#bc to her (at that point) the world is cruel and dark and the only way u get out of it is through violence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitch-butter · 1 year

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babes ! here lies the Prologue to a thought experiment called everybody wants to rule the world , released now bc yk Why Not 🖤 she's long, she's sort of a Medieval-Fantasy fusion and she has some Elements that rhyme with Shmalpha, Shmeta, and Shmomega. she's going to live here for rn, and might get put in my drabble collection if I don't decide to do more with her.

enjoy ~

He had only had occasion to ride through the night a few times before this one, each situation somehow more dire than the last.

But never like this.

His back ached, his thighs burned, the flesh of his face stinging and numb with the sharp bite of the wind across his cheeks, the hard stab of sleet that was threatening to become the first winter snow. In his chest his heart pounded with fear, anxiety, and Joe half believed he’d topple straight off the beast and die on the ground of some minuscule landowner before he could make it back to watch his father die.

But he had known this day would come even before he had set out with their armies to defend their northernmost passage, and it was only his own foolishness that had the venture taking this long to begin with.

If a wiser man had been at the front then the whole thing would have lasted a day instead of over a year now. If his father had been strong enough -

Enough, his mind cut sharply over his vision, the pounding of hooves beneath him making him feel as though the journey itself would never end. Beside him Chuck was keeping remarkable pace, and Joe could almost forget that this was the second time in two days he’d made the trip, tasked with bringing the awful news to the edge of the battle and then ensuring that Joe left with him at all. The poor guy's balls must be pulverized by now.

Each time he returned home after being away for any length of time the castle struck him as a miserable, crumbling thing. But wealth was not their point of pride, independence was. They held fast to these things like a tree to its bark, these ideals of truth, loyalty, of independent will.

Joe thinks if they really cared they would all have given up their titles long ago.

His father would disagree. They had not agreed on things for a long time.

Which is why it was crucial for him to get home, with as much haste as humanly possible.

They finally breached the gate late into the night, but the torches in each window were lit, shadows moving quickly between flickers of light that told him that Chuck had not embellished as Joe had secretly hoped he had. The situation must truly be dismal.

He practically leapt from his horse, leaving her in the capable hands of the stable boy, feeling grimy and disgusting in his worn armor but drawing strength from its weight, as ill-fitting as it was. Each time he chose to leave with their armies they acted like it was a surprise that he even wanted to be involved, and they were far past having the kind of wealth for armor that fit his wiry frame properly. At the very least it led to Joe being more underestimated than not in a battle, the many years of picking fights and paying attention making him - if anything - a well-seasoned soldier.

For a long time he had hoped that it would be all he ever was.

A cruel joke.

Rushing up the back stairwells and around into the main hall he paid little mind to the steady humming of chatter that awaited him around every corner, striding stalwartly into the open and cavernous entry until he was halted by a familiar figure seated on lower stairs. She spotted him at once, standing up tall in her wrinkled gown and running forward to meet him, his arms opening up around her simply, gratefully.

“Rachel,” he sighed, feeling the journey pulling mightily at his bones as her arms tightened over his shoulders.

She heaved a great breath against him, mouth pressed against the cool metal at his shoulders. “I thought you might be too late,” she admitted, a whisper that had him shuddering beneath his heavy protections as she drew back sharply, dark eyes darting up and down his filthy form. “There’s no time, you have to come,” she said, taking his hand in a firm grip to begin to pull him up the stairs with her, the sounds of their footsteps booming as they moved, faster, faster.

“Where are the girls?” he asked, feeling gently out of breath.

Rachel didn’t spare a glance back at him. “With him,” she tossed over her shoulder, her frizzy hair teasing up in the wind as they moved up to their father’s floor, the only one that at least seemed to maintain something of a chilly, careful silence.

None of the usual hanger-on’s were milling about in the reception hall of his rooms, no servants at the entrance to his chambers, the fireplace in each one dead and cold against the riotous wind that beat at the windows, the sleet turning to snow in the darkness. It made a cruel amount of sense, that all the sycophants that hung over his father’s shoulders while he lived would now flee at the whisper of his demise, off to their separate corners to scheme and plot out how best to crawl next to Joe’s ear and court him to their sides.

More fools, they.

Rachel pushed open the door to the chamber carefully, vying for softness, but the creak of the door drew all four sets of his sister’s eyes toward the both of them. He always suspected it drove his father mad that they had only ever managed to achieve one son out of all their many attempts at one, but the way he doted on them all would never have given it away. They were well-loved if not well-appreciated, the five of his sister’s, and even more a triumph as one after the other they had presented the same as Joe had: Alpha’s all. It was practically a commodity.

It was one of the only things they had left to hold over the other kingdoms, their ingrained potential.

“Joe,” Emmy sighed in relief, leaving her solitary vigil by the fire to rush over and wrap her arms around him the same as Rachel had, but she had the wherewithal to scrunch her nose up in disgust at the smell of him.

Against the far wall he could see Sarah seated atop the bed, piled high with heavy comforters, his father’s form merely an impression beneath them, his gnarled hand held tightly in hers. Della and Judy were seated together at the foot, and as Emmy embraced him they both came to him as well, enveloping him in their usual, hairy, too-tight ways. But after so long away it felt like perfection to be held, to feel again like a part of a family, of a cause worth truly fighting for.

Sarah leaned over the figure in the bed, her shorn hair brushing at her jaw as she whispered to him. “Joe is here, Papa,” she assured, his thumbs stroking gently at the thin skin at the back of his hand. “He’s home.”

“Joseph…” the old man called, his voice barely ghosting across the air of the room, over the crackle of the fire.

Pulling in a fast breath, Joe released his hold on his sisters and stepped out of the warm circle of their affection, crossing over to the grand bed with quick but fearful steps, already feeling his heart in his throat as he looked down on him. In his childhood his father had stood as tall as a giant, thick and broad with scars along his hands, his hair a black corona and his beard an inky, close-cut thing that had always made him look like he was plotting, already satisfied with a plan that had not come to full fruition.

Here, in this bed, he looked no more than a pale shadow of himself. As though his youth had burned away atop him and all that was left was silvery ashes. His hair had long left him, and his strength had followed shortly after, his body thinning down into mere myth. The only thing that had remained was his beard, but even that was pale and white, like a drift of snow across the jut of his jaw, and the hard, cold blackness of his eyes as they gazed up towards Joe with meager strength.

“I’m here,” Joe said, unable to think of anything else to say in the face of this moment, the very one he had dreaded his whole life.

It was the moment he was born for.

“Send -” his father began, before coughing shortly, the jerk of his chest violent before he gathered his breath again with a wheeze. “Send the girls…”

Frowning, Joe looked aside to Sarah, who met his eyes with dark, tearful understanding. He turned from the bed with a harsh inhale, as though regaining lost breath, and crossed over to the fire in the hearth as behind him his sisters were likely giving what would be their final goodbyes to their father. It ran up on him like a tide, the traces of warmth his father had shown him through his life: the nightmares his hands had soothed, the fears that his wisdom had steadied, the dreams that he had nurtured, loved, and killed. He could feel his face contorting into a mask for a grief that was still too early, and he shut his eyes against it and bent before the fire to put his hands over his misery.

Behind him he could hear the soft sounds of weeping, and it was like the morning that his mother had died. They had all been there then, too, everybody who was now in this room, but outside the sky had been vibrant and cerulean blue, the flowers in the trees fragrant with May, and there had been peace to know that they still had their father. For his spirit, his guidance, his jokes made at their expense, all of the minuscule things that life had been crafted around for these past 30 odd years.

A hand rested gently against his shoulder, and he turned his brimming eyes on Rachel, who looked down on him stalwartly, mouth pinched into a thinly controlled line. Behind her Judy was supporting Della as they practically stumbled out of the door on Sarah’s heels, Emmy trailing behind looking afraid to take her eyes off of the old man, appearing vaguely nauseated. He straightened with no small effort, feeling close to sickness himself at the prospect of being alone in the room with the old man who was soon to be a dead man. Rachel’s hand lingered at his shoulder for a moment more, finally retreating to approach their youngest sister and wrap her arm around her, ushering her solemnly from the room with a backwards look at Joe that was filled with an awful knowingness.

The next time they saw each other their father would be dead. Before the next dawn came he would be king.

The closing of a door had never felt so stark, so bleak, as this.

Breath still coming shallow and labored, Joe swallowed thickly before steeling himself to approach the bed again, finding himself unsteady on his feet and dropping down onto the spot that Sarah had inhabited as soon as he was able. Beneath the covers his father’s chest rose and fell with no rhythm, simply catching life as it still came to him, and his eyes were weak but clear when they locked on Joe’s own. Hesitatingly, Joe couldn’t help but reach for the old man’s hand, holding it with a surety that went no farther than suggestion as he found it limp, almost cold.

“Father,” he breathed.

“My son,” the old man replied, eyes fluttering heavily.

Moistening his lips, Joe cleared his throat and sought to think of something that might bring him peace. “The battle continues,” he admitted, but forced himself to give him a tight, overly kind smile. “But we are at the crest, it won’t be long now that we’re won and may all return home.”

Head giving a weak shake over the deep satin of his pillow, his father’s eyes closed. “No,” he whispered grimly, the rumble of his voice like something out of a nightmare. “This is at the beginning.”

“It isn’t so,” Joe shook his head, even if it wasn’t the truth.

“Joseph…” his father wheezed, eyes opening once more to land on him with something like condemnation. “You have been a young man…longer than nature should have permitted you.”

Pulling in a breath through his nose, Joe felt his jaw tightening up the way his hands yearned to clench. “Don’t talk about this now, please,” he begged, voice low between them, already feeling foolish here at his father’s deathbed in his borrowed armor, like nothing more than an enormous child here to beg for more freedom.

His father sighed out a shaking sound, brow furrowing with the traces of pain. “It may be…” he struggled, voice faltering clumsily at the corners of his words. “The last time we have to speak of it, son.“

“When it is time I will choose,” he assured, even if the words were mere decoration by now. It was an argument that they had now been having for years, the endless quest for Joe to marry and his father’s endless disappointment. Even his attempts at being a soldier were at least halfway to being excuses not to be around to meet anybody that his father tried to parade in front of him. “You of all people should know this isn’t a decision to be made lightly,” he tacked on accusingly, more aware than anything that his own parent’s marriage had been a success in no small part because they had known each other almost their entire lives before marrying.

His father remained unfazed by Joe’s flailing, still looking on him unwaveringly. “It is time. You have played at being a warrior too long, it is time for you to be the king you were born to be,” he said, voice cracking into a cough that his body fought to tamp down, Joe’s hands soothing over his own as he shook with the force of it. “And with that comes many choices you will not feel ready to make.”

Joe struggled, mouth opening, finding that he could no longer argue with a dead man and yet finding the need to give up almost more than he could bear. “Father…”

“You may…” his father began, faltering slightly. “Never be ready, my son,” he finished, sounding painfully weak, and yet that selfsame confidence shone even through the threadbare strains of his voice. “But you have to choose…what will be the best for your people at times, and not for yourself,” he finished, eyes warm over Joe’s face and making him burn with the shame that his father felt the need to assure him now when it should have been the opposite. “You are wiser than you know,” he spoke, and Joe had to hold back a sorrowful, desperate laugh at the words, body bending hard over the bed as he put one hand to his face. “You will…choose rightly.”

He shook his head, eyes hot and overflowing against his palm. “I’m not wise.”

A weak, trembling hand set itself atop his head, and he quivered beneath it helplessly. “You will be,” his father rasped, sounding frailer by the minute and splintering Joe’s spirit even further.

“I…” he struggled, throat tight against the feeling of desolation, face overheated with his shameful tears, feeling as far away from being king as he ever had before. “I can’t ever be king as you were.”

“You will be,” the old man said surely, barely a sound.

A sob threatened to spill from his mouth, and he grasped both of his father’s hands in his own, pressing their coolness against his face like a child. “Be with me,” he trembled, afraid even to lift his eyes and let them lay too long against his father’s face lest he see a truth he could never recover from, something in his eyes that could never, ever be reckoned with. “Be with me.”

His father pulled in a slow, simple breath. “I will be,” he managed, a slur of exhaustion at the edge of his voice, and Joe could feel the strength falling from his body like feathers. “Always.”

He clutched at his hands desperately, eyes spilling with sorrow, until in the widow he could see that the snow itself had stopped for the moment and the night beyond was crystal clear, silent and solitary. It struck him then that this would be the whole rest of his life: bent, broken, nothing but the wisdom of the dead to put across his shoulders. Mouth opening to suck down another needful breath, he finally looked to his father’s face and found his eyes - at last - shut.

His face was like the faces of saints, something of glorious pain and relief. The burden was gone from him, and had seemed to pass into Joe like a phantom.

