#the silver band on his horn is from his mothers; the golden band is a wedding ring!

[decidueyedreamer]

New Year, new Sotis design! I tried to play a little more heavily into his Yveltal side, as well as adding some jewellery!

This design is specifically what he looks like as an adult, and I’ve put what he looks like when he’s upset under the cut!

[fellsilver]

THE NINE / MEMBERS.

Here follows information on Laeral's final, infamous, ill-fated adventuring company: The Nine. Specifically an overview of their members. Some of this information is derived from canon sources and some is pure headcanon on my part. As a note, Laeral led this band under an alias; although some folk researching The Nine in later years connected her to this company's leader, such is not common knowledge.

SORAYA THE DAWNSMITH.

aka Anamanué Laeral Silverhand Human + Elven (divine lineage via Mystra's avatar) Artificer, Armorer + Wizard, Transmutation + Rogue, Inquisitive

When Laeral accepted the mantle of Mystra's Chosen, she initially traveled with her sister Syluné under Azuth's direction. When they eventually parted ways, she continued adventuring for over four hundred years, assuming various identities and joining or founding multiple companies. The last identity she forged was that of Soraya the Dawnsmith circa the 1290s. She adopted no elaborate spellguise during this period but rather dyed her silver hair red as forge fire and near always adorned her face with war paint. Between this, the way she clothed herself, and the changes she affected to her bearing and speech — she little resembled the figure she would present when she would begin living under her true name again. As for "Soraya's" background, she never gave definitive answers, playfully allowing people to make their own assumptions.

Although a worthy wizard and rogue, she preferred to lean into artificing during this period. She is one of the most skilled and most prolific creators of enchanted items, and this was her golden age. She earned the epithet Dawnsmith, for her work was so peerless people said she must have forged the very rays of the sun. It was she who gathered and led The Nine, and she who provided much of their store of enchanted items. Combined with the spoils of their adventures, they had a hoard kings would envy.

As far as most anyone knows, Soraya donned the Crown of Horns and perished when Khelben broke its power twenty years later. Few are able to connect this identity to the Laeral Silverhand so famed in Waterdeep. The rest speak of Soraya as a cautionary tale against hubris and betrayal. For as skilled as she'd been with dweomers, it was an enchanted crown that unmade her, and her own pride that placed it on her brow. All know how the Stronghold of the Nine was bathed in blood over that wretched artifact with no hands redder than hers. They say her hair turned from flame red to tar black it was so soaked in blood.

KERIN ULRISTES.

aka Thanadar of Dragonrock. Human Ranger, Monster Slayer

Kerin's family emigrated to Baldur's Gate from Amn while his mother was pregnant with him. They kept food on the table and a roof over their heads, but Kerin always found their Lowtown dwellings and truly the whole city far too crowded for his liking. This led to a restlessness and mischief-making in Kerin that worried his mother. Thus his grand-uncle, Thanadar, began taking him out of the city to pass on his skills as a ranger — lessons that Kerin took to like a fish to water. He started hanging around adventurers as he got older, hungry to live that life of far-ranging excitement. He was fifteen when he joined his first company — against his parents' protests but with his grand-uncle's approval.

He earned quite the reputation as a monster slayer over the years. A reputation so great that an old enemy of Laeral's (then living as Soraya) contracted him to hunt her. He was fed grand lies about what a monster-in-disguise she was; he was no fool, but his employer was a deceiver with centuries of practice. And, Kerin had a hunter's pride to play on. Soraya led him on a merry chase for several months before she decided to catch him. All he'd learned of her in that time indicated she was not the monster he'd been led to believe, and all she'd learned of him indicated he would be a worthy companion, well-suited for the adventuring company she wanted to build. He became her second-in-command and her most trusted confidante.

So great was their loyalty to one another that the Crown struggled to break it, managing only to twist it instead. He was one of the four who escaped death and remained her steady right hand while she was corrupted by the Crown. Although he was slowly healed after the Crown was shattered, he was permanently changed. He became reserved when once he was merry and urbane when once he was raucously proud. He took his grand-uncle's name to escape the curse placed upon The Nine and took up work leading people safely through the Sword Coast's more perilous regions. He never blamed Laeral for what happened. Indeed, the experience seemed to bring them closer than ever, and they remained close until his death.

MORVAAN GALLEY.

aka Arnthiir Windrivv. Human Bard, College of Whispers

Morvaan was born a wild wanderer. He began as a humble shepherd, but he was more interested in playing tricks than watching his flock. If ever a boy cried wolf, it was Morvaan. When he was thirteen, he along with his father and brothers made a trip into town. Pirates terrorizing the Amnian coast struck that same day. Such a town as theirs held few riches but there was food and drink and other diversions — all of which a crew needs as much as gold, if not more. When the pirates lay at last in a drunken slumber, Morvaan attempted to steal back his father's moneypurse, taken by the captain. He was caught, but rather than whimper and plead, he spun one bragging tale after another warning them off from harming him. The captain didn't buy a one — though others of the crew were shaken by the boy's conviction — but he did find Morvaan amusing. He gave his father back his purse — and took Morvaan.

Morvaan's first work was in the galley under the cook's hawk-eye, and so that was what the crew called him: Galley. That or names less kind to teach him humility. (Not that it ever did.) Every chance he got, he continued to spin tales so wondrous, so transporting, he could hold the crew in thrall for a little while. He became their primary source of entertainment as well as the captain's favorite. Years passed in this way, and Morvaan's wily ways strengthened. One night, when they'd sailed up the Storm Coast, he sang all the crew to sweet slumber and made off with their latest haul.

Though he'd claimed a small fortune, he had no desire to spend it wisely. He burned through it in the span of a year and took to singing for his supper instead. He made something of a name for himself in the following years: a bard of nigh-incomparable skill who would sing you out of your wealth and wits. He first encountered Kerin whilst he was hunting Laeral (then living as Soraya). Morvaan followed their game of cat and mouse, and composed a wildly popular ballad telling of it. Though he insisted he was a rake and scoundrel, Soraya saw the good his tales could inspire and tempted him into The Nine with the promise of plentiful material.

Like Kerin, he survived the ravages of the Crown: her loyal left hand. He was slowly healed after the Crown's shattering and seemed to return to his usual pranksome self. He even took the name of a black sheep from his family's history. But, Laeral and Kerin could both see the change he'd undergone. He lived as though he was dead, throwing himself into one reckless scrape after another. Kerin decided to journey apart from him, and Laeral was forced to put some distance between herself and Morvaan, though she continued to look out for him when possible. She even risked life and limb to recover his bones when he met a grisly end and bury them with the honor due a saint.

TRETH HALONTER.

Human Fighter, Rune Knight

Treth was a military man first. In those days, northern kingdoms rose and fell like the tides, and Treth's home was one of them. His father was a knight of modest holdings and little fame, but Treth was proud of him and eagerly followed in his footsteps. He might have died in relative obscurity like his father, but it was his doom to live in infamy. When war came to his home, he championed strategies that snatched victory from defeat. But, with that fame came hubris — and a humbling. He was lured into a vicious trap that broke his forces. He would have died himself had not one of his scout's, Relve, carried off his injured body. By the time he returned to fighting shape, their home had fallen.

He lashed out at Relve in his anguish, decried him for a coward and deserter, said they both should have died on that battlefield. He spent the next few years in a drunken storm. All that was left to him were his bloodied hands, and he used them well as a prize-fighter or hired blade with no care for his life. Yet, Relve saw the good Treth swore had died on the field that day. He began by hiring Treth to aid The Nine. Treth was drawn by the gleam of a worthy cause, the honor of The Nine's creed to protect the Sword Coast, though he fought that draw at every turn. Finally, Relve challenged him to a fight: if Treth won, Relve would pay him his weight in gold and never trouble him again, but if Relve won, Treth would join them. Relve's skill at arms was no match for Treth's, but his words struck true at the fallen knight over and over so that Treth chose to yield. He would live in hope rather than die in despair.

When the Crown of Horns descended upon The Nine, Treth was the first to challenge Laeral's claim. His pride had ever been his greatest downfall, and this was no exception. His faction in the Stronghold was the second greatest next to Laeral's and held out against her the longest. He and Relve fought together even in this — and died together. He was raised again as a lich, then imprisoned in a chalice as a blueflame ghost.

RELVE LANGRAL.

Human Rogue, Scout

Relve was born to the same ill-fated kingdom as Treth, though his origins were even more humble. He was a forester's son who offered his skills to Treth when came the call to war. He had no dreams of glory, only a desire to defend his home. Yet, glory he found, for his skills as a scout and his ability to direct his fellows proved invaluable. The intel his people provided to Treth more than once contained the key to success. Though Treth was a proud man, he always honored their work, with Relve earning a place of great trust. For Relve's part, though he'd never believed in personal glory, he believed in Treth and the path he carved. When he saw a chance to save him during a doomed battle, he didn't hesitate.

He nursed Treth back to health in secret. When he awoke and learned the fate of their home and railed against him as a deserter . . . Relve did not deny it. In truth, he blamed himself as much for the defeat as Treth did. His instincts had warned him of a trap, but he should've found clear proof, he should've convinced Treth. He kept tabs on Treth from afar for years, but shame and heartbreak prevented him from approaching. He made a meager living contracting his skills to travelers, and it was in this way that he met The Nine (who then only had four members). It was Laeral (then called Soraya) who saw through to his heart and inspired him to join their company permanently. He couldn't save the dead, but he could prevent other good folk from sharing their fate. He was willing — but there was no redemption for him unless it was shared with Treth. He placed both wealth and health on the line to win Treth over and succeeded.

As Relve had little for the Crown to prey upon, he held out against its influence admirably. Alas, his love for Treth proved his undoing. The warrior was the first to challenge their leader's claim to the artifact. The harder Relve tried to return him to his senses, the deeper he himself was corrupted. Finally, he became Relve's true right hand in the war within the Stronghold and was slain alongside Treth. He was raised as a lich and later imprisoned as a blueflame ghost in a sword.

ARDENT TRUETONGUE.

Deva Aasimar Cleric, Knowledge Death Domain

Ardent was a being beyond time, an angelic soul born into mortal guise again and again and again and again. It happened in ages past that they were a casualty of the duels between Savras and Azuth as the latter sought to usurp the former's power. The trauma of this death left them in a state of bodiless dreaming for centuries, during which time they acted as guard and guardian for various mortals. When the time finally came for them to reincarnate, however, Aumvor the Undying learned the location and claimed it for himself. His tainted prevented Ardent from reincarnating as he sought a way to manipulate the deva's power for his own purposes.

The Nine (then only eight in number) broke Aumvor's defenses. Laeral (then living as Soraya) was forced into single combat with Aumvor in the end; though she failed to destroy him, she sent him running with his tail between his legs. Together, she and the rest of the company spent seven days cleansing the place of his rot. As they did so, Ardent visited their dreams, growing a little stronger as they worked. At the end of the seventh day when the first star appeared in the sky, they were at last reborn. A joy in its own right but one muddied by an oddity: they retained every memory of their past lives and their time spent bodiless.

Ardent's first emotion in this life was the agony of compassion. Not for anyone before them but for one lost long ago: the god Savras fallen to Azuth and imprisoned within a scepter. They felt a great love with Him for they too had been a casualty of those battles; thus they vowed to keep the faith of Savras alive until the god could at last return. And if they could ever find the scepter in which He'd been imprisoned, they would stop at nothing to release Him. Despite Savras' reduced state, He seemed still able to bless His faithful, for not only was Ardent endowed with a cleric's spells but they showed an affinity for perceiving the truth that no other could match. They swore never to knowingly speak an untruth, and thus they never did. Furthermore, though it is said Alaundo has been the only true prophet, their divination was uncommonly accurate, and The Nine came to rely upon it.

But, Ardent was wearied by the burden of so many lives. Of being reborn again and again — and knowing they would be reborn again and again still. Knowing that, not only would they have a new life devoid of their companions, they wouldn't even remember them. Thus did Myrkul slowly turn Ardent to His worship, luring them with the promise of true death. Whether because of a despairing heart or some lingering darkness of Aumvor, it worked. Thus when Aumvor sought to discreetly lay the Crown of Horns in Laeral's path, Myrkul influenced Ardent to ensure she would claim it. When she laid it upon her brow, Ardent was the first Myrkul twisted her to enthrall, and their protection would go a long way to fending off other's attempts to claim it. When at last they were freed, they blamed themself for all that happened. The guilt and shame were unbearable. Suddenly, all they had feared became all for which they yearned. They sought the oblivion of a new life and ended their present one.

MANAL AL-MEHDI.

Earth Genasi Elemental Mage, Earth

Manal haled from the city of Qudra in distant Zakhara. Her mother was a great sha'ira who advised their emir. Though many sought her hand, she scorned the traditional trappings of marriage; when she desired a child, she took a genie as a lover. Such an arrangement would normally have been scandalous in Qudra, but too much fear and respect follows genies and the sha'ir through whom they speak — to say nothing of her mother's own formidable reputation. Manal thus had access to the finest education in every facet of life — and her mother made certain she was availed of it. Manal would one day be a bulwark of Qudra, of that her mother had no doubt.

Yet as Manal grew in wisdom and power, she realized just how lacking she was in both. Speaking to ajami (spellcasters from other lands, those who manipulated this strange thing called the Weave) piqued her curiosity. Being of the earth, she never made a decision in haste, yet the more she considered it, the more right it seemed. She would travel alone to other lands, grow in experience, return stronger and armed with fresh perspective. Though her mother was initially resistant, Manal convinced her. She was on a ship bound for Faerûn before the week was out.

She spent years traveling that continent working from the south to the north. Her particular interest was in casters and their relationship with the Weave, especially wizards and the clerics of both Mystra and Azuth. Thus when she met Laeral (then living as Soraya) who was born of Mystra Herself, Manal was fascinated in the extreme. She sought a place among The Nine and was swiftly granted it. Her sure and steady ways made her an outlier at times, but she brought an invaluable balance to the group. It was she who found the Stronghold of the Nine, argued most fervently for its use, and played the greatest role in its renovation.

When the Crown descended upon them, Myrkul found Manal's steadfast will an unprecedented challenge to wear away. The deeper he delved into her mind, the more he found of interest, particularly the magical traditions of Zakhara which did not use the Weave at all. He chose to let her linger in thrall to the crowned Laeral, thus making her one of the four survivors. When she was freed of the Crown's influence, however, she blamed Laeral for all that had happened and she could not fathom why the other three did not. She left and was never heard from again, though rumor says she returned to Qudra.

GRIMHILDE SKULLBREAKER.

Shield Dwarf Barbarian, Kuldjargh

Grimhilde came from a long military line that stood in proud defense of Citadel Adbar — right up to their annihilation. Like many clans, their number had steadily dwindled over the years. One ill-fated battle wiped them all out, standing in steadfast defense of their home, with only the young Grimhilde left behind. Her grief burned to rage. She was determined to honor her family's legacy, but the path of a common soldier was not hers to walk. She trained as a kuldjargh, quickly earning recognition for her terror in battle. They called her Skullbreaker for the way she targeted her opponents' heads. Either she would cleave their skulls with her great hand-axe or, if disarmed, she would grapple them down and smash their heads beneath her boot.

Alas, the rage that made her a fierce warrior hindered her from confronting her grief. As she lost more comrades, she likewise lost control of her temper. Skullbreaker turned from a compliment to an insult, for many said she must have cracked her own skull and gone mad. They said no kuldjargh had greater regard from Clangeddin Silverbeard than she — and this was both blessing and curse. She survived when all others fell and rose up raging all the worse. She was kissed by Clangeddin, they said. A soul He would share with no other, even as it tore her asunder.

Citadel Adbar was finally forced to exile her. Consideration for her accomplishments and her family's history stayed their hand longer than it should have, but in the end, they could not deny she had become a danger to her own people. She raged in the wilds from then on, trying to shatter great dangers in the north even as she herself felt shattered beyond repair. Her friendship with The Nine was slow in forming. She was terrified to join any company, any community, lest she prove her home right for exiling her. Yet, Laeral (then called Soraya) in particular had faith in her. Slowly they befriended Grimhilde til she joined them permanently.

Though she'd been exiled from Citadel Adbar, she still had a few friends, a few favors. It was she who negotiated dwarven contractors to rebuild and expand the Stronghold of the Nine. Alas, she was the first to fall when the Crown of Horns descended on them. Her will was too strong to be swayed by it — not without prolonged exposure. She stood between her loved ones as they began fighting one another. They tore her apart. Soraya raised her again to serve in thrall, and she was later imprisoned in a blueflame item, her own axe. She remains a blueflame ghost still.

LIORA OF THE QUILL.

Lightfoot Halfling Wizard, Order of Scribes

Liora was abandoned in the woods beside the Way of the Lion as a babe. An Avowed returning from business abroad discovered her on the roadside and brought her to Candlekeep. Many theories were put forth regarding her origins, yet no trace could be found of her kin nor did any come to claim her. Though Candlekeep was not founded with child-rearing in mind, the monks had become too fond of her to send her off anywhere else. They named her Liora, and she grew up with ink on her fingers.

Though she loved her home, she dreamed of seeing the lands she'd studied on pages. She yearned to study magic and sail on ships and walk cities. When she came of age, she sought an apprenticeship with a wizard who had studied at Candlekeep many times over the years. Liora had no coin to pay her, but the lady was aging and desired to pass on her knowledge before she left this plane. Liora was the perfect student: inquisitive, innovative, attentive — if a bit naïve in the ways of the world. She joined the Order of Scribes, dedicating herself to studying and recording magic across Faerûn. She often offered her worthiest writings to Candlekeep. Before long, folk dubbed her Liora of the Quill, and that name was on many lips.

She and Laeral (known as Soraya at the time) had become pen pals of a sort as Liora's work had piqued her interest. When Soraya began forming The Nine, she enlisted Liora's "help" on one of their adventures as a field test. She offered her a permanent place with them at the end, and she enthusiastically accepted. Though Soraya kept her true identity and nature both as one of the Seven and a Chosen of Mystra discreet at this time, Liora was the only to know she was a Chosen. A secret she held in trust.

When the Crown came upon The Nine, Myrkul claimed her life early. He enthralled Soraya to drink down Liora's knowledge til she was little more than a hollowed out shell. Then that shell was raised again as a puppet. She was later imprisoned in a blueflame item — her own spellbook, no less — wherein she remains.

[mumms-the-word]

Part 3! Even more details! <3

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The Wedding Ceremony

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Traditions

I headcanon that bards in Baldur's Gate have a specific wedding tradition where they give their bard friend (bride or groom) sashes in different colors to incorporate into their outfit. Dani gets a light blue sash from Brann, a pinkish-red sash from Liara, a soft golden-colored sash from Kellen, and a dark blue sash from Paraxxel (all Merry Rovers). These sashes are worn during the ceremony but are later used in a bard dance where the bard bride/groom dances with the other bard(s) with each of them holding one end, only for the elder bard(s) to let go and officially "release" the bard bride/groom from their ties to the band/troupe/etc. The bard bride/groom then dances with their new spouse using a different sash (usually white) but this time neither side lets go, signifying a commitment to stay in the marriage (it's bad luck if one side or the other accidentally lets go before the song ends).

Also, Ed Greenwood has a series of tweets here and elsewhere that talks about a couple of Waterdeep wedding traditions, including the mixing of metals for rings? So when Dani and Gale are making their rings, they mix a bit of silver from some of her old earrings and a bit of gold from Morena's jewelry stash, as it is Waterdhavian custom to make rings out of old rings/jewelry and mix the metals.

It’s worth noting that the Church of Mystra has a ton of wedding customs, but Dani and Gale decide not to use any of them. Dani isn’t a follower of Mystra, and Gale is fine with letting go of some of the rituals of the Church of Mystra. He’s a bit sad they don’t get to do the entire ceremony levitated above their crowd, as is customary in Mystran marriages, but Dani compromises by letting him levitate them for a dance or two (which some Lliirian marriages also apparently do).

I also headcanon that it's (probably Waterdhavian) custom to send little gifts to each other throughout the wedding day and some of these gifts are more significant than others (like sending candy so that your marriage will be sweet) but I want to explore that more in a fic. Also, one other tradition I want to explore in a fic is that bards at the reception do elaborate, riddling/rhyming toasts in a kind of competition with each other (if you've ever see the poetry couplet competition in the movie Dangerous Beauty, it's like that). Each side is supposed to hire a bard for this, or designate family members for this, but Dani has the upper hand because she's got the Rovers. More on that later, perhaps??

Outfits

Hoo boy here we go.

Dani's mother is a seamstress and once had a dream of designing and creating dresses for a living, so she insists on making Dani's dress. It's very boho/cottagecore in aesthetic in my head, but it's a relatively simple white dress with colorful embroidery. Dani wears the sashes the Rovers gave her tied around her waist, giving her plenty of color. Her hair is styled with her signature ice-blue fringe pieces framing her face and the rest of her hair in a big curly ponytail. She wears simple gold jewelry (several earrings, some rings around her horns) but nothing too elaborate.

Hair like this!

I imagine her in something like this, except the embroidery would be more colorful and she’d have multiple sashes instead of one, and no tassels. Skirt might be a little shorter? Not sure yet.

Gale was prepared to go all out and wear an expensive suit and polish his cufflinks until they could blind somebody, but when we saw Maeva working on Dani's dress he decided he didn't want go that fancy after all (he wanted to match her aesthetic and not risk seeming like he was trying to outshine her). Morena and Tara took him shopping in Waterdeep and helped him pick out a modest outfit in white and Maeva later added some light embroidery around the cuffs and hems to match Dani's dress. He wore his hair in that bun style we all love and he ditched his Mystra earring to wear a plain gold hoop, one half of a pair, (Dani wore the other hoop—it's something they end up doing quite often, actually, buying a pair of earrings and sharing them lol)

I imagine him in something like a fantasy cross between a Ukrainian vyshyvanka shirt and an Indian jodhpuri/sherwani(?) jacket…something like this but the embroidery would match Dani’s dress and there might be another sash involved lol

Rings

I describe their rings briefly in A Macabre Masquerade so I'll just copy/paste that description here:

"...a thin strip of silver set into a gold band, etched and engraved with a subtle pattern of swirls. The silver had been from some of her old earrings, the gold from a necklace and chain belonging to Morena Dekarios that Gale had specifically chosen to match Dani’s golden eyes."

Their rings match, though in different sizes. This is, again, a Waterdhavian custom, but instead of mixing the metals, the jeweler overlaid the silver on top of the gold. In my head, they look like this:

Vows and Unity Ceremonies

I haven't fully fleshed this out yet but I will do so in a fic later. I do know that Dani and Gale write their own vows to each other. Gale's a poet (a headcanon I have FULLY accepted, thanks to @sorceresssundries and others) and Dani is a songwriter and amateur poet. So of course they write their vows to each other.

For a unity ceremony, they would just do a simple handfasting. The priest (in this case Vicar Humbletoes or whatever that guy's name is from the Stormshore Tabernacle) threads a silky white sash through their wedding rings. Then Gale takes Dani's left hand with his left hand, and then her right with his right, placing their hands on top of each other with their arms slightly crossed. The priest binds their hands with the sash + rings while the Merry Rovers perform a blessing song. Then Dani and Gale say their vows with their hands still fastened. Once the vows are done, the priest unbinds their hands and they can exchange rings, and then kiss to seal their marriage.

The white sash is later used during their first dance!

(I also saw someone suggest a Tymora wedding ritual where the couple flips coins until they both get coins that come up as "heads," and I like that idea too? I want to play around with this part more. Maybe it's a reception game!)

Wedding Party

I get the sense that Faerûnian weddings don't do wedding parties all that much, so Dani and Gale are somewhat alone up at the "altar," with everyone else just watching as a guest. If this were a modern AU, though, Paraxxel, Liara, and Kellen would be standing on her side as brides“mates” lol

Tara is the one who carries the rings down, though. She takes this job very seriously, especially because Dani had at first suggested they tie the rings to Scratch’s collar and let him carry them down. A dog carry the special wedding rings for Mr. Dekarios? Preposterous. Gale offered to simply carry the rings in his pockets but this was also vetoed by Tara, but probably just because she wanted to be involved in the actual ceremony somehow. So she carries the rings down to give to the priest lol

Going Down the Aisle

Gale walks down with Morena on his arm before taking his place at the front. Dani walks down arm-in-arm with Maeva and Brann, because they are the two that raised her. It's not really a formal march or anything, no big processional. Just two people going to take their place at the front, escorted by people they love.

