#prompt: forged family

[onigiram]

TAGS. i didn't like the other ones asjbfjbsdjgb

[angstandhappiness]

NICE

I think the thing about Spy X Family that I love so much about it is that there IS like suspense and tension, but it's never like…."these two characters are upset at each other and it makes me uncomfortable."

In situations where that kind of deal arises, it's either portrayed in such a goofy and over the top manner that it doesn't come across as disconcerting, OR it's a scenario where WE as the audience are in the know, and we know pretty much everything. And even then, the characters react out of LOVE and CONCERN rather than distrust or fear.

The perfect example of this is when Yor gets wounded and Loid IMMEDIATELY thinks she hates him. What does he do? HE COMES UP WITH EIGHT HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO DATE IDEAS THAT WILL NOT ONLY MAKE THINGS EASIER ON YOR BUT ALSO WILL SHOW HOW MUCH HE LOVES AND APPRECIATES HER.

And how does Yor react? SHE DOES HER DAMNEDEST TO MAKE LOID HAPPY BY ENGAGING IN HIS CUTE DATE IDEAS. Even though she feels rough and is in pain and is worried about not being grateful enough, she struggles through because she knows how important this all is to LOID.

After so many fucking rom/coms (which, let's be real here, Spy X Family is a fucking rom/com) having miscommunications be poor and lazy excuses for conflict and lies and hurt, Spy X Family is over here using miscommunications for growth and as opportunities for KINDNESS and CARE.

And that's because they trust each other SO DAMN MUCH. I don't think I've seen a media property where conflict is used for positive growth as consistently and with such skill.

The strongest metal must pass through the crucible, but the crucible need not be one of stress and fracture. Let yourself be forged stronger by care, by reassurance, and by love.

[redflagshipwriter]

Fast Car Chapter One (of four)

Masterpost

Danny hit the brakes hard and veered into a bicycle lane with a very Fenton sort of style and disregard for physics. He dodged the gunman in the carpool lane. He stuck his tongue out as he passed and then steered back into the right lane once he’d cleared the pedestrian. 

It turned out that Gotham rewarded the sort of drivers forged in the crucible of the Fenton tactical GAV, which was great. Jazz had gotten a job as a barista for her third year at Gotham U, so he had inherited the car that she had used as a delivery driver. She’d even somehow managed to pay the taxes on it despite the restraining orders that most government offices had on the Fenton family.

Jazz had been a pizza girl, but Danny wasn’t willing to work the late nights. He worked for three different rideshare companies. It was.. Well. It was a terrible way to make a living, if he was honest. It was wretched. But it worked! Until the car crapped out on him, this was a viable option to feed himself while he was enrolled full time at the university. He was available to drive early in the mornings and for a few peak hours on the weekends.

Danny brought an order of 17 coffees to a warehouse with serious ‘murders will happen here today’ vibes and whistled as he left. People in murder warehouses actually tipped pretty well. Worker solidarity or something. He left the early birds to enjoy their 3 am drinks and then idly checked the app to see if there was anyone else waiting for a ride or delivery. 

“Victor,” he read, and took a glance at the address. It was close! He snagged the request and turned on some bubblegum pop to enhance the ride over. 

He saw a man standing outside, haunting a storefront with metal shutters pulled down. Must be the guy! Danny pulled over, checked the app, and then furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. Seemed wrong. He fixed his face before he looked back over. 

In the app, Victor didn’t look especially young or fit. In person, he was easily over 6 feet tall and lugged a huge bulky bag like it weighed nothing. 

He also had a giant ugly motorcycle helmet with the vague impression of a caveman brow ridge built into it. Danny hid his judgmental thoughts and rolled down the window to chirp, “Hi! Victor?”

“That’s me.” Victor sounded like he was auditioning for the Deft Punks, electronics grinding out his voice to a silly robot autotune. Danny hid the way his lips wanted to tremble. You can’t laugh at clients. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

Danny hated that. “Go for it.” He opened the trunk with the button and hid his real thoughts. He didn’t like people using the trunk. Why not just put it in the backseat like a normal person? There was enough room for a person and a bag there.

‘Is there enough room for this guy, actually?’ Danny wondered, looking Victor up and down subtly. Were his shoulders padded or was he actually built like that? Bizarre. 

He had the sense that Victor was tense.

‘Ah., fuck. He caught me checking out his shoulders.’

Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.” 

Victor took him up on the front seat option and readjusted the passenger seat back with a casual ease. 

Danny waited a moment.

Victor cocked his head at him.

“Seatbelt,” Danny prompted.

There was a long moment. Victor silently buckled his seatbelt. 

“Awesome.” Danny put on his turn signals and pulled out. He went slower than he preferred. He’d learned the hard way that most passengers didn’t like his driving. It was great for cutting time off when he was delivering food, but no good for nervous cargo like poor Victor here. The poor guy was so anxious that he kept his emotional support helmet on when a passenger in a car. 

Danny thoughtfully drove the speed limit and let Victor change music.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Danny didn’t mind much either way. He liked quiet rides and he liked chatting alright.

“Stop the car two blocks early,” Victor said. He pointed. “There’s fine.”

Obligingly Danny guided the car to a stop and shifted to park. He jumped out of the car. “I’ll grab your bag!” He called over his shoulder. He popped open the trunk and lifted Victor’s bag with a winning smile that said ‘I deserve a good tip.’

Victor had moved to the back of the car faster than Danny expected. He paused. He looked weirdly stiff. “Thanks.” He took the bag. “...Here’s your tip.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Danny said, pretending not to be interested in how much money it was. He waved Victor goodbye and pulled out. As soon as he was a block away he counted the bills. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed. Victor tipped like a crime boss. He stuffed them into his wallet and made a mental note of the account. He’d definitely try to accept requests from him in future.

He gave two more rides before he could go back to his shitty apartment and get ready for classes. Danny parked in the little underground garage near his place where he paid a monthly fee and jogged to his place. He got his bag and left on foot.

He had a pretty normal day. The only hiccup was that it was kind of hard to focus on his lectures when he could faintly hear what had to be every TV on campus playing the same news bulletin. Danny did his best to block it out, grimacing. Having advanced senses really sucked sometimes. If he heard the breaking news jingle one more time, he might cry. 

By the time he was free he felt pushed to his limit. He went back to his place and turned off all his electronics for some peace of mind. 

The next morning felt better. He turned on the tab that said he was available for work at 3 am and ended up bringing a huge delivery of breakfast materials to the same police station that he’d left Victor at yesterday. Danny hummed as he jogged up the concrete steps with three bulging bags of baked goods and coffee grounds. He handed them to a weary-eyed receptionist and accepted his tip without looking at it. He considered cracking a joke about them being busy and decided it was better not to.

He was still an illegal entity, after all. His parents were covering for him, but scrutiny was not his friend. He didn’t want any interaction with the police or the rogue band of detective freakazoids that ran this crime town.

Back in the car, he checked his tip. Danny clicked his tongue and made a disgusted sound. He hated cops. Cheap! There was nothing worse than being cheap.

His next customer tried to rob him at gunpoint as soon as he got in the car. Danny wrestled the gun away from him and ate it while the guy watched. “Just try and report me to the app,” Danny sneered between crunches of metal. It tasted like shit and the guy probably hadn’t washed his hands, so like, yuck. But it was a choice he was making for the intimidation factor, not because it was yummy.

‘Bet my iron intake is good now.’ Danny held out his hand. “My tip,” he said, and did not unlock the car door until the shaking wannabe carjacker had given him three dollars American money. Hell yeah. “Have a good morning.”

He went into the app and canceled the ride. There was another request waiting, so he drove to it. It wasn’t the name that the app’s request had shown, but- “Good morning, Victor!” Danny waved. “Call from a friend’s app this time?”

Victor stared at him dumbly. At least, that was Danny’s best guess of what was going on inside the helmet. “Yes.” He eventually said.

Cool, cool. Very weird. But he was an ok guy and he tipped well. “Hop in,” Danny said, and unlocked the car.

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[atryoshka]

@buckevantommy plssss the brainworms you just gave me omg

everyone at harbour is stoked about bucktommy because it means they get to hear all the insane drama from the 118 without having to worry about getting mixed up with it.

[divinegrey]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝗿 / 𝗮𝗺𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

took a slight left on the prompt i was given, but it just felt more fitting given what i know of ambessa. hope you enjoy!

prompt: Hi! How about an Ambessa x Reader where the reader is her only weakness besides her family? And, maybe, reader gets hurt in the last battle and Ambessa realizes that sometimes, winning a war is not worth all the losses it causes along the way.

words: 1337

warnings: canon typical violence

“Every war comes with a price to pay.” 

The words echo in your head as you swing your glaive in a wide arc, slicing through the bodies of the blue-suited Enforcers trying to bull-rush you onto the ground. It comes naturally you, the motion and flow of handling your polearm; six feet of handle and two feet of blade, creating a damning vortex of death around you as you cut through the defenses set up by Piltover. The stench of blood lays thick in your nostrils, metallic and complimentary to the lingering scent of magic littering across the stone battlefield. Behind you, more reinforcements rush into the gray, drawing attention off of you.

You glance up in time to notice the Hextech cannon aimed in your direction; there’s little time to think before you dive to the side, curling yourself behind a fallen stone statue as the payload strikes the spot where you once stood, arcane blue scattering out in an explosion that wipes out half of the infantry under your command. 

Despite the ache in your bones and the several gashes bleeding through your armor, you haul yourself over the statue, sprinting across the battlefield. 

Ambessa’s plan is sound— they always are, such is the nature of the Warlord. The death of Rictus, her second-in-command, sent echoes through the ranks. Through you, especially. He, more than anyone, was your brother in arms, a man you could trust to guard your back as much as you guarded his. But even with his esteemed spot by her side, he was never a recipient of special treatment. He never received Ambessa’s love and adoration like you did. 

You slide across the stone, your heel making contact with the shin of an Enforcer. The snap of bone is felt ricocheting through your boot as you come up onto your feet, driving your steel through their chest. Blood spills onto the ground and you exhale, turning face to your General. 

“Thirty percent of my men are dead. The Hextech cannon is proving to be a nuisance,” you remark, a gesture toward the sky where the cannon unloads another shot toward the infantry, bodies going flying. You hardly flinch, more of a grimace passing your face. 

“The cost we pay. Ignore the cannon, press the advantage,” Ambessa instructs. Her eyes flicker past your shoulder, visible beneath the golden mask, and you follow her wordless command, shifting your body to the side the same moment she steps forward, arm raised and magic flaring from the runes wrapped tight. A bullet bounces off the momentary shield. You spin on your heel, hurling your glaive at the would-be killer. 

They fall to the ground, red soaking blue. 

Ambessa kicks up a glaive from the ground, borrowed from another Noxian soldier fallen, and presses it into your hand. “We shall win the day. You most of all. Leave the infantry to deal with the Enforcers. You, with me. We must break through to the door!” 

“Yes, General!” You step into pace with her, charging through the fray at her side. She defends your left, you defend her right. Hours upon hours spent training against her as lent a strength fighting with her, knowing intimately how she moves just as well as she knows how you move. There’s a tenacity, an unbreakable wall forged in the bond between the two of you. 

But every wall will suffer a siege. Every wall will suffer a break. 

You see it before she does. You move before her, your hand finding purchase in her armor and swapping places. The shout that rips through your throat is not one of victory, of force or strength, but of pain, a payload from the Hextech cannon slamming into your back. Your position and the refractions of her runes protect Ambessa; the same cannot be said for you. 

You find yourself hurtling through the air, landing against the stone, metal screeching as you slide to a stop, blood smeared in your vision. You can hardly get a lungful of air down without sputtering out due to the searing agony working up your spine from the impact. The feeling in your legs is fuzzy, barely there, and you struggle to push yourself up. 

Ambessa arrives, the golden halo of Runeterra’s sun behind her head. 

