#Devil Skin Warrior My Beloved
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I love The Girls
Especially Girl^2
#My art#KSBD#K6BD#Kill Six Billion Demons#Yes I gave Cio her outfit from King of Swords shhhhhhhhh#I just liked that outfit more than the outfit+haircut she had early into Seeker of Thrones okay#Devil Skin Warrior My Beloved#She is so cute#But good god trying to draw her made me want to throw my computer out the window#So many details#So much shit happening#God#Abbaddon is on another level man
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Name Meanings/Etymologies of Devil May Cry Characters
Classic Devil May Cry Canon
A:
Agnus - lamb
Alice - noble, of nobility
Alex Lowell - to defend, to protect | young wolf
Alyssa Martin - rational, noble | warlike, of Mars, warrior
Amanda - worthy to be loved
Angelina Hagel - messenger of god | farm
Arius - warlike, devoted to Ares
Arkham - happy
B:
Beryl - colour of the sea
Bobby - bright fame, shining glory
Butler - servant in charge of the wine cellar
C:
Carlo - man, free man
Cindy - light
Chen the Cannibal - dawn, morning, great, tremendous
Christopher Lowell - bearer of Christ | young wolf
Claude - lame, disabled
Credo - I believe
D:
Dante - enduring, steadfast, lasting
Ducas - leader, to guide, general
E:
Elena Huston - bright, shining light | hugh's town, settlement on the hill
Elise - oath of God, God is satisfaction
Ernest - serious, determined
Enzo Ferino - home ruler | iron
Eva - life, living one
F:
Fredi - peaceful ruler
G:
Gloria - glory
Grue - shiver, shudder
I:
Isaac - he will laugh
J:
J.D. Morrison - son of the dark-skinned
Jeffrey Turner - pledge of peace, district, traveler | lathe worker
Jessica - to see before, god beholds, to behold
Joe - he will add
Julio - youthful, youth, downy bearded
K:
Kalina Ann - viburnum tree, to make red-hot | grace, mercy, favour
Kerry Marcus - dark, dark-haired | warlike, dedicated to Mars
Kyle - narrow, strait, channel
Kyrie - lord
L:
Lady - noble, bread kneader
Lucia - light
Lynn Marcus - lake | warlike, dedicated to Mars
M:
"Mad Dog" Denvers - crazy, insane | canine | green valley
Margaret - pearl
Mary - bitter, beloved, drop of the sea
Matier - friend, friendly
Michel - who is like God
Mike Hagel - who is like God | farm
N:
Nell Goldstein - bright, shining light, weaver, merciful, god is my light | gold stone, touchstone
Nero - black, strong, powerful
Nesty - place to sit down, pure, chaste
Nicoletta “Nico” Goldstein - victory of the people | gold stone, touchstone
Nina Lowell - little girl | young wolf
P:
Patty Lowell - noble, patrician | young wolf
Patty Lowell (heiress) - noble, patrician | young wolf
Paul - small, little, humble
R:
Rock Goldstein - crag | gold stone, touchstone
Roy Martin - king, red, redhead | warlike, of Mars, warrior
S:
Sally - princess, noblewoman
Santa Claus - saint, holy | victory of the people
Sanctus - holy
Simon - he has heard, flat-nosed
Soldier “Crew Cut” - mercenary | short-length haircut
Solemnis - annual, ceremonial, religiously fixed
Sparda - sword, simple, frugal
T:
Tiki - hope, waterfall, image
Tim - to honour
V:
V “Vitale” - Roman numeral for five | life giving, lively
Vergil - flourishing
Vincent - to conquer
X:
χ (Chi) - christ, Greek numeral for six hundred
BOSSES and/or DEMONS
A:
Abigail - father's joy
Argosax - bright, shining
Agni - fire, flame
Artemis - butcher, safe
B:
Bael - lord, master
Balrog - demon of might
Baul - snail, slow like a snail
Beastheads - wild animal | top of body, leader, ruler
Belphagor - lord of the gap, lord of the opening
Beowulf - bee wolf, war wolf, bear
Berial - worthless
Bolverk - evildoer, worker of evil
Bradley - broad meadow
Brian Lowell - noble, high, hill, strong | young wolf
C:
Cavaliere Angelo - knight, horseman, rider | messenger of god
Cerberus - hound of the earth, black wolfhound, death-darkness
D:
Dagon - grain, fish
Demon of Capulet City - spirit | hat | citizen
Demon of Morris Island - spirit | dark-skinned | watery land
Director - to guide
Doppelganger - double-goer, double-walker
E:
Echidna - snake, viper
Elder Geryon Knight - old | earth | boy, youth, servant
F:
Freki - greedy, ravenous
Frost - to freeze
Furiataurus - fury of the bull, furious bull
G:
Geri - rules with a spear, greedy
Geryon - earth
Gigapede - giant foot
Gilgamesh - the ancestor is a hero
Gilver - [ERROR 404: meaning of word not found]
Gilbert - bright pledge
Goliath - to uncover, reveal, running, destroyer
Griffon - curved, bent
H:
Hell Vanguard - to cover, conceal | before guard
I:
Infested Chopper - to attack, hostile | helicopter
Infested Tank - to attack, hostile | reservoir of water
J:
Jester - reciter of romances, minstrel
Jokatgulm - [ERROR 404: meaning of word not found]
K:
King Cerberus - ruler | hound of the earth, black wolfhound, death-darkness
L:
Leviathan - to twist, coiled
M:
Machiavelli - bad little nail
Mad Hatter - crazy, insane | maker of hoods, maker of cowls
Malphas - mischief
Modeus [Asmodeus] - wrathful spirit, demon of wrath
Mundus - world
N:
Nefascapitis - head of sin, head of violation of divine law
Nefasturris - tower of sin, tower of violation of divine law
Nefasvermis - worm of sin, worm of violation of divine law
Nelo Angelo - black, strong, powerful | messenger of god
Nevan - little saint, little holy one
Nidhogg - malice striker
Nightmare - a female demon suffocates sleepers
Nina Lowell (demon) - little girl | young wolf
Noctpteran - night wing
O:
Orangguerra - war orangutan
P:
Phantom - an apparition, specter
Plesio - near, close
Plutonian - relating to wealth, relating to riches
Pride - brave, pomp, valiant
Priest - one who leads cattle
Q:
Qliphoth - husks, empty shells
R:
Red Eye - airplane flight that deprives travelers of sleep, raw and inferior whiskey
Rudra - howler, roarer, to cry
S:
Sara - princess, noblewoman
Secretary - one entrusted with secrets
Sid - wide
Sloth - indolence, slowness, laziness
T:
Tartarussian - relating to a deep pit
Tateobesu - vertical, length, height | fat, stout, plump
The Savior - the one who saves others
Trismagia - three magicians
U:
Urizen - your reason, to limit
W:
White Rabbit - bright, shine | young rabbit
Ninja Theory's DmC: Devil May Cry Canon
A:
Assiel - created by god
B:
Bob Barbas - bright fame, shining glory | beard, uncle, stammering
D:
Dante (DmC) - enduring, steadfast, lasting
E:
Eva (DmC) - life, living one
H:
Hollow Dante - empty place | enduring, steadfast, lasting
Hollow Kat - empty place | pure, clear
Hollow Vergil - empty place | flourishing
Hunter - one who chases wild animals
K:
Kat - pure, clear
L:
Lilith - spirit of the night
M:
Mundus (DmC) - world
Mundus's Spawn - world | to spread out, expand
P:
Phineas - mouth of brass, dark skinned, serpent's mouth
S:
Sparda (DmC) - sword, simple, frugal
Succubus - to lie beneath
V:
Vergil (DmC) - flourishing
#Devil May Cry#Dante Sparda#Vergil Sparda#Nero Sparda#Eva Sparda#Sparda#Patty Lowell#Lady DMC#Trish Sparda#Too lazy to add more character tags#The written word#Tis mine#Helpful tips#I make lists when I'm bored#Name Meanings#Word Etymologies#Writer’s Random Research#nicoletta goldstein
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( 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) + ( 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) + ( 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 ) ( for any of their verses )
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 || @sonxflight || accepting
( 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) ; one muse strides up to the other and suddenly embraces them tightly after experiencing something distressing
( 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ) ; one muse takes the other's face ( cheeks , chin ) when trying to comfort them
( 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 ) ; one muse takes the other to a calm area where they feel more comfortable opening up
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Every once in a while, they tend to go to the darkest of mines to collect some charcoals - like a ravenous boa, jaws disarming and welcoming those caliginous specters feeling the roughness of their claws made of steel. They are more than capable of breaking ancient stone of their fortified hearts, piling up, building mountains of corpses beneath all these lean, excessively used muscles and scarred guts, from the adamantine bone to the marrow. Perhaps Hanzo Hasashi's own eyes have belonged to the Nether's devil, able to see from afar. Deceitful skins singing the sweets of saccharine melodies and dancing with the severing swings of fire, ignited to burn anything and everything to naught. In this life, they were born to burn bright, until the emotions they contain bubble over, collapsing in on themselves and eat them both whole. It is all-consuming to be in their skins; both of them shattered and broken countless times. But pulling out those glass shards hurt more than pretending they are not there.
They both have grabbed each other's heart and cradled it, pluck it from the precarious rot of their branches that are their ribs and hold it so tenderly, careful not to dig into its core. Peeling off each layer of flesh to reveal the beating vessel underneath, not like savage and merciless warriors who shreds and tears away the beating flesh of the enemies, only to leave with stained hands of dripping sanguine, but uncovering each layer gently like a deer who laps gently at the river mouth. As Ryou Sakai's familiar, yet nearly inaudible steps close in and Hanzo's heart collides gently with his lover's own, the world seem to go still. Enough, no more, the weary axis breathes, sick and exhausted with endless spinning, which tends to overseethes and quiets for a spell.
Demoted and ossified, or fortified, Hanzo cannot quite figure it out, if stillness be a strength. One moment stands and views itself at length, but a tenebrous shadow in his heart and soul seem to multiply and embrace along with Ryou, who remains pensively silent. "I always question myself whether which ecstasy to embrace; the ecstasy of hope that will manifest my soul to fly unimpeded into the sky like warmth from the hearth or the ecstasy of fate, simply to accept the freedom the plunge from the sky offers in the swirling flames and blood far below. as unfathomable despair and grief deepens to no end," the warm cradle of his hand cups around his beloved's cheek; as Hanzo still experiences his own zeniths and nadirs of his despair and grief, as sometimes he'd feel something unholy bursting from beneath his ribcage and crawls at the seams of his flesh, anguish feeding on his consciousness. Speaking a manifesto of his demon's hatred and his absolution; a vindictive specter condemned to hate the world with eyes tutored to vengeance.
Every inhalation he takes in is made with care, as if Hanzo might guide Ryou along with the beats of his heart, holding the same, evermore steady and strong rhythm. Amidst the Shirai Ryu's vast expanse full of interweaved people, they stand; both captive souls in a shifting world of unknown and unpredictability, as leaves rustle, waters whisper, but failing to silence this dissonant jail in both of their minds. As transcendent hues paint the sky above, a quiet surge of whirling flame transport them both to a shadowed trove of their shared personal quarter. Despite the despair manifesting as a relentless loop and a haunting refrain, Hanzo hopes that his unnerving presence will end this unending bane, at least for temporarily. "I sincerely hope the discomfort of haunting disturbance fades, as I remain consistent warmth throughout such vacant hollowness and depression. I will always meet you with an everloving warmth and understanding against this ancient disquietude." ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||
#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ seeking reconciliation with his own humanity (iii)#(hanryou)#sonxflight
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love is tragic | Reiner Braun x Reader
summary; the death of the reader. instead of Sasha, it is the reader who takes the hit to save her and only realizing Gabi was the one did it. After math of Reiner finding out. Also small flashbacks.
disclaimers/warnings; angst. takes place in s4 ep8. Spoilers!! mentions of blood and shot. Reader presents as female.
a/n; I had this idea in my head for the longest time, I wasn't planning on writing this, but here I am.
You wouldn't call yourself a “traitor” sometimes you thought, overthink it. You were just like them, the Warriors; yet so different, you were no titan. The only thing that made you a traitor was the beginning days of being in Paradis since the attack. And the day you return to Marley was hell. You never expected something so early to happen. Being protective over Reiner as time, days, and years went by. Just because he was the Armored Titan didn't change the fact, you both were still in love since the traitoring years. But that was gone, no more.
The scouts were the ones to call you a “traitor” when you were taken back to your homeland. They weren't devils; they never were devils. The knowledge that Marley spoke about them were untrue. So when the day came, having to bump into the scouts ... never in mind, you had thought. You had explain yourself, hoping for them to understand and Shockingly they did. Shortly after that day, you had packed up your things and went back to Paradis. You made sure to write a letter for Reiner after he got back from meetings and along with his cousin and the kids that were fond of him.
⠀
⠀
Looking at the small home you both shared, you felt like this was the wrong idea but deep down, it wasn't.
⠀
The years took off, The day Marley was officially attack by Eren Jeager. Maybe this was it. There was no time, for your words to get to Reiner, hell, you didn’t know if he was still even alive. The thought of it, hurt you. You shook it off. The noises of gunshots were going left and right. The gear the rest wore, were different. It was a nice change.
Jean and the others were handling the Cart titan, as it taken down. The group was retreating back to the airship, not knowing that the small Braun managed to get herself inside along with Falco trying to stop her. Sasha was the one who had mention it to the rest of the group. “Hey, quiet!” Jean shouted, as they all did and bang! -- “Sasha!” You had shouted, pushing out her the way. The way your body reacted from something you couldn't control, but you had saved your dearest friend from her death. You had taken a step back and fell with a loud thud.
The shot had hit in a place, you knew that you weren't going to survive this fight. Because your fight was over. “Shit! Hey! Stay with us, stay with me!” Jean shouted to you, but you couldn't. The pain was real, the blood covered your body and it began to rush. It wasn't stopping. The memories was yours truly were coming back ... how you wished you could've stayed with him a little longer.
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“I'm going to marry her, one day” Reiner spoke, the way he talked about the small petite blonde girl was something you wished he thought about you and made you feel the admiration but that wasn't you. “who? the girl who’s completely out of your league? and who’s also in love with someone else?” pointing it out as he snickered. “Yeah, sure” Before he got up and left you.
⠀
another memory came.
⠀
The confession was out of the blue, being in Marley, knowing you couldn't be with him. “I'm in love with you!” the shout was loud, he froze, his eyes widen. He wasn’t sure what came over you, was it a joke? you continued. “For the longest time, I never once saw you weak, When we were younger, you inspired me .. but at the end, I was still nothing ... I was always by your side, I noticed more than you think. But Me? Her? I just couldn't say.” Reiner came close to you, cupping your face and went in for a passion kiss. “But not to me” He slightly smile, before grabbing your hand.
⠀
⠀
But now here you were. Sasha had wrapped the badges around your upper body, but nothing seemed to stop the blood. It just kept going. “It keeps going, it won’t stop!” Sasha voiced cracked, hearing jean cursed under his breath. Your skin was starting to become pale, your eyes becoming dull, your breathing became unsteady and slow. You tried to speak, but nothing came out. “Don't try to speak, I’ll be right back. I have to take care of these kids and make them pay for what they did.” You also knew how everyone was protective over you and each other, before the shot; you had taken a glimpse of the kids. One of them was Gabi. She was the one who shot the sniper trigger.
Never expecting to get shot by the cousin of your beloved. Even Gabi knew who she just had shot, the regret in her eyes shown. She only met you couple of times with Reiner and was already fond of you till the first day of meeting.
⠀
⠀
“Reiner! Reiner! Who’s this” the little girl asked, as you stood there next to Reiner. “This is (Y/N) ... someone who I've been together with for quite some time now and please Gabi, get along with her” She nodded her head and began asking questions left and right. Knowing this was going to be a long day. But it wasn't the worse.
⠀
⠀
Connie and Sasha were hovered over you, watching you mainly. They couldn't see you like this. The fact, they knew about you and Reiner was possibly be something hard for them to speak and tell him. You tried to speak again but the only thing that came out was “Rei...” as your eyes closed, your breathing stopped. Both of you friends had began crying as they shook you to wake up, nothing worked. Connie was the first to rushed over the doors where The Commander Hange, Captain Levi, Zeke, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean and the kids. “(Y/N) is dead.” Mikasa and Armin ran to your lifeless body and shouted and cried for you to come back. But that wasn't going to happen.
⠀
⠀
Till that day forward, Reiner met up and teamed up with the alliances, the only thing was he couldn't find was you. The rest of them are here. Jean, Mikasa, Armin ... but you? no longer here. “Hey! are you going to tell me where the hell she is!?” Reiner shouted while nobody had seemed to recover from that moment. “I'm sorry, Reiner. She’s no longer here with us. This little girl had gotten into our airship and had targeted Sasha but she pushed her out the way and took the bullet.” Jean explained, the blonde couldn't believe what he was hearing, you? dead? no. Tears began to fill Reiner eyes. “We also believe that little girl was your cousin. Gabi Braun.” That's when he completely was shattered and broke down. Yet, you were in a better place. He never got to kiss you goodbye on the day you left him, he will never be able to sleep knowing you're not there by his side.
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Dear, Reiner Braun.
⠀ As I’m writing this to you, you’re probably angry. I know ⠀ and I’m sorry that it had to be this way. Just know that the next ⠀ time you see me ... I’ll always be your side, even when it’s all ⠀ ⠀wrong. Once this war is over, I would love to start a family with ⠀ you. You and I both know how much you would love that. And I ⠀ ⠀would love to give you that; when the world is finally at peace. ⠀ ⠀ You and I weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before I’ve met you. Please live a life you could be proud ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ of, it isn’t over. Till then ... I’ll meet you soon.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Love, (Y/N) (L/N)
⠀
⠀
⠀
⠀
#aot fanfiction#aot#snk#reiner x reader#reiner braun#reiner braun x reader#snk x reader#anime#aot headcanons#snk headcanons#attack on titan#shingeki ni kyojin#reiner x you#aot x reader#reiner headcanons#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirstein
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Books Books Books
100 Years of Solitude
11.22.63
120 Days of Sodom
1491
1984
A Brief History of Time
A Canticle for Leibowitz
A Child Called It
A Clockwork Orange
A Confederacy of Dunces
A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters
A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy
A Little Life
A Naked Singularity
A People's History of the United States
A Scanner Darkly
A Series of Unfortunate Events
A Short History of Nearly Everything
A Song of Ice and Fire
A Storm of Swords
A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments
A Thousand Splendid Suns
A Walk in the Woods
A World Lit Only by Fire
Accursed Kings
Alice in Wonderland
All Quiet on the Western Front
All the Light We Cannot See
All the Pretty Horses
America, the Book
American Gods
American Psycho
And then There Were None
Angela’s Ashes
Animal Farm
Animal, Vegetable, Miracle
Anna Karenina
Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite
Anything Written by Robin Hobb
Apt Pupil
Artemis Fowl
Asimov's Guide to the Bible
Asoiaf
Atlas Shrugged
Bartimeaus
Batman: the Long Halloween
Battle Royale
Beat the Turtle Drum
Behind the Beautiful Forevers
Belgariad Series
Beloved
Berserk
Bestiario
Black Company
Blankets/habibi
Blind Faith
Blindness
Blood Meridian
Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery
Bluest Eye
Brandon Sanderson
Brave New World
Breakfast of Champions
Bridge to Terabithia
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West
Calvin and Hobbs
Candide
Carrie
Cat's Cradle
Catch 22
Cats Cradle
Chaos
Child of God
Choke
Chuck Palahniuk
City of Ember
City of Thieves
Cloud
Collapse
Come Closer
Complaint
Confessions of a Mask
Contact
Conversation in the Cathedral
Cosmos
Crime and Punishment
Dan Brown
David
Dead Birds Singing
Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident
Delta Venus
Die Räuber (the Robbers)
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep
Don Quixote
Dragonlance
Dune
Dying of the Light
East of Eden
Educated
Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans
Enders Game
Enders Shadow
Escape from Camp 14
Ever Since Darwin
Every Man Dies Alone
Everybody Poops
Everything is Illuminated
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Fahrenheit 451
Far from the Madding Crowd
Faust
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson
Feet of Clay
Fight Club
First Law
Flowers for Algernon
Flowers in the Attic
Foundation
Foundation Series
Foundation Trilogy
Frankenstein
Freakonomics
Fun Home
Galapagos
Geek Love
Gerald’s Game
Ghost Story
Go Ask Alice
Go Dog Go
Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid
Goldfinch
Gone Girl
Gone with the Wind
Good Omens
Grapes of Wrath
Great Expectations
Greg Egan
Guards! Guards!
