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legally-allowed-to-slime · 5 months

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The last few people had logged off the server, leaving it in its burnt, damaged state.

She knew where Gem would be.

Cleo scaled up the ladder and clambered up to the rickety roof of Joel’s tower — where you could look out on the entire server.

Sure enough, Gem was perched on the railing, sitting on the edge with nothing to support her but the wind, staring in the direction of the Secret Keeper.

Cleo looked around at the short cobble walls. Grian had told her that he’d hid away here. Not a bad strategy, overall. You could shut yourself here and forget everywhere else existed.

“Hey, Cleo.”

“Am I that loud?” Cleo joked weakly.

“Who else?”

Cleo watched as the last remains of the green flesh flaked off Gem’s skin, leaving her regular human tones. “No more zombies now, then? Good job, anyway. Killing people left and right.”

“Not you, though.”

“Not me. Only way I’m going out is my way. I’d rather die on my own stupidity than someone else’s callousness.” Cleo allowed a hint of pride to enter her voice. “You were great zombies, though.”

“We weren’t zombies.” Gem turned and hopped down from the railing.

Cleo noticed that unlike the other zombies, or even Scott or Grian, Gem didn’t have a single scratch or injury, save one neat bandage that no doubt was due to Scar’s reckless arrows.

Which meant the blood splattering her face wasn’t her own. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not how zombies work. No offence, Cleo, but most zombies aren’t sentient.”

Cleo blinked. “No worries, I know they aren’t. I kill plenty of them at night.”

“So you should know how they work. They’re mindless. They lurch along, they kill without thinking, they probably bump into trees.”

Gem tilted her head. “They don’t set TNT traps, or betray their teammates, or ask for permission to kill their wife’s perceived murderer.”

Cleo’s mouth was dry. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying the apocalypse wasn’t zombies, Cleo. It was human.”

Horribly, incredibly human.

Cleo remembered when they were up on the tower, staring at the others down below, condemning them as monsters.

Somehow, it was better to think of them as a mindless horde and not people she’d been laughing and arguing with a session ago.

Gem was watching her. “You know I’m right. Look at Pearl. Was running from us, convinced we were infected or something but once she realised she had permission to kill, she went in. Even unleashed a warden, or two. That’s how quickly we switch.”

Ironically, Cleo realised, the roles had been swapped this session. The humans were chasing the zombie, but it hadn’t been any different.

“That’s not true,” Cleo said, “It’s not all bad. Did you know, Grian snuck down from this tower to check on his magma pet, and I was there too. And so was Etho. He didn’t kill us.”

Irritation flashed across Gem’s face. “He didn’t kill you? If he had, or, like, told us your location or something, we could’ve all just gone after Scott, and, and, the task would’ve succeeded…”

She trailed off, and looked at Cleo. “Is that the point you’re trying to make here?”

Cleo shrugged.

“Alright, I get it,” Gem grumbled, “No need to rub your holier-than-thou alliance and great morals in my face.”

“Well, no one asked you to put your task over your bandmates.”

Gem didn’t say anything to that.

“It’s not as if I’m exactly a paragon of morality either.” Cleo continued.

“I guess not.” Gem gave a short laugh. “Neither am I. You know, all the murder and stuff? I don’t feel bad! In fact, I feel great. I feel proud of myself for it.”

“…I feel you should be a little less bloodthirsty.”

Gem smiled at Cleo, an innocent, cheerful smile that would have been such if not for the circumstances. “Oh, no.”

Cleo was suddenly feeling very unsafe on the highest platform on the server. She wished Etho was here, or even Grian.

She knew Gem couldn’t take any lives, not now, not when the session was already over. But still…

Cleo raised her sword to stop the axe swing that came, but it was a feint, and her sword hit nothing.

Gem dramatically swung her axe back into her inventory.

“You really thought I would attack you?” Gem said.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t,” Cleo retorted curtly.

“That’s true,” Gem conceded. “But the curse is just so- it’s so freeing, Cleo? Can’t you see? You could do anything.”

“Uh- no thanks. Session’s over, anyway,” Cleo pointed out.

“That’s true. But I’m still kinda cursed, you know.”

In response, Cleo warily raised her sword. But all that Gem did was deliver a mock salute before logging off with a chirpy “See you next week!”

Cleo stood silently. There had been one zombie on the platform just now. Her.

And thinking about it, she wasn’t sure if there hadn’t been two.

#concept: gem is simply evil #god forbid women do anything #oh no this story turned into that are humans good/evil thing again #that’s great i don’t care #geminitay #zombiecleo #gem centric but i did put in some cleo stuff because etho sparing his allies was so woahwhaha #secret life fanfic #secret life #secret life smp #life series #trafficblr

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iwikpines · 1 month

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JonMartin Week: Day 3

Nightmare

Third day of @jonmartinweek !!

also my bestie @ethanwitht wrote a fic based on my drawing ,,,,,,, you can read it under the cut (give them lots of loves he's the best <3)

Martin woke up startled by the rapid movements and the little whimpers by his side. Jon wasn't facing him, and yet, he could see the way his brow was furrowed and his eyes wide open; it wasn't the first time Jon had a nightmare.

