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thewulf · 2 months

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I Choose You || Legolas

Summary: Request - Hii hope you're having a good day, is it okay if I request a Legolas x reader where reader is Gandalf's granddaughter and joined the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring? They both slowly fell in love with each other along the way and when the incident in Moria happened where Gandalf dies, Legolas comforts her.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing request! Had a blast writing this as usual :) It's a lil long, so enjoy!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: Talks of war/death, war, death, orcs, general LOTR triggers

You stand silently amidst the gathered council fading into the background as best you could. The murmur of many voices echoing softly through the vaulted halls of Rivendell. The air is crisp, filled with the mingling scents of ancient scrolls and the distant freshness of autumnal leaves. Elves, men, dwarves, and even a few hobbits have come to discuss the fate of Middle-earth, their faces marked by concern and resolve.

Your grandfather, Gandalf the Grey, stands at the center of it all. His presence both commanding and comforting. You’ve always admired his wisdom and strength and today, more than ever, you feel the weight of your lineage. You are his granddaughter, gifted with a touch of his magical prowess and a deep love for the mysteries of this world.

As the debate swirls around you, Elrond, the lord of Rivendell calls for silence. His gaze settles on the small golden ring laid upon the pedestal. It’s simple form belying its terrible power. The task is clear though the path is fraught with peril: the ring must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. "We must form a fellowship," Elrond declares. His voice resonant and clear. "Those who will take this burden upon themselves and walk into the shadow to see this evil undone."

A hush falls over the council. Eyes turn, some in fear, others in anticipation, seeking those who might step forward. This is the moment you’ve prepared for, not just since you arrived in Rivendell but throughout your life under Gandalf’s tutelage. With a breath that steadies your resolve you step forward. The rustle of your cloak is like a whisper against the stone floor and several members of the council turn in surprise as you move into the circle of light cast by the morning sun through the high windows.

"I will go," you say, your voice firm and clear. "For the love of my grandfather and for the safety of middle earth. I will see this quest through to its end."

Murmurs of approval ripple through the room and Gandalf meets your eyes across the circle. There’s pride in his gaze and a touch of sorrow, knowing well the dangers that lie ahead. But in this moment you see also the unspoken bond between the two of you. An acknowledgment of the shared commitment to what is right, no matter the cost.

Legolas, a prince of the Woodland Realm, nods to you with respect clear in his bright eyes. Beside him, a stout figure grumbles under his breath, yet Gimli the Dwarf gives a curt nod of assent, recognizing your courage. Beside them a young hobbit named Frodo, who is to be the Ringbearer, looks on with wide, earnest eyes. It is for him, and for all who call this land home, that you pledge your strength. As the council disperses to prepare for the journey you stand beside Gandalf feeling the ancient power of Rivendell around you and the even older strength that lies within your own heart. This is just the beginning you know but you are ready. For the Fellowship, for middle earth, for Gandalf.

You will face whatever comes, together.

As the Fellowship journeys south from Rivendell the path grows increasingly treacherous, winding through craggy mountain passes and shadowed forests. The air is crisp and the first frost of winter sparkles on the leaves. Your companions walk close together. Each step a testament to the weight of the task ahead.

Aragorn leads with a steady hand, his ranger skills essential as the terrain becomes more challenging. Beside him, Boromir of Gondor often lends his strength. His booming voice echoing off the stone trying to keep spirits high among the group, especially the hobbits—Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin—who find amusement in the smallest wonders along the way. Like the frost patterns on the leaves or a particularly stubborn squirrel.

Legolas glides effortlessly beside you. His elven grace a stark contrast to Gimli who stumps along with a determined scowl, his axe ever at the ready. Despite the solemnity of your mission the elf and the dwarf have already begun what seems to be an endless competition, each trying to outdo the other in tracking skills, strength, and the telling of tall tales.

One balmy afternoon as the path narrows along the edges of a steep ravine the rivalry comes to a head between the two of them. Gimli insists he can clear a particularly large fallen tree with a single vault much to Legolas’s skepticism.

“Watch and learn, Master Elf,” Gimli grunts as he began to back up for a running start. Legolas watches with an arched eyebrow, clearly very amused by the red headed dwarf travelling beside him.

Just as Gimli begins to charge forward you step in placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps, Gimli, it would be wiser to assist each other over the obstacle rather than compete with others. After all, the road ahead promises ample challenge for both of your strengths.” You smile warmly down at the ambitious dwarf set out to prove himself.

Gimli stops mid-stride puffing out his chest a bit as he turns to you, then to Legolas. “Hmm, perhaps you are right, lass. What say you, Legolas? Shall we make this journey a test of our cooperation rather than our competition?”

Legolas’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. “I believe our companion speaks wisely. Let us proceed together.” He offers his hand to Gimli who looks at it for a moment before shaking it heartily.

As the journey continues you find yourself often mediating and bringing lightness to tense moments. One evening as the Fellowship gathered around the campfire you recount a humorous anecdote from your days studying under your grandfather. Making sure to mimic Gandalf’s stern voice and dramatic gestures. The group erupts into laughter, the sound carrying through the trees and lifting the spirits of all including the hobbits who clap delightedly and ask for more stories.

Aragorn, sitting across from you nods appreciatively. His eyes meeting yours with a silent thank-you for the lightness you bring. Boromir chuckles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes clearly more at ease. “You have the gift of your grandfather. Not only in magic but in spirit.” Aragorn comments, his voice warm in the chill air.

Legolas who was sitting beside you leans closer and speaks softly, “Your wisdom brings much-needed peace. And your humor is a light in dark times. It is a rare gift.”

You meet his gaze. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his features. All elves were beautiful but there was something about the Price of Mirkwood that drew you in. “We all carry our gifts, Legolas. Yours is your unerring optimism and sharp eye. Gimli’s his steadfastness and heart. Boromir’s his valor. Aragorn’s his leadership. And the hobbits’ their enduring cheer. Together we are stronger than each individual.”

As the nights grow longer and the path more daunting the bonds within the Fellowship deepen, fortified by shared challenges and your quiet efforts to understand, and support each other. In the quiet moments Legolas teaches you Elvish songs of old. And Gimli shares tales of the great Dwarven halls, their voices blending into the night creating a tapestry of friendship and hope.

As the Fellowship delves into the ancient depths of Moria the air grows thick with the mustiness of ages and the weight of stone. The walls echo with the memory of Dwarven voices, now silent. The path is lit only by the faint glow of Gandalf’s staff. Gimli moves with a mix of reverence and sorrow. His eyes reflecting a deep familial connection to the lost realm of his kin. The narrow passages twist and turn leading you deeper into the mountain’s heart. The quiet is oppressive, only broken by the occasional drip of water or the scuffle of a boot on stone. Tension mounts with each step and even the normally unflappable Legolas seems taut, his eyes scanning the shadows.

All too suddenly, the dark stillness erupts into chaos. A low growl escalates into a deafening roar as the Balrog, a creature of fire and shadow, reveals itself. The ground trembles beneath its weight and the air sears with heat. Gandalf steps forward his face set with grim determination. “Lead them on, Aragorn,” he commands. “The bridge is near. Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!” Your grandfather cries as he gives you a sharp look. Obey. You must listen to him now.

The Fellowship rushes forward driven by fear and the urgent need to escape, but you hesitate, your heart torn as Gandalf faces the monster alone. As the others cross the bridge of Khazad-dûm you watch, helpless, as Gandalf confronts the Balrog. His staff was raised, a brilliant light flaring to meet the darkness.

“You cannot pass,” Gandalf declares. His voice echoing powerfully. It sends a shutter down even your spine.

The Balrog advances and with a defiant cry Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff. It crumbles sending the creature plummeting into the abyss. But the Balrog’s fiery whip lashes out, catching Gandalf’s leg, pulling him towards the edge. With a calm but utterly sad glance back at you, he murmurs, “Fly, you fools,” before falling into the darkness below.

Shock paralyzes you momentarily, tears blurring your vision. The others tug at you, pulling you away from the crumbling edge. As you flee Moria the loss of your beloved grandfather hits you. A deep ache that seems to echo through the empty halls. Outside, under the grey, mourning sky, the Fellowship collapses in a clearing. Each member grappling with grief. Your knees give out and you sink to the ground, overwhelmed by sorrow. Legolas is at your side in an instant, his presence a silent solace. He does not speak, but his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. A clear reminder that you are not alone.

Gimli joins you. His own eyes rimmed red. “He was the greatest of us all,” he says gruffly with his voice thick with emotion. “I am honored to have walked beside him and I vow to you, we will see this quest through. For him and for all our sakes.”

The words are a balm to your spirit even as you could not reply. Words were too hard for you now. You lean into Legolas, his strength supporting you. You mourn the loss of the only thing you knew. Legolas and Gimli by your side reminding you that even in the depths of loss, the bonds of friendship and love hold firm.

You manage to whisper a weak "Thank you," before the sorrow overwhelms you once more. Tears flood your cheeks, each one a memory, a moment shared with Gandalf that you'll never experience again. Overcome, you turn into Legolas's side, seeking the comfort that only close, physical presence can provide. Though he was not typically fond of physical touch he does not hesitate to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you, his embrace firm and unwavering. In this moment your need transcends his usual reservations, and he holds you close. A silent sentinel in your hour of vulnerability.

His hands are steady on your back, one arm around your shoulders, the other at your waist, grounding you as your grief spills forth unchecked. Legolas's heart aches for your loss and though he may not express his emotions openly his actions speak a clear language of care and adoration. As you cry into his side, Legolas rests his chin atop your head. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon where the last light of day gives way to twilight. He feels the weight of your sorrow as if it were his own, yet he knows he must stand strong for you.

Legolas knows that the road ahead will be fraught with further trials but for now, he offers you all that he can—protection, comfort, and an unspoken promise that no matter what lies ahead, you will not face it alone. In the stillness that wraps around you and Legolas there's a respectful pause from the rest of the Fellowship. They were giving you a moment to collect yourself under the cloak of Legolas's support. Aragorn, ever attentive to the needs of his comrades, notices the depth of your grief and the comfort Legolas provides. He understands the significance of this moment, the necessity of mourning and the importance of support in such times.

Standing a short distance away Aragorn speaks quietly with the hobbits making sure everyone is ready to continue but delaying their departure ever so slightly for your sake. His leadership is subtle. His decisions shaped by a deep understanding of his people's emotional and physical stamina.

After a brief moment, Aragorn looks over, his eyes meeting Legolas’s over your bowed head. There’s a silent communication between them. A leader’s acknowledgement and a friend’s gratitude for the support given to one of their own. Aragorn’s face softens, his respect for whatever was forming between you two clear in his gentle nod.

With a deep breath, signaling both readiness and respect, Aragorn approaches. His voice is soft yet carries a necessary urgency as he speaks. His words meant to soothe but also to remind of the path ahead. “We must move on for night will not wait for us and neither will our enemies,” he spoke with his tone conveying both compassion and resolve. “Take the time you need but remember we must not linger long.”

Legolas gently helps you stand straighter his arms still offering support. As you wipe away the last of your tears, strengthened by the comfort you’ve received, you nod in understanding. Legolas gives you a reassuring look. His eyes promising continued support and then he gently releases you. He was ready to stand by your side as you all prepare to resume the journey. With a final glance at Gandalf’s last stand you and the Fellowship gather your gear and set off once more into the fading light. The memory of Gandalf a guiding light that pushes you forward through the darkness.

Emerging into the sunlight of the world again does little to lift the sorrow of the Fellowship which soon deepens with Boromir’s tragic fall at Amon Hen. His valiant defense of Merry and Pippin against the Uruk-hai, though ultimately costing him his life, marked him forever a hero in the annals of your journey. The loss of such a stalwart companion leaves a void in your heart and within the group, casting a pall over your spirits.

Driven by a fierce determination to honor Boromir’s sacrifice, you, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli give chase across the plains of Rohan to rescue Merry and Pippin from their captors. The pursuit is grueling. Pushing each of you to your very limits. The landscape of Rohan is vast and relentless, but the tracks are clear, guiding you unerringly toward the thick fringes of Fangorn Forest. The hope of rescuing the hobbits fuels your weary bodies onward even as your hearts ache with the memory of Gandalf's fall and Boromir’s courageous end.

As you follow the trail into the shadowy depths of Fangorn a sense of ancient watchfulness grows. The forest feels alive, old beyond reckoning, and filled with secrets. It is here among the whispering trees that the unexpected happens. A figure steps out from the shadows garbed in white, his presence bright against the dark underbrush. The shock of seeing what you believe might be Saruman stops you in your tracks. But as the figure approaches the energy changes—the air around him shimmers with a familiar warmth and power. Not the cold malice of Saruman.

"Gandalf?" Legolas breathes. A note of awe mingling with disbelief.

You squint, hardly daring to believe it to be true. As he draws closer, clarity dawns, and recognition floods your senses. Overcome with emotion you shout, "Grandfather!" and sprint toward him. Your heart swelling with joy and relief.

Gandalf opens his arms wide, and you crash into his embrace. The impact strong yet comforting. "My dear child," he murmurs. His voice warm and welcoming as he wraps his arms around you. His cloak envelops you with a familiar scent of pipe-weed and the road clinging to the fabric grounding you in the reality of his return.

"Yes, it is I," Gandalf responds gently, now looking down at you with sparkling eyes, "but as Gandalf the White. I come back to you at the turn of the tide. Stronger and renewed. Just as our hope must now be."

The grief at Boromir’s death and the shock of Gandalf's return blend into a complex tapestry of emotions. The initial shock gives way to a festive air as relief and joy wash over Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They join in, their earlier despair replaced by laughter and words of amazement, forming a tight circle around you and Gandalf.

As Gandalf explains his battle with the Balrog and his subsequent rebirth his words filling the gaps in your understanding and rekindling hope in your hearts. His return not only signifies a miraculous second chance but also invigorates the Fellowship with renewed purpose and determination. With Gandalf's guidance now as Gandalf the White you all feel a renewed sense of purpose. The path forward is still fraught with danger but with Gandalf returned, and in memory of Boromir’s bravery, you are reminded that even in the darkest times there can be resurrection and hope. Together you prepare to resume the quest, stronger and more determined than ever.

"Your guidance has been sorely missed, Gandalf," Aragorn says. His voice steady but thick with emotion as he joins you. He captures the mood of the moment, channeling the Fellowship’s relief into focus. "What should we do? Frodo and Sam are gone to Mordor. Merry and Pippin are captives of the enemy." Gandalf releases you from the embrace but keeps one hand on your shoulder, grounding, and comforting. He surveys the small group with a decisive gaze and the air around you seems to thrum with renewed energy and urgency.

"We will split our efforts," he declares. "Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and you," he nods at you, "will pursue the orcs who took Merry and Pippin. Every second counts and your skills will be crucial in navigating this perilous chase."

You try and protest, but he shakes his head continuing along. "Meanwhile, I shall seek aid from the Ents of Fangorn," Gandalf continues, turning to look at the dense woods behind him. "Their strength will be necessary in the wars to come. We must rally all allies for the shadow from the East grows ever bolder."

As plans are made Legolas stands close by your side, his presence a silent vow of protection and partnership. You feel his hand briefly squeeze yours. A gesture of support that sends a surge of warmth through your heart that he had done so many times before.

"You have grown much, under shadow and trial," Gandalf remarks. Looking at you with a blend of pride and affection With the reunion drawing to a close and the path forward set you all prepare to leave. Gandalf’s return has not only brought back a beloved mentor and friend but has reignited the flame of hope within your heart. Together you feel ready to face the challenges that await knowing that the bonds of friendship and duty will guide you through the darkest of times.

As you traverse the expansive lands towards Rohan the camaraderie within the group deepens, each member adjusting to the rhythms of travel and the complexities of intertwined destinies. Amidst these dynamics your relationship with Legolas finds new ground. The elven prince, always serene and composed, begins to show a more attentive and tender side in his interactions with you. His glances linger longer and his conversations, once filled with tales of ancient elven lore, now often drift towards thoughts and dreams of the future, your future.

It’s during one of the long nights while camped under the vast, starlit sky near the borders of Fangorn Forest, that Gimli noticed the growing tension between you and Legolas. He decided to give you both some space. With a knowing wink and a gruff voice Gimli volunteers for the first watch, his tone unusually gentle. "I reckon the night is best shared with stars and heartfelt words, not an old dwarf's snoring."

Grateful, you share a smile with Legolas as Gimli settles a little distance away, his back to you, affording you a semblance of privacy. Legolas turns to you with his blue eyes reflecting the starlight, and for a moment he simply looks at you as if contemplating a thought long held in silence. "I have seen many wonders in my long life," he starts, his voice soft and mesmerizing under the night sky. "But none compared to the courage and kindness I've seen in you. In these trying times you have become a light guiding me."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you. "And you, Legolas, have been my solace. In you I find peace amidst turmoil. A joy that even the darkest shadows cannot diminish." He smiles. His gaze intensifying with affection and something more, something unspoken yet palpable between you. Then, in a move that surprises you both for its boldness and its intimacy, Legolas shifts closer and gently pulls you into his side. It's a daring gesture for an elf, particularly one as reserved as Legolas. But it feels right as if many paths had converged to bring this moment into being.

