#never heard of the Seer AU??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormhearty · 8 months ago

Text

Pairings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Triggers: obsessive/toxic Azriel, indications of sex (but not explicit), blood, familial and character death, self-hurt

Summary: Azriel never thought he would become obsessed with anything. He was the stoic and cold Spymaster of Night Court. For centuries he never had anyone grow close to him — not until you, his mate. However, something lurks underneath those bright-colored eyes, and for Azriel… he couldn’t be anywhere else but near you.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this! It took a bit to understand the song and its musicality, but I was able to hopefully reach something that would tug the heartstrings but also have the same feeling as the song — Azriel falling for the reader, being addicted, and… Well, continue to find out. Also, I wanted it to be a Dark!Azriel, but I’m not sure if he is as dark as people may interpret, do let me know what you think of this! I wanted this to mimic “Notions of Devotion” but with a darker twist, basing it off the prequel chapters of “Secret Lady”. And also, an AU of my Seer!Reader! 👀👀👀

Temptation is such a fickle thing.

Before you even stepped through those grand doors, Azriel smelt you — that familiar aroma of jasmine and sage wafted through those doors. He was already addicted before even seeing you. He felt his shadows vibrate and shuffle underneath his feet, too excited to bask in your presence and your light.

And when you stepped through those doors, it was as if the Gods and Mother above had graced you in his presence.

You were beautiful.

You were a literal ray of sunshine as if the clouds above parted and you descended from the Havens. He watched as your skirts fluttered beneath you, the white gown — embedded with sparkles of silver and stars — made you ethereal, a Goddess walking in mortal lands.

He had heard of you through his shadows — a Seer within Prythian’s borders.

The first known Seer in millennials.

The Seer that the High Lord of Day Court had kept secret for centuries — the rumored daughter figure of High Lord Helion.

The whispers of your power were not foreign in Night Court. You had used your powers of foresight to bring forth change throughout all of Prythian — you had used your powers for the greater good — all the while keeping your identity a secret.

Azriel had only heard of your name — (Y/N). The whispers of your name and beauty from Day Court spread like wildfire throughout Prythian and many had wanted to meet you, even glance your way to see your beauty.

Even Azriel had grown curious.

When he was sent as an emissary along with Mor to Day Court soil, he hoped and wished to see you pass by. Your aroma of jasmine and sage echoed throughout all the halls he walked through, his shadows scurrying around hoping to find the source of such captivating fragrance.

But he never got even a glance at you.

He had heard the light shuffling of feet, every time he passed a hallway or a room, his head perking up at the scent of you. Every time he felt your presence, heard your feet, smelled you, he scent his shadows on a hunt — to find you, to bring you to him.

He was already addicted — all he wanted was you near him, to bask in your scent and presence.

But every time his shadows came back, it was for naught. He watched them whisper that they couldn’t find you — that as if by magic, you would vanish in midair. Azriel didn’t know if you were avoiding him… but you had no reason to — there was no connection between the two of you, no reason for you to avoid him.

Azriel had grown frustrated at that thought — you were a temptation. You filled his thoughts every waking moment for days on end while he was at Day Court; and even when he arrived back to Night Court, your lingering scent stained his clothes to the point he almost burned them to rid the thought of you. But in the end, he couldn’t.

It would erase everything he had felt for you — of that he yearned for you. That his whole time in Day Court was nothing but a fleeting hallucination, that you would become nothing but a lucid dream.

And it felt like you were nothing but that.

He would lie at night, dreaming of you — you haunted him, awake and asleep. Azriel could reach out and grasp you, hold you close to him — he could practically taste you, but every time he thought he would be able to see your face in his dreams, he would awake — as if the Gods tried to stop him from knowing you completely.

And so when he heard that you would be coming to Night Court as an emissary from Day, his heart picked up a beat at the thought of you again.

Azriel felt the tap against his mental shields that shook him from his thoughts. Hazel hues glanced at his High Lord, seeing that playful smirk that tugged on his lips and he heard the snicker from the General.

“Oh shut it, the both of you…” he hissed in his head at them before he straightened his composure, focusing back on you and the two guards that flanked your side from Day Court.

You were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. His thoughts of how you could have looked never matched the beauty that you radiated as you walked towards the dias where the Inner Court had sat.

You elegantly bowed in front of his High Lord and Lady, and he just watched you — mesmerized by every little action that you did. He watched you straighten up, fixing your locks behind your ears and over your shoulders; he watched those delicate hands fiddle with each other in nervousness that you couldn’t help but emit.

It was so adorable and endearing on how you looked.

He was absolutely in love with you already.

And when you looked towards his way, your eyes staring into his own hazel — he felt his chest burst with color. His usual world of black and white beamed with color he never thought he would see. His chest warmed, ached, and called out to you — he felt that golden string that he only heard of from his brothers — one that tied your soul to his.

Azriel stumbled backward, clutching his leathers at his chest, his breath taken away from him. He heard your gasp — it was such a lovely sound — as he watched from the corner of his eyes, you stumbling as well, the guards holding your shoulders to stead you, all the while his High Lord and Cassian rushed to his side.

“What happened, Azriel?” his High Lord asked him — commanded him.

Despite the command rushing through his body, his mind rejected it, all his focus on you and those hands on your shoulders. The sight of other hands besides his own, made Azriel feel territorial. He felt the bond in his chest vibrate in anger, and his shadows swirl around him, waiting for their master to let them loose to attack. He let them loose, watching those tendrils of darkness whisk forward to wrap around your pure form, watching them slither up your legs, up your arms, pushing those hands away from you.

The sight of his shadows, his darkness, curling around your form made the bond sing, and a dark satisfaction curled around his heart.

All he wanted to do was cover you in his darkness, making you all his.

He watched as you looked at those shadows before your gaze shifted to his own once again. His body thrummed with happiness and satisfaction as you looked at him with wide eyes, and the only thing that slipped from his lips was:

“Mate."

“How do I look, Azriel?”

He watched those eyes beam up at him, cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink, and his ears perking up at the laugh that escaped your lips as he placed the flower crown on top of your head.

His heart rattled in his chest at the way you looked up at him. How your eyes sparkled with happiness and how your laugh was so pure and unabashed. You glowed with so much pureness and happiness, that all he hoped was that he could be the only person that could make you feel like this.

“Stunning,” he affirmed, his words blowing with the wind, “I picked them in particular because I knew they would suit you well…”

Hazel hues watched your features absorb his words for a moment, eyes shifting before looking back up at his own — eyes wide and bright staring up at him — unguarded and so vulnerable. He felt the bond sing… but a darker voice resonated behind that elation — how beautiful would it be to have everything about you just be his. To watch your pureness, your light, your beauty be drowned in his shadows… in his darkness.

“Yes…” he whispered, leaning into your features, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, sliding slightly so that the tips of his fingers grazed the base of your neck, his other hand coming up to gently wrap around your waist, tugging you closer, “Look at me, just like that…”

Azriel brought your face closer to his own, your scent overwhelming his senses — how addicted he was to your smell and he couldn’t help but wonder if you tasted delicious as well as you smelled. Hazel hues watched that baby pink shade turn darker on your cheeks and his heart swelled with pride.

“Keep looking at me just like you are, (Y/N). Is it too selfish for me to ask you, to just look at me… and only me?”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your own and he was right — you tasted divine. His lips moved against yours, and he felt your hesitance in the kiss, your hands hovering over his chest, a feeble attempt to push him away. He gently bit your lower lip, feeling you gasp against his lips and he delved in, tasting your mouth to his heart’s content. Azriel brought you closer to him, feeling you slump against his form before gently bringing you down to the soft grass underneath both of your feet.

Azriel pulled away from the kiss, his large form hovering over your own. He watched as your chest heaved, those lips parted in a gentle ‘o’ shape, dark red from his kiss. You looked ravished, not so pure anymore — and it made his body pulse. He felt his shadows, swirl around you, clinging onto the strands of hair that spread around your pretty head, onto your shoulders and upper arms; he watched them move over your dress, tugging onto fabric until they loosened over your body.

His eyes darkened, watching inches of skin be revealed to him and you having no attempt to cover up or hide from him. A coo escaped his lips as he leaned down once again, lips attaching themselves to the crook of your neck as he felt your hands slide up his arms to cradle his head against you.

“Why would I look at anyone else, Azriel?” you mused, your voice out of breath, “When you are my mate? When the first time I saw you, you already filled my world with so much hope and light…”

Azriel felt himself growl, his kisses becoming more and more desperate against your skin. Teeth scraped against flesh and hands grasped at anything that was you. Your gasps and moans filled his ears, and he felt the darkness in his heart grow more and more.

He wanted to cover you in him, cover you in that darkness that grew inside of him. He wanted your light that radiated from your soul to darken, to taint it with his essence.

It was funny indeed — how you saw him with such pureness in your eyes, in your heart, in your soul. When in all reality, he was the opposite of that.

He was dark — there was nothing pure about him.

Not when it came to you.

Drip… Drip… drip

Azriel ran his blood-stained hands through dark tussled locks, as he stepped into the foyer of the River House. Dark red blood stained the marble floors of the home, dripping down from his leathers, the undeniable squish from underneath his boots.

He tilted his head up, staring at the night-kissed ceiling — a painting done by his High Lady’s hands.

I’m tired.

He pondered as he continued to walk the quiet halls of the house, all too quiet except for the thump of his blood-covered boots. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, hazel hues stared at his hands — one maimed and disfigured, one that was covered in blood. Azriel felt like it seeped into his very skin, touching his very soul. A frown tugged onto his features as he wiped it on the marble railing of the stairs, watching it streak — tainting the white color with red.

Azriel had just come back from his interrogation from Hewn City, his High Lord requested it. They needed information on the looming threat of the Deathless God.

You had been the one to warn about the threat — your powers taking over you to give the prophesized vision of the God in the Lake. All of Prythian took heed of such words that slipped your lips.

He had become busy, more busy as of late, to the point he rarely saw you.

He missed you. Missed the way you looked up at him with such adoration, with such love; missed the way you would feel underneath him; missed the sound of your voice — your gasps, your moans, your laugh.

Azriel blinked hazily when a shadow ran from underneath his grasp and up the stairs. Hazel hues watched that shadow, before noticing a figure on top of the stairs.

He blinked again, adjusting his eyes to the light before seeing that it was you.

However… it wasn’t you.