The room was lit only by a light green glow entering through the window upon their bed. After a few days living in an apocaliptic world, he'd gotten used to the night being no longer dark but that peculiar color that matched his lover's eyes.

He sighed getting closer to his body and his eyes stung with tears because of his partner's cries; he hated seeing him like this. Jon's movements were erratic and it seemed like if he was trying to get someone, or something, off of him. He caressed his back with soft circular motions, he made sure to leave him space so as not to upset him further and started to call him in a low voice. Martin bit his lower lip when he heard Jon calling out to him with the same despair as when he went to save him from the Lonely, and he decided to get closer and to slip his hand under his shirt to touch his skin without any barrier. His fingers traveled through all his back feeling the little circular scars spread all over his skin.

“I'm here, Jon…” he said in a low voice before kissing the top of his head.

He began to despair when Jon's screaming and callings were getting more insisting with time. He moved away to turn him around so Jon would be facing him and tried to wake him up by shaking him while still talking to him.

“Jon, wake up, please” he pleaded. “I'm here, you're safe, it's just a nightmare” the anguish took over him and he screamed Jon's name, finally waking him up.

“Martin!" Jon screamed looking at his boyfriend breathing rapidly.

Martin enveloped Jon's body in an embrace, pulling their bodies as close together as possible while allowing the other to catch his breath. “I'm here, it was just a bad dream…” He whispered in his ear and started to stroke his back, starting from the bottom and going all the way up to his nape, where he stopped to massage his hair.

He noticed Jon's hands holding onto his body, crumpling his shirt into his fists, and felt him shaking. He continued to whisper to him without stopping his pets, he closed his eyes and hid the other one between his arms, trying to protect Jon from his own mind.

Jon cried. He cried and sobbed and kept calling out to him, so much so that Martin wondered for a moment if perhaps he was still asleep; but he knew that wasn't the case because the way he was saying his name was almost with ease. He didn't pressure Jon to tell him anything, he simply kept holding his boyfriend close and whispering soothing words to calm him down.

“You weren't with me” Jon said in a broken voice, “you went back to the Lonely… And it was my fault.”

Jon hid his face in Martin's chest, who felt his own heart breaking at the sight of his boyfriend in that state. “I'm not going anywhere, Jon. I'm here thanks to you and I'm not going back again…” He stroked his cheek trying to get him to raise his head to look into his eyes. “It was a bad dream, it's okay.”

“I'm just so tired, Martin… I can't sleep, I can't find any peace of mind, I'm forced to know every single thing that's happening and I can't stop it and all of this is *my* fault” he clung to him tightly, wetting Martin's hand with his tears as he cradled his face.

“None of this is your fault. Listen to me, you couldn't have kept it from happening…” his thumb gave gentle strokes to his cheek. “Jon, we'll get out of this, we're going to fix it together” he promised kissing his forehead.

Jon just nodded without saying anything, he simply answered with a sigh and got closer to Martin, not leaving any space left between them. One could still notice how Jon was trembling, Martin could even feel the violent way his heart was beating in his chest. Martin's hands were still caressing his partner while he was whispering comforting words and peppering kisses wherever he could.

“I love you so much, Jon” he said, removing two strands of hair off his forehead. He saw how Jon's gaze was lost, “are you sleeping?” He asked, chuckling a bit; it was sometimes hard to tell the difference between when Jon was sleeping or just staring into the void. He got his answer when Jon shook his head. “You can go back to sleep if you want to, I'm staying here with you. No one is going to hurt us, Jon”

#tma #gem art #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jmart #tma season 5 #tma spoilers #jonmartin week #my tma art #tma fanfic

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thewriterwhowritesnot · 11 months

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i gotta keep it horny fam, have you got any spicy headcanons for Alucard that you feel might be uncommon when discussing about him?

This is a very wonderful request

For one, I feel that he makes a point to experience every sensation to the fullest and he wants his lover to experience it all to the same extent as well

He's very sensually motivated which means he'll take his time getting very familiar with every part of you

Whether that be exploring you with his hands or his mouth

I personally think he has a fascination with having you in a place of helplessness

I know y'all are probably tired of me saying this shit but vampires are predators and that aspect is so much fun to discuss with sexual themes. Sooooo, I know in my SOUL that this man likes to pin you down.

Double points if it's unexpected and you have a moment of real fear/shock that he can smell. That would make him go feral

ALSO we been knew he was a biter but we never talk about his favorite places to bite and I am a 100% believer that the titty is his number one I SAID WHAT I SAID (and that’s regardless of gender)

But also thighs, shoulders, and over the rib cage (because the marks are just so pretty)

Speaking of marks, he would certainly have a fascination with leaving them all over your body even more so if you bruise easily

And to hit on the helplessness topic again, I feel that he would enjoy bondage with him being the one to tie the knots. The power rush of having you at his mercy in whatever position he chooses would be his drug of choice hands down. I was literally sweating writing this out lol

#castlevania headcannons #adrian tepes #castlevania #alucard #alucard tepes #alucard x reader #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania fanfic #alucard headcannons #gem speaks

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mydearsteven · 1 year

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Sick days

prompt: you got caught in a flu because of your lack of sleep, luckily your short tampered lovable husband is here to help you.

featuring: Diamond!Steven x Reader

your bed has been lonely without your lovely husband sleeping beside you, you knew that his work has been piled up alot lately but it still hurts. Especially after you got caught up in a flu for the past 2 days.

even though he was usually short tampered you still love him to death because he’s well, your husband. Pearl has been taking care of you ever since, though whenever she’s trying to insist you to tell your sickness to her diamond, you always try to keep her mouth shut from telling it to Steven.

you don’t want to interrupt his work and made him even more stressed than he already was, and decided if he wanted to know he would know it by himself. Pearl could only sighs at this but still obligated to it.

after a few hours of laying down on your shared bed, you were unable to sleep due to your freezing body. You have turned right and left and still can’t find yourself to be asleep. That is until you heard a voice from the door of your shared room.

