#modern day black woman crown
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Only If For A Night (i/?)
pairing: Dark! Book Aemond Targaryen x Modern! Reader
summary: In Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead), she gets forcefully transported to Westeros and meets her favorite book character, Aemond 'One Eye'. She asks and begs for his help to send her back home after realizing this was a world she did not want to live in. Unknowingly to her, her favorite fictional man had already grown too attached to fully let her go.
warnings for this part: profanity, tea drugging, blood magic, sexism, I think that's it... more dark stuff later. READER IS LATINA !
wc: 4,027
series masterlist
my masterlist
pt2
notes: originally I was gonna have this fic be a one shot but it is sooo long that I decided to split it into three. this is an introduction part, aemond will be on the next (I'm half way done with that part).
She knows she is screwed when Doña Maribel broke the news to her that the last of the cempasuchiles were completely sold out in her shop. Making it five flower shops in the span of an hour that she walked to have fully run out of the bright orange flowers she needed for her ancestral altar that she and her abuela worked tirelessly on for the past few days. (marigolds, grandmother)
She wonders what to do next or perhaps where to go as she plays with the gravel beneath her shoes. Sure, she could walk another mile or so to another flower shop and try her luck there just as Doña Maribel suggested but she finds herself too tired to venture deeper in her small pueblo by herself. (town)
Even the walk back to her abuela’s was not something she looked forward to as of now. This was the time where she wished she had the ability to drive but alas she could not for even the streets of Mexico were more hectic and nerve wracking than back at the states. (grandmother’s)
She sighs in defeat. The cempasuchiles were the last thing on her abuela’s list of things she required for tonight’s first day of Dia de Los Muertos. The bright orange flowers illuminated the path of those who died, back into the land of the living and enjoy the offerings their family’s set up for them. (Day of the Dead)
Maybe for just tonight she could spare them.
She sets her three mercado bags beside her as she sits down on a bench right next to a bus stop that could lead her directly to her abuela’s home. The smell of citrus of the lemon tree above her eases her disappointment and feels that this is the perfect spot to reread one of her favorite books. (shopping)
George R. R. Martin’s, Fire and Blood Vol. 1. She wondered what it was like to reside in a world of dragons (before they were all extinct), dire wolves from the North, red priestesses from Volantis, and mysterious yet powerful witches. To live inside the walls of the Red Keep and tour around the secret passageways and to fight for the rightful Queen of Westeros, Rhaenyra and the other members of the Blacks during the Dance of Dragons.
Sadly, even if it was possible to venture deep into alternate fantasy universes. It all was pure fiction. Not real. Impossible.
‘And so one-eyed Aemond the Kinslayer took up the iron-and-ruby crown of Aegon the Conqueror, “It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” the prince proclaimed.’
“Excuse me, do you happen to know when the bus is due to arrive?” She snaps her head up meeting the most beautiful and enchanting woman she’d ever seen. Eyes round and greener than the trees itself during spring. Hair long and black like ravens in the night sky. She was tall, taller than most of the women here with skin like porcelain that had not seen a day of sun, a rarity here in Mexico.
It was her mischievous tight lipped smile that made her feel loss of words. Unknowingly, this mysterious woman was the first person who spoke to her in English, not Spanish.
“Umm… I- I’m sorry?”
The green eyed woman smirked as if she knew the small effect she had on her. Gods she was beautiful.
“The bus–”
She shook her head out of her revere, coming to reality. “Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps a few more minutes.” She informed, pulling her mercado bags closer to her side, allowing the green eyed woman to sit, not wanting to be rude.
She murmurs a quick thank you as she sits exceedingly close to her, shoulder to shoulder, flesh to flesh with her. Jeez, talk about personal space! However, the woman doesn’t seem to care or acknowledge that she has enough space for her own person. A feeling of uncertainty rests below her gut, telling her to be vigilant around her presence.
“How long have you waited?” She asks, breaking away the long silence between them. She almost shivers at the intensity hue of her eyes that bore right through her.
“About ten to twelve minutes.” She replies, looking anywhere else but her.
A satisfactory look sketched around the woman's youthful yet elderly face which she found odd. What could be so pleasing about the bus not arriving? The woman said nothing, only sitting rather straight, almost elegant in her simple long green dress. Though, in the back of her mind, she wondered if she felt hot underneath the heaviness of the velvet fabric. She sure as hell did.
“Wait, how did you know I spoke english?” She asked as the hairs on her arms stood up straight in some kind of chilling fear.
The woman’s eyes lowered and centered on the object sitting up on her lap. “Your book gives it away.” She snickered softly, tilting her head reading the bold letters of her very worn book she got at the thrift store for just two dollars. “An interesting read.” The green eyed woman said whilst her face held no sincere fondness of it for someone who found it interesting.
“You’ve read this before?” She asked curiously, little taken back, that she finally found someone else who read Fire and Blood Vol 1. Or anything by George R. R. Martin.
“Yes, almost like I've lived through it”
She opens her mouth to speak but the green eyed woman beats her to it. “I don’t mean to pry but where are you headed?” The smile falls off her face as she remembers the warning of stranger danger she learned as a kid.
The woman must have noticed the dubious look upon her face as she threw her head back in a laugh. “I ask because it seems a storm is coming our way. And it looks like an angry one.”
Sure enough, as she looked up the sky had turned into a deep gray with heavy clouds ready to pour any minute. Well this wasn’t forecasted in the noticias this morning, otherwise, she’d carry an umbrella. Or better yet, she wouldn’t have walked all this way if a storm was brewing. (news)
“My cottage is not very far from here,” the green eyed woman revealed, standing up from the bench, overlooking the seriousness of the clouds. “It is just around the corner. Would you like to come?”
She wanted to say no, that she was better off walking an hour back to her abuela’s house, even if it meant that she’d catch a cold in the pouring rain with blisters all over her feet. Besides, she did not know anything about this woman. Every bit of her mind screamed stranger danger! Don’t go!
But as she glanced between the heavy clouds and the green eyed woman with her hand extended out, all that doubt and worriment went away.
“I don’t even know your name,” she pointed out. If all goes bad, at least she had a name to tell the authorities.
“My name is Alyssandra Riveras.” The green eyed woman smiled, bowing at the waist.
Though still somewhat skeptical, she walks alongside Alyssandra to her cottage. She makes small mental notes in her head, counting the red stop signs, right and left turns and any other landmarks of important significance.
She was almost positive she could point her way back home. It did not help that five minutes into their journey, it started harshly pouring out of nowhere like a bucket of water had been poured all over, blanketing her vision.
Alyssandra’s cottage had sat on the outskirts of the pueblo, isolated from all civilization, hidden around tall and green pine trees. A faint voice in the back of her head screamed to run and never look back. She ignored it.
From a close distance, she was able to distinguish a small window with overgrown vines and branches wrapped around the perimeter of the cottage. Bones, bells, and crystal windchimes hung from the roof and windows, mostly likely put up for some kind of spiritual protection.
She was no stranger to the craft. Although raised catholic, both her mama and abuela had hung an old broom above their doorway to keep away unwanted guests and negative energies as well as pinning the mal de ojo sigil around the walls for the look of evil and envy against their family. (evil eye)
“Cempasuchiles,” she murmured in awe when Alyssandra’s small garden came into view. It was the most of the orange flowers she had ever seen, all bright and lively and huddled together.
“When the storm is over, you can grab as many as you’d like,” Alyssandra offered, peering over her shoulder, unlocking the door to her cottage. She nods following her inside whilst giving a grateful smile.
The interior of the cottage was small, meant only for one person to take residence. The same size as what a studio apartment would be back in the states.
In no way was the inside minimal, in fact it was the opposite. Almost all of the walls were covered with shelves with small trinkets adorning inside such as little statues, crystals, herbs and other supplies.
In the center of the room lay a huge stone like table, old and antique bearing the resemblance of something medieval. And something about it, sent shivers down her spine along with the same faint voice, telling her to run.
She ignored it, again.
“Give me your belongings, and change into this,” Alyssandra says, tossing a strappy white chemise. She exchanges her poor-soaked mercado bags that contained pan de muerto, churros, and tamales for her ancestral ofrenda. (bread of the dead, offering)
She turns around to protect her modesty, seeing as there was no other room to change nor did Alyssandra point her to the bathroom, so she lifts the drenched garment over her head and sheds away the last clothing she had on her body, leaving her completely bare in her birthday suit.
She couldn’t help but to feel Alyssandra’s eyes watching her very intently, examining every inch of her body as if it met her standards or so. She knows she should use her hands to cover up and give Alyssandra a piece of her mind, or better yet introduce her to a knuckle and hand sandwich for the way she was looking too closely.
Yet her body feels frozen, unable to move under the green eyed woman’s gaze.
“Would you like some tea to keep you warm?” Alyssandra asked, moseying to the kitchen.
She blinks, whatever paralyzing feeling she had dispelled away. “Um, yes thank you.” Alyssandra nodded, pulling what looked to be a kettle on the stove. Meanwhile, she slipped on the white chemise in a hurry to not feel as exposed anymore.
She takes the time to analyze the rest of Alyssandra’s cottage as she hears the droplets of rain hit the rooftop harder and the sound metal being filled with water. Various of the same purple flower plants were placed near the entrance, she notes to herself that these couldn’t possibly be lavender but another species or something within the same family.
A small cot laid in the corner close by the hearth, with multiple open ancient books and scrolls spread on top of the bedspread. She almost wants to look through the pages and read Alyssandra’s interests but she doubts she could as she observes the handwriting is unreadable from where she stood.
She walks forward to where the hearth is, feeling slightly warmer as something immediately catches her eye. Above the mantle, hung on the wall was a medium sized portrait of a small boy, appearing no more than three years old. He stood straight, almost regally with his hands behind his back. His face held no gentleness or warmth like a child should have.
Gods forgive her, but the child looked cruel like the gueritos who bullied her in elementary school when she was just trying to make new friends. (white boys)
Though, for an evil looking child, he sure was beautiful. The most striking thing about him was his set of eyes. Wide with his left eye a dark violet and his right a dark green similarly to Alyssandra’s. His hair was straight and cut short right below his ears. She looked closer at the portrait, thinking if her eyes deceived her as she noticed the peculiar color of the boy’s hair.
Silver.
Curiosity takes the better of her as she asks, “Is that your son?”
Alyssandra turns, holding two mugs of steaming tea. “Yes, that’s my beautiful little boy,” She places both glasses on the stoned table before she sits adjacent to her. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her the sad look on Alyssandra’s eyes. “He looks like you,” she points out though it’s somewhat of a lie in hopes to lift up Alyssandra’s spirits.
Alyssandra throws her head back in a chortle, “For all my hard work and labor, I had hoped he looked like me but nature loves to play its cruel jokes. He is a replica of his bastard father.” The thought of her son’s father left a sour and disgusting taste in Alyssandra’s mouth.
Alyssandra focused her attention back to her, “What about you?” She asked, sitting rather too straight.
“Do you mean if I have kids? Gods, no.”
Alyssandra smirked, “I take it you don’t like the idea of children. I did not either but after years of solitude, I changed my mind. I had other children before my son, but all of them died before they were due. You, however, are still young. Your mind can still change.”
She shifted in her seat anxiously, sipping the odd taste of the herbal tea Alyssandra provided. It wasn’t like she did not like children. She respected children and found them quite cute with their little tiny hands and feet and infectious laughs. But besides the point of appearance, children were a tremendous amount of responsibility that she found herself not ready for.
Not now. Not ever.
She could barely handle taking care of herself. Much less care and provide for a child for eighteen years or so.
“I don’t—”
“Oh but you will,” Alyssandra fired back without so much as blinking an eye.
She grimaced, knowing where this conversation was heading. And it was about to be a not so pretty one. She glanced at the window by the door, the rain was still heavy if not more.
“I thank you for giving me shelter. But I really must go. I was only just supposed to be out for some groceries and my abuela is probably wondering where I am.” Polite and respectful enough just as her mama taught her.
She grabbed her belongings that were hanging by the fire and stuffed them inside her mercado bag. Her hand was on the cusp of prying the door open when Alyssandra rushed to her side, wrapping her hand around her wrist.
“Wait. Please don’t go.” Alyssandra pleaded, “It’s just that you remind me much about myself. I didn't mean to cause offense, I’m sorry.”
Run. Say no and run now, While you still can…
There it was again that same paralyzing feeling closing in on her feet, preventing her to move. It was strange like a shield gluing both her legs down.
She nodded, murmuring ‘fine’ under her breath as Alyssandra slowly led her back to the woven chair with such gentleness as a porcelain doll. “I still need to call my abuela, so she can know I’m alright.”
Alyssandra twisted her face in a wince, “I’m afraid we’re too far out for any signals to catch a telephone call.” She held back the overweening snicker to herself, it was why Alyssandra chose her cottage to be settled this far out in this very modernized realm; so no one could find her.
Alyssandra wasn’t lying. No matter how hard she hit her Iphone against her palm or moved it around, there had not been a single signal bar glowing. She wondered if her abuela had started to grow worried and perhaps began to search for her. She hoped she didn’t and that her cousins kept her preoccupied with the rest of the decorations to notice the duration of how long she’d been out. She also wondered if they were still going to the cementerio, to clean and decorate the graves of their loved ones but with the amount of thunder and rain, she’d doubt it was still on the agenda. (cemetery)
Alyssandra prepared some more tea as the fire gradually faltered down. This one had a different taste than the previous one with tiny purple petals floating around. Alyssandra watched very intently as she sipped every last drop while she scarcely touched her own mug.
The green eyed woman began asking her multiple personal questions, mostly about where she was originally from (due to the fact that her vocabulary deemed to be more vehement in English than Spanish), her family, and if she had any siblings. She had answered them all. Letting her know that she was just visiting from the states to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos with her family she had not seen since the death of her sweet abuelo. (grandfather)
Alyssandra’s eyes glimmered even more when she explained how strangely, her very stern and overprotective mama had suddenly let her travel by herself to a country she had never been to in years since she was small. Her mama preferred her to be where she could keep a close eye on her because ‘uno nunca sabe’ especially if you’re a woman. (one never knows)
It was odd, alright. Especially when her mama gave her money that she didn’t have, and enthusiastically wished her good fortune on her travels. Yup odd…
But not to Alyssandra.
Alyssandra sat down after cleaning both mugs ready to ask the hard hitting questions she’d been warming her up to. “Have you ever been with a man?” Her eyes widened before breaking rounds of deep laughter that made the sides of her ribs ache and cramp.
However, there wasn’t an ounce of amusement displayed on Alyssandra’s face, but rather annoyance. What was so funny? It was a simple and uncomplicated question that meant no harm. At least not to her. He couldn’t harm her any more here. Alyssandra guessed perhaps it was the side effect of the tea making her humoristic.