Guns Germs and Steel
Guts (short Story)
Half a World
Ham on Rye
Hannibal Rising
Hard Boiled Wonderland
Hatchet
Haunted
Hawaii
Heart Shaped Box
Heart of Darkness
Hellbound Heart
Hellraiser
Hell’s Angels
Helter Skelter
His Dark Materials
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Hogg
Holocaust by Bullets
House of Leaves
How to Cook for Fourty Humans
How to Win Friends and Influence People
Huckleberry Finn
Hyperion
I Am America, and So Can You
I Am the Messenger
I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant
In Cold Blood
In Search of Our Mother's Gardens
Independent People
Infinite Jest
Into Thin Air
Into the Wild
Introduction to Linear Algebra
Invisible Monsters
Ishmael
It
Jacques Le Fataliste
Jane Eyre
Jaunt
Job: a Comedy of Justice
John Dies at the End
John Grisham
Johnathan Livingston Seagull
Johnny Got His Gun
Jon Ronson
Journal of a Novel
Jurassic Park
Justine
L'histoire D'o
Lamb
Last Exit to Brooklyn
Les Miserables
Lies My Teacher Told Me
Life of Pi
Limits and Renewals
Little House in the Big Woods
Lockwood & Co.
Lolita
Looking for Trouble
Lord Foul’s Bane
Lord of the Flies
Lyddie
Malazan Book of the Fallen
Maldoror
Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media
Man’s Search for Meaning
Mark Twain’s Autobiography
Maus
Meditations
Megamorphs (series)
Mein Kampf
Memnooch the Devil
Metro 2033
Michael Crichton
Middlesex
Mindhunter
Misery
Mistborn
Moby Dick
Mrs. Dalloway
My Side of the Mountain
My Sweet Audrina
Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)
Naked Lunch
Name of the Wind
Neuromancer
Never Let Me Go
Neverwhere
New York
Next
Night
Night Shift
Norwegian Wood
Notes from Underground
Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea
Of Mice and Men
Of Nightingales That Weep
Ohio
Old Mans War
Old Mother West Wind
On Heroes and Tombs
On Laughter and Forgetting
On the Road
One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest
One Hundred Years of Solitude
One of Us
Painted Bird
Patrick Rothfuss
Perfume: the Story of a Murderer
Persepolis
Pet Sematary
Peter Pan
Pillars of the Earth
Poisonwood Bible
Pride and Predjudice
Ready Player One
Rebecca
Red Mars
Red Night (series)
Red Shirts
Red Storm Rising
Redwall
Replay
Requiem for a Dream
Revenge
Riftwar Saga
Ringworld
Roald Dahl
Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry
Round Ireland with a Fridge
Running with Scissors
Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes
Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind
Scary Stories to Read in the Dark
Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark
Schindler’s List
Sein Und Zeit
Shades of Grey
Sharp Objects
Shattered Dreams
Sherlock Holmes
Sho-gun
Siddhartha
Sisypho
Skin and Other Stories
Slaughterhouse Five
Smoke & Mirrors
Snow Crash
Soldier Son
Sometimes a Great Notion
Sphere
Starship Troopers
Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers
Storied Life of A.j. Fikry
Stormlight Archives
Story of the Eye
Stranger in a Strange Land
Surely, You're Joking
Survivor Type (short Story)
Suttree
Swan Song
Tale of Two Cities
Tales of the South Pacific
The Alchemist
The Altered Carbon Trilogy
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay
The Art of Deception
The Art of Fielding
The Art of War
The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation
The Autobiography of Henry Viii
The Autobiography of Malcolm X
The Beach
The Bell Jar
The Bible
The Bloody Chamber
The Book Thief
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
The Brothers Karamazov
The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories
The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)
The Catcher in the Rye
The Chronicles of Narnia
The Clown
The Color out of Space
The Communist Manifesto
The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft
The Count of Monte Cristo
The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime
The Dagger and the Coin
The Damage Done
The Dark Tower
The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights
The Devil in the White City
The Dharma Bums
The Diamond Age
The Dice Man
The Discworld Series
The Dresden Files
The Elegant Universe
The First Law Trilogy
The Forever War
The Foundation Trilogy
The Gentleman Bastard Sequence
The Geography of Nowhere
The Girl Next Door
The Girl on the Milk Carton
The Giver
The Giving Tree
The God of Small Things
The Grapes of Wrath
The Great Gatsby
The Great Gilly Hopkins
The Hagakure
The Half a World Trilogy
The Handmaid’s Tale
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
The Hiding Place
The History of Love
The Hobbit
The Hot Zone
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
The Hyperion Cantos
The Jaunt
The Jungle
The Key to Midnight
The Killing Star
The Kingkiller Chronicles
The Kite Runner
The Last Question (short Story)
The Lies of Lock Lamora
The Little Prince
The Long Walk
The Lord of the Rings
The Lottery (short Story)
The Lovely Bones
The Magicians
The Magus
The Martian
The Master and Margarita
The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect
The Monster at the End of This Book
The Moon is a Harsh Mistress
The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)
The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear
The Necronomicon
The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing
The Night Circus
The Nightmare Box
The Odyssey
The Omnivore's Dilemma
The Orphan Master’s Son
The Outsiders
The Painted Bird
The Perks of Being a Wallflower
The Phantom Tollbooth
The Picture of Dorian Gray
The Pit and the Pendulum
The Plague
The Prince
The Prince of Tides
The Princess Bride
The Prophet
The Queen’s Gambit
The Rape of Nanking
The Red Dwarf
The Republic
The Rifter Saga
The Road
The Satanic Verses
The Screwtape Letters
The Secret History
The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel
The Selfish Gene
The Shining
The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer
The Silmarillion
The Sirens of Titan
The Six Wives of Henry the 8th
The Solitude of Prime Numbers
The Speaker of the Dead
The Stars My Destination
The Stormlight Archive
The Story of My Tits
The Stranger
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck
The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher
The Tao of Pooh
The Things They Carried
The Time Machine
The Time Traveller’s Wife
The Tin Drum
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green
The Wasp Factory
The Wind Up Bird Chronicle
The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
The World According to Garp
The Yellow Wallpaper
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Things Fall Apart
Thirsty
This Blinding Absence of Light
Tiger!
Time Enough for Love
To Kill a Mockingbird
To Say Nothing of the Dog
Toni Morrison
Too Many Magicians
Traumnovelle
Tuesdays with Morrie
Tuf Voyaging
Undeniable
Under Plum Lake
Universe in a Nutshell
Unwind
Uzumaki
Various
Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia
Walden
War & Peace
War and Peace
Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy
Watchers
Water for Elephants
Watership Down
We Have Always Lived in the Castle
We Need to Talk About Kevin
Wheel of Time
When Rabbit Howls
Where the Red Fern Grows
Where the Sidewalk Ends
Why I Am Not a Christian
Why People Believe Weird Things
Wizards First Rule
Wool
World War Z
Worm
Wuthering Heights
You Can Choose to Be Happy
Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
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The Tale of the Dead Princess and the Seven Knights
Or, russian Snow White and the seven Bogatyrs, legendary slavic warriors, similar to the knight-errant in Western tradition
This is a 1833 poem by russian poet Aleksandr Pushkin, inspired by the childhood tales told by his nurse. It's basically russian Snow White, been astonishly closer to the Disney film than the original Brothers Grimm's fairy tale
With his suite the Tsar departed. The Tsarina tender-hearted at the window sat alone, wishing he would hurry home.
All day every day she waited, gazing till her dedicated eyes grew weak from overstrain, gazing at the empty plain. Not a sign of her beloved!
Nothing but the snowflakes hurried, heaping drifts upon the lea. Earth was white as white could be. Nine long months she sat and waited, kept her vigil unabated.
Then from God on Christmas Eve, she a daughter did receive. Next day early in the morning, love and loyalty rewarding. Home again from travel far, came at last the father-Tsar.
One fond glance at him she darted, gasped for joy with thin lips parted. Then fell back upon her bed and by prayer-time was dead.
Long the Tsar sat lonely, brooding. But he, too, was only human.
Tears for one sad year he shed... And another woman wed.
She (if one be strictly truthful) was a born Tsarina. Youthful, slim, tall, fair to look upon. Clever, witty, and so on.
But she was in equal measure stubborn, haughty, wilful, jealous. In her dowry rich and vast was a little looking-glass.
It had this unique distinction: It could speak with perfect diction. Only with this glass would she in a pleasant humour be.
Many times a day she'd greet it and coquettishly entreat it:
"Tell me, pretty looking-glass, nothing but the truth, I ask: Who in all the world is fairest, and has beauty of the rarest?"
And the looking-glass replied:
"You, it cannot be denied. You in all the world are fairest and your beauty is the rarest."
The Tsarina laughed with glee, shrugged her shoulders merrily, puffed her cheeks and bat her eyelids, flicked her fingers coyly, slyly, pranced around with hand on hips, arrogance upon her lips.
All this time the Tsar's own daughter quietly, as Nature taught her, grew and grew, and came quite soon like a flower into bloom: Raven-browed, of fair complexion, breathing kindness and affection.
And the choice of fiance lighted on Prince Yelisei. Suit was made. The Tsar consented and her dowry was indented:
Seven towns with wealthy store. Mansion-houses, sevenscore. On the night before the wedding, for a bridal party dressing, the Tsarina, time to pass, chatted with her looking-glass:
"Who in all the world is fairest, and has beauty of the rarest?"
Then what did the glass reply?
"You are fair, I can't deny. But the Princess is the fairest. And her beauty is the rarest."
Up the proud Tsarina jumped. On the table how she thumped, angrily the mirror slapping, slipper heel in fury tapping!
"O you loathsome looking-glass, telling lies as bold as brass! By what right is she my rival?Such young folly I shall bridle. So she's grown up? Me to spite! Little wonder she's so white: With her bulging mother gazing. At that snow?What's so amazing! Now look here, explain to me. How can she the fairer be? Scour this realm of ours and seek well, nowhere shall you find my equal. Is not that the truth?" she cried.
Still the looking-glass replied:
"But the Princess is the fairest and her beauty is the rarest."
The Tsarina burst with spite, hurled the mirror out of sight, underneath the nearest cupboard, and when breath she had recovered, summoned Smudge, her chamber maid and to her instructions gave:
"Take the Princess to the forest. Bind her hand and foot and forehead to a tree! When wolves arrive let them eat the girl alive!"
Woman's wrath would daunt the devil! Protest was no use whatever.
Soon the Princess left with Smudge for the woods. So far they trudged that the Princess guessed the reason. Scared to death by such foul treason, loud she pleaded:
"Spare my life! Innocent of guilt am I! Do not kill me, I beseech you! And when I become Tsarina I shall give you rich reward."
Smudge, who really loved her ward, being loth to kill or bind her, let her go, remarking kindly:
"God be with you! Do not moan!"
And, this said, went back alone.
"Well?" demanded the Tsarina. "Where's that pretty little creature?"
"In the forest on her own," Smudge replied. "And there she'll stay. To a tree I firmly lashed her. When a hungry beast attacks her, she'll have little time to cry, and the quicker she shall die!"
Rumour spread and caused a panic: "What, the Tsar's own daughter vanished!"
Mournful was the Tsar that day, but the young Prince Yelisei offered God a fervent prayer and departed then and there, to seek out and homeward guide, his sweet-tempered, youthful bride.
Meanwhile his young bride kept walking through the forest until morning, vague as to her whereabouts.
Suddenly she spied a house. Out a dog ran growling, yapping, then sat down, his tail tap-tapping. At the gate there was no guard. All was quiet in the yard.
Close at heel the good dog bounded as the Princess slowly mounted stairs to gain the living floor, turned the ring upon the door.
Silently the door swung open and before her eyes unfolded a bright chamber: all around benches strewn with rugs she found, board of oak beneath the ikon and a stove with tiles to lie on.
To the Princess it was clear, kindly folk were dwelling here, who would not deny her shelter.
No one was at home, however. So she set to, cleaned the pans, made the whole house spick and span, lit a candle in the corner, fed the fire to be warmer, climbed onto the platform bed, there to lay her sleepy head.
Dinner time. The yard resounded, horses stamped and men dismounted. Thick-moustached and ruddy-skinned, seven lusty Knights walked in.
Said the Eldest: "How amazing! All so neat! The fire blazing! Somebody's been cleaning here, and is waiting somewhere near. Who is there? Come out of hiding! Be a friend in peace abiding! If you're someone old and hoar, be our uncle evermore! If you're young and love a scuffle.We'll embrace you as a brother. If a venerable dame, then shall 'mother' be your name. If a maiden fair, we'll call you our dear sister and adore you."
So the Princess rose, came down to the Seven Knights and bowed. Her good wishes emphasising, blushing and apologising that to their delightful home uninvited she had come.
Straight they saw her speech bore witness to the presence of a Princess.
So they cleared a corner seat, offered her a pie with meat, filled a glass with wine and served it on a tray, as she deserved it.
But the glass of heady wine she politely did decline, and the pie she broke with caution, savouring a tiny portion.
Pleading she was very tired, soon she gracefully retired and the Seven Knights conveyed her to the best and brightest chamber and, away as they did creep, she was falling fast asleep.
Days flew by? The Princess living all the time without misgiving, in the forest, never bored, with the Seven Knights abroad.
Darkness would the earth still cover when at dawn the seven brothers would ride out to try their luck with a long-bow, shooting duck.
She, as lady of the house, rose much later, moved about dusting, polishing and cooking, never once the Knights rebuking. They, too, never chided her. Days flew by like gossamer.
And in time they grew to love her. Thereupon all seven brothers, shortly after dawn one day, to her chamber made their way, and the Eldest Knight addressed her:
"As you know, you are our sister. But all seven of us here are in love with you, my dear, and we all desire your favours. But that must not be. God save us! Find some way to give us peace! Be a wife to one at least, to the rest remain a sister! But you shake your head. Is this to say our offer you refuse? Nothing from our stock you'll choose?"
"O my brave and bonny brothers, virtuous beyond all others!"
In reply the Princess'said, "God in heaven strike me dead if my answer be not honest: I've no choice. My hand is promised! You're all equal in my eyes, all so valiant and wise, and I love you all, dear brothers! But my heart is to another pledged for evermore. One day I shall wed Prince Yelisei!"
Hushed, the brothers kept their station, scratched their foreheads in frustration.
"As you wish! So now we know," said the Eldest with a bow.
"Pray, forgive us, and I promise you'll hear nothing further from us!"
"I'm not angry," she replied. "By my pledge I must abide."
Bowing low, the seven suitors left her room with passions muted. So in harmony again did they live and friendship reign.
The Tsarina was still livid, every time she saw in vivid memory the Princess fair.
Long the mirror, lying there, was the object of her hatred;
But at last her wrath abated. So one day it came to pass, that she took the looking-glass, up again and sat before it, smiled and, as before, implored it:
"Greetings, pretty looking-glass! Tell me all the truth, I ask: Who in all the world is fairest, and has beauty of the rarest?"
Said the mirror in reply:
"You are fair, I can't deny. But where Seven Knights go riding, in a green oak-grove residing, humbly lives a person who is more beautiful than you."
The Tsarina's wrath descended on her maid: "What folly tempted you to lie? You disobeyed!"
Smudge a full confession made...
Uttering a threat of torture, the Tsarina grimly swore to send the Princess to her death, or not draw another breath.
One day by her window waiting for her brothers homeward hasting, sat the young Princess and span.
Suddenly the dog began barking. Through the courtyard scurried a poor beggar-woman, worried by the dog she kept at bay with her stick.
"Don't go away! Stay there, stay!" the Princess shouted, from the window leaning outward.
"Let me call the dog to heel, and I'll offer you a meal."
And the beggar-woman answered: "Pretty child, you take my fancy! For that dog of yours, you see, could well be the death of me. See him snarling, bristling yonder! Come here, child!"
The Princess wanted to go out, and took a loaf. But the dog its body wove round her feet, refused to let her step towards the woman-beggar.
When the woman, too, drew near, wilder than an angry bear, it ttacked her. How perplexing!
"Had a bad night's sleep, I reckon!" Said the Princess. "Catch it! There!"
And the bread flew through the air. The poor beggar-woman caught it.
"I most humbly thank you, daughter, God be merciful!" said she. "In return take this from me!"
The bright apple she was holding, newly picked, fresh, ripe and golden, straight towards the Princess flew...
How the dog leapt in pursuit! But the Princess neatly trapped it in her palms.
"Enjoy the apple at you leisure, little pet! Thank you for the loaf of bread..."
Said the beggar-woman, brandished in the air her stick and vanished...
Up the stairs the Princess ran with the dog, which then began pitifully staring, whining, just as if its heart were pining for the gift of speech to say: "Throw that apple far away!"
Hastily his neck she patted: "Hey, Sokolko, what's the matter? Lie down!"
Entering once more her own room, she shut the door, sat there with her spindle humming, waiting for her brothers' coming.
But she could not take her gaze from the apple where it lay, full of fragrance, rosy, glowing, fresh and juicy, ripe and golden, sweet as honey to the lips! She could even see the pips...
First the Princess thought of waiting until dinner. But temptation proved too strong. She grasped the bright apple, took a stealthy bite and with fair cheek, sweetly hollowed a delicious morsel swallowed.
All at once her breathing stopped, listlessly her white arms dropped. From her lap the rosy apple tumbled to the floor. The hapless maiden closed her swooning eyes, reeled and fell without a cry, on the bench her forehead striking, then lay still beneath the ikon...
Now the brothers, as it chanced, were returning in a band from another warlike foray. Out to meet them in the forest, went the dog and, running hard, led them straight into the yard.
Said the Knights: "An evil omen! Grief in store!"
The door they opened, walked into the room and gasped. But the dog like lightning dashed for the apple and devoured it. Death that instant overpowered it. For the apple was, they saw, filled with poison to the core.
By the dead Princess the brothers bent their heads in tears and uttered holy prayer to save her soul; Nothing could their grief console.
From the bench they raised her, dressed her, wished within a grave to rest her. Then had second thoughts. For she was as rosy as if sleep. Garlands of repose were wreathing round her, though she was not breathing.
Three whole days they waited, but still her eyes were tightly shut.
So that night with solemn ritual, in a coffin made of crystal, they laid out the body fair of the Princess and from there, to a hollow mountain bore her, where a tomb they fashioned for her:
Iron chains they used to fix her glass case to pillars six. With due caution, and erected iron railings to protect it.
Then the Eldest smote his breast, and the dead Princess addressed:
"Ever peaceful be your slumber! Though your days were few in number On this earth spite took its toll? Yet shall heaven have your soul. With pure love did we regard you, for your loved one did we guard you, but you came not to the groom, only to a chill dark tomb."
That same day the bad Tsarina, waiting for good news to reach her, secretly the mirror took and her usual question put:
"Who is now by far the fairest, and has beauty of the rarest?"
And the answer satisfied:
"You, it cannot be denied. You in all the world are fairest. And your beauty is the rarest!"
In pursuit of his sweet bride, through the country far and wide, still Prince Yelisei goes riding, weeping bitterly. No tidings!
For no matter whom he asks, people either turn their backs, or most rudely rock with laughter: No one knows what he is after.
Now to the bright Sun in zeal, did the bold young Prince appeal:
"Sun, dear Sun! The whole year coursing through the sky, in springtime thawing from the chill earth winter snow! You observe us all below. Surely you'll not grudge an answer? Tell me, did you ever chance to see the Princess I revere? I'm her fiance." "My dear,"
Said the Sun with some insistence, "I have nowhere seen your Princess, so she's dead, we must presume. That is, if my friend, the Moon, has not met her on his travels, or seen clues you may unravel."
Through the dark night Yelisei, feeling anything but gay, with a lover's perseverance, waited for the Moon's appearance.
"Moon, O Moon, my friend!" he said. "Gold of horn and round of head, from the darkest shadows rising, with your eye the world apprising. You whom stars with love regard as you mount your nightly guard! Surely you'll not grudge an answer? Tell me, did you ever chance to see the Princess I revere? I'm her fiance." "O dear!"
Said the Moon in consternation,
"No, I have not seen the maiden. On my round I only go, when it is my turn, you know.
It would seem that I was resting, when she passed." "How very vexing!"
Cried aloud Prince Yelisei. But the Moon went on to say:
"Wait a minute! I suggest you have the Wind come to the rescue. Call him now! It's worth a try. And cheer up a bit! Goodbye!"
Yelisei, not losing courage, to the Wind's abode now hurried.
"Wind, O Wind! Lord of the sky, herding flocks of clouds on high. Stirring up the dark-blue ocean, setting all the air in motion. Unafraid of anyone, saving God in heaven alone! Surely you'll not grudge an answer? Tell me, did you ever chance to see the Princess I revere? I'm her fiance." "O hear!"
Said the Wind in turmoil blowing.
"Where a quiet stream is flowing, stands a mountain high and steep. In it lies a cavern deep; In this cave in shadows dismal, sways a coffin, made of crystal. Hung by chains from pillars six. Round it barren land in which no man ever meets another. In that tomb your bride discover!"
With a howl the Wind was gone. Yelisei wept loud and long. To the barren land he journeyed, desperately, sadly yearning, once again to see his bride.
On he rode. A mountain high rose before him, soaring steeply fom a land laid waste completely.
At its foot, an entrance dim. Yelisei went quickly in. There, he saw, in shadows dismal swayed a coffin made of crystal, where the Princess lay at rest, in the deep sleep of the blest. And the Prince in tears dissolving threw himself upon the coffin...
And it broke!
