#saved you from a river concept

[priceprime]

She ends but

Never ceases.

Dies and does not

stay dead.

But I am the one,

I am the one

Who must hold her too closely

As she is too still and too silent.

On the long walk through hell

And to the river styx.

I am the one

Who must lid her glassy eyes

Trace each edge of porcelain split.

Who must wash the blood

From her hair

And the corner of her lips.

I am the one

Who must annoint

Her stubborn brow

And her perfect heart.

Inlay her crown

With all she will forget.

I am the one who must lay her to rise.

I am the one who must mourn.

I am the one who must love her

Over and over again.

[manicmanuscription]

The Right Time

Pairing(s): Feysand x Reader

Word Count: 2501

Warnings: Angst, Possible Medical Inaccuracies, Fluff, Love Confessions, Delirium, Lack of Sleep, Depression? Panicking, Dissociation.

Summary: Reader is a new single mom, and she pushed away her only support system determined to prove she could do it on her own. But on a bad sleeping night she's slipping. Luckily her mates friends are there to pick her up.

A/N: I've been really obsessed with baby/pregnancy fic's lately due to baby fever, but I have never actually been pregnant before so a lot of this stuff is based on information from family members or other fanfic's/tiktok/insta etc…So a lot of this might not be correct. This fic has also been playing in my head after a shit ton of pregnancy fics i read so there might be grammatical errors!

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @cafekitsune

You didn’t know what you expected your life to be when you were just a faeling but it certainly wasn’t like this…

Living in a small cottage nestled in the countryside of Velaris, a wailing baby in your arms, bags under your eyes, no ring on your finger and no baby daddy in sight. Your house was an absolute mess but you didn’t have the energy or time to clean, you would’ve hired a maid but ever since your daughter was born a few weeks ago your paranoia had skyrocketed. It didn’t help that you were a valued member of the Inner Circle and not only had your life been threatened numerous times but you had been attacked just as many. 

You never expected it to be this hard though. Andromeda was squealing at the top of her lungs and you were sobbing right along with her. Rocking her up and down and desperately trying to figure out what was wrong. Not only were you still recovering from your intense labor and your homones all over the place but it was impossible to get any sleep, if your lovely daughter wasn’t having difficulty latching and by some miracle she had fallen asleep for longer than forty five minutes than you were staring at the wall cooconed in blankets a deep sense of dread overcoming every sense in your body made it diffuclt to fall asleep.

Anxiety kept your eyes awake at the thought that something would go wrong the second you let yourself relax. Your body would pass out from sheer exhaustion and Andromeda’s cries would awaken you and you started the whole song and dance over again. 

You were so, so, tired. Your mind had you seeing shadows moving across the floor and you could barely stand up straight. It was a miracle that fae get pregnant, conception taking years at a time and even then the pregnancy and labor extremely diffuclt, a lot of fae not surviving the process. You knew you were incredibley lucky to have a daughter, to have the chance to hold her and you loved her fiercely with ever fiber in your being yet you couldn’t help but regret everything.

You wished you never went to that club, never met that male, you wished that male had stayed instead of running in the opposite direction and you wished to all gods that you hadn’t pushed away your only support system, determined to prove you could do it on your own. 

Your family had been a shining star during all of this. Especially your High Lady and Lord, Rhysand and Feyre knew the deep intracies of pregnancy better than most after everything they had been through with Nyx.

Theey had stuck to your side the second they learned you were pregnant. Taking turns holding your hair back as you violently threw up from intense morning sickness, got all your cravings the second you mentioned it, held your bump when the weight started hurting your back or rubbed your feet when your ankles swelled.

They even forced you to stay at their house for weeks at a time so they could take care of you and when you insisted you were becoming a burden and returned home they had made themselves comfortable on your couch before you felt guilty and returned to the River House if only to save their spines. 

You had tried pulling away from them, guilt eating you alive every second of your pregnancy. Their actions didn’t help the absolute massive crush you had on them, in fact it only increased your adoration for them which made you shame spiral. The second your daughter was born you knew you couldn’t continue leaning on them for support, it only hurt you at the end of the day when you remembered they were mated, they had each other and a son and despite their overly flirty comments and lingering touches that just ended up causing more confusion. There was no room for you, you couldn’t keep pining after them when you needed to focus on Andromeda.

You told them you needed space, practically shoving them out the door even after they had spent 18 hours holding your hand’s and helping you deliver your beautiful daughter. Of course they had straight up refused your attempt to push them away and stayed with you a few days after labor, helping take care of you during the harsh after effects. But you finally kicked them out throwing out some cruel word’s that would haunt you to this day. Andromeda needed her mother to be present and emotionally healthy and you couldn’t provide that if you keep second guessing and overthinking every brush against your hand or every comment about your eyes. 

You could do this, you had to do this. You needed to be the best mother you could be for your little star. 

Yet you couldn’t even do that because she would not. stop. crying. The sound shredded your heart to pieces and guilt and shame turned the shattered bits of you to dust. She was fed, clean and warm and you couldn’t figure out why she kept crying. The thought made you feel like a horrible mother and you let out another sob at the same time as Andromeda as you bounced her up and down, forcing your numb feet to pace the room. “Please, please just go to sleep.” You begged. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” Your voice cracked and you spiraled at the scream she let out. 

You couldn’t do this. 

It was too hard, you were a horrible friend and an even worse mother and you didn’t deserve this little miracle in your arms. A better female would be able to handle it. You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t- 

“Oh Angel.” A soft voice broke and you turned to find Feyre and Rhys standing there, you opened your mouth to say something but Rhys was moving the instant your eyes met their’s. As soon as he was a breath away from you he reached for Andromeda, saying something about help yet the words were distorted and muffled in your exhaustive state, soft arms gripped your shoulders and you almost fell over at the weight of your baby being removed as Rhysand gently pried her away from you and into his arms, a smile gracing his elegant features.

You were too tired to fight, to do anything to protest as Feyre led you away from the bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom. She was saying something too but you didn’t hear it, all your last remaining energy focused on listening for Andromeda, making sure she was ok. Feyre titled your chin to look up at her and she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Your mind suddenly sharpening as her magic brushed against your mental walls as she forced you to listen to her. “She’ll be fine Sweetheart, Rhys has got her, now let me take care of you.” 

Everything felt so far away as if you were dreaming, moving through life in a haze as Feyre gently undressed you and settled you in a warm bath. She washed your hair and body and massaged your shoulders, whispering word’s of comfort that did not reach you as you floated away from your body. She fed you fruit and cheese’s your body chewing the food on autopilot. When was the last time you ate? 

The food and Feyre constantly touching you slowly brought you back down to earth. To the reality of your hunger, your tiredness, how sore all your muscles were and to the lack of Andromeda crying, you could hear Rhysand humming lowly through the crack in the door and the occasional creak of the floorboards as he calmed your daughter down. The thought had tears lining your eyes again. “She hates me.” You whimpered and Feyre brushed your tears away with the pads of her thumbs. “No she doesn’t.” Feyre she affirmed confidently. 

You shook you head in disagreement. “I can’t do anything right Fey, I said all those nasty things to you a-and I couldn’t even get her to sleep, and I’m so tired. I wasn’t cut out for this alright? I’m going to fuck her up so badly, I’ll ruin everything.” You were sobbing again, a broken sound tearing from your throat and the sound looked like it physically pained her. “Andromeda adores you alright love? We can all see it, she never looks at anyone the way she looks at you.  Your so attuned to her, you love her so fiercely and that’s the most important part. Your doing your amazing love. You’re not going to fuck anything up. You’re an amazing female and you’re an amazing mother. I forgive you, so does Rhys. We just want to make sure your ok.”

You let the words sink in, your heart beating wildly out of her chest as you cried at the tenderness of her words. “Why are you dong this to me?” You asked brokenly, you felt as if they were pulling you in all different directions. “Why are you saying all of these things when-“ when you’re mated. Were the unspoken words. But you couldn’t say that, you’d never say that and ruin whatever pieces of friendship you had. 

“When what?” Feyre asked softly as she stroked your damp hair.  

“When- I- I-“ You stuttered not knowing what to say as your mind panicked at the close confession you’d almost made. “Why are supporting me like this.” You instead asked, needing to know why they had stayed so close to your side and pulled at your heart strings so violently. “Just..why Feyre? Go home, to your son. I’ll be fi-“

“If you finish that sentance I swear to the gods-“ Rhysand exhaled heavily from the now open doorway,. “Rhys.” Feyre warned but he brushed her off as he crossed the room and  kneeled in front of the bathtub, gripping your face in between his large hands. “Do you not see how much we love you? How much we care for you. I think we have made it obvious Angel. You are our mate. Just please- please let us help you.” The last part sounded like a desperate plea, a whine leaving his lips and you didn’t have it into you to be shocked that the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were kneeling beside you, begging. your heart froze at the love confession. 

“Wait…What?” You asked slowly, waiting for them to tell you this was all a big joke. You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t let yourself hope. Feyre was giving Rhysand an annoyed glare but at your voice she turned to you, her expression to shifting to one of hope. “You are our mate darling.” She whispered, entertwining a tattooed hand with your’s, water dripping onto the rug, reminding you that were naked in a bathtub and an embarrassed flush crept up your cheeks. 

“And we love you.” Rhys added once again, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

“We didn’t want to tell you like this, especially not right now.” Feyre added with a pointed tone, giving her - your -  mate another glare. The High Lord just rolled his eyes. “I’m tired of waiting for the right time Feyre.” 

You were pretty sure your heart was beating a milllion miles per hour and you couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle that turned into a delirous laugh. Their brows furrowed and expressions shifted to something more broken at that and you immediately apologized as you gasped for breath in between your laughter. “I- just.” Your voice cracked as you started talking, regaining some wisdom. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with the two of you?” You whispered, your voice coming out in a high pitched tone as you tried to get it out all in one breath. “I felt so guilty-“ Lips crashed onto yours. The addicting scent of lilac and pear completely invading your senses as your gorgeous mate kissed you. Fireworks exploded in your chest and all of a sudden it felt like you could breath again. 

You felt as if you had arrived home as you finally allowed yourself to recognize the glowing bond in your chest instead of gaslighting yourself and pushing it down. It was overwhelming to feel the surge of emotions on your mates side and exhilarating all at the same time. Feyre moaned as your tugged on her bottom lip possessively. Soon her lips trailed down your neck and shoulder and a new set of lips met your own. 

Rhysand was different than Feyre yet just as addicting as his tongue clashed against yours, immediately taking control of the kiss. 

After a few more minutes of your mate’s overwhelmingly beautiful touch and you finally pulled away, panting hard. “What..What about Andromeda?” You asked timidly, knowing you would put her above yourself always, if they didn’t want another child than you couldn’t do this. Couldn’t allow yourself to hope only to crash and burn later. 

Rhysand hummed softly, taking one of your hands and kissing the inside of your wrist. “What about her darling?”

“Do…you still want me? She’s not your-“

Feyre gripped your chin firmly once again, directing your eyes to hers. “Andromeda is ours just as much as Nyx is. If you’ll allow it.” She added hastily

“You’re ours, Andromeda is ours, we love her deeply. Nothing is going to change that.” Rhys agreeded with just as much conviction os Feyre. You almost started crying once again, completely overwhelmed by the revelations of the night and Feyre hummed softly as they both remembered why they were here in the first place.

To take care of you and their daughter. Rhysand got up and grabbed a fluffy bath robe you don’t remember buying and Feyre helped you out of the bath stealing a quick kiss from you. “There’s still so much we have to do and talk about.” You mentioned as Rhys slid your arms into the robe. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “We can talk later, let’s get you into bed Sweetheart.” You could feel the adrenaline  from the night starting to wear off as Feyre led you to the bedroom. Your daughter finally snoring softly in the crib next to the bed.

They dressed you in your favorite PJ’s and each pressed a kiss to your lips before tucking you in the bed, Rhys magically changing the sheets with a snap of his fingers. 

Feyre snuggled in beside you, running her nails along your spine and Rhys sat on the end, massaging your sore feet as they forced the usual dread and anxiety away and for the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to finally relax at your mate’s gentle touch, your body completely melting underneath them. One hand gripping your daughter’s finger through the bars of her crib and one hand holding onto Feyre’s as you drifted off to sleep

[gimlilithegreat]

My ideal sequel to The Hobbit (ignoring LOTR, the OTTrilogy can continue being perfect forever as a completely separate concept) is a vaguely slapstick groundhog’s day style redo where every time Bilbo dies he’s sent back to the day Gandalf arrives to invite him on an adventure.

It starts off enthusiastic because Bilbo is going to do everything right this time, he’s going to tell Gandalf immediately so they can fix everything and save everyone and stop Sauron.

But Bilbo keeps dying and everything keeps going wrong in new and incredible ways. They try the whole eagle thing. They try going with a massive army. Bilbo tries sneaking past Shelob, so many times.

He dies to orcs, spiders and old age. He dies falling off horses, tripping off cliffs and on one memorable occasion of a heart attack.

He lives through wars and councils and losing everyone over and over again.

And eventually Bilbo is a defeated hobbit with too many deaths in his memory to count and nothing left in him to give. He wakes up after his latest failure and decides to just go on the stupid quest to Erebor because if nothing else it worked last time.

He finds himself enjoying it, enjoying spending time with these dwarves who are confused by the tiny little war veteran in their midst. He’s weirdly laissez faire about dying and surprisingly good with a sword considering he’s a hobbit.

They get attached and work together to stop their little companion from walking into oblivion and Bilbo slowly remembers what living felt like and is starting to get his motivation back. This time with the desperation that this time will work out specifically because he loves these dwarves and no other versions of them will ever be the same. He has family now and he doesn’t want to leave them behind.

Bilbo’s learnt a lot over hundreds of life times and he uses all of that knowledge to get them through safely.

Facing off with orcs, brow beating stubborn elves and whipping the gold sickness straight out of dwarves.

He comes to the end of the journey, his dwarves are safe, Erebor is reclaimed with shockingly minimal loss of life and he has the ring and the willingness to try again for Mordor - when Bofur’s like, “what do you mean Mount Doom’s the only place it can be destroyed? Sounds like you just need lava. Follow me laddie.” And takes him down to the deepest and darkest parts of the mines under Erebor where dwarves have dug the deepest and uncovered great chasms at the bottom of which flow molten rivers of magma.

They drop in the ring.

It floats on the surfaces for a moment before it cracks and dissipates with an unsettling scream.

In the distance to the east a tower falls and orcs and goblins watch with horror as the eye melts and shatters.

Down the depths of Erebor Bilbo lets out a great sigh of relief.

“It’s almost four Bilbo, we should get you some tea before that stomach of yours starts a revolt.”

And Bilbo goes back up into the sunlight to settle in for a nice afternoon visit with his dwarves in the garden they built for him on the slopes of Erebor.

[amitiel-truth]

River Maiden Pt. 10

(A/N: I call this one, The Crash-out Saga)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 11,

(Y/N)'s sobs echo through the damp, watery cell in Poseidon's Golden Palace under the Agean Sea, her anguish palpable. She has never felt so alone and hopeless before, trapped in this watery prison where she can barely breathe without feeling suffocated.

She's desperate to be with Telemachus, to feel his embrace and hear his comforting words.

"Why... why can't I be with him?" her voice choked with despair and sorrow.

Poseidon's booming voice interrupts her thoughts, echoing throughout the palace. "Because, my dear," he says mockingly, "you're my leverage. As long as you're here, that pesky mortal won't dare to go against me."

He appears outside her cell, a sinister smile on his face. "And I, oh, am going to enjoy this."

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, steeling herself.

"What do you want now?" (Y/N) asked, glaring at her 'Father'.

Poseidon chuckles, his voice dripping with mockery. "What do I want? Oh, nothing much. Just a little entertainment." He leans against the bars, his gaze fixed on (Y/N). "You see, I quite enjoy watching you suffer. It's oh so satisfying to see you, a daughter of mine, so hopeless and desperate."

His eyes gleam with malice as he continues, "And I love even more how that silly mortal believes he can save you. It's hopelessly romantic, really."

"Haven't I suffered enough?" (Y/N) stood up, walking up to the cell, continuing her glare at him.

"I was born from your sins, forced to grow up in darkness, and watch the only parent I know deteriorate because of you, do you know no mercy? Do you even rest? Do all you think of is implementing suffering for others!?" (Y/N) yells, tired of him.

