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faeriekit · 25 days

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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virginprune · 2 months

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im always surprised how many people think venetia is the younger sibling. i feel like we get so caught up in those scenes defined as shocking and grotesque by media and pop culture at large that we skim over the quiet, lurking horrors of saltburn. poor, poor venetia, who was born first but will never be first, not to the boys, not to her parents, not to oliver, not to anyone. mommy's emotionally battered and neglected firstborn daughter. felix was born when venetia was still a baby, not even two years old, the perfect golden boy, son and heir, sun and air. and he's getting it all, the title, the estate, everything ("I will look after this house just as felix would have"). do you think they ever talked about it? which catton was getting saltburn? i dont. venetia, the butt of every joke. desperate, embarrassing, lighting her body up like a neon sign on an empty highway. if felix is the sun, venetia is the moon, shrouded in darkness when he's not near. venetia, destroying and remaking herself in her mother's eyes. always hungry, a scavenger of love, picking over felix's scraps, sucking up the detritus at the bottom of a dark, lonely ocean.

#saltburn #venetia catton #i've never been mentally ill in my life #venetia rose catton you will always be famous to me

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kuronousag1 · 4 months

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//BOOK 7 SPOILER ON JP SERVER

200 years, 200 fucking years they had lilia running around like a headless chicken looking for "someone who could hatch the egg" when they VERY WELL DAMN KNEW HE WAS THE ONE WHO COULD. Malleus rejected his grandmoter and everyone else, he had no parents, but Maleonor entrusted Lilia with her and her husband's egg because she knew LILIA'S LOVE WAS WHAT WOULD HATCH THE DAMN EGG. It did NOT have to take 200 years and an almost dead egg to hatch the heir of Briar Valley, the old hags just DID NOT LIKE THE IDEA THAT LILIA WAS THE ONE WHO COULD HATCH IT. They did NOT like the idea of having to apologise for shooing him away from the capital because he held the secret to save their asses and the entire kingdom. If they left Lilia stay with Malleus it would have probably taken, hell knows, 5-20 years?? Well sure as fuck not TWO HUNDRED.

I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure because I'm so fucking mad that the old bitches almost killed the egg, irrespected their deceased queen's orders and practically got rid of their General and all they had to say for it after was just... thank Lilia. No, thank my ass, you better start licking the floor where Lilia Motherfucking Vanrouge walks.

Like, lilia probably knew the egg only responded to him and his presence was helping, but there was nothing he could do but to go on tge scavenger hunt for the imaginary dragon that is 100% in the room with us right now doctor why are you calling reinforcements.

Anyway, chapter good, but I wanna commit something.

#twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst book 7 #I am going after the senate #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia my baby they did you so bad I am going after their heads

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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any ideas for a druid villain who isn't a pro-environmentalism "extremist" who opposes the #just'n'kind authorities and such? i'd like to do one but honestly most suggestions are just to make a fantasy anti-civ unabomber and idk im not too crazy about the concept

Villain: The Eelmonger

While the scholars debate whether it is nature, society, or fate that makes a person cruel, remember my student that none of these things are kind or fair to most whom they govern. -From the diaries of Tarraji, country tutor

Hooks:

Every year a great festival is held across the kingdom to honour the queen's birthday, a tradition started by the previous rulers to celebrate the long-sought birth of their first heir, but maintained by the current sovereign as a means of sharing a little of her prosperity with her subjects, the crown footing most of the bill for the event. This year, just as people (and the party) are crowding into the rivermarket to enjoy the festivities, a horde of grotesque aquatic monsters surge from the water to rampage through the town.

Two days later when the last of the beasts is either slain or driven off, word arrives that similar attacks have occurred all up and down the central waterway, paralyzing the realm's economy and making travel tremendously dangerous. The party could go hunting the worst of the rivermonsters, or they could sign up to protect a daredevil merchant's cargo and make a small fortune crisis trading.

Along with all this chaos an old threat reemerges, pirates with a long hatred of the realm trawling for plunder in the wake of the rampage. Apparently exempt from the wrath of the seabeasts that still lurk in the rivers and canals, they fly a new flag bearing images of sharp-toothed eels, and sing songs in praise of an unseen master.

Dressed like a peasant and exalted by outlaws, the enigmatic figure known only as the Eelmonger has emerged seemingly from nowhere to overthrow the realm and topple the queen from her throne. Who is she? Why her unprecedented attack? How is she able to turn the great predators of the deep into warbeasts bent to her aims? Among all the uncertainly all that can be known is that she has seemingly declared war against the realm, and will not stop till the queen and any who support her have been reduced to meals for the ocean's scavengers.

Background: Sha's parents thought it was very lucky for their daughter to be born under the same stars as the crown princess, as in the old traditions of the kingdom such "celestial siblings" were thought to share their fortunes, and as poor fisherfolk eking out a meagre living from the sea that fortune was dearly needed. As Sha Grew however it became apparent that the stars played a cruel game of favourites, and whatever luck the oneday queen was given was taken in equal portion from Sha's own: The day the princess was thrown from her horse and rose mirraculously unharmed was the day Sha tumbled over the side of her family's boat in a calm sea and somehow broke three bones, the announcement of the king's recovery from the brittle sickness reaching Sha's village the same day they put her long-ailing father in the ground.