I Now Pronounce You...

Dani 100% takes Gale's last name. Zavrai is her mother's last name, but there's no urge for her or her mother to keep it going, and the minute Gale suggested that there be "two Dekarioses" in Baldur's Gate, it was all over. She dreamed of being Dani Dekarios every day after that. Even though her "government" name is technically Meridan Dekarios after their wedding, she loves how Dani Dekarios rolls off the tongue.

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Part 4 will wrap up the details list and then maybe I'll post some fics from the Specific Moments list~

Dani & Gale's Wedding

Not to answer my own prompt list but I'm obsessed with them and I already have a bunch of this planned so LET'S FRICKIN' GO

Don't worry. Not only is it all under the cut for your sanity and convenience, but I'm making it a thread so you (and I) don't get overwhelmed. Plus it gives me more content throughout the week as I have another busy week ahead <3

But first, a quick summary!

Dani and Gale get married in a garden/park in Baldur's Gate in what can be described as a "relatively modest affair" (Gale's words) or "the best damn garden party this city has ever seen" (Dani's words). They were surrounded by family, friends, and former allies, as many as they could convince to join them, but the ceremony and reception were far from elaborate. Dani and Gale incorporated both Baldurian and Waterdhavian traditions, like Baldurian bard dances and Waterdhavian wedding rings, but ultimately they skipped out on a lot of traditions because they just wanted to have a fun ceremony/reception surrounded by their favorite people. They both were more interested in a ceremony that reflected love and commitment, and a bangin' reception where everyone was well-fed, well-entertained, and well-loved. Their wedding also ends up being like the bard-iest wedding ever because Dani knows so many bards and insists on using so many of their traditions (which I made up and are not actual dnd lore).

Details under the cut!

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Before the Wedding

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Wedding, or something else?

Dani had always considered marriage one of those idealistic things that only happen to madly in love people, or else it was a political arrangement. Her mother never married and her sort-of-foster-dad/mentor never remarried after his wife died, and she didn't expect to ever fall into a long-term romantic relationship. Gale changed all of that and the moment he proposed she realized she wanted nothing more in the world than to be his wife and officially become part of his family.

Proposal

Gale proposed to Dani, obviously! I've dabbled with the idea that maybe they had a different proposal than the one shown in the game, but I find that it works really well for them. I like the idea of them waking up the next morning after saving the city, and he says those lines, "I understand your purpose lies here, but I fear if I return to Waterdeep alone, my heart would remain here with you. And so, if you're at all amenable to the idea, I thought I could, perhaps, stay. There might even be room for two Dekarioses in Baldur's Gate?"

I love that it's a little informal, that he doesn't have a ring to give her, that all he's asking is that maybe there could be the two of them, a new clan of Dekarioses there in Baldur's Gate. Dani doesn't need all the bells and whistles, she just wants family all around her. So a sweet, informal proposal in the middle of an Elfsong Tavern room, well, it suits her just fine.

Bachelor/Bachelorette parties?

Dani absolutely has a hen do/bachelorette because her foster sister, Liara, positively insists. But it's less of a hen do and more like a party for Dani, her mom, and her Merry Rovers to celebrate together before she officially gets married, so it's not girls-only or anything. Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Astarion, and even Jahiera join for parts of it, and Dani desperately wishes Karlach and Wyll could be there, but otherwise it's a fun night of drinking, games, stories, and music for Dani and her bard family.

Gale gets a somewhat less chaotic stag do, which he probably prefers. If Wyll were around, Gale would have had a much wilder time (you know Wyll would be dragging Gale out for a traditional pub crawl like any former bachelor's best friend would do), but since he's not, he simply goes out for some drinks, planning on a relatively quiet night...until Shadowheart and Astarion find him and drag him over to join the Merry Rovers and Dani, officially turning their separate stag/hen dos into a mutual "celebrating the last days the two of us are not married" kind of event. Fun for all!

Pre-Ceremony Events

Gale does formally ask Maeva, Dani's mother, for her blessing, but it's mostly out of a sense of tradition. Maeva just laughs and says her blessing is only worth so much when Dani has such an independent streak, but she gives it willingly. Brann happens to also be there, and though he sometimes insists he doesn't have any "real" family ties to Dani (a lie that no one believes because he's basically her adopted/foster dad), he offers to bless their marriage too, if only as one bard to another. It's difficult to say who gets more teary-eyed during Brann's blessing, between the four of them in the room.

Dani also goes to meet Morena before the wedding, spending a few days in Waterdeep. She asks her and Tara if they're all right with her marrying Gale and she's a completely nervous wreck about it because she's convinced she won't measure up to Morena's standards, but she needn't worry. Morena is delighted with her (though a little sad that they're going to be living in Baldur's Gate and not Waterdeep).

It’s also customary (in my head) in both Waterdeep and Baldur’s Gate to send a letter, poem, or song to each other the night before the wedding (often hiring a bard to do so, so that everyone in the street can hear the declarations of love). Dani goes to stay with her mother for three days prior to the wedding so they can finish alterations on her dress, while Gale stays in his and Dani’s new home in the Lower City. Just as Gale is sitting in their upstairs bedroom, penning this romantic, elegant, beautiful poem to send to Dani using a mirror image of himself, she shows up outside his window in the street below with her fiddle, serenading him with a love song that is both sweet and cheeky, romantic and raunchy.

Gale is caught between a tiny bit of burning embarrassment (the whole street can hear her singing about, well, some specific physical features of his) and an even more burning desire to pull her upstairs and have his way with her, but she ends her song with a wink and a little blown kiss and then disappears (handy invisibility spell). Gale returns to his desk and resolves to edit his poem to be a bit more spicy before sending an illusion of himself to stand outside her mother’s house and recite it for all the world to hear. Dani thinks it’s the funniest and loveliest thing ever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Part 2 coming soon!

[naariel]

I re-read Crescent City (HoEaB and HoSaB) just to write down all the physical descriptors of all the characters

okay fine, the re-read was also to cure the book hangover

anyway, sharing here for anyone who are interested. This doesn't include bonus chapters

Under-King

I forgot to write this guy down, but iirc basically super tall and rotting

Sabine

Looks late 20s

Long silver blonde hair

Blue eyes (c. 6) Light brown eyes (c. 49)

Corn-silk hair

Narrow Pale face

Slender hands

Narrow shoulders

Danika

Metallic purple painted nails in dire need of manicure.

Silvery blond hair, normally straight silken Sheet, though curled after a whole day of wearing her tight long braid, streaks of amethyst, sapphire and rose

Corn-silk hair

Caramel eyes

Sword strapped on back

Worn leather hilt, ancient leather scabbard

Worn motorcycle jacket

Black boot

Jeans 

Vintage band t shirt (Banshee band name)

Lean body

Slim fingers

Slim jaw

Slim shoulder

Pale

Taller than humans

Matching back tattoo

Angular planes face

Horned, grinning wolf tattoo on neck below jaw

Gray wolf small horse sized

Connor

Golden skin

Broad shoulders

Golden stare

Taller than humans

Sensuous mouth

Tristan Flynn (Fae)

Brown eyes

Charming as Hel

Classic Fae beauty

Handsome face 

Considerable muscles

Short chestnut hair

Earth magic

Golden-brown skin

Declan (Fae)

Amber eyes

Dark red hair

Red hair

Chiseled jaw

descripted as the "least insane" out of the Ruhn household

Ruhn (Fae)

One side of his raven black hair buzzed, straight black hair flowed to his waist

Striking Blue eyes

Silver hoop through lower lip

Sleeves of tattoos, colorful and beautiful

Line of rings in ear

Black t shirt, dark tight jeans

Black Boots

Muscular

Leather jacket 

Strikingly handsome

Golden skinned (but paler than Rhysand)

Starsword; dark blade, black hilt

Power to summon shadows and mist

Pose: slide hands into back pocket of jeans

Formal at Summit: Circlet of gilded birch leaves on head

Burn scars on arms covered with tattoos

Leather jacket

Tattooed throat 

Swirling tattoo on pec

Violet-blue eyes

face and posture identical to Rhysand

pointed ears

Hypaxia

Dark head of softly Curling hair

Thick night-dark hair

Dark eyes

Rich brown eyes

Arresting face

Not the cultivated beauty of a movie star, beauty in it's rawest form

Large brown eyes

Full mouth

High cheekbones

Near perfect symmetry

Radiating cool serenity and awareness

Glowing brown skin

Brown hands

Looks like humans

Queen aura

Curvy

Young

Sleek black curls

Sometimes tied back in a bun

Elegant brown face

Luxurious dark gaur falling in soft curls down to her Slim waist

Brown skin that glowed as id the moonlight ran beneath it

Large dark eyes that noticed too much

Full, inviting mouth

Lovely smile 

Bryce silky curtain of Wine-red hair, with slightly curled ends down to the top of her ass

Pointed ear

Freckled golden skin

Tan

Amber eyes

Whiskey colored eyes

Human (identical to her mother's) face; freckles

High cheekbones

Full mouth

Four inch white heels

Generously curved

Big boobs

Spectacular ass

Taller than average

Thick angry Scar on the inside left thigh, from being shredded open and stapled shut

Twilight ombre nails, pink to night

Red nails

Worn leather jacket with feminine colorful script

Heavier than she looks, tan skin covering more muscle than Hunt thought

Sleek, unnervingly perfect thigh

Silky skin

Long, delicate fingers

White Skintight dress

Tight Jeans and cream colored revealing sweater

Black leather ankle boots

Star, like an old Scar, white mark

Freckled, golden-tan skin

Long, muscled legs

Ample hips

Thick Scar curving along her thigh

Whiskey colored eyes

Super Powerful and Special Magic Starborn Princess

Tendrils of Horn tattoo

Lean, Long expanse of golden leg

Hunt

Black battle suit (built in medkit), intricate leather scales, black gloves, twin swirds peeking above his shoulders, boots, black hilted knife sheathed on thigh

Predator, Killer, Monster

Angular dark eyes

Black eyes

Onyx eyes

Not black at all, but a shade of darkest brown

Gray wings

Striking, handsome face Full of powerful lines and sharp cheekbones

Golden-brown face

Light brown skin

Skull-faced helmet, silver painted skull

Entwined thorns tattoo across brow, most hidden by his hair, but no concealing the thin black band 

SPQM tattoo on right wrist

Shoulder length Black hair slipping Over face

Dark, shoulder length hair

Sable strands gleaming like black silk

Broad shoulders

Towers over Bryce

Strong hands

Strong Jaw

Pretty

Stray locks of his dark hair curled around the edges [of the sunball cap]

Deep gold skin on hands

Strong tan column of his throat

Dark brows

Muscles upon muscles upon muscles

Gold dusted brown skin

Soft Gray t-shirt, black sweats, white sunball cap turned backwards

Powerful build

Tall

Powerful, muscled body

Cut hair shorter last month. Not too short, neatly trimmed to the nape, with only a few pieces in the front still unruly enough to peek through the hole of his sunball hat.

Dark, Angular eyes

Light brown skin 

Tharion

Jaw length Auburn hair

Red-brown hair

Light brown eyes

Powerful body

Mer form: partially scaled arms, fingers tipped in sharp grey nails, massive body, gills beneath ears, claw tipped webbed hand, (roughly 2.5 meters tall? size compared to some long creature)

Muscled abdomen

Reddish-brown scales, catching the sun like burnished copper

Long tail

Black stripes slashing through tail, continuing up his torso and along his arms

Aquatic tiger

Bare skin of upper arms and chest heavily tanned

Taloned/talon-tipped hands

Mer form: Scales ripples along his arms and halfway up his torso. 

Long Muscular arms 

Long fingers

Dark red hair

Haunted, exhausted looking (Hosab)

Long body

Ithan

Powerful form

Onyx rose with 3 claw marks slashed through

Golden-brown hair (longer than the last time she saw him)

Towering, muscled male

Tall

Brown eyes

Gray t shirt pulling across the Considerable expanse of his muscled back

Handsome, charming features

Good looking

Built for speed and agility

Short golden-brown hair

Wolf: horse sized

Brushes hair away from face; longer than it had ever been

Isaiah

White wings

Black silk tie, charcoal business suit

Dark brown skin

Tight brown curls

Brown eyes

Pretty-boy face

Entwined thorns tattoo across brow

SPQM tattoo on right wrist

Naomi

Intense, ballsy, take-no-shit angel

Free (no tattoo)

Harsh planes

Black braided hair

Onyx eyes

Colourfully tattooed hands

Black wings

Sharp chin

Jet-black eyes

Viktoria

Dark haired

Navy suit

Graceful, stunning

Pale green eyes

Stunning green eyes

Halo tattoo

Wraith, graceful, flirty

Long legs

Alabaster hands (white skin)

Pale face

Narrow face

Slightly wrinkled

Justinian NOT A SINGLE PHYSICAL DESCRIPTOR IN EITHER BOOKS, except that he painted his wings a matte black during the Viper Queen meeting.

Micah

Gorgeous

Unfairly beautiful

Powerful

Snow White wings

Brown eyes

Icy eyes

Long legs

Strands of gold in his hair

Boots, dark jeans 

Fury

Long onyx hair tied in a high ponytail that brings out the sharp lines of her light brown face. (Pre death)

Chinlength hair

Sleek bob

Deep set chestnut eyes.

Black leather leggings,

Skintight velvet top

Ass kicking boots

Red lips, straight teeth

Slender

Angular eyes

Appears human

Delicate figure

Angular eyes like Amren

June:

Dark brown skin

Exquisite face

Curling Black hair

Long legs ending in delicate hooves

Sweet and mild

Striped legs

Gently arcing horns, nearly hidden

Curly hair pulled into a coiled bun

Beautiful

Thin but leanly muscled

Graceful, Tall, thin

Large beautiful eyes

Aidas:

Thrumming with dark power

Slender, pale-skinned... pretty boy

Blond hair fell to his shoulders in soft waves, loose yet well cut around his fine boned face. 

Eyes like blue opals

Thick, golden eyelashes

Full, sensuous mouth, too white teeth

Slender hands

Black, Closely tailored jacket and pants

Polished leather shoes

Jesiba:

400 yo

Lush female body

Curvy 

Flowing Navy dress

Pearls at ears and throat

Cropped Ash blonde hair, cut shorter on the sides, longer on the top

Effortlessly chic and casual

Blonde brows

Face both young and wise, bedroom-soft yet foreboding 

Young faced

Full mouth

Pale grey eyes

Silver nails

Autumn King (Fae)

Ancient, cruel Amber eyes

No sign of aging

Long thin nose

Black jeans, black long sleeved t shirt

Beautiful

Tall, muscled

Long Red hair, embers and molten fire

Onyx crown 

Einar

Viper Queen

Tall

Moon skinned

Gold jumpsuit

Emerald hoop earrings hanging lower than her chin length bob

Razor sharp bob

Glossy bob

Full lips painted purple so dark it was nearly black

Green eyes, marbled with jade and gold, that slit like a snakes

Well groomed eyebrows

Beauty mark just beneath the outer corner of her eye

Gold painted nails

Long thin canines (snakey)

Snake form: moon white cobra with scales that gleam like opals

Slim

Smokes

Tattoo of a snake twining around a crescent moon on her wrist

Wears only jumpsuits it seems

Blood darker than usual

Syrinx

Chimera

30 pounds (14 kg)

Wiry golden coat

Long tail, tufted with dark hair at the end like a lions

Folded ears

Round, fuzzy head

Wrinkles of fat

Longer hair at neck, not quite a mane

Too big paws ending in birdlike talons

Squishy dog face

Dark eyes

Slightly bigger than a terrier

Stout little body

Pointy teeth

Ember

Mid 40s

Tiny Scar on cheek

A knockout

Long black hair

Freckled skin

Full lips

High cheekbones

Dark depthless eyes

Bryce's face, just different coloring

Slim shoulders

The Embrace silver necklace

Tan

Randall

Attractive

Brown skinned

Black braided hair streaked with silver 

Brutal scars

Friendly eyes

Dog tags

Sandriel

Dark haired

Curling hair

Eyes the color of fresh tilled soil

Sharp cruel eyes, death

Thin arms

Full lips

Slim, tall

Pollux:

Golden haired

Tan

Dead cruel smile

Handsome

Cobalt eyes

White wings

Golden skin

Brutal, sadistic

Motherfucker Number One

Pretty-boy face

Flowing golden hair

Thick lashes

High cheekbones

Goddess vibes, still and lovely, like Chtona

The harpy:

Thin

Pale

Dark haired

Jet black hair

Angel

Narrow-featured

Black wings

With a wildness like the western wind

Slim waist

Thin lips

Built Wiry and Long, face Narrow and eyes a bit too large for her features

Baxian Hellhound: 

Stone-faced

Black wings

Dark haired

Closely buzzed hair

Brown skinned

Tall and finely muscled

Jet-black, faintly shimmering wings, like a crows feathers

Old Wicked Scar snaking down his neck, forking across the column of his throat, given by hunts lightning.

Obsidian eyes

Tall, lean angel

Natural elegance; not beautiful but striking. Intense and focused

Lightweight black armor of overlapping plates - reptilian version of hunts suit.

Nearly as fall as hunt

Rigelus

Slim

Teenage boy

Lanky

Slender chin

Bony elbow

Fae boy 17 yo appearance

Dark haired

Gangly

A weak facade to veil the ancient monster beneath

Amelie Ravenscroft

Dark hair in a tight braid

Sharp angled face

Gold eyes

Emile

13 yo

Tall, gangly, bony

Small

Sofie

Short brown hair

Nordic descent? (fjords of her homeland)

Pippa

Fanatic

Cold hard armor covering her breast

Golden sun bracketed by a gun and a blade (ophion logo) + red sinking sun above it (lightfall squad).

Brown haired

Freckled

Cormac Donnall (Fae)

As Agent Silverbow; Imperial armor (has cap) (hair peeking from beneath the cap he'd donned)

Handsome

Broad hand

Golden-haired

Towering

Shadow-magic

Fire magic

Tan face, ruggedly good-looking

Void of feeling

(Dead, humorless) Light brown eyes

Thin, tight white sweater over black jeans and combat boots

Blond

Muscled chest

Tattoo of strange symbols encircled his left biceps, black ink

Broad shoulders

Rubbish at pool

Perfect blond hair

Short blond hair

Immaculate blond hair 

Unfailingly arrogant angle of his chin

Serious

The Hind

Golden haired

Silver torque around neck

Deer shifter

Beautiful

Amber eyes

Golden eyes

Red lips

Pale face

Polished, knee-high boots

Imperious face

Grey Uniform

Light footsteps

Most beautiful female Ruhn had ever seen

Unscarred, Elegant hands

Gold ring crowned with a square clean-cut Ruby

Upswept chignon

Spitting image of Luna

Regal angle of neck and jaw

Coldly serene as the moon

Beautiful and terrible

In flame: large eyes, swept upwards at the edges

Long legs

Red lips

Slim, manicured fingers 

Slender, on the Taller side, delicate frame

Lush hips, full breasts

Mordoc

Hulking

Dark haired

Towering

Muscle bound

Dreadwolf uniform - boatload of silver darts

Golden eyes

Dark claws at fingertips

State between human ans wolf

Scalp gleaming through buzzed hair

Thick fingers

Too long teeth (wolf teeth)

Powerful

Craggy face

Marc

Leopard shifter

All Sleek muscle beneath dark brown skin

Topaz eyes

Celestina

Beautiful

Skin as dark as Onyx

Light brown eyes

Delicate mouth

Patient smile

White wings

Voluptuous, lush-bodied

Tightly Curling Black hair

Curls spilling down her bare arms like a waterfall of night  

Silver jewellery, pink and lilac gauzy ethereal robes 

Feminine strength and beauty

Barely reaches Hunt's chest

Soft pink nails

Elegant as a swan

Caramel eyes

Ephraim

Handsome

Black hair cut close to his head in a warrior lite fashion 

Light brown skin Radiating health and vitality

Dark eyes that noted every person in the room, like a soldier assessing the battlefield

Genuine smile for Celestina

White wings

Toned Powerful body

Thanatos

Tightly curled black hair was Cropped close to his head

Handsome, unsmiling face

Powerful body bedecked in dark, ornate armor

Dark eyes

Prince of death

No slickness or smug arrogance

Wolf lady Mystic Fendyr Alpha

Long chestnut-brown hair

Pale

Too thin

Dark eyes

Face that mightve been pretty if it wasn't so gaunt and Haunted

Dragon lady, Ariadne

Human sized

Hair like darkest iron falling in Curling waves

Delicately featured face

Tan

Burns stuff with touch

Crimson eyes - like boiling blood

Black eyes like coal

Ripples of what seems like red and gold scales Flowing beneath her skin

Curvy

Beautiful

Fae female bodytype

Short, Curvy

Wavy black hair, waistlength

Ample backside

[beccarooni]

The End - Chapter 1

(Infinity war AU: Loki lives and leaves the Statesman with Bruce Banner. Multi chapter fic, enjoy the ride babes xo)

taglist: @woahthisguy (ask to be added if u like!)

When Loki woke, part of him still thought that he was on the Statesman. Still aboard that cursed vessel, with smoke filling his lungs and the maddening glare of the stones shining before his eyes. Rays of sunlight filtered into his vision, and he felt broken wood under his fingertips - but part of him still expected to see Thanos’s golden boot step into his vision. Still expected to see his brother, bloodied and bruised, a lifeless body tossed beside him. Expected to hear his last pained scream as the power stone touched his head, to smell the ozone building in the air and to see the final flash of lightning that would signal his brother’s journey into Valhalla.

What he heard was the sound of birds.

Muffled by walls, but there. Birds, nature, the faint sounds of traffic and conversation bleeding in through the ringing in his hears. He opened his eyes, grunting slightly as he felt splintered beams digging into his side from where he fell. A neat hole in the ceiling signalled his entry; he stared up at the familiar sun and sky, and let his eyes fall shut again with a groan.

Midgard.

But not just anywhere in Midgard. He inhaled the musty air, coughing out the dust from his throat. Magic - he could sense it everywhere. It clung to every surface of this place, seeping into the floorboards with a familiar sense of order and learning. Not just magic - sorcery.

Loki sat up. Pulled himself out of the hole he’d created in the floor, and almost buckled under the weight of the familiarity of this place. The Sorcerer’s Home. Where he’d been suspended in animation for over half an hour, only to be dropped onto the marbled floor and told that they were going to see Odin. He remembered Thor’s voice, then. That was one of the last times he’d sounded like himself. Before the Norns had twisted the last few strands of their monstrous tapestry, and brought their world crashing down around them. Around Thor, to put it more aptly. Loki had shed no tears for Odin. Hadn’t felt the same coiled rage in the pit of his stomach as when Frigga had died. But it had signalled the beginning of the End, for them. The beginning of Ragnarok. The twisted path that had dragged them from Midgard to Sakaar to Asgard and finally to a barely held together spaceship crawling through the stars.

And then to oblivion.

Loki flexed his fingers, stepping onto the cold marble floors, and allowed himself a moment of respite. This wasn’t good. Out of the frying pan, and into the proverbial fire. Midgard may have meant refuge for Thor, but not for him.

Voices sounded from outside the doors. Loki stepped quickly, pressing himself against the wall - not that it would do any good. The Sorcerer had sensed them from oceans away, last time. He could pluck him out of thin air if he so chose, and deposit him at his feet. But it felt right, at least. Sensible. Slinking his way in and out of the shadows was what he was used to, and he needed some familiarity right now. Stability in any form; even if it was just a repeated motion from a lifetime that was now obsolete.

“The Avengers broke up. We’re toast.” Smooth, honeyed tones from beyond the door; a voice that could have been roughed with anger, but the edges smoothed down into something more palatable. Stark.

