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arrow90-art · 10 months

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I repainted my oc couple in a new style. It’s a bit difficult to draw but fun to do! I might stick to this for a while.

Lark is a LN archlich. Ri is an ancient silver dragon fighting against his corruption. You can read more information about Lark here.

Rimerock was my first KC, I didn't finish his game but I like this old lizard, so I made him a companion. I’ll post his info here, following the commander as companion prompt mostly.

* Warning of heavy headcanon and self-indulgent content ahead, and my broken English... If you would read all these I LOVE you I’ll cry and roll all over the floor! *

Name: Rimerock

Race: Silver Dragon (disguised in a human form)

Class: Shifter

Favored Weapon/Equipment: Nature Weapons, Sword (a longsword named “Sundial” is locked in his fourth weapon slot, the description writes: inherited from a gold soul)

Top Skills: Knowledge: World, Knowledge: Arcana, Knowledge: Nature, Strength

Alignment: Lawful Good

General Personality: Brave, self-sacrificing, stubborn, protective, reliable, tolerate

What traits/values do they admire? Intelligence, lawful acts, helpfulness, generosity, execution skills

What traits/values do they disapprove of? Inhumane, cruelty, crime, selfishness

What do they think of their role in the Crusades, and of sharing the Commander’s Mythic powers? What are their reasons for joining the commander’s party?

He joins the crusade to fix the Worldwound. Silvers just can’t sit there and do nothing when demons are pouring into this world.

He gets along well with good and neutral-aligned KC. Lawful and good acts earn his favor. He is a bit concerned if the KC’s power brings chaos, but he trusts them because their solutions always work out in ways he cannot achieve. If with an evil-aligned KC, he is anxious and less talkative, but he stays to fulfill his duty anyway.

Who are their friends among the other party members?

Ulbrig (old friends with an open mind), Ember (she pets him like he is a wounded animal, but he will not admit he likes it), Arueshalae (they are quite similar), Lann, Sosiel, Seelah

What about rivals?

Camellia (silvers gain detect evil while they are young, lies can't fool him), Wenduag (can see reason), Regill (he likes his discipline but disapprove some of his methods), Daeran if with an evil-aligned KC.

Where do they hang out in Drezen? In the Abyss?

In Drezen, he stands under the east walls outside of the Citadel. Just go downstairs from the Storyteller and turn left.

In the Abyss he is a couple of steps downhill from the tree on the cliff, looking at the demon realm with a frown.

What are their idle animations?

He cleans his sword “Sundail”, or stretches his wings when he is in dragon form.

If the KC is an Azata he might sit down with Aivu or the little bunny.

If they’re taken to Areelu’s lab, what is their dream?

His illusion kneeled beside a wounded woman. “You are alive...” The illusion murmurs, ”I saved you...”

Do they advise the commander to abandon or keep their mythic powers?

He sees the KC’s power as a miracle that is more complex than a divine’s favor.

He suggests they follow their heart. “Our fate is already arranged before we are born. But if you hold the ability to break the plot, you are more than welcome to do so.”

How/when do they join the Commander’s party?

He joins the party during the quest A Strike From the Sky in Chapter II. He can be found at Lost Chapel.

Relationship with the Knight-Commander:

He gets along well with good and neutral-aligned KC. For chaos KC, “I am concerned about some of your decisions, but they are proven to be working against the Abyss...In this case, I should judge no more.” As long as the KC is fixing the Worldwound, he stays to help. For an evil-aligned KC, he distrusts them but still stays.

Describe their companion quest:

Chapter II: A Relic of The Past

When the KC enters Lost Chapel for the first time, heads up the hill. In the chapel, Rimerock is trying to redeem some ghouls. His magic works on a few of them, those cured run downhill, and the rest turn hostile. Clear the enemies, talk to Rimerock, and then he joins the party. He explains he was looking for a relic that belonged to his family. Head downstairs towards the library, and go through those freshly killed dead ghouls to find a hidden hallway. Be careful of the traps and loot the "Radiant Silver Scale" from a research desk. Rimerock claims this is the relic he needs, so give it to him. If with perception 26, the KC will notice this is a silver dragon scale, and someone is looking at them from another plane with no hostility. Now exit the library to follow the main questline, but remember, the KC will return for the Rimerock's next quest.

Chapter III: A Ghost from The Past

At some point during Chapter III, Rimerock will approach the KC in the Citadel. He wishes to return to the library under Lost Chapel. Travel there with only Rimerock in the party, and let the "Radiant Silver Scale" stays in his necklace inventory. This time, a scholar named Larksharius will be there. The two seem to know each other. It turns out that Rimerock has been troubled by a deadly corruption and is close to inevitable death. Larksharius offers a possible way, which leads Rimerock to a path of undead and turns him into a lich in the end. It is possible for him to remain lawful good, as long as he follows the codes and is supported when in need. Choose how to reply carefully. Going with the Good option "Undead is not allowed in my party" will lead to a hard fight with Larksharius and endless ghouls summoned. Rimerock eventually stops the fight, turns into a silver dragon, and flies away with Larksharius. Going with the Evil option results in the same, except there's no fight. Choose either the Neutral or Chaotic option, Rimerock stays a companion. Larksharius will join as a war council advisor when the KC returns to the Citadel. (The “ Radiant Silver Scale“ is now locked in Rimerock’s necklace slot, it is enchanted by Larksharius, stopping Rimerock from losing his sanity in the corruption.)

Chapter VI: Currents of Karma

After the KC met Noticula, Rimerock will approach. He requests to join the party to battle Hepzamirah, to revenge for his former mentor who's been killed by Baphomet. Abroad the ship with him in the party, as this is an important variable that counts for his good ending. When Hepzamirah summons Baphomet, Rimerock shows his true form as a silver dragon. His breath has a small chance to paralyze the enemy for one turn if turn-based, and his cold aura grants the entire party a slight damage boost, with 1 chance to remove all debuffs for all party members. After the battle, choose dialogue options to calm him down, basically telling him not to be blinded by hatred.

Chapter V: Rise of The Guardian

Somewhere during Chapter V, Rimerock will approach the KC. He is grateful for the KC has allowed him to perform the transformation toward the undead. Now he is ready for the final step, he asks to leave the party with Larksharius. He is not sure what he will become, a dragcolich or more likely something else. Rimerock asks the KC to trust him, if things go wrong, Larksharius will kill him, otherwise, they will return. If the KC supported Rimerock as mentioned above, the two will return in 7 calendar days. Rimerock says the ritual is successful, he is now a good-aligned undead dragon. It is worth mentioning that if the KC takes him to IZ after his successful transformation, the bone dragon can be to persuaded to join the crusade.

Backstory:

When Rimerock was young, he started his adventure fighting evil and helping those in need. He saved many lives, most of them he could not remember. Once a northern ship knocked into a glacier and was about to sink, with hundreds of helpless passengers on it. The young silver dragon dived under the ship, carried it on his back, and dragged it back to the shore. The enchanted broken keel scratched him off some scales. Rimerock did not remember all this, but one of the rescued passengers picked up a radiant scale and kept it until they met again. Hundreds of years have passed since then, and Larksharius still remembers.

When Rimerock reached adulthood, his gold dragon mentor was killed by Baphomet. Her death triggered his corruption. He was dying. Corruption controlled his mind from time to time, making him act like a mad dracolich. He hated himself for what he was turned into, but the sickness was unstoppable. No matter what, Ri joined the crusades, fighting against demons, seeking revenge, or his death.

What would their ending slides be like?

Bad ending: He died in chapter V.

Good ending: The transformation grants him immortal life. The Worldwound is closed, and with his duty fulfilled, Rimerock starts to travel with his mentor Larksharius. Their planar travel is quite an adventure, but he managed to visit his old friends several times, with all kinds of souvenirs.

#rimerock #larksharius #wotr commander #commander as companion #pathfinder oc #wotr #pathfinder #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #my art #art #silver dragon #oc #lich #dracolich #pwotr pals #oc: rimerock #oc: larksharius

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metamagic-adept · 2 years

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Seti Steelsong did not have an epithet like "the Architect," "of the Inner Demons," or "of the Blessed Soul." Seti was just Seti, a tinkerer and a soldier. She made things that helped people and sought to better understand the world. She was on the front lines, absorbing blows and healing. Always the last to leave a bad situation, making sure the others got out safe. Though self-sacrificing, he did not dream of martydom. The best he hoped for was a quiet and noble death somewhere far from home. Her mama would be grieved to hear the news, but it would come swiftly, nothing torturous or drawn out. That is the best you can hope for when you are secretly dying; that no one you love finds out until after it's over with.

Seti watched his mother slowly disappear, and watched his mama lose her wife piece-by-piece. So when Seti began to fade, she resolved to never tell her mama. And it turns out she never had to.

________

Pockets of distortion within a malfunctioning time machine. The 4th dimension bleeding through into the 3rd. Lightning arching everywhere. The fraying of the timeline into infinite possibility. You feel you can go anywhere at any point in time. Where do you go?

Seti thinks of Ibis, how in the end she couldn't even hug her; there was nothing to hold on to.

You can go back and try to change it. There's a way to do it and create a paradox; there's another way to do it without creating one, but you may not come back.

There has been a hollowness in Seti's chest since he returned from the Far Ether. He is less here than not. She thinks about parallel timelines and endless possibility. She thinks about a young adulthood with two mothers, whole and healthy, about being able to give that to someone. She thinks about a life that is not hers, but could be real for some other Seti.

I want to change my mother's fate. Even if that means I don't come back.

________

Seti, you're back in the woods behind your house. You look down and see that both your hands are there in the flesh, and they are much smaller than you remember them. You feel like you've just woken up from a dream, daydream, specifically, since you've spent the whole day running around playing make-believe.

Seti, this young Seti, dreamed that he was a knight and an inventor. That she traveled to distant realms and times with a group of fellow adventurers. A feral ranger who could always make her smile, an unnervingly calm warlock who seemed unkillable, a jaded detective who more than anything wanted to help people in shitty situations, a fighter who ran headlong into, well, everything, and a cosmic elephant with his eyes on the stars. They helped people or failed spectacularly in the attempt. They fought monsters and corporate CEOs. They kidnapped a dinosaur. At one point Seti shrunk himself down and rode on a kenku's back into the eye of a massive storm. All in days work for an imaginative and brave seven year old. But there was something she was forgetting, something she needed to do.

As you begin walking home for dinner, you hear heavy footfalls coming down the trail behind you.

Seti hides and watches the armored figure, face obscured by a visor, march by before following at a distance. They draw their sword as they reach for the back door of the house.

"Wait. You're supposed to knock."

As far as this Seti is concerned, she defended her home from a well-armed bandit using a pot-lid shield and battleaxe made of sticks. The bandit did seem strangely upset to see him. Their voice cracked when they told him to leave. Their voice also sounded a lot like his mother's. But she stood her ground until her mama heard the shouts and came running. The bandit fled and soon Ibis came from inside to join her wife and child.

This Seti grew up with two mothers, and never worried about disappearing.

And the Seti I knew wrote herself out of the story. Gone, save for the blurry silhouette in a child's head of a hero with her shield raised high.

________

(if you are really confused and want context for this dnd character, find it here.)

#my pcs #seti steelsong

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anneimaginesundertale · 3 years

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Fairy Tale AU

In spring/summer 2020, I was really inspired by an RP @kezibun did. She created a fairy tale AU using a machine her persona created that allows people to play a dream game set in an alternate world. I really loved the idea, because fairy tales are one of my obsessions, so I came up with my own ideas for my boys in a fairy tale AU. I then ran the longest RP on my blog, the fairy tale RP, where we explored and built more onto that fairy tale AU world.

I'm going to get all the worldbuilding stuff for that AU in one place (or, y'know, 2, since this post is already gigantic). This post is a Who's Who. The next post will be cover What and Where about the AU (worldbuilding, maps, religion, etc.)

I'm putting this under the cut, because there are 20 boys and that's a whole lot of reading.

Sans (UT)

He is the royal jester! The royals love his knock-knock jokes and his puns. Sans is known for his easy grin and cheerful disposition. He is popular at the local tavern and he always seems to know all the townspeople and all the news. He might be a good person to know if, say, you were looking for somebody…

Papyrus (UT)

He is a squire to Lady Undyne, the captain of the king’s guard! He dreams of earning his own shield and being a brave knight of the realm! For now, though, he is happy to serve Lady Undyne, even if mostly what she’s teaching him is cooking. He’s certain it will come in handy! There are rumors of a dragon in the nearby mountains. Do dragons like spaghetti?

Blue (US Sans)

He is a humble stablehand who dreams of doing more than just taking care of the knights’ horses. He isn’t of noble blood, though, so they won’t let him try for his shield. That doesn’t stop him dreaming of adventure, though. Performing daring deeds of valor, maybe even rescuing a damsel in distress…

Stretch (US Papyrus

He is a traveling bard. He knows many stories and songs. He’s got a handsome face and a charisma that gets many swooning over him. He travels the land performing for anyone who will listen. He’s content to be the teller of stories rather than a figure in one of them. That’s for his brother to do.

Red (UF Sans)

He is a mercenary, although maybe that isn’t quite the right word. He may not look like much, but he’s got the wit and charm to get by in a lot of situations and he’s fought for his life before. He doesn’t usually get jobs to fight. Rather, people hire him to find people or things and bring them from one place to another. So maybe he’s more of a delivery boy. Regardless, he’s good. If you need something, Red will bring it to you…for a price.

Boss (UF Papyrus)

He is the leader of a band of bandits! They are known and feared throughout the land, and Boss is the most feared of the bunch! They attack coaches on the road, kidnap nobles and hold them for ransom, that sort of thing. Somehow the people they target are always the wicked and corrupt ones. In spite of his profession, Boss has a great sense of honor and all his captives are treated very well (although they might not think so at the time). There are those in Boss’s band who love him and are very loyal, but there are also some who think he is too noble. There might be some rumblings of rebellion…

Black (SF Sans)

He is a noble outlaw who robs the rich to feed the poor. He is known for his cunning and his wit. He is determined to see a good ruler placed on the throne, someone who cares about the people and what’s best for them. He was once a nobleman himself but was exiled after he dared to speak up about the conditions of the common people. He leads a band of rebels who are working to change things for the better.

Mutt/Rus (SF Papyrus)

He went into exile with his brother but he hates the thought of fighting, even for a good cause. All he wants is a quiet life. His brother can have all the heroics and the glory. Mutt…Mutt is just tired.

Sansy (HT Sans)

He is a groundskeeper for a noble family. He has a reputation for not being seen very often but the grounds are always tidy. When he is spotted, he’s very polite. He and his brother came from another kingdom where there was a terrible famine. The people in their village would have gone hungry if not for Sansy and his brother, but once the famine was over the brothers had to flee. Someone had found out what they’d done to feed their friends and neighbors and…wasn’t pleased about it. Sansy is very cautious around strangers.

Sweets (HT Papyrus)

Sweets is an apprentice in a bakery in the nearby town. The baker and his wife aren’t actually all that nice to him, but they keep him on because he is a good cook and they think he’s stupid. He’s not. He’s been keeping track of all their finances since they took him on, for one thing. He’s also gotten a reputation for being very kind to people in town. Sometimes kindness goes a long way! (Sweets hasn’t told his brother anything about how he’s treated at work. He knows Sansy would go postal.)

Bones (MT Sans)

Bones and his brother live in the capital city. Bones works for a merchant company, mostly running a store. If you know how to ask, though, you can get access to the “special merchandise”. Merchandise that some people might not want Bones to be selling.

Lucky (MT Papyrus)

He works at the Hall of Records! He’s just an assistant, an assistant’s assistant really, running around and putting books and scrolls back all day. But it’s given him a lot of time to read and learn, especially about the laws of the land. He overlooks his brother’s “activity” mostly because it keeps a roof over their heads and food on the table. He does wish Bones would do something a bit more…lawful.

Smiley (MF Sans)

He and his brother run a tavern in the city. Smiley mostly runs the bar. By night, however, he is part of a secret group that’s out to make things better for monsters in the city, even if it means doing some less-than-legal stuff. Smiley’s a big charmer and a bit of a flirt. He won’t turn away a guest, but he’s got a “special rate” for nobles with a reputation for treating their people unkindly. Fair doesn’t mean equal, ya know?

Grim (MF Papyrus)

Grim works behind the scenes in the tavern. He isn’t often seen (unless you didn’t pay your bill and tried to leave) but he’s the one in charge of that secret group. He tells Smiley and the other monsters where to go and what to do. They’re trying to make their city a better place, because the Angel knows the humans aren’t gonna do it. Grim considers himself a gentleman and has a strong sense of right and wrong and a code of conduct he lives by. He prefers not to be the center of attention.

G (G!Sans)

G is the “younger” son (he and Aster are twins but since he’s not the heir, they joke that he’s younger) and he’s definitely running away from his responsibilities at home. He’s looking for fun and adventure, and a chance to make some money and friends along the way. As a prince he had a reputation as a bit of a playboy and a lazybones. He is a bit of a flirt. He doesn’t tend to worry about things a lot. Life is meant to be enjoyed!

Aster (G!Papyrus)

Prince Aster is the chosen heir to the throne. He’s known to be quieter and more down-to-earth than his brother, which is why he was made heir. He spends a lot of time in the castle library, trying to learn all he can about the laws and how to be a good king. He is worried about his brother, who ran away from home, and worried that he will not be a good ruler. He wants to know what is going on in his kingdom but no one will allow him out (and he’s not keen on the idea of sneaking out).

Comet (OT Sans)

Comet is a humble gardener. He is very shy and doesn’t often spend time with the other servants. He is known to grow beautiful flowers. If you do manage to get to know him, you’ll find that he’s very sweet and that he likes making people happy. If he really likes you, you’ll find fresh flowers outside your door or on your table every morning. And if you ever need help, he’ll step up and lend a hand.

Captain (OT Papyrus)

Captain set off to seek his fortune and ended up captured by pirates. He ended up befriending them and eventually they made him cap’n! He is the Dread Pirate Bonebeard (even though he doesn’t have a beard). He and his crew are known far and wide as the nicest pirates you’ll ever meet. In fact, they’re known to do good deeds if you’ll give them a handsome reward! Captain sends a portion of his booty to his brother back home.

Both Break and Tango (DT Sans and Papyrus) were once part of a traveling troupe of musicians and dancers! They performed for all the royal and noble famiies in the kingdoms. Recently, travel has become dangerous outside of Ebott, so the troupe is staying local. Tango still travels with them, but Break has chosen to leave. He’s settled in a nice small town in a little cottage, and Break helps out with odd jobs around town. He won’t tell anyone why he stopped performing.