The maiden straight came to life, sat up, in great wonder looked about and yawning as she set her bed see-sawing, said with pretty arms outstretched:
"Gracious me! How long I've slept!"
Down she stepped from out the coffin. O the sighing and the sobbing! Carrying his bride, he strode back to daylight. Home they rode, making pleasant conversation, till they reached their destination.
Swiftly rumour spread around:
"The Princess is safe and sound!"
It so happened the Tsarina in her room was idly seated by her magic looking-glass, and to pass the time did ask:
"Who in all the world is fairest, and has beauty of the rarest?"
Said the mirror in reply:
"You are fair, I can't deny, but the Princess is the fairest, and her beauty is the rarest!"
The Tsarina leapt and smashed on the floor her looking-glass.
Rushing to the door she saw the fair young Princess walk towards her.
Overcome by grief and spite, the Tsarina died that night.
From the grave where she was buried, to a wedding people hurried, for the good Prince Yelisei wed his Princess that same day.
Never since the World's creation, was there such a celebration; I was there, drank mead and yet, barely got my whiskers wet.
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The Perfect Pair
Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence
Pairing: Loki x OFC
A/N: I did a lot of research for things in this story but if someone notices something that doesn’t seem right please let me know! I try to be accurate but things happens. *Italics are things in the character’s heads*
____________________________________________________________
Chapter 7: Our Reign
(Violet POV)
4 years later
I hummed softly to myself as I ran a warm towel over my face; the sun streaming through the open balcony doors warmed my naked skin.
“Mm, good morning,” Loki’s gravelly voice sent chills down my spine.
“Good morning, trickster,” I chuckled, turning to face him. Loki sat up in bed, sheets tangled around his waist as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“What should we do today, darling?” Loki yawned, stretching his arms over his head.
“I have to make a trip to the market this morning. You should probably make an appearance today; the Asgardians do love to see their king,” I smirked, drying the remaining water from my cheeks.
“This façade is getting tiring,” Loki grumbled, sliding out of bed.
“I understand, my dear, but just know, you are making Asgard better. I knew you would,” I winked, snapping my fingers. A light, simple, maroon dress fell around me, hugging my curves perfectly; I swiftly braided my ebony hair as I heard Loki shuffling around behind me.
“Thank you, darling,” Loki whispered, coming to stand behind me.
“Before you change, can I have a kiss?” I giggled.
“Of course,” Loki chuckled, bending down to press his soft lips to mine.
“Now go. Asgard will be thrilled to see their king,” I snickered, gently pushing Loki away.
“Wonderful,” Loki snorted, shaking his head. I watched his magic engulf him; Odin’s look-alike stood where Loki once was.
“It still makes me uncomfortable, like he’s still here,” I shivered.
“I know; I will find you later, my love,” Odin’s voice rung out, making me shuffle in place. I watched Loki leave the room before taking a breath, shaking off the weird feeling that settles around me when I see him like that. I took a deep breath, collecting myself before slipping from our chambers to head for the market.
///
I wandered around the stands that popped up in the small market district of Asgard; I stopped at a stand run by a resilient older woman.
“Good morning, pumpkin,” she greeted with her back to me.
“Good morning Hertha,” I chuckled, my eyes scanning the fruit she had displayed this morning.
“Oh” -Hertha spun on her heels- “Fjola! You scared me,” she chuckled.
“Will you stop with that,” I giggled. “Violet sounds much prettier.”
“That is true,” Hertha smiled. “Well, good morning Violet. What brings you to the market this morning?”
“I wanted to surprise my love with his favorite dessert. And of course, I couldn’t miss out on visiting my favorite friend,” I winked at Hertha.
“Don’t go flattering this old lady,” she chuckled, waving me off. “How is your beloved? I have still yet to meet him.” I bit back the irritated sigh that threatened to bubble up; Loki taking the throne posing as Odin was frustrating at times. Loki had to disguise himself if we ventured out of the castle putting on a fake face, and of course, he enjoyed picking one that would irritate me just for kicks. I unintentionally reach for the ring hanging around my neck, gently running my thumb over the cool metal. A few responses to Hertha’s question rolled around in my head before I finally opened my mouth again.
“He is well. He is a busy man though,” I sighed, stopping myself from rolling my eyes.
“Well, working for the royal family will keep him busy,” she shrugged. I sighed again, wishing I didn’t have to keep all the lies straight about who he is and what he does.
“I will have to drag him down one day so he can meet you,” I lied, smiling softly at her.
“Drag? You make it sound like such a chore, darling,” a familiar voice traveled over my shoulder; my body went rigid. What the fuck is he doing! I glanced over my shoulder, letting the familiar pull in my chest lead me towards Loki; I stopped turning when my chest tightened. I found Loki shuffling through the crowd of people directly behind me; I involuntarily rolled my eyes when I saw him. Loki kept the recognizable onyx color of his hair, but it was cut short, sticking up in odd directions like he just woke up. The structure of his face was familiar, but his cheekbones didn’t sit as high, and the deep black scruff along his cheeks, chin, and neck hid his identity well. I realized he didn’t change anything from the neck down, aside from his clothing and the slight tanner color his skin took on. He wore simple royal warrior armor that caught the sun as he stepped closer; I locked eyes with Loki, my mouth ajar as his bright green eyes danced with mirth.
“You must be Lady Violet’s beloved!” Hertha gushed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Loki’s eyes shifted from my slightly bewildered expression to the older woman behind the booth. An easy smile spread across Loki’s face as he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side.
“That I am, and you must be the lovely Hertha.” Loki’s voice dropped a few octaves, his body leaning forward as he spoke; Hertha caught the slightly suggestive way Loki spoke and moved. Hertha giggled softly as a blush colored her cheeks a soft pink when she dropped her gaze to the table between us.
“Oh, stop it, you devil,” I joked, bumping my hip into Loki.
“Don’t worry, I only have eyes for you, my love,” Loki whispered, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips.
“Damn straight,” I mumbled, causing Loki barked out a laugh. Hertha’s eyes fell on Loki’s face again as she watched him laugh freely; I caught the swirl of attraction in her eyes before Loki calmed down.
“I didn’t catch your name, pumpkin. Violet didn’t ever share that with me,” Hertha voiced, shooting me a joking glare.
“Trygve,” he answered quickly, reaching his free hand towards her. I tried to cover my laugh but ended up covering it with a cough.
“Trustworthy,” Hertha hummed, placing her hand gently in Loki’s. Loki bent down, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles, never breaking eye contact; Hertha blushed again, a deep crimson spreading across her face until Loki let go of her hand. I reached out with a tendril of magic, poking into Loki’s head; he reached back immediately.
Really trustworthy! I laughed in my head, smiling brightly.
What I couldn’t say Loki, he thought, trying to hide his smile.
So you decided on Trygve. Oh, the irony, I thought, trying to keep my laugh to myself.
I found it quite amusing, swirled through his head before his magic disappeared from my mind.
“Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Hertha, but I must return to the castle. Duty calls,” Loki sighed. “Oh, but first” -Loki eyed the bunches of grapes- “how much for a bunch of grapes?”
“Well, it is lunch hour, and you spent your time talking to this old lady, so they are on me. Pick any bunch you like,” Hertha smiled.
“No, Hertha, we insist,” I piped up, my eyebrows pulling together.
“It’s my pleasure, go ahead,” she gestured to Loki again.
“That is very kind of you,” Loki uttered, his eyes roaming over the grapes. He quickly plucked a bunch from the basket, humming happily. “Thank you, and again it was a pleasure to meet you, Hertha.” Loki turned his gaze towards me, gently squeezing my hip when his eyes locked with mine. “I’ll find you tonight, my love,” Loki mumbled, a slight smirk on his lips.
“Of course,” I hummed, turning my face up towards him. Our lips met in a gentle kiss, fitting together perfectly like always, flooding me with peace, despite Loki’s slightly different outward appearance. We parted before the simple kiss ignited further desire; Loki squeezed my hip again, smiled softly, and turned to leave, waving quickly as he disappeared into the crowd.
“Violet!” Hertha whispered sharply.
“What?” I asked, feigning innocence.
“You didn’t tell me your beloved is so…” she trailed off.
“Alluring, desirable, charming,” I chuckled.
“Yes! Now I am much too old, but I can see how any woman would swoon after him. How do you bear it!” she sighed, shaking her head.
“It’s easy to look past it when I can see into his mind.” I held a hand up, watching Hertha follow the purple crackle of magic dance across my fingertips.
“I didn’t know you could use magic,” she whispered, leaning closer to me.
“I don’t like to make a spectacle of it,” I shrugged, my face neutral.
“So you read his mind?” she gasped. “That feels so intrusive.”
“It is, but he wields magic as well,” I admitted.
“Hm, must make it easier during a fight,” Hertha mumbled. I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from my lips; Loki and I had no problem screaming our feelings at each other.
“It does,” I lied, still giggling softly.
“I apologize, but I can’t get over how beautiful he is. Even his name labels him a good man,” she sighed, shaking her head again. “You are a very lucky lady, pumpkin.”
“I’m lucky I opened my eyes. We didn’t get along when we first met,” I snorted, remembering my first encounter with Loki. “But if only you knew how truly beautiful he is,” I smirked. Of course, the mask Loki put on to introduce himself to Hertha was attractive, but it wasn’t him; the authentic, unedited Loki is much more appealing.
“I can only imagine what he can do behind closed doors,” Hertha swooned, covering her mouth when she realized what she said.
“Hertha!” I choked, taken back by her admission.
“I apologize, but I couldn’t help myself!” she giggled behind her hand. I laughed along with her, shaking my head; I noticed more people were crowding into the market, hovering near Hertha’s stand.
“Well, I would love to gossip more, but people need your attention, and I have dessert to fetch. I will be back to visit again soon, Hertha.”
“Take care, pumpkin,” she waved before an upcoming customer caught her attention. I quickly made my way to the small bakery that made Loki’s favorite tarts before the line became too long. Luckily, the bakery wasn’t bustling yet, and I was on my way down the path towards the castle only minutes later. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a large group of Asgardians near the theater stage; curiosity got the better of me, and I changed my course. I sent the bakery box to our chambers with a snap of my fingers before continuing towards the stage. I slowly wandered up the steps, noticing the play had been stopped, and all the actors stood motionless. I picked up my pace, taking the steps faster, trying to hear what was happening; I vaguely heard Loki’s voice in the distance. Shit, that’s not good. I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the remarks and sharp elbows thrown my way; I stumbled out of the crowd, catching sight of what everyone was looking at.
“Ow, ow, ow, okay!” Thor stood over Loki, pressing Mjolnir into his chest, holding him against the lounge facing the stage. “I know exactly where he is.” Loki struggled around the pressure on his chest, raising his hands towards his brother.
“Fun while it lasted,” I huffed, drawing Thor’s attention.
“You’re alive too!” Thor lifted Mjolnir off his brother’s chest, stepping off the platform towards me.
“Wonderful to see you too, goldilocks.” I crossed my arms as he approached, stepping right into my personal space. I lifted my head to scowl into Thor’s eyes instead of his chest.
“I was genuinely concerned when you disappeared,” Thor grumbled. I saw a flicker of relief pass through his eyes before he continued glaring at me. My face softened at his confession, my arms falling to my sides.
“I’m sorry. Loki showed up one night, and I left with him. I truly didn’t mean to worry you, Thor.” I tentatively reached out, slowly resting my hand on his exposed bicep; I waited for him to move away, but he only kept glaring at me. “I didn’t get to thank your hospitality before I left you high and dry. However, I do appreciate everything you did for me,” I smiled, hoping to melt his cold demeanor. To my surprise, Thor sighed, his posture relaxing some; he reached up with his free hand to rub the bridge of his nose.
“I guess I’m glad you’re alive,” Thor grunted.
“Why so you can kill me?” I joked, still tensing slightly, waiting to see his reaction. I couldn’t quite tell just how angry he was deep down. However, I didn’t expect what happened next; Thor’s deep laughed filled the silence, his shoulders hunching forward as he grabbed his side. I caught Loki let out the breath he’d been holding when his brother finally relaxed.
“At least…I know… some things haven’t….changed,” Thor managed around fits of giggles. “Apparently, you still have a death wish.”
“Eh, not as much anymore.” I smiled up at him, realizing a small part of me was glad to see him again.
“Did I miss something?” Loki cut in, his eyes darting back and forth between his brother and me, visibly confused.
“When you ‘died,’ I tried to convince Thor to kill me. He refused, obviously, but I guess we bonded a little over our shared loss. So then I tried to convince him to kill me again,” I snickered.
“So you two are, what, friends?” Loki gaped; I could see his brain reeling.
“We aren’t enemies,” Thor answered, nudging me with his shoulder. “We can talk about this later. Take me to Odin.”
“Uh, right,” Loki mumbled. Loki led us to the Bifrost, periodically glancing at me then his brother. Great, he’s going to be a ray of sunshine about this. I trudged along after the brothers, dreading my next conversation with Loki.
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Series Masterlist | Chapter 8
Taglist:
@criminalyetminimal @marvelfansworld
#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#loki x ofc#loki laufeyson x ofc#loki odinson x ofc#god of mischief#frost giant#halfling#asgard#asgardian#half frost giant ofc#half asgardian ofc#jotunheim#loki smut#angst#violence#prince loki#prince of asgard#loki series#loki laufeyson series#loki odinson series#god of lies#loki of asgard#loki of jotunheim#marvel#mcu#magic ofc#magic#loki fic
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Hi! My sides are actually torn from all the laughing I did while reading your stuff btw. Could you ask our lord and savior Muriel to accidentally stumble in on the mc when they are (le gasp) indecent/naked??? It can be funny or steamy. I don't care as long as our sweet mountain man is rendered deeply uncomfortable 😀
Yes that is, indeed, my name.
Muriel x reader - gender neutral reader, minor steam but not enough to cook broccoli, general humor, Muriel is amazing and I’d sell my soul to that man.
The palace with Nadia completely in charge is way more beautiful than anything else. Colors from Prakra combined with the new artwork on the walls have produced a beautiful new Vesuvia. And to celebrate, the masquerade has been continuously put on. A party to celebrate freedom from the Red Plague and the Devil.
Even now, as the sun sets over the horizon and the staff begin settling down for the night, there’s a buzzing excitement hovering over Vesuvia. The city stands in muted joy, waiting for the incoming party.
In one of the many luxurious rooms, a lovely form shuffles about. Eyes half-lidded in sleepy joy as they put away their various clothing items. Nadia, in her loving fashion, had asked her beloved friends to come back and stay in the palace for the week of the masquerade. The five companions had been spending the days prepping for the party. Ordering food, decorating, and generally being companions filled the days from morning to night.
(y/n) meanders about, trying to find their pajamas to slip into. A few myrrh-scented furs and items are scattered about the room, intermixing with the magician’s own things.
“Muri, dammit,” (y/n) huffs, cleaning up the random items. Nadia had given each of the guests their own room, but in his usual fashion Muriel had sort of just snuck his way into (y/n)’s room. Now the poor magician paces, trying to find their soft pajama shirt in the mild clutter. Cool air flutters over their bare skin as they search fruitlessly for clothes that were probably stolen by Inanna.
“Alright alright,” Muriel’s voice rumbles from outside the door, “Goodnight, you two.” The mountain man slips in through the door, waving softly to Asra and Julian as they walk off to their own rooms.
“Muriel, have you seen my pajamas?” (y/n) asks, comfortable with just meandering around the way they are. Muriel plops onto the bed, facing away from the apprentice as he slips his boots off and stretches.
“I haven’t seen them, I’m sorry,” the mountain hums, popping his knuckles and stretching his legs out a tad.
“Well fuck,” (y/n) sighs, putting away the final bits of clothes and magic supplies.
“Just wear tomorrow’s clothes,” Muriel offers, humming a bit as he looks up at the ceiling, “Its not that bad.” The man’s shoulders relax, his whole aura calming from being around his comparatively small lover.
“But...pajamas.” they pout, crossing their arms and huffing. Muriel hums softly, his fingers tracing the soft blankets on the bed.
“I’ll help you lo-....” Muriel turns, freezing as he sees (y/n)’s bare form, “L-Look....” The magician smiles, clapping their hands together once in joy.
“Yay!” (y/n) trots over and presses a loving smooch to Muriel’s cheek, “My hero~” The mountain man’s face turns darker red, his whole body shaking at being so close to someone who’s so beautiful.
“H...heahhhh...” He stammers uselessly, eyes burning from his refusal to blink, “mheh....” (y/n) giggles, pressing a soft kiss to Muriel’s forehead.
“Oh Muriel never change, my dear,” the magician coos, cupping the stubbly cheeks of the massive man.
“wh...who?” Muriel blushes all the way down to his chest, skin burning under (y/n)’s touch.
“Muriel?” the latter giggles, “That’s you.”
“me?”
“Yes, you’re Muriel. My handsome boyfriend.” At this, the poor mountain man’s brain finally un-melts itself, his eyes blinking rapidly to make up for the crazed wide-eyed stare he’d been sporting.
“Oh yeah, um,” Muriel clears his throat, eyes watering from not blinking, “That’s me. that’s my name.” (y/n) giggles, lowering themselves down to straddle their boyfriend’s lap, dim light barely illuminating their skin. Muriel’s calloused hands come up to grip onto their hips, fingers pressing into the soft skin as if the magician will attempt to run away.
“yes, yes it is,” (y/n) giggles, cupping the mountain man’s face and peppering his scarred skin in kisses. Each kiss melts the muscular frame of the tenderhearted man even further. His face burning with flustered joy and his eyes fluttering shut in bliss. A deep rumble comes from Muriel’s barrel chest, his lips pulled into an unbreaking smile. (y/n) shuffles forward, trying to press their naked belly to Muriel’s body. However, as they squirm closer, the man lets out a very loud dying whale sound, startling the magician.
“WHATTHEFUCK,” Muriel squawks, face flushing as his lover accidentally presses their not-clothed-at-all crotch to his ever-hardening member. It’s not like the duo hadn’t been intimate together in any capacity; however, the pair hadn’t done anything outside of Muriel’s home and general vanilla ways.
“Are you okay?” (y/n) giggles, hands on Muriel’s shoulders as the large male grips their hips like a lifeline.
“M-Mhm,” Muriel swallows loudly, eyes devouring the image of his beloved, “I’ve never been better.” The magician smiles, flicking their hand and putting out the lantern in the room.
“I think I’ll just chill like this tonight,” (y/n) hums, “It’s not like I’m here with a stranger. I trust you, Muri.” the former barbarian blushes, watching as his lover climbs into bed and curls up. (e/c) orbs slide shut as, presumably, Muriel slips off his own clothes and-
“Move over.” The man growls softly, standing very much not clothed in front of his beloved. The aforementioned (y/n) shuffles out of the way excitedly, feelings of adoration and excitement racing through their body as the beautifully sculpted warrior slides into bed.
“Oh shit now how am I gonna sleep?” (y/n) teases, winking and laying down on the silken bedsheets. Muriel looks over, gorgeous green eyes illuminated by the moonlight. A smile stretches over the man’s lips, casting a wink at the flustered magician.
“Who said anything about sleep?”
#the arcana#arcana#the arcana x reader#arcana x reader#the arcana game#muriel#muriel arcana#muriel x reader
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It Would Be An Honor
Sihtric/Reader/Uhtred
Explicit, threesome, otherwise known as a sandwich fic or the devil’s three-way. Established Sihtric/Reader invite Uhtred into their bed; they both so totally want to be topped by him. Plenty of Uhtred/Reader and even some Uhtred/Sihtric action.
Note: this might be just a little bit absurd, but just go with it and enjoy the fantasy eh? I’m going to tag this for objectification, since I have a kink for the guys talking about me over my head during sex. But all of this is quite caring and consent-driven.
Uhtred is the first one to give voice to it. “Perhaps I need to have a taste of her,” he teases Sihtric, at the bottom of his third cup of ale. “I have never given permission for an oathman to marry before. How am I supposed to decide?” You’re not sure how to take the glimmer in the eye of your beloved’s lord as he regards you from across the table.
Sihtric’s face goes deadly serious. You can see that Uhtred is already readying an apology for the poor joke, but Sihtric doesn’t say what he’s expecting. “My Lord, that would be an honor.”
Uhtred’s eyes pop. Sihtric starts stammering, attempting to take the words back. Uhtred just laughs. “What was that, Sihtric? No, no,” he chuckles, taking another sip of his ale, “finish what it was that you were saying.”
Sihtric looks to you, his fingers winding between your own. You give him an encouraging squeeze.
“If you wished… if you wished to come share our bed, Lord, you are welcome. It would be an honor, truly.”
“An honor?” Uhtred is not done grinning, watching Sihtric squirm. He leans closer. “An honor to see my hands on your woman, Sihtric?”
Sihtric exhales softly, and you can hear the slight groan underneath. He nods.
Uhtred’s fringed eyes capture yours. “And you want this too?” His gaze is deep, and you realize now he’s taking the idea as seriously as Sihtric.
You preen just a little under those eyes. “Sihtric knew he could offer because… this was practically my idea, Lord.”
“Was it, now.” He seems pleased as he regards you over the rim of his cup. “Then how could I refuse?”