Those hues weren’t the ones that he loved. They were light, almost white… Unfamiliar… yet familiar at the same time. You looked at him, but one without the familiar feeling of love; you stared at him, as if staring into his soul.

Your powers had taken over you again.

Azriel walked up those steps, towards you, and once he was in front of you he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, the blood that stained his leathers seeping into your pure white clothes. That dark feeling inside him grew once again, seeing such imagery… the pure you, being tainted by him.

He looked into your power-filled eyes, watching them unblinking up at him. A sigh escaped his lips as he lifted you into his arms, your body light as a feather and he continued his path to your shared bedroom.

Stepping beyond the threshold of those grand doors, he kicked them shut and laid you down on the massive bed, pressing himself closer to your form. He did not care that the blood continued to taint your clear skin, he wanted more.

He stained your thighs, your arms, your chest with red, his shadows slipping off your, now, red slip. He brought your hand to his face, pressing blood-stained lips onto the palm of your hand before his fingers drew an eye on the back of your hand — a sign he always drew when you were like this.

An omen, hoping to call the real you back to him.

A giggle escaped your lips, as you took your hand back, head tilting at the image that he drew. A knowing smile tugged on your lips as you leaned up toward Azriel.

“You seem nervous, Shadowsinger…”

Azriel fought back a shudder — it was your voice, but also not your own. Your powers had taken you — mind and body. Your power echoing through your voice, one so ancient and one so powerful, it resonated in the air, all-powerful and all-knowing.

This wasn’t the first time that your power had overtaken you.

The first time was your divine prediction of the Deathless God’s return.

It was a day Azriel could never forget.

He had thought he had lost you to your power, thought that you would never return to being you again. He watched as you writhed in pain, sweat dripping down your forehead and onto the sheets. You were sick with a fever days before that moment, and Azriel had thought you were having a fever dream. But when your eyes opened, and unfamiliar white hues stared at him — he knew it wasn’t a fever dream.

The Bird of Ash and Fire, flying over the dark lake. Power resonating… The Cauldron calling to its like. He will rise and plunder Prythian to destruction. Fire and shadow submerge all of the light.

Fingers touched his face, bringing him out of his thoughts as hazel eyes focused back down at you, that knowing smile still on your features.

“There is another prophecy… you have yet to hear, my dearest Shadowsinger… One that concerns your dearest sons that your wife has borne.”

Brows scrunched on his features, as he pulled away from your body — the first time he has done that. Hazel eyes locked onto omnipotent ones, “What are you talking about, seer…”

Azriel never called your name when you were in this state… he never thought this was you.

This was the all-seeing Seer of Prythian.

This was not his mate, not his wife.

That knowing smile tugged wider as you slid your fingers over his eye, covering it with your palm — as if to blind him from the truth that you were to spill.

“Our sons will, in the near future, rip their own mother to shreds…”

Hazel eyes widened, continuing to stare down at you. A laugh escaped your chest, echoing into the still room.

“Are you afraid, Shadowsinger? Are you afraid that your mate will despise you? You have a choice now…

“Will you follow fate’s string, abide by the course of nature set by the Cauldron and the Mother above, and allow your mate to be brutally die at the hands of your son?”

He watched you lean up, pressing your palm further into his eye before he reached up and grabbed your wrist and pull it away, fingers digging into tender flesh to the point it would bruise.

“Or… will you wish upon the powers of your mate, the Seer… to kill your sons?

“Will you be willing… to kill your kin, one that you had wanted so much to the point you pushed your mate’s body to the brink of breaking. Or do you dare change your mate’s destiny of death?”

Azriel watched as tears cascade down your cheeks, your hues slowly hinting back to their normal color — that your powers were slowly leaving your body alone.

“Even if you are at the end of your wife’s wrath for it?”

The preeminent voice left you and the whimper of his name slipped your lips.

A coo escaped his lips, leaning back down to press his lips against your own, hushing you from your cries. When he pulled away, he watched as your eyes return to your own, staring up at him — tears continued to streak down your cheeks.

“—-Don’t… Azriel… Please —- Not our sons…” you muttered, begged your husband not to listen to your vision.

He pressed another kiss, taking your breath away from you. He felt you relax underneath him, your hands slipping from his hold and back onto the bed, the tension in your body slowly slipping away.

“—- Father…”

He glanced up from the kiss, seeing his two sons — Rhysar and Rian at the threshold of the bedroom. Azriel pulled away from the kiss, glancing back down at you, the even breathing indicating that you had fallen asleep — it happened every time your powers left your body.

Your words echoed in his ears — he had to choose.

The family that he grew with you… his pride and joy — his sons.

Or the love of his life… his mate — you.

He had heard the whispers from his sons, his eldest especially — the ungratefulness that spewed from their lips. That their mother, despite being a Seer, was from unknown origins and that their father was a bastard Illyrian from the depths of war camps.

He did not care about the hatred that spewed from their lips — but to utter ungratefulness about their mother who bore them... Who almost died to bring them into the world.

Azriel would not tolerate that.

Not when you were everything to him.

With one last glance at your sleeping form, he slowly moved away from you, slipping out of the bed as eyes stared at his sons — hazel hues dulling from his decision.

He will choose you all the time.

Even if it meant killing his own flesh and blood.

Azriel stalked towards them, his large figure overpowering the two of them. His shadows whisked out from his own, darting towards them as they turned and attempted to run — their screams filling the hallways.

A frown tugged on his lips, as he closed the door behind him, attempting to silence the screams from reaching your ears. He stayed still, guarding those doors to the bedroom, allowing his shadows to zip through the halls — to bring his sons back.

The scrambling of feet echoed through the hallways, their terrified screams echoing all around him. He knew that the rest of his family would hear it, and would attempt to stop him from taking his sons’ life — he couldn’t let that happen.

Not when your own life was hanging by a string.

His shadows dispersed, blanketing the River House, locking each door, and preventing anyone from leaving their rooms.

He could hear it — the frantic yells of his family, the confusion in their voices at what was happening.

"Azriel what is going on? Why are your shadows everywhere? "

The Spymaster took no need of his High Lord's questions as he silently waited for his shadows to drag his sons back. He placed a dark wall up in his mind, casting aside Rhysand’s questions and even his High Lady’s frantic pleas.

He didn’t need distractions — not when he had a goal in mind.

The screams and cries of his sons grew louder as he watched the spindle of shadows drag them back by their ankles. Hazel eyes looked down his nose at them, watching them shake and plead up to him — his very image staring back up at him.

Azriel never realized on how much his sons took after him, not a tall tell sign of his wife’s features in either of them. And it disgusted him. How can something like that come out of something so pure like you? He couldn’t understand. The only thing that was remotely you was in your second son, Rian — his eyes sparkled the same hue as yours.

Truth-Teller materialized in his hand, and he raised it to the dim lighting, watching it shine, eyes staring at the glint of his dagger before back down at his oldest son.

Without a second thought, the dagger stroked down.

The screams never ended, and Azriel’s skin dripped with blood once again.

“She hasn’t eaten or slept in days — anything she happens to swallow, she always throws it back up. Her condition is deteriorating, Azriel…

“What have you done?”

The Spymaster stepped into the vast room, the quiet sobs echoing through reverend walls. Hazel eyes trained on you as you pressed yourself against the stone casket of Rhysar, mourning over his death. His step echoed as he made his way towards you and he heard your sobbing stop as you looked over your shoulder, and up at him.

His heart tugged a tiny bit, your hallowed cheeks, dark circles underneath your eyes. You were exhausted, the death of your eldest son taking a toll on your mind and health.

Azriel attempted to tug at the golden string that connected the two of you; however, he only felt the hallow feeling on the other side, your heart slowly encompassed by shadow and darkness.

His mind knew he shouldn’t — but he felt pride seeing his mate look so haggard. His sick mind knew that no matter what, you would always look back for him — that your fates have always been intertwined.

“Say something, Azriel…”

Your voice was small, barely reaching his ears.

“Whether it be an excuse or a reason… Just say something, please.”

He watched as tears streamed down your cheeks, onto the dark colors of your mourning gown. It had been weeks since Rhysar’s death and yet you still continue to wear it — it had been gorgeous on you, Azriel’s dark voice revering in his head that you were beautiful in black, and not your usual white.

“Tell me you did it for your love for me… go on. Tell me… anything, on your reasoning for killing our son. Despite my pleading for you to not listen to the vision I spewed.”

Azriel remained quiet and another sob wracked through your body, a thinned hand coming up to press against pale lips, an attempt to hold back throwing everything up from your stomach.

Dull hues stared up at him, “The fates and Mother will continue to scorn me… Despite all of this, I can’t help but still love you. I have loved you for so long… that mating bond was just another thing that had pushed me to love you…”

He watched you move from the casket, dragging your body on marbled floors to where he stood. Azriel felt your hands grab his leathers, grasping onto anything on him as you continued to sob.

“Please… Say anything. At least… it would make me hate you even less…”

Azriel sighed softly as he leaned down and brought you into his arms, carrying you bridal-style as he pressed his lips against your own — once again, silencing your cries.

He felt you shake in his grasp, your hands pushing at his shoulders, tugging on his hair — attempting to pull away from the kiss. He let you, and he heard you gasp, taking in air as you looked at him, brows furrowed and your lower lip wobbling.

“Why!!” you yelled, your voice hoarse and cracking. You continued to push at his shoulders, clawing at his leathers. Azriel held you tight against him, afraid that if you moved too much in his arms, you’d fall and damage yourself.

“Why don’t you say anything?!! Why did you have to kill our son?! Because of the vision? Because of my powers?! Why!!?”

You gasped, pressing a hand against your throat — a tall tell sign of a panic attack seeping into your bones. Azriel brought your face close to his again, pressing his lips onto yours once more, an attempt to bypass the attack that was waiting to happen.

He felt your body calm against his and he sighed in relief into the kiss, pressing you closer to him. Azriel moved towards the wall, pressing you against it. His lips moved from yours to your neck, teeth and tongue scraping against the skin, and felt you relaxed in his hold.

A distraction for you and desire from him fueled his actions. His shadows felt their master’s desire for you and helped, pinning your form against the stone walls as he knelt, hands pushing and tugging layers of clothes.

He whispered devotion against your skin before devouring you in his darkness, in his love. A sinful moan escaped your lips, pressing yourself further into the wall, the silvers of shadow intertwining around your limbs as Azriel devoured you.

