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leftdragonwombatroad · 2 years

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dragon bride (prologue) || aemond targaryen

pairing: Aemond Targaryen х original female character

warnings: nothing like that now, but then…

summary: two worlds intersect and feelings burn through two hearts

a/n: Near the Seven Kingdoms lies the kingdom of Darein where dragons are considered messengers of death and misfortune, so they try to ward them off with magic…

English is not my first language I apologize for the mistakes!

this part is a prologue (yes, you could think of it that way)

_______ இஇஇ _______

Eileen had always believed in fairy tales, which she read with the daughters of other Darein princes at family feasts.A group of ruddy girls each time ran away from the feast and settled around the fire. Then the most nimble of the princesses would pull out a small book cleverly hidden in her skirts and begin to read, looking around fearfully.

“Come today about the beautiful Dragon Prince who took Princess Spring as his wife,” Maria whispered, giggling. “They had so many children born… and all as beautiful as their parents.”

“No, about wolves with wings!” Erina exclaimed.

“There’s no such thing, you fool!” Natalia snapped at her. “Let’s read in order.”

Everyone obeyed the oldest of the princesses and began the first story. Eileen held her breath and began to listen to the tale of the Great and Fearless King, who with a simple song was able to make a dragon serve him and not kill people. They flew together and rose above the clouds. Eileen covered her eyes and ran her hand over the short grass, smiling at the way it tickled her palms. Was it possible to fly so low on a dragon over a field and touch the spikes? Was it possible to fly so high on a dragon to take a ray of sunshine with her?

“That’s boring…” Lucia frustrated. “Let’s talk about how dragons choose their brides!”

This time a muffled maiden hum approved of the chosen topic. Eileen couldn’t object either. At twelve years old she already dreamed of meeting her betrothed. She wished it were Night of Fortune and she could look in the mirror and see her future. What would her husband be like? Surely as strong and kind as her father, good-natured and merciful…

“Okay, little naughty girl, let’s read about marriage,” Nastasia snickered. “Here, it’s about a dragon wedding…”

A few minutes later, all the listeners were sitting with their eyes wide open and huddled together in fear. Except a delighted Eileen. This ritual… A true fusion of bodies. The accompanying bloodshed and magical dancing… Eileen wished she had seen and participated in something like this in her life. In Darein, the wedding ritual consisted of vows and the exchange of rings, but no daggers or kisses through which the spouses exchanged blood.

“How much blood does a bride spill…” Natalia sighed. “First on the altar, then on the marriage bed.”

A foul comment from Natalia distracted everyone gathered from their shock, and silent laughter erupted again around the fire.

Eileen smirked, too. She had heard about bloodshed in the marriage bed from her older sisters, but never more. All she knew was that pain very often bordered on pleasure, and many women went mad for it.

Eileen looked toward the forest. All the feasts took place near the border with the Cursed Lands each time and ended with a sacrifice to keep the gods safe from the monster raids of Darein. It was so close to a country with such a mysterious history… All one had to do was stand on the path and walk straight ahead all the time…

“Hey!” A nasty boyish voice interrupted all discussion. The princesses turned around and saw two boys. Prince Tavrog’s sons, Marus and Ulvin. Vile and cruel, they were just like their father.

“Go away,” Natalia almost growled. “We’re having fun with the girls, and you don’t belong here.”

Marus grinned wickedly. Ignoring all requests, he walked closer to the fire, and Ulvin followed him like an obedient dog.

“I know what you do, unworthy daughters of unworthy mothers.” Marus began circling the girls like a hawk. Eileen wanted so badly to pick up a rock and knock him down. “You read tales of the Cursed Lands. Maybe I should tell everyone what you do.”

The girls whispered excitedly. If they were found out, they would be in trouble. The book had been stolen, and even more so about forbidden topics. They would all be locked in their rooms until the end of Spring and made to recite prayers as punishment.

“Who’s going to believe you, Marus?” Natalia interjected. “Just go away.”

Suddenly Ulvin snatched the book from Nastasia’s hands and laughed out loud.

“What fools!”

Eileen jumped up to return the book, but then Marus pulled out a dagger and pointed it at her. The girls, seeing the gleaming steel, screamed and piled into one pile, grabbing each other’s hands.

“Shut up!” Marus commanded. “Or I’ll cut her.”

Eileen froze in place. If she survived and told her father about this, Marus would be in trouble.

“Stop it, stop it Marus.” Eileen asked him. “Let’s just split up.”

Marus smirked at that again.

“Let’s just split up… well, sure!” He gripped the base of the dagger tighter. “Dreaming of the Dragon Prince, are you? You know what he’ll do to the likes of you?” He looked directly into Eileen’s eyes, and the end of the point pointed toward her heart. “He’ll use you as common whores first, and then he’ll let you be eaten by his pet. Or he’ll let him use you, too. I don’t know what that madman will get into his head.”

“What do you want, Marus?”

Eileen hid the trembling in her body, trying to tame herself. We have to get this straightened out. Marus probably tasted wine for the first time today.

“I want Dragonflower.” Marus replied. “I know some tales from here, too.” He nodded toward the book.

“What do you need it for?”

Eileen remembered about this flower. It could give the wearer unprecedented power and make him invincible. It can be seen why Marus wanted it.

“So go get it yourself,” Eileen muttered.

The dragonflower grew near the border with the Cursed Lands, and appearing there could mean a serious violation of the laws of Darein. Marus was simply afraid…

“You’re chicken, aren’t you?” Eileen teased him. “You want to be the strongest, but you’re afraid to even come close to the border.”

Marus growled and moved closer to Eileen without removing his knife.

“Shut up, you fool!” Something strange flashed in his gaze. “There you go. Or this,” he pointed again at the book Ulvin was twirling in his hands, “will be seen by all.”

Eileen looked at Natalia. Fear appeared in her green eyes. She had already received a warning from her father, and the next one could lead to dire things.

“How will she take the flower, you idiot?” Nastasia snorted. “There are guards there!”

Everyone knew that was a weak argument. The guards were only on the Watchtowers, and it was very easy to find a piece out of sight. Fear and common sense kept the borders impregnable better than any sword.

“If you don’t give me the book, I’ll kill you.”

Eileen turned toward the border and walked to the ghastly laughter of Marus and Ulvin. Nothing she would do to him - everyone knew that.

____________________

Eileen thought everyone would follow her. But missing a dozen princely children at once would lead to unnecessary suspicion. By now everyone must be distracting the already drunk parents so they wouldn’t notice the princess who had stolen. Eileen had already been walking along the trail for about half an hour, noticing every sign that brought her closer to the fateful frontier.

Stupid and cowardly Marus. Pathetic idiot.

But Eileen was partly grateful to him. Her father had only taken her to the frontier once, but she so wanted to stay there longer and explore the nature of the Seven Kingdoms. Eileen shivered to herself. The Cursed Lands. There was no other name for the place. There was only one link between the two completely different worlds: the wooden bridge. Ambassadors and lawbreakers would occasionally cross it into the Cursed Lands. Eileen planned to cross it today.

