#the dragon and the wolf au

[atornpage]

trying to get back into writing so have some of the game of thrones au i had started on my old blog.

the dragon and the wolf part 1 the dragon and the wolf part 3

this would technically be part 2, i suppose.

1.3k words of mess (cw: alcohol, not how the force is used possibly)

The weather in Tatooine was different than anything Obi-Wan was used to. Standing on the balcony attached to his chambers, he looked out over the capital city of Mos Espa, the lights in the tan-colored homes of its residents beginning to flick on as twilight settled in. The air was hotter and dryer than his kingdom, and instead of the lush greens he had grown up with, sand and rock covered almost all the land, with only pockets of green and blue gathered here and there. For over a month, he looked at this view and decided that while it wasn't home, it was beautiful. 

There were many beautiful things in Tatooine. 

The bond flickered at the back of his mind, still new and fresh. Obi-Wan toyed with its edge, running over the threads that created the bridge between his mind and Prince Anakin's. On the other side, he sensed the other man's tiredness and weariness, but at least, with time and practice, these foreign emotions had grown less overwhelming and more... natural, as if they were Obi-Wan's own. They may have been, given that he was knee-deep in a war he'd rather not have been in, but he was seeking justice. 

The first few days of the bond had been a struggle; his mind pressed with unfamiliar emotions and thoughts and the overwhelming presence of another's potent Force signature. Even the Jedi Healers had been perplexed. While the Kingdom of the Jedi was renowned for its Force-wielders, many lived beyond its borders. Some, like Anakin, were exceptionally gifted. The Prince had always known of his Force-sensitivity—they never would have suggested the bond otherwise—but the extent of his power had taken everyone by surprise. Bound together, Obi-Wan saw him clearly in the Force, a radiant and formidable presence.

Across the dunes, the sun dipped lower until only the lights from the surrounding homes pushed away the darkness.

Obi-Wan turned away from the balcony and headed back into the bedroom. Some hours earlier, he had shed his armor and settled in his under tunics as the heat had risen during midday. He felt restless, the urge to be on the move, a feeling he never thought he would get used to, but now, it seemed second nature. He had eaten the late meal with his troops today, mulling about their tents as he chatted with Quinlan and Mace about potential strategies—they had spent so much time perfecting them while in Tatooine, Obi-Wan wondered how much they were overthinking and where, perhaps, they weren't thinking enough; the Force had been particularly quiet regarding the future—but now everyone had retired to their chambers, and he had no desire to remain here. 

Making his decision, he crossed through the rooms he had been given and pulled up the main door, stepping out into a dimly lit hallway. Despite technological advances, the palace seemed to enjoy utilizing fire as a light source. 

"Your Grace." 

Obi-Wan smiled, reaching out in the Force for the familiar presence, and closed the door. "Hello, Cody," he said knowingly, turning to face the man who stood guard outside his door. He had given up trying to get the man to call him by name. 

"And where might you be sneaking off to, your Grace?"

"Now, now, there was no sneaking involved," Obi-Wan protested. "I merely needed to stretch my legs."

"Of course," Cody answered. "I'll escort you."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Cody, my good man, that is unnecessary," he answered. "I promise I'm safe in the palace. You should spend time with the men. They have a rather interesting new drinking game."

Cody smirked at the man. "And you would know this how, your Grace?"

"I am very attuned to those that are under my charge."

"Waxer got you to join in, didn't he?"

Late meal had been an exciting affair. "Perhaps," Obi-Wan answered reluctantly, walking down the corridor. 

Cody sighed and followed. The pair were silent as they walked. Obi-Wan hadn't had a destination in mind, and he let the Force guide him until they reached the solid doors of one of the common rooms, as it opened without any need for handprint or code. Inside, rows upon rows of holobooks shined a bright blue. 

"I think I'm fine, Cody, really," he said, turning back to his guard, who glanced around the room as if double-checking for threats. Obi-Wan pulled his commlink out from his trouser pocket, holding it up. "I promise I will comm if anything occurs." 

"Alright, your Grace," Cody reluctantly answered, still eying the room. I expect you to check in."

"Of course, Cody."

Having sent Cody on his way, Obi-Wan continued into the library, his hand drifting along the shelves as he paused now and again to take in the titles. There were plenty he had never heard of. There was a slight tug in the Force, and he followed it deeper into the library, moving from one room to the next until he had reached the last. A fire was burning in the old-fashioned sandstone fireplace, giving off light and warming the room, which was beginning to chill now that the sun had set. Prince Anakin was sprawled comfortably in a chair across from the fire, his tunic open at the chest as he drank some dark liquid from a crystal glass. He didn't seem surprised to see Obi-Wan standing there, smiling slightly at him as Obi-Wan felt a flutter of happiness and contentment spread across the bond.