The warmth of his body against yours, the protective embrace of his arm—these are things you never expected to find so far from home. "It seems we have found comfort in one another's presence," he says softly. "Would that we might find a way to keep this light alive… no matter what lies ahead?"

"I would like that very much," you whisper as you leaned into the strength of his embrace.

The two of you sit under the blanket of night talking softly of dreams for a peaceful future and the immediate plans for the days to come. The reality of the quest remains but for now, under the stars, you both allow yourselves the luxury of imagining a life beyond the war. Both of you bound by a newfound affection that promises to grow with each passing day.

At Helm's Deep the air is thick with the tension of impending battle. The great fortress, built into the deep folds of the mountain, stands as the last bastion of hope against the relentless march of Saruman's forces. As the sky darkens and the torches flicker against the night you stand on the ramparts beside Legolas watching the sea of enemies gathering in the distance.

Legolas turns to you, his expression clouded with concern. “You should not be here,” he says softly. His voice barely above the howl of the wind. “This battle... it is not like the ones before. I fear—”

“I know,” you interrupt, understanding his fear but meeting his gaze with a resolve that mirrors the steel of the swords of your comrades below. “I know what this battle could mean for all of us. But I must stand with you, with all of you. There is no other place for me now, Legolas.”

Seeing the determination in your eyes, Legolas's expression softens and he pulls you gently against his side. It was a bold move for him, especially in such a public setting. “Then we will face it together,” he says squeezing your hand tightly as a silent promise passes between you.

The night deepens and the enemy’s drums beat a terrifying rhythm that seems to match the racing of your heart. Legolas pulls you closer. His eyes searching yours in the dim light. “No matter what happens tonight, know this,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the chaos swelling around you. “I love you. I have loved you amidst the shadows of our journey, and I will love you beyond the reaches of time.”

Your breath catches at his words. The simplicity and depth of his confession anchoring you amidst your fears. “And I love you,” you repl. Your voice strong even though you felt so weak. “Whatever may come, whatever we face… we face it together.”

As the battle commences the air fills with the clash of steel and the cries of warriors. You fight back-to-back, Legolas’s arrows finding their marks with deadly precision while you fend off attackers with sword and spell.

Gimli joins two of you, his axe a blur as he protects your flank. “Ha! I’d like to see them try to break this line!” he bellows. His voice a rumble of thunder over the din of battle.

The hours stretch. Each moment a lifetime but you fight with a clarity borne of love and the will to protect not just middle earth but the futures you hope to share. Legolas’s presence is a constant reassurance. His quick glances amidst the fray a reminder of everything worth fighting for.

As dawn breaks the tide of battle shifts. With Gandalf’s timely arrival and the charge of the Rohirrim, a new hope is rekindled. The enemy falters and breaks. Exhausted but alive, you, Legolas, and Gimli regroup, your bodies weary but spirits lifted by the victory, however costly it may have been.

Standing amidst the ruins of the battle you all share a look of relief and unspoken understanding. The war is far from over, but the strength of your bonds, the depth of your love, and the courage of your friends give you the fortitude to press on, to fight another day. With Legolas watch the sunrise, the light washing over Helm’s Deep painting the world in hues of gold and red. A daily rebirth, a reminder that after darkness there always comes a new dawn.

After the long shadow of war finally lifts with the destruction of the One Ring the world begins to breathe again. Minas Tirith stands gleaming under the bright sun, its banners waving in a joyous breeze. The streets are filled with music and laughter as people from all corners of middle earth gather to celebrate the victory. The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers brought forth by a spring that signifies not just the changing of seasons but the dawn of a new era.

You, Legolas, and Gimli stand on a balcony overlooking the jubilant city with a cup of fine wine in hand. The Fellowship has been honored by kings and lords, sung by minstrels, and cheered by crowds. But in this moment, the three of you share a quiet moment that speaks of deeper bonds forged in the fires of your shared trials.

Legolas looks out over the city, his eyes reflecting the green of the fields below. “The world is changed,” he says thoughtfully. “I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. The darkness that once threatened to swallow us whole is now but a shadow of the past.”

Gimli nods. His eyes twinkling under his bushy brows. “Aye, and it’s time for more pleasant journeys,” he chuckles. “I promised you both a tour of the Glittering Caves, did I not? And I intend to keep that promise. You’ll find no finer sight beneath the mountains, mark my words!”

“And I,” Legolas adds turning to you with a gentle smile, “would have you both come to Mirkwood. The forests have suffered in the darkness. But they recover, much like us. There are places of such beauty and tranquility that they deserve to be witnessed with friends.”

You sip your wine, letting the rich flavors linger on your tongue as you consider the future. “And what of you?” Gimli asks, looking at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

“I think,” you say slowly, smiling at the possibilities that stretch before you, “that I would like to see more of this world that we have fought so hard to save. From the forests of Mirkwood to the caves of the mountains and perhaps even beyond. There’s so much to explore, so much to learn.”

“And so much to rebuild,” Legolas adds. “Wherever we go we carry with us the legacy of those who fought beside us. Those who fell, and those who lived to see this day. Gandalf’s wisdom, Aragorn’s courage, and even Frodo’s quiet determination—they remain with us, guiding us forward.”

Gimli raises his cup, and you and Legolas do the same. “To the future,” Gimli declares heartily.

“To peace,” Legolas adds, his voice warm.

“To friendship,” you conclude. The three of you clink your cups together, the sound crisp and clear.

As the celebration continues below you lean against the stone railing admiring the city sprawling at your feet. Around you the laughter and music rise to the starlit sky, and you feel a profound sense of contentment. The road ahead is uncharted, but you face it not as a lone wanderer but as part of a fellowship that has endured the darkest of times to see the brightest of days.

With Legolas and Gimli by your side you know that whatever adventures lie ahead, they will be filled with joy, discovery, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. This is not the end of your story but the beginning of a new chapter, one that you will write together.

As the celebrations in Minas Tirith begin to quiet down into a gentle hum of merriment and the evening deepens, Gimli, with a knowing grin and a subtle nod towards Legolas excuses himself to “inspect the integrity of the ale supply,” leaving you two alone on the quieter side of the terrace that overlooks the city’s sprawling, illuminated gardens.

Legolas watches Gimli depart and then turns to you with a serene expression. His eyes reflecting the myriad lights of the city. He reaches into the folds of his tunic and pulls out a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “I have something for you,” he says. His voice low and filled with a tender emotion that sends a thrill through your heart.

You watch, curious and expectant, as he opens the box to reveal a pendant. It’s a delicate piece, shaped like a leaf but crafted with such intricacy that each vein in the leaf is visible. It shimmered with a light that seems to emanate from within the silver itself.

“This is a leaf from the Mallorn trees of Lothlórien,” Legolas explains as he carefully lifts the pendant from the box. “Galadriel herself gave this to me before we departed and though I cherish it... I believe it was always meant for you.”

He steps closer. His presence so familiar and yet so heart-stirringly profound at this intimate moment. “In the elven tradition,” he continues, his eyes locked onto yours, “to give such a gift is to choose a companion. To offer a token of one’s heart and soul. I give this to you not out of obligation but from a free and willing heart. I choose you and it’s you I wish to be with through all the ages of this world.”

He pauses while holding the pendant up between you. His eyes searching yours for an answer, a confirmation of your feelings. You nod gently, overwhelmed by the emotion in his gaze and the significance of his gift.

Legolas smiles, a soft, joyous curve of his lips, and delicately clasps the pendant around your neck. His fingers brush lightly against your skin as he secures the clasp sending shivers down your spine. The metal feels warm as if charged with his affection and presence.

“I cannot promise that the road ahead will be free from hardship,” Legolas says softly while drawing you close so that your foreheads touch lightly, “but I can promise that you will never walk it alone. Where you go I will follow. And where I go I hope you will be by my side.”

“Legolas,” you whisper. Your voice thick with emotion. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side. No one else I would want to share my path with. I choose you, too, today, and always.”

Without hesitation Legolas leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s gentle at first. A tender meeting that speaks of mutual respect and deep affection. But as you respond the kiss deepens, becoming a profound expression of your shared love and commitment.

The world around you—the city of Minas Tirith, the sounds of celebration—fades into a blissful quiet. In this moment wrapped in Legolas’s embrace, you realize that while the war might have brought you together it is love that will lead you into your future. Beneath the stars and above the glowing city you share a promise of a thousand sunrises to come. Each one a new day to explore and cherish the world together.

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dangopango00 · 4 days

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DEMONIC FEATURES HCS

Random Om demon hcs + OM Demons x gn reader

Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi) | Pt. 2 (4567) Coming soon for real this time

CW: suggestive but not much, just “slut” used in regard to clothing and vague suggestion of leviathan with two. 👍

A/N: ive had om since like fuck idk since that first genie event or sth WHATEVER the point is its been a MINUTE and i only JUST watched the anime 😭😭😭 theyre so sweet and silly i cant take witttttt i need to write for them i love them all so muxygehwhwhshshwbwb I swearrr om is one of the only otome where i can gaf about more than 2 or 3 characters

Also u should read them. All; I throw in general hcs too

Lucifer: The Peacock

- I think his wings should have eyes in them like its such a missed opportunity for a reference to his animal counterpart (peacock), a reference to biblical angels and a reference to the fact that he always somehow knows what everyone’s up to and what their ulterior motives are. Ik he has a few on his outfit but it just doesn’t give that otherworldly creature dread feeling you should get when looking at a demon (Not to go on a tangent but when I see a hot demon character I want to be afraid of them but then go “wait why is this hot”)

- Also while he technically has 4 wings, I think that when he flares out his wings they should expand in such a way that makes it appear like he has more

- I imagine his wings stretch out and look bigger whenever he feels proud of and satisfied with himself— esp when he’s around you; its cute tbh but he also does it when hes super pissed; are you gonna take that chance? 🤔

- Imagine if the little diamond on his forehead was a closed eye and every now and again it opens especially when he feels as if his pride is threatened or when he’s generally angry. Personally I think that would be sick af

- I KNOW THE MARKINGS ARE JUST LIKE BIRTHMARKS BUT IMAGINE THEY FEEL DIFFERENT FROM THE NORMAL SKIN like Lucifer’s markings could be feathers covering his jaw and below (see: Howl Pendragon bird form, kinda) and they feel like real feathers too

- I think we all agree that whenever he feels protective of you he’d wrap his wings around you and shield you from anyone’s view but his own

- Keeps a feather on you (probably gives it to you as a gift) so he can keep an eye on you at all times (This is not a pun; imo he can see through the eyes on his wings when he closes his main eyes and opens his third)

- Pact mark spans from the nape of your neck to about 1/3 your spine (pretty big but not humongous) and is in the shape of a peacock feather but when his powers/benefits are used the barbs of the feather move in a way similar to fire and the eye in the center opens (it kinda tickles and/or sends a chill down your spine)

- Pact mark allows him to locate you in pretty much any place without an uber powerful magic barrier or like interference (Which I think would make sense considering he always knows what’s up + he DID say making a pact with him entails you are his and he is yours [since you can summon him wnv I think and command him to do stuff])

- Something he already does but I just noticed lines up with peacocks is tilting his head when he’s sick of everyone’s shit

- OH MY GODDDDD HIS WINGS DRAPE DOWN LIKE PEACOCK TAIL FEATHERS. HE HAS LONG WINGS. LOOK AT THIS AND TELL ME THAT SHIT WOULDN’T BE MAJESTIC AS HELL ON HIM

Mammon: The Corvid

- I think his wings are nicely placed but I would make them curl/angle upwards more to more resemble bird wings (Ik Lucifer is the bird wing guy but hes a bird too 😞😞) kinda like this

- I think that while the bones are exposed on his wings, on the back of the wings there should be patches of feathers showing he lost them in his fall from grace aaaa 😫😫😫

- I know the demons have either wings or tails but like. Entertain this thought: Mammon with cute lil tail feathers 😭😭 mammon with a bird tail would just fit so well im sorry

- He subconsciously lowers/bows his head while talking to people he respects and admires (like you and Lucifer) like laying his head down on his arm or desk or sth

- Collects stuff that looks interesting— stuff he thinks he can probably use or fix up and sell. Pretty much proven but I feel I should emphasize how bad it gets, like he needs to clean his room at least weekly or his room will be full of junk 😭 (he js like me fr)

- Great at impressions; I THINK this was included in the story at one point (?) but idk so I will mention it here. Give him a voice and he can mimic it pretty well (Brothers would def use this to their advantage for silly little schemes if mammon weren’t charging an arm and a leg for his services gn)

- Will engage in anything he finds interesting and stimulating; the reason he sucks ass in school isn’t really because hes dumb but he has a hard time focusing on shit that isnt stimulating (that’s kinda how it is for most people but like especially for him, he indulges heavily into freedom/temptation; usually won’t do anything he doesn’t want to)

- Blinged OUT. More rings, a gold necklace thing (those thick round ones), more ear piercings and i like the drawing someone did with his fangs being gold however ntm as the absence of such things also shows his balance between his heavenly virtue and deadly sin (Charity vs Greed) and how despite his sin he really can be a modest guy

- Markings should cover his face and be little portals that let him summon grabby hands and sometimes he gets you stuff and sends it through the portal on your body (your pact mark)

- Speaking of pact marks, I think his is on your heart or right above and is like a dripping fingerprint that turns into a full blown hand print (maybe even the monkey’s paw?) when his powers/benefits are being used; Its hard to describe the feeling but when his hand goes through it feels like you’re gagged right then and there and its a little bit hard to breathe when you first made the pact because its a little uncomfortable but as you got used to the sensation and nurtured your magic ability, your breathing went back to normal

- I promised myself I wasn’t gonna get into outfits too much because they’re. Um anyway all I’ll say is he should have some slutty bellbottoms in his demon form idgaf

A/N: im so sorry mammon fans for the neglect i didnt know what to really put since crows are just like. Silly feathery black blobs

Leviathan: The Serpent

- He should have poisonous spines on his tail that lie dormant but flare up whenever he feels strong emotion (embarrassment, anger, jealousy etc) and in relation to that he should have a few scales visible on his neck but more should appear leading up his face to his eye when he feels these strong emotions like his skin hardens and turns to scales (almost like how our veins bulge when we humans get very angry) it would be cool af ngl and kinda fits how his voice changes when hes annoyed (I SWEAR it gets all deep and like gravelly ig)

- ALSO i mentioned in another post but his eyes should become super snake-like (pupils slimming down) when he gets angry/envious but adding onto that, his pupils should dilate like a cat when he feels a positive emotion like excitement (though I think his pupils would dilate when looking at you lovingly, if you flustered him his pupils would constrict, not because its negative, but because he doesn’t know how to handle it)

- Grows much taller in his demon form imo since sea serpents are big as hell (he doesn’t become a giant or anything but he does grow like a foot or so which. He might as well be a giant bc hes alr pretty tall) Honestly I think all demons grow in their demon forms but he just grows an exceptional amount compared to any other demon

- Two…. Nvm iykyk fr a certified hood classic and i dont see enough of it in fics 😒

- Often accidentally sticks out his tongue while angry and bites his tongue and it just ruins the mood as well as any fear anyone had of him bye. Hes so goofy i just love him

- Long ahh tongue; snake reminiscent

- The back of his slut zip jacket should be vaguely shaped like fins + would it be wrong to say he should have slutty bellbottoms too? Can’t I dream? 💭 not as wide as Mammon’s though he’s not doing it like him fr

- Wraps his tail around you as if trying to shield you from public view with his spines whenever he gets jealous or protective

- I think it would be cool if the design on his jacket was a fishbone or if his tail was a bit translucent and showed bones inside (Ik tails don’t have bones generally but bear with me here) as a reference to how the Leviathan became a meal after being defeated

- Subconsciously moves slowly and methodically like the way he leans his head in slowly as you talk is very snake of him

- Big yawn (can open his mouth really wide)

- Pact mark is on the side of your neck, a bit closer to the front though and is shaped like a scale initially but grows into a very large patch of black scales with a purple underside, covering everything in the area almost like a bad rash when you use his powers/benefits

- Activation feels as if you’re being suffocated slowly, like water is slowly entering your lungs as the “rash” spreads at first but, again, as you get used to it this sensation wears off but a feeling that won’t ever wear off when activating the pact mark is the feeling that Levi is there looming by your side through the mark but just out of view whenever you try to see him; it’s a little maddening

- Can find you with sth similar to echolocation and it’s especially effective in water; can also spread the scales further with enough willpower and/or jealousy, basically creating a shield for your body

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rosie-b · 1 month

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True Blue

Chapter 12: In which Nathalie is the MVP

I'm finally back!!! It feels like it's been forever since the last chapter. This past semester was really busy for me, so I'm glad that I could finally post a new update! You can read it on AO3 or below!

Pinning the brooch back on felt like a chore.

The poison hadn’t spread far enough that it was physically difficult for Marinette to do, but after that akuma, she barely felt worthy to touch the brooch, let alone wear it and transform with it.