“What do you mean, broke up? Like a band? Like the Beatles?” Another voice sounded off - this one inquisitive, confused, but still with a certain fog - like someone coming out of a long sleep, trying to recount a dream that was fading rapidly. Banner, then.

Loki leaned back against the wall, silently cursing his luck. Of all people he encountered, it had to be Stark. Someone who Loki’s last fond memory of was tossing him out of a window - and even that was marred with the faint blue tint of the mind stone’s power. He couldn’t even enjoy throwing Stark out of that window. Couldn’t even take credit for it, really.

He shifted his fingers again, feeling the familiar steel of his dagger morph into life in his hands. That brought a little comfort, at least. Even if he knew in his heart he wasn’t in much shape to fight off the Avengers right now.

He had Banner to vouch for him - maybe. But Banner didn’t have the same trust in him that Thor had. And Thor wasn’t here to echo that sentiment to his allies, because Thor was dea-

“Thor’s gone.” Banner’s voice resounded off the walls again, subdued and uncertain.

Loki didn’t know why that word suddenly made him so angry.

Gone implied things. It implied uncertainty; that they didn’t know where Thor was, or what had happened to him. Gone implied that Thor could come back. Gone implied hope.

It wasn’t Banner’s fault. He didn’t know any better, didn’t know the full extent of what Thanos could do.

Loki did.

And maybe that’s what drove him out of the shadows, moving just beyond the doorway to stand in the light.

“Thor isn’t gone. He’s dead.” Loki almost winced at his own voice - rough and jagged and far from the silver tongued smoothness he was used to.

But the look on Stark’s face almost made up for it. Alarm creeping into the eyes beneath the sunglasses, a memory of when Loki had last seemed glorious. Unstoppable. A raging inferno fanned by the mind stone, laying waste to Midgard’s streets with an army of monsters at his side. Memories of grand speeches and golden horns. Stark’s hands twitched, grabbing onto a small cord at the collar of his shirt that would probably unfold into some trinket or other, meant to blast him across the room with a quippy one liner to follow it.

Banner’s eyes widened for a moment, but softened just as fast, and he took a few steps forward. Not all the way - he was still too smart to move all the way - but enough. Enough for a placating gesture, at least.

“We don’t know that, Loki. He could’ve escaped, he could’ve-”

“Correction - you don’t know that. I do. Thanos wouldn’t leave someone like him alive.” Loki shook his head, a hollow laugh forcing its way out of his lips. “He was too much of a threat.”

“The Tesseract?” The voice of the sorcerer from his side caused Loki to turn, meeting Strange’s scrutinizing gaze with what he hoped was a mask of steel.

“Thanos has it. And the power stone.”

“Then he’ll be coming for the rest.” One gloved hand drifted idly to the necklace around Strange’s neck, his face setting in grim resignation.

“I’m sorry, am I missing something? Why are we all standing here talking to this guy? Last time I checked, he was working with Thanos, and was very much in favour of - I don’t know, murdering us all?”

Stark finally jarred himself out of whatever train of thought he’d been following, moving forward to grab Banner by the arm - like a mother, reaching out to snatch her children from sticking their hand into a campfire.

“Tony, it’s fine. Well, it’s not fine. But Loki’s with us on this one.” Banner shrugged his shoulders, batting at Stark’s hand with a twinge of embarrassment.

Stark scoffed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

“So I’m just supposed to trust him because, what? It’s a ‘long story’?”

“Oh, God no. But he is on our side.” Bruce frowned, gesturing at Loki listlessly. “Look, do you think he’d look like that if he was working with Thanos?”

Loki shot him a glare, but tilted his dagger upwards to try and catch a blurred glimpse at his reflection. Even in the unclear mirror, he couldn’t deny that Banner was right. Soot smudged along his cheeks, rimming the glaring red cuts on his face with black. Dark circles stamped under his eyes, there was blood beneath his fingernails. He looked unhinged.

A stretch of the neck, a flex of the fingers, a flash of gold, and he was whole again. The grime still clung to his skin, but it was hidden now, at least. He tilted his chin up, spreading his hands out wide.

“I am not here to pick a fight with you, Stark. Nor any of Midgard. But Thanos must be stopped, and you’re going to need more than the Avengers to do it. You can kill me, or imprison me, but buried beneath that colossal ego of yours, you know you need me.”

Stark’s jaw clenched, and for a few moments Loki expected the flash of a cannon and the impact of a missile hitting his chest. What he got instead was a sigh, tight and constrained, and a small nod in Banner’s direction.

“Fine. But if this blows up in my face, you owe me like...a million cups of coffee.”

Banner shrugged, and the three Midgardian’s continued their discussion.

It wasn’t a discussion Loki wanted to participate in - and by their hunched shoulders and wary looks, it wasn’t one he was privy to, either. Which was just fine by him. He tapped his fingers against his elbows, and wandered about the room.

So many artefacts that he hadn’t paid attention to last time. This room hummed with magic, every table, every chair, every floorboard was steeped in it; like fragranced smoke clinging to a curtain.

He overheard some of the conversation, of course. Talks of a great battle between their Captain America and the Iron Man; a rift between the team that had grown into a chasm - one that strangely he hoped would be mended. Not for their sake, of course; it would just be easier to fight Thanos if they all united as one, and fought together rather than apart, and -

Norns, he was starting to sound like Thor. He shut his eyes, shrugging his shoulders to try and rid himself of the sentiment. It was funny what a few moments of desperation could do to you. The death of his mother, and he worked with Thor again. The death of his father, and he saved a world he swore to hate. The death of his brother, and now he was talking of comradery with the Avengers.

Banner kept casting looks at him from across the room. Worried looks, but not for his own safety - at least, not entirely. Banner looked worried for him, and for some reason that filled him with vitriol, anger that was acidic and spiteful.

Banner thought he was exaggerating. He still saw Thor as a golden hero, unbreakable and untouchable. He didn’t know.

He didn’t know that it was better for Thor to be dead. That when Loki said that Thor’s fate was sealed, it was not out of spite or doubt of Thor’s strength; it was out of hope. Loki would rather kill Thor himself than have him die at the hands of Thanos.

At least Loki’s steel would have been kinder. The flash of silver and the seconds it took for the blood to leave the body would be a mercy, compared to the dazzling pain of the gauntlet. Seconds still felt like seconds, when you were stabbed. The infinity stones stretched those seconds into hours. Loki knew from experience.

Before, he might have relished at the thought of causing Thor pain. Wherever this sentiment had come from, these feelings of care and brotherhood, he wanted them gone. They’d settled on his skin with the dust from Asgard, baked into the clay of his being in the fires of a supernova, watched from a spaceship window. If he had nothing from the beginning, he would’ve been fine. If Thor had died at his hand, hating him, he would’ve been fine.

Thor had died believing in him. And that was so much worse.

Screams erupted from outside, and all four of them glanced towards the doorways.

“God, already? It’s been what, five minutes since you two crash through the window and now we’ve got more party guests?” Stark rubbed at his forehead, probably nursing an oncoming migraine.

“I guess they move fast. Let’s go.” Strange and Stark headed towards the doorway of the sanctum, but Banner lingered behind.

The scientist paused at Loki’s side, looking at him with a gaze that was suddenly inscrutable. No easily provoked anger that Loki could stoke into a wildfire to keep the sadness at bay. No mistrust. Just a hint of sadness, and a twinge of concern in his voice when he asked:

“Are you alright?”

Loki’s hand lifted to his face, feeling the wetness of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He stared at his fingers, before wiping them against the material of his jacket.

No time for this. Not right now.

“I’m fine.” Loki gritted his teeth, flipping his dagger in his hand.

Loki didn’t take much stock in legacy. He’d had his fair share of prophecies and purposes, and none of them had quite worked out the way he’d wanted - or expected. Fates could be changed with the flip of a dice - his birthright had been to die one moment, inherit the throne the next. He was destined to be the doom of Midgard and the saviour of Asgard and somewhere along these severed threads of prophecy he’d realised that it was all just chaos. He’d rather be an agent of that, than a warrior honouring the stories of someone else.

Thor’s story felt different, though. If he was going to honour anything in his life, maybe his brother could be the exception. Maybe he could help protect this fragile blue planet from this destruction; just this once.

Loki gripped the dagger harder, until his knuckles turned white.

Midgard waited on the other side of that door. A place that he had chosen to conquer, and Thor had chosen to care for.

If it didn’t die today, he knew it’d be a matter of time before it died from something else. But he wouldn’t let it be lost today.

Thor believed in him. He’d died believing in him.

Honour that, then. Honour his stubbornness, if nothing else. What better legacy was there to leave Thor with, than postponing the dying light of a planet just because?

Chaos and stubbornness. What better combination was there than that?

[americanoddity]

Planetary Orphic Hymns

Manifestation order: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, Venus, Mercury, Moon

Please only use these Hymns if you’re ready. Jupiter is incredibly expansive, Mars incredibly defensive, etc. All planets need to be worked with before ever thinking about prayer to Saturn, and when Saturn is worked with, you need to keep Solar influences heavy. 

*astrological conditions matter

Formal wear

Storax, basil, frankincense

Hymn to Jupiter

O Jove much-honored, Jove supremely great,

To thee our holy rites we consecrate,

Our prayers and expiations, king divine,

For all things round thy head exalted shine.

The earth is thine, and mountains swelling high,

The sea profound, and all within the sky.

Saturnian king, descending from above,

Magnanimous, commanding, sceptred Jove;

All-parent, principle and end of all,

Whose power almighty, shakes this earthly ball;

Even Nature trembles at thy mighty nod,

Loud-sounding, armed with lightning, thundering God.

Source of abundance, purifying king,

O various-formed from whom all natures spring;

Propitious hear my prayer, give blameless health,

With peace divine, and necessary wealth.

Any attire

Frankincense, cinnamon, dragon’s blood

Hymn to Mars

Magnanimous, unconquered, boisterous Mars,

In darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars

Fierce and untamed, whose mighty power can make

The strongest walls from their foundations shake:

Mortal destroying king, defiled with gore,

Pleased with war’s dreadful and tumultuous roar:

Thee, human blood, and swords, and spears delight,

And the fire ruin of mad savage fight.

Stay, furious contests, and vending strife,

Whose works with woe, embitter human life;

To lovely Venus, and to Bacchus yield,

To Ceres give the weapons of the field;

Encourage peace, to gentle works inclined,

And give abundance, with benignant mind.

Clean, nice clothing with a sense of modesty

Frankincense

Hymn to the Sun

Hear, golden Titan, whose eternal eye

With broad survey, illumines all the sky.

Self-born, unwearied in diffusing light,

And to all eyes the mirror of delight:

Lord of the seasons, with thy fiery car

And leaping courses, beaming light from far:

With thy right hand the source of morning light,

And with the left the father of the night.

Agile and vigorous, venerable Sun,

Fiery and bright around the heavens you run.

Foe to the wicked but the good man’s guide,

Over all his steps propitious you preside:

With various founding, golden lyre, ’tis mine

To fill the world with harmony divine.

Father of ages, guide of prosperous deeds,

The world’s commander, borne by lucid steeds,

Immortal Jove, all-searching, bearing light,

Source of existence, pure and fiery bright

Bearer of fruit, almighty lord of years,

Agile and warm, whom every power reveres.

Great eye of Nature and the starry skies,

Doomed with immortal flames to set and rise

Dispensing justice, lover of the stream.

The world’s great despot, and over all supreme.

Faithful defender, and eye of right,

Of steeds the ruler, and of life the light:

With founding whip four fiery steeds you guide,

When in the car of day you glorious ride.

Propitious on these mystic labors shine,

And bless thy supplicants with a life divine.

Something that makes you feel good about yourself

Frankincense, rose, honeysuckle, sandalwood

Hymn to Venus

Heavenly, illustrious, laughter-loving queen,

Sea-born, night-loving, of an awful mien;

Craft, from whom necessity first came,

Producing, nightly, all-connecting dame:

Tis thine the world with harmony to join,

For all things spring from thee, O power divine.

The triple Fates are ruled by thy decree,

And all productions yield alike to thee:

Whatever the heavens, encircling all contain,

Earth fruit-producing, and the stormy main,

Thy sway confesses, and obeys thy nod,

Awful attendant of the brumal God:

Goddess of marriage, charming to the sight,

Mother of Loves, whom banquetings delight;

Source of persuasion, secret, favoring queen,

Illustrious born, apparent and unseen:

Spousal, lupercal, and to men inclined

Prolific, most-desired, life-giving, kind:

great scepter-bearer of the Gods, tis thine,

Mortals in necessary bands to join;

And every tribe of savage monsters dire

In magic chains to bind, through mad desire.

Come, Cyprus-born, and to my prayer incline,

Whether exalted in the heavens you shine,

Or pleased in Syrias temple to preside,

Or over the Egyptian plains thy car to guide,

Fashioned of gold; and near its sacred flood,

Fertile and famed to fix thy blest abode;

Or if rejoicing in the azure shores,

Near where the sea with foaming billows roars,

The circling choirs of mortals, thy delight,

Or Beauteous nymphs, with eyes cerulean bright,

Pleased by the dusty banks renowned of gold;

Or if in Cyprus with thy mother fair,

Where married females praise thee every years,

And beauteous virgins in the chorus join,

Adonis pure to sing and thee divine;

Come, all-attractive to my prayer inclined,

For thee, I call, with holy, reverent mind.

Scholarly or what you work in

Frankincense, rose, honeysuckle, sandalwood

Hymn to Mercury

Hermes, draw near, and to my prayer incline,

Angel of Jove, and Maia’s son divine;

Studious of contests, ruler of mankind,

With heart almighty, and a prudent mind.

Celestial messenger, of various skill,

Whose powerful arts could watchful Argus kill:

With winged feet, tis thine thro air to course,

O friend of man, and prophet of discourse:

Great life-supporter, to rejoice is thine,

In arts gymnastic, and in fraud divine:

With power endued all language to explain,

Of care the loosener, and the source of gain.

Whose hand contains of blameless peace the rod,

Corucian, blessed, profitable God;

Of various speech, whose aid in works we find,

And in necessities to mortals kind:

Dire weapon of the tongue, which men revere,

Be present, Hermes, and thy suppliant hear;

Assist my works, conclude my life with peace,

Give graceful speech, and my memory’s increase.

Something comfortable, flowing that isn’t constricting

Jasmine, lavender, willow, copal, opium

Hymn to the Moon

Hear, Goddess queen, diffusing silver light,

Bull-horned and wandering thro the gloom of Night.

With stars surrounded, and with circuit wide

Night torch extending, thro the heavens you ride:

Female and Male with borrowed rays you shine,

And now full-orbed, now tending to decline.

Mother of ages, fruit-producing Moon,

Whose amber orb makes Nights reflected noon:

Lover of horses, splendid, queen of Night,

All-seeing power bedecked with starry light.

Lover of vigilance, the foe of strife,

In peace rejoicing, and a prudent life:

Fair lamp of night, its ornament and friend,

Who gives to Natures works their destined end.

Queen of the stars, all-wife Diana hail!

Decked with a graceful robe and shining veil;

Come, blessed Goddess, prudent, starry, bright,

Come moony-lamp with chaste and splendid light,

Shine on these sacred rites with prosperous rays,

And pleased accept thy suppliants mystic praise.

Solemn, black or grey clothes, on the formal side of things

Myrrh, poppy seed

Hymn to Saturn

Ethereal father, mighty Titan, hear

Great fire of Gods and men, whom all revere:

Endowed with various council, pure and strong,

To whom perfection and decrease belong.

Consumed by thee all forms that hourly die,

By thee restored, their former place supply;

The world immense in everlasting chains,

Strong and ineffable thy power contains

Father of vast eternity, divine,

O might Saturn, various speech is thine:

Blossom of earth and of the starry skies,

Husband of Rhea, and Prometheus wife.

Obstetric Nature, venerable root,

From which the various forms of being shoot;

No parts peculiar can thy power enclose,

Diffused thro’ all, from which the world arise,

O, best of beings, of a subtle mind,

Propitious hear to holy prayers inclined;

The sacred rites benevolent attend,

And grant a blameless life, a blessed end.

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x reader -  Part 17 - bday present for myself~

Harry cursed to himself, the island he was going to use to propose to (y/n) on was some sanctuary for an endangered species and the wildlife preserves didn’t want humans on the island. So he would have to figure out something else for his propos…wait…her birthday was next week! And he had been wanting to do a surprise party for her, and Gil had suggested a scavenger hunt for her to do to keep her busy.

He already had the ring, permission to marry her from her aunt, and the knowing that if he asked, she would say yes…

All he had to do was add one more thing.

=

You sighed, setting down the heavy crate, wiping sweat from your neck as you stood. “gods, why does it gotta be so warm today” you groaned, undoing the colling towel from your belt and tossing it on your face “aahhhh that’s the good stuff~”

“(y/n) what are you doing?” you took off the towel and tossed it around your neck, sighing as the heat on your neck finally decreased.

“cooling down, it's like 95 out here” you complained, turning to look at Bonnie, who was holding two cold waterbottles “oohhhh fuckin-thank you!” she snorted and tossed one to you, you caught It in mid-air and cracked it open, gulping down the cold drink.

“slow down girl” Bonnie chuckled, cracking opening her bottle and starting to drink “oh, happy birthday by the way” you burped and grinned at her.

“Thanks, Bonnie,” you blinked in surprise as she handed you a note. “oh, thank-“

“yeah yeah, see you later girl” Bonnie trotted off deck, soon walking out of sight. You shrugged and tore open the paper.

It was Harry's handwriting.

-hello my bonnie lass~ today is your birthday and I wanted to celebrate it by giving you a scavenger hunt to your party today

It will be from the isle to Auradon, no stone left unturned.

Now go to the place, where our first meeting occurred.

You pursed your lips, tilting your head, where you first met huh? Well, that would be on the isle. You closed the note and stuffed it in your pocket, heading to your cabin for a moment to change your clothes, grab your bag, and your motorbike keys.

=

You looked around the slightly collapsed building, where you had originally met harry, after the chase between the gaston twins and you.

“oh,” you gasped, kneeling next to a large chunk of building and pulling out an envelope beneath it. Standing up you leaned against the wall and opened the note, a small bracelet falling out with it, golden painted seashells and opals danced across the metal, you slipped it on and read the note.

-you found it lass, now in the spot where the stars shine bright, the place I realized my heart was yours that night.

You groaned slightly, a smile on your face, he was being cheesy with these hints, but his rhyming wasn’t bad.

But you knew exactly where he was talking about, the hiding spot.

=

You took off your shoes, walking along the shore of the small inlet. You took a deep breath, the air much cleaner than the first time you had been here.

You spotted the white envelope holding the next clue, you trotted over and pulled it out, smiling at the long thin box underneath it. You pulled the box and opened it, clicking your tongue and tilting your head.

A new golden chain for your ruby necklace. You closed the box and slipped it into your bag, opening the note you laughed at the twin's messy handwriting.

-hi aunt (y/n)! harry let us write this note! -skipper

-so the next clue is “where you joined the crew”-sterling

“that’s an easy one” you snorted, but you couldn’t give them crap, they were only 12. So you walked the short distance from the hidden beach to the chip shop, nodding to the patrons as you entered.

“Hey (y/n) Hook left this for ya” Cook handed you the letter and a small bag, you grinned and nodded. “happy birthday by the way”

“Thanks, cook, see you later” you walked out of the shop and leaned on the docks outside. Opening the bag you snorted at the new leather gloves inside, small painted designs on the leather.

“such a dork” you whispered, taking out the note and grinning at it.

-another job well done my love, now for the place were we spar, and we “hit” it off

You groaned and rubbed your forehead, you remembered that…your head still hurt after that day.

=

You stepped onto the old lost revenge, even with Umas magic, it had been unable to sail again, so now it was used as an isle home for the crew. Desiree grinned, holding up the note and another small bag.

“hey, commander~ happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Desiree” you chirped, grabbing the note and bag from her “you can go ahead and do what you’re supposed to do after you give me this”

“Thanks, girl, see you later!” she hopped off the rails and walked off the ship, going through the tunnel to the bridge.

You opened the bag to see a scarlet headband with silver hook embroidered into the side, you slipped it on and opened the note.

-hope Desiree didn’t just leave the present unattended for you to find but! This next clue is just across the border, when I got to hold you in my arms once again.

Alright, to the bridge it is.

=

You stepped across where the magic barrier used to be, looking to your left, seeing a small stone holding down a note.

You walked over and picked it up, seeing no mini present. Opening it up you smiled.

-sorry love no present with this one, too risky for someone to take it, but this next one will be where we walked into Auradon together for the first time

Alright then, so just the other side of the bridge. Turning around you walked back to your motorbike and swung your leg over the seat and started the engine. You quickly strapped your helmet on and drove to the other side of the bridge.

=

You tilted your head at Evie, who smiled and waved at you, holding out a note “hey (y/n)! happy birthday! Here you go!” you dismounted your bike and met her halfway, nodding at her.

“Thanks, Evie, see you later” she nodded and ran off, presumably to your “surprise” party. Opening the note you chuckled.

-astute as always love (though im not really making these hard am I?) but the next is where I learned I wouldn’t be ripped from your arms for the second time

The courtyard of Bens castle, where you and Harry had gotten the keys from Persephone. You got back on your bike and rode off through the bridge gate to Auradon, making the 15 minute trip to bens castle.

“hey beasty boy!” you called, waving to the king who was just exiting his castle “you probably got something for me don’t cha?”

He shrugged “maybe? Dunno- ow” you punched his shoulder and held out your hand “okay okay here, I’ll see you later (y/n)” he handed you the next note and walked off, but you didn’t bother to pay attention where.

You ripped open the envelope, once more smiling at Harry's handwriting.

-Final clue my love, where we stepped through to our new life

That one made you think for a moment before it hit you. The door, the very first door you and harry stepped through to get to your world.

But you don’t remember a room behind it? Which it probably did but who knows. Good news was the door was in Bens castle so you unlipped your helmet and hung it off one of the handles, walking through the gates and making your way through the castle.

You stood in front of the door, looking at the small note taped to it.

-happy birthday (y/n)

You took a breath and opened the door, laughing as the room burst with streamers and confetti.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!”

The entire crew, the core four, Ben, Jane, Lonnie, even Audrey was there, blowing horns and throwing confetti in the air, screaming in your face.

“guys!” you whipped a stray tear from your cheek “awwww…ive never been thrown a surprise party before!”

“Really?” Jane gasped “why not?!”

You shrugged, “dunno, guys people from my world aren’t as amazing as you guys”

“aw thanks” Evie sniffed, smiling at something behind you. You rose your brow at her and turned around, gasping and stumbling back.

“H-Harry?! Wha-“ Harry stood infront of you, a clean dark red suit fitted on his body, his hair combed back yet still in that wild style you loved, his eyeliner clean.

“(y/n), yeh have been the light of meh life for the past two years, since yeh fell into my life. Yeh have saved me from becoming a dark bitter person hell-bent on revenge, yeh have saved me from my da, yeh have protected meh family” oh gods you were already crying “and eh have both given and helped meh love, and I want to spend the rest of meh life with yeh, and love yeh for the rest of meh life, so” he kneeled on one knee, taking out a red velvet box from his pocket and opening it, revealing his mothers red ruby ring, in a brand new golden band with small bits of sea glass running down the sides “will you marry me-“ you fell to your knees, tears streaming down your face, unable to talk.

You let out incomprehensible babbles and nodded, leaping into Harry's arms and wrapping your arms around his neck “Im guessing it’s a yes” Harry chuckled, pulling you back and smiling, tears brimming in his eyes.

“yes” you croaked “yes I will marry you, you giant dork” Harry laughed but you shut him up quickly, pressing your lips to his.

Harry hummed into the kiss, lifting you slightly and tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

“Alright alright” Carlos chuckled, walking over and patting Harry's shoulder “wed rather not see you two do it right in front of us please”

Harry separated from you and glared at Carlos “shut it up, let me enjoy this” he muttered, smiling at you and helping you stand, sliding the ruby ring onto your ring finger.