The journey from the bed to the door was gone from him, his body moving of its own accord until he could push open the door of the chamber and stand hanging from it. Rachel still stood in the antechamber, eyes wide where she looked on him in the dark, and the crush of her sadness made her mouth finally part to allow a weak cry to echo throughout the empty room. They went to each other like children, catching one another in an embrace that threatened to break his bones, send pieces of himself flying from his body and into the night.

* * *

Dawn. The whole world seemed to grieve with him, as the sun hung heavy behind a thick curtain of gray clouds, wisps of snow beginning to fall periodically at the first touch of light over their rolling hills, their rocky crests. Silence fell across the castle as the word spread of the king's death, and Joe found himself unable to be parted from his father’s chambers as his attendants slowly filtered in, dressing him in his heavy, ceremonial mourning garments, shooting furtive looks over where Joe remained still by the fire. He could sense that they all wanted to rid him of his dirty, stinking armor, but the fear of what he would be forced into prevented him from doing anything more than scowling back at them.

Truly the only reason he left the room at all was when his sisters re-entered to look upon the body, the strength of their sorrow almost too much for him to witness, the sounds of their sobs following at his heels as he moved numbly from the room and out into the world.

The world. As though this castle could ever contain anything approaching the sort, with its heavy stone columns, its drafty rooms, its shadowed memories hiding in every corner. He had left this place because he had wanted to discover the world, to become something more like a citizen than a conqueror. But destruction lived in his footsteps, deep in the pigment of his blood.

There was no discovery of the world he could make without also breaking it.

Chuck waited for him in the hall before his own rooms, dusty and forgotten in his year of lost rest, and the sight of him was nearly spectral in its unfamiliarity. He had missed him acutely, enough to break his heart, and he couldn’t stop himself from stumbling forward to let his head drop against the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m nothing without him,” he croaked, voice muffled against the other man’s thick coverings.

The shake of his head moved over the thick, dirty tresses of Joe’s hair. “You’re yourself,” he assured, voice low in the chilled room. “It will be enough.”

Pulling in a shaking breath, Joe clenched his fists harder into the other man’s cloak. “You would make a better king than I will,” he ground out, anger at the world, anger at the blood that flowed through his veins bubbling up in his chest. “Anybody would.”

“Not anybody,” Chuck said easily, and it at least caught a laugh out of his throat, as tight as it was.

He pulled back, mindful of his tear-reddened face, his dirty hair, and he shook his head at the other man. “I can’t abdicate, can I?”

Mouth tilted, Chuck gave him a pitying look. “Do you like being alive?”

“In this moment?”

“No, you will not abdicate,” Chuck decided for him, stepping out of Joe’s clinging hold and opening the door to his chambers for him, the two of them limping through the abandoned room, its furniture still strewn with heavy cloth. “You will serve the way you were born to, and you will win this war, and whether long or short your reign will be a gift to us all.”

“You’ve been drinking honeywine,” Joe muttered, crossing to the window to seize hold of the heavy curtain and yank it down to let the whiteness of the morning light flood across the room, a cloud of dust flying up in its wake.

Chuck sighed, watching him with mournful eyes. “Your Majesty,” he began, but Joe paid him no mind as he continued along the wall, pulling at the curtains and letting their thick, stiff bodies fall to the floor. “Joe.”

Huffing, Joe clapped at his dirty hands, clearing them of dust. “Damn it, what?”

The other man watched him in silence for a moment, before he gave a helpless shake of the head, eyes down against the dusty ground. “The ambassador from Abbrennen is here.”

His heart seemed to stop in his chest, his eyes large over Chuck’s face as though searching for the joke, but the other man did not offer him that sort of reprieve. Mind racing, he blinked rapidly as he thought of any reason why their enemy would have sent a sentry, a messenger, let alone their ambassador across the front line and through the gates of the castle.

“Why?” he asked, clipped and low, already knowing the answer. Likely they had heard a rumor of his father’s illness and were already scheming their next move.

“He wishes to speak with you.”

Nodding tightly, Joe felt every muscle beginning to tense up once more, as though anticipating an attack. They were smart to have sent someone to confront Joe now, it would take all of his strength to hold himself together. “Fine, summon the war council,” he sighed, grimacing at the fact that only a quarter of the counselors that he would actually need to have an effective conversation were here, as Speirs had not been so moved by the news of the forthcoming death to abandon his post. Then again, Joe supposed that was why he was the best man for the job.

Chuck shook his head. “Privately.”

Appropriately caught off guard, Joe’s head nearly jerked back at the thought. “Why?”

“He informed me it was a time sensitive matter of personal interest to you,” Chuck repeated lowly, brows raised at the pretentiousness of the statement before rolling his eyes. “If you want me to tell him to fuck off just say the word, the man hasn’t shown the slightest bit of respect since stepping through the -”

Nostrils flaring in annoyance, Joe lifted his hand to rub briefly over his eyes. “I’ll see him. It’s possible he may actually be amenable to a ceasefire until after the mourning period,” he said softly, detesting the thought of any time alone with the de-facto face of their yearlong enemy and yet knowing reluctantly that such interactions were going to be more imperative in the coming days than they ever had been before.

Especially if he wanted to be home long enough to bury his father respectfully.

Chuck didn’t look like he liked the idea any more than Joe did, and took a half stepforward. “Joe -”

“I owe it to my family to hear it, Chuck,” Joe interrupted sternly, forcing himself to sound stronger than he felt, all too aware that the way Chuck let his eyes linger on him told him he was not being believed. “Send him in,” he finished simply, turning from his friend in order to take the few steps it took to cross over to the door of his room.

Behind him he could hear the gentle ‘tsk’ of the other man’s tongue, but he paid it no mind as cautiously he inched the door open, peering inside with his back to the wall like the room itself would jump out and try to bite him.

It was like the room of a stranger. Barren, stripped of his own spirit, the windows tall and white against the sky, nothing but a few wayward piles of books and messy looking documents hiding along his shelves from where he might have glanced at them once in 30 years. On the long desk he seldom used against the window he spied a vase of dead flowers, and wondered at which of his sister’s had placed them there, at what point they might have believed he’d come home to enjoy them.

How many such tokens had he missed while he was off trying to be someone he could never be? How much time with his father might he have had if he hadn’t tried to dream himself into a life that wasn’t his own?

His heart ached so monstrously that he feared he might vomit for a long moment, jumping sharply at the sound of the door behind him opening once more. Refusing to turn to face the stranger head-on, Joe kept his back to his door frame as the shadow of the approach became a man clad in the distinctive Abbrennian purple, as dark as a wine hued bruise, the man lacking the traditional armor of the Northern kingdoms.

Joe held back a scoff, halfway to remarking on what any Eastern kingdom would know what to do with armor anyway. But he held himself back, smarting acutely at the reminder that as foreign as war might be to the Abbrennians they were more than holding their own. More than he cared to admit, in fact.

The ambassador approached him on loose feet, and between the folds of his traveling cloak Joe could see the man had helped himself to a hearty jug of wine in one hand and two glasses in the next. It brought the scowl back to his face that the imbecile had the gall to face him on this day of all days, and if the impertinence wasn’t enough he had also clearly been ordering the servants around, as well.

“Your Majesty,” the stranger acknowledged, the greeting making Joe want to squirm in discomfort, focusing instead on the informal nod the man leveled at him. As he raised his head Joe struggled to place him, thinking furiously if he had ever seen him before and concluding absently that he must have. He had a handsome face, with dark hair and eyes, the ghost of scruff over his jaw that Joe usually would have counted himself to note upon. His annoyance at the few pre-war proceedings they had had with the Abbrennian delegates must have been even more powerful than he remembered.

“Ambassador,” he nodded back, thankful in part that he didn’t have to feel guilty for his curtness. “I’m at a bit of a loss right now, can you tell me if we’ve met before?”

The stranger smiled, an expression far too casual for Joe’s liking at the moment, crossing before him to set the wine jug and the glasses down upon the desk beside his dead flowers. “Just once,” he said easily, his voice rich and deep, smoothed over by what must have been a long education. “A number of years ago when I met with your father to discuss the initial…question of the border,” he continued, uncorking the jug with a comical sound before shooting Joe a teasing look over his shoulder that practically stank of condescension. “You told me I was a moron with shit for brains.”

Joe grimaced, silently acknowledging this was far from the only ambassador that he’d told to go and fuck themselves when his father was still steering the ship. “Sounds like me,” he admitted with a nod, approaching the man on cautious feet as he poured a healthy measure of wine in each cup. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nixon, your grace,” the ambassador provided knowingly, taking up one cup and immediately making to bring it to his mouth, pausing at the last moment to nod a small toast towards Joe. “May I extend my deepest feelings of sorrow to you,” he said, at the very least sounding somewhat earnest. “And to your family.”

Scoffing, Joe gave into the urge to sit, shooting Nixon a dark look as he shifted to sit up informally on top of the desk, clocking the judgemental look the other man gave him. “Forgive me if I don't put a lot of weight on your sincerity, ambassador.”

“Your father was a good man,” Nixon said simply, at last taking a sip of the wine, relishing it momentarily before gathering breath to speak again. “And he was an even better king. Even putting aside our petty disputes we can all agree to honor that.”

Joe gave him a disbelieving look as he raised his boot up onto the table, pulling at its ties impatiently. “So your armies invading our northern province is a petty dispute to you,” he said lowly, taking minimal pleasure in the way the other man’s face shuttered, the cup at his lips once more as he drank. “The couple hundred displaced citizens and dead soldiers might disagree.”

Mouth pursed over the taste of the wine, Nixon thought to himself for a moment before he pulled in a sigh with a raise of his dark brows. “Well, to that end I have something to discuss with you,” he said, tone the slightest bit brighter, more animated, and it set Joe’s teeth on edge.

“I’m not interested in a complete ceasefire,” Joe cut in sharply, the laces of his boots hanging uselessly over the table as he paused, feeling as unhelpful in a conversation of this sort as he ever had been before. “But my sisters need me here, and my men need me there, and at least for the time being I would ask that you -”

“We’re not interested in a formal ceasefire, either,” Nixon shook his head.

Mouth popping open, Joe chastised himself at his own surprise. They were still actively at war with one another, it should have been naive for him to assume that the Abbrennian’s actually were as traditional as they liked to announce that they were. “Oh.”

“Formal ceasefire,” Nixon corrected, pausing to look on Joe with wine-dark lips for a considering moment, stepping closer so that he could lower his voice against the already silent room and halls beyond. “The proposition I bring to you now would be beneficial for the both of us, far beyond the two of us jackasses admitting we made a mistake and calling the whole thing off with blood on both our hands,” he said dryly, a rueful edge to his voice that Joe could respect. “And it might be beneficial to those couple thousands of citizens and soldiers.”

Frowning, Joe found himself caught off guard once more by the other man’s candor, finding himself responding before he could talk himself out of it. “What exactly do you have for me?”

Nixon smiled mysteriously, hip knocking against the desk that Joe remained seated upon, taking another - larger - sip of the wine. “Forgive my impertinence, your grace, but it hasn’t exactly escaped anyone’s attention that you aren’t a married man.”

Son of a bitch. Huffing, Joe resisted the urge to tell the man to fuck off straight from the jump, choosing instead to lower his boot down to bring the still-laced one up. “A fact that many people feel entitled to remind me of as of late,” he grumbled, unlacing it with careful, forced movements.

“And that your interests align more towards -”

Huffing, Joe looked to him sharply. “The point, Nixon.”

Stifling a laugh, Nixon looked down on him with a bizarrely pleased expression as he sipped the wine again. “Well, it may interest you to know that many, many miles beyond those hills,” he spoke, voice stretched out in exaggeration, fattened up with amusement. “Beyond your chilly ocean and your bloody northern battleground, there’s a prince in Abbrennen who is also suitably unmarried.”

Turning atop the table to face the man fully, Joe glared towards him with barely restrained fire. “Lord Nixon, let me be clear,” he spoke carefully, teeth grinding down on each word until they practically ashes in his mouth. “I am not interested in an arranged marriage.”

“I’m not speaking of an arranged marriage,” Nixon dismissed with a cool shake of his head. “I’m speaking of the merging of two kingdoms who don’t want to be fighting each other at all,” he said pointedly, the edge in his voice of the sort that told Joe that as relaxed as the man himself may seem he was no less knowledgeable of their shared plight. “You may be on the battlefield, but how often do you yourself move among your people? They want no fight with the Abbrennians, and each casualty only serves to alienate you further from the people you purport to protect.”

It was the truth, but it cut sharply across his already frayed nerves. “So you would have me marry this prince I haven’t even met for the sake of ending a war that you started?” he spat, the words finally seeming to crack through the other man’s patina, as his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed down at Joe’s ready stare.

“Had your grandfather not -” he began harshly, a touch of true ire in his voice before he cut himself off, closing his eyes to pull in a calming breath. “We’re getting away from the point.”

“Which is?” Joe challenged.