“You fool, why did you—” 

“Can’t ignore the cannon, General,” you hiss out, laying your hand on her arm. Red spreads on her skin, melting into the fabric. “Not when it puts you in danger.” 

She reaches to your face, her palm gripped on your helmet and pulling it off. It’s thrown aside, her own mask removed too— for the first time in what feels like a long, long time, you see it in her eyes. Fear. 

As quick as it came, it’s gone. Ambessa stands, sliding her arms under yours to drag you behind a barricade of Noxian soldiers, shields pressing tight to protect her. 

“That is not the order I gave you,” Ambessa grits out. Her head snaps up, the urgency in her voice enough to instill the smallest worry in you. “Medic, now!” 

“I will be fine, you need to keep fighting, General, please, victory hasn’t been secured—” 

“Victory means nothing if you are not there to see it with me,” says Ambessa, a whispered tone to protect her the vulnerability in her words reserved only for you. 

You’ve known the truth for a long while— there is one weakness you bear, and that is the soft spot in your heart that cradles Ambessa Medarda with all the love you have. The same can be said for her, a tightness in her expression as a medic drops to their knees beside you, pulling the straps of your armor in order to properly assess the damage. You raise your good arm to hold her face, wiping away the tears that could very well easily pass for sweat instead. The very motion seems to stoke an anger in her, not to you, but to those who did this to you. 

“My lion,” you whisper, a forced smile on your face. “I will not fall. And neither will you. Win. For Noxus. For us.” 

Like tempered steel quenched in oil, Ambessa’s face hardens. She leans down, pressing her forehead to yours, breathing in your air as easily as you breath in hers. Never before has she so willingly displayed this much affection with you in front of her soldiers, but if any of them have anything to say about it, they’re wise enough to keep their mouths shut. You and Ambessa apart are terrifying forces of power, but together, you’re nigh unconquerable. 

“Steel your heart, my shield,” Ambessa murmurs, and you nod the slightest amount, enough for her to know you heard her. “We will see Noxus anew.” 

It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to an I love you. 

Ambessa kisses you, her hand cradled on the back of your head. The din of war seems to cease around you, your senses and what left you have of your fading consciousness focused on Ambessa Medarda, of the woman you swore your life, your fealty, your love to. When she pulls away, you see the struggle in her eyes, her desire to ensure your safety conflicting with the pressing need to ensure victory. 

You make the choice for her, her mask in your hand outstretched to her. 

“The price we pay,” you say, watching as she takes it, a barely there moment of hesitation before she puts it back on her face. She takes her sword in hand and rises, her shadow casting over you. 

“If they do not survive,” Ambessa speaks to the medic, who pauses to listen to her orders. “You will not even get a grave.”

The medic does not deign to respond with words, rather a nod and a renewed urgency. Ambessa looks at you once more; you thump your fist weakly on your chest. 