“(n/n)? oh dear stars.” Steven was shocked to see your current state and immediately rushed to you and see if you’re alright.

“little star… why didn’t you tell me that you’re sick?” he pouts, his hands starts to find its way on your hair. You smile weakly at him. “i don’t want to worry you, you look like you were going to explode if i tell you.” you chuckled at your own remarks.

he’s still not very pleased by this and starts to call out his pearl. He got off from the bed once Pearl came in, his steps towards her was so full of rage that you start to worry.

“Pearl.. why didn’t you tell me about my WIFE’s getting caught by a heavy flu?” his voice as harsh as rocks, he’s very enraged by the lack of information about his wife’s condition.

Pearl only stutters trying to find an answer to her diamond’s question. “m-my diamond! you see.. w-well…” she trailed off her sentence, not knowing what to say. Steven was so fed up and was about to shatter her gem until you began coughing rapidly.

that stops Steven on his track, giving Pearl one last glance and start rushing towards your sleeping form. “love.. please don’t hurt Pearl. Its my request to not tell it to you, i don’t want to burden you..” you put your hand on his cheek and rubs it so that he calms down.

Steven sighs at you and put his hand on top of yours, staring at your shining eyes. He furrowed his brows and blushes from your affection towards him.

he turned his head to Pearl who was thanking to the stars for saving her life, Steven then asked her to come to where the two couple was. “Pearl, im sorry for assuming things. If it weren’t for you im pretty sure (name) would’ve been worse by now.”

Pearl was very relieved and starts to smile towards her diamond. “its quite alright, My Diamond.” Pearl did her little diamond salute and starts walking towards the exit of the room, leaving the two of you.

Steven turned his head towards you once more, he gave you a kiss on your forehead and that instantly made you feel a little better than before. You drift off to sleep, knowing that you’ll feel a lot better tomorrow because Steven is here.

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icespur · 6 months

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Screenshots from this youtube video:

youtube

Apparently the P.Ts were meant to comment on the DLC outfits you put them in. Lines for Joker wearing them, and lines for wearing them themselves.

This was going to be Akechi's comment for wearing the butler outfit (I'm kinda bummed the men automatically get put in Butler outfits. gender equality, the maid outfits do not discriminate!)

I thought fellow Akeshu/ShuAke fans would enjoy this and I haven't seen this talked about enough.

"If you were a women, I'd call you "princess".... But I suppose in this case, I'll call you "Master"" - Goro Akechi

#persona 5 royal #atlus #atlus games #youtube #game screenshots #unused content #goro akechi #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #akiren #persona 5 joker #akeshu #shuake #ho boy #shippers squealing in the background #shipping fuel #fanfic fuel #behold this absolute gem #we were robbed

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fistfuloflightning · 20 days

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What to say to someone who’s crossed a galaxy to get to you? Welcome home is probably the best start. So, Shen Jiu, welcome home.

Syndicate Shen Jiu and communications officer Shen Yuan from Across the Stars by @ruensroad 💕

#my heart 🥺#decided it was high time for a reread of my faves and arbitrarily picked this gem #fyi don’t get scared off bc it says it’s still in progress—it ends in such a perfect spot #svsss #jiuyuan #shen yuan #shen jiu #shen qingqiu #svsss art #fanfic fanart #my art #fic recs

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caleili · 2 months

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First Post!

I finally have a tumblr! This is mostly going to be reposts but I'm putting this very special picture Keii made for Ch.10 of my fic (special circumstances request) here, to show off how lovely it is.

This is Keii's tumblr, she does some beautiful art, not just LoP related either.

This is also my ao3 account where I post all my LoP fics! My main longfic and the one Keii's art up there depicts is Lead to Gold, an AU involving Pinocchio and the Arm of God.

"Pinocchio makes a single misstep atop the alchemist's tower with life changing consequences. Just what is the Arm of God, really?"

I also have a fledgling Feral P oneshot series that definitely falls under the category of Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Gemini is also a borrower in it, so ymmv.

#lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p carlo #lop #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 link #ao3 #fanfic #Keii is a Gem

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kp-fandomappreciation · 29 days

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Here we go, this is your first challenge! It's a Bingo card, meaning, you fill any three slots horizontally, diagonally or vertically, yell BINGO very loudly so your neighbours get concerned and then award yourself 5 points for being an amazing fandom participant (the yelling part is optional, the rest is not ;) ).

You get 5 points for your first Bingo and 2 points for every subsequent Bingo (plus one point for every comment, obviously).