#fairy tale au #fairy tale au worldbuilding

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janiedean · 3 years

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ooh so linked to the Brienne ask re: the kingsguard part. What are your thoughts on Aerys’ kingsguard, especially like Arthur Dayne who Jaime from what I remember has complicated feelings for but pretty much idolises him. And they’re so loved by almost everyone in universe!!! Like idk how to think about them really my feelings for them are also complicated

+ okay good because I honestly don’t see why people love them so much like most of the things we’ve heard about them are like. Objectively bad. And like yeah the idea of them is cool but well that can only go so far. also I’m sorry if these asks are a mess I’m exhausted!! ALSO I think you’re amazing for answering all of us anons with such detail I always love coming on to your blog

(putting both asks in the same place uu)

in order: the fact that they're loved by everyone in-universe and fandom actually likes them (or at least arthur dayne hahahahaha god) is like... some of george's best trolling because guess what the entire point is that they're supposed to look like amazing people/the real deal when instead they're all terrible the end - except again for the poor martell prince whom we don't know enough about and I'll give him a pass bc martell people are usually not stupid af but in order:

as I said george has made a point of stating that knighthood is a rotten institution and the kg especially aerys being like... what should be the highest honor for a knight is equally as rotten as knigthood in general and is made of people who do Not Deserve The Title - I mean again hey it's orders so marital rape is fine, hey we're leaving the 15yo to man an entire castle? WHY NOT, the king is mad? WELL WE SWORE TO SERVE HIM, like not counting martell prince there isn't one single person in the aerys kg except jaime who actually upheld the oaths they swore ie protecting the innocent so make of that what you will

the fact that jaime aka the fifteen year old is literally the only one who gets the job and then goes there like 'hey we're basically covering for marital rape what the fuck' and no one else bats an eyelid should already say everything there is to say about these people's moral standard

the fact that none of them actually stuck up for the fifteen-year old who was obviously not ready for the job nor tried to idk do anything to make it easier on him or whatever also says everything about their moral standard because honestly fuck you

the fact that everyone thinks they're amazing jaime included when they're all pretty much shitty is like... well, same as fandom does, which means that the readers bought what people in-narrative do... except that the moment you scratch the surface it's really damned bad

and I'm saying barristan is on thin ice because from his chapters you can see he's like... not a bad dude but like his reaction to jaime being in there still when he saw aerys is 'ah that fucker who killed the king and was so proud he had to try and get into it at fifteen'? like??? fuck you?? honestly the fact that all of them literally served a dude who put people on fire and was a menace/danger to the realm and then have the gall to think that jaime is the worst or who didn't like try to help him or anything while he was obv struggling with his vows and the fact that he was serving a madman says all about their moral standards, again

and honestly arthur dayne is the literal worst of all of them because like - first of all oh you knight the 15yo who goes along with you slaying bandits and you don't try to dissuade him from joining the kg? what the fucking fuck am I supposed to think - second of all you don't even warn him of what is expecting him when he joins when you've been there for a while? - but third of all which drives me insane and I hate that fandom sleeps on it and goes around happily like ARTHUR/LYANNA THE SHIP OF DREAMS... okay listen like I have literally zero investment in lyanna as a character or in r + l and I don't necessarily think he did everything - I think they had a mutual infatuation and eloped and she sorely regretted it and then it was on r. who shouldn't have like acted on it because he happened to be the 20+ year old with a wife and kids, but there's the whole tower of joy situation - in which sorry but we have arthur fucking off KL with other kg people and leaving all the others in the literal shit bc they'd have to deal with aerys and it'd be less of them than they should be, to go with rhaegar to the tower of joy to help him elope which whatever, and then lyanna was left there after r. had to go back... when her brother and father were burned alive and like if she knew that then I doubt she'd have wanted to stay and if she didn't then they withheld fairly important fucking information, so like he stayed there guarding a pregnant 15-16 yo who most likely did not want to be there and who is pregnant by his best friend whose family oh accidentally murdered half of hers........ and lyanna was there even after rhaegar died so I mean it's not like the moment he happened this dude goes and says 'hey maybe we should actually go back and see if we can solve this mess' no he kept her prisoner there anyway - on top of that... here I'm wildly speculating but: he had to know rhaegar was dead and when ned showed up if we are to believe him and idt he was unreliable on that... ned didn't want to fight him or kill him he just wanted to get his sister and leave and like he was most likely in love with ashara aka arthur's sister so why the fuck would he want to kill him right, and like rhaegar's dead and arthur has nothing to lose by letting ned up especially knowing that lyanna is fucking dying in childbirth like she's dying her brother's there just let him up and solve it later esp when the dude doesn't want to kill you....... but no ned had to kill him because he wouldn't budge and why the fucking fuck wouldn't you budge at that point? your side lost the war, the guy you were friends with that you did all of this for is dead, the girl is about to die at least let her die with her family, why? - only thing I can deduce from it: that rhaegar told him that the baby's survival was the most important thing because third head of the dragon blah blah blah and that if the war was lost to just grab the baby and lyanna if she survived and fuck off to essos until he grew up, except that lyanna didn't survive so the conclusion is that he tried to stop ned from going up there bc he'd have found out about the baby and tried to stop them and at that point who gives a fuck if lyanna died or not but he'd have liked... let her die and kill ned in the process and done that most likely, and sorry but when they knightly vows are, I would like to remind everyone, In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women…. like... what, what exactly has this dude done that would qualify as that? because lyanna would be young and innocent and a woman and he basically is letting her die, that behavior does not qualify as bravery and he'd like... deny the kid a chance of growing up with his family period if he killed ned and he didn't seem to particularly give a fuck las we checked, and that's like not counting the whole 'oh I won't tell the 15yo who idolizes me that he's signing

his life away to trauma nor I will support him for shit when he does' part of it, but the tower of joy stuff is shady whichever way you look at it and honestly the more time passes the more I'm convinced this guy is just a complete pos and the worst of them all except gregor when it comes to like 'people thinking you're a good knight and you're actually a pos instead' and I'm dying on that hill until george proves me wrong

and on that the thing is that... I ranted about it once here but basically jaime idolizes the shit out of him because he never saw that even if his subconscious kinda knows because when he had the weirwood dream his greatest fear was confronting the former kg and everyone was accusing him of stuff he couldn't have physically prevented (more ranting on the weirwood dream here) and he's there like 'ah I wanted to be arthur dayne but I became the smiling knight instead' but like... actually he is more of a true knight than arthur dayne can ever hope to be? because like in the above meta I was talking specifically about how to pia he's like... better than arthur dayne, but like not to be that person but jaime who thinks he's the gregor clegane of his time and not arthur dayne, while arthur dayne was... doing the shady toj thing with lyanna - saved an entire city from aerys blowing it up - risked his neck for brienne even if he didn't even like her as in he got himself kicked in a healing stump when he couldn't even stand up for himself so she wouldn't be raped - risked his neck going back for her at harrenhal and jumped into the bear pit without even knowing how he'd manage it - was actually being a decent person to tommen until c. forced him to leave - the moment he saw what happened with pia he gave her her rapist's head when she's like a commoner no one gaf about and took her into her service - when his squire wanted to bed her he like told him to be kind to her jfc - is per tyrion the only relative who actually loved him/freed him/actually stuck up for him (and tysha is on tywin thank you all very much and jaime feels so great about it he doesn't think about it until he can't anymore) (also he was the one chasing the bandits away in the first place so he was probably there like oH I HELPED A MAIDEN too lmao god fuck tywin) - actually stuck for his cat vow bc he took riverrun without bloodshed - sent brienne after sansa with the magic amazing sword because he wanted to upheld their shared vow to cat going against his own family - the moment brienne shows up like hey wanna blow this joint and leave the army you don't wanna lead to find sansa he didn't even like blink before saying yes and I'm supposed to think that in between him and arthur dayne he isn't the only one who actually stuck to his vows as well as he could/knows anything about them/is actually a trueknight™? because lmao the fact that jaime doesn't fancy himself one because of aerys when everyone fancies arthur dayne one when the latter did absolutely fucking nothing beyond slaying bandits to put his money where his mouth was while jaime didn't even like brand himself like that and still did all of that and half of it was acting on instinct not even like doing the math before and *he* was the one wanting to be knighted at fifteen and took his vows seriously when oh wait knightly vows are basically the epitome of selflessness is like again grrm trolling the hell out of everyone characters included but it's clear from the narrative imvho and I can't wait for the moment he serves the just desserts and a) jaime realizes it b) everyone else in-narrative realizes it c) bran timetravels to the fucking toj and we find out what actually went down there and this saint arthur narrative is burned to the ground because honestly no

there, I think I spat out almost all of my venom XD

#anonymous #ask post #janie writes meta #ch: jaime lannister #ch: arthur dayne #anti arthur dayne #spoilers: ALMOST because like #everyone writes fic abt arthurlyanna raising jon in essos being IN LOOVEEEE #which honestly... given the premises is like guys ship what you want but i'm skeptical #and then I had to stand through years of ppl bashing on joncon #for having done THE EXACT SAME THING WITH AEGON #but oh he was pathetic for that apparently #like take your not really veiled homophobia and go honestly #bc giving shit to joncon for stuff that arthur or barristan already ddi #and WORSE for that matter #(or ned lmao)#is just.... never mind it's been years i'm still pissed off #only good thing about 8x05 is that the joncon hatred sort of stopped #bc they realized he wasn't wasted ink #but yeah nvm that here you go anon #i'mma stop now

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wannaholdhandswithfictionalmen · 4 years

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Can I send a request for a fic with venti and a gender neutral mc? It's not really meant to be romantic or anything along those lines. I've just been constantly thinking about how the mc was stripped of everything, including their wings when they lost their fight against the unknown god, and how the gliders might have brought them a bit of comfort when trying to get accustomed to Mondstadt.

Something more heartfelt, maybe the mc just talking to venti after a late night out, or just waking up in the middle of the night to take a stroll in peace away from paimon, amber and the rest of the Chaotic knights of favonious.

This is more of a prompt if anything- I dont usually send requests so I dont know how to format them- sorry about that :'0

A/n: first time writing Venti. Oof. Hopes it's alright and anon I hope this is close to what you wanted.

Genre: Angst. Some fluff. (The power of friendship.)

Warning: It gets a bit angsty before it get softer.

Summary: The reality of your circumstances of the trapped traveler get you and Venti offers you some advice and comfort as your friend.

Word count: 1,420

In The Days To Come (How Much Will I Miss You?);

It was a series of perfect events, little coincidences, Paimon got distracted a while back by the smell of food, fluttering off with 'Delicious. Tasty food! Paimon will be back' before vanishing from your side. The knight of Favonius had no urgent problems to ask for your aid with now that the Dvalin has been saved and Mondstadt and its people can rest easy. You finally had time to yourself, time to feel and think of your new reality.

It was the gentlest tug, pull of melancholy it crept up slowly, slowly, slowly all day nipping at your heels until you felt it from your toes to your head. Numbness, so empty at first then came sadness buried deep, ignored for days for the sake of saving others, making sure others were happy, living in their home, with their family-- while you were still missing yours. It felt unfair. Resentment and anger reared their ugly heads, howling like starving, ravenous beats.

What an overwhelming torrent of emotion, waves after wave, lapping at your chin, your mouth, your nose. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking. No. Drowning.

Until there was nothing but a muffled, muted haze of the world around you.

If you nodded and 'hm', 'yes', 'sure', 'okay' your way through passing conversations no one noticed. Oh, how kind, brave and stoic the traveler was! Our hero! Maybe you didn't want to be a hero. You just wanted your sibling back.

Gliding from the highest building in Mondstadt in the dead of night, you could close your eyes, imagine it, see it, your wings, the wind through your hair, the laughter of your best friend, your constant companion, your sibling-- 'I am absolutely certain, I can beat you!', 'Ha! How hilarious. You just try to keep up!'

Then your feet hit the cobblestone of Mondstadt, your eyes snap open and that dream, that wish, all of it shatters into the most fragile fragments, fading away, slipping out of your mind, no matter how hard you try to grasp onto it, hold it close. Gone.

You just want to cry.

Figures it would be Venti who just so happens to find you. In the late hours of the night, every minute passes towards that too late but also too early threshold of time.

He is whistling, then humming a gentle, soft song. Lyrics and melody unknown to you, deft, nimble fingers strum quiet, easy notes from his lyre.

Quiet footsteps approaching your seating form, nearly hunched over a ledge outlooking most of Mondstadt from this peak near the cathedral and the statue of your friend, it was still a little odd to think of Venti, the whimsical, chaotic bard as a god but easier to wrap your mind around given the fact you had traveled to many different realms and worlds in the past.

"How lucky I am to find a lone traveler, perhaps I could provide you with some company?" Venti interrupts his little performance to sit down beside you, cradling his lyre in his hands, you don't really have the energy to even answer or protest his presence even if you wanted.

"Did you catch a bit of my new tune? I must work on something that will blow away even Master Diluc! Perhaps enough for a night of free drinks in the tavern in exchange for the request of my music!" Venti exclaims rather determinedly as always, especially when it came to getting the best wine possible, for free as well. The lengths he'd be willing to go is almost admirable in a way.

Your answering silence, no laugh, huff or even a scoff at his expense nor a head shake, roll eyes. Nothing.

"Ah poor traveler, your gloom could bring down even the brightest flowers bloom, what has doubled your trouble?" Even his joking yet sincere rhyming can't bring much of a reaction to your face and that eats away at Venti. Never one to want his friends to suffer, not if he is there to help in whatever way he can.

Venti loses his playful, mischievous nature for the moment in favor of being serious. It's then he is more Anemo Archon then Venti the bard.

"What is wrong, friend?"

One tear is followed by many others, everything rushes to the surface, you shake, tremble, break under the weight of your own sorrow. Sobbing out to the blinking stars far, far away.

"What if my sibling is gone forever? What if I never find any clues, signs? What if I spend the rest of my life trapped here, searching and searching?" You sound half hysterical with grief and worry, rambling out every doubt, insecurity you have kept so tightly hidden away. Because everyone else had their own problems and all the problems they wanted you to solve.

"Years side by side, through every trouble, every battle, every adventure, journey, they were always with me. Now? I am alone. My power, my wings, my sibling taken from me." You sniff and cough, squeezing your eyes shut as the world around your blurs and become a mess of colors.

"I am tired. I am scared. Why do I always have to be brave? Strong? My whole life has been turned upside down and I have barely had time to adjust! To take all of this in, it feels like every person I meet needs my help for something unrelated to finding my only family!" You can't help the way your words turn exhausted and bitter.

Venti waits and listens to your venting without interruption. It's only once he is sure you have let it all out that he speaks.

"There is no shame in your sorrow, your pain. You have been thrown into a situation unfamiliar and unless anything you have experienced before and you are being forced to endure this without your closest friend, your sibling." Venti's tone is slow, decisive as if he is giving every single word meticulous thought.

"You are incorrect to assume that means you are alone. You have new friends here, people who care about you, your journey and your goal. Paimon, Me, Jean, Lisa, Diluc, Kaeya, Amber, we all care for you. And you will have our support whenever you need it. Without question." The finality and firmness of his statement leaves no room for argument.

You realize and recognize the truth in his words and Venti stays by your side, in the quiet night as you cry and cry, relieving the tangled knot of everything you had let grow, fester and linger for so long, even before you found Paimon.

Venti plays a soothing harmony, a mellow, delicate dance of the strings of his lyre and his soft voice, singing; something just for you, for the moment of trust and sharing between two friends. It is a lovely, comforting song as your tears begin to dry and the burden on you is lessened for now.

It's easy to smile and hum along with Venti as if you've heard this a dozen times.

You have no idea what is awaiting you on the journey, what struggles you will face, what obstacles and hardships that will cause you to stumble and fall but you do have friends who will be there to pick you back up again and again.

"Paimon just enjoyed a juicy, sweet, savory meal! (Name) you should have join- wait a minute!" Paimon takes one look at you and her cheeks puff out in anger, it's too cute to be truly scary but the glares she shoots at Venti is fiercely defensive.

"What did you do tone-deaf bard?!"

You laugh, reaching out to take hold of Paimon, you hug her gentle. Paimon squeaks out in surprise but you feel her tiny arms gently squeeze your neck.

"I have done nothing wrong, this time." Venti had paused his private little song, ensuring it was something meant to be shared between you two just like this night would be a shared memory to look back on.

Paimon wiggles away from you, floating before you, you watch her stick her tongue out at Venti, blowing and making a hilarious show of her disbelief. "Paimon doesn't believe you! Apologize to them now!"

In the ensuing 'fight' between Venti and Paimon, you watch Venti reach forward and pinch her cheek and the small girl lunged at him in a failed attempt to choke him, you are sure, Venti holds her back with a hand over her face.

You laugh.

Yeah, you had friends and you weren't alone.