Sihtric is the first to kiss the Lord Uhtred, as they stumble arm-in-arm behind you, making comments about the tilting of your hips as you lead them home. Your eyes only barely catch it: a quick, impulsive little smooch that lands on the corner of Uhtred’s mouth. Something that almost could be mistaken for companionable affection, if not for the force with which it was imparted.
You lay down on the bed, one man stretched out on either side of you. All three of you are giggling. One hand propping his head up on bent elbow, Uhtred uses the other to reach out and pull at the laces that hold your dress on. Sihtric’s eyes are wide, round as saucers. He watches Uhtred undress you, his own fingers drawing quick little circles against your hip where he lies beside you. The kisses he lays behind your ear are thanking you for offering yourself like this, for bringing the Lord Uhtred to his bed.
Uhtred bends over your face and takes a moment to smooth your hair, eyes kind and wild both at once. When he presses his lips against yours they are soft and steady. He parts them with a tongue that tastes like spiced apples.
He lifts his head, keeping his warm hand on your body as he looks to Sihtric. “You are a lucky man,” he says, voice rich and slow, “and for tonight I am too.” Your beloved shivers and nods. The two of them watch each other for a moment longer. You expect more teasing, but there is a pregnant silence instead. Uhtred rises, and removes his tunic in one swift tug.
His well-muscled chest, framed with the long hair that spills over his shoulder, is an absolutely breathtaking sight here in the soft light of the hearth. You and Sihtric are caught staring as Uhtred grins like you are both idiots. “What is it?”
You sit up in the middle of the bed, your loosened clothing slipping over your shoulder, and reach out for his chest. “Surely you know, Lord,” your fingers land on his supple skin, tracing over the firm expanse of his pectoral muscle, “the effect your body has.”
Sihtric presses himself flush behind you, his fingers mirroring yours, moving up your flanks. You know he wants to touch Uhtred too. And how happy he is to just be present for this, already more than he dared hope for.
Uhtred’s lips settle into a smug, brimming smile as he lets you explore the planes and angles of his chest. Though both men have the muscled bodies of warriors, Uhtred is broader than Sihtric, and it is a delight to feel a different manifestation of that masculine power. You dip your face, smelling the earthy, heady musk of his skin, and press your lips into warming kisses across your lord’s chest. The excitement is almost too much to bear, but you want to go slowly, to drag this part out for both your own pleasure and for Sihtric’s.
Four hands are roaming over your own body, soothing and tantalizing you. When you lift your head, you see that the men are staring at each other over your shoulder, some silent communication passing between them. Then both their mouths drop to you, Sihtric kissing and nibbling at your neck while Uhtred grasps the back of your head from the other side and and mouths along your jaw.
Sihtric pushes your dress off both your shoulders, letting it pool at your waist while Uhtred kisses you deeply. His mouth commands your attention, though Sihtric’s hands scoop your breasts from behind and work them until a soft moan escapes into Uhtred’s mouth.
Uhtred breaks the kiss, eyes following the movement happening further down your body. Sihtric’s fingers have left your nipples standing firm and tight, and he lifts under your breasts softly to present them. “Here, Lord.”
“For my inspection?” Uhtred asks, amused to be reminded of the ruse that got him into this bed. His eyes are hooded as he looks down, and his fingers slide over Sihtric’s as he accepts the offer. “A worthy pair,” he muses, “soft, and firm.” He pinches around both your nipples at once and tugs, firmly. The sensation draws a gasp from you, one that rolls into a keening moan as his pressure keeps on rolling your nipples under the pad of his thumb, just shy of cruelly. Sihtric had never done that. A wild fire rolls through your body, headed straight between your legs where no one is even touching you yet. Your eyes are closed but you hear Uhtred is still talking. “And responsive.” His voice is crooning and pleased.
You swoon back into Sihtric’s steadying arms as Uhtred keeps working you, mercilessly. He takes the extra room you’ve given him to lean down and envelop one teat with his mouth. Sihtric’s hand comes around to claim the other one again, and you think you might incinerate right here. Two lovers might have been a mistake, more than any woman could handle. Your eyes open and you stare up at Sihtric from where your head is nestled against his shoulder. He is smiling at you, eyes brimming with adoration and a faint echo of the smirk with which Uhtred had been regarding you. They are both enjoying overwhelming you.
The noises coming out of your throat are starting to sound ragged, and Uhtred finally shows mercy, reducing his pressure and licking steadily around your nipple before releasing you. He pulls you up as he straightens, out of Sihtric’s arms, and kisses you again with his bare chest pressed to yours. He makes a crooning sort of sound and his hips push closer, the hardness between them fully evident against your belly.
Then Uhtred breaks the kiss and looks over your shoulder. “Sihtric.” The lord’s voice sharpens just a little, an echo of the way he addresses his man in the field. You feel your beloved squirm behind you. “Why are you the only one that is still dressed?”
You turn inside Uhtred’s arms. Sihtric is wearing his shy smile and fumbling with his jerkin. You reach out to help him with the buckles, but Uhtred’s hand is there first. You mark the way Sihtric goes still, his eyes brimming with arousal at his lord’s touch.
You glance up at Uhtred; he has noticed Sihtric’s reaction too, pausing once and then proceeding to finish loosening his clothing for him with deliberate, precise movements. Then neither of them do anything, and so you turn to be the one to lift the jerkin over Sihtric’s head.
The men are still gazing at each other, and a hot hope rushed up into your throat, that maybe perhaps your beloved really could have everything he wants tonight. You run your fingers up Sihtric’s bare chest, giving Uhtred an excuse to keep looking. Sihtric’s arm comes around your waist, pulling you closer, but you stay tucked under his shoulder and kiss only the side of his neck.
The two men are kneeling on the bed across from each other. Uhtred reaches out, running one finger along the soft swell of muscle at the outside of Sihtric’s shoulder. “How long have you had this scar?”
“Edinton, Lord,” Sihtric replies, voice tight.
“You have been with me that long,” Uhtred muses, and his fingers have not left Sihtric’s skin.
Then your lord’s eyes flash from Sihtric’s to yours, and he’s leaning in to kiss you again. He does not pull you out from under Sihtric’s arm, only brings his own body in closer. You open your eyes briefly under Uhtred’s skillful kiss to see that his hand did not leave his man’s shoulder, that his palm is now wrapped firmly around it, steadying his balance as he leans in to taste you. Sihtric reaches up to embrace him companionably. You know he is thrilling at the excuse to touch Uhtred’s naked skin.
Uhtred squeezes Sihtric’s shoulder in an affectionate response, pulling away from your mouth only a little to speak with him again. “Certainly after all that you have done for me, I can grant you permission to marry this absolutely delectable woman.”
He’s looking at your mouth by the time he finishes the sentence. You want his full lips on yours again too, but first you must mark the moment. “I thought you were going to have me, Lord, before you made that decision.” You are grinning playfully, and so is he. And his fingers keep moving on Sihtric’s shoulder.
There is laughter brimming in his rich voice as he answers you. “I asked for only a taste of you, if you remember. And I have enjoyed it. I have certainly made up my mind, Sihtric.” His eyes warm, a little more seriously, as he looks back to his man. “You deserve this happiness.” His intoxicated gaze flits between the both of you. “That is not to say that I am feeling in any way satisfied. I only wished to clear the air right now. If you wish to share yourself with me tonight, let it not be in order to sway me to anything. You already have my permission. All teasing aside.”
You share a quick glance with Sihtric before speaking again. “Let us not set teasing aside too quickly,” you purr, and dare to drag your palm across the front of Uhtred’s straining trousers.
The wrecked look that passes through Uhtred’s expressive eyes at your touch draws a heavy breath from you and Sihtric both.
His cock shudders underneath your hand. You sculpt your fingers around its outline, admiring its entire length, up and down. You carry on like that until Uhtred finally grunts with slight frustration and reaches for the fastening of his trousers. “Are you going to take it out already, woman?”
You let him do that part himself, watching eagerly as his pale length bursts from its confines and into your waiting hand. You stroke him ever so softly at first, enjoying the fine, smooth quality of his shaft, the delicate fullness of his swollen head. He groans and collapses forward, his cheek pressing against yours as he shows his eagerness while trying to hold his hips still and let you work.
Sihtric’s hand is sliding along the top of your buttocks, pushing your dress the rest of the way off you.
Uhtred’s cock is perfect, and already dripping. You want to bend and taste that honey. The best way to reach the level of his hips with your mouth is to lay down on your side, your naked body outstretched across the bed between the two men. You hold yourself up on one elbow and grasp Uhtred’s cock in an assertive grip in the other hand. You bring his tip to your lips.
Uhtred runs his hand through your hair, smoothing it away from your face as he watches you take his cock into your mouth. The taste is tangy and sweet and when you swirl your tongue over the entire head of it he moans and brings his other hand to your cheek. “By all the gods, woman…”
He trails off whatever incoherent praise he was starting when you suck him down deeper into your mouth. Sihtric is behind your hips, stroking your skin and coaxing you to part your legs just far enough to let him access the treasures between.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Uhtred gasps between your long pulls at his shaft, “she cannot be your wife, Sihtric. She has to be mine.”
You can only imagine Sihtric’s face, because he doesn’t answer in any way that you can hear. But his fingers have found your opening, drenched and wanting, and he starts working two fingers inside. Soon Uhtred is not the only one who’s moaning.
His rhythm is different from the way he usually coaxes you down here. Tonight Sihtric is demanding, claiming your pussy almost before you’re ready for it, delving deep and twisting in the most distracting and unexpected ways. He has you gasping, sloppy, around Uhtred’s cock, interrupting the flow of passion you’ve intended to build in the lord with your mouth.
Finally you pull away with an obscene suck down Uhtred’s length and turn your face down toward the mischievous look on Sihtric’s face. “You are being terribly distracting,” you chide him. “Do you not want me to do a good job for your Lord? Or are you just feeling neglected?” You roll onto your back, reaching your hand out to your beloved while the other remains wrapped around the warmth of Uhtred’s shaft. “Do I need to tend to you both at once?”
Sihtric’s pants are off faster than you had thought possible. He kneels up where you can reach, mirroring Uhtred now, his cock bouncing straight and eager. It fits into your hand in the best kind of familiar way, the comfort of a lover with whom you are totally in sync.
With a cock in each hand, you begin to stroke evenly, getting used to mirroring the same motions with each fist. You look up from your place against the mattress to see that the two men have locked eyes with each other again, panting and grunting at each other under the lust you’re stirring, a wild energy crackling in the space above your head.
You lighten your strokes, going slow and sweet, loathe to interrupt their silent connection. Uhtred’s weight shifts, and he reaches across. Sihtric leans his head into his Uhtred’s open palm, wary yet longing.
Uhtred is the one to lunge forward, pressing their mouths together. Your hands go still. You know they will not notice whatever you might be doing at the moment down here.
The kiss is firm, but brief. Uhtred pulls back smoothly, a little smirk twisting his lip, and watches the reaction of your betrothed. Though you know he had been hoping for this, Sihtric seems stunned. His whole body shivers, and then with the same bravery that launches him at his enemies he closes the gap above your head, mouth seeking Uhtred’s greedily.
Your hands start moving almost on their own as you watch Uhtred kiss Sihtric quite thoroughly above you. It is a pure delight to see something that they both, clearly, have been longing for to be finally consummated here. You almost feel like you might be in their way before the boys remember you, grinning down with heads together as your two hands rock idly over their cocks.
They dive for you, each landing to either side on the bed and attacking you with lips, tongues, and needy hands. You suppose that too much tension may have been generated in that one forbidden kiss. You are not going to complain if they need to take it out on your flesh now.
Uhtred lifts his head from your breast, interrupting the depth of Sihtric’s kiss on your lips. “Let me show you a few tricks you can use on your wedding night, Sihtric.”
Your beloved looks across, brows creasing. “Do you really think there are things that I don’t know?”
“We shall see.” His smile is full of mischief again. “She will tell me.” Uhtred spreads your legs, one rough palm sliding down the inside of your thigh. He scoots down in the bed and puts your knee over his shoulder, staring down at that last bit of you he has not yet seen. You must already be swollen and glistening from Sihtric’s earlier ardor. Uhtred slaps the back your thigh. It’s playful, but sharp enough to sting. It burns pleasantly in such proximity to your cunt. “You like that?” he asks, and does it again in a slightly different spot.
You moan your agreement. It’s unexpected, strange, but it inflames your passion in a whole new way.
Sihtric’s lip is curling into a smile, as he lifts his head from kissing you to watch this play out. Maybe Uhtred has something to teach both of you.
“I think you have your hands full with this one, Sihtric.” Uhtred’s voice curls with amusement. “She has an adventurous spirit, I think.” He leans in and bites the inside of your thigh. Your body jumps, your legs closing together self-protectively, but a wave of arousal hits you just a split second later. Uhtred is pushing your legs back apart, not letting you stop him as he nips and nibbles his way down between your thighs. Then he pauses and looks up, mouth hovering over your mound. “And have you ever…”
“Of course, Lord!” Sihtric says indignantly.
Uhtred just nods and spreads you wider. “But did you ever get to watch your woman’s face while she felt it.” And he buries his mouth between your legs without waiting for an answer.
Uhtred’s tongue knows right where to go, satisfying that burning need at the apex of your thighs without overwhelming, or pressing too hard, too soon. Your back arches and Sihtric is there to hold you, watching your face with fascination just as his lord bid him to. What an amazing moment, to gaze up into your betrothed’s eyes, while the beguiling, larger-than-life Lord Uhtred does positively sinful things between your legs.
You feel your climax coming quickly, so quickly under that confident tongue. Your breaths come faster, turning your moans into short little panting things that approach squeals. But just before your body can lock and your orgasm can flood you, Uhtred pulls away.
You swallow a disappointed noise as Uhtred looms up over you, crawling up your body with his cock bouncing heavy with need. “I want to feel your cunt clench, and milk my cock.”
He lines himself up and enters swiftly, piercing you easily to the hilt after all the work he has done to warm and open your body. Still, you cry out at the intensity of it, the way he fills you so deep and all at once.
Your hand clings to Sihtric; one glance at him shows his pupils blown wide at his enjoyment of the scene. You were so close already; coming now around Uhtred’s cock feels inevitable. But he repositions himself, pulling your hips up higher with his strong arms so he can come up to his knees and drive into you with even more control. You wail as he pushes himself even deeper. “Are you going to do as you are told, and come for me?” Uhtred taunts. And then: “Sihtric, come here.”
You are too far gone to open you eyes and see what Uhtred wants from your beloved. The white-hot pleasure in your hips is expanding, billowing up, and you are not in control of any part of your body under Uhtred’s onslaught. When the orgasm crashes you go rigid, and you can even feel the muscles deep in your cunt clenching rhythmically around your lord’s cock just as he wanted. After it peaks and you can finally feel your limbs again, you collapse into a limp and mewling puddle as Uhtred makes approving noises above you.
He’s leaning over you, groaning, and while he paused to feel your body milking him a moment ago, now he resumes thrusting: slower, deeper, chasing his own pleasure rather than yours. Sihtric makes a strangled noise and you look up to see Uhtred’s hand wrapped around his cock. He’s stroking him rather aimlessly, his eyes closed as he’s bent over your body and deep in his own enjoyment, but Sihtric’s rapt face does not seem to be begrudging the lack of skill in his lord’s touch.
Uhtred makes a deep, powerful sound and then tears himself from your body, cock still standing solid and hard. There is a wildness in his eyes, and a determination too. He looks like a man pulling himself away from the brink.
He slaps the back of your thigh. “Get up and ride your man now. If your legs still work.”
You are definitely shaky as you rise, smiling dreamily at Sihtric as Uhtred guides him to lay on his back in the center of the bed. You swing your leg over to straddle him, and Sihtric’s hands automatically come up to your hips, appreciating, guiding, welcoming.
You are just satiated enough to be willing to take your time with this, pressing the swollen wetness of your pussy lips over the side of his shaft, gliding up and down to tantalize rather than following Uhtred’s command right away. Sihtric groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as his cock jumps underneath you. He’s close to his edge too, just from watching all of this. Just from the touch of his lord’s hand, no matter how raw and uncoordinated his stroking may have been.
“Does she always tease this much?” Uhtred asks from behind you. His hands grip tight around your hips and force you to grind down harder.
Sihtric responds between panting breaths. “Only when I’m lucky.”
“Then I think we are all lucky tonight,” Uhtred replies. His hands slide up to your breasts, plucking at your nipples, renewing your passion as he presses close. His own erection rubs sticky against your thigh. He brings his lips to your ear. “Have mercy on the man.” He slaps your bottom, hard. “Up.”
As you shift your weight to rise up on your knees, Uhtred’s hand comes to the back of your neck, guiding your movement. He makes you stop when you’re high enough for him to reach between your legs. His fingers make a few lascivious circles over your clit before dropping down to find Sihtric’s cock.
“Slowly, now,” he coaxes in your ear, standing Sihtric’s cock up in line with your opening while pushing down on your neck, forcing you to sink right onto it. “My man deserves a good humping.”
A sweet sound of pleasure vocalizes the breath that comes sighing out of your mouth as you take your beloved in.
“How are you so tight,” Sihtric moans, surprised that after Uhtred’s deep pounding you would feel so swollen rather than stretched. His fingers clench over your thighs as you take him achingly slowly, restricted by the torturously slow pace Uhtred’s hand clamped on the back of your neck is demanding.
When you’ve sunk to your limit, your thighs embracing Sihtric’s hips as snugly as your cunt, Uhtred shoves a little at your neck before releasing you. “Now ride.”
It feels good to roll your hips over Sihtric’s body. So, so good, sending waves of pleasure shimmering up from your overstimulated inner walls while you watch your lover’s face come entirely undone. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open but you want to; you don’t want to miss a moment of this.
Especially when Uhtred moves up closer to where Sihtric’s head is laying, when he leans in to speak low to his oathman, grinning and teasing. “These are the legs that you want wrapped around you every night?”
Sihtric nods quickly, looking like he’s struggling to hold himself together. You’re not sure if Uhtred’s words are slowing him down or speeding him up toward his own climax.
“You are certain?”
Sihtric nods again, the motion more frantic.
Uhtred slaps him, directly across the face. “Do not come too fast.”
Sihtric groans and rolls his head against the blanket. Again, you are not certain Uhtred isn’t just turning him on more.
Uhtred moves forward, kneeling right beside his man’s head, erection hovering directly over his face. “I want you to take this in your mouth,” he says, stroking his own hand up the shaft and over the tip, eyes blown out with lust. It’s not exactly a question, but he waits for him to respond without moving any closer.
Sihtric’s eyes fly to his face, expression instantly lucid and a little bit fierce. You feel his abs tense beneath your thighs, then he reaches up to wrap his hand around Uhtred’s shaft. “Yes, Lord,” he says, and guides Uhtred’s cock right down past his lips.
You don’t have the best angle to watch exactly what is happening, but Uhtred is moaning as his hair spills over his face, both of Sihtric’s hands are up and guiding him, and the lord’s buttocks are clenching like he’s begun fucking directly into Sihtric’s mouth. You try and match the rhythm with the movements of your own hips, deriving great pleasure from imagining how entirely overwhelmed Sihtric has to feel in this moment by the two of you. You feel his hips rising to meet yours. His muscles are clenching, hovering a bit at the top of each thrust, a sure sign that he is very close to climax.
“Sihtric, can I—” For once Uhtred’s confidence sounds broken, his voice ragged and raw as he seeks Sihtric’s permission to cross another line.
Sihtric responds with a muffled moan that says everything. He sucks harder, and Uhtred makes a long, almost musical sound that can only mean that he’s spilling his seed down Sihtric’s throat. Before Uhtred even takes another breath, you feel Sihtric’s body seizing up underneath you; he’s coming too, pumping you full.
The rush of emotion that hits just from being party to all of this thrills you just as well as a second orgasm of your own. You roll your hips gently, bringing Sihtric down with love, watching Uhtred pull back with a slightly uncertain look on his face and then smiling at the bliss evident in Sihtric’s features as he lays completely loose across the center of the bed.
“Thank you, Lord,” he says, very, very softly.
You dismount once his cock stops shuddering inside you, and curl yourself against his side, tucking in to the perfect pillow that the curve of his shoulder makes.
Uhtred looks as if he might get out of bed, casting about for his clothing. You recognize the guilty awkwardness, and provide the only balm you can think of. You reach out, laying your hand upon his arm. “Relax. Stay.”
Uhtred holds your eyes for a long moment, deciding. Then his features soften, and he settles down, laying with his head propped up in his hand on the other side of Sihtric.
“Lord?” Sihtric asks, turning his shining face up to contemplate Uhtred’s. “Do not treat me any different tomorrow?”
Uhtred’s smile is thick, brimming with emotions you could not guess at, but the first of them all is delight. “I will not. You should not, either.” Sihtric nods. “You are still my most trusted warrior.” Uhtred lays on his back, relaxing with a pleased sigh and staring up at the ceiling. “But… I would like to come back to your bed again, if I am still invited after you two are wed.”