The border moat and high stakes appeared from behind the trees. Eileen was close. We had to get it over with quickly and get home. The feast would last a few more hours, but still they had to hurry. There was no telling who would decide to check on the spoiled children…

Eileen squeezed between the stakes and stopped at the precipice.

Damn.

The bridge was up today. That meant Eileen couldn’t cross it. Nor could she get the flower.

Shit!

She went to the very edge and looked down. There were stakes at the bottom of the ditch, too. If she fell on them, death would be painful and slow, and the corpse would go to the crows. Eileen shuddered. She couldn’t go back and neither could she cross…

“What are you doing here, girl?”

Eileen cried out in surprise and recoiled from the cliff, losing her balance and collapsing to the ground. On the other side stood a boy. His silver hair glistened in the darkness, and his eyes followed Eileen’s every movement.

“I asked what you were doing here.” He demanded an immediate answer, speaking to Eileen in a common language.

“I…” She mumbled. “I have to…”

“Are you a fool?” The boy was beginning to get angry. “What are you sniffing around here, you Darean ignoramus? ”

The insult brought Eileen to her senses. That arrogant jerk… She stood up and shook the dust off her skirts.

“I want Dragonflower.”

The boy jumped with laughter. There was amusement in his eyes, previously angry and sad.

“That weed? I told you - ignorant.” He laughed frankly at Eileen.

“What do you care?!” She snapped. “You’re the one who started talking to me.”

The boy kicked the stone and it flew into the ditch.

“I wanted to know what you wanted near my kingdom.” Arrogance emanated from his every word.

“Yours?” Eileen asked incredulously.

“Yes,” the boy declared, “I am a prince. Who are you?”

A prince… The dragon prince… Eileen saw him before her, the hero of fairy tales. Though it was hardly exactly him, because her unexpected interlocutor was too young. This boy was hardly more than two years older than Eileen.

“I am a princess.”

“Then our conversation can be considered a royal audience.”

Eileen saw him smile and couldn’t hold back in response.

“Hardly, of course. But so be it.”

“We made history with you,” the boy declared. “Our kingdoms rarely talk like this.”

“Perhaps your kingdom could give ours a little help?” Eileen began to act the way her mother sometimes acted, asking her father for something. She called it feminine cunning…

“Don’t expect any help from us, but here’s an exchange… You want a flower, don’t you?” The boy bent down and, poking around on the ground, plucked an inconspicuous flower that actually looked like a weed. Only the fiery red leaves made it special. “What will you give me for it?”

Eileen accepted the rules of the game and looked at her hand. An emerald bracelet glittered on her wrist. She wanted to sacrifice it on the Night of Fortune to see her future husband. But for that she would find another.

“You can have it,” Eileen offered.

“All right,” the interlocutor agreed. “Throw it.”

Eileen calculated her strength and threw the bracelet. It swirled in the air and flew straight into the hands of its new owner.

“Come on, now you.” Eileen could already taste victory.

“Catch,” a grin appeared on the boy’s face, malicious and sinister.

He threw the Dragonflower so weakly that it didn’t even make it to the middle of the moat and fell down onto the stakes.

“Sorry, princess, you’ll have to climb down.”

“You…” hissed Eileen, but suddenly there was a furious cry from behind her.

“EILEEN!”

Her father seemed to have discovered her missing.

Shit.

_____________

Eileen isn’t thirteen anymore. She is a bride-to-be, a grown-up girl and her father’s hope. Eileen will soon give birth to children, but in her dreams she still dreams of dragons, dreams of flying them and seeing other wonders.

More than five years had passed since her first contact with the world of the Cursed Lands, and in that time she had met the young Dragon Prince a dozen more times. He knew her name, taunted her with the bracelet he had tricked her with, and owed her for that awful lie. But it had been three years since Eileen had seen this wayward young man, and his fate made her heart flutter. She wanted revenge in the first place, and in the second.

“Eileen, wake up!” her younger sister Olia burst into the room. “Hurry up! There… there…”

Eileen barely woke up from her sleep. Oliya was circling her bed and tugging at her feathers, trying to wake her up.

“What… are you crazy?” Eileen muttered.

“The dragon, Eileen, the dragon. A dragon has been seen at the border. They’re summoning a council to choose a girl for sacrifice.”

Sleep was relieved. Eileen sat up on the bed.

“Father told mother that your name was written for selection, Aileen,” tears appeared in Aileen’s eyes. “You could be made a dragon bride.”

I’m really looking forward to the feedback to understand your reactions and your strengths

This is just the beginning… be ready for Slavic content

#aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd #house of the dragon aemond #hotdimagine

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chidoroki · 1 year

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182 Days of TPN - Day 18

Chapter 18: “Prepared”

Why.. why must everyone leave out Ray?? After my boy has done so much for you, ya’ll just don’t wanna include him in your little thoughts, despite saying “them” twice? RUDE, but THEM aka the fullscore TRIO aka Emma, Norman and RAY would not have been sneaking around mom’s secret room the first place.

Hahaa.. oh honey, you got a big storm coming.

Again, they’re damn lucky Phil showed the books to Emma instead of Isabella. Still believe mom would’ve got rid of those books once she realized the different morse codes.

Ray poking fun at Emma will always be one of my favorite things. Shame the anime cut this conversation a bit too short so we never got to see that snarky grin of his.

Say it louder Ray! Not that it really matters, since the possible threat of security in the secret room fell on deaf ears the first time two chapters ago.

The anime definitely handled this one moment better by showing how much lying and not having faith in Don and Gilda really affected Emma, whereas the manga showed her a little angry, which wouldn’t make sense all things considered.

I know Don’s feeling real sad and frustrated right now, but I like to believe he punched Norman for the lies and Ray for keeping the secret this whole time, especially on Conny’s shipment day. Emma is spared of a hard punch because.. main character. Or poor Don gets too emotional to continue. Or because he respects women. Take your pick. (Regardless, random head-canon that Don would make an excellent boxing partner for Barbara once they arrive in the human world.)

Kinda funny (in a sad way) that in the ch13 flashback, Emma stated she wanted to believe in her siblings no matter what, and now she’s sorta getting called out for not doing so? I know there were many reasons for telling them the fake story but sweetie, how could you forget something that’s so near and dear to your heart?

But I love her. I love her so much and how she doesn’t even hesitate to own up to her mistake and apologize to them.

Anyways, I dunno which version of Krone spying on the five I like more? but the manga version sorta takes a bit of the surprise factor away when she confronts the four of them (take a guess on who got left out) in the woods the following day just because you’re already aware she was watching them in this chapter.

The anime keeps us in suspense since we have no idea who is watching them, or some people (aka: me) might not even catch onto it at first. We get Ray looking back towards the house and being suspicious of something but we don’t learn what about until later in the episode. Also, I love how it’s him who realizes this because.. well, he always notices everything.