These transgressions were manifold, too obvious and cruel to be mere happenstance, and over the years and the grand festival-birthdays Sha's resentment at her distant royal sister and the injustice of fate filed her sharp and cold as a gutting knife. Things paradoxically got a little better during the pirate wars, when those foreign fleets took the town she lived in as their fortress, burning and pillaging many other settlements along the coast and great river. Sha, now a woman grown, felt her fortunes had reversed, as the pirates were all to happy to pay for her catch with handfulls of stolen coin, and her expertise with local cuisine saw her elevated to the position of landbound galleycook, feeding whole crews of cutthroats in between their inland raids.

It was not to last however, after a few brutal years on the defensive, the princess and her allies rallied and launched an offensive that shattered the invader's fleet and ousted them from the lands they'd set to conquer, culminating in a battle that saw Sha's town (and the life she'd built there) burnt to the ground. It was in the midst of that fighting, trapped beneath burning rubble that Sha saw her celestial sister for the first time, glorious and beautiful and totally ignorant of her existence, scaling the ruins of Sha's happiness on her way to future glory. Sha was pinned there for days, forgotten among the rest of the corpses; it wasn't until a great storm broke and washed the wreckage of the battle out into the sea that she was freed, her druidic powers awakening as she drowned and calling out to those creatures of the brine to aid her. Whatever warpath and hope she had for making a good life in spite of her sister she left below the surface, because as soon as she made landfall she started plotting her path back to the queen.

Goals & Schemes:

Ruination: As strong as her monsters are individually or as a horde, The eelmonger knows her beasts can't challenge the might or logistics of an entire kingdom. However, Sha grew up on the kingdom's waterways and knows that just like small tributaries fed the great trade river, the lives of farmers and merchants feed into the strength of the crown. If she has any hope of evening the playing field Sha must break the system that feeds the realm's warchest even if it means breaking the realm itself in the process. Monstrous chaos and resurgent pirates are just the first step: Targeting the merchants will cause supply shortages and beggar the realm, after that she'll move on to sowing famine in the farmlands. When there isn't enough to go round people will break down into factions, causing the army the well trained army the queen has inhereted to crumble before it ever reaches the field.

Fixing the broken scales: Simply killing the queen won't be enough. Sha reasoned out long ago that if she ever did direct harm to celestial sister whatever fate bullshit that connects them would likely redirect the outcome onto her somehow and that just wouldn't do. Instead she has to settle for making the soverign suffer by proxy, all the while searching for some means of attacking the connection itself. Those pirates directly privy to her plan are out hunting for priests and fortunetellers during their raids, anyone they could kidnap and bring back to the eelmonger to help correct this balance.

Saint of the Brine: Though she has no love for gods, Sha's vengeful ascent is watched over by a coldhearted deity of the fathomless seas, who has umbrage with this particular kingdom ever since the queen's ancestors laid claim to its bays and coastlines by slaying a titanic beast she favoured. The eelmonger is her unwitting instrument of wrath, and whether the gods involvement began during Sha's almost drowning or all the way back were praying for a safe birth is impossible to say. Though the eelmonger has unseen aid throughout her campaign against the crown, if the party is able to make their enemy aware that some god may be the source of her misfortune they may be able to divert Sha's wrath from the queen and the realm's inhabitants.

Art

#villain #seaside #Lysthzaho #pirates #mid level #high level #warfare #wuxia #festival #river #seamonster

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wings-of-fire-confessions · 3 months

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So, I started reading this series on The Lost Heir. I don't remember why exactly ?? We found it at a Hastings but not the first book and still got it. I don't know how I figured anything out without any of the context from TDP. Anyways, I thought Scavengers were just smaller scrappy dinosaur-raptor-things the entire time and I don't know when I actually figured out they were supposed to be humans. Also I didn't end up reading TDP at all until after I'd already read through like Winter Turning I think cause my school library had a copy of it

i was also very upset for a day after first finishing TLH when I realized the next book wouldn't be in Tsunami's POV anymore since I didn't realize the books had changing POVs lmao

#wings of fire confessions #wof confessions #wof #wings of fire

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midnightcreator12 · 4 months

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Seena Ader of Zygerria

More about her under the cut

Seena is the second child of the Ader family.

Her family was among Zygarria's richest, due to their profitable slavery enterprise. Seena had not seen any issues with the way were family made their fortune for most of her life. She happily went along with her father's wishes and whims, learning the trade in acquiring, training and selling slaves.

Until her older brother, Tarsi Ader, was caught freeing the slaves placed in his care. Such an act was unforgivable in their father's eyes and he had Tarsi arrested for treason immediately.

It was not, however, her brothers arrest that made Seena question her family's way of life. It was the punishment that her father decided on for Tarsi.

Seena was familiar with the gladiator ring but she never image she would witness her own brother in it. She almost felt detached from her own body as her older brother, the most important person in her life, was tore apart by starved beasts for the entainment of their own people.