TLK Masterlist
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DMC WEEK DAY 3: Fight | Reunion | Loss ( Dante and Vergil )
~ I now present to you my third entry for DMC WEEK, featuring the Sparda brothers, Dante and Vergil.
~ No warnings. Tissues, maybe? Nah, you'll be fine.😁😁😁👌👍👍
Enjoy!
***
How many times have we fought?
Hard to say. It's the only memory I have since we were kids.
Vergil's words rang through Dante's mind that evening as he pondered about everything he's been through for the past three months.
Safe and back from the Underworld where they faced legions upon legions of Demons, the Devil Hunter looked back on everything, including that one memory, that one moment, that led him and his brother to such tragedies.
Yes, it's true. He lost count of how many times they've fought. He has forgotten how many times the Rebellion clashed with the Yamato. He lost count of how many times he was punched in the face, and he has forgotten how many times they fell.
To the brothers, their world has always been their battleground, the sound of their weapons the only music they danced to.
If that day didn't happen, would they still end up like the failures that they were? Would they still be fighting in their endless sibling rivalry? Would they even have the chance to prove to themselves that they won't have to fight in order to prove who's the better Sparda?
Dante chuckled as he shook his head, his mind conjuring up some images that made him lose focus for a while.
Drifting into his own reverie, he went back to the day when they were playing outside their house.
And in his head, Vergil didn't run away from him and their mother. The Demons didn't come, and their mother was still alive.
He imagined himself beating his older brother and laughing at him, feeling proud of his little achievement.
"Now, would you leave me alone with my book?" He could hear Vergil say, seeing him stand up as he wiped the blood off his nose.
"Uhh, sure!" He saw his younger self beaming with pride as he picked up the brown leather - bound book and handed it back to his brother.
"Oh, I know! Tomorrow, let's play - "
"Leave me alone, Dante." Vergil cut him off mid - sentence, walking away from him, without another word, back to their house.
The image swiftly changed and all of a sudden, he could see Vergil sitting on a bench in their garden, reading that same book.
Carrying around the pair of wooden swords, Dante walked up to his brother and said, "Hey, Vergil! I just thought that we - "
His brother looked up from his book, and without a hint of reluctance, he stood up and faced him. Placing the book carefully on the bench, Vergil said, "Well?"
"Uhh, here!" Dante answered, throwing a wooden weapon to his brother, who flawlessly caught it and hastily attacked him without warning.
"Whoa, easy there!" Dante quipped as he countered the attacks. The wooden swords clashed and clashed, until Dante's broke into two. Then, Vergil launched one fast kick, and a few seconds later, the younger brother found himself lying on the ground, beaten and with no other way to fight back.
"Hehe! That was an awesome fight, Ver - !"
But, Dante wasn't able to finish his sentence when his brother turned away, grabbed his book, and went back to the house.
The next vision quite took his breath away. And not in a good way. He was standing in the doorway that led to the living room, in the middle of the night, watching his mother, his brother, and another person talking.
And not just any other person.
It was their father. In the flesh.
Dante was startled, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets when he suddenly heard his mother pleading. Almost crying even.
"He's just a boy! You can't do this to him,... "
"I'm afraid there's no time left." The father answered, his heavy voice making Dante tremble in fear. "The boy has no other choice but to do it, or else,... "
"Or else, what?!"
Dante couldn't take it anymore. He pushed the heavy wooden doors open, startling the three people inside.
"What are you talking about? Mom?"
The father gave his wife one last pleading look as he took out his Devil Sword. "There's no time! Take the boy!"
The mother winced and closed her eyes, whimpering with those tears she refused to show her children. Then, she kneeled before Vergil and hugged him so tight, whispering words that Dante couldn't hear. She stood up, then ran towards Dante, lifting him off the ground and running away from her husband and child.
Dante was helpless. He was powerless. He couldn't do anything when those Demons suddenly broke through the room where his father and brother were. He could do nothing but call Vergil's name as he saw him looking forlornly at him.
He couldn't do anything but watch when his older brother drew that familiar weapon that was given to him by their father. The Yamato.
Dante closed his eyes and covered his ears with his little palms, trying to shut the screams of the enemies and the sound of tearing flesh. He couldn't believe it. He was separated with his brother, who couldn't do anything but follow their father's will.
To fight Demons alongside him.
And Dante, on the other hand, couldn't do anything but allow his mother to take him away to safety. His mother, whose heart probably ached after being separated with her husband and one of her beloved children. He was weak. Powerless. He couldn't even fight alongside his father and brother. And now, he has no other choice but to escape with her.
He has no other choice but to watch Vergil fight from a safe distance.
"Dante, are you alright?"
His eyes snapped open, and he saw himself sitting in a class room. He looked up and saw the concerned face of his classmate.
He rubbed his eyes and nodded at her. "Yeah, I'm fine,... "
"Don't mess with him, Mary!" Came the voice of one of his classmates, who looked at him with scorn and pity. "He probably stayed awake again to take care of his mommy!"
"What did you say?!" With teeth gritting in anger, he walked towards the bully and looked down at him.
"I said," The bully spoke and stood. " ... you stayed awake to take care of your sick mommy!"
"Take that back!" Dante grabbed the collar of his smug classmate but, it didn't seem to frighten him, even a bit. "TAKE THAT BACK!"
"Aww, and what will you do? Tell your daddy? Tell your brother?"
"What did you say - ?!"
"I SAID, YOU'RE WEAK!" The bully threw a punch at Dante's face, the sheer force of it throwing him to the floor. "YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING! YOU'RE PATHETIC!"
His other classmates took this as a cue and a few moments later, they all joined together in bullying him, kicking him and telling him words that tore his heart and reminded him of what happened that night.
Weak. Pathetic. Good for nothing.
Dante closed his eyes once more and tried to endure the kicks, the insults,...
He tried to endure the feelings of longing. A deep longing to be with his father, and brother, once again.
"I'm sorry, Dante."
He opened his eyes and saw the same girl from his class, Mary, now grown into a gorgeous lady, looking at him like he,...
Dante tore his eyes from her for a while and saw, in utter disbelief, his mother's name,...
... etched in a gravestone next to his feet.
He turned back as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and saw Mary's tears falling from her eyes. He took it and simply nodded, trying to reassure her that he would be fine.
"I pronounce you man and wife."
The sad and depressing image before him blurred like a mixture of paint on canvass being erased with turpentine, and all of a sudden, he saw visions after visions of him marrying the same girl, building a family with her, raising children of their own,...
He saw himself living the normal and quiet life he desired so much. Away from harm, away from fights.
Away from those Demons.
The images went on and on in his head, until it came to a point where he was standing in his own house. It was empty, and yet something in its austere atmosphere made his skin crawl.
Then, he heard strange noises coming from the room to his left.
The children's room.
With escalating heartbeat, he ran towards it, opened the door, and nearly collapsed at the gloomy sight that greeted him.
Laying on the floor and swimming in her own blood was his wife, Mary, her arms around their two children, who, unfortunately, were no longer breathing.
And standing before them was a Demon so monstrous and horrifying, it reminded him of that day when his mother took him away from their old house.
They were murdered by this fiend.
Collapsing on the floor next to his family, Dante's mind tried to conjure happy images. Anything that could make him forget about his weakness and his miserable life. Again and again, he envisioned himself living lives better than this. But, all of those visions somehow led to this very moment, of him kneeling down next to his murdered family, of the Demon's claws rapidly going to his head,...
... of him suddenly remembering the face of his older brother as he faced those enemies with his father,...
But, those claws never reached his head. As a matter of fact, he saw those same claws on the floor next to his wife and children, as if something sliced them. He looked up and saw a tall, white haired warrior, wielding a familiar - looking weapon, standing between him and the Demon. The warrior raised his weapon, and in an instant, the enemy was on the floor, dead and slashed into multiple pieces.
The warrior sheathed his own weapon and looked down at him with such pity in those cold eyes of his.
He knew those eyes. He knew that look,...
"Vergil,... " Dante whispered as he tried to reach for his long lost older brother. His whole body trembled as his fingers grazed the fabric of his brother's coat, as if the mere touch of it awed and humbled him.
However, his brother ignored him and walked past him.
"Vergil!" Dante called helplessly. "Wait for me! Vergil!"
"I don't know you." The warrior answered.
"What?" The younger brother mumbled in confusion. "Vergil, what are you talking about? I'm your brother! I'm - "
"You're a disgrace. An embarrassment to Sparda's name." Vergil answered, his voice as cold as those eyes of his. "You shouldn't have been born." And with one last look at his weak sibling, he said, "The Dante I know would never succumb to his own weaknesses,... "
And with those painful words, Vergil left his brother. Dante stood and tried to catch up to him but, every time he was about to touch him, his brother seemed to slip further and further away from him, until he could no longer reach him.
Until the very thing left by him was his own shadow,...
... the shadow,...
... that plunged him into the deep and dark abyss of the Underworld,...
Dante's eyes finally snapped open, startled by the shrill ring of his old telephone. He looked at his surroundings and realized that he was back to his old and messy shop he called, Devil May Cry.
Then, as sudden as when his eyes snapped open from that very vivid nightmare of his, his brother's head popped up from behind the door of the room to his right, looking very stressed and disturbed.
"Are you going to pick that thing up, or not?" His irritated older brother asked.
"Well, I,... " Dante stuttered, still unable to believe that Vergil was now living with him under the same roof since their return from the Underworld.
He still couldn't believe it but, after long years of them fighting and trying to kill each other, of their weapons clashing and wounding their bodies,...
...of their pride always getting the better of them and blinding them, preventing them from seeing what really matters to them as brothers,...
... he now felt he's confident to say that he's glad to have his brother, Vergil, back.
And he very much preferred it than any other way.
An irritated growl escaped Vergil's throat as he grumpily made his way towards Dante's desk, blue pajamas, pair of blue bunny slippers and all, and answered the call, himself.
"Devil May Cry." The Devil Hunter in pajamas growled, and a few moments later, he threw the handset to Dante, who caught it and raised an eyebrow. Walking away, slouched and tired, Vergil said, "Your girlfriend."
"Wha - ? I don't have a girlfriend!" Dante mumbled in confusion. He raised the handset to his ear and spoke, "Yes?"
"Dante! Do you have any idea how many times I've tried to call? Like, a gazillion!" Came Patty's shrill voice.
"What do you want now?! It's the middle of the night!" Dante barked at the handset, getting annoyed with how Vergil chuckled at his sorry, stressed middle - aged man state.
"Don't forget! You lost to me at Poker! You have to take me out shopping tomorrow! Oh, my God! I'm so thrilled!"
"Go to sleep!"
"Hey! I still haven't told you what to wear for - "
And even before Patty could finish her sentence, Dante hung up the phone. A few seconds later, it rang again, and Dante had no other choice but to pull the cord to forcefully turn it off. Then, Dante heard Vergil's low laughter. He looked up at his brother and saw him watching the entire scene with such amusement in his eyes.
"What do you want?" The annoyed Devil Hunter questioned.
"You're a disgrace. An embarrassment to Sparda's name." Vergil simply answered with a sadistic grin and entered his room, closing it so he wouldn't hear his younger brother's reply.
Dante couldn't do anything but helplessly shake his head. "Yeah, maybe." He leaned on his chair and put his feet back up on top of the table. And before opening his magazine, he whispered, "Glad to have you back, Verge."
***
@dmcweek
***
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Shaman King Elemental: Hakuro
To celebrate the new Anime I decidet to show you my characters. The fact that this year is also the year my story takes place and the anime gets a new version makes it so awesome x3
Today I present you Hakuro,the elemental warrior of earth.
(if there are missspelled words....I’m to bored to look through it today.)
Hakuro is a high headed young boy. But even when he loves to pick a fight he is raised at a nobel household.
Hakuro’s past was the total opposite, he grew up in middle east by his mother who feld in love with a man from England, he was half Japan and half English that’s why he got that name.
Unloved by her family she raised her boy with all the love she still had left. Hakuro always smiled and was a joyfull young boy who loved to run around and play tricks. Not noticing the less of food they had.
One day he went to hills near his home looking for plants to eat and small creatures when he noticed a rock with a pitch black small cage. Curious he wanted to know what’s inside and tried to get in but stock. Then Soltier appeared talking a foreign language. Full of fear Haku tried to get in the cage when an evil deep voice calling him. Haku noticed the stinky breath who feld hot like magma. The voice wonders if he is afraid but Haku said no.
After the soltier disappeared Haku went out of the cage seeing a lot of brass broken on the ground. The voice, appeared as a giant dinosaurian like creature with a red body. Named Bahamut.
He said that this was Hakuro’s power and he would stay with him for a while and in the end he would eat him. Hakuro giggles but not for long. At home a man stands infront of his mother yelling at her, it was his father who wanted to take him with her giving him a better live.
Bahamut
Like all of my Elemental Spirits Bahamut is based on a Pokemon Groudon. I drew them when I was around 12 and doesn’t wanted to change them. Bahamut was once a small Thorny devil, now with the ability of using the earth for it’s will he became a giant monster with red hard skin and big teeth. Even when he looks intimidating Bahamut is very friendly and loves children but he would never say that out lout. Like all the spirits is the conection to their shamans very deep. Later Bahamut safes Hakuro and the others from the power of the evil…more on the bottom.
Present
After Hakuro got the mission to look for the stone he went back to his home town for the first time since his father took him away. He is still able to understand the language. Even when he was homesick as hell the first thing he did was looking for the stone. Also Hakuro was the first one who met one of the enemies group. A young girl and a small boy, they tricked him and brought him into a self made cave. He woke up by them arguing with each other and when they fought Hakuro they weren’T able to fight with each other well, in the end they destroyed their own hideout by flooding the tunnels. Hakuro safed them and also found the stone.
He went to the house of his mother seeing she had another daughter and a boy. When his mother saw him then, she was very weak, she couldn’t believe. Hakuro then hoped that everything would be maybe normal again with their parents. His mother got another man but he died.
The most of the story Hakuro takes small roles he is a strong and powerful fighter but the most important moment is in the end of the story.
When Rika came back after her betrayal he was one of the first who believed she told the truth, Hakuro felt her heart beating.
When he fused with Spirit of Earth a man with red hair brown skin, scars and muscles appears infront of him (he is totally looking like Houzukumaru when I think about it now...) Josun, his name, tells Hakuro the true power of the Elemental Warriors. The thing what will make them to the choosen one.
The power not only to control the earth around them, also the fact they could control the whole planet destroying them in a moment it was also the power to control the different elements inside their bodies. Josun explains him a special technique to seal Tabris and the spirit from moving.
He also tells him what everyone can control: Earth is as strong as bones; Electricity is fast as nerves; Water continues nutritious like veins; Fire is the heat of the muscles; Wind is the breath and Mind is the knowledge; but they are 3 others, the soul part of the water who gives us personality, the wish who let us live and the heart who let us exist.
When they want to fight and win they had to find the heart elemental warrior…
Hakuro tells this to his friends later and they search for the last Warrior.
Then in the final fight, he was the first one who got to feel the true power of the dark spirit.
The power of Unbeknownst
He wakes up in a perfect world without spirits, he has a normal day at school praying to Tabris the savior, but soon he feels controlled and then on a school trip he heares the voice of his spirit.
Bahamut told him he totally got lost and wasn’t able to see him anymore, Hakuro apologies and says he missed him. Then he tells the others of Tabris plan to control the human letting them pray only for him, letting them loosing the ability to see spirits and use their power for help.
Together with the others they use the special technique again this time they made it….
In the Epilog
He is the first one Jao finds in the great spirits desert, after becoming the earth itself.
Later when they come back to the real world he meet his siblings and his mother who is now with his father again.
Strength 7/10
Elemental use/power 10/10
Stamina 6/10
Technique 10/10
Intelligence 5/10
Speed 5/10
Spirit Control 10/10
Healing Ability 3/10
Comunication/Team power 7/10
Even when he is a big mouth he also has a big heart and takes good care of his friends and family.
He is able to feel if someone is laying or saying the truth by feeling the vibration through the bones. He could heal bones but he never tried because he never thought about it.
He is able to use all kind of earth, swamp, sand, stone,...but not only to destroy it he also can fix it again. He shows that when he destroyed a stone at Yoh’s house letting it slowly rebuild.
The girl he saved from drowning has a crush on him and later went to their group (I totally forgot this)
He hasn’t a favorite food because at least to have food is more important.
He is very smart at school and ones will help his father at his company.
#shaman king#shaman king 2021#shaman king elemental#yoh asakura#anna kyoyama#ren tao#elemental warrior#horohoro usui#chocolove mcdonell#ryu umemia#tamao tamamura#jun tao#lyserg diethel#hao asakura#x-laws#shaman#hakuro
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A Shield-Maiden’s Wrath - Bjorn x Reader - Part Two
Summary - After finding out Bjorn has cheated on you, the night that all the Ragnarsson’s were nervous about finally arrives. Time for your sweet revenge....
Warnings: SWEARING! ANGRY AND PREGNANT WIFE!! VIOLENCE! REVENGEEEE is a bitch. Or is that Karma? Either way, it’s a bitch.
I did enjoy writing this, it was fun. Part One and Part Three if you want to read it. This is basically just something fluffy in a weird way. Hopefully, satisfying and justifying to the ex wives of Bjorn Ironside and just some brotherly love.
BONUS REACTIONS AT THE END!!
@soleil-dor @abonelessgod @sadbutatleastsassy @youbloodymadgenius @ivarthebloodyking
Hvitserk is nervous. They were all nervous.
He scanned the herd of people, tearing away at the piece of chicken in hopes to ease the rush of anxiety. If Bjorn knew he flapped his gums, breaking the promise he made, Hvitserk was sure his oldest brother would not be afraid to ‘settle’ things. Then of course, he could already imagine that you would stick up, biting into Bjorn to argue it wasn’t Hvitserk’s fault. Which would cause more strife, barking back from one another and ultimately, he would be to blame.
Ubbe is more cautious.
He kept his light blue orbs from flickering between the oak wooden doors then to Bjorn, sitting innocently. Unaware of his targeted predicament. All four of them swore not to warn Bjorn of your knowledge because a, they would all remain out of their soon to be hurricane of a temper and b, none wanted to face yours or Bjorn’s wrath. Instead, Ubbe stood closely next to his older brother, not even thinking about drinking or eating. Too agitated and paranoid.
“What is wrong brother?” Bjorn broke his chain of thoughts and caught him off guard. Quickly recovering from his momentary surprise, Ubbe forced a crooked smile to his lips. More so reassuring himself that everything is going to be fine. “You seem tense, relax. Drink. Eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” Too quickly he answered, too fast. Bjorn stared at him skeptical as to why he seemed so stiff. Watching out for something. Then it dawned upon him.
“Oh I see.” This caused red flags to go off in his mind, the gears going crazy. Zooming and whirling. “You are looking for someone, aren’t you?” Ubbe clenched his jaw and squeezed the cup in hand. Clenched it so hard, he could feel it dent under the pressure. “That blonde girl, Margrethe. It is alright, I won’t tell your Mother.” He instantly relaxed in his seat and let out a skittish chuckle, quickly turning to the cup of mead for calm.
“You could say that.”
Sigurd decided to remain ignorant.
Instead indulged himself in his people, strumming away at the strings of his ute and filled the air of a joyous melody. He laughed and sang, finding pleasure in the company of friends and strangers. All seemingly serene, almost perfect. Yet, he could not ignore the arc of his stomach. Almost sickly as if he ate something bad or drank too much. Nauseous and sick. He knew deep down, even with hopes of peaceful tranquility for the rest of the night, it will soon be thrown to the air. Destroyed and burned. So, Sigurd kept dancing, grasping the last few moments of this bliss.
Ivar is on edge.
He is not afraid, looking forward to the oncoming festivities that night. He could recall your last controversy. Bjorn verbally abused you over your pregnant state and how you shouldn’t be fighting or using a weapon however, your free-spirited morals did not take it so well. One thing led to another, things were thrown around by your hand. His brother’s voice boomed so loud, he was sure other town’s could hear. Which led to Bjorn’s departure and eventually, Ivar found him screwing one of the servants. Beautiful but rather, daft. Anyone stupid enough to even consider having sex with his older brother; a married man and soon-to-be Father, has a death wish.
“Brother, are you sure-”
“Ubbe, stop.” Bjorn cut him off, pressing the woman close to his side. He knew it was very dangerous to be playing around with the chance of his wife walking into those very doors. Of course he knew it would cause his possible death but something about the thought was exciting. “It is far too late, Y/N will not come. Hmm?” The great warrior leaned over his knees and nudged his little brother.
“Sure.” Ubbe pressed his lips together and stood up. He knew he should’ve said something, hinted at least a little, warned Bjorn or even motioned that you knew. But there was the side that secretly wanted this, curse it be.
My brother, I hope you are prepared, the Gods will not be on your side tonight nor will I. By the Gods, you brought this upon yourself.
~~~
Two shields of wood smashed wide, slamming against the walls and shook the hall like thunder had struck. Young men and women alike froze in their happy state and awed with wide, scared spectacles. Like a nightmare come to life, they stared.
