#path of the everlasting hearth

[cagemasterfantasy]

MLP AU: Barbarian: Path of the Everlasting Hearth

Note: This uses the rules for 2024 Barbarian

The Everlasting Hearth prioritizes non-lethal solutions whenever possible. They seek to understand their enemies and offer them a chance at redemption. These Barbarians fight best alongside allies. They bolster their companions and draw strength from their bonds. The Everlasting Hearth is a staunch defender of the weak and vulnerable. They are driven by an unwavering commitment to justice and compassion. While capable of great ferocity, these Barbarians also possess a nurturing side. They offer comfort and healing to those in need.

Level 3 Shared Burden: When you enter a Rage, choose one ally within 30 feet of you. While you are raging, that ally gains temporary hit points equal to your Barbarian level + your Strength modifier. These temporary hit points last until your rage ends.

Level 6 Empathy's Embrace: When you or an ally within 30 feet of you is hit by an attack, you can use your reaction to grant that ally resistance to the damage type of the triggering attack. You must be raging to use this ability.

Level 10 Harmony's Fury: When you score a critical hit against a creature, you can choose to deal Radiant damage instead of your weapon's normal damage. Additionally, the target creature must make a Wisdom saving throw against your spell save DC (8 + your proficiency bonus + your Strength modifier). On a failed save, the creature is Charmed by you until the end of your next turn. While Charmed in this way, the creature is Incapacitated.

Level 14 Everlasting Hearth: At the start of each of your turns while you are raging, you and all allies within 30 feet of you regain hit points equal to 2d6 + your Strength modifier.

[somnoir]

first time giving a prompt

deaged!Danny (may include Dani, Dan and/or Jazz too if you like) given to Themyscira to be raised by Kronos (Clockwork). They were given a vague reason (they either might end the world or save it. kinda like the PJO Great Prophecy "to preserve or raze")

cause a boy/s is/are involved. They get sent to be raised by Diana instead

i just really want mom!Diana to happen

god I love mom!Diana so much! I need this woman to just pop up to the watchtower with her own baby and tell the others to fuck off cause, BATMAN HAS HIS BABIES I HAVE MINE!

Percy Jackson themes? Let's go!

Children of Diana - part 1

Kronos was always a mysterious and frightening figure in their stories. The father that devoured their children upon a prophecy of a throne to be taken by his child. Five had fallen into his stomach, Hestia of the hearth fell first, whilst Hades was the last to be eaten. Only by Rhea's cunning did their youngest, Zeus, survive his father's hunger and grow to be king.

But Kronos never truly stayed dead.

He was time embodied, moving with every universe, even as he melted away from their world and into another.

Hippolyta told her stories of Kronos, along with how she wished for a child and how her love for one allowed her to make Diana out of clay and give her blessing of goddesses to be a mother to a blessed daughter. Diana heard stories from her mother of everlasting Kronos who's name shifted with worlds, with his domain of time. How the titan has moved past from his children and embedded himself into the stars.

Diana heard of his stories but never in her lifetime did she expect to be met with that same Titan.

Her first instinct was to bow, to greet this almighty titan with the proper etiquette. But Kronos only smiled at her, snapping his fingers.

One moment Diana was Louvre, then next she was beside her mother in Themyscira.

"Diana!" Hippolyta blinked, bewildered to see her daughter before the atmosphere turned tense, cold.

Once again, the Amazons were graces—perhaps even cursed—with the Master of Time's presence.

"Kronos." Hippolyta sucked in a deep breath, her stance going rigid as she prepared to greet and attack their guest. "My lord..."

"Progeny of mine," Kronos wore a purple rone that shadowed his face, with a body that floated from the ground. In his hand was a peculiar staff with a glowing blue clock. "I have no trust in my children but... You Amazons are more sensible and responsible than my brats."

"Except for Hestia. I would trust her but she is too close to them for my liking." He drawled, startling Diana.

Hestia was the eldest of the traitors, the first to be eaten. She was still referred to as a traitor and yet there is evident fondness in Kronos' voice.

"Nevermind that." Kronos waved it off, "Pandora has claimed that you are trustworthy—" THE FIRST WOMAN PANDORA?! "So I shall trust you with this prophecy. Especially, Diana... Wonder Woman. You will prove essential to the fulfillment of this prophecy."

Diana's body stiffened, unable to help but grab her mother's hand. Blessed as she was, Hippolyta squeezed her daughter's hand, comforting and reassuring before they nodded and waited for the prophecy...

Kronos was smiling.

"From the death of youth, a monarch shall rise,

To fall, and rise again with time's reprise.

Brother and sister by the throne will stand,

Balance to bring, or doom to command.

Should the path be dark, the stars will weep,

For the universe's fate, the king shall keep."

Diana's breath hitched. The prophecy was... It was scary. She couldn't fathom it. From the lines alone, there was a possibility of the universe's doom... But it involves a king of sorts.

What did that entail?

Kronos was laughing now. "Be wary, Diana of Themyscira... The High King of the infinite realms and his siblings will arrive soon..."

"The infinite realms?!" Hippolyta almost looked faint.

"Yes. The king, his royal siblings the prince and princess have entered a new cycle. Their oldest royal sister is currently regent and unable to raise them in the realms."

Diana cleared her throat, "My apologies, but why is the regent unable to raise her siblings?"

"Regent Queen Jasmine Phantom died long ago. She is a full ghost whilst her siblings are epitomes of balance, both living and dead. As they are still very much alive, being in the realms for too long during their years of development is unhealthy for their constitutions." He explained, glancing at his staff.

"It is time."

Again, Diana was startled and almost lunged forward for more answers before her mother squeezed her hand again. Her breath caught, glancing back at her mother who sent her a warning glare.

"I wish you the best of luck, Diana." Kronos smiled, almost softly, "You will do well to raise my children. I am in your debt."

All at once, Diana was suddenly the mother of three and someone the Master of Time owed a debt too.

Diana had not expected to find three children in her home. Yes, she expected to find three individuals, but she had at least expected infants. Not three children who's ages varied.

"Hello..." The middle of the three said, blue eyes, black hair, scrawny and small.

"Hello." She softly said, looking around her apartment before crouching in front of the children with the softest smile she could ever give. "I am Diana. Could you give me your names, little ones?"

"Dante." The eldest of the three, with blue eyes that flashed red, grunted.

"Daniel but I go by Danny." The middle smiled, then gestures to the toddler that clung to Dante. "This one is Danielle but she likes to be called Ellie."

The girl waved at her, rosy cheeks with blue eyes pile her brothers.

"Clockwork said we had to come to you because our sister couldn't keep us in the realms. We're sorry for the trouble." Danny grimaces, genuinely apologetic and clasping his hands together.

"I told that bastard that we didn't need to be deaged or anything. But no! He kept saying that we needed a vacation or whatever." Dante scoffed, rolling his eyes before adjusting little Elle in his arms.

Diana saw the discomfort on the eldest's expression as he tried to adjust his little sister in his arms. She offered her service to him, gesturing for Dante to give the toddler to her, bur she received a growl and a glare from crimson eyes.

One of the boys was the king of the infinite realms turned into a child. The prophecy had clearly stated that the king would be joined by his sister and brother, so the possibility of little Ellie being the king was void. So it was between the boys then.

"Don't be mean, Dan! Miss Diana is already trying her best right now. I'll tell Clockwork and Aunt Pandora that you're being mean to their favorite." Danny snapped, swatting his brother's shoulders.

"It is alright, your majesties."

"Oh!" Danny flushed red, "No need for that. You don't have to!" He insisted, "I'm not king at the moment since Jasmine demanded we were given a break... I just didn't think that a break meant going through a new human cycle."

Diana's eyes softened, so Daniel was king. "I see... I do not mind being your caretaker, little ones. I have friends who have children, and I have found myself rather envious of them. Truthfully, I never expected to beae children myself but... My mother lost the ability to have one herself, and yet she made me from clay."

Dante nodded, "We've heard of your story. It's quite beautiful how your mother loved you so much, even when you were nothing but a dream... But she managed to make you reality with that love. It's quite inspiring."

Danny soon explained, "Our mortal mother died many years ago. She and our father were ghosts, citizens of the infinite realms before my siblings and I encouraged them to follow through with reincarnation. We would have had our eldest sister do the same, but she is more stubborn than our parents." The fond smile on his lips was one tinged by melancholy and longing.

Diana realized that these children were ripped away from what they called home, forced by their own sister for their sakes. Immortal monarchs were thought to be all powerful, undying and never needing rest.

Diana herself saw it as such, with how Zeus refused to relinquish his throne, of how his siblings and children attempted to usurp him the same way he did with Kronos.

But the royals of the infinite realms seemed to be of a different breed. The dead who were once mortal, living, before time caught up to them and their existences were given to the realms. That humanity seemed to be what made the Ghostly royals to be so... Extraordinary. Because it was clear to Diana that the regent Jasmine loved her kingly brother and royal siblings with all her heart. Especially when she was willing to sit upon the throne, carry the burden of monarch, for a life time. All because she wanted them to be given a chance at happiness.

Diana has heard stories of the realms, of how the previous king, a tyran named Pariah Dark, was defeated. Phantom became king through conquest and it was rumoured he had still been a child, still alive and only half dead, when he was given the crown.

"Well then..." She cleared her throat, smiling softly. "I hope that you will be able to live comfortably with me, little ones. I will not force you to see me as a mother, but I will do everything I can to be a proper caretaker. I will love and cherish you the same way my mother and sister did."

That statement alone seemed to have affected the three, enough that Dante relaxed.

The second time Diana tried to take Ellie from his arms, Dante sis not resist. He carefully tucked his sister into her arms, showing her how she liked to be held.

Ellie giggled, reach up to her and nuzzling her cheek against Diana's chest.

"Adorable." She whispered, kissing the little girl's forehead before turning back to her brothers. "May I know how old you currently are?"

"Physically or chronologically?"

Diana chuckled, "Physically."

"I'm ten. Danny's eight and Ellie's two." Dante explained, pointing to them each whenever he spoke. "But chronologically, we're around... Actually, I don't know. Time in the realms and time here is different. It's also different from our earth. So..."