"Mercy? Rest? Those are foreign concepts to a god like me." Poseidon sneers, undeterred by (Y/N)'s outburst.

"You think I care about your suffering?" he asks with a cruel chuckle. "I am the god of the seas, and I do as I please. Your pain only fuels my power, my dear. It amuses me to see you struggle and despair, knowing that you can do nothing to change your fate."

"You're wrong" (Y/N) challenges.

Poseidon quirks an eyebrow, intrigued by (Y/N) defiance. "Oh really now? And how exactly do you intend to prove me wrong, my darling daughter? You're trapped here, completely at my mercy."

"Because Odysseus once defied you...and won." (Y/N) taunted, a smug grin on her lips.

Poseidon's expression darkened at the mention of Odysseus's name.

"Yes, well, that blasted mortal was lucky," Poseidon grumbles begrudgingly. "But there's no chance Telemachus could pull off the same feat."

"You underestimate him." (Y/N) points out, looking at him blankly.

"Underestimating a mortal?" Poseidon scoffs, his arrogance evident. "I am a god. I am infallible. No mere mortal can stand against me."

"You underestimates a mortal once...do I even need to repeat what happened?" (Y/N) taunted, tilting her head.

Poseidon bristles at (Y/N)'s words, his pride wounded. "Enough!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the cell walls. "You forget your place, girl. I am the god of the seas, and I will not be mocked!"

"I am also a product of you, a vile, selfish man, who knows nothing but take, take and take!! " (Y/N) points out, glaring at him.

Poseidon's gaze hardens as (Y/N) continues to defy him. He hates hearing the truth spoken out loud, especially by his own daughter.

"Watch your tongue, insolent child," he growls, trying to hide the growing frustration in his voice. "You speak of taking? Do you know the power and responsibility that comes with being a god?"

"All I see is your selfishness and brazenness, a brute with no mind." (Y/N) glared at him, insulting him once more.

"How dare you!? I am not a brute," Poseidon seethed, his fury mounting. "I am a god, and I rule the seas. You, on the other hand, are just a mere girl, a mortal with delusions of grandeur!"

"Then forget about me as I forget about you!" (Y/N) screamed, holding onto the bars.

"You cannot forget about me," Poseidon thundered, his voice shaking the entire palace. "You're my daughter, my blood, and I will not let you go so easily!"

(Y/N) heart pounds in her chest as Poseidon's words wash over her, but she refuses to back down. She meets his gaze with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Then why keep me imprisoned like this?" she asks, her voice cracking slightly.

"Because you are valuable to me, dear one," Poseidon replies, his voice soft and chilling. "You're the key to my revenge on Odysseus. As long as I have you here, that insolent mortal will do whatever I want."

He steps closer to the bars, his eyes narrowed. "And I plan on milking this opportunity for all it's worth."

Commanding the water around him, he made the watery cage around (Y/N) in the likeness of a giant bird cage, rising her up above the open field.

(Y/N)'s heart sinks as she's lifted from the ground, trapped in a water cage that perfectly resembles a birdcage. She feels imprisoned and vulnerable as she's hoisted up into the open field, the weight of her captivity overwhelming.

"What are you doing?" she demands, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance.

Poseidon's smug smile widens with satisfaction. "Why, my dear, I'm simply making sure you're...comfortable."

He begins to walk away from her water cage, leaving her suspended in the open field.

"Oh, and do try to enjoy the view from up there," he calls over his shoulder, his tone dripping with mockery.

Poseidon gazes up at (Y/N) trapped in her watery birdcage, a satisfied smile on his face.

"Now, stay up there and wait for Your Prince." he sneers. "Let's see how long your precious hero will take to find you."

Hermes flies both Odysseus and Telemachus towards the massive golden palace of Poseidon, its opulent facade standing out against the backdrop of the sea.

"This is it, lads," Hermes says, nodding towards the palace. "Poseidon's lair is in there, told you it won't be that much of a journey, the Lady upstairs made sure if it. Are you ready?"

"Ready as we'll ever be," Odysseus replies, gripping the bag of Brutus Flowers tightly in his hand.

Telemachus simply nods, his expression stoic, mentally preparing himself for the confrontation with Poseidon.

"Then I should get going now, do try not to get yourself killed, she'll gut me for sure, Good luck~." Hermes bid farewell, before disappearing.

Odysseus and Telemachus watch as Hermes vanishes, leaving them standing before the imposing palace.

Odysseus takes a deep breath, steeling himself. "Alright, Telemachus," he says, a hint of determination in his voice. "Let's go get your girl back."

Telemachus nods, his gaze fixed on the palace. "Lead the way, father."

With that, they begin making their way towards the entrance of Poseidon's palace, their hearts pounding with anticipation and a sense of purpose.

Suddenly, they heard cries in the halls of the palace, catching Odysseus and Telemachus's attention. They exchange a glance, both knowing who the crying is coming from.

"That sounds like her..." Telemachus notes, his heart filling with worry and anger.

They followed the sobs, reaching an open courtyard, they stopped in their tracks at the sight of (Y/N) standing next to Poseidon, her face streaked with tears. They watch as Poseidon continues to speak to (Y/), his back to them.

"(Y/N)..." Telemachus whispers, his heart filling with rage at the sight of her tears.

(Y/N) turns around, seeing Telemachus, a bright smile on her lips.

"Telemachus! Your finally here!" (Y/N) cried out with a large smile.

"See Father? I told you he loves me!" (Y/N) proclaims, looking at Poseidon with a smile, confusing Odysseus and Telemachus.

Poseidon hides his irritation at (Y/N)'s outburst, maintaining his composure. He turns to Telemachus with a smirk, playing along with (Y/N) claims.

"Ah, Telemachus," he greets him, feigning a friendly tone. "Welcome. I see you've come to claim your beloved back from me."

"Well, here she is, all yours, I've grown bored of her." Poseidon pushed her towards him, making the (Y/N) run up to him.

"Telemachus! Oh, How much I missed you!" (Y/N) proclaims, holding his hands.

Telemachus's heart leaped at the sight of (Y/N) rushing towards him, but something about the scene felt off. He glanced at Poseidon, who had a smirk on his face, and then back at (Y/N).

"(Y/N)...?" Telemachus asked, his voice filled with a mix of relief and caution as he feels her hands on his.

"What's wrong my love? Don't you miss me?" (Y/N) asked, tilting her head.

Telemachus forces a smile, playing along.

"Of course I missed you, my love," he responds, gripping her hands tighter. "I thought about you every moment we were apart."

As he holds her hands, Telemachus subtly notes the coolness of her skin, a deviation from the usual warmth he remembered.

"Oh, How I missed you, beloved." Y/N) smiled at him, hugging him tightly, too tight.

Telemachus hugged her back, his arms encircling her as she hugged him tight. The coolness of her skin seemed to linger, an unsettling contrast to the warmth he knew her to have.

"It's alright, my love," he murmured, his heart pounding with worry. "I'm here now. I won't let you go."

Suddenly, Telemachus stabbed her back with his dagger, His heart pounded in his chest as the illusion of (Y/N) dissolved into water, dissipating the moment the dagger pierced her body.

He looked up at Poseidon, who had a smirk on his face, clearly pleased with his little ploy. Telemachus clenched his jaw, his grip on his dagger tightening as he realized the extent of the god's trickery.

Odysseus watched with a mix of surprise and confusion. "What just happened?!" he exclaimed.

"It wasn't her, her hands are too cold, and my arms don't fit right around her." Telemachus sheated his dagger, before glaring at Poseidon

Poseidon chuckled darkly, amused by Telemachus's observation.

"Clever boy," he taunted, his gaze cold and calculating. "I see you caught onto my little trick."

Odysseus's eyes widened, his expression turning serious as he realized the implications of what had just occurred. "So, where is she...the real (Y/N)?" he asked.

With the snap of the God's finger, a birdcage made of water began to rise.

Telemachus's gaze followed the ascension of the birdcage, his heart lurching as he heard the sound of (Y/N)'s sobs. Anger welled up within him as he realized she was inside.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

(Y/N) looks out of her cage, her breath hitched.

"You came..."

Telemachus's heart ached at the sight of her, caged and helpless.

"Of course I did," he replied, his voice filled with determination. "I would travel to the ends of the earth for you."

Odysseus stepped forward, his gaze fixed on (Y/N) in her watery prison. "We'll get you out of there," he assured her.

"Ah, ah, ah," Poseidon interrupts smugly. "Not so fast, mortals. If you want your little damsel in distress back, you'll have to play by my rules."

Telemachus's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his anger flaring.

"Your rules?" he spat out, his voice filled with venom. "What rules? You're nothing but a coward, locking her away up there like some prized prisoner."

"Careful, boy," Poseidon warned, his eyes narrowing. "You might not like the consequences of your words."

Odysseus stepped forward, his voice firm but measured. "We're not here to play games, Poseidon. We came for (Y/N), and we won't leave without her."

"Oh, you won't, will you?" Poseidon chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what makes you think you have any leverage here? You're both just mortals, insignificant and fragile compared to me."

Telemachus gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "We may be mortals, but we're not powerless," he shot back. "And we won't let you treat (Y/N) like some bargaining chip."

Poseidon's gaze shifted between Telemachus and Odysseus, his smirk faltering momentarily as he faced the two mortals.

"Is this supposed to intimidate me? A mortal with a spear and another with a bow?" he taunted, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Telemachus!" (Y/N) calls out, before throwing something for him to catch.

Telemachus caught a double-ended spear made of her tears, his eyes widening in surprise. He felt the power within the weapon, the will of the waters flowing within it.

"No way..." he whispered, gripping the spear tightly, a sense of determination coursing through him.

"We're not only mortals...we had a bit of help." Odysseus taunted, before using the Brutus Flowers, with its necter and pollen at the tip of his arrows.

With a flick of his wrist, Odysseus launches a Brutus flower-tipped arrow at Poseidon, the pollen swirling through the air towards him

Poseidon's eyes widen as he realizes what Odysseus has done. He tries to dodge, but the pollen envelops him, rendering him vulnerable

Telemachus charges forward, wielding (Y/N)'s double-ended spear. His movements are swift and precise, every strike aimed at exposing a weakness in Poseidon's defense. His heart beats in sync with the rhythm of battle, his focus solely on rescuing (Y/N) from her watery prison.

Despite being weakened by the effects of the Brutus Flower, Poseidon fights back with the full force of his trident. His movements may not be as quick and precise as before, but he compensates with sheer power and experience. Each swing of his trident sends the air rippling around him, creating small waves with every attack.

Telemachus, his heart racing in his chest, dances around each swing, dodging and parrying with his double-ended spear. The battle becomes an intricate dance of blades and tridents, with each strike echoing across the courtyard, the sound of their weapons mingling with their ragged breaths.

Telemachus, his heart racing in his chest, dances around each swing, dodging and parrying with his double-ended spear. The battle becomes an intricate dance of blades and tridents, with each strike echoing across the courtyard, the sound of their weapons mingling with their ragged breaths.

While Telemachus distracted Poseidon, Odysseus used it to free (Y/N), seizing the opportunity, grabs an arrow and expertly attaches a length of rope to it. He swiftly fires it with his bow, the arrow soaring towards the top of Egeria's cage and anchoring itself securely. With a steady grip on the rope, Odysseus begins his ascent.

(Y/N) looks at the rope before looking down, seeing Odysseus.

"Sir!." Egeria whisper yells in greeting

Odysseus glances up, his expression filled with determination as he climbs the rope. "Hang on, (Y/N)," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the battle below. "We're getting you out of here."

As Odysseus reached her, she managed to slip out of the cage with her power, as he helped her down the rope

(Y/N) clung tightly to Odysseus as they descended the rope, her heart pounding with a mix of relief and anticipation. Once they reached the ground, she turned to him with a mix of gratitude and worry.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaky. "But Telemachus..."

The strength of the Brutus Flowers began to wear off, and Poseidon's godly powers started to return. As his strength rejuvenated, Telemachus found himself growing tired and outfought. He tried to hold his ground, but Poseidon's power overwhelmed him, pushing him back.

With the lift of the God's trident, he sent a powerful gust of water down onto Telemachus, as he lays down onto the ground, injured.

"NO!!" (Y/N) and Odysseus yells, as they both ran towards Telemachus's side.

(Y/N) and Odysseus rushed to Telemachus's side, their hearts heavy with worry. Odysseus knelt down beside him, taking in his injuries with a grim expression.

"Telemachus," Odysseus calls out, his voice shaky in near tears. "Can you hear me?"

"No! Nonononononono!" (Y/N) panics, accessing his injuries... it's grave, his abdomen and chest feels soft, his ribs are broken.

"Telemachus, please stay with me, please!" (Y/N) begs, holding his hand, patting his cheek.

Telemachus grunts in pain, his body feeling battered and bruised from the relentless attack.

"I...I'm alright," he croaks, managing a small smile despite the pain. He looks up at (Y/N), the worry in her eyes making his heart ache.

"No, you're not! You're mortally wounded!" (Y/ screams, trying to keep him awake.

Odysseus clenched his jaw, his expression turning grave. The severity of Telemachus's injuries was clear, and time was running out.

"Telemachus, you have to stay with us," Odysseus urged, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "We can't lose you now."

Telemachus sees the panic and desperation in (Y/N)'s eyes, and he reaches up to gently touch her cheek, trying to offer some reassurance in his fragile state.

"Don't...don't worry about me," he says, his breathing labored. "I...I'll be alright."

(Y/N) looks at him in distraught, he's the one mortally wounded and yet, he is still worried about her well being, making her clench bee teeth.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I never told you who I truly am, I never told you because... because I thought you wouldn't accept me for who I am, the part of me that I hate, the part of me I rejected all my life." (Y/N) admits, crying heavily as she looks at Telemachus's critical state.

Telemachus gazes up at (Y/N), his eyes filled with love and understanding. He reaches up to wipe away her tears, his touch tender and gentle despite his fading strength.

"My sweet, beautiful (Y/N)," he whispers, his voice weak but steady. "You don't have to apologize. I don't care about who you are or where you come from. I love you for you."

He coughs weakly, pain flooding his body as he tries to speak.

"I...I would never reject you..." he gasps, struggling to speak with every word. "You... you're my world... my heart... my everything."

Tears stream down (Y/N)'s face, her heart breaking at the sight of Telemachus, the man she loves, lying so helpless and vulnerable, whispering his last words to her. She grips his hand tightly, holding onto it like a lifeline.

He slides his hand up to caress her face, his fingers brushing against her skin, wanting to feel her warmth for as long as he can.

"Please...please don't cry," he pleads, his voice growing weaker with each word. "I... I hate seeing you like this..."

Tears stream down (Y/N)'s face as she listens to Telemachus's words. She grasps his hand tightly onto her face, her heart breaking at the sight of him struggling to hold on.

"Please...please don't leave me," she pleads, her voice choked with emotion. "I can't lose you too. I love you so much."

Telemachus weakly continues to touch hee cheek, his hand trembling with effort. His touch is gentle, his fingers tracing the contours of her face, committing the feel of her skin to memory.

"I...I wish I could stay with you... forever," he whispers, his voice barely above a whisper now. "But... I'm so tired..."

(Y/N) sniffles, taking a deep breath, before finally accepting it, knowing that Telemachus will only suffer in pain from holding on for her, she raised one of her hands, stroking his hair.

"Rest now, my Love, I'll see you in the morning" (Y/N) says softly, kissing his lips.

Telemachus's breath hitches slightly, the taste of her kiss bittersweet. He looks into her eyes, his gaze filled with sadness and love.

"Will... will I dream of you?" he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/N) looks at him with a bitter sweet smile, trying to give him at least a smile he could remember of her despite her tears.

"Yes, you will, always." (Y/N) reassures, trying to keep it together.

Telemachus manages a weak smile, his body growing increasingly still. He weakly moves his hand, brushing back a strand of (Y/N)'s hair, his touch tender despite his fading strength.

"Good...that's good," he murmurs, his voice fading further.

Odysseus, witnessing the scene unfold before him, feels a mix of sadness and admiration, knowing that Telemachus will die in the arms of his beloved.

"Rest now, My love, I'll see you in the morning, I love you." (Y/N) presses her forehead against his with a smile, despite her tears falling onto his cheek

Telemachus's eyes flutter closed, and a weak smile plays at the corners of his lips as he feels (Y/N) warm touch on his forehead.

"I...I love you..." he whispers, his voice barely audible now.

His hand, still weakly holding onto (Y/N)'s, begins to go slack, his body finally succumbing to the damage and exhaustion.