You stood, a raging and fuming beast. In all the glory of your shield and sword and arrows and bow. So dangerously true. Coated in leather wrapped around breasts and a bulging stomach; never a pregnant woman seen so chilling. To cause dread. Your eyes glowed vibrantly, black ink surrounded the skin and smeared the corners of your eyes. Paint ready for war. Hair is so beautiful, thick and heavy. Twisted in mending lace. A true shield-maiden ready to demolish their enemy.
The hall in complete silence.
You pulled an arrow back and pointed the tip of it towards your target, your prey, your next victim. Another face to tear into.
“You.” Like a deep rumble of thunder, the sound of your voice bounced from the walls, calm and steady. But there were those that could hear the hot rage, pure and unfortunately real. “And you.” With a darting eye, you glared and aimed the weapon towards the slave girl who was pushed aside and shaking in fear.
One, two, three steps.
Bjorn did not budge, holding your gaze with as much passion. His pride and ego and name too much to set aside for the benefit of his wife. Instead he sat and analysed every move of your body, predator eyeing predator. Everyone else disappeared. He could do the obvious and apologize for his doings, beg for forgiveness, admit his wrong and fight for your favor. But, where would be the fun in that?
“My love I have been waiting for you.” Bjorn smirked and poured a cup of mead to hand it over. “Drink.” The cup was knocked out of his grasp as you shot the first winged spear.
‘How dare he.’ You thought. Just the sight of your beloved husband made every cell in your body boil. And then to see the whore he so desperately fucked because of his lack of fulfillment, for his own pleasure. The next arrow landed right next to his head, almost slicing his pale flesh.
“I see you found out.” Bjorn gripped the arrow planted, threw it to the ground and huffed. “So who told you? Ubbe? Sigurd? Hvitserk? Ivar?” He motioned towards his brother’s; who were now out of the way just like the rest of the people. They all backed up, leaning against the walls to be out of both of your range. Ivar sat in the perfect position, out of the way yet close enough to adore the sight.
“Do not bring them into this.” You hissed and watched as he took slow steps down the few rows of stairs. “This is your fault. You. Bjorn Ironside. My loyal husband.” Words like venom, another arrow whirled through the air and stopped him in his tracks.
“Please, we can talk about this.” Another arrow.
“Calm down.” Another.
“You have to understand that-” Arrow.
Bjorn lost all patience now, growling out of annoyance and bored into your being. Pregnant. Strong. And very, furious. Without warning you drew your sword out and dove it straight for his head, in hopes to decapitate that handsomely deviled face. “You cheated on me!” Another swing. “You filthy pig.” Stab. “You animal.” Following him up the steps, you kicked the table to knock him over.
“I love you.” Bjorn muttered and ducked, dodging the oncoming fly of cutlery and food. Desperately searching for a shield.
“You love me? You love me so much that you shove your cock into the cunt of a fucking whore!” Finally reaching his axe, he met your sword that buzzed with your fire. He could feel the emotion burn into his body but still, he did not fear it. Instead intrigued, guiltily enjoying your passionate emotion. “You shame me and you humiliate me and you betray me.” You kicked him over, knocking him on his ass and managed to scratch the surface of his chest.
“I wanted sex and every time I tried, you were in pain.” This added more fuel to the fire, sparking up that heat that burned at your core. You were sure your child also fueled that pit of flames, angry at their Father.
“Because I am pregnant.” He rolled over to his side and jumped to his feet, re-directing each one of your desperate attacks. “With your child. Tell me, did you fuck that slut before you fucked me?” There were so many questions that filled your head. So many emotions that stung your heart. “You aren’t a great warrior, not a man. You’re just a fat piece of meat thinking with the blunt tool dangling between his legs.” You grabbed a fistful of Bjorn’s hair, wrapping his braids around your hand like shackles trapped to you. Then dragged him and shoved his head against the pillar. “How many times did you screw that bitch?”
“Nine, maybe ten times, give or take.” He gave you a cheeky smirk, playing with your emotion. You heaved him back and smashed his head onto the floor. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Not your fault! Think so much with your dick that you just fell in her loose lips.” With a fury you growled and punched him in the jaw, followed by a barrage of slaps and claws. “Couldn’t even wait for three months and deceive your own lover! Couldn’t control yourself longer than two minutes! And then you lie to me! All those late nights, you left me alone, cold, miserable while you get your fill!” You grabbed the ruffs of his head and slammed it against the ground. “Then you force your brothers to lie to me. Hide like a rat, a slimy sloppy snake. Drag them into this because you wanted sex!” All you could see is red, nothing else. You. Him. And red. “And humiliate me, making me look like a fool! I defended you, stood up for you, made excuses for your bullshit. And this is how you repay me?!” Bjorn caught your hands and gripped them so hard you thought they would bruise.
“Now you know how I felt when you let that merchant’s son bury his tiny little cock in what is mine.” With one swift move, he flipped you over and drove his hips into you. It only pushed you that much further and you spat in his face.
“I do not belong to you, I only belong to myself!” You wrapped your legs around his waist and drove him into you then snapped your elbow up, striking his face. “We weren’t married then either! I hardly knew you!”
“Even still, you knew I wanted you. You fucking knew it!” With your form now on top, you tried to dig your nails into his eyes and gouge those pretty blue orbs out. The ones you love so much. So piercing and so hard to read. But now, clear as day. “And I know you saw me!” For a split second you were surprised, wavering you from your confident outburst. Bingo! Just like that Bjorn trapped you under his form, holding both your wrists in place.
“That was five fucking years ago you piece of shit.” You growled, struggling against his hold. “Bringing things up like a bitch. I always knew you were a bitch, a weak, weak man.” You cooed, slithering your knee between his and dug it up. Bjorn groaned and rolled off of your body before collapsing. It would have been sweet that he still took note of your pregnant belly but, considering the situation you didn’t give a fuck. “Besides, he fucked me in ways you couldn’t. He pleasured me better than a weak man like you ever could.” You couldn’t help but smirk, a smugness filled your bones.
Bjorn jumped to his feet, dragging the axe along with him and met your stance. Ready to unleash your storm of resentment. The clear primal glare behind his piercing orbs sent shivers down your body, now clearly ready to settle things.
“You want me back Ironside, you better fight for it.” \
You tossed your weapon from left to right hand.
“Earn me.”
~~~
“What do you think is going on in there?” Hvitserk broke the tension, drawing his knees to his chest and pushed himself into a more comfortable position.
“Maybe they’re finished.” Sigurd shrugged, pulling at the stings of his ute while his brows furrowed. They all looked at each other, hopeful until they heard a loud cluttering sound followed by a loud groan of their older brother, cue a sigh. “Never mind.”
“Maybe we should-”
“Don’t.” Ubbe cut Hvitserk off, knowing fully well where he was going. He did not want to lose a limb or an eye by stepping back into the hall, now a battlefield. Another crash sounded from behind them and he shivered, feeling pity for his older brother. Bjorn in an unfortunate predicament of not being able to fight back like he usually did because of their child, which made Y/N even more dangerous. A force to be reckoned with. “By all means go back in there and you try to break them apart but, I will not come to your aid.”
“Why did you have to drag me out of there? I was enjoying myself.” Ivar frowned a little, remembering how Ubbe and Hvitserk practically hauled him out.
“I’m sure you were.” Ubbe spoke and folded his arms over his chest. “But I am not losing another brother tonight.”
“Don’t be absurd, Y/N wouldn’t have hurt me.” Ivar argued back.
“You would have hurt yourself. Wouldn’t be able to crawl away fast enough.” The crippled glared at Sigurd, who was now smirking. But, he did not get angry this time and just rolled his eyes, over his shit. “I think I won the bet.”
“No way, I said she would attack during the feast first. All of you owe me.” Hvitserk intervened, not really caring about the sack of silver or gold. But instead the glory of beating his brother’s at least once. For the one that started the bets most of the time, he didn’t seem to win a lot.
“Everyone knew that, even the town’s people.” Sigurd intercepted and made Hvitserk huff. They all snapped towards the wooden door as they shook slightly, followed by the sound of your shouts and the sound of Bjorn’s voice, filled with as much passion.
“I predicted all of it.” Ivar seethed, halting their bickering. “I said all of that, so I win.”
“No, you also bet that they were going to end up fucking. That does not sound like pleasure.” Sigurd quickly corrected, pointing to the hall. “I should get all of your money.”
“No.” Hvitserk denied.
“Yes, I claimed she was going to arrive in battle armor. Not anyone could have predicted that.”
“Yes but, I bet what all three of you said. It’s me.” Ivar hissed.
“I’m older than both of you, the money is mine.” Hvitserk attempted to pull all of the bags of coins but Sigurd and Ivar were on him, pulling and thrashing. Ubbe rolled his eyes and clearly was over their bullshit, always the one fixing things. But this time, he did so differently.
“Be quiet. Shut up. Stop!” The four boys all froze and listened intently to a soft sound whispering amongst the wind. Coming from inside the hall, less violent or brash. Then their faces fell, knowing what the hell was happening and sunk on their asses.
“See, I win.” Ivar hummed in victory, snatching each one of their filled pouches of gold and silver. For once, thankful to both yours and Bjorn’s endless cycle. Tiresome and annoying but at least, consistent and committed.
“Where do you think that thrall went?” Sigurd raised his eyes in curiosity, the only one seemingly interested. Hvitserk shrugged and Ubbe just stared at the sky.
“Do you have to ask stupid questions?”
“She probably ran away.” Ubbe concluded lazily. “I don’t blame her, I would too.”
~ PROMISED BONUS ~
“I should tell him but, he doesn’t deserve it.”
“If Bjorn finds out I told her, I’m so dead. I’m too young to die. I’m still a virgin. I don’t wanna die a virgin. Why? WHY? Maybe she won’t come, maybe she’ll just forget about. MAYBE SHE - oh nvm.”
“I’m just gonna pretend I know nothing. Ignore my problems. Yeh, this is better. ”
“Oh yeah, he’s screwed.”
“oh.......fuck. I’m too sober for this shit”
#vikings x reader#bjorn x reader#x reader#bjorn ironside#ragnarssons#ubbe#ivar#hvitserk#sigurd#reader#bjorn x y/n
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The lost queen CH 2
Present time
St Andrews, Scotland. Earth
Trying to protect her leather computer bag containing her very precious notebook and of course her computer (duh), Eda made her way through the slippery streets of St Andrews. It had been pouring for days now and she was starting to regret her decision of going to Scotland. But the highlands were so lovely.
There were only a few places on earth were she felt like an elf again, completely connected to nature. When she first traveled to Europe after “arriving” in Siberia life was a nightmare.
It had been late 19th century and men had been in the middle of the industrial revolution. The cities had been dirty and the people unkind.
Sometimes they still were, she thought as she picked up a soda can from the ground and threw it in the bin.
By the time the elleth arrived to the blue building building she called home, the wet light brown curls stuck to her face. She lived on the second floor above an old bookstore.
On sundays she helped the old lady who ran the place unpack. The place radiated a calmness. Eda could sit by the windowsill reading for hours, watching the rain hit the window.
Her muscles strained as she walked up the stairs. Back in Mirkwood she had been a pretty good warrior but the human exercise she did on earth was nothing compared to elven training in Mirkwood.
As soon as she entered the apartment her eyes searched for her friend. A weight was lifted from her when she saw her sitting on the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest.
Eda had left Siberia with only one goal: to find Lùthien. She had gone through the portal with her so she had to have appeared somewhere on earth too.
It took her almost a century to find her friend. Unfortunately when she did the young elleth was not the same. She was not able to speak and sometimes she would go into there delirious states.
Eda feared her mind had been lost somewhere between their world and earth. She knew her friend wasn’t with her when her eyes turned milky white, like right now.
The elleth left her friend be and unpacked her study books. She had studied several times over the course of the years. This time she was studying physics at St Andrews University. Maybe she could somehow fiend a way to travel between dimensions and get back to middle earth, to Tranduil and Legolas.
Her motives for going to the cozy university town were not solely in her studies. St Andrew was positioned on the crossing of 3 leylines. The maical entertainment lines of earth were not nearly as strong as on middle earth. If that energy could somehow be harnessed a portal could be created. Unfortunately the curly haired elf wasn’t very skilled in the art of magic. The powers were not the problem. An elf her age and of royal blood should have sufficient power but she just didn’t know how.
Her green eyes landed on the blue christal lying of the table. In a fit of rage she had trown it off the highest cliff she could find, into the sea. Imagine her surprise when the cursed object appeared in her bed that night. She had then yeeeted the thing into oblivion twice more but like a stalker ex it kept coming back.
The message he was trying to send was clear: This is the only way you’ll get out, you’ll never get rid of me otherwise. She desperately wanted to give in and except his terms but every fiber in her body screamed danger. It was a deal with the devil. But it was the only way back...
Present time
Rivendell, Middle earth
With an angry scrowl on his face Thranduil marched into the meeting like he owned the place.
‘Would someone care to explain to me why we are letting those filthy orcs sniff out our territory and kill our scouts?!’ He questioned furiously. All the heads off the council turned his way.
‘Maybe they have some kind of plan?’ Gandalf asked to no one in specific.
‘Orcs? A plan? They are not smart enough for that,’ Haldir grinned. Thorin put down the figure he was carving from wood to look around the council,’ yeah keep saying that until you believe it. One smart orc cost me my family and nearly my life.’
‘It never hurts to be extra careful,’ Frodo muttered.
‘Who allowed the hobbit into the council. They aren’t even fighting, there too carefull. Careful is just going to get us surprised!’
If Thranduil had not been king he would definitely have rolled his eyes at Haldirs words. ‘You’re lucky to be attending yourself, now be a good elfling, shut up and let the big people talk,’ the king mocked him.
‘Back to the topic please, I think we can all agree on the fact that it might be best to sniff them out and see what we have to deal with before declaring war on some onknow army,’ Lord Elrond tried to rationalise.
‘Sniff them out?! I say we put them out of their suffering?!’ Gimli grunted.
‘More like ‘our’ suffering,’ a voice behind Thranduil muttered angrily. A small smile crossed his features at the witty remark.
Losing Kili had changed Thauriel and the king recognised that bitterness. He recognised the yearning. It was like a thirst that could never be quenched. He would give up everything to hold his beloved Eda one last time. But now he was alone, and so was Thauriel. Their conjoined fates make him fond of her, protective even. He had come to see her as a daughter.
‘We have to put a stop to these field trips. They have seen enough of our defences!’ Aragon argued.
‘Well then, let’s catch one and interrogate them,’ Elrond helpfully supplied.
‘Leave the interrogation to me. I enjoy watching their beady eyes glow with pain as I skin them alive,’ with those words the eleven king turned and left the room with a swipe of his robes.
‘Wasn’t that a nice chat. I sure hope these orc scoutings come to an end soon so I don’t have to see his brooding face any time soon,’ Thorin muttered.
Little did they know the scoutings were but a mere distraction...
#thranduil x wife#thranduil x oc#kili the dwarf#kili x tauriel#thranduils wife#thorin oakenshield#gandalf#the hobbit#lord of the rings#Aragon#thranduil x Thauriel
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The Dead Man in the Mirror
Hi everyone, (it feels funny saying that when I imagine that the amount of people who will read this is probably in single digits.)
Here is my first fic for The Devil All The Time. It’s an introspective piece, exploring Arvin’s psyche. I’d love feedback, bonus points if you can guess what I’ve been watching lately that was somewhat of an inspiration for this. I owe the courage to both write and post this to @ill-skillsgard. I dedicate this piece to her and to @sophie-writes-for-arvin-russel who inspired it, I hope you both like this. Enjoy!
Warnings: disassociative identity disorder, blood, violence, mentions of suicide.
Length: 2K
The Dead Man In The Mirror
His father seemed to fight the devil all the time. Growing up, his father Willard had always been Arvin’s hero. His father was big, strong, incredibly handsome, a fearsome protector, his love existed but it was distant and could be cold. His mother…well his mother’s very nature seemed defined by her ephemerality. She had been kind, gentle, quietly beautiful, wonderfully nurturing…and gone too soon. If his mother had been the life-giving spring with its gentle time to grow, his father was the harsh winter that demanded that Arvin mold himself into something different if he was to survive. When he went out with his father he could perfectly go through the motions of the lessons he was being taught but Willard somehow knew that Arvin wasn’t really learning them for himself, merely copying, the same was true of his mother, when given an example he could put on an impeccable performance of the polite and humble young man she was attempting to raise, but she too realized that she was only taking in a show. Without either of their examples to follow Arvin was simply still, empty like a mirror left alone in the dark with nothing to reflect. Arvin supposed that made him the autumn, a product of two stronger forces with the redeeming qualities of neither. People like autumn because it’s not too much of this, or that. To him, being autumn was simply the absence of being. In the stillness of autumn as the world prepares to slumber people often use the ensuing quiet and peace as a reprieve to find themselves. For Arvin though, there was nothing to find. He was empty. In the in-between where his mother’s lessons intersected with his father’s they agreed on only a single point. That Arvin must find himself and discover who he was or other people would take advantage of his emptiness and use him as a vessel waiting to be filled. He wouldn’t find out how correct they had been until much later.
In the end the cancer itself may have only struck down his mother, but it defeated both his parents. Charlotte only knew how to deal with problems that were like weeds, insects, or disease in her beautiful garden, they could be plucked and pruned, treated with this remedy or that, Arvin remembers that she used to sing to her plants. In the absence of treatment all his mother’s ways were useless against the sickness devouring her. His father was a warrior through and through, once pointed in the direction of a solution there was no stopping him. It is how he had solved the problems of the battlefield and Arvin would learn much later that he had solved their housing situation the same way. The thankless unforgiving work of the slaughterhouse was simply another battle to be fought. In the absence of an enemy combatant, Willard was powerless. Cancer was an intangible, intransigent enemy. Charlotte lost ground to it every day, and there was nothing her devoted soldier could do to help. That desperation birthed the prayer log, a place where in Willard’s mind, he would focus all of his devotion and manifest a miracle for his beloved. Arvin, ever the mirror, was expected to reflect Willard’s zeal in order to amplify their call to heaven. In a detached sort of way his father’s suicide made sense to Arvin. The great soldier had finally lost a battle, and doctrine dictated that under no circumstances was he to allow himself to be taken alive in event of defeat. Slitting his throat from ear to ear in an inadvertent grotesque parody of the smile Arvin had been longing to see grace his lips had simply been only available recourse.
Arvin used to stare into the mirror for hours on end when he was young, he could see his mother’s fine features and soft caring eyes easily enough but from the moment he was old enough to compare he felt he was lacking because he didn’t see any of his father’s face in him, let alone his strength or determination. When Charlotte fell ill Arvin didn’t look in the mirror anymore, this was not by choice for he dearly would’ve liked to continue his nightly ritual of self-analysis, if only to take his mind away from his mother for a while and even more so as an escape from the burdensome log. His mother had insisted that they cover the mirrors as she grew weaker. His father ever the dutiful soldier, glad to be given a mission to accomplish, saw to it as nearly as soon as the words left her pale, trembling lips. Her faint wish was executed zealously as though it were an order from an empress, or an angel’s command ringing down from on high. Willard flew to the general store as fast as their battered truck carry him and returned with the heaviest sheets young Arvin had ever seen. Not one for any half measures ever, Willard affixed sheets to every mirror in the house tying the edges with impenetrable serpentine knots he learned in the war. On the inside Arvin wailed at the loss, as though he were being deprived of the priceless treasure as opposed to a simple chance to look himself, but without a physical mirror to ground him, he became lost in a spiral of self-doubt and could think of himself as only a pale reflection of his parents. Outwardly however he said nothing, his face betrayed none of his turmoil, for that was one of the mandates of winter. All these years later Arvin still asks himself why reflections were banished from their home, he thinks perhaps that not even his mother could stand the sight of her radiance fading away, day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment.
Young Arvin tried to defy this edict once when he was starving for a reminder that he himself was alive. He snuck the smallest mirror in the house, a relic of a bygone age when his mother had wistfully mentioned that she wished to have a mirror to do her makeup in. His father had driven six hours next day and returned with a luxuriously polished and impossibly bright mirror from a department store in Cleveland and placed it on his mother’s dresser before she even awoke. Armed with a dull butter knife that had long since lost its luster for there was no one around to cook anymore, Arvin’s clumsy child’s hands sawed ineffectually at the Gordian knot separating him from just the smallest reassurance that he was a person. The punishments of winter were cruel, but purposeful…this would be of rather cold comfort to Arvin. His father opened the door to his room and saw what he was attempting to do, coldness came over his face as though his exquisite mien had been frozen into a perfect ice sculpture of emptiness. He approached with the inevitability and weight of a blizzard, that would bear down upon Arvin’s small, desperate, perpetually inadequate frame. There was a cold precision to the pain inflicted upon Arvin. The worst punishment, assigned to his hands, for they had been the instruments of his sin, was dealt first. He was force to immerse them in ice water for an hour, Arvin begged and pleaded, his tears melting with the instrument of the sanction placed upon him. Through piteous groans and screams and cries, and apologies and promises made all the more earnest by suffering the ice in his father’s face did not crack, but the moment the timer rang his father lifted his hands from the ice and began to dry them showing a tenderness that was rare for him. After enduring the loss of feeling in his hands Arvin was stripped and made to go outside and select a willow switch, Arvin had thought he might never feel warm again but the heat of shame proved him wrong. He was beaten with an almost… tender precision, in all things his father was in absolute control of himself and the application of justice is no different. The lashings never broke the skin never left too serious a bruise and his face and what lay between his legs were spared. The morphine held his mother under its powerful spell and his screams never reached her. Afterward Willard helped Arvin dress and gently held him in his arms before carrying him away to bed and tucking him in. The moment the door shut quietly behind him and there was enough distance between him and his son’s sniffling breaths the ice that held Willard melted his body shook with silent sobs as tears sprang from his eyes and mixed with the vermilion blood on his hands as he knelt to pick up shards of glass from the petite mirror he had shattered for daring to remind him of happier times.