It reads:

left

Leave a comment on a fic that's over 1 year old.

Sent a DM to an author.

Sent a comment to a fic below 5 k (meaning the fic has less than 5 k words).

middle

Leave a comment on every chapter in a multi-chapter fic.

Leave a comment in your bookmark.

Write a comment that is over 1 k.

right

Recommend your favourite fic on your social media of choice (Twitter, Tumblr, Insta etc.).

Sent a comment to the newest fic in your pairing.

Leave a comment to a fic that's over 10 k (meaning the fic has over 10 k words).

PS: This in no way took one of us a quite frankly ridiculous amount of time and it still looks like this. Oh well.

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prythianpages · 2 months

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Give 'Em Hell | Part Two

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Some of the country folk of Autumn are protesting Beron's rule and there is talk of rebellion. The Phoenix. And Beron begins to wonder if the enemy is among his inner circle.

Warnings: bullying, violence, harsh insults thrown oc's way/ brief mentions of sexual assault (groping)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever to update. This has been in my drafts since November omg. I got this idea/motivation to write this at a time where I was at the peak of my female rage lol and now things in my life are better. However, I did always want to write a character who is "evil." Using quotation marks because that's still up to be decided on. For this OC, I'm drawing huge inspiration from Game of Thrones, especially with Daenary's character. Also, I know that birth order does not dictate who inherits the title High Lord but in this fic and probs in canon too, Beron hates the idea of Autumn having a High Lady.

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture.

Deaths, heartbreaks and traumatic events may pass but the memory lives on, lingering like a haunting and tormenting spirit. The Pryalis family has been threatened to become a distant memory, torturing the remaining patriarch of what was once.

Once a strong and powerful big household, the Pryalis family was now reduced to just one. Edmund Pryalis. Or so he thought.

Among the wreckage of his beloved son’s home, remained a young female. She had been found, a couple of feet away from the house at the edge of the surrounding forest, with signs of struggle etched onto her pale body, bruised and scarred. She had been trembling and terrified when Edmund had approached her, demanding to know who she was and what had happened. He had not been prepared for the words that had broken off from her quivering lips.

She was his son’s bastard daughter. His bastard granddaughter.

Edmund had not questioned it. His son was known for being disloyal to his wife. It was inevitable to not sire a bastard child and if his son’s scandalous endeavors were not enough to convince him, the female strongly resembled his late wife and daughter with her sun-kissed auburn hair, high cheekbones and striking eyes. However, the color of her eyes were not the infamous emerald green the Pryalis family was known for but a chestnut brown instead.

If it weren’t for the deaths of his son and family, his heirs, he would’ve done Prythian a favor and rid it of one more bastard. But he didn’t. He refused to allow the Pryalis name to fade into memory and so now there were two.

“May their ashes rise and flames persist in eternity.”

The air carried the scent of damp earth as the leaves rustled with the wind, whispering their final farewells to the departed souls resting beneath. Edmund pulled his gaze from the tombstone below and to the young weeping female. He gestured for her to follow him and they silently made their way to the entrance of the cemetery, where a carriage awaited them.

As Edmund placed a foot on the carriage step, a sudden realization compelled him to pause. There was one more question he had yet to ask of his bastard granddaughter. “What is your name?”

“Emilia.” The female had replied.

And if Edmund had bothered to turn around, he would’ve caught the flames flickering in her eyes.

“Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be.”

Beron found himself surrounded by the weight of the soothsayer’s prophecies, uttered nearly three centuries past, as he surveyed the grandeur of his Autumn Court's council chamber. There was more truth to the soothsayer’s words than he’d like to admit. To his left, his four eldest sons occupied their appointed seats, a testament to the continuation of his lineage. On his right, the key figures of his advisory council – chief advisor, spymaster, master of coin, and army commander – assumed their positions

His two younger sons were away, honing their skills in the art of war, preparing for a future fraught with uncertainties. And Lucien…

Well, Lucien was doing everything a High Lord’s son probably shouldn’t and Beron couldn’t bring himself to care for it at this moment. There were other pressing matters to attend to.

"Mistwood grows restless," Fenrik, the spymaster, began cautiously. "Whispers of an uprising persist, and while rumors can be as fleeting as the wind, this tale echoes persistently…”

Beron's piercing gaze bore into Fenrik, a silent command for the truth to be unveiled.

“I am uncertain whether it is a person or a group but there's mention of a Phoenix. A harbinger of a brighter tomorrow. Faced with the specter of an impending famine, some villagers may be swayed to rebellion against our presence."

A tense silence falls upon the room as Fenrik’s words hang in the air like a foreboding mist. That is, until Eris, the heir to the Autumn Court, decides to break it.

“Perhaps, we should provide them with enough sustenance to quell their thirst to riot,” Eris suggests, his voice resonating with wisdom beyond his years. Beron should be proud but instead, his eyes narrow as he assesses the situation.

“Gain their trust so they remain loyal to you, High Lord,” Edmund, Beron’s chief advisor, agrees as he waves his hand, beckoning his cupbearer forward.

Eris’s eyes widen ever so slightly, lifting his gaze toward Edmund. It’s the first time the two have ever been in agreement. He then turns his head toward Edmund’s cupbearer, a spark of curiosity flashing in his amber eyes.