“No,” She replied, wiping the humoristic tears at the corner of her eyes. “The opportunity has never presented itself?” Alyssandra asked.
All the humor that previously lingered had gone swiftly away, realizing that Alyssandra was indeed asking something so personal to her. “No,” She shook her head, feeling her face hot and red. “People don’t look at me as someone they want to be with. They’d rather be with someone exciting, adventurous, and outing. And I’m neither of those things. I’m a homebody who’s idea of fun and adventure is living through fictional books.” She answered truthfully, too truthfully.
Alyssandra watched her face transform into a deeper shade of red. “What is it?” She questioned, taking a hold of her hand, taking in the role of someone empathetic.
“I want my first time to be special. Like the fairytales I grew up reading about with the grand Prince sweeping the young maiden off her feet and taking her to his castle…” The way her eyes reflected small flashes of light made Alyssandra almost feel guilty for her true intentions once the repercussions of the tea ran out.
She remembers when she too wished for a dashing knight in shining armor to take her away, far away from the shit she had been through; the pain, the suffering, and the poverty. All of it. As Alyssandra grew well into her womanhood, she realized there was no knight coming to save her. Instead, there was a selfish Prince who spared her for his desires and her many talents beyond the acts of the flesh.
But Alyssandra needed her to go. She needed that piece that was stolen from her. She didn’t want the risk of going back and facing him again and repeating through the hell and agony he put her through. So sending her for it seemed like the better alternative.
“I know you probably think it sounds stupid–” She stammered, her face still beet red.
“I don’t think it sounds stupid,” Alyssandra softly smiled, giving her hand a light squeeze. Judging by the serene look upon her face, it was a good lie that she seemed to believe.
She smiled. Finally, someone who didn’t think of the idea of waiting for the right person was silly and unrealistic.
Her smile deterred, sensing something trickle down her nose, dropping against the skin of her hand.
Blood. Her blood.
Run!
“Alyssandra?” She whispered, puzzled at the sight of more blood spilling out of her nose. Every strand of hair in her arms stood, sensing a new type of alertness course right through her. She glanced at a very blurred Alyssandra with what looked to be a smirk written on her face.
“W-What’s happening?” She stood from the chair, but that soon turned out to be a bad idea as her knees gave out, sending her straight to the stoned cold floor. She glanced up, watching as Alyssandra sauntered in front of her, and as much as she wanted to crawl away her body was glued to the floor.
“Look,” Alyssandra said, crouching down at her level before she took her in her arms like a newborn baby, weighing little to nothing. “We don’t have much time. When you wake up, I need you to retrieve something of mine…”
She felt her back collide on top of the stoned table, “What was in that tea?” She questioned but Alyssandra was quick to shush her. “It doesn’t matter now. You drank it all willingly.” There was no argument there.
Alyssandra pulled out a jar with overflowing cempasuchil petals inside and circled the petals around her. Almost like a ritualistic circle she used to watch the brujas next door do. (witches)
“You need not to be afraid. You will not be harmed as long as you do what I say. Exactly as I say.” She gulped, nodding seeing as she had no other choice. “Bruja.” She spat but Alysssandra only chuckled, “I’ve been called much worse, little dove.” (witch)
Through the corner of her eye, she saw Alyssandra holding out a small knife. “I am in need of a sapphire. It was stolen from me many years ago. It is one of a kind, which is why when you see it you’ll know it is mine.”
She momentarily shut her eyes as the dark haired woman rapidly cut the middle of her palm spewing her blood on top of the petals. “Once you’re successful, you’ll come back here with the sapphire and gather some of my materials. The marigold petals with your blood coating them; The blood of whom you took the sapphire from and lastly you’ll lay on top of my precious table here to be transported back.”
There was an evil smile on her lips that she desperately wanted to punch it off. “And if I don’t get the sapphire?” She questioned.
Alyssandra combed away her unruly braided hair, “Then I won’t bring you back and you’ll be stuck there forever.”
Fuck.
“Stuck? Stuck where? Where am I going?”
Alyssandra clicked her tongue, “A place where fairy tales do not exist, my little dove.” If she wanted a Prince to sweep her off her feet. Alys would gladly give her one.
She attempted to wiggle herself out of this pendeja’s spell but whatever Alyssandra mixed in the tea it was compelling her body to still and her eyes to slowly falter shut in a peaceful sleep. (dumbass)
“However I should warn you, this spell is only valid until tomorrow. Until Dia de Los Muertos is over and even if you do achieve in retrieving the sapphire but it is after November second, you'll be permanently trapped with him.”
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#prince aemond#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen#dark aemond x reader#dark aemond targaryen
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Wyrd Sisters Abroad
For this year's inktober I'm reimagining the three Lancre coven members, from Sir Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels, as modern day witches (and sending them on a trip to America).
So let me introduce you to:
Gytha "Nanny" Ogg (canon version)
Gytha is the optimist of the coven. She has buried three husbands (and that’s just the official count), she has fifteen children, innumerable grandchildren, an evil cat named Greebo, and only one tooth. She likes smoking her pipe, eating, drinking, playing her banjo while taking her bath, and singing (mostly “the Hedgehog Song” and “A Wizard’s Staff has a Knob on the End”). She always checks under her bed before going to sleep in the hope that there might be a man hiding under it (you never know…).
And:
the reimagined Gytha "Nanny" Ogg
Don't let her pink velour tracksuit fool you; she’s not one of the working out types of octogenarians (in fact she doesn’t do anything tiring if she can help it) - but she does like to be comfy (and maybe a little bit sexy - though she probably wouldn’t admit that). Her sneakers were chosen by one of her many grandchildren and “they’re red because Nana likes red and they have stars on them because Nana is MAGIC!”. Her witch’s hat has a red ribbon on it because she does indeed like red.
Not pictured is her foul-tempered, evil-smelling, one-eyed cat Greebo whom, despite all evidence to the contrary, Nanny considers to be a sweet, harmless kitten.
Esmerelda (Esme) "Granny" Weatherwax (canon left, reimagined right)
Esme is the most intimidating of the coven. She is very confident in her abilities. When she says that something is impossible she usually means “for anyone except herself”. Accordingly she is not a good loser (she hasn’t had much practice); from her point of view, losing is something that happens to other people.
She’s never scared of walking through a dark forest because she knows that the most terrifying thing in it is herself. Her implicit belief that everything should get out of her way extends to other witches, very tall trees and, on occasion, mountains.
Despite being an extremely powerful witch, she prefers to use headology instead of actual magic whenever possible; she is a firm believer in giving people what they need, not what they want.
She is Good and she is Right, but she's not Nice. She is feared and respected, but generally not liked.
In canon she is the most "traditionally" dressed of the three Lancre witches: all black, simple dress, sturdy boots, tall witch's hat fastened to her tight bun with hatpins, and the occasional vest. Her goal is to look as much of a witch (and as intimidating) as possible.
In the reimagined version she is still dressed in all black but I opted for a different kind of intimidating-older-woman style: the ageing punk rock virgin with the evil stare.
And last but not least:
Magrat Garlick (canon version)
Magrat's name is an accident; her mother wanted to name her Margaret, but didn't know how to spell it. She is the youngest member of the Lancre coven, and the least confident in her magical abilities (probably the reason why she rarely wears her witch’s hat - instead she prefers to wear glamorous green dresses that would suit more curvy figures than hers, and slightly wilted flower crowns on her unruly hair). She also has a huge collection of occult jewellery, is a vegetarian, and believes in folk songs and the Cycles of Nature. She is the most bookish of the three witches and an excellent herbalist - something even Granny Weatherwax (who usually calls her a “wet hen”) reluctantly admits.
In “Witches Abroad” she inherits a Fairy Godmother wand, but is unable to master it; the only effect she is able to produce with it is turning things into pumpkins.
And:
the reimagined Magrat Garlick
As a vegetarian on a quest to save Mother Earth, she wears clothes made of natural fibers, vegan sandals, and reusable tote bags. She’s also wearing a witch’s hat (purely because I couldn’t resist the aesthetic appeal), but it’s dark green instead of the traditional black and the shortest one of the group. She still has a soft spot for crystals and magical jewellery though. She wears an ankle bracelet with tiny bells on it (she finds the soft tinkling weirdly soothing).
#I had fun with these#wish me luck with inktober#usually all hell breaks loose whenever I start a drawing challenge#discworld#fanart#gnu terry pratchett#witches#inktober2022
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This Ariel is a Headutt-er!
Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x alien!fem!reader (Mantis and Peter Quill's younger sibling)(reader is the same species as Mantis)
Warnings : A wee bit of violence
Summary: Instead of Prince Eric, it was Ariel herself who swept you off your feet.
Aurhor's note: everyone is alive in all my fics, except if a specific setting or timeline is mentioned
This is a fic requested by @fayhar ! I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish this, I got too caught up with classes. But it's summer break now and I can finally write again! Hope you like this fic! English isn't my first language so please point out the mistakes nicely, I'll fix it 🥲
It all started when Yondu handed Peter a DVD that he had obtained from Earth.
The cover of the DVD box read 'The Little Mermaid' with a picture of what looked like a girl who is half Terran and half fish with bright red hair.
It was the first time the gang ever watched an animated movie during movie night and everyone had different reactions. Drax made silly comments, Rocket complained about certain scenes, Peter would place a kiss on the crown of Gamora's head during the more romantic scenes, and she would cuddle closer to him, Mantis and Groot were gushing about the little details and Nebula, surprisingly, seemed to enjoy the movie.
And you? You were enchanted by the whole thing, from the dinner scene, to the little fair date and boat ride. From all catchy songs and romantic lines to the heartbreaking conflicts ang the heroic fights.
You laughed, you cried, and you were undeniably HOOKED.
And let's just say with a little bit of begging (and using your big black puppy eyes), you managed to convince your brother to get Yondu to find more of these wonderful films.
You would consume every single thing that Yondu could get his hands on in a crazy short amount of time. Mantis would find you huddled up into a little ball on the couch in the middle of the night, eyes gleaming like a little child as you watched whatever new DVD that Yondu had gotten his hands on.
From old Disney movies like Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast, to the more modern ones like Tangled and Frozen, you had seen them all.
But alas, 'The Little mermaid' is the one that holds your heart.
And as result of all the Disney that you've been slurping up, you eventually found yourself wondering if you're going to get your happy ending.
When is a prince Eric coming to sweep you off your feet? Take you on carriage rides and dancing at carnivals? Are you even going to get a happy ending?
Your brother told you there is someone for everyone in the galaxy.
"And when you meet them.....You'll know it."
He'd said, as he looked at Gamora with a warm loving gaze.
You found it hard to believe.
You'll know it when you meet them? How???
You were skeptical.
Until one day when the Guardians got invited to a party by Tony Stark himself, did you find yourself staring at a certain woman.
It was nearly midnight, the music was still blaring loudly and you found yourself getting a little too overwhelmed, so you decided to flee the scene to catch some fresh air.
You stepped outside, eyes closed as you feel the cool wind gently brush against your skin. You had expected that the party was going to be a little too much for you, but what you hadn't expected was for there to be someone else at the balcony.
This 'someone else' was a woman, and beautiful one at that. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, the fabric hugging her body in all the right places. Her fiery red mane was curled to perfection, the luscious tendrils framed her face like puzzle pieces that fell perfectly into place.
Ariel.
That was the first word that came to your mind.
Her eyes were closed, lengthy eyelashes fluttered in the wind, and she huffed out a deep sigh, seemingly bothered by whatever it is that's on her mind.
You reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, aiming to calm her down and maybe make her feel a little more at ease with the help of your powers.
But the slight brush of your fingertips against her skin was enough to make you end up on the cold ground. With your wrists pinned to the hard surface nonetheless.
Your antennaes tensed, the gears in your head were running miles per hour, one second you were reaching out and the next thing you know you had been headbutted onto the floor into a vulnerable position.
With your mind still spiralling, you spat out the first thing in your mind.
"H-hello! A-are you Ariel?"
What?
It looked like your question had taken the woman aback, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Did this bitch with antennaes just ask her if she was a Disney character?
"Am- Am I who??"
"A-ariel?"
You had no idea what's going on, but you were somehow very, very intrigued by the woman on top of you.
The woman looked at you up and down at your attire.
Party wear.
It took her a second before she realized that you were just one of the people invited tonight, and she quickly apologized.
"Sorry about that, my fight or flight reflexes just kicked in. And to answer your question, no, I am not Ariel. "
She chuckled in amusement when she saw you slightly deflate.
"Aw... Bummer"
You had mumbled to yourself, earning another chuckle from the redhead beside you.
You both stayed silent for a while after that, blocking out the muffled music playing inside and relishing in the peaceful night atmosphere outside.
"So...You're really not Ariel?"
Her head turned to look you, elbow on the balcony railing with her chin resting on ther palm.
"Sorry to dissapoint you, but no, I'm not."
The small pout that appeared on your lips made her smile.
The both of you started to pick on some random topics to talk about. Your jobs, hobbies, crime cases, outer space, everything you could possibly imagine.
Natasha could feel the click and so could you, the both of you felt a lot more settled than expected.
"So...Are you going to tell me your name"
You paused, you had completely forgotten to tell her your name. She let out a breathy laugh as you come to the realization.
"My name's Y/n, I'm one of the Guardians."
you shyly mumbled, hand fiddling with an antennae, a sign that you're embarassed, it's a little habit you've had ever since you were a young bug.
"Y/n huh? I like that."
The way your name rolled off her lips made you slightly dizzy, it sounded good, way too good, enchanting even.
"Don't you want to know my actual name?"
Your ears perked up at that.
"It's Natasha, Natasha Romanoff."
"Wow..."
It was even prettier than you expected it to be, and it fits her a lot. Her voice kept repeating in your mind, and it won't go away.
The echo of her beautiful name.
Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff, Natasha Romanoff....
"Do you like my name that much?"
"Huh?"
"You've been saying my name in repeat for a while now."
yikes.
"And your face is all red"
double yikes.
Your antennaes drooped as you fidget in place, eyes looking anywhere but at her. Your mind was spinning, everything was going at full speed in there, you didn't know what to think, what to say, what to do, it was all so fast to the point where everything was a blur.
Seeing you panicking like this made her chuckle. Sure she knew she's got an effect on people, and she never really cared about them.
But what you're failing to see here is that you had just as much of an effect on her. The way you looked so attentively at her whenever she speaks, as if absorbing every single word with such care and warmth, the way your eyes gleam when you asked if she's Ariel, down to the way you're panicking at her teasing right now, everything about you made her feel all warm. Comfortable even.
You're odd, but it only made her want to get to know you more.
Her slender fingers reached out, gently lifting your chin to make you look at her.
"Do you know that you're very strange?"
The sensors on your head drooped even further at that, is it because you're not a Terran? Is it because you look weird and have antennaes?
"I'm sorry I'm not a terran..."
