain, and then discovering his mate had just been brutalized. You couldn’t imagine how he felt. But still, he kept it from you. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice cracking around the words. “Afraid it would be too much for you. Afraid you wouldn’t want it.”

Tears burned in your eyes, but not from sadness or anger—from the sheer weight of it all. “I thought I was going crazy,” you choked out. “I didn’t understand why I felt this way, why I needed you and hated being away from you. Why I—” You broke off, shaking your head. “You should have told me.”

“I know.” His voice broke. “I know, and I’m so—” He exhaled sharply, looking away. “I thought I was protecting you.”

You swallowed thickly, staring at him—the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, on his knees before you, looking every bit like the man who had spent centuries breaking and putting himself back together again. And now you understood why it had always felt like you were breaking with him.

Azriel lifted his gaze to yours, and the raw vulnerability in his hazel eyes nearly undid you. “Say something,” he whispered. “Please.”

You could barely breathe, barely think. So instead, you did the only thing that made sense. You surged forward, capturing his face in your hands, and kissed him.

He froze, his body going rigid, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening. But then he moved, his hands grasping your waist, pulling you against him like he had been starving for this. His lips were soft but urgent, reverent but desperate, and you met him with equal fervor. Because you had been starving. Starving for this, for him, for the truth neither of you had spoken aloud. Azriel made a low sound in the back of his throat, his shadows curling around you both like a cocoon, like they wanted to keep you like this forever. 

The bond between you flared, roared—a golden tether that snapped into place, no longer quiet, no longer hidden. And you felt it. All of it.

Tears burned in your eyes as you parted. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “You’re my mate.”

“And you’re mine.” His voice was raw as his grip on your waist tightened. He kissed you again, again, again—like he needed to memorize every part of you, like he needed to prove to himself that this was actually happening.

Your tears ran down your cheeks, falling to your lips, making the kiss taste salty. But you didn’t care because for the first time since that Cauldron had stolen your mortal life, you didn’t feel lost.

You felt found.

﹙taglist﹚ @daughterofthemoons-stuff @babypeapoddd @shadowdaddysposts @judig92 @thecraziestcrayon

I played with the timeline a bit to draw things out longer, so it doesn't completely line up with the book. But it's so subtle I think it'd be easy to ignore.

I hope you all enjoyed this and it was worth the long wait! <3

[thedragonagelesbian]

Spent the day thinking about how to make malcolm's death as horrifying as possible for bg3!cyrus

[brawberryz]

Goodbye World

BatFam Yan! × Neglected Magic Girl! Reader 《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 1 2

"(NAME), PLEASE DON'T GO!"

the girl screamed trying to stop her, this couldn't be happening, this shouldn't have happened, I was supposed to have more time but your transformation accelerated

"I'm sorry, ######, but there's no time left... sorry"

"Please (Name)!, don't go..."

The girl felt tears falling from her face, she was supposed to save you but she made the same mistake again...

"Goodbye"

You gave her one last smile before falling to the ground and your body began to deform

"(NAMEE)!"

The girl screamed for the last time before your vision went dark, there was no more pain or suffering, you felt like your body was deformed but you couldn't feel or do anything it was like you only had your conscience left

The original (name) had disappeared forever, and there was nothing else to do

Or well, maybe there was something they could do

_

Bruce was sitting in front of the batcomputer trying to find any trace of you, but there was nothing, not even a trace, it was like you had vanished in the wind

He felt too bad since your last interaction with you, if he had known what would happen he would never have let you go from that hug

But it's just "would have" it was too late to regret but he could still fix things, he would find you and take you home with everyone else and finally have the family you always dreamed of

"We found nothing, not a single clue"

Richard entered the batcave feeling defeated Again, he went out with the whole family to look for some clue but there was nothing, they even tried to see if some villain had you kidnapped but there was no one who knew about you

"This is shit"

Jason said angrily while leaning against a wall, as much as he didn't want to admit it in a way it was his fault he always treated you badly and insulted you

You had too many reasons to leave the mansion and hate all of them, but if he was honest he hated the feeling that you had left, you are supposed to be a family and you should stay together

Wherever you are they will find you and when they do they will never let you escape from their hands again

"And Tim?"