You glanced down at familiar scarred fingers as your mate traced the bruise that was on your wrist, one that was not of his making — but one that was made by you.

Your gaze was not focused as your mind was elsewhere — your memories flashing behind your eyes of what had occurred the past few days.

The birth of your High Lord and Lady’s first child — the heir to Night Court was brought to this world. You had loved that child, much like he was your own… you had pampered and spoiled the child rotten, a way to distract your racing mind.

Your power was starting to grow out of control.

There were moments where you were in control of your body and mind, and the next thing you knew, you were watching your powers take over you — as if your soul was pushed out of your body and all you could do was watch in horror of the visions that you decreed.

What had pushed you to the brink of hurting yourself was the day you noticed how Rian’s eyes glowed a familiar eerie color — one similar to yours when your powers overtake you.

Rian had inherited your powers.

And the first vision he ever saw had rattled you to your knees.

You watched as the power took over your child, those eyes glow and all you wanted was to pray to the Gods, to the Mother above to spare your child from such fates of being a Seer. Those all-seeing eyes stared at you as he pointed his small finger at you.

“Skin and bones burned and swallowed in darkness. To the father that has betrayed his kin, killed his own flesh. To the mother who continues to sit in darkness. There will be violence, there will be death. The Seer’s path will always walk in bloodshed. To ensure your kin will live for millennials, only your death will stop the madness.”

You felt fingers caress your cheek, and you blinked your dull eyes staring up at your mate who looked at you with so much softness that it tugged at your heart.

Oh, your mate — your wonderful and beautiful mate.

How much you loved him with your entire being, the entirety of your soul.

You had no idea where it had gone astray — was it the moment he heard of you? The moment your name reached his shadows and ears? Or was it when the bond snapped? That your souls were tired indefinitely that made your husband lose his mind to the darkness in his heart?

“(Y/N)…” he muttered.

Your name sounded beautiful in his voice — his baritone tone that rumbled in his chest, and echoed in your own. You fought back a shudder as you continued to stare up at him, watching those hazel eyes swim with something you were unable to identify.

“I told you to tell me when things get to hard for you. To tug on our bond, to call my shadows, to whisper my name. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself like this when your powers overwhelm you… I could help…”

The warmth of his hand that cradled your cheek was so powerful that you couldn’t help but lean into it, your hand clutching your mate’s wrist as you snuggled into that warmth you loved.

A chuckle rattled out of Azriel and you felt him pull you closer to him, pressing his lips against your own.

You found that Azriel loved to kiss you, to make love to you at his convenience — to distract you, to distract him, from the world around both of you.

Your body fell back against soft velvet of your bedsheets, your husband’s body hovering over yours as he grounded himself onto you. His hands pressed against your sides, tugging on clothes and flesh to his desire.

“Instead of asking you, my love… I should make it an order — to stop you from hurting yourself.”

His lips slid from your own, sliding down your neck and shoulder, as fingers tugged your dress from your chest. His lips wrapped around the sensitive bud, as those darkened hazel eyes looked up at you.

“If you have no intention of doing what I ask of you —”

“I am doing exactly a you ask, my love.”

You felt him pause in his love making, pulling away from your breast to look at you. You felt your powers slowly take over again, and this time around, you had no intention of stopping them.

“I know how much you love me, to the point you are willing to die, Azriel. I know that any scars on my body hurt you more… than the ones on your own.”

You brought up his marred hand — one that was always covered with blood and scars — to your lips and pressed a kiss on them, one so gentle and soft that he barely would feel it.

“Let us make a wager, Shadowsinger…”

Your hands dropped his and slid up his broad arms, over his shoulders and around his neck, delicate fingers grasping onto black locks tugging enough to tilt his head back from your position. A pleased hum escaped your lips as you leaned up and bit down on the junction of his neck and shoulders.

“Anyone you will love after me… will be punished for it. They will lose their lives, their families, and themselves to the darkness that you have in your heart. And without anyone to love… you will lose your mind and die of madness.”

A cough raked your body, blood spilling out of your lips. You smiled down at your mate — your powers finally at its breaking point. You used the last of your powers, forced your powers to fully take over you, to call upon one last vision. You felt your vision start to blur, the vision of your husband the last thing you’d ever see in this world.

“You have caused this curse upon yourself, Shadowsinger… You should have simply told me you loved me… from the very beginning.”

#( .inbox request : how fate so cruel )#azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x you #( .inbox request )

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imtrashraccoon · 3 days ago

Note

I know it’s a little late for spooky month stuff but I don’t care so maybe the dragon au of the dark fortress…..like when they first got cursed from the sorcerer? I don’t know…it’s like super early right now.

Never too late, friend! :3

Bit of a warning, but this one is a bit dark. There are no happy endings here although I wouldn't say it's too graphic.

Part 1 & Part 2

It was a miserable night when they came.

For the first time in months, Lord Donovan had pulled his henchmen and armies back into his own territory to rest and recover their mana reserves. No one actually knew that though, as very few people ever escaped the carnage he was known for. The worst storm in decades had descended on the once flourishing Kingdom of Shiftingtails, now the heart of corruption and where the Dark Fortress had emerged from the very earth.

So imagine with me, the surprise that the dark lord must've felt when he received word that a mysterious stranger had appeared at the gate. He allowed them to enter, if to find out what kind of fool would come to him in this weather. Maybe they could provide some form of meager entertainment?

The person brought before him wasn't anything like he'd been expecting. They were dressed in non-descript clothing, walked with a limp, and had to rely on a staff in order to keep their balance. Their ethnicity wasn't easily discerned and their eyes were white with blindness, yet they showed no difficulty navigating through the fortress. Lord Donovan couldn't even determine if they possessed any significant well of mana or not. Still, he allowed the stranger into his court to hear what they had to say.

His henchmen were present of course. Why should they miss out on the fun? While the dark lord was perfectly capable of defending himself, it was good to have a little extra muscle for appearances sake. And if the stranger did try anything, he wouldn't need to get his hands dirty when his men would all too gladly jump at the chance to draw blood.

The stranger's voice was rough with age and Lord Donovan found himself wondering if they'd gone senile long ago. Still, they weren't afraid to condemn the evil he'd done, the hundreds he'd personally killed, and the countless others he'd scarred for life in more ways than one. He'd heard it all before of course, but what the stranger said next, chilled him to the bone.

"If only Sir Finn could have seen what you've become..."

With a snarl, Lord Donovan nearly leaped to his feet but managed to restrain himself from tearing the stranger apart. His mind was clouded with rage. How dare they carelessly mention that name?!

"WHO ARE YOU?!" the dark lord bellowed, not bothering with his usual faux politeness anymore.

"I am the past and your ilk has no future," the stranger answered.

Lord Donovan became aware of two things in that moment. His henchmen were growing restless; especially Dirk, who had started fiddling with his dagger, but Reven and Maul were also poised to attack if he gave the word. Unfortunately, they would stand no chance if he did because he now knew who the mysterious stranger was.

As soon as the realization occurred to him, the stranger's form seemed to shift beyond his eyes. Their clothing changed to enchanted robes adorned in ancient arcane patterns and their very visage morphed into one he'd never expected to see again. Their eyes remained clouded and their simple staff transformed into an ornately carved stave. Apparently, the Great Seer had survived all these years later and they had chosen to confront him now of all times.

"You are the one with no future. Return to the earth like the kingdom you once served," Lord Donovan growled through gritted teeth.

The Seer let out a heavy sigh and leaned against their stave as they surveyed the dark lord once more. "You have no authority, not anymore. Nature condemns your crimes and demands punishment." They stretched out their hand, pointing right at him before continuing. "May you no longer hide amongst the innocent for they will see you and your thugs as the beasts you are..."

Thinking quickly, Lord Donovan channeled what mana he had into a counterspell, but Reven seemed to have a similar realization and he summoned a skull blaster in an effort to disrupt the Great Seer's curse. He meant well, but the dark lord knew if that blaster fired, none of them would survive thanks to the powerful reflect enchants on the Seer's robes.

He immediately lashed out at his henchmen with his tendrils, not to harm but to get them away from the epicenter. If he was lucky, they would be spared and he would take the brunt of the curse in their stead. Unfortunately, his mind was faster than his his body and before he could follow through, the curse was cast.

The pain was instantaneous and only through sheer force of will, Donovan remained standing, although his henchmen could not. It brought him back to that horrible day all those years ago when the corruption first took hold of his body, only it was worse than even that. He felt his very bones creaking, as if something was trying to tear him apart from the inside and break free. He couldn't stay upright and within seconds, collapsed to the tiled floor.

At some point he became aware of a persistent tapping, like an angry woodpecker drilling through his skull. When he opened his one good eye socket, he realized it was merely the footsteps of the Great Seer as they crossed the floor towards him. Their brows were pinched together in a look that he had swore never to see again: pity. They watched him for a moment before kneeling down in front of him.

"I wish there had been another way," they murmured. "But just as dead branches must be removed from a tree, so must evil be purged before life can return."

Donovan spat at the Seer's feet.

"You have a chance to break the curse. In three years, if you do not receive a token of true love, all of you will remain as beasts."

The Great Seer left the way they had come but this time there was no one to accompany them through the dark halls. The storm raged on throughout the night and into the next day, but in the Dark Fortress, a different turmoil was brewing. One of rage and confusion. One that would cause even greater devastation to the surrounding kingdoms and claim the lives of all who tried to resist it.

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shrinkthisviolet · 16 days ago

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oc halloween challenge 2024 (Day 12): Supernatural AU

Make your human oc a supernatural creature or your supernatural oc a different supernatural character.

Reyna Ramon as a Seer

“Surprised you didn’t call me a witch.”

The other woman—Nora—scoffed. “Please, that’s an amateur mistake. Not all witches are seers, not all seers are witches.”

Reyna hummed, tilting her head. “Well said. What does that make you, then? Born with your powers, or cursed?”

“Never mind that.” Nora took a deep breath. “How good are you at seeing the past?”

Reyna arched an eyebrow. “That’s a bold question to ask a Seer.”

Nora shrugged with a grin that was most definitely not cute. “What can I say, it’s part of my charm.”

Reyna snorted. “Debatable. But…yes, I can. I was trained by Cynthia Reynolds. Heard of her?”

Nora paled. “The Collectors?”

“Formerly.” Reyna snorted. “Allegedly. But regardless, she insisted on training me properly…and at Papá’s request, she did so without ever telling the Collectors who I am. I was a kid then…I’m an adult now, and I’ve been running this business for years. You do the math.”