#genshin impact #genshin impact one shots #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact reader insert #genshin impact venti

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labyrinth-archive · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Dream Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Whouffaldi Length: 3,500 words Warnings: None Also on Ao3

They say there’s a princess who sleeps in death behind a diamond briar, that she’s been asleep for billions of years and she’s doomed to sleep for billions more. And there’s a man, an ageless knight, the last prince of Gallifrey, who’s spending an eternity trying to reach her. (A Heaven Sent x Sleeping Beauty Retelling)

There is a princess, they say, filled with the light of the sun. She’s kind and she’s wise and they claim that she’s led thousands of lives. And there is an ageless knight, the last prince of his realm, and they whisper that he’s worn a dozen faces, that he’s been alive longer than half the stars in the sky, and can win wars without even raising his sword. And they are always together, this princess and the Knight, their fates intertwined like constellations or vines. There are hundreds of poems and thousands stories and millions and millions of songs, and each one of them say that together, they can shake stars and burn suns and save worlds. And here is the best part: He loves her more than anything else in the universe. And here, here, here is the worst part: He loves her more than anything else in the universe. # They are in Trap Valley. There’s smoke filling the sky above and snow-white ashes burning below, and in the space in-between, the Knight stands, and he thinks: This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong. Because the black mark of the raven is burned onto the princess’ wrist, and she’s telling him something that sounds like goodbye, and he’s finding that his heart feels like a stone and that his throat has gone dry. “Don’t run,” the Knight whispers. “Stay with me.” And she wants to. Oh, how she wants to. But that’s not how their story goes. ”This is as brave as I know how to be,” the princess, Clara, says, as she looks into his eyes and rests her hand on his cheek. “Please, be a little proud of me.” The Knight nearly laughs at that, because how could he not be proud? She’s saved his life so many times, and she’s courageous and wise with a spark in her eyes that suggests that she’s so much bigger than the body the universe has given her. And now, to save a village full of people, she’s walking toward a sleeping death. She tries to slide her hand away, but he catches it midair, presses it against his lips to kiss, and against her skin, he murmurs, “I’ve got duty of care.” She laughs, and it sounds broken and sad, and he hates it. “No,” she tells him. “You don’t have duty of care. You’re free from it.” She’s wrong, he thinks. He’ll never, ever be free from it. But he loses his hold on her and she slips out of his grasp, turning toward the waiting spinning wheel with the raven’s beak spindle. “Let me be brave,” he hears her whisper, over and over, like the words are an anchor, something she’s holding onto as the world’s washing her away. “Let me be brave.” And he can do nothing but watch as her hand hovers right above the spindle, one breath and a brush away from eternal slumber, and she says, one last time: “Let me be brave.” Then her finger hits the needle, and she screams. And she screams and she screams and she screams, and his two hearts are twisting and he’s crying, thinks he’s dying, because there’s nothing, not a single sound in this universe or the next that could possibly hurt him like this sound does. And he’s frozen to the spot, staring as her eyes flutter shut and she falls to the ground, fast asleep in a crumpled heap, fated to sleep forevermore. He tries to run to her, to fall down beside her, because once, a very long time ago, he heard a story that said that true love’s kiss can wake one from this. And it’s a only a guess, a mere hunch, a desperate wish, but he’s got to try. (And if true love really is the key, well, the one fact he knows without question or pause is that there’s no one - no one - in the entire universe who loves her more than he does.) But before he can reach her, he feels hands on his shoulders and metal chains around his wrists, and though he tries and he thrashes and throws himself forward, he can’t wrench free. And as guards drag him away, the last thing he sees is her and the last thought he thinks is: I promise I’ll come back for you. # He’s trapped in a maze. There are thousands of walls and hundreds of halls and who knows how many stairs and they all lead him nowhere. He knows, somehow, that the princess lies beyond all this, that if he can break free of the maze, he can find her, wake her, save her. He has duty of care to complete, after all. And what are mazes and chains and eternal slumber compared to this vow he holds in his heart? But the maze keeps him trapped and runs him in circles, always resetting, always placing him right back at step one. It’s like the universe is telling him: You can have eternity, but you can’t have her. Never her. Don’t you understand that yet? And he tells the universe: No. # He is in the maze, in midair, falling from a stained glass window, with nothing but the grey sky above and the blue sea below, and he closes his eyes and then - Then she’s there.

(This is what the Knight does, what he has to do. When he’s a breath away from death, he dreams he’s out of the maze and he dreams he’s not alone. And it’s always her he sees. Who else could it possibly be? The curve of her smile and the sound of her laugh mean home.) He knows that this is only a story in his head, a tale that starts off with once upon a dream instead of once upon a time, that the real Princess is out there somewhere lying wakeless in the dark. But here in his head, she is awake and alive, and fire and wonder and stars fill her eyes. This is how she looks to him - how she will always look to him: like she is someone who holds a thousand worlds in her soul. And she looks over at him, and says: “How are you going to win?” # He discovers the maze is sealed off from time, its own little sphere of eternity encircled by a briar of pure diamond. He thinks it will take years upon years just to break a single jeweled thorn off the briar, and he thinks there’s thousands and thousands of thorns. And that’s not even the biggest problem. The biggest problem is the dragon of death. It’s scales are as black as a starless night sky and it’s curled horns curve across its face like a veil of lace. In it’s mouth burns red-hot flames, and when it roars, it sounds like rolling thunder. It is like every one of his deepest and darkest fears, something that clawed it’s way out of his childhood nightmares, and he is scared. But, he reminds himself, as his breath shakes and his hands quake and heart pounds like a drum: She was scared too. And before he can change his mind, he spins, slams his fist into the briar, and screams, just like she did: “Let me be brave.” And then the dragon burns him up with glowing fire. # When he wakes up, he wakes up with a gasp, and his lungs feel full of shattered glass. He is back at the start of the maze, miles and hours away from the briar. He can still smell phantom smoke in the air and feel heat from invisible flames and he’s left with a terrifying, twisting, sickening feeling that this is not the first time he’s died in that very same way and lied in this very spot and had these very same thoughts. And as his head spins and his heart pounds and he tries to pull himself up off the ground, all he can think is: He needs to try again. # Here is the thing about this maze: It always ends in death. Whatever path to the briar the Knight takes, whichever way he turns, the black dragon of death will always find him. He’s tried to run and he’s tried to hide, but no matter how far or how fast he goes, the dragon is always there, just a few steps behind, it’s claws curling against the cobblestones and its scales smelling of smoke. And that’s not even the scary part. No, the scary part is, it knows him. It’s beaten him before. It knows the fear in his eyes and the sound of his cries and the way his blood tastes on its tongue. (That is what happens when something kills you every single night for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. It gets to know you intimately, terrifyingly well.) The knight knows that the black dragon guards the briar, that if he just avoids the diamond thicket, goes anywhere else in the maze but there, the dragon won’t interfere. But the princess isn’t anywhere else but behind there, so the Knight slams his fist yet again into the briar - And the dragon burns him up in fire. # He has lost track of how many times he’s bled in front of the briar, of how many times he’s been consumed alive by dragon fire. But love is a promise and a duty of care and the vow to come back, to always be there, and he’s died every day for a million years for that promise, and to keep it, he’ll die for millions more. There’s not a single second where he doubts that she’s worth it. # “I’m going to tell you a story,” the Knight tells the dragon. “But be warned, I don’t think you’re going to like how it ends.“ The dragon opens its jaws, ash and bone falling from its lips and grey smoke spiraling out of its nose. “There was a princess, and when she was born, they called her Clara, for the name means ‘bright,’ and she filled the world with light,” the Knight recites, before suddenly turning, punching the briar, “and there is a prince, who will always come for her, for -“ And the dragon burns him up in fire. # “- Love is a promise,” the Knight says, ripping away at diamond shards, the jagged edges tearing at his hands and ripping his cloak and scrapping his boots. “The princess lies in eternal slumber, and to break the spell, the prince must take his sword of truth and his shield of virtue -“ And the dragon burns him up in fire. (And this is all he ever does: tells stories and breaks thorns and burn. And when he burns, he dreams of her, and he finds he can’t regret the choice to die.) # He wakes up at the start of the maze for what might be the billionth time. His skin is unburnt and his bones are unbroken, but he can still feel it, feel it all so deeply. Every single second that goes by. Every single scorch on his flesh and painful twist in his chest and the cuts on his hands as he breaks through the briar and the way that he dies again and again and again. But he can still see it, see her standing in front of the spinning wheel like it was yesterday, even though that yesterday was so, so many years ago. That one, unbearable, unforgettable, terrible memory replays in his mind over and over and over again, like a music box that just won’t stop: Her finger above the spindle, the look in her eyes and the way her cries got caught in her throat and how she fell where she stood: too young and too good and gone. And this is why he rises, and runs toward death again, and continues his story, whispering: “But first, the prince must escape from his chains and cross the forbidden mountain to the twisted briar....”

# “Why are you telling our story?” The Dream Princess asks, as he’s dying again, with a broken wrist and a bleeding lip and burn marks on his skin. “It doesn’t end well.” He laughs. “Oh, Clara Oswald,” he says. “Our story hasn’t finished yet.” It can’t have. He won’t let it end like that. Stories can’t be over unless you let them go. And he’ll never let her go. # “- And the prince was told he must climb to the highest room of the tallest tower,” the Knight continues, as he grinds another diamond thorn to dust between his fingertips, and it sparkles sharply against his skin before he sprinkles it carefully in a half-circle at his shoes. “And with true love’s kiss, the sleeping beauty will wake. But before he can reach her, he must face the deadly dragon, and the dragon -“

And the dragon burns him up in flames. # When he lives, he thinks of her. (When he dies, he thinks of her too.) “Why?” He exhales, feeling embers on his skin and ashes in his lungs, and he knows that he’s dying and that he’s dreaming, and above him stands Clara, with a silver crown on her head and a shield in her hands, because even in his dreams she’s still standing guard over him, just like she always has. “Why?” Dream Clara repeats, her voice breaking, her hands shaking, “I’ve been asleep for half the lifetime of the universe. Why, why would you do this?” He stares up at her, his vision going hazy, the seconds slipping away with his breath, and he says: “Duty of care.” And when he says it, he says it like a promise, because that’s what it is. It is a promise he carries with him through each of his deaths, a vow that’s woven into his mind and written into his bones, because she is Clara Oswald, and he is her knight, and he’s never letting her go. # The stars are strange, the constellations changed, and he’s dimly aware that he’s aged. He is older than so many moons and songs and suns. And he is only halfway through the briar. But the Knight pushes this thought away, pushes forward into the glittering bramble instead, the branches scraping painfully at skin as he breaks what he thinks is the hundred-thousandth thorn and tosses it to the ground and grinds it beneath his boot. “The dragon fought fiercely, with a belly full of flames and a heart full of war,” he says, panting as he speaks, as he waits and anticipates what he knows must come next, “But the prince’s -“ The dragon burns him up in flames. # He’s lost count of how many thorns he’s crushed, of how many diamond splinters have scarred his hands, of how much of his blood has been left on the briar. But that doesn’t matter. Because there’s a trail of diamond dust beneath his boots and a path to the end of the maze and a single thorn is all that’s left to break. So the knight runs, runs across the glittering shards and slams his hand into the final thorn with all the force in his body. And it hurts, hurts like a hundred knives cutting into his skin, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all, because the crack in the diamond thorn spreads, splintering out like a spider’s web, and then and then and then: The thorn breaks off, falling from the branch like a single, sparkling teardrop. And he is free. One by one, the remaining thornless branches turn to jeweled powder and scatter like snow, spreading out on the ground and blowing away on the breeze, and before him, stands the princess’ tower. But there’s no time to celebrate. There is still the dragon to deal with. Out of the corner of his eye, the knight spies sparks and smoke, and he feels heat on the skin of his neck and down the back of his cloak. He hears claws against the cobblestone, and a glance behind is all he needs to see the dragon approaching, it’s jaws ablaze with bright fire as it walks. “Ah,” says the Knight, and there’s blood on his fingers and bruises on his arms, but for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he’s smiling. “Here for the rest of the story? I might remind you that all those years ago, I told you you wouldn’t like how it ended.” Undisturbed by his words, the dragon roars, teeth gleaming, fire glowing, ready to defeat and devour, but the Knight stands tall. “But,” the knight recites, finishing the story he started so many times, so long ago, “the prince’s sword of truth flew swift and sure.” And with those words, the dragon spits down fire, except this time, unlike all those other billions and billions and billions of times: The briar boarder is gone. This time, the Knight is free to leap out of the maze and out of the way, throwing himself safely to the ground. This time, the dragon’s flames hit the shattered diamond dust the Knight has spent years and years and years spreading out in a sphere shaped mirror. This time, the dust glitters and reflects and deflects, throwing back the dragon’s own fire, and finally, finally, finally, after all this time, instead of burning him: The dragon burns itself up in flames. The Knight rises, lets out a deep breath he feels like he’s been holding for billions of years, and he says, “I did warn you that you wouldn’t like the ending.” # There’s a sky full of rain falling on a land full of flame as the maze burns itself up from the now slayed dragon’s fire. It’s been billions of years since the knight’s seen the world beyond the maze, and the universe has changed, constellations been made and broken and rearranged, and the tower she sleeps in has weathered with age. But still, there the princess lies, suspended between one world and the next, looking exactly as she did all those years ago, like she’s simply paused in the timeless space between heartbeats and spans of breath, as if, at any moment, she will awaken to go back to protecting the realm. Which, if he knows her, is exactly what will happen. (And he does know her. He knows her like he knows the beat of his own two hearts.) He kneels beside her, holds his breath and closes his eyes and kisses her softly, waiting and hoping and pleading let this work, let this work, let this work, let this work, and then: For the first time in what feels like forever, she’s awake. Her eyes flutter open and she gasps against his lips and gently, he pulls her up to sit, each of his hands curling around both of her wrists, the pads of his fingers pressed in the place above her pulse, where he can feel each beautiful, breathtaking beat of her heart and how it hammers him out a rhythm that says: She’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive. He thinks there isn’t a better sound in all the world. Clara reaches out for him, slowly but steadily, as if she’s testing to see if he’s a mirage or if he’s real. Her fingers curl around the folds of his cloak, and he keeps holding onto her as she holds onto him because he’s fought for four-and-a-half billion years and died every day just to get her back and he’s not letting her go. Not ever, not again. “Don’t be a dream,” she orders him sternly, her dark eyes locked onto his light ones, gaze unwavering, as if she’s afraid that if she looks away, he’ll dissipate and disappear. And he smiles, because Clara - his Clara - has just woken up after having been asleep for billion of years and she’s already back in command. “Not a dream,” he promises. “I’m real. I’m really here.” “I’m not asleep,” she whispers in wonder, and then she’s gasping and laughing, overwhelmed and overjoyed and wrapping her arms around him and asking, “How, how, how can I possibly be awake?” And he laughs, because it’s a very long story. Four-and-a-half billion years long, in fact. But when it comes down to it, the answer is factual and simple, merely a handful of words. So he gives her the short version. “I had duty of care,” he whispers into her hair. “Did you really think a little thing like death could stop me?”

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years

Text

The Dragonfly Curse

Summary: Roman often gets hit with small curses by the Dragon Witch- little things being forced to speak only in rhyme or becoming incredibly clumsy for a day. He hides this from the others, as to him they’re punishment enough for his failures. They’re small measly problems- which makes this latest curse ironic in that he’s reduced to a four-inch tall dragonfly-winged fairy.

Words: 4,780

This is a commission piece for @i-will-physically-fight-you! Thank you again for commissioning me, this was so much fun to write. :) My commissions are open! More information available on my blog.

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Roman treaded through the forest, footsteps light as he fought to keep his presence unknown. Uneasily he twisted his wrist, the handle of his blade recognizing the familiar movements as he gave the sword a small twirl to calm his nerves. It grounded him, reminding him that even in this vast expanse Roman still had strength. A strength he had to wield if he intended to protect those he loved.

Imagination could be a fickle thing. Once upon a time, Thomas was young. His dreams were filled with puppy dogs and rainbows (the symbolism ever present in his gay subconscious), and Roman was happy to traverse the magical paradise that had appeared through a portal in his room. Back then it was a magical place, so full of laughter and cheer. Roman had always wished he could bring some of that wonderous joy into his own room so that he could let his fellow sides in on the fun.

Now, Roman’s greatest fear was exposing his family to this hell.

As Thomas had grown older, the Imagination had become overgrown with negative creations, a side effect of the dark sides no doubt. For far too long Roman had blamed Virgil for the shadow figures that now crept behind every tree, or the inky dark marshes that threatened to swallow unsuspecting villagers whole. Now Roman knew better; the horrible demons lurking around the Imagination had appeared on their own, independent of a single creator, instead representing something far darker than the embodiment of anxiety himself.

Roman chuckled darkly to himself. Maybe Virgil would be amusedly offended at the idea of something having a more terrifying aesthetic than his hundred layers of black eyeshadow. The image was nice to chuckle at, but Roman knew it would never be a reality. He couldn’t let Virgil, or anyone else he cared about for that matter, ever learn about these invaders. They were Roman’s problem alone, his burden to bear. Why else would the portal into Imagination only exist in his own room? Clearly this was his purpose as a knight- to protect those he loved, even from fear of danger itself. Ignorance was bliss, surely.

Of course, Roman was unable to hide everything from the sides, much as he wanted to remain covert. There were times when Roman would… lose. The Dragon Witch was a formidable opponent, much as Roman loathed to admit it, and she took pleasure in laying curses upon Roman for her amusement. These curses were hardly permanent but would carry into the mindscape. Perhaps this was the Dragon Witch’s way of trying to affect the world beyond this accursed land, knowing she herself could never get past the portal. Sending back a defeated and hexed Roman was the closest she could get to throwing something of her own into the mindscape.

Thankfully, these curses had never been particularly threatening to Roman’s physical form, just his pride. That only made them hurt worse in Roman’s mind. Was it not enough to be defeated in his own realm? Must she bruise his fragile ego? But in this way, she knew his weaknesses. Stabs wounds healed. The echoing laughter in his mind did not.

Roman thought back briefly, recounting some of her more memorable curses. One of the first had been upon his tongue, turning it a dull silver in mockery of the phrase ‘silver tongue’ and forcing the princely figure to only speak in rhymes. The others thought he was just being dramatic as ever, putting up with his antics as Roman attempted to compliment Patton’s cooking skills and ended up launching into an eloquent soliloquy about the talent of the heart to bring such “delectable, respectable, selectable treats to the table, how my dearest Patton have you proven yourself so able-“ and so the rhyming continued. Roman had even enjoyed that one, leaning into it to test his own feats of poetry. He challenged Logan to a rematch of their rap battle, this time proving himself a worthy opponent.

The Dragon Witch had been less than pleased when he returned the next week, whistling a nameless tune and declaring how “your devious plan backfired; I’m feeling rather inspired!” Perhaps it was his jesting that had earned him the next hex, cursing him to become unstable on his feet. Roman had spent the day tripping over himself, spilling water any time a cup was placed in his hands and falling flat on his face on more than one occasion. Roman could only play those instances off with the line “I’ve falling for you, my fairest Virgil!” so many times before it was clear that this behavior wasn’t going to end. Virgil told him to snap out of it, and Roman was forced to spend the rest of the evening in his room willing his boots to stop making a fool of him.

So the curses continued, slowly accumulating through the years to remind Roman of his failures. Each lasted only a day, gone by the time he woke the next day. Never the same curse- after all, being part of the Imagination, even the Dragon Witch had standards. Unoriginality wouldn’t stand. Normally Roman would appreciate this creativity, but used against him it was less than pleasant having to bravely face his punishments. Which is why Roman made it a point not to lose often.

Roman paused, his feet stopping atop the large carpet of leaves painted in beautiful golden hues. It would be a beautiful sight, if the stillness in the air did not make the hairs on the back of his neck stand so unpleasantly.

“I was almost thinking you would not show.” Roman spoke up, raising his voice. He kept his gaze straight ahead, giving no other indication he knew there was a trespasser amongst the woods. “Or rather, if you’re attempting to be sneaky, you need to work on your dramatics, you son of a birch.”

There was a giggling through the air, as though the trees found this insult particularly amusing. Roman thought they might, and he gave a small smirk, radiating the essence of a casual hero who was sure of his blade. Perhaps if he imagined himself as such, it would prove true.

