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ellebakers · 9 months

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☆ I know who you pretend I am | Part two (+18)

Criston Cole x reader

Part two

Summary : Criston is courting you, but does he really have feelings for you, or is he trying to make someone jealous ?

Warnings : Fight, language, SMUT(18+)

Annoyed.

This is how you felt.

There was nothing enthusiastic about the festivities, and tonight was like all the others, wine, music playing by musicians, beastly soldiers wishing to finish between the thighs of a woman by the end of the night, and women just as eager to leave with a soldier of the king. This is what the parties organized in honor of your nephew Aegon were all about.

You didn't know why you were there. Oh actually you knew that. Your sister…

Alicent had begged you to come tonight, after gently declining at least twenty times you finally gave in.

That's how you found yourself sitting overlooking the room which was overflowing with men and women, each more excited than the other.

As you were about to take advantage of a moment of inattention on your sister's part to sneak out of this hellhole, someone appeared behind you.

"Are you leaving us already your majesty ?" One of your sister's soldiers asks amusedly.

You turned and met the eyes of Criston Cole, one of the most loyal soldiers of the crown, and also one of the most handsome men you have ever seen.

You cleared your throat to avoid thinking too much about the way you had imagined it lately, especially in the evenings, when you were alone in your room with an incessant fire that continued to course through your body.

"Um, yes I-"

You were interrupted by a voice announcing the return of Queen Rhaenyra, and as she entered, Criston paid you no more attention, he kept his gaze locked on her.

As the queen approached you, you bowed. "Please Y/n, we've been friends since childhood, you don't need to bow to me."

You smiled warmly at her but couldn't help but notice the way the man next to you was looking at her.

"It's a pleasure to see you again your majesty."

The blonde frowns at you and you laugh lightly. "I meant, Rhaenyra."

Your friend turned his gaze to Criston and both remained silent looking at each other. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling very well, it's better if I go lie down for a bit."

Your sentence caught their attention, and you felt Criston's gaze land on you but you didn't pay any attention to it.

"Do you want me to come with you ?" Rhaenyra asked.

"No I will-"

"I'll walk her." Suddenly the soldier intervened.

Without bothering to look in his direction, you thanked him. "Thank you but I prefer to walk alone." Then without another word you left the room without giving Criston time to react.

A week had passed since Rhaenyra's return and you had do everything possible to avoid Criston.

As you tried once again to avoid him by running in the opposite direction from where you had seen him, you bumped into something, or rather someone.

You gasped as the person held your forearms to keep you from falling.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty."

"It's up to me to apologize, I wasn't looking where I was going."

You looked up and met the gaze of a man with beautiful blue eyes.

You remained speechless in front of the beauty of this man, and while you were about to thank him for having caught you, a voice, which you knew very well, was heard behind you.

"Strong ! get your filthy hands off Princess Y/n."

The man let go of you gently. And you thanked him before turning furiously to Criston. "No need to be so rough with the man who saved me from falling."

Criston opened and closed his mouth, clearly surprised by your tone. You never raised your voice to him or anyone.

"Your Majesty, the way he held you was out of place."

You rolled your eyes at him and something dark crossed Criston's eyes making you shiver.

"His hands were on my arms, they weren't on my curves, there's nothing out of place."

You turned to the man and smiled at him. "What is your name ?"

The man who appreciated seeing you put Criston in his place smiled at you.

"Harwin Strong Your Majesty."

"Well Harwin you have my infinite grattitude. I hope to see you tonight for my sister's birthday."

The man bowed slightly. "With pleasure your majesty."

"Please call me Y/n."

Criston let out a sound that sounded like a choke which made Strong smile even more.

"Only if you call me Harwin."

You smiled at him and nodded "So we'll see you tonight Harwin."

You turned to Criston and your smile faded as you walked past him maintaining eye contact.

How could he react like that when Harwin had done nothing wrong.

Once you were out of reach, Harwin stepped forward and patted Criston on the shoulder.

"This lady is something."

Criston pushed Strong's hand away like he had burned him. "Stay away from her." he threaten with a dangerous look.

"I can't promise you that."

And with a smirk Harwin disappeared leaving Criston furious.

The soldier did not bother to think and he rushed to your room where he knew he would find you.

He didn't bother to knock and walked in, making you gasp.

"Sir Criston Cole, you have no right to-"

He didn't let you finish your sentence and clapped his mouth against yours. You pushed him away and for a moment he was afraid he had done wrong, but he was reassuring when you pushed him onto your bed and straddled him.

You knocked his armor. "Get rid of that."

He bit his lip. "Your wishes are my orders."

Once you got rid of his armor you settled back on him and kissed him with all your passion.

You felt something harden beneath you and you rubbed yourself against it, making Criston moan.

"Shit. You have no idea how many times I imagined us like that."

He confessed against your skin while undoing the lace of your dress.

"I hope as many times as I do."

He growled against your skin and began to suck your sensitive neck.

You slipped a hand between your two bodies and grabbed his hard member.

He threw his head back and groaned. "Fuck, Y/n, please do something."

Then you got out of bed and knelt in front of him. Criston propped himself up on his elbows with admiring eyes, but those eyes closed very quickly when you put his erect member in your mouth.

Instinctively he grabbed your hair in his fist and guided you up and down.

You watched him lose control little by little as you brought him closer to orgasm, alternating between sucking and licking.

"Damn, I'll-" He didn't have time to finish and cum in your mouth.

Out of breath he watched you swallow and groaned at the sight of it.

He grabbed you by the arm and laid you down on the bed. "It's my turn."

He ripped off your dress and ran his tongue over your body, your mouth, your neck, your breasts, taking care to lick them well and caress them with his fingers making you moan and wet like never before. Then he settled between your thighs and began to devour you as if you were his last meal.

You ran a hand through his hair to pull him even closer to where he made you feel good. Your moans got louder and louder and before you could orgasm you pushed him away.

He frowned and was about to ask you why, but you pinned her against the mattress and put your legs on either side of her head. It didn't take long for him to figure out what you wanted and a smirk appeared on his face as he impaled you on his tongue.

The sensation made you scream in pleasure, and he continued to bring you closer to your orgasm playing with his tongue inside you, and with one precise lick you came, shaking and sweating.

Once the adrenaline went down you withdrew from him and lay down next to him.

He put a hand on your belly and caressed it, it stayed like this until you fell asleep.

You had slept for an hour and when you woke up Criston was gone. Alicent's birthday came quickly and you found yourself sitting next to her when something caught your eye.

Criston.

And he was not alone, he was with.

Rhaenyra.

#criston cole #criston cole x reader #sir criston cole #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #fabien frankel

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sailorshadzter · 1 month

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something quick!! cause ive been thinking about THEM A LOT HEHEHE.

They talk until the sun comes up.

Though Jon begs for her to retire, to tuck herself beneath the furs he offers, she shakes her head- perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of joy. In those first few hours that pass since their reunion, she cannot bear to separate herself from this single man, from the only family she has left in this world. She cannot bear to unwrap his fur cloak from her shoulders and slip away, perhaps only to wake in the morning to be alone once more.

And so, together they sit tucked away into the rooms he’s slept in all these years, just an arm’s length apart, her smile shy and his gray eyes as stoic as she recalls them to be. They talk of it all- of his time in the Night’s Watch, of his regret of not heading South to save their father, of not joining Robb in hopes of protecting him from his untimely fate. She tells him of the abuse she once suffered in King’s Landing, of watching their father’s head bounce on the ground, of her clothes being cut away before all of the court. She can’t yet bring herself to speak of the other horrors- the ones she suffered in their childhood home, inside of Winterfell. “It was that awful Lord Slynt that did it,” she whispers, recalling as well as ever the sight of the ugly man forcing her father down to his knees, holding him there. Jon’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat. “He held father down so Ser Ilyn could take his head.” Her eyes are wide and glossy, her rosy lips curving with a frown; in that moment, he can picture her as she must have been that day- a naive girl full of hope, that in the end, all would work out as it was meant to. Instead, Sansa had been made to watch their father have his head struck from his neck in the most gruesome of ways, to witness the blood splatter the concrete, to watch it bounce until it lay still at the feet of the men who took it so easily.

Now he only wishes he’d made the man suffer more.

“I took his head myself,” Jon says quietly, twisting his hands in his lap.

She looks up, surprised, but a smile takes root, once which he’s certain he’s never seen before. “I dreamed a hero would do such a thing,” she admits without blushing, reaching for his twisted hands, calming them there in his lap. She’s thinking of those stories she’s long since left behind, the ones she believed could never come true, the ones which she wishes she never bothered to believe in. Someone who is brave and gentle and strong. Her father’s words come so suddenly she’s shocked by them, drawing her hand away from Jon’s as if struck by lightning.

“I should have come for you,” he whispers, his most prominent of regrets.

Again she’s smiling, shaking her head. “You’re here now,” she says as if this were enough, and in truth, it was. Even if they could never return home, even if this was all they had left for the rest of their lives, it would always be enough. “And I am better off for it.” She cannot imagine what would become of her if Jon were not alive, if Jon were not here now. This time it is Jon reaching for her, hesitantly, as if he worries what his touch, a man’s touch, might do to her at this moment. But she knows she is safe, she is loved, and she does not shy away from his touch. Not now, not ever.

“Aye… As am I…” He murmurs, tightening his grip on her hand, marveling at how perfectly hers fit within his. In truth, in the lingering days since his resurrection, he’s found little reason to be as he was now… That was until her arrival. Just like that, with just her arrival, his life has found some sort of meaning once more. The dark world in which he’s been living is once more full of vibrant color. Though he once thought he’d be better off dead, he’s thankful to once more draw the breath of a living man. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reminds her and she squeezes his hand, a silent answer.

“I know,” she says, something like a promise.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #my writing #i wrote this

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sjmgirlie · 3 months

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If you pick your ship only because you don’t like a character *cough* Elain *cough* then honestly what’s the point? You can like the idea of two people being endgame while respecting and admiring other characters..

People don’t like Elain because she’s boring.. really? Let’s see:

She killed the king of Hybern. Literally. She SAVED Cassian and Nesta.

Feyre distinctly recalls Elain saving money to buy her paints. Feyre never bought any for herself. ELAIN did. Knowing Feyre would not give herself that joy.

When Feyre goes to the estate, Nesta immediately says no to having the meeting there. ELAIN speaks up and says that Feyre gave for years and years and If she needs this they need to help her. She acknowledges how they let her down. She is the one who gets the people that work there out of the house.

Elain is the one who thought of the plan to go to Graysen and ask him to house the humans.

She was the one kicking the hounds off of Azriel’s back. She was the one who screamed to the girl at the camp to grab on and actually physically grabbed her as well.

fucking AMREN has said countless times to NOT underestimate her

She finds the Suriel for Feyre

She helps the people of Velaris rebuild

She says the queens can burn in hell when they don’t give the book to the IC

she TOTALLY downplays herself when going to the court of nightmares. You think the girl who is rumoured to be beautiful (this is said by Eris in ACOWAR and he actually does look at her that night too) looks bad in black? She knew the plan was to literally pimp out Nesta to get Eris in deep, why would she try and steal the show? Eris literally says Nesta outshines her that night.. hm, so she doesn’t always? Like it was on purpose

she begins to volunteer to help. Just because she is still stifled doesn’t mean she is unwilling.