The anime kinda threw me through a loop just now as I was trying to confirm some things. When Krone reveals she was spying on them towards the end of ep6, she says: “I saw it. I was watching the whole thing! Talking in the dinning hall last night, all of you!” but they’re clearly outside here in the scene above. I thought the anime’s take didn’t make munch of sense because of how Krone’s comment contradicts with where she saw them talking, but turns out I just had to back up a little bit in the episode. There is a brief moment we see the five kids inside the dinning hall from outside the house which could very well be from her eyes, so her statement is still valid here. (HOWEVER, why are they even outside?? Doesn’t Isabella lock the doors at night? Or is that only during shipments? I’m already forgetting.)

So I essentially rambled on for nothing right there, but what else is new. I also noticed these posts are becoming quite long these past few days and I sorta not really apologize for it. (I say “past few days” but in reality I’ve been writing these out at least five days ahead this entire time so far, hahaa...)

Favorite panel/moment:

*clenching my fist with tears in my eyes* OH so giving head pats to family is definitely a “like mother, like son” kind of gesture huh? Brilliant. I’m gonna go cry about it.

#the promised neverland #tpn manga #182daysoftpn #chidoroki used chatter

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aimless-aimz · 1 year

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@kirbyoctournament so this is my entry! I'm keeping them as one entry but again you can split them if you dont have enough spots lmao

anyways!!!

Names: Sir Corvin (full name Sir Corvinare Knight but prefers just Sir Corvin), and Turvia Matter;

he/him (corv), and they/it/she (turv)

Personalities: Sir Corvin is relatively level-headed and very introverted. ...Very much not a people person, as he spends most of his time alone, yet he's working on being more social. Surprisingly, once you get to know him, he's a ray of sunshine. (BABY!!!)

Turvia matter is a WHOLE other case from Sir Corvin. Turvia is narcissistic, (an asshole), and they literally feed off of negative energy. So I mean, pissing people off is one way to get it. Turvia, being a dark matter, SHOULDN'T be able to feel positive emotion, but the reason they're so different is because they're a sadist; they derive joy from other's suffering.

LORE: (THIS IS GOING TO BE VERY LONG I'M WARNING YOU)

So, Sir Corvin has had a few things happen to him. The first thing that did, was getting attacked by the Jewel of Reussir (jewel of success, translated from french)

Corvin collects powerful artifacts to try and keep them safe from evil forces getting their hands on them. And the Jewel is one of them. Now, when he tried to get it, he found out the hard way that it was enchanted to be sentient. There was a major fight, and Corvin lost his right arm.

Now, you must be wondering; if he lost his right arm, why does he have both in the ref? Well, the Jewel, after being defeated (he was STILL goin after losing his arm lmao) went back into a small gem form, which Corvin collected. After healing, the Jewel made itself into a headpiece (as a sorry? we dont know) and it makes a illusion/replica of Corvin's arm, and it stays functional.

Although, like Galaxia, the Jewel can still communicate to Corvin telepathically, as he's wearing it all the time. They've luckily made amends.

[this is the game concept i made! this has both turvia and corv lore]

Now, later on in time, Corvin steals some of the artifacts from dreamland to (in his eyes) keep them safe. and this pisses Kirby off. So Turvia (taking a more friendly form, as they can shapeshift) lies, telling Kirby that he took things from her as well, and kirby should go. yknow. beat him up.

so, kirby traverses through different levels (as all kirby games go), and the gimmick of the game/story is that, there are vials scattered across dreamland (maybe corvin dropped them lmao) that, once consumed, increases your HP and you can steal HP from other enemies; and then use that HP as a weapon, making it into concentrated energy and shooting it out in a variety of attacks to complete puzzles.

Once kirby reaches Corvin's lair-thing (idk) they fight, and during the fight, turvia makes their way to the area and steals a vial, some other stuff and a map to the source of the vials. then it literally dips. asshole.

so corvin, still bloodied and bruised just. goes right after them because they know that if turvia finds the source of the HP vials everyone's so fucked. Kirby follows.

Once Kirby catches up to Turvia, they already see Corvin approaching. (rookie mistake.) and just. Turvia swats him away. like. with ease. kirby shits themself steels themself to fight Turvia. Now, Turvia doesn't want to get their hands (too) dirty, so they just. take poor corvin and possess his ass- yk as dark matters do- and oh nooo boss battle ooooh woow

anyways, when kirby indefinitely defeats corvin matter, the two separate, and turvia is now PISSED. they just got their ass handed to them by a deadass toddler. i would be angry too.

so, what does turvia do? well, remember when i said turvia eats negative energy? yeah... yeah they consume corvin (GIVE THIS MAN A BREAK), as he's full of anxiety and fear at the moment. mm delicious.

Once turvia consumes corvin, they get a power boost, their form changes, yadda yadda yadda, kirby beats the shit out of them, but this time they DONT separate, and turvia downs the damn vial and oh god. oh lawd. bro becomes MASSIVE and overflowing with power.

but then!!!! one of kirby's friends (idk yet lfmao) throws kirby a vial too, and huge battle occurs, turvia loses lfmao, THEN they separate. no one knew where turvia vanished to for a while, because they simply. like. evaporated.

...

anyways. turvia lore is that they're a sadist and that makes them special <3

ok but actually, it was a matter created by zero two with a 'birth defect'- they could feel positive emotions at the expense of others. as time went on, they... 'evolved.' their single menacing eye could switch between that and a mouth with teeth that were a little TOO sharp for her own good. Their body began to drip until there was a separate form below, resembling a torso. the appendages around their old body began to dissipate and float around its head.

during this time, turvia was starved. they had to eat, unlike other dark matters. after a while, being driven to near insanity with hunger, turvia ate a different dark matter. this was how they found out they ate negative energy- dark matter being a manifestation of negative energy.

Then they got better at shapeshifting, and they found the more negative energy they ate, the more powerful they became. once, after a high of eating, they slayed a god and drank its ichor. (this was a permeant boost to their power, forever setting them apart from other dark matter.)

And yet, throughout this, they received constant physical and mental abuse from zero two. i mean. they literally would disobey its orders, eat its creations, and well. just be an asshole. but not only this, zero two eventually began to fear turvia, seeing their near limitless potential. they knew one day, if turvia kept growing like this, they wouldn't be able to be stopped. and eventually, turvia caught on; their ability to detect negative energy seeping to their EYESIGHT.

(on the eyesight thing? turvia began to see different negative energies as different colors. fear and anxiety manifested as a glowing yellow, anger, rage, and wrath as a glowing red, and depression and hopelessness as a white glow. eventually this evolved to a point where once they met Kirby, pure positive energy, she could hardly see them- kirby constantly appearing blurry to them.)