“Once our kingdoms are united these continuous disputes will be done for,” Nixon said measuredly, hand gesturing at the air as though pleading for Joe to see reason. “Think of the expenses saved. The lives saved,” he said, the words making Joe falter in his anger, eyes dropping down to the stone of the floor. “You will be a new king, and a loved king, for choosing peace in place of furthering a fight that nobody wants.”

Joe swallowed roughly. “My father wanted it.”

The words had Nixon pausing minutely, and the feeling of a hand settling over his shoulder made him look up in shock at the other man, whose mouth was once more set in an even, understanding line. “With due respect,” he began, slow and uncertain as his dark eyes bored into Joe’s own. “Your father wanted you married far more than he wanted a few more hundred miles of kingdom. Or so I’ve heard,” he tacked on, just to put another nail in Joe’s coffin.

Not that he wanted to think of coffins right now.

“You’ve made your point, ambassador,” Joe said gruffly, making the short hop down from the table and displacing the other man’s hand in the process. “You are welcome to stay the night,” he said, an air of faux incredulity in his voice as he busied himself at finally unlacing the strings and straps of his own cloak. “And I thank you for coming, but -”

“If I may, your grace,” Nixon cut in, looking unperturbed by Joe’s attempt at seeming unaffected. “Take the night to consider the offer. I won’t be required to bring your answer back until the morrowtime, at least, so think of it deeply, and discuss it with whomever you deem appropriate,” he went on, the cup of wine in his hand surely nearly gone by now as he drank from it again. “At least for the moment the weapons are down,” he said, nearly a mumble between them both as he gave Joe a shadowed, knowing look. “It will be your choice as to whether they are drawn again.”

Gauntlet so thrown, Nixon turned to make his exit before second guessing himself and reaching to take the jug of wine with him. Joe watched him in amazement for a moment, before finding the question fluttering to the front of his mind like it had been inside of him all along.

“My Lord,” he called.

Pausing, Nixon turned with an expectant look upon his face. “Yes?”

“Which son?” Joe questioned, bristling at the look of gentle surprise on the other man’s face. “I know there are two,” he offered, as though it was any compensation for being as ignorant as he was.

Nodding, Nixon replied simply: “The eldest.”

Joe thought for a moment. He knew nothing of either son, only that the one offered to him must have been an Omega. Strange, he had not known that there were any in the Abbrennian nobility.

“Goodnight, ambassador,” he said finally, already distracted by the steady beat of his thoughts.

The ambassador took his leave thankfully, and Joe turned away from the closing of the door before it could do something to make his mood even worse. With any luck he could collapse onto his stripped bed and let the whole world come to reason around him. Why not? It wasn’t so unlike anything else he had done these past few years. He’d fall into bed and the sun would go down, and food would appear, and water would be drawn, and he won’t have to think any more of death, of disappointment, of responsibility.

Of marriage.

So he did.

* * *

He slept fitfully, but at least until the sun was down. Awakening at dusk to the burgeoning sounds of the castle coming back to life beneath him, he had groaned and attempted to press his face far enough into the bed that he could imagine it was all a nightmare.

But it wasn’t to be.

From that point it was barely difficult to arrange for the food and the water that he so yearned for, and upon eating and sinking into a virtually boiling tub of water he began to feel something like a man again. Staring down at his skin as it was cleared of dirt, grime, traces of blood, made him feel nauseated.

His hands were nothing like his father’s hands had been. They could hold a sword, but they couldn’t soothe anything worth a damn. Couldn’t unite, couldn’t lead, couldn’t do anything.

He bent his face into them with agony, letting the water go cool around him.

By the time he was leaving his bathing room it must have been late at night, and he found himself actually ready to sleep more even after his whole day of rest. Sure enough, as he had been away the room had been transformed into something like itself, like it had been the last time he had seen it, dressed in the plain, thick coverings that he preferred, his sheets dark and shot through at the edges with silvery thread. In the hearth a fire had started, and he moved towards its warmth with a sigh of gratitude, already tightening the knot of his robe around himself.

He had nearly forgotten how it felt to be truly warm. It was the kind of thing a man could easily get drunk on.

As he stood lost by the fire a familiar knocking sequence rumbled up from the wall at the far side of the room.

Sighing, he crossed over into its darkness with reluctant movements, not entirely wanting the company but unable to find it in his heart to turn it away. His hands found the secret notch with ease, time unable to bend what had once been a virtual muscle memory, and the wall swung with unimaginable lightness to reveal Rachel, her dark curls set in a thick nighttime braid, her robe atop her nightdress, arms crossed before her with a questioning raise of her brow.

“Well?” she urged.

He rolled his eyes, waving her in with an impatient motion. “‘Well’ what?” he groaned, letting the secret door shut heavily, watching as she moved into the room to stand before him expectantly.

“You met with the ambassador from Abbrennen,” she said, almost accusingly, dark eyes filled with unease. “Chuck told me.”

He laughed ruefully, already moving away from her. “Why didn’t you two just fucking get married?” he grumbled, seating himself at the edge of his bed closest to the fire. “You’re together talking about me enough.”

Rachel gave the barb no credence, following after him until she stood no more than two steps before him. “What did he say? Will the fighting stop until after the funeral?” she questioned urgently.

Joe sighed, eyes drawn from the fire and down towards his hands. “I believe he’s amenable,” he said, voice blank, watching his fingers open and close like the petals of a flower. “But that wasn’t the true purpose of his visit.”

Frown deepening, Rachel blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sniffing gently, Joe shook his head, too afraid to look her in the eyes. “He came to try and convince me to marry one of their princes. Said that if I did that there would be an end to the fighting.”

She paused long enough for him to shoot a look up towards her face, and he found her nonplussed, clearly already thinking deeply. “I see,” she said softly, and he could tell that she could see, but the fact filled him with dread.

“He’s leaving in the morning,” Joe said brusquely. “I’m going to ask for the ceasefire to last at least a week or two, I don’t think that they would oppose that, given the circumstances.”

“Joe…” she began, before heaving a great sigh.

He tilted his head, the urge to be difficult flaring up in his chest. “Rachel.”

“You’re being purposefully blind,” she said, tone already biting and sure.

If she wanted him to feel abashed he refused to give in, and he leaned forward over his knees to glare at her arrogant pose. “If it were worth considering I would be considering it,” he said fiercely, eyes dancing over her face and wishing for a break in her judgment that never appeared. “As it is -”

“Why is it not worth considering?” she interrupted, sounding insufferably like she didn’t already know a thousand times over.

Snorting derisively, Joe relished the way she rolled her eyes and turned away, choosing to seat herself in one of his low chairs by the fire. “Beyond it being a cheap ploy for them to get their hands on the trade routes that they want and the land that our family won fair and square a hundred years ago?”

Waving a hand dismissively, Rachel sank back into her seat with a sigh. “We’re an impoverished kingdom with the expense that we put towards fighting off the inevitable,” she said, folding her hands in her lap with distinctly less annoyance than she had had only a moment prior. “Don’t pretend that you can’t see there would be benefits for us as well.”

“Of course I see that,” Joe lied.

“Then what?” she shrugged, looking towards him beseechingly.

He coughed out an aggravated sound, hand flying out to gesture meaninglessly at the air. “Then honor, Rachel,” he bit, blood boiling at the way she cast her eyes distractedly at the fire. “And pride, and - and -”

“You can’t think of a third thing,” she muttered, eyes still drawn to the flames.

Joe let his hand slap down on the bed, feeling childish and already far too strained. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself, Joe,” Rachel tossed back with little effort, finally looking back at him as though she were his long-suffering keeper. “You’ve evaded the one responsibility you actually had for long enough, now it’s too late for you to keep pretending you’re actually going to marry for love.”

It cut him to the core, and he sputtered wordlessly for a moment. Even if he had never said it in words to anybody, let alone his own family, it had long been the wish of his heart that if he did marry it would be outside of the bounds of political conquest. For love? Maybe. For adventure, companionship, desire? Certainly.

“Says who?” he argued weakly, eyes down.

Rachel spared him nothing. “Kings don’t marry for love,” she said decidedly, and he cursed the universe again for not simply switching the order of their births. “They marry for the exact reasons that you’re being asked to now. For the good of the people.”

Joe sneered at the fire, an awful taste at the back of his throat. “Like the people would really care about who I marry.”

“They’re going to care a lot more than you do,” she said, sounding gently angry, convicted. “Which is why you should stop making this yet another selfish choice in your life.”

He gaped at her, blinking like a fool. “Why are you so angry at me?”

She pulled in a hard breath, leaning towards him meaningfully. “I’m not angry at you, Joe,” she said slowly, brittle like a dead tree ready to crack at the limbs. “I’m terrified for you. You’re alone, you have nobody out there with you, and…” she faltered, mouth closing around the thought as she deemed it too extraordinary to voice.

Joe already suspected. “Go ahead, just say it,” he permitted softly, feeling its burn prematurely.

Rachel looked at him for a long moment, her eyes moving from hot assurance and into a sort of cold pity. “And I don’t think that you’re ready,” she admitted quietly.

It was the truth. He knew it was the truth. Still, it made all of his insecurities whirl like a storm in his heart.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“Somebody has to.”

Nodding tightly, he let his eyes drop back down to the floor, in search of any refuge from the barrage of emotions that battered him. “I know.”

She sighed, standing from her place by the fire and moving to his side, her arm over his shoulders like a brace. “But this is a good thing,” she assured, voice warm against the brutal rain of his torment. “This would be good for you, good for the kingdom. It wouldn’t be a miserable thing, Joe,” she carried on, voice gathering faster the more she thought, desperate to convince him. “Did he say which one?”

Joe had to think for a moment before he replied, lost in the wilderness of his worries. “The eldest.”

A smile broke briefly over her mouth, and she nodded. “That’s even better,” she said, a note of true relief in her voice as she gave him a gentle jostle beneath her arm. “Have you ever met him?”

He looked aside to her with irritation. “When would I have?”

“I thought you had been to at least some of those Summer festivals.”

“That’s the shit they send you for,” he said wearily, releasing a hard breath through his nose before looking back to her curiously. “Have you met him?”

She shook her head, dark eyes fluttering with thought. “No. But I’ve heard of him.”

Mouth tilting uncertainly, Joe blinked back at her. “What’s he like?”

An unsure sound rolled out of her mouth, and the slight grimace of her face told him she didn’t know as much about this prince as she wanted to. “Intelligent,” she said readily, before giving him a pointed, amused look. “Beautiful. Young.”

“How young?” he asked automatically, hardly liking the thought of someone barely of a marrying age.

“I can’t remember,” she said dismissively, refusing to be budged from the point. “But what does it matter? He’s rich, he’ll know his way around the court, and with him the fighting will end and we’ll get back to what we were and they’ll take their boots off our necks,” she listed off, and the more she spoke the more he could feel his walls close to crumbling beneath the sheer pressure of her. “What more could you need to say yes?”

He swallowed, nose scrunching up in dislike. “Surrender isn’t exactly second nature for me.”

She held him closer, her forehead pressing against his temple like they were two children again and not two grown adults who would soon bury the one parent they had left. “Compromise and surrender are different things,” she advised, as soft as though she was trading him a secret. “And if you cared about this kingdom even a little bit you would realize that.”

“I do care,” he answered honestly, fierce and low in the light of the fire. “I care about being strong for them, showing them that I’m not going to be a weak king,” he continued, hating that his voice broke slightly at the end, betraying the emotions as they swelled inside of him.

“You think it’s weak to strive towards peace?” she parried.

He huffed, slumping beneath her arm. “That’s not what I’m saying. You know it’s not.”

Humming, she allowed him a slow nod. “The people would find it weak for their king to continue a battle that’s already lost,” she said, solid and sure, her arm leaving his shoulders as she stood with a sigh. “Especially when there was another way to end it,” she said, already moving back towards the secret door.

Feeling weak and confused, he gave in to another dark curiosity. “Rachel?”

She turned back to him, hand braced against the notch of the door. “What?”

He almost changed his mind, but gave in at the last moment with a huff. “What’s his name? Nobody’s even told me,” he tacked on, taking no joy in the act of wondering.

Even from across the room he could see the smile that spread over her face like a cat that had spied the prettiest canary in the cage. “David,” she answered, voice bending around the name as though he were the first person on earth to have ever heard it, like this prince was the first to hold it. “That’s what his people call him, at least.”

“I understand,” he said softly, voice practically dead in his throat.

“Just think about it, Joe,” she said, exhausted and heartsick with the long length of the day, already stepping through the door. “Your choice is your choice, but you owe it to all of us to think about it.”

The door closed behind her with a sound not so different from the shutting of a tomb, and with it he tried to trap all of the hopes that he had ever had before this moment behind it.

His father had loved him, but he had never been proud of him. It was one fact among many. But it was the first one that he would now have a chance to face headfirst, to defeat even if it was too late for his father to see it. He stared down at his hands - his own hands - and stared, and stared, looking hard for their potential, for their purpose.