“Son of a birch?” A tree, darker than the rest, appeared insulted off to the left a few more paces down the path. The foliage shifted, the tree shrinking and curling in on itself as a woman emerged from the wreckage. She looked annoyed, the atmosphere immediately darkening as she stepped forwards. “I was an aspen, you royal twig!”

“Well you’re certainly as-pain in my butt.” Roman retorted. The trees merely groaned at that one, a few of the younger saplings muttering amongst themselves as though trying to figure out what exactly he meant. Roman rolled his eyes. “Alright peanut gallery, I get it, not my best work.”

“Peanut gallery, now there’s an idea.” The Dragon Witch put a finger to her chin, as if considering an idea. “Perhaps when I beat you today I’ll turn you into a peanut plant. Or better yet, I’ll trap you in a peanut gallery comic, so you will be forced to watch everyone laugh at your antics.”

“I’ve already been a comic book character.” Roman groaned, pretending to be bored as he stretched out a crick in his neck. “And you did a strawberry bush only a month ago. Have you really run out of curses so soon? You seem a bit lost for inspiration. How about I do you a favor. After I kick your butt, you can spend the week thinking up better ideas.”

“You make me laugh, Prince Roman.” The Dragon Witch said, but her mouth was still a flat line. “But perhaps you should save the theatrics for your stage.”

“Gladly.” With no more fanfare, Roman charged, sword at the ready. He took a swipe at the Dragon Witch. Unsurprisingly, she disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke. Knowing this trick, Roman wasted no time in bringing his elbow reeling backwards, satisfied by the ‘oof!’ of pain that came as he painfully elbowed her in the stomach. Roman had no qualms against playing dirty against a girl, especially because gender is a social construct and she started it.

“Why, you little-!” Before she could wrap her claws around Roman the prince rolled to the side, coming up to face her head on again. The Dragon Witch growled, a ball of green flame appearing in her hand.

“You wouldn’t.” Roman squinted, trying to gauge how far his opponent would go.

“Oh, I would.” The Dragon Witch sneered, tossing the flame to the ground. Instantly the golden leaves began to catch fire, the flames spreading as quickly the entire scene became ablaze.

Roman’s eyes widened only momentarily before he began to frantically dash back down the path, the flames licking at his heels. He knew that the trees themselves would likely be protected, mere puppets designed by the Witch who wanted an audience (she always was one for theatrics), but everything else in this forest was fair game.

“You’re insane!” Roman yelped, shaking his leg briefly as his pants briefly caught fire. The Witch cackled at this, giving chase through the path as the green flickers did nothing to harm her. If anything, they curled around her ankles, hugging their creator gently.

“Liar liar, pants on fire!” The Dragon Witch seemed to only find humor in this scenario, grinning manically.

“What are you, twelve?” Roman huffed, his breathing becoming heaving as he fought to keep running. Why didn’t Thomas go to the gym more often? Probably due to Patton’s love of cookies. Even if Patton was a fluffball, at this particular moment Roman was wishing he could change a lot of the heart’s habits if only to gain a little more endurance for these aggravating chase scenes. When he got back to the Mindspace, Roman was certainly going to fill Thomas’ dreams with more eye candy muscled men in the hopes of inspiring him to exercise even once.

Too distracted by thoughts of shirtless men, Roman was oblivious to the branches reaching out for him until it was too late. The wooden limbs wrapped around him, forcing his sword to clatter to the ground as one of the tree spirits tugged him into a tight grip.

“No fair!” Roman pouted, watching the Dragon Witch approach with a devious smirk, her flames coming with her.

“What’s wrong, Prince Roman?” She feigned ignorance, lifting her hand to direct the flames to begin climbing the tree, getting closer and closer to his legs which were desperately trying to kick out of their way. “Come now, surely you haven’t been bested by a few candle flames and a tree? Get up, Prince Roman. Fight. Where’s that courageous hero who dared to march into myrealm just hours ago, dressed in regal colors and claiming ownership of a land he can never hope to control?”

“I YIELD!” Roman suddenly declared through gritted teeth, his knees tucked up to his chest as the fire licked at his boots. To declare himself unsuccessful hurt more than their burn, and as the flames disappeared Roman felt the own fire of determination dying in his heart.

It seemed recently it had burning out quicker with each battle, these losses slowly taking a toll on even his resolve.

“Aww, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” The Dragon Witch teased. Roman gave her a defiant glare.

“I already yielded, there’s no need to drag it out.” Roman huffed, slumping back in the tree’s embrace. “Just get it over with, do your thing. Give me your curse and I’ll be on my way. What will it be, the comic or the plant? Well? What are you waiting for?”

The Dragon Witch paused, her expression for once perfectly blank. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Why should I be?” Roman shrugged, feeling a bit proud that he could make her scowl even in her victory. A conversation was still a battle when it came to the Dragon Witch, and at least Roman could win this. “Your little curses are nuisances at best. Your strongest has only ever left me cowering under a blanket for a day. Just a day, nothing more. Nothing sticks. You can’t hurt me, not in any real way at least, because everything you do is temporary. Your magic is just little parlor tricks.”

“Little parlor tricks?!” She screeched and spat. “How dare you! You insufferable pest, you incompetent sprite, you infinitesimal thorn in my side!” The Dragon Witch’s eyes blazed with a fury unmated by any Roman had ever seen, and for the first time in forever Roman really did feel afraid. She struck her hand across his face, leaving a scorching mark with a familiar tingling feeling of magic.

“There.” The Dragon Witch hissed, letting the tree drop Roman into an unassuming pile on the ground. “How’s that for a parlor trick?” Without another word she spun on her heel and left. The fact that she didn’t stick around to watch her spell take effect was a sure sign that Roman had pissed her off more than usual, which likely didn’t bode well for whatever unfortunate hex had just been quite literally slapped upon him.

Roman groaned, his body feeling like it was collapsing in on itself as Roman curled up into a tight ball. A searing pain had begun just along his spine, and Roman heard the fabric of his shirt begin to tear. Rude; he was particularly fond of this ensemble. But even Princey couldn’t lament the ruination of his garments for long, instead letting out a gasp as another round of fiery discomfort shot through his back. Was this the curse? To be in misery for a day? It certainly made Roman regret being so mouthy.

Thankfully, the pain slowly began to ebb away, leaving only a dull ache in its wake. Roman felt as though something was laying across his back, and new nerves connected to these new appendages. Cautiously Roman opened his eyes, looking back for confirmation.

Wings- he had wings. Dragonfly wings, to be exact. It seemed the Dragon Witch was still just as fond of draconic irony as always.

“Well that’s not so bad.” Roman decided. Sure, they were painful to grow, and they would certainly be impossible to hide, but Roman had stayed in his room during a curse before. He gave them a cautious flutter, wincing as one wing smacked him in the face. Perhaps this would take a bit more practice.

Roman stood up, gaining his footing on the slippery leaf below him and prepping for a test flight. Wait… yes, that was leaf, singular. Roman stared down at his feet incredulously, not believing his eyes. That had to be a very large leaf, unless…

The princely figure let out a groan, looking up to see his suspicions were confirmed. The dark trees now loomed over him, appearing to be hundreds of feet tall. It wasn’t just wings, then. The witch had cursed Roman to become a fairy of all things, reduced to nothing but a poor copy of tinkerbell.

At this size, Roman was even more wary of Imagination land, picturing all the horrible creatures that could make quick work of him. He had to get back, now.

“Alright, faith and trust and all that jazz.” Roman psyched himself up, scrunching his face and giving his body a shake to let out his nerves. He focused on getting his wings to flap properly this time, nearly crying out in relief when his feet left the ground.

“Don’t look down.” Roman instructed himself, firmly keeping his gaze forward as he shot through the air, beginning to get the hang of flying as he dodged the various brambles. More than once Roman nearly went headfirst into a spiderweb, skidding to a stop at the last moment. Thankfully he reached the exit on the other side of the forest without becoming prey to any of the shadowy demons. He was relieved that the door still recognized his presence in this form, swinging open wide. Roman wouldn’t have been able to open it himself.

“…woah.” Roman floated inside, momentarily shocked by how unfamiliar his own bedroom looked at this size. He settled down onto his desk, thrown off by the way he had to look up to see the bristled tips of his paintbrushes. How odd.

A knock came at the door, so loud and intimidating that Roman nearly jumped out of his skin. “Kiddo?” Patton’s voice was clearly gentle, but still it rumbled with an unnatural quality. “Do you want to join us for lunch?”

“Ah, no thanks, Pat!” Roman called back, hoping his nerves weren’t heard in his voice.

There was silence, and then another knock. “Kiddo? You in there?”

Oh, of course- an impulse to hit his own forehead overcame Roman. If Patton’s voice was so loud, it only followed that Roman’s voice must be quiet in comparison. He’d have to commit if he wanted to be heard.

“NO THANKS!” Roman called again, this time cupping his hands to his mouth to be heard.

“Oh, okay!” Patton sounded relieved, if not a bit disappointed. Roman deflated slightly, knowing this was another consequence of the curse. He hated letting Patton down. “Well, uh, I’ll check in on you again later!”

He would, of course, the little puffball.

***

Roman tried not to let the knot of guilt twist in him too tight when Patton came back to ask at dinner, then again at breakfast, and a third time at lunch the next day.

This was the longest day of his life. Roman groaned, collapsing back onto his pillow. It only took a few moments for him to realize this was a terrible plan, nearly getting stuck as he sunk into the overly plush surface. Why wasn’t he back to normal yet? It had been 24 hours, hadn’t it?

Patton came back again at dinner. He was more insistent. Roman snapped at him, and it hurt.

What was he meant to do? Roman couldn’t sleep that second night, his wings beginning to twitch anxiously. A curse had never lasted this long before. Should he tell the others?

The new fairy quickly shook his head. No, he couldn’t do that. Going to them meant admitting defeat. He would have to come clean about his rivalry with the Dragon Witch, letting them know of all his countless failures. What would they think of him? What sort of creativity was he if he couldn’t do his one job of keeping Imagination in check? Roman had to protect his family, not the other way around. Besides, he could only imagine the jests he would receive in this form:

“It seems you are incapable of even performing your own tasks adequately-“

“You tried your best, Kiddo, but leave it up to the real sides next time-”

“What’s the matter, Princey? A little thing like you couldn’t possibly help-“

A knock on the door jolted Roman out of his thoughts, the fae rubbing at the wetness on his cheeks. When had he started crying?

“Roman?” That was Logan’s voice, so cool and calculating and pleasant in tone. “We have been sent to retrieve you for breakfast. Are you alright?”

Roman couldn’t even work up the energy to respond. He just let his head loll to the side. Sooner or later the others would learn to leave him alone. Maybe they’d even forget about him… if he was going to be stuck like this, it might be for the best. Roman was useless.

“I can feel the sulking from here.” A third voice muttered, Roman’s sensitive ears picking up Virgil’s annoyed tone. “I say we just break in.”

Roman quickly sat up. What? Them, here? No, they couldn’t see him like this! He flew into the air, eyes scanning for any place he could hide.

“I thought you were against barging into bedrooms?” Logan spoke.

“Nah, just my room. Call me a hypocrite.”

Roman panicked, hearing the doorknob begin to turn. Without hesitation he dashed out of sight, settling onto the top of his wardrobe. Just in time, too, as moments later his fellow sides came barging into the room.

“PRINCEY, GET UP!” Virgil’s volume made the tiny side cringe, Roman pressing his hands firmly to his ears. “…princey?”

“It appears he’s not here.” Logan sated, the two gazing at the bed with conflicting amounts of bewilderment.

“Yeah, thanks, Sherlock.” Virgil’s facial features had turned decidedly blank, trying to process what was right in front of him.

“You do not sound thankful.” Logan murmured.

Virgil ignored his quip, throwing the blanket off the bed. Of course, the entire thing still looked untouched. The anxious side began to run his hands through his hair, seeming conflicted before he rushed back to the door. “PATTON, GET UP HERE!”

There was a frantic pounding of footsteps, Patton clearly running up the stairs before he too appeared in the doorway. “What is it? Is Roman sick?”

“Sick in the head- he’s gone.” Despite his angry words, Virgil looked frantic, and Roman felt far more than a twinge of guilt.

“This is peculiar.” Logan frowned, a hand put to his chin. “The mindscape is only so large. It contains each of our respective spaces and one communal area. Thomas is asleep, so he’s not there, and none of us have seen Roman in over 48 hours. Where could he possibly have gone?”

“Uh…I have an idea.”

The other two sides looked where Patton was pointing, the door to Imagination still ajar.

No! Roman’s eyes widened with fear. The others couldn’t go in there, they’d be killed for sure! Roman had always lied about Imagination, treating it like a magical secret only for him so that they would never know the true misery he faced every day.

“Do you think his realm would grant us access?” Logan took a step closer, making Roman tense up. “I was under the impression that subconscious domains were only accessible by the primary side.”

“Well, the door’s open.” Patton shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

“Hold on a minute, Pat.” Virgil reached an arm out, grabbing Patton’s forearm. “I don’t like the look of this. Roman’s an idiot-“ Hey! “-but maybe there’s a reason we shouldn’t go in there. We don’t know what it’s like. Maybe we’ll get corrupted just like you guys do in my room.”

For once, Roman was relieved Dark and Brooding was always so cautious. Maybe his friends would be safe after all.

“Virgil, it’s Imagination.” Patton removed Virgil’s hand with a smile, crushing all Roman’s hopes and dreams. “It’s not going to hurt us! I bet it’s got cotton candy clouds and singing flowers and puppies everywhere. “

“I take it back, that’s much worse.” Virgil cringed, but he allowed Patton to take his hand and guide him forward.

“Assumptions will get us nowhere; there is only one way to know for certain.” Logan reached for the handle-

“WAIT!” Roman cried out, his voice shrill and high-pitched as three heads whirling around to meet his terrified expression. Roman gulped, still frightened of their reactions but knowing he had made the right decision. It was better they looked down on him forever if it meant they stayed safe.

Still, having three giants focused on him was nothing to sneeze at- even with all his pomp and circumstance, Roman found himself continuing to huddle against the top of the wardrobe, knowing the jig was up.

“…Roman?” Patton called out, his voice softer than it had ever been. “Is that you?”

Roman winced. “Yeah, it’s… it’s me.”

He was thankful for his high vantage point, but he knew that if the others wanted to get him down it would be an easy enough task. He might be able to fly, but there were three of them for goodness sakes. At this size, a butterfly net could overpower him.

Roman groaned at the imagery, trying to get these thoughts out of his head. Why was he so frightened of the people he loved? Sure they were bigger now- er, he was smaller now- but they still had to care a little bit for him… right? Logan wouldn’t really pin him to a board and Patton wouldn’t really squeeze the life out of him and wow these images really need to stop right now get a GRIP, Princey!

“Are you harmed?” Logan asked, his question surprising the creative side. Logan was often ignorant to other’s state of being.

“Just my pride.” Roman admitted.

Virgil quirked an eyebrow, but it lacked its usual sass. His expression was more shaken than it should be, and the emo looked paler than usual. “Care to tell us what’s going on?”

Not really. Roman wanted to say, but he knew it was too late to back out now.

“Will you come down from there, Kiddo?” Patton took a step forward, cupping his palms and looking ready to catch Roman. He gazed at those hands for a minute, contemplating the risk before he fluttered down to stand in Patton’s palms. This action earned a series of gasps as his wings had previously gone unnoticed.

“It was the Dragon Witch.” Roman admitted, rubbing at his arm self-consciously. “She cursed me to take this form.”

“So, you’ve just been hiding up here all alone?” Patton looked just about ready to cry. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want you all to think any lesser of me.” Roman ran a hand through his hair. “I know you all think of me as foolish already, and I thought- if you knew how much I failed, that would just be used against me as well. I’m not the protector I pretend to be. I’ve tried to hide this from you because look at me now! A few inches tall and wings on my back like some laughable child cartoon character. I couldn’t stand the mockery on top of everything else.”

“Roman, that is preposterous.” Logan said firmly, earning an elbow to the side from Virgil that didn’t stop the nerd from continuing. “Regardless of your current stature, you are a core element of Thomas’ personality. We require your input. We function best as a cohesive team. Sharing information about your own struggles will only better us as a unit because we will be better equipped to assist you.”

“The nerd’s right.” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty. “Jeez, Princey, I mean… I know we call each other names, but I don’t mean anything by it. I just thought that was our thing. I’m not gonna mock you when you’re clearly hurting, that’d just be cruel.”

“Failure is normal, kiddo.” Patton reached his thumb up, rubbing it comfortingly along Roman’s side. The sensation was strange, but not unpleasant. “Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you’re a failure.”

Roman winced. “Ah, actually, it’s… it’s more than once.” The words began to spill out of him, gaining momentum. “I lose to her so often, she always has the upper hand and it’s never the same curse and I keep hiding them from you but they only last a day and this one hasn’t stopped and I don’t know what to do and I’m going to be tiny and useless forever-“

“OY!” Virgil’s shout made Roman flinch again, and the anxious side had the decency to look sheepish. “…sorry. But you need to cut it out. Panicking is my thing.”

“Roman, it doesn’t matter if you’ve failed a hundred, trillion, billion times.” Patton corrected his wording.

“That’s not statistically possible.” Logan looked confused.

“You will never be a failure in our eyes.” Patton insisted. “You are brave, and kind, and lovable, and you bring so much to the table every single day. We couldn’t do it without you, Kiddo. And even at this size you’re the same amazing Prince we know and love. You’re just… a pocket prince now!”

“Roman, I admit that curses are not my area of expertise.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “But, I believe that with our efforts combined, there is certain to be a way to reverse these effects, especially given the knowledge the previous curses all took time to wear off.”

“Let us help you.” Virgil said, his tone bordering on pleading.

Roman looked around at his family. His fantastic, brilliant, amazing family. How could he have not trusted them with this? Of course they wouldn’t see him as lesser, just because of a small curse. His failures were not what defined him.

“Okay.” Roman agreed, feeling nearly overwhelmed with the love he had for them all.

700 notes · View notes

a-marlene-s · 4 years

Text

I’m a Scholar, Not a Knight!: Pt 1

This is one of two winning story idea of my Birthday Story Giveaway! The sender of this story idea is none other than @amynchan! Congrats!

D/C: I do not own My Hero Academia.

A/N: Unbetaed.

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Fandom: My Hero Academia

Main Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugo, Eijiro Kirishima and Toshinori Yagi

Ships: Izuku x Ochaco, Katsuki x Eijiro, Shoto x Momo

Genre: Friendship, adventure and Fantasy. Romance is in the back burner.

Au: Fantasy Au, Sassy!Izuku.