As the cupbearer delicately pours a substance, presumably more potent than wine given its acrid scent, Eris can’t help but wonder why Edmund subjects his own granddaughter to a servant role when she is beyond the age of marriage. Granted, Emilia is a bastard. But still his blood nonetheless. His only blood.

Edmund brings his cup to his lips and takes a swig. He sputters almost immediately, throwing his chalice to the floor and drawing everyone’s attention to him. The dark crimson liquid splatters onto the floor, staining the soft fabric of his granddaughter's dress. Emilia shrinks back, fear flashing across her features as Edmund shifts toward her with a scowl.

“This is not what I asked of you!” He seethes with furrowed eyebrows. “I asked for the russet elixir, not this.”

“I’m sorry, grandfather. I thought this was the russet elixir.”

Emilia drops her gaze, a frown tainting her soft features, as she presents the bottle of liquor to him. It is clearly labeled as crimson nectar. “You imbecile. Go back to your station,” Edmund orders hastily, no longer desiring a drink.

“Illiterate bastard,” Hunter mutters under his breath with a chuckle, elbowing Eris.

Eris does not humor his brother. Though his fingers tense around his own chalice, he maintains a stoic silence, his gaze following Emilia. She retreats to her designated place in the council chamber, head bowed low. Her silhouette merges seamlessly with the servants clustered around the table of refreshments.

“Let them starve.”

Eris’s gaze shifts back toward his father and he swears his heart skips a beat.

“But my High Lord–”

“I refuse to feed the mouths of potential traitors,” Beron interrupts his spymaster sharply yet his gaze is focused upon Eris, brown eyes shimmering with disappointment. “The seed for rebellion has already been planted. It does not matter if I send them sustenance or not, they may still revolt. I’ll turn the town of Mistwood into a lesson.”

Beron then rises to his feet, signaling that he will hear no more from his council for today. “Anyone who lends credence to this alleged Phoenix shall be branded as traitors and punished. No exceptions.”

Beron strides out of the room, the council trailing in his wake. Eris, however, lingers, reluctant to vacate his seat. He prods the inside of his cheek with his tongue, stomach filling with dread from the look Beron had given him before leaving. He sits there for what feels like an eternity but given the fact that some of his brothers remain, harassing Edmund’s poor granddaughter, it couldn’t have been for too long.

When Eris rises from his seat, he catches a glimpse of Oliver, his younger brother, trailing a hand a little too low down Emilia’s body. From where Eris stands, he could see Emilia’s every muscle tense under the unwanted touch and harsh words whispered into her ear. Yet, Emilia remains quiet, her gaze fixed forward, even as Oliver finally frees her of his torment.

Silver lines her dull brown eyes and Eris can’t help but pity the female. He knows the look on her face all too well. It's a reflection of the emotions he often carries within himself. Hatred. Fear. Anger.

The room is quiet, save for the measured cadence of Eris’s footsteps. They come to a stop right before Emilia, causing her brown eyes to widen in surprise. Still, she remains steadfast in avoiding eye contact with Eris.

“Lord Eris,” she addresses him, her voice a masterclass in practiced restraint, as though she has honed it over centuries of servitude.

“We should arrange for someone to teach you how to read.”

Emilia blinks, caught off guard and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability flickers in her dark eyes. It’s not the first time Eris has been kind yet she still can’t comprehend why he continues to express concern for her. She hesitates before regaining her composure and slowly lowers her gaze.

“Grandfather says reading will only taint the female’s mind and that I do not need to know how to read in order to fulfill my duty.”

“And what duty is that exactly?”

“I’m the last Pyralis female. I’m sure you can take a guess, my lord.”

Eris exhales heavily, as if he too was wearied by the harshness of her world. “Suit yourself then.”

For centuries, the Pyralis family stood as a formidable force, characterized by its size and strength. Even amidst the transformative shift in magical favor that propelled the Vanserra family to High Lordship, the Pyralis clan endured without faltering. True to their name, they rose from the ashes, mirroring the resilience of the Phoenix they were named after. They maintained their high status in politics, taking on the role as the Vanserra’s chief advisors. Speculation lingered that the only force capable of bringing down the Pyralis family was the family itself.

The Pyralis family's decline began long before Eris’s birth. Still, he couldn't help but reflect on the strange sight of witnessing such a once-mighty and expansive lineage reduced to a mere two living members.

It made him worry if the same grim fate would befall upon his own family.

“Mother’s tits, what happened to you?”

“Your brothers,” is all Emilia says followed by a huff, the small gust of frustration sending the dark red fringe framing her face tumbling forward like a curtain of shadows. Weariness etches across her features, shoulders slumping, allowing a glimpse beyond the facade she meticulously maintains.

Lucien furrows his brow in concern and gently reaches out to tuck the loose strand behind her ear. “You look like you’re in need of a pick me up,” he remarks, his russet eyes lighting up at the idea. “A little trip to Thornwood might lift your spirits.”

Emilia pauses, narrowing her eyes slightly. “I’m sure it’ll lift other things too.”