Perhaps it was there, just beneath the skin, just a little farther than his blood. His destiny.

Maybe he had lost the chance to prove himself to his father. But he could prove himself to his people, to his kingdom, to the whole land who expected no more from him but to gaze impossibly at his own uselessness. They would see him for what he could be, they would see them all for their greater meaning.

And it would start with this one thing. It would start with the last wish his father had ever had for him.

He stood, pushing out of his rooms and striding down the empty hall towards the antechamber, feeling himself growing stronger with each step.

David. He wouldn’t have expected it to be the name that spelled the end of a thousand and one dreams.

The servant in the antechamber jumped, eyes shooting to Joe from where he had been chatting idly with a young maid. It was the sort of look he was going to have to grow used to: awe, respect, something akin to fear.

“Tell the ambassador I’d like to see him, please,” Joe said lowly, watching him scuttle away with nothing but a jittery nod, moving back into the darkness and letting the door shut tight behind him.

#everybody wants to rule the world #the idiot who would be king #if this progresses its going to give the opening of Swan Princess iykyk #webgott #technically pre-webgott but they're already engaged

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cheemken · 1 year

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Those designs look amazing n i wld LOVE to hear more abt ur ocs! I love their expressions! /gen

THANK YOUUUUUU OMF OKAY SO HCKXNDMD

Aaa ig its bc I haven't drawn their updated looks cjmxns

Well anyways, they're based off the seven sins, so by order it's Pride (one in red), Wrath (orange), Lust (yellow), Envy (green), Greed (blue), Sloth (indigo), Gluttony (purple)

Ofc I do have names for em, so

Pride - Superbia / Elmara

Wrath - Ira / Katarina

Lust - Lussuria / Luka

Envy - Invidia / Yvonne

Greed - Aviditas / Wilhelm

Sloth - Desidia / Percival

Gluttony - Gula / Jacob

My first concept for them was that they got reincarnated and such y'know, in their past lives they really were good people until smth really bad happened that they made a deal w the devil. But one of the angels (angels here have the Zodiac theme going) said that it's unfair for them who were good people that were just tempted by the devil, so they were given a second chance to atone and to show that they really aren't as bad as they seem

My second concept for it is that Elmara, or rather Superbia, despite her pride, saw just how much the others suffered in hell, so she fought tooth and nail to get out of it w the kids and start a new life in the human world

And my last concept and the one I'm trying to stick w, is that Elmara is the Goddess of Darkness who created the world of Statera, with her brother, the God of Light, Mateo. But smth happened between the two that they ended up waging war against each other, which ended up w them both banishing and cursing each other in the world of Statera, forced to live w the people they created. Good stuff happened to Elmara, as she watched the world flourish and thrive for centuries, and found peace in living with them. But for Mateo, he suffered, saw just how cruel the people they created could be. Saw just how much little they care for each other and for themselves. He believed it was the darkness that Elmara had brought, and he promised to himself he's purge the darkness of Statera himself.

Elmara on the other hand, made a family of her own, but sadly her husband wasn't,, really that nice, didn't really liked their kids, even to the point that he burnt Percival's face. He's dead now at least so hey, but bc of that Elmara grew paranoid, especially after she found out her ex was a devoted believer of the God of Light, her brother. And yeah, she just became more and more wary, terrified at what would happen if her brother did find out that she's still alive. She has hopes that maybe they'd go back to how they were before, when they were still close, but the more and more followers his brother has, she fears that the only way to end this dispute w him is to kill him

And yeah more shit happened the more followers her brother drew in, and she knows she can't protect her kids all the time, she can't be w all of them all the time, so she decided to reveal to them that she was one of the creators of their world, and thus they too have the same powers as her and yeah they just try to stop Mateo and his rampage and his own paranoia bc my guy this man needs therapy the most

#aaaa i swear i'll post an updated version of their looks tomorrow maybe if i have motivation hahaha #i really did wanna make a story abt these ocs and such since i had them for so long #but anyways thanks again for sending an ask abt em!! it really means a lot to me cjdmnd hahah #an ask and an answer #anon #oc tag

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villa-kulla · 2 years

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McWexler Musings

since there’s no Saul tonight, you’ll have to suffer through my CURRENT finale theory

But for real if we’re talking about BCS finale theories, more specifically what happens to KIM, at this point it’s clear that BCS has become, at its heart, a love story. And this is directly from GGG (the Gospel of Gilligan & Gould) not just my own McWexler obsessed heart. My Kim theories have varied WIDELY, with everything from death to prison to vacuum to scandal (and of course, the theory of Kim just being Claire’s employee next to Gene’s Cinnabon). And while I know that last one was a fandom joke, I could actually so see a return to humble Nebraska for Kim

They’ve made a point to remind us of Kim’s origins this season when we get the flashback to Kim shoplifting (especially the Nebraska license plate zoom). Whatever does happen to Kim - and I’ve 90% ruled out death these days although I’m knocking vigorously on wood - I could totally see an ultimate return to her roots. Whether they take a scandal route, disbarment route, vacuum vanisher route, or simply Kim just being unable to deal with the consequences of her choices and hightailing it, WHATEVER. But I see her ending up back in Nebraska, defeated by design, as some kind of bitter yet determined atonement. She lives out her predictions of what her life would have been like if she hadn’t left, and is working a dead-end job, maybe in a department store saying nothing about the kids who shoplift, possibly even working in a mail room somewhere for ~cruel irony~

breaking bad happens, yada yada yada

THEN. What if we jump to immediately post-BrBa??? This season opened not in black and white cinnamon world, but swirling colourful Saul world, with the police seizure of Saul’s effects. So what if IMMEDIATELY after that we get to see Jimmy actually being spirited off to Nebraska?? Nebraska where he KNOWS Kim is now??? And what if he shows up on her doorstep asking her to come away with him?? And it’s only been a couple years and she’s understandably still spooked from her own experiences like “I heard on the news. Just how deep into this did you get, Jimmy?”, and can’t get past Jimmy going from a friend of the cartel, to actually greasing the wheels for the cartel. Jimmy pleads, maybe she’s even tempted for a minute, almost goes with him, but then I don’t know, her gaze falls on a candle in her living room and she just CAN’T do it and throws Jimmy out, telling him to never contact her again. Jimmy and Kim resign themselves to hollow existences.

BUT THEN. TIME JUMP TO BLACK AND WHITE CINNAMON LAND. Jimmy has been MADE. Last season when he was recognized he was all “I’ll deal with this myself”. What if deling with it consists of him showing up one more time on Kim’s door as a final hail mary, like “You never have to see me again after this. OR you could come with me right now.” And she stands on her steps of whatever dingy aparment she’s living in, just ilke the one she grew up in. And they both look at each other freezing on the steps, more tired and lined than they once were, but something’s still there. And maybe it’s Kim’s need to self-sabotage and leave security behind, maybe it’s the love she still has for Jimmy, maybe it’s the innately Kim Wexler part of her that needs more. Whatever it is, she’s left Nebraska once, she can do it again. And without even packing a bag she steps into’s Jimmy’s car and they drive off. And now apply the Felina scipt notes for Jesse to them: “Grimly determined, fearing nothing, he speeds through the darkness. From here on, it’s up to us to say where he’s headed. I like to call it “something better,” and leave it at that.”

END SERIES.

so yeah, the downside is this theory has messy time jumping, and would be hard to streamline in 6 remaining episodes lmao. But on the plus side it has Jimmy and Kim driving off into the sunset and that’s kind of all I need in life so yeah.

ANYWAY.

Gilligan and Gould are beautiful twisted freaks and I will happily take whatever they give me, knowing it will be the best choice. But we know from BrBa that they believe in emotional closure, and if not happy endings, then bittersweet ones that don’t leave a bad taste in your mouth. Also they are....kinda huge saps AND McWexler shippers and honestly at this point I feel like they want McWexler end game as much as I do, so yeah, SPEAKING IT INTO EXISTENCE 👍

#better call saul #kim wexler #jimmy mcgill #mcwexler #look i don't actually normally watch series in a 'ooooh i'm going to guess what happens next' way like i'm content to go along for the ride #but then end is NIGHER THAN EVER and i have Concerns lol #just the fact that i've posted this means episode 7 is going to open up with kim dead on the floor or something lmao #god.....imagine #actually no shan't #anyways i love them they love each other @G&G don't mess with me on this #i just love the idea of jimmy showing up on kim's door like some kind of over the hill mr darcy with a combover okay

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curi0ustime · 2 years

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✧ 𝘫𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰. 3

⤷ location: mesopotamia | year: 3375 BC

1 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘢𝘩, “𝘨𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

2 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦;

3 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩.

4 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.”

5 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘢𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

✦

a lot has happened since adam and eve were banished from the garden. they had their children, and their children had their own. mortals became cruel— and the almighty saw the wickedness of humankind, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was only evil.¹ he had decided to end all the violence and selfishness of mortals, and he will destroy the earth all together with them.

the clouds moving fast towards the east of eden suggested that a big thunderstorm is on its way. dark clouds can be seen but rain hasn’t been invented yet, and so, nobody seemed to notice and everyone went on with their lives.

✦

throughout the years i’ve roamed the earth, meeting and perhaps outliving the mortals isn’t that much of a deal and heartbreak anymore. however, the excitement is still there, i am still in awe whenever i meet new people, especially those who experience their 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴.

❛hello there! what is he doing up there?❜ a woman in her mid-20s suddenly approached me, the aura around her suggests that she’s 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦. but something about her feels distinct from others.

❛i’m sorry,❜ i said politely, pulling away from my train of thought. ❛what was it you were asking?❜ i glanced at her side.

❛i said, what is he doing up there?❜ the lady pointed up at noah, who was currently building the ark that will save his family and the animals.

❛ah! well, i’m not so sure.❜ i gave her a worried smile. 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪?

❛a tad weird to build such a gigantic ark, in my opinion. do you think the almighty’s planning something?❜

the lady piqued my curiosity. 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺'𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯? 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. ❛best not to wonder.❜ i responded. the air suddenly felt familiar. like i am 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦. like... 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯? ❛hey, can’t you feel that? something feels different in the atmosphere.❜ i looked around. looking for the source of that particular feeling. but it was all coming from the lady.

❛feel what?❜ she asked.

i paused for a few minutes, trying to remember exactly what i was feeling. was it in heaven? Or was it the first time i got here?

𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚! 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨!

✦

we’ve met a couple more times. sometimes it would be at the site where noah was building, or at her place, or at mine. she would always show up, and she would bring with her the same feeling i’ve felt the first time we’ve met.

the clock is ticking. and it’s only a few more hours before the thunderstorm shall begin and flood the whole world. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘦𝘵.

after a few seconds, i cleared my throat and stared up at her, ❛i think there’s something i have to tell you.❜ i said, rubbing my hand distractedly.

❛what is it?❜

a guilty expression passed across my face, ❛if we end up not meeting again, i would look and find you until the ends of the world.❜

❛why would we not meet again?❜ she asked, confusion plastered across her face.

❛nothing. it’s just a passing thought.❜

❛well... i’ll wait for you, then, if that’s the case. or if i grow impatient, i might just look for you and we can meet in the middle.❜

❛that sounds good to me.❜

✦

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴. 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘢𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘬. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦.

𝙛𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚:

¹ book of genesis 6:1

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kurain-genealogy · 3 years

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was so caught up in the whole "dark worlds reflect the will of the knight who created the fountain" thing that i was only looking at it from kris's perspective. i think it's more than that, though.

my brain is fried bc it's midnight and im not really going anywhere in particular with this, but...

i very much think that queen is a representation of noelle's mom. from what we know abt her mom, she's pretty hard on noelle, the mayor, and Pretty Powerful as the mayor since alphys mentions the police not really having a purpose considering how the mayor sort of dominates the town.

queen's stated to have always been a pretty strict ruler, but once the fountain showed up, she'd gotten extreme. she picks on noelle in particular, doesn't care about the other kids, constantly dotes on her and searches for her when she's missing but pressures/threatens her into doing what she wants (or trapping her when she attempts to defy her). she's never outright cruel in a way that isn't humorous or lighthearted to the player, but it's still clear what her intentions are. despite wanting to use noelle to create the "ideal world" or whatever, it's so so clear by the end that she (1) is not evil she straight up says she doesn't want to end the world, and (2) genuinely cares about noelle so so much!! she wants her to be HAPPY and tries to give her everything she wants but just cannot see from noelle's point of view!

and noelle standing up to queen, telling her that her plans would not make her happy and that she wouldn't want to live in that world, that's her growth!!! this dark world helps noelle get the bit of confidence boost she needs to take back the reigns and try for herself.

so queen is funny haha character but i also really think she represents noelle's mom. also berdly is there. his growth is that he needs to be humbled, learn that not everything is about intelligence, and that he'll still have friends even if he's not the best at everything. and our main characters still grow and develop but the cyber world feels so much more like noelle and berdly's stories.

the setting/theme/contents of the dark world is influenced (and confined by) the light world setting that the fountain was created in. it's cyber themed. duh. cuz it's in the library. but i mean... noelle's wish for confidence, berdly's need for approval and praise, ambu-lance enemy (could just b funny antivirus joke but still.. hospital imagery + noelle...), a bunch of Gamer stuff like the punch-out type sequences (because berdly gamer?), the spelling puzzles???? yknow the spelling bee, the big thing that was super influential to both noelle And berdly? yeah. might b more im forgetting.

but basically... soemthing somethign fountains created by the will of the knight. but just as it's influenced by the items in the room, it's influenced by the emotions and experiences that have taken root there, and the people attached to those things that spend a lot of time in that location

basically tl;dr the knight's will when creating a fountain may not just be limited to the knight itself.