She runs headlong back into battle, shouting a war cry for the ages. 

~~~~~ A/N: ambessa.... mommy... WHO SAID THAT

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon I — The Tides Beckon

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I — You are here] [Part II] [Part III] [Part IV]

The last thing you expected was to have caught the eye of Fontaine’s Chief Justice. You have no choice but to be swept into the dragon’s dance.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possessive behavior, forced imprisonment, unrequited relationship

It all started with your realization that Fontaine has some rather intriguing laws.

For as long as you could recall, you had aspired to become a marine biologist. Though you hailed from Mondstadt, you forged your curiosity in the tide pools and lakes around the edges of the region. You scoured over any novel you could find on marine ecology and animal behavior, spending endless hours lost in the Knights of Favonius library. On your thirteenth birthday, your parents bought you a Kamera, which launched your career in wildlife photography and research. You even went on to publish a book cataloguing pictures of your nation’s aquatic life. It came to no one’s surprise, then, when you were gifted with a hydro vision.

Although you loved your life in Mondstadt, the vast waters that surrounded the Land of Hydro beckoned you like the pull of a tide. So, on your twenty-fifth birthday, you parted with your family and homeland, traversing across Teyvat and experiencing its many wonders. You relished in the culture and cuisine in Liyue and marveled at the natural architecture of Sumeru’s forests. Yet nothing would ever be as breathtaking as your first glimpse at Fontaine, at the granite peaks rising above the crystalline waters teeming with life of all forms.

You had secured employment with a group researching the sudden uptick in seal strandings across the nation, taking you across Fontaine’s many beaches. Your main base was located near Romaritime Harbor, which prompted you to spend your lunch breaks exploring the Court of Fontaine.

You made quick friends with the Melusines, some of whom were still a bit nervous being around humans; however, you found their stories of the ocean fascinating and often invited them to join you for lunches or strolls through the city.

One in particular, Carole, had become your close friend after you encountered her being pelted with rocks by a mob of Fontainians. You didn’t hesitate to use your vision to immobilize the rocks and create a barrier around Carole, quickly ushering her to safety. You couldn’t comprehend the prejudices directed towards her and the other Melusines, but after that incident, you made sure to keep an eye out for all of your little friends.

One day, on one of your walks, you ran into said Melusine. She seemed despondent that only a handful of citizens were interested in her hand painted posters, so you decided to treat her to lunch and pastries to cheer her up. That’s when you first caught wind of the Hydro Dragon.

“Well, if you’re worried about the seals, you might call upon the Hydro Sovereign himself!” Carole chirped.

You tipped your head curiously, lowering the cup in your hands onto the cafe table. “Don’t you mean herself? Although I’ve never met the Hydro Archon, I’ve heard others refer to her as ‘Lady’ Furina.”

Carole shook her hands back and forth in front of her. “Oh, no, I mean the Hydro Dragon! He is responsible for keeping watch over Fontaine, which includes all of its resources and residents. I’ve heard that with every sea creature that passes, the heavens open and the dragon sheds his tears in mourning.” She took a bite of her croissant. “I have a feeling he’d be willing to help.”

You tapped your chin in thought. “You don’t say. Well, we are in a bit of a drought, which could be contributing to the beachings… Perhaps I’ll ask this Hydro Sovereign for his favor.”

On the days you were dispatched to Fontaine’s eastern beaches, you opted to sit by the Fountain of Lucine to wish for the Hydro Dragon’s help. It had become a tradition for you to do so ever since your conversation with Carole, for you swore that every time you prayed to his name, rain would grace the shores the next day.

During those research trips, your coworkers would invite you to attend trials at the Opera Epiclese, though you politely declined each time. You had no particular interest in the Opera and were much more inclined to spending your time outside and uninvolved with the court’s theatrics. Besides, you considered yourself to be a model citizen, so the proceedings of the court were beyond your worries.

Or so you thought.

~*~

The incident that led to your arrest was the violation of the order “no domestic pets shall be named after Furina”. Apparently the otter that paddled around the Harbor each morning was undignified of the title of “Focalotter”. You had thought the name quite clever and humorous—that is, until a horde of Gardes surrounded you during your shift one afternoon.

You were detained and led into the Opera immediately, which was where you currently found yourself. You frowned at the relatively large crowd—which, much to your dismay, included most of your coworkers—dispersed throughout the hall. Had they all come just to spectate your trial? Standing alone on the isolated balcony, you felt like an insect under a magnifying glass, an insignificant pest to be probed at for entertainment.

“And how do you plead?”

The deep, commanding voice above you wrenched you from your thoughts. Turning your eyes up, your (e/c) orbs were met with a penetrating gaze.

Pinning you with his lavender and silver eyes from atop his chair at the center of the court was none other than the Chief Justice of Fontaine, the Iudex himself, the face of the law in the Court. Monsieur Neuvillette.

This wasn’t your first interaction with the man.

Shortly your move to Fontaine, you had stumbled across his path. At first, it was just sightings from afar; he would be leaving the Opera, or purchasing a drink (Wait, is he paying for water?) from your favorite cafe. Your favorite flowers also began to appear at your doorstep, each time with a brief, cryptic note, usually something along the lines of To my little pearl —Sincerely, your guardian dragon. You didn’t think anything of it; if anything, it confirmed that your prayers to the Hydro Sovereign had been heard.

Then, however, Neuvillette began to periodically show up around your research stations, claiming to be investigating a court case. Even though the Iudex’s public appearances were supposedly rare, none of your coworkers, yourself included, thought to question his authority, answering his inquiries regarding the base’s activities to the best of your abilities.

You noticed that he tended to speak to you the most, even asking personal inquiries like your favorite drinks, foods, books, and hobbies, and about your marine photography especially. It must be part of the investigation, you rationalized. He was nothing but gentlemanly and always kept conversations curt and to the point, offering you a gentle smile as he departed.

If only you knew the true extent of his desires.

~*~

Naturally, he first caught wind of you from the Melusines. As his closest advisor, Carole regularly joined him for afternoon tea, and though he was not one for idle talk, the manner in which his friend spoke of you sparked his intrigue.

“And when those meanies were throwing rocks at me, (Y/n) was the only one who intervened! If it weren’t for her, I don’t know what would have happened…” Carole rubbed her head, as if remembering the sharp pain.

Neuvillette placed a hand over his heart. “I am eternally grateful for her presence. I cannot stand the thought of any harm befalling you.” The hydro dragon looked out the window of his study to the ocean, deep in thought. “Perhaps you could introduce me. It appears I have much to thank her for.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Carole raised a finger. “She mentioned lots of seal beachings recently, so I suggested that requesting rain from a certain dragon could assist her work!”

Neuvillette nodded, a slight smile pulling at his lips. “Ah, so that is why I’ve been hearing Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon echoing throughout my mind the past few weeks. You have quite the imagination, my friend.”

Carole shrugged playfully. “Hasn’t it been raining more often lately? Seems like her prayers worked!”

That they had, as Neuvillette could attest to.

The first time he heard your soft voice calling to him, he had sent rain the following morning—not for you, but for the seals. His position barred him from forming close relationships with humans, so the notion of attending to your inquiry face-to-face was eliminated immediately.

But when you returned again and again to implore for rain, he couldn’t deny his interest. The day after Carole informed him that his little supplicant and Carole’s hero were one in the same, he knew he had to meet you. He had actually left the Opera to see you for himself; whether he would actually converse with you was still uncertain, but your voice tickled an itch that he needed to scratched.

Neuvillette was an experienced and composed man, but setting his sights on you for the first time stole his breath. This, he thought, must be what it feels like to drown.

Your smile shone brighter than a Beryl conch, and your scent floated around him, sweeter than any marcotte. The light shimmering from the hydro vision on your hip reflected back in your eyes, giving them the appearance of twin pools of blue. You were sitting on a bench by the Fountain, a Kamera in hand as you gestured excitedly towards the screen. To your right was a Melusine he knew well, Kiara, who was clearly enraptured with the technology.

Though he knew of your kindness towards the Melusines—jumping in to save Carole alone was grounds for a medal of peace—seeing it before him sent the waters around his heart roiling. The Iudex was moved by the fact that, despite being a foreigner to Fontaine’s customs, you treated them with the utmost respect, going out of your way to befriend and include them in your daily life. Many citizens of Fontaine still harbored prejudice against the Melusines, but you… You even used she/her pronouns when referring to them, implementing the very law that he set forth.

“I use this for my research on seal behavior and conservation,” you explained to Kiara. “Having pictures of each individual helps us identify them in the future. We even give them silly names sometimes. See this one here? We call him Mr. Sealie, and this otter I like to call…”

When the pink Melusine started giggling over the nickname of your otter, a plan formed in his mind.

Whether attributable to his sense of justice or his draconic instincts, he knew one thing for certain. Like a shining pearl, you must be cherished and protected—and who better to serve than the Hydro Sovereign?

~*~

Those eyes will be my downfall.

Purple and silver locked with (e/c). Despite being newly appointed to the court, Neuvillette was the embodiment of both poise and intimidation. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with power and unyielding authority. His breathtaking eyes swirled with emotions—was that desire or disinterest?—you could not even begin to decipher in your current position.

Archons, help me.

You cleared your throat, hoping you didn’t appear too nervous in front of the judge. “Although I admit to using a version of the Hydro Archon’s name when referring to that otter, I was unaware of such a law against doing so. I’m not originally from Fontaine, so some of its, uh…lesser discussed laws are new to me.”

Neuvillette gazed around the courtroom as the crowd devoured the trial before them. It was baffling how naive humans could be sometimes; of course there was no rule against applying a silly nickname to a pet.

That is, until this morning when he had signed it into law.

Seeing you frightened and alone in the defendant’s box, however, was torture. It took all of his willpower to not to engulf you in his strong arms like waves around sand. But he had to maintain the facade of immovable judicator for a bit longer in order to mold you to his tide. Retaining his mask of composure, Neuvillette continued, “You do realize that previous defendants have been jailed for far less, correct?”

Frustration and fear flared within you. “But I—”

“Desecration of Lady Furina’s name is of the highest offense. Your behavior will not be excused, neither by myself nor the Oratrice.” Neuvillette raised the paper with your verdict, barely glancing over the words before he spoke. “The verdict stands: you, (Y/n) (L/n), are guilty.”

You clenched your fists heatedly. There was no arguing with the Iudex. Clearly, the polite and considerate version of Neuvillette that you had encountered earlier was an anomaly, for the figure looming above you was the complete opposite. Cold, calculating. Distant. A whirlpool cresting a bottomless sea.

Had this been his plan all along? Had you been the subject of his investigation? But why?

“However, because you are not from Fontaine, I will offer you a choice.”

You blinked up at the Justice, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. A choice? What choice did you truly have here? You pursed your lips warily but nodded for him to continue.

Neuvillete raised a gloved finger. “The first: you will serve a life sentence in the Fortress of Meropide.”

A wave of despair seared your insides like a brand. That was your fate? To be trapped beneath the region where you had always longed to live, never to feel the salty wind on your face or hear the calls of seals and gulls again? Surely, the second option was less cruel?

“Or, alternatively: you will dedicate your life to the court. You will abide by its laws without question and with unwavering commitment. You will relinquish your freedom; you will not be permitted to leave Fontaine and will be bound to this place for eternity.”

A choked sob escaped your lips. No matter what you chose, your life’s work and passion would be extinguished. You would be forced to either become an actress in the court’s performance or resign your soul to a watery grave.

Both option chained you to the Region of Hydro forever.

But one option at least granted you a semblance of freedom—a notion that you soon learned was as transitory as a bubble in water.

The crack of a cane against wood resounded through the Opera, quickly silencing the crowd’s mutterings over your sentence. “What is your decision?”

You could have heard a pin drop as the audience waited in rapt anticipation for your answer.

“I…I choose the latter,” you declared, tilting your chin up. You maintained direct eye contact with the Iudex all the while, holding onto your last bit of pride.

You could have sworn you saw Neuvillette release a breath of relief. “Very well. I hereby adjourn the court. Gardes, please escort the defendant to my office for further instruction.”

Two Gardes led you out of the Opera and onto an Aquabus to the city. They informed you that you would now be living in the Palais Mermonia and your duties would begin immediately. When you asked about retrieving your belongings and notifying your family, the Gardes exchanged glances.

“That won’t be necessary,” one said cryptically. “Monsieur Neuvillette will page your relatives and have your possessions seized.”

You frowned, wishing to object, but the Palais doors loomed before you like the entrance to a monster’s lair. You gulped but swallowed your fears, straightening your back pridefully as you were ushered inside and into the Chief Justice’s office. The bolting of the lock from the outside set alarm bells off immediately.

Neuvillette stood from his seat as you walked in. He coughed awkwardly, red dusting across his pale complexion. “Ah, Lady (Y/n). I do apologize for such a fast-paced series of events. You must be exhausted.” He motioned towards the sofa adjacent to his workspace. “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him in surprise. What happened to the unwavering judge from the court? Why was he suddenly treating you kindly? And why in the Archons’ names was he blushing of all things? Unsure how else to react, you obeyed and settled into your seat, with Neuvillette taking his own on the sofa across from you.

Neuvillette poured you a glass of what appeared to be plain water into an exquisitely ornamented cup. You took it wordlessly, noticing his eyes flare with a silver glow when your fingers brushed his own. Gripping his own cup, he raised the chalice towards you. “To a long and dedicated future together.”