"Ah, no need to explain if it's too confusing. I understand that time flows differently for everyone. Let us just say that you've existed for a few centuries, yes? Keep it vague for everyone else." Diana grinned, already thinking of how Batman would be utterly perplexed by that.

"Well then, let us get you settled in, yes? Unfortunately, I only have one guest room." Diana frowned, cooing at little Elle that tried to wiggle our of her grasp, "I was planning on moving soon since this part of Paris is a little too loud for me."

A little white lie. She'd have to ask Bruce for help of finding a new space in a short time.

The three looked suspicious, skeptical, and already feeling guilty. Diana was quick to act, ushering them to their rooms, asking them if they've eaten and what they'd like for dinner if not.

Aside from a new place, she needed to acquire herself some parenting books. Yes. Lots and lots of parenting books, especially if her children were eldritch beings.

Maybe Bruce had more experience in that field.

No, Diana, do not think like that. You're a mother now.

Especially when she was the mother of three while Bruce was only parenting one child. Though said child was now a rather rebellious fifteen year old.

Masterpost

[girlypopastro]

fire signs as their respective fire

leo is a hearth. they have this warm warm presence like sun on your skin. they stay put and let others gravitate. that can mean that some rely on others validation to fuel their fire. until they realise the only thing that the sun needs is its own nuclear fusion. the sun is an everlasting orb of power.

aries is a spark. the issue is they can spark their spark too hard and burn out. they cab be this flash of light and then nothing. they’re the sparks when too rocks hit each other. they’re the spark when you work with metals or heavy machinery. they can start a fire like you’ve never seen but it’s not guaranteed. that’s the risk when sparks fly but you can’t count on starting a fire to keep yourself warm to be that easy.

sag is a wild fire. hungry. you don’t know where it came from. possibly just a hot hot dry day and there it was. in all its famished glory. there is not rhyme or reason just a hunger for the world. it will keep consuming everything in its path, curious just how far it can get, no regards, no regrets. of no help to anyone either, just hungry. and once it burns everything, wait for the spring hence it will bring new beginnings.

[f1n3l1n3p0rcup1n3]

Flame for DAMS

DAMS, I burn for you

Like an everlasting flame lit in the abundance

Of natural gas, rooted in the earth,

Anchored to the stars that guide our hearts.

It's not a sparkler, with a definite end

That dances and delights as it wanes.

It's not a forest fire that rages on,

Leaving decimation in all its paths.

It is in a quiet, safe hearth on brick and stone

Kept safe from the wind and stable itself,

Warming steadily and brightly as it

Rises and lowers and rises again,

Adjusting for when to change shape,

Alter in form as it adapts to the growth

Of its environment, its fuel, and its

Needs for more energy or safer harbor

I burn for you, I burn for you, and I will still

Burn for you when oxygen is low, when the

Wood runs scarce in the winter, or when a

Large flame is too hot for the summer.

My fire for you will continue, ready to grow

Or diminish to survive, waiting as long as is

Needed before more tinder is added or

A sturdier chimney is built for its protection.

My flame and I are here for the long run,

Hooked up to the ground's natural streams,

And if there's promise to share your flame too

Then I'll keep mine lit and waiting.

[thelorehold]

The Frost Wyrm's Hunger: Whispers in the Blizzard

Objective: Recover a stolen artifact, the Everlasting Torch, from a band of barbarian raiders before they use it to awaken a slumbering Frost Wyrm and unleash its icy fury upon the mountain kingdom.

Quest Giver: Borin Stonehammer, a grizzled dwarf warrior with a thick beard woven with braids and a single, icy blue eye. He carries a massive warhammer and speaks with a gruff yet determined tone.

Details:

A biting wind howls through the snow-laden mountain pass, whipping the party with flurries as they seek refuge in a dwarven outpost. They encounter Borin Stonehammer, a renowned dwarf warrior, his face etched with worry. He reveals a dire situation – a band of barbarian raiders known as the Sons of Ymir have stolen the Everlasting Torch, a powerful artifact gifted by a long-dead fire giant king.

Legend speaks of a slumbering Frost Wyrm, a colossal ice dragon imprisoned beneath the mountain by the Everlasting Torch's warmth. Without it, the ancient magic weakens, and the Frost Wyrm stirs in its icy tomb. If awakened, the Frost Wyrm's icy breath will engulf the entire mountain kingdom in an eternal winter, burying villages and choking the land in frost.

Borin, knowing the party's reputation for bravery, pleads for their help. They must venture into the treacherous blizzard-ravaged mountains, track down the Ymir barbarians, and retrieve the Everlasting Torch before it's too late.

Reward:

The party earns the eternal gratitude of the dwarven king and the respect of the mountain folk. They are showered with gifts of finely crafted weapons and armor, and their deeds are sung by dwarven bards for generations to come.

Borin offers them a place of honor amongst the dwarven warriors, granting them access to elite training in mountain warfare and a warm hearth within the dwarven stronghold.

The recovered Everlasting Torch, once returned to its rightful place, strengthens the bonds between the dwarves and fire giants, securing future trade and potential aid against future threats.

Optional Hooks:

One of the party members possesses a magical weapon forged by a fire giant, humming with warmth against the biting cold and hinting at a connection to the Everlasting Torch.

The party witnesses the devastating effects of the weakening magic – crops wither in previously fertile valleys, glaciers encroach upon once-safe settlements, and sightings of monstrous ice creatures become more frequent.

Rumors circulate about a hidden cave system rumored to be the Ymir barbarians' base. However, the treacherous path leading there is riddled with crevasses, guarded by ferocious yeti, and requires traversing treacherous ice bridges. The party may need to acquire the help of a skilled mountain guide or a dwarf skilled in the ancient magic of fire giants to navigate the dangers and reach the Torch.

[44gamez]

Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor review: An auto-shooter with a great twist

I've spent the previous couple of days delving into the darkness of Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor, and have solely sometimes taken a break to come back up for air. That is yet one more tackle the bullet-hell survival formulation established by Vampire Survivors, utilizing the sci-fi setting of the unique Deep Rock Galactic. It’s a mix that works in addition to chocolate and peanut butter. I’ve spent hours fleeing from bugs and mining precious ore, and but each time I step away, I discover myself craving for the mines. Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor begins with solely one of many 4 dwarves from the unique sport accessible, the Scout. The Scout teaches the participant the fundamentals of the sport, utilizing his enhanced mobility to flee the bugs whereas whittling them down with regular automated arms hearth. Every spherical begins with a drop pod touchdown deep within the mines, and the dwarf emerges with a beginning weapon and a few aims: gather assets from across the map and draw out the elite boss by slaying wave after wave of an unstoppable alien swarm. The Scout begins with a easy assault rifle, however the longer I performed, the extra of an arsenal I unlocked. I gained XP from mining and killing bugs; each time I leveled up, I obtained a small improve like motion pace, hearth fee on my weapon, or extra injury. At sure milestones, I unlocked the choice for a brand new weapon — maybe a cryo grenade if I’m coping with swarms, or a high-powered sniper rifle to get rid of powerful targets. The weapons routinely hearth, however go down whereas they reload. I wanted to regulate my ammo, watch my positioning, and gather the entire goodies on the map with out being overwhelmed by monsters.

Picture: Funday Video games/Ghost Ship Publishing Often, the Deep Rock Galactic company was form sufficient to offer me a provide drop. I needed to discover these beacons and clear the world round them, then look ahead to the drop itself to come back down. If I used to be profitable, I obtained an artifact — one thing like an ammo clip that offers me a a lot increased hearth fee at the price of assault pace, or the possibility to seek out gold in any rock I occur to mine. If I needed to abandon the provision beacon to save lots of my life, it smarted — and the remainder of the run was a lot more durable because of this. Throughout my first few rounds, I took the time to seek out my toes and didn’t fear an excessive amount of about advancing. This can be a sport the place you will die early and sometimes — and that’s simply a part of the enjoyable. Each time I died, I returned to the primary menu, the place I might unlock new everlasting upgrades with the assets I earned throughout my final match. The following time I went down, I used to be stronger, quicker, and wiser. I additionally finally earned the power to play as the opposite lessons: the Gunner, Engineer, and Driller. Whereas the primary few rounds of Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor felt a bit samey, the sport opened up as I unlocked and performed as new lessons. Each spherical, I had some new improve to check or a brand new instrument accessible within the random arsenal. The 4 lessons all play in another way as properly. Whereas the Scout is a nimble man who runs and weapons, the Gunner is way happier going through down the swarm and permitting his large minigun to tear by means of bugs like moist tissue paper; the Engineer drops turrets, creating zones of management; and the Driller is the most effective miner of the group by far.

Picture: Funday Video games/Ghost Ship Publishing Mining was important, no matter class. Beneficial minerals had been wedged within the rock that I wanted for upgrades. Secondly, mining allowed me to create new paths that had been essential for survival. If I used to be wedged up in opposition to a rock, with each bug within the universe coming at me to munch my bones, I turned and noped out by tunneling by means of the stone. The trick is that mining will be gradual work, particularly when making an attempt to get particular assets. The perfect rounds of Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor are those the place I beat the percentages by intelligent use of mining to open up new paths, evading the swarm and feeling like a Large Mind Genius within the course of. I’ve not often hung out in Deep Rock Galactic itself, just because it’s not a sport on rotation for my pal group. However it’s enjoyable to get to strategy that world from one other angle, one that's extra fitted to solo play. There’s an quantity of brainless pleasure to the sport — all I've to fret about is pointing my dwarf in the fitting path, and he'll do the remainder. All of the whereas, I get the serotonin enhance of leveling up and getting neat new weapons. I remorse to report that as an alternative of mind, there's Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor. Deep Rock Galactic: Survivor was launched on Feb. 14 on Home windows PC. The sport was reviewed utilizing a pre-release obtain code offered by Ghost Ship Publishing. Vox Media has affiliate partnerships. These don't affect editorial content material, although Vox Media might earn commissions for merchandise bought through affiliate hyperlinks. Yow will discover further details about Polygon’s ethics coverage right here. Source link Read the full article

[the-cadent-roses]

Goodbye World

April 16th 2023 (16)

._+ Mis-eye-ventures Day CCLXV +_.