“Good.” Nora slammed a paper down on the table. “Because I require your services…and whatever you want, I can pay it.”

Reyna looked at the person on the paper and froze. Looked at Nora, then back again.

And suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

“There’s no need for that,” she said. “Family matters are always pro bono in my book.”

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @raith-way @vexic929 @ironverseocs

@thechaoticfanartist @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @negative-speedforce @starstruckpurpledragon

#ohc2024 #oc: reyna ramon #nora west allen #the flash #reynora #(hinted)#fyeaharrowverseocs

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finitepeace · 1 year ago

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some grindeldore imi recently read (recently means somewhere in the past month in 2023)

Phoenix Tears by PrincessElectra | 46k words, T | The summer of 1899 ends with less destruction and heartbreak, but love is not a victory march and the darkness is still a seductive temptress.

Socken by noctis_ibis | 1.405 words, G | Bathilda Bagshot realises that there is more going on between her great-nephew and the neighbours boy

the great work by Laeveteinn | 19k, M, gore warning, hannibal AU | After a bizarre string of artistic murders, the Aurors ask the local Transfiguration professor for advice.

I'd Wait For Life by Dreamer1701 | 7k, T, post SoD | For months after the events in Bhutan, no one heard anything from Gellert Grindelwald and his followers. Until the news that they left Nurmengard reach the world - and a certain Hogwarts Professor. Who of course can't resist to go there

how did you get here, my dear? by captnhowzer | 1,9k words, G | Voldemort comes for the Elder Wand. Gellert dies protecting Albus. Gellert doesn’t know Albus is already dead.

I Shall Love You Better After Death by CompassToTheEndlessSea | 941 words, G | Gellert and Albus are reunited in death, where they finally can be together. A happy ending in life was never in the cards for them, but after death and after shaking off their worldly burdens... anything is possible.

Reckless Paradise by NightWithoutStars | 23k words, T | "I am in a precarious position, as you might know. With a Dark Lord out and about and a corrupt ministry, the smallest mistake could cost me everything. As if that was not enough, I am in dire need of a divination professor." "How do you expect me to help you, Albus? I am but a prisoner in my own fortress." "What if you weren't?" Oh, how Gellert had missed that mischievous glint in those mesmerizing, blue eyes.

The Final Request by SparksAdrift | 3,9k words, G | Harry is charged with a quest to discover the truth, story and reason behind Gellert Grindelwald's final request of what becomes of his body.

Dumbledore's Meeting by AlbusGellertAlways | 2k words, G | Hermione meets with Dumbledore about dropping Divination and ends up learning more about the professor's personal life about a certain Seer than she was expecting.

A Lifetime of Insanity by kyrilu | 2,6k, T | Instead of imprisoning Gellert in Nurmengard after defeating him, Albus chooses to magically bind him and keep him at Hogwarts like a caged owl. It's really not the greatest idea.

#grindeldore #grindeldore fic #grindeldore fic rec

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outtoshatter · 1 year ago

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Kingdoms Fall

Rating: M | Tags: Seer!Stiles, Witch!Lydia, fantasy au, 74k

The last teaser for Kingdoms Fall with yet another little (big?) piece of the art and a giant excerpt! Please enjoy and enjoy the little look at the gorgeous art @seanchaidh7 made!!

The wall behind the desk bore the Argent crest rather than the fangs Stiles was used to, and the rug was deep green instead of silver, starting at the back of the room instead of at the door. “Danger, sire,” Stiles said in a voice deeper than his own. The vision swayed and then settled before him. By the fireplace, a woman’s head turned. “Speak, Seer,” she instructed. Miss Blake’s voice was just as soft as it always was. She tilted her head, the fire gleaming strangely in her eyes. “Seer Andreas?” She didn’t move when he looked at her, but something in her face hardened. He turned back to King Gerard. “I have foreseen your end, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice steady despite the fear pounding in his chest. “I See it in the trees, in the grass, in the flowers of spring.” King Gerard stood so fast his chair skidded on the stone floor. “My death?” He asked it as if the idea that he could die had never occurred to him. “You will be killed.” Andreas’s voice went smooth and dreamlike, the fear draining and replaced with comforting certainty in his own powers, a certainty that was foreign to Stiles. “You will be murdered on a clear night in deep winter, at half-moon and calm sea.” He took a measured breath. “You will be killed with your back turned. You will be-” His body jerked. Pain ripped through them both like hot knives. Miss Blake stumbled, knocking a medal to the ground as she caught the mantle. Andreas gurgled as he tried to speak. Blood sprayed from his throat. “Betrayal,” he wheezed. More blood gushed from his chest and gut as he fell to his knees, clutching at his wounds. King Gerard rounded the desk, leaning over to stare down at him as he bled out, face spattered with blood. His mouth twisted with rage. “What?” he demanded. “Betrayal from who? Who is it? Who kills me?” The pain ebbed and flowed; Andreas no longer heard the king’s ranting. He pressed his bloody hand to the floor, just out of reach of the rug, mouth moving soundlessly. Stiles tore his hands off the book, sobbing, gagging. He grabbed at his own throat and chest, but he was whole.

Chapter one will go up on Thursday September seventh!

#sterek #teen wolf #fantasy au #seer!Stiles #kingdoms fall #teen wolf fic #sterek fic #stiles stilinski #gia writes #teaser post #also trying my hand at the image description i'm so sorry if it's awful #oh #gore

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crazywolf828 · 11 months ago

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"Alright Pietro, what's up?" Yang's trying not to sound irritated, but gods is she exhausted, especially after everything that's happened in the past few days. "Ah! Yang!" He gives that warm smile that puts her to ease, even if only slightly. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask you." Her eyes widened, did he seriously just ask her down here because he had questions? "Some of your blood tests came back a bit odd." "What?" Of course she remembered that day, she'd hoped it would take her mind off of Ruby lying upstairs unconscious, so she let him take all the samples he wanted. "Your father was a werewolf and your mother was a seer, correct?" Yang shifts uncomfortably, a frown instinctively taking over. "No. No Ruby and I have different mom's, I never met mine so I don't know what she is." That's not entirely true, there are those words that peak in the back of her mind, "You're not a pure blood, why would I want you?" "Everyone gets one." Sometimes Yang thinks she's imagined them, she had been so young when she heard them. After that her mother was gone, never to be seen again.

New chapter of the werewolf au is finally up and it's a doozy!

#its only been like a year and a half😅#anyway hope yall enjoy it!#rwby #bumbleby #bumblby #bmblb #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss schnee #ruby rose #fics #fan fiction #fanfiction #my fics #werewolf au #vampire au #don't mind me

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moon-bun-bun · 10 months ago

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I'm gonna ramble about my creepypasta AU from like 2012-2014ish I used to rp with a friend over my flip phone bc we where GENUINELY just insane <3

Some key things to keep in mind: we didn't really watch marble hornets at this time so masky and hoodie where (unfortunately) very much old fanon the rare few times they showed up. A lot of this AU was influenced by old deviantart web comics, mainly Pasta Monsters and The Seer. And lastly, we where like 12 when we made this so don't expect high art 💀 you're allowed to laugh bc genuinely it's so awful

This AU MOSTLY was centered around our OCs (of course). Mine was Banana, a repurposed warriors OC 💖 of course in usual middle schooler fashion, she was immortal and couldn't die, and she knew every single creepypasta amd everyone knew her and she was some special proxy y'all know the deal, if I remember to draw her again I'll rb or something with her bc I still love her dearly <3

Some key things abt this AU that I can remember off the top of my head in no specific order:

- Slenderman didn't have a mansion, he instead had an entire castle?? I have no clue why we decided a castle but that's what he had

-no one but slenderman lived in this castle. Not even his proxies, everyone else has their own houses, except Banana who has a big tree that grows diamond fruit

-how do people not fond a massive castle out in the forest? Easy. It's not in the forest, there's an entirely seperate realm they all live in and you access it by a random portal in the woods

-we genuinely deligated Masky and Hoodie to just sorta babysitting this portal. Actual proxy work? Never heard of it, they just watch a portal for days on end. Expect Masky sometimes, he got to babysit Banana because she caused ✨️problems✨️ constantly. We very much characterized his as the shy uwu nervous Masky the entire time

-proxies got their special proxy names Via warriors cats naming ceremony, we had a moment with another OC that was an extended rp of this moment. I do not know how we talked abt it like it was the most serious and genius thing in class the next day

-Jeff was one of the most prominent characters, he did not like Banana what so ever and she at some point made it her life goal to be the most prominent nuisance in his life. Multiple times as some form of punishment for both of them causing some issue or just fighting in general, Slenderman would make them go live together in the human world as normal people in suburbia or some shit. This happened VERY often and I choose to still use this plot point as the set up for conversations and jokes about them to this day

-the neighborhood they lived in was completely oblivious to the fact that these where two known serial killers, EXCEPT one of their neighbors who was hell bent on exposing them. No one believed her ever.

-how do they live as normal people? Tbis is where the pasta monsters influence comes in, I believe it was called an illusion form in that comic? Whatever it was called, that's the logic we used. Jeff looked like a Normal Guy and Banana instead of being a cat, was in fact a human girl, who for whatever reason we decided kept getting mistaken for some random orphan girl named Daisy

-despite this AU taking place in (at the time) modern times, old times orphanages and asylums where still in operation and was another very prominent plot point we used (to the extent of the knowledge we had as 12 year Olds of these places) banana and Jeff ended up in the asylum in padded rooms and straight jackets a lot

-this has no bearing on the plot what so ever but I know we referred to the police as "the popo" and ONLY the popo for the entire duration of the rp. All 2 or 3 years of it.

That's all I can think of at the moment, there's. A lot more that I'm missing here and whenever it crops up I'll just rb with more details or smthn bc I genuinely rlly like just putting whatever the hell we where on into words 💀💀

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #idk im just rambling and i dont have any art i want to post #i genuinely got in so much trouble for this rp too btw #my parents would read through my text messages and then get mad at me for being into creepypasta lmao

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themiserymarquis · 5 months ago

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Im sorry for the late ask, but would you be so kind as to tell us more about this Emanator of Finality? What is her backstory, what are her goals? And also, im not sure if im overthinking that drawing of her, but is she...blind? And if so, is that based on the archetype of the blind seer, who's blindness actually allows them to see the future?