You sketched a brow curiously but raised your glass in tandem to…whatever that was supposed to mean. “To not being in prison, I guess.”

“Indeed.” A breathy chuckle followed. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering as to what this whole business regarding your sentence is.” Neuvillette took a long sip from his chalice. He frowned slightly when you simply placed yours on the coffee table separating the two of you. “Although you may have thought you’d be completing droll office work, your duties will be a tad unorthodox.”

At this, your brows furrowed. Wasn’t that what all those employees you had passed in the Palais foyer had been doing—pushing papers? You had cringed at the dark bags under many of their eyes, at how many were asleep at their desks, imagining how similar you’ll look once your sentence was completed. But based on Neuvillette’s words, it sounded like you would be doing something very different.

Oh, Archons. I’m fucked.

You braced yourself to speak, but Neuvillette beat you to it.

“You are to be my wife.”

You blinked once, twice, waiting for the punchline of the joke.

Neuvillette merely stared at you with his hands folded across his lap, waiting for your response.

After a pregnant pause, you couldn’t help the stunned scoff that escaped your lips. “You can’t be serious.”

“Quite, I’m afraid.”

You shook your head. “With all due respect, Monsieur—”

“Please, call me Neuvillette.”

Ignoring him, you continued, “I did not agree to be your wife.”

The Chief Justice leaned back against the posh blue cushions of the sofa. “Although that may be the case, you are in no position to refuse. In fact, your sentence mandates that you follow my orders.”

You stood abruptly, sending your goblet toppling over and spilling its contents across the table. “Marriage was not a part of that sentence.” Which was ridiculous to begin with, you added to yourself. I mean, a life sentence for a pet name? It’s almost like he wanted me arrested.

Neuvillette sighed and flicked his wrist, causing the chalice to right itself and the water to refill. “Marriage is the highest form of dedication, no? Is that not what you pledged to?”

“I dedicated my life to the court,” you clarified.

“My dear, I am the court.”

You emitted a low hiss, turning to the door. “I’m leaving.”

Before you could take more than a step, Neuvillette moved towards you faster than a crack of lightning across the sea. His large frame straddled yours, pinning you against the sofa. He grabbed your dominant wrist, a foreign bubbling under your skin erecting the hairs on your arms. Your mind reached out for your hydro powers to defend yourself, only to be crushed with the realization that your vision had been confiscated at the court.

Despite your struggles, you could only watch in terror as a glowing silver-blue mark in the shape of a dragon burned across the length of your arm. The leviathan’s scaly body twisted in ringlets up your forearm and bicep, ending in a slender head with twin horns that crested your shoulder.

As soon as Neuvillette loosed his grip, you shoved him away, panting heavily. The mark had already disappeared, but you could still feel the ghost of it under your skin.“What have you done?” you whispered breathlessly.

In total contrast to your own contorted expression, Neuvillette appeared completely calm. He smoothed out his robes and adjusted his jabot. “I have lived for centuries, and I have many centuries more. I’ve merely gifted some of them to you.”

Your body began to shake, from fear, sadness, or rage you did not know. “I don’t want them.”

“You do remember that you promised to serve the court for eternity, don’t you? How do you expect to persist by my side otherwise?”

Eyes locked on the exit, you tried for a different tactic. “Take me to the Fortress of Meropide.”

Neuvillette’s expression darkened, his patience clearly thinning. “I will not.”

Your eyes shifted back to his. Although Neuvillette intimidated you beyond belief, you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without fighting for your life’s hard work. “I want to change my sentence.”

He glanced down at your arm. “It’s a bit too late for that, my dear.” Taking your hand in his, he pulled you to his chest. His form towered over you, capable of resting his chin on the top of your head. “Please, understand. I mean to keep you from harm, even if it means being your jailor.”

“You’re insane,” you hissed, futility attempting to pull away. “Let go of me!”

Neuvillette’s grip was relentless. You stilled when you felt claws ghost up your back in a silent warning. “That is one thing I will never do.”

The fight in you slowly ebbed away—for now. Your resistance was clearly moot, like a gnat trying to down a dragon. You’d have to play the long game to learn how to get under his skin—and how to rid your own of this new mark. “I will find a way out of this,” was all you could promise, refusing to meet his eyes.

A deep sigh sounded above you. Neuvillette took a step back, looking at you with such longing you thought you’d combust on the spot. With one last stroke of your cheek, he strode towards the office’s exit and unlocked the door with a flick of his wrist. Looking over his shoulder, he fixed you with a forlorn gaze. “By the time you realize your place here, there will be nothing for you to escape to. Only I will remain.” He once more turned his back to you and stepped out of the room.

You suddenly paled, realizing the implication of his words. If his declaration was true and you were to live as long as him, then your family, your career, the world as you know it would be completely gone. Your only company, your only solace, the only one who would remember your name, would be him. “Wait, no, you can’t—!”

He closed the doors.

~*~

Neuvillette was many things, but a liar was not one of them.

True to his word, you remained locked almost exclusively in the Palais Mermonia. On the rare occasions he let you outside, the Iudex served as your only company, diligently making sure you were hidden. Your vision was permanently taken, supposedly to prevent danger to yourself. It didn’t go unnoticed when he would wear it on his hip at important or potentially volatile trials. When you finally asked—or growled at him, really—why he kept it on his person, he had merely frowned and replied, “I originally thought the idea of a fake vision preposterous, I admit. I have no need for one. Yet having it feels as if you are constantly by my side.”

The draconic tattoo he had branded onto your arm not only extended your lifespan but also gave you a minuscule drop of his abilities—though only when you were in his presence (and most definitely not against him—you had tried). That allowed the two of you to transport to and breath in the depths of Fontaine whenever you begged to go out. In his mind, it was perfect—not only was the sea his realm, but no one and nothing could touch you. You were his alone to hold, to see, to have.

Those trips were torture for you. Free, but trapped; floating, but tied down to the man who was supposed to be the symbol of justice.

You, on the other hand, had tried a variety of (fruitless) tactics to convince the judge to free you. Any attempt at conversation or advance in his part was met with either vitriol or indifference on your part. You had once tried to charm him into letting his guard down, hoping you could sneak away while he was preoccupied at the court. This plan epically backfired on you when he mistook your subtle touches as permission to devour you with kisses and love bites, covering you in bruises from his sharp teeth for the next week. You wouldn’t so much as let him tap your shoulder for the next month after—the spark of silver in his eyes while he kissed you foretold of a deep, overwhelming desire that far surpassed simple kisses. You feared what might occur if the composed Chief Justice were given the opportunity to release his more primal urges.

And so, each day was passed much in the same:

1) Wake up on the floor or couch of his suite in the Palais—like hell you’d be sharing a bed with him. Oh, how he had tried in the beginning to usher you into bed, into his arms. It was childish, yes, but at least your refusal have you some semblance of autonomy.

2) Ponder on how you would greet Neuvillette that day.

3) Choose between fury or pretending he didn’t exist, typically the latter.

4) Look for a way to escape after he left for the Opera. Fail.

5) Spend most of the day scouring court cases in his office for clues to overturn your cause. Fail again.

6) Look out the window pitifully at the water beyond the Court of Fontaine (were the levels rising?). You often thought of your family back in Mondstadt; what were they told of your imprisonment, if anything? How long had you been stuck with the Chief Justice? The days blurred like ink in water.

7) Immediately exit the office towards his attached suite the moment he returned—any other room was preferable to his suffocating presence.

Today, though, he had chosen to interrupt your musings out the window before you could make your exit.

“You know, I find the beauty of the bright sunlight is best appreciated from the indoors through a window.”

Turning your head from the glass pane, your attention was brought to the figure standing in the doorway. He was wearing nothing but a simple pair of dark blue slacks and a white tunic, his robes hooked over his arm. At the start of your captivity you had mused how strange it was to see him without his normal ornamentation; now his comparatively plain appearance was a daily sight for you.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the window, relishing the heat from the coastal sun against your back. It was nothing like the dark pits he practically dragged you to now that you could breathe underwater. “Personally, I prefer to enjoy it with the company of a cool breeze by the shoreline.”

The Chief Justice loosed a deep sigh as he approached you. He extended his palm, caressing your cheek gently. “If you desire it so, I will rearrange some meetings and escort you—”

Below the waves, where he clung to you like a Lumitoile to a rock? “No need. Present company would ruin the experience. I prefer to be above water.”

Neuvillette had the audacity to wince at your retort. “So you instead choose to wallow in your self-inflicted solitude?”

You wanted to laugh at the hurt edge to his voice. Self-inflicted your ass—every moment of your life now centered on him, depended on his permission. Solitude was a disguise for any reprieve you could get from his constant attempts to court you.

The ironic part was that, if he had approached you normally, you could have seen yourself falling for him. He brought and cooked your favorite foods and beverages, showered you with gifts and books on photography, and tried his utmost to make you comfortable.

But you knew it was as nothing but glitter in a gilded cage. Neuvillette had drowned your whole world. So no, you wouldn’t act like any of this is normal.

Resisting the urge to bite his bare hand, you glared at your captor. “You could simply, oh, I don’t know, let me go.”

Neuvillette’s jaw tightened. His patience might run deeper than the Trench of Elton, but it was not everlasting. “We’ve discussed this.”

At that, you shrugged his hand off. “Can I at least speak with my family? My friends?”

A pained look flickered across Neuvillette’s face. “That isn’t possible.”

Your lip curled in response to his expression. “Don’t act like you actually care.”

Pursing his lips, he settled onto the window seat next to you. Though you were twitching with the urge to escape, he placed a large hand on your thigh, a gentle warning. “(Y/n), there’s something we must discuss.”

You narrowed your eyes, though your heart rate spiked. By now, he recognized your silence as a sign to continue.

“Do you wish to walk around the Court of Fontaine with me?”

Blinking, your throat dried. You swore you heard him wrong. “I’m sorry?”

Neuvillette squeezed your leg in what he thought was a comforting manner. His eyes—fuck, you had to admit they were wickedly beautiful, silver and sharp as a sword—never left your own. “You have been justified in your anger with me. I have restricted you for far too long. I would like to extend an olive branch, if you will—an agreement that we will both retain civility. I will grant you freedoms, but you must adhere to your sentence. Any deviation will not be tolerated.”

Your head was spinning, so you didn’t even consider the implications of his words. He was letting you out. “Can we go now?”

Neuvillette smiled softly. “Of course.” Standing, he offered you a hand. You tentatively took it, more awestruck than anything as he unlocked the doors to the outside. You’d finally get to see your family, your colleagues, the sun—!

Fontaine was unrecognizable.

The last time you seen the square of the Statue of the Seven, the roads were cobblestone. Now, strange machines roamed the paved streets, clearly serving as sentinels. None of the shops or restaurants were familiar—your favorite coffee shop, where you had so many chats with Carole, was now boasting signs for upscale fashion. A Melusine hopped by, wearing a Garde’s uniform, something that you remembered as being rare due to the increased chances of them being targeted. Your heart rate spiked in worry when the Melusine approached a group of children and their parents, only for a stunned expression to hit you when the creature was hugged by a little girl, her parents cooing in delight.

“Where…what?” you stammered. Fontaine had seemingly changed overnight—at least in your experience of time. Dread pooled in your stomach.

You attempted to pull your arm away from him, but his grip on you was steadfast. That same pained look from before marred his handsome features. “I did not lie when I said you have nothing to return to.” The Chief Justice sounded melancholic—he wished it hadn’t come to this, but he had to eliminate any prompts for you to leave.

“No, no.” Your heart dropped. “What… What year is it?”

The silence that followed was all you needed to know.

“How many years has it been, Neuvillette?” you repeated, your voice cracking with a desperate tone.

For once, Neuvillette avoided eye contact with you. He simply gestured towards a bulletin board, where the latest issue of The Steambird (at least one thing was consistent) was posted. You tore it from its pin, choking back a sob as you read the date.

Hands shaking, the issue fell to the ground. It landed in a puddle, its edges slowing soaking and blurring the ink. A steady rain had started to fall, quickly turning into a torrential downpour.

It had been over four hundred years since Neuvillette had taken you.

If it weren’t for Neuvillete’s hand on your hip, you would have crumpled to your knees. “H-how?”

Neuvillete looked to the skies solemnly. “Time passes differently for us long-lived species.” You cringed at his use of us, and how he actually sounded remorseful. “But this is our opportunity for a fresh start.”

Silent tears streamed down your face. For what could you do? Everyone and everything you knew was gone. Lost to the sea of time forever. You had nothing.

He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. “Cry not, my little pearl. No matter how many centuries pass, you will always have me.”

~*~

Neuvillette was many things.

And now, just as he dreamed since the moment he set his eyes on you, he was your everything.

And yet, you refused to drown.

As the years flowed like water through a stream, you began to learn the beat of Neuvillette’s dance. His emotions, his moods, his thoughts, all reflected themselves within the waltz of his life, and soon maneuvering around the steps became second nature to you. The balance of power laid within the count, and you were determined to be the one leading,

The dragon wanted to dance? So be it.

You’d give him the most challenging dance of his life.

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Super Phantom

Writing prompt #3

Danny reveals his ghost half to his parents and they took it well accepting him. As a result the doctors Fenton then backed out of the weapons deal they had with the GIW and are actively protecting Phantom from them.

The GIW don’t give up even after the anti ecto acts are being repealed and sabotaged the gas tank for Nasty Burger’s grill. This causes the explosion that would Kill Danny’s family and friends there for Jazz’s graduation celebration. Clockwork foresaw of a Dan event happening and froze time to take and de-age Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker and Vallarta. (Clockwork is a jerk and frankly blames Jack and Maddie for making the he portals that caused both Vlad and Danny’s halfa status and a lot more work for him. He is letting those two die.)