The silence is heavy, broken only by the sound of (Y/N) stifled sobs and Odysseus' ragged breaths. Telemachus's hand, now slack in her grip, falls limp to his side, his chest no longer rising and falling with each labored breath.

Odysseus stands nearby, his expression a mix of grief and anger. The reality of Telemachus's death is almost too painful to bear, and he clenches his fists, fighting back the urge to shout in rage and frustration.

(Y/N) looks at Odysseus, her eyes so full of tears. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." (Y/N) begs for forgiveness, as she gently placed Telemachus body onto Odysseus's arms as he sat on his other side.

Odysseus looked at (Y/N) with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He shook his head softly.

"It's...it's not your fault, my dear." Odysseus assures her. "Telemachus's death is a consequence of a battle we had to fight, and he fought bravely for you."

(Y/N) looks at the sight before her, Odysseus, holding his son's body, as she begin to break at the scene, kneeling onto the ground, and screaming in pain, tears endlessly flowing from her eyes.

Odysseus only looks at her, his heart breaking for her loss. He holds Telemachus gently in his arms, his own tears flowing freely grieves with her. The courtyard is filled with the sounds of their shared sorrow, with (Y/N)'s heart-wrenching screams echoing in the air.

Poseidon, now having regained his godly powers, let out a mocking laugh, relishing in the scene before him.

"Ha! Look at you all weeping over the fallen one," he says, his voice full of arrogance and cruelty. "The great Telemachus, defeated by a single blow. What a pity!"

"You really thought you could defeat a god with a mortal's strength?" Poseidon sneers, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. "You were all just playthings to me, nothing more than insects to be squashed under my heel."

He looks down at Telemachus's lifeless body in Odysseus's arms, his taunting tone growing more cruel.

"And now, look at the prize you've lost. How does it feel, hero?"

"Your tears. Your sorrow. They are nothing to me," Poseidon continues his mocking tirade, taking pleasure in Odysseus's grief. "You are all so weak, so powerless. You thought you could defeat me, a god, with your mortal struggles? How naive."

He looks over at (Y/N), now on the ground, her grief too overwhelming for her to hold back.

"And you, hybrid. Do you think your tears will bring him back? You are both pathetic."

Suddenly, the air stills, as (Y/N) sat up from her kneeling, shocking Odysseus at what's happening to her, but Poseidon couldn't see as her back was turned to her, the spear made out of her tears that Telemachus had dropped in his defeat, dissolved, and snaked it's way onto her, slithering on her back to her hair.

Droplets of water began floating around them, as (Y/N) stood up, her once (H/L) (H/C) turned into water in the shape of snakes, similar of that to a Gorgon, as she slowly turned her head towards him, her eyes glowing white, too bright, with endless amounts of tears flowing from her eyes, as the droplets began pelting Poseidon.

"What is this... what are you doing?" Poseidon demands, his voice taking on a hint of panic.

Each hit felt like a rock, completely surrounding him, as it ended (Y/N) was now in front of him, winding back her arm and sending a blast of water in the shape of snakes towards towards him, sending him flying across the courtyard.

Poseidon quickly regains his composure, looking up at (Y/N) with a snarl.

"How...how are you doing this?" he demands, clearly shaken by her newfound powers.

(Y/N) ignores his question, her gaze fixed on him as she continues her approach, each step sending tremors through the ground underneath her. The howling wind sounds like her screams, creating a chilling chorus of anguish and determination.

"What have you become?" Poseidon finally manages to say, his usually mocking tone now tinged with fear.

She couldn't even hear him, all she could hear was...Telemachus.

"I would never, ever let anyone take me away from you"

"You are more precious to me than any Princess or wealth could ever be."

"I'd have stayed in that river with you forever, if I could."

"No one else can have me. I'm all yours."

"My beautiful nymph."

"You're too good for me, love..."

"You are... intoxicating,"

"Please...please don't cry"

"You... you're my world... my heart... my everything."

"I...I would never reject you..."

"Will I see you again?"

"I...I wish I could stay with you... forever"

Imagine being so full of grief and rage, that you force your divine half to take over.

Amidst her anguish, a new title is bestowed onto her.

(Y/N), Mistress of the Waves.

Goddess of the Sea, Earthquakes, Storms and Snakes.

She continues to attack him, every form of water are in the shape of snakes, as if to remind him of his past mistakes, of her mother, Medusa.

Poseidon's fear and disbelief grow as (Y/N) continues her relentless attack, every bit of water shaped like a serpent, tormenting him with the memory of Medusa.

"No...no, this can't be happening," he mutters, struggling to maintain his composure.

Each attack lands with precision, causing Poseidon to stagger back, the pain and fear from his past haunting him once more. (Y/N), fueled by her grief and fury, is a force to be reckoned with, her power growing with each passing moment.

Odysseus struggles to maintain his balance as the wind intensifies, the gusts becoming stronger and more tumultuous. He holds Telemachus tightly in his arms, trying to shield his body from the elements, but the force of nature proves overwhelming.

"(Y/N)..." he calls out, his voice barely heard over the howling wind. "(Y/N), please, you have to stop!"

But (Y/N) didn't listen, or she simply couldn't hear him in her grief, as she continues to attack, in his fear, Poseidon even tried to hit her with his trident, as she caught it with her bare hand, snapping it in two and throwing it to him, making him stumble.

As she throws the broken weapon back at him, the reality of his situation becoming all too clear to him. Poseidon, the mighty god of the seas, is being bested by a woman consumed by grief and rage, her powers beyond anything he could have anticipated.

(Y/N) pants as she glares at him, as behind her she forms a giant snake made out of water, brandishing it's fangs towards him, threatening to attack, an imposing sight that only adds to her already fearsome presence. It glares malevolently at Poseidon, its fangs gleams in a threatening manner, as if ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Poseidon's face goes pale as he stares at the snake, realizing that he's facing a force he can't easily overcome. His fear is evident as he takes a step back.

(Y/N) raises a hand, preparing to send it down onto him, biting her lip so hard that it bled, as she was about to send it down, a familiar embrace stopped her, hugging her gently, with a hand on her cheek, snapping her out of her rage filled state, her pure white eyes returning back to normal, but her hair is still remained made out of water in the form of snakes, gasping as the giant snake made of water drops into nothingness, as she leans onto the familiar, comforting hug.

Hera, the goddess of marriage and queen of the gods, holds (Y/N) tightly in her arms, a mixture of concern and sympathy etched on her face.

"It's alright, child," she whispers gently, brushing a hand through (Y/N)'s hair, which is still in the form of water snakes. "You don't have to do this."

Hera looks over at Poseidon, who stands there, stunned by the sudden turn of events, a mix of fear and confusion visible on his face.

(Y/N) cried out, burying her face onto Hera's shoulder, as she held onto her purple peplus tightly, crying as she screams, and dropping to her knees, with Hera following suit, unable to form any sentence, filled with heartbreak

Hera holds (Y/N) tightly, her own eyes filled with sympathy and compassion. sitting on the ground and continuing to hold her close. The goddess gently strokes (Y/N) hair, her touch soothing and comforting.

"Shh, it's alright," Hera whispers, her voice soft and tender. "Let it all out, my dear."

(Y/N) is inconsolable, to the point Hera has to force her to stop biting her lips so much that it bleeds, as she continues her anguish cries.

(Y/N)'s sobs are heartbreaking, her grief overwhelming and unceasing. Hera, holding her tightly, tries to soothe her, gently chiding her to stop biting her lips.

"You need to stop, my dear," Hera says softly, wiping some of the tears from (Y/N) cheeks. "You're only hurting yourself more."

Despite her attempts, (Y/N)'s anguish only seems to deepen, drowning herself in her heartache and sorrow.

"I...I lost him!" She cried out, burying her face onto Hera's chest, barely being able to keep herself upright.

Her words, filled with despair and heartache, hit Hera hard. The pain in her voice is palpable.

"Shhh, I know, darling. I know it hurts," Hera whispers, holding her close.

Hera gently runs her fingers through (Y/N)'s hair once more, trying to soothe her, but the tears continue to flow, unstoppable in their intensity.

"Please, help me, I'd do anything to give him back to me" (Y/N) begged, gripping onto Hera's shawl

Her pleas pierces through the air, her desperation and pain palpable. Hera's heart aches as she holds her, feeling her anguish.

"My dear, I wish I could bring him back to you," Hera says, her voice trembling as she fights back her own tears. "But even I cannot reverse the hands of fate once death has claimed a soul."

She tightens her embrace, holding (Y/N) close, offering whatever solace she can.

"I'll do anything, please" She begs, holding her hand, unstable.

"I'll give you anything of mine, please, anything but this, anything but him! I can't lose him, I can't lose him like this" (Y/N) begged hysterically.

(Y/N)'s pleading is heart-wrenching, her desperation driving her to make any bargain, surrender anything to reverse the inevitable.

Hera, with tears in her own eyes, tries to console her. "My dear, your pain is understandable, but there are limits to what even I can do. I cannot bring someone back from the dead."

"Please, anything of mine, anything! Just take it! Anything but this, anything but him" (Y/N) begged, burying her face to her Aunt's shoulder.

Hera's heart heavy as she witnesses the extent of her grief. As (Y/N) begs for any solution, even offering any part of herself in exchange for Telemachus's life, a thought springs to mind.

Hera pulls back gently, looking deep into (Y/N)'s tear-filled eyes.

"(Y/N), my child, listen to me. There...there may be a way."

"Please, I'll do anything." (Y/N) begged, looking at her, pleading.

Hera took a deep breath, her expression a mix of hesitation and hope.

"I cannot promise anything," she warned, her voice almost a whisper. "But there is one possibility. You have both mortal and divine blood in you, a unique combination of both worlds."

Hera paused, her eyes never leaving (Y/N)'s face.

"You could...give up your divinity."

(Y/N) looks at her in shock, as Odysseus watches the exchange.

Odysseus stood watching the exchange, his thoughts swirling with worry and disbelief. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

He silently observed, torn between hope and caution. On one hand, he desperately wanted to see Telemachus alive again, to hold his son in his arms and bring him back to life. But the thought of (Y/N) giving up her divinity, her very nature, filled him with dread.

As he watched, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions, contemplating the implications and consequences of such a sacrifice.

"I will also offer you my protection, and being mortal, you will cut your ties with Olympus and Poseidon himself from being his daughter, do you accept the terms, my dear?" Hera asked, shocking Poseidon

As Hera made her proposal, a gasp escaped Poseidon's lips, his eyes widening in disbelief. The thought of (Y/N) renouncing her divine heritage and severing her connection to him was both unexpected and jarring.

"No...no, you can't do this!" Poseidon spluttered, stepping forward in protest. "You can't take her from me, she's my daughter!"

"Take it" (Y/N) quickly answers, making both the Gods look at her in disbelief

"I'd rather live a single mortal life with him than live an eternity without him, please, Auntie...." (Y/N) begs, looking up at her with tearful, pained eyes.

"Take it" (Y/N) begged with her broken voice.

Poseidon's protests go unheard as (Y/N) accepts the offer. He stands there, stunned, watching as his daughter willingly agrees to relinquish her divinity.

Hera glances at Poseidon, a look of determination in her eyes, before turning back to her. "Are you sure, child?" she asks gently, her voice carrying a heavy weight.

"Divinity is something many sought after, are you willing to trade it away for his life?"

"How could I ever continue living...without him who truly makes me feel divine?" (Y/N) asked with a broken smile.

(Y/N)'s words hang heavily in the air, her emotions on full display. Her pain is palpable, the love she holds for Telemachus consuming her very being.

Hera gently places a hand on her shoulder, her touch a mix of sympathy and understanding. "I know, my dear, but you must be certain. Once this deal is made, it cannot be undone."

Hera looks over at Telemachus's body, lying motionless on the ground, and a pained expression crosses her face.

"I understand, Auntie, I'm only saddened that I'll never get to see you again" (Y/N) admits with a frown.

(Y/N)'s words hit Hera like a dagger to the heart, her frown deepening. She looks down at student, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and pride.

"You are a remarkable young woman," Hera says softly, her voice heavy with emotion. "Your compassion and depth of love are admirable."

Hera gently cups (Y/N)'s cheek, her touch tender. "I shall miss you, dear one," she whispers, her voice thick with sorrow.

"Thank you...for everything." (Y/N) smiled at her, grateful for raising her.

Hera smiles sadly as tears fill her eyes. She's both proud of (Y/N)'s strength and saddened by the loss of her divine heritage.

"It was an honor to watch you grow, my dear," Hera whispers, fighting back her tears. "You are a gift to this world, and I shall always cherish our time together."

She holds (Y/N) close, her embrace filled with bittersweet emotions.

"You have a great heart," Hera adds "and it pains me to see it ache like this. But remember this, My Student, and don't forget."

Hera gently lifts (Y/N) chin, meeting her gaze with a mix of sternness and love. "Even as a mortal, you'll retain lessons learned and traits gained from your divinity. Hold onto your strength, your resilience, and above all, your capacity to love."

She brushes a strand of water hair away from her face, her touch gentle yet firm.

As Hera gazes at (Y/N), memories flood her mind. She sees the little girl she once raised, the one she took under her wing, and the woman she has become.

Hera's eyes well up with tears, and a bittersweet smile plays upon her lips. Her heart aches for the loss of their bond, but she is also filled with pride.

Hera takes a deep breath, steadying herself as she prepares to undertake the process of reviving Telemachus. She closes her eyes, her mind focused and resolute. A soft energy emanates from her fingertips, and her voice takes on a incantatory quality.

"Let the threads of life once more become unbroken. Let Telemachus's path be illuminated by the light of the living."

She holds her hands above Telemachus's corpse, channeling her divine power.

As the process ensues, (Y/N) can feel a subtle change within herself. It's as though the threads of her divinity are unraveling, loosening their hold on her being.

Meanwhile, Telemachus's lifeless body responds to Hera's intervention. Color slowly returns to his cheeks, and a faint pulse can be discerned. The process is gradual, but the resurrection is taking effect.

Odysseus, witnessing the scene, observes the changes taking place. He watches as color returns to Telemachus's cheeks and a pulse appears, a sign of life returning to his son's body.

At the same time, Odysseus's attention is drawn to (Y/N). He notices a subtle change in her demeanor, as if something within her is shifting.

(Y/N) noticed Telemachus's slow return, as she runs to him, desperate to see him alright.

"Telemachus! Please wake up!." She begs, as her hair is slowly going back to normal.

Telemachus's eyes slowly flutter open, his consciousness returning. He feels disoriented and weak, but the sound of (Y/N) voice and her touch ground him.

As his vision clears, Telemachus looks up and sees (Y/N)'s face, filled with worry and relief.

"(Y/N)..?" he whispers, his voice hoarse and frail.

As Telemachus gazes up at (Y/N), confusion and awe wash over him. Her hair, made of water in the form of snakes, dances around her head, a striking and unique sight. Yet, despite the Gorgon-like appearance, Telemachus can only focus on one thing - her captivating beauty.

"You...you look astonishing," Telemachus manages to utter, his voice soft and filled with admiration.

(Y/N) looks at him in shock, as Telemachus continues to describe her mesmerizing beauty.

Telemachus's gaze remains fixed on (Y/N), taking in every detail of her appearance. His eyes trace the curves of her face, the way her hair sways around her head like a crown of serpents.

"Your beauty... it's like nothing I've ever seen," he whispers. "The way your hair moves, like a living river... it's mesmerizing."

He reaches up, gently brushing a strand of her snake-like locks away from her face, his touch filled with reverent wonder.

Telemachus chuckles softly as the water snakes surrounding (Y/N) head react to his touch, nipping at his hand playfully. He watches in fascination as they seem to recognize him, their movements becoming more curious.

"They know me," he observes, a hint of amusement in his voice. "They're... they're quite spirited, aren't they?" Telemachus chuckles, looking at (Y/N) with a mix of amusement and fondness. "It's as if they enjoy my touch."

(Y/N) smiled at him as she shook her head, her hair going back to normal as her divinity completely leaves her, pulling him into a hug.

"Welcome back, my beloved." (Y/N) mutters with a large smile.

Telemachus was taken aback by the sudden change in (Y/N)'s hair, returning to its normal state, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. As she pulls him into a tight embrace, he melts into her arms, relishing the touch he thought he had lost forever.

Hera watches the scene with a small, knowing smile on her face. She can see the tenderness and love between Telemachus and (Y/N), and she feels a sense of satisfaction for having facilitated this reunion.

