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thenightcallsme · 7 months

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The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 2

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: N/A

Word Count: 4,515

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

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The sky is a dark swirl of clouds above my head, colours of dawn purples. Stars are peaking through the last rays of sunlight that are falling beyond the horizon. There is only a flat expanse of shifting, golden sand that dances in the low light as if it's a rolling sea. Cleaving through it is a path of smooth black stone. My feet are bare and aching on the strange path.

Beside me stands a beast of pure white fur. I stare at it for a moment in wonder, unable to find any features but black eyes peeking through the thick fur. And sitting atop it...

Asra looks back at me, wearing the same clothes I last saw him in, scarf pulled tight.

"Do you understand that I dare not tell you? If I did, you'd have to promise me never to seek this path. ...I'm not even as much a hypocrite as that, Vivian," he says in his soft, yet deep voice.

My eyes go from my master to the black road. I'm sure I'd never take this dark, savage path. And yet the smooth stone is so soothing and cool, so fascinating. I know I shouldn't find it so. I strain to see where it leads, but the path keeps changing.

"Soon there will be crossroads," Asra says.

This catches my attention. "'Crossroads'? Could you at least tell me where they lead?"

"You know I can't." He shakes his head at the pleading and anger in my eyes. "Rest now."

"You can't push me away!" I cry.

No. No no no.

Everything is slipping from my grasp, the scene swaying and dying. All that remains true is Asra's face, vivid and sympathetic. I try to keep my balance, but it's getting too hard to stand.

"I would never."

I try to scowl, but I'm so tired. "Then explain why you won't tell me where you go, what I should expect."

"Viv, I—"

Everything has gone dark, and my heart caves in. Why does something as small as a secret make me feel so neglected? I've never had a real friendship to base communication off, but I at least know he should be open with me. And this dream Asra...what I said is the closest I've ever been to telling the real him how I feel.

I wonder if I ever will.

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Sunlight and bird song float from my window and push the curtains on a careful breeze. The raging golden sun peaks behind the shingle roof of the apartment across the street. Shit

I spring off the bed and rush to the closet, throwing the doors open. I desperately rummage through my belongings to find something expensive-looking. Finery and priceless jewellery are two things I've never owned and never expect to, but that's never stopped me from trying to look appealing.

The best I can do is a long white skirt that hugs my waist, paring it with a plain green scarf. That I secure at my waist with a belt to make a makeshift top. It creates a low neckline, making room for my layered necklaces. Many small crystals and silver hoops adorn my ears, and I slide homemade rings onto my fingers. Everything is silver, all the gems earthy tones and inexpensive. The sandals I do up are not so appealing, but thankfully the skirt hides them.

The state of my hair makes me stop and cringe. The Countess would have seen in in a similar state last night. I hastily grab a brush and smooth it out, pulling my hair into loose braids that nearly reaches my waist Once my lips are painted a glossy red and my lashes are darkened, I grab my things and close the door behind me.

Everything still feels so surreal. I am a student of the magical arts, with no name in the world yet, my future—until now—only promising my job as a shopkeep. I read cards, sure, and I have some unreliable magic that flows and burrows beneath my skin despite coming from a very mundane family. Yet, today I will be stepping foot in the Vesuvian Palace to see Countess Nadia upon her wishes.

I shake my head. Keep doubting on it, I tell myself and it will all turn out a dream.

After last night's intrusion, I'm sure to turn the first lock, then the second, then the third. I try the door, letting out a breath of relief as it holds firm. But... I still press my hand to the worn wood and whisper a cross-me-not spell to be sure. The wood lights up beneath my touch as Asra's delicate carvings are awakened.

The shop will be well. All will be well.

The morning mist is heavy and thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of the day. It blankets the street in an ethereal milky glow as the early morning sun pierces it. I take a moment to take in the tranquil scene, only to feel the hairs on my neck raise in alarm.

Flashbacks from last night hit me hard and my magic reacts instantly. Careful not to be too wary, I turn slowly.

At first, I don't realise I'm looking at a human. Their form is certainly human, though monstrous in size. They wear only loose-fitted pants and a ragged cloak, a brown fur belt tied around their waist. It's no doubt a man, from the impressively muscled chest to his body shape. Scars are etched into his tanned skin, clean and jagged, shallow and deep, worn and silver with some new and purplish.

His face is hard to make out, though I can tell he's definitely watching me. ...Maybe waiting for me to approach? It's inevitable, as I need to go down the street he stands in the middle of. And while I could take another route I'm in no mood to feel intimidated.

So I walk towards the towering stranger and say, "Hey, you're in my way."

Stormy green eyes meet mine, unblinking. I can see frowning lips, a sharp jaw covered in stubble, a carefully curved nose. Unkept black hair falls over the only eye I can see. I can hear the rattle of metal on metal beneath his robes as he shifts, but doesn't move.

Fed up and ignorant of the chills racing down my spine, I go to step around him—

Only to freeze as a firm, large hand lands on my shoulder.

"He will return, uninvited," a voice of thunder rumbles from under his robes.

If I had not already gone still by the heavy hand on me, I would have now. He will return. This massive mountain of a man isn't talking of Asra. But how the hell does he—

"He will offer you an escape when you need it most. Turn it away, or you will fall into his hands. Just like the rest of us."

An escape to decline. Something that could end me up like the rest of us. But who is us? And why am I being dragged into this?

The weight from my shoulder is gone, but I'm still frozen, mind turning like the wheel of a waterwork. There is shuffling behind me, the sound of cloth and chains dragging against the stone streets. And then silence.

Exhaling deeply, I continue down the street and toward the narrow, mossy steps that will take me to the marketplace. Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway stretching across a canal.

The marketplace is set along one of the rivers that run from the coastline of the city, splitting it into six districts: the South End, the Temple District, the Flooded District, the Centre City, and the Heart District where the wealthy and well-respected reside. Seven districts, if you include Ash Beach. Thankfully, my shop and the marketplace are both located in the Centre City—the district that connects to the Heart, which the countess resides.

Branching from either side of the calm river are planks of wood connecting the shops. The riversides are bustling with life. People of all colours and genders and professions mull over what hand-crafted necklace they should buy for their loved ones. Food is sold in bulk, and people's mouths water over fresh cinnamon buns. The marketplace is always my favourite spot to be in the morning, the smells and colourful sights waking my senses.

"Vivian! Have you eaten yet!?"

I know that voice. I see the warm smile of the local baker from behind his orange-coloured stall. He's wearing flowing white pants and a tunic the colour of honey. His skin is practically glowing this morning.

"You always seem to know when I need some of your delicious meals, Finnick," I call back with a grin.

"Well, in that case," I can practically see the glint in his dark eyes from across the river, "I have your favourite pumpkin loaf in the oven. It won't be long now."

I sniff the air on impulse, my stomach twisting in hunger. Then again, I should be careful about the time. But I haven't eaten yet, and who's going to scold me if I'm a few minutes behind me?

I cross the wooden walkway. "Damn you and your pumpkin bread."

Finnick's sun-kissed face brightens even more. He leads me into the booth where we're welcomed by the rush of spice-scented air. My mouth waters, my stomach growling a second demand to hurry up.

Finnick's small traveling cafe has a good reputation around Vesuvia, his glutinous treats a sort-out delicacy. Thankfully, I always seem to catch him in the early hours, with room for me to sit and enough food in stock to take a few home. He passes me a steaming tin of tea. When in my hands, he braces his hands on his hips.

"And where is Asra?" he asks. "Sleeping in?"

I take a sip as I consider how to answer—though it's always the same reason. I sigh. "Off journeying somewhere. Again," I add with distaste.

"Ahh, and where to this time?" I shrug, taking another sip. Finnick raises a brow. "He didn't say? You're telling me the rascal is keeping secrets from his prized pupil?"

Finnick's words are in jest, but they prod something within the compels me to answer. The thought of Asra sharing everything with me is laughable. Yes, we have lots of physical things to share, but deep down, it's those thoughts and feelings that mean more.

Where are you going?

...Out.

When will you be back?

Sooner or later.

The idea of what he was hiding from me used to drive me crazy. And sometimes it still does. But...these are things I have to live with. A small price to pay for how much he has saved and changed my life, I guess.

"It's always like that," I say.

"You two are so complicated." He shakes his head and laughs. "So, he's off on another secret journey. And where are you off to today, may I ask?"

I consider holding my tongue, but I grin around the tin. "I'm going to the palace to see the countess."

Finnick's eyes widen a fraction. He whistles a low, long note. "So it's true. There have been whispers all morning, you know. Word is she was wandering about like a lost lamb 'til she found your door."

He leaves his statement open. Burning with curiosity, he waits for me to fill him in on the details. I laugh and take a sip of the minty beverage, keeping silent eye contact. He rolls his eyes and playfully sticks out his tongue.

"So how's that bread coming along?" I say instead.

With a shake of his head and an unintelligible mutter, he trudges to the little wood burning stove to check. He reaches in with a flat-faced spatula and drags out a small golden loaf of bread. The sweet, mouth-watering smell of the bread fills the room in seconds.

"Here you go," he says, passing it over, "all wrapped and ready for the road."

I reach for the coin pouch buried in my satchel, but his hand is placed over mine. When I look up with question, Finnick shakes his head at me with a smile.

"But you—"

"A little free treat for my favourite customer doesn't hurt. But next time bring Asra. And the snake." He winks.

Overcome with gratitude, I grab him in a tight hug. His skin smells of sugar and freshly made bread. "Ask that husband of yours if he could meet with me later this week for a new carpet, please? I'm afraid I...spilled a great deal of stuff on it that I can't get out."

It's not like I can't pay, but financial stability is a worry of mine. Finnick knows and always seems to give me free items, passing them off as a treat. But truly, it's a gift, no matter how cheap it is. I'll be sure to pay full for the new carpet.

"Of course, Vivian. Now don't keep the countess waiting."

With one final squeeze, I whisper a goodbye and ten more thank you's. Never will they be enough, though.

When I emerge from the stall, the morning traffic has become heavy. I'm careful to join the flow with caution of the customers. Up ahead is a narrow stone stairwell, where the masses and their animals cluster and walk through. And as my heels make contact with the first step, something catches my eye; A fortune-tellers booth tucked away in a shady corner. Silver moons adorn the tapestries draped over the entrance, shrouding it in secrecy. The sight teases a smile out of me as I note it and a few street dancers around it. How nostalgic...

As I'm lost in my past, a patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation. I give a wide berth for her to pass. I hear the woman's voice, sweet and soft and heavily accented. She must not be from around here. From the rolls on her r's and the thickness of her voice, she must be from Nevivion. It's not often you find Nevivion tourists in Vesuvia. The southern continent is nearly a month's travel away. Maybe a week shorter if you dared take the journey across the sea.

"Before I forget, what are my lucky numbers today?" The fortune-teller murmurs to her and she nods. "Three, six, seven, nine. Got it."

I pass them and walk ahead towards the castle, noting how the sun is already starting towards the horizon. The one thing that could improve the city could be more transport; horse carts, canoes in the river, anything. Sometimes it takes too damn long to make my way across the city.

The shrieking caw of a large black raven perched on a stall catches my attention. Its beady black eyes meet mine, cocking its head to the side like a curious dog. Suddenly, its attention isn't on me anymore as it caws again, loud and alerting as it peers over my shoulder. I have half the mind to follow its gaze...

...and my heart stops dead.

Moving casually through the crowd is a tall figure with pale skin and wild auburn hair, whistling to himself. I don't need a double-take to let the familiarity hit me like a brick to the head. His clothes are the same—a large black coat with red lining, the navy pants and button-up shirt, leather boots—but there is no sign of the bird-like mask.

Doctor Julian.

Even from this distance and the rolling sea of people, I don't see a bandage on the side of his face. There is no healer in this part of the city who could heal something as deep as that cut so fast. I sure as hell am not about to ask him, though, and thankfully he hasn't spotted me.

Without a second thought, I duck into the crowd. My mind races as I run in the opposite direction. Why of all places would he be in a marketplace, particularly one of the busiest in Center City, without that mask? And in broad daylight? If he's here now, could he have stayed nearby the whole time? I shiver at my next thought. Is he following me?

Confident that I can stay on my feet, I dare to steal a glance backward to see if he's spotted me. No, he hasn't. He's still distracted by all the—

Above the bustling noises of the crowd, the huge raven caws again, louder than before as it swoops in front of me. I skid to a halt and barely miss its beating wings as it circles me and caws again before perching itself on another stall.

Julian's attention shifts at the loud call as if he recognises it, his eyes searching the crowd with a frown, and this time, I can’t avoid it. We lock eyes and at first, there is only surprise in his look as he goes still. Though, it soon vanishes, replaced by another look that seems to purr 'hello again'.

He's definitely seen me now.

But I've spent years of my life in these streets, spent time earning money off these streets. Run-ins with the wrong people are common, no less for street performers, and of course, we always learned how to slip away. Every nook, every alleyway, every twist and turn in this city is my best friend.

I leave the main path and weave through the booths faster than before, zig-zagging in my own familiar way like a ghost in the wind. I pass that fortune teller's booth again and prepare to turn that sharp corner to the weather-beaten stairs that cleave between two towering buildings. It's barely wide enough to fit two people. Knowing that nobody uses them and that there should be a pottery stall keeping it half hidden, I make a beeline straight for it. I turn that corner without slowing; a mistake. I should have slowed, should have thought twice. Instantly, I collide with an unsuspecting woman.

The impact throws me back, teetering on the edge of a step, the shoes I'm wearing catching in a crevice. At the last second, I throw my hands out, pushing a gust of wind to the ground to regain my balance. The other woman isn't so lucky. The basket she was skilfully balancing on her hip slips from her grasp and hits the ground, sending a dozen pomegranates rolling through the crowd.

"Oh my, I'm sorry!" I gush, a flush of embarrassment on my checks. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry."

The woman doesn't seem to hear me, though, as she mutters, "Oh, perfect. As if I wasn't already running late."

I drop down to a crouch beside the woman and grab the three closest to me. I snatch a stray one from the cobble street before a donkey's hove comes straight down on it. When I pour the cluster of saved fruits into her basket, her eyes finally fall on me. There's a flicker of annoyance in her eyes—rightfully so—but she still offers me a warm smile on her soft rosebud mouth.

The woman is possibly a little younger than me, with smooth, rosy-pale skin covered in freckles like splattered pain. Her steel-blue eyes are round and sparkling with happiness. Bangs of curling auburn hair frame her heart-shaped face, falling from her loose bun. She doesn't wear expensive materials, just a short, white dress lined with a gold pattern that falls off her shoulders and bunches at her elbows. Cinching in her curved waist is a shawl the colours of a sunset.

There is something so strangely familiar about her, yet I've never seen her in my life. I mean, I did see her exiting the fortune stall.

"Ooh, thank you!" she says with delight. "How sweet of you to help me."

I offer her a hand. "Of course. I did run into you. It was the least I could do."

Her smile brightens as she places her hand in mine, hers’ small and calloused against mine, worn by work. I begin to doubt that she is just a tourist. A cleaner for a wealthy house, maybe? A seamstress?

She finds her feet and reaches into the basket, pulling out a pomegranate and rubbing it against her shawl. "I probably shouldn't do this, but take it. As a thank you."

With a smile, I take it. "Thank you, um..."

"Portia," she finishes. "And you?"

"Vivian."

She adjusts the basket on her hip. "Well, Vivian, take care now. I'll see you arou—"

Suddenly, the woman cuts herself off her eyes narrowing for a moment as she studies me, lost in thought like she recognises me. Then, as if someone had shouted my name, her eyes widen.

"Wait, wait, wait!" she blurts. "I think I know who you are."

I frown. "I...don't think I can say the same?"

How could she possibly—

"You're Vivian Caelum," she breathes in astonishment, "the magician. Countess Nadia said we were expecting you."

My eyes widen for a second as her words echo in my head. She does know me, but...we? Portia must work for the countess—which explains me wondering if she was a house worker, the basket of pomegranates for the countess herself. Her reverence for the fruit is no secret. Even Portia’s name rings a bell, possibly from being whispered of around the market.

What surprises me most, though is the sound of my name. I never told the countess my last name. Hell, she never even spoke my fist. All I knew was that she was sure I was Asra. Was she not seeking him after all? But who would have recommended…

"I'm milady's head servant, if that explains anything," she adds.

"I guess you do know me, then," I say with a grin. "In fact, I was just making my way to the palace."

"Well, then, how lucky are we to have met! Come on, I'll show you to the palace."

Please don't go back to the main road, please don't turn around, I pray silently. As if answering my prayers, Portia continues back up the stairs. I follow beside her, breathing a sigh of relief. Though I still wonder if the doctor is wandering the crowd looking for me.

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The colours of Portia's shawl soon match the sky's display as the sun reaches the end of its ascent. The number of stairs are far greater than I remember, but then again I never have a reason to take this stairway nowadays. By the time we reach the flat expanse of cobble street towards the palace, my calves and lungs are begging for rest. But Portia's pace is too strong for me to slow down enough to even ask. Little beads of sweat gather on my brow and between the hollow of my breasts.

The silence is heavy yet comfortable; it has been for a while now. Finally, Portia speaks.

"I'm glad milady found you when she did," Portia says solemnly. "The countess could use good help. And you look like the good kind."

I purse my lips. "She told me little to none, but she seemed like she needed a special sort of help that doesn't just include what I am used to." I sigh. "I just hope I can help."

"As do I."

Portia suddenly slows to stop and my mind finally has a moment to register where we are. And when I look up...

Standing assertive and tall before us is a towering gate of twisted, glistening iron, the arrow-headed tips beautiful and deadly. Beyond that, I can see the palace closer than ever before. Tower upon tower shoot from the ground to try touch the rising moon with their golden roofs. The worn yet sparking marble walls are regal and blinding even in the dying light. I stare at it in awe, the knowledge that I am about to stand inside it almost feeling like a faraway dream.

On either side of the gates are guards clad in shining silver armour, armed to the teeth. Their eyes all fall on me without even moving their heads, and if I didn't note that small movement, I would have wondered if they were statues. Their gazes pass over me and towards Portia as they move aside, lowering their weapons.

"Ludovico, Bludmila, this is Vivian," Portia says by way of greeting. "She'll be staying with us as our guest."

They only nod.

Portia turns to me, waving her hand to the right guard. "Vivian, this is Bludmila." I don't see much of the woman other than olive skin and a peak of unnaturally coloured red hair framing her dark brown eyes. Portia points to the left where I find a strikingly similar face to Blubmila's, but of the opposite gender. "And this is Ludovico."

They nod once more and together, push open the heavy iron gates, giving us a clear path right to the palace.

"After you, Vivian," Portia says.