Duusu appeared moments after she managed to secure the brooch with weak fingers. Normally, Marinette would avoid talking to the kwami. She felt guilty about it, but M. Agreste had warned her that the kwami’s mind was addled, poisoned by its own Miraculous, and that talking to Duusu could hasten the spread of her illness.

Well, that was no longer a concern. So what if Marinette poisoned herself again and again each time she became Bluewing? She had the ingredients she needed to undo the dark magic every time.

“Wooh! What a ride! I was upside-down for a moment!” Duusu giggled, whirling around in the air before stopping in front of Marinette’s face. “Hello! Who are you? You look weird!”

Marinette sighed. M. Agreste had been right, after all. Duusu did seem pretty addled. Didn’t they remember her at all?

“I’m Marinette. We didn’t exactly have the best meeting last time,” she said to the wide-eyed bird. “Would you like to try again?”

She offered her hand to the bird, who eyed it suspiciously and pecked at her finger. Marinette sighed.

“I’m your new holder. Nice to meet you,” Marinette said, forcing a small smile onto her face.

At these words, Duusu immediately brightened up and began flying around her excitedly. “Oh! A new holder? How exciting! I haven’t had a new holder since Foom! Or maybe it was Doom? Duberry? Emery? Oh, well, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine!” Suddenly, Duusu stopped with a frown. “No, wait, you can’t be my holder. You smell like... roses. And bread. That’s not right, that’s not right at all,” they fussed, flying back and forth in a dizzying motion.

Marinette felt she was going to throw up, and she knew it wasn’t just the kwami’s back-and-forth flight causing the feeling.

“Stop!” she cried, covering her eyes with her hands.

But Duusu kept flying back and forth, and she could feel the air shifting against her skin with its motion. The kwami’s dizzying movement mixed with the sickly feeling of the brooch’s poison, and Marinette couldn’t focus, couldn’t think.

“Stop, please! I order you to stop!” she cried out, without fully recognizing the power of what she had said.

Duusu ground to a halt. They struggled in midair, casting a betrayed look at Marinette.

“What happened? Did you just... order me? Oh, none of my holders have ever ordered me before,” they mourned, and their tail drooped behind them as Marinette slowly uncovered her eyes.

“I did? I ordered you?”

It was a horrifying thing to wake up to. Marinette had only said the first words that came to her mind in an attempt to make the sickness-inducing motion stop. She hadn’t meant to command anyone, not really!

And yet, she had. Marinette doubled over as the sick feeling in her stomach intensified.

“You did!” Duusu wailed. “And now you feel awful! But, oh, I’ll never be able to move again!”

With this, they burst into tears, crying aloud at the horrible situation they were in, and Marinette felt her eyes well up, too.

“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I didn’t mean to! How do I undo it?”

“I forget!” Duusu cried. In a panic, they cast their gaze about, trying to find some kind of solution. Then they paused on something just outside of Marinette’s vision, and suddenly, their tears halted in their tracks. “Oh, look, a butterfly! Easily my only true rival in beauty,” they preened. “Isn’t it beautiful, Master?”

There was no way Duusu was just seeing a normal butterfly, not today in Paris. It must be an akuma! But why would M. Agreste send another akuma out so soon after the last one?

Marinette whirled around, trying to spot the akuma through her blurry vision.

There it is, she realized, It’s just a meter away!

But wait, its wings... they’re orange, not black and purple.

Marinette sucked in a deep breath. This was just a normal butterfly. She’d been wrong. Relief coursed through Marinette’s body, easing the churning sickness in her stomach a little.

Determined, Marinette turned back to Duusu, who was back to wriggling in place. She still needed to un-order them!

“Duusu, I release you,” she tried, forcing her voice out as loud and authoritative as she could get it. When nothing happened, she tried again. “Uh, I order you to disregard my previous order.” Will that work? M. Agreste never taught me about kwami orders!

Wait. What if... what if Duusu isn’t the only one I just gave an order to?

Marinette would never forgive herself if she’d just broached M. Agreste’s trust and broken her promise by giving an order to poor Adrien! Her heart raced as she wondered just how badly she’d messed up (on top of everything else she’d messed up today).

Meanwhile, Duusu began zipping around again, although they stopped when they noticed Marinette’s eyes beginning to cross.

“Oh, thank you!” they cheered. “I’m all better, Master! But... but you still feel so bad!”

Duusu burst into tears again, and Marinette swallowed, reaching out to cup them in her hands.

“There, there, it’s all right,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ll be okay. I’ve been okay before, too. But right now, I need to get back to Adrien! We were at a photoshoot together, but then I... I did something horrible!” Her hands began to tremble, only partly because of the weakness spreading in her thanks to the brooch’s poison.

Duusu wailed even louder. “Oh, it’s so sad! You think you hurt him, but you’re the one feeling all the pain!”

“I’m sure he’s not feeling so good, either,” Marinette muttered, brushing a tear away from the corner of her eye before it could fall. “Duusu, do you think when I ordered you... I ordered him, too? Oh, what if he’s still stuck by the mansion, or the park? What if I made him stop moving in the middle of a street? Duusu, I really need to go make sure he’s okay! Spread my feathers!”

She was running off towards Place des Vosges before her transformation had finished, her mind focused only on making sure Adrien was safe.

“Adrien!” she called as she drew closer. “Adrien!”

People stared at her as she passed by. One old woman even crossed herself. Marinette wondered why. She was just a normal girl, right?

As she skidded past the corner where her house sat, she caught sight of Adrien. He was helping Nathalie move something back into the limousine, a garment bag, perhaps. What exactly it was didn’t matter, though, because he was moving! That meant Marinette hadn’t ordered him, after all!

Well... not unless she had, and then her counter-order had worked on him, too. She’d better check, just in case.

“Adrien,” Bluewing panted as she rushed up to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay? Have you felt any weird urges to stay absolutely still and not fly around in dizzying zig-zigs?”

Adrien went rigid under her touch. “Uh, nope, nothing like that, Bluewing,” he said, quirking one eyebrow. “Why, did Hawk Moth make another akuma already, and you’re trying to check if it's working?”

“Well, no, I...” Marinette’s face scrunched up. Bluewing?

Panicking, Marinette looked down at herself and realized that yes, she really was Bluewing right now! She’d just transformed to get here in time, but then... she hadn’t remembered to detransform. She’d just run up to Adrien like this, and now it looked like a well-known villain was checking in on a random (but famous) civilian.

Bluewing realized that this was possibly the worst she had messed up that day. Maybe ever, if this led to the public figuring out her real identity.

“Oh, n-no, sorry, I just wanted to check up on you,” she stammered. “I’m so sorry, there’s no akuma right now. That I know of. So, um. Bye?”

She lifted her hands off of Adrien’s shoulders in a very casual, totally-not-your-best-friend-y way and ran back out of the park. To her horror, she could hear someone laughing as she fled, and as the adrenaline faded, the sick feeling in her stomach came back full force.

“Fall my feathers,” she whispered once she’d made it back to the mansion. Ripping off her brooch, she put it back in the safe and hurried out to the foyer, intending to head right back out to the park.

Gabriel stopped her as she stepped out of the room.

“The photoshoot has been cancelled,” he informed her bluntly. “Adrien called me to say that he was concerned you wouldn’t feel comfortable working with him today. Apparently, he kissed you while you were under Dark Cupid’s spell,” he added with a stern look.

So, this was happening now. Sure. She didn’t need a break to recover from all the mistakes she’d already managed to make, or anything!

Marinette felt faint as she summoned up her courage and stood tall despite the pain now radiating through her body. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. Believe me, I didn’t mean to. And I know,” she swallowed hard, “I know he didn’t want to kiss me. I don’t know what happened. But I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to work with me, after that. I understand if he never wants to see me again.”

Gabriel tsk- ed and looked down at Marinette for a moment, no doubt considering whether to take back Adrien’s amok, fire Marinette from her internship, and never let her in his house again.

“I don’t think that’s what he meant. Adrien is nothing if not stubborn, and once he makes a friend, he is reluctant to let go of them. I believe he’ll be back to normal in a day or two, as sentimental as he is. Do not worry too much about him, Marinette. Keep your attention on what’s most important. Your... entanglement with Adrien threw you off today. Don’t let yourself be distracted by whatever you feel for him. Call it what you want, but don’t take me for a fool, Marinette. Don’t waste your potential for the possibility of a relationship with Adrien.”

Marinette felt shame creep up her neck, staining her cheeks a damning red. “That’s not... I don’t want to date your son,” she protested. “I... was distracted by what happened, but only because it made me hurt a good friend. That’s not what I ever wanted to do,” she whispered.

“As you say,” Gabriel said disbelievingly. “Regardless, I think perhaps I have put too much stress on you recently. Take the afternoon off. I’ll have Nathalie give you homework, so that you don’t fall too far behind on your lessons. Go home, and don’t think about the mission for one evening. When you come back tomorrow, I expect you to be sharp and ready for battle.”

“Yes, M. Agreste,” Marinette said. “I’m sorry for letting you down.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he said. “I want you to be better.”

Gabriel walked past her, heading to his atelier. Marinette lingered behind, feeling lost. He’d just dismissed her. She had done such a terrible job that he’d dismissed her and told her to rest, like some tragic Victorian lady!

It was all Marinette could do to stay on her feet and keep her shameful blush at bay as she packed up to go and replaced her old vial with one full of new potion. This immediately lifted most of the sickness she was feeling, but not all of what she felt was because of the Miraculous’ poison; she knew that.

Ms. Sancoeur stopped Marinette before she could leave.

“I haven’t given you your lessons yet,” she said in her usual, cold tone. “Here. Gabriel told me you weren’t feeling well today. I hope you are better tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said as she set down her bookbag and placed the folder Nathalie had handed her inside it. “I promise, I’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Good,” Nathalie said, folding her tablet under one arm.

Marinette lifted her bookbag over her shoulders. “Will I be walking home, or did M. Agreste ask the Gorilla to wait for me?”

“The chauffeur will drive you, of course. But before you leave, there’s something else I need to tell you. Marinette, someone recorded the kiss Adrien gave you to break Dark Cupid’s spell.”

Marinette felt like she’d been hit by one of Chat Grise’s warning-less punches.

“What? How? I, I didn’t see anyone after,” she stuttered as her heart pounded fast and loud in her chest. How could this keep getting worse?

“One of Adrien’s fans noticed your fight and followed you back to the mansion. They recorded the second half on their phone and posted it on social media,” Ms. Sancoeur continued, looking down at her tablet and ignoring Marinette’s wide-eyed gaze. “Unfortunately, I was unable to take the post down before it went viral. I’m doing what I can to scrub the video off the internet, but with how large and active Adrien’s fanbase is, I’m afraid it’s an impossible task. Until the commotion dies down, you’re going to have to deal with increased attention from the public and heightened security when you’re outside the mansion. For now, don’t go anywhere without telling either me or M. Agreste first. We’ll have Adrien’s bodyguard cover you if he’s available.”

Marinette’s mouth was dry, but her hands grew clammy as she listened to Nathalie’s explanation. Her mind skipped like an old DVD as she tried to picture how the public must think of her now. What explanations were they coming up with for the kiss?

She must have looked as panicked as she felt, because Ms. Sancoeur’s face softened. “Marinette. It’s okay to admit that you need a break for more than one evening.”

“I’ll be okay,” Marinette quickly replied. After all, the kiss had just been another side effect of an akuma. With how often Paris got those, Marinette’s moment of infamy shouldn’t last long.

Nathalie’s eyebrow lifted half a millimeter. “Are you really sure you can handle this? From now on, every time you step outside, you’ll need to watch for paparazzi. That’s in addition to all the reporters you have to avoid as Bluewing, and although Adrien will be dealing with increased exposure after the kiss as well, if the public has a negative opinion about it, they will find a way to blame you. In their eyes, you’d be a criminal.”

In their eyes, you’d be a criminal.

“Oh,” Marinette replied, her body on autopilot as Ms. Sancoeur’s words circled around in her head like a child’s toy train on its track. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as what the press says about Bluewing,” Marinette responded, her shoulders slumping as she mentally prepared for the next few days of hell. “I’ll handle it on my own, Ms. Sancoeur.”

“Please don’t. You don’t need to suffer, Marinette, all you need to do is give us a call before you step outside for any reason. And hang blackout curtains up in your room, if you haven’t already. And don’t stay in your parents’ shop for long; it’s too open and that makes it dangerous.” Ms. Sancoeur sighed. “Just... be careful. Adrien cares a lot about you, Marinette, and it’s clear that you care about him, in return. True love’s kiss is not something to scoff at, apparently.”

Marinette’s heart caught in her throat. “True love’s kiss? Ms. Sancoeur, you must be mistaken. That wasn’t kiss love true— kiss blue— I mean, it was just an effect from the akuma, right? It didn’t mean anything.”

Nathalie’s lips thinned. “Marinette, I may not be an expert in romantic love by any stretch of the imagination, but the akuma today was likely influenced by the literature Kim was reading with the rest of Adrien’s class. I keep notes on what he is studying, even now, and this week, Ms. Bustier’s class was studying fairy tales. In particular, they were studying classics like Sleeping Beauty and Snow White.”

Marinette scowled and crossed her arms. “So? That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like M. Agreste had you design the akuma for him.”

Nathalie frowned and adjusted her glasses. “Adrien already told me his half of the story. The kiss was not a side effect of the akuma; anyone can see that. Its powers reversed people’s affections, and Kim targeted lovers and friends. That means your protective love for Adrien was turned into a dangerous hatred of him. You were attacking him— were, but Kim wasn’t the only one paying attention in class. Adrien decided to kiss you, in the hopes that the fairy tales’ words would prove true. A kiss, a symbol of romantic love, is what breaks evil’s spell.”

Marinette swayed on her feet, and Nathalie quickly reached out to steady her.

“Of course, friendly love is quite powerful, too!" Nathalie said in a rush. "It’s what kept me here, trying to find a cure for Emilie alongside Gabriel. And— but sometimes, friendly love, in the end, doesn’t turn out to be so friendly. Don’t you think?”

Nathalie looked extremely embarrassed by her admission. Marinette was so occupied by what she’d revealed about the kiss to focus on anything else, though.

“But, Ms. Sancoeur, I don’t love Adrien like that! He’s my friend, but I know my love for him is just platonic! Even if he loves me, I— I’m in love with someone else!” she burst out.

Nathalie stilled and straightened. “You’re in love? With whom?”

Marinette’s cheeks reddened as she realized her mistake.

“I’m in love? What? Where did you get that idea? I’m not in love, I’m just friendemy, henemy, I mean I’m not in love! With anyone! So there!”

Marinette tried to maintain steady eye contact with Nathalie to show she wasn’t lying, but Ms. Sancoeur had mastered the art of the withering gaze at If Looks Could Kill college, and it wasn’t long before she had to cave in.

“Okay, fine. I’m not in love, but it’s just really hard to not think that Golden Bug is cute, right? I mean, his puns are atrocious, but for a villain, he’s way too kind. He’s on the wrong side, but he has a heart of gold!” She giggled helplessly. “And his eyes are like, wow, and his face when he’s confused is just—”

“Let’s stop there,” Nathalie said hurriedly. “Please just stop. You’re in love with Golden Bug?”

Marinette’s cheeks felt like they were on fire. “It’s just a crush. A phase. I’ll grow out of it.”

Ms. Sancoeur sighed. “Okay, you have a crush on Golden Bug. But you know Adrien has a crush on you?”

Marinette squeaked. “Well, now that you’ve said it like that, I guess I do? But he probably, I mean, it’s been a confusing kiss, I mean, we’re just friends and we’re going to stay like that! And I can’t date him anyway, because M. Agreste said I couldn’t, so how do we help him get over me?”

Ms. Sancoeur’s eyes sharpened. “Gabriel told you not to date Adrien? When?”

“Like, five minutes before you started talking to me. He said my emotions are making me distracted during battles and then told me to take a break. I don’t think he trusts me anymore. But he let me keep Adrien’s amok, which— oh, no. Nathalie, you don’t think I’m influencing Adrien to love me, do you? Am I abusing his amok? Why don’t they come with instructions; this is all too complicated,” she fussed, slapping her hands to the side of her face.

Ms. Sancoeur frowned. “Well, do you want him to love you? Or did you give him an order to kiss you today?”

Marinette’s hands fell into fists at her side. “No! I would never!”

“Then his emotions are not influenced by your amok. They are his own, Marinette, and you shouldn’t start trying to control them now. I’ll talk to Gabriel for you, and see if I can get him to change his mind. You should be allowed to date whomever you like.”

“What? Thank you, but I thought I said I don’t want to date Adrien?”

“No, but you did imply that you wanted to get over Golden Bug, and I find myself agreeing very much with that sentiment. And here, you have Adrien, who already cares very deeply about you—”

Marinette clasped her hands over her ears. “No!”