She watches as Telemachus and (Y/N) embrace each other, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. It's clear that they were destined for each other, and that their bond is stronger than any divine power.

She steps forward, clearing her throat to draw the couple's attention back to her. She waits until Telemachus and (Y/N) breaks apart, their arms still around each other, before speaking.

"Telemachus," she says, her voice firm but gentle. "You have been given a second chance at life, thanks to (Y/N)'s sacrifice."

"What? What did you sacrifice?" Telemachus asked, checking her, counting her fingers and toes

"Telemachus, I gave up my divinity" Telemachus's mind struggles to process the gravity of her sacrifice, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions.

"You... gave up your divinity... for me?" he repeats, unable to believe it. He gazes at her, his eyes wide and teary, trying to understand the enormity of what she had done. "Why?"

"Because," (Y/N) raised a hand, caressing his cheek, "I would rather die, than grow old without you." She professes, pressing her forehead against his

"Because eternity without you...is torture."

Telemachus's heart melts as (Y/N) speaks, her words cutting deep. He can feel the sincerity and the depth of her love radiating from her every word.

He gently cups her face with his hand, his touch tender and full of longing.

"You're a fool, you know that?" he chuckles softly, his voice full of affection. "Risking everything for me..."

She chuckles, tearing up. "I guess, that makes us fools in love." (Y/N) smiled at him, tears streaming from her eyes.

Telemachus can't help but smile at her words. "Fools in love," he repeats, savoring the sound of it.

He gently wipes away the tears streaming from her eyes, his touch gentle and filled with tenderness.

"Well, if we're fools in love, then I'll be a fool with you," Telemachus murmurs, his voice soft and affectionate. "Until the end of time."

(Y/N) pulls him into a kiss through her tears, holding him tightly.

Telemachus melts into the kiss, his heart overflowing with emotion. He wraps his arms around (Y/N), pulling her close, as if trying to erase all the time they had lost.

Their kiss is filled with longing and desperation, a physical manifestation of the love they share. The world around them fades away, leaving only the two of them in a tight embrace, their mouths locked together as if they can't bear to part.

"Alright, break it up, you two, she's not the only one who was crying over you." Odysseus calls out as (Y/N) pulls away with a smile, letting Odysseus hug his son.

Telemachus breaks apart from (Y/N) with a gentle yet reluctant smile, turning to see his Father, Odysseus, standing nearby.

As Odysseus calls out to him, Telemachus feels a surge of emotions. He can see the relief and love in his Father's eyes, and he knows that his return has not gone unnoticed.

Telemachus rises to his feet, meeting Odysseus's embrace with equal force. They hug, tears streaming down both of their faces.

"Father... I'm... I'm sorry for worrying you," Telemachus whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

Odysseus holds Telemachus tightly, a mix of relief and joy on his face. He can feel the weight of his son's body in his arms, his heartbeat reassuring and real.

"You damned fool," Odysseus mutters affectionately, his voice thick with emotion. "You gave me quite a scare, you know that?"

He pulls away from Telemachus, still keeping a firm grip on his shoulders, and looks into his son's eyes.

Telemachus smiles sheepishly, a hint of guilt on his face. "Yeah, I guess I may have overdone it a bit."

Odysseus shakes his head, chuckling softly. "A bit? You were dead, Telemachus. Dead. Do you have any idea what that did to this old man's heart?"

Telemachus's smile falters a bit, realizing the true gravity of his actions. He looks down, shame coloring his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Father," Telemachus says quietly. "I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I was just... desperate, I suppose."

Odysseus regards Telemachus with a mix of empathy and understanding. He knows all too well what it's like to be driven by desperation and love.

"I understand," Odysseus replies, his grip on Telemachus's shoulders softening. "You were willing to do anything for (Y/N), even if it meant risking your life... I get it."

He paused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes.

"In fact, to be honest, I'd probably do the same for your Mother." Odysseus admits

Telemachus's expression softens, realizing that he and his Father are not so different after all. Despite their differences and their clashes, they share the same capacity to love selflessly, to risk it all for the people they hold dear.

"Maybe we're both fools in love then," Telemachus says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Odysseus sighs, a mixture of resignation and affection. "Maybe we are. But love has a strange way of making fools of us all."

He pats Telemachus on the back. "Just try not to do anything that stupid again, will you?"

(Y/N) watched with a smile as the father and son converse, and turns her head back to Hera with a large smile.

"Thank you, Auntie"

Hera looks at (Y/N) with fondness, her gaze lingering on the young woman who was like a daughter to her.

"You're welcome, dear one," Hera replies with a gentle smile.

She reaches out and places a hand on (Y/N) shoulder, their connection evident in the warmth of her touch.

"You know, I never expected to see you sacrifice your divinity for anyone," Hera chuckles light-heartedly

"I have no other use for it other than to see you." (Y/N) smiles at her, before frowning, looking at the Goddess sadly.

"Will I...see you again?" She asked with a hopeful smile.

Hera's expression softens as (Y/N)'s question hangs in the air. She gazes at her with a mixture of fondness and melancholy.

"I wish I could promise you that we'll meet again," Hera says, her voice heavy with a sense of finality. "But the truth is, I cannot. You no longer have divinity running through you, and that puts us on different planes. It means that our paths will diverge, and the chances of us ever meeting again are slim, if not impossible."

(Y/N)'s heart sinks at Hera's words, a sense of loss and sadness washing over her. She had hoped for more time, more moments with the Goddess who had once been like a mother to her.

"I see..." She mutters with a frown, looking down on the ground, before looking up at her again with a sad smile.

"I guess...in another lifetime will do, Auntie?" She asked sadly, tilting her head.

Hera's expression softens, her heart heavy with the weight of (Y/N)'s words. She reaches out and places a gentle hand on her cheek, her touch tender and comforting.

"Yes, my dear. In another lifetime, perhaps. In another lifetime we'll meet again and may your path be a kind one this time."

She smiles bittersweetly, her gaze holding a hint of sadness and hope. "Until then, cherish every moment you have with Telemachus."

She leans onto her hand, smiling "Thank you, for everything, once more." (Y/N) mutters gratefully, before hugging her tightly.

Hera smiles warmly at her, her heart full of affection for the young woman who had grown into a force to be reckoned with as she hugs her back, running her hand through the young woman's hair.

"You're most welcome," Hera says softly. "And remember, even though we may be on different paths now, I will always be proud of you. You've become the kind of woman I always knew you would be."

(Y/N) smiled at Hera, before catching Poseidon's eye, bringing a frown on her lips, who is still slumped onto the ground.

Poseidon looks at (Y/N) with a mixture of anger and hurt in his eyes. He can't believe that she had chosen a mortal over him, a god.

"You chose him," he mutters with a sneer, his voice laced with venom. "A mortal."

"Better than you, a selfish god." (Y/N) answered, frowning at him.

"One who I can never call my Father."

Poseidon's face contorts with anger, his eyes darkening at (Y/N)'s words.

"How dare you," he fumes, his voice booming across the room. "I am a god, the God of the Seas, and you dare to compare me to a mere mortal? You ungrateful child!"

"Ungrateful?" She retorted, her voice filled with anger.

"You're the one who never gave me never gave me anything, I was all alone, even as a child, you never saw me or cared for me, heck you didn't even know my name, The one who found me nearly dying of starvation at the ripe age of 3 was Auntie Hera, but you, still didn't care, and now that I've found my happiness, you intended to destroy it?." (Y/N) sighs, shaking her head.

"Fine, if that makes me ungrateful, then so be it." (Y/N) pulls out her arm bracelet, throwing it to Poseidon.

"This is yours, I don't want anything of yours in my new life."

He catches the bracelet that she throws at him, gripping it tightly in his fist.

Poseidon glares at (Y/N), his expression a mask of anger and bitterness. He feels stung by her words, but also guilty, knowing deep down that she's right.

"You were nothing but a burden to me," Poseidon seethes, his voice filled with venom.

"Then let me be your burden, and forget about me." (Y/N) didn't even bother turning around to face him, as she walked back to Telemachus and Odysseus, Hera gave him a warning glare, before following her.

Poseidon's eyes blaze with fury, a mix of anger and hurt that he can't quite admit. He feels her defiance in his bones, and he can sense the love that she has for Telemachus.

But despite his anger, he knows that he has lost her. He had never treated her as a daughter, and now she had chosen Telemachus over him.

But he can't bring himself to admit his past faults, and instead, he grits his teeth, glaring defiantly at her back as she walks away.

All he could is clench the bracelet tightly in his hand, a memory of another woman flashing through his mind.

As (Y/N) approached Telemachus and Odysseus, she grew nervous looking at the older man. "Sir, I'm so sorry about-"

before she could even say anything, Odysseus pulled her into a hug.

Odysseus wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He holds her for a moment, his eyes soft and weary.

"Don't apologize," he replies, his voice gruff but gentle. "You've done nothing wrong."

He pulls back and looks at her, a small smile on his face.

"I can see how much you care for my son," he says quietly, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and concern.

(Y/N) hugged him back, "But...I got him killed"

Odysseus sighs, his grip on her tightening slightly.

"Yes, you did," he replies bluntly, his voice firm but softened by a hint of understanding. "But you also saved him. You gave up everything for him."

He pauses, his expression turning thoughtful.

"I have to admit," he admits, looking at her with a small frown. "I had my doubts about you at first."

"I thought you might just be toying with my son's feelings, or using him for your own gain," he continues, his voice tinged with a hint of protective fatherly concern.

"But seeing the lengths you've gone to for him... I can see that you truly love him."

He gently cups her chin, looking into her eyes with a mixture of approval and wariness.

"Just promise me one thing," he implores, his voice serious.

"Treat him right. Don't break his heart."

"I won't, I promise, Sir." (Y/N) tells him seriously.

Odysseus gazes into her eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But he sees nothing but sincerity and love. His expression softens, and he relaxes his grip on her.

"Good," he says gruffly, his voice carrying a hint of satisfaction and acceptance. "You better keep that promise, young lady."

Odysseus looks at (Y/N), a warm smile on his face. He can see the love and affection in her eyes as she gazes up at him.

"You know, you don't have to keep calling me 'sir,'" he says gently. "You can call me Father if you'd like."

(Y/N) looks at him in shock, tearing up, before blinking away the tears with a large smile.

"Alright, Father."

Odysseus smiles fondly at (Y/N), his heart swelling with affection for her.

"There's no need for tears, my dear," he says gently, reaching out to pat her on the head. "You're part of the family now."

"Ehem." Hera coughs to let her presence be known

Odysseus and Telemachus quickly kneel before Hera, paying their respects to the Queen of the Gods.

"My Lady Hera," Odysseus greets her with reverence, his head bowed.

"Your Highness," Telemachus echoes, his voice filled with awe in the presence of the divine.

Hera chuckles at their display of respect, amused by their formality.

"Rise, rise," she tells them, her voice warm and amused. "You make me sound like a tyrant, no need for kneeling."

Hera glances at Telemachus, her expression gentle. "Take care of her, Telemachus. She has given up a significant part of herself for you."

Telemachus looks at Hera, a determined expression on his face.

"I will, Your Highness," he replies, his voice filled with conviction. "I will take care of her, and cherish her for the rest of our lives."

Hera nods, satisfied by Telemachus's answer. She can see the determination in his eyes, and she can feel the sincerity in his words. She knows that he truly cares for (Y/N), and that he will do everything in his power to keep her safe and make her happy.

She glances at the two of them again, her smile turning a bit sly. “And don’t keep me waiting too long for grandchildren.”

"Auntie!" (Y/N) exclaims, blushes deeply.

Telemachus's face goes beet red as he glances at his Father, who bursts out laughing.

"It seems the Queen has spoken," Odysseus says, still chuckling. "You had better get busy, Telemachus."

"I forgot, you've been busy." Odysseus corrects, as the two blushes harder

Hera chuckles, finding great amusement in the young couple's shyness.

"Oh, come now," she teases, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "You've been through much together, and yet you still get flustered at the mere mention of grandchildren. It's adorable, really."

Hera chuckles at (Y/N)'s embarrassment, enjoying the young woman's reaction.

"Oh, don't be shy, my dear," she teases. "You two make such a lovely couple, I can't help but look forward to seeing what kind of little ones you'll produce someday."

"Auntie, please," (Y/N) protests weakly, her face still burning red.

Telemachus manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks are still tinted pink. "We'll...keep that in mind, Your Highness," he says, his voice a bit shaky.

Odysseus pats his son on the back, grinning widely. "Don't worry, Telemachus, it's perfectly natural to be a bit flustered when it comes to these things."

He chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. "You'll get used to it in time."

Hera laughs at them, before looking fondly at Telemachus.

"Take good care of her for me, Young Prince."

Telemachus nods, his expression solemn and determined.

"I will, Your Highness," he says firmly. "I promise you that I will take care of her and make her happy, for as long as we both shall live."

Hera's lips curve into a small smile as she watches the scene unfold. Seeing Telemachus and (Y/N) finally together, with Odysseus by their side, warms her heart.

"Hermes," she says, her voice firm and clear. "Take them home, won't you?"

Hermes, the fleet-footed god of messengers and boundaries, nods at Hera's command.

"Of course, milady," he replies, his voice as swift as his wings.

He turns to Telemachus, (Y/N), and Odysseus, a sly grin on his face. "You three ready for a little ride?"

"Cousin!?" (Y/N) exclaims in shock, he was watching them the whole time.

Hermes chuckles at Egeria's surprise. He grins at her and shrugs.

"You didn't think I'd miss all that drama, did you?" he teases her. "Of course I was watching."

"That's right, little cousin," he says with a wink. "I couldn't help but keep an eye on you and your man here."

He looks at Telemachus, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "And you, Telemachus, you're a lucky fellow to have snagged this one."

Telemachus couldn't help but chuckle at the God's words.

He puts his arm around (Y/N)'s waist, pulling her closer to him. "I'm very lucky," he says, looking lovingly at her. "And I have no intention of ever letting her go."

(Y/N)'s blushes heavily, a sheepish smile on her lips.

Hermes grins at (Y/N)'s blushing expression, finding her reaction amusing and endearing. He chuckles to himself before speaking again.

"Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically. "It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?"

He looks at Telemachus and (Y/N) with a cheeky grin. "You two are too sweet. I might just get a toothache from the amount of sugar you're giving off."

"Isn't that right, Old Friend?" Hermes turned to Odysseus

Odysseus chuckled at Hermes' question. He knew the messenger god too well to be offended by his playful tease.

"You're one to talk, Hermes," he retorted with a grin. "Last I heard, you had more than a few admirers of your own."

"But not as sweet as this one, It's making me a bit jealous" Hermes sighs

"But what do you know? You have your Penelope anyway"

Odysseus smiles fondly at the mention of his wife. "Yes, I do have Penelope," he says, his voice filled with love and affection. "She is the light of my life."

He glances at Telemachus and (Y/N), his eyes filled with a mixture of happiness and fatherly pride. "But our Telemachus deserves his own love and happiness as well. I couldn't be happier for him."

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the lovey dovey, time to finally get you all home, especially you, Old Friend" Hermes taps Odysseus's nose

Odysseus chuckles at Hermes' affectionate pat, amused by his friend's playful banter.

"Yes, I am more than ready to go home. I've been away far enough and for too long."

Hermes grins widely, his wings flapping in anticipation.

"Then let's not waste any more time," he says, his voice eager and excited. "Hang on tight, everyone. This is going to be a quick ride!"

He wraps his arms around Telemachus, (Y/N), and Odysseus, holding them close. Then, with a swift and sudden movement, he takes off into the air, soaring towards Odysseus's kingdom.

Hera watches them take off with a fond smile, happy that her dear student had found her happiness.

"Why did you help them?" Until a gruff voice ruins the moment

Hera turns to Poseidon, her expression hardening at the sight of him.

"Why does anyone do anything, Poseidon?" she replies coolly. "Compassion, kindness, a desire to see two people who care deeply for one another reunited. Is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

Poseidon glowers at her, his anger barely contained.

"Compassion? Kindness? Don't make me laugh, Hera," he spits out. "You know very well the trouble that girl caused me. And now you're just letting her and Telemachus prance away happily ever after? It's enough to make a god sick."

Hera turns towards him, frowning at him.

"Did you not notice anything when she was losing control on you earlier?" Hera asked, looking blankly at him

Poseidon's expression flickers with a hint of confusion, but he quickly hides it.