"Your Highness," Obi-Wan greeted, stepping further into the room.

"Your Grace," Prince Anakin answered.

Obi-Wan grimaced. It felt wrong for that title to be used by someone who was true royalty. "Please call me Obi-Wan," he said. "None of that king business, not from you." 

Prince Anakin's smile widened, and Obi-Wan felt himself relax. It was a beautiful smile. "Alright then," the Prince answered slowly. "If you're going to be just Obi-Wan, then I'm just Anakin." The other man took a sip from his drink before standing. "Care to join me?" He refilled his glass from a small tray table in the corner and pulled another for Obi-Wan, the same liquid sloshing across the smooth crystal surface. 

"I would be happy to," he answered, moving to claim the seat across from the one the Prince—Anakin—had just vacated, and he accepted the glass as it was handed to him. Anakin returned to his seat with a huff. 

"You're a reader, aren't you?" Anakin asked, his eyes fixating on Obi-Wan. 

"Pardon?" 

Anakin waved a hand at the door leading to the other rooms. "When you entered," he started, "I felt your excitement at seeing all the books over the bond." 

"Well, you have an impressive library," Obi-Wan answered. "But yes, I suppose I am. I was always more interested in researching something in our Archives than anything else." 

Anakin studied him for a moment and nodded. "I can see that." 

"I take it you're the opposite?"

The Prince shrugged. "I was always more of a physical activity type—training, dragon-riding." 

"Now that I can see," Obi-Wan mimicked, taking a sip from his drink and savoring the taste of the smooth alcohol as it slid across his tongue. He moaned a little, eyes slipping shut just a little. 

There was a crackle across the bond, and he opened his eyes to see Anakin staring intently at him. The room seemed to grow warmer in a way that wasn't from the fire before them. In the month since Obi-Wan had arrived, they had never been alone together, always with one of their advisors or a Jedi Healer, but Obi-Wan would have had to have been blind not to notice the beauty of Prince Anakin Skywalker. Blind and a fool. 

Obi-Wan took a healthy sip of the alcohol. 

Hesitantly, he reached out with his Force signature and gently brushed against the other man's. It was like a dam being torn open as Anakin's signature raced to meet his, wrapping around his own like the creature that flew through the skies, and Obi-Wan felt himself falling into the warmth of that signature.

Perhaps a fool was more appropriate.

[atornpageold]

i’ve been rewatching way too much game of thrones and my mind did a thing. i don’t even know what half of this is.

1.1k mess of words (cw: brief mentions of sex as negotiating i guess?)

"Now, my dear prince, I am sure we can come to some sort of agreement." 

Obi-Wan liked to believe that he possessed some charm that would help Prince Skywalker see that an alliance between their two kingdoms was mutually beneficial for all parties, especially if Skywalker were to commit his men to the cause. In the Force, he could feel the swirl of emotions coming from the other side of the table; temptation and indecision at war. He understood that the choice he had put the young man in was not easy—it had been the very same choice he had needed to make months ago. There were many moments of self-doubt in the time that followed, but Obi-Wan believed that he was doing what was best for his people. He needed to believe that, or perhaps the cause would be lost. 

The man on the other side shifted, sitting taller in his chair and looking as regal as true royalty should. For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered if his ancestors had once looked the same before the King who Knelt. He knew he certainly didn't; he had been raised as lord, ready to lead his ancestral home and land, but never with the title of king attached to his name. No, that had been a surprise all its own. 

"I assume you want our army," Prince Skywalker said, blue eyes meeting blue. The color of his eyes was stark against his tan skin and dark curly blonde hair. 

Tatooine's army had been a brief and passing thought, but it was tempting now that the prince had brought it up. Obi-Wan's army wasn't small, but he knew the enemy forces were significant. Outmaneuvering them had been and would continue to be the main focus. But if the prince was offering...

"More men would, of course, be welcomed."

The prince raised a brow at that. "Anything else besides my soldiers and my safety?" 

That had been the original request—the safe passage of Obi-Wan's forces through Tatooine lands. For days after becoming king, he had painstakingly looked at every angle and kingdom to find the best advantage to surround the capital city. The safest choice was sending half his army to the south, to Tatooine, and then marching north. The path to victory would be a bloody one. 

But the crown needed to answer for their injustice. 

That was why he was here, sitting in this tent with two of his most trusted advisers and looking across at the prince of the desert kingdom. 

"That's more than I could hope for."

