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rboooks · 11 months

Note

If you take requests can you do a dc x dp with dead tired ship?

I love requests~! I really hope I got dead tired, ship, right. I need to find out the ship names. It's Tim/Danny, right? If not, let me know, and I'll fix you another one.

Tim really wasn't looking forward to meeting the new heir to Vladco. Usually, his parents didn't want anything to do with new money, as they thought that new money was too close to no money, but Vlad Masters was different.

The difference? He bought out almost all of Drake Industries' shares, and now Tim honestly thinks he owns more of the family company than his parents. Jack and Janet hoped to make good connections with the man and slowly but surely trick him into selling the shares back to the Drakes.

Tim thought if he was smart enough to get the people that bought shares of his family company generations ago, not just once but at least eight times, then Vlad Masters wouldn't be as easy to trick as they thought.

Then again, his parents aren't the best businessmen around. If they were, they wouldn't be flying through the family wealth, leading them to bankruptcy.

Tim would know.

One day, he looked at their books when he was bored a few months after discovering Batman's identity. He tried to tell his mom about it, but she told him that he didn't understand the business well enough to tell.

So he signed himself into college-level business courses online to learn it. She didn't appreciate his initiative.

"Remember, Tim, Daniel Masters is who you must befriend," Janet says for the third time as they climb out of their car. " Friendships are the ladders to climbing up in the world."

"Yes, Mom." He tries to smile at her, but all Tim wants to do is go back to the roofs of Gotham and watch the Bats.

Jason is supposed to start his solo patrols tonight, which is a big deal, and he's missing it. His parents weren't supposed to be back for another month. However, their latest job was canceled due to locals complaining.

His dad grumbled about people getting in the way of history, but Tim thinks it has more to do with his parents wanting to dig up an old cemetery......apparently the locals like their grandparent's resting place to be left alone.

Tim also thinks it's not lovely to dig there just because the locals are poor, so he may have hacked into the country's files and flooded the internet with the disrespectful attempt that his parents were trying to make. It received the right amount of backlash to stop the whole operation.

He then sent the community an anonymous donation so they could fix it up, get the gravestones washed, and the stories of the buried people turned into a book. It's the least he could do.

Tim's parents didn't realize the loss of funds only because he carefully hid his tracks with shell companies.

They are greeted at the door by Vlad Masters. He gives his father a handshake, compliments his mother's dress, and even offers Tim a gentle hello. Masters is known for being a bit of a humble hermit, soft-spoken but with sharp, intelligent eyes.

Everything he expects new money to be, down to his mannerism and even the way he stands. Tim would have been able to clock him miles away without even knowing his name.

"This is my son, Daniel," Masters says, patting the head of a frowning boy Tim's age. He stands just a bit away from Masters as if he does not want to be near him. Tim notes the way he shies away from Master's hand.

Interesting.

"It's Danny." The boy hisses. Mom's face tightens at his manners. She never liked children being heard instead of seen. Danny takes a small breath before smiling at the Drakes with a friendlier composure.

The hostility was only toward his father?

"Please call me Danny. It's my real name, not a nickname," He says, offering his hand for a shake. Tim fights a wince. As the son of a wealthy family and not the head, Danny is not supposed to initiate a greeting with Tim's dad.

He just told the Drakes he needs to be aware of high society rules, making him easy pickings. His parents jump onto that weakness like a lion on a trap gazelle.

"Daniel. It's lovely to meet you. " Mom's articulation is just a shade away from being mocking. Danny's smile falls off his face closing down into a near-emotionless mask. "How old are you, deary?"

"I'm old enough to still hear correctly, unlike you. That's not my name. It's Danny." He says much to mom's surprise. Tim guesses she's not used to people challenging her so directly. He learned that, too, while he was running Gotham.

The elites always made passive-aggressive backhanded comments to insult each other. The poor told you to fuck off to your face.

"You do not speak that way to my wife, Daniel-" His Dad starts, but Danny holds up his hand.

"You either call me Danny or don't talk to me." He says. "I don't need to waste my breath repeating myself."

Wow. Tim thinks, watching the red growing on Dad's face. He's cool.

"Are you going to let him talk to me like that?" Dad demands, turning to an amuse-looking Masters. The other man raises a brow, his gentle smile still on his face, but somehow it looks more....dismissive now. As if he was looking at a child demanding the impossible.

"Why ever do you mean?" Masters asks, "Your tone implies you were insulted, but that would mean you are upset with a child asking to be spoken to with respect. Surely, a man of your standing knows children deserve respect?"

"They need to respect their elders." Mom cuts in her voice like ice.

"He is my son, so I am his elder. Not you." Master counters, "But not to worry, I will remedy this issue. Danny will no longer be speaking to you disrespectfully, as I will not allow him to be near you."

His parents had a few seconds of looking smug until Masters waved his hand back towards the driveway. "Have a lovely night, Mr. and Mrs. Drake."

"Excuse me?" Mom cries, and Tim can't believe his eyes. The rest of the wealthy guests have caught on to the issue and have gathered near the windows and doorway to watch.

"That's Fruitloop for You can leave now." Danny chirps starting to look more like his father by the amusement on his face. "Except for him. He's cool."

He points to Tim, who flushes at the attention. He had been staring at Danny, taking in every detail of his expression and body language, fascinated by the fact he did not once seem intimidated. He didn't even look bored.

He seemed comfortable in his slightly slouched posture and confident in his skin and abilities. But his earlier behavior implied that just as he is confident in himself, he also doesn't think very highly of himself.

Tim's never seen anyone like that. It's strange. New. Exciting.

Heck, it was exhilarating.

Tim wanted to break Danny Masters' head open and figure everything about him out. It felt like a new case just begging him to uncover.

"I am?" He asks in a slight daze, and the other boy offers him a dazzling smile.

"Yeah, you respect the dead. The spirits adore you."

What?

"Oh, this is the young boy who protected that cemetery in Guatemala?" Masters asks with genuine warmth this time. "A fine job, Timithoy."

"It's Tim." He hears himself say, and Masters nods.

"A fine job Tim."

Danny offers him a wink, and Tim thinks his stomach just fell out of his body. What is this-?

"Timothy, we are leaving!" His mother screeches, tugging on his arm and yanking him away. The rest of the guests laugh as the Drakes are driven away. Tim knows he will never be allowed near Danny after this, so he turns his head around to give the boy one last look.

He meets the glowing green eyes of the Masters, who wave their fingers at him.

Tim starts following Danny around after that.

(Danny and Vlad know he's there and think it's cute. That's how ghost courts, so they don't see it as a problem. What is problem is getting along long enough for them to figure out a way back to their home dimension. Danny allowed Vlad to overshadow people just so they could have the means to eat, but he's getting really sick of Gotham. At least the soft clicking sound of a camera lures him to sleep at night.

Tim approaches Robin before his hero can go to Ethiopia. He doesn't understand what he is experiencing as his first crush and concludes that the Masters are aliens planning on luring small children by making them fall under a spell through their glowing eyes. Jason takes this very seriously and agrees to wait on his mission overseas. He realizes early on what's actually happening but, by that point, thinks Tim is hilarious and just edges him on.

He, too, thinks the Masters are aliens, but he's not about to tell Bruce.)

#dc x dp crossover #The Masters are aliens Au #Requested Prompt #Danny Fenton/Tim Drake #Bad parents Jack and Janet Drake #Tim is 13 here #Danny is 14 #Vlad just thinks this all hilarious #Dimension travel #They call DC dead “spirits” and not ghost cause they lack more ecotplsm

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redclercs · 11 months

Text

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xi.it’s okay we’re the best of friends

— the one where all you do is think about the feelings that you hide.

warnings: guys, my brain was failing during this so not really proofread, also please pretend the dress is the same in both pics lol, alcohol consumption. 2.5k words.

currently playing: drive by halsey!

masterlist ✢ next

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softyn FIRST POST SINCE MAY AND MOTHER WANTS US DEAD

ynstars I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SLAY

aid4anfeels ugly bitch

lecsainz516 whose wedding is this, charles and carlos were there too

formulayn did @/charles_leclerc take these?

liked by charles_leclerc

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE LIMITED.

August 5th, Madrid, Spain.

WHEN Charles said you needed to make new memories in Spain to replace the bad ones, you didn’t have a wedding in mind. However, with the rollercoaster that is your life as of lately, you don’t swim against the current anymore. Just going with it is not a bad way to live when you’re still trying to reach the surface and get away from the wreckage.

Things aren’t good. Not yet. The press is still having a field day with all that he said, she said merry go round. Aidan and Victoria are fighting to play the victim and Mia Kim is on a mission to paint you as the worst sister-in-law who could have ever existed. Which, to be fair, paints her in a weird Freudian light.

But things are better than they were the last time you were in Spain. And that’s something to be grateful for.