Bruce asked without taking his eyes off the Batcomputer, he hated feeling like he couldn't be in control, not having control over you, like he always had

"He decided to stay a little longer to patrol and see if he found something"

Jason said putting his hands in his jacket pockets, wherever you are he just hoped you were okay although knowing how Gotham is, it would be a miracle if you were okay without a single scratch

"I'm leaving here"

Damian spoke as he walked angrily out of the batcave, a part of him was angry with you and with himself, he was angry with you because you abandoned him without even saying goodbye or giving him reasons, you decided to hide and not tell anyone

He hated having things hidden from him, and at the same time he was angry with himself for how he treated you in the past, but he had changed he swears! When you get back to the mansion she'll be the best sister you've ever seen

"Damian, wait-"

Richard tries to stop him but Damian just pushes him out of his way before yelling at him

"SHUT UP, I don't plan on staying here even a minute longer.(Name) is lost somewhere in this stupid city and all we do is stay here like idiots"

Damian said angrily as he quickly left the batcave

Richard just sighed, when Damian had something in mind there was nothing that would stop him from reaching it, not even his own family

_

Damian walked angrily down the hallway of the mansion cursing under his breath

He continued walking until a door caught his attention, it was half open and he could barely see the small light coming out

Curious, he decided to open it, he was surprised when he realized it was your room...

It was small but still well decorated, it bothered him a little that your room was so far away from the others

He didn't want to invade your privacy (if he wanted to) but the curiosity about your things was too great, he began looking in your drawers but only found unfinished crafts or clothes

It seemed strange to him that all your clothes were still in their place, if the theory that you ran away was true you should have brought some clothes, but everything was completely in order

As he continued looking he found a photo album, it seemed old since it had some dust

He removed the dust that it had and decided to open it, there was almost nothing interesting just photos of you, some from when you were little and others from your birthdays

But there was one that caught his attention, you were in a park with a girl, it seemed to him It was strange that you had left since you never left the mansion

He was also very bothered by the approach that girl had with (name), who did she think she was to touch her sister like that?

But if he was honest, in that photo you really looked happy...

You didn't have that forced happiness like in all the photos, in this one it was seen that you really felt happy with that strange girl

He put aside the album and went back to searching through your things to see if he could find something else

Some of your drawers were full of board games full of dust, he remembered that once you asked him to play one with you but he simply ignored you and said that you had time for children's games

A soft voice took him out of his thoughts

"What are you doing in (name)'s room?"

Cassadran asked, looking at Damian with doubt. She thought it was strange that he was in your room since she thought she was the only one besides Alfred who knew your room.

"Something that doesn't matter to you."

Damian answered abruptly as he continued searching through your drawers.

"You seem too worried about her to be going through her things without permission."

Cassadran spoke again. She thought it was strange that none of the family members were around the house, but she didn't pay much attention and decided to go to your room to greet you. But she was surprised when she found Damian searching through your things.

"So what? It doesn't matter now that (name) is missing. I don't think it will bother her. Besides, it's for research purposes."

Damian was getting tired of Cass's insistence, because out of nowhere he is so worried about his privacy. Were you two close?

"Missing?"

Cassadran repeated in surprise, that answer hit Cass hard, she never imagined it would really happen, were you able to leave the mansion? Although if she was honest you had reasons to leave this fucking place

"Yes, my sister is missing and apparently I'm the only one who cares about her and tries to find some clue, so go away you're just bothering me"

Damian let out a snort of annoyance before resuming his search through your things

"She's your sister now?"

That answer took Damian by surprise, what the hell was she referring to

"What..."

"She's your sister now?" Cass repeated again before speaking again "you always left her aside, well, everyone left them aside and I include myself but it seems hypocritical to me that you want to blame others when you are also guilty, you always look to blame others for your problems because you are an egocentric and selfish person who only thinks about himself, you don't care about her you just want to have a reason not to feel bad about yourself"

Those words left Damian speechless, he hated to admit it but she was right although he would never admit it out loud

He simply looked away and focused on continuing to search pretending as if Cassandra's words hadn't mattered to him

Cass turned around and left the room before giving Damian one last look

Deep down she hoped you were okay wherever you were, but if you were truly lost she was going to do whatever it took to find you, she wasn't going to allow herself to lose another important thing for her, not anymore

_

Tim was jumping from building to building trying to find some clue about you, but there was nothing. He had been investigating criminals, villains or gangs all night but no one knew anything about you.

At this point the guilt was drowning him, he felt like the worst brother in the world. How could he forget someone so important?

Most likely you are now in some dangerous place, alone and scared thinking that no one will go looking for you because you are not important enough for them.

But he will do everything possible to find you, I promise.

He decided to stop at the top of a tall building so he could rest. He felt the worst. He had been patrolling all over Gotham for more than 4 hours but had found nothing. At this point he felt like he would never find you. No...no, if he found you he should not lose hope. You were somewhere in this place...he just had to find out where.

He felt something fast approaching him. Before he could react correctly and dodge it, a supernatural force ended up throwing him against the fire escape of another building.