Summary: Izuku knew he wanted to become more than a simple peasant. He plans on becoming a scholar. A simple scholar that is repeatedly being told otherwise. Somehow, he found himself in the company of a retired knight, a squire, a witch-in-training, a runaway prince, a barbarian king, a human/dragon hybrid and a frog shifter... All of whom start to assume he’s the Lost Hero of Legend. Yeah... there goes his goal of becoming a scholar.

Izuku grinned at his opponent, not being bothered to notice how his legs shook relentlessly. He knew he could die fighting against his opponent and shouldn’t be grinning, but that is the least of his worries. Power surged throughout him before he focused it on his sword, his grin grew a green light envelop his weapon.

With a battle cry, Izuku marched forward to face off against his strongest opponent yet. There’s no turning back at this point. To think that at one point in his life, he had thought of doing something safe for the rest of his life… like a scholar!

Yeah… a scholar…

Toshinori knew he doesn’t have long to look for his successor. His power is leaving him since his battle against AFO, his body just has not been able to take on the power of OFA. Even if the battle had ended in his favor, he still ended up losing. Losing organs and the ability to stay in his other form has shortened tremendously, he’s still surprised at the fact he managed to stay alive for this long.

Taking in a deep breath, Toshinori continued walking on a dirt road that leads to a small town where he is to meet with a close friend of his. Nothing out of the norm really, he just wishes his horse didn’t run off on him… again.

“Hey! This is a toll road, old man!”

Toshinori really wished he had taken the backroads; he should have known better than to take the main road. Bandits would often make up toll roads to harass anyone that crosses paths with them. “Could we talk about thi-”

“Either pay up willingly, or we’ll take whatever you have by force. Your choice?” One of the bandits sneered, making a point to placing his hands on his battle-ax strapped to his back.

‘Great…’ Toshinori grumbled into himself. Even if he does turn around and leave, they’ll just going to try and kill him. Either way, he’s a dead man. Ironic really considering he’s already a dead man walking. Still, he still has some life in him and he still needs to find a successor! If it means having to deal with these lowlifes, then so be it. Leaving them alive to only have them harass or even possibly kill others, is not an option. “I would advise to you pack your things and leave… you don’t want to fight me.”

“Oh, like you have the power to fight us!” Another bandit laughed aloud, causing all the bandits, around thirty or so of them. At this point, many of them began to surround Toshinori, drawing out their weapons. “Now, are you going to make this easy for us?”

“Hey! Leave him alone!”

Toshinori turned around to see a young man running towards him, with a sword in hand. He couldn’t help but grin hearing those words. Turning around to see a familiar teen running towards him. “Young Midoriya!”

Izuku Midoriya came racing towards the group of bandits, brandishing his word warningly. “Get away from him! How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of trouble, Mr. Yagi!”

Toshinori twitched at Izuku’s words. Oh, so many times has the young man warned him to stay out of trouble. Not his fault that trouble follows him and what is the kid talking about! Izuku also gets in just as much trouble as himself! “Now is not the time for that, Young Midoriya!”

“Oh, do you want me to say it after you got beaten to death!”

“...Well then…”

-.-

Toshinori laughed awkwardly as he watched Izuku destroy the supposed toll booth the bandits had created. “I see you have been training with your sword, Young Midoriya.”

“Mom wouldn’t let me leave on my own if I wasn’t at least capable of using a sword, Mr. Yagi.” Izuku sassed the older male, with one final push, he destroyed the toll booth. Looking around to see the bodies of the bandits he had to kill off after they refused to run away, he wonders if he should at least give them a proper burial. Or at least take them away from view.

Eh, it’s not his problem, even if he’s the one that killed them they shouldn’t have been doing what they were doing. Highly illegal and Izuku is surprised they managed to get away with it so long considering what the found in the toll booth. That brings him back to reality when he turns around to see Toshinori staring at him… almo- “No. I told you one, I told you a hundred times over, I’m going to be a scholar. I have no plans on becoming a… knight.”

“Why be a scholar, it’s quite clear you have the ability to become a knight!” Toshinori gushed out before he coughs outs blood.

Izuku, mainly out of habit, offered him a handkerchief, before worrying over the fact Toshinori is coughing up blood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Yagi! becoming a knight isn’t in the cards. I’m sure you could find someone better than me!”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask again.” Toshinori laughed after getting over his coughing fit. “The offer will always stand.”

“And I will turn it down every time you ask, I’m afraid.” Izuku laughed uneasily. The offer, as mentioned before, is for the opportunity for him to become a knight. Not just any knight mind you. A Heroic Knights of the Realm. It is something everyone wants to be, what everyone strives to be. An honor and a curse, depends on who you ask really. At one point, Izuku wanted to become a Heroic Knight. He wanted to become a knight just like the Legendary Knight, Sir All Might. Something he at one point, strived to be. It’s one of the main reasons he picked up the sword at a young age… but… things changed.

How could he be a knight if he wasn’t even capable of saving his best friend?

It is better to take on a different path, one that he won’t be afraid to take. Thus, his goal to become a scholar was born. Now if he could convince people that is his actual goal in life, that will swell! Apparently people are still under the belief he’s a knight or a knight in training! That is not his goal in life, thank you very much!

“Young Midoriya, would you help me get to the next town?” Toshinori asks with a deep laugh.

Izuku looked away from him so that he could hide his tears. There’s no way he could leave Toshinori Yagi on his own. The man is a walking trouble magnet. He’ll probably be dead by the end of the day if he leaves him be on his own. On the flip side, this will only give people the impression he is a knight in training! After all, the man was once a knight himself before his health took a decline. People will question his future as a scholar! They will all thing he’s training to become a knight!

“Why is this so difficult!”

-.-

Izuku muttered to himself while he and Toshinori headed into a nearby town to stop to stock up in supplies. Along with the hopes of finding a place to stay for the night. The walk, by far, is uneventful. Sure, Izuku had to dispose of any bandits, mercenaries or anyone that wanted to mug or kill them. Nothing out of the norm.

“Are you sure you’re a scholar?” One random bandit asked as he is being tied up against a wooden sign. “What kind of scholar uses a sword?”

Izuku took in a deep breath through his nose. “Why does everyone ask me that?”

“Because you don’t look or act like one?” Another bandit pipped up, also tied to said wooden sign. “You a squire or man-at-arms? The blonde is your lord right?”

Izuku got really close to killing them before Toshinori managed to pull him away from the questioning bandits. Of course, they assume! What’s the point of telling them that he’s going to become a scholar! Not a knight! He’s not brave, strong, or even capable of doing anything a Knight would do! If he can’t even protect his best friend, what good is he? Being a knight… it requires to be someone that isn’t him. Anyone but him. “I just want to become a scholar! I want to learn history and make sure it doesn’t repeat itself! Is that so much to ask?”

Toshinori couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as Izuku started to cry as the teen continued to mutter about how no one seems to believe his new path in life. He really can’t blame the kid for his most recent breakdown.

“Mr. Yagi, why do people keep thinking my dream of becoming a scholar is stupid?” Izuku sniffled into the back of his sleeve. “They keep going on and on about me becoming a knight! Or a guard! Anything but a scholar?”

“Maybe perhaps you keep beating everyone around?” Toshinori answered earnestly, this only got him a wail from Izuku. “

“I just want to be a scholar!!!!!”

TBC

Permanent Tags: @mewwitch @runestarchild @souleateralicestein @multishipper1needshalp @mochinek0 @princesskitomi @someone-ev

Unknown Permanent tag: (Those that wanted to be tagged, but hasn’t specified to which one… You are going to be on the permanent tag until further notice.): @vixen-uchiha @unmaskedagain @vivilakitty @poshplumcot @slytherinqueen2432 @actual-disaster-human

#My hero academia #mha #pt 1 #I'm a Scholar Not A Knight #izuku x ochako #katsuki x eijiro #momo x shouto #BNHA #Fantasy Au

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radiantseraphina · 5 years

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@command-el Your post with your OC going to Elise for love advice was so adorable that it inspired me to think about how Elise finally confessed her love to Bikaia, the most oblivious man ever born. I think this also serves as proof that I ought to be writing regency romance or something instead of fantasy YA novels set around colleges.

Elise crouched along the riverbank, half-hidden by trees, and carefully reached for the pile of discarded clothes before her. Her eyes darted towards the lake and—more pertinently—at the place where her lord had disappeared. King Bikaia emerged a few moments later, his skin sparkling with diamond-like drops of lake-water. Most Dreamlanders didn’t swim, and the few who did were poor countrymen and women. Bikaia was the exception. And like most of the few people who swam, Bikaia swam only in his trousers. The first time Elise had stumbled upon him by accident. This was the second time she’d found him swimming.

It wasn’t an accident.

Had anyone asked, Elise would have insisted that she appropriately kept her eyes at the back of her king’s head and that she most definitely wasn’t taking in the shapes of his body and the scars he’d patiently and softly explained when Elise, having never seen a royal man’s bare torso—much less one with scars—had gasped. Her face had flushed with embarrassment, and she’d stumbled over her apologies. Her lord had been so gracious.

He told her about the small scar at the base of his spine, so small and faint that Elise hadn’t seen it even after Bikaia pointed it out. Elise wondered if the scar was even really there or just something that Bikaia felt and imagined was there. After being enslaved by the wizard Necrodeus, Bikaia had tried stabbing his captor, and after his attempt failed to incapacitate the wizard, Necrodeus had taken a dagger and sliced across the base of Bikaia’s spine. The dagger had been cursed or poisoned, leaving a wound that made Bikaia feverish and delirious for a week or more. Bikaia had sounded so ashamed of that scar, as if he were somehow to blame for his own imprisonment and torture. And his soft admission that he’d stopped fighting as hard after that because he’d feared being hurt had broken Elise’s heart.

And there was the small, clustering of scars near his collarbone, where Dark Matter Swordsman had shattered his clavicle, and Bikaia’s scream of pain had sent Galacta Knight, so calm and even-tempered, into a rage so terrible that the knight had nearly become Galacta Knight Soul. After the swordsman’s defeat, Galacta Knight had swept to Bikaia’s side and held him in her arms and petted his hair. Goddess, Bikaia’s heart ached so badly for Galacta Knight and the tender way she’d always treated him.

There was the small star-shaped branding over Bikaia’s right hip. It was a wound left by Zero, one that had taken so long to heal and one that might have never healed were it not for Galacta Knight’s knowledge of medicine. And after Zero was defeated, the Kingdom of Traumwald rose from the ashes of her ravaged tribes, and Bikaia became their first ally.

And there was a tiny scar on Bikaia’s shoulder, left by Zero-Two. It had been a cursed wound, and Bikaia might have bled out if a Patchlandic knight and a Traumwaldian sorceress hadn’t pulled him from the battlefield, sewn the wound closed, and cleansed it before returning Bikaia, exhausted and hungry and thirsty, once more to battle. In the end, Bikaia had emerged victorious as he always did, but his dreams were haunted for years thereafter.

And Bikaia’s abdominal muscles were still bruised and branded from his battles with Galacta Knight, with Landia, and then, with Dark Nebula. Noble Bikaia, who had fought so hard for Dreamland’s peace and would forever bear the marks of that. Most of Bikaia’s smiles seemed forced after that, and persistent, dark circles had taken up residence beneath his eyes. Although Elise hadn’t mentioned it, she remembered being imprisoned in her own mind, and she remembered Bikaia on his knees begging to take her place as Dark Nebula’s host. Elise remembered, too, all the other degrading things Dark Nebula had considered making Bikaia do, just to see how much he was willing to do to save an innocent person.

Unlike some, Elise didn’t think Bikaia’s suffering made him some tortured, romantic hero. She didn’t even think that Bikaia’s suffering had made him a better man or even a man in need of being healed. But Elise thought he was very brave to fight for Dreamland like he did, and she thought he must be lonely. And maybe, while she could never cure or fully understand her dear lord’s trauma, she could be someone who could listen.

When his sad, winter-blue eyes met hers, Elise wondered how it had taken her so long to realize just how handsome her lord was. “Elise!” Bikaia exclaimed, the name barely distinguishable with the force of his laughter.

He so seldom laughed anymore.

Elise sat, adjusting the skirts of her pale blue dress to reveal a tiny sliver of her calf over the top of her boots. “Didn’t I warn ya that some lovestruck maiden was gonna steal your clothes if you kept goin’ on these morning swims, Your Majesty?” she asked.

Bikaia pulled himself up and let his forearms rest on the grassy bank; the rest of him remained in the water. Elise may have given him a rather indecent look, even though she could see very little with him positioned like that. “You did, indeed, warn me,” Bikaia replied.

“D’you also recall you sayin’ that you’d prolly have to pay that maiden some favor to keep from losin’ all yer dignity and traipsin’ back to the castle in only your trousers?” Elise asked.

And Elise would definitely derive no enjoyment from watching that. None whatsoever.

Bikaia offered the merest hint of smile; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I may have also said that, yes,” he conceded.

“Y’did say it,” Elise assured him.

“Ah,” Bikaia said, his smile a little more genuine. “I suppose that means I’m at your mercy, then. Please, be gentle with me, Elise. I beg you show restraint with your request.”

“My papa’s been on me about this marriage business,” Elise said. “Y’know I’m gettin’ to that unsellable age, Your Majesty.”

Bikaia nodded thoughtfully, never casting any judgment. “You wish for me to arrange a match for you, then?” he asked. “Have you spoken to your father about this?”

“My father is very indulgent and enlightened, but I think he’s…well, he kinda doubts that the object of my affections is gonna return mine.”

Bikaia looked almost comically offended. “Really? I can scarcely imagine a man who wouldn’t love you,” he said.

Elise laughed. “We both know that ain’t true, Your Majesty.”

“You’re quite right. A cowardly man might be threatened by you,” Bikaia said, “But I doubt you’d ever be interested in such a foul creature.”

“Yer very kind, Your Majesty,” Elise said.

“Only because Galacta Knight taught me how to be,” Bikaia said. “She was the noblest woman I’ve ever met. And I would consider myself Goddess-blessed if even a fragment of her many virtues was present in me.”

“I think—no, I know—we can see more than a fragment of it,” Elise said.

Bikaia’s eyes seemed to brighten a bit. “Thank you. Who did you have in mind for your engagement?” he asked. “I’ll certainly arrange it if I can.”

Nova’s grace, had there ever been such a thoughtful, lovely man?

“Well, I wanna marry someone who’ll let me rule at their side. I ain’t willin’ to just sit back an’ do nothin’. And my papa’s been considering Prince Elden of Seventopia for me,” Elise said, “An’ I told ‘im I’ve got my eyes on a greater prize.”

Despite Bikaia’s enthusiasm for championing women, his fervor hadn’t quite influenced the monarchy of Seventopia, but Prince Eldin cared enough about his reputation and was politically savvy enough to be kind to a wife, especially if maltreatment risked drawing Bikaia’s ire. Marrying him was a good choice for Elise. He was about her age, handsome, and he could carry a conversation. He just wasn’t the man Elise really wanted.

“So you need another prince,” Bikaia mused.

“Yeah. Or maybe a king,” Elise replied.

“Ah, King Larvara,” Bikaia said, nodding. “I’ve always liked him. I suppose that would make strategic sense, although I was under the impression your sister Lilith was—”

“I ain’t interested in the king of Floralia, Your Majesty.”

Bikaia furrowed his brow, clearly trying to puzzle out which monarch Elise desired. It really shouldn’t have been so difficult of a task, as Bikaia and Larvara were the only unmarried kings in all the realms. “You may have to be more explicit, Elise. I’m not—”

“Dearest, there’s you.”

She’d never called him an endearment before, and without warning, Bikaia’s mouth was against hers. Bikaia quite clearly had no experience in kissing anyone, and he seemed determined to compensate with zeal. Elise buried her hands in his hair and then trailed her fingers over his shoulders. Elise could feel her balance becoming less sure, and she really hoped she didn’t fall off the bank and into the water with Bikaia. But even that worry wasn’t quite enough to make Elise pull away.

Eventually, Bikaia broke the kiss. His eyes were bright and his face flushed. “I haven’t even courted you yet,” he said.

A pleasant, breathless warmth spread through Elise. “I ain’t gonna be happy if we go back an’ you spend months smilin’ at me ‘cross rooms and chastely kissing my hand,” Elise said, “And I ain’t gonna be happy with you runnin’ off and goin’ on quests in my name. I want you to pledge yerself to me now, Bikaia.”

It was only the second time she’d ever addressed him by his name, and Bikaia blossomed as if caught in some profound spell cast by those three syllables. His face softened and glowed; color rose to his cheeks. “Nothing would make me happier,” Bikaia said. “I promise I’ll be a good, faithful husband, and I’ll treat you well. Very well. Magnificently well. Better than any husband has ever treated his wife!”

As if Elise would have ever believed otherwise.

#bikalise? elikaia? elisaia?#dreamland university redux #sera tries fanfic!#tumblr. please don't mess up my beautiful spacing #/long post

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

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A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning | 02

Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst, Stepbrother AU

Pairing: Stepbrother!Namjoon x English student!Reader

Warning: A jealous Namjoon, possessive behaviour, mild swearing

Summary: Love comes in many shapes, but does not always have a prosperous fate. However, whereas parents might have found it, all the children can do is live in kalopsia.

Forbidden yet denying the mourning of the path chosen for them by Fate.

Previous part / Masterlist / Next part

Emotions have an unconscious way of influencing the environment, making a person emit an aura that makes others aware of their presence. Even when not really consciously aware, it happens and sometimes it is comforting - like friends joining you in the morning for the lecture and complaining about the early hour despite it already being almost noon - yet at other times it is all but that.

And in this case, the latter certainly applies as the suppressed rage hardly goes unnoticed and makes every breath the lungs held in anticipation of perhaps escaping the wolf be pushed out in an instant of awed fear. A type of horror which is nullified by the charm which earlier enchanted the mind during the reading of the messages containing a hidden meaning of silent possession, making the heart skip a beat with neither distress nor love. Although, perchance, it is filled with affection because it is secretly relieved and grown perverse by the adoration shaped by daydreams that have grown corrupt since another particular sensual incident. Namely, the first time seeing Namjoon shirtless and not too quietly busying hands with lust-filled phantom play through the crack in the door after coming home earlier than expected since, apparently, there was no need for extra hands on the work floor.

A specification of the change lies perhaps in the detail which was not as heart-wrenching and cruelly teaching as it should have been. It added idiotic rosy fuel to the despicable fires the fool within keeps igniting regardless of Sense trying to bind them down and take the blindfold of Chance off so that the damage which has been done and is about to be expanded could be seen.

A name.

Tethering with the giant on the edge and the culprit of the fall.

Mine.