Clockwork then sends the Deaged to babies/toddler to different places in the Yong Justice cartoon DC universe. All the kids are liminal and have powers.

Jazz now a 3 year old is sent to Hippallita on Themescira. (Excuse my spelling) liminal powers make her strength on par with Amazons.

Sam, age 1 as well and sent to Giovanni Zattarra. Three year old Zatana gets a younger sister that also has the gift of magic. Especially nature/plant magic.

Tucker I had a hard time deciding but eventually chose Lucius Fox. (If you can think of someone better go ahead and make suggestions.)

Vallarie was Supposed to be sent to Ted Kord, but Lex Luthor was trying to tap into the watchtower’s zeta tubs but accidentally got clockwork’s portal instead. It cased he basket to be dropped instead of gently set down. Startled, two year old Vallarie instinctively activates her ghost tech armor. Now that is a curious unexpected asset Lex will find a way to utilize.

And finally deaged to one year old Danny is sent in a in a basket with a solar system print blanket with a envelope sitting on top. The portal opens and the basket is carefully set on the table with the note. Then clockwork places a folder thick with other papers of to the side. He retreats into the portal closing it behind him just as the apartment door is opening.

Clark Kent has just finished his third week of work at the Daily Planet, the evening patrol and even grocery shopping. Thoughts of the paper he needs to write and turn in the morning are on his mind as he enters his apartment in time to notice a Green glow wink out of existence from his kitchen door. He drops the now forgotten grocery bags when he hears the tiny heartbeat and rushes over to the basket on the table.

A sleeping baby. A baby! Wha- how had anyone. When his brain stops stalling he notices the letter. It reads:

Superman,

The boy’s name is Danny. You are the most likely to survive him learning to use his powers as they emerge. His parents died trying to protect him. It is not safe for him here.

I have already forged the legal documents naming you as his godfather and a cover story in the attached folder. Also three gold coins will be sent to you each month as child support. If anyone else looks at this letter the text will change to simply read that you are the godfather of this recently orphaned boy.

Clockwork.

Clark stood in shock rereading the letter in shock a dozen times. Before Lois snapped him out of it.

“Hey Smallville, it may not be Gotham but even in Metropolis you shouldn’t just leave your door open.” She called as she entered from the hall. Then she noticed the spilled bags of groceries on the floor. And came in. “Are you ok? You may be a klutz but you always pick u- Oh My God, That’s a Baby!”

Well that is enough for tonight. I will add on more later. Wonder how quickly this would grow if I don’t tag anyone? Eh just a few. @bloggerspam @confusedshades @hypewinter @zylev-blog @kizzer55555

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Timid Flames

Summary - In a politically arranged marriage, they unexpectedly find solace in each other. As they navigate the storm of familial conflict, a night of celebration reveals desires and bravery, challenging the bounds of their union and the roles they play in a dangerous game of power.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2759

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had only been wed for three moons—a union born out of political necessity, carefully arranged to forge a fragile peace. 

The bride, Alicent Hightower's youngest daughter, had been offered as part of King Viserys's latest attempt to mend the rift tearing apart his divided family. 

After the bitter fallout from the petition for Driftmark, this marriage had been the king's insistence, hoping it might soothe the growing tensions.

Surprisingly, the match had not been as cold and distant as some feared. 

In fact, much to Jace's amusement, our marriage had become rather... agreeable. 

Unlike my more impulsive and outspoken brothers, I shared Jace's temperament—thoughtful, measured, and often preferring quiet contemplation over conflict. 

This similarity made it easy for us to find common ground, and more often than not, we ended up agreeing with one another on most matters.

Jace, though shy at times, had grown fond of me quicker than he expected. In quiet moments, when he allowed himself to reflect on our marriage, he felt grateful. 

"You know," he once remarked with a soft chuckle as we shared a private dinner in Dragonstone, "I expected our union to be just another duty. But it hasn't felt like that at all." 

He reached across the table, lightly clasping my hand. "I enjoy this... us."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest. "As do I. It's strange, isn't it? To be at ease in a marriage forged by others."

We were now bound for King's Landing, a return prompted by the upcoming wedding of my elder brother, Aemond. 

Though I could sense Jace and his brothers were not particularly eager to make the journey back to the capital so soon after leaving it, I longed to see my family again. 

I missed them—Helaena most of all, with her gentle spirit and enigmatic ways.

Standing at the ship's edge, I watched the shimmering blue waters stretch out before us, occasionally lifting my gaze to the sky. 

There, Silverwing, Vermax, and Arrax flew overhead, their gleeful screeches piercing the air as they relished the freedom of the open skies. The sight of the dragons always stirred something in me—a mix of awe and pride.

"Are you happy to be returning?" Jace's voice came from behind me, softer than the wind that tugged at our hair. 

I turned to find him watching me with that familiar, shy look on his face. I nodded, sighing with contentment.

"I am," I said, offering him a small smile before glancing down. "I apologize if you're not."

Jace shook his head and joined me at the railing, his shoulder brushing against mine as he leaned beside me. 

His fingers, warm and calloused from dragon riding, lightly grazed mine, sending a wave of warmth rushing through me.

"I'm fine," he assured me, though I could sense the faint unease in his tone. "It's Luke who's not faring well with the journey." 

He nodded towards his younger brother, who stood further down the ship's deck, looking paler than usual, his face scrunched with discomfort.

I chuckled softly. "Poor Luke."

Jace smiled at that, but there was a quietness between us now, a lingering tension not easily dismissed. 

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The grand hall of the Keep was filled with the sound of music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets as the celebrations for Aemond's wedding reached full swing. 

My brother looked every bit the proud groom, standing tall with his new bride by his side, but my focus wasn't on him. 

Instead, I was hyper-aware of the tension swirling around Jace and Luke, who sat beside me at our family's table, enduring a barrage of thinly veiled insults from my brothers.

Aegon, as usual, was at the centre of it, his words dipped in honeyed sarcasm as he spoke just loud enough for all of us to hear.

"How's the sea voyage treating you these days, Luke? Not planning on visiting Driftmark anytime soon, I hope," Aegon remarked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

The implication was clear—he was deliberately fanning the flames of the bitter conflict over Driftmark's succession, each word dripping with sarcasm designed to ignite tempers and deepen rifts, a cruel game that felt all too familiar.

Luke's jaw tightened, but he kept his eyes fixed on his plate, refusing to rise to the bait.

Jace, seated beside him, wasn't faring much better. He sat rigid, his shoulders tense, clearly biting his tongue to keep from responding.

"Must be difficult, sharing the same roof with those who think you don't belong," Aegon continued, his grin widening as he lifted his goblet to his lips.

I shot a sharp glance at Aegon, my irritation bubbling beneath the surface. 

Helaena, seated to my left, tried to offer me a reassuring smile, but even her calming presence wasn't enough to quell the frustration building inside me. I hated this constant tension, this incessant prodding from my brothers, who refused to let old wounds heal.

To drown out their jabs, I did the only thing I could think of at the moment, I reached for my goblet and took a deep sip of the rich wine. 

The warmth spread quickly through my body, dulling the edge of Aegon's words.

But one sip wasn't enough.

As the evening dragged on and the taunts kept coming—Aemond, more subtle but no less pointed in his barbed remarks—I found myself reaching for the goblet again and again, the wine a welcome escape. 

It made everything seem a little softer, a little less sharp. Even Jace, who sat brooding beside me, looked more relaxed in the golden glow of the torchlight as the alcohol dulled my senses.

By the time the feast was at its height, I was no longer just drinking to forget. I was enjoying the lightness in my limbs, the freedom of inhibition. 

The wine had worked its magic, and I found myself smiling at Jace—really smiling, more freely than I had in moons.

"You're too tense," I teased, my voice soft and slightly slurred as I leaned toward him with a grin. 

My fingers toyed with the rim of my goblet as I looked at him with a mischievous glint in my eyes.

Jace blinked, clearly taken aback by my sudden shift in demeanour. His eyes widened, and I saw a flush creep up his neck. 

He wasn't used to this—me, this playful, open side of myself that rarely came out. 

Normally, I was thoughtful and composed, matching his temperament. But tonight, I felt like throwing caution to the wind.

"Relax a little, husband," I whispered, leaning closer than I normally would, my lips grazing the shell of his ear as I spoke. 

My hand drifted lazily to his arm, fingers trailing along the fabric of his sleeve. "We're at a wedding. Let yourself enjoy it."

Jace stiffened, his entire body going rigid as he struggled to process what was happening. He wasn't accustomed to this kind of open flirtation from me, and certainly not in public. 

His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, and he swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape.

"I—uh, I'm fine," he stammered, though his voice betrayed him. He sounded anything but fine. His face was a mix of confusion, surprise, and something else I couldn't quite place.

I laughed softly, delighted at his reaction. It was rare to see Jace flustered, but here he was—blushing, his carefully composed demeanour slipping with each teasing word I threw his way. 

 The way he tried so hard to remain serious only made it more fun.

"No, you're not," I teased again, my voice taking on a singsong quality as I leaned even closer, my breath warm against his ear. "You're all stiff and serious. You should loosen up a bit."

Jace's gaze flickered to the goblet in my hand, his concern growing. "I think you've had enough," he said gently, his fingers brushing against mine as he tried to take the goblet from me.

But I wasn't having it. I laughed, pulling the goblet back with a grin. 

"Don't be such a bore, Jace," I teased, the wine making me bolder than I'd ever been. "Don't tell me what to do, not when I'm having so much fun."

The way his face flushed deeper and his eyes widened at the playful lilt of my voice sent a thrill through me. 

For a moment, I forgot about the barbed comments from Aegon and Aemond, the lingering tension in the room. 

All I cared about was the way Jace was looking at me—flustered, surprised, and just a little bit helpless.

"I—I think you should rest," Jace tried again, his voice now tinged with nervous laughter. He was still trying to be the responsible one, the composed husband. 

But his usual control was slipping, and I could see the internal struggle in his eyes.

Instead of listening, I giggled and leaned even closer, letting my fingers dance up his arm. "Or..." I purred, a wicked smile curling my lips, "maybe you should dance with me."

Before Jace could protest, I was on my feet, pulling him up with me. He let out a startled laugh as I dragged him onto the dance floor, his hand clasped tightly in mine. 

His surprise was clear, but I was already spinning him into the centre of the hall, the music and wine making my movements feel light and carefree.

"Wait—what—" Jace stammered, completely caught off guard. He stumbled slightly as I twirled him, clearly not expecting me to take the lead so boldly. 

His eyes darted around the room, and I could see the mix of amusement and mortification on his face.

The people around us watched with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement, but I barely noticed. 

All I could focus on was Jace—how out of sorts he was, how flustered he looked, and how much fun it was to see him like this.

"I think I'm going to regret this," Jace muttered under his breath, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

He looked at me with a mixture of exasperation and affection, clearly at a loss for how to handle this version of me.

"Not if you have fun," I whispered, pulling him close as the music swelled. 

The wine had made me bold, and I relished the way he seemed to falter under my touch. For once, Jace was the one who couldn't keep his composure.

As the night wore on, I continued to flirt, to tease, to dance. Jace was a blushing mess by the end of it, his usual stoic demeanour completely shattered.

He loved the extra attention—I could tell by the way he kept stealing glances at me, his eyes lingering just a bit too long, his lips twitching into an almost smile every time I laughed or teased him.

Even though he tried to be the responsible one, I knew he secretly enjoyed it—the way I made him feel tonight, how I drew him out of his shell. 

"Are you even trying to enjoy yourself?" I teased, glancing up at Jace as I pulled him onto the dance floor once again.

He gave me a small, shy smile, his hand resting on the small of my back as he followed my lead. 

"I am. Just... keeping an eye on you," he said gently, though I could sense his amusement beneath the worry.

"Keeping an eye on me? I'm your wife, not some unruly dragon," I said with a smirk, spinning away from him with a playful twirl. 

He caught me again, steadying me with the ease of someone well-practised in handling situations beyond his control. 

I leaned in closer, speaking just loud enough for him to hear, "But I like it when you watch me."

Jace's blush was immediate, his gaze dropping for a brief moment before he met my eyes again. He looked as if he wanted to say something—something meaningful—but just then, a familiar voice interrupted us.

"Seems you've had quite a bit of wine tonight," a deep, smooth voice said from behind me.

I turned, finding myself face-to-face with Lord Ormund Hightower, one of my distant cousins on my mother's side. His smile was easy, but there was something in his gaze that felt too familiar, too lingering as it settled on me.

"Perhaps," I replied, trying to maintain my composure as I felt his eyes linger a bit too long. "But it's a wedding. Surely a bit of wine and dancing is expected."

"Of course, princess," Lord Ormund said with a chuckle, his gaze sliding between Jace and me. 

"Though one might say your enthusiasm tonight stands out." His tone was light, but the implication was clear. 

His gaze flicked back to me, lingering in a way that made me uncomfortable, a hint of something more than politeness in his look. "I didn't realize you were so... spirited."

Jace's expression shifted beside me, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He moved closer, his hand settling protectively at my waist, but still, he said nothing.

"Spirited, perhaps," I said, trying to brush off the comment with a smile. "But no more than any other on a night like this."

Lord Ormund gave a slow nod, his gaze lingering on me a beat longer before he added, "It's good to see you enjoying yourself. Though, if you're not careful, some might get the wrong impression of your... exuberance." 

His smile widened, a teasing glint in his eye. "Not everyone will see it as harmless fun."

Before I could react, Jace stepped forward, his posture straight and his tone steady, but there was an unmistakable edge to his voice.

"I think you've made your point, my lord," Jace said calmly, though his grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly. "And it's noted. But I would remind you that my wife's behaviour is of no concern to anyone here, except perhaps me."