High Hi-(GYM)-ks 百六十一日

Mom and I walked to a nearby plaza to get some breakfast, I got some scrambbled eggs and she got some tomate-based dish. After this, I was asked by my cousin to pick up some law-methodology books for his doctorate, somewhere near the downtown. I went via subway, and as soon as I got them, I walk back quite a bit, thus crossing paths with a strange miniature-bakery. As I got home, I told mom about the bakery, she told me, much to my surprise, that it has been a staple of the city for at least three decades. Then we called our driver friend, and went to the nearest miniature-bakery. Without giving it a second thought, I got a little purple cake for Beautiful-Faerie-Hearth. We got back home, and evem with the everlasting menace of a storm, I was well on my way to the subway, so I could deliver said cake. She loved the cake, I love her, what a wonderful day this was.

~Roses~

The aforementioned, cutesy little cake.

[ilbound]

closed. // @crystalcracked ( ft. dyn'lo, rek'yr & kylan )

A gift , a SECOND CHANCE AT LIFE granted by the restoration of the Crystal ; one not to be squandered , one to be savored and held close to heart ( don’t lose faith again , children , says the world through the great song , you may not have this opportunity again ) .  And how it was a lifetime ago since last the hidden homestead of the Dustling has been so FULL & LIVELY , a commingling of the native creatures and their Dousan other-halves gathered in common motive to mend each other’s wounds ( so great a scene which has not occurred since the age of harmony , when the first bond was forged & the first congregation was held ) .  It would seem that since their return – both through Dustling and Dousan eye alike – that there is no better chance to solidify their tribes’ everlasting u n i o n , as what was truly intended of their people so many generations passed.

Ayn’ra makes her way through the throngs of Dustling-Dousan mesh , nodding her head cordially to those who pause in their tasks to greet her.  She’s little time to stop and chat , though she knows it would be best if she COULD ( & she would like to , if there be a moment to spare ) , but her focus is rightly torn , scattered ‘tween here – her home – and the Dousan’s needs.  For now , however , Ayn is on a p e r s o n a l mission ( for once ) .  She finds herself near the luminescent pool of the central oasis marking the heart of the homestead , the carved stone hearth fixed to the island amid the cool waters huffing a fragrant , pleasant haze into the air , wreathing anyone nearby in loose spools of colorful , calming smoke.

❝ Tireless as ever , aren’t you ? ❞  The Great One calls , smiling a bit when Dyn’lo turns to her and gives her his usual withering , unamused glare.

Sending those ‘round him on their way with a few quick signs of his paws , Dyn’lo makes his way over , crossing his arms.  ❝ Is that not why you appointment me as Chamberlain , Ayn ?  So that I may help you ensure this community is repaired ? ❞

She snorts softly , leaning forward enough to nestle her head against his , a simple though affectionate gesture that makes the other tense slightly.  ❝ Even y o u would need rest , Dyn’lo. ❞  He grumbles reluctantly , and she laughs to herself , drawing back again.  ❝ Besides , there’s someone waiting for you in the Hall of Hearing with Master Rek’yr. ❞

❝ But I still need to — ❞

❝ — Shh , shh ! ❞  Ayn waves her stone scepter , just narrowly avoiding thwacking the Chamberlain on the head as she widely , grandly gestures with it towards the Hall at the Northern point of the homestead.  ❝ No arguing with me !  I’ll hear nothing of it !  And it might well do you some good. ❞  She motions with her free paw , a sort of flicking movement that tells Dyn’lo the conversation is over and he should get going.

Fur ruffling , head lifting , he huffs but does not argue ( there’s no point when it comes to ayn , it’s impossible to win ) .  Spreading his wings , he takes flight towards the domed building in the North.  Entering , he quickly descends down the stairwell and follows the paths to the Hall itself ; a large and ornate hollowed cavern b e l o w the sands where most matters of importance come to be decided.  Something gives him pause just beyond the threshold , yes – there are certainly two shadows flickering over the stonework – but it is m o r e than that.  He inhales , easily plucking Rek’yr’s scent amid the swathes of his peers , yet finds another too-familiar note that stops his heart— No , it couldn’t be !  Gathering himself , though his nerves follow him , Dyn’lo enters the Hall , letting his gaze settle first on Rek’yr who tips his head , then to ⸺ 

❝ ⸺ Kylan ? ❞

[ddarker-dreams]

Genshin Boys / First Kisses.

Childe

The first thing you feel is the wall against your back. What comes next is no less harsh or all-consuming.

Ravenous, ravenous, ravenous; that’s what the harbinger is to his core. How can he learn to give when taking is all he knows? Lives, futures, opportunities, he’s taken that and more. He knows he won’t stop there either. His foolish conquest can only end in one of two ways — with him standing over a blood-soaked world, or... 

... Well, perhaps there is another path for him, bathed in the light which shines off your ethereal being. You are but a guide that he can choose to accept or ignore. Neither of you knows which category this falls into, though when your mouths clash together, concepts such as right and wrong fade into the background.

You’re gripping into his shoulders enough for it to ache. He wouldn’t have it any other way, not if the fervor in which he slants his lips against yours is to be of any indication. The both of you are panting, you slightly more so as he clings to shreds of composure, uncertain of when this started and when it might end. You don’t think you want it to. 

Almost like he could hear your thoughts, he slightly parts, chuckling at how disappointed you appear at the loss.

“I know I’ve warned you before, but I’ll say it again,” there’s a glint in his otherwise lifeless eyes. “I’m kind of a bad guy, sweetheart. You sure about this?” 

Your answer is simple and sweet enough for him to get drunk on: you pull him back to you without hesitation.

Diluc

It’s reminiscent of the fairy tales you read growing up.

Your prince removes his gloves and sets them aside before he cups your cheek. He muttered something about wanting to “feel your warmth” — the words were such a low rumble you wonder if you heard them right — though his refusal to meet your gaze says it all. 

“May I?” He repeats his earlier inquiry. The first time was for permission to touch you. This instance, however... 

Diluc closes the remaining space. The heat of his body envelops you yet doesn’t burn you up, instead, it’s pleasant and comforting; like sitting by a hearth on a winter day. He remains ever the gentleman, the hand that isn’t caressing your cheek finding purchase on your waist. You’re almost surprised by how bold that gesture is. 

His kiss is chaste, considerate, if not reserved; everything that makes you frustrated and enamored regardless. He wants more and you’d be willing to give him more. It’s the little tells that give him away. From how his fingers twitch after making contact with your skin like he longs to sink himself in deeper, to the shallowness of his breaths despite having endured training his entire life. 

There’s no rushing these matters, you suppose. 

Your patience for him is a well that’ll never run dry. When he pulls back, his cheek flushed red as the roses he recently had planted near the winery for you, the next target is your hand. You fight back a giggle at his lips brushing over your skin. 

It might be conjecture on your part, but you believe he’s trying to cover his face until it stops blushing.

Kaeya

Ah, so this must be what it’s like to have spring thaw through winter’s seemingly everlasting barricade of ice.  

The Calvary Captain knows better than most when he’s in deep. His cunning has always provided him an out, even in the direst of situations, yet his ever-spinning mind halts at your lips crashing into his. 

His initial thought is that he teased you too much, like waving a toy in front of a kitten without expecting it to pounce. That would be easier for him to accept. There’s nothing wrong with a little physical attraction, perhaps lust mixed in, making for a perfectly delectable cocktail. Deep down he knows that isn’t the case. The tears pricking your eyes, the wetness of your cheeks, he feels it all and he wishes he didn’t. 

He kisses you back because he should. That’s what he tells himself — he’s resting his hands on your hips for your sake. Kissing you with the passion of a dying man for your sake. Subconsciously feeling at your left hand, wondering what it’d be like to slide a band around your finger for your sake, not for his, oh no. Never for his. 

That’s what a fool in love would do. He’s anything but that, he thinks, he’s staying in control of this situation. Sure, it’s escalated past his original expectations, but that’s what makes it fun... right? It’s not because of you, just the thrill of the situation, isn’t it?

It’s a shame, truly. That the most adept of liars can never seem to fool themselves.

Zhongli

Zhongli believes that this must be what poets have transcribed ever since their ink could touch parchment, what playwrights sought to encapsulate in their many melodramas and tragedies. Love is far simpler than the lengthy prose popular in each era he himself personally witnessed. 

I may be biased, he thinks, amused. After all, he believes that true love is when he’s with you. 

To have a god worship you is softer than you expected. There’s no blind idolization, expectations of endless devotion, or battles waged in gaining your hand. Zhongli wants to see everything you have to offer. He’s been your rock through highs and lows, though if you were to decide where this moment landed, you’d pick the former. 

He’s had to tilt his head down for your lips to touch, the meeting like a reunion between lifelong friends, somehow devoid of embarrassment associated with these firsts. He allows you to lead the kiss in any direction you desire and adjusts himself to your preferences. Your eyes are closed, yet you see gold. 

Your grip on the lapels of his coat tightens and his chest rumbles with low laughter. If he is your firm anchor, then you are the ship’s rudder, leading the both of you into uncharted territory dense with excitement. 

Something sharp pokes at your lip just shy of being painful. It’s still enough to make you blink in surprise, the sight of elongated fangs making for an unexpected greeting. Zhongli’s expression is similar to yours until reality settles in, and he clears his throat. 

“My apologies,” he murmurs, his hand rising to his chin. “I must’ve gotten too... excited.” 

(Albedo, Xiao, Scaramouche and Kazuha are underneath the cut!) 

Albedo

Albedo’s work in alchemy might make him proficient in measuring quantities of time, but he still can’t decide for certain how long he’s wanted this. 

Was is the first time he laid eyes upon you? Each visit where you brought him food and good company to his lonely camp in the Dragonspine? The third time he found himself doodling your distinct features, or the twentieth? 

Or maybe, illogical as it might seem... 

Could it be that he was born to love you? 

Albedo never thought he would be the receiving end of such dedicated passion. Never has he been so grateful to be wrong, since due to that, he’s come closer to understanding this world. By being allowed to caress you, touch you, kiss you; he has more questions than answers. Such is his nature to continue learning. 

