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kneelingshadowsalome · 8 months

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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 3/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Word count: 9.4 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: König takes liberties with his mouth. Dubcon is at its most dubcon in this chapter so please tread carefully <3 The actual smut happens in the next (and last) part. Long chapter because these two just can't behave!!

The days are getting warmer now.

The sun warms the tent during the day, and the sound of birds searching for a mate threatens to drive you to madness. They sing during nighttime, too, and you miss the sturdy clay walls of your hut that blocked at least some of the sounds from outside. Now you are barely sheltered from wind and rain that beat the tent every now and then and can escape the swelling song of spring and lovesick birds to nowhere. König only snores with steady content as you mull over your strange fate there in his cozy bed, wondering how crazy it is that he never lets you go when he sleeps.

If König has an early council, you spend the morning eating breakfast in bed while studying odd parchments the translator gave you. The old man was quite insulted, not because you asked, but because you showed interest in the documents that, apparently, were of least importance to him.

You don’t care that they’re “only” travel guides because they’re filled with Roman letters and numbers and usually illustrated with pictures of columns. You don’t understand a word they say and how those strange papers could ever be a travel guide to anyone, but you like to trace the letters and pictures with your finger. König clearly understood your fascination with them: he left you this morning with another smile, which told you he only thought you were simply adorable this way. He tried to tell you that the letters represent towns and the numbers tell the distances between those towns, but they still remain bizarre pieces of paper to you.

Men pass by occasionally; you can hear it from how their gears clonk and clatter and swish. You can hear the soft thump of sandals on the dirt, but you pay it no attention because you’ve always trusted that you are safe here. As long as you stay inside the tent, no one will touch you, even if they can currently see you because the flap is left open a wink.

The only times his men witness you are when König takes you out for a walk in the woods so that you can take care of your bodily needs. Everyone can see that your hands are never tied, your face is never bruised, and your posture is still that of a proud, unbroken woman. And everyone looks at you with both hunger and wonder. Apparently, you are an even tempting spoil because you are not yet spoiled.

The special treatment was rubbed in your face one time when you passed by a Roman soldier disciplining his slave, a woman who had shared your fate and clearly was having the worst of it. The other half of her face was unrecognizable, but the man kept beating her, and you stared in horror as whatever deed she had done to anger the man was now being punished far too cruelly.

“Romans very dumb,” König said from next to you without even shedding a glance at the morbid scene. No one seemed to give a shit about what was happening to that poor woman, but you would never have expected such a comment to come from König’s mouth. When you asked him what he meant by that, he only shrugged and said: “That man piss on his luck.”

You wonder if the only reason why you haven’t been raped yet is because you are some sort of a lucky charm to him. The mere thought has the effect of making your blood boil, but some distant, tender voice inside you reminds you that König is not Roman. He does not share Roman customs, even if he fights with and for them. Perhaps slaves are treated differently in his land. Perhaps in there, it is considered an outrage and an insult to the gods to beat a woman, free or not.

Whatever his reasons are for not beating and raping you to death, it was a tremendous stroke of luck that König found you first. You dropped right there on his feet when he was victorious, so of course his men allowed him to take you as his: you were clearly a gift from the gods. But now that time has passed, you understand you are by no means safe if you wander outside this tent. König can protect you only when he is present or when you are safely tucked away in his own personal space.

It’s a false feeling of safety, however, because you soon learn that out of sight is out of mind for these soldiers. Now that you are on display, sweetly and neatly on the bed, a tiny little wrinkle forming between your brows from studying the peculiar parchment, you are like fresh livestock on the marketplace, even inside the tent. You notice that someone else is in here with you only when you hear the sound of munching and turn.

A relatively big soldier is standing in the doorway, eating an apple, watching you like he would rather have a bite out of you.

And you thank all the gods and stars above you, all the spirits and the Mother below you, that he doesn’t even get to take a step before a sword impales his chest.

König kills his own man so casually that all the thoughts of him falling to the gentle side of giants disappear instantly. He even twists the sword inside the broad man from daring to cast eyes on you. And you probably should feel bad for him… But you don’t. Not at all. The apple falls into the dirt and rolls away, but the man slumps into the threshold of the outside world and the safe womb of the tent, like an offering to guardian spirits - or to you.

You look up at König, eyes wide only because you are yet again speechless, but this time because of odd, bashful gratitude.

“No touching,” he says without even blinking – it sounds like a stern explanation.

“No touching,” you agree with a whisper. König only nods, wipes his gladius clean on the dead soldier’s cloak, and carries the body into the woods.

…

You don’t know if he has lost some of the favour he enjoys among the Romans after killing one of their soldiers. You suspect he has not. Actually, you are sure his reputation only soared for it. He just showed everyone that his prize is not to be touched: you are not to be even looked upon. Romans probably respect such a thing.

A few wagons arrive one morning, carrying various supplies for the soldiers. There are many other items too, completely unrelated to warfare but all to do with pleasure and gambling and trade. You assume König gets to pick his favourites among the first soldiers, if not the first soldier, from the abundant cargo that arrived, because he brings his spoils to you with boyish excitement. There is close to nothing there for himself: only a thick, heavy cloak, made of dark wool with lush fur on the shoulders. It looks like something a northern king would wear, and you find yourself quite happy for him, but the other items he’s carrying are clearly all hand-picked just for you.

There is a dress, a pair of sandals, a bone comb, some fruit and a large, round copper dish. It serves as a mirror as you change into the dress – a Roman one, dyed ocean blue – just to appease König and get him off your back. It hurts your heart to see how happy it makes him to see you accept his gifts. He holds the dim, uneven mirror in front of you when you get the dress on, and you’re feeling strangely meek: you’re not even sure if you have put it on properly. The bone comb is milk white and has two horses carved on it – it reminds you of the offering that was never made to appease the Great Mother because it couldn’t have prevented the Titan from coming to your lands. It’s another odd omen: black horses now turned to white, but an omen for what, you can’t say.

