@monthly-challenge 2024 | Day #11: Bear hugs


#dc comics#dc#batman#bruce wayne#dick grayson#batfam#tim drake#batfamily#dc fanart




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@monthly-challenge 2024 | Day #11: Bear hugs

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@monthly-challenge 2024 | Day 12: âComplimentsâ | Fluffy Daya
A little late but! Some Kanera for @monthly-challenge Februfluff day 16: caretaking
Ever since Malachor, Kanan had spent a lot of time up at odd hours. A combination of nightmares, lingering pain from his wounds, and painkillers had seen him up in the wee hours of the morning while he was recovering. Even now that things were getting back to normal, he still woke up at random hours.
Some nights he went back to sleep. Others he meditated, either in his room or out on the far edge of the base.
And other nights, like tonight, the restless energy was too much for him. So he got up, slipping out of his room quietly so as to not wake any of the others on board the Ghost.
@monthly-challenge 2024 | âfirst kissâ (but make it platonic)
Hi yes Iâm posting another fic no I donât know how. Enjoying it though. Artham Wingfeather my beloved.
read on A03
~~~
When Esben bursts through the doors, Artham shoots to his feet and expects the worst. Heâd been daring to hope for hours now, keeping a sturdy faith in the Makerâs goodness, and that hope hadnât once vanished or lessenedâeven after the sun set and the stars came alive, long after the moon made its journey across the midnight sky, and all the way up to the gentle but brilliant sunrise. He hadnât lost his hope. He hadnât lost his faith.Â
But now, all the hope and faith in the world evaporates like water, leaving Artham with a sick, sinking hole splitting his chest apart. Something went wrong. Something went so terribly wrong. One of them didnât make it. None of them made it. No one could help. No one could do anything. Itâs all over now. No more can be done.Â
Something went wrong.
Esben spins around, searching wildly. His eyes catch Arthamâs and then he stills. His hair is greasy and tangled. Thereâs tear tracks on his face.Â
Arthamâs breath stops in his throat.
And then Esben laughsâor cries or sobs or shouts, or maybe all of them at once. And Arthamâs breath returns; the sinking hole in his chest begins to mend itself. Itâs okay.
âHow are things?â He asks, which seems far too refined a question to ask in a situation like this, but itâs all Artham can think to sayâand he wants to know.Â
âGreat! Perfect, just brilliant!â Esben laughs (itâs clearly a laugh this time) and gleefully runs his fingers through his hair. âNiaâs- sheâs as bright and beautiful as ever, even- oh Artham, you shouldâve seen her. As surely as I stand today, thereâs never been a braver woman in all of Annieraâno, in all the world! Sheâs just- oh, I donât know. I donât know how she managed to do that. I could never, certainly⌠oh, surely not.â
He shakes his head, a somewhat horrified look coming upon his face, before he looks up, brightening. His eyes are shining like the sea. âItâs a girl.â
And then Artham does what he should have done the moment Esben opened those doors: he races forward, quick as the wind, and pulls his brother to himself, one hand on the back of his head. Esben cries, returning the embrace with shaking arms.Â
Artham holds on tighter.Â
He doesnât know how long they stay like that, hugging in the middle of a hallway. It couldâve been decades or millennia and Artham would have never pulled away.Â
But then Esben is bouncing, unfurling his arms from his brother and taking a step back. His eyes are bright like sunlight despite the bags underneath. He looks free. âWhat are we doing, all the way out here? Come on, you have to meet her! Just think Artham, you have a niece now!â He grins. âHow cool is that?â
Artham opens and closes his mouth. Oh. A⌠a niece. Him. He has a niece now. Oh.Â
Esben chuckles. âYouâre speechless. Yâknow, I can always count on having a kid to shut your mouth for a few blessed minutes.â He winks, clearly joking, but Artham barely hears the words.
I have a niece. Sheâs a girl. Iâm an uncle to a girl.