The prince sat back, the fingers of his right hand tapping against the arm of the chair in some pattern. For a flashing moment, Obi-Wan wanted to still that movement, wrap those fingers up in his own. The prince was by no means unattractive; he was confident the other man had suitors lining up from all walks of life just for a chance at a conversation. Perhaps, if he was desperate enough, that option could be on the table—he wasn't above using his body as a form of persuasion. Not if it got him the results he wanted, and it certainly wouldn't be a hardship to kriff the handsome prince. But that could come later, much later, and only if words and other methods failed horribly. 

One of the prince's advisers leaned down to whisper in his ear, her montrals brushing against his shoulder. The prince nodded, and the adviser moved away, studying Obi-Wan with intelligent and calculating eyes. 

"And how do I know you wouldn't betray me? Send your army here and take my kingdom?" 

Obi-Wan returned his gaze to the prince, his most charming smile gracing his lips. "Is my word not enough?"

"You're asking me to betray the king of the Sith and all its kingdoms. You can understand why we would want something a little more solid."

It wasn't an unreasonable request. Had he been in Skywalker's position, he probably would have asked for the same thing. This was where his true talent lay, the negotiating table. All those years of being groomed in diplomacy were perhaps finally ready to pay off. 

"What would you suggest?"

The prince and his adviser exchanged a brief glance before she stepped forward again.

"We would like to propose a temporary Force-bond," her voice was confident and firm, unafraid to speak even though she couldn't have been more than twenty summers. 

"I'm sorry?" Quinlan Vos, one of his advisers (mainly because the second Obi-Wan had decided to march south, he was already gathering the men but also because he had been his friend for as long as he could remember), asked in surprise.

"A temporary Force-bond," she repeated slowly.  

Obi-Wan wanted to roll his eyes because, yes, they had understood that part. It was the fact that they were suggesting the bond in the first place that was the surprise. While temporary Force-bonds were convenient in terms of an alliance such as this, they were also rare, as most people didn't want someone else in their head. They also tended to have... unique side effects. But still, the idea that you could feel your bonded's emotions through the link made the act of betrayal difficult. 

"And if we were to agree," Obi-Wan began, eyeing the pair across the table with curious eyes, "what guarantees do we have that you won't try to take advantage of our bond?"

Skywalker scoffed. "Unlike you, I don't have a stake in this. This is personal for you," he paused, his gaze turning sympathetic. "I am sorry for your loss. I don't believe it was said yet." 

Obi-Wan nodded firmly in acknowledgment. 

"Tatooine has primarily been outside Sith control for over a hundred years, living outside the fold. However, it would be gratifying to be our own kingdom again," Anakin smiled. "That we have in common."

Obi-Wan nodded, even as Vos began arguing again about the temporary Force-bond. In the Force, he could feel his guide pacing anxiously outside the tent, and he wondered what that image looked like; a sizeable gray loth-wolf, two humans tall, pacing back and forth in front of the cloth. Around him, the volume of the voices grew.

"I'll do it," he answered loudly, and Vos turned his head, his left eye twitching. 

"Are you mad?" His adviser shouted.

"We both have the same goal; to be our own kingdoms again," he nodded to the prince. "I don't see why this alliance can't achieve that." With both armies fighting for their freedom, there were better chances they would win.

"And besides," Obi-Wan continued, "it's only a temporary bond."

[verflares]

(click for higher quality!) draconified link concept ive been chipping away at this past week ..... here's my funny little compendium concept for him:

"A heroic spirit has taken the form of this bestial dragon. Unlike it's kin, this creature exhibits an extremely aggressive disposition. It appears highly territorial, and will relentlessly chase down those who disturb its skywide patrols - of which it seems to be endlessly searching for either a long-time vassal or foe. Unfortunately, it seems the spirit within has long since forgotten exactly who it was looking for…"

[taddymason]

Face to Face

[tja---7]

Jay and Kai swap AU!

older*

#wolf Kai au

[wyrmswears]

bunch of ninjago wips ill never finish👍

[pocket-solas]

Solas being freed from the Fade prison before the Ghil boss fight. Lavellan joining to help in the fight too. Neither knowing the other will be there. Lavellan getting thrown around and Solas going blinding rage protective don't mess with my girl ill snap your neck between my teeth and use your tentacles as floss crazy.

They win obviously. Then return to the Lighthouse where Solas and Lavellan have some words and then some things that don't involve words.

[ack-cough]

HIHI WOW TAKE A BUNCH OF MISCELLANEOUS ART THAT WOULD FLOP IF I POSTED BY THEMSELVES<\3

please don't let this flop

[larkoneironaut]

The new mysterious art history professor at your dark academia university

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 4 ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, furina, lyney {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood {☆} word count 3.7k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ]

Fontaine was bathed in darkness, not even the moon daring to illuminate where the common man fears to walk. The streets were bleak and empty save for the constant, rhythmic ticking and clanking of machines marching on endlessly, dauntlessly wading where even the bravest dared not to venture. Not even the sharp click of the Gardes boots followed the occasional hisses of steam as they walked the barren streets.