That’s why he’ll neglect to tend the wavering campfire, so that you must continue to seek warmth in him. Your lips are cold and yet your adoration burns through. If he had the compacity to, he thinks he’d be breathless. This must be one of the upsides of synthetic life. He won’t have to pull away to refill air into his lungs — he can focus solely on tasting the sweets you brought him earlier. 

It tastes so much better when you’re mixed in, he thinks. Breaking down and understanding new phenomena in the calling of his life. For that reason, you couldn’t possibly complain if he were to continue researching like this, could you? 

Xiao

You’ve had to utilize your persuasive abilities to the fullest extent to convince Xiao that yes, he can touch you and that yes, you’re perfectly fine. 

The air around him is heavy and thick, there’s no denying that. If this is but a fraction of the weight that Xiao must withstand, then you wish to carry it alongside him, even if he’d chide you for thinking like that. You smile and envision what he’d say to your naivety. 

“This is my burden to bear and no one else’s.” 

How fortunate for you that he can’t see your current expression or read your thoughts — he’s much too preoccupied acquainting himself with the feel of your lips against his. Soft, how can you be so soft? Your skin, your lips, your dreams; it’s like you’re the antithesis of everything he’s been for millennia. 

The pain doesn’t go away like it does in the storybooks you’ve insisted on bringing him, but it lessens enough for him to ignore it. Your soothing existence still serves as a balm to his aching soul. Ah, and are you giggling? He furrows his eyebrows at that and kisses you harder. 

You respond in kind like you always do. Slinging your arms around his neck, bringing him in closer, close enough where he can smell the distinct notes of your perfume.

He doesn’t know if he deserves to experience such unbridled joy. There may have been a time where he’d chastise himself for being so indulgent, and while a part of him still does, he no longer pays it any heed. Having you by his side is enough to quiet those thoughts.

As far as he’s concerned, when you’re around, the world itself fades away into nothingness.

Scaramouche

Is this really Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers, staring into your eyes as if he’d find the secrets to eternity embedded within them? Little do you know that he thinks he may find something better. 

The Balladeer has always outwardly scoffed at the whimsical concepts of romance, love, and all that lame mushy stuff. He’s seen more types of love than most. Elderly couples holding hands on the countryside, arranged marriages meant to solidify political alliances, young lovers praying for blessings at the Grand Narukami Shrine. 

Perhaps it stirred sentiments within his “heart” to witness such things. For each time, he’d be forced to look away, memories of waking from long slumbers with tear drenched cheeks rearing their head. A prototype too sensitive to fulfil its purpose. 

That’s why he decided to make you his purpose. 

He won’t fail again — he can’t fail again — he doesn’t know just what he’d do if you were to toss him aside like his creator. He kisses you again and again to prove the silent point that you’re not even aware of. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he chides himself for not being gentler during your first kiss together. He’s got to whisper sweet nothings into your ear or some garbage like that. 

“Kuni—” you barely get the start of his name out before he’s silenced you with his lips again, “—Need... air...!” 

“Can’t it wait?” He sighs, his comment lacking any real bite. 

“Sorry that some of us need to breathe.” 

“You should be sorry,” he runs his finger over your bottom lip and hums. “I was enjoying myself there. You’ll make it up to me, right?” 

Kazuha

The wind billows as if it’s rejoicing at your union, red and orange leaves fluttering down like a bride’s tossed wedding bouquet — is this your overactive imagination? Or could it be that in joining your bodies together, Kazuha has shared a fragment of his soul? At this, you wonder... 

Has the world always been this beautiful? 

“[First],” he speaks your name so softly, the lightest breeze would’ve covered it up. “My [First]... how can I begin to express the depths of my adoration for you? I thought that if I kissed you, this tightness in my chest would dissipate, but it isn’t enough.” 

You tilt your head to the side. “What would be enough then?” 

White as snow tufts of hair frames his face. 

“I don’t know.” 

He softly connects your lips. 

"You occupy my thoughts...” 

Again. 

“... My body, my very soul.” 

And again. 

“It isn’t enough — it’s never enough. For every time we part, I wonder if this is what death itself feels like.” 

His voice is wavering in a way you’ve never heard it before, expressing the full lengths of his current vulnerability to you. You shake your head and smile. If this is your chance to comfort your darling Kazuha, then you’d need to do your best. 

“Would you not say that we can’t experience the beauty of life without first knowing death?” 

The twinkle in his eyes reflect an image of your lovestruck expression, making it impossible to tell who is more head over heels for the other. 

[husbandohunter]

What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

=================================

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

[mostly-delusional]

A Kanej diwali fic

"That's the third time you've tugged on your sleeve in the same minute and it's setting me on edge for no particular reason."

Kaz halted his movements, his right hand hanging in mid-air as he was about to fiddle with his sleeve, unrolling and rolling it again. He glanced at Jesper standing beside him and raised his eyebrows.

Jesper continued, "Honestly, Kaz, it's only been a month since you last saw her. It shouldn't be that hard. Besides, you're going to need a lung transplant soon enough if you keep panting like a dog."

Kaz was thoroughly annoyed. He had been occupying the same spot for what felt like hours with Jesper's continuous babble ringing in his ears. The black leather gloves that usually covered his hands were safely tucked away into the pocket of his jacket. Without them, he felt as if he was stripped naked, all his scars put on display for people to gawk at. His clothes were different from what he preferred wearing. The regular white shirt had been replaced by a plain black kurta with a pathan jacket resting above it, the collar of which prickled his neck. The cane's head felt cold under his palm. Everything felt too foreign, too loud and too wrong.

The glittering lights, lavish rugs and sophisticated folk of Ravka were far cry from the sordid streets of Ketterdam, where crimes were committed as effortlessly as breathing. Everything about the land Kaz stood on screamed of elegance and culture. It made him want to hop on a ship and dive back into the mayhem the Barrel had to offer.

Crossing the true see and visiting the land of Grisha hadn't been a choice. Two weeks ago, Kaz had entered his office in the crow club only to be greeted by an envelope sealed with the double eagle of Ravkan royalty. He had contemplated tossing it among the pile of documents he deemed unnecessary, but a blue geranium placed beside it had changed his original course of action. There had been no whispers of the Wraith being in Ketterdam, but it was not a surprise. Inej was like a phantom passing from one world to another, keeping away from notice.

Although, why she had been the one to deliver a message from the king of Ravka was still a mystery to him.

Kaz did not know what he had expected to be in the letter but it definitely wasn't what he had found upon opening it. Apparently, things were getting a little too boring for his royal highness and he felt the need to organise a little "get-together" for all those who had dedicated the previous months in fighting against the Darkling. As it turned out, nothing about the occasion was little.

A multitude of people occupied the halls of the Little Palace for what everyone around him kept calling Diwali. Kaz remembered Inej talking about how she celebrated the festival with her parents and cousins as a child. But that was all he could recall from the day because he'd been too busy trying to count the moles on her neck as she had sat on the window of his office, her head tipped back against the wall. The setting sun had casted a glow around her and Kaz had been unable to look away.

"Where's Wylan?" Kaz asked in hopes of avoiding another rant from Jesper about how exquisite the palace looked or how much money even a single gem from the chandelier hanging above would cost. "Why don't you go and trail after him like a lost puppy, as you usually do?"

Jesper puckered his face into a scowl, his lips forming a pout that made Kaz want to smack his face repeatedly. "You shouldn't be the one to talk about puppies seeing that you almost drool at the sight of Inej. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"If both of you would stop bickering like an old couple, you would have noticed that she entered the room five minutes ago."

Every single muscle in Kaz's body seemed to tense at Nina's words. His eyes scoured the crowd in desperate attempts of catching a glimpse of the one person he'd been dying to set his sight on.

"Let's give the old man some privacy to collect himself or he might drop dead any second." Kaz could practically feel the identical smirks playing on their lips as Nina dragged Jesper away by his arm.

But none of it seemed to matter because as soon as he saw Inej, it felt like someone pumped a gallon of blood through his heart all at once. The voices around him were muffled, separated by an invisible wall, casting him in a shell of peaceful silence as he looked at the girl who raged a storm in his heart ever since she had entered his life.

There, amidst the cacophony of colours formed by the crowd, Inej looked like a diamond shimmering among shards of glasses in a kaleidoscope. Her hair was like waves of pure earth. Half of it was braided over her head like a crown, the rest openly flowed down her back, softly reflecting the light from the chandelier above. His fingers itched to touch them.

She wore a long skirt which was a red as deep as the most luscious wines found only in the highest scale shops of the Lid. It pleated in a million different folds sure to hold a dozen knives, and fell from her waist in a cascading waterfall that brushed her ankles. The pleats danced along her legs as she waded through the sea of guests, occasionally nodding at those she recognised. It appeared as if she hadn’t yet noticed him standing at the border of the hall.

His heart screamed at him to call her name, to make her look at him, but walking under the glittering lights, it looked as if she had just stepped out of a children's storybook about Saints. Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded, he felt that she would disappear if he got close enough. Her eyes were set on her destination— Jesper, Nina and Wylan standing near a table piled with a variety of delicacies. A soft smile played on her lips as she looked at Jesper arguing with Nina about what was better— waffles or the sweets layed out in front of them.

Kaz wanted nothing more than to shield her from the rest of the world and reserve that smile solely for himself.

Stupid Jesper. Stupid Nina. “Let’s give him some privacy.” What was the point of leaving him alone when Inej didn’t even spare him a single glance?

A part of him wanted to march right up to their little group and place himself in the middle, but his stubborn mind willed him to stay put. He watched as they exchanged hugs and smiled at each other. He watched as Inej asked Jesper something and he spinned around to point right at Kaz’s face. He averted his eyes right in time and hurled curses at Jesper under his breath.

Every passing second seemed to escalate his heartbeat, as if both were trying to outdo each other. His heart hammered against it’s cage, threatening to break free from the restraints and bounce off onto the floor. Kaz could sense Inej’s firm gaze on him as the distance between them shortened with every step she took.

"Hello, Kaz."