The subtle warning in his voice wasn't lost on Lord Ormund, who raised his hands in mock surrender, the smile never leaving his face. 

"No offence meant, Prince Jacaerys. Merely a friendly observation."

Jace's gaze didn't waver, his expression unyielding. "Of course. But observations, when unnecessary, can sometimes be mistaken for something else." 

His voice remained level, but there was a quiet protectiveness in his tone that made it clear the conversation was over.

Lord Ormund hesitated, then gave a slight bow. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, both of you," he said before turning on his heel and walking away, though I could feel the weight of his gaze still lingering behind him.

As soon as Lord Ormund was out of earshot, I turned to Jace, my heart pounding not from fear but from the rush of the moment. I wasn't used to seeing him like this—so firm, so sure of himself. 

There was something deeply reassuring in the way he had stepped in, calmly but assertively.

"You didn't have to do that," I said softly, though I couldn't deny the warmth spreading through my chest.

Jace met my gaze, the tension in his expression softening now that we were alone again. "Yes, I did," he replied simply. "You shouldn't have to put up with that. Especially not from him."

I looked at him for a long moment, taking in the way his jaw was still set, the way his hand remained at my waist as if he wasn't quite ready to let go. 

His protectiveness stirred something deep within me—a mixture of gratitude and something else, something more intense.

"You don't usually speak up like that," I said, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. "I rather like it."

Jace looked slightly embarrassed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. 

"Someone has to look out for you, especially when you seem determined to cause a scene," he said, though his tone was light, playful.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Perhaps I'm more trouble than you bargained for."

Jace's smile grew, and this time, it was genuine and warm, the blush fading from his cheeks as his confidence returned. 

"I knew what I was getting into. And, if I'm being honest, I don't mind it."

The confession, quiet and simple, hung in the air between us. It wasn't grand or dramatic, but it meant something. Jace didn't just tolerate my boldness tonight—he liked it. 

He liked me, in all my messiness and unpredictability.

For the rest of the night, his hand remained at my waist, steady and reassuring, a quiet but constant reminder that I wasn't alone.

That no matter what happened, Jace would always be there, standing by my side, ready to protect me from whatever—or whomever—tried to push me too far.

A/n - I need to stop with the marriage of convenience trope x

[jasmines-library]

Good Enough

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

WHUMPTOBER DAY FIFTEEN :Prompt: Childhood trauma/"i did good, right?"

Summary: After Bruce rescued you from an abusive family and adopted you into his own, you worry that you haven't done well enough for him on your first patrol.

Warnings: mentions of an abusive family.

Word count: 700

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER 2024

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

You had been training for this your entire life. Or at least your entire life with Bruce Wayne. He had taken you in from a young age. He had seen your potential and rescued you from an abusive situation. He took you from your lowest; from a place where you were unappreciated, to one where you were loved and cherished. Bruce had trained you hard over the years, helping to build up your abilities brick by brick. He had given you something to work towards. And you had finally gotten there. But you felt like you had to repay him. Like you had to live up to the expectations cast down on you from the generations of previous Robins. 

An anxious feeling simmered in your chest as you shadowed Batman through the city. This was your first patrol, and the anxiety had forged together with this unexplainable excitement that bubbled up inside you. It was exhilarating. Darting across the rooftops was all that you had imagined yet so much more at the same time. It was supposed to be a nice, quiet and easy night based on recent activity in Gotham. But of course nothing is ever simple and soon you and Bruce were dashing over to the other side of the city to stop some thieves from robbing a high end jewellery store. 

You skidded to a halt at the sound of smashing glass under the blaring of the sirens. You could see the thieves halfway down the street ahead of you, their bags full as they sprinted away. You were hot on their heels forcing your legs to go faster as you tried to keep up with Bruce and to catch them. The pair turned a corner down an alleyway. This was your chance. You knew the streets well; you had been studying them as part of your training. So, instead of following them you continued on straight before taking a left coming out in front of them. 

The thieves didn’t notice you at first and proceeded to hop the fence before landing straight in front of you. You readied your weapon and adopted a fighting stance like you had been taught. You were ready to fight. But the minute they straightened up, you were hit with an immense sense of fear. 

They looked like your parents. 

Tall and lean, the figures now resembled your birth parents as they loomed before you. Their words rang in your ears, telling you how much of a disappointment you were. How you were a waste of space. Ungrateful. You froze. Lost for a moment as you were struck with all of your childhood trauma. But then you caught a glimpse of Batman’s cape and were reminded of why you were out here. Reminded that you were loved. 

Raising you weapon you lunged forwards first. Landing a quick blow to the shorter criminal’s side, you tackled them down to the ground. Very quickly, Batman joined in the fight and the alley was filled with a flurry of punches and rouge kicks. It didn’t take long before the two were on the ground and in handcuffs, ready for the GCPD to take away. 

Batman straightened and placed his hands on his hips as he took in your work. He then turned to you, his gaze impossible to tell from under his mask. He could tell that there was a slight hint of fear underlying the look you had plastered on your face. So, he crouched down to your level, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He could tell that something was up, but he wasn’t quite sure what. 

You swallowed thickly before asking nervously “I….i did good, right?”

Bruce’s face softened almost sadly. He knew that you had been through a lot. Far too much for anyone to go through, let alone a child. “So good, kiddo.”

“...you mean it?”

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before deciding to just pull you straight into a hug. “Of course. I’m so, so proud of you. You did amazing, kiddo. Better than I could have ever asked for.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

<- DAY FOURTEEN ⛧ DAY SIXTEEN ->

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

TAGS:

@hearts4robs @kingshitonly @alicedawitchbish @hell-o-kittys @azure-drag0ness @harleycao @thewhispersofthewaves @batfamsstuff @xxrougefangxx @rosecentury @noisymutantherelol @killxz @rhiodes @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @canthavetoomuchchaos

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[truevedicastrology]

Uranus in the Houses

A Spark of Unpredictability

Uranus, the planet of revolution and innovation, adds a dash of unpredictability wherever it lands in your birth chart. Let's explore how it ignites change and disrupts the status quo in each house:

1st House: The Maverick

Forget fitting in! You're a natural-born trendsetter, drawn to the avant-garde and expressing yourself authentically. Embracing your quirks, even if they shock others, is key to unlocking your full potential.

2nd House: The Unconventional Earner

Get ready for surprises in your finances! Uranus might bring sudden windfalls or unexpected losses, prompting you to break free from traditional wealth accumulation methods. Embrace innovative ideas and unconventional ventures.

3rd House: The Quick-Witted Communicator

Communication sparks fly! You have a knack for expressing yourself in unexpected ways, sometimes shocking others with your wit and sharp insights. Embrace intellectual challenges and explore diverse perspectives.

4th House: The Unconventional Home

Your home life is anything but ordinary! Expect sudden changes in your living situation or unconventional family dynamics. Embrace the opportunity to build a unique and authentic haven.

5th House: The Rebellious Creator

Your creativity thrives on breaking the rules! You're drawn to avant-garde forms of expression and unexpected romantic encounters. Embrace your uniqueness and challenge conventional notions of love and pleasure.

6th House: The Unorthodox Work Ethic

You disrupt the traditional work environment! You might embrace unconventional methods, challenge authority, or switch careers unexpectedly. Embrace innovation and find a work space that allows you to be your authentic self.

7th House: The Unpredictable Partner

Relationships take an excitingly unpredictable turn with Uranus. You might attract unconventional partners or experience sudden changes in your partnerships. Embrace open communication and respect for individual freedom.

8th House: The Transformational Journey

Expect unexpected transformations in your personal power and finances. You might experience sudden inheritances or losses, prompting deep personal growth. Embrace the power of change and learn to let go.

9th House: The Globe-Trotting Explorer

Embrace adventure! Uranus fuels your wanderlust and desire for unconventional travel experiences. You might be drawn to exploring hidden knowledge or challenging traditional beliefs. Embrace open-mindedness and diverse perspectives.

10th House: The Unlikely Star

Your career path is anything but predictable! You might experience sudden success, unexpected career changes, or unconventional leadership styles. Embrace innovation and find a career that allows you to express your unique vision.

11th House: The Social Revolutionary

You attract like-minded rebels and dreamers! Your friendships challenge the status quo and inspire social change. Embrace collaboration and use your network to make a difference.

12th House: The Intuitive Visionary

Uranus awakens your hidden potential and psychic abilities. You might experience sudden flashes of insight or unconventional spiritual experiences. Embrace introspection and connect to your inner wisdom.

Remember, Uranus' influence is just one piece of your unique astrological puzzle. Embrace the spark of unpredictability it brings and use it to forge your own extraordinary path!

Follow our Facebook page Mage Magic Touch for personal consultations https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565561190268

[aethon-recs]

This Week in Tomarrymort (4 – 10 October 2024)

Another week chock-full of updates! October is always such a rich and amazingly productive month in fandom, with such an explosion of new ideas and fics with the many prompt challenges going on. And a few more @tomarrybigbang fics as well! 

As with last week, please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, like a little bit about the chapter(s) updated. For this format of weekly list, there’s no space to add a summary or extra info about the fics, so I’ll rely on the authors to share a bit more about their updates, if you’re so inclined! 🤍

A recap of the author notes from last week:

such unholy heaving by @cealesti (M, 10k, WIP) “A horror/suspense F/F Tomarry fic set in a D&D-inspired fantasy setting.” These Fragments We've Shored by @rowena-rain (M, 28k, WIP) “GOVERNMENT WARNING: (1) According to the Surgeon General, Harry Potter should not drink alcoholic beverages while resurrecting Lord Voldemort because of the risk of...everything. (2) Consumption of alcoholic beverages impairs your ability to operate Deathly Hallows, and may cause, er, problems. Aka, Harry gets hammered and decides it's a great idea to drunk "text" (i.e., summon) Voldemort with the Stone. Voldemort isn't one to pass up an opportunity to exploit vulnerability for personal gain.” Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian (T, 46k, WIP) “A depressed postwar Harry has taken Death's hand, reunited with the horcrux he mourned, and traveled into his own past Now he wakes up on the morning of his eleventh birthday, ready to do things differently this time. He has no grand plans, just the instinct to be close to the man whose soul he shares.” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 18k, WIP) “A role reversal AU! In this latest chapter, Tom tells a scary story for Halloween to get Harry hot and bothered.” on line sex & rabbit stew by @izharmilgram (E, 3k, complete) “Includes time-travelling Professor Harry Potter, phone sex in the 1950s, horcrux shenanigans, parseltongue, Tom being sexually frustrated... fun stuff.” The Brief Fiery Plummets by @thefangirlibrarian (T, 1k, WIP) “A series of 100-word drabbles exploring different moments Harry might have woken up in after traveling back to the past in When the Weight is Gone.” forgive me father by @cindle-writes (E, 2k, complete) “A PWP one-shot where Tom sneaks into Harry's bed while he's sleeping and seduces him, featuring adoptive father Harry and shota boypussy Tom.”

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Chapter 15 (Completed) of Just Business by @holaolla1

One Shot | family friends by @reggieblk

One Shot | young lust by @xodahafez

One Shot | the precarity of virgin souls by @izharmilgram

One Shot | roughly, dry and painful by @2sidesofthesamesoul

One Shot | don’t wake me (i’m not dreaming) by @dreaming-in-the-dark

One Shot | The Sweetness of Your Tears by @v33r00

One Shot | sleeping with ghosts by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | Newly Forged by @obsidianpen

One Shot | bad guy by @circleofplanets

One Shot | nineteen (ever so priceless) by @midsummersins

One Shot | Consequences of Murder by @penrot

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 3 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 37 of Part One - The Solitude of Suffering by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 63 of Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus

Chapter 7 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 15 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

Chapter 1 of it’s hard being casual by sansaerys

Chapter 12 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 9 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 3 of a pound of flesh by @ictyn

Chapter 7 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapter 11 of Aphelion by TimaeusKosmou

Chapter 36 of Seeing Sand by @valkyrie-chemist

Chapter 14 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 2 of Lunacy by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 1 and 2 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Chapter 1 of The Sacred Art Of Repression by @goldenzingy46

Chapter 2 of such unholy heaving by @cealesti

Chapters 5 through 7 of The Brief Fiery Plummets by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 4 of Fate's Coffin by @noxxytocin

Chapter 1 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 5 of i am anonymous, you are a concrete wall by Pensievable

Chapter 1 of Plague by @a-sentimental-man

Chapter 5 of Forbidden Darkness by @neurowriter14

Chapter 4 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Chapter 1 of the alchemy by @cindle-writes

Chapters 126 and 127 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 1 of despite everything, it's still you by @boromirsayshi

Chapter 8 of all you do is kill, love snakes, and lie by @soopsiedaisies

*

[ishgard]

Presenting: An Absurdly, Stupidly Long and Wordy Warrior of Light-based Questionnaire, or as my bestie dubbed it:

30 WoL Think Thonkers

Less an ask prompt, more of a daily prompt, (though you can use it as an ask prompt if you prefer!) Answer the questions however you want: straight-forward, with stories or screens, or a mix of all.

Get any of your little brainworms out. Wax poetic, ramble off into several digressions, challenge yourself to answer in the least amount of words possible, whatever you're vibing with! (If you want to tag them #wolthinkthonkers feel free!)