It was haunting, and it'd been like that for days now. It showed little signs of stalling in the slightest, too. Every inch of Fontaine was practically crawling with Gardemeks– like a swarm of rats skittering about.

Arlecchino had secluded herself in the Hotel Bouffes d'ete for days at this point, waiting– biding her time. Her nails clicked against the wood as she tapped at the table in a stilted rhythm, the subtle click of the clock mixing into the clanking outside, weaving in and out of earshot as the patrols slipped by. She reached forward after a moment of thought, reaching for the white king.

She leaned back against the chaise, tilting her head just enough to catch a glimpse of a patrol of Gardemeks as they vanished behind the rows and rows of buildings. It wasn't enough to keep her attention for long, however, her features twisting in disinterest as she glanced back to the chessboard– and the letter neatly resting beside it. The seal was unmistakable and a sobering sight, demanding her attention– the soft hues of blue etched into the shape of a dragon stared back at her in a way that almost unsettled her.

She had already parsed through it's contents hundreds of times, but she was met with only vague, flowing script that only served to irritate her more then anything– it filled the page top to bottom yet managed to say nothing at all. Her hand reached out again, but instead of reaching for the letter she plucked the black rook from the board, setting it down with a soft click.

Arlecchino had all the time in the world to sit back and observe her prey, but all that time would be useless if she lacked the information to act.

And he was quite tight fisted about it, evidentially. None of her inquiries or attempts to decipher any potential codes in the letter left her empty handed. She could not act without even knowing the reason for his summons– it was almost worded like a personal affair rather then one would expect for a foreign diplomat. In truth, she'd expected a scalding report on her operatives, but it lacked any mention of anything of the sort.

She was no stranger to people masking hostility behind pretty words and compliments, not that it was ever unwarranted per se– the Fatui did not create connections through honesty and genuine kindness. They have strong armed more then their fair share of people into cooperation to the point distrust is all the Fatui are met with outside of Snezhnaya. Every word was meant to conceal the deceit, every action meant to conceal the price later paid.

So she had been..skeptical of the letter, to put it lightly. She doubted the Iudex of all people would offer a hand to the Fatui without a price attached– a trap, perhaps, meant to lure in the most powerful piece left on the board. Her eyes narrowed, reaching for a white rook and moving it to the right.

Or he was hiding something. Something that he simply couldn't risk getting out to anyone, not even the Divine themself. A tempting prize, whatever it was.

..A dangerous prize, too.

She'd considered burning the letter and forgetting it all together– the risk was great, and she couldn't risk getting caught up by whoever else the Iudex may have on his side of the board. But she could hardly pass up the challenge and the prize that he fought so hard to keep from prying eyes and ears. Even her agents came back empty handed each time. She lazily picked up a black rook, sliding the white pawn aside.

"Lyney," Arlecchino drawled, crossing one leg over the other and turning her gaze to the door as it slowly creaked open. The pale visage of Lyney stepped through, though his siblings were noticeably absent. The weariness that weighed down on his shoulders was apparent in the slightest furrow of his brows and the subtle creak of leather as he clenched his fists behind his back. "Father." He choked out, the title dragged out by the sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

He looked out of breath, she noted.

The silence that lingered after the small exchange was punctuated only by the click of another chess piece being moved. She sets aside the black rook, letting it sit among the dozen other pieces that had been wiped off the board. She can see the conviction glinting beneath the fog of exhaustion, but if he would utilize it was another matter all together.

He had seemed to make his choice quickly, at the very least.

"Our contacts and operatives within the Fortress of Meropide have gone silent– all we have is their final confirmed missive.." His voice is confident, but it is rigid as the words spill from his lips. He takes a sharp step forward, unfolding his arms from behind his back and opening his hands– the small, water stained and messily folded note catches her eye, plucking it from his palms with a half hearted interest. "They believe the Duke left the Fortress of Meropide..and that he may be coming to the Court of Fontaine."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, nearly crumpling the thin paper in her hands– yet just as quickly, she collects herself.

But she cannot get rid of the bitter taste on her tongue, lingering as she sets down the note and slides it to the side, her lips pursed into a thin line.

So the Iudex had shown one of his pieces..she tightly grasps a black rook, tipping over the white rook, letting it roll against the board.

If the Duke was involved, things were much more complicated then she expected– he would be a problem, she was certain. She couldn't blame the lamb for fearing the wolf, either. Whether her agents had been killed or captured by the man mattered little. He had his ways, and he was a force that could instill fear in even them.