Inej had come to stand right in the line of his sight so that he had nowhere else to look apart from her. And saints did he want to keep looking at her.

Kaz let his eyes take in every detail of her face. Her bronze skin had become an even deeper shade after all the time spent at the sea and he wanted nothing more than to cup her face in his hands, caress her cheeks and make sure she was real. Her eyes were lined with kohl and some kind of golden powder covered her lids.

In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, the laughter of childhood memories, the pride for what she had accomplished in the last few months alone, and there was affection. The way she looked at him made him feel like a broken vase being mended by that gaze alone.

He knew he was supposed to say something to her. Tell her that she looked beautiful. That ever since she had stepped foot in this room—in his life— he had hardly been able to breathe. That if she had willed it, Kaz would have gladly gotten down on his knees and swore his devotion to the saints she now looked so alike. But his mouth and mind never seemed to coordinate.

"Didn't expect I'd see you here." A lie. The only reason Kaz had even considered being a part of the celebration was that he knew Inej was staying in Os Alta to spend some quality time with Nina and Matthias.

From the smile on her face, Kaz suspected she knew he was lying but to his immense relief, she decided to change the subject.

"The aarti is about to begin, let's go." She nodded towards the huge double doors opening into the sweeping grounds and the groups of people leaving through them.

"To my best knowledge, there isn't a temple in or around the Little Palace."

"There wasn't. King Nikolai got one built after Zoya insisted." Inej adjusted the golden dupatta pinned to the shoulder of her blouse so that it covered her palm. With her hand safely enveloped, she grabbed hold of Kaz's wrist and started heading towards where the temple was situated.

The warmth emanating from her palm seeped through the thin fabric and sent shivers up his arm. The water was at bay and the ringing in his ears did not echo as usual. He could do this.

They walked through the doors and out into the open air. Kaz took in a deep breath to calm his nerves. A few paces ahead, the rest of the crows were chattering amongst themselves. Jesper's arms were flailing around as he babbled on about something. Beside him, Wylan was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation and trying not to get hit. Nina and Matthias walked arm in arm, the latter jerking his head in every direction, trying to catch a glimpse of all the decor layed out all around. Every few seconds he would point at something and whisper to Nina who would launch into an explanation of whatever he had asked.

"How is Matthias adjusting to all of this?" Kaz shifted his gaze back to the path he was walking on. Inej's hand felt heavy around his wrist, and he wasn't sure whether he wanted her to let go or hold on tighter.

"Not as bad as you'd think. He kind of isolated himself during the first week and avoided all the grishas, except Nina, of course. But it didn't take him long in warming up to Tolya." Inej explained. "However, he still refuses to be in the same room as Zoya, says it'll take him longer to get used to her."

"I can agree on that," Kaz muttered bitterly under his breath. His mind reeled back to the time when he had to work alongside her in order to help Alina destroy the fold.

Inej snorted on hearing his grumbling. "She's not that bad! Once you gain her trust she can be charming."

"I have no intentions of finding that out."

••••••

The temple was built amid the towering trees past the lake, it's white marble glowing amber due to the countless diyas lit all around it. It sprawled among the woods in its beauty, as if the gods themselves had decided to take a day off and stroll among their mortal devotees.

Walking up the steps to the main praying area was almost peaceful and Kaz was struck by the sudden realisation that he wouldn't mind spending an hour or two sitting right here in solitude.

A soft melody drifted from a group of musicians seated beside the huge altar where statues of gods carved out of marble stood. Bells crafted out of bronze hung from the ceiling and the entire interior was lit with hundreds of glowing candles and iron lanterns. Garlands of marigold wreathed around the circular pillars. A priest took his spot at the front of the room as people piled inside.

As the aarti began, Kaz's attention shifted to the girl beside him. Inej had let go of his hand now, her own raised in front of her chest as she joined her plams together to pray. His wrist felt cold without her warmth and he wanted nothing more than to slide closer to her.

His attention was snatched away from her by the beginning of the aarti, but he did not intend to pay any attention to it, not with Inej standing with him. Not with her being the only person he felt like worshipping.

But Inej seemed to have an objection to his plans because she reached out to lift his hands up and join his palms together.

"I know this is the last place you'd like to be in, but it won't take long, I promise."

And how could he resist when she smiled at him like that? Like his mere presence at this occasion was the only source of her joy. So his own beliefs be damned. He would stand here with his hands joined, listening to the priest begin the aarti. He would stand here until his legs started shaking, until he couldn't bear to be upright anymore, as long as it made Inej happy.

Soon, the prayer came to a close and Inej whispered to him, "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Wh—"

"Just do it."

He couldn't understand how his wishes would come true simply by closing his eyes and muttering what he wanted in his mind. That was not how things worked. But he did what was asked of him regardless of how ridiculous he found it.

Sounds of explosion began ringing from outside and Kaz froze in his spot, his mind automatically shifting into defence. He felt a hand grabbing hold of his arm.

"Relax, it's just the fireworks." Kaz opened his eyes only to find Inej looking at him in amusement, her eyes glinting with delight. With her hand still resting on his, she dragged him outside, her steps hurried and excited.

The sky was littered with colourful specks of gold and green and blue and colors he couldn't be bothered to name. Everyone gathered in the grounds, their heads tilted upwards as something rocketed towards the heavens, soon bursting into a myriad of sparks, casting tiny star-like dots in the open.

Once again, his eyes found her. Kaz's heart skipped a beat as he looked at Inej, her eyes reflecting the stars above. Strands of hair had gotten lose from the crown atop her head and were now swaying with the breeze. He reached out to tuck them behind her ear, his movements catching her attention.

They were close enough that he could see the deep brown of her eyes along with the twinkle of the fireworks reflecting in those orbs. Close enough to see the mole on the right side of her upper lip. Close enough to feel her breath on his face.

"Back in the temple, what did you wish for?" Inej asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twisted up to form a teasing smile. "To bury under a pile of millions of kruge."

Another lie, of course.

What he had wished was for Jesper to find a solution to his gambling addiction and learn to accept his grisha powers. For Wylan to restore his relationship with his mother and build a bright future for himself. For Nina to find peace with her new abilities, because he knew she was struggling. For Matthias to find a way to forgive himself for the actions of his past. For him to build a new life with Nina.

But most of all, he wished for Inej to make a place for herself in the world. For her to live a life where she didn't have to worry about the likes of Tante Heleen anymore. And for him to be worthy enough to be a part of that life.

Kaz was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not see Inej raising her dupatta and covering the lower half of his face. He didn't realise he had zoned out until he felt the warm press of her lips against his cheek. His mind became void of thoughts as he felt his stomach somersault in response. The water was still at bay and whispers of Jordie in his head were silenced.

He pressed his forehead to hers as they stood under the glittering night sky. They were enveloped in each other's presence, the rest of the world frozen in time as Inej tethered Kaz to reality.

[feanope]

My contribution for the @officialtolkiensecretsanta  Advent Calendar, Day 4 - Ice-Cubes, non-gen edition

Icicles (rated M)

Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Fingolfin

Ships: Russingon

Additional tags: non*consensual Vo*yeurism, Temperature Play, Bittersweet Ending, Winter, Snow

Ñolofinwë is surprised to see a fire burning in the wooden hut, located in the forest outside of Tirion. Apart from Turcafinwë and his hunters, the hut is rarely used, if at all. It’s too small to host a great hunting party, not exactly well equipped either: a bed, an open hearth, and a chair, that’s all there is.

For Ñolofinwë it has always been enough. The place is tranquil, especially in winter when the wind howls outside. There is so much snow this year that the hut is almost snowed-in, with long icicles growing from the roof in front of the door.  

He unsaddles his horse near-by, fresh snow crunching below his riding boots. He’s curious who has taken a temporary residence inside, nothing else. There are some other places he can retreat to in order to calm himself down from yet another argument with Fëanáro. The hot springs a bit further up or his private library he has built over the years, for the hut isn’t his own property but free to use by whoever likes.

The glow of the fire that falls through the window colors the snow orange and Ñolofinwë peaks inside. What he sees makes him stumble backward, takes his breath away. It’s Nelyafinwë and Findekáno inside, but not sitting in front of the fire with a book. They are sprawled out across the small bed in a way that leaves little to the imagination.

[continue on AO3 or below the read more]

Despite knowing he should not, Ñolofinwë lingers. Lingers when Nelyafinwë’s laughter breaks through the silence and Findekáno’s soft chuckles blend with it shortly after. Ñolofinwë knows he should take his leave when pretense drops like clothes, but he does not. He stays next to the small window, back pressed against the wall, and watches. Watches how lips slide across sweat-slick skin; how icicles follow the path of Findekáno’s mouth down Nelyafinwë chest.

Yes, perhaps, they shouldn’t be doing what they are; shouldn’t be doing it where someone can simply stumble upon them, but none of that can serve as an excuse for Ñolofinwë. He’s not forced to drink in the sight they present, isn’t forced to remain where he is as if he’s rooted to the ground.

Nelyafinwë struggles in Findekáno’s hold, but not in earnest. He could free himself easily out of Findekáno’s grip around his wrists, given his strength. But Nelyafinwë doesn’t. Instead, he watches with curious eyes how Findekáno puts the icicle between his lips to continue the journey of his mouth, how his hips buck at the sensation of ice against burning skin. Not that his skin isn’t burning equally.

Ñolofinwë knows it’s wrong to watch them. Nothing of it is meant for him to see. And yet he stays. Stays, when Nelyafinwë moans Findekáno’s name; when Findekáno’s head dips lower.

What is even more wrong than to stay is the effect their display has on Ñolofinwë: the gooseflesh that spreads across his skin, how he grows hard in his breeches—harder actually, for he long has.

Shouldn’t he be shocked to see them like this—condemn what they do?

Why does he react the way he does?

Ñolofinwë has long known that the relationship between Nelyafinwë and Findekáno became more than friendship a while ago. As of now, he has never witnessed it nor has Findekáno ever confided in him. He figured it out soon enough himself.

Nothing has ever prepared him for seeing them with his own eyes.