So, turvia left zero two, in a very... odd exchange. turvia knew zero two feared them. they left with a malicious smile on their face, and their last words to it being "you're not ready. not yet."

zero two still doesn't know what this means. only turvia does, though. They were referring to killing and absorbing zero two one day. they want to both get back at zero two from the abuse they endured, and to essentially have two gods in their bodycount- making them more powerful. but good things come to those who wait, and zero two could always gain more power, considering they're still recovering from getting to near death by kirby.

anyways, if you read this, are you okay/j /nsrs

but actually, thank you! thanks for reading this- i think of very symbolic and complicated lore sometimes lfmao

#kirby oc #kirby oc tournament #kirby #aimless art #ough my fingers are tired from writing that daushidhabsufa

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inspirelovehorny · 2 years

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dragon bride - aemond targaryen (prologue)

pairing: Aemond Targaryen х original female character

warnings: nothing like that now, but then...

summary: two worlds intersect and feelings burn through two hearts

a/n: Near the Seven Kingdoms lies the kingdom of Darein where dragons are considered messengers of death and misfortune, so they try to ward them off with magic...

English is not my first language I apologize for the mistakes!

this part is a Prologue (yes, you could think of it that way)

__________________________ இஇஇ ____________________________

"Come today about the beautiful Dragon Prince who took Princess Spring as his wife," Maria whispered, giggling. "They had so many children born... and all as beautiful as their parents."

"No, about wolves with wings!" Erina exclaimed.

"There's no such thing, you fool!" Natalia snapped at her. "Let's read in order."

"That's boring..." Lucia frustrated. "Let's talk about how dragons choose their brides!"

This time a muffled maiden hum approved of the chosen topic. Eileen couldn't object either. At twelve years old she already dreamed of meeting her betrothed. She wished it were Night of Fortune and she could look in the mirror and see her future. What would her husband be like? Surely as strong and kind as her father, good-natured and merciful...

"Okay, little naughty girl, let's read about marriage," Nastasia snickered. "Here, it's about a dragon wedding..."

A few minutes later, all the listeners were sitting with their eyes wide open and huddled together in fear. Except a delighted Eileen. This ritual... A true fusion of bodies. The accompanying bloodshed and magical dancing... Eileen wished she had seen and participated in something like this in her life. In Darein, the wedding ritual consisted of vows and the exchange of rings, but no daggers or kisses through which the spouses exchanged blood.

"How much blood does a bride spill..." Natalia sighed. "First on the altar, then on the marriage bed."

A foul comment from Natalia distracted everyone gathered from their shock, and silent laughter erupted again around the fire.

Eileen looked toward the forest. All the feasts took place near the border with the Cursed Lands each time and ended with a sacrifice to keep the gods safe from the monster raids of Darein. It was so close to a country with such a mysterious history... All one had to do was stand on the path and walk straight ahead all the time...

"Hey!" A nasty boyish voice interrupted all discussion. The princesses turned around and saw two boys. Prince Tavrog's sons, Marus and Ulvin. Vile and cruel, they were just like their father.

"Go away," Natalia almost growled. "We're having fun with the girls, and you don't belong here."

Marus grinned wickedly. Ignoring all requests, he walked closer to the fire, and Ulvin followed him like an obedient dog.

"I know what you do, unworthy daughters of unworthy mothers." Marus began circling the girls like a hawk. Eileen wanted so badly to pick up a rock and knock him down. "You read tales of the Cursed Lands. Maybe I should tell everyone what you do."

"Who's going to believe you, Marus?" Natalia interjected. "Just go away."

Suddenly Ulvin snatched the book from Nastasia's hands and laughed out loud.

"What fools!"

Eileen jumped up to return the book, but then Marus pulled out a dagger and pointed it at her. The girls, seeing the gleaming steel, screamed and piled into one pile, grabbing each other's hands.

"Shut up!" Marus commanded. "Or I'll cut her."

Eileen froze in place. If she survived and told her father about this, Marus would be in trouble.

"Stop it, stop it Marus." Eileen asked him. "Let's just split up."

Marus smirked at that again.

"Let's just split up... well, sure!" He gripped the base of the dagger tighter. "Dreaming of the Dragon Prince, are you? You know what he'll do to the likes of you?" He looked directly into Eileen's eyes, and the end of the point pointed toward her heart. "He'll use you as common whores first, and then he'll let you be eaten by his pet. Or he'll let him use you, too. I don't know what that madman will get into his head."

"What do you want, Marus?"

Eileen hid the trembling in her body, trying to tame herself. We have to get this straightened out. Marus probably tasted wine for the first time today.

"I want Dragonflower." Marus replied. "I know some tales from here, too." He nodded toward the book.

"What do you need it for?"

Eileen remembered about this flower. It could give the wearer unprecedented power and make him invincible. It can be seen why Marus wanted it.

"So go get it yourself," Eileen muttered.

The dragonflower grew near the border with the Cursed Lands, and appearing there could mean a serious violation of the laws of Darein. Marus was simply afraid...

"You're chicken, aren't you?" Eileen teased him. "You want to be the strongest, but you're afraid to even come close to the border."

Marus growled and moved closer to Eileen without removing his knife.

"Shut up, you fool!" Something strange flashed in his gaze. "There you go. Or this," he pointed again at the book Ulvin was twirling in his hands, "will be seen by all."

Eileen looked at Natalia. Fear appeared in her green eyes. She had already received a warning from her father, and the next one could lead to dire things.

"How will she take the flower, you idiot?" Nastasia snorted. "There are guards there!"

"If you don't give me the book, I'll kill you."

Eileen turned toward the border and walked to the ghastly laughter of Marus and Ulvin. Nothing she would do to him - everyone knew that.

________________ *** _________________

Eileen thought everyone would follow her. But missing a dozen princely children at once would lead to unnecessary suspicion. By now everyone must be distracting the already drunk parents so they wouldn't notice the princess who had stolen. Eileen had already been walking along the trail for about half an hour, noticing every sign that brought her closer to the fateful frontier.

Stupid and cowardly Marus. Pathetic idiot.

Eileen squeezed between the stakes and stopped at the precipice.

Damn.

The bridge was up today. That meant Eileen couldn't cross it. Nor could she get the flower.

Shit!

"What are you doing here, girl?"

"I asked what you were doing here." He demanded an immediate answer, speaking to Eileen in a common language.

"I..." She mumbled. "I have to..."

"Are you a fool?" The boy was beginning to get angry. "What are you sniffing around here, you Darean ignoramus? "

The insult brought Eileen to her senses. That arrogant jerk... She stood up and shook the dust off her skirts.

"I want Dragonflower."

The boy jumped with laughter. There was amusement in his eyes, previously angry and sad.

"That weed? I told you - ignorant." He laughed frankly at Eileen.

"What do you care?!" She snapped. "You're the one who started talking to me."

The boy kicked the stone and it flew into the ditch.

"I wanted to know what you wanted near my kingdom." Arrogance emanated from his every word.

"Yours?" Eileen asked incredulously.

"Yes," the boy declared, "I am a prince. Who are you?"