I comply without really thinking, my feet moving and my eyes wide as I look at the castle as if captured in a trance. Portia leads me across a long, arched bridge is made of white stone that crosses the moat. I look over the edge and into the water as we cross it. A long, sleek eel of sorts glides swiftly through the current, veins glowing like fire beneath transparent skin. I try to look closer, but Portia grabs my arm, pulling me away from the edge.

"Hey—" but I don't get to finish.

Portia gives me a look of warning. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. We've had a few...incidents with those things down there."

"What are they?" I breathe. I've never seen such things, let alone heard of them, so why would they infest the waters in the palace grounds?

She shrugs. "No one has the faintest idea. Recently they just showed up with no warning. Not to mention they have a nasty, fatal bite."

"Sounds like somebody put them there.”

"It has been a theory—but I don't want to think about it." She recomposes herself, replacing her look of worry with a smile. "Now let's not keep milady waiting."

I incline my head in agreement, but my gut feeling begins to sit wrong. As we approach the intricate doors, anxieties start to rise like bubbles in boiling water. Is this wise? What am I even to expect? I know I've said this enough already, but why me? What do I have to offer the countess? Too soon have we come to a stop before the towering set of doors.

"Here we are," Portia says. She swings her fist against the copper plating, sounding three echoing strikes in a practised pattern. As the last echoes fade down an unseen hallway and within the castle walls, there is a click. Then another. Then another. With a low groan, the heavy doors swing inwards.

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#The Arcana #Julian Devorak #Asra Alnazar #Nadia Satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x apprentice #The Arcana Julian Route

4 notes · View notes

newbordeaux · 2 years

Note

for nasreen: E2, E5, E6, E7, L6, P2, P4, + C9 😏

What class do they belong to? How did they initially train and learn their skills?

She's a rogue too 😌 Nasreen was a dalish hunter, even though her clan kept cattle she'd often venture out to hunt other animals for food, beasts (those who'd harm her clan's lifestock) or anyone else who terrorized them. She's deadly and proficient with her bow and arrow >:)

What do they specialize in within their class?

Artificier >:) She's good at inventing little things, like explosives for her arrows, little gadgets and other things.

Do they have a preferred weapon they always use?

Again, her bow and arrow. She's been using the same one for about 25 years now, it's just a regular wooden one but it has carvings that her father (the clan's best craftsman I just decided this 😊 stan talent) put in there. She also has a few smaller weapons like a knife but the bow and arrow is her main thing.

How do they dress in their downtime, while fighting, in formal settings, etc.?

She dresses a little differently within the inquisition than she did back in Nevarra... Her old wardrobe consisted of mostly traditional palestinian garments, however the climate in ferelden is too cold for those, so she tends to dress in more... local fashion once she travels there. She wears sooo many more layers than everyone else because she’s constantly freezing! She’s not used to the cold 😖 her style is more laid back and comfortable, she wears a lot of embroidered stuff, kinda like this from the game (sorry i couldnt find any other pics) but with thick fur boots and a knitted jacket, maybe even a cloak. Eventually has some blouses made that resemble nevarran embroidery teehee.

Her fighting outfits are similar to that one, except with less clunky boots and a sleekr jacket, plus some armor pieces. She wouldn’t be caught dead in fereldan dalish garments though, these people are insane for walking barefoot when it’s FREEZING everywhere -_-

As for formalwear... she had a few special thobes back at home/certain accessories for special occasions (like a headpiece from when she married), but she wouldn’t wear this within the inquisition. She has to stick to uniforms like the rest of them sadly, but hers is a little bit costumized to reflect her Nevarran origins :)

Which aspects of the culture they were born into holds the most significance for them?

EVERYTHING her clan’s culture differs from other clans (they’re. monotheistic, something similar to islam but like fantasy. I have more thoughts about this but I digress) but it’s still so important to her, especially being surrounded by so many fantasy christians :( Her god is teeeeeechnically the same as the maker (albeit with a different name) but she doesn’t believe in Andraste and being in an organization where people keep talking about their annoying dead woman, she clings even more to her beliefs 😔 not even her fellow elves are any comfort here because Sera will keep talking about not being like other elves uwu and Solas keeps calling the dalish dumb :|

Which companions (or advisors) are they closest friends with? Who do they respect?

She’s a companion/Advisor herself aha BUT she’s very close to Aaliyah (inquisitor), fellow Nevarran and as a fantasy sjw, Nasreen immediately trusts her more than other humans. Otherwise she’s close to Varric, a fellow sexy middle aged person and idk he’s just hard to hate. I think her mom friend attitude would remind him of Hawke (mine at least who’s suffering from the eldest daughter curse). She also like Cole a lot :) everyone’s so mean to him but he’s such a polite young man 💗 I also think she and Vivienne would teeechnically have clashing opinions but I think they’d get along regardless. MILF solidarity. And of course... Blackwall :)

I think she’d get along with all of the advisors and respects all of them, I also think she and Leliana would vibe. Or they would have in her early days, she’s so cynical nowadays that she probably wouldn’t hang out with most of the others but hypothetically they could be friends. She also likes Josephine soo much, she’s such a sweetheart. Nasreen has so much respect for her, she actually bothered to learn some dalish greeting just to make her feel welcome 😖 she doesn’t get how Josie can still stay so civil and friendly after dealing with nobles all day, she would have lost her mind. And I think despite everything, even though she’d be suspicious of him for a long time eventually she would actually get along with Cullen, they wouldn’t be best friends or anything but she thinks he’s alright for a former templar, at least after his character arc that only happens in my mind and not in the actual game. I think when he’s not suggesting anything that has to do with siding with templars, she actually agrees with his direct methods a lot 🤷‍♀️ Until Aaliyah starts beef with him over nothing and it all errupts into yet another war room fight.

Are there any companions (or advisors) they don’t get along with? Have any of them ever left the party?

LOL CASSANDRA... which mostly has to do with her very intolerant attitude (the shit with saying that she should make room for another god in her pantheon. girl.) and the way she keeps saying how much she hates Nevarra and how it sucks. Her and Aaliyah ganging up on her ❤

I think she and Solas would have a strained relationship as well, she does like him initially but the way he keeps talking about the dalish bothers her a lot. He’s too prejudiced for her and she has better things to do with her time than to convince him that the dalish aren’t just dummies who get everything wrong.

And Dorian... She doesn’t trust him at all after he says he thinks slavery is okay and that the Pavus family owns some. She refuses to speak to him 😊

What places in Thedas have they been to? What do they think about places other than their homeland?

Before joining the Inquisition... just places within the Nevarran desert when her clan was travelling around. After that she travelled to the most random places in Ferelden and Orlais, she dislikes the climate in both of them lol. However, she loves the Hissing Wastes because it reminds her of her home, and the Emerald Graves... like yes she’s not like them Orlesian elves but she’s still tied to this place and feels a strong connection to it.

#THANK YOU💕#writing the rest of this half asleep....#c: nasreen #lord help me i miss this stupid game

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moonlightwritesdisney · 3 years

Text

DREAM COME TRUE. -- WYATT LYKENSEN.

Paring: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: foul language. nudity. graphic descriptions of blood and cannibalism. sexual activity.

Summary: Weeks after your old elementary friend had finally vanished from all existence everything seems to finally go back to normal. Standing in a coffee shop you met him. And all hell breaks loose.

SEQUEL TO ‘YOU’.

PREVIOUSLY . . .

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.

THE DIRT BELOW HIS BROWN BOOTS became sore while he had previously been peering into your small window for the past five minutes watching you. Your brown pale skin covered in the blood that wasn’t your own. Your face dry and lips cracked from the crying you had done, you felt numb. Your heat besting rapidly in anxiety.

The mirror reflected your bruised image. The bags under your eyes were a dark purple, your eyes a dark brown with widened pupils ( a side effect of a broken Z-band which usually wears off after twelve hours ). Your sink water turned a bright pink as the last of his blood washed down the drain. Disappearing into the drain pipes.

Your mascara smeared down your cheeks, your nose and cheeks red and your eyes puffy. ‘Your going to kill him’. A selfish voice spat in his head, his sharp claws dug into the untouched flesh of his tan palm. He was furious.

How could someone so shameful have the power of destroying someone who was so innocent? She was a ray of pure sunshine. His sunshine. The pondering question he already knew the answer to racked the Alpha wolf’s brain. He couldn’t understand it.

You were so innocent. Baby like. His baby. He felt guilt.

A page pant of sadness washed over him. He had wished it was him, who could comfort you from what had just happened. ‘Shh baby it’s okay I’m here now, your safe, completely safe, I won’t let anyone ever harm you again, ever, never again. I am so sorry.

So sorry. So sorry.’ He had imagined you sobbing desperately in his chest the ache of your body he felt against his own skin, he’d stroke your arm softly and whisper sweet nothing in your ear.

He’d reassure you constantly, be their for you when having to deal with the gained trauma even after the act. He’d give you anything you needed. Leave you loving encouraging notes in your belongings. Hold you every night as you slept. Lock every door and window in the house.

He’d lay bare with you in bed for hours just to make sure his babygirl was okay. Although he couldn’t help blame himself. He knew that he couldn’t just burst into your house and save you from your attacker, even after the matter.

‘oh uhm yeah, I’ve totally been watching you for months, that includes changing, and showering, and well... pleasing yourself too.

I’ve seen it all, and uhm I’m kinda in love with you too so I mean that’s a plus, uhm I know literally everything about you, how you are very persistent in organization and you hate cheesy romantic comedies.

How you’d just want to stay up until three a.m. reading a book about truce crime. How you can girl over the most underrated music artists and how you hate a guy that plays dumb in the most basic way. I know you absolutely hate roses anything I’m missing?’

He chuckled at the image of you stunned. He knew more about you than you knew yourself. How you’d jump into his arms, the feeling of your skin against his. Your soft lips brushing against his neck. He’d want it all.

That would immensely creep you out. His intention would to never make you uncomfortable. So the pain only grew worse. Not being able to call you by your name. Hold you. Take in the surreal beauty that was Y/N.

His white fangs pressed against his bottom teeth. His blood boiled to the brim. He wanted to make that disgusting human pay for what he did. His stomach twirled in mixed emotion.

He so badly wanted to hold you in his chest and comfort you, but some things have complicated consequences.

In the low midst of the night he kept a sharp eye on the human who groggily made his way down the deserted dirt road, stalking the weak being beneath the depths of the dark forest.

Small boots could be heard from miles stretched along the black canvas of the open air, the human male scanning his surroundings for some place to rest or.. a possible shortcut that could lead him home.

Wyatt licked his dry lips breathing out slowly watching the human stand in the clearing with curiosity. ‘Kill him’. ‘He deserves to suffer for what he did’. ‘Y/N’. ‘Think of Y/N’. ‘Gut him’.

The imploding thoughts trying to take control of him. His pupils shrunk and turned a bright yellow his fangs grew from the K-9’s in his mouth. He breathed heavily and beast like trying to regain his composure. Sure, he thought of you.

How you would’ve told him ‘this is dangerous and could get you caught by wolf patrol don’t’. But, the monster side of her would’ve agreed with him. Could’ve given into the impulses.

Could’ve joined in on the eccentric thrill of gutting a human to their bones watching as blood came spitting out of their body, falling limp to the ground and squirming like a dead rabbit, until their last breath leaves the closure of their lungs.

But he bit down on the inside of his cheek hard and shoved the impulsive thoughts aside. He caught attention of the human stepping through the clearing, Wyatt swiftly disappeared behind a tree. (Thank his wolf stealth.)

He watching closely behind the large oak as the midnight sky lit up with thousands of glowing stars the bright moon floating still. His feet crunched under the small wood chips and loose dirt, which made Wyatt’s right ear twitch occasionally.

The human was lost, he had reached up to a large clearing in the middle of the forest ‘maybe this will be a quicker way home’. He thought to himself as he squeezed his way through the thick pine trees that scratched his face and dark leather. Little did he know he wouldn’t be going home.

An owl called in the distance alarming the human. Shrugging it off he walked a few more feet bonfire stopping in the middle of the clearing an eerie feeling began to set it and shake throughout his body. Wyatt quickly ran behind the large oak tree causing the bushes to rustle.

The human quickly threw his head around to the source of the sound, Wyatt felt his heart pace quickly , quicker as each second passed.

The moonstone laid on Wyatt’s chest grew a bright blue his sharp K-9s’ growing to a slick point and his eyes glowing a bright deeming yellow.

A low growl erupted from his stomach the animalistic nature taking grasp of his human side. The human caught sight of a dark shadow peeking out from behind the tree. He bolted the other direction.

His breathing paced as his nimble legs carried him the south west end of the dark dreary forest. Mud crushed under his boots his lungs burning and heaving out of exhaustion. Wyatt was faster. He dodged past trees and bushes running at almost fifty miles.

His leg got caught on a sharp tree ranch nearby he knew that whatever was out to kill him was going to make it quick. He was scared. He pulled with force which caused the branch to cut into the soft flesh of his leg, blood seeped through the blue denim and into Wyatt’s nostrils.

Jumping over large rocks and the bushes he caught up to the human quickly grabbing him by his jacket he pushed to human to the ground and used the force of his arms to hold him in a pin.

The human breathed heavily his eyes widened in fear “please .... don’t hurt me”. He spoke weak like it was an excuse to let him go. Wyatt’s eyes glowed his lips formed a deep snarl.

“Let you go? And what, you continue raping other innocent women”. He whispered a deeply distorted voice replacing Wyatt’s usual calm manner. The monster had completely taken over. The human whimpered and squirmed like a dead animal.

A scream left the human’s mouth and soared above the trees as Wyatt bite deeply into the salty flesh. The blood was warm a large chunk of his skin hung off of Wyatt’s mouth before he spit it out discarding it.

The human grunted and moaned in pain shooting out lines of foul words. Wyatt smirked as he straddled the humans hips in place allowing him to not move.

In panic the human began to wail his arms, the young wolf felt his heart erupt in his chest. The watched as the human wailed in half death, he felt evincible.

The blood squirted and poured out of the human’s uncared wound. The blood tasted sweet in his mouth, a true delicacy.

About fifteen minutes after he threw the discarded bones into a six feet deep ditch he had dug after killing the human.

His mouth, arms, and clothes all drenched in the human’s bodily fluids and chunks of his flesh on his chest.

He smelt foul. He knew he did. He wanted to make sure you were okay but couldn’t come to you smelling like this.

He had walked the path he knew like the back of his hand spotting the small watering hole, he stood at the shore of the small lake the moon glowing brightly over him.

Taking off his fur coat he stripped himself of his purple hoodie before slowly bringing up his white tank top over his head revealing his broad v line, toned abs and chest stained with blood.

Unclasping his jeans he slide them down towards his knees kicking off his boots and white socks. Then came his boxers.

He engulfed himself in the lake slowly, it was freezing cold but was used to it. The water has risen up to the middle of his waist, he began to vigorously rub off the dried blood splashing cold water in his face and arms.

Dipping himself under the cold lake he rushed up and breathed out coughing. Moving his wet hair out of his face he caught sight of a dark shadowed figure that stood at the shore. He could’ve sworn it was you. Your pale skin glimmered beautifully under the moonlight.

He didn’t move a muscle, yet he waited to see what your next intention was. A robe you were wearing slowly feel to the ground as you now stood naked your gaze kept on his, you slowly entered the water.

Your figure made your way through the cold water, his eyes never leaving yours he was absolutely stunned. This had to be surreal.

Your hips moved in the water causing ripples to shift outwards, your brown eyes fluttered innocently. He stood in front of you awestricken, you were gorgeous.

He was scared that maybe if he had made one wrong move you’d leave, so there he stood motionless waiting for you to respond.

You were now in front of him, your naked glory he kept his eyes on you out of full curiosity. Your face inches away from his you guided his hands towards your side his warm arms wrapped securely around your waist.

The tension was lingering, his heart was pacing at an irregular pace questions swirling around in his mind but nonetheless, he wouldn’t change a thing.

The two of your lips met in pure bliss, moving in synchronization your fingernails traveling up the back of his neck and into his soft curls his hands gripping your hips lightly not wanting to hurt you without permission.

His lips trailed from your jaw and to your neck where he softly bite and sucked gaining small moans from you in response.

Heavy breathing and moans began to fall from your lips as he held you in his arms his nails digging into the sides of your hips causing you to squirm, the fingers of his right hand gently sliding over your folds.

Unfortunately for Wyatt, he awoke in a panic, his head was spinning and he was covered in blood. His brown eyes scanned his surroundings, the green trees a dim green and the woods ground wet and sloshy from the rain the night before.

It was a dream.

Fuck. It was a dream.

Shivers shot down his spine and throughout his body as he remembered the horny dream he had. God he wished it where real. He observed his clothing. He was drenched in blood. His whole body.

He pondered to himself in confusion then it clicked. After killing the human he had retreated back to the clearing and fell asleep after ... Waking up he knew aside from the perks of his wolf powers one downside was that wolves couldn’t remember events that happen after they detach from their human form.

He licked his chapped numb lips while his ears perked up, sirens could be heard from miles away, holy shit. The police had found his body. Quickly, he stood up and ran left towards large similar oaks trees, lucky for him he knew the woods so it was easy for him.

Suddenly while his head was turned behind him making sure he wasn’t seen he quickly looked forward and collided with anther body a loud grunt slipped passed his lips as he fell on the hard soil, groaning.

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the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

Can you do yandere bully damian wayne with fem reader how is a 🐺🔥🥋 🛡 🏹 🏠 she is like demon Hunter in Gotham and sometimes batman call for her help with joker/villains and goes to Gotham academy

They Heated each other guts and she tolerated him for her best friend Jonathan Kent

Damian was dating raven how was using him as cashcow

one day in park damian get drugged and kidnapped and reader saw all the and follow there car to save him after killing his kidnappers and heal him she comfront him and tell him everything is going to be alright and give him her jacket (which he will keep it for eternity) she dropped him to his house after buying him something to eat when damian get to his father house he sees the no-one care of what happened to him they saw the he got kidnapped and they didn't care at all but reader did and the how the obsession began

*STATIC*: An Obsessive Love Born From Loathing Hate? A Golddigger, as well? Quite an interesting request we have here, Broken.

Broken Truth: That we do, so let's see what words weave together from this.

Quick Note: The name of the reader shall be Kacela - The name means 'Huntress' and is of African Origin. Just like Damien, she is a rich kid but not because her parents are rich - her human parents abandoned her and she started her own business; it's well-known but not on the same level as Wayne Enterprises.

Broken: SORRY IT'S LATE! I'VE BEEN BUSY!