And then… he kneels.

König falls at your feet and starts putting the Roman sandals on, tying the strings around your calves so gently that it makes you feel like you’re made of clay. The sandals are not the kind he wears: they’re made for women, apparently, because they’re so skimpy and delicate. The strings reach the upper part of your calf, and when he’s done with you, happy to have now clothed you in Roman garb, he caresses your thigh and presses a kiss above your knee.

And he looks up at you like you’re everything but his captive. He looks at you like you’re a queen. He stares at you like he’s the slave here.

“You like?”

The soft rumble catches you off guard, as does the fond caress he gives your leg. He doesn’t even try to move his hand upwards and under the dress; he just admires you from the ground, looking a bit foolish while crouched there at your feet. You swallow arduously and nod. What else are you supposed to do?

He smiles with his eyes and gives you another kiss. He presses it on the sensitive part where your calf meets the inside of your knee. He even raises his hood to do it, and you finally feel his breath as his lips meet your skin, hot but tender. You fight the urge to shrink from him, and despite it only being a soft peck, a lover’s touch, the kiss leaves a burning sensation on your skin.

Then he tucks your dress down, like a slave who simply stole a little kiss from his mistress. You’re rendered weak and silent before such reverence, but then the playfulness returns as he raises one finger, as if telling you not to say a word because he just had an idea. You look at him with odd curiosity as he crawls on all fours and reaches for something underneath the bed. You panic a little, fearing he might notice that you’ve been there, too: rummaging through his things and throwing the pieces of jewellery back there without caring to ensure that they are placed back in the same position you found them in. But he doesn’t seem to care or notice.

He tries to offer you the golden pendant first, the one that has three discs on it. It’s a little too much, and you shake your head, fearing you will upset him by declining his gift. He tries to offer you a more delicate necklace next: full of cute, filigreed beads, but you shake your head again. He wishes to give you a trinket so badly that you finally raise your hand and graze your fingertips over a leather string holding a few chunks of amber. It also bears the claws of some animal: fox, perhaps. He looks very pleased with your choice and puts your new possession around your neck. You reach for the copper plate yourself this time and hold it up to see how you look in your odd Roman dress and your humble but powerful new necklace.

“Sehr schön,” König says behind you as you take in the wobbly image. He is so, so happy - you have never seen him quite so happy. It looks like he thought this to be the prettiest, most compelling piece of jewellery too; as if the gold and beads were simply currency for him, too. As if it was obvious that you would be interested in bones and sea gold instead of the gold of men. Then he pulls out something from under his tunic: another leather string that has a large hunk of bone hanging from it. He’s presenting it to you like he wants to show how you two are now very much alike.

“What is it…?” You ask, trying to determine whether the bone came from an elk or a deer.

“Bear cock,” he says proudly while dangling it in front of you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for a man to carry the penis bone of a bear around his neck. “Makes man strong in battle and bed.”

“I don’t think you need that,” you whisper while looking up at him. It’s your first joke to him, and he laughs. Heartily.

“Kleine Fee. You have only seen me fight.”

He puts it back under his tunic as if it’s his secret amulet now. You really don’t think he needs any more luck in war, or in any other… field. He seems like the kind of man who can pleasure women all day. It’s a bitter thought, somehow, and makes your heart feel heavy. You wonder how many women he has had already when you have refused to open your legs for him.

“We can try how good it works in bed,” he offers, as cheerfully as ever.

Oh.

Oh…

“I’m—I’m hungry. I think I need to eat something,” you summon an excuse out of thin air while raising your hands against his chest to keep him away. As if you could get your breakfast down after him saying things like that…

“Hungrig? I can feed you,” he suggests, still in the happiest of moods. Then he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the table. He’s ever generous today: you get to sit on his lap as he starts to feed you grapes.

And you didn’t think he’d actually, veritably feed you. But that’s exactly what he does. You get an entire meal: ripe fruits, a thick handful of bread, a fine slice of fat, delicious cheese. Wine to wash it down, and then some more grapes. He holds them gently on your lips until you open your mouth a little so that he can push them onto your tongue. He watches with utter content how you eat everything he offers you. He even gives you a few bounces with his knee, and every now and then, he gropes your tits: just squeezes them and plays around with them while you eat.

It is quite evident that this man really, really likes your boobs. Perhaps that is why he carries the statue of Great Mother around… To your horror, you realize the piece of carved wood is not an idol of worship for this man, just a lewd image he probably digs up and looks at when he wants to stroke his cock.

Gods... This man is even worse than you thought.

You begin to pout again, and he draws you flush against him, seeing that he somehow managed to make you displeased. Unaware as to what could have caused this, he gives you another bounce and tries to find the reason for your sudden change of mood.

“Are you fed now?”

“Yes,” you mope even more as you realize you would very much like him to continue feeding you even if you’re full. To just… do that thing with the grapes again. Just a few more.

“Gut. We have to leave soon.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “To fight.”

The camp is packed up in such haste that you find yourself under the sun in practically no time. You stay as close to König as possible without being glued to him, seeing that the new dress and hairstyle you made with the comb is high currency among the war-torn, lust-filled soldiers. Someone gives you a long whistle, which is followed by a few harsh comments you luckily don’t understand, but all the stares are cut off when König stops preparing his horse, rises to his full height, and wraps his fingers around the handle of his gladius.

You don’t get a single look after that, not even a sideways glance. Everyone acts like you don’t even exist.

The army moves at a slow pace at first, leaving a heavy dust cloud behind. It’s a fine day for travelling because there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. Everyone seems to be having a good time except for the slaves, and König is the only one who is vigilant, watching his surroundings at all times, head turning from side to side, hand never leaving his sword.