Ms. Sancoeur’s lips twitched as if she was amused, but she took pity on Marinette after a moment. “You don’t have to date him. But I am concerned that M. Agreste is restricting who he can and can’t date. I’m not just talking to him on your behalf, but on Adrien’s. Although, if you really do want to move on from Golden Bug, and if you happen to face the core of those friendly, distracting emotions you have for Adrien and find they’re not what you thought they were... I don’t think it would be such a bad idea. He is the real reason you agreed to become Bluewing, isn’t he? I know it couldn’t have been Emilie. You never had the chance to know her like I did.”

Marinette looked down, feeling the heat in her cheeks cool somewhat. “You’re right. Most of what M. Agreste told me was awful, and I do care about healing Emilie, but Adrien... well, he’s the closest friend I’ve had in a long time. I don’t want to hurt him! And I don’t want him to get hurt by anyone else, either. That’s why M. Agreste trusted me with one of his amoks. That’s why I agreed to fight, to protect him and make sure he gets the family he deserves. Only, I feel like I’m kind of doing the opposite of not hurting him now. How can I keep being his friend when I only mess it up? And how do I turn him down without hurting him, especially since he hasn’t confessed his crush to me?”

Nathalie hummed. “I think Gabriel was right to trust you. You haven’t hurt Adrien, not yet, anyway. You might, if you deal with his feelings the wrong way. He’s as fragile as he is strong, Marinette. But you know that already. My advice, as unqualified as I fear it is, is to keep being his friend as you have in the past. Don’t acknowledge his feelings unless he brings them up, and be honest and gentle with him. Your friendship means a lot to both of you. It’s not going to break because of a crush.”

“But it might,” Marinette said fearfully. “What if I say the wrong thing? What if I never get over Golden Bug, but Adrien never gets over me, and we have to tiptoe around our feelings forever?”

“You won’t say the wrong thing, Marinette, not if you’re honest and considerate. And if you still love Golden Bug? Then you’ll work through it. You have a heart of gold, yourself, you know. And there’s enough room for more than one kind of love in it. Listen. Go home, rest up like Gabriel said. Don’t worry about anything tonight. I’m on your side, and we’ll figure this out together. You’ll be okay. Both of you will.”

Marinette sniffed. “Thank you,” she said, surging forward to give Nathalie a quick hug. “You’re the best secretary ever. You deserve, like, a thousand raises for this. And a hamster.”

Nathalie huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I promise not to let word of your secret crush slip to Gabriel. Now, don’t waste your extra time. Go, the chauffeur is waiting for you.”

She patted Marinette on the back and watched her get ready to leave. When Marinette reached the car and got in, she offered a small wave, and turned to head to the atelier.

Marinette smiled as the car pulled away from the mansion. She hadn’t seemed like she would at first, but Nathalie really did care.

#true blue #ml fanfic #rosie-b writing #bluewing au #miraculous ladybug #ml au

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 months

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WIP - The Cry of Distress Rings

I haven't written anything worthwhile in longer than I'd like. But here is a little bit of what I managed to work on this morning!

“The rabbit is excellent tonight, I think,” Guilford Wentworth said, taking a sip from his wine glass and then swirling the dark liquid inside. He smiled, and his teeth seemed stained slightly red. Kira fought back the way her stomach flipped and bile seemed to rise in her throat, fighting to find its way out.

Behind him, from the display against the window, there was a whimper half-suppressed.

Kira didn’t dare look.

There was a building fury inside her that she feared would burn the entire house to the ground around her if she raised her eyes and set it free.

Instead, she focused on her plate. She kept her eyes down and forced herself to look at the pale ivory ceramic with its lovely swirling blue, images of men and women with parasols and bowties strolling through a wooded area alongside a stream.

Her fingers kept tingling, as if there were sparks and embers burning just beneath the tips. She kept thinking about the silver melting in her hand before, the singed handprints on the wall of the bedroom she'd been held in.

The siren's soft insistence on wild magic - not something that belonged to the fey creatures and monsters alone, but something a human might wield, too.

Something she might wield.

She didn't look up.

But gods above and below, why did the rabbit have to be covered in a berry-sauce that was so dark and rich and thick and red?

She chose a particular bit of rabbit flesh and stabbed her own fork into it as she would have if she held a knife and Guilford himself was at the other end.

As if he felt the tines, the siren groaned.

She couldn’t help it. She dropped the fork and it clattered against the plate, the sound far too loud in a room where the heavy silence had been broken only by Guilford Wentworth's rambling.

"Make her look," Guilford said, in a low voice.

The siren sang.

His voice was broken by the pain, hushed and cracking, but there was still enough power in it that Kira felt her chin lifting against her will, her eyes moving to meet Areyto's as his pain washed into her and commanded she see.

Strung up like a tormented saint, the siren’s arms were up over his head so his back was arched and his muscles stretched, body lean and long. The length of him was framed by the yellowed evening light coming through the window, making of the siren’s agony a near-silhouette, the suggestion of an endless darkness ringed in a terrible light.

Kira’s fingers tightened around her fork as the siren’s head turned to the side. Heavy cuffs with chains that went up to the beams in the ceiling kept his wrists up above him, spikes on the inside buried deeply into his skin. Kira could see rivulets of blood running downwards, the siren's muscles shifting and twitching as the lines worked through way into the crook of his elbow and towards his shoulder.

The same red droplets ran down his chest thanks to the spikes inside the metal collar he wore now as well. From his ankles, blood dripped onto the ground.

Naked, the markings that kept him in this terrible slavery were on full and total display. Kira’s heart beat faster than the rabbit on her plate had ever been able to run.

Areyto's eyes had gone blank and empty except for the pain. There was no one there, only a statue staring back at her while it bled.

Areyto would bleed and never die from the blood loss. He no longer had the option to die unless his master wanted him to.

What a terrible cruelty.

What a hopeless captivity

Kira’s stomach kept turning. She set the bite of rabbit back down again.

Her fingerprints were burned into the fork she had been holding.

#whump #work in progress #wip #captivity #blood tw #restraints tw #bleeding tw #siren whump #magical whump #nonhuman whumpee #defiant whumpee #kira I love youuuuu #bones in the ocean

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krissiefox · 2 months

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Wander Over Yonder (Series Review) (Contains Spoilers!)

Yup, I'm finally reviewing another cartoon! But I just don't have the energy to undertake a project like when I reviewed every single freaking Aosth episode one at a time, so this time around I'm going to look at the series as whole.

Warning: I will discuss spoilers throughout this review, so if you are interested, please go watch the cartoon first! Thanks to disney being stupid, it's still only available on disney plus - so you'll either have to pay for that or find another means to watch it. Yo ho ho!

Wander over Yonder is a delightful, colorful and energetic Disney cartoon than originally began airing back in 2013. Its stories mainly revolve around its two main characters, Wander and Sylvia. Wander is a an altruistic space hippie who resembles a muppet-like creature, and his best friend Sylvia is a very butch-coded and punchy Zbornak, a species that is somewhere between a dragon and horse.

Wander and Sylvia's lives seem to have consisted of traveling the universe in a magic space-safe bubble, having fun and helping folks. Things get a little more dangerous though, when one day they cross paths with one of the show's main villains - Lord Hater. Hater is a hilariously pitiful caricature of toxic masculinity - constantly needing reassurance that he's "the coolest guy ever" and seeking validation by destroying and bullying everyone and everything around him. Despite his very impolite behavior, the ever-affectionate and loving Wander is determined to see the good in Hater and help him find a healthier way of managing his feelings than "punching lame nerds in the face". Lord Hater's minions, the Watch Dogs, are also frequent targets of Hater's bullying but mostly maintain loyalty nonetheless. Chief among the Watch Dogs is Commander Peppers, who is far more professional about being a villain than Hater himself could ever hope to be.

After the introductory setup, we'll see that many episodes consist of Hater trying to do something nasty, and Wander managing to mess it up just by being kind and nice. Many times, the Watchdogs will neglect their job duties and get distracted by Wander, as he treats them much better than Hater does.

This sounds like it might be a repetitive theme, but the show does a great job of always throwing out variety in its stories. You'll see the "standard" Wander vs Hater stories but you'll see stories of Wander and Sylvia doing things on their own, and Hater and the watchdogs doing things on their own, and over time a whole slew of secondary villains and friends show up in the story as well! Given the setting of the show is an entire galaxy, this also gave the creators plenty of room to constantly change up the scenery with different worlds, different creatures, and even the occasional trip into alternate realities! Most episodes are comedy based, but every now and then the show comes out swinging with a very sweet or moving story as well, and these are done just as well as all the zany comedy.

In season 2, the show introduces a new villain - Lord Dominator - bringing with her some big "shit just got real" energy. Unlike Lord Hater, she is much, MUCH more powerful and competent as a villain. She becomes such a threat that even Lord Hater is occasionally willing to work with Wander in helping fight her, as her relentless destruction of every planet around is only making him feel even more like a failure of a villain. At the end of the season, she is finally defeated in the sense that her ship is destroyed along with all of her robots, but she has no remorse for her actions and vows revenge on everyone who stood up to her. Sadly, the show only got 2 seasons, as disney never gave the creators the green-light for anymore.

So that's my brief summary of the overall story-line, but how does the show look and sound? Well, just check out these screenshots for the visuals, they're fantastic! The art team put a whole lot of love into this show and it shows. With an entire galaxy for it's characters to run around, the background artists will treat you to countless beautiful, bright colorful worlds and environments. The characters are very well animated and extremely expressive, and the voice acting is great as well. There are many visual nods to old Hanna Barbera cartoon days and also seems to be love for the funky architecture, color schemes and aesthetics from classic scifi art, as well. The team behind the show has some familiar names attached to it such as main creator Craig McCracken (Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Lab), season one co-producer and story editor Lauren Faust (My Little Pony FIM), and the lovable Tom Kenny providing the voice of Commander Peepers (Spongebob, Adventure Time).

In terms of themes and messages, the show gets a lot of things right which is another reason I admire it. Wander's altruistic nature lends itself to many wholesome story-line moments, and the interactions between him and Sylvia can often symbolize many people's internal struggle with "wanting to always be kind and helpful while also not being a doormat for all the bullies out there who don't appreciate kindness".

The show also has a couple episodes that touch on the importance of consent, which I like a lot. In one episode, Lord Hater ends up in the care of Wander and Sylvia after getting heavily drugged up during a painful dentist visit, and he's so blitzed out of his mind that he doesn't remember anything about Wander or being a villain and just enjoys spending time with his "new friends." At the end of the episode, Hater starts to put his mind back together, and flees in disgust at the thought of being friendly with the two. Naturally, Wander feels hurt and dissapointed, but as Sylvia tries to comfort him he also points that it wouldn't be right to have Hater's "friendship" with him not be of his own conscious choice.

Similarly, in another episode, we meet a villain (who is voiced by Weird Al!) who is like a corrupted version of Wander - instead of wanting to help people be happy, he forces them to be "happy". This infuriates and disgusts wander as he believes people must experience joy of only their own free will.

Overall I love the series, but I did some have some criticisms. One of the more minor ones is that it felt like they might have had a limited sound effects budget, as I noticed the show reused the exact same "Wham!" and "crying baby" sound effect so many times that it started to get distracting to me. I know good audio recording equipment is expensive as hell and thus can understand folks using stock sound effects, but I feel the show might have benefited from maybe some extra foley sounds to add more variety.

Another thing I didn't care for sometimes, is that there's handful of episodes that just feel very mean-spirited towards Sylvia, and in some of them Wander himself is the one being hurtful or even downright creepy towards her in some way or another. The moral of these stories is often Wander realizing he was being terrible, but it feels like the subject gets taken too lightly sometimes. Similarly, the show does occasionally have the mean-spirited gag of "bad things keep happening to Sylvia and we're supposed to find it funny", an old cartoon trope that's always disturbed me. Slapstick is one thing, but when it feels the writers are just bullying a character it can get uncomfortable.

There was a subplot throughout much of season 2 that rubbed me the wrong way, too. When Dominator is first introduced, everyone initially assumes her to be a guy under her suit of armor, but when Wander later realizes she's a woman, he immediately jumps to the idea of trying to hook her and Hater up as a couple. Part of his reasoning is that he feels like if Hater and Dominator are busy with making the smoochy-smoochy, they'll both lose interest in destroying planets and bullying their inhabitants. But still, the hetero-normative trope of just assuming that every woman is interested in A - relationships period, and B - a relationship with a man, is the kind of attitude I'd expect from Lord Hater, but not from sweet little Wander. He goes on about this for much of season 2, and Hater is also on board once he sees Dominator without her helmet on, but I am glad that at-least both Sylvia AND Dominator find the notion ridiculous the entire time, and at the end of season two, we don't have the additional sexist trope of her caving to a relationship she was never interested in having, thus "the bad girl getting redeemed via hooking up with a dude" trope.

On the subject of character relationships, I personally think if Dominator isn't just an asexual/aromantic killing machine she would most likely go for Sylvia if anyone, since she's the only one who actually came close to becoming friends with Dominator in one episode. Also, I got the impression that Commander Peppers really had a thing for Hater, as well. If Hater ever grows up, he and Peepers could make a cute couple, I'm sure. :)

Despite some of these things that bothered me, I still think the show is pretty great over all. While it could definitely use some more gay and less heteronormativity , it does still have a lot of wholesomeness and positive messages, lovely art, great humor, lovable characters, and even some very moving episodes. Now I just really wish the greedy putzes at disney would give this show a DVD set already! Hell, they never even made any plush toys. I want a little plushie of Sylvia, dammnit!

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natalchartnurtures · 7 months

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Mars in Deep Waters

Note: This post might not give you anything new if you're at an intermediate or advanced level of being on the astrology wildride :p

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Water Mars, on a good day: "I enjoy feeling my vibes and trusting my gut. I conquer challenges and move through life this way—with my willpower rooted in my wisdom."

Why?- What comes to mind when you first encounter a Water Mars? That they're sensitive crybabies, only acting on their moody whims when they don't get what they want? Think again.

Yes, this energy is all that, but it's also much more.

Mars in this element, when realized in its higher octave, can prove to be quite an invigorating force to have on your team. It embodies both "the Buddha" AND "the Badass" in one package, best of both worlds, really. Water energy is all about those feelings, the intuition (think Peter Parker's tingling Spidey sense), the magic, the unseen, the depth… like the ocean, nurture, empathy, dreamy romanticism. Pretty things like that. It essentially serves as the bridge between the tangible and the intangible, you know? So, what happens when your Mars is swimming in this beautiful, mystical realm?

Mars, in this element, can express itself as motivation fueled by the desire to feel something. Maybe it's how having that car makes you feel, or perhaps how that relationship makes you feel so safe that you are driven to nurture and care for it. It could be anything, but it's not necessarily the THING you want; it's how it makes you FEEL that is highlighted with this Mars. Think Cancer Mars. Cancer's intuition combined with Martian energy would equip you to achieve anything you want, provided it makes you feel something, anything. This is where your power shines, and you truly embody emotional intelligence in the way you move your way to the top (whatever 'top' means for you).

It could also manifest as a desire to put in efforts and invest your willpower into causes you believe in, no matter where you are or how small or big what you want to do is. Mars here really enjoys feeling like it is a part of a larger whole. It could even be as simple as working in a company where you have a distinct role, and you're all working to set up this new product that could be of service to the greater population, speaking within the context of the corporate world. Or, on a more spiritual note, it could manifest as wanting to explore and seek the truth of life. You could fall anywhere on the spectrum if you've got a Pisces Mars; this is where the compassion of Piscean energy meets the drive of Mars to create literal FORCES of light that can overcome 'most anything.

Another way this energy could show up is wanting to discover and unwrap your personal power, kinda like you're a child unwrapping its present on Christmas. It could show up as wanting to get in touch with that quiet power brewing inside you, waiting to be discovered, only demanding you to look inward and bow to its intensity. Yes, I'm talking about Scorpio Mars. Of course, Mars here feels right at home because power is what it knows. It lives and breathes the language of this Scorpionic desire to meet its own potential no matter, even getting transformed in the process of attaining it. This is ambition at its greatest. And! how can we forget the oh... so magnetic energy of Mars here? This is because Scorpionic energy is great at commanding energy, and since Mars feels at home here, Scorpio bestows Mars with this raw attractive vibe you just can't deny. Not even the universe can resist giving them what they want, let alone us mere mortals.

So that was my take on the water mars energies :]

Ps. the Scorpio paragraph was so much fun to write, im not gonna lie. Probably cuz Pluto trines my Moon :p

#Scorpio mars #Cancer Mars #Pisces Mars #astrologyreadings #astrology #spirituality #zodiac #astrology community #Astrology Insights #Water signs #pisces #scorpio #cancer

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thefallenangelsgang · 7 days

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As always, only half finished and kinda edited (as most of my bg3 writing is)

This is the Weave Lesson scene. I'm playing with using game dialogue and my own for kinda the first time for this maybe fic. I can't tell how it's going quite yet.

the only context you need for this scene is Gale spends his evenings practicing his spellbook in early levels and he gets frustrated at the pace he's crawling at. I have a fragment of this earlier in this scene where he slams his book onto his alchemy table (cause my game Gale was our potion brewer extraordinaire) and Wynleth hears glass breaking. its a passing mention in this.