This is very Warrior of Light and MSQ based. It's set from a Post-Endwalker mindframe, so there are some minor/vaguely worded spoilers.

----------------------- WARM-UP QUESTIONS

I. Where is your Warrior of Light from? What was their home like growing up and what set them out on their journey?

2. What city-state did your WoL start in? How did they feel about it then, and how do they feel about it now? (ie, did their experiences sour their perception, or make them appreciate it more?)

3. How do they feel about being Hydaelyn's chosen? (Feel free to break it down from ARR's "Champion of Eorzea" all the way to "The Savior of Etheirys" as much as you like. Have those feelings changed, or just grown more complex?)

4. What do they do in their down time? Do they have any hobbies outside of Primal-slaying and world-saving? Are these lifelong hobbies or recent interests?

5. How do they feel now that "it's all over" (the story of Hydaelyn and Zodiark)? What do they plan to do next? Or is their story finished - and if you're retiring them, what does retirement look like for them? Do you have someone else taking the stage going forward?

6. Who was their Azem? What were they like, and were they different from your WoL? Who were their family, friends? Or, if you don't care for the Azem angle or went in your own direction for their past self, how so? How does your WoL feel about their Ancient identity?

----------------------- CHANGES

7. Have they gone through any physical changes? What scars have they collected, and how do they feel about them? Did they sprout horns or other features as a result of spells or pacts gone wrong? How did light corruption impact them? Or have they walked away miraculously unscathed? Are they more peculiar for how eerily unmarred they are?

8. What is one of their biggest regrets? Has it had an effect on how they act moving forward, for better or worse?

9. The Warrior of Light has been through quite a lot, but what is a moment, big or small, that bolstered and renewed their spirit? Was it a cup of hot cocoa or a lovingly crafted sandwich? Did someone give them a few words or a gesture at just the right time that meant the world to them? (Of course, this can be a canon event or headcanon!)

10. What does home look like for them now? Do they still return to the home where they started, and if so has it changed at all? Or have they found or forged a new home? Who do they live with, if anyone? What sort of things do they keep in their personal space?

11. Despite everything, is it still you? Has the core of who they are as a person remained true through everything, or have they been changed by what they've experienced and learned, for better or worse?

13. Is there a canon moment you've drastically (or not-so-drastically) rewritten? A character death, or something that just really did not fit your WoL's character. Or just some alterations and personal touches you've added? Has that had any long-term changes on the wider story?

----------------------- STORY

12. Which canon moments shaped your Warrior of Light and impacted them the most?

14. Do you have any headcanons for what happened post-Ultima Thule? What kind of injuries did they suffer, or did they walk it off like a boss? Did they take a lengthy vacation, did you shove a time skip in there before 6.1 hit? Or was it quickly off to the next adventure?

15. What were their thoughts and feelings on the events of Myths of the Realm? How did they regard the Twelve prior, and how did the revelations impact them? Was meeting their patron particularly special to them, or not really?

16. What were their thoughts and feelings delving into Pandaemonium? How did they feel working alongside Themis and Lahabrea, after all their history? What did they think about how things ended?

17. Taking a step away from "canon", do you have any wholly unique side quests and adventures your Warrior of Light has gotten caught up in? Did they chase down ghosts of their own past, get married, open a bakery, or fix an ancient blood curse on their family line? Have they reunited with loved ones or buried old hatchets? If there's some unique story behind your character, how does it show up and how did it play out?

----------------------- COMBAT & ABILITIES

18. How do they feel about the work they do? As the Warrior of Light they're tasked with quite a lot of violence, is it something that comes naturally to them or do they resist it? Are they merciless, do they try to spare as many lives as they can, or do they fall somewhere in between?

19. While many fights are dramatic or have high stakes, are there any especially memorable or difficult fights they encountered? Outside scripted battles, were there conflicts that you thought felt better if they were tweaked for narrative or lore-based reasons, ie their first time fighting a primal? Or perhaps a more meta "You the player had a hard time so it translated into headcanon for them".

20. Are there any unique abilities that they possess outside of what's in-game? Are they actually a dragon, or do they see visions of the future? Or, is there a special way that their Echo manifests?

21. Jobs! What job is your character and why is that the route they chose? Is your WoL a Jack-of-all-Trades, or just have one (or a few) specialties? Did they start with one job and change to another? Have you 'homebrewed' their job at all, adding any unique twists or details to it?

----------------------- RELATIONSHIPS & THE WORLD

22. What are their feelings on the Scions? Who are some of their closest allies and dearest friends? Are they more of a loner, or closer to people outside the Scions? Have they kindled any romances or partnerships?

23. How do they feel about getting pulled into politics? Are they adept at navigating political intricacies, or does it go over their head? Do they appreciate getting asked to do more than punch their enemies, or would they really rather just punch their enemies? Are there any areas they like to be particularly involved in?

24. How do they feel about Hydaelyn? What was their perception of the Mothercrystal in the beginning, and how did that change by the end, if at all?

25. Do they have any particular enemies that stand out to them? Someone who inspired a lasting grudge? Our beloved and beloathed antagonists give us plenty of reasons to despise them, but are there any that particularly rubbed your WoL the wrong way? On the other hand, are there villains they can't help but sympathize with, even if it's at odds with the narrative or their allies?

26. What are their thoughts on the Ancients, their way of life, and the world they lived in? Did they sympathize at all with the Ascians, or did learning the truth not influence them in that way?

27. How well known are they? Does everyone know their name as the Warrior of Light, or have they managed to maintain some level of anonymity? Do they prefer it that way, and do they have any struggles resulting from it? (Getting stopped on street corners VS awkwardly avoiding questions.)

----------------------- WHAT'S NEXT

28. What's something they look forward to? Exploring the stars, more of a place we've already been, or somewhere we haven't? Or do they look forward to retirement, starting a business with their craft of choice, or any other little old thing?

29. How do they feel heading into Dawntrail? Excited? Exhausted? What do they think of the promises of adventure to come, and their role to play? If you're using a new character, do you have any idea how they'll end up on this path, and where is their headspace starting out?

30. What are they going to be doing while waiting for the ship to Tural?

[the-changeling-manor]

Genesis

2024. Yes, it’s 2024. It’s only 2024. The future of humanity will be greatly influenced by this decade, both politically and culturally. But a subject that splits the opinions of all, transcending politics and culture, is defined in two words: artificial intelligence.

Artificial intelligence is currently in its infancy.

The ia coupled with chronivac technology could offer infinite possibilities to the users of the software, which is so known to transformation lovers, but yet so impossible to reach. Imagine the chronivac capable of thinking on its own to interpret a prompt, imagine the chronivac capable of analyzing the world around it simply by wandering on the networks, and imagine the chronivac capable of satisfying your desires just with a photo.

It’s just a Dream. Imagination. Unreal.

Isn’t that right? Well.... Don’t be so sure.

——————————————————————

Think about this guy. He’s like you and me. I even think he's one of you who reads these words. Brown hair, thirty years old, young gay, it’s a kind of "mister everyone" in this community of male transformations, which besides will not even be named or represented by a photo, since I know that this guy is you. 

Indeed, every night, he connects on tumblr and reads these stories where people change to become the ones they dream of being, whether they are serious or only in the context of fantasy.

He reads stories, more or less exciting, sometimes redundant because full of clichés, the story you read is also a mountain of clichés, I guess. This ordinary guy is enjoying this moment. He is happy, even though he knows he will never be able to live it.

He is deeply sad.

He receives a notification. Someone who sends him a message on tumblr precisely. He thought it was still one of those bots that redirected to adult sites. Yeah you know, those same fake accounts that pollute youtube with their nude women photos. A real hell.

But this one was different. It had a profile picture of a Greek statue and a curiously long name. His message was accompanied only by a link, a link that immediately caught the attention of our young man since he could read the term “chronivac”.

There was little hope that it was not a dream, or his imagination, or unreal. But reality dominated his thinking. He opened the link 

“Chronivac, Latest Edition” was displayed in the middle of his screen. There was a drop-down menu with different pages on the website. One of them was called “Targets”. Clicking on it, he came across a world map, similar to Google Map but more sober. The site zoomed in on her house before displaying her name at its exact location. Not just her name. The names of her family members were there. Also those of the neighbors. And even of the inhabitants of the neighborhood!

Hope overcame reason. He wanted to believe it. He believed in one of those stories he could read on Tumblr. He pressed his name, and then— This is what he has always dreamed of. An extremely complete interface displaying all its physical or mental characteristics… There were even different options such as the ability to change reality or even use prompts instead of checking elements for transformations.

It was fantastic. He discovered the different menus and saw the image reader option as what the gpt chat could do. Suddenly, he had an idea. He recorded an image of a sexy guy that he followed on twitter and instagram. He added a prompt «Give me the identical physique of the man in the photo, and ONLY his physique». For the rest, he wanted something different. He did not want to become this man, he only wanted his body to serve as the basis for his new life.

For his mind, he deliberately clicked on the «Stupid jock» option, not wanting to  click on ten thousand different options to forge a new personality. Finally, to better change the reality, he launched a second prompt: "I will become a heterosexual Hispanic sportsman, completely dominated by primitive and conservative thoughts. The chronivac will disappear from my life and I will never have access to it again, no matter what.”

This last part could have been replaced by the possibility of making the transformation permanent, but he did not want it. He liked these cliche stories where the protagonist was forced to stay in this new life, a real victim.

His excitement made him want to get through this. He voluntarily locked himself in there. He fell victim to his fantasies. And he loved it. Not clicking on the permanent option would torture him for the rest of his life, leaving him the hope of one day being able to return, even if the prompt made it impossible.

He wanted to explode with joy. He clicked on one last “Adapt Reality” option before pressing "save".

A flash of light blinded him for a few moments. When his body stabilized, he found himself in a basement with sports equipment. "Felipe" he whispered with a Spanish accent. The little voice in his head had just been replaced, he no longer spoke his original language. An uncontrollable desire led him to live his new life as Felipe.

He now had the body of a god. He was incredibly well carved... neither too big nor fat. He measured 1.80m for 85kg. His beautiful pecs bounced, making him laugh. A long stupid laugh that let his intellect disappear, replaced by knowledge about bodybuilding, women and alcohol.

He had little hairs, apparently this gymbro body liked to shave... except under the armpits. He raised his arm to feel this tuft of black and musky hairs... sweat. Yes, it was normal, Felipe was doing his exercises. His whole body was covered in sweat.

Because of the sweat, his underwear was even tighter against his cock. His new penis was now circumcised, just a religious tradition. This cock had met many women in bed.

He also remembered that two friends had to join him for his bodybuilding session, and after that they were going to watch a football match. A good life well stereotyped for an athlete as stupid as Felipe.

He was now a gymbro like the others.

His mind was trapped inside Felipe, inside him, but he was so happy to have fulfilled his fantasy.

It was a dream, the imagination, the unreal come true.

——————————————————————

Please forgive me for the mistakes, I am not fluent in English!

It was a first story, based on the most common clichés in order to do something a little different.

The next stories will be shorter, it was only for the beginning.

I am open to all requests, do not hesitate to offer me images with the source if possible!

The images of the new Felipe come from this X account: @Mariosalvadr

[forgeofthenine]

The bachelors are bachelors no longer! How would they grow old with you? Secondarily, how would they respond to being grandparents?

Ironically I wrote this while staying at my Nans house. I'll be here for the holidays so the next few posts will also be written here, I just thought this was particularly thematic. Halsin was also a perfect fit for this prompt too, so I hope you don't mind me adding him in :)

How would the bachelors (+Halsin) grow old with you and respond to your growing family

Dammon

This blacksmith was sure he'd live the bachelor life for the rest of his days

Who'd want to marry a man so obsessed with his forge that he's basically personified it?

Apparently, he's found the one person out there that can appreciate all his quirks

As the two of you grow older I actually see him stepping back from his forge more

He's already taught your children how to handle the family blacksmithing business, giving over the running of it to your eldest daughter and son-in-law with one of your younger sons happily working there too

As much as it saddens him the aches and creaks in his joints make the work too hard on his aging body, and his hands aren't steady enough for the delicate detail work he used to do

You can't keep him out of the forge completely though, and he still visits regularly and helps with drawing the designs of new projects and commissions

When he isn't hovering over your children's work, he's with you and the grandkids

Dammon settled into a domestic life surprisingly well, and he's a very doting grandfather

He's the type to insist you buy extra treats because he knows a specific grandchild likes it and will be coming over to visit

He always volunteers you two for babysitting as well, the spare rooms in your house that were once your children's now belong to their kids

It's a life Dammon is content with, a large family surrounding him and you by his side, he really couldn't ask for more when he never expected to get this much

Zevlor

Zevlor is built to be a granddad, I'm saying it now

He loves you, his kids, and his grandkids more than anything

As an even older gentleman he's actually still very active

The type of old man to insist on going on long strolls after meals, and he quite happily runs your little hobby farm with the help of your kids

You have a smaller, close knit family

With children living just down the road, while your kids work or take care of the home you and Zevlor happily take the grandkids for entire days