Breath ceased entirely at that moment, the spine quickly pressed against the wall of the corridor so as to evade any accidental eye contact that would ruin everything with the betrayal of presence. Nevertheless, the speed of the swift retreat was not high enough and gazes did lock, but one turned away in horror and fled up the rickety cedar stairs.

Ran away from the half-dazed wolf who likely would have wanted to explain himself had the silly girl not known without needing evidence it was a mere slip of the tongue, devoid of meaning.

Only caused by the accidental notice of something private.

Nothing.

I still mean nothing.

The power of the amount of helplessness felt by both parties during that calamity mixed with the potion of guilt and self-loathing for still entertaining the thoughts thereafter of being taken against that same futilely protecting wall by him, comes close yet not entirely to the menace as Joon approaches and forcefully grabs the wrist hanging unresisting by the side. The attached body is pulled flush against the dark trench coat like a ragdoll, beckoned back to the realm of secure sharp cologne, while espresso eyes stare Changkyun down, likely calculating how to end the lad.

Withal, that shall not happen before anything is said about this new addition to the rapidly growing list of strange behaviours as Wit awakens and kills the lucid imaginations. This is seriously wrong and needs to be solved, so Judgement cannot be made blind by Fancy. ‘Joon, what the hell are you doing?’

‘I told you we’d be going out for lunch.’ As to emphasize who is meant by the plural personal pronoun, the hand that had folded perfectly over the wrist now does the same at the hip in a closer hold. Briefly, an odd spark within remarks upon the snug fit, the harmony of complementary shapes, edging Sense in the sinful direction once more for a mere split second before it turns around again. ‘I’m here to pick you up.’

None of the surrounding speechless amiable lifelines dares to speak up, all of them engrossed in the wordless war currently being waged by a poet gone haywire and a boy who, judging from the admittance of wrong interpretation given in the short glance from the apparent adversary to the hapless koala at the side of the battlefield, finds the situation curious but also begins to show a new sort of concern floating up from deep within.

Especially at seeing the I-told-you-he-is-weird look that manages to break through the spell of the physical contact, undaunted by the sharp punishing sideways scowl emphasizing the action has not gone by unnoticed.

‘Dude, calm down. I think Y/N is more than capable of making a choice of her own. Besides, she already has an appointment for a cup of coffee.’ Either Changkyun is braver than Sir Gawain in the fight against The Green Knight or more foolish than all the rich men that tried to capture Portia’s heart in Belmont in vain. Whatever the case, the words are clearly taken with offence. ‘After that, she is free to do as she pleases.’

‘And who are you to speak for her?’ The response does almost not sound human. Rather, it is more animalistic, the syllables growled instead of properly articulated. As by instinct, the hand holding a tight grip on the hip easily moves the small figure it holds further behind a broad back.

And it lets him because Red Riding Hood was also foolish enough to trust the Big Bad Wolf.

Nonetheless, this is not stupid because Namjoon is a safe haven.

A natural place to hide.

Trustworthy.

Known.

Protecting.

No, I cannot get lost in him. Not now nor ever. There is no forever. Not for us.

Another taunting threatening utterance does not need to be said to obviously mark it as the moment to intervene in the absurd cockfighting. After all, both parties were presumed to know better than fall into the kind of battles which should have been left behind in high school.

A barely noticeable though harsh tug at the sleeve beckons a reluctant listening ear. ‘Joon, you know who he is. I’ve told you about him many times. We’re just friends.’

Speech becomes increasingly and noticeably harder, gritted teeth diluting the following mocking phrase. ‘Just friends, huh? Then why does he look so hurt when you say that?’

‘I’m not! Look, man, you’re seeing things.’ Now the sonorous voice of the guy who dreams of becoming a rapper someday has gained the same double-edged sinister detail as Namjoon’s, also clearly ready to jump the gun if it is necessary.

‘Oh, so I’m delusional?’ In the time it takes to snap fingers, the guarding palm on the hip has fallen away and moulded into a fist like its trembling counterpart. ‘I’ll make you see things.’

‘Don’t.’ A swift hand on a smooth caramel cheek shifts the grey-haired man’s attention to the touch, fortunately evidently appreciating the soft caresses. Digits see the opportunity to entwine with the temporarily loosened would-be soldiers, thus taking away the chance for Instinct to really throw the mind into blazing red-visioned anger and a worthless scuffle. Drag the attached tall body away with whatever strength has been gained with hours in the gym if the situation gets out of hand, difficult as it could be. Perhaps the lasses will release bated breaths and find the courage to escape the tensity suppressing all sources of preventing help. ‘Don’t, Joon. You know better than this.’

With the wolf distracted by the gentle touches normally meant for lovers, the chance of addressing the oddly opposing party as well is taken. ‘Both of you. By Jaysus, you are grown men. Act like it. Changkyun, I really appreciate you standing up for me, but I’ll take it from here.’

‘Y/N, are you-’

‘I am, Kkung.’ Turning away from a comrade hands the self back over into careful surrender to the menacing poet who is no longer entranced by the soft to and fro movements on the freshly shaven suntanned skin. ‘Come on, let’s go, Namjoon. Lads, see you-‘

The farewell cannot be fully worded due to being pulled along to the exit, forced into endeavouring to keep up with the fast pace long strides put between the people who make academic life not all that bad and the promised place that will also function as a spot for a good talk about these outrageous circumstances.

The fresh breeze feels like a delight after the dusty smell of the long cold clinical corridors and warm tiny hallways crowded with students waiting for a lecture on the subject of years of study, immediately refreshing every jumbled oppressed thought before remembering being anchored to an ever-sailing ship which shows no signs of slowing down. Henceforth, feet stumble over the uneven reddish plum mixing with mustard yellow cobblestones, both colours occurring at irregular intervals, of the papal dyke and past the precariously situated aquamarine statue of the sole pope the Lower Countries has ever produced, towards the plaza where a divided church stands till this very day.

When almost tripping over the bronze outline of the Roman castle wall that stood there two-thousand years ago, the historic remnants forever resting beneath the surface in peace, a short yet powerful tug catches the captain’s attention. ‘Namjoon, hold on a minute, will ye?’

With one hand, since the other is caught in a grip that does not allow any sort of movement, the winter jacket lined with earth-toned wolf fur gone astray over the linen blouse and autumnal brown tartan treggings - messing up the outfit underneath so that it also has to be corrected - is made proper again. The leather bag relieved from its duty as a retail worker’s pack mule is slung over the shoulder instead of letting it sling from the crook of the elbow before eyes brave the animalistic snarl of the contemporary Ares. ‘What the hell was that about? Did you have to make a scene in front of my friends like that?’

‘Maybe you didn’t see it, but that “friend”,’ the word is spat out with as much venom as has crept into the voice of a koala turned into a mirror of the wolf suddenly treating her as a prey solely preserved from him, ‘clearly saw this as a step to something more valuable. Before he couldn’t ask you out because you always head straight home or have lunch with me, but now there was a very opportune occasion to ask you out. All you had to do was forget your wallet.’

Though strange sensations removed from the rage blazing like a storm inside at the humiliating display are provoked, the original anger cannot be entirely suppressed when continuing the verbal battle for the reasoning is absurd. After all, Changkyun is merely a pal asking another who is having an all but grand day out for a comforting beverage and to have a brief repose together. ‘It was only a fucking single cup of coffee! He and I are nothing more than friends and Kkung knows that. You know that!’

The laugh preluding a jeering response is mirthless, devoid of actual amusement and in its place filled with pure mocking. ‘Look at you, calling that dude by his nickname.’

‘It’s true, you bastard.’ A neatly shaped eyebrow raises sarcastically, unconvinced of the outburst at taking the credit of the truth for granted. ‘And that’s normal, Joon, calling people by their nickname. In fact, you and I do it all the time. I honestly see no other problem than you at the moment.’

‘How can you not see it? He’s not the man for you, ba- bear.’ The nickname that was given after the first night of laying side by side after being rescued from nightmares, clinging onto the strong arm wrapped around the waist while the other was draped around the shoulder with its fingers entangled in smooth ash blonde locks thus forming an apparent likeness with a koala, oddly forms a second option. Thoughts run wild with ruminations of the original pet name feeding the foreign emotions floating beneath the unforgiving menace of being made a fool of, momentarily calming the urging need to futilely wrap small palms around a golden throat to gladly strangle the life energies out of it.

Withal, surely the assumptions as to the hastily stopped intent are ungrounded for they are all inappropriate for calling a family member.

However, if the addressed person is alright with the chosen term of endearment and there is no technical blood-based relationship between the individual and the speaker, it should not be problematic.

A wishful empty hope.

A doomed daydream.

The silly fantasy of a stupid girl.

That is what it is, the Truth plain and simple: we are bound by a bloodless bond which is mercilessly deprived of a love that is craved so much in his presence.

As if the chance for the latter to be directed towards me has ever been present.

To not show the inner conflict deteriorating the mind and too stubborn to show surrender as of yet, the argument continues with as steady a voice as can be mustered. ‘Oh, he isn’t the right man? And who would be, eh?’

The painfully tight grip on the hand loosens and falls away entirely, rendering the tongue silent in wonder as hands remove the trench coat and the obsidian turtleneck underneath to reveal a bright crimson shirt of which the two top buttons are made undone to expose marvellously carved collarbones. A complete loss for words occurs when the piece of clothing is patiently handed out for the taking with the softened expression of the bear within that always occurs when being worried about something, a slight shake indicating to do so.

It would be taken directly without hesitation was it not for the inquiry about the sudden change of topic, also slightly indicating there is no need for an additional layer of clothes despite the joy always found in the comfort scented by the poet. ‘Why are you handing me your sweater? Put it back on or you’ll get a cold.’

‘I could say the same for you. Just put it on, that blouse won’t keep you warm.’ Teeth bite down on a plush roseate lower lip when noticing the top of the crisp white lace bralet peeking out from the bare opening similar to the fashion of the ruby shirt containing a chest rising and falling a bit faster with laboured breath.

The classy though suggestive piece miraculously found its way to the sheets of the bed after an afternoon of wandering the city together, during which eyes fell on the piece of lingerie but quickly averted to not make the grey-haired giant whose hand was first held then, small hand wrapped around the pinky, uncomfortable.

A day later, ensuing the return from a tiring linguistics lecture at the university and preparing to go to the gym, a paper bag containing the underwear sat neatly at the end of the bed without any message that could indicate where, or rather from whom it came. Not a second thought had to be conjured to know the story behind what was left clueless since it was not the first time it happened. The sole difference with previous instances is that it did not concern a book, shirt, dress or small note containing a song and its artist.

More than a second thought, however, needed to be conjured to dispel all the crazy fantasies following in the gift’s wake, especially due to the bond with the gorgeous Fox in the East.

Just a present.

Nothing but a kindness.

Simply one of many shown before.

Devoid of sensual intent.

Except for in the phantom play that followed under the twilight of a starless heaven in which the silver moon shone bright, conducted in as silent a fashion as was possible.

‘You’re wearing it.’ The tone suggests that the unconscious desire of being seen even has guided the sense of style for the day for only now does the impact of the choice become apparent to the accidental planner.

‘Do you- Do you like it?’ Although asked in a timid manner, the images flashing by of the sensual wanton morning accident are depleted of any sort of innocence. Instead, they empower the suspicion theorizing that if the choice of underwear had been discovered earlier on, all protest would have been disregarded and the secret longing been fulfilled regardless of the consequences.

If the unbroken gaze and low dangerous growl are anything to go by alongside trembling digits creeping toward the part of the body which was unintentionally explored before breakfast, Namjoon does approve of the most inner outfit. Withal, the dangerous glint also proposes a slight disapproval since it is obviously seen as a means of temptation for other men as well. Another cause to resume the argument, so it would appear. ‘Put the sweater on before the wrong guy sees you. What were you even thinking, going out dressed so minimally?’

‘Minimally? I’m not dressed like a prostitute, but more like the miss Fancy Pants you know I tend to be. Besides, so what if a man sees me? I’m single. Furthermore, what if he happens to be cute, eh? Would certainly shut Da up, constantly pushing me to get a boyfriend.’ Moreover, Heungji still forms the girlfriend of three years connected via digital lifelines despite Korea being miles away across the globe.

None of this should matter to either of us.

But it does.

Oh, how it does to a wolf and a hapless doe.

A more wrong response could not have been given, gritted teeth no longer proposing the offered dark turtleneck but demanding for it to be worn without offering an opportunity for refusal. ‘Put. It. On.’

‘Alright. By Jaysus.’ Secretly delighted at wearing one of the comforting pieces scented by peppery cologne and espresso, formerly with a hint of smoke, agitatedly the sweater is accepted after shedding the beige winter jacket which does a splendid job on its own of holding out the cold of the fairly harsh breeze. ‘Here, hold my coat.’

While fumbling to find the way in the oversized jumper, a pair of big trusted hands roam down the sides of the body briefly, exploring its details and committing them to memory while an indecipherable murmur outside the fabric sounds renouncing of something said earlier.

For a moment, there is an invisible delight in the forbidden touch, revelling in the entertainment of feeling it in other places and be mapped out entirely. Unfortunately, the action is cut short by a curt strong pull which reintroduces the gothic backside of the separated cathedral and entrance to the tranquil ancient gardens of the adjacent monastery lit by the bright winter sun shining in a rare fortunate clear sky. Slender long caramel fingers correct the ashen locks gone astray, running smoothly through them as they are lovingly pushed back in an attempt to reconstruct the style before the transformation into a further dishevelled heap instead of the fairly charming bedhead they were styled in.

An admiring thumb strays via the cheek to the mouth, running over a pomegranate bottom lip and abruptly coming to a breathless halt when it is instinctively enveloped. Carefully it tests the waters, seeking out the limits of the power that can be exerted, by sliding further in and pushing down the tongue a bit. Surprise colours attitude completely when it is allowed, though the flash of a satisfied smile tells of the emotions surfacing thanks to the rather controlling sensuous action.

It is wrong.

We both know that.

Nevertheless, neither makes a move to end this.

None of us wants to stop.

Whereas the induced trance does not permit speech in the case of the girl fallen into a spur of the moment which may come at a dear price - merely the clenching of thighs due to a lucid daydream - Joon breaks somehow manages to break the silent spell with a voice that has gained a new baritone timbre previously only accidentally heard in privacy behind the bedroom door. ‘You’re being such a little brat, aren’t you? Going against me, dressing in a way you know will make me jealous when others look and turn me on, trying to go for coffee with that “friend” of yours. It makes me want to-’

A silent reflecting second passes wherein mildness overtakes a sliver of mighty posture, nullifies it enough to alter the spoken words from their original version. ‘Why, Y/N? Why are you doing this to me?’

The cushiony meeting with only a fracture of skin shamefully ends, but the one between gazes continues, obedience unable to look away from the power finally directed at it. Awed yet scared of the implications of the inquiry, the boundaries are stretched a bit further beyond the unfathomable point they already are in the hopes of hearing what should actually be said to another girl far away from here. Direct whatever serves as a correcting of behaviour at her. ‘What are you saying?’

The intent is never stated, but considering the paradox of emotions storming in the grave though still undeniably jealous stare, it holds the middle between pain and mildness.

‘Stop playing games. You know what I mean. I don’t want to see you with anyone but-’ The rushed bitter comment is abruptly cut off, the speaker strangely appearing to stop himself in time lest something would have been said that should remain unknown. In its stead, a meagre replacement of the original intent forms a response lacking in conviction, still obviously retaining secrets. ‘Any man who sees you like this, the outfit underneath, I mean, they- none of them are- they’re just not good enough, Y/N. Lead by lust. Changkyun might not directly show it, but I’m quite sure he’s as well. You need someone who can provide for you, be there for you regardless of the circumstances, want you as you are.’

‘How would you know, Joon? You can tell me this, but be completely wrong. Furthermore, I know Kkung well enough to know lust has never nor will ever form part of his motives. What’s more, it’s my opinion which matters in deeming a person’s intentions and value to me. You don’t get to decide that because you don’t know. I choose my perfect man, not you.’ The former irritation is ignited and fueled anew, momentarily effectively suppressing the aftermath of the newly made memory that will undoubtedly form a source for fantasy in private loneliness, when the grey wolf turns around and heads further toward the plaza of the broken church and leaves the negative words in his wake. ‘Hey! We’re not done talking!’

For a little while there is no reaction, merely speed-walking flowing over in running to catch up, until the mute solemn poet is stopped by a stubbornly defying palm on the chest in the middle of the square, right where once the ship of the cathedral stood before a tornado blew it to smithereens. ‘I said we weren’t done. What is up with you? First what happened-’ A deep beaten breath accompanies the retreat of the hand under a flustered gaze, one betraying many things are left unspoken yet unable to be said for an unknown reason and another taken by awkward astonishment due to the rash action. Feeling a slight quickening in breathing at the touch.

The softening effect of the dusting of crimson painting the cheeks flows over in speech, knowing that more yelling will get the conversation nowhere if not circling around itself, continuously ending or beginning at the same point. Within the scattered fragments of weakened posture are gathered to revive the blazing phoenix, ready to gain answers from the one who turns her into ashes again and again. ‘First this morning and now this. You’re acting weird for some reason I don’t know about.’

‘You really don’t see it, do you?’ Hands clench into trembling fists, an outburst on the brim of full rosy lips stupidly longing to fight its way to the surface but oppressed into a snarling reply.

You can’t love me.

‘See what? All I can see right now is a person who is dear to me floating off to God-knows-where without telling me why, acting all agitated as their own judge when I merely reach out. Pray, tell, what’s up?’

You never will.

‘I simply don’t want you to be disappointed, but find a man who is right for you.’ The tone of regret makes a sudden appearance, nullifying the entire argument that is meant to put an end to the rekindled subject. Somehow bringing a stranger into two entwined lives would be a shameful unexplained happening.

However, the mind has taken on too much of a careless attitude to pick up on the significance it might hold for it tells more of all that is not said. Instead, eyes roll towards the sky, lips forming into a sarcastic mirthless smile. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. I can hardly believe this is why you’re acting so strangely. Yes, you had a difficult night but that does not excuse you from the matter because it forms no motive for what you did. Just talk to me, goddammit.’

Whatever occurred between the wolfish bear and the enchanting fox, the worthless koala is far removed from the private issues of the people depending on digital highways to remain in contact in order to keep the love alive.

But why do you sound contrite? I hate to see you so closed off, so removed from me. Namjoon, please. I know you hate fighting as much as me.

‘I am! And I already told you I’m sorry for what I did during breakfast. How many times do I need to repeat it before you believe it?’ Again, something is left unsaid as an indescribable tone leaning towards remorse finishes the half-yelled reaction. Fists stop trembling, fingers unfurling one by one and reaching out for the cheek of an uncomprehending girl turned into a mirror of his wolf within, shaking. But mid-air they fall away in fruitless resignation. ‘Please, believe me, bear.’