A prince... The dragon prince... Eileen saw him before her, the hero of fairy tales. Though it was hardly exactly him, because her unexpected interlocutor was too young. This boy was hardly more than two years older than Eileen.

"I am a princess."

"Then our conversation can be considered a royal audience."

Eileen saw him smile and couldn't hold back in response.

"Hardly, of course. But so be it."

"We made history with you," the boy declared. "Our kingdoms rarely talk like this."

"Perhaps your kingdom could give ours a little help?" Eileen began to act the way her mother sometimes acted, asking her father for something. She called it feminine cunning...

"Don't expect any help from us, but here's an exchange... You want a flower, don't you?" The boy bent down and, poking around on the ground, plucked an inconspicuous flower that actually looked like a weed. Only the fiery red leaves made it special. "What will you give me for it?"

"You can have it," Eileen offered.

"All right," the interlocutor agreed. "Throw it."

Eileen calculated her strength and threw the bracelet. It swirled in the air and flew straight into the hands of its new owner.

"Come on, now you." Eileen could already taste victory.

"Catch," a grin appeared on the boy's face, malicious and sinister.

He threw the Dragonflower so weakly that it didn't even make it to the middle of the moat and fell down onto the stakes.

"Sorry, princess, you'll have to climb down."

"You..." hissed Eileen, but suddenly there was a furious cry from behind her.

"EILEEN!"

Her father seemed to have discovered her missing.

Shit.

________________ *** _________________

Eileen isn't thirteen anymore. She is a bride-to-be, a grown-up girl and her father's hope. Eileen will soon give birth to children, but in her dreams she still dreams of dragons, dreams of flying them and seeing other wonders.

"Eileen, wake up!" her younger sister Olia burst into the room. "Hurry up! There... there..."

Eileen barely woke up from her sleep. Oliya was circling her bed and tugging at her feathers, trying to wake her up.

"What... are you crazy?" Eileen muttered.

"The dragon, Eileen, the dragon. A dragon has been seen at the border. They're summoning a council to choose a girl for sacrifice."

Sleep was relieved. Eileen sat up on the bed.

"Father told mother that your name was written for selection, Aileen," tears appeared in Aileen's eyes. "You could be made a dragon bride."

I'm really looking forward to the feedback to understand your reactions and your strengths

This is just the beginning... be ready for Slavic content

#aemond targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd #fanfictionhotd

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witchersgoldenbard · 3 years

Text

My sweet darling @mayastormborn asked for some nonverbal Geralt:

Some non-verbal Geralt during winter, and they all allow him to just *be*? No one asks him anything, they just bring him some of his safe-foods and a drink and top it up through the day. Any conversation is through gestures though as little as possible

Well, sweetness, I hope this little thing brings you some comfort and is somewhere near what you had in mind 💕👉👈 (tho it’s not and I will try again)

1.8k words, no warnings except the obvious

No Words Required

When Geralt wakes up with the first light, the weak rays of the winter sun slowly but stubbornly bringing a new day to Kaer Morhen, he knows it is one of those days that will have to remain silent on his part. Usually, he would turn to Jaskier beside him and press a kiss to his brow to wish him a good morning, but the very thought of talking is almost enough to quicken his heartbeat and make his hands shake. No talking, then.

He closes his eyes again and tries to fall back to sleep, maybe he just needs to start this day over. He doesn’t dare to hope, but it might be worth a try.

Despite giving it another chance, his tongue still feels too heavy in his mouth when he opens his eyes again, the world around him still blurry and sharp-edged at the same time. So Geralt has no option but to accept his fate. At least for today. Only for today, he hopes.

“Good morning, my love,” comes Jaskier’s tired voice from beside him, and Geralt thanks the Gods he doesn’t believe in that he can still find happiness in this familiar tone. Grateful that not all his senses are set to overwhelm him today.

He turns to smile at Jaskier, who waits a moment, gives him a chance to say the words he doesn’t have the strength to utter today. Wants to force himself to say, but his heart, his hands, his head, they all deny him. Warn him.

And Jaskier only softens his smile and asks, as quietly as he can, “Silence day?”

Bless him. Bless this man, this wonderful man, for understanding. For knowing him well enough, for seeing, for asking.

Geralt nods, but reaches out to hold Jaskier’s hand with only a slight tremble in his fingers, afraid to find that touch will be denied, too. But the warmth of Jaskier’s skin feels good, the softness under his fingers bringing its usual comfort, and Geralt smiles at the bard’s hands.

“Touch and noise still fine, darling?” Jaskier asks anyway, despite seeing the smile he is wearing. Always asking, always reassuring. Always loving and caring. Always there.

Geralt nods and taps Jaskier’s hand twice, too.

“Would you like me to tell the others?”

Geralt hesitates, quickly calculating if he has enough strength to grunt and hum his way through the day, make enough noise for them to let it pass. But it feels wrong, and he knows they don’t judge. They all have these days, even Jaskier, and it’s always better if everyone knows.

So he nods and is rewarded with a gentle smile.

“Wonderful. And this is going to be the last complex question of the day, I know they’re hard, but technically it’s still yes-or-no? Really, it will depend on your response, uhm—“

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand and regards him with an amused smile. He loves this man so much, how could he not smile even when the world is heavy around him?

“Right, sorry,” Jaskier mumbles and sits up, scratching the back of his head and looking at Geralt. “Is there anything you need? Except to not talk, and possibly the usual, you know. Anything you need, right now?”

The hand still wrapped around Jaskier’s wrist gives Geralt perfect leverage to just pull and have Jaskier land on top of him with an undignified squawk. The bard chuckles as he lies on top of Geralt, their warm chests pressed together like they were made for just this.

Jaskier hums the moment Geralt’s arms wrap around his middle, keeping the warm and comforting weight on top of him. Let the world be heavy, he thinks. I am safe right here.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier promises. “And you’ve got this.”

***

The first time Geralt goes nonverbal around him, it’s a few weeks after Posada. They are returning from a contract, off to find the alderman to receive their well-deserved coin. Jaskier is prattling on about heroics and monsters and witchers, only interrupting his enthusiastic monologues to hum a tune, trying for a melody and always discarding it immediately.

He has grown used to silence beside him, looming and annoyed and stoic. Hums, at most, though they are always more like grunts, noncommittal and monotonous.

But then, suddenly, the hums stop and the Witcher’s ever-focused eyes have lost some of their shine. Jaskier notices these things — of course he does, he’s an artist after all! And Geralt has pretty eyes. But that’s beside the point.

“Geralt?” he asks, stopping in his tracks and watching the Witcher beside him. The same Witcher who doesn’t even notice that he stopped walking, eyes on the road before him, seemingly lost in thought.

“Geralt!” Jaskier calls again. Still no reply, but the Witcher finally stops. Stands. Looks at him over his shoulder. His eyes still not entirely right, and Jaskier doubts it comes from the various potions he has had last night.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, and Geralt glances around after a second, hand moving to his sword. Good, Jaskier thinks, he’s not completely out of it. “No,” he says and takes a step forward, noticing the sudden tension between Geralt’s shoulders. He stops. “No, I mean… With you. Are you alright?”