You get a horse – his horse – and a lot of hateful stares from the other women, none of whom you have ever seen before. Captive girls from other villages, you presume, and they all hate you now because you get to ride a strong black stallion while they have to march in a dust cloud with their hands bound and their feet full of blisters. Their captors don’t give much thought to feeding or giving water to these poor women, mainly because they’re too busy laughing with each other and having hearty gulps from their wine sacks. You wonder if these men have ever fed these women a single grape during their campaign.

König, on the other hand, marches next to you like he’s your servant. He offers you his waterskin, his wineskin, too, and as the march goes on, an awkward knot starts to form inside your belly.

He’s behaving so oddly. You can’t find any other reason for his behaviour than that he simply has no full understanding of Roman customs because he comes from somewhere else. (Mountains, he said, when you asked him.)

You only now notice that he has servants but only uses them to pack or set up the tent. Other high-ranking officers and commanders have their servants with them at all times, tending to their every need. König is the only one who behaves like a foot soldier: he pours his own wine, gets his rations and supplies himself, lights his oil lamps without help and never lets anyone else touch his armour or swords.

The servant he uses the most is the translator, a slave who’s clearly responsible for teaching König more and more of your words. He also serves as a mediator when König gets ready for another battle. You have naively wanted to forget the reason why these men are here in the first place, and as you see König putting on his full armour the next day, tying the swords on his waist and leaving to search for his shield, you feel like bursting into tears or a scream. You look away as he gets dressed, and refuse to give him a single kind look that morning. You stand with your hands crossed over your chest as he’s finally ready and fetches the old man to the tent again.

The Roman soon stands next to him as König takes a step and falls on one knee before you.

“He asks you to bless him,” the old translator says – weary and bored.

You stop breathing for a second and look at König, there at your feet again, head bowed, leaning on one elbow placed on a strong knee.

Bless him… For going to slaughter another clan? Give your blessing to him leaving people fatherless, childless and homeless?

Is this some sort of a joke?

“Are my words… correct? Master asks that you give him your blessing for the upcoming battle.”

You bite your lip in frustration. You want to put your hand over this proud warrior’s head and send him away with words of might and fortune, but even the thought of wanting to do that is about to make you sick.

“I will do no such thing,” you say coldly and earn a sad, confused stare from König, who raises his head to look at you with a horrifying, pleading gaze. This man doesn’t beg for anything from anyone, and yet here he is, in his full armour, armed to the teeth and looking like the God of War again, asking for a kind word or two. You turn away, not because you deny him, but because you can’t stand to be under that defenceless gaze. The Roman sighs behind you, and from the clatter of König’s gear, you can hear that he has gotten up and is about to leave.

You turn again, only to face his withdrawing back. Tense, and already beaten.

He grabs the satchel, the one that holds his Mother, but stops to look at it like it’s simply an ordinary object instead of a powerful entity. Then he places it back down on the table with a sigh. You look with horror as he leaves for war without taking his amulet, idol, fate, source of luck and joy – whatever the statue represents to this man – with him.

It doesn’t take long before you regret you didn’t give him your “blessing”.

It somehow feels wrong that he left without it. You’re his captive, but he has fed you, clothed you, kept you warm. He has practically done no harm to you except hold you through the night and have a few gropes at your tits, which you haven’t found harmful at all… The least you could do to thank him is to lay a hand upon his head or sword before he left. Just a simple little gesture, not even a true blessing… Just a little something would have sufficed, to help him go into battle with a slightly lighter heart.

Because as much as you loathe this man, you don’t actually want him dead. You don’t want him to march into battle and think you wish him ill. You don’t want König to get careless just for the sake of feeling miserable about the thought that his little slave girl despises him.

Because you don’t despise him.

You just don’t… like him.

And he’s your captor still. Why should he deserve your blessing?

But the image of him cutting through his enemies with sorrow and bleakness in his stare, walking into a spear just because he’s had enough of life and more than enough of difficult, uncaring, ungrateful women, makes your heart bleed. He could’ve taken Mother with him since he didn’t get a good luck’s wish from you, but he chose to leave even Her behind. As if his faith had failed him, as if the few things and people he has ever placed his trust in have now abandoned him.

The night rolls in, and the moon crosses the sky slowly, so slowly, as you wait for his return. The old Roman looks at you sideways every time you peek outside the flap and sigh. Your guard is a weak, old man, but you reckon that if you were to escape, the tired slave would simply follow you out of the camp and tell König which direction you have gone so that he can hunt you down when he returns. The few Romans left to guard the portable garrison would probably seize you and take you as their plaything before you managed to set a foot outside the vallus, and even if König came back to claim you, you could be a bloody heap by the time he returned.

And it’s not even caution keeping you inside the tent. You don’t actually think about fleeing at all.

In the dead of night, you go to his satchel and pull out the statue of the Great Mother.

“Dear Mother... Great Mother. Please let him have his victory. Please let him come home unhurt. Even if he fails, please let there not be a scratch on him as he falls. Please, please, please…”

You improvise your prayer as you go, thinking about something to offer Her while being captive and not having access to most of the resources you would normally go to.

“I’ll give you my next moonblood. I will give you amber and fox claws…”

Your heart hurts, knowing you just promised the necklace König gave you as your sacrifice. But it’s a small gift for his safe return, and you renew your prayer, over and over again, while squeezing the Mother between your hands and pressing Her against your forehead.

You’re not sure if She can even hear you, because haven’t you wished this man dead not too long ago? You return the Mother to her satchel and pace around the tent, about to go mad. When the first horses arrive, you almost run outside to see if you can see or hear him coming. Soldiers march into the camp: there is so much din and racket outside that you know this is the least opportune moment to go outside and show yourself to the survivors who clearly have their morale and cocks up high from the recent battle. You wait and wait and wait, thinking about whether your god is among the wounded, being carried to some other tent where they treat injuries. You go and sit on the bed; you rise up and sit on the table. Then you go and press your ear to the fabric of the tent and try to listen like a fox.