- THE RUNED HUNTRESS -

[On Top Of Gotham's Rooftops - Across from a besieged Research Facility]

[The Joker was at it again but this time he wasn't working alone - he enlisted the aid of Clayface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Riddler, and Penguin to take hold of a Research Lab that contained something each member of the crime group wanted; how Joker knew this and managed to use to persuade the villains into working with him is something The Dark Knight couldn't quite figure out. What he did know was that he was going to need some help.]

[At the moment, Damien (Robin)., Dick (Nightwing), and Barbara (Batgirl) were the ones of the Bat-Family that were with him at the moment but the 4 of them weren't going to be enough and - as much as he hated it - he needed aid from a power beyond what his gadgets and training could do.]

Damien (Walks over to Batman, who is standing on the edge looking at the facility): Father, why are we still waiting while those criminals are making a mess of the place?

Bruce: Because we're waiting for someone.

Damien: Who? We have enough people, we can take them.

Bruce: Don't be foolish, Damien. It's the four of us up against seven of Gotham's Worst, plus they have hostages and have access to unknown tech or substances that could put us at a disadvantage. The person I called has abilities unlike our own and can help us a great deal.

[Damien opened his mouth to protest when a smell hit his nose - it smelled like something was burning.]

Dick (Sniff-Sniff): Does anyone else smell something burning.

Barbara: It smells like brimstone.

Bruce: She's here.

[Nightwing opened his mouth to question who 'she' was when a burst of red light from a ball of fire came shooting upward from the edge of the building before falling and landing in the clear space. The ground was scorched from the fire impact and cinders flowed around the air and lined along with the black marks up everyone looked at the person - or creature - that caused it.]

[The creature was large and muscular the body of a wild canine - a wolf - but it stood on 2 legs; except, wolves didn't have 2 horns on their foreheads. The forearms of the beast were scarred with runes that were glowing red against the black fur. The creature began to stand on 2 legs - its height towered over Bruce - and opened its eyes to reveal eyes made from hellfire. The humanoid wolf opened its jaws - letting the hot smoke out - as it began to speak to the Head of the Bat-Family.]

Wolf Creature: Dark One (What she calls Bruce), I'm answering your persistent summons. Why have you decided to bother me this time?

Barbara: Summons? (Looks at Bruce) Bruce, what is that thing?

Wolf Creature (Glares at Barbara): I am not a 'Thing', I am a Wolf Demon while you are the daughter of a cop - playing dress up just to spite him and stick your pointed head where it doesn't belong.

Barbara (Points at the Wolf Creature): Hey, don't call me a...

Bruce (Raises his hand): That's enough. (Looks at the Wolf Creature) Runed Huntress, I know you told me that you're not interested in helping me but this is important. Those criminals have many innocent people captured and are trying to access some very dangerous information and products. Our gadgets can only get us so far but your power is limitless. We need your help.

Runed Huntress (Snorts - making smoke shoot out her nose and blow in Bruce's face): Very well, I shall aid you once again but - as I said before - do not make a habit out of this; you are this city's protector, not me.

Bruce (Nods): Noted. (Turns back to the building) Now, let's get a move on.

[The Bat-Family & The Runed Huntress leaped across the building rooftops until they reached the last roof that sat at the edge of the street that separated the distance of the buildings and the facility. The Bat-Family watches as the large humanoid wolf clapped her hands together and slowly brought them apart - bring a bow that looked as if it was forged from hellfire itself. The Runed Huntress took the bow in hand and did the motion of drawing back an arrow - Damian's eyes widen as an arrow materialized in her clawed hand before she releases it. It goes soar across the street and crashes into the glass dome but doesn't shatter it - it melts it away and forms a large hole, big enough for the rescue party to get inside.]

[The villains looked upon the hole of melted glass as the Bat-Family glided in and stood before the corrupted 7. The Ringleader - The Madman known as Joker - began to chuckle and clap his hands.]

Joker (Clapping): Bats! I knew you would be here! A little late to the party, don't you think?!

Bruce (Glares at Joker): I don't have time to deal with your demented mind, Joker. Release the hostages and turns yourselves in or we can do this the hard way.

Joker (Pouts and shakes his head): Oh, Batsy... Always the party pooper; no cake for you. But in case you have noticed, I outnumber you so...I don't think you can win.

[Just then - the monstrous roaring howl of the Runed Huntress echoed in the hall as she leaped through the giant hole and landed on all fours between Joker and Bruce. She glared at the villains as her jaws opened as lava leaked from the cracks of her fangs, making 2 pools on the tile floor that began to rise and form into 2 clones of herself.]

Runed Huntress (Rising to her feet as the lava clones did the same): Now...it's an even playing field.

[When Killer Croc let loose a hiss, Runed Huntress barked back at him and the two of them charged at each other - fighting as beasts knew how to. Bruce dealt with Joker, Barbara took on Harley Quinn, Dick took care of Riddler, Damian attacked Penguin, while the other two clones took on Clayface and Poison Ivy.]

[The fight ended with the villains in cuffs and loaded into Transportation Trucks, Barbara found the scientists locked in the safe - all accounted for and unharmed, but mentally scarred - Bruce was talking to Gordon while his family looked on. Damian looked off to the side and watched the large wolf walking away and ran after her as she turned into an alleyway.]

Damian: Hey, where are you going?

Runed Huntress (Looks over her large shoulder at the Wayne Family Heir): What do you want, boy? I have aided your leader, that doesn't mean I need to stay around for his talks with the Commissioner.

Damian: Just what the hell is your problem?

Runed Huntress: My 'problems' are none of your concern, Rich Boy.

[Damian opened his mouth to speak but the large beast was engulfed by a flammed vortex that erupted from the ground around her feet and covered her until it exploded into cinders - leaving Damian alone in the alley, looking at the charred circle in the ground.]

- RAVENS LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE -

[The Next Day: Gotham High School - Courtyard]

"I gotta go to the library to do some last-minute reading before class starts but before I forget, can I get some cash, Bae?" The Indigo-Eyed Girl asked as she looked upon the Wayne Heir.

"More? I gave you $700 just last week." Damien said as she looked at his girlfriend.

"I know but there's a sell on some rare spell tomes and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on them. o, can you give me some cash?" Raven asked with a tilt of her head like a cat; making the heir exhale.

"Okay, I send another $800." Damien exhaled, earning a kiss on his cheek from the girl how had his heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, Damien!" Damien turned to see his friend Jonathan Kent walking up to him, but he wasn't alone.

Beside Jonathan was a dark-skinned female around the same height as him with golden eyes in a constant glare, She had short black hair in an undercut - only on her right side. She was wearing the Gotham High School uniform but the man one - she wasn't in comfortable skirts and she had the money to allow this. On her wrists there 2 golden bracelets - long ones that start at her wrists and end further up her forearms - that had some kind of writing on them that Damien didn't care to translate. Why didn't he care? Because he didn't like her.

"Hey." Damien said as he looked in the direction of his friend and...tolerant.

"You good, Bro? You seemed stressed out." Jonathan said with concern in his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine - Father was telling us that there is some large event tonight and he wants all of us there; no questions asked." Damien said.

"Large event? What's that?" Jonathan asked.

"He talking about Gotham's Angel Award - it's when all of Gotham's CEOs and Walking Wallets gather in one room to see who's been recognized as the most giving and kind." Kacela said as she looked at Jonathan with her arms folded.

"Funny the stray (That's what Damien calls her began she doesn't have parents, relatives, or even a surname.) knows what it is, even though you would never step foot in that place, much less get to hold an invitation." Damien said with a smirk on his face. Imagine his shock as Kacela pulls an invitation to that event from her pocket.

"You were saying, Bird Brain?" Kacela asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Damien began to get mad and Kacela glared at him when Jonathan stepped between them.

"Whoa. Whoa. No need to fight! Just relax, guys." Jonathan said as he looked between her friends. Kacela exhaled and stepped back.

"Fine. I won't fight because Jonathan asked me to." Kacela said as she glared at Damien.

"Same here, Stray." Damien glared at her too before turning back to his phone.

"Whatcha doing, Damian?" Jonathan asked.

"Sending some cash to Raven's card." He said.

"More? Didn't you send her a lot just a few days ago?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but there was a book sale and she didn't want to miss out on the rare tomes that were for auction." Damian explained.

"Is that the song she sang to you? For someone so brilliant...you can't even see when you are being played." Kacela said as she placed her hands in her pockets and began to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean, Stray?"Damian glared at her.

"Just remember - Ravens are fond of things that gleam and shine but they are also creatures that sing songs of deception." Kacela said before she entered the building, leaving Damian and Jonathan standing there.

- THE RAVEN'S DECEPTION & TRAPPED IN THE LION'S DEN -

[After Highschool]

Damian wished his friend a good evening before getting on his motorcycle and driving out of the school's parking lot. He knew that the normal route he would take was going to be caked in traffic for the event tonight and decided to head the long way. He was coming up on the red light at the intersection of 4 famous restaurants/cafes sat at the 4 Corners. He was the first vehicle in line when a familiar voice was heard from the right - he looked and the eyes under his helmet widened when they landed on his girlfriend sitting at an outdoor table with shapeshifter of the Titans - Beast Boy a.k.a Garfield. They were sitting at the table, holding hands and smiling at each other - as if they were in love.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?" Raven asked.

"I wanna go to the new exotic animal show but tickets to that places are stupidly expensive." Garfield said.

"Don't worry, babe; I got the money from that walking piggy bank, Damian." Raven said.

"You got more? I thought he gave you some a few days ago." He said.

"Yeah, I just told him I spent the money on tomes and he gave me $700 more. All I have to do is pout and he'll give me whatever I want." Raven smirked at the notion and Garfield laughed.

Damian felt so bad about what he just heard - when the car behind him hooked their horn to let him know the light was green, he floored it and began driving down the main streets before the tears in his eyes began to blind him and he stopped on the edge of the park, took his helmet off and hid his face in hands - sobbing; showing the weakness of the Al Ghul.

His heart was broken - the one he loved was using him for a wallet for the shapeshifter and he was too blind to see it. The words Kacela said before she left that day - she was warning him that Raven was disloyal to him. The one he hated was the one who warned him.

He was so caught up in his crying that he didn't see the hooded figure sneaking up behind him and smacking him off the bike with a metal pipe in the back of his head. His world got dark when he heard the words.

"We got Wayne's Brat - we're in for a huge payday, boys." the fading voice chuckled until Damian faded into nothingness of mind.

[Around 2 Hours Later]

"Wake up, pretty boy!" someone commanded as he slapped the Wayne Heir wake - he was tied to a chair in the center of an unknown warehouse with 6 Thugs surrounding him - all of them with weapons in their hands.

"What? What the hell do you want from me?" Damian demanded as he glared at the man who slapped him - only for the same man to punch him in the face; Damian could taste the blood on his tongue before he felt it flowing out of his mouth as he tried to shake the daze from his head.

"We don't want shit from you, brat; we want a payday from Wayne and I know he'll pay huge racks to get his little boy back." The leader said.

"Boss, we've been calling Wayne but he ain't answering." A good said.

"Then keep calling! The sooner we finish this, the better." The boss order. Damian hung his head down - he was done for: his father wasn't answering the phone, his love breaks his heart...just what was he to do

The answer came as the window of the warehouse came crashing inward and a familiar Lycan-Shaped Figure came crashing into the room and landed on the ground on all fours before rising to its hind legs with a very pissed off glare in its eyes - the runes on its body shining in the light.

"What the hell is that?!" One of the Goons said as he tried to get his gun - only to have his head bitten off by the creature's jaws, letting his body hit the floor.

"Kill that thing! Fucking kill it!" The Boss said as he made Damian get to his feet and used his as a human by holding his arm around his neck and hold his gun at the creature that jumped around, slaughtering his men before turning to face him.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his brains out!" The boss said as he held the gun against Damian's head.

The Runed Huntress looked at a long metal nail that was sitting between her feet and reached down to gather it in her large clawed hand. Damian and the boss watched as the large wolfish creature twirled the nail between her fingers before flicking it on its head and sent it flying like a bullet - hitting the boss in the center of his head, making them lose his grip on Damian and slump to the ground. The Huntress ran over to Damian before he could fall and gathered him tenderly in her large arm before using the other one to cut his ropes - even free, the boy didn't move, he was too...cold.

"Damian, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The Runed Huntress asked him as she looked at him with concerned eyes. Damian opened his mouth to speak but he noticed the bracelets on the creature's wrists - he saw them before, he saw them every day during school.

"K...Kacela?" Damian questioned as he looked into the creature's eyes again - there was a sparkle, a smile, then a small vortex of fire that revealed the human face of the one he hated at school.

"I always told you that you were brilliant, just weren't wary of the right people."Kacela said as she took off her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over Damian's, "Wear this, you're freezing." She said.

"You... You saved me? I thought you hated me - after everything I said and did to you." Damian said as he looked into her eyes.

"I never said I hated you, Damian; I said I hated the way you acted. As for saving you, I may have a beast's soul and form but I'm not a heartless monster to just let someone get hurt; not even someone who tries to me." Kacela explained before she turned back into the Runed Huntress, gathered Damian in her arms, and rose to her feet, "Now, let's get you home; you are too cold, you might be sick." she said as she turned on her heel and leaped back through the window she came through with the Wayne Family Heir in her arms.

- THE ONE YOU HATE IS THE ONE WHO CARES THE MOST -

[Wayne Manor]

The Runed Huntress landed in front of the door to Wayne Manor, using one of her hands to knock heavily on the door - it was soon opened by the Wayne Family Butler - Alfred Pennyworth.

"Hello, Madam Huntress, is there something I can help you with?" He then noticed Damian in her arms, "Is that Master Damian? Did something happen?" He asked.

"He was attacked and held for ransom but Bruce never answered the phone and he was harmed." Runed Huntress said.

"That's understandable - Master Bruce and the others are currently getting ready for the event and have asked not to be disturbed." Alfred said, making Kacela's eyes widen in anger.

"What?" She growled out. She pushed past the butler and followed Bruce's scent up the stairs to a meeting room - she barged in and - sure enough to what Alfred said - Bruce, Dick, and Barbara were all there, dressed in elegant attire; they all looked at the large wolf who barged into the room.

"Huntress? Is there something you need?" Bruce said.

"Are you serious, Bruce? Your son is in my arms, beaten & possibly sick, are you're asking me if I need something? Why didn't you answer the calls from Damian's phone?" Kacela asked.

"As Alfred told you, we're busy getting ready for the event." Bruce said.

"He's your son, Bruce Wanye - he was attacked, held for ransom, and beaten up and all you care about is this event? He could be sick, he's as cold as a block of ice." Huntress growled.

"Well, you got to him and saved him before he was hurt too bad, but since he can't come to the event, take him to bed and we will deal with him in the morning." Bruce said as he began walking do the door, past the wolf and his sick son, with his other 2. Kacela growled at him before looking at Damian.

"Where's your room?" She asked, her eyes widened when his hand grabbed her fur and held her close.

"Please... Please, don't leave me here." Damian pleaded - begged - as he tried to hold more tears while shivering.

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here. I need to get you some warm clothes." She explained.

Damian told her where his room was and she when there - placing him on the bed for a moment as she gathered pajamas and a new school uniform into the bag before closing it, picking Damian back up, opened the window, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

[Kacela's Loft]

*BEEP - BEEP - BEEP*

"Yeah, just as I thought - you're sick." Kacela said as she pulled the thermometer from the boy's lips and looked at the numbers. Kacela placed it on a napkin on the nightstand that was beside the bed Damian was laying in and the chair she was sitting in. "It seems to be a simple head cold - some medicine and rest should get you and running again, not to mention a good night's rest." Kacela explained.

"How come...you didn't go to the Gotham's Angels Award?" Damian asked as he looked at her with a warm feeling on his face - it must have been the cold.

"That place is full of people who just wanna get seen, not for doing right." Kacela explained before she reached on the nightstand to her phone, "You have to eat something before taking your meds and I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I'll order something. What are you in the mood for - Pizza or Burgers?" Kacela asked.

"What? You're letting me choose?" Damian asked.

"Sure, I don't usually have guests, so why the hell not?" Kacela gave a smile...and the warm feeling returned but it was stronger this time.

When the pizza arrived, Kacela helped Damian sit up, and the two of them ate while having conversations - turned out they had a lot of things in common, from their love of books to their outside activities. Damian asked Kacela a few questions about her knowing Raven was cheating on him and why she didn't tell him directly - she explained that it wasn't her place to speak on another person's relationship, plus he made it very clear that he had a dislike for her so what reason would he have to believe her? Damian apologized for his words but Kacela said she heard worse and wasn't bothered. Just before bedtime, Kacela gave him cold and sleeping medicine so he would be alright in the morning; she stayed with him until he fell into slumber before she went to sleep herself.

When the morning sun rose - Damian woke to the smell of pancakes. Kacela made them breakfast and even made sure Damian's phone was placed on the changer. Damian got dressed in a fresh outfit and went to eat with Kacela; who informed him that she got his bike and helmet from the park after he went to sleep; he thanked her, finished his breakfast, and left out the door...with her jacket.

- NOT SO BLIND ANYMORE -

"What do you mean we're over?!" Raven yelled as she stood before Damian.

"Just as I said - I'm done with you, Raven. You're nothing but a gold-digger and a liar, and you only see me as a mess to keep that green boyfriend of yours happy. I'm not giving you anything else but a hard time if you ever show your face again." Damian glared at her, causing her to huff and march away to the school building.

"Whoa, Damian." Jonathan said as he walked over, "You really broke up with her?" He asked.

"I don't have time for gold-diggers and liars." He looked around, "Where's Kacela?" he asked.

"She called and said... Wait, did you just call her by her name? I thought she was a stray?" He said but swallowed when Damian glared at her.

"Never. Call. Her. That." Damian growled.

"Okay. Okay, man - sorry." He said.

"Now, what did she tell you?" Damian asked.

"She said she couldn't come today - there are some major investors that are interested in her company and want to make a partnership, so she won't be in today." Jonathan said.

"Really? Then, I'll speak to her later." Damian said.

"Talk about what? Wait, isn't that her jacket?" He asked.

"Yes." He said, 'But it's more than just that. It's the start of what Kacela and I shall be...together.'

#yandere damian wayne

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Rayaari headcanon - have some fuzzy (serlot) shapeshifter AU

(inspired by these two lovely anons)

The people of Heart have been enemies with the neighbouring land of Fang as long as Raya can remember. She is taught from a young age never to trust someone from there, that they will forever be dangerous assassins and soldiers. And indeed, of all the Five Lands, Fang is known for having the most formidable warriors, trained to show no mercy - the types of characters that Heart mothers use to frighten their children at night.

'I heard that the Queen even has fangs herself,' a boy tells Raya and her group of friends one day. 'And her daughter is a hideous beast that roams the forests, searching for the flesh of Heart people to feast on.' He prowls around, pretending to be the evil Fang Queen and chasing the girls until Raya trips him in annoyance.