#if none of this makes sense...... the bad is mine #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #deltarune 2 #deltarune 2 spoilers #noelle holiday #berdly #kris dreemurr #long post #what in the goddamn do i tag this stuff as #deltarune theory

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture. The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong. "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike. He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you. Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane. + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell. "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him. Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose." Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it. "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain. + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up. Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway. "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there. Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady. "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day." Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect." "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other. Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it. "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him. Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel. He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother. Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine. "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him. Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again. The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been.

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you. He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you.

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place. "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond.

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence.

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x cassian #cassian fic #cassian #azriel mention rhys mention #cassian x reader

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

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Midnight Cravings

so, i actually wrote most of this in july but never finished it and decided to fix it up for todays prompt bc i was feeling a lil lazy lol. and i think its one of my faves, especially the ending.

2.2k words

cw: none

enjoy!! :)

It was just past two in the morning and Aelin was wide awake. Not due to a mountain of paperwork, or a nightmare or one of her kids needing her. Aelin was wide awake because she was absolutely starving.

The type of starving it felt like she'd never eaten a day in her life. Like her stomach was going to eat itself.

Her stomach growled again, louder than before, and beside her, his voice muffled, Rowan asked, “Is that your stomach or the wind outside?”

“Shut up,” Aelin mumbled, as her stomach continued its song. Gods, why was she so hungry? She practically devoured the fruits in the fruit bowl just before bed, she had a healthy serving of dinner, and a large slice of chocolate torte for dessert.

But here she was, close to eating her damned pillow to sate her starvation.

Aelin glanced over towards her mate, his back to her, and she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Rowan,” she started to say, but Rowan cut her off.

“I'm not going to the kitchens.”

She pouted, although he couldn't see her. “Please?” she knew that if she used her manners, then he would do just about anything.

But it didn't work. Not just yet. “There's some fruit in the bowl.”

“I ate them all.” He sighed heavily, knowing that he was losing this conversation. “Please? I am your mate, your wife, the mother of your children.”

Rowan snorted. “Really? I was starting to suspect that the three silver-haired children were Lorcan's.”

Her hunger nearly disappeared at the thought of that. “Don't be gross.” Reaching over, Aelin kissed the tip of his ear, smiling as he shuddered in pleasure as she nibbled on it. “Please?”

Rowan sighed heavily, knowing that he lost, and Aelin barely hid her smile. “I'll go,” he said. “But only if you join me.”

Her smile did disappear at that. “But the bed is so warm.”

“Exactly. If I have to leave it, so do you.”

“Fine,” she mumbled reluctantly, but quickly perked up, realising that she would be getting food. Rowan was a much better cook than her. Aelin used to have basic cooking skills, but with being Queen and then becoming a mother, she never cooked anymore and really had no need to; not with multiple cooks under the palace roof. She did try a few years ago as a treat for her family, but everything turned into a crisp and wasn't even suitable for the dogs in the kennels.

Scrambling out of bed, the Queen and King of Terrasen tied on their robes and put on their slippers. Aelin loved the sight of Rowan looking so domestic, it was ridiculous how much she loved it.

Since Isolde was only six months old and far too young to be left behind, Rowan put her in the wooden carrier to take with them into the kitchens, their movements silent as the grave as they transferred their youngest from her crib and into the crafty carrier—Isolde was the only one of their children that slept soundlessly through the night at such a young age, and loathed to be woken up. As Rowan did that, Aelin checked in on Alder in his room, their son a little over three years old, but he slept like a log and Aelin knew that he wouldn't wake up at any point when they were gone.

As they left their chambers, Aelin nearly ruined all their good work and almost woke up their other children when she bit out a curse at the sudden leg cramp that shot up her right calf. Rowan glanced at her, asking if she was okay, and after a moment she was, although she was left a little dazed at the suddenness of it all.

Aelin's legs had been cramping randomly of late, but she didn't notice anything of concern. If it continued, she would go to Magnolia and see if anything could be done about it. The last thing Aelin needed was to fall ill, she had far too many things to do with winter arriving in a few weeks. She did know that if anything was wrong with her, that she could rely on Rowan completely.

Aelin's stomach growled for the umpteenth time, the sound lasting for a good minute before it settled. Isolde fidgeted in her sleep, but did not wake.

“I think your stomach was just trying to talk to me.”

“It was,” Aelin agreed. “It said that we need to hurry the hell up or it's going to disintegrate.”

“We better do as it says then. It'd be cruel to subject Terrasen to a hungry Queen. No one should suffer as I do when you're starving.”

“You make me sound horrible.”

“You are,” he said, humour dancing in his dark eyes. “And not just when you're hungry.”

Aelin mumbled under her breath. Rowan decided to pretend not to hear her, even as he fought a smile.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the kitchens, Rowan placing Isolde onto the counter closest to them. Aelin rushed towards the bowls of fruit, grabbing an apple and a pear, eating the fruits simultaneously. She missed the small, private smile Rowan gave her as he went to the pantry, asking her what she was in the mood for, one eye on their child. But still, she slept and Rowan for a moment, wished that all of their children had been like that, but knew that there was no point in complaining when they all slept quietly now.

“Something filling,” was all Aelin could think of to say. But after a moment decided on an omelette, filled with bacon, mushrooms, onion, red bell-peppers and carrot. As she and Rowan prepped the ingredients—with Rowan wanting his own omelette—Aelin contemplated in silence, her brows furrowed as she chopped up the carrots.

“What are you thinking about, Fireheart?” Rowan asked when he noticed his wife's expression.

“Just trying to remember the last time I was this hungry. I've been like this for at least a week and a half.”

“I've noticed. You haven't had this big of an appetite for a good number of years.”

She didn't comment on that, lost in her own world. “And my legs have been cramping lately too. I haven't injured myself. Have I been sleeping in strange positions?”

“No, you're sleeping just fine.”

Her frown deepened. “Maybe I'm just stressed for the winter preparations.”

“Possibly, I know that you worry a lot for the people during winter.” They both did, as the winters in Terrasen were brutal. Each year there was always a small number of people that passed due to the cold for a number of reasons. When those lists made their way in Aelin's hands, it always hit her hard, her guilt a palpable thing, even after Rowan would tell her that it was in no way her fault.

But that wasn't the reasons for her consuming hunger and leg cramps—Rowan had noticed the change in her scent weeks ago and when he noticed, he thought that Aelin would too. But she was completely oblivious and he didn't want to spoil the surprise, although it was getting harder each day not to say something.

However, he couldn't help but count back the weeks to the day of conception. He was fairly certain that it was when Aelin had been reading a particularly steamy novel on the window seat in their sitting room and jumped on him like they had never had sex before when he had come to ask if she was joining him in bed.

It would fit in with list of unusual places they have conceived their children. Elentiya had been in the library (either in the archives or in Aelin and Rowan's private nook, neither were sure), Norrin against an oak tree (which they discovered after they have calmed down that the Little Folk had watched the entire encounter, with Aelin becoming stuck between wanting to laugh or hide under a rock), Alder against one of the many palace chimneys, and Isolde in a linen closet.

Maybe one day they would conceive a child in their bed like most people did.

They got to cooking, with Rowan standing behind Aelin and guiding her with the wooden spoon and plating their midnight meal before it burned into a crisp. Isolde babbled in her sleep as the sounds of cooking reached her, but still slept. It wouldn't be long, however, until she woke up to be fed. Aelin placed their youngest by her feet as they sat down at the small dining table in the far corner of the kitchen where the workers took their breaks.

The smile on Aelin's face as she bit into the fluffy omelette was certainly worth being woken up in the middle of the night.

However, her fork stilled in mid-air when she was halfway done when realisation dawned on her.

Finally.

“I'm pregnant,” was all she said, her Ashryver eyes growing wide. Rowan didn't bother to hide his smile. This was why he didn't say anything. It was always worth it when she revealed those beautiful words to him. “Rowan, I'm pregnant. The last time I was this hungry was when I was pregnant with Alder and the leg cramps are from Norrin's pregnancy. And all the fruit I can't stop eating is just like when I was pregnant with Isolde. How haven't I noticed anything?”

“You've been busy,” Rowan said, reaching over to take her hands in his and kissed her fingers.

“You knew, didn't you?” Aelin asked, her eyes narrowed just slightly.

“I may have noticed.”

“You should have told me.”

“I like it better when you come to the realisation yourself,” he said simply.

Aelin shot out of her seat and sat on his lap, a pretty smile gracing her face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers playing the the hair at the nape of his neck. Rowan wound his arms around her waist and kissed her on the cheeks, the tips of her nose, the corner of her lips and then her mouth.

Aelin hummed contentedly and kissed him back. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.

“We're insane.”

Rowan laughed deeply at the sudden statement. “What makes you say that?”

“We're having a fifth baby. Lorcan and Elide only have three and I always thought that they'd have at least a dozen, but they don't and we're about to have five. That's insane. We're insane.”

“We are, but I like that about us,” he said, kissing her again. Her face was open and soft, her eyes dancing with happiness, but he still found himself asking, “Are you okay with it?”

“Of course I am, buzzard. More than words can say.” Aelin kissed him to emphasise that fact, his hand reaching down onto her belly and was content to stay like that forever. She couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She always thought that she’d just have one child, maybe two, but to have five was something she never dreamed of.

Isolde finally decided to wake up and scream her displeasure at being hungry. Aelin was off him in an instant, cooing at their daughter as Aelin sat back in her seat and fed not just herself, but Isolde at the same time. His mate was spectacular at multitasking like that.

They couldn't wait to meet their fifth child.

X X X X X X

Rowan was surprised that his children hadn't kicked down the doors to the bedchamber with how excited they were. Even little Isolde was a ball of energy and she was by far their most quiet child. Rowan lead them to their mother, reminding them that they had to be quiet and gentle, because mama had just gone through a long process of bringing in their new sibling into the world.

They entered the bedchamber and Aelin greeted them with a tired but loving smile telling them to come meet their new sister, the kids went onto the bed, surrounding Aelin and the baby, happiness and wonderment in their eyes as they took in the little bundle of joy, her silver hair stark against her lightly tanned skin. She had opened her eyes briefly during her first feeding and Aelin had groaned playfully when she spotted that they were pine-green, muttering how of course I labour for a whole day to give birth to another you. But he knew that she didn't care if she was born with green hair and yellow eyes, Aelin loved her immensely.

“What's her name, mama?” Elentiya asked softly, carefully trailing a finger down her sisters cheek.

“Elowynn-Yrene.” Rowan would never forget the pure joy in Yrene's eyes when Aelin asked if the healer would give them her blessing to grace their child with her name, as a thank you for all the years of coming down and helping Aelin, for eradicating Erawan, and for being a great friend to both of them. It had taken them a few minutes to convince their friend, citing that the honour was far too much, but Yrene eventually said "yes".

“That's pretty,” Alder supplied, a wide smile on his face. Aelin kissed his temple and thanked him for his kind words.

Aelin moved her eyes from Alder to Rowan, smiling as her mate stood there, taking them in.

His family, their family. Never did he think he would be so blessed to have this.

His and Aelin's children; the most beautiful thing Rowan had ever seen.

Rowan went and joined his family on the bed, the smile on his face one of Aelin's favourites.

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #my work

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sakusasbunny · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl, haven’t you? Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you”

pairing: sakusa x reader

cw: incest, spanking, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, gaslighting (lmk if there’s anything i missed)

wc: ~1.6 k

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you so much again for 500+ followers!!! it means a lot, ily! (repost bc tumblr’s a bitch and didn’t show me in tags :))

m.list

“N-no! Stop I-” you struggled against Sakusa’s grasp, his big hands wrapping around your waist and bending you over his knee. Your cries were muffled as he shoved you into the couch. One hand restrained your arms behind your back as the other hiked your skirt up, bunching the material around your waist to reveal the cotton of your underwear.

“P-please, nii-chan, I didn’t mean to. I’m sor-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as a heavy hand cracked down on your ass. Tears brimmed your eyes as a scream tore through your throat.