âI-â
âCome on!â Esben hurries forward, taking Arthamâs hand like a child and rushing through the doors and into the bedroom. Artham blinks, following blindly.Â
The lights are low, a quiet and steady dimness that feels comforting. The midwives must have left by this point, because all that remains is Nia, sitting against a tower of pillows in bed. Sheâs holding something small close to her chest.Â
Artham gasps. His feet stumble.Â
Nia looks up; she looks tired, with hair sticking to her face and dark spots under her eyes and lines on her forehead, but Esben was right: sheâs as bright and beautiful as ever. Thereâs a glow that seems to radiate from her whole being, happiness and relief and gratitude all rolled into one. She smiles. âHello, Artham.â
âCongratulations, my lady,â Artham stutters, because thatâs the sort of thing he ought to say to someone who just gave birth. Right? He said it for Janner and Kalmar, didnât he?
Nia dips her head in thanks, and Arthamâs nerves are somewhat eased. Thatâs the sort of thing he ought to say, then.Â
âCome on!â Esben urges, dragging Artham forward a few steps. âYou have to see her!â
Artham realizes that he and Esben had walked in holding hands, and Nia had said nothing about it. She had only smiled.Â
Somehow, Arthamâs love for his sister-in-law grows.Â
Esben leads him all the way to the edge of the bed, where he stops and grins so wide it seems his mouth will jump right off his face. Artham stands there dumbly.Â
âDo you see her?â Esben asks dreamily. âDo you see how perfect she is?â
Artham leans forward slightly, eyes wide as he searches for the tiny thing. Nia smiles and gently tilts the bundle in her arms towards-
âOh,â Artham breathes. âOh.â
Because in Niaâs arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, is a baby; an unbelievably small, amazingly delicate baby.Â
Artham leans even closer, watching the babyâs nose gently flare with silent breaths. Her eyes are shut, her skin is pink, and Artham thinks she may be the most perfect thing heâs ever laid eyes on.Â
âSheâs beautiful,â He murmurs, and Nia beams.Â
âDo you want to hold her?â
Artham tears his gaze away from the baby, eyes wide. âExcuse me?â
âOur child.â Nia tilts her head meaningfully. âWould you like to hold her?â
âI-â Artham looks to his brother, feeling oddly helpless.Â
Esben grins, nodding eagerly. âHold her. Hold your niece and say hello.â
Artham shuts his mouth, then opens it, then nods.Â
Thereâs no need to ask for instruction on how to properly hold the newborn; Artham learned from Janner and Kalmar, and he doesnât think he could ever forget the feel of an impossibly tiny human resting in his arms, or the immense responsibility it carriesâthe knowledge that you are the keeper of a helpless human being, all that stands between them and death. Itâs a wonderful and terrifying feeling.Â
Nia carefully moves the baby, a motion so smooth that the infant doesnât stir. In seconds, the baby has passed from her motherâs chest to her uncleâs hands. Artham doesnât dare look away from her.
She really is small. Smaller than her brothers when they were born.
A flutter of worry erupts in the Throne Wardenâs chest. âIs she healthy?â
âHealthy as can be,â Esben answers, placing a cheerful hand over Arthamâs shoulder. âWe thought she was small as well. But, the midwives assured us that her size isnât dangerous, and sheâs been content as a thwap in a totato patch so far.â
âBut weâre keeping a close eye on her,â Nia adds. âJust in case.â
âJust in case,â Esben echoes, quieter.Â
Artham swallows. The baby doesnât even stretch from his hand to his elbow. She is so, unfathomably small.Â
She makes an equally small noise, and Arthamâs eyes go wide as a (somehow smaller) hand reaches out of the blanket, plaintively waving.Â
âItâs alright,â Artham soothes, voice soft like the blanket the newborn rests in. Using the hand that isnât currently occupied, he holds out his index finger to her.Â
She grabs it. Like instinct.Â
Just like that, her noises cease, and she relaxes amidst the blanket. Artham suddenly finds that he is unable to move.Â
Sheâs beautiful. Sheâs perfect. She looks like the Maker painted each and every detail with the softest paintbrush and the calmest colors. She looks like tiny blue waves lapping at a sandy shore, sea-birds gliding and chirping nearby. She looks like the music notes for the most stunning piece of music.Â
She looks like a song.
Artham breathes out (though he isnât sure how) and he thinks he smiles and he knows he cries, because how? How does one experience pure beauty like this, and live unmoved by it? Itâs impossible, he believes. Itâs impossible.Â
The baby opens her eyes for a brief moment, blinking and yawning. They are brilliant. If true could be a color, that would be hers.