She gives a complete play by play of Nesta stealing away a lords attention by dancing just because a girl was mean to her. She describes it in such detail and just says at the end “I just observed”… like?? How is that not interesting that she sees everything

Cassian says that Nesta is wrong that Elain is a loyal dog and that she sees everything Nesta does and knows why. She is understanding.

And this is just off the top of my head. There is more. And we know there is because SJM specifically wrote a Feysand bonus chapter to highlight that Elain is underestimated. Even by her siblings. She is not a warrior or a leader, but she is SOMETHING. And saying she doesn’t deserve Azriel just because we have only had snippets of her in the series is wrong. Yes, I am leaning towards Eriel, but that doesn’t mean I diminish Lucien and Gwyn just so my ship floats. Gwyn and Lucien are fantastic characters. They deserve the BEST. They deserve to be chosen and not second picks. Will they get that knowing that Azriel and Elain literally want each other? No, they will not. And that’s the biggest thing. Why would I want Gwyn, who went through so much, and persevered to get a necklace that was completely made in terms of the likeness of another? Why would I want her to, tbh, be 3rd choice? Gwyn deserves to be with someone who picks her first. Low key she deserves someone like Tarquin. She’s part nymph, how nice would it be to be somewhere warm and AWAY from the place that reminds you of all of your trauma? And to be with a man that even Feyre said would be easy to love.. I’m not even shipping that to take away from her and Azriel. I’m just giving an example of what she DESERVES. And if you’re saying she deserves Azriel’s gift to Elain and literally a guy who was thinking about how he would beg for another girls coochie, then you don’t care about her. You only care about Azriel. And you only care because you hate Elain. The same goes for Lucien. He watched the women he loves be killed by his father and was run out of his court, only to be kicked out of his home at spring court. He finally finds refuge with the band of exiles. Why would I not want him to be happy to fit my own believes in Eriel? If the mating bond is rejected I want it to be mutual. I want Lucien to get what he wants too. Not just Elain. Not just Azriel. Lucien deserves what he wants too.

Bottom line: you can ship who you want as long as you genuinely do it because you think that is what the character deserves. Not because you think another does not.

#acotar series #pro ship whoever makes you happy and let’s wait to see #elain #lucien vanserra #gwyneth berdara #azriel #ship wars

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mickimomo · 1 year

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To Beg for A Wife

More Oni x Namora shenanigans

@umber-cinders watered my brain again:

Here's what I'm seeing:

Oni walked down the stone corridor of the temple and retreated to her room.

The day had been long and draining. The need for sleep pulling her dragging feet forward.

It only took sixty seconds for her to settle in her bed before closing her eyes and drifting off into the realm of dreams.

Oni's dreams weren't normal.

They could be plagued with visions or haul her into a land that existed between the ancestral plane and the plane of the living.

A domain where Bast could talk freely with her vessel about anything she wished.

Tonight's conversation was about Oni's fifth incident with the warrior of Talokan.

One steamy indirect kiss had nearly ended with the talokanil general naked and screwed into the sparring mats.

The only reason it hadn't happened was a kimoyo call from Cebisa, requesting her assistance.

The giant panther narrowed her eyes at the kneeling priestess. "Oni, Daughter of Zuri. I have warned you four times, and you have refused to heed my warnings." She snarled. "Why do you refuse to listen?"

"Forgive me, Bast... but I've told you many times before that I truly wish to court this warrior."

"Oni-"

"-have you never loved someone?"

"This is not love."

"It is!"

"It is lust."

"It is more than lust!"

"More than lust!?"

"Yes."

"It cannot be love. You are not allowed to love. So tell me... what is it!?"

"My soul yearns for hers."

"Then you are breaking vows!"

"But-"

"-I am being benevolent." The panther scowled. "I have let you slide across the border with your feelings one too many times. You yearned to stain your hands with blood, and I granted it. Why are you wishing for more!? Who are you to be selfish?"

Oni's eyes stung with tears. "I am alone. Is it wrong to wish for a companion. Am I undeserving of love?"

"With love comes corruption."

"Corruption?"

"If I grant you permission to marry this warrior and consummate as traditions instruct- what will you do when they break your heart?" The panther stared holes into the priestess. "What will you do if her soul yearns for anothers?"

"She won't-"

"How do you know?"

"The ways of her people-"

"I am asking about her. Not her people."

"I just know she won't. The way Namora and I coexist... it's as if our souls were carved of the same stone."

"How do you know she will not break your heart, Oni?"

"I don't know!" Tears began to fall as she lowered her head in frustration. "But how do you know she won't? What if she never does!? Am I supposed to deny her because of one possibility?"

"Oni, humans are fickle."

"She's not like normal humans. She's not even from the surface world."

"Her heart beats the same."

"You don't know her like I do."

"I know enough about this warrior to write a biography about her."

"Then you should understand why I have feelings for her!"

"We have this argument almost every night, and my answer remains no."

"You want me to grow up miserable and alone while the world moves on. You want me to die in a cage full of unfulfilled dreams. Bitter and brewing with envy, I tried to hide." Her tears raced down her face. "These vows are corrupting me! Not the world."

"These vows were not made to cage you, but to save you."

"Save me from what!?!"

"The world!" The bared her teeth at the priestess. "You are my vessel. An avatar of sorts. My power flows through you, granting strengths that exceed even some of the greatest on this planet." The panther circled Oni with her tail swaying with anger. "Your blood can heal and cure the world of anything that ails it. You have foresight that can lead nations to great heights and the strength that could set the world ablaze." The diety sat down. "You are as close to a diety as man can get. That makes you a weapon to the wicked and a tool to the pure."

"What would I be to a lover?"

"Mankind cannot love you."

"My father loved me. T'Challa. Queen Ramonda." She listed. "What about Shuri and Okoye?"

"Familial and platonic."

"What about-"

"DO NOT SPEAK THEIR NAME."

Oni shrank under the goddess' voice.

Bast exhaled and closed her eyes. "Your father's death led to you slaughtering your own people. Is that not reason enough to guard your own heart?"

"How can I guard it when I hold Namora's in my hand?"

The goddess growled before opening her eyes.

Oni's stubbornness and persistence were always mining away at her patience.

"If I give you one thing, you will ask for another."

"You are benevolent. I would not ask for something that would offend you." She bowed her head out of respect. "I am only begging to have a wife."

The goddess stared at her.

"Then let's rework the vows that forbid you from marrying and being intimate with another."

Oni perked up, but kept her head low. "Ok."

"You will only be allowed to be with one soul in this lifetime. Your physical union will tie them to your very being. They will appear in this domain and share your burdens. They will die when you die. They will ache when you ache. They will lack peace when you lack peace." The goddess straightened her posture as she continued to look down at Oni. "If they do anything that I deem alarming, they will die a terrible death, and you will live out the rest of your days alone."

Oni stared up at the goddess. "Ok."

"Do you accept this deal?"

"Yes."

Bast let out a chuff. "Only you would be bold enough to beg me for a wife."

Oni lowered herself into a bow and pressed her forehead to the ground. "Thank you, Bast."

The diety stared at her long and hard before turning around. "You're welcome, my child."

Oni tried her hardest to now show how happy she was, but the goddess knew her well.

Bast let out a soft maternal chuckle before the dream came to an end.

#oni and bast #oni daughter of zuri #oni x namora #namora x oni #namora x oc #namora x oc fanfic #bast is tired of her vessel #onimora #oni chasing her dreams #the sun and the sky au #its a lil angsty but y'all will be alright #namora #namora of talokan #namora fanfic #black panther oc #black panther wakanda forever oc

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ga-yuu · 2 years

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Yoshino Is my best girl❤️

I honestly love her because she's so different from the other MCs and so relatable!!!

I like how she can be such a cutie and a badass at the same time❤️❤️❤️!

Because of that I have many questions, so please answer if it doesn't bother you!

1. Does Yoshino kill somebody in any route or event? (If she does she's gonna end up being my waifu with Yona)

2. Does she have any interaction with her rival in love?

3. Does she treat Tamamo like a pet?

4. Is she someone easy to manipulate? (Honestly I don't think so but just in case)

5. Let's try to see ikegen like a visual novel, so we are Yoshino but she is herself and has a personality that sometimes can't be so relatable: who would ship her with?❤️

6. In the end: how will rank Ikemen MCs? (In the game you played ofc)

Thank a lot!

Sure!!

She is not the kind of person who chooses 'killing someone' as means of solving anything. Rather she would choose an alternative that doesn't involve killing. Of course, she's not a saint because she knows that wrongdoings have to be punished and she won't support any heinous act. You won't see her act all innocent and dumb. She would try to evaluate the gravity of the situation first and then decides to select the right punishment. If she thinks that a person deserves a second chance she will try and ask for it....it's not like she will get on her knees and beg 'Please punish me instead!!' or something like that.

But then there are situations where she does threaten to kill anyone if they touch her man. At that time, she knows that what she's doing is wrong and she won't forgive herself for it. But she'll still do it because saving the male lead would be her main priority. As for now, other than killing demons, she hasn't killed any humans.

2. Are you asking about Masako? Yes, she does.

3. Never! She always sees Tamamo as her best friend in every other route except for his. A buddy who will also support her and is always by her side. Due to their pact, her soul feels much closer to Tamamo than any other male lead. It's the same as Yoshitsune does with Kurama. You get what I mean right? It's something more than a friendship but less than a lover. It's a complicated relationship. Sometimes, Tamamo does switch to his little fox form to comfort Yoshino when she feels tired or sad. She'll be hugging him all night.

4. The Shogunate gang never manipulates her.....they bully her. The Rebels are the sweetest cinnamon rolls. They wished she was on their side. The Imperial Court trio is kinda sus. They have an Exorcist, a dead man, and a handsome grandpa.....so they might try to manipulate her because they think they're the darkest people in the world. Yasuchika would manipulate her if the situation demands (#anything for Akihito). Akihito, well, he does manipulate her almost entirely in his route. Ibuki.....I can see him manipulating her in his child form.

5. Wait Ikegen is not a visual novel? I didn't get that question. Do you mean to say 'WE' meaning 'I' am playing the visual novel as the main protagonist who is Yoshino....then who would I ship with? Sorry I didn't get that one!!??

6. Ikemen genjiden MC: Best MC EVER!! In the whole otome universe! You can't change my mind! She's the golden standard for MCs. Love her design! I'm happy that they didn't go for the boring long brown hair and brown eyes. Usually, Ikemen MC's designs seem inferior compared to the beautiful-looking male leads. But this girl has a pact form where her hair turns silver and eyes turn to gold...like a real fox. Not only that! My favorite form of her is in the story event 'Eternal Contract - What if I am a Demon?' where she's an actual demon and her eye color is hot pink and has beautiful pure white hair. I just love that form. Even her personality is very cute. I thought at first she would be dumb...and her only purpose in the game would be nothing more than romance. But I was wrong. Not only that! Yoshino is still useful to the male leads without her fox powers. She can work as a doctor and also get along with the soldiers. She's also very good at giving everyone moral support when necessary. She's my golden child!!! Okay, I'll stop here because I can go on and on about her if I want to.