"What are you implying, Hera?" he grumbles, his suspicion clear in his voice.

"She had control over everything you had dominion over, while you didn't." Hera points out

Poseidon's face twists into a scowl at Hera's words. He knows she's right, but he's too stubborn to admit it outright.

"What's your point, Hera?" he growls, his irritation growing. "Are you trying to say she's more powerful than me or something?"

"No, she's not more powerful than you, you lost your dominion over the seas, storms, and earthquakes at her moment of grief." Hera reveals, shocking Poseidon.

"Oh, I'm so proud, she's my student after all." Hera praises herself

Poseidon is stunned into silence for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of what Hera has just told him.

"I...lost control?" he finally manages to sputter out, disbelief and anger mingling in his voice. "How is that even possible? I am Poseidon, the god of the seas and all the power they hold! How could a mortal have taken that away from me, even temporarily?"

"Because, she's your daughter." Hera reminded him, as she walked past him.

"And I know that girl like the back of my hand, with that intense of a grief, it would have been trouble for all of us." Hera sighs, shaking her head.

Poseidon's expression darkens even further at Hera's words. He already knew that Egeria was his daughter, but hearing it said aloud by Hera still stung.

"So you protected her from me because she's your student, huh?" he snarls, his resentment and anger bubbling to the surface. "And because she has the potential to be a threat to everyone, including me?"

"No, not really, I only expected her to be a demi god, with her kind and peaceful nature, only wanting to live for herself, but you just have to push her to the brink of destruction, that's why I had to step in, to remove her divinity and bring back your dominion to you." Hera explains, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You should be thanking me, really."

Poseidon scoffs at Hera's words. He's still angry, but a part of him knows that she's right.

"Thanking you?" he huffs. "Why should I thank you when you only intervened because you were afraid of what my daughter might become?"

"She had the power to destroy the world, Poseidon, that's why." Hera points out with a serious frown

Poseidon's expression darkens even further as he processes Hera's words. The thought of (Y/N)'s power being strong enough to destroy the world is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"Fine. I'll admit that you had a good reason to intervene. But that doesn't make me feel any better about the situation."

"Then I'll just see myself out while you lick your wounds, and do clean up after yourself, we wouldn't want another case the same of my student once more." Hera orders before leaving with a purple mist.

Poseidon watches her leave, a mix of anger and guilt swirling within him. He knows that he played a part in (Y/N)'s grief, but it's a tough pill for him to swallow.

He lets out a deep sigh, his mind filled with conflicting emotions. He can't shake the feeling that he's lost something important, something valuable, and it's not just his broken trident.

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Jayvik + CaitVi Arranged Marriage Royalty au concept

But, Viktor isn’t the one Jayce is engaged to.

Piltover is ruled over by a council of family houses

While Zaun has One royal family that looks out for their people and keeps the Barons in line.

The council proposed arranged marriage, declaring it a wonderful way to reforge their once severed bond, as equals. And yet, the offer is for Jayce Talis, the 24 year old head of the lesser house Talis, to marry Violet, the newly 18 year old eldest princess and heir to the thrown of Zaun.

After the proposal King Vander has to talk his husband King Silco down from declaring war for the obvious fucking slight.

To offer such a minor house as the groom-to-be to their daughter and heir, as if the kingdom of Zaun is little more than a vassal state for them to exploit yet again. They did not fight and sacrifice so much for their sovereignty to be given such disrespect.

But there are trade relations to remember, and livelyhoods of their people to protect, so they begrudgingly accept the proposal after some serious haggling.

They demand for Jayce Talis to be who travels out to Zaun, instead of the suggested insulting idea of Violet going to Piltover, and for there to be an official courting period where princess Vi holds the right to cut off the engagement at the months end if she so chooses.

The council agrees and promptly ship Jayce Talis off to Zaun by the days end.

The expediency of his quick arrival does raises a few eyebrows as well as suspicion,

As it should… because had Zaun not agreed to the proposal, Jayce Talis would have instead been exiled for his crimes of attempting to create magic.

His trial had been a secret, as all house related trials are. His mothers pleas for mercy to not have her boy banished to some far off continent had been what had given the counselors the idea to use him instead as their political pawn.

But, if he fails to secure this engagement by the months end, then both he and his mother will be stripped of their house statues and banished.

So Jayce, force to surrender his life’s work in hextech (save for a single notebook he managed to hide), is escorted across the river to Zaun to woo a princess he has never met before. He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his mother or his only friend Caitlyn.

Meanwhile, Viktor, respected inventor and tutor to the royal children of Zaun, (and the unofficial fifth adopted sibling if you asked those children) gets a front row seat to the explosive fallout from Vi learning about the engagement.

It’s obvious to everyone who knows her that she will absolutely be rejecting the proposal to this man the second she that can. But the fact that she has to court this Piltie pretty boy for entire month?? And he’s arriving TODAY???

How Viktor got roped into being the one to welcome Jayce to Zaun, he’ll never know.

Once Viktor believes his stalled long enough for Vi to agree to the charade, he brings the him to properly meet her. Jayce and Vi’s introduction and pre planned first date would be so fucking awkward and even hostile a first.

Jayce would be spiraling because he can tell how much she hates him and it’s becoming clearer and clearer the more he get to know her that there is NO CHANCE she’ll feel anything for him beyond friendship at best by the months end.

He’s set up for failure, there’s nothing he can do here to save his mother from His mistakes…

In a rush to excuse himself, his secreted notes gets left behind. Vi finds them and mistakes the scientific and mathematic notes to be something of Viktors so returns it to him.

Viktor is enthralled by the research he finds, surprised to discover this clearly belongs to Jayce (who signs every page of his notes). He simply must find Jayce to ask him about what this all means.

Viktor does not expect to find Jayce attempting to step over the railing of his fourth floor balcony.

Much like in Arcane, Viktor talks Jayce down off the ledge, inspiring him not give up and to continue his passion for science. Jayce opens up to Viktor, telling him the true reason he was chosen for the betrothal. How he was the expendable would-be exile with ideas too dangerous for Piltover.

“But not too dangerous for Zaun.” Viktor tells him

With those words the two dive into his research together, spending days in Viktors lab to recreate Jayce’s lost equipment before they’re finally able to test their theories.

Meanwhile, Vi cannot say she’s disappointed to be stood up for another of her and Jayce’s scheduled ‘dates’, but she is curious as to what the hell he’s up to. Not enough to investigate herself, no, she’s much happier running around Zaun with her siblings and checking in on her people.

Until she finds a young Piltie enforcer trying and failing to not draw attention to herself.

The enforcer, Caitlyn, informs Vi that she’s currently investigating a sensitive case regarding the relations between Piltover and Zaun and request Vi direct her to where she might fine a contact to the royal family house hold, if not Jayce Talis himself.

Vi, deeply amused by this topsider who clearly has no idea who she is, decides to spend the day giving her the run around for her own entertainment and to get more info from her.

Now, the truth of Jayce’s situation is incredibly dangerous for anyone to know. Offering a member of a lesser house for a princess heir’s hand in marriage is bad enough, but a criminal exile?? The uproar, the unrest, what were the counselors even thinking?? A sentiment that had been privately discussed between Caitlyn and the young counselor Mel Medarda. Mel had hoped talking with you younger Kiramman might give her insight on her mother’s ideals as well as Jayce’s character due to their friendship. Instead she inspired the young woman to take up the investigation personally.

Over the plot, Vi and Caitlyn grow closer to each other. The ladies both unaware of each others true statues as the Princess of Zaun and the High Counselors daughter of the Great House Kiramman.

Meanwhile Jayce and Viktor fully realize hextech and discuss the possibilities for it in Zaun, while also trying to figure out what to do about the engagement and how to save Jayce’s mother.

My plot ideas fizzle out here, however there is still the idea of Piltover still pushing for the engagement and throwing an ultra fancy ball to celebrate the desired couple’s official announcement once the courting period ends.

Everyone is invited, the councilors, heads of houses, the Zaun royalty and barons. All waiting in anticipation for Princess Vi’s arrival on the arm of her betrothed beau Jayce Talis.

Only for Vi to appear at her own engagement party with her betrothed beauty Caitlyn Kiramman on her arm. To Caitlyn’s mother’s horror and Vi’s fathers’ delight.

All this providing ample distraction for Jayce and Viktor to smuggle Ximena Talis out the back and into a carriage headed for Zaun. Viktor making sure to act as the perfect gentlemen to his future mother-in-law.

[meltedbrains]

Yet another mini essay on the fifteenth doctor and RTD'S latest airing as showrunner. Spoiler alert, I was not particularly impressed.

So after two series Ncuti Gatwa's time as the Doctor is over. 18 episodes, two of which he was absent in, except for a cameo part (73 yards and lucky day), and another of which he had a greatly reduced role (dot and bubble).

These felt like high budget versions of low concept episodes (both of these were doctor-lite, while boom was a bottle episode set in a quarry). The only two parters were the season finales and realistically when you only have 8 episodes a season you have to try and cram in as much as possible to have the same effect, there's less breathing room than with the standard run of 12 (roughly). However breathing room is exactly what they needed, it's what Ncuti deserved as an actor.

The 15th Doctor did not get the same chances to run around saving the day with their quick thinking and clever words, faithful companion kicking names and taking ass at their side.

So many episodes purposefully retrod the 'familiar' ground of nuwho from nearly 20 years earlier. Ruby's first episode mirrored Rose's: Doctor takes girl to the far distant future, gives their phone the ability to call across time, shows them what becomes of the human race, runs around and away from monsters and leaves. (They are distinct stories but with some familiar beats, lots of episodes have them).

The problem is that so many of these episodes felt lacking (to me), they would have benefited from being condensed to 30 minutes or extended to two episodes. The first historical (the devil's chord) barely features the historical figures. Yes, the Beatles save the day, but it's basically an accident, it could have been set at any point in history, including modern day and the future, without having to change anything. The Doctor and Ruby go to see them record, realise they're shit and that something's gone wrong, then confront the maestro alone. Where's Dickens running away from ghosts, or Shakespeare helping banish the carrionites?

This lack of breathing room becomes obvious if you try to look for character arcs or emotional beats that last more than one episode. The Doctor simply doesn't have one, they experience racism and enjoy finding a community that accepts them but still sees them as an outsider but it doesn't carry on to future episodes, there is no emotional journey to be had. Bad things happen to the Doctor, the Doctor does bad things, words are exchanged, apologies made, people are forgiven or forgotten, the episode ends, the next one begins.

The doctor does not necessarily need a big arc, they work pretty well as a static character, but it's so easy to do. 9 learnt to forgive themselves for the time war, to love themselves and realise that saving people doesn't have to mean killing others. Compare the gleeful, angry, mocking of the lone Dalek to explicitly choosing to be a coward if the alternative is genocide. By contrast 15 has left on the same point as they started.

So the doctor is static then, fine. What about everyone else. How do the companions fare? Is there an overarching storyline, connecting the disparate episodes?

Ruby Sunday is introduced wondering who her parents are, she is another mysterious girl (woman), like River and Clara. In the Christmas special the Doctor decides that it's not his business and she's better off not knowing. Then, when he changes his mind, his actions have made things too complicated and it's impossible to know who she is. But then we find out anyway. And it's fine, mystery solved, she was just a scared teenager (who was traipsing around in the snow, hours after giving birth, seriously, hire more women). They meet, get along, meet her dad, happy families all round. Ruby is happy, old mum is happy, new mum is happy, we never learn why she can make it snow, or why she remembers alternate timelines, it's fine, don't worry about it. Any conflict is short-lived or side stepped.

Then we get Belinda, in a (hopefully) shocking amount of oversight, RTD retreads Martha's storyline in a way that gives Martha her flowers by comparison. Two medical professionals, both women of colour, both overshadowed by the younger blonde women that came before them. After a pretty strong start Belinda gets passed over for another solo Ruby story (lucky day) and then does sweet F.A. in her last three episodes (interstellar song contest, wish world, and the reality war). At most she politely admonishes the Doctor's torture then quickly forgives him for it.

Then, depending on your interpretation, she is either revealed or rewritten to be someone we never really knew (a single mother, living almost a completely different life).

Moving on to the overarching storyline we get a bit of a damp squib. The pantheon are introduced then defeated by their built in kill switches in the same episode, with the exception of Sutekh in the two parter finale. Mrs Flood keeps showing up and is revealed to be the Rani, only to be defeated two episodes later. Rogue is introduced, sent to hell and who knows when, or if, they'll return.

But wait! There's more of the pantheon out there, Mrs Flood survived, Rogue can be saved (somehow), Susan and The Boss are apparently waiting for the Doctor to find them (same person?). But if these plot points ever come to fruition it will be without 15, Belinda is unlikely to come back now that she has a child, Ruby is free to return, but why bother (narratively she's done and out-of-universe Millie Gibson seems uninterested).

Gatwa's performance was memorable and a fun change of pace to previous Doctors, he was let down by unsatisfying arcs and a condensed runtime that he then had to share with Ruby and UNIT.

Billie Piper is not the next doctor (or at least not confirmed as such) it could be a war doctor situation, or a complete misdirect. Either way, the 15th doctor committed suicide and it's unlikely we'll see them again. When 10 knew they were dying we got a montage of them checking in on their former companions and saving their lives one last time (mileage may vary; I remain unimpressed with marrying off Martha and Micky and don't believe that Luke would ever forget to look both ways before crossing the road). 15 checks in on Belinda and Poppy, finds out she isn't/was never his daughter, gives a heartfelt if cryptic goodbye to someone we never really knew, hops in the TARDIS, waves goodbye to Joy (who also essentially committed suicide) then is replaced by RTD's favourite white woman who will not stop haunting the narrative/answering the phone when called, no matter how many exorcisms she gets.

RTD has gone one record saying that he is largely focused on attention grabbing scenes and plot points that will generate interest online; and this seems to be a feature of the current media landscape. But goddamnit could you not have tried harder? Could you not have done more? Could you not have rewritten the scripts now that Belinda was replacing Ruby? Could you not have done right by your poc characters to correct your previous mistakes? The casual racism was wrong then and so many people rightfully called it out only for RTD to double down 20 years later and make the first black doctor's run marred by disappointing writing.

[*Edit* something I forgot to mention is that these seasons had a much larger presence of previous doctors than others have. A charitable interpretation would be that this is RTD (and the other writers/producers) trying to hammer home that Gatwa is the doctor, just like everyone else was. However it can feel that 15 is not free to tell their own story. In previous seasons the doctor regenerates, spends an episode getting used to their new body and personality, and then carries on with the rest of the season arc. Sometimes previous companions or characters come back and comment on the change but normally multiple doctors are confined to specials.

The bigeneration into 14 and 15 is all about Tennant's return, Gates gets to be a starry eyed fan and then we forget about them till the Christmas special and the start of the next season. This shadowing works together with the retreading of familiar plot points and returning characters and places I mentioned earlier and can compound this feeling of 15 not being free in the same way the other doctor's have been. (Obviously all the Doctors are connected and this is definitely a mileage may vary situation). 15's departure then also features a previous doctor, this time 13, and a previous fan favourite, Billie Piper. The fact that they lampshade Tennant's frequent appearances does not change the fact that 15 got neither regeneration to themselves. Gatwa never really got the time to shine on their own in the same way the other actors did.]

[h0neyfreak]

helping “The Environment” as an individual is such a nebulous and ever changing concept and seems to be very much in the Discourse™️ at the moment so I just want to take a minute to shout into the void with some reminders I gave my enviro students when they got to the “oh dear god we’re all gonna die” phase of the class:

“Individual choices don’t matter” is like. true(?) for climate change (unless you’re a kardashian or CEO or something) but that just means you can’t reusable tote bag your way out of a private jet society. NOT that you can’t have any impact through community initiatives and activism. Advocate for municipal composting and public transit!! Get involved locally!!!!! Write weekly to your representatives! Do whatever you can to get unstuck and scrape together some modicum of hope.

Also on individual choices. There are some that “matter” but be very wary of outsized benefits promised for seemingly small choices (e.g. the straw debacle). An app is not the thing to save us from a hundred years of industry. Going out and collecting litter DOES have an impact even if that impact is just “this area of the world no longer has trash in it.” It’s not solving the issue of microplastics or whatever but it is helping local birds. And it’s helping YOU feel more connected to your local environment and getting you involved with the world and your community.