He kissed you again, bringing up your hand and kissing it “happy birthday my love”

“I love you Harry” you whispered, still whipping away your tears.

“I love you too (y/n)”

--end of part 17--

permtaglist

@queer-cosette​

@sephiralorange​

@lunanight2012​

@daughter-of-the-stars11​

@musicarose​

@random-thoughts-003​

@rintheemolion​

@amorathegamingkitsune​

[wongiemei]

1. First Rings

Standing upon the pedestal, servants and handmaidens rushed around to look for any other accessory that could be used to make you look more beautiful and enchanting than you already were. The blood-red dress that contrasted against your pale porcelain skin had real gold embedded into them, shimmering and sparkling against the light from the chandelier hung above. Annoyance radiated from you and they shuddered, your aura so powerful that it felt light a heavy weight was suddenly placed on their shoulders.

“My daughter, for today is your wedding day, you must show your acceptance of this arrangements and not embarrass our family,” said a voice from the door. You didn’t even bother to turn around but just sighed unhappily. 

This was all because of her.

“Mother, for one day, can you please stick your fangs in other places rather than my own neck?” You commented causing her to lowly growl at you and approach you causing the handmaidens to squeak in fright and make way.

“Just because you are getting married to that Orendian Prince doesn’t mean you can talk like that to the one who gave birth to you,” threatened your mother. The servant girls in the room looked back and forth between the mother and daughter, admiring how you didn’t look scared nor annoyed.

It was blank. Like a canvas, waiting to be painted on.

The bright redness of your mother’s eyes mirrored your own but yours were becoming dull, not feeding for the last 24 hours.

You can see the flair and the fire raging behind those eyes but you just scoffed and laughed humorlessly. 

“You see, the difference between us, Mother, is that I will be the queen to both kingdoms one day. Not only will I have Kalon, but Orenda as well. But the most important part is, I’ll be more powerful than you.” You whispered that last part, knowing full well she heard what you said and she raised a hand, ready to slap you but you just simply looked at her well-adorned fingers and she froze.

With your eyes fleeting back to meet hers, the corners of your lips rose to a smirk and you looked at a servant through the mirror saying, “Find all of my golden rings. Fill my fingers until every inch is covered in gold. Unless it is done, consider yourselves as feeding to the soldiers.”

Your mother watched the servants scurry to your jewelry boxes and rummage for any other rings, desperate to find any golden jewelry that could potentially save their life.

Meanwhile they were busy, you grabbed the opportunity to speak to your mother away from their eyes. Finally having the courage you never gained from your 186 years of living, you delicately grabbed your mother’s chin to face her to you.

Your actions seemed to fuel the fire inside her more but it didn’t matter you. “Listen to me, woman. You have done this to yourself. I’m merely your pawn in your chess board but I will play on my own rules and I get to choose my moves.”

The tall, golden building was in a buzz and excitement was heard from the chatter going on in the room. Husbands shook hands and wives held their daughters close as they introduced suitable young men to one day ask the little girl’s hand in marriage. To anyone, they looked like normal human beings by the way they acted and they moved about, sipping a glass of red liquid.

But, they were far from normal.

These vampires have been around for thousands of years and they have watched the world evolve into what it is now. Many wars were caused by the vampire women but the bloodshed was done by the vampire men. 

The oldest vampires in the room were the Council of Elders as they have been around since Ramesses the Great and one was even a diplomat from China. 

Due to their old age and highest status in the Vampire World, they were rarely seen out and only attended the most important meetings or events that would change the history of their kind forever.

This occasion is considered one of them as today was going to be the day that all blood-shed between the fueding houses would end and would shift their attention to human business. The most powerful kingdoms, Kalon and Orenda, have bared their fangs at one another for millennia and caused the deaths of many powerful members of the Coven.

The Prince of Orenda stood wearing white, a contrast to his blood-red eyes. His blonde hair was gelled to place and he scanned the room, recognizing some but there were others he didn't know. The atmosphere was joyful and excitement reeked from the King and Queen of both kingdoms but Jaemin was anything but happy.

“Nervous, Jae?” A voice from behind him held a teasing tone. Turning around, Jaemin cracked a smile, seeing his best friends.

The Twins from House Cerilian, Lee Donghyuck and Lee Jeno.

The Cousins from House Dormir, Huang Renjun with Zhong Chenle as Crown Prince.

The youngest from House Vermille, Park Jisung.

Renjun was the one who spoke and stood beside him, prompting the others to stand beside him too.

“Never. I will take a Kalonian wife and breed mixed blood children.” A sharp smile emphasized Jaemin's sarcasm causing Jeno to roll his eyes.

“Jaemin, remember this is the Red Princess you speak so rash about. If you force yourself upon without her consent or anger her, she has all power to condemn you and your kingdom and she won’t stop till she has your head.”

Jeno’s warning made Jaemin sharply turn to him and growled lowly, moving his eyes away towards the crowd to maintain his poker face. “She’s my bride, my wife, and I’m her husband. If she was raised well, she should know how to act like a woman, not a child.”

In front of a statue of Lucifer, a man stood in all red clothing with the original Book of the Dead on his bony, milky hands. The prince and the princess, wearing the 2 colors of the Coven, stood in front of him, facing the hideous statue of the horned fallen angel, clutching the head of the archangel Michael.

“Friends and family, we have gathered here today to bind the Kalonian Princess and the Orendian Prince. To seal the bond between rivaling houses and turn our focus on to more important issues at hand. Let us make history with the intertwining fates of our future leaders.” 

Standing with your right hand on top of his left hand, your arms started to tire as your hands were raised to your shoulders to show that they were being conjoined. You quickly glanced at Jaemin and noticed how he clenched his jaw with his red eyes being fixated on the decaying old man.

A little boy, must be an assistant, placed a cushion with 2 rings resting on the crimson red cloth on the table in front of the old man. They were encrusted with diamonds and the bands were real gold.

“Each of you take the ring closest to your beloved,” he instructed and you and Jaemin grabbed a ring that was farthest from you both. “Slip these bands on to the ring finger of your beloved’s hand.”

The jewelry became the second ring on your ring finger but it shined the most with the big chunk of diamond resting on it. 

“These signify the start of your marriage and your First Rings as wedded beloveds to symbolize the never-ending cycle like the shape of your bands. At this time, if the Highest Maiden and the Highest Damoiseau please place the cup of Judas on to the pedestal.”

The two of you turned slightly to see your Highest Maiden, your trusted servant Ari and an Orendian diplomat you’ve seen before with the name of Jeno.

The small brown cup rested on the white marble block and the both of you were instructed to held your arms above it. 

“Crown Princess Y/N, please take this knife and repeat after me,” he instructed causing you to hold the dagger against your skin and repeated every word that escaped his mouth.

“I, Crown Princess Y/N of House Kalon, Red Princess of the East, Sister of Macbeth’s Witches, future Queen of House Kalon and House Orenda, take this dagger before me and draw my blood that traces to my lineage full of Kings and Queens of House Kalon. Today I will bind my blood to thee, Na Jaemin, Crown Prince of House Orenda, Stormbringer of the North, Brother of the Coven, future King of House Kalon and House Orenda in front of the Dark Lord, the Council of Elders, and the Coven. An oath I will make to lead our kingdoms to prosperity and to continue the legacy our forefathers have built for us. So please, take my blood and feast on the ambrosia from the Gods, my king.”

Without even flinching, the blade ran across your porcelain skin and the red liquid quickly flowed into the cup and you held it in place until it slowed down, Ari handing you a rag to clean the mess.

You passed the dagger to Jaemin and he wrapped his hand around yours first before grabbing the golden hilt of the silver dagger. A small smirk formed on his face and he held it to his arm like you before saying the same thing without assistance.

“I, Crown Prince Jaemin of House Orenda, Stormbringer of the North, Brother of the Coven, future King of House Kalon and House Orenda, take this dagger before me and draw my blood that traces to my lineage full of Kings and Queens of House Orenda. Today marks my bond with Crown Princess Y/N of House Kalon, Red Princess of the East, Sister of Macbeth’s Witches, future Queen of House Kalon and House Orenda, as our bloods fuse into the cup of Judas, marking our fates to be sealed. I solemnly swear to you my everlasting loyalty and my protection as the army of House Orenda will stand by in your defense to whoever and whatever may bring you and Kalon harm. So please, take the mixture of our bloods and feast on our vows and accept my oath to you, my queen.”

As per tradition, the brides were the ones who drank first and you swiftly handled the cup and looked down at the beautiful colors of Jaemin’s being light red while yours was mahogany red.

Then a thought hit you.

This was it.

Once the liquid touches your tongue, you are eternally bound to this man and you will remain as his wife and queen to his kingdom till the day you die. Your loyalty will forever side to him and if you were to become a widow, you can never take another man to be a replacement of your former spouse.

Hesitating for a second, you turned to look at the Kalon Council and the looks from your family, friends, and more specifically, your parents. They raised an eyebrow and motioned to drink from the cup and your eyes fluttered shut for a moment before opening again.

You turned your attention back to the cup and up to Jaemin who gave you an amused look at the way you were acting. Gulping lightly, you raised the cup to your lips and winced at the burn of the sworn blood and the trail left burning sensations all the way to your stomach.

Placing it down, Jaemin drank the rest of it and the old man yelled out Latin incantations and before you know it, the audience stood up, clapping.

“I present before you, the Coven, the Council of Elders, Kalon, Orenda, Lucifer, the union of unholy matrimony. All hail! Crown Prince and Princess, Y/N and Jaemin!”

You blanked out during the party. 

There was a big slaughter fest and a human girl found in the woods was given as an offering from the Hunters Council, who you and Jaemin drank first from and eventually, your High Maidens and his High Damoiseaux pounced onto the poor girl.

Did you feel bad?

No.

Because of her kind, your people were being slaughtered and burned at the steak being accused of being vampires and witches.

Yes, it was true.

But it was still the blood of your people and if you needed to bring bloodshed to avenge their deaths, you will.

By the time it was over, you were still in shock and you missed Jaemin holding your hand in the carriage as he sat opposite of you. He looked out of the window and you wondered why your parents could ever sacrifice you to a monster like him. 

There were rumors about the boy. 

Jaemin slaughtered the entirety of House Pezzerio up North since the said House launched an ambush attack towards one of his cousins who were vacationing up in the mountains for winter, resulting to the death of the youngest child, Wooseon. He was a family man who would do anything to protect his loved ones and claim as many lives as he needed to.

So, when news spread about the extinction of House Pezzerio, Jaemin was found guilty but walked away without being charged for his crimes under Beelzebub’s Vow which stated that ‘any act of revenge on any attack of the royal family will result in the death of anyone associated with the accused’.

‘If a man is capable of killing an entire House, who says I can live until I turn 200?’

The entire ride was spent in silence, relishing in the last few minutes of being rivals and preparing the mentality of husband and wife.

“Your Highnesses, we have arrived at your estate.”

The coachman opened the door for you and you held your dress, trying not to trip on it. Jaemin held his arm out for you and you reluctantly slipped your arm through his and followed the lead of the Head Servant to where your shared bedroom would be located.

“I cannot go beyond this door, your highnesses. No staff is allowed to enter until the room has been consummated.”

At the mention of ‘consummate’, your mind became empty and you were pretty sure if you had a heart, it would be beating rapidly by now. From the human novels and texts you’ve read, it describes having blood rush up to your cheeks and heat rushing down past your abdomen and your marriage becoming official with the connection of your bodies.

Stepping into the grand room, Jaemin turned to shut the door and locked it before crossing it to go to the dresser.

“Don’t listen to the rumors you’ve heard about me, princess.”

His rough and low voice startled you from your misery and you jutted your chin high. “You may be husband but you cannot dictate what I choose to hear and not to hear.”

Jaemin chuckled amused, “Yes, your highness, I am your husband.” He confirmed and you were about to scoff until he turned around and met you with his stare. “But I am also, your king.”

He walked over to where you remained standing and went behind you to hug you from behind, letting his hands wander across the front of your dress. You bit your lip and you shook from both anger and humiliation as you knew you couldn’t stop him. He buried his face in your neck before taking a deep sniff and placing little kisses on your skin.

“Where should I put my mark on your pretty little neck? It’s too beautiful to ruin so I must decide carefully,” he mumbled.

His hands remained at your hips and the euphoric energy Jaemin might be purposefully radiating right now was affecting you. With a content sigh, you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder as he continued his assault on your neck.

But something inside of you snaps and you ripped his hands away from you, moving quickly to wrap your hands around his neck but he was faster.

With one hand, he restrained both of yours and he looked down on you, letting him raise your head up with his index finger and clenching your jaw. “Did you know that little stunt of yours is considered as treason, my love?”

The nickname made you angrier, “I’m the future Queen, I know my laws. Failing to request consent is considered a higher crime, my king.”

“But I am king and my word is law. Shouldn’t you be scared, sweetheart?”

Jaemin stared at you with a small smirk causing you to spit out, “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, but you should be,” he mumbled, still inspecting the golden flecks in your eyes.

“But I’m not and I won’t be.” Your defiant tone made him scoff lightly before forcefully grabbing your jaw with his strong grip.

“Aren’t you just a pretty little thing?” His mocking tone caused you to spit to his face.

“I’m no thing. I’m Crown Princess Y/N of House Kalon, Red Princess of the East, Sister of Macbeth’s Witches, future Queen of House Kalon and House Orenda. I’m not just a pretty little thing you can place on a shelf for everyone to admire.”

But all he did was look at you intently, “But don’t forget, Princess. You’re mine and if you really are the future Queen, didn’t you learn to listen to your King?”

a/n: here’s the first chapter. not really that long but its kinda hard since its kinda the introductory part and not really the real tea yet.

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 77/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:   Also on AO3 click here

After months of work and planning, you finally made it to the night before your wedding.  Your Asgardian wedding to be precise.  After you got married on Asgard, you would be returning to Midgard to have a mating ceremony for the wolves.  

There were a few wolves on Asgard with you as welcome guests.  Wolves were cherished by the Asgardians, even by Odin.  And Odin usually hated Midgardians in his realm.  You’d respected that enough to only invite the four wolves you absolutely had to: your brother, Fenrir, and after much deliberation and still very reluctantly, you’d invited your mother as well.  

Your mom wasn’t necessarily someone you’d had to invite, but you had your reasons for it. And Lady Sif was under strict orders from Loki and Thor to remove her from the realm if she so much as upset you.  Part of the reason you’d invited her was the duty you felt toward family and pack.  Much as you didn’t like her most of the time, she was still your mother and she had raised you.  Even if she’d wanted to sell you off to an abusive asshole. Despite everything, you had to give her this one last chance to be a decent human being. 

The other reason you’d wanted to invite her was much more selfish.  You wanted to show her, to prove to her in terms that she could understand, how much better off you were now.  How much better you were out of her control, away from the toxic pack and toxic alpha.  You’d gotten your own life living on your own terms and you were thriving.  You had everything she wanted and more.  And she wasn’t going to get to benefit from a single penny of what you had now.  

You knew she wouldn’t really understand, but it made you feel better, if a bit petty, to show off to her.

She had wanted you to marry Jareth, to wed the abusive asshole, just because he was going to be the next Alpha.  Now you were marrying a prince who treated you like a queen, who also happened to be an alpha in his own right.  You are part of Fenrir’s pack and that made you a princess among the wolves.  

And she got absolutely nothing out of it, no status, no power, no prestige, because she’d been such a bitch to you.

Karma worked wonders.

But that night?  That night you were drinking with your friends and family.  Well, drinking with Dan.  Ethan was a child by Asgardian standards as well as Midgardian, so he wasn’t drinking Asgardian booze.  

And poor Dan hadn’t realized that he could actually get drunk on Asgardian booze.  So he was actually shitfaced by the end of the night.  You took it more easily, knowing what you were getting into.  This gathering wasn’t as huge as the feast would be tomorrow night.  You were gathered in one of the smaller dining halls, your brothers, mother, Fenrir, Loki, Thor, Sif, the warriors three, and the entire team of Avengers.  Most of the Avengers were allowed to have a drink or two, they had high enough metabolisms to deal with the Asgardian alcohol, except poor Tony who so desperately wanted to try the booze, but wasn’t allowed since he was just human. 

You told stories all night, staying up late and drinking together.  You felt like this was a much better way to celebrate your upcoming wedding than a traditional bachelorette party.  You didn’t need to see more naked men.  You were going to have Loki for eternity.  Enjoying an evening feasting and drinking with your friends and family was more than enough. 

*

The next morning was a blur. You were woken early in Loki’s consort’s suite.  Tradition demanded that you sleep in separate rooms and you wouldn’t get to see him until the actual wedding.  Sleeping alone and waking alone hadn’t been difficult, but it would be the last night you had to do so.  

You didn’t have time to think about it the second Frigga, Sif, and Nat came to wake you.  Nat and Sif had ended up as your bridesmaids.  You all had hair and makeup that morning, a light meal, hours getting ready and final dress fittings with magic.  Frigga reminded you all of your parts.  She wanted this day to go off without a hitch.

All too soon, you were standing before the double-doors to the throne room with Fenrir at your side.  With your father dead, it was up to either your alpha or Dan to give you away.  As the father of all wolves, Fenrir took that duty upon himself.  Dan didn’t mind at all and gave way to his Alpha.  “Are you ready, daughter?” Fenrir asked you while Sif and Nat took their positions, ready for the procession.

You nodded and beamed up at Fenrir.  “I’ve never wanted anything more,” you reassured him.  Loki was your choice.  Was your wolf’s choice.  Fenrir gave you a warm smile in return.

The procession music started and Nat and Sif left you to make their way down the long aisle to stand in their places as your bridesmaids.  Once they were in place, the music changed and the double doors opened again and you slowly made your way down the long aisle full of nobles up to the throne where Loki waited for you.  Your hand was on Fenrir’s arm as you walked together.  You didn’t have to worry about falling on your face.  Fenrir wouldn’t let you.

Loki was dressed in his formal finery, including his golden horned helmet.  You had a very indecent thought of riding him while he was wearing nothing BUT that golden horned helmet, but that was definitely a thought for later.  Right now you had to survive the ceremony.

At least Frigga had promised the ceremony would be short.  The hand fasting was a simple ceremony. 

You felt everyone’s eyes on you as they stood to watch you walk down the aisle and kept reminding yourself not to trip, to stand tall, to not drop your flowers.  Your grip was tight on Fenrir’s arm. All of your thoughts left your head when Loki’s eyes caught yours, when you saw the love and adoration in his eyes, when it took every ounce of his self control to not let his mouth drop open when he saw you in your wedding dress.  You took his open amazement for the compliment it was.  

You made your way to him and handed your bouquet to Sif to hold.  It was her job after all.  Even if she had complained loudly about having to wear a dress.  Loki had Thor and one of Thor’s warrior friends as his groomsmen and you weren’t at all surprised.  Thor stood by Loki in everything, especially this, but Loki didn’t have many other friends.    

You took Loki’s hands in yours and Frigga stepped up to you. She was the goddess of marriages, so she performed all weddings, especially noble weddings.   “Today we come together to seal the bond of Prince Loki and Lady Y/N of Midgard in matrimony,” she looked at Loki.  “Do you still wish to take Lady Y/N as your wife, my son?” She asked him warmly.  This was a formality, of course Loki wanted to marry you. 

He inclined his head.  “I do,” he said with a bright honest smile.  You loved seeing him so happy.

Freya turned to you next.  “And do you still wish to take Prince Loki as your husband?” She asked just as warmly, just as formally.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of your Loki.  “I do,” you replied, staring up at him.  You couldn’t believe this was happening.  It seemed like forever ago that you’d met him.  It seemed like you knew him your entire life, though it also felt like no time at all had passed.    

Frigga drew her golden cord from wherever she had hidden it and wrapped it gently around yours and Loki’s joined hands.  “As your hands are bound together now, so your lives and spirits are joined in the commitment of love and trust. For always you hold in your own hands the fate of this union. Above you are stars and below you is earth. Like stars your love should be a constant source of light, and like the earth, a firm foundation from which to grow. May these hands be blessed this day. May they always hold each other. May they have the strength to hang on during the storms of stress and the dark of disillusionment. May they remain tender and gentle as they nurture each other in their wondrous love. May they build a relationship founded in love, and rich in caring. May these hands be healer, protector, shelter, and guide for each other,” it was the traditional hand fasting ceremony on Asgard.  She unbound your hands and handed you each a ring.  “As you cannot be bound together physically for the rest of your lives, may these rings be a symbol of your eternal connection,” Frigga told you both.  Loki lifted your left hand and slipped the slim ring onto your ring finger.  It matched your engagement ring perfectly. You did the same, slipping his wedding band onto his left hand as well.  Both rings were gold, as you couldn’t wear silver. 

“May I present to you for the first time, Prince Loki and his wife, Princess Y/N.  Loki, you may kiss your bride,” she announced.  Loki dipped you backwards and kissed you well to roars of applause from the gathered nobles and dignitaries, plus your friends and family.

Once the kiss was over, the pair of you led the procession to the feast.  You had a table to yourselves, but only got to eat when Thor and your friends held the well-wishers at bay long enough for you to get some food.  The night was wonderful and full of dancing, plenty of drinks, and an occasional bite of something to eat.  Mostly, you accepted your well-wishes from your friends and family, and of course the thousand.    

Loki growled at Thor when his brother approached carrying Mjolnir.  “It’s tradition, brother!” Thor replied innocently, then laid Mjolnir on your lap to the cheers of the crowd.  You looked at Loki confused.  This seemed an odd thing to be cheering.

“It is tradition for Mjolnir or a replica of it to be placed in the lap of the bride as a prayer to Thor for offspring,” he explained.  You were still confused so he continued. “My idiot brother is the god of Thunder.  He’s also the god of fertility,” Loki explained.  You could infer from there that the hammer was a symbol of fertility.  A blush colored your cheeks at that information, which just had the crowd cheering harder.

That was more information than you really wanted to know about your brother-in-law. 

At the end of the evening, Thor’s idiot friends, Fenrir, your Asgardian friends, and Thor himself lifted the pair of you on their shoulders to carry you to Loki’s suite.  You found out later that it was tradition to escort the newlyweds to the marriage bed to ensure the marriage was consummated.  At least you didn’t have to do that in front of them.  Because that wouldn’t happen.  Ever.

Though Fenrir would be able to verify by scent if he really wanted to.  You knew he was polite enough not to.  Besides, tomorrow was your mating ceremony on Midgard.

Your lips met Loki’s the second you were alone and you weren’t sure who initiated the kisses, which of you initiated more than kisses, or where your clothes disappeared off to. That wasn’t important at the moment.  All that mattered was that you and Loki were finally married and you were taking each other to your marriage bed.

[kelyon]

Golden Cuffs 45: The Escape

Cover art by @paradigmparadoxical​

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

Belle is free

Read on AO3

When Belle awoke, the late morning sun gleamed through the eastern windows. For the first time in ages, she smiled when she opened her eyes. For the first time in ages, she was glad to wake up. After stretching out her arms and legs, Belle hopped out of bed. She felt refreshed and ready to face the day. 

Before she sat down to breakfast, Belle changed her bloody rags for clean ones. Then she went to her table and put her hands over the magic bowl. She thought of warm porridge, sweetened with raspberries and cream. The bowl provided as it always did, and Belle ate heartily. 

When she was done with her meal, she decided to dress for the day. She would dress properly, too. She hadn’t worn her stockings and shoes since the day Rumpelstiltskin had given them to her, but now she put them both on and felt all the better for it. She wore the blue dress as well, tying up the stays at the bodice.

Amazing how much it all helped her feel more like herself. In these past few weeks of wallowing in her sorrows, Belle had neglected the simple routine of caring for herself. From now on, she knew, it would be best to get up when she awoke, to eat when she was hungry and stop when she was full. She would put on clothes that made her feel like she was ready for the day. If she did that, perhaps every day would have her feeling as good as she did now. In this moment, there was a vitality in her that she had thought was gone forever.   

As a final touch, she even put on her mother’s necklace. With her eyes closed, Belle ran the pendant of unicorn horn through the fine golden chain, just like Mama used to. She took a deep breath and set to cleaning up.  