She logically knows this all to be an exaggeration, but as the years go by, she cannot help but picture the people of Fang as villains lurking in the dark, rather than regular human beings.

When Raya turns 18, her Ba sits her down, and passes across a wooden box with an ornate carving on the lid. 'There is something you must now learn, as Princess and heir to this land,' he tells her, and she opens it to find a beautifully engraved anting-anting lying within.

She learns that this is one of three closely-guarded antings that Heart possesses, and only a handful of people know of their existence. Secrecy is paramount; this one now belongs to her to protect and wear around her neck always. 'It is tradition for the royal heir to take up responsibility for a while, and learn the ways of the enemy,' Ba tells her. 'The other two are carried by my most trusted spies.'

The power of the amulet lends itself to spy-work, she discovers. It aids the wearer in shapeshifting, although Raya has several attempts before she can connect to the magic within. The first transformation catches her off-guard, and her Ba laughs at her as she trips over her own paws in surprise.

'We use this to patrol the lands of Fang,' he says, watching as she practices running in her new form. 'And the serlot is a perfect animal for the role - an amazing sense of hearing, and common creatures in the ecosystem. We've been spying for years, and never once been caught.'

Raya undertakes her first mission a month later, once she is more skilled both in shifting and in behaving in an inconspicuous manner. It is a relatively unremarkable outing - she spies on some Palace guards patrolling the walls, but fails to overhear any useful information.

It is not until her fifth mission that an opportunity falls directly into her lap; or, more precisely, shoots itself into her shoulder. She is searching for her next targets to spy on, when an arrow embeds itself into her muscle, and she falls to the ground in pain.

'Don't shoot, don't shoot!' a voice calls out. 'I think you struck a serlot by mistake!' Raya whimpers in pain, and a gentle hand reaches out to pat her head. A woman's face swims into view. Raya can hear the distant noise of people arguing, but as she drifts off into darkness, all she can focus on besides the pain is the soft caress on her fur.

When she wakes up, she finds herself lying on a comfortable blanket in the corner of a spacious and almost empty room, except for a large bed set out in the center. Her wound has been bandaged, although it still hurts considerably when she tries to stand up.

'You shouldn't be moving yet!' someone scolds her, and looking up, the woman from the forest has entered the room, carrying what seems to be a plate of food. Raya eyes the raw meat suspiciously, and the woman laughs. 'Don't be such a princess about your food...you need to eat in order to heal.'

Raya realizes that this is a great opportunity to continue spying, and besides, she won't be able to return to Heart with an injury this serious, at least for a few days.

She realizes after a while that her saviour is none other than Namaari, Princess of Fang herself. The enemy's daughter is not some horrible creature in the dark, but rather a young woman who seems to have a large capacity for love towards all things serlot, an impressive level of first aid knowledge, and a habit of talking out loud to Raya constantly, whenever she returns to her room.

Over the following few days, Raya becomes used to hearing Namaari rant about frustrating duties, or people who have annoyed her, or even once or twice her own mother. Raya starts to feel slightly guilty about spying on her, despite them being from opposing lands.

To her horror, the 'princess' nickname bestowed by Namaari sticks, and now she finds herself responding with a small purr whenever Namaari calls her such a ridiculous name. She comforts herself with the thought that surely purring is merely serlot instinct.

Namaari also loves to pet her ears often, and Raya resigns herself to having gentle scratches on her head (she will never admit to enjoying it). One time, Namaari is so exhausted from her day of work, that she sits next to Raya on the floor and promptly falls asleep, toppling slowly downwards until her cheek is resting on Raya's side, her breaths ruffling the fur on each exhale.

Raya decides eventually that she cannot betray Namaari's trust, not after all that the woman has done to help her. Her leg is much improved, with Namaari talking about letting her roam outside in the morning, and so as soon as first light rises, she slips out of the room, racing out of the palace before any of the guards notice her.

When she arrives back in Heart, Ba asks her what she learned. 'I learned that they are simply humans like the rest of us,' she says. 'And some of them are good people.' He nods as if in satisfaction, and together, they come up with a different vision for the future.

It takes them several months of negotiations and correspondence sent back and forth, but eventually Fang and Heart agree to meet on a diplomatic mission, in order to discuss a way to bring peace to both lands.

When the Fang delegation arrives, Queen Virana leads the way, and following her is Namaari. 'Hi,' says Raya, for the first time. 'I'm Raya.'

(Raya doesn't admit she was the serlot until many months later, fearful of damaging the growing trust and friendship between them. Namaari is more embarrassed than anything however, considering the topics of some of her rants.)

(Namaari switches back to calling her princess as a nickname though.)

#rayaari #raya and namaari #raya and the last dragon #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari headcanon #raymaari #i know most of the fandom has been picturing namaari as the cat queen these last few days #but this way we get Namaari petting a Raya serlot #which is also a cute vision #all the headcanooons

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

Never Will I Love Thee

CHAPTER ONE // Read on ao3 HERE

CHAPTER TWO

The King of Scotia has yet to arrive in the land of his betrothed. Has yet to taint the crystal waters that separates the royal castle from the mainland, perched impressively high on an islet and surrounded by a lush forest below. The Princess of Albíōn has also made herself scarce from the eyes of her uncle's court and has taken refuge in the soft leafy hollow of a giant oak tree that grows crooked and wild with ivy, it's branches fluttering with birdsong. Above her the evening sky smolders like a brushfire and though she feels the heat caress her cheeks, her blood burns cold as she waits for a fate far worse than death. Claire can only hope with every beat of her bleeding heart that the lateness of her horrid husband-to-be means he's suffered the same fate as his uncle. But she could never be so lucky. Not twice. Even now she can hear her name echo in the faraway distance and feels her heart stutter beneath her tunic knowing what news awaits her. Wishes for nothing more than to vanish into thin air. When she hears the voices of the guards carry closer on the breeze, she takes off with the swiftness of a hare with her plum velvet cloak billowing behind her. She knows she's only delaying the inevitable. Doesn't care if her uncle must grovel in apology on hand and knee to the man who's known to have a heart blacker than the devils. ‘Damn them both!’ She seethes. But as her eyes gloss with ire, her foot catches on some protruding underbrush and she takes a small tumble down a grassy slope, landing flat on her backside in a patch of clover and lavender with her willowy curls a veil over her face. Slowly, she props herself up with her hands and feels an immediate sting that makes her wince and curse at the heavens above for not breaking her neck. . . Just as another calls to her, scuffling down the slope. "Are ye a'right, lass?"

She puffs at a fawn colored lock sticking to her lips and dryly replies "Never better" then looks up to see which of her guards the unfamiliar voice belongs to and is shocked to find a man clad in the white fur of a beast kneeling before her.

Without a moment's hesitation, he gently takes her hand in his, scraped red along the back, as she marvels at the perfection of his features glowing a ruddy bronze, at the dear gentleness that beams from his eyes a shade rarer than a sapphire. Claire would've thought him the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. Would've let her heart swoon imagining how soft his lips might be, where they'd wander to. . . were it not for the dark flame of his hair that marks him like the vile stain of blood.

Unaware of the storm brewing before him, his attention still on her hand, the man who ought to be guarding every ounce of his flesh (particularly the one no man can live without) instead pulls a handkerchief from the sleeve of his doublet. "Ye have a nasty scrape there," he begins to say, wrapping the cloth around her hand. "Best to tend to it now then. . wait. . ." His voice trails off as he finally lifts his gaze to hers bristling like a jackal. "Your name, speak it,” she says, and snatches her injured hand away, pressing it against her chest. A small sad smile mars his mouth before he speaks. "Must I tell ye?" He mumbles low, sounding ashamed. But still he stands revealing a man as great as the mountains that bore him and takes a step back to bow with the grace of a knight, hand in sincere reverence at his breast. “I come to ye humbly, my lady, as the last living son of Elhen and Bhrian Dhu of Clan Fraser but also as the unfortunate heir to the mountain throne and I'm sure a wretch to yer sight, James Fraser.” “You're bloody worse than a wretch,” she hisses through the bite of her teeth, and scuffs her heel against the earth that sends a wave of dirt flying towards her intended, who shields himself with his cloak now speckled like a sparrow's egg. "And I'm no lady of yours nor will I ever be.” She stands to her full regal height, hands fisted, shaking at her side. "Even when we marry, when I'm forced to be shackled to you, you'll have no claim on me. Now leave my sight. I demand it of you.” “I canna do that,” he says firmly, coming close enough to engulf her in his shadow. “I must and will speak to you." Her throat bobs as he towers over her but she juts her chin upward. “Speak to me like chattel again and I'll have your tongue.”

The Red King furrows his brow at her threat, how her eyes flare like two coals on fire, but beneath that anger she rightfully has towards him he sees fear prick at the princess's eyes, bleeding her face white and grabbing at her throat as if his hand were there squeezing tight. He knew his name had been tainted from the years of being his uncle's pawn but for this woman to fear him so. . . That struck him deep in the gullet, sharp and brutal. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he says from his heart, wracking a hand through his hair as he takes a step back. “I've been a soldier nearly my entire life and have little experience in matters such as these."

He waves an uneasy hand in the air between them.

“But that's no excuse for being so forward wi’ ye. I had only wished to convey to ye that I am as much a prisoner to this arrangement between our uncle's as you.”

She scoffs at that. “Says the king with more power than any mortal man should have.”

“Yer’re right. But dinna speak as if ye ken what I've suffered under my uncle's reign. What I've had to sacrifice to keep myself and my kin alive.”

Indeed, Claire can see the harsh toll of unspoken grief and torment cross his face and darken his eyes before he masters his emotions, breathes the sweet air, and continues on.

“That's why I've come to your kingdom, sought ye out here amongst the trees and away from the meddlesome tongues of court advisors, because I needed to speak to ye in private. To tell ye I think it only right for ye to have yer say on who ye marry, who ye choose to love."

Claire questions him. “What are you saying?”

He smiles gently at her - a lopsided, boyish curl of mouth that could charm honey from a bee. Encourage a lass to say I do.

“That the choice for us to marry is yers and yers alone. I willna force myself on ye.”

His words echo in her heart that thumps with quiet hope yet she eyes him with suspicion, refusing to trust the King before her.

Refusing she could ever be so lucky. Not twice.

A/N: I tried to write more (I'm a pushover). Good or Bad?? Delete or not?? I'm still struggling with all this proper lingo. Think of this as a god awful WIP.

Also I remember seeing some fanart for Jon Snow with some white fur draped around him and didn't know if it was a dire wolf or what. But that's what Jamie's wearing.

#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Note

Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

#yandere bnha #bnha #bhna best jeanist #yandere best jeanist #bnha reader insert #best jeanist

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katzkinder · 3 years

Text

shuffles in here--

because i’m a nerd and i enjoy world building and character expansion, i started thinking about the kind of magic Youtarou might be able to use since he comes from a Magician family.

Magicians commonly use an item to help give their spells a boost or as a director, similar to an Eve’s Lead, and I feel Youtarou using his knitting needles as a weapon is fitting for him! I headcanon them as having belonged to his grandmother no less, and he’s able to bring his entire supply kit into a battle and know it’s been wielded by strong hands that remained steady, even until their last days. He hopes his own will be the same.

Second, the type of magic. Youtarou is very much a support, but his role is usually more passive. Which isn’t to say he’s helpless, by any means. Like Youtarou looks so sweet and harmless, like the kind of person who would need to rely entirely on Gear for protection.

But... I think he's probably a fair bit more dangerous than he looks, what with his knitting kit. Some solid metal needles and some fishing line and/or piano wire are really all you need to make a perfectly deadly ligature, laughs. Opponents will, rightfully, be focusing so much on Gear that they don't notice the guy sneaking up on them until it's too late and he's choking them out.

aNYWAY, the passive part of his magic is how he enchants his yarn as he’s weaving it in order to give it protective qualities that, combined with the natural healing factor Gear’s fur provides, makes articles of clothing made from it perfect to give to an injured person to wear, such as what he did with Mahiru.

Now, for the fun part that I spent way too much time on--

I came up with a spell incantation for Youtarou that would allow him to temporarily “reverse” injuries (emergencies only, cuz BOI if that’s not gonna backfire if someone gets too reckless)

And since Incantations draw from strong feelings... It ended up very Chuuni. So bear with me, and forgive the nerdy way of phrasing...

It’s a support type spell meant to either extend the amount of time a DPS can continue fighting far past the moment it would be safe or viable for them to do so, or prolong the life of an injured ally long enough for proper aid to arrive, by literally reversing the injuries the other party has accrued for as long as the spell is active.

Congrats to me for putting Actual Literary References in this

“Beast beneath the moonlight, for whom do you cry? Take my hand and weave a tapestry among the stars, made of red heartstrings and golden thread, wrapped tight around our fingers. You can’t return to those halcyon days, but you can reverse cruel fate! Golden Fleece!!! (I won’t betray you)”

The Golden Fleece and sub chant I’m... Really proud of, because of how they’re both meant to relate to the legend of Medea, who was known as the Witch of Betrayal, and how the spell’s purpose requires the person it’s being used on to trust Youtarou’s judgement in when and how he uses it, and also because in later retellings and stories, the Golden Fleece is claimed to have healing properties.

Also sheep, weaving... I thought they were fitting, considering that Youtarou’s given name contains the character for “sheep,” and his family name, Tsumugi, means “To spin/to weave.”

There’s also a nod to the red string of Fate legend from Japanese folklore, the Grecian Fates and their thread of life, as well as “tapestry of stars” meant to be an allusion to the western Zodiac and the stories humanity has hung there, one of which is the constellation Aries, the ram.

And finally... Since C3’s spells all seem to rely on strong emotions and the memories attached to them, I wanted to include some references to Gear to be his “fuel,” so to speak, through the “Beast Beneath the Moonlight” line, which doubles as a nod to a story you can find in Nakajima Atsushi’s “The Moon Over The Mountain” about a man who finds himself transforming into a tiger beneath the full moon

I hope I was able to do Strike’s beautiful way of crafting spells for her characters justice for this, and it was a lot of fun to do, too! ^^

#servamp #headcanons #youtarou tsumugi #kat's katerwauling #kat's meow

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disneytva · 4 years

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Matt Olsen Uploads The Douglas Furs Series Bible Of The Rejected Disney XD Series From 2015 All Art Belongs To Jesse Ledoux

Matt Olsen from Sly Cooper fame & co-creator of Douglas Furs uploaded in his website the series bible of the Douglas Furs a rejected Disney show for Disney XD who sadly was rejected.

The Douglas Furs is an original cartoon series about a community of animals living together in Douglas, an otherwise unpopulated corner of the deep forest Pacific NW. Though they hold down jobs, use complex machinery, and return their library books late, they still remain animals. It’s like William Shakespeare said, “A bear will always be a bear, even if he’s wearing overalls.”

Characters Names

Barry The Bear: Optimistic Bear with a big heart and that fixes all the problems,supports Douglas to the absolute max, innocence and naivete are components of Barry’s character, he’s no wide-eyed child, speechless and dreamy in the presence of wonder. Quite the contrary! Barry is a loud, active celebrator of every new experience. He loves life! Even the most normal, everyday things can get Barry excited and revved up to a surprising extreme. Though it’s also true that his rabid interest may change in an instant with the discovery of some new stimuli

Mary Margaret: Mary-Margaret attends Rutherberry Elementary, She is the Bullhorn’s star investigative journalist, a role which she takes very, very seriously. The position feeds her all-consuming curiosity, or as her peers simply call it, “being a nosy-pants”. Her efforts have single-handedly made the Bullhorn the most-read paper in Douglas, all but putting the “professional” paper, the Douglas Herald-Gazeteer, out of business. Mary-Margaret is the elementary-school age daughter of Douglas’ leading intellectuals. Her father, Myron, is a critical studies professor at the local university, while her mother, Dagmar, is Douglas’ most esteemed (and only) deep-Jungian psychiatrist.

Beverly: Beverly is the single force that keeps Douglas functioning as a city. As Deputy Lieutenant Mayor, she performs all the responsibilities of not only her own position, but also the Mayor’s and several other government officials. She’s vastly overworked but somehow manages to hold it together, fulfill all her duties and put out the fires. Sometimes, literally. (She’s also a volunteer firefighter.)

Her hectic home life does not provide much of a relief from her career. She’s happily married to Garland, who in addition to being father and primary care-giver to their children, is a semitalented landscape painter. Her six kids, three sets of twins, are all very energetic and clamor for her attention.

Viktor: Viktor was a celebrated Cosmonaut of what we would call vaguely Eastern European descent. On his final lift-off – a mission that would have sent him hurtling past Mars and Jupiter to be locked in orbit around Saturn – the rocket he was piloting failed, veered way off course and crash-landed in Douglas. (He suspects the rocket was tampered with by a jealous rival.). Since that time, his main pursuit has been to repair the rocket and resume his mission. However, due to Douglas’s non-advanced state of technological development that goal remains far outside his reach. So, he remains an unwilling resident, but he’s gradually warming up to living in the township. Maybe.

Viktor is skeptical and even paranoid of almost anything outside his world. As such, he rarely leaves his home for fear of saboteurs. He’s not against helping others, but he wants all the information first and would really prefer it if there was something in it for him, too. This is probably a holdover from his Cold War-esque training.

Rainier Somersett-Psymthe: Rainier is not only the wealthiest citizen of Douglas, he is also the town’s single-largest employer. He is the current scion of the storied Somersett-Psymthe lineage and, through no effort of his own, inherited the family business: the Silky Beast line of personal shampoos for Him and Her. Due to the hirsute nature of the population of Douglas and surrounding woodland areas, Silky Beast is in extremely high demand. Since the day-to-day running of the plant is handled by underlings, Rainier lives immune from responsibility and has plenty of free time on his hands. The main focus of Rainier’s efforts is feeding his fame. He has a continual hunger for attention and thrills to read his own exploits chronicled and discussed in the local paper. He is a strict adherent to the no such thing as bad press ideal and will perform any manner of ridiculous acts solely to guarantee his presence on the front page.

Barry and Rainier are roughly the same age and share many of the same memories of growing up in Douglas, albeit from completely different perspectives. Where Rainier lives in a gilded mansion built by his great-grandfather and passed down from Somersett-Psmythe to Somersett-Psmythe, Barry lives in a one-room yurt that he constructed himself. There’s still a bit of work to be done around the back. No one would ever consider them rivals. No one except Rainier, that is, who considers everyone his rival. It’s possible that Rainier could be envious of the simplicity of Barry’s existence and attempt to out-simplify him, but that hasn’t happened... yet.