Finally, the best thing you can be is well informed, persistent, and kind. Be willing and able to help if you bump into someone who is open to the idea of not letting Shell and SHEIN pour toxic sludge directly into every river. It’s more people than you think. But most people only know how to buy things that are “better.” (Electric cars, reusable bags, expensive neutral clothing made of flax). They want to do SOMETHING but we’re all just kind of vibrating balls of anxiety all the time. Know what sort of things are going on around you and invite them! My go to’s are composting initiatives, textile recycling programs, and pollinator friendly/grass free gardens.

Again, it would be great if we were all willing to drag the Shell and Nestle CEOs out to account for their crimes but being paralyzed by fear is not gonna help. Neither is another ethical clothing brand selling $400 linen underwear (probably). I’ve found time and time again that people who have any amount of tangible connection to the world outside have a much more visceral reaction to billionaire super yachts than defeatist suburbanites who drive EVs and have a kitchen full of dubious organic snacks.

[jadeshifting]

i'm not sure if you already answered this buuuut i saw that you have a twd dr so i was wondering if you had ANY ideas (scenarios, advices, stuff to script) of how to make an apocalyptic dr (twd or not, it doesn't matter!) safe YET still interesting?

like i'm thinking about making a original one but idk if i'm keeping zombies/infected in (and maybe script that they're pretty much chill?? like they're there just for the vibe or something idk LMAOOO) or if i'm going with a "last persons on earth" kind of plot without any real danger (kinda boring maybe idk but at least it's pretty much 100% safe) and i'm/we're just exploring the now abandoned world, doing whatever we want kinda? aaaaa idk sorry i'm rambling!!! and maybe i'm not even making any sense omg

ANYWAY!!! LONG STORY SHORT: how to make a safe yet interesting apocalyptic dr? (and thx for your help<3)

hi !! happy to have another apocalypse shifter on my blog, i love a good apocalypse DR i think about them constantly

zombies there for the vibe & being chill made me laugh not them being background props LMAOOO but i get what u mean !! u could always script little things like they always walk, they’re not particularly fast or strong, or get rid of the concept of herds completely and script that they always travel alone or in small clusters.. maybe that their bite force isn’t all that strong and they have a hard time biting through jeans or other tough materials, so people wouldn’t be getting bitten through clothes as often. those are pretty basic ways to make them a lot less dangerous i think?

i vibe with the end-of-the-world exploring everything concept soooo much, i literally ramble about it in this post where i talk about the things i’m looking forward to in my walking dead DR, its a concept i love and one that i think could be so much fun with the right group of people, or intensely therapeutic and interesting if you did it alone !! don’t apologize babe i was born to understand your visions 🧘‍♀️

okay, so i’ve actually cracked the code to the apocalyptic multiverse… my secret weapon… to achieve an interesting but safe DR… the answer to it all… is under the cut… if u dare………

— LUCK :^) ( aka the secret weapon to surviving the apocalypse without getting rid of the plot )

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“I AM CONSISTENTLY AND PRETERNATURALLY LUCKY.”

cause that’s what makes things happen at the end of the day, right? you can be the most prepared, stocked up, and ready to handle the world, and still die at the hands of a creaky floorboard or an unlucky maneuver. that’s kind of what the apocalypse is all about—it treats everyone equally

being an uncannily lucky person influences things in a variety of seemingly tiny ways, ranging from small conveniences to life-saving occurrences :

⋆˙♱ a walker bites you, but it’s teeth don’t manage to get through your pants—so you’re fine

⋆˙♱ bullets miss you by a fraction of an inch, so close you can feel them pass you by—but they don’t hit you

⋆˙♱ you go through every pump at some abandoned ripped-through gas station, and the last pump somehow has a little bit left—just enough for you to get where you’re going

⋆˙♱ trekking through the woods and a rainstorm that kind of irritates you manages to wash away your tracks in the mud—no one can follow you now, and you didn’t even know they were

⋆˙♱ a vending machine you stumble across has one bag of chips still teetering at the edge, tucked towards the corner where no one saw it

⋆˙♱ you drop your knife fighting a walker, but it tumbles into the stream and you find it in the water a mile up the river—you’d already given up on getting it back

⋆˙♱ someone sneaking up on you happens to step on a loose floorboard, which groans loudly—it alerts you with just enough time to run or fight

⋆˙♱ your backpack rips, and you stumble across a mostly-used roll of duct tape not an hour later—there's just enough left to seal the rip

⋆˙♱ your group dismissed the old, rusty revolver you stumbled across because it looks so beaten-up there's no way it works—it fires clean on your first try

⋆˙♱ the rickety ladder you come across, one that groans and is horribly splintered, holds just long enough for you to climb it—it falls apart the moment you no longer need it

⋆˙♱ as a herd surrounds your hideout, a horrific storm rolls through and you think things could not get any worse—the pelting rain and roaring noise confuses and scatters the herd away from you

⋆˙♱ sometimes when walkers are chasing you, they trip over roots or rocks and they faceplant into the ground. ( maybe this one isn't even luck, walkers are fucking stupid )

this is a scripting tool i use in tons of my dangerous DRs, to circumvent getting busted up all the time

the important thing here is that the LUCK aspect doesn’t take away from the plot or anything interesting happening. you still get attacked or fight, get into sticky situations, have crazy things happen or follow the events of any show/movie you may be scripting for, but you’re lucky enough to walk out unscathed without it being some magical or unrealistic thing !! it makes it more interesting to find yourself consistently pretty successful, in my opinion. you stumble across cool things, escape bad situations and live to tell the tale.

sisyphus suffers for a reason, and it’d be the same thing in the apocalypse if you were constantly pushing forward and surviving, only for something awful to happen, and you to suffer a grievous injury or loss, over and over and over again. trying to make the best of things but taking hit after hit would be miserable, you know? that’s the biggest change i made to my DR that differentiates it from the source media (the walking dead for me) is that things do get better, and we do have good days, and we are working towards a peaceful future that we will eventually reach. a lot of that is luck, in my opinion !!

thank u for the message and happy shifting !! i’ll probs post some scenario ideas for apocalypse DRs soon, but in the meantime i hope u got something helpful from this in terms of danger prevention, mwah :^)

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[baronessblixen]

Asking For Miracles

Merry Christmas, @katebeckets! I'm your PoangPal Secret Santa, and as I am mostly a writer, you're getting a fic 😁 You said you were enraged that we didn't get to see Mulder and Scully reunite at the end of "Redux II" (same, btw). So I wrote a scene where Scully tells him that she's in remission. It's angsty - but of course, it has a happy end. I hope you like it!

(Here's the AO3 Link)

@poangsecretsanta @today-in-fic

“Mulder, I know it’s late, but I- I need to see you.”

The words Scully left on his answering machine still ring in his ears, even half an hour after he first heard them. By the time Mulder arrives at the hospital, his legs are like lead and feel as if he’s just finished a marathon. Every step he takes is pure agony; if only he could turn around and run. That, of course, is not an option. Not when Scully asked for him. 

Mulder enters the hospital lobby, the place as familiar as his own home by now. He nods at Jeff, the doorman, and he nods back at him. Maybe he recognizes Mulder, or he has compassion for every sad soul that passes by.

He stops in front of the elevator, his fingers fidgeting with the lapels of his jacket. An elderly woman standing next to him eyes him wearily when he presses the elevator button twice more. He’s grateful she’s not making conversation as they step inside. His thoughts are loud, screaming at him. They have been ever since Scully’s phone call - another one he missed. The sound of her suppressed tears is too familiar; it already haunts his nightmares.

It’s late. The hospital is deserted – save for the elderly woman, who’s clinging to her purse, staying with him on the elevator until they reach the oncology ward. They share a silent look, pain evident in their movements as they set out in opposite directions. 

A phone call late at night is never good news. Scully must have called him just after 9 p.m. He grabbed his jacket as soon as he heard it, not even caring if it – or he – smelled bad. Scully is all that matters. 

Yet, now that he’s here, he slows down. The closer he gets to her room, the smaller and heavier his steps become. As long as he’s out here, and as long as he hasn’t looked into her eyes, and heard what she has to say, he can pretend. He can pretend the disease isn’t taking her life, cutting it way too short.

He passes room after room, getting closer to the truth. For once, Mulder doesn’t want it. He wants the miracle, the fantasy. From somewhere he hears music. Or maybe that’s just his imagination. It’s an older song, melancholic. A woman singing about wishing she had a river she could skate away on. Mulder thinks it’s a Christmas song. Who plays Christmas music in the middle of the year? He considers telling Scully about it, hoping it will make her smile. 

It’s no surprise that he hates hospitals. He’s hated them long before Scully got sick, but not always. The first time he remembers being in one was when he was a toddler, just about three years old. On his first visit, he was apprehensive. He knew the concept of hospitals from books; big, white rooms with doctors looking like angels, sometimes healing, sometimes taking people to heaven. That’s how his grandmother Mulder had described it to him when he’d asked. 

The angels, his grandmother had explained, too, had taken good care of his mother and his sister. As a new big brother, he had to know these things. It was his time to be brave. Just like now, he thinks, as his shoes squeak against the linoleum. Back then, his much smaller feet had shuffled along, trying to keep up with his father, who was holding his hand in his large, steady grip. Before that day, Mulder can’t remember his father ever holding his hand.

The room Mulder remembers is filled with a sunny warmth, despite it being November. What are the chances of it having been a sunny day? But that’s how he remembers it. Just like he remembers the soft smile on his mother’s face and the way he had to stand on tiptoe to see Samantha and her squishy face. Seeing her cemented his fate; he was a big brother and he would look after her forever. Only that forever had been taken away from them. Much like last night when he lost her again. No matter what he does, he keeps losing.

The memory ends there. In the following years, hospital walls became tainted. There was blood and screaming. Samantha broke her collarbone and Mulder broke his arm. His grandmother died; the angels she’d believed in taking her away. The memories are strung together like a pearl necklace in his mind; one painful memory after another. An endless circle. Now, there is another memory to add.

He stops in front of Scully’s hospital room. All is quiet. The music has stopped. His heart, however, hasn’t. It’s thumping steadily, loudly. So loud in fact that he wonders if Scully can hear it through the closed door. He closes his eyes and knocks.

“Come in,” Scully’s muffled voice says and so, finally, he does. His eyes find hers the second he steps inside. Her face is puffy - puffier than he’s seen it in weeks. The hollowness for once hidden. How many tears has she cried without him here? She throws him a small, shaky smile. A laugh falls from her lips that sounds more like a hiccup.

“I came as quickly as I could,” Mulder says, flinching when he realizes that’s a lie. He may have driven to the hospital as fast as he could, but he took his time arriving. 

“I thought you should hear it first,” she says, sniffing. She grabs a tissue out of a half-empty box and blows her nose. “This is ridiculous,” she adds, avoiding his eyes. “I just- I called you first when I- and you… you were the first person I wanted to call when I found out.”

Blood rushes in his ears, his temples throb; this is the last moment before he knows. Once she says it - once the words are out there - they can’t be taken back. It will be real.

“They did more tests. I- the last PET scan showed no improvement and I-,” she trails off and Mulder’s knees buckle. No improvement. There’s no cure for this cancer, just like Scully said months ago when she asked him to come to the hospital for the first time. No cure, no improvement. There’s only one way this can end. He wants to cover his ears; it can’t be true if he doesn’t hear it, or see it. 

“I wasn’t ready to accept that,” she goes on, her voice steady. She glances at him as if waiting for him to say something. It’s not like him to remain quiet, but what is there to say? He wants to get on his knees and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in. “So I asked for more tests. When you’re dying, doctors will do whatever you ask of them.”

“I’ll make sure to remember that,” Mulder mumbles and Scully cracks a smile.

“We did another PET scan, among other things, and Mulder- I don’t know why is this so difficult to say.” Another hollow laugh from her and he can no longer keep his hurt in. It expels from his mouth as his lips begin to quiver. Scully’s eyes open wide.

“Oh, Mulder,” she says, reaching out her hand and he’s too weak to deny her, to deny himself. Her skin is as soft as ever, her touch as assuring as it’s always been. He’s crying openly now, weeping. The tears are blurring his vision, but he sees what’s important: her in the hospital bed, smiling up at him.

“You shouldn’t have to comfort me,” he says with a sob, trying to compose himself. He thinks of his father, of the way he watched him dismissively the night his grandmother died. When Mulder, at ten years old, had wiped his tears away with the sleeve of this sweater, he had asked his father why he wasn’t crying. Wasn’t he sad? His father hadn’t replied and only stared at him before he’d wandered off.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Mulder,” she says, tugging at his hand. “Sit down.” When he doesn’t, she tugs more strongly. “Sit. Please.” He does, his hands folded in his lap as if waiting to start a prayer.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she says softly.

“You’re a mind reader now?”

“I don’t have to be. I should have started with the most important news,” she says, waiting. He knows she wants him to look at her. He braces himself before he lifts his eyes to hers. Hers are brimming with tears, just like his own.

“My cancer has gone into remission.”

Mulder stares at her, not understanding. These are the words he wants to hear. Remission. Cured. Yet, he can’t believe them.

“You believe everything but not this?” she teases, her voice shaky.

“You’re- and the cancer? It’s- it’s.” He doesn’t know what to say. How do you describe a miracle? It just is.

“Like I’ve been trying to say, I couldn’t accept that there was no improvement. My mother… my mother and I prayed together and then I knew I couldn’t give up. I asked for another PET scan and more blood tests. Mulder, I don’t know what… something changed. Whatever it is, whether it’s the chip or, or-”

“You’re in remission,” he repeats, his brain finally catching up. She nods.

“I’m in remission. The PET scan shows great improvement. The tumor is shrinking.”

“I can’t- it’s shrinking? You’ll be fine?” He reaches for her other hand, needing to feel her. Again, she nods, smiling.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispers. Mulder stares at her, watches her, and sees his whole future. Their future. Together. His lips quiver again, but this time from joy. Scully nods, understanding him without a single word spoken.

“Come here,” he says, desperate. He lets go of her hands and engulfs her in his arms. Their positions on the bed are awkward, but they make it work. His heart thumps against her chest, and he feels hers, too. He doesn’t care if it was the chip or a miracle. For once, he doesn’t care about uncovering a secret truth. He just wants to hold her in his arms and have her by his side for as long as she wants to be.

“Will you stay?” she asks into his neck. Her lips are warm and wet and her touch brings him back into the here and now.

“I’ll stay,” he says. He’ll stay as long as she will endure him in her hospital room.

“I need to call my family,” she whispers and he loosens his grip on her. Her face is as wet as his own feels and he wipes at her eyes with his thumb. Her blue eyes are almost translucent and he’s in fear of losing himself in them. Instead, he finds himself nodding along, reaching for the cell phone on her bedside table and handing it to her.

“Tell them right away,” Mulder says. “Say you have good news.” He smiles sheepishly. She doesn’t need to know about what he’s gone through in between her call and her breaking the news to him. Still, he’d like Mrs. Scully and Bill Jr. to know what they’re in for so they won’t have to worry anymore. There’s been too much heartbreak already. Scully nods at him, new tears falling from her eyes.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Mulder muses and Scully’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s not Christmas,” she says with a chuckle and he takes her hand into his, entwining their fingers. She lets him. He marvels at their laced hands, remembering the song from earlier. He hopes the woman found a river to skate away on. He hopes she found her happiness somewhere along the way. Or maybe what she was looking for was right in front of her eyes the whole time. He knows what’s that like. 

Mulder lifts his head and grins at her, falling deeper in love with her, allowing himself the full force of his emotions for once. The skepticism in her expression lets him know that she’s about to call him crazy. Or she would if this weren’t the exact moment her mother picks up the phone.

“Mom?” she says, trying to keep the tears out of her voice. Mulder squeezes her fingers to remind her he’s here with her. “I have something to tell you-…,” Scully goes on and looks at Mulder. There are so many things unspoken between them, and so many possibilities now for their future. 

“It’s good news.”

[deesea-ao3]

Fun Lore Ideas for Fawcett City

I've been sitting on these concepts for ages and need to get them out of my system. For my current WIP, it was important that I have a strong concept for what kind of city Fawcett was going to be. While the plot isn't technically taking place in Fawcett, a huge amount of my lore interpretations/characterisations rely on there being a solid original setting to draw from. Also, it's super fun to extrapolate history and economy for a fictional magic city to try and make it feel as plausible as possible.