She checked to see that her bedsheets were free of stains before she straightened them over the mattress and folded her blanket neatly on her bed. There wasn’t much that needed to be set to rights in this room where magic held sway, but Belle felt better for making an effort. 

The shelf over her pillow was overstuffed with books, stories she had already read and had meant to put away for days now. With a good-natured huff at her past self, Belle picked up the stack of books and carried them over to the wall by the door. 

Most of the books in her arms were horror stories. She had read tales of other people’s misery to distract herself from her own, or to feel the suffering resonate inside her own soul. There was a dark comfort to be found in such things. These stories helped her know that she was not alone in spirit, even as she was utterly isolated in body. 

But she didn’t need them now, not today at least. These books could be like the dinner knife that was still hidden in one of these shelves--a means of last resort, that she could be grateful she would never use.

Seeking comfort, Belle’s free hand went up to the necklace at her throat. When Rumpelstiltskin had given it back to her, he’d said it was to show that she was her own again. Of course, he’d said that mere minutes before ordering her to stay in the library forever and never pleasure herself again. For a long time, she had thought his declaration of her self-ownership was nothing but a cruel irony. But now she understood him a little better. She was her own, even in this prison. The Dark One had condemned her to this fate, but he could not control what she did with it. That lesson had been a long time in coming. She probably wouldn’t have realized it at all if she hadn’t been able to bring herself pleasure last night.

The last book in her stack fell out of her hands with a thud.

“No,” Belle whispered to herself. “No that can’t be right. I’m…” She looked down at the cuffs. They were loose on her wrists, the bands looked thinner than ever before. They were still golden, but they had never looked so much like stalks of straw. If an object could appear frail and sickly, the cuffs were surely on their deathbed.

“It can’t be,” she said out loud. With shaking breaths, Belle ran her hands over her blue dress and cupped her mound over the layers of cloth. A month ago, the cuffs would have pulled her hands away. But last night she had touched herself. Last night, she had brought her body to a trembling pleasure. 

Last night, she had disobeyed Rumpelstiltskin’s direct order. 

“What?” The word was as soft and half-formed as a breath. Belle’s thoughts ran faster than her mouth could articulate. What did this mean? What had happened? Why had the magic failed?

What other magic wasn’t working anymore?

Belle’s eyes flicked to the door, but she backed away from it slowly. Instead, she forced herself to breathe, to stay calm, to not get too excited, as she walked over to the stairs. She went up to the window and pulled the lever so it opened. The scent of spring came through with the fresh air. It smelled like growth. It smelled like hope. 

The cuffs had kept her in the library. They had prevented her from even sticking her head out the window. But that was before.

Now, tentatively, Belle splayed her hands and reached out through the window and  into the open air. She felt the tingle of the protection spell against her skin, the spell that kept everything out.

But nothing kept her in.

Her breath now came in pants--in heaving, dry gasps that were all of them both a sob and a laugh. Nothing kept her in! The cuffs were useless now! She was--she could be--!

Without another thought, Belle ran down the stairs to the door. Both hands gripped the handle and she turned it and it opened. Laughing now, giddy beyond imagining, Belle swung open the door and bolted out of the library like a djinn freed from its lamp.   

Again, she felt the protection spell tingling around her, but nothing held her back. There was nothing from the cuffs, not even the slightest pull. Belle ran and danced through the hallways, passing room after familiar room. The castle was her home and she had been kept away from it for too long. But she was home now. She was back!

It was only when she came upon the dining room that her exhilaration dimmed. Rumpelstiltskin’s chair was pulled out from the table, as though he had just been interrupted. On the corner of the table closest to where Belle stood, there was a leather bag. The leather was soft and light brown. It reminded her of his loosest-cut trousers, his most comfortable-looking boots. There was a blue ribbon woven around the edge of the bag, the same blue as Belle’s eyes, the same blue as the dress he had given her.

Belle picked the bag up by its thin straps to examine it better. A design had been worked into the front flap--the image of a blooming rose on a thorny vine. Somehow, Belle thought that this bag was meant for her. When she pulled back the flap and saw the contents, she knew she wasn’t wrong.

The first item she pulled out was a travel cloak. Light blue and yellow threads were woven together to make a pattern of green leaves in the heavy fabric. She wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it with silver clasps at her neck. A hood gathered behind her head. Though the cloak was warm and durable, it was light on her small frame. The hem ended below her skirt, but well above her shoes. This lovely thing wasn’t going to drag on the ground and get muddy. It fit her as though it had been made for her. There were slits in the cloth for her arms to come out and, near the arm holes--pockets! Belle stuck her hands in the pockets and twisted her body back and forth for a moment, enjoying the swish of the fabric following her movements.

There was a pair of red leather gloves in the bag as well. Belle tried one on and found that it fit her exactly like a glove was supposed to. The cuffs were now so wide that she could pull them up her arm and then let them fall back down over the gloves. The leather on her hands was loose enough for movement, but tight enough for her to keep control. In her father’s castle, the glover had despaired of Belle’s tiny hands, saying that she would be better off with a child’s mittens than anything made for a grown woman. But these fit perfectly.

As perfectly as magic could make them.

Pressing her lips together, Belle looked into the bag again. There were several wrapped bundles, a piece of black parchment, and a cloth pouch that tied with a drawstring. She left those things alone. Altogether, there was much more in this bag than should ever have been able to fit.

The last thing Belle took out was a pair of walking boots. They matched the gloves, rich red-brown leather that would compliment her hair. In the spirit of experimentation, Belle sat down on the floor and took off her blue shoes so she could see how these boots fit. 

Of course they were perfect. There was no need to break them in, no question that they could ever be worn by someone else. They had been made for her feet. Everything she wore had been made by a man who had intimate knowledge of her body. He had measured her with his gaze a thousand times, had held her hands in his hands so often that he knew the shape of them--even after all this time. Rumple had made her clothes that suited her beautifully, that matched her eyes and her hair and her skin. He had made these things for her. He was giving them to her.

He was equipping her to leave the castle.

The thought struck through Belle like an arrow tipped with poison. Black dread spread out from her heart and filled her completely. That was it, wasn’t it? He wanted her to leave. If she wouldn’t stay in her prison, he was giving her the opportunity to go elsewhere, anywhere, as long as it was away from him.

“Oh, you bastard,” Belle whispered. “Do you think you’ll be rid of me that easily?”

She tossed her blue shoes into the bag and slung it over her shoulder. Of course the bag weighed nothing. She turned on her heel and stormed off to find Rumpelstiltskin.

Since he wasn’t in the dining room, the surest place to find him would be in the tower where he spun his precious straw into gold. On the landing before the tower, she passed the twin bedrooms--one luxurious and unused, the other mostly destroyed in anger. He had never taken her to either one. When the cuffs had worked, they had kept her from even entering the angry room. Even when she had been utterly at his mercy, Rumpelstiltskin had protected her from the worst of his rage.

Had he ever thought he would need to protect himself from her anger?

The door to the tower opened without resistance. Even from the bottom of the steps, she heard the whir of his spinning wheel. With a deep breath, Belle started up the curved staircase. 

Pure habit made her stop just before the last step. Before, she wouldn’t have dared to invade Rumpelstiltskin’s space without an invitation. She used to hate disturbing him. She was still cautious, even now. Even as her fury steamed off of her, even as the fact of her standing there was an act of defiance. 

His back was to her. He sat at the wheel in front of the windows--windows, Belle now realized, that matched the ones in the library. The bobbin on the spindle was only just starting to fill with gold. He spun from dawn until dusk and he didn’t like to be interrupted. It was how he measured time, how he forgot about his troubles. 

But Belle was one trouble that would not be forgotten. Boldly, she stepped over the threshold into his room. 

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she announced her presence stonily. So many people were afraid to say his name, afraid to call on him and invite him into their lives. But Belle had been calling him for weeks without answer, until she had given up hope and despaired and blamed herself for his cruelty. But no more.

The wheel stopped. The Dark One twirled around on his stool to face her. 

“Ah!” he said with artificial brightness. “You’ve finally escaped! How clever! Well done, dearie!”

Dearie. If he had struck her across the face, it would have been less of an insult than that stupid false endearment. Belle squared her jaw. So that was how it was to be. That was how he wanted to treat her, after everything they’d been through. Once, she remembered, he had called her sweetheart.

Belle’s gloved hands balled into fists as she took a step closer. 

“I disobeyed you, Dark One.”  

His face remained an impassive mask, the image of a demon grinning in perverse pleasure. “Had to happen sooner or later!”

She took another step toward him. “Do you care?” she asked. Her voice sounded leaden, heavy with all the meaning that went unspoken. “Do you care that I broke your rules? I disobeyed your order, Rumpelstiltskin!” His name came out as a strangled shriek.

But his expression didn’t change. He stayed nonchalant as he shrugged. “That’s not a game worth playing anymore.”

Belle’s mouth fell open, her anger momentarily quailing under the force of her despair. Not worth it. He admitted it. He said the words that she had wrestled with for all those weeks in the library. She wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want her anymore.

Bastard! 

Her anger resurfaced as quickly as it had vanished. “Why did you lock me away? You could have let me go if you didn’t want me. You could have turned me into a fucking snail and squashed me! Why did you leave me alive and alone and helpless?”

He was still for a moment. His smile stayed the same, though his head wobbled like a toy on a spring. “Hardly helpless,” he said with the same false brightness. “You survived! You weren’t even there that long! And now it’s all over and all will be well!”

It’s all over. Blood pounded in Belle’s ears. She shook her head and closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over and drown her. She shouted instead: “What is this? Why are you doing this to me, Rumple? What the hell is going on?”

Leaping to his feet, the Dark One struck a theatrical pose. “Why, it’s a happy ending, of course! The virtuous heroine breaks the enchantment cast upon her by the monstrous villain! She escapes from her prison and goes out into the world, to have more adventures in the great, wide, somewhere!” He snapped his head to look at her, his eyes sharp and glaring. “Isn’t it grand, dearie? You’re free!”

Belle gaped at him. “What?”

“The spell is broken.” He gestured at her cuffs, thin and useless on her wrists. “No magic binds you anymore. You may go anywhere and do anything you like. You. Are. Free.”

“Free,” she repeated slowly. Her body began to tremble, all her emotions too much for her to control or even comprehend. He was setting her free--but freedom meant she would never be with him again. “But what about our deal?”

The Dark One shrugged, waved his hands dismissively. “It’s done with. The service you’ve put in has been more than enough to pay for saving your little town.”

“But...” Belle’s voice shook. “But you made me promise to go with you forever.”

“Well, I’m altering the deal! I can do that!” The sing-song tone did little to conceal his irritation.

Belle stood in the center of the room, her brow furrowed, her mind reeling as she tried to understand. Why was Rumple letting her go? Even if he didn’t want to use her, he still owned her, didn’t he? Deals with the Dark One were binding down to the very soul. And he was just… giving her up? Like she was nothing?

“But I love you,” she whispered, too overcome to even think of denying it anymore.

And it was true. The fire in her heart had burned down to ash and embers, but there was still a spark that loved him. If Rumple wanted to, he could fan the flames and build up the fire again. If he apologized, if he explained himself, if he treated her with kindness, if he acted like he loved her in return--then Belle would gladly give her heart to him again. If he just told her that he wanted her heart, if he just promised to treasure it, it would be his.

Instead, the Dark One grimaced. He looked repulsed, disgusted by the idea of love, by the idea of her. As he looked at her longer, his disgust turned to pity. Somehow, that was worse.

“Of course you do.” He sounded about to gag. “You are a loving creature, and you were desperate for companionship. If I had enchanted the teacups and candlesticks to talk to you, you would have fallen in love with them!” Giggling, he turned away from her, standing at  his wheel but not yet spinning.

Belle clenched her fists again. She took a step toward him. “Is that what you think? Is that what you think of me? Of yourself? Of--of what we had together? Because you cannot deny that there was something there!”

He didn’t turn around, so she went on.

“And it was more than just pleasure. And it was more than just my loneliness. You were lonely too, don’t deny it! You enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours.”

He said nothing. His back was to her, unmoving as a closed door. 

“We were happy,” Belle said softly. “We could have been happy together for a long time. We--” she shook her head, feeling foolish even to imagine such things. “We could have belonged together.”

At that, Rumpelstiltskin sat down at the spinning wheel, picked up a handful of straw, and began to spin. Belle watched him for a moment, her blood pounding in her ears.

“Or perhaps you’re right.” She swallowed down her bile. “Perhaps I’ve been wrong about you this whole time. Perhaps there are no layers to you, no mystery to be uncovered. Perhaps there is nothing more to you than an empty heart and a chipped cup.”

He didn’t respond. She wanted to run up to the wheel, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. She wanted to force him to look her in the eye and tell her the truth. She wanted to hurt him--physically would be best, but emotionally would do in a pinch. 

But she stayed still, unwilling to let her passions rule her. If the Dark One’s chosen weapon was coldness, then she would show him they were equally matched. 

“If I’m not worth the price to you, Rumpelstiltskin,” she said with solemn dignity, “then you are not worth it to me.”

She turned to go, but after three steps, she heard his voice: “Wait.”

Belle stopped. Slowly, her heart pounding, she turned around. “Yes?”

 He was still at the wheel, his back to her. One hand twisted the straw, but the other was extended out. One scaly finger pointed at the worktable, at a small glass vial.

“You may take that,” he said stiffly. “One last recompense.”

Curiosity outweighing her anger, Belle strode over to the table to examine the vial. She picked it up in her gloved hand and saw a collection of coarse powders half-filling the glass. She had seen this concoction before.

“It’s the memory potion,” she said quietly. “The cure for a broken heart.”

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look at her, but he did nod. “You should add three of your hairs, and then fill the bottle with clean water. It works best if you drink it slowly, over the course of one day. When you wake up the next morning, everything I’ve ever done to you will be nothing but a bad dream. You can forget everything.”  

Belle was aware of her thundering heartbeat, of the awful tightening in her chest as she looked down at the vial in her hand. Her leather glove squeezed around the glass, almost hard enough to break it. She wanted to break it. She wanted to see the evil thing shatter into a thousand pieces. 

Instead, she set it down carefully on the table.

“What about my scars?” She didn’t have enough air in her lungs for more than a breathy whisper. “There are marks on my body, permanent marks from you. Will I forget how I got them? Will I forget how you beat me bloody and sewed my flesh with gold? Will I forget how I lost my virginity, Rumpelstiltskin?”

He had stopped spinning, but he didn’t look at her. His back was ramrod straight, his shoulders squared against her assault.

“How dare you think that I would choose to forget you! That I would cut out a section of my own mind just to ease your conscience!” Her breath was coming easier now, words and volume pouring from her in equal measure. “How dare you ask me to forget that I loved you. Do you know me so little that you think I would want such a thing? Do you--”

She cut herself off. He wasn’t listening to her now, no more than he had been while she was in the library. And Belle would not beg for his attention. 

“You know what?” she said instead. “Keep it. Keep your potion. You can take it. You can forget me if you like, if it makes any difference! In fact, you can keep all of your magic! Keep your straw and your gold and your orders and your mysteries. Keep your pleasure, keep your games, keep your--”

Belle looked down at the cuffs on her arms. They were so loose now she had to be careful how she moved her hands. She had to fight to keep them on her wrists. 

But she wouldn’t fight the inevitable anymore.

With a weary sigh, Belle let her hands fall to her sides. The cuffs slipped off her wrists and clattered to the ground. She looked down at them, the thin, useless bands of gold that were really just straw. Everything had been just an illusion, and now the magic was gone.

It was all over.

She was free.

“You can keep the cuffs,” Belle said, as she turned away from the Dark One forever. “But I will keep my heart.”

****

After that it was all a blur. Belle ran down the stairs, tears clouding her vision, her cloak flapping behind her like a battle flag. She bolted out of the tower, through the dining room, into the foyer and out the door. Cruel words rang in her ears: That’s the way out, you won’t be using it! But she went through all the same. 

Nothing stopped her.

Belle stormed through the courtyard and the center avenue. The gates out of the castle were wide open, waiting for her exit. A dirt road lead down from the rocky mountain into forested hills. Belle let her legs carry her, comfortable in her boots as her mind seethed and raged and mourned.  

She spent a night in the forest, sleeping in the hollow of a fallen chestnut tree. It was only when she stopped moving that she began to wonder what she was going to do next. 

[darkelfshadow]

Session Summary - 77

AKA “The Strength Of The Anvil”

Adventures in Taggeriell

Session 77  (Date: 24th January 2020)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Varis”) Elf Male.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- John (Known as “Ragnar”) Dwarf Male.

Absent Players

Nil

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by Travis>

Summary

- Toilday, 9th Pharast in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- The party begin this session, in the late evening, having left the Yuan-ti Nest Complex to return to the Tomb Of Diderius.

- The party once again speak to Diderius, Mummy Lord, and their conduct and behaviour pleases Diderius, and the party is allowed to proceed safely through. Varram The White mumbles something about a “dagger” in his confused state and the party search an area of wall near the empty pool and find an enchanted Dragontooth Dagger, an important symbol of status within the Cult Of The Dragon Queen. When Varram sees the dagger he finally snaps out of his confused state and is once again lucid.

- Returning to the group of Devils guarding the unexplored bloody stairs downwards, with Varram now safely secured, blind folded, gagged and hidden from view in a sack, Trenchant disguises himself as Varram and orders the Devils to go outside to “find and bring back beasts of burden.” The Devils leave the Tomb and with the lack of suitable animals in the Serpent Hills will probably be engaged in that activity for a very long time.

- The party proceed through the room with the large golden sentinel. Opening a set of double stone doors, they find an ancient library. Upon entering, a Ghost appears which is visibly upset and emotionally unstable. The Ghost is most concerned about guarding her books, even though all the shelves are empty. The party learn that this Ghost, Ilda, was killed in the library trying to stop a band of robbers from stealing all her books. Not all the books were present in the library however, as Ilda mentions that Diderius had a quantity of books on loan, which he would have had in his private room.

- The party agree to help Ilda in retrieving her books back, except for Sir Krondor who unwisely tells her outright that he has no intention of bringing her books back. When she hears this, she erupts into furry, her face contorting into a Horrifying Visage which the party reel against. Labarett and Sir Krondor suffer from the gaze, each instantly ageing twenty years. Sir Krondor is now 108 years old, nearing middle age for a Dwarf and Labarett is now 141 years old. Ragnar manages to calm down the Ghost and reassures her that they will indeed bring her books back.

- The party return to the unexplored downward bloody stairs and proceed with caution to a stone door, blocked with a single iron spike, which the party remove. Entering the room beyond they find the private quarters for Diderius. When some of the party enter, they are attacked by the appearance of a group of Wraiths and Spectres. These undead foes, which were so deadly to Varram and his men, prove no match for the party now that they have a Cleric Of The Light. Ragnar fills the room with Daylight, which forces the undead to cower. Quickly the party dispatch the spirits thanks to their magic weapons and soon the room is quiet again.

- There is a large pile of old leather bound books and within this Ragnar finds the ancient book he was searching for but the ink is so old and faded that it can not be read. He does find two faded illustrations within the book, perhaps this is a clue to where to look next for the Sun Blade he seeks.

- Within the room is also found an enchanted set of a silver jug and four goblets, an enchanted gold ring with an amethyst gem, several well made silk robes and two Scrolls of Protection From Energy.

- The party gather the items, including the large quantity of ancient books, and return to the library. The pile of books are brought into the library and the ghostly image of Ilda appears around them. For the first time, her voice softens and her expression becomes intense. She looks over at Ragnar and with warmth in her voice says, “Thank you Cleric Of The Light, I may now pass onwards.” Her figure fades and the room is now quiet.

- The party leave the Tomb, being careful to avoid any of the traps or dangers they encountered before, and once again breath in the cold night air of the Serpent Hills. After Ragnar warns the party about Trolls her saw taking the Cultists who were camped on the outside, the party decide to travel onwards for a hour to get away from the Tomb before camping. They find a suitable outcrop of rock to camp next to, with Trenchant summoning Leomund’s Tiny Hut. The night goes uneventfully, except for the sounds of snakes.

- Wealday, 10th Pharast in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- The party arise in the morning, with Labarett performing the dawn ritual upon the Black Dragon Mask. Breaking camp they head off at a brisk pace, thanks to Labarett’s skills, and make good time. The day passes without incident, but the party notice the ever watchful presence of snakes around them.

- Evening comes and the party once again set up a suitable camp site. During the middle of the night, with Labarett and Varis on watch, they see the silhouette of two Yuan-ti againts the night sky watching them. After one of the figures leaves, Varis tries to take out the remaining one with arrows but the figure manages to transform into a snake and slither into a hole in the ground.

 - Oathday, 11th Pharast in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- With the coming dawn, after breaking camp and the completion of the dawn ritual the party eagerly head off towards Boareskyr. About mid morning the party finally arrive at the Boareskyr Bridge. The settlement is visible on the far side of the wide and deep river chasm, and so too is the Tower Of Anvil but before the party can reach the bridge they are cut off by the sudden appearance of a large group of Yuan-ti. The Nest Mother has returned and she will not allow the party to bring back the knowledge of one of the many Yuan-ti nests, and thus battles ensues.

- The party soon find themselves over whelmed by Yuan-ti forces with more and more arriving. Matters turn even worse when three of the Yuan-ti Abominations rip open pouches that shower them in fine green powder that transforms them into larger more dangerous forms. The Nest Mother tries to corrupt Varis’s mind with nightmare visions but he manages to ward them off.

- The party are desperately fighting for their lives, using all their means. Trenchant summons a storm cloud above the plains and begins directing lightning bolts down upon the Yuan-ti. Ragnar summons a sphere of Spirit Guardians around him, giving the party a defensive position. Labarett is raging, taking blow after blow. Arrows fly forth from Varis’s bow striking true. Sir Krondor and Gim charge into combat with their blades swinging into Yuan-ti flesh. Naillae sneaks darting to and forth lunging her daggers into the Yuan-ti.

- The party are being hammered. More and more Yuan-ti appear and are relentless in their assault on the party.

- Naillae looks around, at the injured and trapped party, “We’re doomed!”

- Then a loud, deep, crackling war horn booms out from the direction of the bridge. Sir Krondor smiles and shouts, “Not yet lassy!  The strength of the Anvil is here now!”

- Racing across the stone bridge is a war pony in armour, pulling behind it a wagon and a strange metal contraption. Hanging off the sides of the wagon are two armoured Dwarves, and seated upon the strange metal contraption is another armoured Dwarf. All three are wearing the colours and tabards of the Order Of The Anvil.

- Ragnar looks over at the approaching group and shouts, “Knights of the Anvil! And they have a Dragon Fire Spitter! Praise Truesilver for this miracle!”

- The Knights Of The Anvil reach the end of the bridge and stop allowing the rear Knight, Sir Dawn, to jump off and remove the metal contraption, the Dragon Fire Spitter, and start to aim it towards the battle. The two remaining Knights, Sir Faran and Sir Horal, shout at the War Pony to race onwards.

- As the party continue fighting, they hear a loud boom come from the Dragon Fire Spitter and a large white cloud erupts outwards. A high pitched whistling sound comes from the sky above, and a few breaths later, a large fireball explodes in the middle of the battle engulfing a group of Yuan-ti in flames.

- The tide of battle is turned now with the arrival of the Knights Of The Anvil. The battle is still raging on, and Gim is dropped to the ground, badly wounded and dying. The others in the party race to his aid, with Ragnar healing his wounds from afar whilst Trenchant and Naillae defend his temporary retreat.

- Sir Faran and Sir Horal are engaging the Yuan-ti, hitting them hard and forcing them away from the party but thanks to their War Pony are able to out manoeuvre and stay one step ahead of the encroaching foes.

- Lightning bolts rain from above, and now fireballs explode repeatedly into the Yuan-ti thanks to the Anvil’s Dragon Fire Spitter. The Yuan-ti are losing now, their numbers falling one by one but still they fight, until with only one remaining it transforms into a snake and slithers away. The party cheer and all the Dwarves shout out, “For Fanur!”