Her eyebrows furrowed.
"What?"
"I'm not like you Natasha, I'm not terran..."
You felt her hands move to cup your face, and oh how you wish you could lean on them forever.
"Y/n, you've misunderstood, I meant it in a good way, and you're strange because,well, you're you. You're unique. And it has nothing to do with having antennaes or not. Though they do add to your scale of cuteness."
She laughed as your face started to flush once more, releasing your face to lean on the railing.
You don't know if you wanna slap that cheeky grin off her lips or kiss her it off instead, but your mind was once again all hazy.
Gosh, you're down bad.
Leaning onto the railing, you closed your eyes to calm yourself down, focusing on the cool night wind blowing at your face.
It felt nice and calming. What time is it? It's probably way past midnight, and with the soft wind cradling you, your mind was starting to slowly fall into rest.
Unbeknownst to you, Natasha had her eyes on you this whole time, and your dipping head landed onto her waiting palm, stopping you from headbanging onto the railing.
She carried you as your knees started to buckle, carefully placing you on the couch in the living room. She watched over you until the guardians decided that it was time to leave, they thanked her and walked out into the night with you still fast asleep on Gamora's back.
The twinge of jealousy that appeared was something unexpected.
Why is she jealous? Was it the fact that you seem so comfortable the zenwhoberian? Was it because she wanted to be the one you snuggle into? The one you're most comfortable with?
Whatever it is, she knew she must meet you again.
You woke up in a daze the next morning. How'd you end up back in your room? Weren't you talking with Natasha?
Where's Natasha?
The sound of the door creaking open put your thoughts to a pause.
"Y/n! Breakfast is ready!"
Peter walked in with a glass of water in his hand, handing it over for you to drink.
"What's on your mind? I can see the gears in your head turning you know?"
You placed the glass down on the nightstand before turning to face you brother.
"PETER!"
"Wha- why the shout?!"
"What did you do before you married Mora?"
A blink.
Another blink.
"Oh, I proposed."
"What's proposed?"
And that's how Peter ended up telling you the whole story of him going ring shopping.
"I wanna buy a ring!"
Peter choked on his own spit. Whom for?? When did you find a lover?
"I wanna propose to Natasha!"
And the next thing he knew, he was already dragged out of the door.
The day somehow ended with you bouncing on your feet outside the avengers compound, a panting Peter Quill right behind you.
You had requested to meet Natasha, and was currently waiting for her to come down the multiple floors of the tower.
Peter was still trying to catch his breath after running around non-stop for the whole day.
"Y/n *pant* you can't just-"
He was cut off by the sound of the elevator door opening, revealing the gorgeous red-headed woman of your dreams.
"Hey Y/n, what's up-"
"Marry me!"
The whole floor went silent. Until Peter awkwardly spoke up,
"Sorry, I really tried to stop her, but she wouldn't listen."
When the redhead heard that you had come to give her a visit, she was much more excited than she would admit, her heart was pounding and she was in the elevator merely seconds after she heard the information, wanting to know why you were here again.
But a proposal from you was not something that she had expected.
"Marry me please Natasha?"
She looked at you standing there with puppy eyes, your hands presenting a red gemmed ring pop to her. This was certainly not something she gets to see everyday.
A hearty chuckle escaped her lips, and you deflated a bit, thinking that maybe she was mocking you. But your thoughts were dismissed when you feel a pair of soft lips pressed against your cheek.
"You're adorable you know that?"
You were frozen in place, did she just kiss you on the cheek?
What does this mean?
"As cute as this whole proposal was, I think I'll have to refuse it."
Your antennaes drooped in disappointment. You just got rejected.
"But instead..."
She placed her fingers on your chin.
"Let me take you out on a few dates first hm?"
Your mouth open and closed in wordless confusion.
"Date?"
"Yes date, we can go anywhere you'd like, how about that?"
Your eyes gleamed.
"Can we watch The Little Mermaid?"
She threw her head back laughing. Oh, could you be any cuter than you already are? But of course, she nodded and pulled you with her into the elevator. Leaving poor Peter to go back to the ship by himself.
Though he didn't mind, because seeing his sister so happy was worth it.
Maybe you'd have your happy ending after all, not with Prince Eric, but with beautiful badass Ariel instead.
And that's more than enough for you ❤️
Oh, and Thor asked for the ring pop, and you gave it to him. Thor is happy. Good job!
MASTERLIST
Tbh I deleted the whole thing halfway through cause it was a mess and I hated it, and so I had to rewrite it again😂
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do u write for acno?????
If so, please feed us with acnologia x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻 headcanons, anything ill take it please the people are starved
I haven't considered acno before; he's not really a character I like to explore thaaat much, but I tried lol
these came out pretty angsty bc I really don't think there's a way to survive a relationship with acnologia given how he ends up :(
acnologia x reader headcanons
cw: mentions of child death and injuries; overall angst
♡ probably the only way to have a feasible relationship with acnologia is if you meet him when he's a human. the fiore of 400 years ago is nothing like modern times. it's wild, lush, vibrant, and dangerous. dragons roam freely, not just present but overpowering, and you're a meager human. still, you know you want to help your people in any way you can. you become a healer, and that's how you meet doctor acnologia.
♡ healing is a difficult job, and you spend many sleepless nights in the infirmary with acno mixing potions and balms and salves. you don't miss the way his eyes widen when your fingers brush against his as he hands you the mandrake root. he doesn't miss your tiny smile as his hand ghosts over your lower back when he passes you to weigh ingredients.
♡ it's a quiet relationship that blooms out of solidarity, a shared passion for healing, and dedication. you're both calm people, and despite the daily threat of dragons, you don't think anything could shake your relationship with the logical, ever-rational man working beside you. and yet.
♡ it's a day like any other. except a mother runs in wailing, her child dead in her arms. there's nothing you could have done, not with your healing prowess or with acnologia's medical expertise, because the child was killed by a dragon. you can't stop yourself from cringing at the mangled flesh, the smell of charred skin. acnologia is quiet, and neither of you can say anything to console the woman sobbing on your infirmary floor.
♡ things are different after that. acno doesn't engage you in witty banter or philosophical conversation. he eats less and less. he disappears at night. the work has always been split evenly between the two of you, but now you find yourself measuring ingredients and keeping the books. those were always acno's jobs.
♡ acnologia comes home covered in blood. it's not his. you can tell because it's black. the black blood of a fucking dragon, and suddenly you're dragging him into the back room, tears streaming down your face as you try to get answers from him. his voice is monotone as he confesses. you feel the world spin as the words dragon slayer magic, dragon festival, and dragon king run through your head. still, you patch him up.
♡ the days get longer and the nights shorter. acnologia seems calmer but... more distant. you notice the blood under his fingernails (not his. never his.) and the bags under his eyes, but damn is he good at distracting you. you know you should leave. you know dragon slayer magic is corruptive. you know what acnologia will turn into, but you relish every night that you can hold him close and press kisses to his crown.
♡ you rub salve into the scales that spread across acno's arms and cheeks. he brings you shiny stones and pretty glass. calls them courting gifts. it never fails to make you laugh. you eat more meat for dinner. you don't ask where it's from. you run the front end of the infirmary completely by yourself now, while acno stays in the back and prepares you potions. he doesn’t want to scare the kids that come to see you, and you take it as a sign of his persevering humanity. you start to think that maybe the idyllic life you've built together can go on forever.
♡ all you can think about is how green your village was, before it was consumed by dragon fire. the smoke makes your eyes burn, but you can't move from under the rubble. you can feel the dragon more than see it, its footsteps reverberating in your chest. you shut your eyes, tears streaming down your face, and accept death. but it doesn't come.
♡ your sweet, dear acnologia is unrecognizable. a blur of black and blue that makes the dragon screech in pain. it's quick, it's lethal, and it's terrifying. the dragon is dead, and you're sobbing for all that's changed in the past few years. the way acnologia pulls you out of the rubble isn't human, but it isn't dragon either. he clings to you, caresses your face, his worried words coming out in growls and roars. all you can do is reach up, brush your thumb across his cheek, and smile. it's still him, still your dear acnologia.
♡ you wake up on the outskirts of a town, bandaged roughly. you don't see acnologia for a long, long time after that fateful night. you set up a new infirmary, you treat new patients, you never forget the little boy with a constant sniffle that died in the dragon attack. and you never forget acnologia. in the dead of night, you let yourself imagine him coming home.
♡ it's so similar, you're getting deja vu. the town is burning, and you can barely breathe. you can move this time, though, and you run because you know he's not coming to save you. you make it to the edge of the forest, so close to safety. but a dragon blocks your path. scales dark as night, electric blue markings, and eyes that pierce your very soul.
♡ you fall to your knees and sob. you could never, never run from acnologia, even if it meant the end for you. you only wish that this won't hurt him. you look straight into your beloved's eyes, and you smile. tears streaming down your face, ash covering your cheeks, arms burned and angry red. you've never looked more beautiful. you close your eyes and wait for death. it doesn't come.
#ambiguous ending but uh. also not that ambiguous lol#lychee writes#acno was a healer and look where he ended up :(( what he became :((#we should've gotten full acno backstory lowkey underdeveloped w so much potential#fairy tail#fairy tail headcanons#fairy tail x reader#acnologia
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Hel Deity Guide
Who is Hel?
Often referred to as a “goddess of death”, Hel is actually the ruler who presides over the dead. Her domain is the underworld, also called Hel (or Helheim). She is often described in text as cruel or cold, not uncommon for a deity that deals with death. This may not represent the experience that those who work with Hel have had, please keep in mind that deities are not solely their mythology.
Parents and Siblings
Loki (father)
Angrboda (mother)
Fenrir (brother)
Jörmungand (brother)
Sleipnir (brother)
Lovers or Partners
N/A
Children
N/A
Epithets
While modern pagans may have epithets for her, there is no historical Epithet for Hel that I have found.
Notes
The Aesir were told that Loki’s three children would cause destruction one day. To combat this, Odin threw Hel into Helheim where she crowned herself queen and made it into her realm.
Her appearance is said to be that of a woman who looks half human and half blue like a corpse.
Some think that Helheim, the underworld, came first and Hel as a goddess became a later development or personification of said place.
It’s important to note that Helheim is not a place of punishment or torture—but that doesn’t mean it’s particularly pleasant.
Hel’s most popular story is The Death of Baldr, in which she refuses to allow Baldr to leave Hel unless every last creature on earth weeps for him. Every being except one giantess (who people believe to be Loki in disguise) cried, but since the terms were not fully met, Baldr remained in Hel.
Her name means “hidden”, referencing those who are dead and invisible to the living.
Many scholars believe that the deity Hel is a creation of the Christian mythographer, Snorri Sturluson.
Since she is the daughter of Loki (a half-giant) and Angrboda (a giantess), Hel is also probably a giantess or jötunn.
Modern Deity Work
Since there is no evidence of a pre-Christian Goddess Hel of the dead, there are no true historical offerings or correspondences that I can write here. Everything in the section will be based either on Hel’s myths or resourced from posts about her from her followers and devotees.
Correspondences
Since there is no historical evidence of a cult or worship for Hel, these correspondences come from her myths and from posts from her followers. These are only some possible correspondences, if you feel that there are others then feel free to add them in a comment or reblog!
Rocks/Stone/Crystals
Onyx
Fossils
Jet
Obsidian
Herbs/Plants
Ivy
Juniper
Baby’s Breath or other small white flowers
Blackthorn
Elder
Fungus (though fungi are not plants I'm placing it here)
Animals
Vultures or other scavengers that feed on the dead
Raven
Hellhound
Symbols
Staff
Scepter
Offerings
Bones
Meat charred to ash
Bread
Alcohol
Black tea
Apples
Graveyard dirt (be smart about obtaining it please)
Acts of Devotion
Visit a cemetery
Honor your ancestors
Research her
Go to an apple orchard
Confront any fear of death that you may have (only if you’re in a place to do so) come to terms with it as being a part of life
References and Further Reading
Hel - Norse Mythology
Hel - Skjalden
Hel - World History
Honoring Hel - @theheathenwitch
Hel - @jasper-pagan-witch
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To Quell a Storm
imogen/laudna | 764w | fluff
And that’s when she met eyes with her, black eyes that look like a void where the stars play.
Wanted to write a little fluff thing. I have this whole modern setting going on in my head so it trying to get it out. I might add another chapter or just keep it as a short one off. Hope y'all enjoy <3 Reposting as its own link here on tumblr.
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The creaking shelves sighed as Imogen grabbed a hefty tome from its perch. She put it onto the cart she was wheeling around, placing it carefully among the growing stack of books she had to rearrange. She carried on, skimming her gaze across the shelf. The soft light of sunset peeked through the mostly closed curtains against the far wall as she turned to a new aisle. The slight creaking of the cart wheels, the gentle thuds of her shoes against the wood flooring, and the ambience of a day ending kept her mind soothed, kept any anxiety out. Imogen closed her eyes and sighed, letting the calm serenity wash over her.
She began pushing the cart before she opened her eyes fully, and almost immediately bashed into a figure with a thunk. Her eyes shot open as she looked at the obstacle blocking her way. And that’s when she met eyes with her, black eyes that look like a void where the stars play. The lank figure with pale skin and black hair before her almost dropped the book she had in her hands.
“Oh! Terribly sorry! I should have noticed you coming,” a velvety yet cheerful voice sounded. Imogen’s eyes wandered over the person for just a moment, noting how that black hair covered her face almost like a veil falling over her crown. She had a beauty mark on her cheek, near one of her eyes. Imogen shook her head for a moment.
“Oh, uh, it’s quite alright. Just wasn’t expecting a customer this late,” she replied, fiddling with the cart handle.
“Is it closing time already? My apologies, I will wrap up with this soon,” the black haired woman beamed at her a smile that was as soft as the light warming the library. Thoughts started to swirl as Imogen thought of replies. What is this woman doing here? Looking at books duh. So stupid. Does she need to be told the library’s hours? Well, she just said she’s gonna finish up. Ugh, why are you an idiot? Just say okay and be done. But what if she puts a book in the wrong area? Does she know the categorization? Her heart beat faster as it felt like her head was going to burst. Her throat felt as if it was swelling, closing, her breath caught behind a barrier.
Then, a hand cupped Imogen’s cheek, a soft thumb brushing it. “Are you okay?” the woman asked. The thoughts stopped. Her heart rate slowed. Her senses focused on the cold hand against her warm cheeks. Her eyes staring into the comforting void.
“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Do you need help with anything? Just a note, we close at 6 PM,” Imogen mustered out. She exhaled through her nose. She hoped the woman didn’t notice the shakiness in her breath.
“Thank you! I was unsure about the hours. I am just looking for a silly romance book called "The Rat and the Ballerina". Do you have it in here-Oh, sorry” she replied, apologizing as she took her hand away. Imogen almost protested then blushed a delicate red. God, what was wrong with her?