Carl: Carl is Mary-Margaret’s classmate at Rutherberry Elementary and the staff photographer for the school’s newspaper, The Rutherberry Bullhorn. His ability to fly means that he excels at aerial photography and can get shots from many different angles. Carl is drastically near-sighted and requires a large pair of corrective lenses to approach “eagle-eyed”. With the glasses on, he can see slightly better than most of the other animals in Douglas, but without them the world is a predominately blue and green blur. In a lot of ways, Carl fits squarely into the classic “nerd” stereotype, e.g., he’s quiet, bookish, shy, a little physically awkward, etc., but he has other qualities which don’t fall so easily under that sad rubric. His parents have imbued him with a strict sense of personal responsibility, justice and honor. It’s a code of ethics that has been handed down his proud family line for ages upon ages. What Carl doesn’t realize is that he is also the subject of interest by many of the other girls at Rutherberry. Unfortunately he is too singleminded to notice their adoration, even when it is at its most blatant. He lives every single day on the verge of either making his feelings known to Mary-Margaret or giving up on her entirely

Mayor Trewfuss: Quincy Trewfuss is the oldest citizen of Douglas and has served as the town’s extremely popular mayor for an astonishing forty-two terms. With one brief exception at the beginning of his career, each of those forty-two terms have been consecutive. At the close of his first two-year term, he declined to run for re-election and happily handed the mayoralty off to someone else. Trewfuss is entirely unsuited for a life in politics. He is skittish, fearful, apprehensive, easily bewildered and opposed to any and all conflict. He lives in an eternal state of being overwhelmed. His frequent response to any crisis is to follow his natural tendencies and play possum. He literally pretends to be dead. It may have stopped fooling most folks a very long time ago but they understand that whatever calamity has come up has pushed him to the edge. So, in response, he is given time alone to regather his senses. As it turns out, it’s become a very effective tool for him. Those on the inside know that he is only a figurehead at this point. His deputy lieutenant mayor, Beverly, actually handles all the significant mayoral duties. Trewfuss reluctantly appears at ribbon cutting ceremonies, poses for photographs with civic leaders, sleeps his way through city council meetings and that’s about it. Still, he remains perpetually on the verge of a total nervous breakdown.

Link And Louie: These two live in a homemade tin roof shanty just outside Douglas, beyond the treeline. Though they attempt intimidation, the town generally regards them as more of a nuisance than a threat. Link and Louie, of course, are oblivious to this and sincerely believe they are genuinely terrifying to the regular squares. Though they’ve never revealed how they ended up around Douglas, popular opinion holds that the last town they harassed, finally had enough and chased them out in a most embarrassing fashion. This accounts for the chips on their shoulders and their “somethin’ to prove” attitudes. Link is the instigator, with Louie always willing to go along blindly with any of Link’s plans. Though he’s never been tested, it’s a safe bet that Louie is not very smart. He lets himself be talked into a lot of Link’s fairly stupid ideas, most of which involve putting himself in danger of imprisonment or bodily harm, while Link remains safely at a distance. Link consoles Louie by claiming this as an occupational hazard, their biggest fear is Gordon The Sasquatch.

Gordon: Gordon is supremely boring. His company invariably brings a slight level of discomfort to everyone he encounters. His stories are long-winded, circuitous and off-topic. He speaks in an exhausted, physically draining monotone. Still, it’s hard to say a bad word against him since he’s never done any harm to anyone. So, those he encounters will often endure the conversation out of kindness and for fear of hurting his feelings. He’s staggeringly sensitive. Now, this is not to say that he’s not without value. Gordon possesses great strength and is very tall. So tall, in fact, that his head is always out of frame or behind a tree branch or perhaps hidden by a low-hanging cloud. (The home viewer will never see his face.) Just on physical presence alone, he’s an intimidating force and may be called upon to act as anything from security to heavy lifting. In those situations, his size and strength becomes a large enough asset to overcome his crippling dullness. Even though he’s not a “true” citizen of Douglas – he camps nomadically in the woods outside town – he’s generally happy to be of service and always enjoys being around others. Gordon is also a budding folksinger and can often be found with an oversize acoustic guitar, singing his terrible songs to the ears of nature, since no one else – given fair warning – is likely to listen. Overall, he’d really like to meet some other sasquatches

Douglas is a township surrounded on all sides by dense Evergreen forest. Within this clearing is a fully-functioning community of various animals indigenous to the Pacific Northwest. The town is constructed of available materials with homes and buildings suited to each animal’s own preferences. For example, as a beaver, Beverly lives in a log cabin-esque dam on the river. Wood and stone dominate the local architecture, while brightly colored mosses, ferns, wildflowers and lichen provide the embellishments. Greens, browns, grays and blues dazzled up by pinks, yellows, oranges and purples provide the palette. Technology exists only to the level it is needed.

Since the town itself is rather small, cars were never necessary and therefore, not invented. A refrigerator, on the other hand, is an absolute necessity. I mean, how else is one expected to keep one’s salmon puffs fresh? No specific number has ever been ascribed to the population of this small town – they’re not sticklers for data gathering – but as a sort of reference to its size, here’s some semi-useful factoids:

• 1 TV channel. All of the programming is made in Douglas by Douglas for Douglas. Not surprisingly, a majority of the shows take place in Douglas. “Hot Douglas Nights” is appointment television.

• 1 fire department and 1 hospital. Accidents do happen. Of course, when they happen to cartoon characters they’re hilarious.

• 2 school districts, each with its own elementary, middle and high school. This is really only done so that the grammar teams have someone to compete with... er, I mean, with whom to compete.

• 36 square miles in area. That’s the legal US definition of a Survey Township and, by pure coincidence, a remarkably close measurement of our own township. Go figure

• 200 years old. Douglas was founded in the year 1812*. Of course, that’s by our calendar. Here, they use a completely different system to measure time. It’s like dog years, but then you have to modulate the formula for each species. It’s very complex.

#Douglas Furs #The Douglas Furs #Disney #Disney TVA #Walt Disney Television Animation #Disney Television Animation #Walt Disney TV Animation #Disney TV Animation #Disney TVA Pilots #Jesse Ledoux #Matt Olsen #Disney XD

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jadethest0ne · 4 years

Text

When the Moon meets the Morning, Chapter 3 - A Sense of Familiarity

Summary: Raphael is going on missions with Captain Jupiter as he always does when he meets an orange-wearing turtle yokai who feels oddly familiar.

Word Count: 2690

Ratings/Warnings: General Audiences; some minor harrowing moments, but mostly fluff, emotional overload, emotional manipulation, self-deprecation

Notes: Longer chapter this time, but lots of good brotherly bonding! Big thanks to @undercoverwizardninjaturtle, @fraymotiif, and @frasierverse for helping me workshop this (especially to Charmy for the “friend-cheese” exchange). Also, special shout-out to @dovelydraws for creating the concept art for Infinity the phoenix and Buddy the aurax.

Read on AO3 For the RotTMNT Fantasy AU

———-

Raph thought that going on a trek with Mikey would help him understand the kid better, but it only proved to make him even more confused. A few of Raph's initial assumptions about Mikey were correct. He was indeed a turtle yokai - a box turtle to be exact. And he was only about 2 years younger than Raph making him 15. And the reason why he was so far north, despite apparently coming from the Soothing South, was that, like his attire suggested, he was a courier. But between those things, Raph was left with more questions than answers.

For one thing, Mikey was really good with animals. When Raph first introduced him to his aurax, Buddy, Mikey was enamored with what most people took as a rather large and intimidating cattle beast. But Mikey immediately started complimenting his fluffy curls and powerful stature, begging Raph to let him braid his fur. Buddy himself, who, while usually quite friendly, often had trouble distinguishing between roughhousing playtime and calm pets, and yet seemed to understand that Mikey was someone that he should be gentle with. The curly-horned creature even relented at Mikey's touch and flipped over onto his back to beg for belly rubs, which Raph had never seen him trust anyone else to do besides himself and Red Fox. Even the Captain had trouble getting on Buddy's good side sometimes.

Not only that, but it turns out Buddy wasn't even needed all that much to carry the packages, since Mikey owned a phoenix, an actual phoenix, to help him with his cargo and carry Mikey around. The large beautiful bird, he called Infinity, with iridescent feathers of reds, purples, and golds, snuggled up with Mikey often when they slept during their journey. He'd never heard of a phoenix being so close to another being before - yokai or human.

The other thing that really confused Raph was Mikey's personality. The kid was just so trusting.

"You don't even have a sleeping bag?" Red Fox asked when they were packing their supplies.

"Well, I DID have one, but there were these guys in purple who asked if they could borrow it a while back. They took some of my other supplies as well and said they'd meet me after I ran an errand. I came back at the meeting time, but they took so long and I had to deliver another package, so I had to leave. I felt bad for missing them so I left a note with a drawing. I hope they're okay," Mikey explains in his usual long-winded way.

Raph starts to say, "Are you sure they didn't just steal--" before Red Fox cuts him off. "I'm sure it's fine, sweetie, I think I have a spare that you can use."

"Really?! Thanks! Oooh! It's orange! My favorite color!" Mikey says, happily taking the sleeping bag and hugging it as though it was the best gift he had ever received.

Raph was just perplexed how he hadn't been robbed completely or had something worse happen to him. Then again, another mystery about Mikey was that it was really difficult to say no to the guy. He had somehow perfected the puppy dog look and turned any conversation, even the more negative ones, into something positive and light.

"You mean you somehow convinced the owner of a castle to let you use it whenever you wanted?" Raph says incredulously.

"Yeah! He liked my cooking so much he said I could use his summer home in the Soothing South, too!"

"Man, Mikey, do you have some sort of niceness power?"

"No, that'd probably be Todd - he's the nicest guy I know! Taught me practically everything! But that's why I wanted to travel! I wanted to learn more!"

Raph pushes past the fact that he has no idea who Todd is and asks the more pertinent question. "Aren't you afraid of, I don't know, thieves or people tricking or hurting you along the way?"

"No, not at all. Besides, if there was danger, then Infinity's instincts would let me know!" He gives the large bird he's riding a friendly pat, to which the bird replies with a cheerful squawk.

Raph highly doubts that Infinity, who seems to be as cheery and naive as Mikey, would be able to sense anything like that.

Then there was the question of why Mikey seemed so familiar. After thinking back on it, Red Fox did often talk about the people she helped guide through the mountains, but he'd rarely met any of them. And he had a hard time conjuring up a memory of any time that he'd met Mikey with Red Fox in the picture. He almost felt closer than that. Like a friend he hadn't seen in a while. Mikey himself certainly kept acting like they were long time friends; constantly hugging him, invading his personal space, grabbing at his belongings to ask about them. Even Raph was beginning to think they had known each other for a long time. Then again, Mikey seemed to act like that with everyone.

“What do you think of this?” Mikey asks Raph after they had set up camp, suddenly shoving a spoonful of the meal he is cooking into the snapper’s mouth.

“Mmnghrff--” Raph says intellectually around the wooden spoon and hefty portion of meats and hearty root vegetables that it held. He chews slowly, at first trying to think of some helpful feedback, but then just to savor the flavor. He closes his eyes and hums in pleasure, as the savory sauces roll over his tongue. Raph could see why that one guy let Mikey have free use of his castle and summer home.

“Mikey,” he says with absolute seriousness. “This is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“Really?!” Mikey says sheepishly. “You don’t think I went a little heavy on the cumin?”

“No, it’s perfect!” Raph says, even though he’s not exactly sure what spice cumin is.

“Ah great! Well, then dig in!” Mikey says handing some plates over to Red Fox and Raph. As they take the plates, Red Fox chimes in, “One of the reasons why it’s such a joy to guide you on these treks is that I get to taste your cooking again, Mikey!”

“Aww shucks, Red! Thanks!” Mikey grins widely.

Raph thinks to himself that maybe it was Mikey’s niceness that kept him alive. His naivety was worrisome, but he was also really good at lots of things like that - caring for animals, cooking, and after all, he did help save him from the fire, which brought Raph to a question that he finally voiced out loud on the third day of their trek.

"So how did you do that thing with the fire? You were in the middle of it all and then you like, ate it?"

"Oh, I'm a fire mage!" Mikey says while riding atop Infinity as they make their way through the mountain paths. As a way of demonstration, Mikey cups his hands and produces a tiny ball of fire within them. He holds the fire gently, almost as if he's carrying a tiny animal in the palm of his hands. “Fire doesn't hurt me and I can use it to help with cooking and stuff. It's also why I can keep pretty warm in the winter.” He lifts up his palms and lets the small flame dance in the air. Infinity explores the flame with her beak and nips at it, but Mikey maneuvers the fire just out of her reach. He twirls the small fire around her and she tries to catch it in her beak. He giggles and she squawks happily as they play their little game.

Raph smiles at the display. "Thanks again by the way, for helping out back there."

"No problem! I mean, you had a lot of it handled by yourself. You saved a bunch of people! I'm surprised that you didn't make it into any of the Aetherwave announcements or the news clippings. Just some guy named, er..., Jupiter Jim, was it?"

"Uh, it's Captain James Jupiter, actually." Raph fails to hide his appalled tone. "And of course he was talked about! He saved everyone! He's a famous hero!" Seriously for all his travels, how did Mikey know so little about James Jupiter?!

"Did he, though? I mostly just saw you and Red Fox while I was trying to stop the fire. I saw another guy in some sort of hero suit, but he was mostly staying outside of the forest."

"He was leading! Everyone would've been a mess without his guidance!" Raph tries to bury the annoyance bubbling up in his chest with his adoration of the Captain. "His strong, guiding hand of justice makes us all feel safe!" Raph tries to gain validation from repeating the mantra often used by the Captain himself, but he felt more upset and defiant - as if he was trying to defend the Captain. The Captain shouldn't need defending. Obviously he was great! So why did Raph's stomach twist in such a way?

For once Mikey has something less than a smile on his face. Instead his eyes wander around Raph's entire frame as if seeing something new on him he didn't like.

"I just..." Mikey hesitates. "I just think you should get the credit you deserve. You pulled like three families out of that fire, and at one point you were carrying almost ten people." His face shifts back into a smile. "That's pretty heroic if you ask me!"

Raph eyes him warily. Something about his statements don't really connect at first in Raph's mind. The Captain is the one who is the hero. He's just a student at best. But why did happiness flutter in his untwisting stomach at being called such?

"OH MI GOSH I JUST REMEMBERED!"

The sudden shout makes Raph jump, and a small yelp would've escaped his mouth if Mikey weren't immediately in front of him squishing either side of Raph's face and beaming at him excitedly.

"’Remembered...?’" Raph tries to ask between squished cheeks.

"What I wanted to tell you!" MIkey threw his hands in the air, releasing Raph from his hold. "I wanted to tell you that I like your cape!"

"My cape?"

"Yeah it's like super heroic looking!"

Raph looks at his cape as if trying to see what Mikey sees.

"Oh, and I wanted to know if Buddy knew any female aurax's that could make friend-cheese for me,” Mikey continues.

"Oh, um, thank you?" Raph lets out a small chuckle. "Also, I could, uh, ask around when we get back to town about… ‘friend-cheese?’" Raph thinks a moment before continuing. "Why was that so important though?"

"Because friend-cheese is Todd's favorite, because of the method of farmers asking aurax’s nicely before they milk them."

"N-no, not that." Raph can't help but smile; man this kid's attitude is infectious. "Why did ’ya have to ask about my cape?"

"Because I thought it looked really cool with the flames and the moon and your powers and I wasn't sure then that I'd get a chance to tell you again." Mikey beams brightly enough to show off his gap tooth and rear molars.

"Well, thank you." He's still not used to so many compliments.

He looks to Red Fox with a confused expression, but she just smiles back and says, "He's right, it does make you look rather heroic."

Before Raph can sort his thoughts out on the image of himself as a true hero, he suddenly feels something land on his neck hard enough that he jumps and nearly goes on attack mode, until he sees Mikey's legs trail down the side of his neck. Raph looks up to see Mikey craning his head downward looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes. "Can I ride on your shoulders for awhile? I wanna give Infinity a break," Mikey asks.

Raph gives Mikey a soft smirk and a quiet chuckle. This guy really does have some sort of niceness power. "Yeah, sure," the snapper says.

Mikey punches both fists in the air and his legs stick out as he shouts out a triumphant "Yes!"

"Hey Mikey, we've still got another hour or so before we make our first stop," Red Fox says. "Why don't you tell us one of your stories from your travels?" She then says as an aside to Raph, "He's a very good storyteller by the way; he was able to keep me entertained on our previous trips through the mountains, as well as many other folks along the way."

Mikey looks at her with joyful, watery eyes. "Red Fox, you really think I'm a good storyteller?!"

Red Fox nods sweetly.

Mikey bows as best he can while perched on Raph's shoulders. "Aw shucks! Why thank you, my friend."

The rest of their trek for the day is filled with Mikey's melodious voice recounting several strange tales which continue to add questions to Raph's mind.

---

Mikey's storytelling stopped only long enough to deliver his first package. It was to a local store in a tiny grouping of houses nestled in the mountains. Afterwards, they went to the barely-a-village's tavern to get something to eat before resting for the night. Once in the tavern, and in between mouthfuls of food, Mikey continues to tell his stories to the patrons, which seem to grow in number as the evening wears on. Raph guesses that they don't get many travellers here this high up in the mountains, because they're all enraptured by Mikey's tales. Raph is just finishing up his dinner and he is feeling rather content, allowing Mikey's voice and the patrons' reactions to drift into background noise when he perks up at the mention of his name.

"What?" Raph snaps to attention looking to where he was called.

"Mikey is right, Big Red was indeed quite heroic." Red Fox gives him a pleased look.

Before Raph can figure out if Red Fox is playing some sort of joke on him, Mikey glides over to Raph's side and puts an arm around his shoulder. "And that's when I saw him under the blood moon, with glowing eyes and glowing arms, picking up an entire family of squirrel yokai!" Mikey says sweeping his arms wide. The patrons’ eyes are all on Raph now, and the attention has his heart pounding, though out of sudden stage fright or pride he's not sure. Either way, Raph is sure his face is burning more than it ever had in that forest fire. But luckily the patrons quickly turn back to Mikey as he continues his story. It's weird for Raph to hear Mikey talk about something he did in a similar way that the Aetherwaves trumpet the stories of the great Captain Jupiter. Raph is not worthy of such a grand retelling, but Mikey is so excited about it that Raph just puts on an easy smile and focuses on his theatrics, drinking a bit from his cup to hide his face.

When the story ends the people in the tavern clap in amazement, some even patting Raph on the arm, offering congratulations, but he respectfully waves them off. He's caught off guard a little bit by the look Red Fox gives him. There's a twinkle in her eye and an earnest smile on her face, wrinkling the scar above her nose. Raph buries his face in his cup again before getting up to start pitching a tent for them to sleep in when the tavern keeper insists that they stay the night free of charge as payment for Mikey’s wonderful stories.