Lucien laughs, his lips twitching upwards into a grin. Though Thornwood sounds like a good idea, given the hard day she had, she recognizes why Lucien is more than eager to go. She knows him too well. As they step out of the forest house, he hooks his arm through hers and winnows them both to Thornwood before she could even question if it was safe to do so, given the current volatile state of the neighboring town, Mistwood.

Thornwood is a breath of fresh air.

Both Lucien and Emilia feel a sense of comfort as they fall into step beside each other. Lush orchards and vineyards surround the small town nestled in the countryside of Autumn, their branches heavy with golden and crimson fruits. They walk along the cobblestone pathways, leading to a central square where various vendors are selling goods. Residents, adorned in cozy layers to protect from the autumn winds, go about their daily routines with a sense of unhurried contentment.

An elderly female rests against the weathered water well, rattling a worn cup that holds a few gold marks toward any passersby. As Emilia walks by, the female’s eyes follow her and with a sudden urgency, she rattles her cup harsher.

“Something wicked this way comes,” she mutters, the words slipping from her cracked lips like an ominous whisper carried by the wind. “Something wicked this way comes…”

With a glare directed at the older female, Lucien steps around Emilia, shielding her from the female’s sharp gaze.

“Em!”

Emilia's head whips around, her guarded expression softening as her gaze fixes on a blonde figure drawing nearer with each passing second. Before she knows it, strong arms envelop her. Emilia finds herself wrapped in a comforting hug and returns the gesture.

"Hey, Jes," Emilia greets, the corners of her lips hinting at a rare smile.

"You haven’t come to visit in awhile. I was getting worried," Jesminda remarks, pulling away from the hug with a concern-laden expression.

Lucien, feeling neglected, huffs in mock offense. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

Jesminda giggles, but she redirects her attention to Lucien, throwing her arms around him. He responds with equal enthusiasm, pulling her close and twirling her around, evoking a delighted squeal that he silences with an affectionate kiss.

“Gross,” Emilia comments, a slight grimace crossing her features.

Jesminda, despite Lucien's protest, untangles herself from his embrace. "Never been in love before?"

Emilia's gaze shifts to where Lucien and Jesminda now hold hands. "No, and I don’t plan on it." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the intertwined couple before she adds, "It’s not worth the price.”

“You say that now–”

"Yeah, yeah," Emilia cuts off Lucien before he delves into the cliché notion of finding the right person to fall in love with. Blah, blah, blah. She slips her hand into her pockets, withdrawing a handful of goldmarks and tossing them toward Lucien, who effortlessly catches them. "Go fetch us some apple cider, please?"

Once Lucien is out of earshot, Emilia turns to Jesminda with a cautious look. "This is a dangerous game you're playing."

"I'm not scared," Jesminda replies, her eyes scanning the town square before she leans in closer to her friend. "Just like I'm not scared to stand with Saoirse."

Something flickers in Emilia's eyes, and with a soft smile, Jesminda adds, "I love him."

“He’s the High Lord’s son,” Emilia whispers a bit too harshly for even her own liking yet Jesminda remains unfazed by the reminder.

“One of many,” Jesminda simply points out. “I’m sure he could spare one.”

Emilia sighs. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t,” Jesminda promises and then winks at Emilia. “I’m good at sneaking around.”

Emilia watches Jesminda's determined expression, a mixture of worry and reluctant acceptance in her own gaze. It’s not that Emilia doubts Jesminda. Lucien and Jesminda have kept their relationship secret for many years. Albeit, they often used Emilia as the perfect excuse to venture off together such as Lucien planned to do so tonight.

But, for Emilia, it's the haunting memory of past losses that casts a shadow over her protective instincts. She can't help but feel an innate need to protect her cherished friend, especially given the fact that she was the one who introduced Lucien to her. If something happened to Jesminda, it would be her fault.

Before Emilia discovered the truth of her heritage and was taken in by her father, it was Jesminda's family who she lived with. They plucked her from the harsh streets and took her in as if she was one of their own. A stark contrast to the way her blood family welcomed her. She wasn’t allowed to visit them after she moved into her father’s estate but now that she lived in the Forest house with her grandfather, it was easier to sneak off to visit them.

Lucien reappears, bearing three mugs of hot apple cider that smell like heaven. Emilia happily takes hers, savoring the steaming warmth that envelops her as she takes a measured sip.

“I’m going to find Brienne,” Emilia says and then she flashes the two a pointed look, dark eyes lingering on Lucien for a moment longer. “We can’t stay out too late tonight unless we want to raise concern.”

Beron's eyes were deep pools of darkness, simmering with a livid intensity that mirrored the turmoil within the realm. His hands were clasped behind his back. He stood by the window, an emblem of brooding power, his gaze following the departure of his best men on horseback toward Mistwood.

"There's a mole in this court," Beron declares, his voice cutting through the silence, and he turns abruptly to face Edmund. “And I won’t rest until I have their head on a spike.”

Edmund leans forward, concern etching lines onto his wearied features. "Do you have any suspects?"

"I have a few," Beron responds, his gaze piercing into the very soul of his chief advisor.

Edmund's eyes widen in disbelief and he shifts forward in his seat. "Are you accusing me, my High Lord?"

"Given your family history, I'd be a fool not to suspect you. The phoenix is your family's sigil."