Sounds of your cries echoed around the room as one excruciating slap after another was delivered to your ass, pushing your face further into the couch.

“Ngh… Nii-chan…” your voice came out meekly, “No more, please… It hurts.”

“Does it now?” Sakusa’s large hand gently caressed the curve of your ass, soothing the soft flesh red from impact. “You should have thought of that before acting like such-” smack “a fucking-” smack “brat.” smack.

Inarticulate pleas forced its way out of your mouth, begging him to stop. Fat droplets of tears streamed down your face. You could do nothing else but cry out in pain as you took your punishment.

It was simple, really. All you had to do was follow his house rules while you stayed in his apartment. Cleaning, making dinner, doting on him after a stressful day at work. It was all so simple. Perhaps he’d overestimated you; after all, you were still just his dumb little sister. Nothing had changed since you were kids—he's convinced himself—he would still have to look after you.

However, this was no longer acceptable. You weren’t kids anymore. Sooner or later, you’d have to learn your responsibilities to him.

Broken whimpers filled every corner of the room. Every strike was harder than the last.

“It won’t happen again, please…” you promised.

“How can I believe you, hm? You’ve been nothing but a brat since you got here,” He palmed your ass, the cool rings on his fingers soothing your burning skin, “This is the only way you’ll learn. You trust your nii-chan, don’t you?”

You faltered in your response—and that was enough for him to crack his hands across your already tender skin, forcing a strained whimper into the couch beneath you.

Trembling breaths left your lips as you tried to keep yourself from groaning at the stinging pain crawling up your spine.

It’s too much, you thought, this is all too much.

“Your hesitation,” you could feel the warm puff of his breath on the shell of your ear as he leaned in dangerously close to you, “tells me everything I need to know. Now, get up.”

Sakusa freed your wrists from his grasp and you struggled to push yourself up, your arms too sore and numb from being restrained to hold up any sort of weight. He watched as you brought yourself up on two shaky legs, presenting yourself in front of him.

It was embarrassing.

His narrowed eyes trailed down and examined your body. Your blouse, which had been neatly tucked into your skirt, was now wrinkled and disheveled as you lunged forward on the couch. Red abrasions bloomed across the supple skin of your face, a semi-permanent blush adorning your cheeks. The fabric of the couch had been too rough as your skin brushed against it.

Sakusa pushed himself off his spot on the couch and made his way towards you.

You flinched as he raised a hand, preparing for the impact that never came. Instead, a gentle hand cupped your face and rubbed soothing circles at the irritated skin of your cheeks. It felt nice. You’d all but forgotten how delicate he could be, nuzzling into his palm as you accepted his small embrace.

It didn’t last, however, as his hand dropped back down to his side. Only the ghost of his touch lingered on your skin before fading into the cold.

“After all I’ve done for you, is this how you repay me, hm? After I welcome you into my home with open arms, could you not follow such simple instructions that even a trained dog could do them?”

His words were harsh, nothing like the hand that previously caressed your cheek. Each word that left his lips cut deeper than the last.

It was a feeling you were unfamiliar with—one so painful that it overshadowed the stinging pain from when he had pinned you down and abused your soft skin. The ache had already faded to a dull throb.

You felt the crushing weight of the atmosphere around you. His disappointment was apparent and it felt unbearable as his dark eyes peered at you, radiating uncompromising scrutiny. Your head hung low in shame in a fruitless effort to avoid his fixed gaze. The only thing you could do was watch your tears as they fell to the floor.

“I really shouldn’t even bother with you anymore,” Sakusa let out an exasperated sigh, “What’s the point in keeping someone around who’s absolutely useless to me?”

That was the final blow to your fragile stage.

Your head shot up and even more tears clouded your vision.

No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this to you. He can’t just leave you all by yourself. You needed him! You were nothing without him. You would mean nothing without him.

He had been your entire world, you realized. You always thought it was his world that revolved around you, an unshakeable presence that never strayed far, but as he tried to rip himself out of your life, you discovered that you’d been wrong.

You had always needed him. You jumped into his arms with every good news you received, in an obvious plea for his approval. You ran into his arms with every problem that faced you knowing that he was the only one who could bring you any meaningful comfort. He’d kiss you so sweetly, lay you down, and make it go away. Bring you pleasure that you were sure no other man but your brother could give you. No one knew you like he did.

You would always be the one to seek him out.

You dropped to your knees and clung to his legs as hysterical cries erupted from your mouth.

“N-nii-san, ple-please, you can’t. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded as you looked up at him with bleary eyes. Tears stained his pant legs as you pressed the side of your face to his thighs, clutching at the fabric with desperate hands.

“I-I’ll do anything! I’ll be good for you, I pr- I promise,” Your words came out frantic as you spoke in between hiccups, “Just please don’t leave me, please, please, please. I need you!”

Sakusa felt his heart clench as you begged for him. Of course, he had no real intention of leaving you but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing how miserable you had been at the thought.

He almost felt bad, really, he did. But that didn’t stop the glimmer of amusement that hid behind his hardened gaze or the cruel smile that spread across his face. He watched as you nuzzled your face into the fabric of his pants, clinging onto him for dear life. So afraid that if you loosened your grip for just a little bit that he’d disappear from your grasp.

He enjoyed how much you seemed to idolize him. It may have been a cruel ploy, using your love for him as a means to bend your will, but he believed it to be necessary. It was just as you said, you needed him. He just wanted to help you realize it.

You’d been defying him too much recently. First, talking back to him, and lately, refusing to follow his orders, even ignoring a curfew he’d set out for you. He had received a phone call from you at an ungodly hour one night, too drunk to even form a sentence and that had been the last straw. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t have that. Not to his precious little sister, no.

But he couldn’t really put all the blame on you. You were only a product of your environment. Your parents had always been too lenient on you. His father and mother had spoiled you rotten, never really disciplining you and only ever throwing money at all of your problems instead of teaching you how to fix them. He supposed he had them to thank for making you all too dependent on him but he needed you to be obedient for him.

So he’d decided to take it upon himself to teach you.

Did you not see? Everything he did for you was out of pure love! Did you think he wanted to hurt you? To hear your pretty screams as he held you down and spanked you? He took no pleasure in punishing you. No… All he wanted was for you to be safe with him. And what’s a better way to show you than cutting you off? Convincing you that you needed him, that you couldn’t live without him?

He threaded his fingers through your hair as he brushed the strands away from your face. Caressing your cheek with his thumb, he gently motioned for you to look up at him.

Long trails of black stained your flushed cheeks as your mascara ran down your face. He loved seeing you like this. Big, innocent eyes looking up at him, glazed over with adoration only a sister can have for her big brother. So desperate. So needy. So ruined. And all for him. Only for him.

Sakusa wanted to keep you like this forever.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl haven’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, one that he’d already known the answer to, but you nodded eagerly anyway, ecstatic at the soft tone he’s taken with you.

“Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you.”

#❣️dark content #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu sakusa #hq x reader #hq smut #hq sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #— my works

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cringesideblog · 3 years

Text

here’s my dnf playlist and a complete song by song track-list and why I put them on it.

heatwaves- on here for very obvious reasons. i don’t think I need to explain. but here are some lyrics anyway. “Sometimes all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of June.”

Jenny- again this is kinda obvious. “I wanna ruin our friendship, we should be lovers instead, I don’t know how to say this, cuz you’re really my dearest friend.”

TALK ME DOWN- this one just has the best friends pining for eachother vibe. “I wanna sleep next to you, and that’s all I wanna do right now.”

Dark paradise- kinda has dream smp vibes. but also you could argue heatwaves vibes. “Everytime I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise.” “There’s no relief, I see you in my sleep.” “There’s no release, I feel you in my dreams.”

Sweater weather- yeah you know why. you absolutely know why. “All I am is a man, I want the world in my hands. I hate the beach but I stand, in California with my toes in the sand.”

Drop the Guillotine- idk man just vibey. give it a listen you’ll get it. it’ll click. “You sure know how to drop that guillotine on me, though you would never wanna see me bleed.”

Can I call you tonight?- thats on their only for of communication being through the phone huh. (major heatwaves vibe) “powers out and I can’t turn the fan on, so can I call you tonight? trying make up my mind, just how I feel.”-“I hear your voice on the phone, now I’m no longer alone.”

Lemon boy- oh my god this song. geogre do be seeing dream as his lemon boy. “I helped him plant his seeds and we’d mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Yellow- DREAM IS LITERALLY GEORGES YELLOW SHUT UP RIGHT NOW. “Look at the stars, look how they shine for you.” “For you I’d bleed myself dry.”

Like you do- first of all I love this song, second, this has dream being a little too attached vibes. The whole song is just them. “Lost in the blue, they don’t love me like you do, those chills that I knew they were nothing without you, and everyone else they don’t matter now. You’re the one I can’t lose, no one loves me like you do.” “Since I met you, all the gloomy days just seem to shine a little more brightly.”

I saw you in a dream- mega heatwaves vibe. “When I’m awake I can’t switch off,” “I saw you in a dream, you came to me. You were the sweetest apparition, such a pretty vision.”

Maybe you’re the reason- did someone say pining best friend who doesn’t know that they’re in love ? this song. this song right here. “I keep looking for something, even though I know that it’s not there. Maybe you’re the reason. And anytime I try to figure it out, you’re the only thing I can think about.”

The king- DREAM SMP VIBE. “You like me, well obviously, so why you tryna leave when you know that I’m the king?” “Other lovers give you no luck, cuz I’m the only one who’s made you fall in love.” “Playing with your heart cuz you gave me the throne.”

Sweet- an adorable song truly that actually fits them so well. “Watching the, video that you sent me- you know that I’m obsessed with your body, but it’s the way you smile that does it for me.” “It’s so sweet, knowing that you love me.”

Apocalypse- um okay here me out, apocalypse au?? yeah i know it’s cute as shit you’re welcome. “Your lips my lips, apocalypse.” “When you’re all alone, I will reach for you, when you’re feeling low, I will be there too.”

Fear of the Water- don’t come for me this ones kinda sad, beautiful song though. “If this was meant for me why does it hurt so much, and if you’re not made for me why did we fall in love?”

Dreaming of you- two words, heat. waves. but also yeah good song for them in general. “Want you all the time, and now I’m dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of you.”

Wires- uhhhhh dream smp vibe, dream villain arc n all . “If he said help me kill the president, id say he needs medicine.” “He said that I should take it in, listen to every word he’s speaking.”

Midnight love- it’s girl in love so, you already know how it issss. “I know I don’t want to, be the one that you run to, when you’ve got nowhere else to go, when you need some love.” “I always give in to give you it all.” “I can’t be your midnight love, when your silver is my gold.”

The beach- SUCH A HEATWAVES SONG JUST LISTEN. “I feel it burning me, I feel it burning you.” “I think I can see the beach, I know what’s underneath. I need you here with me,”

Cherry flavored- the neighborhood just.. they have a dnf vibe. “Cherry flavored conversations with you got me hanging on. Down to earth from all the waiting. Take me somewhere beyond.”

Pretty boy- geogre is a pretty boy. point blank period. “Even if my heart stops beating, you’re the only thing I need with me.” “Pretty boy, you did this with me boy.” “As long as I got you, I’m gonna be alright.”

Bad idea- girl in reddd... but like imagine them casually hooking up and not knowing their in love tho. also I feel like they would definitely think that their relationship is a “bad idea” bc they’re stupid. “It was a bad idea, to think I could stop, was such a bad idea, I can’t get enough.” “Darling your so pretty it hurts.”

Line without a hook- ICONIC!! dream definitely does not think that he deserves george. “You can hold my hand if no ones home.” “All my emotions feel like explosions when you are around” “Oh baby I am a wreck without you.” “She’s a, she’s a lady, and I am just a boy. She’s a, she’s a lady, and I am just a line without a hook.”

Say you hate me- mega dream smp vibes as of recently. with the whole removing geogre as king. “I guess that your friends where right, from the start when they thought that I was a bad guy.” “Can you just say that you hate me? Or that you will never love me?” “Never meant to make you leave, never meant to make you cry.”

Cherry bomb- reminds me of how dream cheated on fundy with geogre. “I’m too close to crushing, and I’m too close for comfort I’m rushing.” “I ask how shes so mellow, she tells me her shades are in yellow.”

This side of paradise- I mean, like, kinda heatwaves vibes, but also just them. “Ask me why my hearts inside my throat. I’ve never been in love I’ve been alone.” “If you’re lonley come be lonley with me.”