“That is quite a popular one right now. It’s over here,” she said as she left her cart to chaperone the woman to the area. The book’s home sat at the end of the shelf on the opposite side. She pointed it out once they got to the location, both of them reaching for it. Imogen’s hand placed over the dark haired woman’s, and her hand recoiled just as quickly as it was placed. The dark haired woman just smiled still, giggling. Not at her she felt. Otherwise her thoughts would be berating her once again.
“I’m Laudna, by the way. I think I’ll be coming here more often,” she said. Her voice held so much brightness in it. Not a brightness one squints at, but a brightness one is drawn to. Like a lamp light in a dark room, a fire in the cold night. Safety.
“I’m Imogen, nice to meet you. I work most days so if you ever need help again, I’ll be here,” she replied, holding her hand out. Laudna blinked between the hand and Imogen for a moment before shaking Imogen’s hand with a delicate touch.
“You have such a lovely name! Alright, tata for now!” Laudna said as she whisked herself away to the counter where Imogen's coworker helped finish the transaction.
‘Laudna… You have a pretty name, too.’ Imogen thought. She found herself excited for the first time to come back to work.
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History is awesome, by any and every definition of the word.
Two photographs from nearly the exact same vantage point taken roughly 70 years apart. On the surface, they are perfect bookends for the story of one single person, but imagine all the other stories connected to that era. The husbands and wives and affairs and mistresses and children and grandchildren that have always populated the tabloids, of course. But also the end of an empire. The independence and self-determination of millions of people and the unheard voices of millions more. So many stories and lives with direct and indirect connections to the events that happened between the day that the 25-year-old woman walking into Westminster Abbey in the black-and-white photo on the left had a crown placed on her head and the day that pallbearers carried a flag-draped casket with her 96-year-old body into Westminster Abbey one last time for her state funeral in the color photograph on the right.
I’m not from the UK, I’m not a royalist, and I’m certainly not an imperialist, but I love history and that is the closest thing to a personification of history that I think any of us will ever experience. The Queen has always been a representative of something to somebody -- that was basically the duty she accepted and the utility she served. Some people believed she represented something positive, some people believed she represented something negative (or even evil), and others believed she represented the anachronism of monarchy itself in a diverse, modern society. To me, I saw history and everything that comes with history: the good, bad, and ugly (anachronisms are part of the daily diet of historians). But it’s always interesting and we can always learn from it. Do you know why? Because history is awesome.
#History#Queen Elizabeth II#Death of Queen Elizabeth II#State Funeral of Queen Elizabeth II#State Funeral#Death of the Queen#The Queen#The Queen's Funeral#Historians#Westminster Abbey
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Eldest, Morrigan
“Morrigan” © Natalia Nesterenko, accessed at her ArtStation here
[Commissioned by @hiswrathundoesthewicked. This is, to my knowledge, the first attempt at giving one of the Eldest, the fey equivalent of demigods in Pathfinder, a stat block. I borrowed formatting and abilities from the demon lords and empyreal lords in order to do so. Morrigan, or the Morrigan, is an Irish goddess of war and death, and casts a long shadow over modern interpretations of Celtic myth and culture, neopaganism, and the concept of fey in fantasy. So much so that there’s already two Eldest canonical to Pathfinder, Madgh and Shyka the Many, that poach some of her flavor. So I had to make sure that this Morrigan stood out and had a niche.
She also casts a long shadow over horny artists on the internet, although she does come by it more honestly than some other mythological figures. In surviving myths, she does try to seduce Cúchulainn, who refuses her, and has sex with the god Dagda before his battle with the fomorians. Both a Darkstalkers character and a Dragon Age character are named Morrigan in her honor, and both of them wear very revealing clothing. Most artistic depictions of the actual goddess Morrigan also involve deep cleavage, open robes and boobplate. Part of the reason I chose this art was because it looks regal and fierce and not at all sexualized.]
Morrigan
The Phantom Queen, Queen of Crows
N Eldest Fey of battle, death and scavengers
Domains Animal, Death, Luck, War
Subdomains Blood, Fate, Feathers, Tactics
Worshippers druids, tengu, warriors
Minions norns, valkyries, vilderavns
Holy Symbol bird skull with blood painted over the eyes
Favored Weapon bastard sword
Obedience Wash your hands, face and weapons in blood. This can be your own blood or someone else’s. Gain a +4 sacred bonus on saves vs. death effects
Feysworn Boons
1. Battle Gift (Sp) deathwatch 3/day, spiritual weapon 2/day or vampiric touch 1/day
2. Fight On (Su) You gain ferocity as a supernatural ability.
3. Death to All Foes (Sp) You can cast wail of the banshee once per day.
Eldest, Morrigan
CR 28 N Fey
This woman is statuesque and muscled, with a cruel beauty. She appears almost entirely human, except that her hands are stained red and end in bird like talons instead of nails. She wears an iron crown and a cloak of black feathers.
Morrigan the Phantom Queen is the fey patron of warfare. Unlike many other powers of war, she is stridently neutral, giving succor or inflicting banes on warriors of any creed, cause or alignment as she sees fit. Her primary interest in war is in generating the dead and feeding her beloved beasts, scavengers all. Although in different places she may be associated with boars and eels, vultures and hyenas, her favorites are the crows, who act as her eyes and ears in the sky, and in whose feathers she is perpetually adorned.
Morrigan is more interested in turning the tides of battles than in fighting herself. She frequently visits battlefields in the form of a crow, using her spell-like abilities and curse of unluck to make a peasant into a hero, a king into a fool, and generally make wars more deadly and more interesting. She may offer her services intentionally to a warrior in exchange for some favor, but just as often bestows her gifts capriciously. In combat, she is deadly with sword and bow, and the grievous wounds she inflicts delay healing from all sources. Morrigan never fights to the death if she can help it, as there are so many other battles to influence and decomposers to feed.
The creatures that serve Morrigan come from all manner of alignments, interpreting her silences and cryptic pronouncements as they see fit. Norns attempt to weave her battles into their tapestries of fate, and she is on good terms with Madgh, their patron. Valkyries and einherji fight for her glorious honor, and take the finest warriors to join their ranks when they die. Vilderavns use her doctrines to destabilize nations and sew dissent among armies. Morrigan has cordial relations with the psychopomps, as she has little interest in the flow of souls. The Horseman of War despises her and views her as competition, but Morrigan pays that position little mind.
Morrigan CR 28
XP 4,915,200
N Medium fey (Eldest, extraplanar, shapechanger)
Init +10; Senses lifesense 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +51
Defense
AC 47, touch 31, flat-footed 47 (+10 Dex, +6 deflection, +13 natural, +8 armor)
hp 682 (35d6+560); regeneration 20 (deific or mythic)
Fort +29, Ref +30, Ref +29
DR 20/epic and cold iron; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charms, compulsions, curses, death effects, energy drain, fear, poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, electricity 30, fire 30; SR 39
Defensive Abilities cloak of feathers, ferocity, freedom of movement, improved uncanny dodge, recovery
Offense
Speed 30 ft., fly 60 ft. (good)
Melee +5 adamantine bastard sword +36/+31/+26/+21 (1d10+20/17-20), claw +25 (1d6+7 plus curse of unluck) or 2 claws +30 (1d6+13 plus curse of unluck)
Ranged +5 adaptive composite longbow +33/+28/+23/+18 or +31/+31/+26/+21/+16 (1d8+20/x3)
Special Attacks festering critical
Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +39
Constant—freedom of movement, shield of faith
At will—astral projection, bestow curse (DC 25), greater teleport, haste (M), heroism (M), rage (DC 24), threefold aspect, vampiric touch (M)
3/day—blade barrier (DC 27) (M), finger of death (DC 28) (M), geas/quest, greater dispel magic, heal (DC 27) (M), harm (DC 27) (M), quickened mass bull strength, summon fey, transformation (B), vision
1/day—animal shapes, mage’s disjunction (M), power word kill (M), wail of the banshee (DC 30)
(M) = can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in her fey realm
Statistics
Str 36, Dex 31, Con 42, Int 30, Wis 29, Cha 33
Base Atk +17; CMB +28 (+32 disarm, sunder); CMD 58
Feats Alertness, Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Deadly Aim, Disruptive, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bastard sword), Great Fortitude, Greater Disarm, Greater Penetrating Strike, Greater Sunder, Greater Vital Strike, Improved Critical (bastard sword, longbow), Improved Disarm, Improved Sunder, Improved Vital Strike, Penetrating Strike, Point Blank Shot, Power Attack, Precise Shot, Quick Draw, Quicken SLA (mass bull strength), Rapid Shot, Spellbreaker, Vital Strike, Weapon Focus (bastard sword, longbow), Weapon Specialization (bastard sword, longbow)
Skills Acrobatics +48, Bluff +49, Diplomacy +49, Disguise +49, Fly +52, Heal +44, Intimidate +46, Knowledge (local, nature) +48, Knowledge (history, nobility, religion) +45, Perception +51, Sense Motive +51, Stealth +48, Survival +44
Languages Aklo, Auran, Celestial, Common, Infernal, Elven, Necril, Sylvan, telepathy 300 ft.
SQ battle gift, change shape (animal, giant or humanoid, greater polymorph), Eldest traits, visions of murder, warrior fey
Ecology
Environment any land
Organization unique
Treasure double standard (+5 adamantine bastard sword, +5 adaptive composite longbow, 60 arrows, other treasure)
Special Abilities
Battle Gift (Sp) Morrigan can use her transformation spell-like ability as if it had a range of touch.
Cloak of Feathers (Su) When wearing a garment made out of feathers, Morrigan gains a +8 armor bonus to AC without a maximum Dex bonus or armor check penalty, and a fly speed of 60 feet with good maneuverability. This is an effect of Morrigan, not her cloak.
Curse of Unluck (Su) Claw—injury; save Will DC 38; frequency 1/hour; effect target must reroll any roll decided by the GM and take the worse result; duration until removed. The save DC is Charisma based. Morrigan also inflicts this curse with her natural weapons when assuming a form with natural weapons using change shape.
Eldest Traits (Ex, or Sp) Morrigan is one of the Eldest, powerful fey lords that rule over domains of the First World. The Eldest have the following traits
The Eldest can grant spells to their worshipers, granting access to four domains and four subdomains
An Eldest’s natural weapons, as well as any weapon they wield, are treated as being epic and any alignment possessed by the Eldest
Immunity to ability damage, ability drain, charm effects, compulsion effects, energy drain and fear effects
Regeneration (Ex) Only damage from a deific or mythic source can deal permanent damage to the Eldest
Rejuvenation (Ex) When an Eldest is slain, they return to life in its realm in 1d10 days. An Eldest may only use this ability once per year—if they are slain again in the meantime, they are slain for good.
Summon Fey (Sp) Three times per day as a standard action, an Eldest can summon up to a CR 20 encounter of fey creatures or Tane (such as bandersnatches, jubjub birds, thrasfyr, sards, etc). This is the equivalent of a 9th level spell.
Festering Critical (Su) Whenever Morrigan confirms a critical hit made against an opponent, that foe must succeed a DC 38 Will save or be unable to heal physical or ability damage from any source for 1 minute. Multiple failed saves increase the duration. This is a curse effect, and the save DC is Charisma based.
Recovery (Ex) At the end of her turn, Morrigan can automatically shake off any one condition affecting her except for dead. If she is suffering from multiple conditions, she chooses which to remove each round.
Visions of Murder (Su) By concentrating, Morrigan can see through the eyes of any crow within 100 miles that she chooses.
Warrior Fey (Ex) Morrigan gains 11 bonus combat feats, and is treated as being a 20th level fighter for the purposes of qualifying for feats. She is proficient in all simple and martial weapons, in shields and in all armor.
Fey Realms
An Eldest gains the following additional powers while in its realm (the statistics above do not include these abilities):
Mythic: An Eldest functions as a 10th mythic rank creature, including the mythic power ability (10/day, surge +1d12). It may expend uses of mythic power to use the mythic versions of any spell-like ability denoted with an asterisk (*) just as if the ability were a mythic spell.
Use of the following spell-like abilities at will—demand, discern location, fabricate, major creation, and polymorph any object (when used on objects or creatures that are native to the realm, the polymorph duration factor increases by 6).
Use of the following spell-like abilities once per day—dimensional lock*, miracle (limited to physical effects that manipulate the realm or to effects that are relevant to the Eldest’s areas of concern)
Heightened Awareness (Ex): An Eldest gains a +10 insight bonus on Perception checks and Initiative checks.
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Call of Duty: Modern Warfare (Reboot) - Works In Progress
I'm always happy to answer questions and share progress on any of these! My Ask Box is always open. Links lead to the tag for that WIP.
All WIPs are 18+. Minors, please don't.
John 'Bravo 6' Price
#Useful Girl WIP - A retrospective that takes John Price from Pompous Playboy Lieutenant to Suave Dominant Captain with a woman that makes his head spin and his pants tight. BDSM, D/s, boot blacking and similar kinks.
John Price x OFC Scarlett Morgan
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick
#Call of The Wild WIP - When his werewolf girlfriend goes missing, Kyle Garrick must set his feelings aside in order to save her from a hybrid trafficking ring.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Shannon Porter
Shifter AU
#The Contract WIP - In a fit of frustration, Rosalind Henderson makes a deal with a demon. When he comes to collect, they're taken aback by how normal he is. Or is there more to this contract she didn't know about when they signed?
Kyle Garrick x OC Rosalind 'Rosie'/'Lin' Henderson
Demon AU; Collab with @pfhwrittes
#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; Johnny MacTavish x OFC Anna Gibson
#Embroidered Secret WIP - Kyle Garrick meets Lucille Fitzroy at one of the many balls. Follow their courtship with a lost and found trinket, a realization of love, and lots of witty banter and stolen moments. He fell first, she fell harder trope.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Lucille Fitzroy
Regency AU; Collab with @ofdivinity01
#Flowers from My Love WIP - Johanna Hawkins, disabled flower farmer, meets the Taskforce 141 and becomes smitten with Kyle Garrick when they occupy the neighbor's house. When a farmer's market event is attacked, she has to trust her new friends to be able to get her out of the precarious situation she's found herself in.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Johanna Hawkins
#A Protégé's Trust WIP - Laswell's CIA Operative Lisa 'Badger' Compton manages to get under Kyle's skin every which way he turns. It's infuriating how much she bothers him. Her silky voice over comms, her voluptuous curves handing him information, the twinkle of her painted fingernail on her firearm's trigger - one of these days, he's going to lose it over this woman.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Lisa 'Badger' Compton.
Collab with @pfhwrittes
#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it.
Fantasy AU
Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish
#Brix WIP - Orchard manager Annabeth Turner deals with becoming a safehouse for a clandestine task force. The Scot on the team can't seem to help himself and continues to get in the way.