"I have no desire for a coup d'état," Edmund retorts, a humorless laugh escaping him as he averts his gaze. His laugh morphs into a cough, eyebrows furrowing in pain as he brings a handkerchief to his mouth. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet Beron's. "What must I do to prove my loyalty to you?"

Before Beron could answer, the door to Edmund’s room opens. Emilia slips in and at the sight of the High Lord, a visible shiver runs through her, causing her to instinctively shrink back. With a harsh swallow, she bows her head in respect and then turns to address the older male.

“You called for me, grandfather?”

“You were out late last night,” Edmund glares at the younger female. “Again.”

“Let’s finish our conversation later this afternoon in my study.” Beron says and without acknowledging Emilia’s presence, he gracefully exits the room.

“I’m sorry, I was–”

“You went to go visit them, didn’t you?” Edmund interrupts sharply and when Emilia lowers her head, he rises from his seat. “I am your family. Your only family.”

“You are forbidden to go to Thornwood from now on.”

“But grandfather–”

“Have you not heard?” Edmund raises his voice. “The High Lord has sent his best guards to Mistwood to obliterate the growing threats and Thornwood is sure to follow.” His voice falters as he falls into another fit of coughing.

“You will stay here, where you are safe,” he manages to wheeze as he slumps back into his seat.

“Are you alright?” Emilia gasps out in horror.

She rushes to her grandfather, falling to her knees beside him. He brings his handkerchief once more to cover his cough. “I’m fine,” he huffs out breathlessly.

When his hand drops to his side and head falls back in exhaustion, Emilia notices the dark red stain on the light fabric. The sight pleases her more than it should and with his eyes closed, Emilia allows her mask to fall.

A faint smirk taints her lips and once again, there's that flicker of fiery malevolence in her eyes. Edmund Pyralis is not fine.

He's dying...and the Vanserras are next.

A couple of weeks later...

Mistwood is now nothing but ash.

Though the townspeople fought with heart and might, they were no match for the High Lord’s soldiers who had trained for centuries. Beron gave strict orders for no survivors to be left behind as he’s done so many times before. It’s not the first time there’s been uprisings and rebellions and it certainly won’t be the last. Those disloyal to him may win battles here and there but Beron will always win the war.

His soldiers did not return this time. Instead, Beron ordered them to disperse into neighboring towns along the countryside and act as peacekeepers. However, they ushered in anything but tranquility to the towns they’ve forcefully settled into.

All was well. There was no longer talk about protests or potential uprisings. No more whispers about the Phoenix. What a foolish hope that had been.

Beron sighs as he enters his bath chambers. The anticipation of relief courses through him as he closes his eyes, immersing himself in the cocoon of steaming warmth that envelops the air. His tired muscles, worn from the weight of responsibility, already yearn for the comforting touch of the hot water against his skin.

Upon opening his eyes, however, the tranquility he sought is shattered. Tension grips his muscles even tighter as his gaze falls upon an unsettling sight. There, floating ominously in the bathwater, is a single red chrysanthemum. The vibrant hue seems to mock him, triggering a surge of pain that stabs sharply through his chest. He doesn’t dare think of her name, forcing images of her back into the corner of his mind he had shoved her into.

He plucks the flower out and flames lick at his fingertips. They burn through the flower with ease, reducing it to a small pile of ashes onto the floor. He uses his magic to dispose of it. He shakes off the unsettling feeling threatening to seep in and settles into the bath instead. He’d deal with the servants who prepared his bath first thing tomorrow.

The following morning, just as he’s about to call for his servants, he’s met with an even more appalling sight.

His eyes widen as he steps out onto his balcony. There’s a sea of red chrysanthemums blanketing the palace grounds, their vibrant petals ablaze in the early light. A small piece of paper floats above him, calling his name in a sinister whisper. He reluctantly takes it, unfolding it.

Burn us and we shall simply rise again from the ashes.

-The Phoenix

It's instinctive. The way he sets the paper ablaze in his grasp. As the last ember of paper dissipates, the sea of red flowers catches fire as if on cue. Beron watches in astonishment as the flowers transform into ashes, only to burst into flames once more. The flames intensify, swirling together in mesmerizing patterns, shaping an unmistakable silhouette. A phoenix.

A shiver races down his spine.

There’s only one person he knew who loved red chrysanthemums. Desperate for an answer, he reaches out to the threads of fate that he had severed. They hang loosely but they’re still there. Only this time, he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A profound emptiness washes over him, rendering him numb. She’s dead. He should not be surprised. Afterall, he had ordered it.

It’s as if the Cauldron, offended by his defiance of its predestined connection, has forsaken him upon opening his side of the bond. The bond he denied and closed off for centuries. His body weakens, forcing him to fall onto his knees.

Silver lines his brown eyes. His eyes that were once dull are now lively with pure grief and heartache. His hands grasp at his chest as if they could close the gaping hole she left behind. It’s useless.

The memories of her, his mate, begin to rise just as the ashes of the red chrysanthemums did. He can see her smiling at him in a way he does not deserve. He can hear her calling his name in a hushed whisper that burns into his skin. More and more memories of her infiltrate his mind, tormenting him in the worst ways imaginable.

“Beron.”