The flap is, blessedly, finally drawn aside, and you hurry to meet whoever has arrived. It’s König – of course – breathing heavy, looking slightly high-strung but primarily unscathed, and you forget yourself completely when running to him.

“Are you hurt!?”

He takes off his helmet and takes in a good breath of air, eyes melting into pure love when he sees you.

“Nein. Not a scratch.”

You swallow your relief – of course no one can get to this man. Your fears have been stupid and ridiculous. But in the deepest chasm of your heart, you thank the Mother three times. You promise to deliver her your sacrifice as soon as possible.

“You fear for me?” He asks, so excited again that you have to dig your nails into your palm so that you won’t go and clutch him and cry from joy. You don’t nod or shake your head; you only stare at him with what must look like a frightened deer stare.

Your giant comes to hug you so tight you can’t even breathe. Then he lifts you into the air, and there is nothing you can do - there is nothing you even want to do but to be there in his stout embrace. You’re so relieved that he is alive and unhurt that there are tears in your eyes, and he sees them, and smiles.

“Don’t worry, little Fee. Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen.” His voice is throaty and parched; apparently, he has shouted his throat raw on the field.

You almost say you’re sorry that you didn’t give him your blessing, but seeing how pleased, triumphant, and gleeful he is causes you to shut your mouth and shut it tight. It’s enough that you have babbled prayers for him all night, praying your knees and tongue sore.

König returns you to the ground and leaves, only to return with ample loot. Two slaves carry in a small but heavy jute sack of coin, a tiny chest filled with honey, two bottles of scented oils, three gorgeous jugs of milk, a beautiful bronze sword, all laid there at your feet.

“Für dich,” he says, throwing a wide arc with his hand to gesture that all this is now yours. You watch all the stunning, lavish, extraordinary gifts, again picked with care just for you. You remember how there was not a single coin in this tent before you were dragged in, no bronze, no gold, no milk nor honey. No fine dresses, no stolen, scented oils. How many families did he have to kill to bring all these fine goods for you?

“I don’t want your loot,” you whisper on the brink of tears.

“What…do you want?” The smile in his eyes fades, and it stabs your heart full of pain. “More sea honey?”

“No, I–”

“Slaves?”

“No,” you step forward. If only you two could have met some other time, in some other place… “I just…I want my freedom.”

“What will you do with freedom…?”

You finally get to see what König is like when he argues. He cannot understand your logic; he can’t understand what more he must do to satisfy you and make you happy.

“Your chief is dead,” he says bluntly, causing your head to feel two times too small for your anger and pain.

“You don’t have to remind me,” you blurt, equally bluntly. Because whose fault is that? This man is a thick-skulled, thick-cocked idiot.

“You have no husband. No village.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Why angry?”

“Because you are infuriating,” you almost shriek.

He looks at you, lost and confused, not knowing how to calm you down or make you pleased again. And it must be confusing: some gifts work, some don’t. Other times, you look at him lovely and sweet; other times you sulk and pout. You have luckily stopped your crying, but now you have suddenly decided to yell at him?

He approaches you after seemingly coming to the conclusion that you must want him to either pet or fuck you. He tries to raise his hands to touch you, but you push him away.

“Don’t you fucking dare grope me again!”

He withdraws quickly, now utterly nonplussed. If you don’t even want to be held, then what is he to do? This goes against all the laws of this world: he has arrived, triumphant and joyous from the battle, clearly favoured by all the gods, above and below, and favoured in full. The only one who doesn’t grant him a boon is you. His head tips to the side - it always does that when he’s curious or thinking hard. Then his eyes light up with understanding, and you know you’re about to hear more nonsense coming out of that oafish mouth.

“You don’t want me to fight?”

“I don’t…care what you do,” you scoff.

“Ah. You hate Romans?”

“Yes, I hate Romans. I wish they would all die. I hate their stupid battles and their stupid campaigns. And I hate you too,” your spirit rises with your words, your voice gaining volume and strength as you hurl all your frustration at him.

And he’s shocked. Not at your first declaration, nor the second, not even the third. It’s the last sentence that clearly drives a dagger straight into his heart.

He steps back, nearly toppling a milk jug as he pulls away from you. Then he mumbles something under his breath, something in his own crude language. The words are muffled by the mask as he scratches the back of his neck and leaves the tent without even taking his blood-stained armour off.

His name, the name that sounds so foreign to you, never leaves your mouth. But the following words do.

“Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”

Not all of it.

He’s out of the tent by then, and you’re left with your beautiful gifts, your bitter sorrow and regret. You sigh and look up, hoping you could see the sky and whisper your inquiry into the night air.

Why on earth did you two have to meet like this? Why does he have to be so thick-skulled and so… So him?

You calm your racing heart and start to organize the loot he brought you. You have never liked messy places and have done your best to keep this tent from getting cluttered. You taste some of the milk he brought you and inhale the sweet scent of those oils; you dip your little finger inside the honey jar and have a taste. The golden liquid tastes like the food of the gods when paired with milk. You put the blade on the table where König usually keeps his swords and settle to wait for him.

And you have to wait for a long time, so long that you eventually withdraw to the bed, alone and with a heavy heart. When König finally returns, you can hear he has had a drink. More than one, too: he has probably drunk an entire jug of wine alone. He doffs his armour with curses and sighs, and lets it drop on the ground with a sloppy clang that makes you jolt under the furs. He eats something very noisily while throwing his helmet somewhere to the ground too, burps loudly, and sighs again: so deeply that it makes your heart burn. After getting rid of the tunic and his sandals – an operation that takes him more than a while – he crawls on the bed with a heavy breath. Your heart is at your throat as the stench of wine hits you, and his hands are clumsy and stern when he comes under the same fur and reaches for you.