It's funny how drastically one's option of their father can shift when one sees him laughing with glee as his eldest son is brutally murdered.

After that, Seena started to, for lack of a better term, crack. She became more aware of what, exactly, her family's business practice entailed morally, what it meant for the sentiants they kidnapped, brainwashed and auctioned off to the highest bidder.

And the more she saw the more she hated her own complicity in it. She would have happily taken over had her father asked, kept doing the horrible things he was doing, had Tarsi not been caught. And that thought weighs on her. The fact it had taken her brother dying for her to see how little their father cared about anything but what benefited him and how close she had been to being just like him.

Somehow, Tarsi had seen that before her. Had figured out that what they did was wrong without any shock to his system. And he'd had enough courage (or maybe stupidity) to stay and try to help the enslaved sentiants.

Seena, however, did not possess her brothers courage. Just his recklessness.

Her father often sent her to inspect some of his slave camps. The first one he sent her two after Tarsi's death, she freed every slave in it and bombed the place to hell. It made her escape easy, but it also put a massive target on her back.

She spent many years skirting the Outer Rim, keeping a low profile among scavengers, pirates and mercenaries, never staying with one group very long and giving all the Zyggarian hunting grounds a wide berth.

It was years before she had any contact with another Zygerrian. And that contact was one of the most unexpected things to happen in her life.

She'd been running with a small mercenary gang for longer than she normally would, thinking enough time had passed for her father to forget about her. But, unfortunately, one of the mercs liked to browse bounties and he happened to find hers. She had no clue of the danger she was in until he'd united the rest of the gang against her. She escaped, but she was heavily injured and half blind from a minor explosion she'd caused to get away and she was stranded on a middle-of-nowhere planet.

She thought she was going to die when she collapsed from her injuries. Except the next thing she knew, she was waking up in a small camp with a Jedi peering down at her.

A Zygerrian Jedi with a very interesting tale to tell.

It turned out, after Seena left, her father had remarried and had another daughter with the intent to have a heir. Only Astra had turned out to be Force sensitive. Their father had decided to send her off to the Jedi with the intention of waiting until she was knighted and than cooking up a sob story about how she had been kidnapped and he wanted to bring her home.

He failed to take into account that Astra wouldn't trust him blindly just berceuse he was her biological father. The Order was Astra's life and she had refused to leave it.

It was dumb luck that had led her to Seena's unconscious body and her connection to the Force that told her they had a connection. But she admitted she had no clue it was biological until she'd meditated on the connection.

The Mandalorian that was accompanying Astra pipped in, saying that she'd spotted the bio-connection from a meter away.

Both stayed with Seena until she was healed up enough to strike out on her own again. The Mando, Chula Verd, slipped Seena her comm code before they parted ways, saying to call her if she needed help again.

Seena had wrinkled her nose at the offer....but she kept the comm code. Because there was definitely something going on between the Verd and her sister and Verd was the best way to keep tabs on Astra.

Seena went back to her normal routine, except now she ran solo more often, only working with groups for one off jobs. Surprisingly, Chula Verd was an excellent source of jobs that were far enough under the table to avoid any repeats of the event that scared up Seena's face.

Her routine wasn't disrupted again until the Clone Wars. Chula called her, saying that something had happened and it had messed with Astra's head a bit. A Republic ship was a little more crowded than Seena was comfy with but...her sister needed support.

Seena didn't go to the Paragon in person often, only dropping in once in awhile when Astra would hit emotional rock bottoms. She skirted around the edge of the war, digging up intel for the battalion in shady bars and underground crime rings.

The system worked well until Chula and Astra disappeared, along with the 244th battalion.

Seena slunk back into the shadows, going back to her former habits, except this time she was more watchful of what the Mid and Inner Rims were up to. She watched the war end, the fall of the Jedi, the rise of the Empire. She was glad Astra and Chula were gone before everything went to hell, even if the loneliness was suffocating most days.

Eventually, without anyone in her corner to help her dodge bounty hunters, someone managed to catch her off guard and drag her to her father's gladiator ring. But she was a lot older than her brother had been, a lot craftier, and she'd learned techniques from a Jedi and a Mandalorian.

Seena left her father's hold much in the same way she had the first time. Backdropped by a fiery explosion that burned down everything her father had built, with him right in the center of it.

With her father's death, Seena got bolder. She never officially joined a rebel cell but she happily blew up and burned down any Empire outpost, radio towers or temporary bases she would happen across.

Until one day, on the planet of Lothal, she spotted someone wearing very familiar armor. It was repainted, in a cacophony of bright colors that hurt her eyes, but the armor was the same.

She may not have been very close with Verd, but she would not let the woman who did so much to help her sister be dishonored in such a manner.

Except, the confrontation led to a whole new adventure that never would have imaged in a hundred lifetimes.