Geralt frowns. Well, at least there’s a constant for you.

“Are you okay, Geralt?” he asks again, gentler but really starting to worry.

Another frown, but this time followed by a nod. Which is not very reassuring. Jaskier might not know him well, but he knows right then that he’s lying. He lets it go, though, and they make their way to the town, easily finding the alderman.

A wretched man who only wants to give them half their payment, but Geralt doesn’t seem inclined to argue. Jaskier frowns and gives the alderman a piece of his mind, making a whole scene for everyone around to hear. “And if the Witchers on the whole Continent might hear from the White Wolf’s bard that you betray them, that your hand doesn’t fulfill what your tongue promises, maybe you shall surrender to the monsters then. Leshen and whatever so pleases shall feast on you, maybe that will be the day you wish you had paid the White Wolf what he was promised and more!”

Needless to say, they leave with more coin than expected, and Jaskier can’t wipe the smug grin off his face.

Geralt smiles at him for the first time, then, over their small campfire, and Jaskier smiles back.

“Is speaking hard for you today?” he finally dares to ask.

Geralt stares at him. Nods.

Jaskier nods back. Grins.

“Well, good thing you have me then, isn’t it? A bard to yell at stupid people for you. We’ll make a great team, you’ll see.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything to that, obviously. But even the next day, when the first thing he does is insult Jaskier’s fashion sense, he doesn’t mention it, doesn’t deny it. And Jaskier is sure he didn’t imagine that small smile that could have meant Maybe you are right.

Either way, he was.

***

Jaskier leaves the bed before Geralt, promising to bring him breakfast.

“You still have three other meals you can try to leave bed for, let’s have breakfast here,” Jaskier argues with a grin and a fine that brooks no room for discussion even if Geralt were up for it.

And so, they have breakfast in bed. It’s warm and comfortable and Jaskier chatters away, not expecting a response in any way. Perfect background noise, taking away the sharp edges of his surroundings, making everything a little less overwhelming and oppressive. Jaskier knows his place in the network of Geralt’s nonverbal days as he talks, keeping his voice down and calm and so, so warm. Familiar.

It almost makes him feel normal. It definitely makes him feel safe.

When he finally has enough strength to leave bed, they make their ways downstairs to sit by the hearth. Geralt has found that the warmth helps, brings him physical comfort when there is nothing else to ground him.

“Good to see you, pup,” Vesemir says and claps a broad hand on Geralt’s shoulder after looking at Jaskier for a second. Geralt smiles.

Pup. Vesemir only calls them that on the heavy days, and it’s a constant that always helps them through the worst of it.

Life still happens around him, everyone has their own tasks, and where he’s sitting in the middle of it all, he feels like he still gets to be a part of it.

There are warm foods throughout the day and a jug of something hot and spiced always appears by his side. Geralt is not completely sure how the time passes, but it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that Lambert is sat beside him, silent, offering his company. If Geralt leans into him and Lambert leans back, well, then that’s between them.

What matters is Eskel who lies down on the fur beside the hearth and gently pulls Geralt to lie on top of him, head on his broad chest, careful hand running through his silver hair. He talks, though all Geralt feels is the rumbling of his chest.

It’s all that matters.

***

The first time it happens around Eskel, they’re both still pups. Barely grown into Witchers yet.

“There are worse things than not talking, Geralt,” Eskel tells him, Geralt’s head resting on his shoulders. “I know it’s scary. It feels like there’s nothing worse. But it doesn’t make you any less of a Witcher. Or any less Geralt. You’re still the White Wolf, even if you can’t howl. I’ll howl for you, Wolf,” he promises with a kiss to his cheek. “And when the day comes, you’ll do the same for me. Because it happens. And it fucking sucks, but you’ve got this, okay? And I’ve got you.”

Geralt nods into Eskel’s shoulder and tries not to feel pathetic that the only sounds the world gets to hear from him that day are his sobs.

***

But Eskel was right then and is still right now. They’ve got each other and they take care of each other. Howl and fight and protect each other.

They do the same for Lambert on his heavy days.

And for Jaskier, years and years and years later.

For Ciri and Yennefer and everyone who needs it.

That’s what family does. Nothing has to change on the days you can’t talk, on the days that words fail you. There are always people to yell at the world for you, to wrap you in a hug and tell you everything you need to hear. Even Witchers can have that.

And Geralt has a whole family now to tell him: “You’ve got this. And we’ve got you.”

It’s really all that matters.

#Geraskier #geskel #geralt of rivia #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #nonverbal Geralt #boggy woggy friends #Maya I love you a lot and maybe I’ll write you more nonverbal Geralt because we need more nonverbal rep #but also I just love you period.#💕#Nat writes

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delicrieux · 3 years

Text

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”.

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing. word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie: y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!”

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

queen rly went from 🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing.

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.”

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall.

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets.

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout.

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x y/n #myso #make you say oh #imagine #imagines

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somethingpoetichere · 3 years

Text

lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden.

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered.

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh.

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra.

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve.

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless. Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it.

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes.

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?”

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull.

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you.

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?”

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door.

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it.

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything.

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.”

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

699 notes · View notes

lloydskywalkers · 3 years

Text

salt

i’ve been incredibly absent and beyond behind on the show but i happened to glimpse the season finale and i. ah. hm. have yet to process my feelings but i’m tired and kai and nya deserve better so here is a humble offering of pain

(spoilers for s15 finale!! big spoilers)

Kai’s never liked the taste of salt. Not the bitter, acrid kind that comes with seawater, stinging and choking as it fills your lungs, burning your nose when you gasp for air. Not the dry, sandpaper-aftertaste that lingers on your tongue for hours after. Not the hot, slip of salt that sticks to your cheeks and leaves your eyes red and aching.

He swipes angrily at the fresh burst of warmth that slips free from his eyes, cursing under his breath as he sniffles thickly. The last rays of the sun on the horizon feel like they’re slicing into his eyes, making his head ache further as he desperately squints at the horizon. It’d be easier to look down, away from the brightness of the sun. He knows that.

But he won’t. Kai’s not going to give the sea that satisfaction. He’s not going to even acknowledge it, the ocean where it churns below, the sound of the crashing waves just barely audible from the roof of the abandoned building he’s picked to hide on. The ocean can go on like that, endlessly chasing the shore, and Kai’s not even going to look at it. Never again. He’s hated the ocean for so long, a little longer is—

Forever is—

His breath catches on the edge of a sob, and Kai chokes it back, burying his head in his arms where they’re braced atop his knees. Forever. He’s stuck with the ocean forever. Stuck with the memory of everything that was saved and lost, all at the power that lies beneath the waves.

Kai hates it. He hates it. The ocean can’t make bad tea with him after nightmares in the night. The ocean can’t come up with stupid jokes to pass the hours with. The ocean can’t tease him with a fire that burns brighter than his own.