“Are you sure?” You asked Charles on FaceTime for the third time that night two weeks ago, he had just asked you to be his plus one to one of his Ferrari mates’ wedding. “Are you a hundred percent sure they won’t mind?”

The last thing you wanted was to feel like an intruder, and with the type of attention you carry around like a dark cloud over your head, ruining someone’s special day was not an experience you wanted to add to your repertoire.

“Of course they won’t mind, soleil.” Charles assured, he was still in Hungary after the Grand Prix. “Tommaso told me I could bring anyone, and I want to bring you.”

The last time you saw Charles in person was in New York City, almost two months ago. It doesn't mean, of course, that you stopped communicating. Whenever Charles is on his phone, you can be certain you'll receive a text, a picture or a random iMessage drawing. You handle time zones as best you can without sacrificing too much sleep time, especially for the one who has to drive a car at 300 km/hr.

Although he insisted on you coming to any Grand Prix of your choice, you thought it best to stay away from the paddock for a while. Plus, you had some work to do. You didn't love Talk Shows while promoting, most hosts did horrible, unfunny jokes, and you were the butt of a lot of them, but if being in some of them helped you to speak about your situation and dismiss whatever rumor Victoria, Aidan or Mia (or just about half the internet) had going on, you were willing to make the sacrifice.

You were also willing to attend a complete stranger's wedding just to see Charles again, but you didn't want to give that thought the depth it demanded from you. Not in the seven hour flight from New York to Madrid, and not now, as you're getting ready for Charles to pick you up to go to the wedding.

Your blue dress is frankly magnificent, and you are aware of how good you look, but it doesn't hurt that the first thing Charles does when the doors to the lift open, is compliment you. Well, to be fair, the first thing he does is gather his thoughts and try not to feel stupid after basically picking his jaw up from the floor.

"You look gorgeous," Charles says, clearing his throat. His sudden anxiety makes you chuckle, as his Adam's apple bobs up his neck. "I missed you so much, soleil."

You are mildly disappointed when he doesn't hug you the way he did back in New York, and you dismiss the feeling almost as quickly as it appeared. Although his words linger in the air, he missed you, and you did too.

"I don't want to ruin your hair," he explains, as if he's read your mind, and smiles wider.

"Right," you shake your head, it was obvious. "You look pretty good yourself, Charlie," you add, always trying to return the compliment, and only managing to make it awkward.

There is something about men in suits that makes them twice as attractive, and it's unfair when it comes to someone like Charles, who is already way too handsome as it is.

"Thank you," Charles is always nice enough to accept your half-assed, anxiety induced compliments. "Shall we?"

You nod, and when he offers his arm to lead you to the car, you link yours through it taking a breath so deep, it makes your lungs ache.

"Do you like weddings?" Charles asks as the engine of his car roars to life. A red Ferrari is the only way you manage to describe it, afraid of getting details wrong. Although you're certain Charles would patiently explain anything you needed to know about it, you don't ask.

"Everyone likes weddings," you reply, setting both hands on top of your knees. "Right?"

Charles chuckles and shrugs, "I guess so,"

You love weddings, except when you're expected to be the bride.

"Charles," you pat his shoulder and he takes his eyes off the road for the briefest second. "Are you completely sure the bride doesn't mind my presence?"

You don't want to give yourself some sort of importance you don't deserve—the bride has more important things to worry about—but particularly nervous about how your presence will be received at the celebration.

"Seriously, y/n," Charles soothes, his right hand leaves the steering wheel and searches for your own blindly, accidentally landing on your empty lap. He takes his hand back immediately, red creeping up his neck. "It's fine." he resolves, his sight way too focused on the road now.

"Alright," you whisper, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "Alright."

Both of you remain silent the rest of the way as you take in the Spanish landscape and Charles drives like his life depends on it. You promised yourself you'd ask for as much information on the happy couple as you could, but your voice is lost in the pit that opened in your stomach.

And the evening is just beginning.

It's after the ceremony, at cocktail hour that you find everything out about Tommaso and Bárbara thanks to none other than Carlos Sainz, who seems to really have a thing for gossip and also, for making fun of you for crying during the vows.

"Leave me alone, Carlos," you warn for the last time, this time threatening him with your closed fist. "Not my fault you don't have a heart in that big-ass chest."

This makes him laugh harder, and even Charles chuckles against the lip of his whiskey glass.

"I miss you so much around the paddock, y/n!" Carlos sighs, patting the place above his heart. "For real."

You click your tongue. "Sure you do,"

Carlos and you talk a lot less than Charles and you do, of course. But if Charles calls you during whatever free time he has while in the Ferrari Suite, you can trust Carlos to insert himself in the conversation.

"And a lot of the other drivers do too," Carlos' tone is mocking again, and you glower at him.

"Stop picking on me," this time you punch him on the shoulder.

"I'm being serious. Lando has a crush on you,"

You talked to Lando a few times, mostly when he and Carlos were being boys and hitting each other in the balls outside the Ferrari Suite and Lando made small talk as he tried not to touch his private parts. A crush is an exaggeration, Lando just told you he thought you were cool for making movies.

"Why don't we take some pictures?" Charles suggests before downing the rest of his whiskey. You don't miss the look he gives Carlos.

"Why not?" you smile at Charles, shrugging. The place is beautiful and you would love to have a memory of this whole thing that you can go back to.

"I'll catch up with you guys," Carlos calls as you two walk away, uninterested in the impromptu photoshoot.

Charles directs an annoyed look at him again and then makes it go away to return his attention to you.

"What was that?" you ask, taking Charles' arm again for him to lead you to where the rest of the guests are more scattered and won't photobomb your pictures.

"What was what?" Charles lifts an eyebrow, forever the expert at playing dumb. Or, not really.

You shake your head, this is another deep thought you don't want to venture into. There is enough of this weird tension already, and you're not sure if Charles feels it too.

─────────

"Your girlfriend is beautiful," a lady is patting your hand, a gentle smile on her face as she looks at Charles. She's the spouse of another Ferrari team member, and the first thing she did was compliment your dress before even asking for your name.

"Oh, I'm not—"

"We're just friends," Charles clears up, gentle as well. "But y/n really is beautiful."

The woman raises both eyebrows and laughs, an 'oh you kids' snicker that isn't unkind. "Of course, of course."

It's the first time of many during this party that Charles has to say you're not in a relationship, and it seems to get easier every time the words come out of his mouth.

Although it's true, you're not sure why it nags at you.

You cry again during the couple's First Dance and verbally threaten Carlos to leave you alone as you wipe your tears carefully, doing your best to keep your makeup intact. He laughs, but takes your threat seriously and remains quiet. This whole Tom and Jerry thing is amusing but he doesn't want to actually make you angry.

A few songs in, after you're done bickering with Carlos and you have finished your third glass of champagne, Charles asks you to dance with him.

An slowed-down version of Sixpence's 'Kiss Me' plays as you take the dance floor. You blame your giddiness on the fact that you finished that flute of champagne in record time.

"What is it?" Charles questions, smoothly placing one hand on your hip while the other holds your palm. His thumb runs up and down the curve of your wrist.

"What if I step on your foot?" you retort, looking up at him. That's only one thing that makes you nervous, although you know how to dance. You took lessons for both Supercut and Parisian Valentine.

Laughter bubbles from Charles' chest and you join in, although this makes you even more nervous. It would be stupid to say you don't see how handsome he is, even if he's just your friend.

"I won't mind," Charles promises, and his fingers press a little harder against your hip bone.

"Okay, then."

It's obviously not a complicated endeavor to sway around the dance floor with Charles, he lets you set the pace, lacing your fingers together after you spin back to him.

"Thank you for coming with me, soleil," he says in a low voice. You can smell the alcohol in his breath although it's been a while since he stopped drinking, he still has to drive you back to your hotel. "I really missed you these two months."

"I love weddings. Thanks for inviting me," you squeeze his shoulder, the contrast of your manicured nails against his shirt distracts you momentarily from the fact that you can feel his breath against your jaw.

It's the second time today that you miss the chance to tell him you missed him too, and you know he notices it by the way he leans away.

The song ends before your tongue decides to respond to you again and Charles lets go of you. A few seconds feel like an hour as you stare at each other, unable—or unwilling—to say anything of what either of you really want to say.

"Care to dance?" a guy with longish hair and dark eyes is offering you his hand now, as a faster song starts and the lights around the room turn brighter.

You break eye contact with Charles and when you look at him again, he just nods, taking a step back to your assigned table.

"Sure," you tell the guy, a tense smile on your face. "Let's dance."

The ride back to your hotel is silent again, and you're too tired to find a way to fill it.

Charles' energy has shifted and this makes your stomach turn. Your anxiety worsens every time you feel someone is 'off' towards you, and that someone being Charles makes it a hundred times worse.