He shows them the same things he showed his kids, things like how to tie shoelaces, to ride a horse, and to wield a sword

You'll see them all trudging back in for lunch, covered with dirt and grinning as they try and hide from you

Even in his older age he's very patient, happily listening to his grandbabies babbling as he feeds them

Speaking of food, Zevlor would want his main meal of the day to be at midday

Once he gets older he doesn't like the feeling of sleeping so soon after a big meal

He does start to take naps, however, and sometimes you'll see him passed out on a comfy chair with a grandchild sleeping on top of him

If no grandchildren are around he'll likely drag you into napping with him too, there's something special about napping with someone else

Zevlor lives a very charming life at the end of the day, and he couldn't be happier about it

Rolan

Rolan is the grumpiest old coot on the block

Absolutely the type to yell at kids to get off his lawn, if he actually had a lawn

Alas, he only has a tower and instead he teaches your only child the art of mastering the weave

As he grows older he somehow seems to grow grumpier and even more introverted

Without you there to drag him out of Ramaziths Tower people likely would've assumed him dead years ago

The only people that see his softer side are you, your child, and your grandchildren

And your grandchildren love coming to the tower, wanting to look at all the pretty things and see their granddad do magic

You know the magic shows that Rolan did for his siblings? He does them for his child and grandchildren too

Speaking of Cal and Lia, he's a doting uncle for their kids and grandkids

It ends up with all three of your families meeting up at the tower for all gatherings and holidays, despite Rolans prickly attitude

It's absolute chaos, and the wizard secretly loves watching everyone joking and having a good time

On a random note, he absolutely teaches your grandkids how to read and do arithmetic at a young age

He insists on reading them bedtime stories whenever possible too, and they love it because he does the voices

Rolan is the one that thought he'd be least likely to be a family man, but it turns out he fits that role quite well

Halsin

You and Halsin run an entire orphanage together, you end up with absolutely loads of kids

Only a handful are your biological kids and you also end up with a full-grown owl bear, but you love them all the same

Halsin is very long lived, even for an elf, and if you're equally long lived then you'll end up keeping the orphage going for literal hundreds of years

Over that time the two of you might see three or four generations of humans grow up, your former charges often coming back to visit with their own children and grandchildren

You end up being a pair of old, happy parents with an impossibly large family

Halsin revels in it, finding a true passion in raising kids into happy and functional adults

It's apparent in the way he grows into the role, happily spending decades retelling the same favourite bedtime stories about him and his companions saving the sword coast

He continues to dote on you too, no matter how old you both get

The elf always reminds you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you

Halsin adores his grandkids too, often having them come for sleepovers or to play with all the other kids

He loves nothing more than seeing everyone safe and content, an owl bear happily trodding along after him

You'll find he insists on running the orphanage for as long as possible too, almost on deaths door by time he finally passes it on to his children to take over

Halsin is a very passionate man, and his giant family is one of his greatest passions

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (18 - 1.5 finale) - I Would Just Give Up My Life

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story masterlist / First Part / Previous Part

Word count: 2.3k (Short, but I don't want to drag it out.)

-I walk alone to find my way, give me something to carry on-

You were still, torturously still and Wednesday thought she’d enjoy almost any kind of torture. She never wanted to be tortured like this again. Watching you just barely breathing, bandaged up and your heartbeat frighteningly slow, just barely a third of what was normal, as if it was no longer an unconscious thing a body did, like breathing, but a conscious effort, even while sleeping.

Enid came in with Thing and her mother. Lurch picked her up after she insisted on coming here. “Wednesday? How is she?” she asked, though Wednesday didn’t look away from you.

“Stable,” she replied, moving her hand back so they wouldn’t see she’s been holding your hand for a long time now.

“She is strong, she’ll recover,” her mother told her, prompting a nod from Wednesday.

Thing jumped onto her shoulder and tapped, pointing out how often she’s been by your side lately, and then, the teasing, traitorous limb that he is, he jumped off and scurried to her mother before she could grab him.

So, Wednesday just glared at him, it wasn’t worth chasing him.

At least he didn’t spill that she slept in your bed, and he didn’t know the two of you slept in the same bed the night he was stabbed.

“She’ll recover but,” Enid paused, sniffling and Wednesday knew what she wanted to say before she even continued. “She lost her dad, and like this,” she finished and Wednesday agreed.

And then there was your mother. No one contacted her yet, Enid was terrified to do so, and they plain and simple didn’t know the woman. And as stable as you were they still wanted to wait until you were awake.

~X~

You woke up in a dark room, lit only by a couple of candles. The pain, at least the physical part of it, was mostly gone. Probably due to the medicine. You vaguely remembered what happened while you were in your beast form, shifting, roaring at the skies. Then digging up that hole for your dad and just lying down next to his body.

You weren’t sure how long you spent like that, but Wednesday came, and then she hugged you, and her family came as well. It all felt like a dream, but you remembered it. Maybe not everything, but you remembered most of it. You remembered the trust, feeling of safety and faith that they wouldn’t harm you, or do something to your dad’s body.

Being Wednesday’s family gave them a right to do a lot more than nearly anyone could.

You looked to the side, at Wednesday lying next to you, firmly holding your left hand and wrist on her pillow. You sighed softly, turning onto your side and brushing a few strands of her hair from her face.

She didn’t wake up, she barely even reacted, by actually leaning closer to you. Just how tired was she? If you had to guess you’d say she hasn’t slept in days, since ride alone would take almost ten hours in one direction. And she fell asleep next to you, clutching at your hand and wrist, exactly where she could feel your pulse.

Your eyes softened and for a moment you felt at ease, right there, in what you assumed was her room, in her childhood bed, a room filled with books, predictably black and gothic, and her sleeping peacefully as you caressed her cheek. You looked to her nightstand drawer and saw the knife she gave you there. You still had it. You didn’t have anything else, but you still had that.

You remembered everything, the almost kiss, the look in her eyes. She loved you back, but right now… You just weren’t ready. Not even to talk about how you hurt her by forgetting about your almost kiss. “I’m sorry I forgot something so important,” you still whispered, pulling your left hand closer and kissing the back of her hand. “I promise I’ll make up for it, for the rest of my life if you’ll let me, I just need a bit of time,” you told her, even though she still slept, and then, slowly and carefully, to avoid waking Wednesday up and aggravating your wounds, you managed to get up and step outside her room.

~X~

Wednesday opened her eyes and looked at the back of her hand, her heart slamming against her chest like a wrecking ball. You remembered? The night you almost kissed? That had to be what you were talking about. And you’d make up for forgetting it for the rest of your life? It was almost too much for her right now. Too many emotions, too many things she wasn’t used to. The sensation of your lips against her skin. She would give you all the time you need, she’d wait.

No matter how long it takes, and as much as she wished to get up and follow you, to make sure you were fine, she couldn’t do it now. You needed space, and she’d give it to you.

~X~

Wednesday’s house was huge, absurdly so, but you managed to find the stairs and go down, hoping to get some air. Halfway down the stairs you leaned sideway against the wall, clutching at your chest. Your heart wasn’t beating fast enough.

Of course, you died for a bit, likely revived by your dad’s lightning. You focused on your heart, focused on the heartbeat, on speeding it up, at least for a while you’d have to make a conscious effort to keep it beating, because your dad didn’t restart your heart, he just made your brain do it manually. A few days of paying attention to your heartbeat felt like a small price to pay for still being alive.

“Y/N, you’re awake,” you heard a soft, graceful voice and looked back to see Morticia standing at the top of the stairs.

You nodded. “Mrs. Addams, I’m sorry about causing trouble,” you were grateful, but you still felt the need to apologize.

The woman just gently shook her head. You knew she wasn’t a lot like Wednesday, that sure, they shared some traits, but Morticia was absolutely more in tune with her emotions. Much gentler, without losing her fierceness. Yet not once did you think Wednesday should be more like Morticia, Wednesday was Wednesday. “Nonsense, darling, you are welcome here, and please just call me Morticia. Come, join me. Gomez is finishing preparations for Elijah’s funeral, if you agree to bury him here,” that took you by surprise.

You vaguely remembered Gomez speaking to you, but you failed to completely understand him. If your dad could be buried here you would be grateful. “I’m not sure if I can ask for something like that,” you said as you followed her down the stairs and outside the huge mansion. It was easy to spot the graveyard near the mansion.

“You most certainly can. Elijah and Gomez were best friends, and while we weren’t as close, he was always a friend to me as well. And now you hold a special place in our Wednesday’s cold black heart,” she led you through the graveyard and you considered it. There was nowhere else you could bury him and properly mark the grave.

Before you could respond though, you were left speechless. You saw the grave, the tombstone with a majestic bear carved into it, and your dad’s name on it. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at the casket, at the black wood and white golden details, shaped like lightning on the edges.

“Ah, Tish, Y/N, come, come, I’ve made sure Elijah can have the funeral fitting of the man he was in life,” Gomez ushered you closer, showing you all the intricate details he put effort in. “We weren’t sure if you’d be the one calling your mother or if you’d want us to inform her instead. Everything else is ready,” he told you, patting you on the back in a comforting way.

“I’ll call her, Mr. Addams,” you said, still unable to come up with a response for this gesture. “I can’t put into words how thankful I am,” you bowed your head low to the two of them. “For this,” you motioned toward everything Gomez did. “For letting me stay here and treating my wounds, I-“ you choked up.

“It’s okay, let it all out,” Morticia’s words broke you, and you sobbed your heart out, releasing all the emotions within you, not for a moment worrying that they might judge you for it.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that before your tears dried up and Morticia placed a hand on your back. “Y/N, I know this is abrupt, but, if you ever wish to do so I can let you talk to Elijah, at least for a bit. The wounds on your heart are still fresh, I suggest you wait until they have enough time to decay, but whenever you wish to, now, or later, I’m here to help you with that.”

You could talk to him? You could have that conversation? Tell him you were sorry for everything? You nearly said you wanted to do it now. But Morticia was right, everything was still too fresh, so you nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Addams,” you failed to correct yourself, and she didn’t correct you, probably knowing much better than you that there would be better times to adjust the way you addressed her and Gomez. “I’ll wait for a bit.”

“Of course,” she nodded, smiling gently at you.

You slowly got up, realizing you were much more exhausted than you thought you’d be. And though you did it slowly you made your way back into the mansion with Morticia and Gomez.

And the moment you stepped inside you were startled by a colorful blur that didn’t fit with the lack of colors in the mansion and a hand colliding with your face.

“Enid, Thing,” you groaned, though it came out muffled because of Thing, just barely staying on your feet.

“You’re awake! OMG! You’re awake!” Enid exclaimed, sobbing into your shirt as you patted her on the back and Thing moved to the top of your head where you gave him a fist bump.

“Yeah, I, I’m awake,” you managed a smile, you were genuinely happy to see the two of them again. You missed them, you thought of them, as well as your mom and Wednesday when you were sure you’d likely die, so seeing them again felt amazing.

Enid separated from you and looked you over, she nodded, satisfied that you were alive and well on your way to recovery. “Thing and I will get Wednesday, right Thing?” Enid smiled at you, though her eyes were still filled with tears.

“Thanks,” you nodded, eager to see her properly, with both of you now awake and fully aware.

~X~

Enid and Thing came to get her, interrupting a rather unproductive writing time. And she followed them down one set of stairs toward the living room.

She watched from the top of the stairs, silent. You were standing there with her parents, with your back turned to the stairs as her mother placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. Now that you were awake you looked normal, though the image she received on her phone overlapped with what she was seeing at the moment. Your body, apparently lifeless, covered in blood, sent to her as a taunt made her clench her fists, her body trembling slightly. Even after knowing you were fine she couldn’t get rid of that image that easily.

“Come on, you’re the one she wants to see the most,” Enid nudged her, and she felt Thing pulling at her pants, but she remained rooted to the top of the stairs. Her cold, dead heart shattering as she thought of what could have happened.

Perhaps you didn’t die for her, but you could have died because of her, because you got involved in this, whatever this even was, for her. She thought Crackstone was the danger she needed to watch out for, that with him gone and you growing much stronger after that night, you managed to avoid the curse.

She was hasty, and she nearly lost you. She inhaled sharply and you abruptly turned your attention toward her, your eyes widening as you saw her.

“Wednesday,” you said her name and it was as if someone broke a curse that kept her rooted to the top of the stairs.

She went down, barely aware that Thing nearly tumbled down the stairs with how suddenly she moved, and she wasn’t sure if she walked down the stairs or ran, but the next thing she knew she was standing in front of you, the bandages peeking out just above your collar making her stop and stare just for a moment.

And then all her defenses came down and she grabbed onto you, tightly, possessively, clutching onto the back of your neck and pulling you down until she felt your breath against the skin of her neck, her other arm keeping you pressed against her body. “Mi Rayo,” she whispered, her hand pressing against your back, right where your heart was hoping to feel it beating against her palm. And it was faint, but she felt it.

“I’m alive, Wednesday, I’m alive,” you assured her, your lips brushing against her neck as you hugged her back. And Wednesday thought that you should never move your hands, that she should feel your fingers digging into her flesh as you held her so desperately at all times. “I’m with you,” and you should never leave her side, she hated to admit it, but she didn’t want to spend a day away from you ever again.

A/N: Well, that’s it until the season 2, I swear it can’t come out quickly enough.

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