Awuuee I'm glad that you asked !! Nothing is 100% set in stone yet, as a disclaimer, because I feel some bits aren't quite "right," so some of the finer details will probably be up to my whims. Jyeong-hyo is originally a character-- a sinner-- that I made for Limbus Company, in the world of Project Moon's City. Because of the length of this explanation (and my pre-exam jitters-- I'm going to be doing argumentative essay review right now and I start my exam in two hours >-<) I'll put it under the cut!

One, no, she isn't blind, though there is still something "wrong" with her eyes. They used to be brown!

Two, her ability is to see the cords of death that crowd around a person who is about to die-- they turn red when their death is imminent. She is unable to see her own cords, which is why I wrote that she has taken the role of the prophet, and now she can no longer see her own ending.

This fun thing with her eyes introduces a lot of visual stimuli which makes it difficult for her to live normally.

This information is important to understand before we go into her HSR-AU! She was an infant who was accidentally burned on the face by her siblings, and a rich couple happened to be around wanting to purchase another child. This is because they have received an omen by the village shaman, saying that they saw that the fate of their firstborn son was to die before reaching adulthood.

There is a method to give that fate to another, but they must act quickly and perform an elaborate trick. So Jyeong-hyo was to act, no, live, as this couple's firstborn son until she died of natural causes. They gave her the bare minimum to survive, and educated her half-heartedly with swordsmanship to keep up public appearances that "he" was just a poor son fated to die early.

Jyeong-hyo was going to accept this fate of hers, because it's for the sake of her real family's better life. Once she died, they would receive land. One day she wondered if she could end her life prematurely to fulfill her end of the bargain, but no, to placate her, she was gifted a sword that the adoptive mother claimed was from her poor birth family, who scrounged up savings to give her something so precious so she could carry on.

This turned out to be a lie, but it was that one act that narrowed her focus, so she could continue acting as a good son.

One day, she felt faint and death approaching her. Jyeong-hyo, in her delirium, saw black cords and towering shadows, and heard a knock on the wooden screen of her small room. The family was having a celebration behind the doors, saying that it seemed like "that thing" was finally going to be useful, saying, oh, my precious son, you can finally live after it's dead!

She saw these figures whip their heads around and they retreated. These emissaries of death must be careful so that they take the right person into their procession of the dead, after all.

Still sickly, but with a new sense of vigor, she decided to run away just to meet her parents. She wonders if anyone would care about her when she died. She found them, when the supplies cart that gave monthly provisions to them was making its trip-- delighted to meet them, she asked to stay the night.

Ah, but she heard, once she was presumed to be asleep, that they were plotting to turn her over to the family again once day breaks. And so she tried running away again once regaining enough strength, clutching her sword as the wind cut through her bones.

Blood and torn clothes were found at a cliff, along with her sword that she was never separated from. It was impossible to have gone down to find the body, but there were enough bloodstains to guess that she had finally died.

Her body was broken, bones shattered, and blood gushed from the wounds she had taken on her tumble down. She has a tight grip on the sheath, like it's the only thing she can call her own before she has to accept that this is her grave. "Please, I'm sorry..." She prayed, not knowing if this was the proper way. "Take the right one. I want to live. Just until it is my time."

I imagine that until this point, Jyeong-hyo's backstory between The City and HSR would be largely the same. Anything can happen in the City. Anything can happen in Fantasy Space.

She follows Finality, but she doesn't immediately become an emanator, of course. She has to prove herself.

In an attempt at humor, I'd like to think that Terminus saw her as having lots of potential to carry out actions in the name of their path. Decided to adopt her. Carry on the family business.

Her goal is just to see out her life until it reaches its end. Perhaps enjoy some bits of it.

And find the ends for the people she meets along the way, if they need it, or if it's required of her to end others' lives, too. Her lifespan's drawn out a bit more, as well. A gift, so she has the time to learn what she was deprived of, and to learn about anything else that her heart desires. Most of that information is so she has a greater depth of knowledge to judge if someone really needs to die, and she must be very careful about how she acts.

Once she became an emanator, she was on one of the Xianshou fleet-ships, the Zhuming. She was watching her sword be forged, something for herself that she'd get for herself and keep forever. Terminus likely influenced the creation of it, since it shines with the power of the spirits she had pass on.

I've been typing for an hour so I really need to go and get to studying eeeeeee

#jyeong-hyo #hsr oc #lcb oc

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tblsomedoodles · 2 years ago

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Got any wips of project you're wiling to show? I know you said some of the stuff eas kicking you're butt... maybe people seeing you're progress might help?

Yeah, i can share a couple : )

I'll share two things (mostly because the one is very self-indulgent and i'm not entirely sure i'm going to post it when it's done), and the other is just a bit of the seer twin fic i was working on

I'll put it all under a break just so it doesn't get messy.

Here's an excerpt of what i've been writing for the Seer Twins AU. This part is the very tail end of Leo's first waking vision, which i felt like i needed to write out before i could go into the talk (fight) they had the next day. (also that talk might end up being broken up? Mostly because they can't exactly talk to Donnie about hsi visions if no one else really knows he's having them. but that's besides the point.)

A decision was made and Donnie continued across the room, dropping to sit cross-legged in front of Raph and Leo. He hesitated briefly before prying one of Leo’s hands away from Raph’s arm to hold in his own.

Leo clung to Donnie’s hand like a lifeline, somehow more desperately than he still did to Raph’s arm. It had to have hurt, but Donnie didn’t so much as wince, instead leaning forward to mumbled something directly to Leo that even Raph couldn’t hear properly.

They sat like that for over an hour as Leo slowly quieted and stopped struggling. By the time the glow began to fade, Leo was limp in Raph’s arms, head laying against Raph’s plastron but his hand still firmly holding Donnie’s. His thoughts came stuttering into Raph’s awareness once again, it’s contents breaking Raph’s heart. Fear, pain, exhaustion, confusion; all sat forefront in his little brother’s mind even as he slowly blinked, taking in his surroundings for the first time since this began.

“Hey,” Leo’s voice was little more than a hoarse whisper as he saw everyone in his room. “If I had known there was going to be a party thrown in my room, I’d have cleaned first. Maybe.”

Raph was relieved as he hugged Leo close, Mikey and eventually Donnie joining soon after. Leo was hiding his thoughts behind humor again, but Raph was just glad he was aware enough to do so.

“I love the attention, really I do, but ow,” Leo said after a moment. They let go quickly, though Raph kept him in his lap propped up against his plastron. Leo was still shaky, his entire body feeling like achy Jell-O, his description, not Raph’s. Leo himself wasn’t sure if he could sit up right now, so Raph opted not to have him find out.

- The second thing is a very messy planning video for a Donnie VS the World video, that i never expected to make, but recently realized a song fit too well not to. I doubt it will be full length, or make any sense. Essentially i just had the thought of drawing one of Donnie's first encounters trying to get his brothers back. This is probably very ambitious of me considering im bullshitting my way through the animation process. (i literally do not know how to properly animate. It's all trial and error over here, plus some not-really-helpful youtube videos.) If it looks cool when it's 'finished' i'll probably post it.

This video is just Donnie breaking into a purple dragon warehouse because he heard they have Leo, only to find evidence he was there but actually finding him, and thus making that the purple dragon's problem.

thank you!

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euphorial-docx · 8 months ago

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another snippet of my seer!regulus au

The first time Regulus tried to speak, nothing came out. The second time, Mopsus interposed to utter the word: “Abomination.”

Regulus had been called many things. A lot of those things were hurtful, tore into his soul and back out again. He thought he had heard all the worst things he would ever hear, but the single word that left Mopsus was novel.

Silence befell the room. Regulus felt he had to say something, to tell Mopsus what he thought he saw, but he couldn’t talk yet. Regulus had to wait until his breathing evened out and his heart stopped trying to break his ribs.

“What am I?” Regulus asked, deeply wishing he had better words to offer.

Mopsus held Regulus’ gaze with a newfound clarity. “I saw your fate as you saw mine, but you will become something I have never known. I don’t have a name for it–”

“Abomination?” Regulus offered. Mopsus remained silent, not taking the name he offered.

Regulus watched Mopsus, waiting patiently for an answer. Silence consumed the air between them, taking the air right out of his lungs. He had to breathe mechanically. He had to keep blinking, or else the tears would fall.

“Can I not be that?” Regulus’ voice was quiet, throat thick with the cries it caged. He could feel the tremor of those crying voices inside his mind, throughout his body.

“I saw much of your life, and yet my sight eludes me after a certain moment in time,” Mopsus confessed with strain, as if pained. “Your fate is dark. I cannot see it. I cannot reach it.”

“What could you see?”

“Your Sight is strong. You see far,” Mopsus told him. Quieter, he added, “Too far, perhaps.”

“I don’t want to.”

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bridgyrose · 2 years ago

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Medieval AU

Ruby and Cinder are forced to love each other in secret,one of the two having a nightmare about being executed but is soon comforted by the other

the day after,Emerald and Mercury, knowing what's going on between them,tells them to be careful

(I cant exactly call this one medieval au... going to come up with a name for it though)

Cinder ran down the streets and to the large crowd that gathered in the middle of the village, stopping in her tracks as her eyes caught sight of the gallows. She held back from raising her own arm when she saw the noose being put around Ruby’s neck, not wanting to give herself away as she watched her lover look out towards the crowd.

“This knight has abandoned our Kingdom for a witch!” the executioner called out as he pushed Ruby forward. “Let her be a lesson to show why you must have loyalty to the queen!”

Cinder watched in horror as a block was pushed out from under Ruby’s feet. Her eyes started to glow as a ball of fire formed in her hands and the wind around her started to whistle and howl. “Let her go!”

The executioner turned to her with a grin as he raised his axe. “Its time to wake up, witch!”

Cinder closed her eyes as she felt someone push her, and then heard a whisper in her ear.

“Cinder? Cinder. Wake up.”

Cinder opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of her cottage, drenched in sweat and hands shaking as she gripped her sheets. She slowly looked towards Ruby and gave a quick smile as she lunged to her for a hug.

“Everything okay?” Ruby asked. “You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Cinder nodded and pressed in close to Ruby. “A nightmare… or a premonition. Its hard to tell the difference anymore. But I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d… rather not. You know talking about dreams and nightmares has power to make them come to pass. I… I dont want to risk it.”

“And you know I’ll be okay no matter what, right?”