He takes the elevator to your room with you, placing his hand gently in the middle of your bare back to let you in first.

"We're okay, right?" you whisper, looking at your distorted reflections on the silver wall of the cubicle.

You see Charles' reflection frown and then his face turns to you. "Of course we're okay, y/n. Is something wrong?"

You shake your head, the loose strands of your bun tickle your nape. "I'm just wondering."

Charles is never bothered by your need for reassurance, not even when he needs reassurance himself. That he's not being a complete and absolute moron by wanting the woman all the boys want to dance with, and holding onto that little slither of hope that he might have a chance with her. He's the one standing next to you after the party, still.

"We are okay. Didn't you have fun today?" he asks, pushing those thoughts aside. You're friends. Just friends.

"Of course I did!" you inhale sharply, "I just— nevermind." you take your hand to the back of your head, already tired of the half undone bun that threatens to give you a headache.

"I had fun. I always have fun when I'm with you," Charles follows you out of the elevator and down the hallway to the third door marked with a 3321.

You're still struggling to find the exact hairpin that holds your hairdo together, and Charles pinpoints it almost at the same time as you do, pulling it out swiftly to make your hair fall down your shoulders.

It's a meaningless gesture, Charles hasn't given it a second thought or stopped walking. But a shiver runs down your back as his knuckles graze your nape.

"Thanks, Charlie." You say, swallowing.

"Of course," Charles puts the pin inside the pocket of his trousers with a shrug.

You stand in front of the room for a minute, having a stare down again as you rub the back of your head.

"Thank you again for today, Charles." you're the one to break the silence, keycard already between your fingers. "I had a great time."

"I'm glad, soleil." Charles his dimples appear when he smiles and your breath hitches when he leans towards you. It feels like you've been showered with ice cold water. "Good night, y/n," he says and presses his lips against your cheek.

"Good night, Charlie," you wave him goodbye from the door as he walks back to the lift.

The feeling of his lips against your skin is there, even after you've washed your face and tucked yourself into bed.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! surprisingly, i don't have much to say this time other than i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that I appreciate each one of you dearly!♡❞

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#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #cl16 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

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lostinforestbound · 22 days

Text

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame.

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession.

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking?

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

#forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 #rolan x tav #cal #lia #rolan fanfic #rolan brainrot

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saintvainglorious · 3 months

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Fics I Enjoyed in January

I was putting together a list of the best fics I read last year and was reminded of two incredible ATLA fics I read in February 2023 ((Never) Forget Who You Are by mindbending and up in the city (until the stars lost the war) by Madseason). Those two fics are absolute perfection and sent me down an Avatar: The Last Airbender rabbit hole this month.

I read an insane amount, for me, even more than I did last year in September/October, when I was chowing down Drarry longfics like a starving dog. There's approximately 993k words of fic in this rec list - if you assume the average novel is 90k, that's about 11 books!

half in the shadows, half burned in flames by r_astra Avatar: the Last Airbender | Gen | 4k | Not Rated

“They say you tried to kill the Firelord,” Hakoda says. "Why?" Zuko doesn’t know how to answer. Because I hate him. Because I love him. Because he wants to see the world burn. Because he knotted one hand in my hair and cupped flames against my face with the other. Because my mother is dead. Because my uncle is dead. Instead, he shrugs tiredly and says: “Someone has to.”

i am through finding blame by sokkaesque/@sokkagatekeeper Avatar: The Last Airbender | Gen | 6k | Teen & Up

Sokka was fourteen the first time he realized people didn’t apologize to him very often. Or, Sokka during The Southern Raiders.

a nation, held by snowdarkred/@snowdarkred Avatar: The Last Airbender | Gen | 6k | General Audiences

It doesn’t take long for the rumors to start. The Fire Nation prides itself on its civilization. It isn’t like the other, lesser, nations who throw their children away by sending them into war. They are to be protected, because children are the future glory of the nation. The crown prince is thirteen when his father burns his face in front of an audience of hundreds.

The Iconoclast by ranilla_bean/@ranilla-bean Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Suki/Zuko | 21k (WIP) | Explicit

After a protracted civil war, the victorious new Fire Lord sends a call for a new bodyguard across the four nations. A Southern Water Tribesman and a warrior from Kyoshi Island respond.

Life in Eden by WitchofEndor/@a-witch-in-endor Avatar: The Last Airbender | Gen | 14k | Not Rated

In which Ursa tries to be a better parent to Azula, and it doesn’t change very much. And then, quite abruptly, it changes everything.

While Mighty Oaks Do Fall by WitchofEndor/@a-witch-in-endor Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 181k (WIP) | Teen & Up

The newly-crowned Fire Lord Ozai offers his firstborn son to service in the temple. This turns out to be a catastrophic mistake.

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor/@a-witch-in-endor Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 60k | Not Rated

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them. Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

War Crimes by Lovely_Elbow_Leech/@lovelyelbowleech Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 90k | Mature | Part 1 of All's Fair

Book one ends with two major differences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously). Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect. And they argue. A lot.

War Games by Lovely_Elbow_Leech/@lovelyelbowleech Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 443k (WIP) | Mature | Part 2 of All's Fair

Sokka is aware that being friends with the enemy is going to bring complications, but he probably should have guessed that being friends with Zuko in particular, was going to be a bit like dunking your head repeatedly into a bucket of angry Fire Ferrets.

Below the Sun by CSHfic and VSfic Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 25k | Teen & Up

Sokka is washed overboard while working on the fisherman's boat during the storm. He wakes on a deserted island. Or... mostly deserted.

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic and VSfic Avatar: The Last Airbender | Sokka/Zuko | 143k | Teen & Up

Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole. [An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].

#fic recs #fanfiction #atla #avatar the last airbender #zukka

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lalachat · 18 days

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"And there you were..."

Author's note: Hey girl hey... I'm back! Im sorry for the prolonged time between these late chapters:( Fixations are weird and frangible things. You have one for a month and then get tired of it, but come back to the same one every now and then. That's basically what writing is for me... I know it may not be fair to you readers but I am trying my best because i truly love you guys... This is not the best thing that I have written for this story, but we are finally at the end! It has been a rollercoaster for us all. Thank you for those who have stuck with me since day one and thank you for those who randomly stumble upon this shit show of a story and send me sweet messages<3 I hope this is good enough xoxo

Summary: Crossing over the rainbow bridge is not what you expected it to be, especially when you're told you cannot stay long, but everything was worth it in the end.

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, potential grammatical errors, and a happily ever after!

Word Count: ≈ 2,237

Chapter 11: You're my mate

“Who are you and where am I?” you blinked rapidly at the blinding light invading your gaze.

“Welcome my child, you know where you are and you know who I am-” the voice sent a warmth through your body at the raw power it held, yet it was still tenderhearted.

You blinked a couple more times to readjust your sight at the most ethereal woman you have ever seen standing before you. This cannot be real…

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” you asked.

“Not quite, I fear I have taken you too soon,” she gave you a soft smile as the realization hit you. Only one person could take your life too soon.

“Oh my gods, you’re the mother!” You bowed to her immediately, unsure of what the proper greeting was for a celestial being. She giggled.

“No need for such formalities, stand up my child. I have something I wish to discuss.” She offered you her hand which you gladly accepted. You felt a zing rush through you at the touch. The power she held was beyond anything you felt from Rhysand and the other high lords.

“Of course,” you smiled, “What exactly would that be? Have I sinned too much to remain here?!”

She laughed yet again, “You are quite the humorous one, and no, I am not here to discuss your sins. I want to discuss the mistake I made with your mate.”

You stood there in pure shock, “Azriel?”

“Yes, I wholeheartedly apologize for fating you two together. That shadowsinger never got over his self-loathing I’m afraid.” You looked at her puzzled. “You see, when I fated the two of you, I had hoped his self-destructiveness would disappear once he met you,” she smiled at you again as you listened, “that was until Elain Acheron had stepped in and took that place before you ever could.”

“Believe me mother, I am well aware…” you sighed. “I tried so hard,” tears began to form in your eyes.

“Oh my love, I know you did, and this is all my fault. I am sorry for causing you so much suffering. It is clear to me now that I should have fated you to someone else,” she gave you her hand again, “Come walk with me.”

She led you hand in hand over to a cauldron. She waved her hand over it to reveal your friends still circled around your body, only this time a certain auburn-haired male began to awake.

“LUCIEN!” You wept at the sight of his chest rising and falling again, “He’s alive!”

The mother nodded, “I brought him here and sent him back, just like I am about to do with you.”

“I don't understand, why bring us both here in the first place if we are only going to be sent back?” You watched as your friends noticed Lucien’s movements as you still lay there cold.

“Because my child, I have been watching you for quite some time and realized that your love without a bond for another male grew stronger than any completed bond I have ever seen.”

“That’s not possible- nothing is stronger than a completed bond,” you looked at her and shook your head in disbelief.