“König—”

Your whisper ends abruptly as you are pulled against a familiar, broad chest. He growls at you for being awake – or at himself for waking you up with a drunken racket.

“I don’t… I didn’t…” you start weakly and have to clear your throat as he huffs against your neck, listening to what you are trying to say.

“I don’t hate you,” you finally whisper.

He grumbles against your back and buries his masked face in your neck. The arm around your middle tightens and tightens, and you hurry to praise his gifts.

“The honey is delicious. And the oils are–”

"Fee… Du machst mich verrückt."

He speaks through gritted teeth while panting laboriously in your hair. You're relieved to hear sorrow instead of anger in his voice, but it’s his body that makes you arch your back and guide your bottom to meet his crotch.

The biggest mistake you’ve ever done, surely, because the whole body behind you grows taut. He gives you a tight roll of his hips, pushing his cock against you with immediate fervour. His balls meet your bottom, tight and heavy: you have gone to bed in your ridiculous Roman dress because you were feeling cold, but you can still feel them. You can feel all of him.

“König… We–We need to sleep…”

You sound like a bitch in heat, not at all like a woman who wants to stop wherever this heated cuddle is spiralling into. König is letting out noises you didn’t even know a man could make, and it makes your cunt wetter than ever before: tight and throbbing and embarrassingly needy. You try to remind yourself that this is not the proper time or way, that you don’t want it to happen like this: with the smell of wine and blood and dirt and sweat surrounding you, with him soon thrusting that cock between your thighs and shooting his seed on the bed before he can even get it in. You don’t want him when he’s drunk, and you don’t want him when he’s clearly a bit angry with you still. You place a weak hand over his, the one currently wrapped around your middle like a bond.

“Please, I mean it…”

“Not the time for sleep, little one,” he rasps on your shoulder, mask dragged aside and mouth breathing hot against your skin. His voice is gentle but his body is not: it turns out he has only been waiting for the slightest little cue to have the permission to take you. Unfortunately for you, moaning and grinding your hips against him is more than just a cue.

“Göttin der Erde... Gib dich mir.”

He grunts odd, boorish words on your shoulder, leaving you breathless with another tight roll of his hips. It feels like a spell or a chant, the way he speaks. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him, and fear that whatever tie has been knotted between you two, whatever shackle has bound your souls together, has also granted him the ability to hear your thoughts. He must’ve heard them, or then he must smell the change in the air, because he rolls you on your back and pushes a knee between your legs.

“Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen,” he mutters more incantations in your neck, broad thigh forcing your legs further apart. He doesn’t even need strength to coax them open: they drag up and aside by themselves.

“Ah–Why can’t you talk like normal people…”

You sigh your silly thoughts out into the night air, and your fierce giant turns his head a little, now right there next to your cheek.

"Normal? Was ist das…?"

Your lips draw into a quivering little smile – you just can’t help it. Him lying half on top of you, asking what the word ‘normal’ means while smelling like an entire wine house just burned down makes your lips and heart flutter. Your soft laugh makes him raise his head a little, drunken, half-lidded eyes now fixed on you.

“The opposite of you?” You offer innocently and try not to laugh, but it’s no use. You start to snicker, then giggle, and the way he growls only makes things worse.

“You little–I will go crazy because of you,” he whispers, drunk as a heartbroken man can be. Your own heart seems to open with a flood.

“Then go crazy,” you whisper back.

And gods… He takes your sigh as a permit to go absolutely berserk. He crawls on top of you and rips your dress apart from the middle with both hands, exposing your breasts to him and the cold night air. There's a weight in his gaze that turns your nipples hard; a gaze of promise, just before he descends.

He attacks you like a starving man, devours and licks and sucks your breasts until you shake and moan on the bed, until your hands come to cradle his head with greed.

“I will make you scream tonight,” he pants roughly on your tits – you can feel the words on your skin. You’re veritably afraid that this man will swallow you before he even gets to the main event, which is no doubt to satiate the need to fill you with potent seed. He doesn’t exactly caress you, no: he gobbles you like your body is an entire feast, the generous kisses almost turning into bites when he reaches your hips.

“No–no teeth, König,” you try to whimper, somewhere on the borderline of tension and lust.

"Fee... I promise I'll fuck you like king. I'll fuck you until you cry.”

Your head goes blank from his words; from terror and love and lust. There's no time to decipher whether you should be afraid, because he scoops up your thighs, grabs you like a wrestling partner, and draws you against his face.

“Wait—What are you–”

Your words are cut off as he drives his nose up your cunt and breathes in your musk like it's divine incense. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered by the skimpy dress he just ripped to shreds: the fabric is so thin that he could be virtually sniffing you through sheer gossamer.

There’s no escape now; he can feel how wet you are. He can practically taste it.

“König—”

You can't understand why he would want to push his face there, so you mewl and try to push him away – very weakly – but he’s immovable, glued to your scent down there, panting into your warm, wet cunt with harsh breaths and starved groans. You're lying there at his mercy, dress torn to pieces and breasts heaving, thighs spread as far as they can go.

It's futile to even try reason with a starved giant between your legs, a cunt-deprived warrior about to finally take what's his. You should've known better than to joke around and play with a man who could snap you in half – either with his hands or with his cock – and Mother was wrong: you're not smart at all, teasing a beast like this. A beast whose teeth are currently bared over your most vulnerable place protected only by a thin veil soaked with your wet.

König lashes his tongue out and presses it flat against your dress, on your throbbing womanhood, and your words turn into an ample, lewd moan.

“A–ah…”

You fall weakly back on the bed, head spinning although you haven’t drunk a drop of wine. The broad body almost trembles there between your legs.