What aren’t you telling me?

‘Oh, you’re talking to me? Sorry for not noticing because it seems we’re continuously going back to a topic that explains nothing. However, since you appear to be so adamant about it, tell me who would be right.’ Regardless of the thought, the stubborn student within longs for a concrete answer to the question which has thus far only a precarious thesis as its reply without evidence to back it up.

There is no trace of the temporary warmth anymore in the gaze pinning down the opposing party, ready to spout out whatever has been wanting to be said and can no longer be contained. ‘You really want to know? Are finally going to listen for once?’

‘By all means, enlighten me. Who would be worthy?’

Ears go deaf after the utterance of a single word, Time standing still due to doubt about whether it is better to move forward, go back or remain a bit longer in curious revelling as Reality shrinks till it is confined to two people.

‘Me!’

#BTS #btssmutclub #btsguild #armyofwriters #kpopwonderlandtag #BTS smut #BTS x Reader #Namjoon #RM #Kim Namjoon #Joon #Stepbrother!Namjoon #A Valediction: Forbidden Mourning

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furederiko · 4 years

Video

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"Shin Sakura Taisen Rekidai Kayoushuu" Review (Part 2)

SEGA boldly (or is it a risky move?) introduces new Kagekidans that represent new cities with this game. Not one or two, but just THREE for now, with a fourth one debuting later in the Spring TV series. Track 4 to 6 of the album are specifically slotted for these new heroines...

Contrary to reports in various sites that had reported them as such, in my opinion, these are definitely NOT character image songs. Kouhei Tanaka-sensei has openly referenced them as "[City Name] GEKITEI". So these sit in line with Paris Kagekidan's "Mihata no Moto ni" and New York Kagekidan's "Chijou no Senshi". Whatever happens to those teams, by the way? Hmmm...

One might argue that unlike "Shin GEKITEI", only one member sings these songs. But they seem to forget one thing: Sakura Shinguuji sang solo on the first vanilla version of that song. I don't know what the future holds, but there's a possibility that in the sequel(s), we might get another take of these songs that incorporate other members of their teams. For two of them, at least. We'll just have to wait and see. For now, let's embark on a globetrotting journey!

Niji no Kanata (Other Side of the Rainbow) by. Huang Yui (Sumire Uesaka)

As soon as I heard the full version, I wasn't completely sure how I felt about it. Surprisingly, I think I enjoyed the short MV version better. When SEGA started releasing one MV after another, starting from Berlin to this one, "Shanghai GEKITEI" totally stole my attention. I proudly declared it as my favorite of the three. Perhaps because the verses felt more concise (with less instrumental parts) that made it sound more... kickass? Even though it had a somewhat odd lyric, which you will understand why. This full-length version somehow exuded a different vibe. The verses were longer, which was the bit that I'm not too fond of. On the other hand, the lyrics flowed better and made more sense. And then there's an issue with Yui's voice. She had a playful and childlike tone in "Aratanaru". Assuming that's her who got the shortest line in the interlude, of course. I prefer the more gallant take that she used here, but the inconsistency threw me off. Suffice to say, I had to hear it a few times to finally get the hang of it. But goodness gracious, the Chinese vibe, which was even stronger (that should be obvious, I know! Ahaha), never failed to win me over. Just like the verses, the instrumental portions were also longer, thus giving it a slower and elegant pace. That serenading sound of Erhu just hit my soft spot every single time, likely resonating with some part of my genes. Combined that with a blast of modern instruments, and it blew me away. I sure want to see a live orchestra perform this with a Chinese theatre dance to accompany it! Its lyrics, courtesy of Ouji Hiroi, carried a similar message of Teito, Paris, and New York themes. Protect the city, its people, and seize the dream. Why does the title use 'Rainbow', though? Especially considering 7, while being a good number for a relationship, is considered as unlucky in Mandarin (ghost month). The key is in the kanji for 'Rainbow', because it is also known as 'Hong' or 'Jiang', the name of a two-headed dragon in Chinese mythology. And what does the symbol of Shanghai Kagekidan look like? Yep, a DRAGON! So while in Japanese it literally translates as "Other Side of the Rainbow", the context also points to it being "Other Side of the Dragon". Even though it might take me a while to get used to this, and it's no longer my number one, it's an amazing piece nonetheless. I'm old, so I'm not familiar with Sumire Uesaka's pop songs. But so far, I haven't heard her sang a song like this. As Kouhei-sensei had stated, these new "GEKITEI" were composed to challenge the VAs vocal prowess. That seems to be the case here, to which Uesaka did a great job! PS: Wikipedia told me that Uesaka is a fan of Russia. I wonder how she would feel if she was cast as a leader of the Moscow Kagekidan instead?

Entaku no Kishi (Knights of the Round Table) by. Lancelot (Manami Numakura)

Just like the previous song, I had a completely opposite reaction to this as well. It honestly took a while for me to like or even understand the London Kagekidan theme when its official MV first came out. This full anthem also sounds different but in a far more positive light! How so? The second Westminster Bells kicked off, my mouth grinned so wide. Then the music slowly developed into that familiar tone, but continued to build up even more with meticulous touches and flares of fanfare, horns, trumpets, and an electrifying mix of the electric guitar. And suddenly I was transported into the medieval era, with images of brave knights flashing on my mind, en route for a battle to protect the land. Daaaang... Kouhei-sensei totally knows how to make something sound so graceful, yet gallant and rich, huh?! A sensation that young'uns nowadays would easily call 'EPIC'. My lingering issue with this song remains as-is: Manami Numakura's voice. Don't get me wrong, she is a wonderful VA with a unique vocal tone (Kohaku in "Dr. STONE", right?). I'm just not a fan of her singing voice, never was since her Idolmaster days. Even when it's my least favorite part of the song, that tomboy-ish charm blends perfectly with the song and gives it a distinct sound. The end result is something that continues to delight me and puts a smile on my face. Oh, what about the title, you ask? I think it's obvious enough. London Kagekidan is clearly based on the tales of King Arthur. Arthur is (likely, the code-name of) its blond-haired, high priest-dressed Captain, while our female lead here is the loyal Lancelot. It intrigued me when the lyrics, by Shouko Fujibayashi, mentioned 12 knights just like its lore. Does the team really have that many members? Assuming it will feature in the sequel, that would be fun to see. Then again, Idolmaster started out with 10(+1) idols, so I'm sure Lancelot would fit along just fine! Hahahaha... PS: Do you think that echoing bell at the intro and interlude sound convincing? Well, Kouhei-sensei said they actually recorded it at the actual location! Another good reason to appreciate this song.

Kurogane no Hoshi (Iron Star) by. Elise (Nana Mizuki)

*standing ovation* This. This IS a SCARY song! And by scary, I mean what a challenge it IS to pull off. Imagine trying to do at least an okay job at this in a karaoke booth? Godspeed. Nuh-uh, I don't think this song will work without Nana Mizuki's powerful vocals. Not just because I'm a fan of her, or have always wanted her to be part of this franchise. But I love Elise because she adds that much-needed heavier tone to the cast. Her brief but scene-stealing lines in "Aratanaru" proved that notion. You could easily recognize her voice amidst the chorus. If you think the short MV version (the actual first 1:20 minutes) that you see above already sounds amazing, just wait till you hear the middle part of this song. It slowed down, with various strings gently swayed you to enter another realm. Then it went FULL OPERA, with a piercing vocal work that would send nothing but genuine shivers to your soul! Goosebumps. All the time. The music had clear influences of Wagner's compositions, and those who are at least aware of classical music (or have seen "ClassicaLoid Season 2" Hahaha) would probably notice that almost immediately. Song of Valkyrie, anyone? Because of that, Kouhei-sensei personally did the arrangement for this number, seeing that it required a full-blown orchestra ensemble. Sensei showed the first part of the music sheets during one of the Teigeki Report, and I had a feeling it must've blown away everyone who saw it. I mean, Seijuurou Kamiyama's VA Youhei Azakami was literally jaw-dropped. He also revealed that Nana went above and beyond on that last high note, hitting it longer than she was supposed to, in time for the grand orchestra finish. Seriously, goosebumps. It is certainly one of the highlights of the album, and you DEFINITELY need to listen to this. Also, this is the only Kagekidan theme that I'm not sure can work as a group song. It IS still a Berlin Kagekidan song, proclaiming the might and power of the team that started it all. But can it be performed by a team of Hoshigumi? Dealing with that complicated lyrics by Shouko Fujibayashi ("...Schwarzer Stern, kurogane no hoshi..."), and fast-paced tempo will undoubtedly leave them breathless. Now I'm patiently counting the days to see Nana perform this in a live concert! Mindblown... PS: By the way, original Hanagumi's "Dream/Yume no 1 Pound" and Kanadegumi's "Enbukyoku, Kimi ni" came to mind when I tried to analyze this song. Presumably due to that middle part, which is true to Kouhei-sensei's style. You'll be hearing that magic touch of him again in some of the next tracks.

Next: the curtain rises for the Shin Hanagumi ladies!

Video is available on SEGA Official Youtube Channel. "Shin Sakura Taisen" is produced by SEGA, and RED Entertainment. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.

#music #review #sakura wars #Sakura Taisen #Shin Sakura Wars #shin sakura taisen #project sakura wars #awesome #mind blown

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randomnessunicorn-imagine · 5 years

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It's so great that you now write for GOT. :D May I request a Danaerys x female warrior reader? The reader being a sellsword who serves under Danerys and falls in love with her but doubts she could ever feel the same?

{ Oh, lol-!

My first GOT ask, Ihope it’s decent enough, it’s my first time so be clement.

Don’t Dracarys me! }

🐉 DAENERYS TARGARYEN 🐉

Now get in line withthe others. Because the mother of dragons has so many suitors. Yes, the line isvery long and you have to be determinate, patient and wise enough to get herattention. It’s not really an easy task.

The beautiful andmajestic queen of dragons has always fascinated you; she is even more beautifulthan you thought. Since you were a little child, you dreamt to know her, tomeet and to fight for her. Even if you were a girl, you were very good with thesword and you trained a lot to become the brave and strong warrior you are now.

You came from an unknownand humble family of smiths and so you were able to build swords and otherweapons, you just decided following your father footsteps, he never had a son,your mother died too young to give him another child, and so you did your bestto become a great metal worker.

Everything changedafter your sister and father’s death because some soldiers attacked your houseduring one of the several wars of the kingdom and then you found yourselfwithout anyone and anything. You were completely alone, desperate and confused.You just spent your days wandering through dark lands searching for somethingyou didn’t even know until you heard the news of the Queen of Dragons’ deeds,she had conquered the great city-states of Slaver’s Bay called Meereen. Then youunderstood your destiny, your true desire and destination.

You wanted to servethe true queen, the person you esteemed the most and you took as role modeleven if Daenerys ignored your existence and maybe she would have never welcomedyou in her realm, you were just a little and useless peasant compared to her statelinessand glory. You were only a stranger, an anonymous face, a fighter like any otherfor her. But you decided to go to Meereen anyway and try your luck.

Your journey forMeerenn has been long, hard and tiring but you didn’t give up and you reachedyour destination and you truly made a long line before having an audience withthe Queen because so many ex slaves and masters wanted to talk with her but youwere patient, determinate and wise and so you waited. You would have waited fordays.

Finally, your craveddesire has been satisfied because you were in front of the Queen of Dragons andyou thought you were dreaming but you were awake and incredulous.

Daenerys’ hair waseven more silver than silver itself, her colours shining like mother-of-pearl.You doubted she was human because her beauty was inhuman, something not eventhe most skilled poet would be able to describe in his beautiful verses becauseperfection could not be explained or described but only admired and adored. Thatwhat you did. These were your honest and pure thoughts. You just adored her andyou forgot about the entire world until she spoke, asking why you were here inthe first place.

She said that youwere in the presence of Daenerys- before she could say all her names,you just said that you already knew and you told all her names for her. Notimpressive. Everyone already knew it so don’t make the mother of dragons losing herprecious time.

You took all the courageyou could find and you started introducing yourself. You told about yourfamily, you lost every one of them because of the war, you owned nothing nowand you had no place to go. You said you are a warrior and then Daenerys askedyou why you are telling her all these things since she is not your psychologistand so maybe you are confused but you are not and then you confess your true desire.

You want to be hersword, shield and loyal warrior because it’s the only sense you can find inyour life, now that you have nothing at all, you are sure you can still beuseful and serve her cause.

Daenerys has to trustthe people she employs since she has enemies all over the world and you couldbe one of them. She does not even know you, how can she be sure about your trueintentions. What if you are a traitor sent by the Lannister. What if you wantto kill her.

These are reasonablesuspects and you know she’s got the right to mistrust you but you don’t giveup.

You say that you arealso a great smith, so you can build her weapons, swords, arrowheads and everykind of weapon she desires. Soldiers are anything without their weapons.

Daenerys listens everythingshe needs to listen and then she says your speech is over and she would thinkabout your proposal but your hope is low and feeble.

You have to find away to gain her respect and trust and so you decide to take the heads of thepeople who were conspiring against her and then Daenerys could not have anydoubt about your words and accept you as her knight.

You bring to her theheads of some masters, her enemies, who wanted to kill the queen or overthrow her,Daenerys is very impressed, and if she’s not still sure, you can bring to herother heads, the ones she desires.

Finally, the motherof dragons accepts you. She understands you can be a good ally but it will taketime before she can be your lover. Maybe you are asking a little too much. Youknow, Daenerys is very stubborn, lunatic and complicated, and so winning herheart is not easy.

Well, another rivalfor the poor Jorah, poor man (this line was necessary).

#ask #anonymous #game of thrones #got imagine #got headcanons #got scenarios #got #got daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen #got daenerys #got x reader #daenerys x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones scenarios #game of thrones headcanons #got reader insert

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anneimaginesundertale · 4 years

Text

Fairy Tale AU (Part 1)

Here are the first eight of the fairy tale lads. I’m still looking for ideas for the Mobtale boys. (I liked Snow’s suggestion that Aster is a prince.) For now, I’ve fleshed out these eight a bit.

Shoutout to @keziha-chan , who had the original idea for a fairy tale rp and who inspired a lot of this! You’re fantastic! Thank you!

Sans

Papyrus

Blue

Stretch

Red

Boss

Black

Mutt - reluctant hero

He went into exile with his brother but he hates the thought of fighting, even for a good cause. All he wants is a quiet life. His brother can have all the heroics and the glory. Mutt...Mutt is just tired.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Feel free to ask questions about these guys. I will try to get more of the lads done tonight. (Valentine asks are still a thing. I’m going to work on some right now.)

#fairy tale au

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iwriterpstarters · 5 years

Text

300 sentence starters

part 4

“There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs.”

“The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him.”

“So tell me, why is that ugly harpy not sitting beside the godsway among the other stolen gods?”

“You have a dragon’s eye, that’s plain to see.”

“I wanted an answer, not a compliment.”

“It’s cheaper than fighting, and a deal more certain.”

“But you just said you hated them.”

“Why can’t it be both?”

“Because they’re different. Like night and day, or ice and fire.”

“If ice can burn, then love and hate can mate.”

“Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.”

“The wolves will come again.”

“And how would you be knowing, boy?”

“Some nights I dream of me mother that I buried nine years past, but when I wake, she’s not come back to us.”

“There are dreams and dreams, my lord.”

“She never hurt no one. She just told stories.”

“He wouldn’t hurt someone like that. Would he?”

“Some people hurt others just because they can.”

“Remember her stories. Remember the way she told them, the sound of her voice. So long as you do that, part of her will always be alive in you.”

“I haven’t. And if I have it doesn’t matter.”

“Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she’d told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story.”

“Old stories are like old friends. You have to visit them from time to time.”

“He likes the stories where the knights fight monsters.”

“Sometimes the knights are the monsters.”

“I will not linger long. I will die soon, here in the dark.”

“No. But I am the king’s man, and I will make no peace without his leave.”

“We look up at the same stars, and see such different things.”

“I never meant to steal you.”

“I never knew you were a girl until my knife was at your throat.”

“If you kill a man, and never meant’, he’s just as dead.”

“Is she still my sister? Was she ever?”

“Do you have names for them as well?”

“On the morrow we go over. There’s no steps here, no cage-and-crane, no way for me to get you to the other side. We have to part.”

“We have to part. Do you understand?”

“You cannot come with me.”

“Can you find it? The way home?”

“Just follow the ice, east and east, into the sun, and you’ll find it.”

“I will meet you again at home, but you have to get there by yourself. We must each hunt alone for a time.”

“A part. I am playing a part.”

“I had to do it once, to prove I’d abandoned my vow.”

“I had to make her trust me.”

“It need never happen again.”

“If this is so wrong why did the gods make it feel so good?”

“This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.”

“They all sleep. Even dragons must sleep.”

“Who’s there? What do you want of me?”

“Remember. To go north, you must journey south.”

“To reach the west, you must go east.”

“To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

“IT IS DONE! YOU ARE MINE!”

“You are the dragon’s now! You’re bought and paid for! It is done! It is done!”

“Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see.”

“You are very beautiful, my lady.”

“I am, aren’t I? Oh, I am.”

“He will love me, he will, he must... He will forget Winterfell when he sees me, I’ll see that he does.”

“You’re prettier with your mouth closed, ___.”

“Come along now, the septon is waiting. And the wedding guests as well.”

“My claim. Dontos the Fool was not so foolish after all; he had seen the truth of it.”

“I understand your reluctance. Cry if you must. In your place, I would likely rip my hair out.”

“He’s a loathsome little imp, no doubt of it, but marry him you shall.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?”

“He is not so bad as the rest of them.”

“I knew you would.”

“I’m your father today.”

“You’re not! You’ll never be.”

“I am. I’m your father, and I can marry you to whoever I like.”

“Tyrell or Lannister, it makes no matter, it’s not me they want, only my claim.”

“You are kind, my lord. I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands.”

“Let her sob. Perhaps I shall do the same before this day is done.”

“Thankfully no one seemed to notice that I was crying as I stood there, wrapped in my father’s colors; or if they did, they pretended not to.”

“I won’t. Why should I spare his feelings, when no one cares about mine?”

“And so it was that my lord husband cloaked me in his colors whilst standing on the back of a fool.”

“How can a monster dance so beautifully?”

“Not even my husband is smiling.”

“She charms them all. How I hate her.”

“My lady wife is most concerned for you.”

“Lady Leonette is too sweet. Tell her I am well.”

“A bride at her wedding should be more than well.”

“You seemed close to tears.”

“Tears of joy, ser.”

“Your eyes give the lie to your tongue.”

“My lady, I have seen how you look at my brother.”