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Annabeth Turner
#Highland Tartans WIP - John MacTavish and Holly Duncan, of neighboring Scottish clans, are set to be wed.
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x OFC Holly Duncan
Historic Scottish Highlands AU (historical accuracy is questionable)
#Museum Muse/Puppy Love WIP - Johnny meets an art model while on leave and a relationship blossoms. BDSM, D/s dynamic, puppy play
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavis x OFC Darlene 'Daisy' Houghton
#Corporal Distraction WIP - Sgt. Kyle Garrick has been seeing Corporal Anna Gibson in secret. His teammates have had enough of their late night shenanigans.
Kyle Garrick x OFC Anna Gibson; Johnny MacTavish x OFC Anna Gibson
#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it.
Fantasy AU
Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'
Simon 'Ghost' Riley
#Palace Hallways WIP - It's not awful being the newly crowned Queen's lady-in-waiting. What is awful is the attention you've unintentionally garnered from Sir Garrick. What's even worse, is the Royal Artificer and Royal Druid seem to be paying you the same kind of attention. You're a mess, and no one will do anything about it.
Fantasy AU
Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, Simon Riley x OFC 'Petal'
Kate Laswell
#Edge Dressing WIP - Kate is roped into a bootblacking demonstration by her wife Letty. A curious voyeur learns more about the art than they expected.
Kate Laswell x OFC Letty Laswell x OC (TBD)
Task Force 141 - Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap
(May Include other MW characters)
#Feylands WIP - The Court of Maevonia have been in search of a human for their court plaything for a while. Josephine Kaplan fits the description of what they want. But when she accidentally shows up unannounced just as a war with a neighboring kingdom is kicking off, it seems like things might work out differently. Can Josie work with the Court to save not only Maevonia, but also Earth from the Penumbra and it’s Shadow Bringers?
Fey AU
OFC Josephine ‘Josie’ Kaplan + Everyone (John Price, Kyle 'Gaz’ Garrick, John 'Soap’ MacTavish, Simon 'Ghost’ Riley, Kate Laswell (and her wifey!), Gary 'Roach’ Sanderson, Alex Keller, Farah Karim) (Not a relationships are sexual nor romantic here. It’s…complicated.)
#7 Sins Bookstore WIP - Seven Sins Bookstore and Cafe is warm and cozy inside - a maze of bookshelves filled with tomes and little reading nooks tucked throughout on one side, and on the other, a bustling cafe with delicious food, hot beverages, wine tastings and room for groups to congregate. But in the basement, beyond an unassuming office door, lies the real purpose of the institution. That’s where the real deals are made, where blood is ordered to be spilled, and pacts signed in indelible hemoglobin ink.
Vampire Mobster AU
Task Force 141 x OC's - Journalist, Researcher, Barista Manager/Author, Regular Customer
#141 Studio WIP - Kinky Bullshit. Gemma needed a sandbox for gratuitous porn, pro sex-worker.
Porn Studio AU.
Task Force 141 x OFC Samantha 'Poppy' West
#Horizon Mirages WIP - With an increase in bandit activity in the area around the small town of Whisperdale, recently elected Sheriff John Price and his deputies - Simon Riley, Johnny MacTavish, and Kyle Garrick - are pressured to ease tensions between cattlemen, homesteaders and townsfolk alike.
Western AU
Task Force 141 x OCs - Seamstress, Shepherdess, Saloon Co-Owner, General Store Manager
Glitter Background in Header: 1tamara2 from Pixabay
Text Divider: @saradika-graphics
Last Updated: 4/30/2024
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Cognito Watch Party:
Warnings: sfw, movie genres and references to thrillers, horror films, trashy tv and shows
Content: sfw, television and movie choices, various themes and genres of television and film
Reagan Ridley:
- Movies: unironically loves cult classic “bad films” that’re more popular but lower in quality. Also loves some psychological thrillers, animation, & sci-if stuff and watches them like comfort movies. Reagan watches: Space Jam + the sequel, Silence of the Lambs, The Shining, Grown Ups + Grown Ups 2, Inception, Don’t Look Up, All Dogs Go To Heaven, The Usual Suspects, Ghostbusters I-III, Austin Powers Saga, Harry Potter franchise, and War Dogs.
- TV: Reagan watches documentaries/docuseries, thrillers, clever and dark comedies, and animated shows, and series that get a little therapeutic for her. Therapy seems a bit of a stretch but seeing the family bullshit of others through Fleabag and Shameless help her lots. Reagan Watches: Ozark, Manhunt: Unabomber, The Legend of Korra, Arrested Development, Fleabag, Schitt’s Creek, Drunk History, History of Swear Words, Love Death + Robots, Forged In Fire, Shameless, Arcane, Black Mirror, Mindhunter, Community, and Russian Doll.
Brett Hand:
- Movies: I see this man loving 80’s feel-good flicks and Adam Sandler films. Like mindless, kitschy comedy and classics. Also watches trashy romcoms. Brett watches: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, The Outsiders, The Goonies, Stand By Me, The Sandlot, Top Gun & Maverick, Happy Gilmore, Grown Ups, The Wedding Singer, The Waterboy, Star Wars (original trilogy), Spaceballs, Die Hard, and Ghostbusters I-III.
- TV: hes a feel-good show person, avoiding spooky or stress-inducing shows and tv that could freak him out. He goes for mindless comedy that’s more domestic, preferring sitcom. Especially family centric ones! Brett watches: Modern Family, The Office, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., Cheers, The Umbrella Academy, and Stranger Things. Also watches Parks and Rec, The Good Place, New Girl, King Of the Hill, M.A.D. tv, Bob’s Burgers, Robot Chicken, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Gravity Falls.
JR Scheimpough:
- Movies: Watches the classics™️ + organized crime films + white men movies. I don’t see him as a movie watcher like frequently but they’re some of the films he’d choose on a flight or commuting. JR watches: The Godfather part I & II, Casino, Goodfellas, Wolf of Wallstreet, American Psycho, Legally Blonde, Fight Club, The Usual Suspects, Scarface, Heat, The Longest Yard, Silence of the Lambs. He’s also got a soft spot for Finding Nemo, The Devil Wears Prada, Monty Python movies, and Sabrina (both the black & white film and the 90s one)
- TV: This man watches docuseries, drama shows, period dramas, and some business comedies. It’s a blend of boss-workplace dramatics and humor, historical drama, period pieces, and just little bits and pieces that get him laughing and forgetting about his day a bit. JR watches: Suits, Billions, Peaky Blinders, Ozark, Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, Succession, The Pentaverate, The Crown, The Wire, Ted Lasso, Barry, Fleabag, and The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.
Gigi Thompson:
- Movies: She’s got the wildest blend of gory slashers and feel-good chick flicks. Unsettlingly funny and ironic. Gigi’s just as giddy and smiley when watching the slashers as she is with seeing Elle Woods pass the LSAT. Movie night truly do be wild with this babe. Gigi watches: Legally Blonde, Carrie, Cujo, Mean Girls, Clueless, The Shining, Silence of the Lambs, Hush, The Exorcist, The Omen, Pretty Woman, When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, Sabrina (the 90s version), New York Minute, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, The Ring, The Conjuring, Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the 13th, Halloweeen, Insidious, Sweet Home Alabama, and Candyman.
- TV: Similar taste in shows as she had with movies but sprinkles in boss bitch shows and avoids thriller or scary shows. She prefers the drama ones and avoids reality tv after the whole K*rdashian fiasco, preferring to keep celebrities far away from her and seen only on a screen. Gigi watches: Gossip Girl, Succession, Billions, Suits, 30 Rock, Veep, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Fleabag, Bridgerton, Disenchantment, First Kill, Dynasty, Ginny and Georgia, You, Insatiable, Villanelle, Inventing Anna, The Queen’s Gambit, and The Chair.
Andre Lee:
- Movies: Silly comedies, romcoms, and comedic coming of age stories. It’s a big ass blend of movies and films that he likes and watches, from spooky to silly and sexy to childish. Andre watches: Monty Python, Jackass, Fantastic Fungi, Osmosis Jones, The Wolf of Wallstreet, Shrek Saga, When Harry Met Sally, Steel Magnolias, Wayne’s World, Caddyshack, Animal House, Hush, The Boy, Fifty Shades of Grey, Ferngully, The Princess and the Frog, and Die Hard.
- TV: Andre watches Euphoria while getting high as blatant irony to the plot line. He thinks he’s hilarious. He also has variating taste of genres, kitschy comedy, animated shows, mindless shit. Half the time it’s stuff to get high to and other times it’s stuff he leaves on in the background. Andre watches: Disenchantment, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Gossip Girl, The Midnight Gospel, Narcos, Gilmore Girls, Total Drama, Tear Along the Dotted Line, Disjointed, The Simpsons, Saiki K, Grace and Frankie, M*A*S*H*, Kim’s Convenience, and Euphoria.
Robotus Alpha Beta:
- Movies: not going to lie, he doesn’t seem like a movie man? Like he’s one to watch them half-heartedly if it’s with you or a group, but he won’t go out of his way to watch a movie. Televisions a bit different for him. I think Ro can be lured into certain movies and he may watch some of your favorites on his own time to better understand you, but personally? Not for him. But if it came to it, Robotus watches: your favorites
- TV: he likes semi-mindless comedies and sitcoms??? He’s seen the foils of man in milliseconds and tries to avoid all the stuff he’s encountered. In turn, he goes to things that’re funny or dramatic that can remind him subtly of those he’s, ugh, friends with, and how they’ve made humanity more bearable. Robotus watches: The Umbrella Academy, Seinfeld, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., Frasier, Succession, Modern Family, Fleabag, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, The Boys, and Derry Girls.
Glenn Dolphman:
- Movies: Watches history documentaries, war films, military propaganda films, and period dramas. Also watches southern films too, for some nostalgia and comfort. Reminds him of his mumma’. Glenn watches: Steel Magnolias, A Few Good Men, Saving Private Ryan, Forrest Gump, Fried Green Tomatoes, The Help, The Notebook, Smokey and the Bandit, Jaws, Hacksaw Ridge, The Shawshank Redemption, Dunkirk, Jackie, Spencer.
- TV: mix of history shows, docuseries, military and law enforcement shows, and silly comedies. Some shows are for the similar dynamics to work, to his military life, and etc. others he just enjoys. Strange silly man. Glenn watches: Law and Order NCIS, The Sons of Liberty, Turn: Washington’s Spies, Downtown Abbey, Young Sheldon, Community, Space Force, The Pentaverate, Will and Grace, The Lincoln Lawyer, Bridgerton, Squid Game, and unironically, everything during shark week. And of course, M*A*S*H*
Magic Myc:
- Movies: a Blend of truly random shit that’s somewhat nostalgic but also a crackpot of dumb bullshittery that fits his persona wholly and completely. It’s funny and stupid and clever and smarmy. Just like him!! Myc watches: Animal House, Fantastic Fungi, Grown Ups, Don’t Look Up, Monty Python and the Holy Grail + The Life of Brian, The Usual Suspects, Harry Potter franchise, When Harry Met Sally, 10 Things I Hate About You, The Omen, The Birds, Casablanca, and Chucky.
- TV: i feel that he and Andre hang out and watch shit together but mainly talk shit, like get high or just sit around on a couch and absolutely pick apart whatever stupid shitbirds are running around on the screen. They’ll also make rituals of watching certain shows together and if they tv-cheat they get PISSED. Myc watches: Forged In Fire, The Umbrella Academy, Love It Or List It, Stranger Things, Total Drama, The Midnight Gospel, Bob’s Burgers, Master Chef, Chopped, Cutthroat Kitchen, House Hunters, Cowboy Bebop, Clone High, Amphibia, Gravity Falls, Robot Chicken, Love Death + Robots, America Ninja Warrior, Arrested Development, The Voice, America’s Got Talent, and Squid Game.