#lone hunter and turtle #star wars #rottmnt #star wars oc #zygerrian oc

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serpentarii · 7 months

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THEWRITEBLRGARDEN'S PUMPKIN PITCH ; VAINGLORY

❝I will return with all the blood of Roskarva on my hands.❞

comps ; house of the dragon meets the snow queen tropes ; elemental magic, pyrrhic victories, siblings to enemies

One thousand years ago, the House of Arkkoska was cursed by the gods as punishment for their devastating pride. Three heirs scavenge for power in the wake of their father's murder. A usurper, a wraith, and the most vainglorious one of all.

T A G L I S T

{ send an ask to be +/- } · { psd by @saachi }

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeblrgarden #pumpkinpitch #wtwcommunity #w.vainglory #m.excerpt #m.edit #w.mine #the edits were not editing so i used a trusty template #toch come back #anyways #i remember when this wip completely took over my mind and i outlined half of book 1 in like 2-3 days

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yupyor · 1 year

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White roses And Red lilies

Summary- It was Valentine's Day. Robb hated Valentine's Day. The excessive amounts of pink and red decoration that would litter the streets were just a sore reminder of his lack of control on his life—particularly in the love department. A result of his mother's endless critiques and demanding criteria pertaining to his spouse. That was 2 years ago, before he tripped over you and so graciously ruined his mother's bouquet of flowers.

I didn't proofread this, so sorry for any errors or anything off. I was binge listening to Laufey and Taylor while writing this so if one second thing go from sad to happy, or them being normal to suddenly flirting that's why, LOL

P.S - This was originally planned for Male readers, but I think I forgot to bring up any pronouns whatsoever, so GN...?

Your steps were fast, the gesture of love Lord Stark had sent you from the fields with for his Lady nestled precariously between your pricked fingers and your upper-chest. One wrong move, and you swear that the thick bouquet of flowers would go splattering against the castle grounds along with you. It was a mixture between freshly picked white roses and bloodred lilies.

It felt honorable at first, being bestowed upon the task to deliver something filled with so much love. Though that was before your legs were threatening to give out beneath you. Now, you couldn't help looking at the copious amount of flowers as a burden, especially since the trek down the hill your group had scavenge over in search for the flowers had worn you out considerably. It didn't help that you could hardly see where you were going either, relying entirely on muscle memory and taking in stuff from the peripheral of your vision.

You take note of the bend in your path up ahead and tighten your hold on the base of the bouquet, motioning into the curve on your right only to go stumbling back into the one on the left, tripping over your unsteady feet and sending more than a dozen pricked flowers soaring through the air.

You groan. You were on the ground—the only one on the ground. The person before you had managed to keep themselves upright despite the abrupt collision.

You see a cheeky smile and quickly after hear several rushed apologies. Though, that all goes to the back of your mind at the realization of who you bumped into.

Standing tall at a staggering height of 5'10 is the first heir of Eddard Stark, his charming blue eyes surveying the mess he had a direct hand in causing before him.

You rush to your knees, spluttering a string of more than likely incomprehensible condolences as you recklessly grabbed at the laying roses. "I am terribly sorry! I was not watching where I was going!"

He chuckled, stooping down to your level before resting beside you, reaching for a few of his own. "Can't say either was I."

"Still i-"

"It's okay," He drawled, "truly."

It was then that you acknowledged the resting distance between the two of you, your pulse elevating at the revelation.

He was close.

So close that you could feel his body's dispelling heat.

Robb smiled. "A lot of admirers, I assume? Can't's say they'll be happy with what I've done to their gestures of affection."

You cringe. "No, actually." You could never. "It is your mother's."

The grimace that had befallen him was more than just sudden, the rate his soft smile dropped sending you reeling. "Is that so... I'm going to get chewed out for this then."

"Only if I tell."

....

You didn't mean that. The words had ripped themselves out of you before you could even comprehend what your mouth had planned to say—and once again, before you could thoroughly think of it, you abruptly turn to your left, facing him directly as you blaringly clarified, "I didn't mean that!"

Though all you got in return was a smirk. "A joke. I know"

That had you smiling, your eyes unconsciously interlocking with his. It hadn't dawned on you that what you were doing was highly incorporate, swallowed whole by the moment.

Robb blinks, and you can't help the flutter within you at the bat of his lashes, only daring to rip your eyes away when he stands up with a handful of flowers and reaches the other out to you.

"I am- I have to..." He pauses, the charged silence between you no doubt having to do with it. "Do you maybe want some help carrying this to my her?"

🖤----------------------------- The End -----------------------------🖤

Robb was kneeling before you, his right hand bent behind his back with a wide, proud grin on his face. "It's Valentine's Day."

"... I know."

"And I got something for you." He outstretched his hand.

"... Yes?" You were laughing now, both the nerves and absurdity of the moment getting to you

"It's your flowers!"

Silence. "... Mines?"

"Yours."

It was a bouquet, but it was not the size that had you marveling at it, giddily smiling to yourself. It was a mix—and there were only two kinds of flowers in it.

White roses and Red lilies.

His mothers. The same set you were struggling to navigate the castle halls with when he had practically trampled over you.

"I know, I know," He rolled his eyes. "It only took 2 years... Best gift?"

".... Best gift." You replied, not missing the way his shoulders sagged in relief.