Ikemen sengoku MC: She's the first sassy MC I've ever played and I like her. I don't know how she is in the JP ver. but in the Eng ver. I think she's really really good!! (Not as much as Yoshino though, no one can beat Yoshino!!). Since Ikemen Sengoku is the oldest game, I will give a pass for her design. I can say that her design and her hairstyle look very modern for Sengoku era. That's why I give her a pass!!

Now the rest feels like first copies of Ikemen Sengoku MC----

Ikemen Vampire MC: Seriously? They're the same person!! Ikesen and Ikevamp MCs look the same.. the difference is one wears a kimono and the other wears a shirt and skirt. Come on! Can't they make her hair or eye color different! or give her some more fashionable clothes. Maybe she's meant to be a relatable MC but at least make her look desirable. The male leads look so colorful with feathers and other accessories attached to their clothes but why not MC? And don't even get me started about her personality....She has no personality! She's vanilla! Other than being horny I found nothing going for her. I'm sorry if I offended Ikevamp MC's fans.

Ikemen prince MC: This girl has personality....BUT she's just too dramatic for me. I find her very loud sometimes and her reactions to things...well....some might think she's pure-hearted, innocent little girl but I don't! I don't care if her personality changes in every route...because no matter which route I play I'm sure I wouldn't really enjoy playing as her. I'd rather put Yoshino in every Ikemen Games if I was the CEO of Cybird! Her design.....yeah boring.....and also, can I ask WHY they made her job as a librarian? instead of author. I mean, her work as a librarian doesn't make sense. Also after she starts dating one of the princes, she just easily gets the librarian job in the palace without any effort. Yoshino had to prove to herself that she is useful both as a pharmacist and a reliable partner in war to everyone and Mai was on her own. Mai started her own business by herself in the Sengoku era!! These two worked hard for their jobs and Ikepri MC simply gets handed over everything just because she's in love with the male lead? Huh? I'm sorry! The plot of Ikepri is all over the place for me. I don't miss playing that game!!

Ikemen Revolution MC: At least!!!!!!!! Her design looks desirable! Blonde hair with blue eyes....perfect!!! Her dress is supposed to be the way it is because she is 'Alice' so yeah...I like that too. I don't know too much about her personality because I only played one route of Ikerev and in that route I found her to be Okay. Not great But okay. That's all I can say.

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen mc #ikemen sengoku #ikemen vampire #ikemen revolution #ikemen prince

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fmkkennedy · 9 months

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idk if you want it sent here but BAYLIV

listen the FUCK here, am i EVER TRASH for f/f royalty shit!!! and the idea that they'd be two girls from opposing families who were raised to despise one another, and yet they fall madly and deeply in love!??!? that despite their families wanting them to marry off to ignorant men and to provide them with dowries, they'd much rather just run off and be happy with one another-- even if that means giving up every comfort that they know?? WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

bayley comes from a family that's far more prestigious. don't get me wrong, liv's family has some pull, but bayley is a pretty big fucking deal. she comes from the Hunter side of the family, meaning that her father (aptly named Hunter) was the lead on any and all trips. he came back with the big game. he was the king's right-hand man. he was his advisor. bayley was raised to be incredibly self-sufficient, a warrior in her own right, someone who could step up and take her father's place if absolutely necessary. she was gnarly with a bow and arrow, she could toss throwing knives with such ease and grace that it was almost poetic. despite being a woman, she was still invited on hunting trips and expeditions of that nature that weren't inherently dangerous. which is where she met liv. liv was the daughter of a bureaucrat. liv was raised to be Perfect. a perfect image of what a woman should be, an ideal. however, she fucking hated it. she was the eldest girl in her family, that was mostly made up of boys, and she wanted to be just like them. to hunt, to get dirty, to ride horses and make changes in the world, rather than sit in a court and be pretty and petite. eventually, her brothers would make her over into a guy setup and bring her on a hunt. liv's gay ass fell in love at first sight. bayley had no fucking idea who she was, she had a point to prove-- not only for herself or her family, but to prove that women deserved to be on the hunt just as much as any man.

liv, in her boyish get-up, saves bayley's life. it's in private. bayley had run off to catch a kill, but liv trailed after her, insistent that no one should be alone. liv was right, and bayley's senses were blinded by her desire to prove herself and led her into a dangerous predicament with a pack of wolves. unfortunately, in the process, the golden deer that bayley had managed to sink an arrow into is lost to the wolves, but liv ran in on her horse at the exact right moment to pull bayley up and onto the back to ride off. bayley is not pleased, btw. not pleased at all because that deer could've proven so much for her, for her family, for women, and there was this fucking weird little man running into the scene and fucking everything up. TYPICAL.

they meet again at court. or well, liv as liv and bayley as bayley meet at court. liv is dressed up like a little perfect cupcake, and bayley looks stunning and far more herself-- her family a little bit more accepting that she isn't what the ideal princess would be. once again, liv is fucking shooketh. bayley and her family are introduced to liv's, and bayley's spending the whole time trying to find the brother who fucked up her Moment. bayley eventually settles and talks to liv, first trying to find out information, but they eventually keep talking. and keep talking. and keep talking. and keep talking.

it's from there, there's the moments that they steal. liv begs her parents to allow her to engage in swordplay, to learn to defend herself and their people if it's absolutely necessary, and that's a way to get closer to bayley. liv sneaks out to see her. bayley finds herself in court far more often than she'd ever want to be previously. it's so much stealing glances and soft looks and gentle caresses of the hands and :) their first night together happens after bayley gets injured during a hunt, and liv exposes herself as The Brother Who Saved Her, which leads to a spat and then making up Quite Nicely.

they're both set to be married off. bayley because her family needs the influence, and liv because it's what's entirely expected of her. they're both with sheepish, loser men whose royal parents babied and coddled up until the moment they sent them off to be with their wives. unsurprisingly, they both run. liv steals her childhood horse and meets bayley in the woods where they first met, and they run off together. they live in the woods, primarily, and become a sort of Robin Hood Couple situation after seeing the lives that other people in the kingdom of had to live. ~THE END~

---

"Mi'lady, are you hurt?" The sheepish voice came from the young gentleman guiding the steed out of the dangerous scenario. Wolves howled hungrily, licking at their chops for a larger meal than the one that was provided, but the rider was well-practiced, experienced enough to bob and weave himself and the one known as Bayley saddled up behind him, frustration etched on her face.

"What was that about?!" Bayley let out, glancing behind her at the scene at which they'd left. That deer could've changed things. Not only for her, not only for her family, but... "I had it sorted!"

She was met with silence, before the sheepish voice spoke up again.

"Mi'lady, I do not believe being cornered by a hungry pack of wolves is 'sorting it.'" They replied calmly, looking briefly over their shoulder.

Blue eyes met brown, a flash of ... something behind ocean eyes before the rider looked forward again, tugging on the reins to signal for the horse to slow down.

"I. Was. Fine." Bayley insisted, her tone insinuating that she was not willing to argue. The rider simply nodded their head once, clicking their tongue as they motioned for the horse to go back to where the hunting grounds were situated.

"I'm quite sure, you were." The rider replied, nodding once again. "My apologies. I shall let them know that your loss of prey was of my doing. Will that be enough?"

Bayley scoffed, eyes now meeting the upcoming camp where her father stood, panic-stricken. Swinging her legs off the horse, she jumped off nimbly before shaking her head, moving onward without looking back. "No. It won't."

The rider's brothers swarmed over, applauding the rider who hopped off calmly, eyes never leaving the back of Bayley's head, a frown etched onto their face. The rider sighed, sadly, eventually turning with their brothers to discuss exactly what had happened-- the falsified version.

With a hum and a nod, the eldest brother looked down at her, eyebrow raised as the other brothers departed to break up into groups to continue the massive hunt: "She's got you quite. Love at first sight, no?"

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soraavalon · 1 year

Conversation

DM: As you guys are heading in about half an hour in you guys are approaching, trying to find where this boulder might be you see an encampment of this group of brutalized hedgehogs. They are all in these dented silver armor, you can see the eight-pointed star of the Twilight Court as they all are nursing wounds and broken bones and there seems to be about six of them here. They haven't seemed to have noticed you coming up the pathway.

Marigold: Good day?

Mistletoe: I think Mistletoe's gonna be like, "Oh good, you're alive."

DM: They look up to you and you see the leader puffs up his chest and steps up

Night Quill Captain: Of course we're alive, why wouldn't we be alive?

Tark: Well...

Night Quill Captain: Who are you anyways? It's not safe here for civilians so you should move along.

Hunt: We were sent here by the Queen of Moths.

Night Quill Captain: Well you can go back and assure Her Majesty that we have everything under control. We just had a minor setback.

-various 'Hmm's'

Tark: Sure looks like you have everything under control.

Night Quill Captain: We definitely do.

DM: And you can see the six of them, there are eight mounts which are these giant roosters that have saddles tied to the nearby trees. So there are six knights and eight roosters.

Night Quill Captain: We're quite fine. You can tell Her Majesty that we will handle this ourselves, we are of course the Order of the Night Quill and we are the best knight that the Twilight Court has to offer.

Tark: You sure about that bud?

Night Quill Captain: I am certain.

Tark: Buddy.

Marigold: It's okay to go back.

Nathaniel: We will not ask for anything in return for us helping you.

Night Quill Captain: We do not need your help.

Nathaniel: Okay.

Tark: Oh bud.

Ethan: Gurl.

Hunt: Oh.

Knight Captain: We are more than capable of handling a simple troll and free his captive and returning the veil to the Queen.

-multiple 'Captive?'-

Tark: Hold up, wait what?

Nathaniel (OOC): *laughs* We all went "What?"

Night Quill Captain: The damsel is our jurisdiction, we shall handle it.

Tark: Damsel.

Mistletoe: We could leave the damsel to you while we--

Tark: Deal with the troll.

Night Quill Captain: that is out of the question, it is our quest and our knightly duty to...There is a woman in the trolls cave who asked for our assistance in freeing her.

Tark: Hmm.

Night Quill Captain: And it is a chivalric duty to free her from [something]

Tark: Roll this back real quick; [something] kick your ass or was you know, sometimes some people don't want to be saved.

Night Quill Captain: She asked us for our help and begged us free her.

Marigold: What if you guys just, you know, heal up and rest and we'll go see if we can rescue her. Clearly if there's someone in trouble, it's not who did it, it's that it gets done.

DM: Make a persuasion check.

Marigold: Come on dice *rolls*

Mistletoe: Can I assist?

DM: I'm gonna say no.

Marigold: That's okay. *rolls a Nat20 for total of 27*

Hunt (OOC): *sees roll* Oh wow!

Mistletoe: *laughing* I was going to add a suggestion in there, but I see.

DM: At this, the leader of the Knight Quill scratches his furry chin.

Night Quill Captain: Well, I suppose that is true and we need a brief respite before we are able to resume our quest. Very well, you may free the lady from her bonds with our blessing

Marigold: How generous.