(EDIT: there is something else. Wynleth describes being percieved directly by Lathander. This is a reference to her encounter with the god during her Paladin vows. I haven't ironed it out but the gist is she has spoken directly with the god once before)

I'm gonna also try a new way of formatting these posts.

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“Do you want to talk about it?”

Gale huffs and runs his hands through his hair. I can see the mental battle he’s losing behind his eyes. Eventually he gives in.

“I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Mastering it felt as natural as breathing air. So losing it now feels like another kick in a series of blows to my ego. I suppose that was half of it.” He brings up that projection again. “She meant to bring low again, to humble me.”

Absent-mindedly, he begins to play with his earring and exactly who is hovering above his palm dawns on me like a crashing wave.

“Mystra?”

He nods an affirmative while gazing wistfully up at the goddess that spurned him.

I don’t know what to say.

“Her idols don’t do her justice.” The words leave my lips before I really think about them. It’s true though, they don’t. The ones I’ve seen depict a sensual woman, clothing and hair animated by the very Weave she commands. Sharp features and languid poses that reek of the male gaze and look nothing like how Gale presents her now. It’s almost shocking how simply he paints her. She could be just another beauty walking the streets of Baldur’s Gate. “They truly don’t,” Gale whispers back.

“I’m ashamed to admit, the way you speak of the Weave makes me almost jealous. It seems so infinite.” Poetry and music and beauty. He truly has a way with words if he can make me crave something when my magic feels like the kiss of sunlight after a dark winter.

The light comes back in his eyes as I shift the conversation. “Divine power must feel almost… limiting in comparison. Being only allowed as much as your deity sees fit.” Mystra’s visage is gone again, momentarily forgotten for the time being. The “More than you know,” dies swiftly on my tongue. He does know and that is the problem.

He gets an idea. I can tell by the look in his eye and the mischievous smile on his face as he pushes up to rest on his elbow. “Would you like to learn?”

What?

“You could teach me?”

He’s actually grinning now which makes me feel better. He’s not hung up on all this bullshit that’s going on. “Oh yes. Here-” He shifts into a seated position and takes my hands. Together we stand and move to the open space in front of his tent. I can't help but laugh softly at how serious he looks as he positions me and motions for me to stay put.

He turns away and makes for the table he has set up for his alchemical pursuits to retrieve his spellbook, snapping away the beaker I heard fall earlier. Prestidigitation. Perhaps that’s what he’ll teach me. I’ve heard it's a very useful spell with many applications, quick clean up being one of them.

He thumbs through the tome until he finds what he’s looking for based on the way his face settles in a self-satisfied expression. “This is a simple spell for channeling the Weave. See here-” He says as he positions himself just behind me and runs his finger over the sigil drawn on the page.

It’s brain-bendingly complex for a “simple spell.” Even the most complex healing sigils or anointments I had to learn were markedly less intricate. But it’s beautiful the way the lines curl and intersect.

“It is, isn't it?”

I must have said it out loud. Gale’s eyes are shining, they're so bright. He truly loves this. “Could you explain this to me, what all of this means?” I say, running my finger across the same path he did. There seems to be a start and end to the figure that the movement traces.

He launches into an explanation I only half understand but follow with rapt attention. What I do glean is I was right about the beginning and end and the segments of the glyph refer to different parts of the spell. Somatic, Verbal, and Material. This one only has Somatic and Verbal.

“I hope that wasn’t too hard to follow. I’ll admit, some of this stuff requires prior knowledge of spell composition.”

He looks sheepish as he pulls the book away and goes to set it down gently off to the side so he can continue to consult it from afar. It’s endearing, his concern.

“Some of it certainly went over my head but I’ve read political treatise and legalese so dense they make your head spin. I’m no stranger to asking questions and learning more.”

That seems to assuage him. He shakes out his arms and gives a winning smile. “Are you ready?”

“After you master wizard,” I say with a playful bow.

He makes a gesture that is almost like theatrically flipping something over in his hands. I watch astutely as something seems to glow from between them. Then he gestures for me to mimic him. I try my best. It’s a lot less confident than his, but from the wideness of his grin I’ve done it satisfactorily enough. Then a shiver goes up my spine as a feeling begins to overtake me. Warmth and… something I cannot place. It’s different from the sunlight of Lathander, or Shadowheart’s healing, or the electric crackle when Gale casts something. I must rock back at the sensation because Gale’s hand is there to meet me at the small of my back. “That’s the Weave. Don’t be afraid. You get used to it.”

It does feel like poetry. It feels like looking up from prose that touches your soul and letting the words sink into your skin and bury themselves in the very marrow of your being. I close my eyes at the feeling and let it wash over me. “More things on Heaven and Earth…” I say as I open my eyes.

“Indeed,” Gale matches my conspiratorial whisper. “That was the Somatic component. Are you ready for the Verbal?” I nod. “Repeat after me. Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

The words are strange on my tongue but then the feeling somehow compounds, doubling, tripling in intensity. Gale’s voice is hushed in my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of Harmony. As true as you can.”

My mind wheels through various options. Things I’ve been taught are harmony. People living in peace together. Unwavering Devotion to the Morninglord. People singing different words and notes but bringing together something transcendent and beautiful.

None of it seems to fit.

Harmony is this. It’s sitting in a Druid’s Grove full of people who just want to survive, surrounded by nature and beauty and finding a moment of peace despite the hell of our reality. It’s taking precious minutes of our lives for an impromptu magic lesson in a discipline I am wholly unfamiliar with. It's Gale's patience and my eagerness and this feeling rolling over me in waves.

My hand finds Gale’s as a pulse of energy issues forth.

An energy field envelops us. It plays with our clothes like a breeze in the absence of any detectable current. Weave. Purple and blue and as fine as spun sugar. It tastes sweet and floral and electric in a good way.

Poetry and music and beauty all rolled into one. Gale has never been more right.

“It’s beautiful Gale.”

“That doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He muses, his eyes reflecting the beautiful light surrounding us.

“No. No it doesn’t, I choke out around an incredulous laugh. I feel the urge to weep and laugh and dance all at once. This is incredible.

Instead, we stand like this- Gale’s hand pressed against my back and his other clasped in mine- breathing in what feels to me like the cosmos for some time.

“Do you feel her? Watching over us?” A reverent tone has taken over his voice as Gale breaks our reverie. Calling attention to it suddenly helps me put the feeling into words. We are being perceived by Mystra of all things. It’s a strange feeling, different than it was being perceived by Lathander. This is less direct, more idle than anything. It’s the comfort of knowing she is there. She is watching over us and keeping us safe. Tangible reassurance that your faith is not misplaced. This is a prayer answered.

“Thank you,” I say with a squeeze of my hand. We are making the most direct eye contact we have this entire encounter. No more passing glances that happen to meet or gazing at the other as they experience the majesty unfolding around us. Connection, true connection this time.

“For what?” Gale breaths, like he truly doesn’t know what a gift this is.

“For teaching me. For giving me a taste of what you experience everyday. For opening my eyes to this.” My free hand gestures around us and I mean to follow with my eyes but find I cannot tear them away. Gale looks so alive when surrounded by magic, in a way he isn’t when he is pursuing other things. It suits him handsomely.

It sinks in exactly how intimate this moment is, the two of us connected not only by touch but by the very Weave itself. I could take a thousand nights just like this one and never tire. And what I would do for a lifetime of conversations about subjects like this one! Strolling arm in arm learning from each other. I am half-convinced even a lifetime wouldn’t be enough.

As if in the same breath, I am filled by an almost innate sense of how beautiful I look lit by the Weave. The way my green eyes compliment the hues of purple and blue and the copper of my hair stands out against the ethereal backdrop. It’s a strange and discordant thought. Not mine.

I think we both realize at the same time that they aren’t our thoughts, that perhaps the tadpoles have pulled a fast one on us or even the Weave has something to do with it. We both blush in unison and impressively.

And then we laugh.

Gale’s laugh is always loud and rapturous. Barking would be a good way to describe it. But it’s pleasant and jovial. It feels right every time I hear it. I get the sense mine is musical in the way horn instruments are. Not like peeling bells, but brassy and boisterous and unladylike. That makes sense, my grandmother hated my laugh. It was too masculine and unbecoming of a daughter of a noble house, my culturally masculine social position be damned. Which is a damn shame, it is a nice laugh.

“I- Um- Well.” Gale clears his throat, still blushing. “Unexpected consequences. Not unwelcome ones! But unexpected all the same.” I’m still laughing, gently now. “There is no harm. I’m glad someone likes my laugh.” Gale blushes impossibly harder.

In a swift movement, like a breeze blowing smoke away, the spell dissipates. It’s almost frigid in it’s absence, or maybe it’s the act of Gale stepping away that brings the chill. I refuse to let him release my hand though.

“There it goes. As fleeting as the dawn, wouldn’t you agree?” He smiles at me, pleased at his metaphor.

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#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 tav #gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #Jericho Writes

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darknight3904 · 7 months

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Reaching Out

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Asgard 2011

"We need to go get Thor," Hogun said

"It is treason." Sif pointed out

"We will need Astri as well. I'm sure Thor will wonder if she does not come." Volstagg said

"And how do you propose we get her? She lives practically under Loki's thumb. I'd bet he has guards watching her 24/7, reporting to him if she even so much as breaks a nail." Fandral pointed out, "I love Astri as much as all of you but she has always been closest with Loki. Getting her to go against his orders will be impossible."

"Astri is her own woman. She can do as she pleases, Loki does not hold her back." Sif defended, knowing her friend had defied the trickster many times in the past.

"We should not speak so loudly of treason. Heimdall might be listening." Fandral said

The doors opened to a guard entering.

"Heimdall demands your presence." The guard says "He also commands you to leave Astri here."

Sif followed the Warriors Three towards the Bifrost. They passed the library as they exited the castle. Oh how easy it would be to call to her friend who was most likely buried in a book on magic or histories of the surrounding realms. She cast one more look at the doors to the library before continuing, Astri would be fine, everyone in the castle knew Loki was enamored with her. Well, everyone except Astri and Loki who had been dancing around each other for hundreds of years.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Astri closed the book on mind linking with a heavy sigh. She was learning all sorts of new methods she hadn't been able to try since her and Loki's fight. She had reached out and tried to see what he was doing with his day but there was nothing. Sure, she could feel his presence and that he was alive but he never let her in to see exactly what he was doing or where he was.

Odin's room was quiet when Astri entered. Frigga was asleep by his side, her head resting on the golden frame of the bed. Her queen's dedication to her husband was admirable, Astri hoped to one day have someone to devote herself to the way Frigga did Odin. She sat down on the other side of Odin's bed frame. He looked rather peaceful as he lay there as still as a corpse. She was never close to Odin, he had preferred to spend more time with Thor and Loki, mainly Thor, when they were children. Still, there were moments when he had acted as her father figure and not just as her king. Astri smiled as she remembered the time he had chased her first boyfriend off after he had disrespected Astri's combat skills.

"Are you ever going to wake again? Loki sits on your throne and I fear he might just plunge us all into war." Astri softly said, her back turned to the sleeping Allfather.

The large fire on the wall behind them crackled as Astri observed the ornate door that the Allfather had. Golden flowers and vines adorned its metalwork. She would hear Frigga shifting behind her, breaking the peacefulness of the room.

"Astri." Frigga said, her voice laced with worry, "Get up. Get Loki, bring him here now."

Astri turned to Frigga, she was confused as to why they needed Loki who was on her last nerve. Frigga opened her mouth to explain but the crackle of the fire was replaced with the hiss of ice forming and taking over the beautiful door Astri had admired. Said doors nearly went flying from the frame when two huge Frost Giants stalked into the room. One of them Astri recognized from their impromptu trip to Jotunheim with Thor.

Frigga made the first move as she cut at one of the Frost Giant's legs with a sword. His large hand swooped at her before she could make her next move and she went flying across the room.

"A child guards the King of Asgard." the one Astri was sure was Laufey, Loki's birth father said.

Laufey pointed at her and his soldier came charging at her, ice sword drawn. He was quick but Astri was quicker. She let a sharp burst of power shoot from her hands, and the Frost Giant went flying into the large fire behind him. Screams of horror filled the room as he tried to get up, the fire hissed as his cool temperature began to put it out.

"I don't think so," Astri said, directing her magic so the fire would roar once more.

The frost giant screamed in pain as he burned to death, Astri's magic fueling the flames and keeping him from getting up.

"Know that your death came at the hands of Laufey."

Shit. She forgot all about Laufey. She quickly turned to see him ready to kill the Allfather. A sharp blast stopped her from making her move to burn Laufey to death like his friend.

"And your death came at the son of Odin."

Loki! Astri had never been so glad to see him and his giant helmet-clad self.

"You saved him!" Frigga exclaimed, rushing to hug her son

" I swear to you Mother, they will pay for this." Loki promised before looking at Astri, " Are you alright?"

Astri nodded glancing back at the charred body of the Frsot Giant she had killed. Loki's eyes widened at the sight, looking back and forth between the girl he hadn't factored into his plans and the freshly dead body. Astri could sense a comment coming from his mouth but the doors burst open again and Astri immediately turned, ready to burn another giant for daring to harm her family. Instead, she was met with a newly restored Thor, hammer and all.

"Thor!" She smiled as Frigga ran to her eldest, embracing him

Astri hugged him as well as he entered the room fully. He seemed distracted as he glared at Loki, not focused on reunions at all.

"Have you told them? How you sent the destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me?" Thor asked

Astri looked at Loki whose face seemed to paint the perfect picture of guilt. It couldn't be. Loki wouldn't. He had never been close with Sif and the warriors and Thor was a whole different story but he wouldn't try to kill them right? Her Loki was good, he had just saved Odin from certain doom for crying out loud.

"I must have been following Father's last command," Loki said, his spear raised, ready to defend against Thor.

Astri looked at Frigga who was distraught, looking between her two sons who were ready to tear each other apart.

"You're a talented liar, brother." Thor mocked

"It's good to have you home. Now I must destroy Jotunheim." Loki said

Before anyone could blink, Loki had Gungnir let out a strong blast. sending Thor through the walls and out of the castle. Astri gasped and ran to the hole Thor had left in Odin's room. Loki was moving quickly to the doors and she ran to block him.

"Tell me he's lying." She commanded, "Tell me that Thor's words of you trying to kill him was all some sick joke you dreamed up."

Loki's answer was only silence as he stared at her. Astri felt her eyes well with tears as she punched at his chest.

"How could you?" She cried angrily as Loki caught her hands in his.

"I have my reasons. I'll let you know all of them when I reach my goals, I promise." Loki said letting her go.

"And what of the Frost Giants today and on Thor's coronation? Did you have a hand in that?" She asked wiping at her eyes.

"How else would they have gotten into Asgard? Heimdall certainly didn't let them in." He said before stepping around her and walking away

Astri couldn't believe what he had just admitted. She knew Loki was one for tricks and mischief but attempting cold-blooded murder? She never dreamed he'd do all of this just for the throne. She raced after him as he moved quickly down the hall.

"You're a traitor!" She shouted "A monster!"

Loki froze when the words left her mouth and Astri couldn't tell if she regretted it. All she knew was that she couldn't let him destroy Jotunheim over a conflict he had organized all by himself. Her moral compass outweighed her guilt as her magic flew at Loki. It hit him in his back and he fell to the ground, hard. Astri walked to him as he pulled himself up.

"What are you doing?" He seethed, angry that she had knocked him down

"Saving innocent lives." She said, ready to let another blast free at any moment

"So am I. They would have rebelled eventually! Do you want to see Asgardian children frozen where they stand? Dead because of a war I can prevent?" Loki asked

"You don't know that!" Astri argued

"You're just like everyone else. You don't see the bigger picture. Don't you get it? I'm not doing this for a throne. Why do you think I saved Odin?" Loki questioned

"You do a lot of things that don't make sense to me. " Astri said, ready to knock him down again

"They will, soon," Loki said sincerely

Astri hadn't expected Loki's fist to come at her as fast as it did but by the time she had registered it, it was too late. A loud crunch of her bones was all she heard before everything went dark.

Months later, Asgard 2011

Astri had spent the past months bored. The castle she had grown up in sometimes felt like a prison rather than a home. Her face had healed up perfectly after Loki had knocked her out. The break in her nose had been clean, calculated almost and the healers that helped her said there'd be no issues with it in the future. Now, she spent her days reading, training with Sif, and talking with Thor who felt Loki's absence just as much as she did.

"So this mortal of yours, she's what Midgard calls a scientist?" Astri asked in between bites of food.

She and Thor had begun eating dinner together each night, something she used to do with Loki.

"Yes. She's quite brilliant. Heimdall says she's searching for me." Thor replied

Astri sadly smiled. Ever since Thor had destroyed the Bifrost, traveling had been completely cut and the only way to see into other worlds was through Heimdall. Sure, Loki had his secret passages but had never bothered to share them with anyone.

"And what of that fellow you've been meeting with, in the markets?" Thor asked

Astri blushed at his words. She had thought she was being more secretive about that.