"I'd hope so, because now I'm all bloody." He paused, hugging you from behind as you continue to marvel at the blooms. "Did you know my father had trekked well beyond 2 hills looking for those. Of course, I upstaged him, but still. The things people do for love."

You turn in his grasp, setting the bouquet of flowers aside before leaning into his hold.

"I ought to think I deserve a gift."

You note the way his left brow quirks at the mention of the gift part. "...A kiss, maybe?"

🖤----------------------------- The End -----------------------------🖤

I'll leave what they do after that up to you guys.

#robb stark x male reader #x male reader #male reader #oneshot #fluff #GOT #game of thrones #I originally had planned for this to be like 100–200 words #LOL #Plz tell me how I ended up writing more than 800 😳#robb stark #robb stark x reader #x gn reader #ig?#fics

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hashal-nutcracker · 1 month

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Arthur is a standard nutcracker with a modification in the form of a personal radar, it was produced before the war. The security model of the Frank Banepti estate, in its duties, had patrolling the territory, as well as the outside. She also usually accompanied the heir of this estate on hunting trips, and has binoculars and a rifle with her.

She got to Gashal and Sharak much later, after the war in which she participated and was abandoned, her consciousness plunged into a pool of sleep, the scavengers found her and took everything that was worth it, and the damaged nutcracker was thrown out on one of the moons

#lethal company nutcracker #lethal company art #sketch #my ocs #concentoc #nutcrackerArtur #oc lore

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mathiwrites · 10 days

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Here's my entry for @tamlinweek 2024!

This chapter takes place in the same Alternate Universe/Canon-Divergent prequel for ACOTAR that I wrote earlier this year: Wildflowers.

High Lord ass-hattery aside, this chapter kind of sweet!

Full chapter below the cut, or you can read the fic on AO3: clicky clicky me!

Day 1 - Heir of Spring

It’s loud and there are so many people.

The fortress is made of wood, similar to the architecture of Spring Court, but where his home had been built on blossoms, this place is made of carcasses—severed trunks, fallen logs and a hundred other scavenged materials. The trees don’t speak to him here; they’re asleep, he thinks. Everyone gets quiet when they sleep. Maybe they’re shy. There are so many guests from far and wide, it would make sense that the green—

No, no, not green, but oranges, terracottas and ochres. It’s different in this Court.

Tamlin clings to his mother’s hand, looking around at all the new faces—some familiar, some not. It’s different outside of his Court. At his birthday, the guests had all swarmed to greet him, but today is not his day. There is another Faerie being presented to the rest of Prythian, another youngling who is turning six this year, just like Tamlin did a few months ago.

He doesn’t know how to approach anyone, or if he’s even allowed to stray from his family unit. Enfys is roughhousing with one of the Autumn sons, but not the one being celebrated. He looks longingly at his brother, wanting to play, too.

“Soon,” Iolin ruffles his little brother’s blonde hair.

High Lord Celyddon of the Spring Court leads his wife and sons—Enfys falls in line at the last moment—towards the dais. Each High Lord has a throne of their own, and while his father sits on a hundred knots of wildflowers, the High Lord of Autumn sits on a throne of fire. Upon closer inspection, Tamlin notices it's made of leaves in different stages of its life of fall, a sister to the grand seat at Spring Court.

Though High Lord Beron has never been kind, or even polite, Tamlin feels comforted by this place. It’s like home, but different. He doesn’t expect warmth, only Memrun and Niki have shown Tamlin gentleness. He still wonders if that kindness is a ploy, or proof of weakness. There is a reason his father is the strongest.

“Celyddon,” says the Lord of Fire.

“Beron.” His father returns the disrespect without missing a beat.

“I’m surprised you showed your face.” His auburn gaze, as bright as his vermillion hair, shifts to Tamlin. “I’m surprised you brought the runt. Still clinging to his mother’s skirts, I see.”

Oh, no. Tamlin immediately steps away from his mother, tipping his head up proudly. He is a Spring Son. At six years old, he is grown.

(It’s too late, he knows he’ll be punished for this.)

His emerald eyes meet his father’s and the anger there is cutting.

“I have no reason to hide any of my heirs, unlike you.”

Beside the flaming throne, a tiny boy stands. He offers a small smile, so unlike his father’s—the rest of him, his hair, his eyes (but not his complexion) is the same, just like the six other Autumn children.

“Hello, my lord, my lady,” he bows politely. “Thank you for attending my birthday party.” His gaze lands on Tamlin. “I wish I could have attended your birthday, Tamlin. I hope you did not take offense, I was needed here.” His voice is soft, and kind. His words hit every note in a way that Tamlin cannot replicate; it reminds him of his older brother, Iolin, who was always his mother’s favourite for being so princely.

“Happy birthday,” Tamlin says quietly, shyly. “I like your hair.”

“Are you sure you want to call that one your heir? He seems stupid.” Beron sneers, and it brings a flush to Tamlin’s face.