Cinder held Ruby tightly, wishing she could truly believe those words. However, she knew that no matter how much she tried to believe them, that those words held no weight. “What about your oath? You’re a promised protector to Weiss-”

“And I’d give that up if it means being able to be with you longer.”

“I wish you wouldnt say that,” Cinder said with a sigh as she pulled away from Ruby. “You’d be throwing your life away. Can you really say you’d be happy with that?”

“Of course I can.” Ruby put a gentle hand to Cinder’s cheek and smiled. “There isnt a life worth living without you. But you should try to get some rest.”

“I’ll try.” Cinder slowly laid back down with Ruby and pressed into her, trying to calm from the nightmare she had. Even with Ruby’s arms around her, it was hard for her to fall asleep again as her mind raced with fear. She slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath, whispering to herself as she tried to sleep once more. “As long as you’re safe on your journey.”

Morning came too quickly as she felt the rays of the sun on her skin and the absence of Ruby’s arms around her. Cinder slowly sat up and groaned as she pushed a hand through her hair and sighed when she confirmed that Ruby had left, her cloak no longer hanging above the doorway. It no longer surprised her when Ruby had to leave before the sun was up, though it still hurt that the two of them couldnt let their love be public ever since she was branded as a witch by the queen. All it took was one mistake, one mishap with the powers she had been imbued with, for Weiss to toss her aside as the court seer and brand her as a traitor to the kingdom.

There was a knock on the door, and then a whisper from a familiar voice. “Cinder? You still in there?”

Cinder sighed and made sure she was dressed before opening the door a crack. “You really think I have anywhere else to go, Emerald?”

“No, but you never know.” Emerald pushed the door open and slowly walked in. “But that’s not important. Ruby hasnt been around here, has she?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Mercury and I overheard a few guards talking about hunting down a few traitors. And… well… we’re worried about you and Ruby. We know the two of you have been working together to get your position back with the queen, but… well… you cant be too careful.”

Cinder gripped the handle to her door tightly as her hands started to heat up, steam practically leaving her nose as she let out a heavy breath. “Then we need to make sure Ruby knows-”

“Mercury is already tracking her down.” Emerald sighed and slowly closed the door. “Please dont try to warn her yourself. All that’ll do is put you in danger.”

“I know but…” Cinder sighed and let go of the half melted door handle and dug her nails into the wooden door. “I… I had a nightmare where Ruby was hanged. What if its a sign? I have to warn her-”

“And then you’ll make it come true. I know you’re worried, but you have to let her be. Please, for your own safety and hers. Even if you have to stay away from her while she’s with the queen.”

Cinder frowned, then pulled her hand away from the door and looked away from Emerald. “Let me know if anything changes. I need to know if she ends up in trouble.”

#rwby #drabbles #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #fallen petals #unnamed medieval au

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urlocallesbiab · 2 years ago

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ok the initial post for brotzly fake couple's therapy au has already gotten way too long, so i take this as a sign i should start posting things separately and establish a new navigation tag

so, either way, a lil background on the characters

todd: exactly the same shit as canon, just imagine that instead of the seer-of-universal-truths syndrome there's some regular non-magical neurological disease running in the brotzman family.

farah: mostly similar to canon, just a bit toned down. she's not exactly an one-woman army, but she is freakishly physically fit, combat-ready, and proficient with common types of firearms — significantly more than you would expect any random person to be; she had always wanted to become a part of the police force like her brothers and father, but never passed the screenings due to debilitating anxiety, ocd and autism (never tried to join the fbi or the military tho; both her skills and her family expectations aren't That high).

her father had gotten terminally sick when she was a teen, and that significantly cut their income and added to their spendings, usa healthcare system be damned; old family friend, successful enterpreneur patrick spring, had stepped in to support them both financially and morally. farah ended up being halfway raised by him, always hanging out at his house and playing with lydia; out of all her family, save for her father, farah was the closest to patrick.

some time before the main timeline events, maybe half a year or a year ago, farah, patrick and lydia were having a nice family outing — up until patrick had been shot to death in broad daylight. his history of rising to success hadn’t been exactly pretty, you see, and the organized crime eventually took what was due. farah still blames herself for letting that happen despite her training and her worrying habit of never leaving the house without her gun; but if you asked her, really asked her how would she go about preventing that, she wouldn't be able to give you a good answer — it's just that one second he was alive, and the next he was not.

lydia, as both the key witness and the fortune's inheritor, had been taken into the witness protection program; farah hasn't heard from her since. she misses her like crazy, possible even more than patrick. therapy was meant to help her cope with the ruinous ptsd from those events, and she's been slowly, slowly making progress. that day she was having an especially Bad One — after which she and dirk got shit-faced — was soon after her father's death.

dirk: he grew up in the foster care system, and as a pre-teen was adopted by a kind and soft-bellied, if a little strict, ex-military man on a good pension, scott riggins. dirk had always been a bright kid, fascinated by complex mathematics (oh, the patterns! the beauty chaos and order! the language of the universe!) and some strains of physics (especially quantum studies; it all started with an article on shrodinger's cat and went downhill from there), quickly picking up on underlying logic within numbers (way quicker than his little undiagnosed autistic brain picked up on most social cues); teachers always promised him a bright future, even with the chronic lack of resources. scott had made sure dirk would get access to the best education possible, be taught by best tutors available, enroll into the best school imaginable; he gave dirk everything, and all the boy had to do is put in some effort. and he tried, oh god did he try; but he didn't do it hard enough. the new schoolwork load was multiple times bigger and harder than the worst he had ever experienced before, and he would often grow exhausted, distracted, unfocused and loose-minded (the adhd never got diagnosed either). some days a new and curious configuration would catch his attention and he would crack down on it with fervor, but some days he would just sit there and chew on the same three problems for hours on end to no avail. on those bright days scott saw his potential, his true and exciting and wonderful potential, and wanted the kid to live up to it; on the brain-foggy days, when he failed to do so, scott grew dissappointed. and whenever he felt disappointed, dirk felt it tenfolds on his skin. scott wasn't violent, godforbid, he's not a monster — just a little strict: it's just that he frowned, and tutted, and shook his head, and told dirk off, and didn't kiss him, and said things that dirk deserved to hear no matter how it felt, and took his books away (if there was anything the kid loved as much as math, it was thrilling detective stories, and sci-fi, ans fantasy, preferably all at once, read in one sitting) so that he wouldn't get distracted, and sometimes wouldn't call dirk down for dinner until he was done with the homework.

it hurt terribly to have the only person who'd ever cared about dirk, who had chosen him out of everyone else, who had chosen him and stuck by him, the only person in the world who loved him, be upset with dirk. for the longest time, dirk was convinced that he simply was lazy, and awful, and ungrateful, and hopeless, and the worst person to ever live, with how he let his father down time after time. but over the years, his self-hatred got so large he couldn't carry it anymore, and it spilled onto the mental image of scott, just so that he could breathe again; over the years, he grew bitter and disillusioned. as a young adult, he still couldn't tell if scott's demands and ambitions were fueled by simple materialistic hopes of fame and monetary grants, or a vain desire for glory, or some weird roundabout way of achieving personal fulfillment, but he knew for sure: scott riggins wanted himself a pet boy genius, not a son.

when the time came to attend college, dirk picked cambridge over harward, mostly because he would take any excuse to get an ocean away from scott. and he passed the exams — with flying colors! he was, after all, exceptionally smart. the teachers were delighted to have him; three months later he got booted because he missed half the classes and didn’t do any homework: drunk on the newfound freedom, stressed out by a trans-atlantic move, and lacking the only accountability system (however flawed) he'd ever had. he didn't tell scott, of course — he wasn't ready to go back home, he would do anything to avoid going there. so he took the college-student-allowance his foster father kept sending him, none the wiser, and set out backpacking across britain and then the rest of europe. soon it turned out that travelling cross-country is slightly more costly than living at the dorms, and there were only so many plausible excuses he could use to cajole more money out of scott, and coming clean about his strategical-omissal-of-crucial-information-that-wasn't-tecnhically-outright-lying was out of the question, so dirk had to cut some costs: skip a meal here, sleep on a train station bench there, get chased out by foreign policemen once or twice, a few times of staying overnight at some shady moldy place with some shady people whose language he didn't speak too well — nothing any other travelling young person hasn't seen, truly. he was coping alright. eventually scott caught wind anyway, and dirk, not that dirty and scrawny, had been forcibly dragged home. from there it's been a steep decline in the relationship: more harsh demands and more desperate pleading, more affection followed by more coldness, threats and promises from scott, and a few failed attempts at coninued education, a few move-outs followed by a few move-back-ins, plus a few ultimately abandoned career choices from dirk, who never seemed to grow out of whatever it was that was wrong with him, even as a decade slowly passed and gave way to another one.

when todd meets dirk for the first time and asks the inevitable "so what do you do for a living?", dirk introduces himself as a writer, which, combined with his rather frivolous spending habits and impressive disposable income, leads todd to assume that dirk must be some literary genius, top-nyt-bestseller, author-of-future-classics madly successful type of guy — but in reality, he sits on his arse and writes experimental-storytelling-style sci-fi/fantasy/whodunnit fusions that no agency interested in commercial success wants to look at, he's been published only once by a tiny indie house that paid him jack shit and a penny in royalties, and half his money still comes from scott. that financial dependence is the main reason dirk's in the us at the moment — he's been pulled from his latest bout of doing volunteer work for a queer nonprofit in eastern europe by the threat of cutting his whole goddamn allowance off. as a compromise, he returned to the country but not to the city, claiming that he needed fresh scenery to inspire his creativity and maybe actually write a profitable book for once; really, he just hadn't been mentally ready yet to be in the same town as scott so soon. so, settle, washington it is, why the hell not.

by the way, "dirk gently" is his pen name — legally, he's still dirk riggins. also, in the skype calls he's sometimes talked into having, dirk still calls him "father", but behind his back it's been "scott" for almost two decades now: at some point growing up he felt the need to put some mental space between himself and that man in order to stay sane.

after his fateful Big Talk with todd, where dirk admitted the less pleasant parts of his childhood and youth in most detail he had ever did in his whole life, todd convinces him to start looking for a better job to support himself, change his legal name, and someday cut riggins off for good. also get some therapy, for fuck's sake, god.