Raph feels bad for the tiny hint of suspicion that he has at that moment that maybe Mikey is actually using some sort of niceness spell or something, but he quickly changes his mind when he looks over at Mikey. He's not unhappy, per se - the kid is still smiling - but there's something in his face that falls almost imperceptibly at the suggestion that they stay at the tavern. Noticing Raph's observation of him, his smile brightens and he thanks the tavern keeper for his generosity.

<–previous /// next–>

#rottmnt #rottmnt fantasy au #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #when the moon meets the morning #marcus moncrief #jupiter jim #captain james jupiter #red fox #brotherly bonding #my fic #my writing #jadethest0ne #fanfic

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machi-kun · 4 years

Text

offerings

In the North, Antonio learns, the rules are as follows: Vikings offer gifts to the powerful Gods, and the less powerful offer gifts to the Vikings.

Antonio is now one such gift.

This is a fill for the 2020 Stony Bingo, Round 2. Square O-1: furs

Read it on AO3 | Viking AU, Arranged Marriage, Implied Sexual Content | Rated M

****

The wedding is a rambunctious thing.

There is drinking and dancing to no end. The Clan is boisterous and loud, in a way the Court was never allowed to be, back home – even in weddings. They are lively in a way the Court never is, never has been, not since Antonio could remember. Their music thumps directly into his chest, drums and flutes played with vigor and strength, and it should be disturbing, maybe even scary, but it’s… not.

He’s not scared. Of this land, of their music, or their strange traditions.

He’s also not scared, despite his initial concerns, of his husband.

The Captain, the only name Antonio knows him for, is a frankly impressive man. He is tall where Antonio already is considered somewhat small, his hair is the color of sand and his eyes are a startling blue. A rare color in the South, but far more common here, from what Antonio can see in his husband’s company. His stature is imposing, but not as much as his width, shoulders so large that the fur laid on them does nothing to disguise how broad they are, just as his hands are big, from that Antonio could see, when they first met – when the Captain guarded his weapon of choice, a shield, such an unexpected thing –, and from what he could feel, when during the ceremony, they held hands so the Clan’s priestess could wrap a rope around them, effectively tying them together in the eyes of their Gods.

Perhaps he shouldn’t stare; But he’s a long way from home, and this is home now, so the Court customs do not matter – Antonio has always been daring, and he will do as he pleases, even if it’s scandalous.

He is married to a Viking now.

Scandal is the last thing he is worried about.

Both Antonio and his husband are masterfully decorated in intricate ways, which now Antonio has come to learn are the typical appearance of a wedding in this Clan. His hair is not long enough to braid, not like his husband’s, much less such a magnificent design – so he has been decorated with amazingly delicate items, gold strings and flowers and pretty shells, a crown of sorts, to match the opulence his husband seems to carry on his person by pure nature. His clothes, kindly provided by the Clan he now must call his own, are not at all like the garments he would wear if he were marrying closer to home – as he should have been. Not at all. There is no velvet or beads, no corsets or flowers, or waistcoats and lace and all sorts of delicate things. No. The North is rough. It’s demanding and strong, like his husband, sharp and deadly, but Antonio feels no cold.

The warmth of the rich wine offered to him has settled so deep into his bones he feels like he could be protected from the blizzards and snow forever, the heat of the pyre pleasant from where they sit, and his husband—

His husband’s mere presence more than enough to make Antonio feel much warmer than he should.

The festivities do not stop when the Captain offers him his hand, and no one halts their drinking or dancing when the man beside them, the man Antonio assumes is the Captain’s right hand, yells to the crowd to announce their leave. The Clan cheers back, raising their cups and stomping loudly on the soil, rattling metal and leather, thunderous joy shaking Antonio to his core. The song becomes louder and their singing is no different from a war cry, but it inspires no dread – only the most vivid delight. Antonio did not think they would be so jubilant at the prospect of a foreigner marrying one of their most valuable fighters, but something in this union seems to please them. Is this what all their weddings look like? No wonder the people in the South thought them savages; Imagine, expressing genuine emotion and happiness in the Court? As if.

Dare he say it – this is fun. It puts a smile on his face, no matter how small, because he’s just not used to smiling wide anymore, it seems. Perhaps his new people can teach him how.

Maybe they can teach him to be loud, to be joyous, to be a fighter.

If the South will give him away, Antonio will embrace the North, if the North will have him.

And from the grip of the Captain’s hand on his as he is lead to his tent, it seems like it will.

Once inside, the Captain lays him down on his bed; Opulent, luscious furs, warm and silken, strewn on the cold floor, surrounded by the gifts and offerings presented to them as wishes of good fortune in their union. Gold and jewels, weapons and fruit, and rare items Antonio has only ever dreamed of seeing in his lifetime – He is placed among them, flanked by treasures, and at last he is where he was intended, with the Captain’s spoils, the most valuable gift his Kingdom could offer.

Perhaps he should feel slighted. At first, he did.

But where the North is cold, the furs and his husband’s skin are warm.

He has been gentle, he has been kind. They do not understand each other, not yet – they don’t speak each other’s languages, but the Captain’s voice is always low and unthreatening, and Antonio finds himself oddly transfixed when he talks. He did not scream, and he did not growl, as rumors he had heard so often in the South said; This man is no beast. Not in the sense he had been made to believe, at least.

He is strong, that is true. Strong and tall, and powerful, and uses a defensive item to attack, a contradiction that only serves to confuse and fascinate Antonio to no end. Full of contradictions, his husband. The patience and caution, too, when the Captain undresses, his cape and coverings falling from his absurdly large shoulders to join the furs beneath them with no care, no concern if they will end up soiled in any way in their wedding night. His movements are slow, as if Antonio is a particularly spooked deer, who might run at the sight of the barest threat.

A fair assumption, if unexpected.

And completely unnecessary.

His husband is big, but he is not threatening – he is… a source of protection. He is intimidating, but in an oddly transfixing way, as powerful men often are. Antonio’s fingers twist on the pelt beneath him, the thick, soft hairs pleasant and satisfying to grasp, the perfect brace as his breath escapes in a fleeting gasp at the rush of want that crashes in his body suddenly, by the sight of the Captain kneeling before him on the furs, coming closer, but he is not deterred – he removes his furs too, adding them to the pile where they lay, as eager to get undressed as his husband. Perhaps he shouldn’t. It’s desperate, unbecoming, even.

But he is curious, and he is warm, and he’s free, and he is, it seems, desired.

The Captain raises his eyes, that shine with the color of the ocean, and he growls the word Antonio has come to learn means, in his language, a name he would have never expected to receive for himself.

Beloved.

Antonio’s cheeks burn with heat, and he opens his knees and spreads his legs, sliding his feet apart and taking shameful enjoyment in the feel of the furs between his toes, the warmth in his body, and the sheer desire that blooms in his husband’s face. It’s so deeply entrancing. The Captain, stalking forward like a lion, crawls over Antonio in a graceful move, and places himself between Antonio’s thighs, a place that now belongs to him, and him alone.

The touch of his lips tastes like mead. It’s soft, and hot, and a little demanding, and Antonio knows that this, this, is his husband at his core.

His Captain.

Tony wishes he knew his name. He’ll have to learn. He wants to. He wants to learn how it’ll taste in his mouth much like the Captain is licking into his mouth to learn his taste, he wants to know how it’ll sound in his voice, with his accent, if it’ll be as endearing to his husband as his low sighs are to his own ears. Antonio wishes for more warmth too, more skin – and this wish he can be granted, and so, he pulls on his husband’s robes, his too tough leather and metals, demanding to touch what’s beneath.

His husband lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and he says something Antonio cannot understand.

Antonio wants. He wants, and wants, and he did not imagine he would want it this much.

There is no time to think, only to feel. Feel, as his husband removes own his garments and brings Antonio’s hands to his chest, firm and sculpted like the most expensive marble, so tempting under the ethereal candlelight. It is customary, Antonio has heard, that the wedding night should be witnessed by at least five other people in the Clan, but they are alone, and he is grateful for it – he is shocked by how pleased he is at the idea that this body, this man now belongs to him too, and no one else can have him.

Blessed be the Gods, Antonio thinks, despite never before having praised a deity, too trapped in the questions of men to give much care to the demands of spirits, For this gift.

This offering, he remembers, as the Captain’s lips descend upon his’ once more, and he opens his mouth, inviting him in without a second thought. Freely given.

In exchange for my devotion, he moans, into his husband’s mouth, as his own clothes are pushed away, and skin presses against skin, and suddenly, that is not enough.

I accept it, as he wraps his arms around his husband’s shoulders, and his legs around his waist, and lets himself be washed away by sensation, by the craving—

Willing, he gasps, wet and panting, when he’s turned around and pressed into the softness of the furs beneath, rubbing against them in sensual, quivering contentment when his husband leans over him and pulls his hips up, towards his own—

And ready, as his eyes roll back in pleasure, as he’s breached.

To serve your temple for the rest of my days.

Antonio does not know the last part of this hymn. He did not have time to learn.

All he knows is worship tastes good on his tongue.

#stevetony #stony #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #stony bingo #stony bingo 2020 #machi writes

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bawkrya · 3 years

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Ok i’m answering all the questions from that one ask meme bc i was basically sent all of them from discord friends

🌳How does your clan use the landscape of their territory to their benefit. Do they alter it?

To give background on what Phrauge’s territory actually looks like, a LOT of it is actually desert. The sand is a deep red, and despite being a desert, dig a shallow hole and it’ll be filled with a toxic liquid that the scientists in the clan are still trying to figure out. Anura, the main city, kind of sits at the beginning of the desert, but is surrounded by trees in kind of a U shape. Then the Malignant Redwood, a super toxic jungle, sits along the border of Shadow

BUT! The main thing Phrauge has done is found a way to solidify the sand in a dragon-friendly way in order to make homes. A lot of homes are directly connected to the ground, so sloped homes are a common occurrence. It wasn’t until recent years that Phrauge started using balanced concrete pads to start building houses/other buildings. The one HUGE altercation they’ve made above ground was when Bawkrya started expanding their territory into the Redwood, where he built his home

The trees, plants, and animals found at the location his home is in was sent off to mages, scientists, etc. to be studied-- he actually didn’t plan to build a house there until it was offered to him

UNDER Phrauge is a dragon-made cave system for the most part that was expanded into an underground city, and the houses/buildings there share a similar look in that they’re built from the stones and all that. A good portion of the “Higher Mall” is carved into the walls of the cavern.

🏠What are the housing accommodations? Any architectural influences?

There’s housing in basically every part of Phrauge. Due to how old Phrauge is as a Clan, the majority of this housing are tall apartment like buildings where families have lived for several generations. These apartments tend to be PRETTY large as they accommodated Imperials and other large species for the most part

While the majority of the house will be made out of sand/concrete, wooden decor, supports, etc. are implemented throughout it, but like especially for decoration. Bone is also a common decoration, with both wood and bone being carved with smooth and stupid intricate designs.

For the wooden and bone decor like that, for apartments that had several generations in them, some of the decor may tell stories of those who lived there, or list position in the clan, or have a family tree. If the family ever moves from these houses, the decoration is either taken with them or sent to historians in order to preserve them

Also Phrauge really loves some tiling. Tiled floors with wooden walls is pretty common, esp with how customizable it can be. Despite the popularity, there’s not too many dragons in the clan who actually make tile-- so there’s maybe three or four dragons really well known for the tiles they’ve made.

As for influences, there’s a LOT. If you can think of a style, it’s most likely sitting somewhere in Phrauge. the housing described above is moreso the style that belongs to the clan, but since a LOT of dragons are moving in from various flights, housing of different looks tend to drop in all the time

❤️How are hatchlings raised? By the clan? Just the parents? Just one parent? Is there a nursery for eggs? How is that set up if so?

It really depends on the area. In Anura, it’s generally only the parents raising the kids, given how many different dragons run through the major city from different flights, but there are plenty of childcare options for parents who may be in the higher ranks of the clan. There’s mostly daycares, but teens can make a living off of babysitting!

In Gabbro, a smaller city based near the Earth border, it’s more communal based. Less tourists go through that area, so everyone knows just about everyone, and with how much security is in place, parents are generally at ease letting their kids run around doing more simple errands.

As for underground, it’s almost strictly just the parents. While Bawkrya is trying to make it a more safe city, dragons still try to do shady business there, and it’s an overall much more strict setting. Most families don’t live there unless they have to-- for ex; the home has belonged to a family for a long time. Still, for those on the richer side, they mostly keep security in place for that home in favor of buying a new one aboveground.

For members of the clan who are Officials, children are usually taken care of by other officials, or by specifically hired babysitters/tutors. For example if Xentheryn and Akeldama, the two official Blood Mages/Scholars of the clan, were to have children, Bawkrya (leader), Fortinbras & Valencia (Head of Trade/Supreme General), etc. would be some of the few who may keep an eye on the kid(s).

🌧How do they lay their dead to rest? Is it a cemetery? A hall of the dead? An item crafted to remember them by?

Due to the nature of the sand in Phrauge, most if not all are cremated. This is mostly so dragons may keep their family with them, as there really isn’t anywhere to bury someone. On top of that, Imperials used to make up the majority of the clan, so bodies couldn’t be buried even if the family wanted them to be.

Some families may build temple-like concrete buildings in order to store the urns of their deceased. These buildings are generally small, and located near the woods. They’re also able to be moved from where they’re placed if needed-- which is why Bawkrya, with the permission of the families, relocated a lot of these temples to a specific area thats under more security.

These temples are protected by a magic talisman that’s fueled by the living family. So, unless you’re blood related or otherwise bound to the talisman, you won’t be able to go in or move these temples. If a family no longer has a surviving member, it is usually bound to the clans Immortal (TBA Dragon), who will continue fueling it so long as their loyalty lies in Phrauge.

For Dragons of higher rank, with the families permission, their urn may be placed in the Capital Building. Urns in this building are protected by two talismans, one fueled by the family, and the overarching one fueled by the Immortal.

In the temples, important items that belonged to the dragon may be set next to the urn. For ex: Bridal Boas, small weapons, journals, etc. As for items families may keep, since jewelry is super popular in the clan, Rings, Necklaces, and other forms of jewelry are typically worn by the dragons Heir, or whoever they may have left it to. Bawkryas pendants are a well known example-- it’s rumored they belonged to his mother, but they only thing known for sure is that it was passed onto him when he was young.

⚔️How do they get along with beastclans? Is there tension even if they get along well?

Honestly, pretty well. The most trouble Beastclan folk might face in Phrauge is from tourists who aren’t familiar with the laws set in place protecting them against dragons. So, many tend to live in the Gabbro instead of Anura.

Dragons also still have beastclan familiars, like Bawkrya does! Familiars in this sense are treated equally, and are more of a partnership between dragons, whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic. Familiar is just the universal title most end up using

🍽Any culinary inspirations or specialties?

There’s several Phrauge specific specialties, and every single one is a meat based dish. I don’t have names yet for them, but the most well known is a soup made from bone broth with lots of meat in it. Grouse is the most common choice of meat, with different sorts of seasoning, sauces, etc. depending on the region/who cooks it. Veggies and the like are mixed in too-- but again it’s all dependent on where you have it made

A special kind of beef jerky is super popular too, with magic based ingredients!

But, also, since plenty of dragons move into Anura every day, specialties from other clans or flights gain traction as well. Though-- nature specialties don’t really last long

🔑If your clan is land locked or lacks bodies of water how do you feed pescatarians? If its dry or frozen how do they feed herbivores? Does this area limit what dragons have joined your clan due to unstable dietary supplies?

A LOT of food is imported! Like a lot. Phrauge does a lot of trading among other clans/flights, so there’s rarely ever a shortage, especially since Bawkrya and Fortinbras have teamed up on trade. So, dragons aren’t really limited.

🎀Does certain clothing mean anything in your clan? Colors or items signal a rank or status like marriage, warrior, healer?

Bridal Boas are a super common, Phrauge specific thing. It’s something all partners in marriage wear, and something they make for each other. Bridal Boas are made from fur, decorative metals, and jewels. They don’t specifically have to be boas, just made out of fur! As for colors, white is the most common, but Reds, Dark Greens, and Dark Purples are other colors associated with marriage.

For Mages, they tend to wear metal masks with heavily jewelry. Xentheryn and Akeldama have the most prominent masks as they’re the Official mages, but all Mage related masks are decorated depending on what they specialize in. For those two specifically, being Blood mages, Red jewels, copper metal, etc. is used for their masks with more flowy designs

Bawkrya has a specific uniform he has to wear when doing Clan Ceremonies. The majority of this uniform is made from bone-- with the bones being from past enemies that Phrauge has defeated. The fabric used is from specific beasts too, all which past Leaders have killed themselves. Also, passed down jewelry and the like.

⭐️Is your clan healing magic based? Apothecary based? Surgical? A strange combination?

It’s more of a combination, with how many dragons there are. And, it really depends on the injury or illness a dragon may have. But, the most popular form is magic based, with most if not all mages in the clan basing their studies in healing.

✏️What are real world influences that have been implemented into your clan’s design or culture?

For fashion, a lot is inspired by the 1930s fashion from various countries! For a specific source, the fashion in Winter Begonia is a huge influence. I just tend to make the clothing sluttier LMFAO

so just really nice and layered tuxes and semi form fitting dresses. but in Phrauge theres boob windows somehow implemented. + STUPID heavy jewelry + LOTS of fur and potentially bones

#this is so much #Phrauge Lore

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pressedinthepages · 4 years

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Chapter 3: Reunion

Summary: You confront the beast, but end up finding something a bit different than what you were expecting.

Series Masterlist

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24382063/chapters/59417785

Words: 1643

Tags: @whitewolfandthefox

Warnings: brief fight scene, blood, nothing terribly graphic though

A/N: We stan lil’ bleater and goat dad in this house

The sword is heavy in your hand as you swing high, but you freeze as you look at what had burst into the clearing. You weren’t sure exactly what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that. You scent the air again now that it’s right in front of you, and there’s no denying it; it’s a fucking goat.

She pauses and looks up at you, her eyes blank and oblivious to the potential danger that she has walked into. Instead of fleeing or stomping to fight, the goat just dips her head to the ground and begins munching on some celandine sprouting along the edge of the stream. You lower the sword back to your side as you listen, noticing that the heavy footfalls that had been approaching had disappeared, yet you still feel uneasy.