“He is valiant and handsome, and we all love him dearly... but your Imp will make a better husband.”

“He is a bigger man than he seems, I think.”

“The first time I wed, there was us and a drunken septon, and some pigs to bear witness. We ate one of our witnesses at our wedding feast.”

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.”

“She’s my sister. Leave her be.”

“No wall can keep you safe.”

“A wall is only as strong as the men who defend it.”

“I almost fell. Twice. Thrice.”

“The Wall was trying t’ shake me off, I could feel it.”

“The worst is behind us.”

“Don’t be frightened.”

“I wasn’t frightened. You know nothing.”

“Why are you crying, then?”

“Not for fear! I’m crying because we never found the Horn of Winter.”

“We opened half a hundred graves and let all those shades loose in the world, and never found the Horn to bring this cold thing down!”

“Sometimes I even wept, until I heard the Mummers laughing.”

“Then I made my eyes go dry and my heart go dead, and prayed for the fever to burn away my tears.”

“Now I know how ___ has felt, all those times they laughed at him/her.”

“The fool leapt in and planted a wet kiss atop my head.”

“The night was strangely beautiful.”

“How can such a night be beautiful?”

“ Why would the stars want to look down on such as me?”

“No, you must live.”

“Stop telling me what do. I’ll die if it pleases me.”

“Are you so craven?”

“What else can I do, but die?”

“Live! Live, and fight, and take revenge.”

“Let them have the meat, and you go far away. It will be over quicker, and they’ll get less pleasure from it.”

“Stupid stubborn brave bitch. She’s going to get herself good and killed.”

“Let them do it, and go away inside.”

“We will die together as we were born together.”

“You have lost a hand.”

“No, I have it here, hanging round my neck.”

“Take this away. The sight of it offends me.”

“There will be pain.”

“A great deal of pain.”

“I’ll scream very loudly.”

“Will you take some wine at least?”

“How did you come by this one?”

“Rough wooing, my lord?”

“This wench is bigger than me and uglier than you.”

“You’d best see to her as well. She’s still limping on the leg I pricked when we fought.”

“I will ask after her.”

“What is this woman to you?”

“My protector.”

“Remind me to post some gold cloaks here.”

“Some fool boy’s like to fall off and break his back.”

“On second thoughts, let the poxy brats splatter on the cobbles like overripe melons.”

“My marriage is a daily agony.”

“The only person in the Red Keep who doesn’t seem to find my marriage a source of amusement is my lady wife.”

“Her/His misery is deepening every day.”

“No words would ever make me fair in her/his eyes.”

“I want to comfort her/him. I want to hear her/him laugh.”

“His lordship wants to see you.”

“I recall who the Hand is. I lost my nose, not my wits.”

“Don’t bite the boy’s head off now.”

“Why not? He never uses it.”

“And while you are about it, see if you can find your wife’s bed as well.”

“I have, thank you. It’s that piece of furniture between the window and the hearth, with the velvet canopy and the mattress stuffed with goose down.”

“I am pleased you know of it.”

“Now perhaps you ought to try and know the woman who shares it with you.”

“Woman? Child, you mean.”

“Has a spider been whispering in your ear, or do I have my sweet sister to thank?”

“Refused our sweet ___?”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Oooooh, may I?”

“I should have trimmed his head, not his beard.”

“I am the shield that guards the realms of men. A woman is a woman, even a wildling woman. We should help her.”

“No more than me.”

“It’s only ___ who says I’m too dumb to be frightened. I get as frightened as anyone.”

“He was so quick, and he fought like he meant to kill me.”

“Sometimes I think everyone is just pretending to be brave, and none of us really are.”

“Maybe pretending is how you get brave, I don’t know.”

“Let them call you Slayer, who cares?”

“But we must have known once. The Night’s Watch has forgotten its true purpose.”

“You don’t build a wall seven hundred feet high to keep savages in skins from stealing women.”

“The Wall was made to guard the realms of men... and not against other men, which is all the wildlings are when you come right down to it.”

“Too many years, too many hundreds and thousands of years. We lost sight of the true enemy.”

“And now he’s here, but we don’t know how to fight him.”

“Is dragonglass made by dragons, as the smallfolk like to say?”

“Can’t say I fancy the notion.”

“Once they figure a way to work a dead horse, we’ll be next.”

“Dying’s no excuse for lying down no more, so get on up and take this spear, you’ve got the watch tonight.”

“Well, I shouldn’t be so gloomy. Might be I’ll die before they work it out.”

“Where, my lord?”

“There’s no place to go.”

“The Wall. Make for the Wall. Now.”

“I’d sooner stay with you. See, I’m not frightened anymore.”

“Any knight can make a knight, and every man you see before you has felt a sword upon his shoulder.”

“We are the forgotten fellowship.”

“Send me on my way and I’ll forget you too.”

“But if you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it.”

“You took my sword, my horse, and my gold, so take my life and be done with it.”

“A knight’s a sword with a horse.”

“Maybe the sword’s prettier with ribbons hanging off it, but it will kill you just as dead.”

“Well, bugger your ribbons, and shove your swords up your arses.”

“I’m the same as you. The only difference is, I don’t lie about what I am.”

“So, kill me, but don’t call me a murderer while you stand there telling each other that your shit don’t stink.”

“You want me dead that bad? Then do it, wolf girl.”

“Shove it in. It’s cleaner than fire.”

“I rode him down and cut him in half, and laughed.”

“I watched them beat your sister bloody too, watched them cut your father’s head off.”

“You go to hell, Hound. You just go to hell!”

“Did he speak of me at the end? Tell me true. Did he ask for me?”

“He whispered your name.”

“He swore to trade her for his brother.”

“How could he marry her, after saying that in sight of gods and men?”

“He’s the Kingslayer’s brother. Oathbreaking runs in their blood.”

“If I could I’d take his ugly head off.”

“There’s no other way that I can see.”

“They made her speak the vows before a septon and don their cloak.”

“If anything befell you, I would go mad. You are all I have left.”

“You are all the north has left.”

“I am not dead yet, mother.”

“The singers make much of kings who die valiantly in battle, but your life is worth more than a song.”

“Your life is worth more than a song. To me at least, who gave it to you.”

“There are fights no sword can win.”

“And you dare name me traitor?”

“A desperate folly took hold of me, a recklessness akin to madness.”

“As you remained loyal to King Aerys when your brother raised his banners?”

“It still angers me.”

“How could he think I would hurt the boy? I chose him, did I not?”

“When that hard day came I chose blood over honor.

“On your knees, Onion Knight.”

“For your onions and fish, I made you a knight once. For this, I am of a mind to raise you to lord.”

“I am content to be your knight, Your Grace.”

“I would not know how to begin being lordly.”

“To be lordly is to be false. I have learned that lesson hard.

“Now, kneel. Your king commands.”

“Then rise again, and rise as Lord of the Rainwood, Admiral of the Narrow Sea, and Hand of the King.”

“I woke this morning in his dungeon.”

“Your Grace, you cannot... I am no fit man/woman to be a King’s Hand.”

“There is no one fitter.”

“You will be my Hand. It is you I want beside me for the battle.”

“You swore it would work.”

“It will... and it will not.”

“Speak sense to me, woman.”

“Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers.”

“Days later, I hunted down the others and slew them as well.”

“Well, a sword’s more merciful than fire, but I don’t think he much appreciated the kindness I showed him.”

“The hand that made me Kingslayer. The goat has robbed me of my glory and my shame, both at once.”

“Who am I now?”

“But she was strong, and gentler than I would have thought.”

“Her and her sister both.”

“My lady, has no one told you? Lannisters lie.”

“Is that a slight on the honor of my House?”

“A rounded point, and dull, but it will go through your eye all the same.”

“‘Tis scarcely chivalrous to threaten your host over his own cheese and olives.”

“In the north, we hold the laws of hospitality sacred still.”

“I’m a captive here, not a guest.”

“Your goat cut off my hand.”

“If you think some prunes will make me overlook that, you’re bloody well mistaken.”

“A pity the wolf is so young.”

“Boys of sixteen always believe they are immortal and invincible.”

“And what in the seven hells am I supposed to do with him?”

“Did you find Casterly Rock to your liking, my lord?”

“Scarcely. Your father ignored us the whole time we were there, after commanding Ser Kevan to see to our entertainment.”

“The cell they gave me had a featherbed to sleep in and Myrish carpets on the floor, but it was dark and windowless, much like a dungeon.”

“Your skies were too grey, your wines too sweet, your women too chaste, your food too bland.”

“And you yourself were the greatest disappointment of all.”

“I had just been born. What did you expect of me?”

“You were his curse, a punishment sent by the gods to teach him that he was no better than any other man.”

“Your wet nurse tried to send us off, but your sister was having none of that.”

“He’s mine and you’re just a milk cow, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Be quiet or I’ll have my father cut your tongue out. A cow doesn’t need a tongue, only udders.”

“Her Grace learned charm at an early age.”

“Is it sheep you take us for, or fools?”

“My brother is not a bloodthirsty man, but neither has he been asleep for sixteen years.”

“I did not come for some mummer’s show of an inquiry.”

“I came for justice for my sister and her children, and I will have it.”

“Life is warmth, and warmth is fire, and fire is God’s and God’s alone.”

“Before he dies, he will tell me whence came his orders, please assure your lord father of that.”

“An old septon once claimed I was living proof of the goodness of the gods. Do you know why?”

“Even brave men blind themselves sometimes, when they are afraid to see.”

“___, how many times have you brought me back now?”

“Could you bring back a man without a head? Just the once, not six times.”

“I have no magic, child. Only prayers.”

“What if my brother doesn’t want to ransom me?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, my hair’s messy and my nails are dirty and my feet are all hard.”

“And who are you, that I must bow so low?”

“In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws.”

“But now the rains weep o’er his hall, with no one there to hear.”

“Yes now the rains weep o’er his hall, and not a soul to hear.”

“Best climb on that horse and go.”

“I’ll go with my gold.”

“Your own god said I’m guiltless-”

“The Lord of Light gave you back your life.”

“You know them better than I do.”

“Perhaps you should be First Ranger.”

“I’ll stay here in your place.”

“That was before I fell, though. Before I was broken.”

“Your raiders drove them off.”

“They were cowards, then.”

“If they wanted the land they should have stayed and fought.”

“Maybe they were tired of fighting.”

“Tired of barring their doors every night and wondering if Rattleshirt or someone like him would break them down to carry off their wives.”

“Tired of having their harvests stolen, and any valuables they might have.”

“It’s easier to move beyond the reach of raiders.”

“Daughters are taken, not wives.”

“You’re the ones who steal. You took the whole world, and built the Wall t’ keep the free folk out.”

“Did we? How did that happen?”

“The gods made the earth for all men t’ share.”

“Only when the kings come with their crowns and steel swords, they claimed it was all theirs.”

“My earth, my water, my castle, my daughter, keep your hands away or I’ll chop ‘em off, but maybe if you kneel t’ me I’ll let you have a sniff.”

“You call us thieves, but at least a thief has t’ be brave and clever and quick. A kneeler only has t’ kneel.”

“Maybe he never washes, so he smells as rank as a bear.”

“Then I’d push him in a stream or throw a bucket o’ water on him.”

“Anyhow, men shouldn’t smell sweet like flowers.”

“What’s wrong with flowers?”

“I know one thing. I know that you are wildling to the bone.”

“You’re mine. Mine, as I’m yours.”

“And if we die, we die.”

“All men must die. But first we’ll live.”

“He’s the man you want in front when the foes are in the field.”

“He’ll count them right up for you. A regular demon for counting, that one.”

“I will fall into those eyes and drown.”

#sentence starters #rp starters #sentence prompts #game of thrones starters #a storm of swords starters #my starters #mine

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thedeviltohisangel · 5 years

Text

When You Wish Upon A Star//1//The Dream That You Wish Will Come True

AU where Michael is Cinderella.

warnings for parental and sibling cruelty

masterlist in bio!

full credit to @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning for inspiring this based on the blue suit Cody wore recently! also to @langdvn for helping me flesh this out!

Michael looked at the painting on the wall with a deep sigh. When his mother and father had been alive, life had been so much simpler. He had been free to run about the chateau with abandon and would always come home to so much love it was sometimes suffocating. After the death of his mother, his father had married Lady Venable. She was nice to Michael when his father was around but once he turned his back she only looked at him with disdain. She much preferred the image of her two sons, Mutt and Jeff, thinking they were the fairest men in all the land and meant to be pampered and never made to lift a finger.

Michael was only a young boy when his father fell ill. He sat by his bedside every morning and afternoon, only retreating to his bed when he couldn’t stand to keep his eyes open anymore. He would sing for his father and read him books and tell him stories of the goats in the backyard, giving them voices and unique personalities. It was when his father stopped be able to laugh at the tales that he knew his time with him was dwindling.

“Your mother and I...we love you very much, Michael. You are so handsome and talented and kind and we could not have asked for a better son than you.” His father’s words were slow and he almost seemed as though the mere effort was taking his breath away.

“Please don’t leave me, Papa, who will take care of me?” He was only a little boy. He did not know how to cook or mend his clothes. For so long, his father had been his everything. What was one to do when they lost everything?

“Lady Venable...is more than qualified...for the task.” Michael wanted to tell his father about the evil way she looked at him when his father wasn’t around or the way she always told Michael how much more handsome her sons were than him. But Michael wanted his father to be able to rest in peace with his mother. It was what he deserved. So he put on a brave face.

“I’ll be good for her, Papa. Promise.” Little tears began to fall from his blue eyes and his father didn’t respond. He was gone, Michael could tell because the room had gotten colder. There was no warmth left. A shadow fell across the room and the little boy turned to see his evil stepmother in the window. The look on her face told him that everything was going exactly to plan.

Lady Venable had made Michael the chateau butler after the passing of his father. No one was around to stand up for him or hold him in high regard. It was Jeff and Mutt’s turn to be the esteemed of the grounds. She would never admit it but she was threatened by the beauty that was Michael. His skin looked as though it was shaved from the purest piece, his eyes put the sky on a summer’s day to shame and his golden locks looked as though they were spun by the softest of needles. She kept him on schedule with his chores by ruling with an iron fist. Everything was contingent on his completion of an obscene list of duties. Somehow, as if by magic, he managed to complete them. It angered her that the spirit inside him could not be extinguished. Perhaps she would have to try harder and be crueler.

Jeff and Mutt also played their part in oppressing Michael. They purposefully tore holes in their clothing so he had to sew them or spilled wine all over the carpet at dinner so he had to spend hours on his hands and knees scrubbing at it. They too recognized how ethereal of a creature he was and that in order to secure brides of their own or to keep their standing in society, Michael could never leave the chateau.

Somehow, Michael was able to remain a kind and gentle soul throughout the mistreatment of his life. Every morning he would go to visit the goats that were kept in the land out back. They bleated with happiness at the sight of him coming out back, even if he did not have food for them, they were just thrilled to be in his calming presence.

“Good morning, Jaq. You’re looking wonderful today,” he mused as the little goat trotted over to his outstretched hand. Michael laughed as his nose nuzzled at palm. Being with animals and in nature filled him with such. Every chance he had to take a break from his back-breaking tasks was spent outside. It seemed as though the birds chirped louder for him and their songs were a little sweeter. “Don’t worry, Gus, I haven’t forgotten you.” He reached into his pocket a pulled out a carrot for the chubbier goat. He thinks that the animals might be the closest things he had to friends. In his pocket was also some bird seed he had brought for his chirping friends. He held it in the palm of his hands up towards the sky, birds of all colors fluttering about before landing in his hand to peck at the seed. Michael didn’t know why animals flocked to him the way they did, but he knew it was the one source of happiness for him in this life and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

----

“Ella, you cannot continue to live this life of solitude! Every Duke or Prince I have brought to court you has been turned away and does not wish to propose to you! I cannot let this go on much longer before you will no longer have a say in the matter!” The Princess knew she shouldn’t have cut her hunting trip short in order to make it back in time for dinner. It was always just a way for her mother to have her alone long enough to criticize her and her lack of a suitor.

“I do not wish to get married, Mother. All of the men in the realm wish to keep me locked inside of their palace with nothing to do but raise their children. I enjoy riding horse and practicing my sword skills and hunting with the knights. I could never give up my freedom for a man.” Ella thought that the right man may come along one day and be okay with her lack of traditional attributes. That would be the man she would marry. Until then, she has happy to live her life and give her mother a migraine.

“Well, if you will not search for a husband, then I will widen the net for you.” Her mother raised her hand and waved over her private secretary, Myrtle Snow. “Myrtle, I would like to plan a ball.”

“Oh, I do love a good party,” the redhead replied with glee.

“Every eligible gentleman in all the land shall be invited in the hopes one of them will be able to earn my daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“Mother, isn’t that a little much?” Ella was already beginning to feel anxious over the idea that so many men would be in one room, all seeking her attention and affection. Nothing sounded worse than that.

“Nonsense, my daughter. The invitations should go out as soon as possible, Myrtle.”

“Yes, Queen Cordelia.”

----

Michael heard quite the commotion coming from the foyer after a letter arrived that afternoon. He carried is bucket of soapy water over to his stepmother and step brothers in the hopes of learning what their excitement was about.

“Oh, how delightful! One of my sons could possibly be marrying the Princess!” Michael watched as Lady Venable embraced Jeff and Mutt with a cry. He had heard about the Princess. She was said to be devastatingly beautiful but entirely wild. She loved nature and didn’t partake in any of the roles that a traditional princess would or should. Michael thinks it would be such an honor to get to meet her.

“Congratulations. I’ve heard she’s wonderful,” Michael offered politely. “When did you meet her?”

“You imbecile. The Princess is having a ball and they’ve received an invitation,” Venable answered with a sneer.

“It specifies eligible gentlemen. She’s definitely looking for a husband,” Jeff boasted as he seemed to puff out his chest.

“Am I not an eligible gentlemen?” Michael inquired. He thinks he fit the bill and would love to attend the ball. It sounded like the most magical night of his life, even if the Princess didn’t notice him while he was there. He felt his cheeks flush a hot red when the three of them laughed at him.

“Why of course you are Michael. And you can go. But only if you finish all of these chores.” Venable handed him the longest list of tasks he had ever seen. “Oh, and you must find something suitable to wear.”

“We won’t even bother wishing you luck,” Mutt cackled as he and his brother strolled away. Michael looked down at his dog, Madeline, who had come trotting to sit by his feet.

“Don’t worry, Maddie, I’ll figure it out. I’ll get everything done and dress the part. I’m going to the ball.”

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@aveiangdon

@langdonslove

#michael langdon #cody fern #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #duncan shepherd #jim mason

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