Mistletoe: You're basically deputizing us.

Nathaniel: That's fine.

#D&D mischief #Relni campaign #Relni Recap #Relni Chapter 42 #the second we all heard that there was a 'damsel in distress' we all were like 'Mm don't like that'#our deputy badge was a rooster feather from their mount

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aohendo · 2 years

Text

Find the Word!

Thanks for the tag, @saltysupercomputer!

My words were beg, gross, shimmer, run, and nowhere.

I’ll lob this towards @junypr-camus, @marigoldispeculiar, @whimsyqueen, @dogmomwrites, @the-stray-storyteller, and an open tag!

Your words are: smile, soft, sneer, shine, and shallow.

Shimmer

“I am… coming to realize that, my Prince.” Aris left a moment to grab the guards’ kit of medical supplies. When he returned, Kiris was watching the deep blue of his soul fade without end into the Other. It fluctuated occasionally, pulsing with his heartbeat, shimmering with every whisper of the gods and flinch towards Prophecy. It wasn’t the pinprick leaks from Riasil’s potion, however.

Gross

n/a. Fun fact! The original plan for Prince for Hire had it done and complete within 80k words. I am currently at 82k, and not halfway through. This is because I vastly overwrite 🙃. This is also because I really wanted to take the time this draft to develop the Batar/Kiris/Iiriok relationship, because I love them.

Run (Kiris often wants to run, so there were… many options for this one.)

More than Nelovskevouk attacking him, more than how Riasil’s potion had run rampant through his body, more than Batar’s sword kissing his throat last night, Kiris became still and cold.

Orjiar Thaav.

“You can keep it,” Evina said, smiling. “Charity for the poor little Vakon.”

This was Prince Thaav’s. The Realms reduced to his heartbeat and the book, pounding and shaking and altogether too hot and heavy. This was Prince Thaav’s, and Thaav would never give something of theirs to someone like Kysminov Evina. Not willingly. Not on their life.

Kiris turned heel and ran.

“Happy end of Truce, Yphant!”

Nowhere (after the events right after the run snippet.)

Kiris spent the rest of the day in his quarters, sat on his bed with his chin in his hands, staring blankly at the wall. Eskarez had come by with lunch, Chyzo with dinner, and Krorrin with a whole pile of books. All of it lay untouched on the dresser. Moping wasn’t getting him anywhere, but he had nowhere to go.

Beg (the “she” is referencing Evina and the events during and after the run a nd nowhere snippets.)

He wouldn’t kill her. He wouldn’t use Projection, or even Empathy. He wouldn’t need to. This was Competition, and of all the princes here, he had competed the most. Smiling, Kiris drew out his forgery kit and rifled through his handwriting samples of the collective of princes and court officials. He would start with her allies and work his way inwards, until there was no one left to save her, nowhere left for her to turn, no one she could hide behind and beg forgiveness.

Kiris found Prince Aaksyn’s lead advisor’s handwriting, pulled an inkwell from his supplies, and set to work.

#princeforhire #writing #wip #writblr #tag game #find the word #fantasy #writeblr #writerblr

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separatist-apologist · 2 years

Note

Please, don’t be in love with someone else For Aine and Feysand’s daughter !

Please Don’t Be In Love With Someone Else- Selene x Aine (872 words)

Love was like a chair to the stomach…or something like that. Having watched her elder sibling lose themselves to it, Aine had decided on a different path. She wanted power, not love. She intended to take her fathers place and for good reason—Alexander, Finn, and Saoirse had all abdicated, leaving just her behind. She could feel the magic thrumming in her veins and had chosen to wield it like any future High Lord might…even if it meant no longer taking to the garden as a bear.

It had worked, at least for a while. Until Aine saw her. Selene, standing beside her arrogant brother like the first golden rays of light over freshly seeded flowers. She was silvery like moonlight and somehow feather soft like the blades of grass Aine loved to lay against. Blue black hair and silvery blue eyes…it had been love at first sight for Aine.

Hardly, for Selene, who was lovely enough to attract more attention than the unwanted Spring princess. Sure, they became friends, talking at first politely before running off during the most boring of Ivy’s gatherings. Aine knew she should pay attention to her eldest sister's lessons given how badly Aine wanted to emulate her someday.

Whenever Aine left Selene, males flocked to her side, hoping to be bathed in her beauty. Aine was jealous, but never moreso than she was at that moment. It was Solstice in Night Court and after begging and pleading with her parents, they’d agreed to let her accompany Finn so long as she returned first thing in the morning. The only reason she was allowed was her lack of interest in the remaining males in Night Court. Her father didn’t have to worry about her running off with Rhysands son like Saoirse had done.

It was misery, watching Selene arrived in a silvery gown on the arm of some blonde. The male hardly belonged, was apparently a resident of the semi-reformed Court of Nightmares. The match, Elyn murmured with a wrinkled nose, would be advantageous to both Velaris and Hewn City. Finally they could put that old rivalry to bed. Selene would become princess of the mountain while her brother ruled above.

It would all have been fine had Selene not looked so happy. She practically glowed with light, her wings hidden in the strange magic the court possessed. When their eyes met, Aine banished all her thoughts when Selenes taloned claw brushed against her mind. Want to go to the roof? I need air.

Lead the way.

Selene slid her arm from the male, turning towards the hall and Aine followed, heart pounding in her throat. The sound of laughter faded to nothing as they silently climbed the stairs to the starry sky overhead. Aine glanced at them only momentarily—she didn’t hold any fascination for night, save for the female in front of her.

Aine walked to the edge, leaning her elbows on the railing. “He’s my cousin,” she finally said as Aine joined, nearly tripping over the lilac of her own too long gown. “Distantly but…”

“He seems nice,” Aine lied, wanting to be Selene’s friend, even if they couldn’t be together.

Selene wrinkled her nose. “He’s awful,” she replied, looking up at Aine with those rounded eyes. “And even if he wasn’t, his home is. I had the Court of Nightmares. Let Nyx have it. He enjoys their games far more than I do.” “What do you enjoy, then?” Aine asked almost desperately. Selene stood, practically the same height as Aine.

“Painting,” she replied. “And quiet. I wasn’t born to rule, I just know it. Father is so busy with his progressive ideals that he forgets I am not him or mother. I didn’t ask for any of this, I…I heard you were betrothed.” The statement caught Aine off guard. “What? Me?”

Selene nodded. “I actually came to beg you not to be in love with him.”

“I don’t like males,” Aine said quickly. “Surely you must know…it is me living in agony, seeing you with that bastard…I wanted it to be me.”

Selene smiled, picking a curl from Aine’s shoulder. “How stupid we’ve both been, I suppose.”

“You could spend your days with me, in Spring,” Aine began, inching towards Selene slowly, eyes only on her lips. “I wouldn’t ask you to rule at all…you could paint…or whatever it is you like.”

“Are you proposing before you’ve even kissed me?” Selene murmured, reaching for Aine’s neck. “Father will be so irate when he learns.”

“Good,” Aine replied, lips brushing Selene’s. “A little adversity would do them all wonders.”

She didn’t bother to mention their parents had already suffered enough, what with the Spring Court’s invasion. Rhysand had all but avoided Tamlin’s children. Not any longer, Aine decided. Selene would join her, Lady of Spring or High Lady, even, if she wanted it. Aine hardly cared.

What she wanted was Selene’s lips on hers, kissing her like she’d always imagined. It was better than anything she’d ever felt, more potent than the rawest of magic. Selene tasted sweet like wine, like moonlight on the water.

Aine understood, in that moment, what made love so potent.

#acotar next gen #girls kissing girls

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the-ladyrae · 4 months

Text

I debated whether to post this or not, but I feel like it would be better to get these thoughts out of my head rather than leaving them to fester. I have therapy tomorrow and plan to discuss this with a professional but holding myself accountable to the void never hurt.

I ponder what it means to be better....

It's 2 am on a Tuesday night...Wednesday morning? It's difficult to understand time...I haven't really done this in a while. Since I was in college really. Since I gave up on pretending I had any control over where my life was going.

And I'm writing this now because I need something to remind myself that I want that feeling back.

I have to be at work. At a job I hate that barely sustains me in 6 hours.

I know I won't make it on time but I want to try

I want to pretend I have at least one hand on the steering wheel while in reality it's careening off a cliff and I'm actually in the passenger seat whispering into the wind as if it will hear my half hearted cries and save me once again.

It always used to catch me before I fell.

I would court destruction in a way that would make most mortals recoil in fear. And time after time I was saved.

The salt water or the sun I didn't care which heights I flew to or which depths I sunk. I don't think I'll ever allow myself to know which was my undoing... but I fell and I kept falling...and nothing caught me this time.

I think I hit the bottom.

But then again I've thought I hit the bottom before... then I grabbed a shovel.

I'm 25 years old and $25,000 dollars in debt.

That should frighten me more than it does, but right now I can't bring myself to care.

It's 2am on a Tuesday night and I think my story just began. We've set the stage. Introduced all the characters. Now all that's left is to decide what I want to say.

But saying something and doing something and BEING someone are all very different things and I harken back to times when I would cling to small insignificant fragments of happiness in order to feel human.

This what I'm doing now I don't quite know if it's self harm or self reflection but I cannot stop and I cannot sleep. Because it is 2 am on a Wednesday morning and for the first time in a half a decade I don't feel tired...

Mentally that is.

Physically my bones are aching and my eyes are heavy. I can feel my heart beat in my finger tips as my hands tremble while I write this but my mind is clear.

My mind is clear and the silence is beautiful.

I can hear her crying.

A voice I thought was long dead in the back of my mind crying screaming begging for us to do things differently but silenced by the apathy. The majority. The crowd pretending that we know best because we must. We've never led you astray before it's always turned out...

Until it didn't.

They locked me in a glass box where I could make no sound and draw no breath.( I think they hoped it would kill me)

And then they set my world alight.

I was a promising young woman once. Set on changing the world...

And now I'm digging my world out from the ashes and hoping the ground doesn't fall out from under me.

I feel present in my body for the first time in a long time and I'm scared I'll disappear if I go to sleep. If I wake up and let it be Wednesday morning. I'm reminded of the quote

Even if we are not ready for the day it can't always be night.

For the night is dark and full of horrors, but daylight reveals a more dangerous beast by far...

Are we more ourselves in the quiet of night or by the light of day?

It is 2 am on a Tuesday night and I am myself again in a way I cannot describe.

I hope it lasts this time. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I'm done digging.

I'm done crying.

I'm done screaming from my glass box being roasted alive while my life burns down around me.

But I'm still scared to sleep.

We're only given so much time, and I fear I've wasted mine.

But that can't be. After all, this is only the beginning of the story. Right?

I hope. Is the short answer.

I pray. Is the hopefull answer.

I fear. Is the accurate answer.

But what is there left to fear if we've hit rock bottom?

Quite simple really.

I fear that there is still more to go.

I've been blessed... and I have suffered.

And I don't know if this will be the beginning of change... or the end of me.

Who are we without our darkest parts? What is shadow without light?