Now, to start with, I had to establish where the city would actually be located. Fawcett is typically represented and/or thought of as being in the Midwest, so I was able to whittle down my options even more. I couldn't have it too close to Central City, Keystone City, or Smallville since I wanted Fawcett to retain its isolated feel. It'd be harder for it to get away with being magic if it was a stones throw from speedster stomping grounds, for instance. In the end, I looked up old maps of America DC Comics had officially released for inspiration. What I got were these:

The first didn't have Fawcett at all, and the second had it placed near the border of Wisconsin. The latter was serviceable for my purposes. However, I wanted something more to draw from. I wanted to make Fawcett feel like an actual city with history before I slapped on the magic superhero. It technically was just an ordinary city until Shazam placed a portal there after all.

My second go of looking for inspiration was much more fruitful. I looked at a few fan-made maps and eventually stumbled upon this one in a reddit forum:

Upon closer inspection, I realised something.

That's fucking Chicago.

The idea that then formed was brilliant, my best one maybe ever. If I don't want to write a 2K+ document detailing an organic history of fictional Fawcett City, coupled with local industry and culture to boot, I can just STEAL a real one!

The existence of IRL Chicago is not necessary for my story, and its absence would be barely noteworthy in the grand scheme of things. Functionally, it wouldn't even be gone. Its location and major historical events would still have occurred, just under a different name. It not only saves me tons of labour as a writer, it's also fucking hilarious.

The heart of ALL of magic lies in an abdoned subway station in downtown Chicago Fawcett, the Windy city that houses pagan subcultures, talking animals, cursed objects and people who still think it's 1945.

Southern Lake Michigan has freshwater mermaids. The flat lands of the city proper are surrounded by bluffs as old as the ice age, which thrum with prehistoric magic. The sunset is always pink, and moonbeams are brighter somehow here. In the river that flows through art-nouveau styled skyscrapers swim fish with rainbow scales. The people are happy and chatty and full of little secrets, kept close and safe for rainy days. The woman who dresses in leaves and sleeps on park benches is liable to be simply human, but the jolly old milkman who visits you every morning is fae through and through. Weird is normal and normal is weird.

All while in Chicago, Illinois, one of the most populous, wealthy cities in America since the 1870s. The mechanic who enchanted your car to not break down anymore was raised by regular steel mill workers. The politician who dreams of addressing the city's entrenched class divides is stuck doing paperwork to establish legal protections for the local gnome population's tree houses. When it snows in winter, Yetis clear driveways and salt the sidewalks. No one talks about it much because what is noteworthy about public servants doing their jobs? So what if they're Yetis? You got a problem with that?

Fawcett blows Gotham out the goddamn water for weirdness, but because they're so nonchalant and humble about it, Gothamites walk around smugly assured of their tolerance for insanity, unaware of the bigger fish, which is the average Fawcett citizen. When tourists come to visit, the very genre of reality changes the second they step foot within city lines.

Fawcett solos, tbh. DC writers are weaksauce for not seeing the vision that is mystic Chicago city, home to all of magic.

[iluvlennie]

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 ✦ ❱ HAECHAN X FEM!READER

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ✦ ❱ chaos and peace.

word count : 1.9k

chapter warnings : manipulation (?)

main masterlist

you both finally resurfaced from the freezing river, gasping for air and clawing your way to the muddy bank like two very ungraceful sea creatures.

if someone had told you that escaping your tower would involve near-drowning, angry guards, soaked clothes, and a wanted thief as your guide—you would’ve stayed inside and knitted or something.

you dragged yourself onto the shore, shivering, your hair clinging to your face as you tried to wring the mess out.

haechan, meanwhile, was still at the river’s edge, staring like he’d just seen a ghost. or maybe a giant fish. hard to say.

“her hair glows,” he muttered, blinking hard. “it actually glows.”

“donghyuck,” you called, a little breathless, glancing back to find him frozen in place.

“her hair actually glows,” he whispered again, like the concept had just broken his brain.

“donghyuck!” you snapped, louder this time.

he finally looked up, eyes wide, cheeks pink, like you’d just accused him of something scandalous.

“what?!"

you hesitated. “it doesn’t… just glow.”

he looked at you with that same bewildered expression, and you couldn’t help but chuckle. still dripping wet, you walked over and offered your hand.

he took it without hesitation—gripping it tightly, just like he had when you were both running for your lives. only now, it wasn’t panic. his hold was steady, warm. like he was trying to say something with it.

like he was telling you he had your back.

later that day, night had already set in. the two of you had found a small, secluded spot near a big tree where you decided to set up camp. well—it was really just a fire and a patch of ground to sleep on until morning.

you were both sitting on an old tree trunk that looked like it had been there for god knows how long.

right now, you were carefully wrapping your magical hair around haechan’s injured hand. the bleeding had stopped a while ago, but the gash still looked deep, and you wanted to repay him for kind of saving you earlier.

“you’re being weirdly cryptic as you wrap your magic hair around my hand,” haechan joked, watching you work.

you didn’t respond, too focused on wrapping it tightly. when he winced, you glanced up with an apologetic look.

“sorry… just—don’t freak out.”

you took a breath and started singing the lullaby your mother had taught you. the one that made your hair glow, the one that made the magic come alive.

“flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine…” you sang softly, and haechan’s eyes widened as your hair began to glow.

“make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine…” the whole length of it lit up, casting a warm, golden hue across your face.

“heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. bring back what once was mine…” haechan could only stare, completely mesmerized—by your voice, your glow, and maybe a little by you.

you looked so calm, like this was second nature. your hair shimmered in the moonlight, and he swore he’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“what once was mine,” you finished softly, then unwrapped your hair from his hand.

he lifted it slowly to look—and gasped when he saw the skin was completely healed. not even a scar.

“god, please don’t freak out!” you said quickly, jumping in before he could speak.

he held his hand up like it was something sacred, then let out a shaky laugh. “i’m not freaking out. why would i freak out? no, i’m definitely not freaking out at all,” he rambled, and immediately shut up when you gave him a look.

“sorry… i guess i was just wondering how your hair does this exactly. how long have you had this power?” haechan asked, his voice softer now.

you smiled gently, a little unsure. “it’s been like this since forever, i guess.”

your eyes drifted away from his as your mood shifted. “my mother says that when i was a baby, people tried to take me away… to use my hair for themselves.”

you reached back, brushing your hair aside to reveal a short, uneven brown patch near the nape of your neck. it stuck out starkly from the rest.

“but once it’s cut, it turns brown. loses its power,” you explained. “that’s why mother never let me—” you paused, sighing.

“that’s why i never, um…”

“—left that stupid tower,” haechan finished for you, a soft smile playing on his lips. there was no judgment, just understanding.

he reached for your hand and traced gentle circles against your skin. the gesture was simple, but it felt like the loudest kind of reassurance.

in that moment, you felt like he really got it. like he really saw you.

“and… you still wanna go back?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had settled around you.

“no! well—yes! ugh, i don’t know. it’s all so complicated!” you pulled your hand away and buried your face in your palms.

he scooted a little closer, draping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing small, comforting circles into your back.

“it doesn’t have to be,” he murmured with a gentle grin, letting you rest your head against his shoulder.

the quiet returned, but this time it felt warm, not heavy.

then, unable to help yourself, you turned your head toward him—only to realize just how close you were. your cheeks flushed and you scooted away a little.

“soooo… lee donghyuck, huh?” you teased, giving him a sideways glance.

“yeah, but um... i’ll spare you the sob story of poor orphan lee donghyuck,” he replied quickly, waving a hand. “it’s a bit of a downer.”

you chuckled, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your chin there. “i wanna know.”

he sighed before turning to you again. “alright…” he muttered, and you gave him an encouraging nod.

“there was this book,” he began. “i used to read it to the younger kids back at the orphanage. ‘the tales of the great haechan.’”

you nodded again, listening closely.

“he was the richest man alive. not bad with the ladies either—not that he’d brag about it, of course,” he added with a smirk.

“was he a thief, too?” you asked, half-joking.

haechan’s smile faltered a bit, his gaze dropping. “uh… no, actually. he had enough money to do whatever he wanted. and well… for a kid who had nothing, that just…” he trailed off, eyes locked on the ground. “it just sounded like a better life.”

you didn’t push him further. you just nodded, offering him a soft smile.

“you can’t tell anyone about this, alright? it’d totally ruin my reputation.”

you giggled, nodding again. “ah, of course. we wouldn’t want that.”

“hey, a fake reputation’s all a guy’s got,” he said with a small grin, his eyes meeting yours.

he looked at you a moment longer—long enough for something unspoken to hang between you. whatever it was, it made your chest tighten just a little.

he cleared his throat and stood up quickly, brushing his damp palms over his still-soggy pants.

“i should, uh… get some fire for the wood—i mean, some firewood. yeah.” he stumbled over his words, turning toward the trees.

you called out to him before he could disappear into the forest. “for the record… i like lee donghyuck way more than haechan, just so you know.”

he paused and looked back at you. his smile came quick, but his blush came quicker.

“well… then, you’d be the first.”

and just like that, he turned and walked away, his silhouette swallowed by the trees—leaving you with a soft smile and a heart beating a little faster.

you watch him for a few more seconds before another voice cuts through the silence behind you.

“talk about a drag. i thought he’d never leave.” your stomach drops. that voice—undeniable. it was your mother.

you whip around, hoping you’re imagining it. but no. there she stands, arms crossed, expression smug.

“mother! what are you—how did you find me?” you ask, stepping back in disbelief.

“oh, it was easy, really,” she says, waving a hand. “i just followed the sound of complete and utter betrayal.” she laughs, like this is all a joke.

you’re frozen. she wasn’t supposed to find you.

“mother, i—”

“no, y/n,” she interrupts, stepping forward with sharp intent. “you are going home. now.”

she grabs your wrist, tight.

“wait—mother, please—” you yank your arm back, your voice breaking.

“you don’t understand,” you plead. “i’ve been on this incredible journey. i’ve learned so much. i even…” you hesitate. “i met someone.”

“yes. a wanted thief. i’m so proud of you.” she scoffs, already turning away. “come on.”

“mother, wait…”

she turns, her glare slicing through you.

“i think… i think he likes me.”

she stares at you for a beat. then she laughs. loud and cruel. “likes you?” she repeats, wiping fake tears of laughter from her eyes. “please, darling. that’s demented.”

“but—”

“sweetheart,” she says, stepping in again, her voice suddenly cold. “this little romance you made up in your head? it just proves you’re too naive to be out here.”

“why would he like you? really? look at yourself.” she gestures to your hair, eyes full of disdain. “you think he’s impressed by… this?”

“don’t be stupid, y/n. you know better.”

“no,” you snap, folding your arms tight across your chest.

“no?” her tone drops, venom rising.

“oh, i see how it is. you think you know best. you think you’re so mature now.” she scoffs. “you disobey me once and now you think you’re clever?”

she reaches into her cloak and pulls out a familiar leather bag. your breath catches.

“then give him this,” she says, tossing it to you—the bag with the crown.

you clutch it, stunned.

“this is what he wants. don’t let him deceive you.” her voice is low now. dangerous.

“he’s a thief. that’s all he’ll ever be. give it to him, and watch how fast he leaves you.”

you think her words over. she was somewhat right. he was a thief but, he showed you he's not bad. he showed you so much in so little time. he saved you from drowning earlier, for god's sake. donghyuck showed you what living life really was.

“go ahead. put him to the test, darling,” she mocks. “but when he dumps you… don’t come crying to me.”

with that, she turns on her heel, disappearing into the trees.

you’re left alone—bag clutched to your chest, eyes brimming with tears you refuse to let fall.

your gaze falls to the bag in your hands, your mother’s harsh words echoing in your mind.

you don’t even notice haechan has returned until his voice reaches you.

“you know, blondie, i was wondering… is there any chance i’m gonna get super strength in my hand from your magic, ‘cause that would be kind of awesome and—” he stops when he sees you’re not really listening, just standing there with your back turned.

“hey, are you alright?” he asks, his tone shifting to something more serious, a trace of worry in his voice.

you gasp softly and quickly toss the bag out of sight before turning to face him.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good. just, um… lost in thought, i guess.” he nods.

“anyways, just imagine this… superhuman good looks—i was born with them—combined with superhuman strength. can you imagine the possibilities?” he rambles, his words tumbling out excitedly yet sounding almost absurd.

after a while, your eyes grow heavy and you slowly drift off to sleep, his soothing voice calming you enough to forget your mother’s words.

haechan watches you as you fall asleep, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. satisfied with the quiet moment, he curls up beside you, letting sleep claim him too.

author's note : a bit of a shorter chapter booooo!!!! i once again didn't post for two weeks please nobody hate me 💔 i've been busy with work and had a concert coming up so i didn't have much time, but i already started on the next chapter and it's literally almost done so it should be out like in a day or two heh 😼 hopefully y'all enjoyed, i spiced it up a little with their interactions, they are slowly falling in love. next chapter is gonna be a banger tho, they WILL fall in love next chapter!! that's all from me tho :3 len out ^0^ i also may have started writing another haechan fic that i might release after the tangled series is over so if any of u would want that LMK!!! i am also thinking of opening requests after this is done, but i think i'll make a detailed post about it later on.

taglist : @gomdoleemyson , @mgumii , @chenlezip , @tinyzen , @nae-vm , @coquettejunnie , @neverbeurs , @nislost , @softpia , @hoodsheaven , @n0hyuck , @hyuckluvr-com , @slayhaechan , @insbread , @nosungluv , @flaminghotyourmom , @marrkery , @dejundesign

© iluvlennie — 2025 ✦ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

[dear-kumari]

I like Custas’ storyline, he’s one of my fav characters. However, I wish his character wasn’t so focused on his struggles/suffering, I think (esp for him being one of few poc characters, and one that’s gets the spotlight so much too). Maybe it would have been better if there were some scenes of him and Dagda prior to the river incident, and/or scenes of them trying to be happy + persevering afterward? Maybe there are scenes like that (my memory sucks). I was wondering what u thought about this

Hi anon! I think we are basically on the same page. As interesting and important as Coustas is, his suffering and angst are pretty over-the-top compared with the other child characters. I mean, it's literally canon now that he can only be an active character if he's stressed and unhappy, because feeling safe and loved will turn him into a tree. I might explain my thoughts about the parasitic Silverwood curse in more detail later, but let's just say that it's possible to make a character's suffering so gratuitous and manufactured that it becomes hard to take seriously. Coustas suffering because of his poverty and disability made sense and was a good jumping-off point for Shirahama's commentary on real-world issues, but at a certain point he has become just another cautionary tale about "forbidden magic," a loose, broadly applicable fantasy concept with arbitrary consequences that she can shift on a dime because it isn't grounded in reality.

I don't know that having a few scenes of Coustas and Dagda being happy together would actually fix the problem, though. There are scenes like that, in a way, because Shirahama has had brief flashbacks establishing how happy they were together. It's part of the contrast she uses to make his suffering and Dagda's death more angsty and fucked up. I think what Coustas is actually missing is agency — any sense that he can actually exert his own will rather than being pushed and pulled by circumstance and other characters exerting power over him. For all his angry monologues and active magic use, he actually doesn't do a lot of stuff of his own free will in the Silver Eve/leech kaiju arcs. He's pushed into one role by the Brimhats and Ininia, then pulled by Coco back to the "right" side with the Pointed Hats, then turns into a tree because, surprise, the Brimhats' initial gift to him actually still had control over his fate, and only changes back because of Dagda's choice. The only thing he's done totally independently is save homeless people from the leech with the counterclock spell, which isn't nothing, but it also isn't given much focus and feels like a contrivance to briefly separate him from Dagda.

If you ever go back and read the last couple arcs, or even all of his appearances from the beginning, I encourage you to take note of how often characters talk to Coustas versus about Coustas, as well as the kind of things they say. Notice how often he's framed as a sort of difficult charity case to further other characters' agendas and development — something the Silver Eve arc had begun to criticize, funnily enough, but that the leech kaiju arc doubles down on. Coustas isn't treated like a subject with his own agency the way the other major kid characters are, and in combination with how he's often drawn with "savage" expressions (he has exaggerated wolfish teeth for some reason), I can't help but feel like that has something to do with his racial coding and class position. I'm sure Shirahama's intentions are good and that her personal progressive politics are genuine, but she really is not above showing some ugly biases in her work.

[bonefall]

I’m in love with your “Frostpaw meeting King Arc” concept, and I really want to make a comic out of it at some point. For now, have some sketches from today:

Thank you with all my heart, I cannot be normal about it either. Something drives me absolutely crazy about the idea that two, intersecting themes of BB!ASC are "echoes of the past" and "love was there, it was not enough, but it was still there."