Linger- geogre literally has that boy wrapped around his finger and I can’t not see it in this song. But when you look into it HELLA dream smp vibes, lyrics can be switched for either perspective here. “You know I’m such a fool for you, you got me wrapped around your finger.” “I thought the world of you, I thought nothing could go wrong, but I was wrong,”

august- i don’t know what is but this song is for them. it just is. “To live for the hope of it all. Cancel plans just in case you'd call” “So much for summer love, and saying “Us” Cause you weren't mine to lose”

I was an island- i just love the idea of them being hardasses and not thinking they need anyone until the other comes into their life and rocks their world. kinda dream smp vibes “I was a fighter, and I was so brave, but I lowered my sword when you held me and swore you’d stay.” “I was a wolf, dear, apart from the pac But you answered my cries in the dead of the night and told me that you had my back,”

Golden- k this one feeds into the “you’re literally the sun in my sky I’m not worthy” feel “I know you were way too bright for me I'm hopeless, broken” “I know that you're scared Because hearts get broken” “I can feel you take control Of who I am and all I've ever known Loving you's the antidote”

Strong- ummm okay but the “we’re better together” dynamic is them “I’m sorry if I say I need ya, but I don’t care I’m not scared of love.” “when I’m not with you I’m weaker is that so wrong? Is it so wrong, that you make me strong.”

Fly out west- the whole, I need to see you, you’re all I think about, stuff gets me. also heatwaves vibe. “Well tell me do you know? You’re all I dream about. Take it from me I’m too dumb to recognize your doubt.”

Cruel summer- them and summer, you dig? “I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you.” “I love you and that the worst thing you ever heard?”

Nothings gonna hurt you baby- I put this one on here because of how protective dream is over geogre “Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby, as long as your with me you’ll be just fine. Nothings gonna hurt you baby, nothings gonna take you from my side.”

Cardigan- young love, the kind of lover that makes you feel like you are the most important thing in the world to them “when you are young they assume you know nothing, but I knew you-“ “and when I felt like I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed, you put me on and said I was your favorite.”

Cry baby- them being in that weird stage where they recognize that it might be more than just senseless flirting and they might have feelings but also being paranoid that they’re the only one with feelings uh- “I can taste it my hearts breaking, please don’t say it. That you know, when you know.” “I know I’ll fall in love with you baby, but that’s not what I wanna do baby.”

Speak now- literally the fundy dream wedding. i rest my case. “I hear the preacher say speak no or forever hold your peace.” “Dont say yes runaway now.”

I love you so- this song is cute on the surface but kinda sad once you look into it. it’s kinda about a codependent love that isn’t going well. “I gotta get away and let you go I gotta get over, but I love you so.” “You were cool and I’m a fool so please let me go.”

In conclusion I’d really appreciate if you could check it out :) <3

#haha playlist go brr #Please I beg of you go send it some love it genuinely think that all the songs fit them so well #also this might get updated as I listen to more music and discover new songs that fit them #but please #pleaseeee #go like it :)#that would be nice of u <333 #dreamnotfound #georgenotfound #dreamwastaken #dnf #Spotify #heatwaves

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mixelation · 3 years

Note

This is the same icha icha anon, and the idea that Jiraiya's best female character is Orochimaru (who is, actually, wearing a woman's body underneath the disguise of himself at the time of the chuunin exam invasion) is absolutely hilarious to me. Does Orochimaru read Icha Icha? Does he KNOW? I bet Tsunade doesn't read icha icha unless she HAS to for her job, but Orochimaru is definitely curious enough to do so on his own initiative... but does he?

reference post (and also here's a related post)

I AM GLAD YOU ARE INTERESTED IN MY INTENSE AND USELESS HEADCANONS, ANON. I have debated this a bit, mostly because this headcanon is canon to Plasticity and potentially also pivotal to the plot of Plasticity? But right now I'm leaning towards:

Tsunade has read like, part of one Icha Icha book, after a combination of nagging from Jiraiya, boredom, and mild curiosity that's a result of both her interest in Jiraiya as someone she grew up with and Hatake Kakashi's weird obsession. She read enough to realize the sheer depth of how bad Jiraiya is projecting his personal issues into the book (and also the kinky parts aren't even that good in her opinion). It gave her secondhand embarrassment for Jiraiya and she had to stop reading and refuses to pick up another book by him again. Jiraiya is still alive so I'm going to say she hasn't actually read any sex scenes involving her own insert character, although she knows they must happen.

I'm sure Orochimaru physically cannot restrain himself from reading whatever shit Jiraiya is writing. Orochimaru probably sometimes even intercepts Jiraiya's written correspondences just to keep tabs on him (and, like, annoy him). Of course he's written Icha Icha. He's thrilled that he and Tsunade are main characters. He LOVES that Jiraiya has written all of his personal hang-ups and insecurities for the world to see. It's great entertainment. He is both smug and flattered that Jiraiya has a psychosexual obsession with him. The only thing holding him back from teasing Jiraiya about it to his face is that he's about 70% sure Jiraiya has no idea he's doing this and he doesn't want him to stop. Instead he sometimes writes Jiraiya anonymous letters requesting the Orochimaru character do certain things, or disappointment in the lack of weird kink in a certain scene. Jiraiya has recognized at least a few of these "anonymous" fan letters as being from Orochimaru and has no idea what to make of that.

What I go back and forth about the most is the degree to which Jiraiya realizes he's written his teammates into his books. Like I'm sure he at least realizes that the Tsunade-insert is similar to Tsunade in a lot of ways, possibly some of them intentional because the nature of Jiraiya's "research" makes me think he likes to base characters on real women. Like I can see him being like, "Well, Tsunade is SUPER hot and also an awesome kunoichi, I gotta use her sexiest features for my main female character!" and then also intentionally not giving that character Tsuande's tragic backstory because even though it would make good fiction, he doesn't to be cruel to her. HOWEVER, I'm leaning towards the Orochimaru character being completely unintentional/subconscious on Jiraiya's part. He made main girl #1 (who I call Junko in my brain) to be busty, blonde, loud and blunt.... so he had to make main girl #2 (who I call Satsuki in my brain) dark-haired and quiet and reserved and also maybe horribly manipulation and her silky hair is full of secrets and she's a backstabbing bitch, but the main male character is still in love with her anyway and--

--and Tsunade reads that and is like Y I K E S. Satsuki is humanized and three-dimensional enough that only people who know both Orochimaru and Jiriya really well would ever connect the dots (bc Orochimaru is a scary one-dimensional monster, duh). So Kakashi might not ever realize ON HIS OWN but if someone pointed it out..... well. He'd be upset. :(

Also Hiruzen definitely reads and enjoys Icha Icha and is in as much denial about Jiraiya's obsession with Orochimaru as he is about the Uchiha Massacre.

#Jiraiya didn't give Satsuki the tongue because he's a COWARD #fic: plasticity #like this post is only relevant to that fic in that i think if you came here looking for plasticity content #this post is relevant? but also i wouldn't recommend reading plasticity JUST for icha icha headcanons

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bthump · 3 years

Note

Headcanons for an au where NeoGriff regains his emotions and seeks Guts out?

Man, yk the thought of NGriff suddenly regaining his emotions is hard to wrap my brain around. Like if he is emotionless, or nearly so, right now and then suddenly gets them back all at once?

tbh idk if he’d seek Guts out. honestly my number one thought is that he’d want to die. And not even like, out of guilt, like because he thinks he deserves it or anything, but more just because he wouldn’t be able to handle having feelings again. Like he’d definitely feel guilty but he wouldn’t want to kill himself to assuage that guilt, but rather to escape it. In these circumstances, from his point of view, continuing on to fulfill his dream would be a self-sacrificial attempt to assuage that guilt, while dying would be a selfish escape.

Imo having feelings again suddenly would make his dream feel even more important, because he’s done even more horrible shit on the road to achieving it now (including breaking the world so that his utopia needs to exist for anyone who doesn’t want to get eaten by a dragon lol). So I think what he’d be most likely to do is exactly what he has been doing, but now barely managing to keep his shit together.

Also consider: suddenly having a heap of trauma from being tortured for a year dumped back on him, just as raw as it was when his feelings were frozen away.

And of course there’s his feelings for Guts. Who definitely thinks he’s cruel now lol. Honestly if he did seek Guts out I think it would be to kill him, or be killed. As nearly-emotionless NGriff he was fine existing in the same world as Guts and pretending not to care, but now I don’t think he’d be able to stand the thought of like, Guts hating him, basically. And probably the result would be “be killed” because if even Femto couldn’t kill Guts NGriff suddenly dealing with all his feelings again definitely couldn’t lol.

Now I’m wondering what would happen if like, when Griffith got his feelings back, Guts was right there. Like say he had a magic plan to bring Griffith’s ~soul~ back and was waiting for it to take effect. OOOOOH. How about Griffith, about two seconds away from a breakdown, blaming Guts for his weakness and impossible to handle emotional turmoil, screaming “You should have died!” Kinda like how Guts fixing Casca had all that ominous foreshadowing, “what will she do if she does get her sanity back?” etc, fixing Griffith would also not be a good time for anyone. I think things would be really dark honestly.

Like if Guts brought his soul back or whatever Griff might understand that Guts doesn’t hate human him. But by now he’s a few steps beyond the love is all you need happy ending we could’ve got in a Golden Age AU imo. I think basically his 2 options are to die or bottle it up as hard as humanly possible and keep pursuing the dream. Idk if I can imagine a happy ending out of this lol. Even if Guts was willing to do or say anything to get one, which is pretty unlikely bc he has a ton of painful feelings rn too, I can’t really think of anything that would work. Mmmaybe Guts offering to join him again in Falconia, helping achieve his dream? But I don’t really think he would, and even then I think Griff would still be light years away from being capable of dealing with being in love with Guts on top of everything. Might be an interesting starting point though.

Ooh, or maybe Guts destroying Falconia with no hope of restoring it, leaving Griffith with nothing else to turn to but him. Maybe Guts defies fate with magic brand powers by restoring Griff’s feelings and this shoves the world off-track and cuts Griff off from his magic fate powers. Or maybe getting his soul back completely nerfs him. Or maybe his immunity to and calming influence on apostles is taken away and they destroy Falconia and now he’s got an army of apostles obsessed with him and able to do something about it. Whatever works to ruin Griff’s life again. Though this would be griffgutsy, but not exactly a happy ending lmao.

It’s like, Guts makes Griff fall in love with him, destroys him, destroys his dream, refuses to die, then just when Griff thinks he’s in the clear on account of being an unfeeling demon with no weaknesses Guts shoves all his weaknesses back into him but ten times worse now and destroys him and his dream again. Like at that point Griffith would just give up lol.

The way I’m envisioning this it would be pretty damn dark, rather than romantic and hopeful. I’d emphasize the hell out of the emotional nightmare this is for Griff lol. Guts finally gets Griffith’s undivided attention because he razed every safeguard Griffith put in place to protect himself from that love to the ground. Fuck enemies to lovers style love/hate, you can’t beat I hate you because I love you style love/hate. And I mean as much as Guts loves Griff he’s still pretty dark in canon and his feelings would still be mixed in this situation imo, he might get a lil thrill out of destroying the idyllic paradise Griffith chose over Guts, and making him feel everything he’s done, and finally getting him to look at him and only him after he’s spent years in pursuit of him and tried and failed to get over him. This could totally be fucked up on both sides. Hand in unloveable hand.

ANYWAY thanks for the ask, and sorry this isn’t really a fun positive answer lol, I’m too caught up in Griffith’s self-destructive feelings and convoluted ways to make griffguts fucked up.

I think I could actually more easily imagine Guts and NeoGriffith living happily ever after than Guts and a fully emotional again Griffith who remembers making the sacrifice and being Femto lol.

#ask #b #anonymous #headcanons #canon continuation #character: griffith #god i love depictions of love as a horrific experience so much #no wonder i love berserk #ship: griffguts #yk usually i'd say that despite all the complications and issues love would prevail and they'd live happily ever after together #but that take ends where the golden age ends baby i get to do whatever i want post-eclipse

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Fire and Brimstone: a Sesskag oneshot

For @harlecorn! ♥ Happy Birthday! 🎂

Rated T

A Hellhound remains bound beneath a church, waiting for the chance to enact revenge on his captors. His golden opportunity comes in the form of a blue-eyed woman. Sesskag AU oneshot.

You can read this on Ao3, Fanfiction.net and Dokuga

AN: This takes place in old-timey England. Think Witch Trial era - between the 15th and 18th century. However, I'm largely skipping the old language used in those times bc it would make dialogue feel awkward. If Kagome sounds weird it's bc I've had to lay off the modern talk a bit.

Warning: references to/implies torture

Fire and Brimstone

It was raining outside. Sesshoumaru could tell because a continuous leak somewhere had become his sole entertainment for several hours now. A thin sliver of water dripped from the roof between 10-second intervals, and he passed the time by counting them.

...Eight...Nine...Ten- drip!

A black nose twitched, picking up stale dampness lingering in the air. His body ached, but if he stayed still the wounds remained at a manageable dull, continuous pain rather than flaring white-hot agony.