I'm scared to be lost to the nothingness when morning comes. I'm scared she'll come back and lock me back in that box and this time I won't whisper as we go over. I'll scream and scream and scream myself hoarse. Scream until my throat is raw and bleeding because we can do so much better. It doesn't have to be this way.

I ponder what it means to be better.

And I think in my heart I've always known.

I was a promising young woman once and I told myself I was going to change the world...

Then the world changed me. And for a while I forgot who I was.

It's coming in flashes now but I feel my bones rattling with the pressure of becoming. If I start trying what excuses will I be left with when I fail?

Maybe the promising young woman wasn't so promising after all.

It's 2 am on a Wednesday morning and I'm sitting alone with my thoughts for the first time in a while. Even when I used to do this I never let my mind wander. There were rules.

I only ever did this as a means to an end.

When we needed to release the pressur, or accomplish an impossible feat...

There was always background noise to make sure everyone stayed in line. White noise to fill the silence.

This beautiful blissful silence.

My mind is quiet in a way I don't remember it ever being. And I want to do better. I want to hold onto this feeling come Wednesday morning and wake-up as this person.

If that's even possible. Gods do I want it to be possible...

But I also fear it in a way I cannot describe.

If I wake up as this.

Then it was real.

I've spent the past decade in a daze on auto pilot. Letting someone else pull the strings in my life.

Is it really so easy to just come out of the depths and try again?

I contemplate better and question if I even deserve it.

I did this.

I made those choices.

I sat there in silence while I wrecked my own life because I didn't think I'd get this far and I kept hoping that someone would stop me.

That it would finally be over.

Because dear God... it hurt.

It still hurts.

Even now.

My hands have stopped shaking but my heart is pounding. It is now 3 am on Tuesday night and I don't know how much longer I can pretend it's night.

I have to be at work in five hours but I know I won't sleep.

The pages I've filled here tether me to this moment. While I keep writing the quiet stays and there is a certain rhythm to the silence. A strange symphony made up of the vent across the room, my shallow breaths, my fingernails as they swipe across my phone screen, and my beating heart. Other sounds of the night interject where they may and all they bring is terror.

Terror that the outside world is encroaching upon my time and I will soon return to no longer being myself.

It is 3 am on a Wednesday morning and I do not know who I will be when I wake.

I do not dare to hope.

I'm scared of what I'll dream.

They'll try to drag me back down I'm sure of it. Complacency and a flippant attitude that says I don't care, because I can't.

I want to care.

I want to be better.

I don't want it to hurt anymore.

But I don't remember a single moment of my existence where awareness wasn't pain.

I gave up control a long time ago intentionally, because it was easier to be numb.

We just needed to make it through till the end.

Someone will make the end happen sooner or later

What do we do when they keep moving the finish line?

Do we simply wake up...

And be... better?

Or do we wake up amid the carnage we've spent our entire adult life burying our deepest sense of self under and scream.

I've never seen such gleeful destruction rought upon oneself. Rome wasn't built in a day but it sure burned in one.

I am my own Roman empire and I set it alight for 10 years for what?

Just to see what would crawl from the ashes? If anything at all survived.

I can feel the clarity receding as the calm settles in.

I have to hold onto the panic else be cast down again. My own divine comedy frozen in a lake of tears a devil of my own making so far from the light of heaven that my sins run rampant. Torturing me in the shadows cast over the land.

I ponder what it means to be better and hope this is the first step.

It's 3 am on a Wednesday morning and I hope someone hears me when I ask for help.

I hope I'm not beyond saving.

But there is a lot of work to be done. And I'm frightened.

It feels like I've written at least 5 stops into this so far, and it's entirely too dense and nonsensical to unpack in an hour but the words are the only thing keeping me grounded.

So I write.

If I stop I'll fall asleep and it will be morning.

For now it is 3am on a Tuesday night and the world makes sense. Or at least it's starting to.

I hear the wind howl outside of my bedroom window and recall how it used to frighten me as a child.

A much simpler fear than what I'm faced with now.

A deeper conflict of self, or responsibility to one's self and one's own actions at the very least.

I don't think I've ever doubted who I am at my core. But the lines get blurry sometimes when the world tells me I need to be someone stronger.

Harsher.

Cruelty comes as naturally as breathing to her and it makes my heart bleed.

I often turn it inwards and say I'm doing it to protect the world from what I could have become.

The promising young woman, making promises she couldn't keep. Or worse keeping things she never should have promised.

I've gotten into bed now and all the lights are out except for one and it's nearly 4 am on a Wednesday morning and I don't know what the daylight will bring.

I can't promise the world I'll be better.

It's not that easy.

I won't promise myself I'll try harder.

It can't be that simple.

What was the point of all this struggle. Of all of this pain.

If I can just decide to be better?

If I can just grab the wheel before we go over.

If I can just pull my body from the wreckage and walk away.

Do I deserve forgiveness?

Do I deserve a beginning?

Did I deserve the suffering.

It was all self inflicted... almost all.

The world was cruel to me at times I won't pretend it wasn't. But I was cruelest to myself.

I blinded myself with pretty lies that this was the way it had to be. And then exhausted myself fulfilling that prophecy. Keeping myself miserable and chained.

What if I let myself go.

Are there any parts of myself I'm OK with leaving behind?

Will they suffer alone in the dark for the whole of eternity?

Will they be allowed the rest they denied me?

Will they simply shrivel up and die like a parasite cut off from its host?

Or will that darkness stay with me forever lest it latch onto another, weaker, poor unsuspecting soul?

Is it really my strength?

Or is it simply 4 am on a Wednesday morning in a world where I feel like I'm out of options?

I don't know what the dawn will bring but I'm tired.

It's 4am on a Wednesday morning and I hear a siren in the distance behind the snowfall and I wonder

If it's for me...

An alarm to tell me I'm already asleep.

That I was asleep the whole time and that this was all a dream that I'll wake up from soon.

Will I remember this come morning if it is?

I hope so...

I want to wake up and do better.

The promising young woman that always was. At the beginning of her story. Whether she carries the darkness inside or chooses to leave it behind the path forward can no longer be blamed on being unaware.

It's 4 am on a Wednesday morning and I'm awake.

Maybe this time I'll do better...

Part of me thinks that's naive.

Another part says it's arrogant.

My eyes close and open slower than they did when I began this hours ago but I've turned off the lights now so it was really only a matter of time.

Time marches on, I'm reminded.

As I reflect on how I got here.

The wind howls outside my window holding me present in the moment as morning encroaches.

The sky is beginning to take on an orange ish hue that I associate with early mornings as dawn begins to break.

My housemates will wake in an hour and it will be morning.

I will have to sit with myself in the light of day and reckon with my late night thoughts.

Then I will have to make a decision: face the consequences of being awake? Or live in fear while I succumb to the consequences of staying asleep...

For now, it is 5 am. on a Tuesday night, and the world is quiet.

The other shoe will drop in the morning, and I'll burn that bridge when I come to it.

...

It is 6 am. on Wednesday morning, the hour I slept, neither refreshing nor restful.

My world is no longer burning down around me.

Time to pick through the ashes.

#therapy thoughts #mental health #trauma #writing #freeform poetry #rambles #maybe it'll work this time #maybe it'll pass

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the-witch-and-her-husbands · 11 months

Text

Love At First Bite, Part One

Copenhagen. Late 1760s.

The Komtesse Jilomena laughed as she danced under a seemingly endless candlelit ceiling, the beams appearing to stretch up to the Heavens above.

Her eyes gleamed behind her mask as she danced with one man and then another. Sometimes with Monsieur de Lioncourt, sometimes with his companion Ponas Lecter. New arrivals in the court of Christian VII, and the toast of the town. Soon the young Comtesse was dancing only with Ponas Lecter. Hannibal. He stole a kiss on the balcony under the stars which was enthusiastically reciprocated.

The two men were most mysterious. There were rumours about them, two men as travelling companions. Jilomena would learn later that they had in fact been lovers, once upon a time. It hadn't worked out. Monsieur de Lioncourt - Lestat - craved variety. Hannibal craved devotion. It wasn't to be.

However, they held a larger secret than their past as former lovers.

Jilomena was smitten with Hannibal, a love that was reciprocated in abundance. Finally he had someone who would return all of his devotion with unbridled passion. The three of them soon became inseparable companions. There was gossip that the three of them laughingly largely ignored.

Then one day, disaster struck. Jilomena was now eighteen and therefore the Greve, her father, had arranged for her to marry another young nobleman.

She went to Hannibal that night in tears, pleading for him to save her. 'Jeg elsker dig,' she begged. I love you. Only you. Save me.

Hannibal released her from his embrace to look into her eyes. 'Min elskede.' My love. His hand stroked her face, and then he pulled her close once more.

His voice was like silk as he whispered in her ear telling her that there could be a way for them to be together for all eternity. She need only ask, she need only say yes.

'Ja. Ja, Hannibal. Jeg er jeres.' Yes. I am yours.

Smiling, he stroked her face. He cupped her face in his hands and brought her in for a deep and passionate kiss. Once the kiss was broken he tilted her head to the side, running his nose up the smooth skin of her neck and breathing deep.

His teeth sank deeply into her neck as she cried out.

@doctorwillseeyou

#(backstory)#(this is getting too long start the thread from part two)

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uselessboss · 2 years

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Partners(3/3)

“How are you feeling?!” -He entered her room in a panic.

“I’m doing fine. They just finished stitching the wound on my back. Didn’t hit anything vital and thankfully I didn’t get any infection”

It was night when it happened.

He was ahead of his partner at that time, chasing the criminal until they sneaked inside a closed factory where he lost his trail.

“Andrews where are you?”

“Inside the factory”

“Did you finish searching this area?”

“No” he shook his head. “There’s not even a point in doing that. He was way ahead of me, probably got away already”

“Andrews, I think he’s still- WATCH OUT!”

The criminal didn’t escape as he thought.

He went inside the factory to look for a weapon after they disarmed him earlier, finding a fire axe so he could strike down his pursuers.

He would have been dead if his partner didn’t protect him.

She wouldn’t have got hurt if he had done his job right.

It was all his fault.

“Wounds like that are bound to happen in our line of work” she tried to reassure him.

“Miller I never saw you get hit even once before”

“You can’t see now because of the bandages covering my wound but I have other scars you know? I’m not invincible Andrews, this isn’t the first time I got wounded so you don’t have to worry so much”

Hearing that only made his heart clench harder.

No one and nothing could ambush his partner. More than once she had saved him from nasty surprises, thanks to her sharp senses and instincts.

The other wounds... How many of them were acquired thanks to her covering other’s sloppiness?

Or...

A thought chilled his body.

How many of these were deliberate? Of people aware of Miller’s ability to sense danger and from her tendency to protect others even at the cost of her own body?

How many times was she used as a Human Shield?

He felt disgusted. Not only at the ones that caused her old wounds, but also at himself.

He was doing the same thing as the ones who wronged him.

There’s nothing in it for me.

He was so selfish. How could he never stop to consider for a moment how it would affect his partner? How his careleness would put her in danger?

He got so used to Miller’s support that in the back of his mind he never doubted it would exist regardless of whether he deserved it or not.

If he was overstepping her boundaries or not.