Artham pulls the baby closer, gazing deep into her face and attempting to memorize every shape of it, and every line. Every single detail.Â
Sheâs still gripping his index finger with a gentleness he doesnât think he could ever deserve. He wants to sob. If he did that, though, then he would probably drop her. 
Instead, he dips his head forward and presses his lips to her forehead, wondering at how new the skin feels. She has not yet been weathered and beaten by storms and sun. Artham finds himself grieving the day she will lose this newness, this softness, this remarkable state of being thatâs unique to newborns. 
He lingers there. He doesnât know for how long. She is so perfect.
It is in this moment that Artham Wingfeatherâs heart shifts, allowing room for someone else to make a home there; a small space, filled with ocean waves and flapping birds and singing. A space for this innocent child that he holds in his arms. A space he will fight to the death for. He will die before this space becomes empty and overgrown, he decides. 
âAs long as I live, I wonât let anything happen to you,â Artham promises, pulling away and staring into her sleeping face. âI promise. I promise by the Makerâs good hand, youngâŚâ
He pauses, and a realization strikes him. He looks upâperhaps for the first time in a very long whileâand looks to the parentsâ faces, which are both glowing and wet.Â
âWhatâs her name?â He asks. 
Esben looks at Nia, and Nia looks at Esben. âWe donât know yet,â He says slowly.Â
Nia smiles. âIt will come as the Maker wills it. For now, I am content to call her mineâcall her ours.â 
Artham looks back to the newborn, taking her in once more; her nose, her ears, her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, her meager supply of hair. His heart begins to warm like a fire in a hearth. âLeeli.â 
The room quiets. 
âWhat?â Nia asks softly. 
âLeeli.â Artham smiles, and the fire inside his chest burns brighter. âLeeli Wingfeather. Her name.â 
He swallows, looking up before looking back down. âLeeli.â 
âLeeli,â Nia repeats, soft like the beginning of a song. 
Esben looks from brother to wife, then back again. âWhereâs that name from, Artham?â
Artham thinks for a moment. âIâm not sure. It just⌠sounded like her.â 
âLeeli,â The High King murmurs. He sounds thoughtful. 
The room is quiet. Then:Â
âI think itâs lovely.â Niaâs voice is strong through the dimness, and Artham wonders if she has a fire in her chest as well. âLeeli, Song Maiden of Anniera.â
âLeeli Wingfeather.â Esben smiles, nodding his head and shaking water droplets to the floor. âThatâs perfect.â 
Artham turns back to the child in his arms, and he feels an odd respect for her, despite her unassuming size. She is the Song Maidenâsomething the kingdom has not had in many long years. Artham instantly knows that she will fill the land with music, and it will be the most beautiful music anyone has ever heard. 
He smiles once more, watching her sleep peacefully in his arms. âHello, Leeli Wingfeather. Weâve been waiting for you a long, long time.â 
He smiles wider. âI canât wait for you to learn to sing.â
februfluff days 1-3, i plan to color day 2 at a later date and repost it as its own drawing.. the prompts were 1- "first kiss" 2- "long walk" 3- "banter" @monthly-challenge

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Say youâll remember me / Once Upon A Time AU
Pairing: Snow & Charming, Nikolai & Amelia
Inspired by the episode Snow Fall, Season 1x03
Summary: While on a small school trip, one of the kids notices something similar in their book, as one of patients brings more than just a breath of fresh air to the tale.
Characters mentioned: Rochelle, Riley, George and Georgia, Alexander Hawkins, Belladonna and etc.
Note: Tittle is inspired by one of Taylor Swiftâs song, can you guess which one?
ââ
The woods were lower, trees were tall, rivers were flowing nicely and the morning was brightly painted darker green. Some trees were knock over the road, turning into stumps and sirens were racing across the path.
The royal carriage came to a point, stopping by the logs as close up near one of trees stood a man red leather and a larger made hat grinning. Once the carriage arrives, a women in a cherished red corset and long skirt stepped out as you could hear a man yelling from inside to return back to her seat but she refused to listen.
âYour majesty, it was chopped down.â Said the ride of the horse, âYou should return back to your carriage or let us figure out another way.â
That was when the carriage was attack, as the man dropped down from the tree, snatching the bag with a set of jewels and raced off. The women gasps, watching the man go as she ran after him attacking him to the ground. He didnât notice she was running after him from the horse.