How long had it been since he'd been dragged down into this dark place? He couldn't recall. Perhaps years. At the very least- months. He'd long since given up looking around at his prison, now laying in a dozing, frozen state.

Hearing something, Sesshoumaru's fluffy ear quirked. The blood inside his ear canal had encrusted, leaving sounds muted, but he could pick up distant footsteps descending stone stairs.

Have they returned to pray and bind me more tightly to their pathetic altar?

Sesshoumaru inwardly sneered, scarred paws remaining motionless. Though incredibly weak due to holy water- with his back and arms impaled with large iron stakes- a powerful, simmering rage in his chest refused to be tempered. His throat burned, belly scorching hot.

The church priest would pay, along with all his snivelling followers. One did not bind a Hellhound and live to tell the tale. Their foolish obsession with witch hunts and stamping out 'evil' within the land would be their undoing. They were fortunate they'd captured him while he'd been asleep.

Torchlight shone an orange hue behind Sesshoumaru's eyelids, but he refused to open them, playing possum.

"Still sleeping, are ye, unholy mutt?" a detestable, straight-laced voice reached his damaged ears, another torch being lit inside the room. "Good. Stay that way. Sleep until our heavenly Lord above casts you back from whence you came, down to Hell."

Oh this one will not be returning empty-handed, Sesshoumaru inwardly purred.

Remaining motionless, he looked for all the world unconscious. He couldn't lash out and tear into the priest as desired, due to a muzzle enclosed around his jaw. So, he bided his time. Rescue was out of the question. Dark creatures such as he received no aid from brethren. Sesshoumaru would just have to conserve energy for now.

The priest murmured a prayer that sent wrought iron hissing anew inside his flesh. Inwardly snarling, Sesshoumaru held himself still, refusing to show pain. His legs trembled slightly, giving him away.

Curse you. Curse you!

Wrath pumped through his veins, a siren song urging him to kill.

Satisfied that his work held strong, the head priest left; the sound of footsteps retreated up the stairs, leaving behind the lit torch.

At least that changed the scenery a little. Not that he had any reason to look upon it. Sesshoumaru panted hard the second he was left alone, sharp teeth clenching hard inside his jaw.

A quiet gasp caught his attention. Sesshoumaru froze. His nose twitched.

No scent?

Frowning, the Hellhound pried his eyelids open. Orange and black shapes shifted, blurry until someone's face came into focus.

Blue eyes gazed down at him. A woman with dark hair tumbling down her back slowly pried her hand away from her mouth.

"They really are cruel," she muttered, shocked features becoming grave. "I might as well refrain from asking if you're alright- since you clearly aren't," the stranger winced. "Sorry, that was insensitive."

Sesshoumaru blinked. What the Devil?

Her lips pursed, attention sliding to the iron stakes in his back. "I don't know how they managed to capture you. Surely that Priest can't have holy powers. He's about as pure as mud."

"...What are you?"

She paused, tilting her head and pushing dark hair behind her ear. "O-oh, that was rude of me, I didn't introduce myself, did I?" smiling, she straightened. "My name is Kagome Higurashi. Who are you?"

His question had been left unanswered, for he was largely uninterested in her name. He sneered, "Sesshoumaru."

"Nice to meet you, Sesshoumaru," she brought her hands together behind her back, smiling with only slight wariness. Her faded dress was slightly torn. Peasant wear. "I didn't expect you'd be able to talk."

"And I did not expect to be joined down here by a little lost lamb. Are you my dinner? They do not typically feed me." Saliva pooled in his mouth, drool pooling on the altar. His jaws parted, eyes glinting as they ran over her willowy form.

Kagome stepped away, huffing and crossing her arms. "While I sympathize, don't get rude. If you eat my soul then you really will be all alone- with no allies. You'll have eaten the only help you're going to receive in this place."

Sesshoumaru frowned as she walked out of his available sight, moving around his left side and picking up something from a shelf.

"You seek to give me aid? That seems counterintuitive for a soul as pure as yours."

He could smell it. The light radiating from within her. He knew her to be foreign from her features- and wondered how a priestess from a faraway land had arrived in such a miserable country rife with turmoil and evil; his hunting ground for the past few centuries.

She reappeared in his line of vision, holding a bowl of collected rainwater. She frowned, "I don't think 'pure' means 'doormat.' These men have caused a lot of harm. Harm should come back to them."

Red eyes cracked wider, interest lighting his red gaze. Kagome set the bowl down, resting a knee beside his jaw on the alter. "I'm trying to help you. Please don't eat me for it," with a wobbly smile, she reached for his muzzle.

Sesshoumaru held still, keen attention fixed on her every movement. Her deep blue eyes were pleasing, face quite beautiful in flickering torchlight. His dry tongue shifted within his mouth.

A Hellhound's purpose was to drag corrupted souls to the underworld. Kagome's radiated a strong, fierce glow.

The Japanese woman carefully grasped cool metal chains, pulling them off from around his face and tossing the muzzle aside.

Spittle-coated teeth immediately lunged- latching onto the coarse fabric of her modest dress, canines resting over her chest. Kagome gasped, hands grasping his jaw. Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, forcing her to lean over him slightly.

Crimson eyes glared up at her, growling lowly.

"What is your motivation, priestess?" a dark rumble growled inside her mind. "Tell me why I see black flames of revenge burning in the depths of your soul. A single blemish in your otherwise spotless self."

Kagome exhaled, and he felt her chest expand and fall with each breath. Gentle fingers ran over the silver fur on his face, cracking his eyes wider.

"The Dutch took me from my country a few years ago. Since then, I've been passed around to different places, picking up different languages. When I was forced onto a boat heading for this strange land- I didn't think anything more of it. I was to be the servant of a reputable house, but the priest of this church took issue with my foreign looks. After that, men dragged me here. You're not the only one who has suffered at their hands."

She withdrew her touch- and Sesshoumaru nearly tipped his head to chase it- unfamiliar with gentleness. Sparking holy powers then collected between her fingers, hovering close without making contact.

"I don't want to hurt you, in fact, I'd rather we were allies," the hushed words sounded genuine. "But I won't let you eat me easily either if that's what you're after. Let go."

Sesshoumaru searched her face, becoming entranced; Drunk off the sparking conviction there. What an odd, strong woman.

Letting out a breath of steam that whipped her hair back, Sesshoumaru relaxed his lower jaw, teeth unhooking from where they'd dug into the material of her clothes. He lowered her back to kneel on the altar, immediately diving for the water she'd provided instead.

Kagome caught her breath, holy powers fading away.

He lapped up every last drop, panting for more, wanting to sate the burning in his throat, but it would do for now. Sesshoumaru lifted his head, words firm with conviction as his chest rumbled.

"If you release me from my imprisonment, I will do your bidding for a time, woman. However, you should be aware of the consequences if you set me free."

She absentmindedly rubbed at the spot over her chest where his teeth had been, lips curving. "I know what'll happen to me, Hellhound," Kagome said quietly. "I accept the consequences."

Sesshoumaru bumped her leg with his nose, resting his head upon her thighs. “Then what do you command?”

"I want you to devour them," she murmured, gaze far away as she stroked mindful fingers through matted fur. "I believe in reincarnation, so I want you to prevent these terrible people from ever getting a second chance at life again. Eat them all- except the Head Priest. Him...you can drag home, to the deepest, darkest place available. Never let him be free from the shackles and iron bars you thrust inside him."

Sesshoumaru's breath shuddered. Their judgement aligned perfectly; and she'd spoken his desires aloud.

He had come across countless souls during his wrathful existence. He knew kind ones as well as those corrupted. This was one of the few times Sesshoumaru felt he'd witnessed a kind person pushed too far, beyond her breaking point. Now a deep well of dark emotion had pooled inside her, magnificent in its righteous fury.

Shifting, he dragged a hot, wet tongue up the length of Kagome's collarbone and neck, leaving a slick trail.

"Such pain...I can taste the ash on you," he purred, looking into her sad blue eyes. His voice hardened, incensed with renewed anger from her hurts and his own. "Free me, and it is gladly done."

Kagome shivered, before moving around his side. Gripping one iron bar embedded through his front leg that jutted into the alter below, she planted her knees wide.

"This is going to be a painful process, I'm sorry. W-will you survive the blood loss?"

The white demonic dog flashing her a jagged smile. "Just who do you think you are talking to?"

With a nod, Kagome steeled herself. Giving a hard yank that sent her stumbling backwards- the long, gruelling process began. Only when the agony died down would a monster with blood-red eyes emerge from the bowels of the church.

And all Hell broke loose.

-----

The church tower collapsed through the roof that fateful night. Bloodshed had begun, soaking the air with a coppery taste that quickly became dwarfed by fire. Earlier rainfall could not deter it- nothing stood in its blazing, enraged path.

White flames roared around the silver monster. He chased men down the church aisle in a frenzied hunger, catching them in his jaws. Of course, he saved the best for last.

The Head Priest trembled against a broken wall while screams pervaded the smoky air.

Sesshoumaru turned, panting. A red tongue lolled, snaking up to lick his bloodied maw.

With a yelp, the man tried to scramble away- only for his robes to be snagged on a broken beam. Heavy paws collided with his back, teeth latching into his clothes.

Within the burning depths of the church, a roaring inferno opened up. The Priest clawed and scrambled at blistering ground, cobblestone turning into scolding cinders beneath his palms. Frightened screams rang out as he was dragged backwards, Sesshoumaru descending with him down a winding, fiery path into the earth.

Everything collapsed inwards with one final groan of wood as structures toppled, the building completely caving into a burning wreck.

Kagome stood alone on a hillside, watching the entire thing unfold. She then smoothed her skirts, crouching by an unmarked, mass grave.

"I hope...you'll feel avenged now," she said softly.

She did not run nor scream. Instead, Kagome waited patiently to meet her fate, setting some flowers down.

A white dog demon covered in patches of ash approached silently. He sat beside her, neither acknowledging the violence he'd just committed.

"This is where you are buried?" he asked, gazing intently at her.

The ghost smiled wanly. "Buried makes it sound like we had a funeral. I was dumped in this hole with a few other women after we were sentenced as witches and burned at the stake. Nothing was left but my charred remains," her voice wobbled. Kagome made to wipe some tears- his sticky tongue licking them away before she could.

She gentled, touching his bloodied jaw. "H-how are your wounds?"

"All but mended," Sesshoumaru drew closer, humid breath fanning over her neck. "You know what must happen now."

Kagome laughed cynically. "Mn, because I'm a corrupt soul, you'll be dragging me to Hell too," she brushed a hand over the fur at his shoulder. Blue eyes hesitated for a moment, afraid of something entirely human.

"Will it...hurt?" she whispered.

If it were possible for a demon dog to ease his expression into something a touch less cold and hungry, Sesshoumaru managed to achieve something almost warm. He didn't answer at first, allowing a moment of silence to stretch between them. When he finally spoke again, his speech resounded inside her head as a soft grumble.

"No. Not for you."

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," a breath rushed out of her dead lungs, arms wrapping around herself as she glanced at the grave. "I've had enough pain, thank you."

"Indeed, you and I both."

A lily-white hand was offered down to her, sliding into her vision. Kagome's gaze drew up to a tall male.

The yellow moon looming behind his head gave him a halo effect; its gentle glow lining his face and dazzling her. Silvery hair split down broad shoulders, hanging like fine royal threads fit for a King. He wore black robes that billowed like dragon smoke.

Sesshoumaru's inhuman face smiled in an unnerving fashion, though she could tell the intent behind it- the desire to reassure her despite evidence of death on his robes. "Shall we go?" he asked in rich, clear tones.

Kagome stared up at the demon's handsome features. Smiling, she grasped his clawed hand without fear, allowing him to pull her up.

"You didn't have to change into such a pleasing form. I was coming with you anyway."

"My form is pleasing?" thin lips curved, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm, Sesshoumaru strolled with her down the hill, a gateway opening up within the earth as a huge chasm, welcoming him home.

"Oh hush, you know it is," Kagome smiled tiredly, walking with the Hellhound away from the fire and brimstone burning behind them. "So...will I be punished down there?" her voice was almost lost, spoken so softly.

Glowing eyes smiled. "There is a place some call the Elysian Fields. I will take you to them."

She stiffened, blinking rapidly to expel the salty tears of relief and gratitude welling up in her eyes. Kagome stopped within the cavern of the underworld, causing him to halt with her. Drenched under harsh shadows of the earth about to swallow them whole, his eyes shone red like glittering jewels.

"I suppose I'll need a guard too," she said evenly. "To make sure I don't escape. I'm a very wicked soul, after all. A heretic."

Sesshoumaru flashed his teeth at her. "Hn, the worst kind. I will see to it personally since this one is best suited for such a difficult task."

Smiling with relief, Kagome willingly walked with him into the jaws of Hell.

End

#inuyasha #Sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #Sesshoumaru #Kagome higurashi #AU

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