You keep your hand on your weapon as you observe the little goat, curious as to what the fuck she was doing in the middle of a forest. Her fur is a dark, rich brown speckled with white spots along her back. She has two tiny horns atop her head, and her eyes are a light brown, striking against the dark of her fur. The goat lifts her head and meets your gaze, and you feel as though she has the ability to know everything, but actually knows nothing at all. You stare at each other for a moment when she suddenly bleats, something sharp and powerful, and you get the sense that she just asked you to ‘fuck off’ in goat.

Your uneasiness grows, certain that there is something nearby, watching you. Your grip tightens on your sword as you slowly start to move in the direction of your camp. As you do, your body is overwhelmed with a strange (but not unpleasant) tingling sensation, your bones feeling like they are vibrating under your skin. Abruptly, the wind shifts and you catch a new scent on the air; something dark and smoky, steel and blood, and...oranges?

Before your brain can catch up, you are grabbed and shoved to the ground from behind. Your sword clatters along the stones by the water, and you gasp as the wind is knocked out of you. The buckle at the top of your shoulder clinks and loosens, your silver sword pulled from your back. Your training takes over, elbowing whatever is on top of you in the abdomen. Their hold on you eases just enough for you to roll away, shoving the heel of your palm into the face of your attacker. You feel blood rush under your hand as you retreat, coming to your feet and circling around at the edge of the clearing to face your attacker.

The first thing that you notice is that this is a humanoid creature, presumably a male of the species. As he stands, he holds a hand to his face in an attempt to quash the blood flowing from his nose, the smell of copper wrinkling your nose. He is wearing clothes, plain trousers and a tunic with red and brown stripes. He too is unarmed, and as you glance around the clearing, you notice a second sheath sticking out from under the bush where your attacker must have been hiding. You see the hilt of a sword, and then one of a second sword, and oh shit.

You look back to the man’s face, allowing your body to relax a touch as he runs a forearm across his lip, wiping away the excess blood. The bleeding has stopped, and you can see the shimmery shield of Quen around the man. He is tall and broad, and you can see that his forearms are littered with scars that shine subtly against his tanned skin. Along his face, though, are three long, deep gashes, red and angry and haunted by the pain of the past that bleeds into the present. He has deep chestnut hair that falls into his eyes, and when you catch them, they steal your breath.

His eyes are deep gold, threaded with fire and approaching storms. As you discreetly scent the air once more, the realization floods through you. Those eyes catch the light of the setting sun, glimmering and otherworldly, but all you can see are the color that they used to be; rich green, the color of the tops of the trees in spring. He always did love those orange soaps.

“Eskel?” you breathe, your voice nothing more than a leaf fluttering from a tree. He stiffens, breath catching in his lungs. You can hear his heartbeat speed up, looking into your eyes, searching for the answer to a question he has yet to ask. You visibly relax your posture, turning your palms outward in a show of submission. He still waits, his body coiled to pounce at the first sign of aggression, but something in his eyes shifts as he inhales, and you know that he has finally scented you.

You take a tentative step forward, needing to discreetly close the distance between you before coming to any conclusions about who is in front of you. He smells like Eskel, and he looks like Eskel, albeit a bit weathered and with a bunch more scars than when you last saw him. He looks exhausted, and you can’t help your heart breaking a little. But you know better than to take anything at face value, this could be a doppler, or a djinn, or some other fucking thing that has gotten into your head and is using your past against you.

The man in front of you mirrors your actions, his posture also relaxing and stepping forward slowly. As you grow closer, only just outside of arm’s reach, the silver medallion on your chest lies still, the heavy charm confirming that this was not some being masquerading as Eskel, but was actually him. He seems to have come to the same conclusion, breathing out your name, so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him without your heightened hearing.

You both carefully move forward until you are close enough to share a breath, and you are overwhelmed with the scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat, the sight of the man who had been your source of sanity for almost twenty years, and had unknowingly haunted you for the past thirty.

Before you can register the movements, his arms are around your waist, pulling you to his chest and holding you there. He rests his head on your shoulder as he sinks into you, holding his breath and trembling slightly, only enough for another Witcher to notice. It’s been so long since you had felt any of the numerous sensations darting around you, and instead of confronting them or trying to focus on all of them at once, you just allow yourself to bring your arms around his neck, enfolding him into you.

You stay like that for a while, neither one of you willing to break the embrace. You can feel his thumb lightly stroking your back, and his stubble scratches along your throat. You thread your fingers through his hair, a dusty, unruly mess that seems to be one of the only things about him that hasn’t really changed.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” he whispers into your shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist. Before you can respond, though, you feel a sharp jab in the back of your knees, buckling as Eskel catches your weight. You turn and see the goat behind you, still chewing on greens. You think that you catch a glint of playfulness in her eyes, and that is confirmed soon enough.

Eskel releases his grip on you, stepping around to approach the goat. His mouth is set in a hard line, and his hands rest on his hips as he tilts his head down to look at her. She trots up to him, unafraid, and stands with her two front hooves on the toes of his boots.

As you watch all of this unfold, unsure of whether or not this a bizarre dream, Eskel sighs, the corner of his mouth tilting up the tiniest bit. He bends over and gently shoves the goat away, but she bounces right back around to stand once more on his toes. He does this a couple more times, seemingly lost in his own little world. You can’t help but crack a small smile watching him, waiting for the goat to be finished with her playtime.

Finally, she firmly plants all four hooves on the ground and bleats, quick and clear, most of the greens falling from her mouth as she does. Eskel reaches out and ruffles the little tuft of fur between her horns before standing again, turning to you with a somewhat sheepish look on his face.

You feel the corners of your mouth turn up once more before shrugging and turning to gather your swords from where they had fallen. As you rise once more, you see that Eskel has gathered his belongings as well, swords slung across his back, medallion glinting in the fading sun. You nod in the direction of your camp, wordlessly inviting him to join you. Eskel whistles high and loud, and you can hear another set of hooves approaching from the direction that he had come. A large black warhorse plods into the clearing, graceful and poised despite his grand stature. The goat bounces between his feet, bleating and ramming her horns into the horse’s legs.

Eskel sighs at them before gesturing towards your camp, “After you, Witcher.”

As you begin to climb the hill, Eskel and his traveling companions (?) at your back, you can’t help the ripple of relief along your mind. You’re not sure why, or how, but even now, thirty years since you’ve last seen him, Eskel still makes you feel human again.

#THEY HAVE ARRIVED #THE MAN #THE MYTH #THE LEGEND #IS FUCKIN HERE #eskel #eskel x reader #hollow things #fem!reader #female witcher #series #my fic

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tcstu · 3 years

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December’s Honorable Mentions

If you didn’t see my original post:

This month entries were slightly down. I only received four stories. The thing is, the four people who entered are incredibly talented writers who are all previous contest winners. After reading each story five times, I still couldn’t decide. I considered putting it up for a vote, but that could become a popularity contest where whoever has the most followers wins. I also considered calling it a four-way tie, but that would just be frustrating for everyone. I realized as the contest host, I had no choice but to step up and choose the winner.

Below are the three stories that gave the winner such a tough competition this month. If you like someone’s story, please reach out and let the writer know. I’m sure they would love to hear from you!

As reminder, the artistic piece for this month’s contest is titled, “Curious Lurker” and it was created by @duckydrawsart . If you like this piece, make sure to check out this artist’s page to see more original work!

These entries are listed in the order they were received and do not reflect a system of ranking.

“Klaus: Escort Mission”

Written by: @evanthenerd83

“Are we there yet,” squeaked the ghost, and Klaus could only sigh.

He took a single step. Paused. And then, without much ceremony, tore his boot free.

The snow whimpered.

Ashlnir. Freakin’ Ashlnir. Why did it have to be Ashlnir?

Klaus felt the ghost staring at him, body light on his left shoulder. It was still burning bright.

Good. Considering how cold—inhospitable, actually—the tundra was.

The wind howled. It whipped his face. It peppered his beard with snowflakes and ice gems. Teeth were rattling.

He could no longer feel his legs. They didn’t exist. And his fingers? What were fingers, anyway?

No wonder She had forbidden him from using the Sleigh.

Foot-travel was the only way. His reindeer wouldn’t last a second. Not out here, with such ineffectual fur.

They would fall, right out of the sky, and plummet. Crash. They’d already be stiff. Dead.

An image came to mind. Klaus froze in mid-step and screwed his eyes shut. Holding back tears.

He stood there for a while, and the ghost tilted its head. It blinked. Blinked again.

“Are we there yet?”

“…”

“Are we—“

“No.”

“Small Favors”

Written by: @winterrose42

It wasn’t often a traveler came into the forest.

It wasn’t often much of anything came in the forest didn’t already belong there. Yet here they were, with all the predatory audacity of a fox in a henhouse, stepping carefully over ancient roots and ducking under clawing branches. The creature narrowed its eyes, crown creaking quietly with the slight breeze. It took a slow step forward, careful not to disturb the moss that has made its home close to its joints to gain a better look at the person traipsing through fae territory.

They certainly looked the part of a traveler, decked out in leather and furs to withstand the cold; though the creature did snort at the implications of wearing such things it sensed no malicious intent so decided to leave it alone. Humans were weak after all, often needing the aid of the dead for them to continue living. The creature itself had lived for so long it had little interest in what had transpired in the travelers past, only their intentions for the future.

Craning its neck around a rather thick tree it watched with passive interest as the traveler fought to get up and over a particularly high root, immediately spotting a small, glowing form clinging to the furs on one side of their collar. A fairy guide then. Small as it was it looked weak and helpless enough that the creature had no doubt the traveler had picked it up with the intent of returning it to its home as it had seen happen time and time again when the fae lured a human to one nest or another. Outfitted for travel though he was it was clear he was maladaptive to the subtext of the wilderness- things that were meant to attract and garner pity for their small helpless demeanor were rarely to be trusted, and the creature had no doubt that the fate that would befall the traveler should they continue on was not one they were aware of.

The creature debated stepping forward to spare the traveler their fate. It towered nearly as tall as a tree and had lived long enough to look like one as well, thick legs stabbing into the ground and branched curling into crude antlers atop its head. Its eyes glowed peacefully but it doubted the traveler would see it that way; to all who had caught glimpses of it between the trees before it appeared as a fearsome beast waiting to strike from the shadows, a beast on a never ending hunt with no more to do than snag any helpless creature who strayed too close. The traveler tripped over the root briefly but managed their footing in time to continue forward with purpose, the tiny fae whispering persuasions all the while, Shaking its head the creature stepped back and away. All life was a circle and it had no intention to break it for a creature who would fall for such easy traps.

“Faery Woods”

Written by: @weminence

A faery’s woods were always quiet at night. During the day both man and beast felt comfortable in the trees but when night fell the fae awoke, ready to play. At night the shadows watched and they were deadly.

So when Oak hears the soft cracking of twigs, she immediately comes to attention. She sends the ent, Branch, through the underbrush and spirits through the treetops. It doesn’t take long for them to find the human who has intruded into their terratory. He’s tall and broad, sure in his steps and very loud. There are no visible weapons, but Oak keeps her guard. On his shoulder sits a small mushroom sprite, clinging to his furs.

“Are we close?” the human asks, though he receives no answer. He doesn’t seem to mind.

Oak watches as Branch steps out from the trees, a loud crack sounding from their open mouth.

The human turns sharply to face the noise and his eyes widen. Not in fear but wonder which surprises Oak. The sprite trills at Branch who clicks back. “Is this a friend, Spore?” the human asks.

“You gave them a name?” Oak asks, appearing behind the human.

The man turns back to face her. “Was I not supposed to?” Oak watches the human, as he stands relaxed between them. He makes her uncomfortable, too at ease in her domain, especially considering the scars on his cheek that clearly come from some sort of claw.

She ignores his question ”What are you doing here?”

“This little guy,” he starts while pulling the sprite off his shoulder,cradling the creature in his hands, “got carried away from his forest and I needed to bring him somewhere safe.”

“These woods are not safe.” Branch roars pointedly to mark Oak’s point.

The man doesn’t flinch, and answers. “Not for me.”

Oak glares at the man but he can’t see that behind her mask. “Who are you, human?”

“I’m just Apollo, miss,” he answers, a dumb smile pulling across his face.

Oak glares. “Give us the sprite, Apollo. And leave these woods.” Apollo lifts the sprite to his face, who chirps happily at him. He hands the sprite to Oak, who cradles the sprite to her chest.

“Thank you for taking him and may we meet again."

He turns, walking the path out that he’d taken in. Oak growls and Branch clicks uncomfortably. “May you never walk in this forest again.” Oak wishes.

#December writing #December contest #December's Honorable Mentions #writing contest #writing community #writeblr #ekphrastic fiction contest #ekphrastic fiction

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sirfluffig · 4 years

Text

HPMA Character Profile: Theodore Ceccere (OUTDATED)

Art by the amazing and more than adorable @jayrart

Profile made by @hogwartsmysterystory

~Identity~

Name: Theodore Logan Ceccere

Gender: Male

Age: 11

Birth Date: 26th September

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Lawful / Neutral Good

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: Scottish

Residence: Dundee, Scotland

Myer Briggs Personality Type: INFJ- The Advocate

~The Mage~

1st Wand:

Wood: Strawberry

Core: Kelpie Hair

Length: 13 ¼ ”

Flexibility: Flexible

→ “Witches and wizards who lack confidence or are riddled with insecurities may find themselves chosen by a strawberry tree wand. This wood likes to play a supporting role, and wands with this wood tend to pick people who need someone (or in this case something) in their corner cheering them on.” (Extract from cloverywands Wand analysis! Check them out!)

→ “These witches and wizards tend to be lonely. It can be difficult for them to make friends.They are cautious when meeting people and it takes them a while to feel comfortable around a person enough to open up to them. They can be incredibly sweet to those close to them. They may unintentionally push other people away. Awkward outbursts are also common when theyare feeling pressured or afraid of their feelings.” (Extract from cloverywands Wand analysis! Check them out!)

2nd Wand - (Year 3+) :

Wood: Blueberry

Core: Kelpie hair

Length: 14 ½”

Flexibility: Flexible

→ “Blueberry wands weave together practicality and caring. The witches and wizards chosen by wands of this wood are most famous for their nurturing nature, stoicism, and reliability. Persistent as well, these people will trudge through any difficulties or obstacles they face on the way to their goals.

They are great to have in a crisis, as they tend to react calmly and sensibly. Comforting and caring for people comes naturally to them. They care deeply about their loved ones, and are very protective of them. Being overprotective can be an issue.” (Extract from cloverywands Wand analysis! Check them out!)

Animagus: Thanks to his afflicted lycanthropy, Theo lost the ability to change his shape willingly already at young age. Therefore he is more or less incapable of becoming an Animagus. Well technically he could become one, but that would just be way too hurtful for him to endure on a longer basis, because, something not many wizards and witches know is that the werewolf gene manipulation of a person would play into his Animagus form as well, making him some kind of a mutant or abomination. So this inability leads to the inflicted being damned to become a nightmare for other children, over and over again, every full moon night. A sad fate for such a free spirited and innocent child, that was ripped out of his own life, way too early. This..situation isn't exactly the kind of shape-changing Theo hoped he would achieve in his later life. He traded his greatest wish, for his greatest regret.

Misc Magical Abilities:

→ Legilimency: Like his father and their father before, Theo is a born Legilimens. It's a blessing and a curse to have this as one of the dominant traits of the Ceccere Bloodline, though you wouldn't suspect the youngster to be a mind reader at all, because he usually takes great respect in anyone's privacy. Especially since the only times Theo actively and knowingly uses his legilimency on others is to find out what they wish for their birthday or what kind of cookies they prefer to eat. Otherwise it would just be disrespectful to search in the minds of unsuspecting bystanders for information, that doesn’t belong to him.

→ Lycanthropy: Some might think that this curse originates from his mother, who herself suffers from lycanthropy, but you couldn't guess more wrongly. Chiara took no part in the boys fate, even though she wishes, she could have protected him from becoming what she is, that very night. Theo afflicted lycantrophy at the age of 7 when the young boy sneaked out of the gigantic manor at midnight to search for the unicorn that was said to roam the forest around the property. Between a few trees, Theo hid, to make sure, the majestic beast wasn't scared of his appearance before the unsuspecting Ravenclaw was attacked by a rampaging werewolf . Theo only survived because his attacker was scared off by a white furred werewolf, which Theo of course didn't knew, was his mother. This was the moment, that basically, turned Theo’s entire life to the worse in his eyes.

Boggart Form: Theo’s boggart takes the form of a particular small blonde haired girl with charming green eyes and colourful freckles centered around the nose, which wears a thick red woolen sweater with some white letters adorned to it. If looked at it correctly, you can discern that the letters form the word “Monster” under her dark blue overall, which reminds you kind of a farm girl. She wears this outfit paired with a pair of worn out and poorly tied brown leather boots. Her youthful eyes are widened in shock, her mouth formed as if she wanted to start screaming something and just start crying alone from the pure sight of the Ravenclaw. Something must have happened in the past of the yet so soft student, that traumatized him like that because the boggart starts running away from Theo, while ominous sounds of “Monster! Monster! Monster!” slowly surround the boy, trying to break his composure and lastly his mind.

Riddikulus Form: Considering all the negative feelings that Theo connects to this very “special” and emotionally hurtful event, which also can be counted as the begin of all his senseless self-loathing and his overly prominent insecurities, there is no possible way for this young boy to cast a successful Riddikulus spell on his cruel and unapologetic boggart, at least for now. He is just too emotionally invested and fed up in his own pain and feelings to really cope with that problem and the feelings he still has towards that girl per say. It will probably get better in the following years, but his inability to cope with this rejection because of his natural behaviour or him just being a werewolf will always stay somewhere in his mind.

Amortentia (What he smells to others): If Theo was smelt in one other’s Amortentia he would have rather nostalgic scents paired with other, really absurd smells. This includes but is not limited to the sweetest and most sticky bubblegum toothpaste that burns into the nose of the student.The toothpaste is not only the most prominent but also the most nostalgic scent provided in the entire potion. It’s also paired with fresh baked gingerbread cookies, adorned with all kind of sweets and christmas atmosphere. But these two only increase the smell of something the student connects with warmth and coziness, like their favourite blanket or a jacket that was handed to them on a specific occasion. On the other hand, people might catch a whiff of old and weathered books, like the ones that are towering in the Ceccere Family library back in Dundee, Scotland or the cold and windy midnight air outside of the Hogwarts castle that Theo always carries a few days after a full moon. There are endless possibilities. Just find it out yourself.