“Ah… You want cock, ja? I can taste it,” he grunts, blunt as ever. The thought of that thing being bullied into you inch by thick inch makes your cunt clench tight. Gods, you want it, but it will never fit, never…

Unless he… Unless that's why he's down there, panting hot inside you, trying to coax you open with his mouth. Perhaps he's not that dumb after all...

“Please,” you beg for him to love you, taste you, take you, your pride melting into copper and gold, pooling somewhere down, down, down…

“Don't worry,” he speaks straight to your cunt like a man intoxicated with something far better than wine. “I will give you cock. All night.”

He lifts the dress with his nose like a dog, nuzzles under your ruined attire like it's his shelter for the night, headed back towards his plump prize. There will soon be nothing between his mouth and your poor, throbbing cunt, aching to be licked and loved by a cruel giant. A giant who brings you milk and honey and grapes and gold in all its forms…

But just when you have finally forgotten that beasts possess teeth, he sinks them into you. He sinks them into your inner thigh, waking you up from the dream with sharp, harrowing pain.

The fucking idiot actually bites you, hard.

“You fucking—Go to hell!”

You push him away in earnest now, using his shoulders to propel yourself away from him. His teeth threaten to pierce and tear skin because he's so reluctant to let go, and the horrors of the battlefield seep into your skin; the safe warmth of the womb turns into a suffocating darkness.

Your kicks have enough power to make him rise from between your legs, and the clear-cut pain in his eyes makes you want to both hug and hit him. You do the latter and hurl your fists at him, not bothering to even try to hit a target or cause pain; you just want him to stop making you afraid.

Of course, he takes your breathless state and lust-filled rage as a cue to leave – and he does precisely that, but not before he has struggled away from you and your fists in an overly dramatic manner. It would look funny in another situation, especially when he's as hard as ever, cock jutting high towards the sky just from having a little taste of your love. Drunken and slightly wobbly, he almost falls when he grabs the tunic from the earthen floor as if his tent is a site of execution where he will soon be stoned.

At the mouth of the tent, he stops, throws his head back, and roars. The guttural, booming rage echoes towards the gods like a furious curse, and you’re quite sure that the entire camp is awake by now. Every soldier nearby must be dying of a scared heart, thinking that there are either bears or Gauls upon them.

You hold your arms against your chest and safeguard your soft belly as you take in all his fury and frustration, then watch him stagger into the night, head hanging heavy between slumped shoulders. You’re left breathing, afraid and alone in the darkness, thinking about what the hell just happened… And spend the next moments in shock. Soon enough, the cold and terror fades, melting into something more palatable. You're shivering and wet, but intact, at least on the outside.

And the oddest thing is that you find yourself missing him. You miss his presence, his body, you miss his dumbness and his jokes. You fucking miss him.

The man who almost raped you.

With his… mouth.

You curl inside the furs and try to get some sleep with a hammering heart, ending up thinking about him all night. You thought he was going to pound you with that ridiculously long cock all night – and wasn't that his threat, too? – but what you didn't expect was that the giant barbarian who rips people's throats open with his teeth would want to lick and lap you into submission. You never would have thought that König wanted to bury his face between your legs, and eagerly at that.

Perhaps you understood his silly words wrong in your half aroused, half scared state. What if he meant to make you scream and cry from pleasure, not pain?

The burning bruise on your thigh reminds you that you are probably wrong, but you still wake every now and then from a thin sleep, glancing around you in despair, only to see that he’s not there. You feel so hollow that you think for a moment whether König has left the camp entirely, whether he is wandering away, towards some other adventure, exhausted with you and the war and the Romans.

The most unbearable thought in your head is not that he has left you for his dogs, however. It’s the thought that has abandoned you. That he has finally had enough. Because you realize… König hasn’t gone anywhere. He simply left to have his fun with some other woman. Perhaps he’ll be back in the morning, but his patience is gone; it has finally ended, your silly little game. A difficult slave girl who won’t even let him lick her cunt is simply no amusement to him anymore.

Just before dawn, your will breaks; it splits in half. You can almost hear it. The sound of cries is muffled in the bed that nowadays has both his scent and yours: both of your scents combined, mixing together into a wonderful haze of love and despair.

…

König comes back when the dawn is already turning into a full day.

He strolls into the tent the same way he left: with a hunched posture and unsteady feet, but the fervent vigour from last night is gone. Actually, you have never seen him so weak. The dramatic sighs, the groping and the bullying have turned into a piercing silence. His muscles have lost their strength, his head is hanging heavy between those once proud shoulders, and his eyes are cast down as if he’s hoping there wouldn’t be such a bright orb in the sky. He drags his feet as he enters the tent; he doesn’t even look your way when he goes and slumps in his chair.

You are so glad to see him that you nearly jump from the bed and fall right there at his feet. You want to kiss his thighs and grab his hands and look up at him, doting and adoring like a good little slave. You want to whimper and beg that he can give you love bites everywhere he wants.

Instead, you snap at him, voice filled with poison.

“Did you have fun raping women last night?”

There are leaves on his mask and dirt on his shins and knees. Even his hands are a little grungy, and the proud red Roman tunic could also use a wash. He sheds you a tired side stare, then sighs.

“Was?”

“Were you with women,” you spell out every word slowly like you’re talking to a child. The venom on your tongue threatens to spill out as froth. And you almost say, 'other women'. Almost.

König raises his head and looks at you with a slight tilt in his head. He’s curious again, so, so very curious. He has clearly fleed the sun into his tent rather than seek your gracious presence, which shouldn’t make you this glum... But what you just said has managed to brighten up his entire day.

“Meine Fee… She’s jealous,” he points out in a far more jovial tone.

“No. Not at all,” you hurry to say, chin drawing back from his stupid accusations.

“You are,” he says with unbridled fascination.

“I assure you I’m not.”