“I never thought something like this would happen but you two have proven me wrong. You both have just done the impossible,” she smiled at you, and she took hold of both of your hands, “That male loves you more than anything.” Her thumbs caressed the small marking along your wrists, your eyes followed the movement as you chuckled.

“So, what’s going to happen to now?” you looked up at the creator of everything you knew.

“I am going to send you back,” she kissed the top of your forehead and you felt something inside you shift, “I am sorry for taking you both too soon, but it had to be done. I have now made things the way they should be,” she smiled as she gestured to the cauldron.

“What?” you looked at her in disbelief.

“Step into the cauldron, it will take you back to your loved ones.”

You looked in to see Lucien now trying to wake you as the others watched in awe of his liveliness, “Lucien did the same thing?”

“Yes,” she nodded as you began to slowly step your way into the cauldron. You were waist in before you stopped abruptly as anxiety ate at you to ask a certain question.

“I won’t have any special powers like Feyre, Nesta, and Elain right?”

“No, this is different than their rebirth. You will have no power; you will remain as you were before.”

“Good, that’s good. Powers would have been cool though,” you smiled as you submerged the rest of yourself into the sacred artifact. Just before your ears went under you could hear the mother say something to you before you left.

“Everything is alright now, I love you my child. You have made me proud.”

You smiled as the liquid surrounded you and sparkled against your skin. It almost looked like Starfall which made you smile reminding you of home. You were heading back home! You felt your body tense like it was being winnowed back to your reality. It was a weird sensation, but you could slowly feel the memory of the mother and everything she had done for you fade as you passed through a barrier.

“Y/n!” you could hear someone crying out your name. You were trying to regain your senses as firm hands caressed the hair out of your face. One of their tears fell onto your cheek. It almost felt hot. Your eyes squinted at the feeling.

“Lucien look!” Someone cried out, as Lucien’s eyes scanned over your face slightly scrunching up at the foreign feeling of a tear that was not your own on your face. He let out a small, relieved gasp.

“Y/n?” He wiped off his tear that had fallen as he saw your chest take a deep inhale, “Oh my gods!” He wept, “You’re alive… you’re alive!”

His hands caressed your own, trying to give your cold skin more warmth. Azriel letting some of his own tears fall at the sight of you breathing again, Elain was rubbing small circles on his back in comfort. Mor and Feyre’s hands covered their mouths in shock at the events unfolding before them as tears of joy left their eyes. Nesta had let out a much-needed breath she didn’t know she was holding as she smiled at the two of you breathing again. Cassian thanked the mother repeatedly as Rhysand grabbed Feyre’s hand with tear filled eyes.

You began to wiggle your toes and fingers, getting used to the feeling of yourself again as you opened your eyes to see Lucien with the biggest smile you have ever seen from him.

“Lucien?” you questioned. Your mind was foggy, unable to really remember anything except the fact the last time you saw him he was dead.

He pressed your hands to his lips, “I’m here…”

You began to cry, “You’re alive!”

He nodded his head as he pulled you into his chest, “And so are you!”

You wrapped your arms around him in an instant, “Don’t ever leave me like that again!”

“Like hell I would live in a world without you,” he smiled as he cupped your face and kissed you tenderly. It’s right then you felt something trying to ignite inside your chest, no restraints or walls were holding it back as it set your soul aflame. You pulled away from Lucien and looked at him in amazement as you sent that flame to where it was trying to pull itself to. Lucien’s eyes widened as he slowly felt his empty chest cavity burst into life filled with everything you were sending his way. Love. Passion. Trust. Protectiveness. He couldn’t but help but smile as he got to say these words again knowing he would be complete, “You’re my mate!”

You let out a laugh of relief at the words, “Mates,” as you kissed him so hard you both fell back into the earth beneath you.

“That’s impossible,” Azriel said in disbelief. Elain’s face was ghost white.

“Well brother, the mother can work in mysterious ways,” Rhysand smiled at you finally getting your happy ending.

Lucien pulled away from you breathless, “I love you.”

You gave him a toothy grin and kissed him once more, “I love you!”

The wind kissed your skin as you both got up off the ground hand in Lucien’s. The presence of the wind almost felt familiar to you. You looked up at your mate and saw he had the same expression. Both of you looked at each other before you both whispered a soft thank you into the wind to let it be carried away to wherever it was headed as your friends began to crowd you both. Feyre ran into Lucien’s outstretched arms as Mor crashed into yours.

“Oh gods I am so happy you’re alive!” Mor cried.

“I think that was enough bonding for a lifetime,” you laughed as you cried with your best friend.

“I am just glad you are okay!” she smiled as she let Feyre hug you next. She looked over to Lucien and gave you a warm smile, “I am so happy for you both, take good care of him.”

Rhysand and Cassian pulled you into a big group hug.

“What even happened? I saw you both die!” Cassian kissed your cheek fondly.

“I don't even know… I wish I could tell you both, but I'm just happy I get to keep my favorite bat boys around,” you laughed as Rhysand kissed your other cheek.

“Like I said to Az, the mother works in wonderous ways.” As they pulled you back into another huge hug.

“Stop you’re going to pop me!” you laughed as a pair of footsteps approached you. You looked up to see Azriel. He looked at you guiltily and you felt nothing towards the male. No hate, no resentment, no longing, no nothing. You took a deep breath as you said, “Bring it in Azriel, it’s alright…”

Azriel carefully joined the group hug, “I am so sorry…” you and the others just hugged each other tighter as a response. You heard a cough from outside the circle as Elain stood before you. Rhysand and Cassian gave you one last hug before they walked over to Lucien and the others. Leaving you with Azriel and Elain.

“Y/n if I had only known…” Elain’s voice trailed off. Their presence was a little much for you after knowing what they both caused, but without them you wouldn’t have your mate.

“Look, everything that happened between us is a lot to digest and it's overwhelming me right now, but I am willing to look forward and have a fresh start, just give me time.” You gave them both an awkward smile as you walked off to the others who were all showering Lucien in hugs like they had done with you earlier. The sight of it made you smile.

“Be careful with him! I just got him back,” you teased as everyone looked towards you.

“We just got you both back,” Feyre said with a soft smile, “Tonight we celebrate you both and your new bond!”

“Just don't feed him anything until we're gone,” Cassian quipped as he clapped Lucien on the shoulder. Lucien rolled his eyes at the comment as Mor whispered into your ear, “and when you do, you still owe us girls a story after all.” She winked as your face grew hot at the talk of the act of completing the bond together.

“Calm yourself darling, we have plenty of time for that later,” Lucien pulled you into his side, “Let’s celebrate with our friends yeah?”

“Fine, I guess we can let loose a little to celebrate beating death and finding our bond.” You smiled.

“Well, what are we waiting for?! Let’s go party! I’m ready to let loose after everything that just transpired,” Mor said as everyone left to go back inside. Lucien pulled you aside before you both walked in and pushed you against a wall as he kissed you with fiery passion.

“As soon as that little party is over, I am going to fuck you into the bed, wall, desk,” he began to kiss your neck as the fresh bond between you hummed in your chest, “Any surface that I can take you on till we’re both burning this court into ashes with our love.”

You moaned at his words, “You promise?”

“If that is what my mate wants,” as he stared into your eyes as you traced your fingers down his back.

“Only if mine is willing to live up to his words,” you smirked up at him.

“Oh y/n, you are going to regret doubting me,” he said before he gave you one last kiss on the lips before offering you his hand to lead you into the house where all your friends awaited to celebrate your miracle.

You giggled as you grabbed his hand and said, “I love you so much Lu.”

“I will never get sick of those words. I love you too,” he smiled down as your intertwined hands, “You really should get those tattooed.”

“Give me a few more like them and I will,” you teased pulling Lucien inside as he let out a small groan at the thought. Both of you eager to celebrate with your friends, and to finally be able to love each other fiercely for the rest of your lives.

If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!

Tags:

@thelov3lybookworm @justdreamstars @character---obsessed @stained-glass-eyes0708 @acourtofbooksandshadows @sourapplex @b0xerdancer-writes @fireworksacrosshorizons @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @mis-lil-red @cleverzonkwombatsludge @emme-looou @bubybubsters @impossibelle @holywolfsstuff @acourtofbatboydreams @bloodicka @byyalady @kennedy-brooke @sassyslytherinshai @minnieoo @sh4nn @high-lady-of-books @fides25 @thisblogisaboutabook @breella @mirandasidefics @hardcoremarvelfan @thesnugglingduck @annaaaaa88

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #cassian #nesta archeron #elain archeron #azriel #feyre acotar #mor acotar #rhysand

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mahi-does-some-art · 6 months

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Mahiru Shirota's life is going to fall apart as soon as we get any, any new information about his mother.