Amortentia (What he smells): The young Ravenclaw prefers so said aesthetically pleasing scents in his Amortentia, a lot of the smells that run through the thick magical liquid therefore are rather unique, the best examples for that are freshly grown orchids. Theo developed his affection for that kind of scent through the time he spent in the gardens back home, which featured orchids especially. Another possibility would be croissants, which remember Theo of the time, he, his sibling(s) and parents were on vacation in france. It was the first and probably last time, that the family did something together but that doesn’t mean it's not important to the shy and reserved young boy. When his father smelt old books and coffee in his amortentia, the next generation Ravenclaw has a similar taste. His amortentia includes a thick and almost burning scent of parchment and ink, that only gets outdone in strength by the hot and steamy feeling and smell of Theo’s favourite tea.

Patronus: Great Grey Owl

→ The patronus of a Great Grey Owl symbolizes a strong aura of wisdom, and individuals with it shine intellectually. They are not very social people, but they tend to be very admired for the impression their blatant knowledge of the world. Others tend to be comfortable going to these persons for advice, because they know they are trustworthy.

Patronus Memory: Theo’s patronus memory plays around the evening of the first november 2006, when he and his mother sat down in a corner, adorned with blankets and pillows and they read Theo’s first book together, it was nothing less than the story of “The beauty and the beast”. Till today, this book is his all time favourite and one of the cornerstones of his happiness.

Mirror of Erised: Theo sees himself standing in front of the mirror, the three scars that run across his face and usually are concealed by a spell beginning to glow in a celestial white light before the bright light and with it the scars begin to shrink and shrink until they entirely fade. This symbolizes Theo’s deepest desire to be a normal student and not someone others need to be afraid of.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

Calidum potum para: A modified version of the spell “Capulus para” which was invented by his father, who works as a high ranked ministry member. While “Capulus para” only conjures coffee cups with hot and steaming coffee and dissolve as soon as the cup is empty, “Caldium potum para” works with every hot beverage and comes was more in handy for the most people, who just don't like coffee.

Orchideous: Theo loves flowers, orchids especially since they have such a beautiful colouration, so it's no wonder that he wants to use this spell on every possible occasion especially when people around him feel bad. He might be a bit naive and not think through what he is doing in that moment, because his father-senses are moving in. He just likes to make people happy and there is nothing better to make people happy than showing that someone else cares. Some though, get the wrong idea of this gestures and cut the connection to him off.

Stupify : You wouldn't suspect it but even this timid, young boy can be a fierce warrior in times of fear and danger. He often resents from using offensive spells against others especially in friendly duels or during everyday activities but! should his friends or ...someone special be in acute danger, he would stop at nothing to save them, even if it would cost his own life in return. The people loyal to him are more worth to him, than his own health and their safety is his highest priority. He doesn't want others to be hurt when he could be instead.

~Appearance~

Face Claim: Axel Auriant (without his white streaks of course)

Voice Claim: Taylor Henderson

Game Appearance: Not existing yet.

Height: 5’4” feet - (163 cm)

Weight: 115 lbs - (52 kg)

Physique: Theo’s build is rather slim and somewhat scrawny and he lacks of strength in the arms.

Eye Colour: Glowing light blue with black elements that were caused due to the lycanthropic stains in his genes.

Hair Colour: Theo has fluffy and somewhat orderly combed chestnut brown hair with a natural white tone at the peaks of his hair streaks and his fringe.

Skin Tone: Pale ivory

Body Modifications: None

Scarring: Theo has three claw scars straight across his face, which he usually conceals with a lot of different charms, that he learned from his mother in early years. He also has a few deep scratches on his forearms which he often hides under bandages and long sleeves.

Outfit: Theo’s signature looks contains a dark grey cardigan, worn open as some kind of a sweatshirt jacket with rolled down sleeves as well as a white shirt paired with his house tie and most of the time his house scarf. Around his neck hangs a silver chain that ends in the form of a purple full-moon,a gift from his mother, after he was attacked by the werewolf and recovered in the hospital. Theo’s legs are covered in fine tailor-made black pants and adorned with a wand holster which fall onto his black suede shoes.

Inventory: (what do they carry on them?):

→ His loyal wand: A simple yet someone intriguing looking wand made from Strawberry (Blueberry at 3rd year +) wood. The combination of its magical reddish wood and the purity of the unicorn hair string was exclusively meant for Theodore Ceccere.

→ “La Belle et la Bête” : A book with dark blue cover and golden linings. With big golden letters the name “La Belle et la Bête” is engraved on it, while on its back, the initials T.C. find their place.

→ 3 wine red-purple Notebooks all having the crest of the family Ceccere on its covers. They magically add pages to it, once all pages are written full without growing physically or getting heavier.

→ Wolfsbane-Potions which he got from his mother before he boarded the train to Hogwarts. The flasks are filled with a silvery thin liquid that contains slight stains of a full moon’s light. These apparently should help one with their lycanthropic condition.

→ Full Moon-Necklace: This necklace is a basic replica of his mothers necklace with some added silvery ornaments and sorts of magical properties . The necklace itself, represents the full-moon but in another stage. Instead of the usual shining light blue stone set into it, this stone has a beautifully mysterious purple colour. As for magical properties this beautifully crafted necklace has the ability to predict in how many days and hours the next full moon will arrive over Hogwarts.

~Allegiances~

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Ilvermorny House: Pukwudgie

Affiliations/Organizations:

Great Britain

Family Ceccere

Family Lobosca

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

House Ravenclaw

Professions:

Freelance Historian (Often working together with archaeologists)

Professor at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

Transfiguration Professor

~Hogwarts Information~

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ (E)

Charms: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (O)

DADA: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (E)

Flying: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (A)

Herbology: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (A)

History of Magic: ★★★★★★★★★☆ (O)

Potions: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ (E)

Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★★★★ (O)

Electives:

Divination: ★★★★★★★★☆☆ (O)

Arithmancy: ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ (E)

Quidditch: Judging by Theo’s figure and the muscles that are placed upon his arms, it's highly unlikely that he will ever be able to play Quidditch also, by that amount of extracurriculars it's unlikely for him to even be able to attend the training .

Extra Curricular:

Book Club - [President]

Magical Theory Class

Ghoul Studies Class

Wizarding Chess Club

The Slug Club

Favourite Professor: Professor Felix Fiddlewood.

→ Professor Fiddlewood is a rather new teacher, so energetic and enthusiastic that he sometimes reminds Students of Professor Flitwick. As the successor of Professor McGonagall, he tries to keep the Transfiguration class as entertaining as possible with little games and quirks, because he fears that his students would fall asleep in his class, as he did back then as a Student in History of Magic. Theo really likes him, not only because Professor Fiddlewood is caring and empathic but he also has a knack for teaching. His calm and soothing voice makes it easy to understand what he says, so the notes taken in class, even by the greatest jocks, are pretty detailed.

Not only does Professor Fiddlewood teach very well, he also supports Theo on a personal level. He lets Theo stay after class, first to the Students shock, later to his enjoyment. The Professor then tries to help the werewolf, to feel more comfortable being himself and to say what he thinks, without closing off. This man has done so much for Theo and he could never repay that.

Least Favourite Professor: Madame Hooch

→ An unlikely choice but not an unexpected one. Theo as a very timid student has a problem with people that yell and scream. That's just a fact. But it's ten times worse when the person sounds like an angry bear and yells at you, to stay safe and keep calm. It just doesn't work like this for him. The young Ravenclaw would often slip and fall, just because he gets scared or startled by Madam Hooch’s Voice droning up to him, yelling to do something more or less right or wrong.

It's not that Theo thinks she’s a horrible student eating monster (like him…) or he hates her class, it's just the fact that she has such a loud and imposing voice that often rips Theo out of his new won courage and makes him slip and fall…

~Relationships~

Younger Sister: Annabelle “Anna” Ceccere

Pureblood Witch

Gryffindor

Natural Occlumens, Future Animagus [Tonkinese Cat]

Chestnut-brown long straight hair with white streaks that falls down on her shoulders paired with teal eyes which almost invisibly squint and light freckles over her cheeks and especially prominent on her nose. Lowkey a tomboy

Anna is the life of the party, she is the charming, outgoing and social student, everyone has heard about once at least and that not only hence her father's reputation. She is rather imaginative and a bit naive but she plays it cool every single time, with her incredible improvisation talents.

Once Anna showed her courage and loyalty to her family when Theo was attacked by a wild dog in an alley and she took up an improvised weapon, which she can't even remember herself and made the beast turn tails. Obviously she loves to tell that story over and over again because that was in her eyes, her first act of “heroism”

She is the living and bubbly opposite of her one year older brother with a bit of a teasing side as well. She likes to annoy Theo on a daily basis because that's how she shows her big brother her affection and Theo of course knows she does mean well after all, even though she caused the one or other embarrassing moment in his life.

Father: Flavius J. Ceccere

Pureblood Wizard

Former Ravenclaw

Natural Legilimens, Animagus [Crow], Trained Occlumens

Short and spiky dark coffee brown hair on a very pale complexion with dark brown eyes and a very prominent pair of brown glasses. Has a bit of a stubble instead of a beard, but that still has time, doesn't it?

Head of Obliviator Headquarters and Head of the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.

Flavio seems like a rather cold and distant person, his colleagues could swear they have never seen him blink or even smile, because of his usually so monotone and indifferent face. Sometimes Flavio appears as if he wants to murder you, when he is actually pretty proud of you, you can't really discern that other when he wants you to. That doesn't mean he is like that all the time though. Mostly this behaviour appears on important meetings or dangerous situations. He doesn't want others to be manipulated by his emotions and stop working to comfort him for example. In a familiar environment, for example on a mission with his well attuned team, he can be seen as a more or less emotional person, even if these emotions cut down to the most simple ones.

Yet he is a more than caring and understanding father at home. Flavio only wants the best for his children , especially since his job asks so much of him and consumes hours over hours of time and dedication which leads to Flavio coming home late at night or rather early in the morning, in the most cases. He tries to spend every free minute with his family, he gave up parts of his job and let others direct these operations, just to see Theo and Anna growing up and not be the distant relative, his parents were to him.

Mother: Chiara Lobosca

Supposedly Pureblood Witch (Doesn't like to talk about that.)

Former Hufflepuff

Lycanthrope, Extraordinary Healer

Soft white hair hanging down the sides of her head in medium length. Soft and soothing light blue eyes and a clean complexion without any sign for wrinkles. The most catching though is her charming and heart melting smile.

Healer at St. Mungos. Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Chiara was often known as an isolated and shy girl. She wanted nobody around her and she spent most of her time alone in the forest, making her a rather special student at Hogwarts.

But once she found someone,who wasn't afraid to be around her and she wasn't afraid to be around she became a bit more positive and open about herself and her situation. She started to spent more time with others, even though she still needs time to get familiar with it...but the way for a new, more positive future was made for her.

As a healer Chiara is nobody else than the altruistic and motherly woman, she is at home. She takes care of her patients as if they were her children and tries to make them their stay as comfortable as even possible. Yet she isn't the greatest at solving loud and vivid conflicts but that doesn't mean she wouldn't try to calm the situation after all. Through the entire stress at St. Mungos, Chiara often is very tired when she comes home and has little to no energy to take care of her kids, but she does it nonetheless, because she knows how it is when nobody is there to take care of you.

Love Interest: None at the moment, but that may change in the future.

Rival: None to the current moment

Enemy: Dennis Fayez : A young black haired Gryffindor with lime green eyes that meant it would be fun to pick on Theo’s friends, when Theo began to defend them, Dennis pushed the Ravenclaw on the ground and laughed at him.

Dorm Mates:

Daniel Pages

Unnamed Ravenclaw Student

Pets: Theo's best friend is his small rabbit named Mr. Nibbler who has a fluffy and soft white fur with a few dark brown specks upon it, one of the brown spots is around Mr Nibbler’s right black beady eye. Theo got this little baby for his eleventh birthday, because his parents were concerned that Theo might not be the most social person and make the most friends. To prevent that their son, is alone like they were, Flavio and Chiara decided to buy him a little bunny to spend him support.

Closest Canon Friends:

Daniel

Lottie

Robyn

Kevin

Closest MC Friends:

Alaire Whitecross ( @hogwartsmysterystory )

Almeta Yu ( @phyl-the-gryffinclaw )

Belladonna Moonweaver ( @jayrart )

Dafne Arcano (Also Lari’s)

Elvira Damon ( @montdiarts )

Estella Lovegood ( @raeamtrick )

Gavin Rohesia ( @catherinestark-hphm )

Hester Huckabee ( @insufferablegryffindor )

Kiri Amaryllis ( @kathrynalicemc )

Mara Malin ( @zuulosdovah )

Nessi Lucerne (Also Lari’s)

Rana Caplan ( @cursed-ice-spirits )

Sophia Alexeev ( @hanihonii )

If you want to be his friend, please tell me!!

Background/History:

Theo comes from the noble House of Ceccere associated with extraordinary intelligence and quick wit, but especially prominent for the apparent supernatural ability to discover and manipulate a persons mental state and even their dreams. These are mostly rumours but as anyone knows, there is always a bit of truth in a rumour

His parents both have more than mentally and physically stressing jobs and have problems with being at home all around the clock hence the importance of both their occupations so Flavio's younger sister Sarah often took care of the Ceccere kids when their parents weren't home on time or had to work extra shifts.

When the Obliviator and the Healer were home though, they tried their best to spend the entire time with their beautiful and creative kids and fulfil their every wish. That often included reading old and dusty books to Theo about mighty knights and cunning wizards that defeat dragons and monsters that come right out of the darkness, while Anna prefered to draw or build things with boxes in her room.

While the Manor of Family Ceccere actually stood on top of a hill which was surrounded by a gigantic graveyard, it was relatively close to the scottish muggle cities and therefore Theo even had the possibility to befriend a few of the non magical inhabitants of this world, which he did, rather careful but not too careful, he was curious after all.

He got to know a charming girl with sunlight blonde hair and green eyes whose name was “Aliciana” but prefered to be called Alice, they became friends quickly, because they shared so many interests while being so different people. While Theo was a full blooded nerd, she was more of a jock-y fellow. They grew on each other rather quickly, They had sleepovers at Theo’s place and Alice took him to one of her soccer games. It was bound to be a great friendship.

At the age of six years old Theo heard a strange sound from outside, he decided to be like one of the chivalrous and brave knights he heard so much about and investigate, to maybe even save a princess! As he left the door and strived through the forest, he noticed an odd little ball at the sky. It was white and round… his fascination distracted him so much he didn't even noticed the creature that doomed him once and for all coming

When Theo stood eye to eye with the roaming free werewolf he startled and froze in the stop, which didn't stop the lycanthrope of course. It stroke at Theo with its paw and hit the boy in the face, knocking him out. Luckily it only left a few scars

When he woke up in a hospital his parents looked at him concerned, slightly admonished him before telling him that they were glad he was safe. As soon as Theo saw what the creature did to him though, he panicked. He couldn't go out like this. People would be scared of him, so he asked his mother to conceal his scars with a concealment charm when he leaves the house, she agreed.

This did work out until Chiara and Flavio weren't at home due to work and Alice asked Theo over phone if he wanted to come to play Knight and Princess in the big forest. Even though, he still was a bit scared of that forest, Theo agreed. As soon as he arrived at the forest, not only wanting to play but also...telling Alice how much he actually likes her, she saw him… and his scars.

She began to tear up, scream and run away, yelling “Monster! Please don't! No! Mom!!” over and over again. Theo was heartbroken, why did she react like that? Then he realized that he had his scars showing. This event was a bit traumatising for both of the ten year old children.

As soon as Theo was home, he wasn't the same anymore. His curiosity had brought him more doom than luck, he became highly insecure about his appearance and wanted to seem perfect for everyone.

This went on, till Theo got to board the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross…

Personality:

Insecure: Theo almost drowns in insecurities as much in public as with his few friends and it already began to control his life. He feels more than uncomfortable being himself and showing his flaws around people, no matter how good he knows them than it would be normal for a teenager. This can be dated back to the first time Theo showed someone how he really looked without concealment charms that keep his outer image. The reaction from then, still traumatised the young Ravenclaw and he tries his best not to relive that. That's why he often uses concealment on every part of his body, that could spark negative attention or disdain .

Socially Awkward: Because both of his parents were introverts and all the outgoing genes were apparently used on his little sister, Theo is a mental wreck in company of any other humanoids. He feels so pressured to count as a member of his peers and tries everything to an unimaginable extend that they accept him. Sadly, he has little to no real social competences, so he often causes awkward situations in his peer groups without any intention to do so.

Curious: Curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction of knowing didn't bring back this one. Theos naturally nosy personality was a big part of the way he interacted with the things and people around him in his younger and more foolish years. When he didn't need to worry about anything. But since the accident, the creative and curious aspect of the boy seemingly disappeared….Something many don't know...some aspects of a personality… never vanish for long.

Caring: After everything that happened, all the times I told you that Theo is a useless wreck around others, I dare to claim he is social and caring? Yes I do. He might be very anxious around interacting with people but he actually is the absolute mom friend and as soon as you befriend him, he’ll show you that. He will bake you cookies, brink blankets and good books if you feel lonely and over all, will jump over his own shadow so that others feel good and loved. But sadly he can't accomplish that for himself.

Misc:

Theodore actually means “God-given” and is a reference to the generally pretty pure personality and how others in his peer group see him.

Logan is Theodore's second name as an homage to Flavio’s older brother Logan. Funnily the name fits Theo pretty good anyways. After all it means “Hollow” and represents how Theo sees himself. He doesn't accept himself, he feels dump and insignificant … just empty.

Theo has an incredible memory of names. He could tell you the names and a few characteristics about every of his 100+ family members from the most ridiculous branches because he connects something with their names, which makes it in return easier to remember them.

He is not capable of cursing. Like literally, as much as Theo would like to, something inside of him denies it. May it be his education or even a physical disability , sadly this takes away a lot of intimidating aspect, the otherwise tall and mysterious looking student would have.

Something not many know is that Theo absolute favourite colour is a cold-ish type of purple, the only people that know it already were at Theos home because this purple is also the colour his walls are painted at home.

Theo learned how to play the piano very early because he always was interested in music and how its made. He studied the most different songs and was more or less naturally gifted at it, sadly he involuntarily abandoned this hobby because he lacked the time to actually continue practicing. But the proficiency is still somewhere in him.

The Ravenclaw is really talented at Calligraphy which leads him to having a really beautiful and orderly yet unique handwriting. Nobody asks Theo anymore if he can do their homework because the teachers always recognize when Theo wrote something. But his graceful hands and fingers won't protect him from his overall clumsiness

More to be added!

#HPMA #HPMA MC #Theo Ceccere #Belladonna Moonweaver #Flavio Ceccere #Chiara Lobosca #Anna Ceccere #Kiri Amaryllis #Nessi Lucerne #Assia Alshaahin #Estella Lovegood #Sophia Aleexev #Hester Huckabee #Gavin Rohesia

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