“Beron,” the voice repeats again and it takes him a while to register that the voice is not his mate’s but his wife’s. “What is going on?”

Beron is surprised at the concern laced into her tone. He grasps onto this feeling, pulling himself out of the depth of the own hell he created. The bond in his chest slowly closes once more. His breath begins to steady and though shaky, he rises to his feet again.

“I need to find her,” is all he says as he walks past his wife.

Lady Aurelia blinks, eyebrows knitting together. “Find who?”

Beron does not answer her. He strides further into their room and toward the area where he keeps his sword. He secures it to his waistband, determined to never go out without it from now on.

Not when his daughter, thought to be lost to the shadows, was alive. Not when she is the one who stands at the helm of the rebellions that echo through the Autumn Court. And for the first time in centuries, a spark of fear ignites within him.

How is he supposed to fight an enemy that prospers when burned to the ground?

a/n: I feel like I suck at writing about politics/conflict that isn't romance related so I hope this came out okay and not confusing. More will info will be given in the next parts.

It feels like I've read ACOTAR ages ago so I've forgotten some details and am going off of what I find on reddit/ACOTAR wiki so if I happen to make a mistake in terms of canon things, let me know. Also, I was too lazy to find new names for some of Eris's brothers so I'm reusing the ones I used in my Like An Angel series. I honestly can't wait until Az shows up but it will be 2-3 parts until then. For now, you get a lot of foreshadowing (:

tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @waytoomanyteenagefeels @janebirkln, @acourtofbatboydreams

(it's been awhile since I updated so I tagged some of y'all, just in case y'all were interested in reading more. Please let me know if you'd like to remain on the tag list, no worries if not (: Or if you'd like to be added)

#acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar x oc #acotar fanfic #azriel x oc #vanserra oc #eris vanserra x oc #gem

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convexicalcrow · 1 month

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By all accounts, Magic Mountain was a lovely place. The bases coming up around it all in various stages of progress offered glimpses as to it's final form. Cub liked hanging out in the cherry trees at the top of the mountain, watching the sunset. It was a great backdrop for his fireworks tests. High enough to be out of the way of people's bases, and with enough open sky to really show off how good they looked.

There was just one problem with Magic Mountain, though. Gem and Grian's bases were just... foggy. Damp, cold, foggy. For whatever reason, the weather around their bases was so utterly different from everywhere else, and Cub didn't really notice it until he was up on that mountain and could see the distinct changes in lighting and atmosphere that surrounded that part of the river.

it was a bit creepy, really. To be fair, Gem and Grian had been weird all season. Something about fishing and being close to the water had clearly done something to them. Which is not to say Cub had been immune either. He'd done his share of fishing while Grian was trying to get that mending book, more for moral support and company than anything else. There were worse ways to spend your time than hanging out with your friends while fishing.

One evening, he got curious. He'd seen Gem's progress at her base, seeing the crane reaching out through the fog and the bright yellow sparks from the power lines punching through the darkness. A bright red beacon beam burst through the top of the lighthous, as if it was a warning. Something...

He flew down and landed on the docks, immediately feeling the change in atmosphere. The night ceased to be clear. Thick fog rolled around him, preventing him from seeing too far. The skull across the river glowed ominously, its towering presence looming over the water. He might have shivered. Something here didn't feel right.

"I probably shouldn't be here," Cub muttered as he walked further into the base.

The huge anglerfish head that decorated the fish market seemed alive somehow, bathed in the eerie glow of the bulb at the end of the protrusion coming from the top of its head. Its teeth just seemed razor sharp. Cub didn't want to approach it. He was sure he just saw it breath, saw some kind of tongue moving in its lower jaw.

He walked slowly, moving towards the lighthouse. The two fish that circled it moved so slowly, the fog making them seem like ghosts that weren't really there. They made no sound save for the soft movement of their bodies through the air.

He turned as something large seemed to hit the water, causing a splash.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Cub called. "Gem? Is that you?"

There was no answer, and only small splashes. Perhaps fish just swarming. Maybe that was just a squid landing after flying out of the water. Maybe that's what it was. He went closer to the water's edge, trying to see if he was alone.

"What the hell-? What is that thing?" Cub murmured as he saw an unusually large dark shadow moving through the water. It was too dark to see what it was; it was only visible because of the moonlight that had barely made it through the fog to reflect on the water.

One of the power lines sparked again, causing Cub to startle. It was too loud in the dark quiet dockyards. Perhaps a sign he should get out of here.

"Maybe that was just squid ink. Maybe it got scared when it fell into the water. Maybe that's it," Cub told himself as he moved past the lighthouse, hoping to pass out of Gem's area and back into the clear night.

Perhaps something grabbed his ankle and dragged him under before he could leave. Perhaps there was nothing more than dark water and soft, gentle singing before he respawned in his bed, clammy and wet, with a jagged stab wound through his heart made by some creature he did not want to imagine.

"Man, I ain't never going there again. That place is cursed for real though," Cub said. And if even he was scared to go there, perhaps the fear was well placed. Something was wrong with Gem's base, and Cub wanted nothing to do with it.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #fanfic #cubfan135 #geminitay #sea monsters #i finished watching gem's latest ep and got inspired #so have some fic while i procrastinate on studying

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affixjoy · 4 months

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