It’s hard to listen when he feels so bad, and he doesn’t want to look at anyone, so he keeps his gaze on the ground. Later, his father will punish him even more for embarrassing him not once, but twice in front of another High Lord. There is a weight on his chest, and a vice around his throat, he can’t breathe. He can’t think.

Only when his mother leads him away from the dais and back into the crowd does he feel better. In the crowd, Tamlin can be invisible. He’s still so small that he can lose himself in the skirts of all the pretty ladies, and the flowing tunics of the handsome nobles. He doesn’t leave her side, hoping and waiting for reassurance that he hasn’t failed his father. He just wants to be good, and do good. Tamlin knots his fingers anxiously while she speaks to other Ladies.

A gentle tap on his shoulder startles him.

Tamlin looks up and around, expecting to see his brother, but it’s that boy again.

“Hi, Tamlin.”

“Hi.” He hadn’t been listening and missed the boy’s name, and that’s cause for embarrassment, too. A good son is observant, he knows things without having to ask.

“I’m Lucien, but you can call me Lucy when it’s just us.” Lucien holds his hand out to him.

“Okay, but don’t call me Tammy. I don’t like it.”

“Okay,” the Autumn Faerie grins. “Do you wanna come play? I have a treehouse.”

Tamlin glances at his mother and waits until he can ask for her permission. Lucien waits patiently with him. Even if it’s birthday, it seems like he has nowhere else to be.

The treehouse is hollow in a massive sequoia tree. Tamlin had stood before it, mouth agape, craning his head up, up, up until his head hurt and he nearly stumbled back. In the Spring Court, only the little creatures and the forest spirits live in tree holes, not High Faeries. The thought excites him and fascinates; his heart yearns to explore. He’s in another Court and he gets to discover new things.

He follows Lucien into the dark maw of the sequoia, and into the coziest little spot. Books line the walls. Blankets pillow the ground, making it a soft place to lay around and do nothing. A row of fire ants with their glowing bottoms march across the ceiling, giving this treehouse a warm glow.

“Wow,” Tamlin exhales, his whole being alight with joy.

“I’m glad you like it,” Lucien hums proudly. The other boy gets quiet for a moment, sitting on the ground with his ankles tucked beneath him. He’s content to let Tamlin explore for a bit before he finally says, “I’m sorry for what my father said. It’s not true, you know. I can see it in your eyes, you’re really smart.”

Tamlin snorts. “That’s silly, my eyes are eyes, they're for seeing not for smart-ing.”

“No! It’s true, my brother Velten says you gotta watch out for the smart ones. I dunno what I’m watching for, but he says you can see it in people’s eyes, if they’re thinking or if there’s nothing there.”

“Nuh uh, the only way you can tell is if they can answer questions.”

“Oh, that’s a good way, too!” Of the two of them, Lucien proves to be the more amenable one. He also tells Tamlin he can borrow any books he likes.

“Do you have any books about Il-lyrians?”

“Hmmm, I don’t think so. Illyrians are from the Night Court, only the Night Court knows stuff about them. Why?”

“Um, Lady Lilith lent a book to the other ladies. They were gonna lend it to your mom, too, but she wasn’t at my birthday.”

Lucien goes quiet, looking at the ground. It’s a sad, shameful gaze that Tamlin recognizes, but cannot put the words to.

“We weren’t allowed. My father,” he pauses. There are some things that should not be shared between Courts.

“It’s okay, my father doesn’t let us visit other Courts either. Only today to say mean things to your father.”

“Yeah,” Lucien says. No one should be sad on his birthday, so Tamlin crawls out of their hidey-hole and into the Autumn forest. “Hey! Where are you going? You can’t go far! We’ll get in trouble!”

Tamlin returns after a couple of minutes, fingers stained purple and red, and palms full of berries. “Here, these smell sweet.” He nudges them towards Lucien. “So, you’ll feel better.”

“Your hands! Your father will be so angry.”

Tamlin shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m already in trouble for staying with my mother, and because I’m stupid. I can take one more punishment,” he grins. He finds that the consequences are worth it, if he’s helping make Lucien feel better. It soothes the needling in his chest, the one that his father placed there with his glare.

The smile on Lucien’s face is wonderful, and Tamlin dares to smile back.

“If we see each other again after today, do you want to be friends?” Lucien asks.

“Can we be friends today? I’ve never had a friend.” Brothers, sure, but not friends. Not the faerie kind.

Lucien perks, his smile blooming into a grin. “Okay!”

Friends—nothing more and nothing less.

Here, cradled in a secret tree hollow, there are no heirs, not of Spring or Autumn.

#i told myself i would do both prompts every day #but i am also full of LIES #tamlin week #my fics #tamlin #pro tamlin #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfiction #acotar

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omgkatsudonplease · 5 months

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[Image Description: Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Harry have a conversation in the hallways at Hogwarts. They are all dressed in uniforms that are slightly more old-fashioned than the film ones, incorporating breeches, waistcoats, and gloves.]