Because while she was good at looking after others the same couldn’t be said about herself.

“I’m really the worst” he berates himself.

“Miller, I’m sorry for being such a crappy and inconsiderate partner and I know I am asking too much when you gave me so many chances already” he squeezes her hand. “Give me one last chance. I promise you, next time you can count on me”

She was barely alive when she was found in that dreadful incident.

She was so injured, half of her body was burnt, the smell of charred human flesh nauseating.

It must have hurt so much but Miller refused to be sedated. She panicked whenever she was unable to feel her body, expressing intense fear and trauma in a way he never saw her show before.

They tried to put her to sleep to force her to rest so she could recover but that presented another set of problems. She was plagued by nightmares, crying in her sleep as her entire body was racked with sobs as she begged for something or someone to stop, to ‘not kill’, to ‘let her go’.

It hurt to watch her suffer like that and not being able to help.

And even when she managed to escape death’s grasp things didn’t get any easier for her.

Miller... She was subjected to the worst unfairness in the world.

They didn’t even wait until she was fully recoved. She wasn’t even able to walk yet but that didn’t stop them from dragging her to the court to be tried. She was heartlessly put on a wheelchair, still wearing her hospital gown, still wearing her bandages.

And he couldn’t be there for her.

As her partner he was put under scrutiny, investigated on the suspect of being her “accomplice” and not allowed to see her until he was cleared.

She was completely isolated. Suffering alone.

“I... Can’t tell the truth in a way people would believe me. I can’t defend myself” her voice quivered. “I don’t want to drag you into this too. I don’t want your life to be ruined by what happened as well”

She must have been under indescribable pain and agony. Both physically and mentally. She looked broken.

He honestly didn’t know from where she found strength to still worry about him.

“...I will do what you ask of me, but that’s for your sake” he clenched the phone in his hands. “I don’t want to make you worry about me on top of everything you have to deal with”

“I’m glad to hear that” her shoulders sagged in relief.

How could anyone ever believe such a kind and selfless soul like her was capable of doing what she was accused of?

“Miller, I want you to know this: I believe in you. No matter what everyone says I know for a fact that you are innocent and nothing will make me think otherwise” he stated firmly, hoping his words would reach her. “I got to know you better than anyone else and I know you are a good person”

“...”

He wished he had accepted her offer earlier.

To be a better partner, to be kinder... Much kinder to her. Treat her the way she truly deserved to be treated.

He knew it was useless to think of ‘what ifs’ but he couldn’t help it.

He couldn’t help but still hope for that.

His phone buzzed.

He carefully placed his watering can at the table, right next to the newest bouquet of flowers he was gifted and picked his phone.

“Hello? Who is it?”

“It has been a while Andrews”

“Miller?” his eyes widened.

He smiled.

A miracle has been granted.

And this time he wouldn’t let this chance pass.

“Of course. Anything for my lovely partner”

#My useless invincible boss #Crowa Miller(useless boss)#Daniel Andrews(useless boss)#side story post

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ficsilike-reblogged · 3 years

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Precious Inexperience II

A/N: Welp. You guys voted and here I am...trying to deliver my second attempt at a dark fic. Please let me know what you think. I never expected this little fic to take off like it did. I love you all. If you want a refresher--here’s the first part!

Pairing: King!Robb Stark x F!Reader

Rating: M for DARK THEMES including dub-con, death, death of children, Robb being a dick, a bit of smut, and canon-typical sexism

Warnings: Again, dub-con/dubious consent, talk of pregnancy and childbirth, men being terrible-PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: The King in the North was now King of the Seven Kingdoms. Peace reigned. Kings need heirs. But queens need love.

King’s Landing had over a half a million people calling it home and she had never felt more alone. Her ladies in waiting were kind but aloof, more preoccupied with making sure the child she was carrying was healthy than if she was happy. Court was filled with lords and ladies and foreign dignitaries who were all but throwing themselves at Robb’s feet in hopes to gain his favor—she was barely more than another tapestry on the cold stone walls of the Red Keep.

A pretty thing to be looked at and then ignored.

Whenever someone had deemed it a worthy venture to speak to her, Robb quickly put an end to it.

“You are here to speak to me, my lord, are you not? Do not let your eyes linger on my queen.”

But she was lonely. The only time she felt the smallest bit seen was when Robb came into her chambers. His hands still left her tender and hurting, even after the maesters confirmed she was with child a month after their wedding night. But he was all…he was all she had.

Writing to her mother, asking if she could come to the city to spend a season at her side, was quickly rebuffed as well. My darling girl, you are the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not distract you from your duties. Your husband and child will come first, always.

That did nothing to bring her comfort.

And she learned quickly that Robb did not like her tears.

“Have I not given you enough? A crown? Jewels? Dresses from Essos? What more do you want?” His face was bright red with anger so she quickly wiped at her cheeks and nodded, murmuring an apology. He let out a strained sigh and she watched him walk toward her through watery eyes. His warm hands grasped her face and rough thumbs brushed away her tears. “You are my queen. You are bringing my heir into the world. You have made me happy, Y/N.” His hand settled over her stomach, now showing the advanced stage of her pregnancy. “That should be all that matters. You are emotional because you are with child. This will pass.”

It will pass.

It didn’t.

She winced as she felt her child move and kick as she laid atop her featherbed, listening to the city start to wake before the sun. Thankfully, the morning sickness had subsided only a few months into her pregnancy but the need to rise early had not left her.

Her door opened and she felt herself smiling as Robb entered. She knew he would stay, at least for a few moments. She would have someone who wanted her all to herself, even if just for a little bit.

Without a word, she held out her hands to him and welcomed him into her bed.

His hands were still rough as they tore at her thin nightdress. They were rough as they spread her legs. They were rough as grasped at her shoulders as he rutted against her.

“This is the first of many. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“I want…” The words were strangled in her throat when she felt that all-too familiar coil start to tighten and fray. He always made it feel good. “I want to be beautiful for you. Always.”

A visiting Pentoshi magistrate was the reason almost all of the court had gathered in the Great Hall. He had a band of exuberant contortionists and firebreathers to entertain the lords and ladies of Westerosi court while he spoke with Robb. His entourage were quick favorites of the upper echelons of society in King’s Landing and it was all so… strange. All this pomp and circumstance around a man who was essentially begging for help against the Dragon Queen who seemed hellbent on rebuilding the Valyrian Empire, including Pentos.

Robb would not help. She knew this. The Court knew this. But they wanted a bit of entertainment. This Pentoshi politician was not the first to come to beg for the Wolf King’s help and would not be the last.

But it did give her a little more to distract herself with, as the days dragged on.

She watched a young man contort himself into a strange shape while another contortionist balanced her entire weight on his foot. Robb was seated atop a raised dais with a grey stretch of fabric to keep the sun off his skin.

Beside him sat the Magister who had come and a handful of his advisors—Naavio was his name.

He had silver hair with piercing green eyes, a little thin compared to the King, but handsome in a strange way. He spoke the Common Tongue with the lilting accent of the Pentoshi people which made Y/N smile for some reason. Perhaps it was just the abnormality of his and his entourage’s presence that made it exciting but she felt a little like she had friends whenever one of them would stop and speak to her.

“How are you feeling this morn?”

“Have you decided on names for the young prince or princess?”

“You look as if you are glowing, your grace.” It was all so lovely. And it seemed so genuine, so unlike the empty-eyed smiles she would receive from her ladies-in-waiting and the rest of court. But her favorite was Naavio.

The magistrate made it a point to seek her out whenever he could.

“These two are my favorites,” he whispered to her.

Y/N nearly leapt from her skin, having not noticed him sneak up behind her. “Oh, Seven Heavens, Lord Naavio, you must not frighten me so!”

He chuckled. “I am sorry, Your Grace. You know I would never try to scare you. You are in a delicate state.”

Y/N pressed a hand to her stomach with a smile. “Yes, the maester said only a few more weeks until I can welcome them into the world.”

Naavio’s hand was suddenly pressing against her stomach too and she laughed when she felt her little one’s foot kick right where he had placed his palm. “They enjoy my presence just as much as their mother does, it seems.”

A sudden shadow loomed over them and Y/N pivoted to see Robb standing behind them. His silver and iron crown glinted in the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the near feral light in his blue eyes as he looked at her.

“Take your hand off my wife.”

Naavio’s hand quickly pulled back but he chuckled—again. “Your heir has a strong kick, Your Grace.”

“Yes. My heir.” Robb reached out and snatched Y/N’s wrist. His grip hurt but she knew better than to let out the hiss of pain she felt bubbling at the back of her throat. He tugged, just once, and Y/N knew to walk to his side.

There would be no spectacle.

“You must know how precious a child is,” Robb’s voice was steady but she knew better. The grip he had on her wrist dropped and he pressed his hand against the small of her back. “For a man who seems so desperate to save his kingdom, you are playing a dangerous game.”

Naavio blanched but he still smiled at the wolf-king. “I was only congratulating your wife on the health of her babe. It was a compliment-”

“My wife, the queen of my kingdom, knows how beautiful and lucky she is to be carrying my heir. She does not need your input.” Robb turned to her, eyes piercing. “Am I correct, wife?”

Y/N could only nod.

Y/N knew that Robb would never hurt her. His grip while in the throes of passion left her sore, but he never raised a hand to her. Seven Hells, he barely raised his voice. But Y/N knew of the violence that simmered just below the surface of his skin.

He was a wolf.

He was King.

He was the husband the gods had given her.

And she was scared of him. Something innate and quiet in the back of her mind told her she could not truly trust him. She was not safe.

But he had always kissed her when he was finished with her womanly duties.

And he still found pleasure in her even after he knew she was with child. His eye never wandered to the other many, beautiful highborn ladies who were readily available and arguably eager to be a young king’s mistress. But no.

He had his queen.

And he was his father’s son—that was what Robb had said, anyway.

“You are my queen. I will not dishonor you. And I know you will not dishonor me.” The words were cold as he slammed the door shut to his solar.

Y/N nearly lost her footing as she stumbled in but caught herself on the table, accidentally sending a stack of missives across the floor. “I thought it was a queen’s duty to make allies with her social graces and-”

“A queen’s duty is to provide for her husband.” Robb’s lips were pulled tight against his teeth. But he took a deep breath and then reached for her, hands grasping at her face. “I love you. You hear me? I love you.”

And she wanted to believe it. She had wanted to believe he could love her. “I love you too.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead and then righted the spiked crown on the top of her head. “I will not have you near him again.”

Y/N nodded, resigning herself to the loss of another possible friend. Her one solace would be Robb, it seemed. As it had been since she came to King’s Landing. As it always would be.

But Naavio was persistent.

And she was lonely.

When the first letter was smuggled to her, she had not answered. But when the fourth came again and asked her to meet him in the gardens at midnight, her need for some sort of friendship won out and she slipped away from her maids and met the magistrate in a familiar stretch of the garden maze as the moon looked on from above in a starless sky.

“You’ve come!” Naavio said, reaching out to grasp her hands. “I was beginning to think I have offended you in some way, Your Grace.”