The day those boys had cornered Lenora, forced her to her knees and thrown a bag over her head Arvin tried to say a prayer in his mind as he was surrounded and kicked, but it wasn’t the Lord who answered, something inside Arvin had. For the first time in his insecure, anxious, people pleasing existence, Arvin was filled with a sense of confidence. Something had finally risen and filled the emptiness inside of him. In his current situation there was nothing even this mysterious force that had brought certainty to him at last could do, but it knew all it would have to do was wait for the right time. The presence became a constant companion in Arvin’s life, he saw a tire iron at work and the voice whispered to him tales of vengeance for him and his sister. The day he ambushed the boy on the bus and beat him with a tire iron the voice roared in approval, Arvin as he was before wouldn’t even have had the strength to lift the iron deal such vicious blows but he was possessed of someone or someone else’s strength. Later when he attacked the boys in the garage bringing the hood of a car down on one of their heads and beating the others the voice whispered that it was proud of him and a shiver ran up his spine.
The day he came home and found Lenora hanging in the shed the voice let out an unholy scream and Arvin was overcome with the sense that he’d come home to something like this once already and couldn’t bear another, even though that was impossible. What happened to his father had felt…different. When he confronted preacher Teagardin the presence took over his lips and made him whisper of dark, sexual things, urges that were not of the Lord to lure the predator into a false sense of security. When he shot the hypocritical holy man who had dared to abuse Lenora, whom he’d failed to protect the voice was elated whispering all sorts of praise that echoed in Arvin’s ears. As he struggled to catch his breath and come back to himself afterward in his car something about the situation struck him is familiar, more than déjà vu it was as though he had lived this already. The voice had snarled at the couple that had picked him up as he hitchhiked to Knockemstiff, the cold certainty that these people meant him harm came over him though the source of this feeling was not Arvin. After he had slain them the voice whispered that it had been vindicated and the photograph he’d come into possession of was proof that they were not righteous. When he confronted Lee Bodecker he was out of his depth, crouched behind a rock as bullets flew around him, the voice urged him to surrender to it promising that it had the strength and knowledge to help him face this challenge, but that he had to surrender control. Desperate and afraid Arvin agreed. He rose with the stance of someone who had seen battle, dodging from cover to cover as though he’d done it a hundred times, his fear had evaporated as though he dealt with this sort of situation regularly, the forest around him started to blur and the trees became something akin to those he’d seen in pictures of the South Pacific instead of familiar West Virginia Pines. He wielded the gun expertly and struck down the sheriff, the voice was quiet.
Before Arvin left, Earskell had said “I ain’t seen a look in anybody’s eye like that since your Daddy died.” He’d attempted to say goodbye to his grandmother before his courage had deserted him. He knew in his heart that her mind was beginning to go but she’d clutched his face close to hers, her venerable hands trembling. Her last words to him had been “Oh my dear Willard, you look so handsome.” There had never been any mirrors in the house in Knockemstiff, his grandmother held that they were objects of vanity and portals to sin, so Willard left not knowing what she’d seen in his face that had confused her.
As Arvin settled into the back seat of the hitchhiker’s car, he asked him where he was going. He glanced up and gazed into the rearview mirror. His father’s impossibly alluring face, arctic as ever, stared back at him. His voice is not his own when he answered: “well there’s a lot of no good sons of bitches out there, and I aim to get right with ‘em.”
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first meetings;
yandere! therin (oc).
He sat atop a throne so white you were certain it’d been crafted from human bone, stripped of every ounce of wine-tinged blood and every inch of sinuous muscle. His face was staunch and pointed like the head of a poisonous snake, and his presence alone held an air of haughtiness you’d encountered with only rich, spoiled boys. His hair, black like cobras and long like tendrils, sat beautifully under a silver crown and arrogant smile. It was unmistakable; one look and you knew he was a King.
He was the Future’s King, but to you, he looked like a mere boy playing pretend. A shallow and evil boy who thought himself a God, who thought himself invincible and omnipotent. A boy who lived to be cruel and nothing more, a boy irredeemable in the eyes of God himself. He would be condemned and you’d make sure of it.
And you. You stood tall, a future Queen in her own right and yet you looked nothing like this man. No lavish throne room or throne, no decorative crown, no sword stained with the blood of innocents. He was worlds apart from everything you stood for, and yet you were one and the same; royalty by blood, virtuous by choice.
It is your duty to take his throne, and you’d already failed.
You’d thrown your sword aside in a display of fealty when he dared threaten an onslaught on your people, and by Gods did you regret nothing more. “You look the best when you’re at my mercy...”, the sadistic prince of snakes had praised, holding your chin like a true gentleman – with the tip of his boot rather than with slender fingers. He urged you to look upward, to look at him, to look at your new husband, your new ruler, your new God, one which bore a cruel grimace rather than a benevolent light.
“I’ve dreamt of this moment ever since I heard news of your silly little uprising, you know.” He uttered with a short laugh suffused with contempt rather than mirth. “A warrior queen with a flock of hens eager to enter the battlefield. Your kind is quite partial to being butchered, it seems.” Emerald eyes flicked to your right, and you had no choice but to stare at the meaty remains of the emissary you’d sent ahead, dread and disgust pooling in your stomach as you came to a realization: whatever he had done to her, whatever torture he had put her through, had left her in a state far beyond recognition. The jewels in what was left of her hair served as the sole indication of her loyalty to you.
The guilt of it all threatened to manifest as vomit along your esophagus; she was a kindhearted and devout woman under your service. Having fled to your kingdom in search of refuge, she’d gained ranks among your personal guard; she’d found her place by your side as one of your trusted, just under Merula. And in that moment, you couldn’t stop your remorseful thoughts from wandering to your beloved priestess, from wondering how much blood needed to be shed until Merula fell victim too. She was a Sister, your confidant, your right-hand woman and guiding light -- some childish, lost part of your soul feared what would become of you should you lose her too.
The world itself had turned its back on you the moment you crossed the threshold into this throne room, bound by cuffs so tight they cut into your skin; but you would not die without a fight. You are a Queen and he is a Prince and you will not be ignored.
Not when the Devil himself is your enemy.
“Enjoy your victory while it lasts, princeling.”
His laughter is insouciant and deafening, ringing across the pillars of the war hall like heaven-sent thunder. He dare finds the loss of lives nothing more than a hilarious game and you prayed he be smote right then; but your prayers are never heard.
“I shall, little one, and I shall enjoy breaking your resolve just as much.” A tongue, tinged an odd greenish-black, ran across his bottom lip like a predator basking in the glory of its prey. “After I’m done with you, you’ll be incapable of thinking of anything or anyone but me.”
— one. Merula
— two. Ravana
— three. Alocer
#back by popular demand#yandere oc#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yandere oc x reader#oc#ocs#yandere ocs#*ocs#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere#yandere scenario#yandere imagines#therin#harry potter houses#personified harry potter houses#harry potter ocs
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CHAPTER 12-FRIENDS AND FOES-PLEASE COMMENT AND REBLOG
WITH PROBLEMS UPON PROBLEMS TO FIX, THE SPELLMANS MUST HURRY TO DISCOVER WHO IS AN ALLY AND WHO IS NOT.
There was a rather large mud puddle just inside the mine’s main entrance. Large enough to cause ripples when it came into contact with Zelda Spellman’s high heeled shoe. Zelda herself paid no mind to the puddle, nor to the dampness that set in just above her ankle. All she could focus on was finding lot 13. For hidden deep within lot 13 was, (what else?) the gates of hell. Not even an hour before, the Spellmans seemed on the verge of getting rid of 2 enemies with 1 stone. The trouble all started 2 days ago, when Zelda had foolishly agreed to smuggle Lilith and her newborn child out of hell. It was foolish because when Lucifer showed up looking for his servant and their child, Lilith had flown the coop leaving the Spellmens to deal with Lucifer on their own. Due to a miracle, courtesy of baby Cordelia, they managed to get the upper hand on Lucifer. Getting him safely chained up and down to the academy’s dungeon. However, everyone knew that the dark lord could only be held by a prison of flesh and blood. Using Blackwood, Faustus’s curse was Ambrose’s idea but it was Letitia who knew where to find him. All seemed to be going well when the family performed the soul transfer and sent both Blackwood and Lucifer to hell. Until Zelda found a letter from Faustus in the baby’s crib. He confessed that he couldn’t find Blackwood, so he switched places using a cloning spell, meaning that Zelda’s beloved husband was not only Lucifer’s jailer but was in hell as well! The letter explained that he was doing this to protect their family, not only Zelda and his children, but also Sabrina, Ambrose, Hilda, and Dr. C, all the people Faustus considered his family. Plus, they never spoke about it anymore, but Zelda knew that Faustus still felt immense guilt for the curse’s actions. Once the shock of the letter wore off, nothing could stop Zelda from reaching the gates of hell. Not even when Elizabeth Tudor, their old ally showed up on their doorstep and literally fainted into Zelda’s arms. She just passed her to Hilda and continued on her way. Now, she had arrived at the gates of hell. Zelda immediately went to work, twisting and turning the symbols in the correct order. As Lilith’s midwife, she was given the combination months ago. Only…now it wasn’t working. She tried again, once, twice, 3 times. Still, it didn’t budge.
“Oh no,” Even with no warning, it appeared that Lucifer still had the foresight to change the locks. “Lilith!” Zelda screamed, hoping against hope that the witch was on the other side. “Lucifer?! Faustus?! Minion?”
It soon became clear that no one on the other side of the gate was going to help her or Zelda didn’t know if anyone was even there.
“Faustus, darling? If you can hear me, I love you and I will get you out of there!” Zelda sighed, wondering what her next move should be.
“Let’s put her on the bed, Prudence, love,” Hilda suggested as she turned down the bed in 1 of the academy’s private bedrooms. Tonight had been a very odd night indeed. First, there was the whole Blackwood/Faustus switch thing, (Hilda was certainly not looking forward to telling her husband that his best friend was in hell,) then Zelda insisted on going to the gates without backup or a plan. On top of all that, Elizabeth had shown up at the door, just to collapse. Elizabeth Tudor had been a useful ally to the family and proved very helpful in aiding Sabrina with her identity problem. But that whole thing had been months ago, Hilda never expected to see her again.
“What do you suppose happened to her?” Asked Prudence.
Hilda sighed. “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. All she did know was the proud, regally dressed, half-mortal, half-witch immortal 16th-century queen the family met months ago looked next to nothing to the poor, half-dead wretch they were looking at on the bed. Her once bright, curly red hair was now limp and dirty. Her once thin yet healthy fame was now nothing but skin and bones. Elizabeth was always sharply dressed in modern outfits now all she wore was a dirty one-piece prison garb of her own time that was barely better than an old potato sack. Also, the E necklace that could always be found at her throat, was nowhere to be found. Hilda couldn’t help but notice that there were many, many, cuts and wounds on Elizabeth’s bare legs. However, that was nothing compared to what Prudence and Hilda saw once they removed the dress.
“Oh, dear!” Hilda gasped as she placed her hand over her mouth. Elizabeth’s bareback was bruised, covered in welts, and both dried and fresh blood. It was quite clear that she had been whipped several times over.
“What on earth happened here?” Hilda wondered out loud. Not only was Elizabeth a queen of a kingdom of millions of loyal subjects, but she herself was also a known warrior. Who would dare attack her?
“Looks like someone tried to burn off her mark of Cain.” Prudence lifted up Elizabeth’s wrist so the other witch could see the burn marks.
Hilda shook her head and told herself to focus. There was a jar of healing cream on the side table. Hilda gently dipped a tip of each finger into the cream and approached Elizabeth, whose Prudence held to ensure that Elizabeth remained on her side. As soon as Hilda touched her skin, Elizabeth, who had been unconscious ever since she fell into Zelda’s arms, awoke and began to scream bloody murder. When Hilda tried to touch her again, Elizabeth only screamed louder. Hilda spoke some words in Latin and Elizabeth was once again silent and sleeping.
“What happened? Is she dead?” Prudence asked.
Hilda smiled. “No. Just a little trick from my midwife days. Whenever a mother would be in too much pain, I would put her to sleep with a quick spell, and then we would continue our work. Now, let’s tend to her wounds and then maybe a quick sponge bath. Ambrose is downstairs in the library and I promised him I would help him find a spell to get your father out of hell.”
“I’m meeting Sabrina later for the same reason.”
Very, very late that night, a frustrated Zelda let herself into the house. She vowed not to come home without her husband, but what else could she do? It was 3 AM and she was still no closer to opening the gates. Zelda could swear that today she said every spell that ever mentioned the gates of hell. She even recited some spells she only knew by overhearing Sabrina practicing in her room when Nicholas was in hell. Zelda grew still so desperate that she returned to the school, right to the very same dungeon cell they kept Lucifer in, drew a pentagram on the ground, and tried to summon the devil that way. All to no avail. When Zelda entered the house this late, she expected it to be pitch dark and as silent as the grave. While it was quiet, Zelda noticed that there was a light on in the parlor. When she went in there to check it out, no one was in the room, but Zelda noticed that most of the family’s spellbooks were all over the room. I’ll clean this up tomorrow. Zelda thought as she yawned and switched off the light. Zelda went upstairs and was surprised to see that the only light on was coming from her own bedroom. Zelda walked in and her heart melted. Among the mess of books that were everywhere, some were Ambrose’s from the attic, and others that were Faustus’s were on the nearby bookshelf and the 4 girls that Zelda loved the most in the world were all on her bed. Her niece, Sabrina, who was farthest from the door, was lying on her stomach and her head was lying on an open book. Her youngest stepdaughter, Letitia, better known these days as LJ, was next to Sabrina, lying on her side. An open book resting against her hip. Her older sister, Prudence, was on her back, Cordelia on her chest. At first glance, Zelda thought everyone was asleep but when she came closer, she saw Cordelia gurgling, lifting her head, and was about to move. Luckily, Zelda was there in time to catch her daughter.
“Got you, my little wiggle worm!” Zelda smiled and kissed the baby’s cheek but then Zelda smelled something foul. Zelda brought her daughter to the makeshift changing table across the room and got her a fresh diaper. Zelda couldn’t help but stare down at Cordelia. If she hadn’t seen it with her own 2 eyes, Zelda would have never believed that yesterday that her 5 and a half-month-old baby had literally thrown the actual devil out on his ear with just her cry. True, it had been some time since Zelda learned about the mark of the divine and how it meant that Cordelia was destined to be the most powerful witch ever born. Yet reading about a prophecy and seeing it happening right before you are 2 different things. Besides her crescent moon birthmark, before today, they had no proof, it was more like…hearsay. Besides, both as a midwife and Cordelia’s mother, Zelda had been keeping an extra close eye on her daughter ever since learning about the mark of the divine, and Zelda could swear that Cordelia was developing at the same rate at any other normal 5 months old. Cordelia had just recently learned to sit up by herself, her crib mirror could provide hours of entertainment and why, it was only last week, that Zelda had come home to find Faustus, rolling around on the floor like a fool. Cordelia, who laid on her stomach nearby, had no intention of rolling over, but laughed and slapped the floor with glee over her father’s antics. How could someone so small be so powerful? Zelda wondered as she carried her baby back to the bed. In order to make room for them both, Zelda made sure that she herself laid on her side, her back to Prudence, and laid Cordelia down on the mattress, holding by a hand on her babe’s belly. Yet, the baby was still fussy.
“Hush child,” Zelda kissed Cordelia’s brow, “Dream of Hecate. Pray for your daddy’s safe return.”
Despite the fact that she had gone to bed past 3, Zelda was up by 6 AM. She grabbed an apple as she rushed out of the door. Zelda was headed to the academy’s library. Hoping to do more research about opening the gates of hell before morning assembly. Zelda was surprised but happy when within an hour, most of the rest of the family had shown up as well. Apparently, no one wanted to see Faustus in hell. Sabrina, who was the last to arrive, told the others that last night she sent Salem to keep an eye on Blackwood’s hideout all night long. The familiar had reported back this morning, saying that there was no sign of Blackwood or Judas.
The hours flew by and the study succession didn’t really uncover any new or useful information. Before Zelda knew it, it was time for morning assembly. Somehow, she got through it and after dismissing the students, Zelda headed down toward her office. She walked in and saw LJ settling a now sleeping Cordelia into what was her old cradle. It warmed Zelda’s heart until she noticed that LJ was frowning.
“Letitia, err, I mean, LJ, is anything wrong?” Zelda asked.
LJ sighed and flopped down on 1 of the seats before the desk. “I just feel so guilty.”
Zelda sat down next to her. “Oh? Whatever for?”
“I’m the one who told Ambrose and Sabrina I knew where the hideout was. I helped Father with the map.” LJ sighed and hung her head. “It’s my fault that Father is in hell.”
Zelda gave a gentle half-smile, leaned forward and cupped her fingers under LJ’s chin, forcing her stepdaughter to look her in the eye. “No, it’s not. You were just doing what you thought, what we all thought, was the right thing to do and that’s never wrong. I also want you to know that your father and I made a vow. We vowed, both of us, that we would never rest until we reunited all our children, and that includes you and your brother.”
LJ made a face. “That’s another thing I’ve been worrying about. I’m truly sorry about all the things I did to you, I can almost promise you, Judas would have been worse. You see, growing up I was the unimportant one. I was just the girl. Judas, however, was the hell sent boy, the beloved male heir who could do very little wrong. As a result, my twin brother grew up to be rather arrogant.”
Zelda nodded understandingly. “Being raised by the curse, I was afraid of that. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, we have to get you ready before my 2nd-period class. Did you bring your assignment from home?”
LJ nodded and Zelda helped her stepdaughter to settle behind her desk. “You know, I keep on forgetting to tell you how impressed I am with your schoolwork. Not only do I think you’ll be able to attend the academy next term, but I believe we might bump you up a year.”
“Thank you. I’ve always loved reading and learning new things. Of course, I had to hide it most of my life because well, Judas never liked school and hell forbid that I should get ahead of him.”
Zelda placed a hand on LJ’s shoulder. “You’ll never have to play dumb or go at anyone’s speed but your own ever again, I promise you.”
Zelda was rewarded with a smile that lit up the room. Zelda patted the girl’s shoulder affectionately before she went to collect her things for her next class. She kissed Cordelia goodbye and headed out. She hadn’t gone far down the hallway when everything around her changed. Zelda was no longer at the academy, she was now on the balcony at Grey’s bar. Confused, Zelda looked down to see that she was no longer wearing the business suit she put on this morning and in its place was a black ball gown with a full skirt, a tight corset, and off the shoulder shelves.
“Praise Hecate, it worked! It actually worked!”
Zelda’s eyes widened. She would know that voice anywhere but it couldn’t be, could it? Zelda turned around and looked down. There he was, on the main floor and in black tie. “Faustus, darling!” Quick as lighting, Zelda ran downstairs and threw herself into her husband’s arms and covered his face with kisses. Then she asked him some of the millions of questions going through her mind. “How did you get away from Lucifer? How did you ever manage to escape hell?”
“I didn’t exactly escape hell, dearest, and Lucifer and I still share 1 body, sort of,” Faustus answered.
“Faustus, are- are you astral projecting from hell?”
Her husband made a face. “Not exactly. You see, I researched some spells just in case this happened-“
“Researched some spells just in case this happened? Who could have foreseen this?” Asked a confused Zelda.
Faustus couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “It dawned on me that I should do my homework right around the time Lilith entered her last trimester. Even if you wouldn’t help Lilith, I knew you could never refuse an innocent newborn so I figured it was better safe than sorry.”
Zelda frowned. “When it comes to Lilith, I am very, very sorry. I helped her and she put the entire family in jeopardy and indirectly put you in hell. I haven’t seen hind or hair of that ungrateful witch since I sent her upstairs to the nursery to better protect her son and watch over our daughter. Have you seen her? In hell, I mean.”
Faustus shook his head. “No.”
“If Lucifer still wants Lilith dead, he just may have to stand in line,” Zelda mumbled.
Faustus felt his wife’s anger so he quickly changed the subject. “So, anyway, this is the 2nd spell I’ve tried since yesterday and I’m pleased to report that they both worked.”
Zelda raised an eyebrow. “What sort of spells?” She wanted to know.
“Well, the first spell was called the 50/50.”
“The 50/50 spell? I’ve never even heard of that.”