"It's nothing. I think I just need to talk to someone that isn't you, Sif, or Frigga." She waved him off

"Well, you ought to tell him that. Those flowers he sent to your chambers the other day are telling a different tale." Thor laughed

"When the hell did you become so observant?" Astri groaned and covered her face with her hands.

"I've always been like this...I'm just that good." Thor explained

"How is it you go to Midgard and come back more humble yet somehow weirder?" Astri asked

"What do you mean I've always been like this." He shrugged

Gods Thor was going to actually drive Astri insane one day.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Astri had bid Thor goodnight after they finished eating. She was feeling tired after all her training with Sif today. Her friend never pulled her punches and thanks to that Astri was sure she'd have bruised on her skin for the next century. Beyond her physical exertion, Astri had a routine each night. It would start with a warm bath, followed by letting Drifa help her oil her hair while they talked about their lives. Drifa did most of the speaking since she had met a wonderful woman recently and were seeing each other. Astri supplied the doom and gloom to the conversation by often bringing up how tired she was of the calm that had followed Loki's demise. Following all of that, Astri would sit on top of her bed and search for him. For Loki.

"Tonight, I'll find you." She whispered to herself and closed her eyes.

She always tried to remain hopeful but there was nothing but darkness as usual. Whatever was left of Loki, if he was even alive was unreachable to her.

"Please. Just a glimpse." She pleaded to her empty room

A sharp pain fluttered across her face, followed by a flash of unbearable heat. Murmured voices joined the fray as Astri tried to focus on what she was feeling and hearing. Was this Loki? Or had she accidentally ended up in someone else's mind? Darkness was all she could see but whoever was speaking, their voice grew clearer the more she focused. Pained gasps followed another hot flash of something that felt as though her mind was melting.

"Do it again. He can handle it."

And so we have reached the end of the first Thor movie. If you take a quick look at the summary for this story you will see that I have added warnings for this story. I do suggest going to the masterlist of this story to read them. I have decided to change that and it will include both smut (hehe everyone's fave ) and suicidal/self-harm scenes. Material like this will be marked and have individual warnings when it pops up.

Taglist (to join comment below)

@buttercupcookies-blog

@666-gothic-bat-666

@cyberwears

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multicolour-ink · 1 year

Note

This is for the prompt

Mario "i beg of you please, don't hurt Luigi"

"I beg of you, please, don’t hurt [name]"

writing prompts

Takes place in the Mario Movie verse SPOILERS FOR SUPER PAPER MARIO

(further authors notes under the cut)

- - -

It was supposed to turn out differently.

Get the Pure Hearts, save all the worlds. That was how it was supposed to go.

Except now they found themselves facing against the unhinged jester who they had thought was merely Bleck's minion; along with a creation of his own monstrosity.

And Luigi was caught right in the middle of it.

"Isn't this delightful?", Dimentio's almost musical voice trilled. "What a glorious construction of myself and our Man in Green!"

Mario didn't answer. He clenched his fists, eyes burning. Neither he nor his companions could move because magical binds were latched around their wrists, their power forcing them to kneel on the ground.

"Surely", continued the jester, his eyes equally burning back with gleeful malice, "You ought to thank your brother for this wonderful turn of events."

Mario's heart stung as he looked at his brother. Luigi was pinned in place. Dark magic in part from Dimentio and the Chaos Heart prevented him from moving anywhere, locked in a fabricated prison. Even more disturbingly, the floral sprout that had seized control of him the moment Dimentio had activated it, had crawled ever tighter around the gaps of his cheek bones, across his mouth, and around his neck. Winding ever so much further down his body until every limb was under command of the parasite.

"You cannot begin to imagine how much I have dreamt of this moment!", Dimentio cried as he floated next to Luigi.

The green plumber still seemed to have life in him, for he whimpered and attempted to move away from Dimentio's very presence. Mario saw glints of tears in those innocent blue eyes.

"Getting the heroes to do all the work. Pretending to be the Count's loyal minion and acting like I was invested in his plan to destroy the worlds, when all I really wanted to do was recreate everything in my own perfect image! And to top it all off, the fabled Man in Green is the brother of the hero!"

Dimentio suddenly stopped his monologue and quick as a blink was right in front of Mario.

"So tell me, Man in Red", asked the jester. His eyes bore into Mario with manic exhilaration. "Doesn't that get you excited?"

Mario growled in response. It was all he could do, for his shaking wrists were bound so tight that he couldn't move them to strike even if he wanted to. All he could do was glare back with a look so scorching, it would've no doubt melted Dimentio on the spot.

The jester looked over Mario in thought, and then he pressed a glowing hand to Mario's chest. Mario gasped and tried to throw him off, but the jester's dark magic kept him firmly in place. The plumber felt like he was being searched inside. A powerful force was making its way in places that it shouldn't ever be and Mario was frozen in place, beside himself as he found himself unable to even speak.

He heard Peach give a cry of concern.

Seeming to find what he was looking for, the jester then gave an amused smirk and lifted his hand away. Mario gasped as if he had been submerged in water, and just as quickly the hatred he felt for this twisted jester came back in force.

"Interesting", Dimentio spoke up before Mario could. He paused and looked back at Luigi. The green plumber had seemingly reacted to whatever the jester had been doing to Mario, as the tears were now pouring down his cheeks and the vines had wrapped around him even tighter.

"I wonder what would happen...?", the jester mused as he turned back to Mario. He grinned widely.

"How would it feel, if the piece of him that resides within you were to just...disappear?"

Mario shook with hatred.

Dimentio cackled.

"Oh it's perfect!", he shrieked. "Hurt the enemy through love. So poetic! But in my world, you won't need any feelings like that."

He snapped his fingers and the vines holding Luigi's limbs loosened a little and the green plumber slumped to the ground.

Mario heard him sobbing.

"Witness the birth of a new world! My world!", Dimentio cried joyfully. "You will wither away as I remake this pitiful existence. Get ready for the Greatest Sh-"

He was suddenly cut off as something struck him hard in the chest. Dimentio shrieked again as he was thrown back by the force, tumbling and rolling over before colliding with the nearest wall.

The jester staggered to his feet, hand to his chest. His breaths pained.

The air was suddenly silent, save for the laboured breaths of Mario, who had somehow broken out of the magical binds and had punched Dimentio with every ounce of strength he had. It seemed to take a lot out of him though, for the red plumber stumbled as he tried to right himself up. His fist shook from both exhaustion and anger, as he stared the jester down, daring him to make another move.

Peach, Bowser, Tippi, and everyone else were equally as stunned and afraid as they gazed at the Red Hero. Luigi looked too through glazed eyes; admiration and fear for his brother temporarily overcoming the magic.

Dimentio looked down at his chest as he took his hand away. The diamond on his chest was now cracked, shards falling away from it like dust.

For a fleeting moment the jester stared in disbelief, and then all too quickly his expression became jovial and dangerous again.

"Well", he said coldly. "This got interesting."

And before anyone else could react he somersaulted up into the air again and landed behind Luigi. To everyone's horror, he yanked Luigi's head back, one hand pressed into the green plumber's throat.

Mario's heart stopped.

"Please", his voice trembled. "I beg of you please, don't hurt Luigi!"

He hated having to act like this. He hated having to beg to that jester who he more than anything wanted to do worst things to. But he'd made a grave mistake. He had aggravated Dimentio even more, and there was no telling what he was going to do now. He had to hold it back. For the sake of his brother.

But Dimentio only grinned.

"That's how we're going to play, Man in Red? So be it."

He moved the hand that was holding Luigi's throat away, and snapped his fingers.

All at once, Luigi let out a guttural scream, as the floral sprout glowed red and sprouted even more vines around him, wrapping him tighter and tighter. Very soon he slumped forward. His eyes didn't even hold any emotion, for they were now fully glazed over with no recognition at all.

"Luigi!", Mario cried. His heart pounded as he didn't breathe, didn't think, only able to watch as his brother was taken somewhere he couldn't follow.

"Time", said Dimentio giving a gracious bow in front of his creation. "For the Ultimate Showdown!"

- - -

Authors notes under the cut

So...Dimentio in the Mario Movie verse?

In all seriousness, wanting Dimentio in the movie verse is an idea I've had for a while, and I even drew up some ideas of what he might look like. I don't know if or when I will ever post them (for they are unfinished), and for a while I just let it go as I got caught up in other things, and drawing anything SPM was becoming taxing. But then I saw this prompt show up in my inbox and I thought "Oh yeah, I know exactly what to do for this one!"

I understand that in terms of the actual movie verse, they can't go too dark in terms of the character himself, but just picturing Dimentio acting as such a flamboyant and psychotic clown (where have I seen that before?) at the very end is something I really would love to see, no joke! I think it would be pretty fun. There's nothing wrong with this new verse playing around with characters a little.

Anyway, hope you all like. I understand if this is not what the anon was expecting...but I hope they also enjoy it too.

Take care <3

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karuvapatta · 2 months

Text

The silly Jonelias Fantasy AU continues!

Part 1

***

“How did it go?” Georgie asked him.

“Fine,” Jon said curtly.

“Oh,” she said. “That bad, huh?”

“I said it was fine!” Her smile was soft, sympathetic; she did not deserve to be treated that way. Guilt crept up Jon’s spine, and he tried to soften his tone. “I suppose it could have gone better.”

“I figured,” Georgie said. “Would you like something to drink, then?”

“Please.”

Jon adjusted his glasses and went back to the manuscript, already dotted with notes and corrections. It was a lot of drivel, honestly; he felt stupider for having read it as many times as he did. Well - editing wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, but it paid the bills.

Few minutes later, the Admiral trotted up to him and rubbed against his legs. Jon scratched the fuzzy little head, and smiled involuntarily when the cat jumped up and curled onto his lap. Sharing the flat with Georgie after their breakup was awkward at times, but he reckoned he wouldn’t want to move out, even if he could afford to.

The Admiral kept him company as he worked, eventually falling asleep. Jon felt like the worst kind of criminal when the time came for him to leave, but he had to get Admiral off his lap. He did so as gently as he could, lifting him and placing him down on a cushion; still the Admiral meowed and twisted around, claws scraping Jon’s hand, wordless accusations in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Jon said. “I have to go.”

He wasn’t being forgiven that easily; the Admiral hissed and turned his back on him, stomping away in the direction of Georgie’s bedroom.

It was well past midnight. He made it to the training area with ten minutes to spare. Unsurprisingly, it was almost deserted: the last few stragglers were leaving, and by the time the clocks struck one a.m., Jon was alone in one of the smaller rooms.

Each room had a similar layout: an arena, encircled with a powerful barrier enchantment that absorbed all errant magic, and chairs or benches outside the barrier, so that spectators could safely watch whatever was happening. Bigger rooms had rows and rows of benches, to accommodate for duels, competitions, spectacles, or other events that invariably drew in huge crowds. That Jon, invariably, avoided.

He sat down in the sand and took out his old textbook. It wouldn’t do him much good right now; lamps and candles had a nasty habit of exploding when exposed to too much magical energy, so they weren’t permitted inside the training rooms. He’d have to rely on what he remembered.

There was one last thing to do. Just one thing.

He ran his fingertips over the clasp of the bracelet. There was no need to worry; no reason to hesitate. Nothing would happen. Nothing could happen. The barrier around him was impenetrable. He had to remember that.

The clasp snapped open. He watched, hypnotized, as the bracelet uncoiled from his wrist and slipped to the ground; it seemed like a living thing, woven from a myriad of delicate strands, each one reflecting the sparse moonlight in its own way, casting a shimmering pattern upon the sand.

It crept around him; Jon held his breath. He could see the light now, more clearly than before. He could see the barrier further away, the intricate pattern of spell work designed to absorb and dissipate energy. He could see every grain of sand seemingly shift in the wind, even though the air was deathly, unnaturally still. He felt the moonlight on his skin like a brand, burning through the layers of flesh. He had thought the room was silent; but there was sound all around him, the delicate chime of his discarded bracelet, buzzing of the barrier, and the rapidly quickening beat of his own heart…

He forced himself to exhale and raised his shaking hands. They looked—they looked like they belonged to a stranger, sluggish to obey his commands, and felt like a thousand needles pricked his skin, sending electric currents down his nerve endings. But he had to—he had to control them. He would control them. It was a simple spell, he knew the gestures and the words, he knew how it should go.

He held his palms together and tried to focus on the space between them. A single point. See it. Feel it. See the infinite possibilities, see not what is, but what could be…

Sharp, sudden pain laced through his palms. Powerful spasm seized his muscles. He collapsed onto the sand, gasping for breath, a wordless scream tearing out of his chest.

It took an agonizingly long moment for his muscles to relax. The pain in his chest subsided once he managed to draw in a handful of unsteady breaths.

Right. So that was that. That’s what would usually happen.

He tried, again and again. Conjuring light was the easiest trick in the book. He had seen children do it without issue. Yet here he was, struggling to do even that.

“You do realize you are going about it completely backwards, do you?”

This time, when the light burst from his hands and momentarily blinded him, Jon yelped and fell backwards. There were spots dancing across his vision and a ringing in his ears.

“How about you mind your own business?” he seethed through clenched teeth and tried to push himself into an upright position. “I don’t recall asking for your advice, so kindly go and fuck yourself—“

The barrier flared; sand shifted. Jon looked up at the approaching figure, and felt his arms give in.

“Master—Master Bouchard.”

Of course it was. Such was Jon’s rotten luck, apparently.

“Hello, Mr Sims,” Bouchard said, clearly amused.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jon said.

He was still flat on his arse. Bouchard was looking down at him. He scrambled to get up with as much dignity as he could muster in this situation.

“Yes, I figured,” Bouchard said. “I do owe you an apology. I did not mean to frighten you.”

“I’m not frightened,” Jon snapped. “I—why are you here?”

He felt the cackle of electricity on his tongue; he could almost see it in the air around him.

Inexplicably, Bouchard’s smile widened. He offered Jon his hand and Jon took it without thinking, letting himself be pulled upwards, until they were eye to eye and—

He saw a reflection of himself in Bouchard’s pale eyes, the image clear and sharp, every detail of his own face, the messy hairdo, skewed glasses, sheen of sweat on his forehead; his own eyes, widened, dark, a faintest glimmer within the depths of them; his half-opened mouth; and then he was looking at the man in front of him, the images superimposed on one another, and then stretching all the way to infinity, like standing between two mirrors…

Strong arms caught him as he was about to collapse, a terrible ache splitting his head open. His vision swam, and blurred; he tried to close his eyes, but there was no reprieve to be found in darkness.

“Breathe, Jon.”

He tried to focus on that: the movements of his chest, the flow of air through his lungs.

Eventually he realized he was clinging onto Master Bouchard like a swooning maiden. He was almost too mortified to let go.

“What’s happening to me?” he asked, in a voice that was dangerously close to a whimper.

“Well, it appears you are attempting to weave magic you have absolutely no control over,” Bouchard said. “Which is rather foolish, if I may add.” Jon blinked. “I already know how you feel about unsolicited advice,” Bouchard explained, smirking.

“Oh! Oh.” Jon took a hasty step back and rubbed his upper arms, gaze stuck on the ground by Bouchard’s gleaming shoes. “I—apologize. That was rude of me.”

“No, you were in the right. I shouldn’t have startled you,” Bouchard said. “But it seemed like you were in danger of hurting yourself.”

“I wasn’t—“ Jon began. A quick glance at Bouchard’s raised eyebrows stopped him in his tracks. “Well. Maybe. Maybe a bit.” He let out a long breath. “Thank you, Master,” he said stiffly.

Bouchard’s smile worried him; his gaze worried him more. Yet Jon couldn’t bring himself to look away once their eyes met.

#the magnus archives #jonelias #jonathan sims #elias bouchard

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skybrushus · 7 months

Text

Another moment from my anthro MLP sword & sorcery dreamscape. Applebloom's story was one of the more tragic aspects of the dream.

Originally Applejacks younger sister had hopes of becoming a Wolf Lancer like her big sister was. Link When she came of age Applebloom enlisted in the Royal Equestria Army. She quickly showed potential and was soon given a small company of infantry to command.

It was during this time Al-Conikkrall the great lich/necromancer made his move to try and carve away a chunk of Equestria's borders to create his own lich kingdom. While other more experienced and stronger forces were sent to directly thwart the dark wizard's ambitions. Applebloom's company was assigned to hold a small, distant mountain pass stronghold. It was believed that this location was far removed from the fighting but was important to assure that commerce continued between Equestria and the lands beyond its border.

Applebloom yearned to be sent to the front line, but she accepted her orders and was determined to carry them out to the best of her abilities. However unbeknownst to anypony Al-Conikkrall had plans to attack several of these passes and the fortifications located there. His objectives were to disrupt Equestria's trade with her neighboring nations. To sow the seeds of doubt amongst those nations that the kingdom could defeat him. Finally he wanted harvest more souls for their power, and to add more undead soldiers to his growing ranks. One of the strongholds his forces attacked was Applebloom's.