Which meant the possibility that her operation was already compromised was far too real.

What had the Iudex so concerned he had gone through the trouble of bringing in the Duke and herself? The Fatui was one thing, but to specifically request one of it's Harbingers..

The Prophecy? The thought had her clenching her fist, but..no. If it were to rear it's head now, the Iudex could simply not afford to waste time on his contacts deciphering his nonsensical script– If the prophecy were to be the issue, there time would be limited to mere minutes in the worst of cases. Which meant it was worth biding his time in order to ensure absolute secrecy.

So if not the prophecy, then what?

Her next moves were..limited. She was already walking on eggshells considering her position and the reputations of the Fatui– especially with a Harbinger in the midst. If they caught wind of her operations, they'd weed out her operatives and be on guards for any snakes that lingered in their garden.

She reached for the chessboard again, picking up one of the white rooks from the board with a scowl. The sharp click as she sets down the white rook and sets aside the black pawn draws a shaky inhale from Lyney as she moves another black pawn, the dull click of the pieces drowning out the distant clinking of machines.

..A draw, perhaps.

The pieces were all falling into place– the players of this game were slowly being revealed. Whether she could secure her victory..she was unsure.

She wasn't even sure who her opponent was. Only that the Iudex himself was but another piece in their game.

Arlecchino reached for the board again, yet this time she hesitated. Perhaps she could still swipe the win from beneath them, if she played her cards right.

She would simply have to capture the king– or, if need be, let it end on a draw. Either way, she would not concede. She could not afford to concede. Down to the last piece, she would drag out this match until she was in a position to force their hand into the outcome she desired.

She stood slowly, picking up the king piece and observing it for only the briefest of moments before she set it down on the table, taking measured steps around the table and across the room. She was hunting a much more dangerous quarry today– it would be no simple runaway traitor this time.

"Do you remember the directive?" She inquired coldly, her hand lingering on the door for that long, tense moment. "..Yes, Father." Lyney faltered, taking a hesitant step back and bowing at the waist. "Then do not stray."

All that was left was the silence and click of the door shutting behind her as she disappeared down the hall, her boots clicking harshly against the floorboards. The rest of the agents knew better then to linger in her path as she stepped down into the lobby, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. She barely even acknowledged the Fatui agent standing at the ready by the heavyset doors, their gloves hands held out with her cloak held loosely in their palms. She quickly snagged it from them, tugging it over her board shoulders and clasping it around her throat.

With a quick tug, she brought the hood up over her head to conceal her sharp features, lifting her hand and placing a neatly folded note within their waiting hands. She had only one chance to make the right moves and secure her victory– no matter the cost.

Each piece had it's purpose.

Oft, that purpose was a bloody and horrible end– but for the grand goal of the Fatui built on the backs of the dead, it was an honor.

She didn't bother speaking a word as she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, pushing open the heavyset doors and stepping out into the barren, damp streets. The rhythmic clink and whir of Gardemeks was still distant– she needed to move. Her boots clicked and splashed in the rain soaked stone of the streets as she slithered between the buildings, ducking through the openings in the patrols.

It was almost too easy.

She tilted her head back, taking in the towering Palais Mermonia with a scowl, her hands clenched into fists. The final moves were being played– the king was within her reach, yet she felt no more confident then when she began.

The air carried a sense of unease, thick and heavy, filling her lungs until she felt her breath still in her chest– listening to the empty, bleak night that seemed so..quiet.

She'd done her fair share of research, had more then her fair share of her agents try to peer into the Iudex's office or the Archon's supposedly hidden chambers, but every attempt was a failure. She had to give them credit, they were quite elusive when they wished to be. Though now she only thought about it bitterly– this was all a risky gamble, in the end, and only time would tell if it paid off.

With minimal effort, she'd managed to pull herself to the flat, tiled roof, eyeing the massive tower peaking out of the center cautiously. At least here the wandering patrols down below weren't likely to notice her..she could hear them passing by the spot she'd been in only a few minutes ago, just beneath her. She pulled the hood further over her face, peering through the sheer darkness of the night for any oddities, but it was almost impossible to see in the dark.

Her boots clicked softly against the tiles as she approached the tower jutting out from the Palais, her hand gliding along the smooth stone, pressing against odd indents or crevices. If it was for the Archon's chambers, she doubted they made it very difficult– she'd only met the woman once, but she doubted the Iudex make it all that complex just from a brief glance. And it surprised her little when one of the stones sunk into the wall, gears whirring as the walls split open to reveal a stairwell straight into an inky black hall. Only the barest hint of light peaked under the door at the bottom, but it's occupants must have heard her, considering it went out not a moment later.