Small recap for others; In BB!DOTC, the Park Cats are now a cultural group with a king. King Arc leads a massive group of refugees up from the south and establishes a kingdom by the river. The First Battle is caused when Clear Sky takes his prince, River's Ripple, as a hostage to hurt Thunder Storm, not respecting the political value of his son's friend. King Arc dies in this battle, and Riverstar continues the River Kingdom until his death, kicking off Riverstar's Heir.

I'm unsure if it came across, but something I intend with the Arc/Frost meeting during Frostpaw's Sabbatical is that King Arc is seeing his son Riverstar in her. The way that the ambition and responsibility that he put on him as his prince, is reflected in the stress and confusion that Frostpaw herself is now going through.

He, too, died saving his child, much like Curlfeather did. It's still a terrible burden to put that on someone you love so much.

I still need to tweak her siblings (thinking in my next draft for Mistpool, I'm gonna use blue merle dog markings and give her the same shape as Graysky), but this absolutely validates Frostdawn's design in my eyes lmao <3

There's a scene in my head during the first book of BB!ASC where Frostpaw is shoved up the tree by Curlfeather. Curl looks up at her and everything is moving in slow motion, her eyes full of love and sacrifice. She tells her daughter to trust no cat as the teeth of the dogs sink into her, softly, gentle as a kiss.

...And the camera cuts quickly to Frostpaw, up in the tree, the "wool" pulled off her eyes for the first time, the screeching, violent agony of her mother's bloody death reflected in them. Her grip falters as her body trembles with nausea, but she catches herself. Tears her face away from the horrible sight, and pulls herself up further out of harm's way.

I'll be making sure to write it down in the upcoming post too, but, preview <3

[the-cypress-grove]

Worldbuilding Checklist (STILL UPDATING)

This is basically a bunch of worldbuilding checklists crammed together. Use what works for you, leave the rest. This is fantasy orientated and I will continue to update it regularly so reblog or comment something you think should be added.

History:

How far back does recorded history go?

How does history interact with myth and folklore?

How did the current system of governance come into power?

What are some notable figures of history?

Is your world's history broken down into eras?

What events have been twisted and changed as they've been passed down through the generations?

Geography:

What is the climate of this area?

What are the common plants of this area? Are there any fictional plants?

What are the common animals of this area? Are there any fictional animals?

Are there continents? Islands?

How much of this area is inhabited?

What area is known?

Country borders?

What are the major geographical landmarks i.e. rivers, mountains?

Where are the major trade routs?

What are the seasons like in this area?

Magic System:

How is magic practiced? Using wands, staffs, runes, etc?

How is magic learned?

Can magic be taken?

What can't magic do? What are its limitations?

What is the first thing a person learns when learning magic?

How are magic users perceived by others?

What are the laws regarding magic?

How does magic link to religion?

How has magic influenced history?

Politics and Law:

What style of leadership rules the area i.e. theocrasy (ruled by religion), monarchy (ruled by a royal family)?

How are laws created?

What is the process from the conception of a law to the point where it passed?

How is the law enforced?

What is the judicial system of this place?

Is there a death penalty?

Society and Culture:

How many major cultures are there?

What is their global population?

Where are they located geographically within your world?

Is there a social hierarchy / a division between the classes?

What are the major pieces of art in this world?

What does its music sound like? What instruments are used?

Are there well know folk songs?

What food is eaten by each group of society?

What are the treat foods of this area?

What are the foods saved for special occasions?

What holidays / special occasions are there?

Religion:

What are the major religions in this area? Do they get on with each other?

How are these religions viewed by their worshippers? By those who worship other religions? By those who worship no one at all?

How much does religion influence politics and the laws passed?

What do these religions believe in?

Are there divisions within these religions between groups who believe slightly different things?

How old are these religion? Which came first?

Which religion has the biggest influence on the world?

What are their opinions towards the government?

What are their opinions regarding the poor and the rich? Do they differ?

What are their opinions towards magic and technology?

Commerce and Industry:

What is the major industry?

Main imports / exports?

How wealthy is this country / area?

What valuable resources does this country / area have?

What are the common crops / livestock in this area?

Is this area coastal? Is there a fishing / trade industry?

Is this area forested? Logging and timber?

Technology:

What are the transport option available? For the poor? For the rich?

[eciiipsed]

kaz brekker / jesper fahey fic recs

yall omg i know this is like a month late but i forgot i was making it.... ANYWAYS here it is !!!! feel free to add more in the tags and i will edit

**if your fic is on here and u want it removed let me know**!!!!

slash (may contain mature content so be mindful)

that peace like a river

Jesper's weird classical-music playing neighbour with no concept of a sleep schedule goes silent, and then he runs into him in a coffee shop, and everything gets gayer from there.

it's a bad idea right? (fuck it, it's fine)

The one where Jesper and Kaz are technically broken up, but nobody knows so they have no choice but to pretend like they're still together for Inej and Nina's wedding.

everything melted in less than a week

Jesper Fahey is the Capitol’s most prized possession. Kaz Brekker has nothing to lose

this is a shameless self promo im sorry; the hunger games au, mostly takes place after they are already victors.

sometimes love feels like a noun in some new foreign language

“You’re both dead to me,” Kaz says. It’s the first time he’s said more than two words to Jesper since he left. I still remember how your lips feel against mine, Jesper wants to say and forces himself to laugh instead.

kazper exes to lovers, literally my favourite fic of all time

how the light gets in

Kaz Brekker, teenage Sun Summoner, loses the battle of wills and and manipulation against the Darkling. This is what happens afterwards.

series of two fics; kaz is the sun summoner and jesper goes to rescue him

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Soft domestic kaz/jesper for the soul

love your masks and adore your failures

Whenever someone brings it up, Jesper tells them he's in on the joke. Yes, his clothes have too many colours and patterns. Yes, they clash hideously. That’s the point. He’s not going to admit he just thinks they’re pretty.

this is the time of our great undoing

“Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?” Jesper whispers, more to distract Inej from what’s on the screen than anything else, but still—the idea won’t leave Kaz alone.

a private sunrise

Ever since Jesper found out he’s the Sun Summoner, he’s been on the run. Well, sort of. He got side-tracked in Ketterdam, but now that Kaz is talking to Grisha of the Second Army, his five-year reprieve is over. Or is it?

pre slash / can be read as gen

noble occupations

After Jesper nearly costs the Dregs supplies, Per Haskell goes too far in punishing him. Kaz prefers his sharpshooter in working order.

gun it while i'm holding on

Jesper gets shot, and Kaz is the one to find him bleeding all over the cobblestones. A fair bit of grumbling ensues — followed by a race to find help before it's too late.

jesper injured; hurt comfort

eyes and hands (sometimes bullets)

After a confrontation gone wrong, Jesper and Kaz retreat to a safehouse to patch up their wounds. Things soon get much harder than anticipated.

kaz injured; hurt comfort

masks

And now Jesper thought he had the right to give up? Here, in a warm room, with a full stomach and friends who would fight and die for him? With Wylan Van Eck waiting to sweep him into a life of luxury the moment he got his shit together, and Kaz working to keep him from being buried in his own mistakes until then?

homoerotic fistfighting

we owe it to disaster

A spy should be prepared to get caught.

washed up on the beaches

Jesper has no reason to panic. He pulled off yesterday's betrayal with aplomb: fucked over the Dime Lions, saved the enemy's life, got the enemy to promise to buy back Da’s farm, did not get caught. He shouldn’t be panicking now. Why is he panicking.

pre canon

kaz/jesper/inej as a treat

to me you're all i am

He thinks about it often. His arms around Inej’s waist. His fingers in Kaz’s hair. His lips on their shoulder blades. He wants to be close enough to feel them breathing.

kanejesper MY BELOVED!!! modern setting one shot

perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table

Jesper’s spent his life following Kaz and Inej from one mysterious job to the next. He will follow them into bed, too.

this is RLY good, and its mostly kazper (inej is there but not as important). has some explicit themes so read at ur own risk.

[thelargefrye]

THE WATERFALL … mature one - shot

pairing : dragon!seonghwa x witch!f!reader (background poly dragon ateez)

genre : dragon au, fantasy, smut

word count : 1.9k

warnings : language, mating / concept of mating, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, pet names (love, little witch, princess), marking

note : just something short while i write a longer piece lol also i miss this au and needed to do something with dragon!hwa. suffer with @sanjoongie everyone

seonghwa takes you to a secret place within the land of the clan and you experience something different with the eldest prince.

"watch your step," seonghwa says as he leads you through the dense forest. you note how warm his hand is around yours and you've come to the conclusion that all dragons are made to feel warm.

"will you tell me where we're going?" you ask softly, once you step over a large tree root and down some rocky sides. you note the sound of water and wonder if there is a river nearby.

"its a surprise," he says turning to look at you with a wide grin, and you hold back wanting to roll your eyes at him.

ever since you had saved seonghwa from the dragon hunters and came back to clan, you and him have grown significantly closer. you notice that this is much to the dismay of some of the other princes; however, to yeosang and mingi they were to delighted to see the two of you together.

"if we take too long, wooyoung might come look for us," you tease and seonghwa hums in reply before speaking.

"then let him come find us. i'm sure he'll enjoy what i have planned," he says, a smirk overtaking his features. you felt your heart skip a beat at his words as you felt a chill run down your spine. "we are close, close your eyes for me."

"how do i know you won't leave me here?" you question and originally it was meant to be a joke; however, you are quick to dismiss it once you notice seonghwa's face fall. "i-i was just–

"i won't leave you, ever. i promise on my life, y/n," he says as he stands facing you as he takes both of your hands in his own. "do you trust me?"

that's the big question. if he had asked you that when you first arrived at the clan, you would have said no, but now? did you trust him?

"i do trust you," you answer, licking your lips as you look him in the eyes.

"then close your eyes, my little witch," he says and you nod before doing as he says as you allow him to guide you through more of the forest. the sounds of water getting louder and louder.

you fell seonghwa move around to behind you, his body pressing flush against your backside and you can't help but a blush run over you due to the closeness. his breath is hot against your ear as his hands settle on your waist.

"okay, open them," he says and you are immediately greeted by the sight of a beautiful waterfall in front of you.

"wow," you say, taking in the sight before you.

"this waterfall is a secret place within the clan. only the head of the clan and his mates know about it," seonghwa explains and you suddenly can't help the cold rush roll over you at his words.

but you and hongjoong aren't mates. the prince still refuses to acknowledge you as his mate's mate and here seonghwa is showing you something that only hongjoong and his mates know of?

"p-prince seonghwa," you say turning around, eyes wide. "are you... are you sure we should be here? what if prince hongjoong–

"don't be scared of hongjoong," he says and you feel flabbergasted by his words. don't be scared of hongjoong? impossible.

seonghwa seems to notice the fear in your eyes, "whether he wants to admit it or not, you are our mate. his mate and he will eventually accept it. if it makes you feel better then just know that i asked if i could bring you here."

"and he said yes?"

"well... not originally, but i can be persuasive when i need to be," he says giving you week and you feel a blush rush to your face again when you realize what he means.

"i still feel like i'm invading in his space," you confess and seonghwa let out a hum at your words before he taking a few steps away from you and towards the water.

"well it can't be helped if you feel that, but since we are here... why don't you help me bath?" he says turning to look at you as he slowly begins to undress himself. "what do you say, princess, come help me?"

the water is cold when you first step into it. you let out a gasp at the coldness before you will yourself to take more steps into it. seonghwa's bare back is facing you after having asked him to turn around until you were in the water. you noticed how hard he was trying to remain still, his fist clenched tightly by his sides.

"i guess i should have warned you about the water, but dragon's don't necessarily feel the cold like humans do," he says as he roles his shoulders.

"its okay, i'm use to it with wooyoung," you tell him before your submerging your whole body and swimming further into the lake. "you can turn around now," you say and seonghwa waste no time in doing so and he spins so fast that you're worried he might give himself whiplash from it.

seonghwa waste no time in undressing and stepping into the water and you have to look away because of how carefree he is in the moment. as much as you would like to have looked at him in his full glory, you weren't mated yet and you couldn't help but feel like a perv if you did look at him.

seonghwa swims over to you and you allow him to pull you in close to him. your bodies flushed against each other and you have to suppress the moan that threatens to escape when your nipples rub against his chest. his other hand runs down your spine before tracing over the curve of your ass before he's lifting your leg to hook around his waist.

"prince seonghwa..." you say trailing off as you two make eye contact.

"call me seonghwa," he says as he rests his forehead against your own and when he moves, his lips just very so slightly brush over yours. "will you let me love you, princess? let me mate with you and fill you up?"

you felt your heart skip a beat at his words, like it was back when you and wooyoung had mated for the first time all over again.

"yes, please," you say and the dragon smiles before he's pressing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck as your other leg came up to rest around his waist as well.

you felt your body stick his own thanks to the water. you couldn't help but moan when seonghwa begins to roll his hips, his cock rubbing between your folds and just barely missing your entrance. seonghwa pulls away from your lips in order his trail his own down your jaw and neck. his tongue pressing against wooyoung's and yeosang's marks before he's trailing down your chest.

"ah, seonghwa!" you cry out as you feel him sheath himself inside of you, filling you up like how wooyoung and yeosang have done so many times before the eldest dragon.

"f-fuck," he moans as you clench around him before he begins to move his hips. the water around the two of you moves in small waves and it reminds you of when wooyoung and you would take baths together back at your cottage. the way too small bathtub just barely being able to fit the two of you as wooyoung's wandering hands make you sit on his cock and by the end of the bath, the water would be cold and half of it would be out of the tub and in the floor.

however, this is different. seonghwa holds you close to him as he rocks his hips and the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

"h-hwa," you moan as you feel your head fall backwards, but seonghwa stops you from fulling submerging your head under the water. he presses his lips to your left shoulder and presses a strong kiss to it before you him nibble at your skin. you run your hands down his back, your nail probably leaving a trail of red lines. you can't help but hope that one of the others will notice and know what you and seonghwa did together.

"can i mark you, princess? make you my mate like yeosangie and wooyoung have?"

"yes, yes, yes! please!" you say when he picks up the speed of his thrust and even the water doesn't seem to pose an issue to his ministrations. you let out a loud cry when you felt seonghwa bite down on your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin and marking you as one of his mates.

you feel seonghwa moan into your skin before he's pulling away slightly in order to lick at the wound. you feel a mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. pain from your left shoulder and pleasure from seonghwa continuing to abuse your pussy.

you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions crash over you in waves. not only the pleasure and pain, but over just an overwhelming sense of joy and comfort. joy because of how happy you are to be with seonghwa in this moment, to know that you're relationship has changed and grew so much, but the comfort.

the comfort was what made tears well up in your eyes. knowing that seonghwa finally accepted you as a mate, accepted you as a part of the clan and a part of himself. you couldn't help but let out a small sob rip through you.

"y/n?" seonghwa's voice crashes through your thoughts and he's looking at you with wide, concern eyes. "what's wrong, love? did i hurt you?"

"no," you say with a smile, tears running down your face as you, "i'm just happy," you add on as the eldest dragon prince leans his forehead against your own. "thank you, seonghwa."

"don't thank me. if anything i should be the one thanking you for giving me a chance," he says with a soft smile, you note how his thrust have slowed down a little bit, but not completely stoped. the two of you share another kiss before seonghwa is doing one last thrust into you before you're clenching around him and cumming.

he groans into your lips before he doing several more thrust and then stilling inside of you. his cum painting the inside of your walls white and you can't help but clench even more in an attempt to keep all of him inside of you.

"if you keep clenching around me, princess, i might not be able to pull out," he teases as he trails his lips down your body. he begins to slowly move backwards in the water and the air around you sending goosebumps over your body.

seonghwa grins when he notices and pulls you close to him once you both are out of the water. he sets you done on the ground, back against a large rock that was near the edge of the water before he's hovering over you.

"want to go another round?" he asks, smirk gracing his lips and you can't help but laugh at him. you open your mouth to answer but the sound of someone else stops you.

"hey! what are you two doing? seonghwa, you bastard, you better not be hurting my mate!" wooyoung's voice is loud as he comes crashing through the tree line. seonghwa seems surprised by how wooyoung was able to find you both, but you don't seem phased by it.

"i told you, he would come look for us if we were gone for too long."

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