“It's a very, very obscure spell. I had to dig for weeks to find it. Anyway, what happens is that I have full control of the body 50% of the time and when Lucifer is in control, I’m actually asleep, which brings me to the 2nd spell, a dream spell.”
“A dream spell? But darling, I’m not even asleep, I’m at work. So how could I’ve pulled you into my dream?”
Faustus laughed. “Oh no, my dearest. You didn’t pull me into your dream. I pulled you into mine. I do confess I don’t know how long this spell hold. But this is not a surprise. Most of my dreams involve us dancing and dressed to the nines.”
Zelda looked down at her dress. “Well, I understand being dressed to the nines, but how are we to dance without music?”
Then the music started.
“A slight delay,” Faustus smiled and took his wife in his arms. “For my next trick, I’m going to need your help.”
Zelda cuddled closer to her husband. “I would die for you.”
“Thankfully, I won’t need anything that dire. Now, all I need you to do is put a pen and a pad of paper on the kitchen table before you go to bed tonight and I’ll do the rest. Now, how are the children?” He asked as they danced.
“They miss you, we all do,” Zelda answered. “Fear not, beloved, we’ll have you out of there before you know it. As soon as we find a way to open the gates of hell and track down Blackwood.”
“Blackwood wouldn’t help you.”
Zelda shrugged. “Not willing, of course, but no matter, I wasn’t thinking of asking permission.”
Despite himself, Faustus laughed. “No, dearest, what I meant was it’s all in the name. Blackwood can’t do a soul transfer because he doesn’t have a soul because”
“He’s a curse” Zelda finished for him. “Damn, you’re right!”
Faustus nodded. “And since there is no one else who deserves this fate, I think it’s best for everyone if I stayed with Lucifer.”
Zelda was shocked. “What? Faustus no! You already promised me that we would raise our family together.”
“Yes, but if we let Lucifer run loose we might not have a family.”
“We won’t let Lucifer run loose, but you can’t give up the rest of your life for him, I won’t let you. We find another way.”
“But what if there is none?”
“There must be!” Zelda stressed and got on her tiptoes to hug Faustus. She gave him an extra squeeze before she saw it, a painting, hanging on a wall behind Faustus’s shoulder. Zelda had no idea why but it felt like the painting was calling her. Zelda slowly smiled as she remembered something Sabrina told her long ago. “That’s it! I know how we’re going to get you out of hell.” Zelda turned her head but both Faustus and Grey’s bar were gone. She was back at the academy.
“Are you alright, Sister Zelda?” A confused Prudence was at the other end of the hallway.
“Come, child. We must tell the others at once!”
Sabrina couldn’t believe it! How could she be so stupid? How could she have forgotten about Dorian’s painting into hell over at Grey’s? True, it had been a while since she and her friends had rescued Nick from hell, but still! Sabrina felt so guilty that she accompanied Ambrose and Prudence to Grey’s bar, only to find it closed. Meanwhile, Zelda was home at that very moment neatly putting a pad of paper and pen on the kitchen table before going upstairs to check on Cordelia. The next morning, the family found notes, all in Faustus’s handwriting, to all the members of the family. Some were short and friendly but 1 was a long, steamy love letter to Zelda. All of the notes said that Faustus was alright but Zelda wasn’t so sure. Grey’s bar remained closed for 3 days and things got even worse on day 4.
Zelda stood up sharply from behind her desk. “Sold it? What do you mean he sold it?”
Ambrose shrugged. “I’m sorry, Auntie, but Dorian told me himself he sold it to the highest bidder.”
“That Dorian Grey always was a vain fool!”
“Now we have no painting and no way to open the gates of hell. So, we’re back to where we started. We are not giving up, are we?” Prudence wanted to know. “I know he writes every night that he’s alright, but still”
“Prudence, we will find a way to get your father out of hell, I swear,” Zelda promised her stepdaughter. Zelda sighed as she got up after kneeling to comfort Prudence. As Zelda got up, she spotted her sister standing in the doorway. 1 look at her sister’s face told her that she heard everything.
“Yes, Hilda? What is it?”
Hilda took a step forward. “I hate to be the bearer of even more bad news but I don’t know what to do with her anymore.”
Zelda was confused. “Her? Her who?”
“Why, Elizabeth, of course.”
“Oh.” Zelda was so worried about Faustus and how to get him out of hell, that she had completely forgotten about their guest.
“It’s been 4 days and not only has Elizabeth not come out of her room, she won’t eat, she won’t do anything but lay in bed and cry. I think she’s depressed.” Hilda told Zelda as the sisters walked down the hallway toward Elizabeth’s room.
Zelda was shocked. “Depressed? Why on earth would Elizabeth Tudor, of all people, have to be depressed about?”
Hilda shrugged. “I don’t know, Zelds, but in the 4 days I’ve been treating her wounds, she hasn’t said a word to me.”
They reached the door to Elizabeth’s room. The room was pitch black inside, despite the fact that it was almost noon. Zelda went straight to the window and drew back the drapes. Bright sunlight flooded in and the figure in the bed groaned and put an arm over her eyes.
“I know I’m immortal but can’t you at least, leave me to pretend I’m dead?”
“What do you want that, my love?” Hilda asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Indeed! You think that a queen would have better things to do than stay in bed all day.” Zelda’s tone was firm.
“But I’m not a queen anymore!” Elizabeth snapped with tears in her eyes.
“No longer queen? But that’s impossible! The Elizabethans-“
“Have chosen a new leader!” Elizabeth finished for Zelda. Giving up on sleep altogether, Elizabeth got up and went to the fireplace, her arms wrapped around herself. “And because I love my people more than my own life, I had to step aside.”
Hilda shook her head. “That makes no sense. You’re a great queen.”
“If I was such a great queen, how could I allow myself to be defeated by nothing but a stupid curse?!” Elizabeth half asked, half sneered.
The Spellman sisters exchanged a glance, surely she couldn’t mean? Meanwhile, Elizabeth, who was now openly sobbing, collapsed on a nearby stool by the fire. “Do you have any idea what it means to believe to the depths of your soul that you’re meant for something, only to find out, 500 years later, that you were wrong all along?”
Zelda stepped forward. “It’s Blackwood, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here, Blackwood made himself king of your people.”
“King? No,” Elizabeth laughed shortly. “King wasn’t good enough for him. So, he made himself emperor, Emperor Blackwood. 1 day he showed up out of nowhere, I still have no idea how he found my dimension, he snapped his finger and all my people rallied around him.”
Zelda made a face. “Elizabeth, this can’t be true. Blackwood must have tricked or spelled them.”
“You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” Elizabeth asked. “The whole reason I allowed myself to be captured and tortured by my own men for over 5 months, looking for any sign, any clue, any crack of a spell that I could break and there was nothing! Just an insanity curse who declared himself emperor of the empire that I built!”
“5 months?” Zelda whispered more to herself than to anyone else. “No wonder we can’t find him. The bastard must have moved right after Cordelia was born, right after he killed me.” In a louder voice, Zelda asked Elizabeth. “What about Judas? Is he still with Blackwood?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I didn’t get to speak with him, of course, but the boy looked fine.”
Hilda stepped forward and knelt before Elizabeth. “There must be more to the story. We’ll help you.”
“Once we find a way to free Faustus,” Zelda muttered.
For the first time in months, Elizabeth thought of someone other than herself. “What happening with Faustus?”
“Long story short, Faustus allowed a soul transfer with Lucifer in order to save us all and now, he’s stuck in hell and we can’t go get him until we figure out how to open the gates,” Zelda explained.
Elizabeth looked confused. “What about Sabrina? Surely, she would help.”
“What does any of this have to with Sabrina?” Zelda wanted to know.
“You know that the spell I did with her proves Sabrina is a Spellman to her very core, but, and forgive me for even saying so ladies, but Sabrina has the blood of a Morningstar and since hell belongs to the Morningstars, all it would take would be her blood to open the gates.”
“How much blood?” Zelda, ever the overprotective aunt, asked with care.
Elizabeth shrugged. “Just 1 drop. No more, no less.”
“Cool!”
All 3 women looked up to see the teen witch in the doorway.
“Sabrina-“
Sabrina held up her hand. “Now, Aunties, I know you’re probably going to say you’re worried but this is the answer! I can feel it in my bones! Now, come on!”
Zelda and Hilda had no choice but to follow their niece out the door and down the hall. Along their way, the 3 found Prudence and Ambrose, so the Spellmans were all together when they entered the mines. Sabrina marched in first, pausing only long enough to whisper Latin words that allowed her to pluck a needle out of thin air. She pricked her finger with the needle and she saw a small but decent pool of blood on her finger, she placed it on the gate. Sure enough, as soon as it came into contract with Morningstar blood, the huge stone doors began to open.
“Whoa,” Sabrina jumped back. “It actually worked!”
Ambrose was amazed. “After all our research, this is a little anticlimactic Aunties, not going to lie.”
Zelda didn’t care what it was, all she cared about was that the gates of hell were open and she could finally get her husband back. The family went into hell and found Faustus/Lucifer exactly where the previous spell had sent him. Faustus must have been asleep because it was Lucifer’s smirk that greeted them.
“Oh, not here, again,” Lucifer sneered as the witches teleported with him to the dungeon under the school. “I didn’t know you cared so much about Daddy, Sabrina.”
“I don’t,” Sabrina retorted “but my uncle has more than proven that he deserves more out of life than simply being your jailer.”
“And now that we know where Blackwood is, we can free Uncle Faustus all that faster.” Said Ambrose, finishing his cousin’s thoughts.
Lucifer gave the children a gleeful smile before turning to Zelda. “Do you wish to tell them, Lady Blackwood, or should I?”
Zelda sighed deeply and crossed her arms. “Blackwood can’t do a soul transfer because as a curse, he has no soul.”
“Now,” Lucifer continued firmly. “You people have 2 choices here; either accept that you beloved Faustus Spellman is gone for good or separate us and allow me to walk away free.”
Zelda frowned. “Neither of those things are going to happen.”
“Come now, Lady Blackwood, we both know you have no choice. Now that Blackwood is not an option, your husband is lost to you forever unless you let me go.”
“I do it. I’ll be his next prison.” Came a voice in the back. Everyone turned to see Elizabeth.
Zelda went to her. “What are you doing? You’re just as innocent as Faustus. I can’t let you do this.”
“I’m an immortal who lost her kingdom. Though I still don’t know why the spirit of England abandoned me. I’m the only 1 who can do this.”
“No one thinks Blackwood has your people’s loyalty rightly. We find another way.” Zelda announced to the room.
Zelda, in fact, already had an idea. “I’m going to send word to the council to come help,” Zelda announced to the others as they walked in the hallway.
“Do you really think they will come?”
“They have to. As an ordained high priestess, it is my right to call on the council if I feel my coven is in danger, even if it’s from their dark lord.” Zelda said in a tone that was much more certain than she felt.
As soon as classes were done for the day, Zelda went straight to her office and began to compose a letter to the witches’ council. Only Zelda wasn’t happy with her 1st draft, so she rewrote, again and again, and again. Time flew by, and before she knew it, it was very late and Zelda had rewritten the letter 5 times. Zelda had to step away from her desk and she went upstairs to collect LJ who was catching up with Elizabeth. Once they were home, as LJ headed up to bed, Zelda casually walked into the kitchen. Going near the kitchen table, Zelda saw the pen and the pad of paper. Zelda bit her lip. She hadn’t seen Faustus in days, she missed him, and boy, did she have news for him! Zelda had read about how to write him but had no way of knowing if it would work. Zelda sat down, took the page that Faustus wrote his notes on last night, flipped it over, and wrote her own message backward.
Faustus, darling, I need to see you. Please come into my dream tonight- if you can. I love you. Zelda
It had been a long day so after saying her goodnights, Zelda went right to bed. Zelda was jolted out of a deep sleep when someone pulled on her blanket. Yet she didn’t mind, not when she saw who was smiling down at her.
“Faustus! Faustus, darling! You’re here! You must have gotten my note.” She reached up and hugged him.
“Of course, I got the note and when the woman of your dreams asks you to join her in bed, you don’t 2nd guess it.” He said and kissed her.
“Faustus, I have so much to tell you,” Zelda told her husband as they settled back in bed.
“If you want to tell me that you went to hell, I realized that as soon as I woke.”
“Yes, darling, but there’s more. We finally found Blackwood and Judas is still with him.” Zelda went on to explain in greater detail about Elizabeth and how Blackwood took Elizabeth’s kingdom and her men.
“And what’s even sadder is that no one but Elizabeth herself believes that Blackwood won that kingdom honestly.”
“Nor do I. But sweetheart, I told you before the curse can’t take my place because it doesn’t have a soul.”
Zelda nodded. “I know that. That’s why I’ve written to the council for their aid in this matter.”
Faustus made a face. “The council?! Do you really think they’ll help you?”
Zelda both sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know but I have to try. If worse comes to worst, I suppose we could always swap.”
“Swap?”
“Yes. Maybe I’ll take a week or so in Lucifer’s body and then switch back or something.”
“No way, Zelda! I refuse to put you in danger like that!”
“I wasn’t asking permission and I refuse to let you condemn yourself for all time because you still feel guilty over Edward’s damn curse!”
Her dead-on analysis stopped him cold. “How did you know?”
Zelda smiled. “Because I know you.”
“I know me too,” Faustus returned her smile, “But in my few days away, I learned a few things about myself. For example, I’ve always known I loved you and my own children of course, but I’ve also realized that I love Hilda and Dr. C and Ambrose and Hecate, even Sabrina.”
“And they love you, I know it. That’s why we Spellmans do, we love each other.”
“I also want a boring life.” Faustus continued. “Ever since I got free from the curse, all we’ve been doing is dealing with problems after problems. I want the biggest problems with the twins being that they won’t share the remote or that Sabrina needs help with her homework. Not help with being the queen of hell.”
Zelda blinked back tears. “I want that too, darling. More than anything.” She held on tight to Faustus as he kissed her. Zelda was pleased that dream sex was as passionate, pleasurable, and romantic as real lovemaking. Afterward, Zelda tried hard to cover up her yawn, but Faustus saw it regardless.
“Dearest, why don’t you just go to sleep if you’re tired?” Faustus wanted to know.
“I am tired,” Zelda confirmed. “But you told me yourself that you can’t control how long these dreams spells last and I want to spend every moment I can with you.” Poor Zelda really did put up a good fight, but all too soon, her eyelids began to droop against her will. Next thing she knew, Zelda opened her eyes to a bright morning and an empty bed. She ran her hand along Faustus’s side of the bed. “I miss you.”
Zelda could swear that she heard his voice on the wind. “I miss you too.”
The next few days were rough ones. Zelda’s letter to the council got no answer so she sent a 2nd one. When that one got no response as well, she called Rome, only to be put on hold most of the time. The good news was Zelda wasn’t the only Spellman working for the greater good.
It was Friday when Ambrose walked into Prudence’s classroom.
“Hey, sexy!”
Prudence looked up and smiled at her boyfriend.
“You know what I was just thinking?” Ambrose wanted to know. “I was thinking that it has been a while since you and I had been on a proper adventure.”
“I agree, but with all that’s going on here, I don’t think we should leave right now.”
“But what if it was for the greater good?” Ambrose tossed Prudence the spellbook he held in his hand.
Prudence’s eyes lit up as she looked over the dog eared page. “Ambrose, you’re a genius!”
“If this doesn’t cheer Elizabeth up, nothing will. Now let’s go, the sooner we leave, the sooner we’ll get back.” They left that very day.
The next day, Zelda received a telegram. It said the council would be there by Monday, and Zelda knew she could trust the note because it was written by Maxine. Sure enough, on Monday, Zelda found herself welcoming ‘Bother Maxwell’ and 3 other council members. However, getting the council there was only half the battle. Trying to discuss Faustus or Lucifer was like pulling teeth. On Tuesday, Ambrose and Prudence returned from their trip and went straight to Elizabeth.
“Where have you 2 been these past few days?” Asked the queen.
The kids exchanged a look before Ambrose answered. “We went to England.”
“We went to find England’s oldest tree,” Prudence added.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She knew exactly what that meant. “You performed that spell that allowed you to speak to the spirit of England, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth moaned and threw up her hands.
“The spirit of England didn’t abandon you,” Ambrose stressed. “When we first got there, he refused to even talk to us because he thought we were working for Blackwood. When we explained that we were there on your behalf, he said he knew that something had disturbed England, but he didn’t know which monarch was robbed. Then he gave us these to give to you.” Ambrose gave Elizabeth a stack of letters. For almost 10 minutes, Elizabeth quickly skimmed all the letters. Her face ranged from surprise to shock to pure rage.
Then she looked up. “Where is your aunt Zelda?”
“In her office,” Ambrose answered.
“But she’s with the council, I think.” Added Prudence.
“Perfect,” Elizabeth muttered.
“Shall we discuss the school’s budget next?”
Zelda felt like screaming. “Gentlemen, as I said before, I didn’t call you to speak of the running of this academy. As I already told you, there is a situation involving my husband and Lucifer.”
“And as we’ve already told you, we cannot go against the dark lord’s will.”
“Isn’t it the council’s duty to help all covens regardless of what church they belong to?”
“You presume to tell us what the council’s duties are?” The council members were laughing at Zelda 1 second and were floating up in the air the next. “Mother Spellman! Put us down this moment!”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“She’s right,” Came Elizabeth’s voice. “I did!” She let her hand fall and the group also fell in a huff.
Zelda couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Elizabeth? What on earth?”
“Pardon the interruption, Your Excellency, but it appears that we were both betrayed by this so-called witch’s council!” Elizabeth tossed the stack of letters on Zelda’s desk. “This is a series of letters between Blackwood and the council. They have been helping him all along! When he asked to be hidden in April, the council gave him step by step directions on how to get to my dimension and they also gave him a very strong spell to steal my people’s loyalty.”
Maxwell wore a look of confusion. “My lords, no one told me any of this,”
Another council member shrugged. “You simply weren’t around when the first few letters came in and later, well, we all know what a fan of Elizabeth Tudor you are.”
“At least 1 of you has some taste,” Elizabeth crossed her arms. “But why involve me or my kingdom at all?”
“Because he wrote requesting a hideout and power and we thought why not give him the kingdom run by the half-breed woman?”
“This half-breed woman has commanded the armies of men, both mortals, and witch, centuries before you were born! I, who won and kept the goodwill of my people, without any spells, for over 500 years!”
“ENOUGH!” Zelda cried, furious. “These letters go back to February! How can this be? My husband wrote to you about this whole situation in May and we met face to face at the Summit in June. Why the heaven didn’t you say anything?!”
“He asked us not to and we have to protect a powerful, skillful warlock.”
“My husband is a powerful, skillful warlock! All you did was aid a dangerous insanity curse, who still has my stepson! You have 5 minutes to get out of this office and this school!”
Elizabeth looked at Zelda. “High Priestess, I suggest you keep 1 here for…personal reasons.”
Faustus looked up as he heard the dungeon door unlock and open. A man was pushed in before Zelda and Elizabeth came into view. Before Faustus could ask what was going on, Zelda kissed him and explained all about how the council helped Blackwood and Elizabeth’s idea about performing a soul transfer into this council member.
“But won’t the council miss him?” Faustus wanted to know.
Zelda shook her head. “No, Maxine assured us that she could easily make up an excuse to leave him here, and once back in Rome, someone from the Sisterhood will use a glam spell to look like him.”
Once again, the soul transfer was performed and the council member/Lucifer went sent back to hell.
“I can’t believe I have to leave you again so soon.”
It was 3 days later, and Zelda and a newly freed Faustus were saying a quiet goodbye in the woods.
Zelda placed a hand on her husband’s cheek. “It’s time to reclaim your son, once and for all.”
“And figure out how to destroy Blackwood. Then can we have an ordinary, boring life?”
Zelda smiled. “That’s the dream.”
They kissed as Ambrose came out of the bush. “We’re ready.”
After saying a final goodbye to Zelda, Faustus and Ambrose joined Prudence and Elizabeth next to a hole in the air. They went through the hole, from the woods at night to a village at midday.
“Are we here? Elizabeth, is this your world?” Faustus asked.
Elizabeth nodded. “Everything looks familiar. Expect for that” Elizabeth pointed to a tree that had a poster on it praising Emperor Blackwood.
Meanwhile, Ambrose noticed something. “Um, guys, this tavern says it’s close for the royal wedding. What wedding?”
Having lived in castles her entire life, it was quite easy for Elizabeth to sneak the others into the palace. They were already in the balcony when Blackwood and his bride arrived. From where they were standing, they couldn’t see the bride’s face.
“I have a gift for my bride,” Blackwood announced.
“It better not be a damn music box,” Faustus growled.
“No,” Elizabeth answered. “It’s my stolen E necklace.”
The new empress moved and for the 1st time, the gang saw her face, and they were shocked.
It was Lilith.
#chilling adventures of sabrina#save caos#renew caos#caoz#part 4 my way!#fanfic#chapter 12#spellwood#zelda spellman#faustus blackwood#hilda spellman#sabrina spellman#ambrose spellman#prudence night#LJ spellman#cordelia spellman#elizabeth tudor#please comment#reblog
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