#inside job#inside job imagine#inside job headcanon#robotus#jr scheimpough#Andre Lee#reagan ridley#Brett hand#myc#Glenn Dolphman#Gigi thompson#sfw#my inside job#my thots#Glenn#Andre#JR#Reagan#Brett#Gigi#robotus alpha beta#magic myc
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“The Firm is a failing business.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“No matter which "Team" you're on, it's undeniable that a united British royal family would've been stronger than this fractured disaster. For the benefit of the monarchy they all - royals and staffers - should've done everything in their power to avoid this situation.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“One day UK royals will realise that when they brief the press about how much they "hate Meghan" many of us hear they "hate Black people". One day UK royals will realise that when they brief the press about how Archie and Lilibet need to "earn the titles" many of us hear "titles are for white people only". It'll be too late for them then.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“If the royal family turn out not to be racist I will feel very bad. But racism allegations are not something I can turn a blind eye to. It’s incredibly serious.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Keeping Meghan and Harry in their folds would've bought them more time overseas. I mean the monarchy would've still been abolished eventually but because of what is perceived as racially motivated hate and prejudice against a woman and children of african descent the process has actually been accelerated I fear.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Before you say there isn't a racism problem within the Monarchy, remember the majority of the wealth that the Royal Family has accumulated over the centuries would have not been possible without the Trans-Atlantic slave trade of which they actively participated in through the Royal African Company. And they still haven't acknowledged it or even apologized.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“It's kinda depressing how not so long ago we were here praising the royal family for being modern and inclusive and able to get on with the times for allowing an interracial union to take place and now they're just your stereotypical rich old money white family who disinherit, ostracize and punish their white family member for marrying outside their race. Really. Fucking. Depressing.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Willem-Alexander publicly acknowledging and apologizing for the crown's prominent role in the slave trade and Harald speaking out against the racism directed at his son-in-law: forget Meghan and Harry, it's the other european royal families who are determined to make the British monarchy and its representatives look very bad, outdated, anachronistic and "very much" racist by comparison.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“The BRF are glorified mascots of the UK.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“You understand the Firm is made up of people who are not very smart and not very much in touch with the real world when you realise that this could've all been avoided if there'd been ONE official statement released condemning racism and no briefings of false stories to the press to put down one couple so the other could be praised. Instead here we are with half the world thinking the Firm is racist and a rift/war that will probably be passed down from the parents to their children.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“I think the Meghan hate train is funny because the treatment of her and Harry will inevitably come back to bite. The royal family literally allowed the breeding of a hate campaign against the only poc in the family(most of this is racially targeted abuse). Times are ever changing and racism becomes less tolerable with time, racists will LITERALLY reduce and more people will be striving for equality, and when they do… the race conversation will resurface, and it will a lot more detrimental for the institution than it is now. It possibly won’t happen during Charles reign but will surely come back on William; who was directly involved in enabling the mistreatment of his brother and his wife. or even worse; Prince George, who hasn’t even done anything.” - Submitted by Anonymous
““King Charles likely to pay for Prince Andrew’s security” it’s hilarious how everyone was worrying about some outsider destroying the monarchy only for the institution to prove over and over again that they’re stupid enough to do it all by themselves.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Fact: as long as they refuse to condemn and stop inciting (through their media friends) the racism directed at their own family members all politically correct statements on slavery, racism and colonialism will be seen as performative by the people they're meant to win over. *shrugs*” - Submitted by Anonymous
“The plan from the start was to sabotage Harry & Meghan's marriage. They couldn't oppose the wedding because everyone would've known it was because of race and they didn't want that racist label. So they tried to make life impossible for Meghan through the briefings to the press, hoped she'd leave Harry & go back home. Plan backfired when Harry decided to leave to protect her. Funny part: they still got that racist label AND made the institution shaky in all 15 countries as a result. Dumbasses!” - Submitted by Anonymous
“It’s honestly for the best that Meghan didn’t join the royal family & try to ”melt in”. If she did, people would complain about her, as a mixed race woman, joining an imperialist institution built on slavework, which is fair - but you don’t hear people saying that about the white people who marry in. The royal family, will never and can never be modern and progressive.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“History will be so damning of the British press and Royal Family in how they treated Prince Andrew (accused of disgusting crimes) in comparison with Meghan Markle (committed absolutely no crime).” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Way to go, Jamaica! Dump those idiot Windsors.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Harry is the only patriot in that family. The only one who's willing to fight and pay the price to better his country. Everyone else in the royal family happily relinquishes the country to the likes of Murdoch & co, people who only sow division, hatred and fear of immigrants/foreigners, progressives and progressive ideals.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“America, time to replace the BRF with the Dutch and Norwegian royal families! Less problematic and more modern. The BRF is filled with pedophiles,people who disown family over interracial marriages, people of dubious morality who sleep with married people, who groom teenage girls and use them as broodmares,people who aren't really bright and struggle to read note cards and string two words together,people who can't admit racism exists and acknowledge their family's role in the slave trave..Trash” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Funny how the UK is more interested in polling the US on the popularity of private citizens who hold no public role than polling the popularity of "working" royals in the 14 countries that have the UK monarch as their head of state. Let's ask Jamaicans how much they like Charles,Camilla,William,Kate; let's ask them if they even ever heard of Anne,Sophie,Edward...or are we afraid of the results cause it won't fit the UK media narrative that everybody in the world knows,loves&worships UK royals?” - Submitted by Anonymous
“All working BRF royals get their costs paid. Staff, housing, living stipend, clothing all out of Sovereign Grant. Sophie's sucking up hard to Charles and William. They can only pay costs & staff at Bagshot IF the Sovereign Grant continues to fund them. Duke of Kent would be homeless & penniless if he stopped working and didn't have SG funding. The *only* working royals they wouldn't pay for are Harry&Meghan. Charles & Will tell me you're racist without telling me you're racist. B(a)RF indeed.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“A monarchy antagonistic to the Sussexes hurts itself. The monarchy cites among the reasons for its relevancy today being a unifying symbol for all its subjects but the truth is the royal family have never been more divisive: all the people of a particular race/ethnicity and political affiliation are on one "team" and all the people of a different ethnicity and political affiliation are on another "team". It's very damaging being just another thing for people to fight about in the culture war.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“Peacefully holding up a blank piece of paper is now crime in the UK? The BRF needs to check their sad little egos and stop trying to shut down Freedom of Speech in the UK. Republican sentiment is rising, The People want the monarchy gone. Charles and William need to accept that.” - Submitted by Anonymous
As a republic campaigner in Jamaica I was really worried when Meghan married into the royal family. I thought they'd try and use her to win us over, have her take on the role of the token black friend to vouch for them and prove they're not racist. I'm so happy they're too dumb and conceited in that family and got caught up in this war for popularity among white people instead and exposed to all Black people the extent of their racism in the process making this transition to a republic faster.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“These "popularity polls" are as real as Kylie Jenner's lips, proof? The Earl and Countess of Wessex are touring the Carribean, not even their paid PR are bothering to talk about it.” - Submitted by Anonymous
“You know it's getting bad when there's anti-monarchy protests on UK soil at every other engagement and no matter which royal shows up...” - Submitted by Anonymous
“One thing's clear: the monarchy, the monarch and the royal family are no longer this unifying symbol for all of their subjects that they've always claimed to be. The subjects overseas clearly want out and even here in the UK all we do is fight over them with most of the left-leaning people firmly on Team Sussex and most of the right-leaning people on Team The Firm. And I'm not even mentioning the division we find among Britons over the royals when you ask people of different races/social classes” - Submitted by Anonymous
“lol at the royals trying to outrun this family feud by making podcasts, launching awareness campaigns or even being CROWNED KING, if you google any british royal the first words you'll read are "family feud". i hope they realise people wont stop writing about unless they permanently and publicly fix this otherwise this will be their legacy. (on both sides of the atlantic)” - Submitted by Anonymous
“The big deal is that the BRF is now very polarizing beyond the monarchists vs republicans thing. Harry and Meghan have more haters but guess what so do William and Kate and Charles and Camilla: everyone is more hated as a result of this war in the house of Windsor. No one is universally respected,liked or popular, everyone is controversial, everyone gets called out and that only hurts the institution and the people whose entire existence and sense of self-worth revolves around inheriting a title” - Submitted by Anonymous
“The British royal family are so basic. Typical rich white family overly preoccupied with appearances who disown a family member over marrying outside of his race, treat the non-white spouse as inferior, unworthy and less than human and disown and treat the mixed children born to that union as inferior, unworthy and not family. So basic. Couldn't be more of a cliché. *YAWN*” - Submitted by Anonymous
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Here are some TV series with high ratings from Rotten Tomatoes:
1. **"Breaking Bad" (2008-2013):** A high school chemistry teacher turned methamphetamine producer teams up with a former student. (Rating: 96%)
2. **"The Wire" (2002-2008):** Explores the city of Baltimore and its relationship with politics, media, schools, and the maritime industry. (Rating: 94%)
3. **"The Sopranos" (1999-2007):** Follows the life of mob boss Tony Soprano as he tries to balance the demands of his crime family with his personal life. (Rating: 92%)
4. **"Fargo" (2014-present):** Inspired by the film, each season features new characters and storylines, all connected by crime and moral dilemmas. (Rating: 94%)
5. **"Better Call Saul" (2015-present):** A prequel to "Breaking Bad," focusing on the evolution of the character Jimmy McGill, a small-time lawyer. (Rating: 97%)
6. **"Game of Thrones" (2011-2019):** Based on George R.R. Martin's novels, it explores the power struggles among noble families as they attempt to control the Iron Throne of the Seven Kingdoms. (Rating: 89%)
7. **"Stranger Things" (2016-present):** Set in the 1980s, a group of kids in a small town encounters supernatural forces and government conspiracies. (Rating: 87%)
8. **"Black Mirror" (2011-present):** Anthology series exploring the dark side of technology and its impact on society. (Rating: 83%)
9. **"The Crown" (2016-2022):** Chronicles the reign of Queen Elizabeth II from her wedding in 1947 through present day. (Rating: 90%)
10. **"Mindhunter" (2017-2019):** FBI agents investigate and understand serial killers by interviewing them and applying psychology. (Rating: 97%)
11. **"BoJack Horseman" (2014-2020):** An animated series following the life of an anthropomorphic horse actor dealing with self-worth, addiction, and relationships. (Rating: 93%)
12. **"The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel" (2017-present):** A housewife in the 1950s discovers her talent for stand-up comedy and pursues a career in the male-dominated industry. (Rating: 86%)
13. **"Patriot" (2015-2018):** An intelligence officer tries to prevent Iran from going nuclear, leading to various high-stakes and darkly comedic situations. (Rating: 91%)
14. **"One Day at a Time" (2017-2020):** A sitcom focusing on a Cuban-American family dealing with everyday life struggles. (Rating: 99%)
15. **"Sherlock" (2010-2017):** A modern adaptation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes detective stories. (Rating: 78%)
16. **"Veep" (2012-2019):** Follows the life of former Senator Selina Meyer as she becomes the Vice President and later, the President of the United States. (Rating: 93%)
17. **"Westworld" (2016-present):** An amusement park for rich vacationers, the park is looked after by robotic hosts until they start malfunctioning. (Rating: 78%)
18. **"The Good Place" (2016-2020):** Afterlife comedy where a woman realizes she hasn't been a good person and tries to earn her spot in the "good place." (Rating: 97%)
19. **"Rick and Morty" (2013-present):** Animated series following the misadventures of an eccentric, alcoholic scientist and his good-hearted but easily influenced grandson. (Rating: 94%)
20. **"Chernobyl" (2019):** A historical drama miniseries depicting the Chernobyl nuclear disaster and its aftermath in the mid-1980s Soviet Union. (Rating: 96%)
Please check Rotten Tomatoes or other reliable sources for the most current ratings and reviews of these TV series.
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Excerpt from Ronald Hutton’s Station’s of the Sun:
During the early modern period, information upon harvesting increases, and most of it is summed up in three different sets of verses, spread across the span between 1570 and 1650. The earliest is Thomas Tusser’s famous rhyming treatise on farming, the first edition of which appeared in 1573. He described how a good employer gave gloves to his field-hands, how the latter cried for ‘largesse’, and how a “harvest lord” was appointed to lead and supervise the work. Tusser attached expecial importance to the food and drink given during the reaping and the entertainment at the end:
In harvest time, harvest folke,
servants and all,
should make all togither good
cheere in the hall:
And fill out the black boule of
bleith to their song
and let them be merie all harvest
time long.
Once ended thy harvest, let none
be begilde,
please such as did helpe thee, man,
woman and childe.
Thus dooing, with alway such
helpe as they can,
thou winnest the praise of the
labouring man.
He added that on the departure each “ploughman” should be presented with a “harvest home goose”.
The author of the late Elizabethan ballade “The Mery Life of the Countriman”, which has been much quoted earlier in this book, was as concerned to celebrate the process as Tusser was to give practical advice upon it:
When corne is ripe, with tabor and
pipe, their sickles they prepare;
and wagers they lay how muche in a
day they meane to cut downe there.
And he that is quickest, and cutteth
downe cleanest the corne,
a garlande trime they make for him,
and bravely they bringe hime home.
And when in the barne, without any
harme, they have laid up their corne,
In hart they singe high praises to him
that so increast their gaine.
And unto the parson, their pastor,
and teacher also,
With harts most blyth, they give their
tyth--their duties full well they knowe.
The standpoint of this writer, detached, external, and preoccupied with hierarchy and obligation was occupied in the early seventeenth century by a genuine poet, in a famous piece of literature. Robert Herrick’s “The Hock-cart, or Harvest home”, was pointedly dedicated to an earl and so concerned with the dues to a secular lord rather than to a clergyman. It depicts the cart carrying the last load from the fields, “dressed up with all the country art”, and followed by adults crowned with ears of corn and a whooping “rout of rural younglings”. A piper accompanies a harvest-home song. “Some bless the cart, some kisss the sheaves; some prank them up with oaken leaves”. the landowner has prepared a feast at his seat for them, of beef, mutton, veal, bacon, custard pies, boiled wheat and beer. The peopldrink first to his health, and then to “maids with wheaten hats” and to a succession of agricultural tools. The poem ends with a homily in favour of social deference and against drunkenness at the feast.
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Writober Prompt | Day1
does your muse celebrate halloween? do they celebrate something else in the month of october?
october the 31st is her day of birth. granted, she was born long before halloween was celebrated, but she still celebrates it regardless. it's something of an amusing joke within her newly made family, Qistina enjoys taking her children into the modern world ( where they can see decorations, play games, play with other children, etc etc ) giving out little treats and really just 'being herself' under the guise of a woman getting into the spooky season spirit. over the years, she's certainly grown accustomed and fond of the month of october and it's little holiday on her birthday.
she is warmed by the sights. cozy oranges, painted skulls in rotten flower crowns, marigolds, black cats and skeleton dogs, ghosts and blood splattered in inhuman ways - rolling far away from the normalcy to which modern humans are so accustomed to. it is perhaps one of the only days created by man that she actually looks forward to and enjoys. she can even bring her homunculi and golems into the city without so much as a second look. she actually has fun with it all. And horror movies? she watches them all. her more modern living grandchildren always introduce her to something new for her to watch, and she even gets to spend a very special time bonding with them afterward.
It's very, very special for her
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Mending Shadows // Chapter 5
Summary:
Y/N was a simple Scavenger of Lucis, until meeting a deadly blow at the hands of an infected creature. At the crossroads of death, they are found by Niflheim’s cryptic Chancellor with his own agenda. Now bonded to Ardyn Izunia, and tossed into the world of Niflheim, Y/N struggles to cope with their new life as an Imperial Icon all the while battling their feelings toward their fate and that of Ardyn’s.
Click here to read on AO3
Ardyn stretched his arms and yawned. He was leaning up against the front of the Vixen while casting a scrutinizing glare toward the gas meter. The sound of the ocean near the road, and the distinct calls of birds swayed against his ears. He watched as the pump slowly continued to fill the car, and he hummed in thought. The price of fuel these days was abysmal. Then again, the Lucian economy had taken quite a hit due to Niflheim’s war.
“Suppose I can’t blame the royal family for wanting to rob everyone dry,” Ardyn chuckled, amused with himself. The total came to around 2,500 gil. Barely a dent in his pocketbooks, yet he could imagine how trifling that would have been to a small family. Choosing between food and fuel was a product of the modern world that Ardyn didn’t care for. Gone were the days of living within one’s means, and trading goods for other products. His mind started to wander, recalling simpler times and pleasures. As much as Ardyn adored his car and modern world decadence, nothing could ever beat the freedom of riding on the back of either a horse or chocobo from the days of yore. He smiled thoughtfully to himself, remembering the first time he rode such beasts. He shook his head and grimaced when he lingered for too long.
“Sentiment will get you nowhere, old boy.” He muttered to himself with contention.
Ardyn’s eyes peered over to the market next to the fuel station, and he debated with himself about getting a snack and a drink. Furrowing his brows, Ardyn let out the most dramatic sigh one could muster and waltzed to the entrance. There were present-day indulgences that he was addicted to, and he both loathed and prided himself on the fact.
Once inside, Ardyn wasted no effort in creeping around at every item, even down to the little knick-knacks that tourists often bought for keepsakes. He raised a brow at a row of snow globes next to a bag of chips. Each piece contained the Crown City’s iconic towers of the citadel. The temptation to break them all itched at Ardyn’s spine. His eyes cast a glance at the cashier who was counting money in the till. It would be so easy to play the scenario off as a clumsy mistake. Alas, he reminded himself he came here for one thing and one thing only, and sighed in defeat.