Shit... that hurt, he was sure he broke his back or some rib, that thing that pushed him had too much force, it was clear that it was not a criminal or villain, they were too fast and strong to be one

But before he could get up he saw how a black mass with a strange figure approached quickly

It was easily the size of a damn bus or bigger, whatever it was was not human, that black mass reminded him too much of someone, he felt that he knew that figure from somewhere

But before he could think that large figure ended up hitting him again

It seemed as if that thing had something personal with him like some kind of hatred or resentment

Tim tried with all his strength to recover from that last blow, he had to warn the others about this thing and to come quickly before this strange creature taken from a horror story finished him off

With his last strength he grabbed the communicator and sent a signal for help before that thing hit him again now with more force causing his body to hit a wall

It seems you already have your first victim in your hands, you were going to finish off all those who made you feel miserable and you were going to make them feel the same pain that they made you feel

The original (name) had already died, the only thing left was this creature full of resentment and hatred

You were going to destroy every person who stood in your way and if that meant having to destroy the city or the world you were going to do it

"MADOKA PLEASE DON'T GO" aahhh reference 😭🙏💀

Sorry if it's too short or something, I hope you enjoy this shitty chapter

You can leave me questions or anything about this AU, I'll be happy to answer them🙏

[theliving-radio]

I for real want a continuation of dragon baby sibling accident 😭😭 it’s so cute 💖💖💖 like how would Lilia react to seeing a baby dragon again and seeing Malleus just gush 100x more over the baby dragon prefect!! It’s just all so cute 🥹

A continuation from this: Baby Sibling turning into a Baby Dragon

“Lilia, hand me back my Baby Sibling!”

“No! Look how cute they are! And they are so docile too! You were a menace, even while still in your egg!”

Lilia was currently hanging upside down on the ceiling in the Diasomnia Dorm. Thankfully he was holding your baby dragon form up right.

“Father, I think it’s best to hand Malleus the Prefect.” Silver mentioned as he stared up at his adopted father, who was happily swaying you side to side while walking on the ceiling.

“Oh he’ll get them back in just a bit- Oh my Sevens! One of their scales are off colored on the back of their hind leg! Just like yours when you were a hatchling!”

“HAND THEM OVER!”

Other Diasomnia students who were in the lounge were able to watch their Dorm Leader huffing and puffing as he demanded to see the transformed Prefect.

At this point of time, they were all used to Malleus’s behavior towards his Baby Sibling. One of the strongest mages in Twisted Wonderland being a total loser for their adopted Baby Sibling?

Yeah, that’s their dorm leader.

You look at Lilia upside down face, he smiles at you when slowly blink at him and let out a happy chirp.

The bat fae lets out a high pitch squeal.

You’re so freaking cute!

“LILIA! I DEMAND TO HOLD MY BABY SIBLING!!”

“Watch your tone boy! I’m not giving them to you if you keep acting like a brat!”

Malleus huffs and begins to pout as he watches Lilia coo and play with you. You let out a small squeak and that’s when Malleus finally decided he had enough. Using magic, he lifted himself off the ground and floated up to the ceiling,

Lilia glances over at the younger fae and squints his eyes. “Really now, you’ve come to take them from me? Can’t this old fae just appreciate the newborn peacefully.”

“You’ve had their full attention for far too long-,”

“It’s been 15 minutes!”

“I will be taking my Baby Sibling back.”

Malleus reaches out to take you from Lilia, but before doing so, you squirm in the bat fae’s hand…

And jump out from his grasp, away from Malleus.

The whole dorm screams and scrambles to catch you before you’re able to hit the floor.

Your chubby, dragon body feels itself falling, and a small voice in your brain was screaming “WEEEEEEEE”.

Just then you began to start flapping your wings, decreasing the speed of your fall and go into more of a glide.

Students were running and shoving one another to try and reach you in hopes to catch you so you wouldn’t hit the dorms cold, stone floor. But you had a destination in mind:

The silver haired knight.

Silver wasn’t running around or shoving others to catch you, instead he stood perfectly still and raised his arms out, perfectly catching you.

You let out happy chirps and squeaks. “Again! Again!”

“No! Not again!” Malleus was able to understand you and floats back down to where Silver was cradling you in his arms.

Both students stare at each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Silver looked down at your tiny figure, and he couldn’t help but boop your nose. You try snapping your teeth at him which only caused him to chuckle.

“Silver…” Malleus was beginning to become impatient.

“Yeah I know. I’m not like my father.” Silver lifts you with both hands and passes you over to Malleus.

The Dragon Fae went back to smiling as he cradled you against his chest. “Hello my Baby Sibling.”

You stare up at the fae prince and let out a squeak.

Malleus had the urge to bang his head against the wall, you were so cute!

A small sneeze left your tiny mouth, the sound so small not many would hear it. The whole Diasomnia dorm was in awe on how adorable you were.

Lilia descends from the ceiling and looks around. “By the way, where is Sebek?”

“I sent him to stall Professor Crewel from making an antidote to turn the prefect back to normal.”

There was a long pause after that, and Lilia lets out a wheeze before bending over to laugh. Silver only shook his head in disapproval.

The poor half-fae was surely going to get in trouble with his professors…