With chapter 136, Lily reveals to Misono that Touma Taishi is Mahiru Shirota's biological father and it was the reason why Lily had planted Kuro in that alleyway to pick up. I am inclined to believe him because it adds up in the story as a whole; Why Kuro was there in the first place since we know he had been asleep under Alicein manor for the last 200 years.

Along with the fact that Hokaze (Misono's mom) was finally revealed to be a promiscuous woman who was a very active participant in the cheating scandal, I cannot believe that Akira was in no way involved in this plot to resurrect the Count Saint Germaine. Akira may not be on the side that wants to bring him back but she was a part of it no less, we just do not know how yet. (I am figuratively biting my nails waiting to see the ball drop for her)

She was very aware of vampires, magic and mages, this is a fact not because we know that she herself is a mage, we do not know that much, but because of Tooru. He attended the same high school/prep school that Misono does that has direct ties to C3 recruitment and we know he's been involved with Touma since his days there and they fought/killed vampires since then. Along with the Shirota family no doubt being a mage family, Akira was not at all oblivious to this.

I do not, however, think that her sleeping with Touma and creating Mahiru was any plot nudged by any Servamp or like. Why?

Because Lily had genuinely believed that Touma would come to Mahiru's aid in a life-or-death situation that would have otherwise killed him, and was rather shocked when Touma tried to kill him on his own. At least according to what he told Misono. (I believe most of what he's telling Misono except that he doesn't actually care about Misono. I think he's trying to made Misono mad at him beyond reconciliation for Reasons because he's a fucking coward who, if loved properly, won't be able to go through with his and Mikuni's plans)

Anyways, the reason I say Mahiru's entire world will fall apart instead of his views of his mother is because of one specific instance in the manga; Tooru thanking Mahiru for saving Touma. Not for saving Tsurugi like Mahiru probably thinks he was saying, Touma. Because Lily's plan included Touma dying because he was so close to figuring out how they were going to revive the Count.

If Touma HAD died, the good guys wouldn't know what would be happening. Tsubaki, Envy pair and Lily would have been completely clear to start the ritual while completely blindsiding everyone opposed ON TOP of starting the ritual a day early. They'd have been a lot less prepared than they are right now. Touma was a huge danger to the ritual's success.

Tooru knows this. He knows whats happening. Yes, he's also just relieved his childhood friend and coworker isn't dead thanks to his nephew but that isn't the only reason.

Why would Tooru leave Mahiru alone with Tsubaki in the restaurant they went to? Why would Tooru pretend Kuro was a burglar when he saw him chilling in the apartment and then so quickly drop the fact that there supposedly was a burglar in the house, all when we know he must have known who Kuro was the moment he saw him. Even if this was early manga and we did not yet know he was an elite of C3!

Mahiru's entire world is going to fall apart not only because he'll learn his mother is not the woman he thought she was, but because he'll learn he's been betrayed by his uncle in a way far greater than him leaving him alone and lonely for months at a time.

Tooru knows. And has made sure Mahiru didn't under the naive guise of protecting him.

#servamp #mahiru shirota #shirota mahiru #snow lily servamp #touma taishi #tooru shirota #shirota tooru #akira shirota #i want the shirota family drama to be just as wild and the alicein family drama please and thank you #i hope akira was a cunning woman #BUT i do believe that she loves mahiru. that she had some hope of him having a normal life.#but she also knew it wasnt meant to be.

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stellisketches · 3 months

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why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it.

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from.

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be.

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves.

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from.

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress.

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way.

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau.

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

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altheterrible · 1 year

Text

My dad drunk dialed me. At 4:15 PM on a Sunday.

What the fuck.

He hasn’t called me since January 22, a few days before my birthday. He hasn’t texted since January 30, a few days AFTER my birthday. And to be clear, in neither of those cases was he wishing me a happy birthday--he called on Jan 22 to drunkenly cry about how he misses my mom and he texted Jan 30 to tell me he misses my dog.

I knew I shouldn’t answer when I saw who it was, but I always have the nagging worry that it’s an emergency when I see him pop up on caller ID, so I did.

Total waste of time, energy, and patience. Definitely not an emergency. The anniversary of my mom’s death is coming up this Tuesday, but good ol’ dad was so drunk he thought it was today. Idiot.

He whined about how he’s lonely, he’s bored, and he misses my mom. He whined about how it’s so hard being on his own now, I couldn’t possibly understand how stressful it is when no one takes care of you.

He said he wants to come live here with us.

And I just wanted to be like, fuck no. And also, shut the fuck up. You treated my mom like shit for your entire marriage. There were years-long stretches where this fucking moron was unemployed and spent all his time drinking, smoking weed, and watching porn, while my mom worked her ass off to keep food on the table and had a literal nervous breakdown from the stress. My mom wasn’t perfect by any means, but compared to my fucking useless father? She was a saint.

He doesn’t miss HER, he misses how she worked, cooked, and cleaned so he had the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wanted, which was mostly stupid shit like grow weed in our basement, hit on teenage girls, get arrested for drunk driving, get arrested for drugs, get arrested for drunk driving again, get arrested for drugs again, almost set the house on fire, and on and on and on.

He misses that she let him be a child until he was 58 years old. She cooked his food, washed his clothes, made his doctor appointments, and bought his vodka. She fixed his messes--shit like calling him in sick to work when he was actually in jail, finding a way to pay for bail, and lying to the fucking cops about the marijuana plants in the basement. He was coddled and comforted and picked up after for almost 60 years of his life, and now he has to grow up and take care of his damn self, and he’s so stressed out! Life is so hard!

He wants me and my sister to take care of him now that my mom’s gone. He wants to come live with us so a “grown up” can take care of him again. He’s been an adult for 4 years, and he’s discovered he doesn’t like it.

Me? I’ve been an adult since I was old enough to understand what poverty, addiction, and mental illness were. Since I was old enough to comprehend that my safety, my well being, and my needs were totally irrelevant to my father and a distant afterthought to my mother. Since I was old enough to realize that if I wanted to stay alive, there was shit that needed to get done and I had somehow ended up in charge of doing it.

No one has ever comforted me when I was hurt. No one has ever protected me from danger. No one has ever fixed my mistakes for me. I have always comforted myself, protected myself, and faced my own fuck-ups head on.

And yet this useless, sniveling drunkard has the nerve to suggest I can’t understand how hard it is for him, being on his own? Lol. The fucking audacity.

I can’t wait until I’m an orphan.

#whining #may is dead mother awareness month #long post

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l-lenny · 11 months

Text

Dumb Krum! … I love you too

Viktor Krum x Malfoy!Fem!reader, Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!reader

Part 1/??

SERIES MASTERLIST

TW: cursing, mention of fighting parents

Malfoy reader, Durmstrang, no voldy au, fictional wizards names (side characters)

AN: this is longer then I expected but be prepared for next pt

——-

“No! This is final they will go-“ boomed masculine voice before being interrupted by high pitched yell. “LUCIUS!” The man in question was furious. “Narcissa don’t you dare-“ your mother started crying. “Luci, please let at least one be close to me.” She foolishly hoped that she could persuade her husband. If she convinces him once maybe she will twice. You were aware of the whole situation. They have been arguing about this whole education thing for months. You were soon to be turned 11 and your Hogwarts letter came two days ago. However your father wanted you to go to Durmstrang. It wasn’t that common to have girls attending, but it was not an oddity and single incident either. Doing your research you learned that only 2 girls would be attending while you will be at school and both of them were much older than you. You knew that your mother wanted both of you to attend Hogwarts, but father was dead set on Durmstrang. You heard footsteps behind you and when you turned around you saw your little brother. Teary eyed and with messy hair. He was 7 and much more softer than his big sister. “Why are mum and dad fighting?” He whispered, tears spilling. You hugged him. He didn’t have to hear all of this. The empty hallway not helpful for your words of encouragement “don’t worry I will fix it” your brother hugged you back and yawned. It was by far past his bed time. You took him back to his room and put him to sleep, singing a lullaby. After he was sound asleep you went back to the hallway to hear your parents still arguing. Narcissa was crying and Lucius was fuming. After taking deep breath you knocked on the door to father’s study. Your parents stopped their “talk” and opened the door angrily. “Didn’t you went to sleep?!” Your father said rather strictly. “I couldn’t sleep and by chance I heard you two, so if I may add my opinion to this: I would go to Durmstrang under one condition.”