<And as the party stand in disbelief at their survival, that is the end of the session.>

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- “Soul At Peace” Release Ilda The Ghost = 500 XP

- “Care For The Elderly” Escort Dalern & Elona To Boareskyr = 350 + 350 XP

- “Fetch Me A Ride” Remove Devils = 300 XP

- “Can Someone Scratch My Nose?” Convey Varram The White In Custody to Boareskyr = 500 XP

Creatures Overcome

- Wraiths = 5400 XP

- Specters = 1000 XP

- Yuan-ti Malisons (Type 1 & 3) = 2800 XP

- Yuan-ti Nightmare Speaker (Nest Mother) = 1100 XP

<Assisted by Forces Of The Anvil, XP Shared and reduced from amounts shown below>

- Yuan-ti Malisons (Type 1 & 3) = 5600 XP

- Yuan-ti Abominations = 14500 XP

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start +  Received = Total  (Notes)

Rob : 91122 + 3584 = 94706

Arthur : 72488 + 3584 = 76072

John : 65702 + 3584 = 69286

Travis : 82943 + 3584 = 86527 (Level up to Level 11)

Paul : 71819 + 3584 = 75403

Bob : 78247 + 3584 = 81831

NPC (Naillae) : + (1792)

[primrooks]

Wands of a Feather: An Elena of Avalor/Sofia the First Crossover

[Chapter 1] // [Chapter 2]

*One of the most surprising and fun aspects of writing this story has been creating all sorts of different OC's, sometimes right on the spot! Quarry, Isadora, Hiba and Raadi are all my characters (as far as I know, we never do meet the royal wizard of Khaldoun in StF), and I was especially excited to tap into the idea of deaf mages and non-verbal magic within this universe. I'm not part of the deaf community myself, so if anything looks off, do let me know!

AO3 link here!

Chapter 3: The Tri-Kingdom Showcase

The lone figure suddenly formed into two, one a few inches taller than the other. The first presenters stepped into the spotlight, another stage effect courtesy of Isadora. The shorter of the two was a kindly middle-aged woman, wearing a midnight-blue robe and draped with a shimmering silver cloak, her head covered by a knotted white headscarf. Next to her was a teenage boy with freckles dotted across his brown skin, clad in an elegant teal robe and a patterned russet turban. A leather satchel hung from his left arm.

Both bowed deeply before the crowd, then the elder wizard stepped forward to gauge her audience.

Her hazel-eyed gaze held some kind of gravity that pulled at Mateo’s attention. Nothing in it was scrutinizing, just attentive. Quietly aware of the people before her, and silently asking them to share in that awareness.

The woman gave a tender grin, and then began to gesticulate with her hands, smoothly forming various signs while never tearing away her gaze.

“Welcome, friends. I am Hiba, Royal Wizard to His Majesty King Nasir of Khaldoun,” interpreted the young boy, who’d stepped up to Hiba’s side.

“This here is my apprentice, Raadi,” she signed, at which Raadi gave a small nod.

“I am humbled to be performing this morning for all of you, though I must say, the journey from our country to the isle was… more eventful than perhaps our company hoped,” Hiba continued. It amazed Mateo how Raadi matched his voice to the subtle inflections of his master’s gestures and facial expressions, with only cursory glances away from her hands.

Then as if on cue, Raadi took a couple steps to the side, while Hiba extended her left arm and summoned a tall staff out of thin air. The top of the bronze staff was adorned with gilded feathers curling around a bright sapphire orb, and the body was carved with rows upon rows of delicate engravings. Mateo vaguely recognized some of them as runes, but most of the writing seemed to be calligraphy native to Khaldoun. Another wave of Hiba’s hand caused the engravings to glow a purple light, and as they did, Mateo noticed the various jeweled bracelets and swirling golden bands that decorated Hiba’s forearms.

A swirling array of lavender lights emerged like ribbons from the staff, coalescing with one another and steadily taking solid shape before their eyes. The lights took the likeness of a giant thirty-foot serpent, its eyes blank as snow and its maw lined with jagged teeth, with enormous tusks curving out of the sides. The illusion looked big enough to ram its head through a fortress, and it eerily stared down upon the audience while gliding through the air. Its jaws opened and closed just slightly as it prowled in a circle, and Mateo couldn’t help but gulp as it passed above his head. No one made a sound, even as the serpent stopped above Hiba’s head.

“Our ship happened to be passing through a pod of these serpents, and some feared the worst,” Hiba signed.

She then turned toward Raadi. “My dear apprentice confessed that he thought his life was forfeit right then and there.”

Raadi dutifully interpreted his master’s last comments, before he shot back at her with a piqued expression.

“Leave it to Madame Hiba to never skimp out on the details,” he spoke, turning so that he directly faced his master with his signs. Hiba chuckled, as did the audience. But then the spectral serpent curled upwards, and the laughter stopped as it towered above them at its full height. The room grew tense once more as it stood with its eyes unblinking, mouth agape, and then…

It started to sing.

Waves of a soft and ominous melody filled the air, like a shell horn’s strain ringing through a cave. The effect was similar to how Mateo had heard Naomi describe whale songs back at school. Its voice carried echoes of some dark and fathomless part of the ocean, its melody as unhurried as the tide. Mateo then remembered one other thing Naomi warned about serpent calls: many an untrained sailor had met their watery fate by mistaking their song for a whale’s.

Serpents travelled in large pods beneath the water’s surface, using their song to guide their brood during summer migrations to the north. If boats lingered too long in the migration path, they were met by the viciously territorial serpents. The lucky ones knew to make a swift and quiet escape with their ships, and she meant lucky. Even Naomi’s mother, a master of the seas, had vessels nearly capsized by their tusks and tails.

The sound carried beyond the theater area to the further corners of the pavillion, and Mateo briefly turned his head to see if anyone outside this crowd had noticed. There were a few curious faces (mainly children and their parents) who looked up at the illusion in awe, though others carried on unperturbed.

He turned back to the serpent, and saw that more light illusions had flown out of Hiba’s staff. They formed a few smaller serpents, brighter in color, which flocked close to the first serpent as it led them higher above the stage. Isadora’s spotlight followed them as they swam through the air in synchronized twisting and swirling patterns, joining one another in song.

As they circled closer around the theater area a couple of times, showing off well-timed maneuvers that earned bursts of applause from the spectators, Mateo caught Hiba in the corner of his eye. From her billowing sleeves she drew a small square of paper inscribed with thin ink lettering. She flicked it into the air, and the paper burst into a flash of fire.

And just as quickly, the whole pavillion dissolved from Mateo’s sights. Stalls, trees and solid ground had vanished, and all background noise was covered by a pregnant hush. Darkness surrounded them, until an array of tiny lights blinked and swirled into being. Before long, the crowd found themselves sitting in the middle of a galactic cluster, where the brightest star of all shined above: the North Star.

“The crew on our vessel managed to pull us out to safety, but I grew curious as to how often such encounters occurred.” Raadi stood by Hiba once more, holding her staff as she continued her speech. “I asked the captain for records of the sea serpents’ migration patterns, and he gave me an even more invaluable asset.”

Raadi drew three pieces of paper from his sleeve, folded into neat boomerang-like knots. He tossed them one by one into the air, and the papers morphed into their own streaks of light. As with Hiba’s illusions, the streaks gathered like strings rolling up into a ball, and expanded to become different sea creatures: blue caballos marinos, green tortoises, even a gigantic scarlet kraken. They each joined with the serpents as they looped around one last time, before gliding upwards to the North Star.

The crowd’s applause broke out louder, before being quelled by a sharp knock upon the stage. Hiba gave three gentler taps with the staff, and the light illusions she and Raadi conjured formed into a luminous, emerald-colored orb. The orb ballooned into a large globe, and white lines formed around its surface, mapping the various continents of the Ever-Realm.

“The captain showed me all the records of different migration patterns that he and past generations of Khaldounian sailors had collected through their many voyages.” Moving her hand in a curling motion, Hiba conjured an illusory sun, casting light upon her globe.

“The creatures of the sea follow where the cold and warm waters flow. They track the seasons as we still sometimes do with the stars.” Hiba stretched both of her arms out, and summoned her sea beasts once more, in smaller versions that ducked in and out of the surface of her globe. The globe then started to rotate on an axel around the sun, tracking the seasonal paths of the creatures with the sun and the North Star as their constant guide.

As he stared up at the map, Mateo vaguely recalled Abuela and Mamá’s stories about the North Star, how the star’s different positions in relation to the Ever-Realm horizon acted as a compass to early Avaloran sailors. The most fascinating stories recounted how the ancient Maruvians created calendars and predicted turns of fortune from the night sky.

He once tried to map the sky himself, and although he found the process a bit too precision-based (resulting in many scribbled-out and ink-stained parchment notebooks), he loved to just look at the maps from school and compare them to the star and moon charts in his Abuelo’s archives. While the calculations behind the charts felt weighty and tedious back when he was nine years old, something about his Abuelo’s notes on the constellations and the stories they told would keep him up for hours past his bedtime.

“My hope with this Astral Atlas is that all who sail upon the seas will instantly know where and when the most dangerous creatures of the sea might cross their paths, and to see how all life, no matter how monstrous its appearance, follows the same patterns as we do,” Hiba explained, giving a knowing smile.

With another sharp “TACK!” from her staff, her illusions - the globe, beasts, star field - vanished in an instant. Mateo blinked, gathering his senses back to the canvas-filtered sunlight and the general murmur of the exhibition hall. His confusion was shared with some of the younger sorcerers, but the elders looked more quietly impressed with Hiba’s showcase.

“And before you ask: no, you won’t need that whole light show to use the atlas. In fact, one shouldn’t have any trouble carrying one of these around. And yes, everyone will get one to take home,” Hiba finished, eliciting a number of excited whispers.

After he was done interpreting, Raadi reached into his satchel and pulled out a black board segmented into two. He folded out from the part, and from its surface popped out an animated atlas just like the one he and Hiba conjured, though on a smaller scale. The detail was no less impressive on the model, and the board itself was as thin as a school slate.

At a small nod from his master, Raadi closed the board and placed it back in his bag. He joined Hiba in bowing to the audience, who responded in kind with elated applause. Mateo even saw some of them give a standing ovation.

He looked back at Hiba and Raadi, who were signing between themselves, grinning ear to ear as they exchanged words that he wished he could follow. But their expressions carried all the clarity he needed: while Raadi appeared bashful, in contrast to the collected front he presented on stage, his master couldn’t be more proud.

+++

“Incredible...” Cedric muttered to himself.

He’d been watching the Khadounian wizards’ performance from a hidden seating area backstage, located off to the side from the main platform. The longer he thought back to Hiba’s star map, the more his stomach felt like a black hole, warping him from the inside. He wanted to pace around, but he stood stock-still, afraid of making a spectacle.

He’d have expected no less from a wizard of her caliber, but Hiba had created an invaluable aid to sailors and adventurers of all stripes. How could his trick match up? What was a gussied-up child’s toy compared to that?

He hoped that Quarry wouldn’t take notice of his nerves, as the eagle-owl busied himself with treats while resting on his own perch.

“Heh. And she had the mettle to tell me that she came up with all that last minute,” chuckled a sagacious voice from the bench next to his.

Wu-Chang was seated with his oak staff laid across his lap, stroking his long white beard as he looked over Cedric’s shoulder. Hiba and her apprentice were now making their exit towards the opposite end of the stage, while the young master of ceremonies stepped up to the center in a dazzling dash of pink.

As she began raving over Hiba’s act to hype up the audience for their next performer, Wu-Chang stood up and leisurely smoothed out his gold-and-veridian robes.

Cedric could recall a few times in his childhood when he’d seen the Royal Sorcerer of Wei-Ling perform, either for King Roland I or in shows with Cedric’s own father, Goodwin the Great. Goodwin was not a man known for his flattery, and one thing that used to (somewhat) quell Cedric’s anxiety over his father’s approval was that, however critical he was about his son’s magical education, Goodwin would apply the same eagle eye for error on his own rivals.

Wu-Chang was one of the rare few to escape any scathing appraisal, and Cedric could see why. The elder sorcerer was a master of the traditional arts, held a storied record of service, and performed for royals and subjects alike with the same gentle reverence that eased his crowds into some truly wondrous spectacles. For all his years of service however, Wu-Chang rarely spoke of retirement, which made Cedric wonder how he himself would fare the further he got along in his years.

“Hopefully I won’t lull our guests too well,” Wu-Chang joked, standing by the curtain leading up to the main stage.

Cedric tried to laugh, but the pathetic exhale that came out of his mouth sounded more like a wheeze.

“Is your throat alright?” asked Wu-Chang, clearly concerned.

“It is, it is,” Cedric assured him. Out of habit, he cleared his throat, immediately undercutting his claim.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine.” Then Cedric plopped down on the bench, briefly spooking Quarry. In place of smacking himself on the forehead for making a fool out of himself, Cedric gave a blithe shrug.

“Oh, perhaps I didn’t get as much sleep as I thought.” His words weren’t doing much to save face, judging from Wu-Chang’s slightly raised brow. Cedric avoided his gaze, trying to seem distracted by giving Quarry another snack.

“They wouldn’t be out there if they didn’t want to see you,” said Wu-Chang.

“Pardon?” Cedric asked, looking back up.

Wu-Chang gave a small smile. “I’m just recalling what my old master told me. He said that all I could do was give them the show I prepared. Whatever I did, be it a success, failure, mediocrity, was still a learning experience, and after that I only had to focus on how to make my next act even better.”

Cedric bit back a groan. However well-intentioned, he was not in the mood for a pep talk.

“I should say so,” Cedric stated, effecting a proud tone and stance. “A Royal Sorcerer must strive for nothing less than excellence.”

“An admirable goal, in theory. It would depend on how one measures the concept of excellence,” Wu-Chang countered.

“I think that neither you nor I have little to worry about in that regard. Experience and expertise should speak for themselves,” Cedric touted. Quarry flew up to his shoulder and gave two happy hoots.

“I can see that. You’ve improved considerably since you were a child, Cedric.” Wu-Chang had replied with nothing but sincerity, but that didn’t stop Cedric’s shoulders from tensing nor his throat from tightening.

“Oh, you… you remember me from back then?” Cedric uttered.

“How could I forget? Your dear father and mother always had so much to share about you.”

“Ah, as I’d expect,” he sighed.

“And! Without further ado! We’ve got another spectacular guest lined up and ready to go! Let’s see who’s behind Curtain Number Twooooo!” boomed the emcee. Cedric had taken note during rehearsals, but that young woman’s voice could fill a canyon.

“I bid you luck,” said Wu-Chang.

“Yes, I-” Before Cedric could finish, the other sorcerer vanished with a snap of his fingers, leaving a puff of scarlet smoke. The red smoke quickly evaporated, though Cedric still had to fan some of it away from his eyes.

“-To you as well,” he finished drily. He didn’t have to see the ecstatic welcome Wu-Chang was getting from the crowd. Their cheers were proof aplenty.

“Greetings. My name is Wu-Chang, Royal Sorcerer to His Imperial Highness Emperor Quon of Wei-Ling.”

As the introductory speech went on, Cedric sat back in his bench, and Quarry settled onto his lap. He gently stroked a hand down Quarry’s crest, letting his familiar’s quiet hoots fill the space.

He couldn’t let his nerves get the better of him, not after all those days of planning and practice. He never felt more prepared for a performance, and he especially didn’t want his new familiar to look bad because of him. Unfortunately, one thing hadn’t changed: the waiting was always the worst part.

[jungkookienoona]

The Arach (M)

|Masterlist|Ko-Fi|

Happy Birthday Jungkook!

Summary:

In a time of magic and gods. Of mythical creatures and sacrifices, you were to meet your fate. You were to be offered to the arach.

Genre: Smut, Celtic AU, Mythical/Supernatural, Crackish

Pairing: Dragon!Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations, mentions of human sacrifice, claiming

Word Count: 6106

Vocab: tuath = tribe, ri = chief/king, fine = family, arach = dragon, filid = seer/soothsayers

For months the shadow of a great winged beast had passed over your tuath’s land, cows and sheep disappearing once every week since it’s appearance. Your father, the tuath’s ri, had sent your twin brother to fetch a druid once he caught wind of the first sighting.

You had been first in your tuath to see it, having been under the wing of the tuath’s bard for training. Just two more winters and your training would be complete.

You had been practicing the art of voice when the light of the midday sun was blocked, causing you to cast your gaze towards it. Your breath caught in your throat when golden scales shimmered in the day’s glow. Though hot on its tail were rolling dark clouds, thundering as they spread and trailed behind it. A storm. The beast had bought a storm with it. It wasn’t long before shouts filled the air, others finally noticing what was in the sky.

The sun was beginning it’s journey westward by the time your brother had returned with a druid in tow. The druid was bought into your father’s home to discuss the beast and its presence. As you were the first one to see the creature before the clouded sky obscured its silhouette, you had been allowed to join them. The priest was quick to tell you that the beast, the arach, was a good omen. One of fertile land and a good harvest as well bringing the power of mother earth with it since arachs were chosen by the gods to be the guardians of wisdom and the known world. And the fact it bought rain with it seemed to be further proof that the arach’s presence was a blessing.

The druid encouraged your father to make sure the arach stayed, and to make offerings; to turn a blind eye to any livestock that went missing and to send the beast sacrifices.

And so your father followed the advice given. He didn’t fuss over the odd sheep going missing, but when weapons and precious materials started disappearing, he started the practice of making sacrifices.

At first he sent the non-freeman, those who broke the tuath laws, only for them to return with heads bowed in shame and carrying a message:

“The arach wishes to be sent only young maidens who are of age but no younger than 18 winters.”

When word caught your ear of the demand, your stomach dropped. Yes, it was an honour to be sacrificed to a great being, but there was only few who fit the category of appropriate offerings. You were one of those few and since your father could not find you a willing suitor and your bard training soon to come to an end, it was highly likely you would be offered. Once you had finished your training, you would not be allowed to wed either. Your father and brother had been particularly desperate to find you a suitor before it was too late but all were driven away by your brash behaviour. A side effect of having no female figure in your life since your mother died in childbirth, just like the goddess Macha. A woman-turned-goddess who died while birthing twins, exhausted from being made to race against steeds by her husband.

You watched as once a month, a girl around your age would disappear into the forest, never to return. Then the day arrived. The day you were chosen for sacrifice. Your father had made a speech to the rest of the tuath about how it honoured him greatly to give up his only daughter to the arach. Your brother, on the other hand, pleaded for you to leave the tuath. To run to safety, even though it went against his own training as a soon to be druid himself. He could not bare to lose his only sister, his twin and other half. But you refused. Running away would bring a curse onto the tuath. You couldn’t let that happen. So with a heavy heart, your brother offered you the only protection he could offer: a prayer to Cernunnos before you entered the woodland to the east of your lands, to where the arach’s den laid.

“I don’t see why I need protection when crossing through the forest when the other sacrifices did not.” You complained while the elder women of your father’s fine fussed with your hair and clothing. You had to look presentable for your death.

They braided your hair, weaving freshly picked flora and beads into the intricacies they created. Designs that were memorized and passed down through generations. A torc adorned your neck, the gold resting heavily on your collar bones. As daughter of the ri, golden rings decorated your body. They proudly situated on your arms, wrists, fingers and ankles. You were dressed in purple floor length tunic, sleeves short as to showcase your golden bands. Intricate designs had been sown into the tunic in a lighter shade of purple while a simple gold chain girdle rested on your hips.

“It is Ostara, the day of the goddess Eostre, the animals and creatures are in rut. We need you to reach the arach untouched.”

You gulped, “Do… do you think I will remain untouched when I join mother in the Otherworld?”

Your brother placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, mindful of the hard work of the fine.

“Ask the filid when it is time for you to be offered. They will have the answer, I cannot see into the future.”

You stood in front of the forest, in the same place where the offerings before you had stood. The filid was beside you, a cloak around her shoulders, her hood down to show her painted face. The twisting patterns holding ancient meanings.

“Filid, may I ask, when I join my mother… will I be untouched?”

The filid gave you a gentle smile, “Do not worry about the Otherworld, arach silliin, you have the blood of Macha with you. It is time for you to meet your fate. Recite the prayer your brother gave you.”

With a shaky breath, you staightened your back, wishing your father would tell them to stop. You looked over to him only for him to give you a nod.

“G-God of the green, Lord of the forest, I offer you my s-s-sacrifice.” Your focus went back to the forest, “I ask you for your blessing. You are the man in the trees, the green man of the woods, who brings life to the dawning spring.” A light began to shine within the foliage, “You are the deer in rut, mighty Horned One, who roams the autumn woods, the hunter circling round the oak, the antlers of the wild stag, and the lifeblood that spills upon the ground each season.” Your voice grew in confidence as it approached, “God of the green, Lord of the forest, I offer you my sacrifice. I ask you for your blessing.”

From the light emerged an almighty stag.

The filid gave you a gentle push towards it, “Cernunnos has come to escort you. He gives you his blessing and accepts you as the tuath’s sacrifice.”

The stag lowered onto its front legs, as if bowing to you. You took tentative steps towards it and it gestured to its back, was it a silent command to hop on? Did the manifestation of the Lord of the forest really want you to ride it?

“Go on child of Macha, this is an honour only few get to have.” She took your hand and led you closer to the stag, helping to seat you on it’s back, “You are the daughter of the ri, silliin to the arach and child of the gods. This is your birthright.”

The filid untied a crown of flowers from her own girdle, placing it on your head with the utmost gentleness. And with that, the stag rose to it’s full height and turned away from your tuath. It took all your strength not to cry. You would be meeting your mother in the Otherworld soon enough.

The midday sun was at its peak, you were having difficulty staying awake. Until a soothing bartone filled your ears.

“We are there, daughter of Macha.”

“W-who said that?”

The stag turned it’s head to look at you as it continued forward, entering a clearing, “I did, child.”

That couldn’t be. There was no way Cernunnos was speaking to you through his avatar. The stag once again lower to allow you off its back. Though it did not leave. Instead, it lowered itself further to lay on the lush green grass in front of you.

“Why are you shocked? You are a daughter of Macha, descendant of a goddess from the Morrigan.”

You couldn’t have been more confused, “What d-do you mean?”

The stag tilted its head, apparently confused itself, “Do you not know of the blood that runs through your veins? The lineage you inherited from your mother?”

“She died in childbirth. I never met her.”

The stag nodded in… understanding?... “Only the filid must know of your bloodline then, since your mother came from a neighbouring tuath. Child, Macha was your mother’s mother’s mother.”

You were about to question the stag further when a great wind blew into the clearing, bellowing, as a shadow appeared over you. The arach had arrived. The arach had arrive and you had just found out your were a descendant of a goddess. You couldn’t die. Not now. You had so much more to learn.

You turned towards the beast as it descended into the clearing, golden scales shimmering, catching the light. Unbeknownst to you, the stag stood back up as the arach landed, the arach’s wings folded in as it bowed to the stag. And with that, the stag left back into the woods.

Lightning crackled around the beast, building up to a blinding degree before disappearing with a flash. There, before you, was the most handsome man you had ever seen. Long dark hair the colour of the skin from a ripe cherry framed his face, complimenting his aureate skin. Wide eyes, silver like the moon, took in your own features and his nose scented the air before his lips split into a toothy grin. Golden scales covered his shoulders and sides, leaving his undersides like his stomach uncovered… He was naked…

“My my, aren’t you the bejeweled one? You must be from a wealthy family. And from the purple gown… you’re royalty in your tuath. The ri’s daughter perhaps?”

Even his voice sounded gorgeous. Why did death have to greet you like this? Couldn’t it have stayed as a giant beast?

“A… Are you the arach?”

“No shit. You just saw me transform. And I have a name. It’s Jungkook.”

Jungkook…

As hard as you tried your eyes kept wandering downwards. Sure you had seen the warriors of your tuath bereft of clothing but none were as attractive as the creature that was approaching you in slow measured steps. Jungkook appeared to be sizing you up.

“Could you m-maybe cover up? The only man I should see like this is my future husband.”

Jungkook laughed, his eyes gleaming deviously, “You are here to be sacrificed, maiden, there is no future husband for you.”