Y/N shook her head with a smile, ignoring the sudden sharp pain she felt in her stomach. “I am hard to offend, my lord. But it is good to have an ally in a city such as this.”

Naavio chuckled. “Yes, it seems King’s Landing is as fearsome as its king.” He was quiet for a moment, simply looking at her as his thumbs idly swept across the soft skin at the back of her hands. “Pentos is much more amiable.” His grip tightened. “I shall like to take you there, show you my home.”

Y/N’s smile widened just a fraction. “I would like that. I have heard such wondrous things about your home.”

“I could take you there. Spirit you away from this wretched city.”

She gasped and tried to tug her hands from his but his grip did not relent. “My lord, I-”

“You are not happy here. I can see it in your eyes. Do you want to raise your child here? Do you want to spend the rest of your days hoping your king does not lose his supposed love for you? You should be surrounded by people who worship you, adore you—and the babe you will bring into this world.”

Y/N stood and ripped her hands from his with a grimace as the pain she felt started to bloom and grow. “You misunderstand my intentions. I have only wanted friendship.”

Naavio stood with a sneer. “Then you are a fool. Only a child would misconstrue my attentions for mere friendship.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, to argue, to do anything—when she doubled over, clutching her stomach with a whimper as something trickled down her legs. “I…” Her legs shook and she threw out a hand to tangle in the branches of the greenery at her side, the only thing keeping her upright. “The baby. They’re coming.”

“What have you done?”

Another contraction had her almost falling to her knees but she looked over her shoulder to see Robb and a handful of his kingsguard at his back.

Naavio stood straight. “Your Grace-”

“Seize him.”

And the kingsguard did, almost gleefully taking the foreign magistrate to his knees and, by the sound of it, dislocating his shoulder as well. Naavio shrieked but Y/N could scarcely hear it over the roaring of the blood in her ears.

Familiar hands grasped at her face, tilting her chin up so she could look into the dark, hard eyes of her husband.

“The…baby…the baby is coming…”

“I know.” Robb pulled her close and she could feel the next words rumble in his chest. “Magistrate Naavio, you have tried to take my heir and seduce my wife.”

“I have done no such thing!”

Y/N crumpled in her husband’s hold with a choked scream.

“Take him to the Black Cells. I will deal with him later.”

It took two days to bring little Prince Eddard into the world. But he was beautiful—the most beautiful little one she had ever beheld. Her body was tired, her mind was buzzing, but all she could see was the little bundle in her arms.

Robb did not care about the blood and water and sweat coating the featherbed as he sat beside her and pressed a hard kiss to her temple. His finger traced down his son’s nose. “You have made me happy, Y/N.”

She smiled, eyes finally drooping.

“But it is time the magistrate is dealt with.” He stood and waved his hand, having one of her fine dresses laid out across the bed. In a blur, she was cleaned and dressed and a cup of Milk of the Poppy was all but shoved down her throat by an impassive Maester.

The Great Hall was filled with lords and ladies and knights from across the Realm. All of them had been waiting the birth of the heir of the wolf king but were now going to be witnesses to the king’s judgment, too.

“Naavio. You have come here to beg for reprieve against the Dragon Queen, to ask for help against her campaign.”

Naavio said nothing as he glared up at Robb on the throne, thick chains around his wrists and ankles. His Pentoshi ginery was dirty and ripped. The two days he had spent in the Black Cells had not been kind.

“Instead, you have tried to usurp my own power.”

“I did no-”

“I have sent a raven to Daenerys Targaryen, giving her the information you have given me. Your city will fall. It will burn with dragonfire.”

“Your Grace!” The words broke in Naavio’s throat.

The sudden noise made Eddard fuss in her arms and she gently rocked him, mind still hazy from the Poppy. But the cold green glint of Naavio’s eyes cut through the mess. He was a caged animal.

“This was you! You played your part so well. The innocent queen in need of rescue-”

“Silence!” Robb said, standing from the jagged throne. In the strange quiet of the Great Hall, he descended from his perch and took the reformed Ice from its sheath. “For your crimes against your host, against the good queen Y/N, I sentence you to die.”

Before Naavio could even plead for his life, Robb lifted the greatsword and took the magistrate’s head.

Robb was rutting against her, hard hands grasping at her breasts, pulling at the flesh of her hips, wrapping around her throat.

It hurt.

But she loved how he wrapped himself around her, loved how he would press his lips to her sweat-slick skin, loved him. Even if the maester had said it was too soon for the king to visit her chambers for such an act.

“You’ll give me another. You’ll give me ten more.”

“I will!” She cried.

“You’ll give me all of you because you are mine.” His hand tightened around her neck as his hips moved faster and faster. “Only mine.”

“Yours,” Y/N said as her throat burned.

His hips stuttered and a familiar warmth bloomed but he did not stop, could not stop until she was sobbing against his mouth with her own release. It hurt even more.

Sweat cooled on their skin as the high slowly died. Robb turned and pressed a biting kiss to her throat, still tender from his grip. His beard scratched her slick skin. “Mine. And you will always be mine.”

As she caught her breath, Robb rose from the mussed blankets of her featherbed and pulled his trousers on just as the door opened and a nursemaid brought in Eddard, snoozing in her arms. She readily handed the babe over to the king and then left, not even acknowledging the queen’s presence aside from a small curtsey.

Robb smiled down at his son and he looked genuinely happy—the smile he had reserved only for her.

She had made him happy. That was all she wanted.

“I will not have another man thinking to steal you away, wife.”

“O-of course not. You know I would never-”

“I must keep you to myself. And I will.” He looked at Y/N for a moment before leaning down to kiss his son’s forehead. The babe reached up and cooed, pressing his little hand against his father’s cheek. “You are mine. Only mine.”

He walked to the side of the bed and let her hold him as he dressed again and she lathed happy little kisses over her son’s face, listening to him giggle—but then Robb took him away. “What are you doing?”

“I am keeping you.” Robb kissed her cheek and then stood straight and walked to the door. When it opened, she saw three kingsguard standing outside, bedecked in their battle armor and swords at their hips.

“Robb?” His name was soft, strangled in her throat. “Your Grace?”

“She does not leave this room unless I am at her side.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Robb nodded and then smiled down at his son as the door swung closed. A heavy lock twisted.

Y/N stared at the door. She was not sure if she expected it to open again, or to at least hear another word from Robb on the other side, telling her what she must to do. But there was nothing.

She was alone.

A/N: All right! There we go! Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

#robb stark x reader #robb stark imagine #robb stark #darkfic #game of thrones #dubious consent #toxic relationship #tw: dub-cob #tw: dubious consent #dub con #game of thrones imagine

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styx1an · 3 years

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A Chat about Chat

A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.

Word count: 1,863

Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)

You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)

> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.

> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.

(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.

Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.

One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.

> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.

> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?

It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.

Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.

And God took notice.

It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.

It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.

Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.

Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.

It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them.

And came the time to summon the fourth member.

As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.

“EDGEWORTH” one cried.

Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”

“CHAT CALM DOWN!”

“!uptime”

“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”

“TURG”

RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.

“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”

His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-

And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being.

Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.

Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.

And thunder strikes once again.

The crowd is gone.

Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.

> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.

> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.

RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.

So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.

Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress.

Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really.

“RT WHAT”

“NO NO NO”

“!uptime”

“I'M ON TV!!!”

“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”

“that’s kinda meta”

As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears.

The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.

Now, one last thing.

RT stared into Chat’s eyes.

This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.

It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.

They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.

He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.

“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”

A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.

“OK then!”

I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.

In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:

“Hi, I’m Chat!”

And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.

Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.

And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.

But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)

> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.

#rtgame #magical john #well i wrote! dont like how the latter half was written but ok #miitopia #writing #rtgamecrowd

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

A Secret Romantic-Benedict Bridgerton x Reader x Eloise Bridgerton (Platonic) (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @elenawinchstr)

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @myficplace @yelenas-lova @lavxnder @s-unflowxr

Summary: Benedict and Eloise both anticipate Lady (Y/N)’s social event, as does their mother, causing tensions to rise and panic to ensue. Benedict doesn’t want his mother ruining what he may have with (Y/N), asking Eloise for her help, who gladly plays the role of a good sister.

Characters: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader, Eloise Bridgerton x Reader (platonic), mentions of Anthony Bridgerton and Violet Bridgerton

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Benedict hastily moved around the house, avoiding his mama at all costs. She called out his name repeatedly, growing frustrated at his childish manner. He was supposed to discuss a plan with her about how he should prepare to court Lady (Y/N), but he knew better; his mama knew nothing of (Y/N) (he admitted, he still had much to learn about her too), and he didn’t want his chance to slip away. Although he was confident at her house when he called upon her, there was a sickening doubt looming in his mind that if he did anything wrong, another suitor could easily take his place.

“You have no where else to hide brother.” Anthony smirked, his eyes skimming over the top of his newspaper.

Benedict sighed, accepting defeat. She would find him in a matter of minutes, especially since Anthony’s office was the last place she would look.

“Please, just let me stay her for a few moments.” Benedict begged.

Anthony chuckled, putting down the papers as he reclined in his chair.“Oh dear, I see things are turning serious quite quickly.”

“Yes, which wouldn’t be a problem if mama wasn’t making this such a big ordeal.”

“But it is to her.”

Benedict knew this.“I know that, because someone hasn’t found a woman to marry, so it then falls onto my shoulders.”

“I haven’t seen you so anxious before. Sit down, try to relax.”

Benedict took his offer, practically collapsing into the chair on the other side of the desk. Anthony stood, pouring out a drink each and handing one to Benedict. Though not one to drink in the early afternoon, he gladly sipped at it, wishing he would just calm down.

“Besides mama, what is going on in that head of yours?” Anthony asked.

He genuinely wanted to help. He felt a slight guilt knowing that his mama was more excited about this possible partnership, seeing as he never gave her the satisfaction of even socialising with women.

“I worry that I may not be enough for (Y/N).” he said.“Of course, I have talked to women, I know the right things to say, but I also know that I will not want to engage in further conversation. Whereas with (Y/N), she intrigues me, so much that even after we danced and talked for hours, I still felt like I hardly spent any time with her. I thought about every word I said, listened intently to everything that poured out of her mouth. There are no other women like her.”

Anthony didn’t speak for a few seconds.“You should write poems alongside your art work.”

Benedict groaned, about to stand when Anthony stopped him.

“I am teasing you brother. Look, it’s extremely obvious that you have fallen for this woman. Putting feelings aside for a moment, she also comes from a well off family with a respectable background, so you’ve done very well in that department. This art exhibition will allow me to also see what Lady (Y/N) and her family are like, as well as keep mama away from you both as much as I can.”

“You would do that for me?”

“You seem shocked. I will pretend not to be offended.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that you too do not like to be....bothered by mama at these events. No doubt she’ll talk to you about my potential courtship all night.”

The door opened as he finished speaking, Violet popping her head in. Her smile widened when she saw both her sons in the same room, now able to speak with them both about Lady (Y/N). Anthony and Benedict shared a look, knowing they would be there for some time.