After meandering, Ardyn smiled big when he saw row upon row of Ebony in the back fridge. His amber eyes carded over all the black cans with awe when he approached the glass doors. Ever since Accordo put an embargo on Niflheim, he had been months without the brand. Ardyn wasn’t normally one that enjoyed coffee. Caffeine had an unpleasant effect on his mind. With there already being thousands of other occupants behind the wheel, the last thing Ardyn needed was his brain frying under the weight of daemonic energy, and having a high. Ebony was the one brand he made an exception for.
Spotting an unsweetened version of the brand, Ardyn opened up the glass door and crouched down. His fingertips touched the cool texture of the can. The charismatic smile he carried into the market faded.
In what felt like a bad flash from a camera, Ardyn witnessed his fingers touching the chilled texture of a corpse. He saw a woman with her jaw nearly cleaved off. Two men nearby were mangled in a similar fashion. A feeling of dread jolted his nerves.
Ardyn blinked several times, and the can of Ebony came back into view. He paused. His fingertips lingered upon the can, hesitant to pick the beverage up. The deep glare he cast toward the fridge could’ve cut through steel.
In all his years of acting upon the scourge’s influence, and taking the souls of the unwilling into himself, Ardyn believed he’d never get spooked when it came to absorbing the memories of his trespassers. He had performed the action so many times, that it became second nature. This new development troubled him a great deal.
Y/N’s face came to mind. A deep exhale left Ardyn’s nostrils. His eyes closed.
Smoke and chemical grime burned the inside of Ardyn’s nose. Wheezing, he took several steps back from the epicenter of the explosion. His right hand covered his lower abdomen. Blood oozed from a horizontal slash by a sword that cut through his clothes like butter. He gasped in an agonizing groan, feeling a wave of nausea hit. A throbbing sting coming from Ardyn’s neck had him shaking his head back and forth every so often in a vain attempt to tamper down the sensation.
Fingers trembling, Ardyn felt his vision begin to fade in and out. He nearly buckled under his own weight. This shouldn’t have been happening. He was immortal. The godforsaken Adagium. Physical pain was something he was more than accustomed to after 2,000 years of solitude, and then additional years of experimentation. He had been shot, stabbed, burned, peeled, and maimed without so much of an expression. Yet here he was near weeping while desperately trying to find a way out of the flames and debris.
As Ardyn stumbled, slouching against a wall nearby, he let out a dry heave upon feeling a heavy object hit the middle of his back. He fell forward and caught himself from tumbling at the last second. Ardyn turned around to face his attacker and ducked his head when a long spear attempted to strike his face. This dance played out for a time. His black and yellow eyes flared with vengeful contempt as he inhumanly screeched at the foe. The bottom end of the spear struck his jaw, and the impact sent him flying. Ardyn rolled over a few times before his back slammed against a wall of glass. Shards cascaded around him.
Weakly, Ardyn groaned while attempting to bring himself back to his feet. He panted heavily while blood and scourge leaked from his nose and mouth. He gargled on his own bile, feeling the tip of the spear press firmly to his throat. The owner of the weapon had venom in their eyes. The likes of which even made Ardyn’s daemonic expression look almost human in vulnerability. He had “died” before when people attempted to strike him down. The fear of death was lost on him, but at this moment he felt a dread that should never have gained prospect.
“It seems the Gods have favored our side today, Chancellor!” The MedZin guard proclaimed in an exhaustive yell. He prepared to put his full weight against the spear so that the blade would slice Ardyn’s neck and spine in half.
A bellowing screech emerged from the flames as did Y/N’s body, jumping into the air and landing on top of the MedZin guard’s back. Y/N’s legs locked around the guard’s waist, and sickle claws began to rip and maim at the back of the man’s skull. The guard fell backward in a desperate attempt to fling off Y/N, and their legs around his abdomen tightened like that of a snake fully dedicated to squeezing the life out of its prey.
Ardyn’s eyes widened as he witnessed the altercation. The carnage happened so fast, that he barely registered Y/N being thrown off after the guard had pierced them through several times with the spear and flung them. The yellow in his eyes constricted as he let out a scream; finding motivation to shadow step and deliver the killing blow to the guard by striking their abdomen so hard, that bones cracked.
Spurting out blood and spit, the guard looked up at Ardyn fading eyes, and somehow through adrenaline or pure spite, the guard managed to throw his final words out to Eos.
“You may live today, Adagium, but the world will know who and what you are soon. You---can’t keep hiding as Niflheim’s Chancellor---may Ifrit lay waste to----” The guard’s skull cracked and split open upon Ardyn’s left foot kicking downward in a fell swoop. He dug his heel into the cavity for good measure, sneering while his teeth grit.
“Pathetic waste, the lot of you,” Ardyn muttered bitterly. His breath became ragged as more smoke began to pool into the heart of the MedZin labs. By his calculation, Ardyn figured he only had ten minutes to get out before being consumed in flames.
Turning on his heel after removing his boot from the guard's entrails, he started to limp away, leaving Y/N behind. It was only when he got to the entryway did he stop. His head turned to the side and his eyes lingered on Y/N’s semi-lifeless form. Leaving Y/N to die in the flames of destruction was part of his plan. He’d literally kill two birds with one stone. The information MedZin had stolen about the scourge would perish and he’d keep his promise to Y/N with a quick death. The cherry on top of it all was that Y/N would be framed for Ardyn’s trespasses and crimes in the aftermath. The public would never know of his instigation and true identity. Once the bodies were found, and the evidence planted at the stronghold connected Y/N to both locations, any proof of Ardyn’s interference, of his godforsaken mission, would burn and die with them.
It was as perfect as a bow on top of an extravagant gift, yet Ardyn hesitated to accept it.
Through the bond of the scourge, he felt Y/N clinging to life. For someone that wanted to die so badly, their instincts to hold out were powerful. Ardyn could feel their blood running hot and cold as if it was happening in his own body. His conscience was almost made up until he heard it. The faint murmur of a plead left Y/N’s mouth.
He made a fist so tight that his fingers trembled from the pressure.
Ardyn opened his eyes and he was staring again at the can of Ebony. A morose contemplation traversed his tired gaze. He grabbed a can for himself and hesitated before taking another. Holding onto them with one arm, he closed the fridge door with his free hand and made his way to the cashier to purchase.
Two hours later, the Vixen was parked in a rather large area inland from the coast. From the distance, Ardyn could make out a smaller imperial airship. Several soldiers greeted him with a wave from afar, and he returned the gesture. Nonchalantly, Ardyn exited the vehicle and approached his fellow countrymen with a lopsided smile.
“My, my, aren’t I popular these days?” Ardyn said mischievously. He saw one of the younger men of the group swallow nervously and chuckled. “I do hope that your crossover to Lucis wasn’t turbulent!”
“The travel was not an issue, excellency,” The commander of the group, a man no later than fifty-five spoke up. “We made sure to keep tracking and communications to a minimum so Lucis wouldn’t detect our presence with their magic.”
Ardyn nodded. “About how much longer do you believe that’ll last?”
“Chief Besithia determined forty-eight hours. That being said, the ship is ready for departure at your command, Chancellor. We can have your vehicle and belongings out of here in ten minutes.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ardyn shook his head and waved the commander off.
“Sir, Chief Besithia mentioned that time was of the essence. We are in enemy territory and understand the great risk involved in assisting this mission. For your safety, I’d like to implore you to consider departing now.”
“You need not remind me,” Ardyn sharply replied. His gaze was so stern that the old man apologetically gave a bow with his head, not feeling up to snuff challenging the Chancellor himself.
“I am awaiting a guest to join us on the journey home,” Ardyn began. He kept his tone neutral, so as to not convey whatever ties he had to Y/N. “I anticipate their arrival will come at dawn. Word of mouth says we should have a fog coming in at that time. What better way to sneak past the Lucian Armada than to take cover in a hazy shroud?”
“I suppose you are correct,” The commander muttered. He cleared his throat. “In any case, we would be honored to get the Vixen on board along with whatever you have.”
“Sounds riveting,” Ardyn mused. He playfully tossed his keys to a young soldier nearby, resisting a smirk when said soldier almost tumbled over himself trying to catch them.
While walking past the group, and heading for the dock of the ship, Ardyn hollered. “If you fine gentlemen need me, I will be in the ship's quarters having a discussion with Chief Besithia on the network!”
“Yes sir!”
Once aboard, a sigh of contentment left Ardyn while he had a look around before traversing to the main quarters. These newer models were less like mazes inside, and Ardyn mentally patted himself on the back for convincing Verstael to invest in a better layout. It didn’t take long before he was alone in a wide room, with windows looking outward toward the land.
Ardyn stopped for a moment to take in the scenery and his brows furrowed into a glare. It wouldn’t be long now until the rich and fertile lands of Lucis would be replaced with the desolate snowscapes that notoriously covered Niflheim. Although he held great contempt in his heart toward the Lucian people and the kingdom as a whole, Ardyn would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel somewhat homesick for his former country. He was going to miss the view.
Sighing deeply through his nose, Ardyn shook his head. He ventured over to a desk with a computer and began setting it up so he could have a face-to-face conversation with his colleague.
“I take it that the war room meeting hasn’t been postponed?” Ardyn made a face as Verstael tiredly rolled his eyes and nodded on the other end of the screen.
“Unfortunately for the two of us, Aldercapt wishes for the meeting to commence when you are verified as healthy to continue to work,” Verstael bitterly stated. “There is also another trivial matter that you and I must contend with upon your return.”
“Oh?” Ardyn perked his eyebrows up. For the first time in the last two hours of conversing with Verstael over the Imperial Network, he felt legitimately curious. “Now don’t leave me on a cliffhanger! I do so hate it when you put on dramatic pauses for effect.”
Verstael’s dry lips curved into a smirk. “You’re lucky I don’t have the strength to call you a hypocrite right now. Alas, I don’t think you will be singing a happy tune to this matter. Aldercapt wishes to proceed with the empire's name day, and all the festivities that it entails.”
“You can’t be serious?” Ardyn’s bluntly said while his brows knitted into a glare. “Not that we don’t have the coin for such extravagance, but this will put a damper on the weaponry budget. Not to mention compensation for security will be tight.”
“There is also the issue of the Tenebrae Ambassadors,” Verstael continued. “Aldercapt invited them over for the ceremonies in the spirit of ‘showing off the splendors of the empire’.”
“More like showing off how much of Tenebrae’s resources we are wasting,” Ardyn snorted. He sighed, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows. “Looks like I have my work cut out for me when I return home. So many fires to put out, so little time.”
“Speaking of putting out a fire,” Verstael began. “You said you were combing over an idea. What has become of that?”
Ardyn remained neutral, even as he heard the eagerness in Verstael’s cadence. “I find myself ruminating on a few concepts. I haven’t made up my mind yet, sad to say. Alas, considering the fact the empire needs to make a good impression on our esteemed allies of Tenebrae, I believe this Lucian souvenir I picked up may come in handy for such an occasion!"
Verstael raised a brow, understanding Ardyn's playful hint and the dangerous implications it entailed. “Not that I don’t believe your twisted mind has conjured up a fool proof plot, but if you recall, you know the penalty of an uninvited Lucian setting foot on Niflheim soil while the empire is at war.”
“I’m well aware,” Ardyn said as a matter of fact and smiled. “However, I’m the Chancellor at the end of the day. I’m confident I can get Aldercapt to lift the penalty just this once for my generous offer.”
“Consider me intrigued,” Verstael chuckled darkly. “How exactly do you intend to use this Lucian?”
“It’s rather simple, I--”
Before Ardyn could finish his sentence, the airship began to violently shake. Through the metallic walls, Ardyn could hear the echoes of explosions going off.
“What in the six hells is happening?!” Verstael yelled from the other end of the screen.
“Obviously, it appears I am under attack,” Ardyn sarcastically quipped.
“Gods, it better not be crownsguard reinforcements!” Verstael’s tone slightly quivered with fear.
“I don’t believe that’s the case,” Ardyn reassured. “If the guard knew of my whereabouts, my being and the ship would’ve been nuked to kingdom come by now.”
“Whoever they are, don’t let them take you into custody!”
Another quake came, nearly knocking both Ardyn and the computer over as the ship tilted more to the left. He gathered himself, remaining composed while an array of chaotic yells and gunfire began to sound off from afar.
“I do so hate to drop our conversation, but duty calls!” Ardyn chimed and ended the call.
Alarms and sirens began to go off within the ship, and a stoic voice on the overhead intercom began to alert everyone on board:
Under attack. Under attack. The East side of the ship is under attack. Reinforcements sent. Under attack.
Ardyn immediately sprinted out of the room and bounded for the airship dock, wanting to assess for himself how dire the situation was. It wasn’t long before he arrived and received an answer in the form of dodging a round of bullets at the last second.
Ardyn sprinted and on his third step, his body molded into a dark mist that transcended over and through supplies and goods. Time came to a grinding halt, but for Ardyn's victims, he might as well been the only living creature that was moving abnormally fast. The yellows of his eyes turned a fiery orange while he zeroed in on several of the intruders.
Jumping into the air, Ardyn summoned his red blade Raksasha, and his assault began. The intruders had no idea what had hit them until their own bodies had tumbled to the floor. Not long after, Ardyn stood over a pile of corpses. Glaring begrudgingly, he crouched down and began to rummage through the clothes of one of his victims. His right hand gripped upon the shoulder pad on the soldier’s left side, and he sneered at the red patch.
“MedZin,” Ardyn muttered and sighed. He thought of Y/N for a split second. “It seems you and I weren’t as thorough as we thought.”
“Chancellor!”
Ardyn immediately turned his head to the sound. He stood up as soon as the commander came into his proximity and quickly waved him down, seeing the fear in his eyes.
“I’m quite fine,” Ardyn firmly stated. “I want a status report, quickly!”
“Y-yes sir!” The commander gestured for Ardyn to follow him outside of the ship.
Another round of explosives went off, making both men nearly lose their footing.
“They came from the North and then started to shoot off explosions to our East wing! Team three and Team ninety-nine are outside, fending them off! There’s two small aircraft! I think we can take them out once they get in range!”
“How many would you estimate are trying to kill us?” Ardyn mused.
“A dozen or so!”
“Concentrate on taking the carriers down. I’ll deal with whoever survives the aftermath!”
The playful yet sinister end of Ardyn’s remark had the commander freeze in his steps, taken back by the sudden change in demeanor. Before he could stop Ardyn, and beckon him to stay close for his safety, the latter pushed past and took off into the fray of battle.
Rushing by several infantrymen firing off explosives and other advanced weaponry, Ardyn kept his eyes on the sky. Sure enough, there were two carriers as the old timer said. One to his left and right, respectfully.
With an eager gaze, like that of a predatory animal watching for weak prey to fall, Ardyn observed the ships go down in a dazzling display of fire and grime after a sixth round of explosives were launched from the imperial troops.