Lord Harry Potter and the Cursed Cup, a fic by @omgkatsudonplease with banner art by the excellent @splashofcolour23

Hermione was looking put-out by the time they had finished scrubbing out their cauldrons. “It’s not the Chizpurfle’s fault that it’s drawn to magic,” she complained as they filed out of the classroom in search of lunch. “I mean, it’s like a magical scavenger, right? It’s got an ecological role just like maggots and worms do.” “Maggots and worms have got roles?” echoed Ron. “Well—yes! They’re supposed to help decompose dead things and bring their nutrients back into the soil! I imagine the Chizpurfle does the same to magical creatures!” Ron sighed. “They’re just parasites, Hermione. They eat up sources of magic and make them useless. Mum has to spray our wardstone with anti-Chizpurfle potion just to make sure the buggers don’t wreck the house.” Hermione made a face. “I just don’t like that we had to watch them getting eaten,” she said. “I bet Hagrid wouldn’t have had us killing Chizpurfles our first day back.” “That’s because Hagrid would have us studying whatever horrible new monster he’s bred over the summer,” said Ron. “Five Sickles that it breathes fire.” “Ten Sickles that it’s venomous,” added Harry. “What are we betting on?” asked Draco as he insinuated himself between Harry and Hermione. “The monstrous appendages on Hagrid’s new species,” said Ron at the same time that Hermione insisted, “Never you mind.” Immediately, Draco’s eyes lit up. “I’ll play. One Galleon that it’s got stingers.” “You’re all horrible,” declared Hermione, and shoved past the three of them towards the Great Hall. The Triwizard Tournament has come to Hogwarts. When Harry, Lord of the Honourable and Most Ancient House of Potter, is entered into it against his will, he and his friends must band together to help him survive the Tournament—and figure out why someone would want to enter him in the first place. Part Four of Heirs of Avalon, a Pureblood Culture deconstruction.

Read here on AO3!

#harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy #drarry #hp fanfiction #pureblood culture #deconstruction #lily's dabbles #hfpw #heirs of avalon

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bracketsoffear · 11 months

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Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights) "Growing up a fosterling near the Earnshaws, Heathcliff becomes an angry man, in love with Catherine. When he realizes that he can never marry Catherine Earnshaw, Heathcliff leaves to make his fortune. He later returns and devotes his life to making their families and heirs miserable, explicitly destroying their lives and happiness for the sake of petty revenge. He is described by other characters as a demon, and after death people see his ghost and his love Catherine’s walking the moors together.

Wikipedia says “Owing to the novel's enduring fame and popularity, he is often regarded as an archetype of the tortured antihero whose all-consuming rage, jealousy and anger destroy both him and those around him; in short, the Byronic hero”."

The Artificer (Rain World) "A fierce combatant, master of pyrotechnics and explosives. Keen to move up in the foodchain, your journey will surely be one lined with constant bloodshed and warfare."

The Artificer is a violent, carnivorous slugcat with the ability to propel themself through the air by creating explosions, along with the power to turn spears and rocks into explosives at the cost of food. They have a bitter grudge against the Scavengers, specifically, for reasons that are at first unclear, and their reputation is locked at the lowest possible value. Throughout their campaign, they sometimes dream before the save screen appears, showing you snapshots of their past. The first two dreams show them caring for a pair of pups. The third dream shows them passing by a Scavenger toll, where one of the pups attempts to steal a pearl. The fourth shows them running for their life and being forced to leave one pup behind, presumably to be killed, before the ground begins to shake as the rain comes. The fifth shows their second pup's death--drowning in a pool of water as they attempt to flee. All dreams after that show them killing Scavengers.

Five Pebbles is unusually kind to them, due to both the Citizen ID Drone they carry and the fact that they share a common enemy. A Scavenger pack has made its home in Pebbles' formerly-abandoned city, and he tasks the Artificer with destroying them, as they have been damaging the top of his can.

In this city (Metropolis), the Artificer can speak to an Echo, Twelve Beads among Burning Skies, who tells them the following:

"You are stuck in a cycle of wrath and destruction, simple being. Gripped by raw emotions whose chains bind you, destined to this land. Shortcomings of the past haunt one and all like whispering phantoms. Listen. Let this be a warning to you�� An unrewarding battle awaits, culminating in a path of no return. A perpetuity of struggles begetting more of the same. Find a way out, if you still can."

Eventually, the Artificer (when following the game's usual route) finds their way to the Twelfth Council Pillar; The House of Braids, where they face off against the scavengers' chieftain. Upon defeating them and taking their mask, they are permanently locked at Karma One, which is believed to represent wrath and violence due to clues in-game. If they visit TBaBS after this, they say:

"You, who have encountered a consequence much like my own. Gripped by raw emotions whose chains bind you, destined to this land. Shortcomings of the past haunt one and all like whispering phantoms. An unrewarding battle awaits, culminating in a path of no return. A perpetuity of struggles begetting more of the same. We are a pair who have forfeited everything."

Alternately, the Artificer can seek ascension, however their wrath prevents them from ascending fully, and they are only briefly reunited with their pups before meeting an unknown fate.

tl;dr: local sapient slug's kids die and they commit warcrimes about it

oh yeah also they're the only* slugcat with the ability to maul so that's something

*enot can technically do it also but we don't talk about them in this household"

#desolation poll #the magnus archives #the desolation #wuthering heights #rain world #poll

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

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Can u do ayato x reader where he's using the readers lap to rest from his hard work and gives her kisses on her stomach the more she giggles??? Aaah, that'd b such a cute fluff drabble!! Plzzz!