Elsewhere in the house, Eloise was suffering through a conversation with Hyacinth. As Daphne had to endure, Hyacinth was questioning her older sister, wanting to know everything there was to know about the balls they attended. She wanted to make sure she had all the knowledge she needed when it was her turn to debut. They never spoke of these things in front of her or Gregory and she wanted all the answers. However, Eloise was not revealing anything, and making it seems that everything to do with debuting was awful.

“Go away and pester somebody else.” Eloise huffed as she descended the stairs away from her sister.

“Why are you always so mean to me? I’m just asking questions!” Hyacinth protested.

Eloise felt guilty, especially since Hyacinth was still young and didn’t understand many things about the world yet.“I’m sorry, but I’m not the best person to ask these questions.”

“Why don’t you want to get married?”

“If I explain, you won’t understand.”

“Yes I will!”

“You won’t Hyacinth.”

“You’re so mean!”

The young girl stomped off, having a tantrum to herself. Eloise did feel bad for being so snappy with her sister, but she really didn’t like talking about these things, doing all she could to avoid it where possible. It just made her feel miserable. And who wants to dote on a topic that eliminates all happiness from them?

However, Eloise did find that she was excited about the art exhibition. She was curious as to how (Y/N) and her brother’s encounter would go. For a moment, she felt like her mama. It sent shudders down her spine. It was nice to have the pressure and attention off of her, and to see her brothers in the spotlight. She knew too many friends with brothers who had it easier than the women of the family. Of course they had certain expectations, but Eloise did not see any men parading around in uncomfortable, tight dresses, with over the top embellishments and feathers.

The remaining days leading up to the art exhibition were filled with dress and suit fittings, lessons on the (Y/L/N) family, and making sure everyone knew how important this day could be. Benedict grew more and more nervous as it approached, his mama making him realise that this could be a turning point in his life. Before this was all about him being excited to see (Y/N), to be in her company again, now it was as if he was proposing to her.

Eloise stepped out into the garden, welcoming the warmth that was still lingering at this time of night. She couldn’t sleep, knowing what was on her mind, but not wanting to admit it. She wasn’t surprised to see Benedict already on the swing set, secretly smoking as they had both done before. A small smile appeared on her face as she approached him, making sure to create some sort of noise as to not startle him.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one being kept awake.” she said as she sat down.

“I haven’t even tried to sleep yet.” Benedict said before inhaling through his cigarette again.

“Is someone nervous?” she wasn’t teasing him, she was concerned.

“Yes.” he surprisingly said.“I’m nervous because mother has made me believe everything is depending on this next meeting. Yet she forgets how long Daphne took to decide who she was marrying.”

“You shouldn’t be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Because (Y/N) likes you.”

Benedict chuckled."Ah, I forgot you were the expert on such topics."

"I may not know a lot about...feelings and love, but I am not a fool. I saw the way your eyes lit up when you first saw her. (Y/N) was practically speechless too. But not like the other women who fawn over the Bridgerton name, she actually liked you for your face, for some reason. I don't know, it just seemed that there was something natural between you."

"Eloise Bridgerton, what a doting thing to say."

"I am trying to be nice to you brother."

"I know. And I appreciate it, but...I feel at ease with (Y/N), and I don't like the thought of mother's eyes burning into the back of my head. Anthony has said that he will do what he can to help, but I fear that mother will not be totally distracted by him. She’ll know his sudden interest will be fake.”

Eloise had an idea, and even if she didn’t want to go through with it, she knew it would help Benedict.“I will regret saying this, but I shall help too. I will make sure mama is paying attention to me, I’ll let her drag me around and indulge in hideously, dull conversations.”

Benedict had been shocked for the second time that day. Two of his siblings, both detesting the thought of marriage, had offered to suffer through this social event in order to give him time with (Y/N).

“What has happened to you two today?” Benedict asked.

“We are merely being charitable. Hopefully you return the favour in future. God knows I’ll be in need of saving soon.”

(Y/N) was all a flutter on the morning of the exhibition. Her mother had bought a new dress just for this, wanting to impress the Bridgerton family, prepping their halls and rooms for the exhibition for the last week. (Y/N)’s father was proud of what he had created, and that his daughter may be on her way to marrying a family who were held highly in their society. (Y/N) couldn’t focus at all, relieved that her maids were the ones in charge of getting her dressed and ready for the day; if left to her own devices, she surely would have put her dress on backwards.

Guests streamed in, but (Y/N) was only on the lookout for one person. She remained polite, trying to stay in the moment as more and more people arrived. However, she still kept an eye out for Benedict, also staying on her toes. She had many things in mind to say to him, and she wanted to keep them in her mind. There was no way she was going to humiliate herself.

Her heart started beating a thousand times faster when she saw Benedict enter the main hall, the one holding the biggest and most expensive pieces of art. She smiled, and somehow it grew even bigger when he made eye contact with him. His smile was so sweet, it made you fall for his charms even more. Benedict felt his stomach twist in anticipation, desperate to have just a few moments with (Y/N). Alas, that did not come when his mama latched onto his arm, steering him in (Y/N)’s direction. Although he wanted to speak with her, he found it all rather forceful, especially when (Y/N)’s parents suddenly appeared behind her.

Formal introductions were made, each set of parents making small talk about the last time they were in each others company. (Y/N) and Benedict were silent, nodding along with what was being said as they sneaked glances at each other. The conversation was dragging for them, they knew their parents wanted to figure out if this could be a potential arrangement. It didn’t seem that they were going to stop talking at any point, neither child wanting to be rude, until Eloise intruded.

“Pardon me,” she started, sending a subtle smile to Benedict,“mama, I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Ah, another Bridgerton. The next daughter to find a suitor, I presume?” (Y/N)’s mother beamed.

Eloise hid the urge to frown. Luckily her mother stepped in.“Yes, this is Eloise. I’m sorry darling, I did not mean to leave you stranded.”

“Yes, well, shall we?” Eloise tugged at her mother’s arm.

“Alright dear. It was lovely to see you both again.”

As Violet eagerly followed Eloise, (Y/N)’s parents also dispersed. Benedict and (Y/N) were now finally together, just as they had wished; so why did it suddenly feel awkward?

“Well, that seemed to easy.” Benedict cleared his throat.

“What was?” (Y/N) asked.

“Getting rid of them.” he grinned, holding out his arm.

(Y/N) smiled back, happy to hold onto him.“I was trying to come up with something to say that would not be rude, but would also mean we could leave. I hope that it wasn’t obvious I wanted to leave.”

“Even if it was, I doubt they would care too much. We both know they are over excited.”

“Oh how right you are. I’m assuming your mother has been acting the same as mine this whole week?”

“Overbearing? Overthinking? Over-”

(Y/N) giggled.“Yes, yes, I do not wish to dote on the memory. I am happy that you are here though Benedict.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

The pair’s arms stayed linked as (Y/N) guided Benedict around the art work. Sometimes they joined other conversations, though liked to keep to themselves. It was easy to bond over artwork, especially since it was a passion both of them had. There were no pauses or silences after a few minutes of talking, conversation flowed naturally between them. Men and women also searching for suitors were jealous; a Bridgerton boy had been swept up all too quickly and (Y/N) had been a popular choice amongst the men. However, people could not deny they made a fitting pair.

"Come, let me show you something." (Y/N) muttered to Benedict, easily slipping away from the crowds and leaving the room.

"We really shouldn't be alone (Y/N)." Benedict said, even though this was all he had been wanting.

(Y/N) had a cheeky smile on her face as she tugged on his arm, her steps gradually getting quicker. Benedict didn't even take in her elaborate house, only looking at her beautiful face every time she glanced up at him. They stopped before two grand doors, which (Y/N) cautiously opened, slipping inside with Benedict close behind her.

In the middle of the room was a huge painting covered by a fine piece of cloth. Benedict was confused why (Y/N) brought him to this, until she let go of his hand (him instantly missing the feeling), and theatrically pulled the piece of fabric down. Benedict's jaw dropped as the piece was revealed. He had never seen a painting like it.

It was a large, landscape painting of a ballroom. It captured dancing pairs in the middle of some sort of waltz, musicians huddled in the corner whilst the other guests stood watching; and it was so intricate, Benedict guessed it must have taken the artist months to complete it. All the colours, the detail, it almost looked real.

"This is amazing." he breathed out.

(Y/N) was happy when she saw Benedict's shock."Isn't it? It's supposed to be revealed later, but I wanted to see your expression properly."

"Who painted it?"

"I don't know. Father said he is going to inform everyone later, but it is a new artist. I just think they're work is dazzling to look at. I become mesmerised."

Benedict's focus changed back to (Y/N)."Yes, that does tend to happen."

She didn't notice that he was referring to her, nodding along in agreement. Her smile faltered slightly, which Benedict was able to see immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he neared her, hating the gap that was created

(Y/N) covered her slip up, as her mother had told her."I'm sorry, it's really nothing..." she started, but found herself relaxed, and wanting to tell Benedict all her problems."It's only that...I used to paint frequently, well, I sketched more, though I enjoyed both. Like all girls, my mother told me to stop that and focus on becoming the most desired lady in society. I shouldn't have even told you about that when we first met."

"That's what made me desire you (Y/N)."

She blushed, realising how intense his gaze was."Oh, Lord Bridgerton-"

"What's with all the formalities all of a sudden?"

"I-I don't know. I don't want to ruin anything and it's only our second meeting. Third if you count when you called upon me."

"And I called upon you for a very good reason."

"I was wishing that everyone else would leave, so I could spend more time with you."

Benedict loved hearing her say that."As did I."

Subconsciously they had moved closer, though they both knew what they were doing. Benedict reached down to tenderly hold her hands, causing her heart to beat erratically. (Y/N) had no idea what to do, she only had experience from the books she read. It seemed simple enough to kiss someone, but also the hardest thing in the world. How much pressure should she apply? How long should they kiss for? Where would she put her hands? Where would he put his hands? She didn't have anytime to think as he was already leaning in towards her.

Eloise and Anthony were finding it extremely hard to keep the fake smiles plastered on their faces. Benedict was really in for it once this was all over. Their mama had kept a tight grip on them both, because as soon as they saw their chance to flee, they would. Both had to suffer through extremely long, boring and repetitive conversations, listening to parents boast about their children's achievements. Everyone knew how this worked, yet they all had to pretend to be happy about it.

"Where is Benedict? He's been away for a long time." their mama pondered as they took a break for refreshments.

"He's probably wooing Lady (Y/N), just as you wanted." Eloise slurped on her drink.

"Do not fret mother, he knows what he's doing. He truly likes her and will be doing all he can to...well, yes, woo her." Anthony said.

"I suppose you are right. It feels strange that one of my children are making an effort for once."

Eloise huffed."Oh, do not chastise us mama. We've been doing this all afternoon, haven't we?"

Violet squinted her eyes at them, suspicious that they were up to something. She was about to question it, but stopped herself. They were doing what she always wanted, finding someone to spend their future with. She wouldn't jeopardise that. Lucky for them, a servant announced that Lord (Y/L/N) requested for everyone's presence inside. The guests were intrigued, following orders and grabbing full glasses of whatever quenched their thirst. Eloise and Anthony had got away with their plan for now, they just hoped Benedict and (Y/N) had had enough time together.

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