She cautiously stepped down into the small crevice, her breath visible in the bitter cold air– her shoulders tensed at the subtle sound of muffled footsteps behind the door, her vision flaring with a molten heat between her shoulder blades as she reached for the worn handle of the door. The heat of her vision was enough to just barely heat the metal, her vision flaring like a quickly building inferno.

Arlecchino was prepared for a fight, if it came down to it.

The door creaked as she pressed against it, shoving it open with a grunt of effort and surveying the room with narrowed eyes and a biting remark on the tip of her tongue– the lavish opulence was expected, she supposed, but the lack of the towering figure of the Iudex was not.

Yet before she could get a word in or even take in her surroundings properly, the light flickered back on and she had to squeeze her eyes shut with a hiss at the sudden brightness. She could hear the door being shoved closed behind her, the hurried footsteps retreating just as quickly as her eyes adjusted to the light.

..This was a joke, wasn't it? It had to be.

She'd expected the Iudex, perhaps even the Duke if she'd been unlucky, not the Hydro Archon. She had half the mind to test her worth as an Archon then and there, her temper flaring like an uncontrollable blaze, barely kept at bay. It took all her self control to force herself to smile politely at the woman rather then snarl.

"Miss Furina," She sneered beneath her hood, x shaped pupils locked onto the startled, trembling Archon with thinly veiled contempt. "What a..pleasant surprise. You'll have to forgive my manners, I assumed I was meeting with the Iudex." She observed her body language carefully– the way her eyes darted about like a frightened rabbit seeking escape, the slightest tremble of her lips..

Arlecchino opened her mouth to offer another scathing remark, but her jaw audibly clicked shut as her entire body seemed to lock up. Even her vision went cold against her back, a chilling feeling creeping up her spine as someone, or something, crept up behind her. Their footsteps were almost silent, the slight rustling of their clothes the only thing she could hear over her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Arlecchino had always prided herself on being on the other end of that sensation– she was the monster, and her target was the prey frozen like a deer between the hunters crosshair.

It was a chilling feeling to have the dynamic shifted on it's head.

She couldn't even swallow, her jaw clenched so hard she could hear it creak as she tried to reason with her quickly splintering mind– a futile effort, her joints locking up almost painfully. Black spots were quickly swallowing her vision from the lack of air in her lungs, the sound of shuffling behind her barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

For a moment – a moment too long to have only lasted the seconds that it did, yet so quick it gave her whiplash – she thought she would hit the floor dead before she could even glimpse her assailant.

And then it was gone. She came crashing back into reality with a startled inhale, her lungs burning and her knees nearly buckling under her. The instinct to lash out and kill whoever had done it was intense, yet she couldn't bring herself to move even a finger– it would be so easy to twist around and ignite them with searing flames, but her feet were rooted in place.

She almost didn't notice the surprisingly gentle hands unclasping her cloak, tugging it off her shoulders, if not for the sheer intensity of the presence still lingering behind her. Her mind was still fractured, struggling to right itself after the ordeal, and it had her seething.

"..Are you certain you held back enough?" Furina croaked, the normally soft lilt raspy and almost hoarse. "Not– not that I doubt your capability, most Divine!"

Arlecchino felt her nails dig harshly into her palms, heat swelling beneath her skin– Divine? Had she lost her mind? The Divine was..

The Divine was upon their throne where they belonged. She'd seen them!

"Hm. Well, maybe? Sorry, I didn't think it'd affect you too." Their voice was sickeningly soft as they stepped around her like she wasn't even there, focusing their attention on the Archon who seemed more then delighted about it. "What gave you that impression, most Divine? Aha, I..was completely unaffected, as you can see! Perfectly fine."

Furina let out a small squeak when they pinched her cheek, but the almost affectionate smile that tugged at their lips revealed the lack of malice behind the action.

"You're a bad liar, Furina. You might want to sit down..please?" They didn't take her protests for an answer, gently pushing her to sit on the bed before abruptly turning to face Arlecchino once more, a forced smile on their lips. "Oh, good, you're..uh, not dead. That's good. I thought I fried your brain. Sorry?"

..Had she hit her head on the way here? The Divine should still be on their throne, yet she couldn't shake the weight of their stare– it felt tangible. She felt like she was standing face to face with the stars– galaxies and constellations bearing down upon her.

She grit her teeth and clenched her hands until she felt the sting of her nails against her palms, grounding herself in the pain through the sheer overwhelming nature of their existence.