#fake couple's therapy brotzly au #vikarambles #vika's personal dghda tag #gun violence mention #dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency (tv 2016)#dghda au #farah black #dirk gently #child abuse mention #......silly fake dating au innit?#farah black 🤝 dirk gently: ptsd 🤝 cptsd #colonel scott riggins #long post #.... im so glad ive decided to make this a separate post. yesterday evening i thought 'oh ill just jot down some thots'#but it grew into a monster of 1.5K words that ate most of my time today #if you catch any typos pls do let me know im not rereading All That #kp as this thang's main fun i hope you enjoy this generous serving of. uh. angst

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brightblueflare · 9 months ago

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BLAZING SKY AU: Forest Four Culture

One of the (many) things that bother me about canon is how, in spite of the characters rejecting TigerClan in the basis of "there have always been four Clans in the forest (*sad SkyClan noises intensify*)", there's no real reason for the Clans to stay separate.

It's always "we live in X, we hunt X and we are X", nothing about the ways the Clans are different except for stereotypes played straight. WindClan used to have tunnels and loners visiting them every once in a while, but don't worry! It's all forgotten now!

(*muffled screaming of the naive reader that thought something could be interesting about this series*)

Don't get me started on SkyClan, I don't want to get angry.

So, for my Blazing Sky AU, in spite of the fact that the Forest Four don't show up until like, second book, and that's only WindClan (+Sandstorm and Dustpelt/Graystripe, still thinking about it), I'm gonna grab them and put everything that occurs to me about them.

*pats Clans on the head* These blorbos can fit so much culture in them.

Canon? What's that? Food? Nope, never heard of it. Original books? What are you talking about?

(More under the cut!)

ThunderClan

BSk's cats, like real life cats, are primarily crepuscular. However, ThunderClanners lean more towards diurnal. In no small part, this is to avoid owls, since those are the major birds of prey they can find in their territory. However, most of the animals they hunt sleep during the night, and are only active during the day; that definitely plays a factor in their sleep schedule.

They are very... heteronormative might not be the word, since they do not care if cats are in same-sex relationships, or if they're trans; but they believe all cats that can have them should have at least one litter, and can be very pushy about it. Also, they're expected to find mates, regardless of gender (amatonormativity). Cats like Mousefur and Ivypool Wouldn't Have A Good Time.

Aside from RiverClan, ThunderClan is the most strict with and protective of Queen's Rights, in spite of their original opposition of them during Oakstar's Reign. This has a cultural reason: while sires don't have to be revealed, if they are known, they are expected to raise those kittens, which can be uncomfortable if there's been a major break-up or if you only helped your friend have kittens. Cats like Spiderleg are heavily looked down upon.

After SkyClan's exile, they are the most xenophobic Clan. Cats like Thistleclaw and Tigerstar usually come from ThunderClan for a reason. However, half-Clan kittens are much more tolerated after what happened to Mapleshade. If Graystripe were to be revealed as the sire of Featherkit and Stormkit, he would be shunned, but his kittens would be accepted and taught to be loyal ThunderClan warriors... maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Very ableist. Just like in the canon books, disabled cats are pushed into the seer's den (Cinderpelt with her twisted leg, Jayfeather being blind, Briarlight with her paralyzed back legs and Alderheart with severe anxiety) or expected to retire (Longtail after being blinded, and the fear that Brightheart wouldn't become a warrior). At any rate, this ableism explains why other Clans have disabled cats as deputies (Deadfoot) and leaders (Crookedstar and Brokenstar), while ThunderClan doesn't even let them become warriors.

In spite of their name, ThunderClan values silence. They live in a forest where everything makes noise, so being quiet is a sign of a good stalker and hunter.

Just like other Clancats (except those from SkyClan), ThunderClanners worship StarClan. However, other thing they believe in is that the deceased have to be buried, preferably next to a tree. This comes from the belief that the forest gives its cats life, and that it must be returned. This is exclusive for them.

The most exigent with work and providing for the Clan. That's not to say they don't value free time, but they believe you must have done something before that.

Parents (mothers in particular) do the majority of the kitten-raising, and tend to be overlooked for positions of power, like Bluestar with her kittens, and having to give them up in order to become deputy. They are patriarchal, which is rare for cat societies.

They usually name kittens after plants (Ex. Fern, Leaf, Bracken, Holly...), animals found in their territory (Squirrel, Mouse...) and the Great Clans (Lion and Tiger in particular, Leopard- is more of a RiverClan thing, but there are cases in ThunderClan such as Leopardfoot).

Celebrations are rare. This is part of them not wanting to be "lazy". But they have one, roughly during the spring equinox, celebrating the "rebirth" of the forest, and one around the beginning of the winter, where they thank the forest for all it has provided.

They value battle, even above the other Clans, and believe every cat has to fight. Therefore, seers aren't as respected as other Clans believe they should be.

They're the Clan where the "take care of the elders as thanks for all they did for the Clan" tradition started. They take pride in this, and take the Prey's Privilege law very seriously.

Scars are considered a sign of survival and strength, and that's desirable for their battle-obsessed culture. They also like colorful pelts, particularly in odd patterns, short fur that can't hide scars, and big cats. Brightheart would be very close to their ideal of beauty.

I tried to make ThunderClan resemble the canon Clans and accidentally made it suck a lot, oops. I'm keeping it though, I like it when societies suck on purpose.

ShadowClan

Just like ThunderClan is diurnal, they are nocturnal. The most awake and active Clan during Gatherings. It unnerves the other Clans a lot (they find it funny).

They're the Clan that respects Queen's Rights the least. If the sire isn't named, they consider it free to speculate. However, they're more lax about half-Clan relationships and kittens. Long as you hunt and fight for your Clan, who cares if you visit your otherClan "friend" every once in a while, or if you're a little bit too affectionate towards a rival warrior during Gatherings; friendliness and peace is all the Gathering's about.

Expect them to name half-Clan kittens in a very otherClan way. Ex. A half-ThunderClan kitten being named "Fern" or "(red)Squirrel". This can be meant as a taunt. "Yes, this cat is half-Clan, yes they're the kitten of your Clanmate. See how they fight for us".

The least xenophobic Clan aside from SkyClan. They usually have the sentiment that "if you made half-Clan cats, former rogues and kittypets disappear, there'd be no one left in ShadowClan". Even cats like Brokenstar don't give two rat-tails about your ancestry, just what you can provide for ShadowClan.

Very much not ableist, specially towards blind cats. They live in a territory where not even sighted warriors can see very much, and the more developed senses of scent and hearing blind cats usually have is very beneficial.

Very pious, worship StarClan and often invoke their ancestors for blessings. They boast about it. They have similar beliefs about the forest to ThunderClan. But for them it's much more tradition than actual, religious belief.

Kittens are raised communally by the queens, and sires aren't expected to be involved with raising the kittens, however it's considered highly beneficial. ShadowClan considers the ability to raise kittens a sign of guiding capabilities. Those who have raised litters into adulthood have more chances of being chosen as deputies, both toms and mollies, but lean more towards picking mollies.

They usually name kittens after what they can find on their territory (Marsh, Smoke, Bog...) other predators (Fox, Badger, Hawk, Eagle, Talon...) and trees, particularly rowans, because they're the only Clan that can use their berries.

Celebrations aren't typical, but not as rare as in ThunderClan. They, for example, celebrate the new moon, as a time for healing and rebirth, alongside the start-of-winter ceremony to thank the forest for what it has provided, and the spring equinox for the growth of the forest and the return of prey.

Dark humor? You bet. Harsh, usually considered insensitive and even sadistic by the other Clans. Their favorite joke is to state something dark, maybe even cruel, matter of factly, and have others give more and more absurd responses; the first to laugh loses.

Beauty standards? What's that?- ShadowClanners don't give a crap about how you look. Size? Don't care. Pelt colors? Preferably dark, but anyways not a big deal. Scars? Look cool, what else do you want me to say? Eyes? You can see, right? Good for you; wait, you can't see? No biggie, neither can we in this place.

ShadowClan isn't exigent about mates, you can have kittens and then move on with your lives, stay together and share a nest but have no kittens, have multiple mates or simply Have Friends. They Don't Care, it doesn't matter to them.

Am I projecting on random ShadowClan cats? Yes, probably. No, I regret nothing.

WindClan

Respect Queen's Rights, but are very strict about half-Clan relationships and kittens. They are seen as traitors and "mistakes", and many times they are openly scorned. However, they do welcome cats who want to join WindClan to be with their mate.

Quite xenophobic, but surprisingly accepting of outsiders that want to join the Clan. A remnant of the times when they welcomed travelers temporarily. However, they're very scornful of deserters and cats in half-Clan relationships that don't offer their mate to join WindClan.

A bit ableist, but nothing in comparison to ThunderClan and RiverClan. Still, blind and deaf cats do not have a fun time in this Clan. Cats with limps, or with broken feet like Deadfoot or Cinderpelt are... pitied, for a lack of better word.

Very pious, because of their closeness to the Mothermouth, and proud of it too. Their beliefs aside from SkyClan center around the wind and the earth. It was believed tunnelers should be buried, and that moor runners were better left in the open to feed the earth in their deaths as it fed them during life. This ended with the death of tunneling (thanks Heatherstar).

Kittens are raised communally, everyone collaborates, regardless of gender. Everyone is expected to lend a paw in guiding the little ones on the path to adulthood.

Usually, they name kittens after what they can find on their moor (Hill, Cloud, Tor, Mud, Fly, Stone, Thrush, Heather, Breeze, Hare, Rabbit...). Unlike other Clans, they don't tend to use the Great Cats for names.

Many, simple celebrations. The coming of spring, the summer solstice to pray for the stars to rise again, the fall equinox to celebrate the return of the stars, the winter solstice to thank the earth for all it has provided, the middle of fall where there's a feast (to gain weight before the hardest season)... And many superstitious beliefs, like how kittens born under the full moon are fortunate.

They have a lot of songs, mostly related to their myths and folklore. They are very musical.

They like brown and orange pelts, since they are easy to camouflage. They also love scars.

RiverClan

The Queen's Rights Clan. The law originated here, and its cats take it very seriously. Most of them are, too, very lax about known half-Clan cats. Blood purity that ThunderClan is obsessed with means nothing to RiverClan, it's just alien to them.

Very accepting of Clancats changing allegiance and joining their Clan, but very hostile towards outsiders. Graystripe and Silverstream's kittens would have better luck in RiverClan than, say, Hawkfrost and Mothwing.

Ableist. Very. However, they're also the Clan with more disabled cats, deaf and hard of hearing cats in particular. Life isn't fun for them.