A furious anger made itself known inside of you as he mentioned your lack of a future.

“I am not ‘maiden’. I am Y/N of Cauci. My father is the ri of the tuath, and my mother's lineage is of the great goddess Macha. You will not kill me and you will stay on my tuath’s land.”

“Kill you? I don’t plan on killing you, my little demi-god. If I wanted a dead sacrifice, I would’ve asked for a grand ceremony, a public spectacle.”

Silence filled the space between you as Jungkook’s eyes glimmered with mirth. You weren’t going to die… but if that was the case…

“What happened to those before me?”

He smiled, surprising you with how… human… his teeth looked. You were expecting rows upon rows of daggers, like a lynx.

“They’re safe. I delivered them to different tuaths. A person rejected by an arach is dishonoured, an omen. A person gifted by an arach is treated with respect.”

You took Jungkook’s word for it and breathed a sigh of relief. Arach’s didn’t lie after all. The other girls were safe… Did that mean the same for you? Would you be taken across the land only to be dropped at some other tuath’s land? No longer the Ri’s duaghter, your training as a bard abandoned? Would you be forced to marry?

It was strange how easily you accepted the prospect of all this earlier when you thought you were facing death. But now you knew that death wasn’t what the deities had planned for you… You’re chest began to constrict.

“So… so… You’re going to make me leave my home behind… for the sake of my honour?”

Jungkook scoffed, seemingly having closed the space between you while you were caught in thought. His hand coming up to cup your chin, eyes staring into your own, amusement swimming within them.

“Little demi-god, your honour is mine. I’m making you leave your home because it is the fates will. Why else would you be bought to me by Cernunnos during Ostara?”

You blinked up at him as the pieces began to fit together in your head. Ostara, the time beasts and animals alike went into rut… An arach asking for maidens of age… He was looking for a suitable partner to state his needs.

You took a step away from him, “Do you honestly believe I’d let you… lay with me?!”

Jungkook looked taken aback, clearly thinking you wouldn’t question fate’s will. You crossed your arms as he shook his head, that smirk of his returning.

“Maybe I was too… arrogant… I’ll be as clear as possible. We, you and I, are tied by fate. I am of age and have been searching for my life mate. My silliin.” He took a tentative step forward to once again close the distance. “I knew I had found where they were when flying above your tuath. I could smell them. But I couldn’t tell who it was. From the scent I knew they were a maiden of age.”

Your eyesbrows drew together. The filid and Cernunnos had referred to you as silliin. Had this been what they meant?

“And… You think I’m her?”

His tongue snuck out, wetting his lips, “I know it is you.” He leant forward, towards your neck, and sniffed, “Definitely you.”

Fate sure had a strange sense of humour. The daughter who couldn’t find a suitor was destined to be the life mate of an arach. AN ARACH… A gorgeous one at that…

“Why should I accept you?”

He straightened up to look down at you, concerned and uncertain, “Because you want me? The spice of your arousal is colouring your scent so deliciously.”

You huffed, “At least others tried to court me-”

“Arach’s don’t court. In fact, this is the closest to courtship you’ll get from my kind. My mother literally spotted my father and swooped down, carting him off to her home.”

Your jaw dropped and he chuckled, arms sneakily wrapping around you.

“Will you accept me, my little demi-god? I can provide you with shelter, food, protection… freedom to see the world if that is your desire. And in return all you need do is be the mother of my children.”

Fear crept into your veins, travelling to your heart and constricting your throat. None of the women on your mother’s side had survived childbirth from what you knew. It was always twins and certain death.

“I-I- I’ll die-die if I-”

He cut you off by pressing you to him, “Can you feel it? My heart beat? Once we consummate our joining, we’ll share it. Your heart will beat with mine for as long as I live. Don’t be afraid, Y/N of Cauci.”

And you could feel it. Strong against your own chest, already beating in time with your own erratic one. He was just as afraid as you. Though he was afraid of rejection, you were afraid of dying.

You barely noticed how close his face had drawn to yours, too caught up in his silver eyes that grew darker the longer you stayed pressed up to him. Well, you barely noticed until he spoke again, his lips brushing against yours, sending tingling sparks across them.

“Will you accept me? I need your answer.”

What was the point in rejecting him? You no longer had a fine you could return to. At least he offered you a choice on how you would proceed in life.

"I lost everything as soon as I was chosen to be a sacrifice, I have nothing more I can lose.”

You heard what sounded like a faint whine, like the arach was distressed by your words.

"Accept me and you don't have to lose everything. I'll remain by your tuath. You can still go see them. My mark on you will let them know you are not dishonoured."

You didn’t have to lose everything. Your brother’s face flashed before your mind’s eye. With that thought in mind, you gave him your answer.

“I… I accept-”

His lips were on yours in an instant, lightning suddenly coursing through you in place of the fear that once gripped you. Was this what all kisses felt like? Cause you could’ve gotten addicted to them. The building heat radiating from him was seeping through your tunic, contrasting the chill of the spring air against your back.

You were the one to break the kiss, panting for breath as more sparks spread through you where his hands ran up your back and down your sides, making quick work of your girdle. The metal snapping under his strength.

“Say it again, I won’t interrupt you this time.”

His eyes had turned pitch black save for a few flecks of silver that survived, making it seem like the night sky was trapped in his gaze, much like you were.

“I accept you… Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes slid shut as he visibly shivered, taking a deep breath before opening them again.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

He then proceeded to rip your tunic down the front. Didn’t he know how expensive purple dye was?! And exposing you to him with no hesitation either? The nerve. One arm flew up to cover your breasts while the other shot downwards to cover your most intimate area. But he paid you no mind, taking the remains of your tunic and laying it out on the grass beside you. It’s not like he wasn’t affected by your nakedness if the hardness between his legs was anything to go by. You’d admit to being confused by his actions.

At least you were until he patted the material he had lain on the ground, “Care to join me down here, Vahdin?”

You took a moment to truly look at him. How the breeze gave his long tresses life. How his scales caught the sun and glittered like jewels. A creature that was indeed blessed by the gods themselves yet nothing like how legend described. No tale ever told to you, that you learnt from the current bard, mentioned an arach taking human form. Heat built in your chest and spread up your neck, to your cheeks and settled on your ears. From his beauty or his simple act of attentiveness, you didn’t know.

Taking tentative steps towards him, you stopped once your feet were on the rich fabric. Slowly, you lowered onto the remnants of your clothing, still covering yourself with your arms.

“Do… Do you want me to remove my jewelry?”

He shook his head, “They’re a sign of your status. That would be like asking me to cut my hair.”

You gave him a quizzical look.

“I’ll explain it later. We’ll have all the time in the world to learn about each other.” He reached up and removed the flower crown from atop your head. You were surprised it had stayed on at all. “Let’s focus on the now. The offering of each others bodies.”

“Ha-have you done this before?”

He chuckled, “Of course not. My body is for you, my silliin, and you alone.”

You were taken aback by his gentleness as he gripped your wrist and moved the arm covering your breasts away. His eyes widened, reminding you of the forest animals when they caught sight of a human. But that wasn’t the case with him. His eyes didn’t hold fear. They held reverence. Taking in the details of you at his leisure. He muttered things to himself in a language you did not know. Did arach have their own tongue? One word you did understand - Lugh.

His hands travelled to your breasts, cupping them delicately, “Soft. So soft. I’ve been blessed with such a fine mate.”

“Fine? Am I simply fine?”

His eyes snapped towards yours, a playful smile on his lips, “You’re more than fine. I would say you’re perfect but I’d like to see and feel all of you before I decide.”

Your free hand went to his chest, marvelling at it’s firmness and the difference in texture from skin and scale. Both gave way under the pressure of your hand. But where his skin was soft yet firm, his scales were rough yet smooth.

“Do you even know how to… to…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence but he seemed to catch on to your question.

His cheeks were dusted rose, a first for the confident arach, “I’ve stumbled across humans… mating on my travels searching for you. And my father explained the male side of things, my mother explained the arach side.”

You remembered coming across amorous couples A-maying during Beltane when you had gone herb picking in the forest for your brother. The memory made your own cheeks colour.

“O-oh. Is it different for arach?”

Jungkook coaxed you to lay back, his hands having moved to your shoulders, “We… uh… we mate for life. We show that bond through a claiming mark-”

“Like a marriage knot?”

“...I have no idea what that is.”

You blinked up at him, “You… don’t know… what a marriage knot is?” He avoided eye contact, choosing to once again focus on your breasts, massaging them under his palms. “It’s uh… um… stop distracting me… it’s what’s-ah! What’s tied around the hands of those who want to be paired for life.”

He stopped tweaking your nipples to look at you in confusion, “They spend the rest of their lives literally tied together?”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. It just slipped out. And once it did you couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re only tied together in the ceremony. After the hand-fastening has been done they exchange and wear rings that act as proof of their union.”

“So humans have two types of marking? One temporary and one permanent?”  You nodded as he traced a pattern onto your stomach, “Arach only have one way of marking. It is forever and is etched into skin with our lu. It’s part of the mating process.”

“Oh…” You were feeling somewhere between shocked and awkward, “Will… will it hurt?”

His hands traveled even lower to rest on your hips, his head coming down to settle on your breasts, looking up at you, “No. It won’t feel good or bad. My dad said his mark felt like someone was blowing a design onto his stomach. Which makes sense since my mother is an arach of the wind.”

“What kind of arach are you?”

“I am an arach of lightning, blessed by Lugh himself.”

“So how will your mark feel?”

Jungkook smirked at that question, mischief in his eyes, “Probably like this.”

With that he turned his head and captured one of your nipples between his lips, tongue sweeping across, sending tingles through you. You gasped and instinctively arched into him, fingers twining into his cherry locks, to pull him closer or push him away, you did not know. Your grip tightened when his teeth grazed along the stiffening bud, a small noise of… approval rumbling in his throat. To your embarrassment you felt your own body reacting to it, heat pooling in your stomach and becoming a sticky wetness between your thighs. You had felt this before so it was not unfamiliar but before this moment you only knew the sensation from heated dreams and the sweaty mess you’d wake up as.

He released the pebbled bud with a lewd pop, gaze travelling southward as his nose twitched, “Fuck. You’re like this already?” He groaned, “So wet for me, from my touch. Zu'u nox rah tol vorohah hi fah zey.”

You didn’t have the chance to ask him what he had just said as his hand that had been resting on your hip trailed a path of sparks to your core. His fingers pressed against your slit then swiped upwards, flicking the little pleasure nub you had down there. (You knew it was something that made you feel good, but you did not know if it had a name.) Jungkook lent back, making sure you had a good view of him as his bought his essence covered fingers to his mouth, tongue slipping out to sample you before lightly groaning and sucking on his fingers. Something warm dripped onto your thighs, distracting you from his little display. Your eyes flicked down to the spot, coming upon a small translucent puddle of white there. Another drip. You retraced it fall to… the arach’s hard red cock. Curiosity led your actions as one of your own hands left his shoulders to swipe your index finger through the little puddle.  You found yourself rubbing the substance between your finger and thumb, feeling the consistency before copying Jungkook’s actions.

Your nose scrunched up at the salty taste and slimy texture, making a mental note never to let that stuff come near your mouth again. Jungkook tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

“I-I was copying you. Why did you?”

He chuckled and leant down to nuzzle his cheek against your own, “I did it to double check you were fertile. Your scent gives a small indication but the only true way for me to know is to get a taste of you.”

“I-I-Is it important that I am?”

He sat up and shook his head, “Not for the bonding. But it is Ostara, remember.”

You paled. Having just found out you were a descendant of Macha, who ruled over fertility amongst other things, it was more than likely you would end up with child after the bonding. You prayed to the gods that the arach was right in saying you wouldn't die in childbirth.

Jungkook offered you a gentle smile, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as if to brush away your worries, “Breathe, Vahdin, everything will be alright.”

His other hand grabbed your ankle to reposition one of your legs over his shoulder before positioning his member at your core. His tongue once again swiped across his lips as he leant down to capture your own in a heated kiss. Those addicting sparks coursing through you intensified as he pushed himself into your heat, stretching you out on him, taking your maidenhood. It created a dull ache, almost like a slow growing burn but his lips moving against yours, tongue asking for entrance, distracted you until he was fully sheathed.

You broke the kiss with a shaky gasp, your body adjusting to the foreign object buried deep inside you, sparks tingling from your connection. Panting drew your attention to the male above you. His arms were shaking, brows furrowed in concentration. He seemed more affected than you.

“Shit… so hot… so tight.” He groaned, “I want to fuck you so bad… Please tell me I can.”

“J-j-just give me… a moment. You’re bigger than my fingers.”

Jungkook’s eyes went comically large, “You’ve touched yourself? Fuuuuck~”

His hips rolled forward, grinding against yours, the friction it created making you both moan in pleasure. The motion had caused him to brush against somewhere in your core that felt so good you involuntary clenched around him.

“Fuck! Lugh... give me strength... “ Jungkook took a deep breath and let out a strangled groan as you wrapped your free leg around his waist, pushing him further into you, “Why did you have to be the descendant of a goddess who rules over sex magik?”

If you weren’t so focused on how he felt and how his pelvis rubbed against that special nub, you would’ve asked him what the fuck he meant. But, lucky for him, you were thoroughly distracted. Everywhere your skin touched his had sparks flying through you. Something aside from pleasure began to build inside of you. A type of pressure. One beside the release you had known from your alone time.

What the? What was happening?

You noticed that the leg strewn over Jungkook’s shoulder was glowing red like a fire. Though you did not have a moment to dwell on this as the arach shifted, pressing ever closer to you, sweat dripping as you felt the slight scratch of his scales.

The pressure releases, causing you to scream in ecstasy, drowning out the utterances of the arach as a hand pressed into your stomach, what felt like lightning spreading out from his touch to encompass you.

Everything turned black.

You awoke in a place entirely unfamiliar, on plush animal pelts, torches keeping the cold and dark at bay. Aching, you sat up, pausing to note how much… lighter you felt. Strange. Looking around you realised you were in a cave but it was littered with things such as gold, jewelry, cured meats, weaponry and clothing items. The bard had told you stories of places like these, passed to him by those who did not follow the same gods as your people. Those who stole from arach and lived to tell the tale. This was a den.

Memories from before you fell unconscious resurfaced in your mind. You had sex with an arach. The Arach! You looked down to find intricate blue markings adorning your stomach in a design that was actually familiar to you. It was a ceremonial marriage knot. A sign of your union.

It really did happen.

You had agreed to spend your life with Jungkook.

But that wasn’t the only thing adorning your skin. You had scales! Golden scales! What in the fuck? They were on the outer parts of your arms and thighs, your calves covered but your stomach and inner thighs bare.

“You’re awake then now, dii mal hef ekrah.” Jungkook drawled with a smug smirk, appearing from behind a huge pile of clothing, somehow still naked.

You hastily covered yourself with one of the pelts, “What happened to me?”

The arach plopped down beside you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It appears you became connected with your divine heritage. You even have Macha’s fiery hair now. Happened after you became all glow-y and passed the fuck out while cumming on my dick.”

Your cheeks heated at his crude wording. You didn’t dwell on it for long though, grasping a handful of your hair to find that it really had changed. This made no sense. What was going on? Where you put under some kind of trickery magic? Was this real?

“You’ve got to be fucking with me…” You whispered in utter disbelief.

Jungkook laughed, “As much as I’d love to, I remember a certain maiden making a big fuss about courting.” He held out a bundle of fabric you hadn’t noticed before. “Put this on and I’ll take you back to your tauth.”

You were confused.

“Why?”

“So I can court you, hefhah.” He rolled his eyes at you, “Macha would skin me alive if I did wrong by you.... But not only that. It’s what you wanted and as my equal, dii vorey hef, what you deserve.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, unbidden. You were going home. You were going to see your fair and brother. The arach was keeping to what he said, you didn’t have to lose anything. Grateful, you took the blood red fabric from him, struggling to dress yourself while still covering your nakedness.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, silliin, no need to hide that body of yours from me, let me admire my handy work.”

You blinked owlishly at him, “Your handy work? I thought this was from being a daughter of Macha; apart from the mark on my stomach.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “The hair and glowing was Macha’s lu. The scales are from my lu too. It’s a side effect of it at least.”

Oh. That made sense. Sort of.

“We’re courting, you can’t see me naked until I say so.”

True to his word, Jungkook returned you to your village, taking his human form again once your feet were safely on the ground. Your tuath was confused at first, not recognising you, but an explanation from the filid about your change in appearance soon had them understanding. She was the first to welcome you back with an embrace, followed swiftly by your brother and finally your father himself.

You and Jungkook lived separately after that, he in his den and you in your roundhouse. He would come to visit you at least once a week, bringing the life giving rain with him along with gifts to win your affections. Gifts ranging from instruments and jewelry to weaponry and thick clothes made of toughened animal hide. Clothes that were put to good use when you insisted on sparing with him, all members of tuath could defend themselves in armed combat, you weren’t about to let your skills get rusty because your monthly cycle had stopped. You were the descendant of a war goddess afterall.

After 7 moon cycles, when your stomach had grown large and round, Jungkook had found a place for himself in your heart. The arach was loyal, protective and kept to his word. He did his upmost to make you happy. Though it was his smile that made you fall for him, how it made him look like a hare. And so you finally agreed to live with him in his den, officially bringing the courtship to an end. Well it would’ve done if he hadn’t insisted on a human marriage ceremony.

You went into labour during the 9th moon cycle since your bonding to Jungkook. Terror swimming through your veins as painful contractions started getting ever more frequent. You were led on a bed of fresh pelts, Jungkook wiping sweat drench strands away from your face.

“You can do this, lokaal, just breathe. You’re going to be alright.”

You whined in distress, “But what if… w-what I l-leave them like h-h-how my mu-ah! Mum left me~!”

That was you biggest concern, at first it had been the thought of death, but that had been replaced with the fear of abandoning your children.

You gripped his hand as you wailed in agony. You couldn’t die. You couldn’t leave them. You prayed to the gods that you would make it through this. You prayed Jungkook’s words were truth and not mere assumption.

Dread caused your stomach to sink when a lone raven flew into the den. The marker of those soon to die. Oh god no. Please no.

“Don’t fear my child, I am here to help.” The raven spoke, like Cernunnos many moons ago  except feminine in tone.

Before your stinging eyes the raven transformed into a red-haired woman donning a cloak of black feathers. It was Macha. The goddess Macha, herself, had come to aid you in birthing. Your prayers were answered.

“Took you... long enough... to stop your... lineage from dying...” You got out between pants.

The goddess sent you a sombre look, “Most died before I could reach them.”

Well now you felt bad.

It wasn’t long after her arrival that two beautiful arach babies were held by mother and father, the small tuffs of hair a mix of their mother’s fiery red and father’s ripe cherry. Their scales were not golden like their parents, one was ocean blue while the other was lavender purple. Both were girls and for the first time in generations, daughters got to know a mother’s love.

[writing-anomaly]

Torn

Fandom:  Jojolion

Summary: Yasuho’s life is tearing at the seams. The volatile Rokakaka trade is catching up to them and when Josuke unravels, Yasuho  is pushed to her limit. She’s left more vulnerable than ever as she struggles to protect two men who barely know her.

This a story in which the protected must become the protector.

Chapter 4

"Fuck!"

Josuke fell with a grunt, tasting all the gravel that hadn't lodged itself into the skin of his face, arms, and knees when he fell gracelessly into the bushes.

Following Yasuho had been a snap decision.

His lungs burned, his feet hurt, and his heart was freaking out.

In all honesty, he hadn't planned on leaving the Higashikata estate. But his gut made him go after her, slippers and all. Yasuho's face was seared into his mind.

The hurt in her eyes..

Why wouldn't she tell him what was going on?

He'd fix it no matter what it was.

Why couldn't she just trust him..

Josuke huffed, trying to regain all the oxygen he'd let slip away during his pursuit. He had sprinted with a reckless abandon, causing a ruckus as he almost ran into a bewildered drunkard. The man had wanted a fight, but Josuke hadn't the time.There were more important pursuits he was after.

Yasuho was keeping something from him.

Ignoring the pain, he hoisted himself back onto his feet, looking around to gauge his new surroundings. He stepped out of the bushes of what looked like a small a park and onto the sidewalk. This prefecture was more populated than the suburban area of the estate. The Multi-story buildings told him that he had reached the downtown area at the heart of Morioh. Neon lights blared offensively, bringing attention to a wide variety of shops. More than a few shady characters weaved in and out of questionable establishments with storefront windows displaying whips and an array of strange contraptions.

Oh, no. The bus!

Josuke nearly gave himself whiplash as he searched for where the bus had turned to. Letting his focus slip for a fraction of a second could cost him everything. Sure enough, he saw the rearview lights of the massive vehicle three blocks down from his current position and turning onto what he recognized as the entry ramp of the highway.

"Shit, shit, shit!"

He was prepared to hunt it down regardless. Savoring the last bit of unlabored fresh air he'd have for a while, he spared himself a cat stretch.

Then booked it.

He went on blind dash down the street, not bothering to look for stop lights, straight into the oncoming traffic.

"You stupid fucker!"

The driver of a red corvette expressed his displeasure as he honked his horn, swerving in order to avoid hitting the young man. The car after that stopped abruptly, earning itself a hearty ram from behind, curtesy of the next car.

But none of that mattered.

He was about to lose track of the one person who mattered in his life, aside from his "mother," Holly Kira. The streets were becoming increasingly more crowded than he thought they should be on a Friday night. Much to his irritation, he was forced to weave in and out of crowds of rough-looking night prowlers. The horde of hoodlums became thicker with each step and Josuke found himself having to push his way through, grabbing shoulders and faces alike, just in order to clear a path.

Not good.

At this rate, he'd never catch up to Yasuho. Josuke scowled. A burning Irritation was quickly replacing whatever hope he had to find her.

"Hey, watch it!"

A rough hand snatched the fabric of Josuke's collar, nearly choking him in the process, and he was forced to look into the green eyes of a very aggressive, haggard looking fellow. The large man appeared to be in his forties, with sharp features and an overwhelmingly prominent nose. His flushed face, was as round as the moon, and sparsely covered in what Josuke dared to call a beard. Two, equally unattractive women clung to either one of his arms, scantily covered in leather vests and ripped spandex. Their bodies were practically spilling out of their clothes.

"Listen punk, that was my gal you pushed just now. I don't take kindly to disrespect." The threat, hardly concealed within the man's thick accent. His weathered face contorted into an expression so fowl, the muscles in his forehead formed what appeared to be horns.

Josuke regarded the man with bewilderment. "What's that on your face?"

"The hell you talkin' bout?"

Josuke could feel his nose hairs disintegrate from the hot breath that escaped through the holes in the man's decaying teeth. Faintly, he pointed at the metal piece poking out from either side of the man's nose. Without giving him a chance to reply, Josuke pinched the tips of the silver stud where it rested in the bridge of his nose, and yanked it straight out.

There was a loud crunch followed by a scream as horrid as grinding metal.

The two accompanying females looked on in horror as blood gushed from their lover's face like a faucet.

"Kevin-kun!" The blonde woman shrieked as the brunette fawned over the Gaijin who was holding his face while crying in a fetal position.

"There, there, babe.." She dabbed his face with a napkin she pulled from her cleavage. The injured man paid her no mind, opting to look up at Josuke who was trying to rub the blood off his formerly white shirt.

"Aaaw, man. I just washed this too.."

"You bastard..." he growled in between snorting the blood that continued to leak out of his face.

Curious onlookers had formed a circle by this time, though none moved to intervene. A petty fight was not the outcome Josuke was hoping for when he decided to leave his house. He heard the siren of what he recognized as the police in the distance then decided it would be best to take his exit and avoid a more dramatic scenario.

Josuke scanned the area for a reasonable pathway, taking note of a wisp of pink hair flowing through one of the gaps in the crowd of people.

There was no need for him to push his way through this time, as anyone standing in his path was swift to remove themselves, throwing him wary glances as he wiped a few specs of blood from his porcelain skin.

"Yasu-" He began to yell for all his excitement, then thought against it.