They are beautiful together, skin and hair glowing in the golden flames of the fire, one highlighting the beauty of the other. Almost as if they have arranged themselves to be discovered…

But that is nonsense. Complete and utter nonsense. Findekáno does not know that he sometimes ventures into the forest to escape the duties at his father’s court; to take a bath in the stream near-by or read in the cozy hut now used by them. Not that he wants to be discovered in the first place. It’s a coincidence, and nothing else.

Nelyafinwë giggles again, fingers threading into Findekáno hair. The icicle in Findekáno’s mouth has long melted away.

“Your lips are just as cold,” Nelyafinwë says, breathless.

Ñolofinwë gasps outside by how filthy his nephew’s voice sounds, hand flying to his mouth to muffle his own sounds. To be discovered by them now would be a nightmare. What he has done today will become his best-harbored secret for all eternity.

“Maybe that has been my very intention, Maitimo,” Findekáno responds, teasing.

He never knew that his son could sound like that; should have never known it, in fact. He casts one final glance inside the hut before he takes his leave after having stayed for far too long.

Only when Ñolofinwë rides back to Tirion, snowflakes swirling around him, it dawns on him. It’s true that he has never told Findekáno about the hut, but he once remarked on it towards Nelyafinwë. He stated that he likes to come here to calm down after another argument between Fëanáro and himself, especially during winter to enjoy the eerie quiet.

Still, Ñolofinwë refuses the very thought. It’s a coincidence, or so he tells himself. For his own peace of mind.

And yet, his mind won’t shut up about any of it…

What if it wasn’t a coincidence?

Not that he’ll ever pursue to find an answer to that nagging question…

*

Decades later, Ñolofinwë sees Findekáno sit amidst giant ice cubes on the dark beach, washed ashore from the outskirts of the Grinding Ice.

He knows what his son thinks when he caresses the edges of the shimmering cubes almost lovingly; knows what kind of memories overwhelm him night after night when he cries himself into sleep.

The Grinding Ice has changed them all, in many ways. But no other seems to suffer like Findekáno; from the loss and from the betrayal, as if the everlasting coldness has quenched the burning flame in his heart there once were.

[eleven-times-lively]

The Honeymoon

In which reader and Fred go on the honeymoon of their dreams to Romania. 💕

Summary: Fred Weasley x Reader go on Honeymoon Word Count: 3147 Note: This took much longer than usual to write. Enjoy!

The party had died down as the night wrapped up. The elves were cleaning as guests filed out. You and Fred stood on either side of the door thanking your guests, and stealing smiles at each other. Once all that was left was the Weasleys and yourself, you all gathered at one of the tables before leaving. 

“A final toast, to the bride and groom, y/n and Fred.” Bill exclaimed, holding his glass of firewhiskey. Everyone cheered, smiles around the table. 

“To your future together, and may it be everlasting!” Charlie added. Him and Bill looked at Fleur, waiting for her to add something. Staring into the large crystal that served as the table centerpiece, she said nothing.

After a moment you began, “Thank you so much for coming, everyone. We’ve been waiting for this day for almost ten years, and I couldn’t have been more perfect. Being in France, having you here with us, it’s magical…” you added with a smirk.

“And, you know, being married to me I hope?” Fred added from next to you.

“Well of course, love.” You leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. “And a big thank you to Charlie, for taking us back to Romania with him for the honeymoon.”

“Well of course, y/n. You’ll love Romania; the castles, the forests, and of course my dragons.” He added, trailing off with a wink. 

*** 

The next day you and Fred had gathered your things. Most of your belongings would go back to England with Molly and Arthur, but yourselves and the honeymoon luggage would be off with Charlie by portkey.

“Have everything? Ready love?”

“Yes y/n, all good love”he gave you a peck before grabbing the bags and heading out the door. “Charlie wanted to be back in Romania before noon!”

“I know love. It’s quarter-of, portkey travel doesn’t take long.”

“I know my dear, but I don’t exactly want to be the one to get in the way of Charlie and his dragons, not at the start of our honeymoon.”

“Of course.” you embraced in a kiss as Charlie met the two of you.

“It’s already getting late! The dragons are getting frisky.” You and Fred shared a knowing glance as he spoke.

***

Not a minute later the three of you were in a grassy field in Romania. Hearing the roars of dragons not far in the distance, you headed to Charlie’s small cottage.

“Lucky for you, the smaller one next door is empty, that’s where the two of you can stay. Give you some privacy…” Charlie never looked back as he spoke. You reached your cottage, Charlie seemingly satisfied with himself. “Well there ya go. I’ve to tend to the dragons, you can say hi tomorrow when they’ve calmed. Enjoy yourselves and get settled.”

“Thanks!” Fred and yourself said in unison. “Well then,” he continued, “shall we get this holiday started?” He picked you up in his arms, abandoning the luggage as he carried you inside. The cottage was simple yet inviting. A fireplace with a small hearth, a modest table and couch, and stairs leading up to a left which held the bathroom and open-concept bedroom. He carried you all the way up to the bed and set you down. He brought you into a deep kiss. You broke away when he moved down to your jaw and neck.

“Fred, you left the door open and our luggage outside.”

“It’s fine, there’s no one around, we’re completely secluded.”

“Yes but I don’t need your brother walking in on what’s about to happen.”

“Fair enough.” he stood up and headed down the stairs. After setting the bags just inside the door, which he then shut and locked, he was back upstairs and on top of you. Leaving sloppy kisses down your jaw and neck, he was taking his time. You dared make a noise as he hit that spot behind your ear, but caught yourself just in time.

“Muffliato.” you muttered at the door before continuing with Fred. 

***

You woke up a few hours later, lying on your side with Fred spooning you. It was your favorite way to wake up; feeling so enclosed and secure with his warmth and air engulfing you, knowing nothing bad could happen with Fred right next to you. He stirred when he felt you moving slightly and your heart-rate pick up. 

“What time is it, y/n?”

“Judging by the sun, probably around five or six.”

“Merlin, Charlie will come looking for us soon.”

“I know but I don’t want to get up.”

“Me neither, love. But knowing my brother, nothing will stop him from unlocking that door to find us.”

You chuckled as you sat up in the bed, facing your husband. You placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before climbing out of the bed.

“Looking stunning, love…” Fred quipped, admiring his bride as you headed to your pile of clothes on the floor. You just rolled your eyes and gave a chuckle.

“How is it that you’ve kept the same attitude and demeanour all these years?”

“What do you mean, love?”

“You’ve always been this goofy, carefree, loving person; since the day we met you haven’t changed. I love you, Fred.”

“I love you two, y/n.” 

Just as you and Fred were pulling on your final articles of clothing, you heard the lock on the door slide open - coerced by magic - and the door fly open. 

“Oi! Been looking for ya’s, it’s well past dinner!”

“Our apologies, Charlie, we’re coming right now if you’ll have us.”

“Well of course, anything for the blushing bride and my brother on their honeymoon.” he gave a warm smile at each of you. “Now if you’ll follow me, I have something outside for ya’s.” You and Fred exchanged puzzled looks and followed the redhead outside.

You walked a path to a grassy bank near the stream. Fred held your hand as you went, staying a few paces behind Charlie. “I’m not sure what he’s got up his sleeve, love.” he whispered as you went, “don’t be surprised if he’s just trying to feed us to the dragons.”

You stifled a laugh as you leaned up to him, “Anything would be okay as long as I’m doing it with you, Freddie.” He blushed as he gripped your hand tighter. He brushed your cheek with his hand as he bent down and brought you into a kiss. Feeling the plush grass around your ankles and the distant buzzing of a bee, the ground seemed to sway beneath you in the best way possible. His hand moved to your lower back as he deepened the kiss.  

Before long you, Fred, and Charlie had reached the top of a hill. While gorgeous with plush grass, scenic views, and wildflowers blooming, there was nothing particularly special about the space; at least not to have warranted the fifteen minute hike. “I oughta take my leave here,” Charlie spoke up “but what you’re lookin’ for is just around that last bend over there.” He gave Fred a pat on the shoulder as he began his hike back. 

“Shall we?” Fred asked, taking your hand once more and leading you a few feet upwards to the bend in the path Charlie had pointed out. 

“We shall.” you finished, giving his hand a squeeze. 

You ventured round the bend and as you did the whole world seemed to open up.  While you had a stunning view from the last hilltop, where you now stood was absolutely breathtaking. A large, old castle perched atop the mountain peak, looming over the valley below. Bubbling and flowing through the gorge was a crystal-blue river. The air was crisp, birds chirped, and small creatures scampered about. You and Fred couldn’t help but stare, mouths agape, taking in everything.

“Merlin” you muttered, letting go of Fred’s hand to admire the bowtruckle pair on the tree next to you.

“Merlin, indeed” Fred added as a pack of pixies zoomed past him. “I suppose we’re meant to venture in the castle?”

“Wonderful!” you exclaimed, giving your husband a peck before running off into the towering structure. 

Inside was an unreal sight. Floating candles donned the high ceilings, with a small table set up in the center. A dinner had been set out and soft ballroom music played in the distance. You and Fred stood, once again shocked, in the doorway. 

“Goodness, love, Charlie really went all-out didn’t he?” Fred whispered as he leaned down to you.

“Certainly did.”

“What an absolutely perfect way to spend our first full day as husband and wife.”

“That it is, Freddie.” You took his hand and lead him to the table. 

You laughed, talked, and enjoyed each other’s company inside the castle until sunset. “If you’ll come with me outside, I believe the sun is about to set.” You noted to Fred. 

“Of course, love” He gave you a loving kiss before heading outside. As you stepped just past the threshold of the castle’s massive doors, a large hippogriff went soaring around the crest of the mountain and off into the distant hills. “My goodness!” Fred exclaimed, “if Charlie didn’t have most of the dragons in the area with him, I’d be scared!” He gave a light chuckle before laying down and guiding you with him. Snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you close, he gave a peck on your forehead. “I love you so much, y/n. We’ve only been married a day but it’s been everything I could’ve asked for and more. I’m elated to be starting this journey with you, and even more excited to be here with you right now.” His piercing and loving gaze cast down on you, smiling and radiating all the love in the world.