@monthly-challenge Februfluff 2024 (Acts of Devotion)
Fandom: Merlin
Magic Reveal
Arthur had seen it this time; there was absolutely no escaping the fact this time, no lying to himself that he had just caught a flash in the corner of his eye or that Merlin had desperately been muttering prayers to himself. And more importantly, there were no dimwitted lies or weak claims about an especially strong wind that would get Merlin out of it.Â
For the first time in five years, Arthur had turned at exactly the right time to look directly at Merlin, had been standing at exactly the right distance to hear the words on his lips, and had seen Merlin shove two burly bandits twice his size halfway across the clearingâcrucially, without shoving at all. Undistracted by the adrenaline of battle, Arthur had stared right into Merlinâs eyes as the gold blaze there faded and left only a wild, horrified blue.
A sick feeling was gathering in Arthurâs stomach. Five years heâd been lying to himself; looking the other way; making up excuses and desperately believing that the world really did just work out for him whenever Merlin was around and that it would all go downhill when he wasnât and that Merlin himself didnât have a thing to do with it. MerlinâMerlin, a liar, a sorcerer, aâ
No, he wasnât a traitor. Training as a warrior had honed Arthurâs mind to act on logic and strategy even when he was in shock, and if Merlin was a traitor, he wouldnât have used that same magic to send a bandit flying. For five years, heâd been in close enough quartersâhalf the time, the same quartersâthat he could have harmed or killed Arthur whenever he chose.
He was a sorcerer, but he wasnât a traitor. Arthur knew that, believed that in the deepest part of himself even if it didnât seem right. Anything else was his father speaking.Â
Merlin was still staring at him, and Arthur didnât miss the way his eyesâstill blue, still shocked and terrifiedâflicked down to the sword Arthur clenched in one hand. There were too many things swirling around in Arthurâs mind for him to consciously decide which one of them to say when he opened his mouth, but his brain must have defaulted to the easiest route, because what came out was: âAre you really such a girl that you think Iâm going to kill you, Merlin? For what, saving my life? Again?â
Merlin stood frozen for a second, but a tiny shadow of a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, as though it was something only half-remembered. âWell, youâve certainly threatened to strangle me enough, even a prat like you can forgive me for being cautious!â It was a bit strained, but the oldâno, the sameâirreverence that had been irritatingly refreshing in a courtyard five years ago and had become comforting in the time since still struck a chord. This was Merlin. The same Merlin, even if he did have magic and even if he had lied about it since the moment they met.
There wasnât much to say after that. They picked up their suppliesâMerlin hesitating for the slightest second before reaching for Arthurâs knapsack and adding to his own like alwaysâand they continued down the road in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable, given how much had changed in the last five minutes.Â
Arthur readily let the subject go until they made camp for the night. âSo,â he began, perhaps too casually, âbesides saving my life today, how many other acts of devotion have you performed since Iâve known you?â He meant it to be lighthearted, but Merlinâs face turned carefully blank.
âA lot.â
Arthur nudged his shoulder. âOh, a lot, is it? Like what?â
âDo you want a list? Assassins, enchanted knights, enchanted princesses, evil princesses, poisonâpoisoning someone, drinking poison for you, thereâs been a lot of poison, ArthurâandâŚâ
He trailed off.
Arthur looked at him, at his blank face. Merlin had emotions, and he always showed them; it was one of the things Arthur respected him for, somewhere deep down where heâd never admit it out loud. Merlin was never this blank. âAbout the only thing you havenât done is kill people,â he said, and if it was more of an indirect prompt than a jest, an indirect acknowledgement of just how much Merlin had done for himâŚwell, he wouldnât admit that, either.
âYeah.â Merlin stared into the fire. âThat, too. I really donât want to talk about that, Arthur.â
Arthur was fine not talking about it. He didnât really want to know. Not yet. Maybe someday, but⌠He debated with himself. âIâve always thought you were the bravest man Iâve ever known,â he admitted. It seemed right to say it now, before he lost his nerve and it became one of the many unspoken things between them. âNow I know just how brave.â
@monthly-challenge 2024 | 1. First Kiss
I used this prompt for my original characters, Nathan and Patience: the story is under the cut.
Word count: 1,003