Maybe he shouldn't disturb her.

When he was free from the multitude of people, he glanced at the massive entrance to the building that everyone had been crowded in front of. On the wall was a large poster signifying the concert of a punk rock band. It depicted the severed head of a goat along with snakes, skulls, and roaches crawling along an apple.

It was rather grotesque for his liking.

Shaking his head, Josuke continued to stalk Yasuho quietly from the shadows.

Yasuho climbed the stairway to her apartment with much trepidation.

Her mother had never brought a man home before.

..this was uncharted territory.

She tried to imagine what type of guy her mom would go for.

Rich, was a given.

Growing up, her mother never worked a steady job. Though, somehow the lights never went off and there was always money for food. It wasn't unusual for her to sport designer clothes and mink furs, so whoever she was involved with had to have been loaded..

He was probably an old dude too.

Yasuho imagined a short, little wrinkly dude, fawning over her mom as they shopped for the latest Gucci gear. She was aware of the whole sugar daddy concept, and most of those relations involved buttering up a lonely guy with deep pockets and nothing to loose.

Yasuho hoped her mother wouldn't resort to such.

Upon reaching the final step to her floor, she saw that the walkway was clear, and began to move toward her own abode. There were several wooden doors along the inner wall of the concrete building. Each had their own assigned number mounted in silver.

Unit 708 was the apartment she shared with her mother.

On second thought..

Yasuho took a moment to compose herself.

She stepped to the outer end of the breezeway, readjusting the heavy grocery bag in order to relieve the blood flow in her finger tips, before opting to set it down.

The cool air was exactly what she needed to soothe her nerves.

Leaning against the railing, she gazed upon the Morioh city skyline.

A thousand golden lights danced along the horizon, beautiful enough to rival the stars above. It was a clear night aside from a few sparse clouds that glowed pearlescently in the moonlight. The atmosphere was not quite as peaceful as one would expect to relax in. She could hear the bustling traffic and uninhibited yells of bar patrons beneath her home; an unavoidable cost to living in the affordable, yet sketchy part of the town.

Yet having spent so much time in that environment, Yasuho allowed the roars of the city to lull itself into a hum of ambience within her ears. It was like an auditory haven where she didn't need to process the day to day strife she was force to live.

It was a far cry from Josuke's peaceful abode in the Higashikata estate. He'd been adopted into a family of multimillionaires, and Yasuho was sure he still didn't know just how lucky he was. She, herself, was all too aware that he resided in a part of town she could only dream of being able to afford.

Speaking of which, the guilt of her departure was starting to sink in.

Technically, Yasuho had ditched him when he only wanted to ensure her safety. Josuke was such a gentleman and sweeter than any guy she knew. Yet, when he tried to comfort her, she pushed him away...and she felt so bad for it.

Was she thankful for the swift escape?

Of course, there was no denying it.

Buying the alcohol and spaghetti was not a problem.

Nothing unusual about that. Everybody had to eat. And she was grown enough to have a drink if she wanted it.

...but the condoms..

Yasuho peaked once again in to the plastic bag she held, setting her cheeks ablaze in an instant as she recalled her shopping experience.

She had tried to be as discreet as possible.

Morioh was a sizable town, but word spread around fast and she preferred not being the center of the latest gossip. Thankfully, no one was in the intimate care isle of the corner store so swooping in and snatching the XL pack went without incident. It wasn't until she presented her items to the cashier that the man took the liberty of reading the package label out loud.

With that stupid pervy look on his face..

"Extra large! My, you must be a lively young lady!"

She could've died on the spot.

All the more reason to be thankful that she had left Josuke behind. She couldn't fathom, having to explain to him why she was buying a pack of Trojans.

But still...she wished her mother just hadn't bothered her with the task at all.

With one last sigh she braced herself to face her mother and her mysterious love interest.

"Here we go." She walked up to her door and grabbed the handle.

Suddenly her phone chimed and her navigational stand, Paisley Park spoke up.

"Choose one option." Her stand's mechanical voice piped up

1. Text Josuke or 2. Text Josuke

"You're right." Yasuho happily agreed and typed up her 'apology' text.

Yasuho: I made it home safe.

That didn't seem to be enough.

Yasuho: Miss you already <3

She'd make it up to him later.

Gathering her resolve, she grabbed her bag off the ground, turning toward her apartment. Yasuho had barley touched the handle when the door flung open and she was rewarded with a mouth full of hair.

"Hi Honey!"

Yasuho's mother squeezed her like she was shaking down a bottle of ketchup. The curls of her honey auburn hair glowed like a wild fire in the fluorescent lighting of the foyer.

An array of kisses, assaulted Yasuho's cheeks.

As much as Yasuho'd hate to admit it, the overwhelming display of affection softened her heart. This was the mom she always yearned for. A mom who was sober enough to greet her with a smile; who didn't allow her own thirst for love to dry up any affection she had to give to her own child.

"Hi mom." she replied faintly.

Yasuho felt her body giving in..

..slipping, into her mother's embrace.

And it terrified her.

After they separated, Yasuho was able to get a good look at her mother, Suzuyo Hirose. The cigarette smell she remembered her by, was absent. Her eyes were bright, just like her hair which she had lightened from it's natural dark color. And her slim but curvy figure was clothed in a modest, white, polyester v-neck and a knee-length fuchsia pencil skirt.

It was very..professional..

Was this the same Suzuyo Hirose who gave birth to her?

"Oh! I have a surprise for you! Well, he's waiting in the kitchen.." Suzuyo smiled ecstatically and grabbed her daughter's free hand.

So I was right...there is a guy..

Kicking off her shoes, Yasuho barely registered the chime of a text alert before the door shut behind her and she was pulled deeper into this alternate dimension she called a home. The place was almost unrecognizable. What she had come to know as a landfill was now devoid off all the wear and tear that came with being occupied by a dysfunctional family.

It was clean.

Shiny even.

There were no empty food containers laying around.

The wine stains in the living room carpet had been eradicated.

No broken glass to cut her foot upon.

Yasuho could even see her own confused reflection within the dark wood floors.

Where am I, really?

Part of her was suspicious of a stand attack. This had to be some kind of mind freak, or practical joke. She wouldn't have been surprised if Tsurugi was playing one of his 'Let's trip up Yasuho' games again like he did when he took away her ability to differentiate faces and signs.

An even greater part of her feared that this was legit.

Yasuho's stupor was lifted when she bumped into her mother who had stopped short of the entrance to the kitchen.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

Her mother was trembling.

Suzuyo swiftly turned to face her. The faint crinkles above her rosy cheeks framed her glossy chestnut eyes. She squeezed Yasuho's hand, coming close to whisper in her ear.

"I feel like we're about to start a new chapter. I know I haven't been the perfect mother, but, just know that I love you and I want things to be better between us."

Yasuho nodded mechanically.

It felt like the right thing to do. Whomever this love interest was, had to be really important to her mother. Slowly, Yasuho brought her hands around the older woman and hugged her, resting her head on the crook of her neck. If she had truly found her happiness, then Yasuho would do her best to support her.

For now, she'd reserve her judgment.

Yasuho moved break the embrace, but found herself tangled within not one, but two sets of arms.

"You're just as lovely as your mother." The unfamiliar voice was deep and oddly rhythmic like the bass of a drum.

A tall figure overshadowed her mom from behind.

Yasuho's body tensed.

Omg, he's touching me!

"Kaito, I thought I told you to wait in the kitchen!" Suzuyo giggled, releasing Yasuho to grab ahold of her lover's arms from where they were wrapped around them.

"Sorry dear, sensed all the good vibes coming from the hallway and I couldn't help myself." The man, Kaito, was grinning wide as a Jack-o-lantern. He was a clean cut man, with a perfectly symmetrical face. His hulking frame was moderately built and draped in a perfectly tailored, emerald dress shirt that his ripped jeans rebelled against. Dark hair and brows accentuated his tanned skin, creating a stunning contrast to the platinum eyes in which the light seemed to dance.

Suzuyo playfully booty-bumped him, causing the man to hunch forward reflexively as he stumbled back a step.

He grabbed his crotch and faintly mouthed the word "Ouch."

Yasuho stood in silence, watching the playful interaction unfold.

"Sorry dear, let me introduce you properly."

Suzuyo Hirose bit her lip, eyes alight with a spark she hadn't seen since their family was in one piece.

The love doves shared a knowing expression then faced Yasuho together with the widest smiles on their face. They both presented their left hands to Yasuho, but it was her mother who continued to speak.

"I'd like you to meet your new father."

To be continued...

[tenyatrash]

ToshInko Wedding Bells

Hello! I’m going through my GDrive and uploading all the pieces that I wrote for apps and then never posted.

Here’s my first ever ToshInko piece. Just some reflective fluff about their wedding day and Toshinori learning to let go and enjoy the happiness that he’s spent decades providing and protecting for others. 

Read it here or below the cut:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782586

Toshinori steps out into the coolness of a setting summer sun and braces a wide hand against the safety rail while another rises to shield his eyes. Today’s the day.

Somehow, despite all his mistakes and failings, despite this ruined body and anxious mind, he’s found love. Found the home and safety that he fought for decades to protect for others, never really believing he would ever earn the same.

He’s not prepared.

For the fifth time since waking, his head starts to get away from him, all the what-ifs of his life crowding around his mind like a pressing crowd. But like every time before, he sees a flash of darkest emerald and the fear fades into a sort of pleasant hum, like the rush of adrenaline before a big fight or a late night interview. Like he used to feel, before, when life was full of promise and adventure.

He lowers his hands and ambles down the stairs, picking at the cuffs of his morning suit with a watery smile that spreads as he gently worries the cufflinks between his knobby fingers. Two understated cherry blossoms, formed of blushy agate and given to him by his man of honor. Young Midoriya. He chokes up a bit.

His son.

The first of many wedding gifts, but already precious beyond measure.

“I uh- I mean. Here, All Might! I mean...Toshin...I mean….oh gosh...Dad?” He’s said it before, but it’s not an accident this time, and the reality of that turns the blushing boy into an absolute watering pot.

He had shoved the gently wrapped heirlooms into Toshinori’s waiting hands as if worried he’d accidentally break them, or more likely, throw them into the air in his manic joy.

“These are for you! To wear, today, if you want!”

Two cherry blossoms, to represent new beginnings and beauty, made of agate to represent wisdom, composure, and maturity. Izuku explains the meaning behind the gift in a classic mumble rumble as Toshinori wipes his eyes and rolls the weighted links into his palm, his other hand coming to rest on the smooth grey fabric covering his soon-to-be son’s shaking shoulder.

“Young M- Izuku. Thank you, truly. They’re a wonderful thought, from a wonderful son. I’m honored to be joining your family. Truly.”

Izuku starts wailing in earnest as a porter comes running with tissues in an attempt to keep salt and snot off the brushed fabric of their new suits while their particularly dedicated photographer tries to turn the calamity into a cute shot.

While he’s having his moment, Toshinori gingerly picks up the first blossom and threads it through his cuff, fingers wobbling a little with emotion as the gift clicks into place.

How did he get so lucky?

That’s the thought that follows him from the guest house to the small shrine, across the paved steps and into the courtyard where his future is waiting for him. They’re blending ceremonies here, the two lovers picking and choosing between the America that All Might loves and the Japan that nurtured them both and brought them together.

He’s in a suit, no family crest to sew on to a kimono, no mother or matchmaker to stand behind him at the shrine. She’s in a traditional shiromuku, but there are small bright flowers of yellow rebellion sewn into the edges of the kimono and no tsunokakushi to hide her “horns of anger.” Instead, she’s all soft smiles and openness, hair tied into a simple knot and ornamented by a hairpin of tinkling bells and agate petals.

Cherry blossoms.

Neither is in the spring of youth, yet as they gaze at one another across the smooth stones, the blush of first love colors their soft glances and trembling hearts. As they come together, he smiles down at her, electric eyes roving over her challenges to tradition in breathless approval. Toshinori doesn’t want her to hide anything, not ever, and it’s part of what drew them together.

They enter the shrine together, Izuku and Naomasa bringing up the rear.

The sake cups are another tradition Inko offered to forego, but Toshinori settles on the water-cut version of the spirit often given as a child’s first celebratory sip instead, eager to share in this ritual with his beloved. He swears he’s never tasted anything so sweet.

Their nuptial cups are followed with sips for their two witnesses and offerings to the gods.

Prayers for happiness and peace and a long autumn for their newly-shared lives.

And then there are the rings, held in sacred trust by the boy that binds them together. As Toshinori whispers the words he never dreamed he’d get to say, he slips a simple golden band down the finger of the woman who fills his every day with love. Inko joins her son in waterfall tears, choking in happy huffs as she mimics the motion, babbling about the future and her love as this symbol of her devotion slips across a swollen joint and into the cradle of his finger.

He looks good as a taken man.

The priest recites the final blessings, and Toshinori leans forward, eyes bright and heart suddenly threatening to beat out of his rattling chest. She’s just so lovely, and as his eyes flutter closed, he regrets that he can’t capture this moment perfectly in his mind. But even without sight, he sees every detail clear as day, at least until her lips press against his.

Then he can’t see anything at all, so swept up in the sweetness of the gesture and the profound change it represents.

Lucky for him, Naomasa, that old sap, is recording the whole thing.

The private ceremony ended, Naomasa and Izuku wave and wander away, headed for the larger reception where friends and family are gathered to celebrate the newly dubbed “Symbol of Matrimony” and the marriage that many never imagined they’d see.

Toshinori and Inko join hands and head to the guest house, ostensibly to change into reception clothing, but that’s a secondary concern. They’re so grateful for the love and support that surrounds them, but for the moment, what they really crave is a moment alone together, the first of many.

They arrive at the threshold and in a moment of spontaneity, Toshinori picks her up and carries her laughing into the cozy cottage.

“Ah! Toshinori!” She’s kicking her feet gently and all the sudden she’s fifteen again, giggling in the arms of a cute boy.

He smiles down at her and gently tickles down her side, adding in a self-deprecating smirk, “What can I say? I’ve always wanted to do this and if we wait until tonight, who knows if this old man will manage it.”

Inko unclasps a hand from his neck and runs her fingers over his sunken cheek as he sets her down, arms still wrapped around her in a loose embrace, like he wants to extend this small moment as long as possible.

“Oh, I think this old man has plenty left in him.”

She leans forward and kisses him more aggressively this time, humming in amusement as Toshinori tenses around her as if worried he’s doing something wrong. He relaxes when his mind catches up with his racing heart.

Right, we’re married, remember?

He returns the gesture shyly and gently begins the process of unraveling Inko from the folds of richly layered kimono, covering his eyes as she’s reduced to her slip, but still catching a flash of faintest teal that shimmers like silk.

Inko breaks into full body laughs as she takes in the sight of her new husband, eyes shut tight and kimono held up like a shield against her state of undress. The fact that she’s more covered than when wearing a swimsuit doesn’t seem to matter to him.

It’s the context of the thing.

She gently takes the heavy fabric from him and hums her way to the dressing room, giving her poor sweetie an auditory cue for when it’s safe to open his eyes. This mixture of age and innocence is part of what drew her to Toshinori, part of what convinced her heart that it was okay to love again.

That this hero would never hurt her. She thinks she hears him gulping down some water and smiles into the brightly patterned tea-length navy dress that Izuku helped her pick out and get embroidered with silver storks and turquoise blossoms in an ode to the man who they both came to love so dearly.

She steps back into the sitting room, patting down her re-arranged hair and twirling in front of the gaping Toshinori.

“Too much?”

“Wh- No, not at all. You’re radiant, and it’s perfect.”

She smirks mischievously, “Well, it’s not perfect yet, darling.”

Toshinori knits his brows together and tries to catalog every stitch, finding no false note. Inko breaks into a brilliant smile and spins around, revealing the curve of her back and more of that tantalizing under-slip.

“Zip me up, would you?”

Toshinori complies, fingers caressing against sunkissed skin as his hands splay across her and his mind wanders to all the blessings he’s received, none more precious than the woman in front of him and the son she molded into a hero. He gulps again, sure that at any moment this dream will end, but it doesn’t.

The dream continues, for year and years, forever; taking root in a thousand happy memories and countless soft moments, a lifetime together that renews every year with the bloom of the cherry blossoms and the triumphs of their priceless son.

No one could ask for more.

[ear]

PLEASE share your vld reboot ideas aja the show canon is garbage and your mind is so galaxy brain

OK OK ALRIGHT!!!!!!!!!! alright so idk what kind of. earth landscape this reboot occurs in…. like yallve got this retro 80s/90s neon future verse going on but i didnt think my reboot version would fit into that so yall go wild with whatever hc for this earth reboot thing u want cuz im not creative and i didnt really think that far ahead

ALRIGHT here we go. this is so long i HAVE to put this under the cut but i hope yall enjoy the creations of my MIND……

- akeno “KEITH” shirogane: (age: 19) [gay] hes japanese/black/galran. hes still half galra in this reboot bc i fuck with that honestly but hes got more visible galran traits. his bottom canines are larger than usual and poke out from his bottom lip so he wears a mask to cover his mouth and his eyes r still purple but instead of his sclera being yellow(tinted), hes just like. got some odd golden flecks in his eyes. he normally wears a dirty mechanics jumpsuit with the top half tied around his waist and a black or white tank top underneath (hes still a high school flunk out so he works full time at a car repair shop so hes able to buy food and shit at LEAST + hes still got his motorcycle to keep in shape). his casual clothes r just regular grey sweats, hoodies, and adidas or whatever brand is closest in their future lol. hes blood related to shiro who ill get to in a second.. shiros blood related to him as his uncle (brother of keiths dad) ALSO his hair isnt long in this reboot, hes got a short messy head of hair that he mostly just pulls back into a TINY little pony tail on his forehead (like in the game show ep) so it doesnt get in his face while hes working. he also has goggles bc thats the one thing from yalls reboot ideas i actually like (endgame lion: he momentarily pilots black during shiros disappearance but his permanent and stationary lion is red)

- fal’allura “fala, ALLURA” naguna’ephy: [lesbian] (age: 21 or close to that in alien standards) shes altean on her fathers side and teem (what we’re gonna call nymas race) on her mothers side. she bares more altean features except her eyes are solid yellow and shes only got four fingers on each hand. instead of crescent shaped facial markings, she has painted on red and golden lines across her nose and her upper lip. her hair (very dark purple with silver highlights and literal glowing, twinkling stars) is VERY long, brushing the floor as she walks except and (now bear with me cuz this might be hard to explain) her hair, the farther down u look kind of fades away? like it becomes semi to absolute transparent… idk how else to explain it but i hope u understand…. she does wear a crown but its more like a headdress.. (imagine beyonces headdress).. she doesnt wear it often, usually only on diplomatic missions to greet other worldly rulers bc its heavy and it makes her neck hurt :/.. her dress! looks like this! but a little more spiffy .. u know.. her casual/training clothes are just…. idk imagine a royal looking sports bra and leggings?? i guess … ALSO ALSO ALSO she can still shape shift but instead of limiting her shifting to just the changing of skin tone and height, she can completely mimic different alien species but only humanoid races.. like she can have those indented looking knees and huge ass horns and all that but she cant like. turn into an earth lizard u know what im saying. also also also also she still speaks with an accent just… not a british one….(endgame lion: no lion. she keeps leading and piloting the castle ship until destruction, where she leads and pilots the atlas)

- alejandro “LANCE, ale” reyes-leon: (age: 19 ½) [bi] hes cuban/black/vietnamese. his dad is black and vietnamese and his mom is cuban! hes got longish afro textured hair he keeps back in a pony tail most of the time like this or a bun when training bc hes too lazy to put any actual effort into styling it. hes got a couple moles/freckles scattered across his face and hes got sectoral heterochromiaaround his left pupil so theres a little bit of blue in one of his other wise dark brown eyes (like this).. i havent really figured out what his clothing style is.. i thought about keeping his clothes close to vld canon like his jacket (bc that was a really good jacket) but im gonna go a little wild here so hold on. he wears one of those surfer type looking skin tight turtleneck shirts underneath his heavy bomber jacket.. he wears just regular ripped jeans and hightops like in canon…….. hmm……. he wears a pink bead necklace under his shirt that was made by his little cousin just a couple weeks before he was shot off into space and he hasnt taken it off since…………. he also has a tiny stick and poke tattoo on his ankle he did when he was thirteen bc he thought it would look cool but it turned out kinda lop sided so he never takes his socks off in embarrassment (endgame lion: blue to red (during keiths reign as black paladin) then to black when shiro leaves voltron to lead the atlas alongside allura)

- takashi “SHIRO” shirogane: (age: 31) [gay] hes japanese/black. hes keiths uncle and the only family keith really has .. his design doesnt really change much except hes got long hair (like kuron) but its pulled up into a messy bun or pony tail.. in MY canon hes still gay and married to adam (whos name isnt adam i just cant think of a new name for him yet) (and adam lives dont worry) and theyre working on adopting a daughter before shiro has to leave for kerberos. shiro usually dresses in work out outfits so like. gym shorts… tank tops.. leggings.. imagine those white blonde dudes who always wear a man bun and only eat vegan and drink chai from starbucks bc thats exactly how shiro acts but ONLY ironically ……… when shiros abducted on the galra freighter and forced to fight in the ring, his hair streaks white but instead of just a clean scar across his nose, he has multiple long scars scattered across his face from a one x one between his face and some debris thrown at him by a gladiator. his prosthetic looks and remains kinda the same i guess but this time its decked out with claws on the finger tips so it looks a little more galran yeah? (endgame lion: no endgame lion. he pilots the atlas alongside allura)

- francesca “frannie, frankie, PIDGE” eleonora: (age: 15) [trans girl lesbian] shes . just italian i guess. so anyway shes not gonna be an asshole bitch like canon pidge.. shes gonna be the caring sweet but KINDA mean little sister we always wished we had.. the little sister who would tell u, with all honesty, that ur winged eyeliner was smudged before u hit the town with the girls and made a fool of urself……. ANYWAY shes still gonna be the ‘hacker’/computer geek techno girl but not as much ykno? shes JUST a little girl so she just kinda does her own thing. i rlly like all the fanart i see of her wearing overalls and stuff SO thats her canon design…… she wears faded overall jeans over a short sleeved pale pink tshirt w a dog one it and scuffed up chucks. she wears glasses but instead of just taking them from matt she has an actual prescription and is basically blind without them. i literally cannot stress this enough but shes such a nice girl like the team pretty much adopted her as their little sister the moment they boarded the castle ship. idk what else to add on to her!!!! i literally did not put any thought into pidge at all! (endgame lion: permanently green)

- opetaia“HUNK” tuitama: (age: 19 ¾) [bi] hes samoan/black. hunk was adopted and has two moms and three other siblings, all of who are younger than him. im not sure about his fashion other than i KNOW deep down in my heart that he would wear cargo shorts…. i cant find it in me to get rid of his bandana thing so i let him keep it except he uses it to tie his hair up instead of using it as a head band thing….. HUNK in my au is more of a tech freak/engineer than pidge so he handles most of that stuff with the occasional help from pidge (like wiring… she has tiny fingers that can grab the wires easier) hunk probably wears the crocs/sandals with socks combo but just because he loves hearing lance bitch about it whnever he struts into a room. hunk also looks good in his vest so im gonna let him keep that but it looks more modified… like it has a bunch of pockets and stuff to keep bolts and nuts and other stuff he needs to work with.. thats also why he wears cargo shorts; just for the pockets.. (endgame lion: permanently yellow)

also ur probably wondering “if lance is in black and keith is in red and allura doesnt pilot a lion, THEN WHOS PILOTING BLUE????” …….. heh… peep this………..

- ADAM elsammak-althani(thank u mal @fuckvld for ur gorgeous arabic adam hcs..): (age: 32) [gay] i dont have much to say about him other than read mals hc lists and that ADAM LIVES IN MY REBOOT and he also joins the voltron team and pilots the blue lion (i FIRMLY hc that hes a very free/wild spirit and just loves to make jokes and is just.. a really fun guy to be around and obviously blue would open up to him in a SECOND. dont even @ me) (endgame lion: BLUE!)