“Freddie, I love you so much more. From the moment I said ‘I do’ we had started our fantastic journey that can only get better from here. I feel like we’ve already seen amazing things in the few hours we’ve been here, and I can’t wait to see more with you.” 

He pulled you into a deep kiss. Reciprocating, you melted into him, embracing his grasp. Staying in the moment for a long while, enjoying the feeling of romanticism and as a newly-married duo. You were locked together for so long that the sun had already gone down.

. 

***

Two days later you woke with a start: it was the day you’d be meeting the dragons. You’d always felt a fondness for the creatures, and care of magical creatures was your best class back in Hogwarts, but Fred had kept you in London. Not that you minded, however. You had the opportunity to travel across eastern Europe, tracing elusive dragon species to preserve their kind, but your love for Fred kept you in place. Now a leading auror slowly climbing the ministry ladder, you couldn’t be happier. 

Sensing you, Fred stirred, curling close to you and wrapped both arms around your middle. “Mornin’, love.”

“Hi, Freddie.”

“Ready to meet the dragons?”

“Yes!”, and with that you sprung out of the bed, narrowly missing Fred as he went in for a kiss. As if with a stroke of magic, just as you lept from the bed the door sprung open. 

“Oi!” Charlie entered with spring in his step. “Is half past seven! Dragons’ve been waiting forever!”

“Sorry, Char” Fred groaned, slowly rising from the bed. “Was a long night.”

“Oi I bet, mate. Well, enough sittin’ around, be outside in ten, ya?” And just as fast as he came, Charlie was back through the threshold.

“Well he’s right, Fred!” you exclaimed, already downstairs and in fresh clothes. “Dragons!” Fred just groaned as he pulled on a fresh shirt and climbed down from the loft, but you were already out after Charlie.

“S’just a short walk to ma dragons. They’ve been waitin’ ever since I told ‘em they’d have visitors.”

You and Fred exchanged hopeful glances as you began the short walk down the hill to the dragons.

***

“Now before we go any farther,” Charlie spoke up just before rounding a corner, “you need to be calm and quiet. No sudden sounds or movements! We’ll start with the gentler folk.” He rounded the corner with you and Fred trailing behind. You came into a clearing with various large, roped-off sections. “Now of course we respect these creatures and they roam free. The only thing protecting ya is the forcefield in the sky. Once we go through that gate, it’s you, me, and the dragons. But we’ll be fine.” 

You and Fred took deep breaths as you crossed through the small gate. You squeezed Fred’s hang tight and stifled a squeal. 

“This here is Maggie, the Common Welsh Green dragon. She used to have a friend, but she went off to a conservatory in, you guessed it, Wales. They’re pretty gentle unless provoked, but again, stay calm.” He let out a whistle, and the dragon came swooping down, and he gave it a gentle stroke on the nose. “Y/n? Care to have a closer look?”

You wormed your way out of Fred’s grasp and skipped over to Charlie. The dragon wasn’t huge, but you were still scared. You hadn’t seen a dragon in person since Hogwarts, and even that was for metres away.

“Just go slow and be gentle, you’ll be fine.” Charlie took your hand and slowly guided it up towards the dragon, speaking to her the whole time. “Hey there, Mags. This is y/n, she’s super nice and loves dragons. She’s family so don’t worry.” Your hand made contact with the scaled being, and she let out a snort. You jerked back, but Charlie’s grip kept you generally in place. “It’s okay,” he reassured. You drew your hand up and down the dragon’s snout as she opened and closed her eyes in a happy manner. After a few moments, you turned back to Fred.

“Would you like to try, love?”, but as you looked back Fred was white as a ghost and frozen in place. “Fred? Freddie are you alright?” You started to run over to him, but were quickly reminded by Charlie to not do so. You made your way to your husband and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. You questioned again, but to no response. Charlie then came over.

“Shoulda mentioned he’s a wee bit scared of dragons. Always has been up close. He never said anything?”

“What? No. I assumed he loved them and that’s why he agreed to come here.”

“Oh no. He’s bloody terrified. Guess he just loves ya that much.”

You rested your other hand on Fred’s shoulder. “Why don’t you head back to the cottage dear. I’ll be alright.” You gave him a peck on the cheek as he managed to barely nod his head. In just an instant he apparated away, too scared to actually walk away despite the guaranteed security just metres away beyond the gate.

“Want to continue, y/n?”

“Oh yes of course! He’ll be fine.” you gave a longing glance behind you before catching up with Charlie.

“Now you can’t stroke the rest of ‘em, but at least you can meet them.” After a short walk, you came to the next set of low-hanging ropes. “This is my Hebridean Black, Zenith. They like space, so don’t get close.” He let out another low whistle and a much larger dragon came swooping down.

“Wow!” you exclaimed - quietly.  You took in the beautiful dragon before you, remembering every detail. Before you could take in any more of him, the large creature flew away.

“Told you he likes privacy. Shall we meet the rest.” After many hours you’d met Frieda the Antipodean Opaleye in its small valley setting, Camie the Romanian Longhorn, Chimney and Jiminy the Swedish Short-Snouts, Nessie the Peruvian Vipertooth, Francesca the Chinese Fireball, Biddy the Ukranian Ironbelly, and Brewster the Hungarian Horntail. You finally came to the last set of ropes. “These are the Norwegian Ridgebacks, and I think you know one of them.” With another call of the whistle you’d come to know, two dragons came swooping down in elegant flips and turns, one of which you immediately recognized to be Norbert.

“Norbert!” you called out, earning a daggering stare from Charlie. “It’s fine, Char. Norbert and I were buddies before you came and adopted him.” Charlie’s eyebrows raised and his mouth turned up at the corners. Norbert let out an excited roar at your sight and voice. You hesitated to get close, as he was much larger than when you had last seen him.

“Glad to have a reunion. And this is Sally. She’s Norbert’s… special friend.”

“Awww! Norbert and Sally, that’s cute!” You and Charlie admired the dragons a while longer before heading back to the cottages, and by then it was almost sunset.

“Hope you enjoyed seein’ the dragons, y/n.”

“Oh of course, Charlie! Thank you so much for letting us stay here, it’s a shame we’re leaving in the morning.”

“Well you’re welcome back anytime.” You exchanged nods before heading into your respective cottages.

“Fred?” you called out when you entered. Your husband was relaxed on the couch, reading a book and enjoying a cup of tea. “Hey, love. You seem to be doing better.”

“Hi, love” he gave you a quick peck, “don’t worry about me. Did you have fun?”

“Oh tons of fun. I felt like I was just a third-year spending hours in the library reading about dragons again. We should talk about what happened.” He had a smile watching you talk about the dragons, which quickly faded.

“There’s nothing to talk about, y/n.” he said, wrapping an arm around you and guiding you down to the couch with him where you snuggled up together. “It’s just that dragons aren’t my favorite thing.”

“I’ve never seen you do that. I didn’t think the great Fred Weasley was scared of anything…” you trailed off with a chuckle. “Why’d you agree to come here, then?”

“Well first I wouldn’t say scared, just mildly irked. And secondly, I knew it would make you happy. Besides, who better than be to protect my wife from scary dragons?”

“I don’t know, maybe your all-star auror wife?” You both let out chuckles as he picked you up and brought you to the bed. You got changed into pyjamas and settled into bed, nuzzling  against Fred. “What an amazing honeymoon, love. Couldn’t have asked for better. And I’m so happy to be here with you.”

“And I as well, y/n. What a beautiful start to our marriage. Shame we have to go home in the morning.”

“Yeah, but I have a surprise ready I think you’ll like.” Before he could ask any questions you muttered “nox” and snuggled further into Fred before drifting off to sleep.

[ffxiv-ariavitali]

Ooo if you're taking requests for HCs would you be able to do some for how Estinien and the WoL fall in love and how their relationship develops through the events of Heavensward? :) Thanks!

A request for the grumpy jumpy! I hope you like it!

Written in the eyes of a non-drg WoL. Heavensward spoilers up to the end of the Dragonsong War below the cut.

-

Estinien is a rough cut, an unpolished gemstone so to speak, whose single-minded goal was to see the fall of the wyrm that destroyed his village when he was young. His call for vengeance is only matched by his fervent loyalty to Ishgard, which makes his snarky and condescending attitude towards the Scions and to Ysayle more understandable.

That being said, he notices that he’s giving you special treatment after your fight with Ravana. So easily did the boy make mention of your mission to subdue the primal and so easily did you accept, knowing full well that you may very well be sent to your death. Your conviction was strong - strong enough for him to know that you won’t betray anyone or leave anyone behind in a fight. (Those Eorzean bastards that accused you for such a thing be damned.) He accepts this and with the way you fight, he knows he could trust his back to you during battle. It opens his heart just a little bit.

Every now and then amidst your off hours, he would ask for a spar to gauge your strength and you relish the opportunity to ‘play’ for a little bit, for lack of a better term. When you were busy, he would offer his help in the form of dividing your workload with his. Especially if it meant using his abilities to harvest resources in high, out-of-reach locations. He would brush fingers against yours under the guise of an accident occasionally to test your reactions. Seeing your blush tempts him to continue doing so.

His heart swells ever so slightly when you see those thrice-damned rodents- ahem, moogles. The way you calmly entreated them, even knew how to turn their pranks against them, and the way that you grumbled and groaned when you were forced to do their chores made you seem less of a god the rumors made you to be. More mortal and less of a doll. He wonders how he can prod even more expressions from you.

He realizes that he’s fallen deeper in the way that his heart aches at your pain. The loss of the man that had welcomed you into his hearth and home and the expression that you made was something he knew he never wished to see plaguing you again. Loss was inevitable, he knew, but there was something different in the way that it involved you.

What’s more is that he knew this cry for vengeance that you made so easily in front of the lord commander. How quickly you swore an oath to have Ser Zephirin’s heart for what he did to your benefactor was a haunting mirror to his own cries when he was but a boy. It’s not that he wanted to stop you, for he was no saint with no stains upon his hands. Nay, he merely wanted to help prevent you from falling into a spiral just as he has. Just as he has...