Applebloom's forces put up a desperate defense but were no match for the onslaught that smashed into their tiny stronghold that night. The attackers numbers were too great and in their ranks were several very powerful necromancers and a lich-like construct who Al-Conikkrall could from great distances see through, manipulate, and cast his dark magics. Wielding a Sickle of Harvesting he tore through the mare's forces slaying all in his path and gathering their screaming souls.

Finally Al-Conikkrall came for Applebloom. With all her skill, courage, determination she attempted defended herself. The great lich found this young mare's efforts amusing and toyed with her. Slashing her with his sickle. Never dealing a lethal blow. Just playing with his prey.

Eventually Applebloom ran out space and found herself trapped on one of the high parapets looking out over a deep mountain chasm. With no place to run and no chance of defeating her foe the mare decided to deprive her enemy of her soul and threw herself over the parapet into the chasm below.

She plunged into the darkness expecting it to be her end, but after a few seconds she realized she'd been falling for too long? She should've smashed into the jagged rocks long ago? Suddenly she found herself no longer falling and she was standing on solid ground surrounded by complete darkness. Uncertain of what this meant she stood there. The dripping of blood from her wounds was the only sound. However she soon saw a light approaching. A lantern carried by a hooded, elderly mare. The mare stopped a few feet away and addressed her.

"My dear foal do you know why you are here?"

"Uh no ma'am." Applebloom replied.

The old mare raised the lantern and as if to get a better look at her visitor. Then she lowered it again. "I am Lolinor, Bearer of the Lantern. I am the guide who leads the newly departed from one existence to another. Dear can you tell me how you came to stand before me?"

Slowly Applebloom realized she was dead. Tears began to pour from her eyes as she told Lolinor of her final moments in the living world. Of the attack on the stronghold. Of watching her forces cut down by Al-Conikkrall's blade. Of her final decision to deny him of her soul. Her tears of sadness slowly turned to tears of anger and frustration as she described being helpless to save her troops from such a mighty foe. They'd been her forces and she'd failed them.

Lolinor heard the mare's words and rage she had for the great lich. Gently she reached out and rested her hand on Applebloom's shoulder. "I understand your frustration and digust for what that lich has done. He's usurped the Great Cycle and denied thousands the right to pass on to the beyond. Worse he's condemned countless souls to a horrible fate as they are tortured and twisted to perverse desires."

The Bearer of the Lantern took a step back. "I unable to leave my post. This is my destiny, but I am permitted to send a small number of worthy souls back to their starting point so they can finish some task. If you are willing to serve my needs I will grant you this."

So it was that Applebloom was returned to land of the living, but now she was Lolinor's champion in the land of living. Sent to strike down those who would destroy the Great Cycle. To aid her in her quest the Bearer of the Lantern gave the mare several powerful tools to aid her.

First and foremost is the scythe Wailing Vengeance. When swung the great blade howls like a legion of souls crying out for justice. With single stroke Applebloom can mow down great swaths of undead beings. The blade perpetually drips blood and if you look at the puddles that formed you can see tiny faces in the blood silently crying out to be avenged.

Around her waist is slung what appeared to be an old, worn cleaver. This was Spell Hewer. With it Applebloom can hack through many of clever spells and wards lichs and necromancers use to keep their souls out of the Great Cycle.

Finally there is the Flames of Fate. These were candles Applebloom carried in a satchel. Each one represented a lich or powerful necromancer. The candle represent that of individual time in the living world. When lit and then extinguished before commencing battle they countered the ability of the opponent's soul to escape if struck down and prevented it form returning to its phylactery or other device used to cheat death.

To aid in her efforts Applebloom can also call upon the Regiment of Revenants. An army of spirit warriors who have been wronged in the living world and sought to amend an injustice against them. Unfortunately one thing Lolinor cannot dois heal the wounds that Al-Conikkrall's blade has inflicted on the mare. Only striking down the great lich would cause them to finally heal. So they constantly seeped blood.

Now Applebloom walks the lands seeking to avenge the deaths of her soldiers and to rid the world of the undead and necromancers. I hope you like what you see. Please help make more art like this possible by supporting me at Patreon

#baron-engel #mlp #anthropomorphic #dreamscape #apple bloom #sword and sorcery #chainmail bikini #earth pony

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januaryembrs · 1 year

Text

APPRENTICE | Kylo Ren x force user!reader

Request: Hi! Can you do a Kylo Ren x Reader, where the reader is a wielder of the Force who begs Kylo to be her teacher and to learn more about it. Imagining she’s heard about him and The First Order, & knows that he’s a powerful force user.

@obsessionprofessional says - Congrats on almost 1000 followers! I hope it IS 1000 by the time you read this! May I please request a Kylo Ren x female reader piece in which he finally admits his feelings? And maybe they snuggle :3 Again, congratulations on this milestone!

description: You realise your slight quirk is actually much more than you ever imagined when you meet an Empire commander who asks you to become his apprentice.

word count: 2.5k

trigger warnings: swearing? slight angst? feeling of being unworthy?

main masterlist

Some people said you had a kind of magic touch when it came to fixing machines. Call it a dull way of living, but being plunged into a world where it was thrive or die, being a useful hand at repairing droids proved incredibly beneficial.

When the order ransacked your village, in need of a crew to fix up a ship that had crash landed nearby. It wasn’t until they started pulling out blasters and yelling threats that someone threw you into the line of fire by claiming you were the best in town at engineering. It was true of course, but the candour had meant you were dragged at gunpoint to the ship and forced to work.

You quickly realised this was not just any ship, but an officer's vehicle. Important, sleek, complex machinery. Not only that, its pilot looked royally pissed as he caressed a bleeding forehead and black eye.

His cold near-black eyes flicked to you as the troopers thrust you forward. “The villagers said this one could fix it,” They said, nodding a head in your direction. He looked you hard in the face, and you jutted your chin up to give some impression that you weren’t afraid.

Truthfully, you were shitting your cargos the moment you saw the saber on his hip.

“You know how to build ships?” He barked, almost as if he was tired of you already, despite the fact you hadn’t dared breathe yet. You swallowed heavily, the stone in your throat not quite dislodging itself.

“Some, yes,” He seemed displeased, as told by the slight tilt of his head, “Most actually,” you corrected yourself, warily. “I’d have to give it a look but with the right tools proba- yes,” You stumbled.

You had no clue what he was thinking as his eyes narrowed into slits. He nodded his head for you to approach the ship, which you did so promptly.

One small mistake and you just knew your heart would be ripped from your chest cavity in seconds.

Breathing in deeply through your nose, you lifted a gentle hand to the body of the ship. It hummed under your touch, as if groaning in pain from the damage to its body, and you let out a deep exhale, removing the control panel to at least pretend to be looking at the damage in the conventional way. You knew you didn’t even need to move an inch to discover the problem thanks to your superpower.

The parts of the ship flickered through your mind, each ticking over in their correct tune until your mind found the source of the problem. You had no clue how you’d always managed to feel the machines, feel every part of them with a single touch, as if they had a life or soul of their own; it was what made you so practical at your job.

You quickly assessed the engine was shot, along with part of the wing’s wiring needed rebuilding. You turned back to the unkind commander with the answer ready in your mouth, only to see him staring at you with something in between fascination and confusion.

“The wings-” You started only for him to cut you off.

“How did you do that?” His sneer shut you up. Normally people just took it that you were talented at your job, no one had ever caught onto what you were actually doing.

“Do- Do what exactly?” You stammered, chest puffing out in faux confidence.

He looked over you a moment longer, before igniting his saber and drawing it to your neck. You could feel the heat washing over your windpipe, the crackling of the weapon echoing in your ears.

You gulped, the bravery slipping with no heistance. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I felt the disturbance in the force. Are you really so stupid you thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Your face screwed up. “The force? What’s a force?” You asked, eyes flicking to the saber as he brought it closer to your jugular. It was then you crumbled, “Please! I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do, it’s how I fix machines so quickly back home-”

“So you have no idea what you are?” He mutters, his eyes dark as they took you in whole. He saw the sincerity in your puzzled expression, saw how your eyes showed nothing but fear and helplessness, like a wounded animal in need of a mercy kill.

He grunted, thrusting out a hand to his ship. You thought he was getting ready to strike you with his bare hand, drawing in on yourself. It was then that you heard a loud groan of metal work, and your head snapped to the ship behind you. You watched as something strong began crushing the vessel, as if the air around it was betraying itself and began squeezing. The metal dented, falling under the weight of the traitorous force.

Force. He had said it himself.

Your head whipped back to meet his eyes, dark and ravenous for the truth. “Do you see? We’re the same, you and I.” Your mouth dropped open, settling for a nod.

He took a step closer to you, a gloved hand coming up to hold your temple, fingers gentle caressing your head. “You think I could do that?” You whispered, feeling something heavy settle over your brain, as if a bug had crawled into your ear as he touched you. You daren’t move away, something about his sharp eyes stunning you into place.

You wished to know what it was he thought you were capable of, the blind faith he was putting in you and whatever this force was you had.

Of course you’d always wondered what it was that made you special, and here he was offering you an explanation.

“You don’t know just how special you are,” He said clearly, dropping his hand. His black eyes flicked over your face that drew back in shock. It was as if he’d heard every thought you’d had, surely he couldn’t have. “I could show you just how remarkable you could be, just say the word.”

You gaped at him, stuck for words. The Empire were evil, they tore everything good up from the root and left the rest of the world to rot. You could never be one of them, never succumb to their ways. But you yearned to know what it was that gave you this power, yearned to wield it, perhaps even then use it for good; wanted to learn how to become as powerful and strong as he was. You saw how the troopers cowered around him, perhaps you could even hold that fear over them.

You looked up at him, his eyes calculating as they took you in. He could give you all that.

“Teach me,” You murmured back.

“Again!” He commanded, your chest constricting in an ache now familiar to you. It had been six months since he had found you and while you had come on leaps and bounds than simply testing machinery, you were even able to move objects with your powers now.

The Force as you had come to understand it was peculiar in how it presented itself in each user. Kylo, who you spent most days with as his new apprentice, had told you some were better at healing while others specialised in combat, though you were pretty sure he was trying to comfort you in his own way at the fact you struggled some days to so much as lift blocks than move people like he could.

Today being one of those days, where no matter how hard you pushed yourself, how hard you willed your hand to grasp the metal block and bring it to yourself, the damn thing would not budge.

“Kylo, I’m trying,” You grunted between attempts. You wouldn’t be surprised if you burst a vessel at this point with the exertion on your brain, “I can’t-”

“You are much more capable than you know,” The man retorted, and you felt his snake-like eyes watching as your face crumpled in effort. It was supposed to be supportive, but the way he said it was cold and plunging to your chest, as if he was tired of your dramatics.

It only served to dishearten you further.

“You expect too much of me, I’m no better than any child trying to learn this stuff,” You snapped, lowering your hand with a slap to your leg. You were tired, tired of all of this. “Maybe-” You willed yourself not to cry, “Do you ever think maybe I’m just not good enough?”

The past six months had truly taken your spirit out of you. Kylo woke you up early most days for the two of you to eat together before you had training. From there it was four hours in the morning, a break for lunch, then studying the texts he gave you on force users that came before you. Then more training like today's session, usually about object manipulation but he had been trying to get you to learn how to read his mind for the past few weeks. That alone was proving difficult since you were constantly on edge wondering if he was doing the same to you, the way his eyes darkened and jaw clenched making you believe he knew exactly what you were thinking.

It wasn’t so difficult to see with one look into your head that your every thought revolved around him these days. How handsome he was, how he occasionally would caress your arm when helping you to focus, which only worked to send you spiralling. How pretty he was when he laughed if you said something particularly witty over first meal.

You stopped trying, looking up at him tiredly. “What if I’m not as special as you want me to be?” You asked emptily. Seeing how talented he was only rubbed salt in the wound of your failures and had you wondering if you were cut out to be here for weeks now.

He stopped, looking across the room at where you stood looking hopeless. “You’re being stupid,” He said, but the way his eyebrows quirked upwards slightly told you he wasn’t as annoyed as he sounded.

“No!” You protested, shrugging your shoulders and rubbing your neck, “You keep saying I can be great, I can be so much more- but you don’t get it. I’m trying, I’m bleeding myself dry to please you and I just know I’m never going to be as powerful as you want me to be,”

He was losing you, he could feel you slipping between his fingers as you stepped away from him. He knew he was pushing you but it was only because he saw the fire burning inside of you, the energy growing day by day, because he wanted you to be able to defend yourself if the worst should happen, if he couldn’t be there to take care of you.

Kylo had not known any feeling like this before, as if the day he saw you fix his machine he had met himself in the form of another. Someone who could understand, who he could shape into an equal. His fondness only grew once he realised how funny you were, how your mind ticked in an entirely different way to his own, how you were not another version of him but your own in an entirely unique way.

He loved how kind you were, and gentle. Something he never was in this life. He saw how you looked at him, and he simply longed for you to realise just how much he cared.

“You are,” Kylo whispered, finding his voice before you could turn away from him for good. You looked up at him, hearing him mumble under his breath. “You can be so powerful if you keep trying,”

You shook your head, feeling as if this were the same thing you had heard time and time again, “Maybe it’s best if I just go home,”

That had his heart plummeting, “No, don’t-”

“I think that would be best for both of us. I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time,” You turned to exit the training room, wondering how you would get back to your home planet.

“Wait!” He tried calling, and with three simple strides he had caught up to you and grabbed a tight hold of your arm, willing you not to go, “Please,”

That was a shock. He had never used such a word in the time you’d known him. You eyes snapped to his to see him staring down at you like a vulnerable creature.

“Kylo-”

“You can’t leave me, please,” He begged, pulling you closer, “I know I don’t tell you, I haven’t told you but you are already spectacular. You never needed me to be special,”

You frowned at him up at him, head drawing back in frustration. “Don’t take pity on me, Kylo. I don’t need it,”

“No, it’s true! It was never me that made you amazing,” Kylo said, drawing you into his embrace further, as if scared you would flee like a scared sand rat, “You were all that on your own,” He went quiet, as if debating whether to talk more before his eyes flicked to your sneering lips, “It’s one of the things I like most about you, actually,”

Your chest stopped, mouth struggling to choose between hanging open and remaining clamped shut as you tried to formulate words.

He liked you. He liked you, and he no doubt knew just from one touch alone you liked him. Of course he must know. Should you tell him how you feel despite that? He must know, you must make sure he knows its mutual-

“Just,” Kylo’s begging cut through the tangent your brain sent you into as it always did when you thought of him, “Please don’t leave. I don’t want to be alone again. You mean more to me than I know what to do with,” His voice was quiet now, each word breathing over your lips.

Anything. You would do anything for him if it meant he would keep looking at you like that, begging you like that.

You didn’t need to read his mind to know he was being honest, to know you needed each other more than either of your had ever realised.

#kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanart #adam driver #Adam driver x reader #Adam driver imagine #kylo ren #ben solo x reader #ben solo imagine #ben solo fanfiction

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bloobluebloo · 2 months

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I was chatting about this earlier, but it is very interesting to me that the scene where Ganondorf mounts his molduga attack is called "Gerudo Assault", which suggests that this was military action that was instigated by the Gerudo with the intent of harming Hyrule. However, it is pertinent to note that moldugas can only move in sand, which means that in order for Ganondorf and the Gerudo to mount such an attack to begin with, they had to be in an area that had to have a sufficient amount of sand for them to move. What is also of note is that there is an established Hyrulean outpost close to this area where the molduga were able to emerge and, if one looks closely enough, that the molduga were pretty much confined to this sandy area between cliffs, cliffs on which the Hyrulean outpost was established. This means that the molduga can only really cause damage by either a) attacking any troops that may be stationed between these cliffsides on the ground or b) jump high enough somehow to reach the Hyrulean outpost or c) that these molduga can somehow travel over rocky hillsides or areas that are not sandy (which seems to be unlikely or else I think they would have begun to immediately climb the cliffsides). This does make one wonder if the intent behind summoning these moldugas was meant to be an assault since it does seem like a rather ineffective move, or it there were ulterior motives. For one, it did force Rauru to draw out the power of his secret stone, effectively demonstrating its power to Ganondorf. This in turn allowed Ganondorf to gauge whether he could overpower Hyrule with force or if he required a more underhanded approach. The show of fealty being the immediate next scene says it all. It does also, in a sense, demonstrate Ganondorf's own power, that with no magical stones to speak of he has such command over these monsters.

Now, when you think about it further, where is there sufficient enough sand in Hyrule for the molduga to move so efficiently? It is only in Gerudo territory and its borders. The fact that Hyrule already had a fully operational outpost stationed so close for a molduga swarm to even be possible, to a territory that up until then had been completely silent on accepting fealty to Hyrule, and that Rauru Sonia and Zelda were already present at that particular outpost, does beg for several eyebrow raising questions. First of all, what were the royals doing there? Did they have some form of information that the Gerudo were planning something, and were surprised it was a molduga attack? Was the original intent stationing themselves closer to Gerudo territory was to find out why the Gerudo were refusing Hyrule's invitations, perhaps in a bid to draw Ganondorf out for talks?