And that’s how you ended up in the small castle on north. You were cold from the harsh weather and environment. When you arrived via floo power to your new school you have been greeted by cold stares. You did your research on how things are done around here so you practiced in front of mirror your speeches to every possible scenario. You straighten your shoulders and went straight to great hall, where many students were gathered. Students were sitting around round tables and were chatting. You immediately noticed that there have been almost no girls. You were expecting that, but it is still kinda disappointing. Principal Karkaroff took your attention. He spoke in heavy accent. “New students!” Trying to make an impression of strong and powerful man. Everyone was silent in that instance. “You shall train your hardest! You will be excelling in many ways and techniques. If not, you will be punished.” then he clapped his hands once and everyone started talking again. Was this your que to go and eat? You looked around. New attendees were as confused as you. Deciding to take action you marched to one of the tables full of students. One thing you reminded yourself was to stay strong. “Hey” you said as you sat down between two older boys. They could have been 16 or 17 if you could guess. “Oi! We have a brave one here! Sitting with your superiors” Said the one on your left. “Get lost twerp” said the one on your right showing his shoulder into yours. This might be just a test! You were feeling tired after long day and didn’t have patience for them. You took one breath before smiling at the boy “listen to me! I would highly suggest for you to shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you…permanently.” You shove him with your finger. “You are just a dumb loud mouth with no respect! And I don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour” you said lowly. “So shut up before I will shove my wand in your eye and your wand up your arse.” You grabbed plate and started eating. To be honest you were scared. Like scared so much you were almost shaking. Key word almost. “I like ya kid” he said after a while. His friends agreeing and started chatting with you.

His friends agreeing and started chatting with you. That was the best nerve-reliever. You heard from all of them that this is almost as a trial to see who is more suited for this school and for what group. You happened to chose the popular kids. After you took your first bite you noticed another kid across from you. He was same age as you. He looked at you and visible sparkle in his eyes. But not for long. Because the whole “trial thing” happened again. You just ate your meal, which was warm, still it looked disgusting but you were far too hungry to care. This was supposed to be some kind of shredded meat with mashed potatoes. After more chatting your stomach was full. That was when the boy on your left said “You two should head to dormitories and sleep” and when the young boy asked where to find them the older one replied with snarky “figure it out” you spun around. The only thing that popped in your mind was asserting dominance. You will not be showed around. “He asked you a question give him a proper answer.” You said. The tall boy towered above you. “And what are you gonna do about it? You don’t even know a single spell” you pull out your wand. It was pretty cherry wood with unicorn hair and ivy leaves. “Wanna bet ? I will avadakedavra your arse.” You pointed to him with your wand. “You are amazing kid!” He patted your head after a while. “Come with me.” He led you two in corridors and hallways pointing out every classroom and room. He was much nicer than before. “And here are the first years” he smirked. “Wasn’t so bad right?” You laughed. He patted your head again and took off. You looked at the young boy beside you. “Y/n, Y/n Malfoy” you outstretched your hand. The boy smirked “Viktor, Viktor Krum” he mimicked your introduction and shook your hand. The two of you made your way through the door to se a long hallway with many doors. On each door was a nameplate.

You found out that every room was shared. Two people in each one and one small shared bathroom. You prayed you got your room with a girl or alone. From the manor you were custom to having your own place and bathroom. And not going to lie it was big. But when you arrived at the end of the corridor and no other girl names were placed you were pleasantly surprised. You had your own room! The door beside yours read V. Krum and A. Landsprout. “Looks like we are neighbours!” you said to Viktor. “Oh! I vos not expecting a roommate” he said as he opened the door and found out his suitcase on one of the beds. You did the same. The only difference in your room: there was only one bed. You took a look around. A dresser on the right from the door, next to bed under a shelf. You stepped into the room further, taking in the pretty grey wallpaper. You looked at the table which was situated under a window opposite side of your bed. And in the end of the room there was a small bathroom. Decided to unpack you heard a soft knock on your door. “Come in” you said. You saw Viktor. “Can ve talk?” He asked. Straight forward, you liked that. “Sure” you smiled. Your smile brightened this dark place. “How did you know vot to do? You seemed so confident either. Almost like you have been here.” He sulked. You let out a laugh. Viktor felt embarrassment creeping to his cheeks. “I was shaking in my boots. Before I came here I practically rehearsed every single conversation and scenario I could think of. I also read a lot about the school and its traditions.” Viktor looked at you again. “So you practiced?” You nodded. “My parents vonted me to be more confident, to be someone …like you were today so they sent me here. And it’s also a tradition.“ he opened up. In whole 11years he never opened up that quickly to someone. “So do you think you could help me?”

You two become best friends in no time. Supporting each other in trouble, when you had hard time or even tutor each other. Sometimes the education process was hard and you cried to Viktors chest while he awkwardly patted your back. But you were doing this for your little brother, you reminded yourself. And you had Viktor and your older friends to support you. But Viktor was here for you as you were here for him every step of the way. The teaching style in Durmstrang was harsh. Often disciplined students by whipping spell or crucio. You were glad that you and your friends were rather smart, so you don’t have to see them in pain. You have to remind yourself time and time again that you are doing this for Draco. He would broke in your place.

One afternoon in December, right after class with your potions professor you catch up with Viktor. “Do you understand the formula?” You asked. “Oh yeah.” He chuckled. You pout and looked at him with puppy eyes. “Can you help me please?” You begged. “You know ve are not supposed to do that” Viktor was amused. You were excellent at charms but terrible at potions. Non the less he would help you, just like you would help him with charms and transfiguration. In most cases it was just his accent troubling him. You two met in your room and went over and over the formula. You were super worried about not doing it right. Although Viktor was excellent tutor he failed to teach you this. And in your next lesson with professor Grimdale you managed to mess up the potion. “Miss Malfoy! Care to remind me what was the correct formula?” You tried to remember, but due to your nerves acting up you simply couldn’t. Was this your first punishment? Right before Christmas? Oh no! “You are talentless! Hopeless potion maker!” He yelled. You were expecting to be strike with cruciatus spell, after all some other students were disciplined like that. Instead of the crucio came whipping. One whip strike for each of your hands, for making a mistake. You shut your eyes in pain trying so hard not to make a sound. Most of your classmates were punished more if they made a sound. You stood there bravely. “Remember correctly next time!” Professor said and continued the lesson. You were shaken and teary eyed. But you had reputation! Get it together Y/n! You can’t cry.

Few days after this incident you found yourself hugging your pillow and crying. Re-reading the letter your father sent. You were his favourite after deciding to go to Durmstrang, he praised you in his last letters how well you do in school. But this time. This time it was a strictly shaming letter.

“Daughter,

I am very disappointed in last letter I got from your potion professor! How can you mess simple potion? You are slacking. Focus on your studies. When you will go home for Christmas I will hire a tutor so you would not slack off! Don’t disappoint me more child!

Father”

Every ounce of stress putted on you came flowing out in the large tears you cried that night. Viktor, nor your friends knew about this. You were feeling lost for a moment. But soon you slept off most of the negative feelings.

Soon after the holidays came around and you were going back to manor. Floo powder in hand you said your last goodbye to your boys and with “Malfoy manor” you disappeared in green fire. When you came to your living room you looked at the dark place. Your coat reminding you about the change of scenery. After taking it off with another hundred layers of clothing you heard footsteps. “Y/n?” You saw Draco coming towards you and then he ran, body slammed straight into you. “Hey!” Quickly you greeted each other and then you went to find your parents. Staying at home over the holidays was harsh to say at least. Mother was still mad at you for going to school so far away. Father lectured you on basic and advanced things. Overworking you every day. And Draco? You noticed that he started to change. He was more spoiled in your eyes. The only thing that was making your stay bearable was letters from your boys. You started to feel like an outsider in your home. To be honest you were happy to go back to the Durmstrang institute again. There you have your best friend and group of friends. Your time at home was slowly coming to an end and your excitement grew. Finally the day came and you went back to school. You were ambitious witch. Trying to be top in every class. After your father’s lectures you aimed to be the best just to not go through them again. Getting good grades and being respected by many was on your agenda as well. By the end of the year you made your name shine very bright and be one of the more popular students. You had your friend group around to hang out with and some admirers to scare or prank. None the less eaven if the school was hard you liked it there. And as time passed by you were saying goodbye to your friends at the end of your first year. “Bye Vik!” You smiled. “Bye Artie! Bye Archie!” You waved and with a promise to go to visit each other you floo back to manor.

Spending summer with your friends was great! Your father actually liked the guys you hanged out with. Well what was there not to like. They were all pure-blooded and strong. One or two times he actually asked if you and Viktor are dating. You dismissed that and explained that you two are just friends. The most fun you had at Archie’s! His mother was strict, but very kind to you. She wanted a daughter, yet never had one. You won the lottery there. Archie was kinda butthurt about it at first but it became an inside joke. You went to trip with the guys. It was fun! Draco was disappointed that you were most of the time gone and actually started ignoring you. It still hurts but what can you do. Forcing someone to like you is pointless. After that summer your family kinda fell apart.