They're much more chill about religion than the other Clans. Aside from the obligatory prayers and celebrations, there isn't much they do in tribute to StarClan. However, they do thank the river for what it has provided.

Kitten raising is communal. Much more than in other Clans. It doesn't matter if you're their parent, their sire/dam, their kin or just a random Clanmate. You. Raise. The Kittens.

Usually, they name their kittens after the river or other bodies of water (Stream, Moss, Lake, Misty, Stone, Reed, Rain, Drizzle, Storm...), fish (Carp, Trout, Minnow...), insects (Dragon{fly}, Moth...), birds (Swan, Duck...) and leopards.

They only have one major celebration, led by the seer, where they give thanks to the river for feeding them during the year, and promise to only hunt on land while it recovers during the winter, while its surface is frozen.

RiverClanners love decoration. If something's necessary, might as well be pretty. They collect shells, feathers, flowers and pretty rocks to decorate their dens' walls or to put on their nests. Giving someone a flower is a sign of trust and appreciation.

They love slick pelts, odd and multicolored patterns and eye colors like green or blue, since amber and yellow are considered common and boring. Like all the other Clans, they like scars, particularly those in the face, the neck or the stomach.

#blazing sky au #thunderclan #riverclan #windclan #shadowclan #forest four #cultural differences #warrior cats #Clan beauty standards #traditions

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awkwardgtace · 2 years ago

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If it's not too late, prompt 10 sounds hilarious for seer and the gods au 😂

ty for the prompt. It was very much not too late!! I don't know if this is quite what you pictured, but it's the first thing I thought of and couldn't consider anything else!

Naughtiest and Nicest

Delphia could barely keep her eyes open as she returned to the gods’ realm. This time of year had turned into a constant stream of visions. People making risky choices out of a rush to be with their families. It seemed like each time she closed her eyes another vision occurred. As soon as the light faded from the door she thought for sure she’d been sent another vision.

In front of her Vincent was sitting with his back against her door and his head in his hands. He never came to the gods’ realm, he hated it there. She waited for something to happen, the vision to move forward. Instead she just sat there in silence with Vincent barely moving. He kept his head down, grabbing at something she couldn’t before snapping his head up to face her.

“You’re back,” he said. She’d never heard him scared like this. “You need to fix this. Rhys wanted me to explain the holidays and I started explaining the whole guy who watches everything with lists.”

“They think it’s Vitus right?” she asked. It made sense in a way to her. The descriptions she heard of the one Vincent meant, white hair and kind at least, matched the god of life. The other descriptors not so much, he did keep a list though.

“At first, I told them it was someone else when they asked.” He stood up placing a hand on the door. “Then I told them it was a naughty or nice list. Now…”

Vincent pulled open the door and she could hear the rumbling voices of the gods.

“I’ve already made it clear,” Felix said. Delphia frowned, she knew the tone he was using. Blaming himself for things out of his control. “Clearly the one at the top of this naughty list would be me. The desperation for prosperity drives mortals to cruelty.”

Delphia sighed, Vincent had already grabbed her arm and started out the door. She didn’t know how to fix it. The naughty list would probably have them all spiraling in some manner.

“Ash… I think I’d be on that list,” she heard Alessia’s melodic voice echo through the hall. “I keep hoping our seer would spend less time with the mortals… I’ve been selfish.”

“Vincent, how long has this been going on?” Delphia asked. She stopped following him, making him stop too.

“I’m not sure, time here is weird. I don’t even know how long it’s been since Rhys brought me here,” he sighed. She could hear the annoyance in his voice, but there was a bit of fear in how his hand tightened. It didn’t matter how much she and Rhys promised the gods were kind, Vincent stayed nervous.

“Wars are held because of me!” Ryder shouted. She didn’t think anyone else noticed the slight tremor in his voice. He hated everything about his domain. “Mortals kill each other endlessly, many seek glory through it!”

Vincent took that as the sign to get them moving again. She followed along, picturing Ash’s face as they tried to convince Alessia she wasn’t bad. They rounded the corner, finding Ash and Alessia standing near the entrance closest to them. Sola and Luna were standing between the two gods. It was the first time in a long time she felt intimidated walking up to them.

“Wouldn’t that mean Lady Death is on that list?” Luna’s quiet voice shocked her. It was clear he’d been crying, but there was nothing she could think of as why. Unless he thought he’d be on the list from scaring others… “She’s so nice she doesn’t belong there.”

“Of course not,” Ash placed a hand on Luna’s head as they spoke. “She guides others; she and Lord Life would be on the nice list Vincent mentioned. Tied at the top with the little flower.”

Delphia paused just next to the gods. All of them were focused on the argument she and Vincent went ignored. Vincent brought her to the stairs leading to one of the counters and sat just within the shelter it provided. He didn’t quite let her walk out, but she did look back at the four gods closest to her. Sola was grabbing at Ash’s other hand. The child-like goddess seemed pained.

“Am I naughty for sneaking out to watch mortals and draw in the clouds?” she whispered. Delphia knew the others had missed it, but Ash’s smile and shake of their head relieved her.

“If selfish actions put someone on that list I’m clearly the one at the top.” Felix’s voice was almost convincing. “There are countless selfish actions done in the name of prosperity.”

“Enough!” Rhys’s shout made her cover her ears. Vincent stood and pulled her behind him. Something made her think she’d seen the more volatile emotions of the god of love, it wasn’t easy to witness. “If you want to argue who’s the worst it would be me. The emotions mortals feel are what causes wars, cruelty, selfishness and anything else you can think of. I'm at the top of that list.”

It turned into all of them talking at once. It was hard to make out the words with how loud their voices were. Vincent started to push her back, clearly second guessing his choice to bring her here. Delphia moved forward watching the argument unfold. Only to think of the children from the village she’d been visiting.

The longer the argument went on the more she was reminded of the children. Shouts of who was nicest, who had done the most selfless things. A smile crept onto her face. After only a few seconds she started to giggle, then it turned into full on laughter. The room slowly fell silent as she laughed. Vincent had stood up to block her almost completely from view. She just couldn’t stop laughing.

“You’re arguing like children,” she breathed. She heard Felix huff and Ryder gasp, but everyone else was still silent. “They usually argue over who was nicest, but it’s the same thing.”

“Del,” Vincent whispered. She knew he was worried, but if he’d seen the groups of children she had he’d be laughing too.

“Little warrior?” Ryder asked. She looked towards where the god of war had been standing with Felix. He came closer than she expected, but it didn’t bother her. She stepped out around Vincent, a squeeze on his arm to promise she’d be alright.

Ryder set his palm flat on the table. His eyes were shining, he’d likely been holding back tears. She climbed on without hesitation, her laughter slowly dying. He lifted her up to his face, the fingers taller than her curling over her. She leaned against the closest finger, the exhaustion she pushed away resurfacing.

“There’s no top of either list. It’s just meant to encourage kindness,” she sighed. The fingers around her tensed. As quickly as they tensed they flattened, Ash’s palm held out where she could walk over to it. She stood and walked slowly, pausing just before stepping onto their palm. “I do have an idea, if you want to follow holiday traditions and give a gift to those you all put on the nice list that is.”

The eyes of every god locked on her. She smiled as she met each pair. She didn’t miss Vincent now sitting securely in Rhys’s palm too. There was no telling whether the others would follow her idea, but she’d give it a shot. The worst case she’d help them all do something to celebrate the holiday. Vincent knew more and could help too.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dabria walked out of her office following behind Vitus. Her little raven had asked them to go with her to the kitchen, she asked for things so rarely they couldn’t say no. Vitus kept glancing at her as though she’d know what was going on. He’d be the one they go to for surprises, if they weren’t too nervous it would anger them. As they walked the sky gods ran up to them. Luna grabbed Vitus’s free hand while Sola grabbed on to her. They continued walking as the two fell into step with them.

“D-Dabria,” Sola started, she gasped hearing her own name from the young god, “will you draw in the clouds with me today?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

“V-Vitus!” Luna squeaked. She watched the god of life stiffen, unsure how to act from hearing his own name. “Will you help me write down more of the stars’ stories later?”

“Yes,” Vitus said warmly.

The twin gods ran off, but before they could say anything Rhys appeared just before they took the turn towards the kitchen.

“Vitus, Dabria, Vincent said he’s ready to meet the two of you, maybe over the next few days?” Rhys said. She sent a look towards her little raven, the smile on the mortal woman’s face a clear tell she knew the cause of the sudden change. Vitus just kept a wide eyed look on Rhys.

“Whenever he’s ready… Rhys,” Vitus seemed unsure how to respond. Honestly Dabria was as well. Felix and Ryder were quick to replace the god of love as he disappeared in a flurry of petals.

“Dabria, if you have more designs there is a mortal I believe would be receptive,” Felix said as he passed by. She just nodded at him.

“Vitus, have you considered my offer of chess?” Ryder asked.

“Maybe after I write the stories with Luna.”

The two gods walked off, Dabria grabbed Vitus and stared down at her little raven in his hand. She slipped two fingers under Delphia’s arms, the human woman helped with the movement. The small thin arms tightly pressed against Dabria’s fingers reminded her that she was trusted. She brought her raven up to sit in her palm, curling her fingers around the small woman.

“What did you do?” she asked. Vitus hummed, he was catching on now. The smile of the human in her palm didn’t falter at all. Delphia climbed to her feet, the small movements still shocked her.

“Nothing at all,” she grinned.

“I doubt that,” Vitus chuckled. Delphia just tapped her fingers, clearly wanting them to keep moving. It was almost tempting to refuse, to hold the little raven close until she found out.

Dabria started walking. She wouldn’t do that, she promised never to make her raven feel trapped. She did hold the little human pressed against her heart though. Vitus slipped his hand into her free one, lacing their fingers together. As they finally reached the kitchen Ash and Alessia were sitting there. She smiled at the two before Alessia jumped up and approached them.

“Dabria, Vitus, have you seen the little seer?” she asked. Dabria flattened her hand, holding back a pout as Alessia took her raven. Ash walked up, a soft smile on their face.

“We plan to be in the mortal realm today… Vitus, Dabria.” Ash nodded and the two disappeared in a flash of lightning and brilliant light.

“I don’t know what she did, but… I’d be happy if this continues,” Dabria said. Vitus wrapped an arm around her pulling her close.

“I would be too,” Vitus whispered.

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