(I for one do not buy at all that Rauru, Sonia, or Zelda were oblivious to the fact that Ganondorf and the Gerudo were responsible for the attack. If, according to interviews, the shrines were established by Rauru and Sonia to seal demons, then they have 1) absolutely travelled into Gerudo territory and 2) must be aware of moldugas and where they come from and 3) the scene would not be called Gerudo Assault since we are viewing Zelda's memories, pointing to the fact that she is aware)

Anyways, the point of this is that I think it is a bit...questionable to frame this scene as a "Gerudo" Assault. It disregards the fact that Hyrule had built a military outpost so close to a territory that was still autonomous, a silent hint of coercion that they were readying for war in case the Gerudo did not come to offer their fealty willingly. The Gerudo responding to this with an army that essentially had "please fuck off" written all over it I think is justified, and is hardly an assault, moreso a defensive move actually. Calling it a Gerudo assault also entails that this was something the Gerudo, not just Ganondorf, initiated, because this game loves to frame opposition to Hyrule as something evil and something only Ganondorf does. Is it really farfetched to believe that Ganondorf, at least at that point in time, was representing the will of his people by sending a warning to Hyrule and its oh-so-close military outpost ?

#ganonthots

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frozen-fountain · 2 months

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Find the Word... Love Edition!

Thank you to @mothboypoison for the tag :) In return I nominate @hrh-spinach, @ourspecial, @runicmagitek, @laboradorescence, @visualheresy, @keioschaos, @wandringaesthetic, @danceswithdarkspawn! And anyone else who wants to join in.

Words for me to find: hand, familiar, embrace, yearning, dear

Words for you to find: lips, holding, present, star, simple

Hand

- from Aperture Priority

The tram left them in the shadow of the command centre, under a roof patterned with leaping dolphins in the undulating hues of the sea. Last time he stood below that waveless surface Elmyra kissed his cheek and put him on the journey home, and just the touch of her hand melted the layer of rime that still clung to his skin after months making wind power in the far north. She had pictures to show him, too, of Corel in a new spring where the sun awakened the mountain fern and things were being built again – thanks in no little part to the expertise a certain master of materia shared with them the year before. He smiled as he took Marlene's hand again and led her through wide streets bereft of road markings where no cars roved, framed by cascades of flowering vines and merry market stalls. Elmyra's green fingertips had touched every part of the city, left a little Cetra magic down every dirty alley she walked at the start of it all, and some of those sparks still danced on his skin, too. The town was lit in amber the first evening, when she took his hand and marched him through the streets she helped to shape, back to her place without a second's hesitation. Not until her clothes came off and she covered her chest with her palms, like he was meant to be surprised she didn't have the body of a twenty-year-old beauty queen under there. He stepped closer and took her hands in his and she placed them on his arm, over the rough and cratered band where skin met metal.

Familiar

- from Dulosis

Elena blinked. The lines between the sky and the trees were still there. Connecting lines. Not separation boundaries. One could not be without the other. “My parents used to say people who did drugs only had themselves to blame when they ended up selling their bodies in the gutter.” Her mouth moved on its own, shaping familiar sounds with no weight behind them. Yuffie snorted. “Kinda hard when you freaks don't use money anymore. 'Sides, what a load of horseshit. Old Man Shinra did just fine, and there's no way he wasn't powdering his nose when no-one was looking. Hell, probably when they were, too. Who was gonna stop him?” A laugh bubbled up out of Elena's nose. “I believe Sephiroth had that honour.” Yuffie was silent, then responded with a quiet, “heh. Yeah. He did. And I'm the one who stopped Sephiroth.”

Embrace

- from Into the Night Uncharted

The lights stayed with him on the long flight across the ocean. And then rose Junon, a cracked and rotten tooth jutting out of the broken ground. He would be there for the days when the seeds his friends had planted came at last to full bloom and draped the concrete bulwark all in green, when butterflies flocked about the heights and the people sang in the streets. He'd be there when the last grain of the desert beyond the mountains blew away and left only trees and flowers to tell the tale. And he'd be there, still, when the ocean returned the city's verdant embrace at last and toppled the tall tower, taking it and leaving it somewhere else as time marched on and made new.

Yearning

- from Prints

The yowl crawled in from the empty hall, long-drawn and full of yearning. Reeve put his equations to the side and rubbed the blur from his eyes. Rolling his neck and straightening his back yielded a chain reaction of cracks and crunches, and he groaned. “I'm right here, pretty girl.” Another keening wail prompted a pause in the clatter behind him. “She wants attention where she is,” said the disembodied husky voice from the kitchen. “Probably.” The rise and the run and the long strings of numbers had stopped translating into a helpful vision of ramps and pulleys about half an hour ago, anyway. Junon's first high-rise farm, the project of a lifetime and culmination of five years of the city's healing, could wait. Reeve slid from the couch onto his knees, into a patch of late afternoon dappled light. He rapped with three knuckles on the floorboard. A chirrup, a scrabble of claws, and a small clear bell sang in time with Freya's soft trot along the corridor. She stopped in the doorway, then barrelled into his open arms, ringing with every bound. Reeve laughed as she nuzzled into his shoulder, pressed her lithe body against him until the gentle rumble of her purr reverberated in his own chest. “You're so big now,” he whispered, kissing silky fur and scratching her ears. “How'd you get so big, when I wasn't looking?”

Dear

- from Fogged Windows

Terra sighed as she smoothed her skirts, tugging at the darker dampened patches. “Oh, dear. It really is obvious what we've been doing, isn't it?” “You slipped while picking the carnations and pulled me down with you. Or we had a water fight, which I would win.” Terra laughed. “You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?” She slipped her sandals back onto her feet, but it helped little. Her hair was a knotted briar and her dress, wrinkled and wet, did nothing to disguise the prominence of her still-roused nipples. Celes nodded, reaching down past the sodden patches daubed on her legs for her boots. “We could head for my chambers, if you wish. They're closer and more out of the way. We'll find you something more presentable to put on.” And I could have you screaming the night away with no-one the wiser. You'll see what I can do with a bed under us, she didn't say. Not with Terra still pale and shaken and blinking away tears. Celes would only clothe her, hold her, let her fall asleep on her shoulder or read to her until guilt, that most unwelcome of intruders, left the way it came in the night.

#froze fics

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thewhumperinwhite · 3 months

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WKW: The Truth, Carefully Chosen

Masterpost // previous

@annablogsposts @whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff @the-monarch-whumperfly @iboopsstuff

TW for: minor character death/murder, decapitation; referenced beating/caning; abuse of power, basically an interrogation under threat of death/torture; temporary paralysis; noncon touching (nonsexual); possible/threatened brain and heart damage, nosebleed.

gonna ride this unexpected burst of motivation as far as it will take me. thanks for the positive response to last chapter, it was a surprise!! hope you like this one too.

----

The Winter King seems to have burned through most of the incandescent rage that animated him back in Thorne’s quarters, barring the occasional flicker in the depths of his black eyes. Morden has entered the Healer’s parlor carrying a small golden chest under one arm, which he sets gently on the floor. Then he settles into the chair beside the Healer’s operating table; Andry lies there, able to keep his eyes open- but little else. The cane Morden did not quite finish beating Andry to death with is not in evidence.

“Tell me about your sister,” Morden says.

Andry feels his heartbeat, already rabbit-fast, stumble a little faster. A long night of being dragged back and forth across death’s threshold has wrung all the fear out of his mind, but evidently there is still room for it in his body.

“Wait,” Morden says, when Andry has managed to convince his mouth to open. “Before you begin. Insurance.”

He lays his hand on Andry’s shoulder—Andry feels the muscles in his back spasm slightly as try and fail to go tense at the touch—and a faint jolt of energy shoots from Morden’s palm, branching down Andry’s arm and in towards his fluttering heart.

For a second it doesn’t feel like much at all; and then it reaches his ruined arm and explodes back upward like lightning hitting a dead tree. White spots burst across Andry’s vision; he hears the thunk of his own head hitting the table as his back arches on its own. His head doesn’t hurt until a few seconds later; by then his heart is pounding hard enough that his chest and temples feel hot and sore. His head has snapped to the side, so that the new stream of blood from his nose is dripping down the side of his face. There is blood in his mouth, too; he must have bitten his tongue.

He tries to swallow, and winces. The back of his throat feels like broken glass.

Morden is watching him closely, though he seems focused on something other than joy at Andry’s suffering, for once. Andry wishes he could find that comforting. The air between his face and Morden’s has taken on a faint purple shimmer that he realizes a second late must be magic. The pain in Andry’s arm settles slowly into an almost-bearable background hum, though the muscles in his bicep keep jumping, making the metal cuff clatter against the table.

“If you want to live, Highness,” Morden says, “don’t lie.”

Andry tries to nod, and realizes that he can’t; the muscles in his throat and back have stopped responding to his commands. He blinks once, rather slowly, instead.

Morden nods to show he understands. Andry hates him. “Who is your sister?” Morden asks, his tone firmly neutral.

Andry—breathes in. His throat is cracked and dry and tastes like blood; it takes him three tries to make any sound at all.

“…inth,” he manages. Closes his eyes, breathes, tries again. “Hya… cinth. Of… Rose.”

Morden nods again.

“Very good. There’s a start. How about this, then: describe her.”

Andry swallows, and is immediately sorry; the shudder that runs through him afterwards is weakened by exhaustion, but still hurts the wrung-out muscles of his back and stomach. He feels as though he has tried to swallow his Father’s sword. Or one of Karya’s antlers.

“Faster, Little Prince.”

It took all the energy Andry had to move his arm to stop the Healer from killing herself; at least he does not have to fight to keep from making rude gestures at the Winter King.

“…Blonde,” he manages, after he wrestles past the bloody-tasting lump in his throat.

Morden’s black eyes flash, and for a moment Andry thinks that he has finally done it, finally reached the threshold of the Winter King’s limited patience, and without being ready for it this time. Then Morden raises his hand again, and presses two gloved fingers against the side of Andry’s throat.

Andry closes his eyes, since he cannot back away. He can feel his heart fluttering against Morden’s fingers, like a bird in a cat's mouth.

The air shifts as Morden gets to his feet. Something soft brushes Andry’s cheek. When Andry opens his eyes, Morden is leaning over the table, his face very close to Andry’s, the long black curtain of Morden’s hair hanging around them both. His fingers are still pressed just under Andry’s jaw, palm now resting lightly across Andry’s voicebox.

“Your heart is running itself ragged, little Prince,” Morden says. Andry can feel Morden’s breath on his cheek. “I don’t know if it will take another jolt, but I can make the experiment, if you’d like.”

Andry breathes out, thinly, past Morden’s fingers on his throat. There’s little enough else for him to do.

“Describe Lady Hyacinth of House Rose, Prince,” Morden says. His voice is soft, as though speaking to a lover. “Not her hair. Her heart, if you please. What kind of woman is she?”

Andry wants to shake his head. Perhaps it is fortunate that he cannot; he doesn’t know if Morden’s spell will count feigned ignorance as lying. He blinks again, instead. Morden sighs, sounding indulgent, if anything. His hand on Andry’s throat—the implicit threat there, and Andry limp and unmoving under it—seems to have calmed him; he looks almost affectionate, now.

“Surely you don’t want me to be cross with you again already,” Morden says, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Andry is very aware, this close, of Morden’s beauty; fear is starting to lick at the edges of Andry’s mind again, like fire catching on paper. “Come, Prince. Talk. I’m sure you can think of some simple words that won’t hurt your poor pretty throat too much.”

Andry does not close his eyes; that would mean dropping Morden’s gaze, and he doesn’t have the strength left to do that.

“She's... clever,” he rasps, after a moment. He can’t think of anything else that isn’t a lie.

Morden stays where he is for another long, torturous moment. Then he sighs and sits back the Healer’s chair, crossing his arms; Andry breathes out, feeling limp and wrung out with relief.

“Yes,” Morden says. “I got that impression. And is your sister kind, Prince?”

Andry stares at him. It is—it is unfair of the Winter King, to lay traps like these so soon after trying to kill him. If Morden had given him another hour or two to gather his thoughts, he would not feel so much like he was walking beside a very long drop with no light by which to see the edge. Andry tries to push aside the childlike anger that is threatening to make his eyes well up; it is more difficult than usual.

“I don’t know,” he says. His voice is still a burnt-dry rasp; now it is also trembling. He feels his face heat up with a nonsensical embarrassed flush.

Morden shakes his head, gives one huff of mirthless laughter. “Fine. Better question.” He leans forward, watching Andry’s face closely. “Does your sister love you, Summer Prince?”

Andry stares at him.

He still cannot see the edge. But he knows what is at the bottom of that long drop: that the wrong answer will hurt him, will hurt Asher, as every wrong step in this House has always threatened to do—might hurt Cinthy, the last safe unthreatened thing he has.

Andry cannot move. But that is nothing new; he is used to this House binding his hands and breaking his back; he has never been able to move freely. Andry closes his eyes, gathers what he has, all the skills he has learned after all these years in his Father’s house, and thinks, instead.

He thinks of Cinth’s face, of the arrogant lift of her chin, of her mouth twisted in disdain at Audoine’s back; of her the speed with which she could slap Andry’s hands away from a coveted book or toy without their mother seeing; of her sharp words and her sharper elbow aimed Andry’s ribs under the table; of the fierce narrowing of her eyes as she corrected his posture, and her own. He thinks of Hyacinth, her cleverness, and ambition, and anger. It has been months, now, with no word from the Rose Trellis; who knows what plans she might have made, if she has decided to give him up?

“I don’t know,” Andry says, and it is true exactly long enough to matter.

Morden watches him, waiting—the same as Andry is—for his spell to tell him that Andry is lying. When nothing happens, Morden hums thoughtfully, and then bends down to retrieve the little golden chest he brought with him into the room. He sets it on the table, where it sits coldly against Andry’s aching ribs.

“Lady Hyacinth has sent me a gift,” Morden says. “It’s a—oh, what would the word for it be, in your tongue? A dowry.”

Andry does not know what expression he makes, but is an honest one; he doesn’t have time to hide it. Surprise is too mild, probably. Maybe horror. It seems to satisfy Morden, either way. His eyes are no longer flashing; they have simmered down to their customary amused twinkle.

“It’s rather extravagant, Highness. Here,” Morden says, “I’ll show you.”

Andry will never forget what his father’s head looked like, when they threw it at him on the balcony, and Thorne held it up for everyone to see. This is—both better, and worse. It has clearly been longer; time and travel have not been kind to Cinthy’s gift. It takes Andry a long moment to recognize the face of Cinth's grandfather, the Rose Count.

“Custom dictates I reciprocate, I believe,” Morden says, though Andry only half hears him. “What do you think your sister has asked for in return, Summer Prince?”

----

“I am begging you, Lady,” General Amara says, while Lady Hyacinth is drafting her letter, two weeks before it arrives, battered parcel attached, on the Winter King’s desk. “Ask for something else.”

Hyacinth does not look up from her desk, where her quill is moving swiftly along the current parchment sheet, half-hidden among a small graveyard of balled-up rejected drafts. Her mouth is pressed into a tight line, and a few strands of hair have come loose from her elaborate braid. If she knew her Lady even slightly less well, Amara would believe her wholly unbothered. Lady Hyacinth’s hands are still pink from over-scrubbing, but she is clean of blood.

“You cannot do this, my Lady,” Amara says, not for the first time.

“I’ve already cut it off, General,” Hyacinth says, tearing this sheet of parchment free from the pallet and throwing it over her shoulder. “It would be a waste not to send it now.”

Amara shakes her head, strides up to stand behind the Lady at the desk, shuddering slightly at the sight of the gold box perched upon it, looking neat and innocent now that it has been shut and locked. “No, my Lady. I have agreed to this—plan; I have not tried to steer you from this course; we have gone too far to turn back now. But I must counsel you, please—ask for something that will be of use.”

The Lady’s expression does not change, but her quill snaps in half mid-stroke. She sets it down on the desk, her movements calm and deliberate.

Amara winces. “Sorry, Lady. I didn’t mean—you know.”

The Lady takes a visible breath, and squares her shoulders. Then she turns in her seat to meet Amara’s eyes. Amara wilts under her gaze. Even now—eyes shadowed from lack of sleep, hands clasped neatly on the table to keep them from shaking—the Lady is very beautiful. Amara feels, not for the first time, that she would be much better at her job if the Lady were plain.

“General,” the Lady says. “Do you trust me?”

It isn’t as simple as that, and they both know it. The Lady is an excellent liar, and Amara is better at seeing her tells than most, and is almost sure that what Cinth has told the officers, that the Count’s death was natural, and to her great sorrow she has no choice but to make use of the opportunity, is a lie. So, in point of fact, she does not trust Lady Hyacinth; it is just that she has—begun following the Lady, and keeps letting the Lady have her way, and doesn’t seem to be able to stop.

“…Yes,” Amara says, reluctantly, and has the unsettling impression that the Lady knows exactly what she means.

“Good,” Lady Hyacinth says. “Then fetch me another quill.” She turns her back on Amara, and Amara sighs, and does as she is told.

#the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #truth spell #exhaustion #magical torture #minor character death #beheading

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