His possession. It was but a blur to him and even he was unsure of how much time had passed whilst under the influence of Nidhogg’s rage. Whilst he was encapsulated by an all-encompassing hatred, a plethora of emotions filled his mind. Sometimes, he would hear Aymeric’s voice, Alphinaud’s voice, your voice, and it pushes him to hold on just a while longer. At least until he knows you’d be able to grant his wish.

When he collects whatever semblance of himself he could when Nidhogg is weakened, his hold of the possession waning thanks to your battle on the Steps of Faith, he pleads with you - the Warrior of Light, his comrade - for there is no one else that he would want more than you to grant him his final wish. 

But the face you make is the same as Haurchefant’s when you were losing him. It was not at all what he wished to see. Perhaps a smile like the one you gave him, but he dared not utter this aloud, for it was his shame to bear even in the afterlife for allowing his most hated enemy - for his wellspring of strength - the opportunity to hurt you so. The opportunity to mar your skin, burn it, cut it, through the use of his body. How could he possibly forgive himself?

His memories faded into a bright white light before he succumbed to both exhaustion and pain. The next he awakens, it is with Alphinaud at his bedside and with you nowhere in sight. He hears a runner slam open the doors, the sound ringing in his ears, and no sooner did he sense your imminent arrival were you before him.

Tears ran down your eyes, of joy and relief, to see him hale and whole. He thanks you, praises you, for it has been an honor sharing the mantle of the Azure Dragoon with one such as yourself before subsequently offering it to Aymeric in his desire to retire. Where he craved vengeance now he only wishes rest.

(He would dare not say his true sentiments aloud. He’s given Aymeric enough of a hard time over the years simply because he could and there was still no way on his pride he would allow him the opportunity to tease him akin to a schoolboy. He prays to Halone that he wasn’t too obvious in his feelings towards you.)

As everyone departs, he reaches out to you, grabbing you by the hand. So, you remain with him and sit at his bedside in a comfortable silence. The sensation of your skin against his in this chaste action of merely holding hands is enough to ground him. To fill him with a warmth he never knew existed after the Calamity plunged Coerthas into an everlasting cold.

At this point, he was sure of his feelings for you. Some part of him was sure that you feel the same for him, too.

However, he is not ready. He must recover, to gather his thoughts, to begin forgiving himself for what he has done over the course of his life. The tightening of your hand on his was enough of a reassurance.

Take all the time you need, you say to him without words. I am here.

It was enough comfort to allow himself to rest. To allow himself to forgive.

To begin a new path in his life.

[sasorikigai]

@xthesparequeen​ continued from here (x) 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Too frequently, Hanzo wonders what nothingness would feel like. Even with enough experience under his belt with his own unstableness of life and the complete absence of it as the hellspawn spectre, and now having encompassed the shimmering colors that offset the obsidian imperviousness of death and absence of life itself, his grief and sorrow still radiates, often explodes as once-clouds that shine from his eyes with such effulgent scintillation drains of all the colors in his world. But if life is the opposite of nothingness, then Hanzo supposes what he’s wondering about is death. An irreversibility of death without tenaciousness of lingered life; something he still chased so desperately out of necessity of his vitriol ire and vengeance, but nothing out of halcyon goodness of his heart. He simply didn’t want to die, truly. Sometimes he just wanted everything to stop, just for a moment, for a break from the constant movement of life that wasn’t worth living at all. 

For all his life, Hanzo Hasashi ached to clutch the forevers of people and things and feelings even. Albeit the reiteration of same lessons failed to manifest the idea of ephemerality, funerals do quell his inkling of permanence, but he hadn’t dared to retreat the past’s footsteps and attempted to retrieve the gnawed bones of Harumi and Satoshi’s remains, nor visited the rubble and dust of the Original Shirai Ryu near Osaka, Japan, where nothing smears the kaleidoscopic colors he used to know before. Regardless, Hanzo always used to aloof myself from the cruelty of reality by creating his own make believe world of words, something that couldn’t be wrecked by blows of events thrown towards his conscious self. He fenced myself, excessively to make sure he doesn’t spare much of facts alive to grieve over loss. Breathing bereavement was something Hanzo swore never allowed to himself, but woe had been his wretched fate. Until the day it no longer held a meaning when He felt the salty sanguine tears flowing down looking at his family he thought he could never lose.

He finds himself stripped of his rudimetal reasons to hate and condemn, and forced himself to look at his fears straight in their faces, when he becomes naked against the backdrop of a tired sky, unborn to a forsaken world, when he is holding on to nothing but the slimmest sliver of life, how he would want to hold them. Forget the divisions that meant something when they were alive, break down the barricades that built up more animosity towards the world that mercilessly and ruthlessly severed them down than they kept out. Perhaps he was meant to born into it. A war that started before he knew the taste of air, as he would taste the tingle of separated flesh and gaping maw of wounds, as the spreading rush of ruby jewels descended even before the salt of his sweat did. 

At least he had hoped to bury them and give them a proper funeral. However, now, a wall thick of thousand layers separated them, and clouds their shine from his eyes. All colors had drained in his world, and still, in Hanzo Hasashi’s world, his heart bleeds and aches. He had been too lonesome to bath in sunlight, bond to this hollow darkness as he couldn’t find any semblance of light in darkness. “I wish I didn’t wait for my salvation to retrieve their remains to give them proper funerals. My Harumi and Satoshi,” he looks at the gravestones, as the surmounted burden of his heart-wrenching guilt and remorse deepens by the further feeling of desperation that fogs his mind and weighs his soul. His heart cannot take it no more, and despite the potency and impassioned fervor of his eternal, everlasting love, Hanzo doubts that he could endure the eroding digesting as his already shapeless heart crumbles and melts like candle wax. “I wish all the unexplainable feeling, hurt, realization, devastation, defeat, all the amalgam of what I used to feel back then didn’t prevent me from facing my absolute fear, as I refused to face it and remained a subjugated coward.” 

In his resurrection, Hanzo was born into his roles, enmeshed in his ignorance, pretending that the people he incinerated were somehow less human than the rest of him. Hanzo did not take in the path of redemption to apologize. He is simply here to give himself over. After all these years, He has become nothing but a monster, but he is here to return his bones to the dirt, and his body to the grave. Bring him back to the day he was born into a hopeful world, untainted by the promise of evil. “I wish I could be as soft as the fire of the hearth and be as deadly and destructive as the firestorm itself; finding that fine balance between the two as I manifest accordingly as what the world really needs. It would teach me far more to be intrepid and courageous in the face of injustice, and spur the need for adventure, to strive to be more than what I was intended as.” 

For complex is being everything Hanzo Hasashi ever was, ever is, and ever will be, without compromise. “In tandem with our healing, I wish for us to simultaneously be good while keeping our weight in the world, whatever that entitles in this universe.” ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||

[chertailor-blog]

Dearest Reader,

Dearest reader, permit me to unburden you of your mundane surroundings, to let you walk the paths and thoroughfares I have, if only to pass time with some level of comfort and excitement.

It all began in Iceland.

It was a bracing 45 degrees by Queen’s measure, and the wind would not permit me to be much warmer. Only the heat from the boiling heart of the Going Merry was enough to stave off the bitter cold. By landfall, any head with eyes was readily clamoring down the road to whatever hearth would take them.

I recall little of the first night, save for that I had passed out by the time my head met the pillow, and recalled a most unusual dream.

I dreamt a cold hand touching mine, and saw a bare arm, gray as night, with a limb that went on forever, elbows and joints laid across the floor and down the stairs, segmented like a branch and still as stone. I followed the limb out to the hills out of some morbid curiosity, until I arrived  at a great shoulder joint, the width of a galleon. With a great heave, something huge pulled itself bodily from the snow, and I awoke.

The heat of a hot drink kept me going that morning, rough as it was. I knew it would be no long time before the captain needed my attention. At sea I was a bilge rat, keeping the steam going with all my might, but when landed I was made a porter, and had no scarcity of equipment to haul over the hills. 

By the first day of hauling, we made camp near the caldera, where one could see naught but ice for miles, save for the ashen wastes of the Breyanvik volcano (whose name I admit I had great trouble acquiring the spelling).

Our task was a simple one. First, to set up camp, and when that was done, to wait until the adventuring party returned from their expedition. The first day began dreadfully boring, and I took great solace in having time to read a book I had squirrelled away for such an occasion. I was somewhere in the vivid daydreams of a middle chapter when I heard exclamations from outside my tent.

One of the party was burned along the ankle, a ghastly wound that would be difficult to treat, the details of which I will spare you, dear reader. I could barely overhear our injured expedite recounting her story to the medics and sawbones, but she talked loudly with her hands. How one could find themselves burned amid a volcano,  there was little mystery, but later I would see for myself that burns from lava look nothing like what I saw then--a thin, ragged line, like the bite of a dog.

My lack of a pocket watch made it difficult to tell if it was afternoon or evening, as the sun in Iceland makes a maddening, spiral path around the horizon. Whatever the time, I was wrest from my tent with the shoutings of the expedition team once more. Blasting powder, they cried, and every man pack their things at once! I felt foolish setting my things into a pack before the captain interrupted the affair, belaying their frantic orders. It seems I was not so foolish after all.

The ground shook with an unnatural rhythm, and in the rusty evening sun I saw great beasts pulling themselves up from the caldera, like ants buried in sand. Were I a person of pride, I’d consider it shameful to flee as quickly as I did—but as I was a lowly porter, I was under no such compulsion. My feet carried me a half-day’s trek with a handful of other deserters. It was still that everlasting evening, and we’d be out of sunlight in the next day or two. Frightened as we were, our bodies failed us as we crested a hill, and we made camp in the warmest crags we could find.

That night, the dreams returned. The arm-thing, crooked and cold, had slithered into my tent, its gray flesh disappearing behind the canvas flaps and out into the rose-hued hillsides. Instead of fear, I felt burning anger; instead of following, I fought. I remember twitching just as I awoke, my mind still caught in some imaginary battle. I took a swig from my waterskin and emerged from my tent. A dreadful quiet greeted me.

Sun was down now, the sky already brimming with stars. The fire between our tents was down to its bones, a few reddish coals holding out for more sustenance. The tents were dark. The tents were empty.

---

Edit: Part 2 is here!