"You.." She croaks, reaching out with a shaky hand and grabbing them by the collar of their shirt, lifting them up until their feet left the floor– she pays no mind to the startled protests of the Archon. Arlecchino would crush her like a bug before she even got the chance to intervene and they both knew it. "You shouldn't exist– you aren't them, and yet you..you're the imposter, aren't you?" Her grip tightens yet they face her without an ounce of fear, meeting her unyielding glare with a pondering look.

Arlecchino wanted to make them bleed just to see if she could, the urge to sink her teeth into skin welling up in her chest to the point she visibly snarled, her mask of politeness long . "You're the imposter." Her expression falls for a moment before she schools it into one of apathy, setting them back down and holding them there for a moment, finally releasing them after a tense moment. "Or you were supposed to be."

Hers brows furrow– she wants to demand answers, to throttle them for damning them to being nothing more then dolls for the supposed Divine to break at their whim, but none of the words come to her.

"..Why now? The current Divine has been in power for years, yet you descend now?" Her shoulders tensed, lips pursed into a thin line– it's impossible to ignore the truth that lay before her. The Divine is a fraud and this..imposter is the true Divine. How many years had they been in power, now? How many years were they waiting? Why did they wait? Was the suffering of Teyvat not enough? Was the blood that painted the steps of their stolen throne not enough?

She'd personally been on the wrong end of the Divine's wrath– she wonders..had they watched? Had they seen the cruel hand of their imposter and turned their back on Teyvat?

"I.." They hesitated. It made her seethe, her hands clenching into fists at her sides– her vision flickered, flames swelling within it's casing just to be smothered by the presence of the Divine. But once that spark had been lit, she refused to let it go out. "I didn't know."

The answer does not satisfy her. There is an itch beneath her skin that she cannot scratch, a fire that burns in her chest so hot it scorches even herself.

"And what about now? Are you content to cower like prey in the safety of the Palais Mermonia?" She snapped, taking a step forward, her brows furrowed and her glare intense– she can see the slightest bit of worry in their eyes. She revels in it. "Will you let them use your acolytes like pawns? How many more need to be broken on the steps to your throne before you act?"

Again, her vision flares and dims– it refuses to be used against the Divine that created it.

"Have you no answer?"

The room is silent. They do not speak and neither does she.

Even the world itself seems to quiet in the face of her accusations, fury boiling to the surface so hot it incinerated all it touched.

"I will kill them myself."

Their words are quiet, but they are not soft– there is a vindictive, searing anger that explodes out like dying stars within their eyes. The sight of constellations replaced by a void that would not be . The smell of ichor grows stronger– to the point she feels almost lightheaded.

"..I am aware that I have failed in preventing this, but I had no choice in the matter. Still," They muse, their voice like the tolling of bells. A solemn melody that stills the swelling fury burning in her chest, if only for a moment. "I will rectify it– I will tear down their throne of lies and let not even the earth tarnish itself by burying their corpse among it's soil."

They pause for a moment, holding out their hand– scarred and bandaged by the weapons of the devout, yet still they take upon the burden of dirtying their hands to save those who did not save them.

"Do you trust me, Arlecchino?"

Did she?

"Will you help me?"

She exhales heavily, meeting the starry iris' of the Divine with a scowl still tugging at her lips. Arlecchino trusted no one but herself.

"..Yes."

[kiwisandcoconuts]

YJ Animorphs AU pt 2 Look at the sillys >w<

ap tests have been kicking my ass yall

[ellearts]

The wolf.. and it's prey.

Full pic under the cut

Partially inspired by @no00000000 's wonderful fic, Wolfs Bane

Partially by my own delusions

[atornpageold]

have another thousand words of this game of thrones au

1k words of mess (cw: attempted murder, descriptions of violence and talk of war)

The histories spoke of Force-bonds and their bondeds the way storytellers talked of love—the great accomplishments and the even greater ends. Like all great stories, the events twisted and changed to suit their teller. Some liked to say that Force-bonds drove their bondeds mad and fueled their darkest emotions; jealousy, rage, pain, these were but a few that were sparked by the linking. Others claimed that the bonds made those who suffered from them feel like they never had; pleasures in the mind that couldn't even compete with those of the body.

But all the stories were the same—there were no happy endings.

The body on the bed would have been mistaken for a corpse if it were for the subtle rise and fall of the chest as the lungs took in the air. The auburn hair fanned across the pillow delicately, the strands soft and their original color instead of the hideous dark red that stained them upon arrival. Anakin stared at the face, soft now in the throws of a healing trance. Between them, the center of their bond clashed wildly, half relaxed and calm and quiet while the other raged and screamed for bloodshed, for justice. 