Near the end of the summer holidays you went to your father’s study, letter from Durmstrang in hand. You knocked on the door and waited. Lucius permitted for you to come in and you read the letter to him. “There is a letter from school! I need few new books for dark arts and charms. Can we get them later? If you have time of course” your father nodded and dismissed you. In the afternoon of the next day Lucius got home early from work to pick you up and to go shopping in Diagon alley. You also wanted to get a custom case on your broom. Your hands got always cold when you were flying. You brought nice knitted case around the holder and it was so nice and warm. After that you were headed to get books you needed. Your father was heading to look at some other stuff and left you some money. “Wait for me in front of the shop.” He instructed and left. You nodded and looked for the books. You got one and looked for the other. After a while you spotted the book you needed and got on your tippy toes to get it, but you were too short. “Need any help shortie?” Said someone behind you and grabbed your book handing it to you. You grabbed the book. Looking at mop of red hair. “For your information I am not short, the shelf is just too high.” The red head chuckled. “Sure, are you going to Hogwarts too?” You looked at the book you were holding and shook your head. “I am studying at Durmstrang!” You smiled. The boy before you looked completely shocked. Platinum hair, perfect posture and student of Durmstrang. He heard of you. His father actually talked about you with his mother. You were the oldest daughter of the Malfoys. Fred remembers the conversation clearly.

“How was your day?” Asked his mom. He and his twin brother by the stairs waiting to snatch some cookies. “Malfoy came today flourishing about his oldest daughter. What is her name again?” Molly chuckled “Y/n?” Arthur nods “yes and he wouldn’t shut up about the Durmstrang. Honestly it was tiring.” He says and Molly laughs.

“Anyway thank you for the-“ before Y/n even has time to properly thank him she heard the door of the shop spun open. And in storms your father. “Y/n-“ he turned towards you. Then his gaze was on the older Weasley twin. “Weasley? I believe you are in the way. My daughter is trying to buy some books. Not that you could.” He placed his cane on the redhead’s shoulder. “Father! He is not-“you started only to be interrupted. “Fred! Oh good afternoon Lucius.” Said another voice. You looked up to see older gentleman. Presumably father of the redheaded boy. “Afternoon Arthur” said your father. “Shopping for school I presume” Lucius smirked and looked at the older, second hand, books Arthur was holding “At least some of us can afford brand new books” Said your father taking you by the shoulders “do you have everything?” You nodded. “Then we shall part ways, see you at work.” Said your father harshly while tugging you towards cashier. You looked back to see the redhead boy and waved with sweet yet awkward smile. After you left and went home your father gave you a hard lesson. “Don’t associate yourself with wrong people. The whole family of Weasleys are blood traitors.” You looked confused. Father never had any issues with people you talked to. Was this really something that was so inappropriate? You paid no mind to it happy to have your books and ready to pack to Durmstrang.

On the other hand Freds interest was peaked. He was just being nice. Still a little confused you were a Malfoy he remembered your smile.

“Vik!” You greeted your friend lightly punching him on the shoulder. He did the same. “Hov vas the rest of your vacation?” He asked. You beamed. Seriously you were the only person in the entire Durmstrang institute to be happy and smily here. “It was fine, I am just happy to be back at school!” Viktor shook his head. “Comrades!” Cheered loud voice of Arthur. “Artie!” You high-fived him and you all went to you table. You looked at the first years and thought of your first time here. There were significantly less students this year. “Guys, do you have any ideas where Archie is?” You asked just to be interrupted by the principal. “Archie is still on vaccination in Russia” whispered Artie. You pretend to be shocked and listen to principal. The whole deal as last year was heard. You were honestly just eager to eat. “Yes!” You muttered and grabbed a plate full of food. Today was the Bulgarian speciality. You simply loved this food and Vik shared your opinion. You chatted and looked around to see none of the new students went here. The lessons, duels and flights on brooms made time pass by quickly. Vik was very good at flying lessons. You often joked to get the first autograph after he will become famous quidditch player. Everything was just right.

You saw Viktor grew in to the young gentleman. He also saw you matured into skilled and talented witch. You made yourself known for being perfect. From the way you looked to the way you acted. Perfect scores in your classes, great skills, powerful friends and nice looks. The pride of your year, truly. When you were at school you enjoyed every second of each day, if you didn’t have professor Grimdale that is. But none the less life at school was perfect. The cold place was very warm and welcoming if you had the right mindset and friend group. At home it wasn’t so great. You saw as your younger brother just grew more spoiled the longer you were gone. When Draco attended Hogwarts he was sorted into slytherin. As expected. He wrote to you from time to time. But it was bland, mostly out of the formality. You wrote back just to be polite and slowly started to part your ways. Your father was writing you every month after receiving monthly report card giving you his word of encouragement. Your mother was writing from time to time too. Mostly the how are yous and be careful. You never knew what happened. Your family just stopped working at some point. You shared most of your troubles with Viktor. And he was so understanding. You actually admired him very much. He had aspiring career ahead after the Bulgarian National Quidditch team saw him play. Viktor often played with them in preparation for the World Cup.

Sitting in your room, you in your chair, Vik on your bed you tutored him in transfiguration. “Yes you did it!” You said excitedly. Viktor nodded proudly. “Vith this I could pass to the delegation!” He said. You laughed“stop calling it delegation!” The boy in front of you just shrugged. “The triwizard tournament trip or vhat ever.” You stood up slapping his shoulder. “I hope I will make it there!” Viktor looked at you confused. “You are one of the most skilled vitches!” Hearing him say that was different then what other said this.

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ghostinthelibrarywrites · 11 months

Note

Yennefer saying 1, Yenskier

Here's some post-season 2 Yennskier with background Geraskefer.

"Could you hold me? Please."

Yennefer knows that casting the spell will probably kill her. All of Tissaia’s dire warnings about what happens when a mage burns themselves out ring in her head. She barely survived Sodden Hill and she know she shouldn’t risk that kind of loss of control again, especially not so soon after regaining her powers.

But soldiers found her, Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri in the little farmhouse where they’ve been hiding for weeks now. Geralt is injured, his movements clumsy as he holds off three soldiers. She doesn’t know where Ciri is. The princess is hopefully hiding somewhere, but she’s probably about to do something reckless and dangerous. She can hear Jaskier shouting, taunting their attackers as he tries to draw them away from Geralt.

Yennefer turns and finds the bard backed up against the wall, holding a ladle like it’s a bludgeon and making anatomically improbable suggestions about the mother of the soldier approaching him with a sword. The soldier raises his blade and Yennefer knows there’s no time for her to hesitate. She may not survive, but she needs to make sure that Geralt, Jaskier, and Ciri get out of this alive.

For the second time in less than a year, Yennefer throws out her hands and lets her chaos run wild.

***

Yennefer wakes in the middle of the woods, her mouth tasting of ash and blood and her entire body aching. Her head is cushioned on a scratchy woolen cloak that reeks of horse and there’s a blanket thrown over her. A few feet away, a campfire crackles merrily and on the other side of the fire, Jaskier strums his lute. There’s a furrow in his brow and his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.

She takes a moment to observe him before she croaks, “Geralt? Ciri?”

Jaskier’s head jerks up, pure relief flashing across his face. “They’re off catching dinner.”

“Hurt?”

“No, love.” He puts down his lute and rounds the fire to sit next to her. “Geralt caught a sword to his side, but you know witcher healing. He bled a lot, took a couple of potions, and then started acting like nothing ever happened. Ciri doesn’t have a scratch on her.”

“You?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” He brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Thanks to you.”

“Idiot. Shouldn’t taunt people with swords.”

“I’ve spent over two decades taunting a man with a sword. It’s worked out pretty well for me so far.”

“Idiot,” she says again, too tired to hide the fondness in her voice.

“You scared the shit out of us, Yenn,” Jaskier says. “You slept for two days. We didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

“They were going to kill you and Geralt and take Ciri.” Yennefer closes her eyes, trying to block out the memories. “Are the soldiers dead?”

“All of them. And the house is burned to the ground. With all my favorite clothes inside, I may add.”

“Pity you were able to save your lute.”

“Yes, I got luck—hey!”

Yennefer smirks, eyes still closed.

She feels him let out a long sigh. “You nearly got yourself killed.”

“You nearly got stabbed for insulting a soldier’s mother.”

“Well, I had to do something to piss them off enough that they wouldn’t go after Geralt.”

Yennefer grits her teeth. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

“You impossible fucking bard.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “You impossible fucking witch.”

She hates this fucking man. She would tell him that at length, but moving her mouth is starting to feel like too much effort. She’s exhausted and acutely aware that the hard, cold ground she’s lying on is much less comfortable than the bed she’s been sharing with Jaskier and Geralt for weeks now. She’s gotten used to not having to sleep on the ground.

Jaskier sighs. “Anything I can do for you, Yenn?”

Yennefer hesitates, then asks, “Could you hold me? Please?” A few months ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for such a thing. It still feels odd to show that kind of vulnerability. But she’s cold, hurting, and all too aware of how close she came to never being held by Jaskier again.