Even if he did try not to hate it, tried to love it — the ocean can’t love him back.

Something clenches terribly in his chest, like a twisting of a particularly sharp blade, and before the burn in Kai’s eyes can win out again, he grabs the nearest piece of debris, chucks it at the ocean, and screams as loud as his rasping lungs will let him, as if howling out the horrible ache inside him with lessen the pain.

It doesn’t. All Kai is left with is aching lungs, a pounding head, and more hot, salty tears staining his cheeks.

He hates salt. He hates it so much.

Footsteps rustle from behind him, slow enough to consciously let him know he’s being joined. Kai slumps, his legs giving out as he collapses back on the rooftop. There aren’t a lot of people that’d come after him when he’s like this. There’s only one that walks with a barely off-beat gait, the remnant of another injury Kai couldn’t prevent.

“Stupid, isn’t it,” Kai mutters, painfully conscious of how his voice croaks. He gives a ragged, bitter laugh. “At least it’s not a bar this time, right?”

Lloyd says nothing, merely crosses the remaining distance between them to carefully sit beside him. Drawing his own knees up, Lloyd raises his hand, offering Kai a scrap of something white. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s a tissue.

Kai gives a thick snort, this one less bitter. “Thanks,” he says, shakily accepting it. He blows his nose once, twice, wincing at the throb in his head. Lloyd remains quiet, staring out at the horizon. Kai takes a shuddery breath, exhaling as he wipes at his eyes. They sit there in silence, the only sounds the repetitive crashing of waves on the shore below, slow and mocking.

“It’s funny,” Lloyd finally says. His voice is quiet, but Kai can pick up the rasp at the edge of it. Lloyd’s eyes aren’t exactly dry, either. “Back when we thought we lost you all — when Harumi took the city — she was so strong. Said all this stuff about how we couldn’t give up. How we had to keep on living, even without you guys.”

Kai bites his tongue until the sharp burst of copper floods his mouth. He can only find it in himself to be relieved that it drowns out the taste of salt.

Lloyd shakes his head, the watery sheen at the edge of his eyes gleaming. “I keep expecting her to come back and scold us for being like this, you know? But she’s not coming back, is she.”

It’s not a question. It’s a hollow statement, bitter and empty. Kai swallows.

Lloyd makes a choking sound, turning it into a strangled kind of laugh. “Are you going to leave again?”

Kai blinks, long and slow. It’s tempting, he won’t lie. To run from the idea of going back to some semblance of normal, when everything they’ll do will be stained with memories. The idea of even trying without her, when she’s been such a steady presence. The idea of moving on, like it’s possible.

But memories of Nya are going to follow him wherever he runs, and what’s left of them is so fragile — Kai can only find it in himself to cling tighter to his team, before they leave him, too.

Lloyd speaks up again, before he can reply. “Because I’ll come with you, if you want to,” he says, his voice suddenly hot. “I’ll leave. We can both leave, we can all leave. Let’s — let’s leave.”

Kai falters in surprise, and finally glances at him. Lloyd’s gaze is steady, but there’s a manic glint in his eyes, a kind of resolve that might scare Kai had the situation been any different.

“You’re the Green Ninja,” Kai tries.

The glint grows harder. “I’m Lloyd, first,” he says. “I want — I want to be Lloyd, first. Nya—” He cuts off, exhaling shakily before continuing. “Nya wanted to be a samurai. Not a ninja. And now…”

He shakes his head, barely rustling his salt-crusted hair as he glares outward, his eyes fixed on the ocean. “I don’t want that. I want to be Lloyd. Not — not—”

Lloyd’s voice finally wavers, catching on the edge of grief, but Kai gets it. He’s been thinking much the same, after all. If their powers only lead them to this — if he’s doomed to watch Cole fade to the earth, to watch Jay vanish on the crack of thunder, to watch Zane slow and stutter to an icy halt. To watch Lloyd fizzle out on his own crackling energy pushed too far. If he himself is only doomed to burn himself out to the end of his match, to flicker out like a flame in the night.

He doesn’t want to burn out. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else. He tells Lloyd as much, his voice wavering.

“We can’t leave,” he whispers. “This is — it’s all we know. It’s all we have. And I can’t—” Kai’s eyes are burning again. The ocean’s too close, too loud. “I can’t lose anything else.”

Lloyd’s expression spasms, the hard glint vanishing for something softer, something that looks more like Kai’s little brother. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Oh, Kai, I’m so sorry.”

Kai shakes his head, trying to wipe away the tears before Lloyd sees them, but Lloyd’s already snaking his arms around his shoulders, holding Kai tightly.

“I won’t leave,” he says, fiercely. “We’ll stay. We’ll — we won’t let it go to waste. For her. We’ll stay, for her. If that’s what you want.”

In another time, Kai could laugh, at how easily Lloyd would leave the team for him, now. In this time, Kai could scream again, rage against the setting sun and how the ocean looks beneath it, steady and present and there, always there.

Not like Nya. Not like his sister.

Instead, Kai crumples, buckling against Lloyd as hot, salty tears make tracks down his cheeks. He swallows thickly, his vision blurring over as he watches a wave crash onto the shore.

The taste of salt still lingers on his tongue, like drowning, like death.

Kai hates it.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago spoilers #ns15 #ns15 spoilers #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #my fic #ofc it'd be the angst that gets through the writers block

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mimzy-writing-online · 3 years

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Hello. I had a question regarding your post about blind characters. I have a character in my WIP that must cover their eyes.. but it’s blind. He may need to tell people he is blind to explain why he covers his eyes though. I was wondering how I might write this character without offending. Thank you :)

I think I want to start by explaining the “covering blind eyes” trope and why it has become a harmful trope. I think understanding why it’s hurtful helps everyone learn how to handle it better.

I would guess that the “blind people wear sunglasses” trope comes from Hollywood for the specific reason of 1. wanting to signal to the audience that the character is obviously blind and 2. avoid breaking the suspension of disbelief by preventing the audience from catching the sighted actor look at visual stimuli (because disabled characters are almost always played by able actors).

But this changed the way the public expects to experience blindness. If watching a sighted actor wear sunglasses and say he’s blind is all the exposure to the blind community a person has had, that’s the only model of blindness they’ll recognize. If they meet a blind person in real life who doesn’t wear sunglasses, it’s going to break this built perception and cause an uncomfortable cognitive dissonance.

And then there is the common “cloudy-white blank gaze” that pops up in media. It stems from the fact that cataracts is the most common cause of blindness and the appearance of severe cataracts is a cloudy film in the eyes obscuring the iris and pupil. It can also alter what color a person’s eyes appears to be, making them appear paler and grey in the beginning and then as the cataract advances it becomes more yellow/brown and alters a person’s vision to appear more yellow tinted.