His fingers traced the edges of the lax face as his eyes roved over the man he had almost lost. The blankets covered the wrappings, but he was there when they had first brought him in and had felt every single injury or spike of pain across the bond. Nothing that King Obi-Wan—please call me Obi-Wan; none of that king business, not to you—had felt that Anakin hadn't. Thus was the nature of the bond, and he had raged until the moment he had seen Obi-Wan for himself, body blistered from blasters and bloody from scorch marks. Pure, unfiltered fear had run through him, and a thought that he never wanted to entertain again had run across his mind on a loop; what if he died? What if King Obi-Wan, chosen king of the Kingdom of the Jedi, died? 

Anakin could feel the snarl spreading across his lips once more, and he fought to control his emotions as his Force signature broke through his control and wrapped around Obi-Wan's own, possessive and protectively. Somewhere beyond the open window, high above the castle and laid bare in the sun, the furious bellow of a sun-dragon echoed his pain. He wanted to see heads roll, fortresses burned to ashes, and hear the screams of those that had betrayed them.

Needing to calm himself, the prince stepped away from Obi-Wan's healing bed, the man just as lost to consciousness as he had been when his men had arrived in the safety of his lands. The doors to the room opened when he approached the sensor, and he followed the sound of angry voices, all working to be the loudest in the room. In the living space off the suite where Obi-Wan was brought, the king's most trusted advisors all sat, bickering amongst themselves over who was to blame. Mace Windu paced the length of the room while others sat scattered. 

Quinlan Vos, who had accompanied Obi-Wan to the negotiation dinner in Serenno, was bloodied and dirty in the corner. Without him, without his Force ability, Obi-Wan would likely be dead, and part of Anakin wanted to walk up to the man and pull him tight in thanks. But he remained in the doorway, his rage simmering as he watched the other argue.

"We need to mount an attack against Serenno if Dooku has betrayed us," Windu said, halting his pacing to eye each room member. "It needs to be fast and quick and ruthless. This can never happen again." 

"Dooku will expect an attack," Vos said quietly, not looking up from his hands. 

"We can't just sit here and wait for a better time, Vos," Windu argued. "You saw with your own eyes what he is capable of, what lows he will stoop to."

"And we won't," Anakin said, and all eyes turned to look at him. "We will destroy them with every resource available to us. We will repay their treachery tenfold." 

The room broke out in murmurs of agreement. No one in this castle wouldn't denounce what Dooku had done, especially not toward their king. To attempt to slaughter guests at dinner, a dinner was held to negotiate a truce between the Jedi and the kingdom to the East. It was a blow to lose the support of Dooku to the Sith and even more of an impact on Obi-Wan, who had trusted Dooku because Qui-Gon Jinn once had. A vicious betrayal. 

"He is our king," Anakin continued, and no one dared question his word choice. "He is good and brave, and they tried to slaughter him at dinner—a betrayal of common decency. And we will not let it stand." The price grit his teeth, rage coloring his words.

The voices grew louder as they began to stand, crowding closer to the bondmate of their chosen king. 

"The Tatooine and Jedi kingdoms will not stand by as cowards play games behind our backs. We will make the traitors and conspirators of this pay," he continued, and Ahsoka moved in beside him—his key advisor who had brought forth the Force-bond suggestion. "Will you fight with me? Will you help me avenge our king?!" 

The group shouted in agreement, and Anakin smiled, his teeth glinting dangerously off the Tatooine sun that shined through the transparisteel. War was an ugly game, and when Obi-Wan had first come to him, there had been no stake in it for him. Nothing but the potential freedom of his kingdom. Perhaps the Force-bond had changed everything; perhaps it was just like the stories. Anakin knew without a doubt that he would burn the world for Obi-Wan, would burn anything that kept him from the cool and refreshing link in his mind. 

From the side of his eye, outside the circle of cheering advisors, stood Vos and Windu, staring at him with curious and uncertain looks. 

Anakin just smiled wider.

[nouns-are-bad]

Vampire gaz being scared of feeding in front of the 141 because he’s had a hard time feeding in front of other teammates so it’s obviously the same here right?

Wrong, soap brings him a dead deer for him to feed off of with soap, ghost kills someone and while their bodies still hot asks if gaz want to get a quick meal in, price discretely handing him blood in a concealed flask for long missions because “we need you at the top of your game soldier”

The 141 including gaz in their meal practices because they don’t find it weird and want him to eat with them

[taddymason]

Alone in the darkness They're coming for you I know they will try to catch me too

the doomed father and daugther duo

[sombrathedragon]

I know life and fate are scary, but I wanna be legendary!

Guys this is what happens in Arc 4 I got a vision

Cliff design by @wof-headshots-daily because I’m tired of drawing canon designs and the design is really pretty <3