The left carrier was the first to perish, it's pilot unable to dodge a rocket that destroyed its entire front. The ship sunk to Eos like a heavy rock to a large body of water. The right craft met a similar fate. The underbelly of that ship was torn apart by magitek weaponry, a powerful ray that emitted a concentrated amount of energy from various crystals that had been corrupted via the scourge. The carrier spun around several times in freefall before it exploded violently against the soil of Lucis.
Ardyn smirked with pride, getting to see one of his creations in action. He briefly thought back to a time when Verstael had opposed such an invention.
“I told that senile fool it was a grand idea!” Ardyn laughed. His moment of fame was cut short when he zeroed in on survivors making their way out of the debris from the left carrier. He could practically smell the fear emitting off of men and women who scrambled away from the wrecks.
“Oh, we’re going to have some fun!” Ardyn menacingly hissed. He once more shadow-stepped at a lightning pace and drew his red sword out of thin air. With a violent twist of his body, Ardyn began his onslaught.
Blade against blade, and pained howls against steel erupted throughout the battlefield. There was a point in time when Ardyn could scarcely hear the crackling roar of the fires nearby, too focused on the carnage at hand to take in how the environment was becoming hostile. Every so often, he had become burnt from debris that was being utilized as weaponry from the MedZin operatives. The pain was more than enough to keep fueling Ardyn’s anger toward his enemies.
Years of knowledge in fighting that Ardyn had under his belt from 2,000 years ago, on top of memories from the souls of the damned came to his aid while he made quick work of the intruders. He was an efficient killer, and Ardyn relished in the cold fact of the matter. The ego stroke began to awaken another beast inside himself. The scourge hummed in his body with a violent urge to consume. The sensation was so powerful, even Ardyn felt tempted to bend to its will as he approached who would be his twelfth victim.
Ardyn stabbed Rakshasa through the woman’s back, yanking her body upward in the process. She slid down the sword to where Ardyn's left palm could touch her shoulder.
“Let’s get a peek of what’s in your head!” Ardyn menacingly whispered.
A dark cloud of purples and blacks began to dance through his fingertips, and particles of light pooled from the wound he had inflicted. Little by little, Ardyn could feel the woman’s essence, her very life, become integrated with his. His whole body felt like a straw that was sucking up raw nectar, and his brain flooded with visions.
Euphoria in the kill began to sway Ardyn while he grinned, and just as he reached a precipice where the transfer was almost complete, a sudden wave of nausea hit him. He stumbled backward, pulling Raksasha out of the woman’s spine. Her body dropped to the grass, and Ardyn fell to his knees. He began to throw up. Scourge and bile desecrated the soil in front of him. Vertigo began to plague Ardyn’s peripheral soon after.
So lost in his misery, Ardyn didn’t notice a MedZin soldier taking aim for his head, having snuck up behind to take advantage of Ardyn’s moment of weakness. The soldier raised his long sword, intending to impale him until a thundering sound radiated in the air. The soldier dropped his weapon. His body collapsed, having been shot in the head from afar.
Ardyn jerked his head around. With astonishment, he observed the body at his side and gave a hesitant slap to it. When no reaction had come, he sighed in relief.
“Well played, friend. You almost had the jump on me!” Ardyn mused mockingly. He grimaced and lurched forward.
An electric shock cascaded down Ardyn’s nerves, causing his fingertips and spine to ache. His right hand instinctively reached for his neck, near the site where he had been injected all that time ago when he ransacked Outpost 98. He closed his eyes, remembering all too well what it felt like when his body short-circuited, and he lost control of himself.
Ardyn wasn’t one to feel dread, much less become scared. With 2,000 years to his name, and having been imprisoned in darkness, little could deter a creature such as himself from seeking his ends. Right now though, he’d be lying to himself if he wasn’t frightened. This wasn’t normal by any stretch. It became abundantly clear that something was wrong, but he didn’t have enough information to aid his woes.
Shouting from the distance began to grow, snapping Ardyn out of his thoughts. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at the horizon. Niflheim soldiers were coming to his aid. For now, his personal concerns needed to take a backseat.
Ardyn quickly wiped away at his mouth and internally worked on silencing the scourge. The last thing Ardyn needed, was to be discovered with his mask off. No one could know he was Adagium. It was years too soon for such a thing.
“Chancellor! Chancellor Izunia! Are you alright!?”
“You can silence your ruckus! I’m over here!” Ardyn hollered back, getting onto his feet to wave down his lessers. He coughed a few times and walked toward the large group after dismissing Rakshasa back into whatever plane of existence it dwelled within.
The commander came running up, panting heavily while he gestured for ground troops to scout the area for survivors.
“Are you hurt, sir?”
“No,” Ardyn shook his head and huffed. “At least, not in the way one would assume. I’m quite winded, however.”
“Sir, you should go back to the ship. Let us handle whoever is left. I don’t imagine there are many now,” The commander then saw the burns and winced on Ardyn’s behalf. “You need rest and to get those patched up.”
As much as he remained compelled to continue the hunt, Ardyn knew it would be foolish considering the odd symptoms at play in his body.
“I suppose I can concede this time around,” Ardyn murmured. He coughed again. “What are our losses?”
“We lost eight men thus far, and we are out of energy cores for most of our weaponry. The ship wasn’t well stocked, to begin with. As for the carrier itself, I have team ninety-nine working on repairs as we speak. From the damages, she might not be able to fly until evening tomorrow.”
Ardyn tilted his head back and sighed in defeat. “Grand of a time as any I suppose.”
“I’ve taken the liberty to notify Chief Besithia of the situation after the carriers had been shot down. He wanted me to relay a message to you to take shelter near an inn not far North. The owner is a Niflheim immigrant who will keep quiet about us being in Lucian territory. Two soldiers are to be assigned to you for protection, while the rest of us work on getting the ship back up and running. After we’ve combed through and determined the enemy is defeated, we’ll ransack their aircraft for anything that might speed up the process.”
“You talk too much and too fast,” Ardyn irately stated. He raised a brow at the commander, his gaze sizing him up.
“My apologies, I am only being thorough, sir. For everyone’s sake.”
Ardyn made a fist with his right hand until his knuckles turned white. As much as he was bothered by being commanded, he didn’t feel it quite right to take his anger out on the old man. Not when Verstael was using him as a puppet to bark orders.
“I will seek shelter at the inn at once,” Ardyn gave a half bow with his head out of respect toward the commander. “My phone will be on my person. I expect concise updates on the repairs while I recoup.”
“Yes sir, and what of your guest?”
Y/N...Ardyn froze for a moment, having nearly forgotten about them given the chaos. He made a face and waved off the concern. “They know to arrive here. When they come, give them the coordinates to the inn and I’ll take it from there. Escort them if necessary.”
“Yes sir!”
Ardyn began his descent back toward the airship. Every so often, he wiped away the sweat across his brow while deep in thought.
“They should all be dead,” Ardyn muttered to himself. He was so sure of it, that his mind had difficulty letting the truth of the matter sink in: that MedZin was after him. "Everything was destroyed. The whole facility burned to rubble. How could I overlook a mistake such as this?"
Such questions plagued Ardyn as did his thoughts about what MedZin had injected into his body the day Y/N and he attacked. Whatever the serum was, it greatly hindered his dark powers. Speaking of which, Ardyn felt depleted in a manner of speaking. The unlimited reservoir of power at his disposal was no longer tapped into. He had a limit, like any other mortal, and it both worried and angered him.
Feeding off Y/N got him somewhat back to normal, but Ardyn realistically wondered how much longer that would last. He then burdened himself with the painful truth, that he would have to confide in Verstael about the injection. Ardyn dreaded that as much as he dreaded eating cloned meat when Aldercapt ordered it for the imperials of the court. He didn’t like it one bit.
“I seem to be on a losing streak these days,” Ardyn mused with contempt, making his way to the dock to check on the Vixen to make sure her integrity wasn’t damaged.
Twenty minutes into inspection, Ardyn checked near the tailpipe of the car and raised a brow when he came upon a peculiar object. Bending down, he crouched and pulled at the flat round piece. A grimace left him, feeling the object had been stuck on there quite tightly with a paste of some sort. A few tugs later, and he had it off.
Ardyn carefully blew away the dust on the item. There were two lights at the top, blinking yellow and red, and a list of serial numbers toward the bottom. It didn’t take long before he realized it was a tracking device.
“Gods be damned,” Ardyn sneered as he broke the piece with his bare hand, putting all of his frustration into it. Once it cracked in half, he turned his head when a Niflheim soldier approached.
“Do you need help sir?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Ardyn gestured for the soldier to have his left palm up and then placed the tracker into his possession. “Decipher any information left on this device, and report your findings.”
“You got it, Chancellor!” The soldier sounded a little too enthusiastic for Ardyn’s liking, but he applauded the boy’s efforts.
After the soldier departed to check on the ship elsewhere, Ardyn worriedly looked out the dock entrance. His eyes combed the road, leading back to Galdin Quay. A heaviness in his heart came and went, wondering if Y/N was fairing better than he was.
Coming around to the drivers side of the Vixen, Ardyn grabbed the paper bag that had the two cans of Ebony: one for himself, and one for Y/N. He then sought out his escorts for the inn.
#mending shadows#ardyn x reader#ardyn x you#ardyn x y/n#gender neutral reader#gender neutral y/n#ffxv#ardyn ffxv#ardyn izunia#ardyn lucis caelum#ffxv fic
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Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022
Day 4 - Monopoly
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Bells Hells / Crown Keepers Modern Human AU
Chaos.
Pure chaos.
The house rarely looked in such disarray, unless a good lot of them were absolutely smashed. Or worse, like right now… it being game night.
Honestly, you’d think they’d learn, maybe cancel the whole thing. Or at least play some co-op games, something where they had to work together towards a common goal! They had brilliant teamwork skills, well, when it came to each other that was.
But no.
They’d chosen the most competitive of games, the destroyer of families and friendships, and the death of peace itself.
Monopoly.
Imogen ducked as a shoe threw over her head, coming from Fearne’s direction. Where she'd gotten it from, no one knew. The woman didn't even WEAR shoes!
“You lookin’ for a fight, darlin’?” Imogen called out, a fierce smile pulling at her lips as she flashed the street she’d just bought. “We could finish this peacefully… if you're willing to trade. You know the one I want.”
Oh how Fearne gasped, like she’d just been asked to give up her first-born child. Honesty she may have been more willing to give that up than trade away one of her beloved 'possessions’.
“Piccadilly is so fun to say though! Are you sure you wouldn't like to just… give it to me?”
At this Fearne fluttered her eyelashes, leaning forward just a little to show off her cleavage. To her dismay, Imogen didn't budge, not even an inch.
“Your tots are nice, but this business, Fearne. It's Piccadilly for Kings Cross Station, or it's nothing,” Imogen retorted, her tone deathly cool.
“You're no fun…” Fearne pouted, throwing her arms around an exasperated Orym beside her. “Orym, you’ll help me, won't you~? You know how much I adore the stations~”
A sigh left Orym’s lips, as he surveyed the damage around the room. Laudna sat beside Imogen, peached up on the coffee table like a gargoyle. Beside he was Chetney, and the two of them seemed to be in some kind of heated debate (or maybe discussion?), about the game pieces. Something about which was superior, Chet’s hand carved little werewolf, or Laudna’s, uh, resin coated beetle cross moth monstrosity.
Dorian was right beside Orym, his head resting upon his thigh as he napped. The poor man had had an early start at the cafe today and was never gonna make it through one of their late-night gaming sessions. At least he was blissfully unaware of the disaster around him. For that he was grateful.
Opal and Dariax we're definitely drunk, and we're currently wrestling one another. Over what, Orym couldn't say. He wasn't even sure if it was about the game or not, but they were certainly going at it hard. Already a lamp lay tipped over and bent beside them, a casualty neither of them took any note of.
F’yra wasn't even in the room anymore.
Perhaps she’d decided to leave them to their self-Created hell.
Or maybe she was just in the bathroom.
Either way, she wasn't currently a part of this cluster fuck, thankfully.
Ashton lay on the couch, groaning as FCG wheeled up beside him in their chair and laid a tea towel wrapped packet of peas to Ashton’s black eye. That had been an earlier casualty of this mess, a scuffle and shouting match over a sketchy dice roll by Fearne that had led to an unfortunately timed trip and hand flailing combo.
There hadn't been any hard feelings over it, and Ashton had stated that they were fine. But Letters had insisted that his partner lay down and they didn't seem to be in the mood anymore to argue.
That had calmed things down, somewhat.
Not enough though.
Not enough at all.
“I think I feel a headache coming on…” Orym muttered, unfortunately just loud enough for anyone not currently bickering to hear.
“Already fuckin’ there,” Ashton said through gritted teeth, and it seemed with that that FCG had officially had enough. He handed the makeshift ice pack to their purple haired companion, gently running his hand through his frizzy soft locks, before directing himself in their shiny yellow (and sticker bedazzled) wheelchair towards The Cabinet.
Orym chuckled weakly, knowing what was coming next. As a show of kindness to the man dozing in his lap, he reached over for a pair of noise canceling headphones (Fearne’s, he thought), and slid them over Dorian’s ears.
Right in time too, as not seconds later FCG turned to face the group, triumphant with their prize from The Cabinet: A fluro, hot pink, knock off Minions branded air horn. He gave the group a fair warning, clearing his throat and calling out first.
“Okay! I think game night is over now! Can we all be quiet, please?”
The only ones to acknowledge them were Ashton and Orym, who both threw FCG a thumbs up before blocking their own ears.
Well. They had been warned now.
A sigh fell from FCG’s lips, before holding the can up high and blasting the air horn.
There was a series of shouts and screams, and a laugh could be heard from F’yra as she stepped into the room from the kitchen, garlic bread in hand. So that was where she’d been.
Swiftly they all fell to silence though, letting Letters put the air horn, so lovingly named Sir Bitch Blaster by both Ashton and Fearne, safely back into its home within The Cabinet.
“Thank y’all! I know you were all havin’ fun there, but we got a black eye, two headaches and a lamp down. Any more fightin’ can move to the backyard! Otherwise, I think we're done here, right?”
There was a scattering of embarrassed and ashamed mutters around the room, and Orym couldn't find himself more grateful than when he witnessed everyone getting up and tidying up the place.
The fighting was done. Well, at least until the NEXT game night.
But for now, Orym could breathe a little easier.
#DrabbleWRIMO#dungeons & drabbles#critical role#FCG#Ashton#Orym#Imogen#Fearne#Bells Hells#The Crown Keepers#Ashton & FCG#The rest of Bells Hells and the Crown Keepers are here and shown#but they don't have speaking roles like the otherssss#modern human au#Also there's implied Queer Platonic Partners Ashton and FCG in thereeee#Day 4 - Monopoly#Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022
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