To Rest (Ayato brainrot)

note: changing the ask a little bit since im not really good at pure fluff :)) anywaaay i was also supposed to post this during ayato's launch xp

cw: slight spoilers for his background story

Imagine meeting Ayato while the Kamisato clan was still unstable — Ayato who desperately overworks himself; from scavenging for reliable allies to proving his capabilities as a heir, all the while protecting himself from assassins. It's not like he can just give up, he has a little sister to look after and his parents loved the clan dearly. It's his legacy now.

Maybe you were a foreigner like Thoma; maybe you wandered in with Thoma and, after realizing how difficult it was to leave, decided to stay and look for work. Meeting Ayato was a silver lining in your and Thoma's struggles. The household with questionable prestige had just laid off a handful of workers (Ayato wanted to purge the clan of people he couldn't trust) and they were hiring newbies.

You were perfect! A foreigner in need of a job with little to no idea – or care, for the matter – about clan honors and prestige. After a quick interview (and a much deeper, secret background check, ensuring you weren't a spy of sorts) you passed alongside Thoma!

As you rose through the household servant ranks, you were promoted to be his personal aide. Thoma taking up his daytime while you took the night shift.

You thought the night shift would be easy, honestly. If not for the fact that this man has a practically nonexistent sleep schedule. You find yourself with him in his office, from the late hours of the night to the early hours of the morning.

There's something so intimate about spending the quiet of night, when everyone is asleep, with the commissioner. Although he's usually occupied with paperwork, you check in from time to time, doing your part on reports, cleaning, and offering him tea.

Some nights, you stay by his side, filling out forms and organizing. He'll make light conversations and somehow, you'll end up telling him all about foreign lands he's never been to because of Inazuma's closed borders. He finds them interesting and - in a way - inspiring with the lifestyles and trends of other nations.

It's on a difficult night (after so many more all nighters) that he drowsily tries to take a break by resting his head on the table. A few minutes nap, he tells himself. Just a few minutes.

You're immediately at his side, offering to wrap things up for him but he's determined to see the work done through the night. So you offer an alternative — rest on your lap.

He knows you're both close enough with each other but it still comes as a small surprise. Perhaps he really is sleep deprived in the way he welcomes the softness, arms maybe even wrapping around your waist.

It's tempting because he's not sure if he'll ever want to get up and continue working this way.

—

Alternatively, reader could just be another noble. Perhaps an arranged marriage between families.

It's awkward – terribly so considering how sudden things were for the two of you; he married you with haste in order to satisfy the clan's image of a happy, idealistic family.

Despite the rushed proceedings, you were determined to make the relationship work! (if not as lovers, at least as partners). Helping him with his duties, bringing him tea, making conversations— it's great and all, except, he's never in bed on time.

Arranged marriages aren't necessarily cold. In fact, they could be very warm when you find a friend in your spouse. On nights that you're still awake and he settles in, you share whispered conversations about hopes, dreams, jokes – they remind you of little sleepovers with a friend you're not sure if you could cuddle with or not.

Some nights, Ayato would hold you close. On other nights, even he's unsure if he's allowed to cuddle up to you. It gets confusing sometimes.

Back to him never being in bed on time. He's overworking in his office, reading report after report of work that absolutely can't wait. He has to do this now or else they'll question his capabilities, his clan's prestige, you, yada yada– all the things he needs to protect, in status and from harm.

You're peeking into his office, cup of tea on a tray. It's probably 2 AM by now and you're asking him if he'll rest any time soon. He gives you a soft but sad smile, apologizing that he's still busy and that you should go ahead first (and that you really shouldn't stay up this late // what a hypocrite)

You'll huff a little and try to compromise, slowly testing boundaries as his spouse. You'll shyly ask him if he wants to take a short break; rest on your lap and you'll massage his head (you notice the stiffness of his neck, he really needs a massage).

He's a little surprised, but he agrees to it and lays his head down on your lap.

"You don't have to work yourself to the bone," You whisper, fingers slowly rubbing his temples.

"I'm aware," He says, a slight smile on his lips, "But in due time, it'll be worth it. It's worth it now."

After all, how else could he protect you and Ayaka? There's a part of him that feels bad; dragging you into this household that's struggling to hold its head high. You're a noble yourself, yet you agreed to the marriage.

A silence settles between you, just the quiet sounds of wind, waves, and - from a distance - thunder, as if Inazuma was trying to lull him to sleep.

"Will you continue your work now?" You ask.

"Hm... Just a few more minutes. Let's stay like this."

note: thought of this while going through the irodori festival and ayato mentioned how he was desperate back then or something, idk the word desperate just hits hard :'(

(sagau) thoma version || navigation

#ayato #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #hira brainrot #genshin fluff #genshin hcs #genshin fanfic #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact hcs #genshin reader insert

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