There are lots of other eye conditions that makes the eyes look visibly different. Albinism for instance affects the color and structure of the iris. Eyes might be congenitally misshapen. The muscles might be weak or not work and one or both eyes point significantly outward. Someone who was born blind and experienced no visual stimuli might also have weak muscles around their eyes because they never had a reason to focus their eyes on anything.

And unfortunately humans have the habit of feeling uncomfortable when they meet someone who looks very obviously different from the norm, whether that’s a personal style choice (hair color and style, tattoos, clothing choices) or something they can’t help (a visible disability, skin color, scars).

To the paragraph above, @gothhabiba replied with: “it's very weird & ahistorical to claim that racism or ableism are some kind of natural "human" trait.. like frankly it's apologia”

You’re right, I wasn’t thinking beyond that generalization or assumption.

Perhaps a better way to put it is: I was raised in a society where I was taught from childhood to think that there was only one kind of human being to be. White, cis, straight, abled, conservative. That’s a very western thing and that’s a thing I’m going to constantly be unlearning.

Racism and ableism and homophobia aren’t innate, that’s a western thing that was forced onto the rest of the world by colonialism. And because western media created this idea that the world is white, abled, cis, straight, and Christian-value leaning, it taught people to think that was the norm so that seeing someone different from that archetype would cause a cognitive dissonance, which causes discomfort.

And instead of working past that cognitive dissonance to learn more and realize there’s so much more to life than media taught you, society encourages you to ignore that cognitive dissonance by sticking your head in the sand-- or TV screen.

So combine these two tropes or common beliefs together and you get something a little dangerous: the idea that blind people cover their eyes because they look obviously different and they’re ashamed (or should be ashamed) of that.

And if you’re someone who’s just gone blind or who was born blind and you have little to no contact with the blind community, then this societal belief that you should be ashamed of how your eyes look becomes detrimental to your self-esteem and further builds internalized ableism.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve read or watched a blind character cover their eyes with sunglasses because they were ashamed of how their eyes looked. And I distinctly remember a few times where a sighted friend of the character was trying to convince them to stop wearing sunglasses because there’s nothing wrong with looking different--which is true, but it plays into this fantasy of being the perfect abled ally who saves the blind character from being miserable.

In an ideal world, the character has no reason to believe looking different is a bad thing or diminishes their worth or makes people dislike them. And if they develop this belief, it’s more likely that someone more involved in the disabled community, most likely someone disabled themselves, will set them straight. Or that the character will learn to accept themselves on their own, looks included.

But there are some perfectly valid reasons for any blind person to wear sunglasses. They might have an interest in fashion and sunglasses complete the look they’re going for. They could want to protect their eyes from UV rays while they’re outside. They may experience light sensitivity and sunglasses reduces any discomfort or pain. Those are incredibly common reasons to wear sunglasses whether you’re sighted or blind.

But there are some more complicated situations.

In your words, your character must cover his eyes. You never specified why, so my primary guess is that he has some kind of power that is unpleasant or has devastating affects and the only way to prevent it is to keep his eyes covered. My primary guess stems from this post where an anon and I discussed a retelling of Medusa, a hypothetical blinding of oneself to avoid ever killing anyone ever again, and what I think I would do if I was in that scenario.

So how do you write a blind character who must cover their eyes and avoid some of the complications?

1. Your character must always have the ability to say “fuck off, it’s my business, I don’t have to tell you why I’m blind or why I cover my eyes.”

Most blind people really, really don’t want to get into the nitty-gritty of why they’re blind and how they feel about it and what it’s like being blind with a stranger they’ll never see again or a new acquaintance they don’t know well yet. You have exceptions to that rule where sure, educating the public about blindness is a thing you want to do and you’re committed to helping your community, but I still have days where I don’t want to talk about being blind or disclose my medical crap.

And if someone doesn’t respect their right to their privacy or pushes too much, the blind character is allowed to be angry, is allowed to tell them off and complain without anyone else in the situation vilifying them or saying they’re “overreacting” and “should have just disclosed private information because big deal or whatever.” If they are angry, that’s their right, and it’s not unreasonable, it doesn’t make them a bad person.

2. Your character should not be ashamed of being blind or of covering their eyes. It is a part of their life, they’re used to it by now, even if they weren’t in the beginning.

The shame and internalized ableism is something that should be written about, but that’s for an own-voices story with a blind author. I don’t think an abled person will ever be able to understand how much society expects you to hate yourself and your disability because “being disabled is a tragic thing that ruins your life” and how that does affect your mental health, self esteem, your relationships with others, your medical care, and what kind of accommodations you can get.

3. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few sarcastic lines in response to uncomfortable conversations.

Stranger: so what’s with the...

Blind Character: what’s with what?

S: the... you know

BC: you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific

S: Your eyes?

BC: They’re... eyes

S: but you’re...

BC: Blind?

S: uh...

BC: yeah, I’m blind. *walks away*

Or this conversation:

S: *to some other character* so why are his eyes covered?

(author’s note: which, honestly, that’s fucking rude. At least have the guts to ask me yourself)

BC: If I look anyone in the eye they instantly perish.

*awkward silence*

BC: instantly.

Friend: It’s truly tragic

BC: *melancholic* that’s how I lost my sister. *chokes up* She was so young

Or this conversation:

S: Why are you wearing that?

BC: It’s called fashion Karen!

Or this conversation:

S: are you like... blind?

BC: yes?? why wouldn’t I be?? Wait, are you sighted? Are you one of those sighted people? You poor thing! What caused you to gain your sight? Do you have a car? A bike? Were you born sighted? What’s it like to see color? Do you miss not having to see

God, I want a chance to try that last one. I haven’t interacted with a stranger in almost a year. One day...

4. Honestly, it’d also be cool if someone’s reaction to your character covering their eyes was like, “cool sunglasses,” or “cool *insert random character, even one you made up* cosplay,” (which is ten times funnier if this character is a notable figure in modern society like an actor who people might cosplay).

5. You know, if he’s covering his eyes with some kind of blindfold, he should totally have custom blindfolds for his moods. Like, I have a mask that says “suck it up buttercup” and another that says “not today” because sometimes that’s the mood. And sometimes the mood is one of my floral masks, and sometimes the mood is my cat mask.

So, just some thoughts. I hope that helps.

Edit: a commenter said: “op, unless i'm mistaken this kind of reads like anon meant the character ISN'T blind but lies about being blind to explain covering their eyes? it seems like they made a typo on the word "isn't"”

So my original response to the question was based on the assumption that the character is blind. However,

If the character is not blind, then do not under any circumstances have them lie and say they’re blind to escape a mild inconvenience.

It’s better to have the character actually explain the situation or straight up leave the conversation or invent a more ridiculous lie than to perpetuate the very real stereotype and misconception that there are people who fake being blind and therefore it’s okay to discriminate or harass them if you even suspect they’re faking.

Do not under any circumstances perpetuate that stereotype. Do not harass someone because you don’t think they’re blind enough.

#blind character #writeblr #writing community #disabled character #writing tropes #trope talk #blindness tropes #Anonymous

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