“Of course.” The blanket lifts off her for a moment as Jaskier slides under it, curling against her side and tucking the blanket around both of them. Eyes still closed, Yennefer lifts her head off the cloak to settle it against Jaskier’s shoulder, a far finer pillow. His arms wrap around her, warm, secure, and achingly familiar. Yennefer settles against him, soothed by the feeling of him against her. The ground is still hard and her body still aches fiercely, but it’s a little more bearable with him holding her.

“Do me a favor,” he says softly. “Don’t almost die on me again.”

Yennefer knows she can’t promise that. None of them can, not when they’re on the run with the most wanted princess on the Continent. She can’t imagine how the four of them will all manage to get out of this alive. But Jaskier doesn’t need to hear that and she’s not above lying to her bard when necessary.

“I won’t,” she says. “So long as you don’t taunt any more men with swords. Except for Geralt. He would miss it.”

“No more taunting men with swords.” She knows he’s lying, just like she’s sure he knows she’s lying. But right now, curled up together on the ground, holding each other, they can both pretend that they believe it.

***

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Tag list: @kueble @mollymawkwrites @feral-jaskier @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @dawnofbards @thisislisa @tsukiwolf42 @mosaicscale @rockysstupidity @fontegagrilledcheese @kuripon @help-i-need-a-cool-username @julek @flowercrown-bard @eveljerome

#the witcher #yennskier #jaskier x yennefer #prompt fills #ghost's writing

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fanfictiondreamscape · 2 years

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“I’m Not Jealous, I Swear!”

Request: may i request a drabble with yuri plisetsky? reader is a skater from Japan, about the same skill level as him, and they're already in a relationship. can you do something with reader being jealous? i apologize my wording is terrible

Title: “I’m Not Jealous, I Swear!”

Genre: a lil mix of angsty, fluffy, and romantic (if you squint, in some cases). plus some tiny comedy cuz yoi antics-

Pairing: Yuri Plisetsky X GN!Reader

Notes: So, this was pushed back for the longest time, but it’s done now and I hope it’s to your liking! I apologize that it took me as long as it did to finish it, but college dealings, work, my birthday, and a ton of other personal crap came along and decided to knock me square on my ass.

That said, it’s done now and ready to read! I really do hope you like it, and I also really appreciate the request itself! (And don’t worry about the wording, I understood it perfectly!)

Below the cut!

You and Yurio were connected at the hip when possible.

Though you hailed from different countries, you both managed to convene and get to know each other over the years and the multiple competitions. Though you were both in the same age groups each time, you both never really interacted until the time Yuri had come from Russia.

You and Yuuri were the only officially registered Japanese figure skaters, and you had seen the whole fiasco with Victor and Yuuri. The drunken dancing, the absolute lack of awareness for personal space, and the extreme secondhand embarassment.

And the eye contact you made with the blonde Russian boy.

The words that Yuuri spoke directly to the face of the renowned figure skater rang true, apparently. Especially when you were met with the face of said figure skater and Yuuri, red-faced.

The rink was no different, as you were skating beside the taller silver-head and the raven-ette was stuck behind the walls. You shared a very surface level conversation with the world-renowned award winning figure skater, as well, but mostly kept to yourself until you left the rink.

That is, until you went to see about going to the rink with the two the following morning.

You dropped by the hot springs early in the morning, seeing as the sun had barely even started to rise yet. Dead tired, but determined, you met with Yuuri’s family and were provided a breakfast fit for a god by his mother.

Footsteps were heard through the walls, and expecting no one else besides Victor or Yuuri himself, you kept eating.

“You!”

What.

And the rest was history.

Yurio and yourself never failed to appreciate and improve the others abilities throughout the experience of the two Russian skaters residing in your home.

Even after he lost to Yuuri in the small competition that was held, you and Yuri made a promise to keep in contact. And keep in contact you did.

Facetime calls, text messages, funny pictures from Instagram, and videos and songs for the upcoming Grand Prix resulted in the two of you developing a bond that people could only dream of finding in their life at any point.

When you both finally met again, you being trailed by Victor and Yuuri (who also happened to be attached at the hip), you and Yuri immediately made a b-line for the other.

Anyone around the two of you could clearly see (or at least confidently infer) that the two of you were dating. And dating you were.

As soon as competitions and practices were done for the day, you and Yurio agreed to meet up at a popular restaurant. Upon hearing of the plan, Victor had decided to take Yuuri there and join you two.

“Victor, I was kind of...well, hoping that Yurio and I could dine together. Alone. In peace.” You punctuated your words with sharp looks at the tall skater-turned-coach.

“Of course, however-”

“No, Victor, I’m saying that Yuri and want to be alone. On a-” You gulped, this would be the first one you’ve had with him in months.

Victor sent a knowing look your way, watching as your body tensed up. Fidgeting with your hands was all he needed to see to solidify what he was thinking.

“Alright, alright! Yuuri and I will go someplace else, then, yeah?” And, alas, the plan was set.

You met with Yuri - or at least planned to - at 7 PM. Stood beside the door in your most flattering semi-formal wear and warm jacket, you pulled your phone out to text him.

‘are you almost here?’

Exiting your messages, you slipped your phone into the pocket it resided in previously and wrapped your arms around yourself to keep your body as warm as you could in the winter weather.

Yawning, you kept an eye out for your blonde boyfriend, watching the streetlights to see if his slight frame would pop out from the shadows.

Peeking around a corner, you noticed him walking along the sidewalk, but he was accompanied by someone. Someone that was not you. Someone that was getting a little too touchy - something that both you and Yuri had to agree on.

The girl had ears on her head, leading you to assume that she was one of his more forward fangirls. Practically hanging off his arm, she had hearts for eyes and Yuri looked like he was fighting the urge to throw up at the mere sight of her.

By the time he was within earshot, you could hear her gushing about the area and the sights within it, which ones would be best for him to see, causing you to flare red.

People around you would have seen steam bursting out of your ears if it were possible.

“There you are! I was getting worried about you,” you shouted, speedwalking to meet the boy and the brat midway. “Did something happen?”

Yuri sent a semi-panicked, semi-annoyed glance to the fan to his side. “Crossed paths with a fan on the way here.” His eye twitched as he ripped his arm from her grasp as easily as he could. “Sorry about that.”

You, in a moment of impulse, grasped his arm and hugged him close to your body. “It’s all good, seeing as you’re okay, darling. Should we get a table now?”

Yuri went red, as did the girl that trailed him, and you just snuggled yourself into his side. He blinked, lost, before stuttering out and low answer. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The girl huffed and stormed off, glaring at you when she’d peer over her shoulder when sulking away. You just sent her a smug grin, mouthing the words ‘He’s mine’.

It took him a solid ten minutes to regain his composure, which happened to hit him when the both of you were already seated in the restaurant. Your jacket was off, and you had your phone laid to the side of the table, waving your hands in his face.

“Are you there?”

Blinking himself to reality, he spoke. “What just happened?”

You raised an eyebrow, turning away and pursing your lips. “Nothing much. Scared your fan off for you, though.”

You diverted your attention to a really attractive neon sign at the corner of the room and got flustered. Yuri narrowed his eyes. “Mhm, sure, of course. Totally weren’t jealous, were we? You just helped to get her off my back?”

Your nose scrunched up. “Yes, that’s right. That’s why.” You crossed your arms and sat proudly in your seat, lips still pursed and attention still away from the blonde.

“You know you always avoid eye contact and act all haughty when you lie, right?” His smirk burned itself into your memory and flashed behind your eyes despite the fact that you weren’t able to see it at the moment.

“I- I do not.”

“That was another lie.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

The air around you two turned playful.

With his voice dropped, Yuri leaned into you as you remained firm in your stance. “You also know that you are absolutely adorable when you’re flustered, too, right?”

You deflated and, if his eyes weren’t deceiving him, the tips of your ears were starting to flush. “Here? Really?” Your eyes were wide.

“Finally got your attention.” He smiled, small but meaningful, and continued. “You aren’t going to lose me to some shameless fan, okay? You’re my one and only, alright?”

Nibbling your bottom lip, you nodded slightly. “I know, it’s just that she was getting handsy and it was getting late and you were getting uncomfortable....”

“That’s true, but that wasn’t why you cuddled me in street, was it?” he taunted, the tone of his voice light, airy, and teasing.

“I swear, I wasn’t jealous!”

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly. Anyway, what did you want to eat tonight? My treat.”

#yuriplisetsky #yuriplisetskyxreader #yurionice #yurionicexreader #yurioplisetsky #yurioplisetskyxreader #yoi #yoixreader #yoiyurio #yoiyurioxreader #yuri plisetsky #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuri on ice #yuri on ice x reader #yurio plisetsky #yurio plisetsky x reader #yoi x reader

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