Your cheeks are heating up, and the nervousness inside your belly roils like a snake. How does he always manage to get you into a trap?

König leans back in his chair, now with his usual dignity on those shoulders. He even crosses his fingers loosely in his lap, looking like the conversation he’s about to have with you will, yet again, become another favourite of his. You’re not sure why you always feel like you’re being interrogated on the sly with him because König is the most simple, straightforward, blunt object of a man you have ever met. And still…

“Fucking other women is bad?” He asks innocently from that chair.

“Bad?” You huff. “Yes, if you have to force women under you, you are a brute.”

“And… ugly?”

“Very ugly. The ugliest man in the world.”

"Hm. But who say anything about forcing?"

König looks at you, calmly, as your stomach sinks from his words.

You can only stare at him as the world seems to fall apart around you, crumble into nothingness when there's sun shining and birds singing outside. Kicking him out of the tent – and almost kicking him in the face in the process – because you got afraid when he gave you a fervent little nib seems like the stupidest idea right now. If you were so willing to part your legs for him and moan under his tongue, surely some other insane woman would want to do that as well? Surely there is at least one woman in this camp who would gladly be pleased by this giant who doesn't hit or force women. Who only likes to… bite and squeeze and lick them.

You pout at him, lip almost trembling now, and he’s smiling, so, so very wide behind that mask. Gods damn him.

Then he rises and walks to you, suddenly looking like he isn’t suffering from a hangover after all. He strolls towards you with slow purpose, and you swallow the tears down, trying not to show him how they turn into ice inside your stomach.

“I have not touched women. Only you.”

He towers above you, looking down at you like you are indeed the most adorable thing in the entire world. You are not sure whether his words are to be believed, but something inside you says that this man never lies. As dense and dumb as he is, he is the most trustworthy human being you will ever meet.

“Only sleep with earth last night,” he says and starts to caress your hair. He even weighs some of it in his hand before sweeping it over your shoulder. Like you are simply his precious, silly little wife who has been spoiled too much.

“It was a cold mistress,” he laments, overly dramatic again, like a poor actor in a tragic play. Your heart aches, badly – you swear König is the most annoying man you have ever met, the most insufferable and lovable. You wonder if he has spent his seed on the cold, hard ground too. Given it to the Great Mother, who is a cold lover sometimes indeed… But not as cold as you.

You wonder how crazy it is that you have the power to drive this giant into the cold night from his own tent. König has had to face his hangover by waking up to a chilly dawn. His hand is not as warm as usual, and you start to worry that he has caught the wrath of wind spirits outside, soon rendering him weak and feverish. His skin is not supposed to feel this cold, not when he’s almost always blazing.

“I know a plant that might help,” you say diplomatically. “With your… Head.”

He looks at you, more and more curious by every passing moment. You hope he doesn’t weigh in his mind whether you are trying to poison him when he is weak. But he’s not that clever, perhaps, because he only looks at you like you’re an entire sun now, and very unlike the one that is giving him a headache today. You turn away from his hand – but not too quickly. You’re only feeling shy. And a bit uncomfortable.

“You should eat something. And drink water, not wine.”

“You care about my head?”

Gods… His voice is so, so soft. He’s seeing past all your defences again, and there is nothing you can do about it. You want to curse him but can’t. You simply can’t.

“Just… Eat some fruit, alright? And I need a kettle so that I can boil some water for the herbs.”

You rise from the bed and try to ignore his adoring stare. He doesn’t attempt to touch you again; he merely watches as you go about and eat a little something as if to show that when it is morning, people should have breakfast. Like you’re a mother trying to lead by example or a fussing young wife who is trying to help his husband. Your lips are a thin line as you search for grapes that aren’t too soft and a piece of bread that doesn’t yet have mould in it. You grab some figs: you know they are his favorite, and bring them to him to tell him you’re serious about him needing to eat.

And you feel silly.

You can’t even look at him. You’re feeling so odd, so weak, so warm inside, and it’s not because you’re disgusted; hell, it’s the opposite of being disgusted….

“I have fallen in love with you,” König says as he accepts your humble offering of food. You freeze in the middle of setting them on his palms, held upwards as if content with whatever you give him, even if it’s only a piece of bread and a few figs.

Gods. Mother… Don’t do this to me–

“That how you say it?”

You breathe in and out, calm, collected – you're not going to faint because some crazy giant thinks he's in love. Yes, that’s it… Everything’s alright. He’s just being silly again. He’s just playing his own little plays again.

But when you look at him, there is no actor there, no silly play: he’s just… König. He returns your helpless, cornered stare with warm kindness, reminding you of something, of some Roman or Greek god… Apollo. Yes, that’s it. Laureled sun god Apollo, the one everyone loves so dearly, because he always drives fear and doubt and darkness away. He’s Apollo, even though he doesn’t even prefer a bow.

And has the translator taught König the correct words? Has he memorized them so that he can say them to you when the time is right? Your lip starts to tremble, and you fight to not shudder a sigh. The old seer was wrong: this man will be your downfall.

“I’ll go get that plant,” you whisper, soft eyes wide and chest curled tight.

“Nein,” he says cheerfully, full of life and hope again. “Not alone, little one.”

…

A/N: Please don't send me death threats. Remember, big bang bang next chapter! Huge!!

Translations:

Sehr schön - Very beautiful

Kleine Fee - Little fairy

Hungrig? - Hungry?

Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen - I could never leave you

Für dich - For you

Du machst mich verrückt - You drive me crazy

Göttin der Erde… Gib dich mir - Goddess of the Earth… Give yourself to me

Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen - My Queen... I will make you very happy

Was ist das? - What is that?

#könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x you #könig x fem reader #könig x female reader #könig cod #konig x reader #konig x you #historical au #Roman soldier!König #könig smut

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slocumjoe · 1 year

Note

companions react to sole being really sick but insisting to work anyways. they literally won’t sit down and they’re probably gonna fall out in a few minutes if they don’t

Companions react to Sick Sole that is In Denial

Aka the prompt that called high-school me tf out

Cait; Wrestles them into bed, hunts for cough syrup, force feeds. By wrestle, I mean "gently pushes until they fall over." Gives them alcohol and keeps away. Cait doesn't often get sick, but when she does, oh boy...Sole would never hear the end of it if she caught their shit. Will find spicy snacks for them to eat, to accommodate their lost sense of taste. Because Cait cares like that.

Codsworth; Absolutely not. Will use as colorful language as he can stomach to convince Sole to retire for a bit. Follows them around Sanctuary throwing a hissy-fit. Well...as much as Codsworth can throw a fit. Gets increasingly indignant. If Sole passes out before he can shepard them back home, he will consider duct-taping them to their bed, just for safety. He makes them soup and hand/claw-feeds them. Good luck sleeping with three robot eyes watching you like a hawk.

Curie; Pesters. Following them around with a rollup mattress for when they inevitably collapse. Recites a monolog about wellness and self care until they do. Very cross. Sole thinks they're hallucinating, seeing her glare and scold them. Makes their medicine herself; doesnt trust wasteland 'doctors' enough, and worries about such old, Pre-war medicine. Might start sticking things up their nose, or something, for samples.

Danse; A soldier refusing to seek attention and rest is not going to last long. He will also manhandle them, but not until they're already falling over. Makes a nasty ass...tea thing, that's great for colds/flus. Its. So. Gross. Danse knows how to make it because he himself refuses to stop working for sick rest. Hypocrite. If on the field, will personally tend to them. If not, leaves it to Cade, or any other doctor. Pesters said doctor enough he might get a clipboard thrown at him.

Deacon; Makes a similar, nastier tea thing. Spikes it with soda. Not to make it taste better. The soda is punishment to remind himself to never get sick again because it makes it fucking demonic. It makes Sole throw up and the force knocks them out. Rolls them up in a blanket burrito, raids the nearest pharmacy, and prepares a disguise. When Sole awakes, 50/50 chance they'll recognize its him.

Gage; What, is he their fucking mom? If they want to crack their head open passing out, that's their idiot choice to make. Except no it isn't, because he needs them alive, so Gage bitches the whole time, but he drags them kicking and screaming to bed. Throws medicine at them and tells them to quit being a baby. He's not getting too close to them right now. Hell. No. Also a baby himself about getting sick.

Hancock; Hancock isn't the type to tell someone how to handle themselves. He'll privately worry, and maybe hint that they should take a damn break, but until it gets bad enough they're half-way down to the floor, its not his business. When they're faceplanting, he'll step in. Also gives them some booze. He'll try to cook for them, but...uh. Chips and soda is good for colds, right? Right? [SOUNDS OF CURIE SCREAMING IN THE DISTANCE]

MacCready; Lucy was a doctor. He's got this. Or so he thinks, right up until Sole refuses to acknowledge their own illness. Okay. Shi–uuucks. What did Lucy do when he was being stubborn? Uh...that's not appropriate with Sole...what if he—Sole...? Sole–! Oh. Okay. That works. Just has to drag them into bed now. Spends extra caps for the good medicine, and for once, makes proper food. Sole remembers learning that he knows how to make his own noodles during this incident. MacCready tells them they were hallucinating.

Nick; Stands straight, crosses his arms, looks at them expectantly. Just waits. Grabs them before their legs give out, hauls them up over a shoulder, and straight to the doc's. Doc says bed, Sole is in bed. While they're out of commission for the week, plans out his lecture. It's not healthy for the brain nor body to keep moving when everything is telling you to quit. He's sarcastically coddling.

Piper; Also guilty of trying to power through. Piper is also an opportunist, however, and the moment she sees their guard fall, sees a moment of weakness, she's shoving them into their bedroom. Sole barely notices the change of environment. Canned soup, crackers, tea...and because Piper is just the best, she'll make them a dessert she often makes for Nat. Rice pudding, tarberry shortcake, she's even made honey custard. Something sweet and easy on the stomach.

Preston; Like Codsworth, chases them down begging them to just go the fuck to bed. Grabs them by the scruff of their neck before they hit dirt. Like Nick, sasses them the whole time, even if he is doting on them like a fussy mom. Remember Cait and her spicy snacks? Preston throws whatever spices he has into their meals. Hope Sole has a high spice tolerance.

X6-88; Grabs and warps to the Institute. If the Institute is gone, grabs and drags them to a doctor. He could try tending to them, but similar to Hancock, you will quickly regret asking. It's better to just have him go get medicine. He's somewhat fascinated over the concept, though. Cousers rarely get sick. And the once or twice X6 was, it was just an irritated throat or a headache. Sole is melting and yet they're expected to recover. Fascinating.

#fo4 #fallout 4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #piper wright #nick valentine #x6-88 #robert joseph maccready #companions react #hancock #porter gage #Codsworth #for the one codsy fan in the back

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whereismyhat5678 · 8 months

Note

HEEEEY, PSSST!

(do you have more headcanons???)

Oh yeah *cracks knuckles*

Get ready for some PEPPINO

(OKAY IN ADVANCE- I wrote A SHIT TON below the cut, and I think because of this I have more headcannons for Peppino than Gustavo- SO PREPARE YOURSELVES- Oh! And I also added Pep and Gus mixed headcannons at the bottom so if you just wanna see those you’ll see this emoji: 💕 Alright thanks! And enjoy :00)

- I said this in a reblog-, at this point I think I hc him a lefty, I KEEP DRAWING HIM AS ONE SO FUCK IT-

- Oh sports are his life support, it’s his saving grace HE LOVES SPORTS- mainly football and soccer (he used to play soccer in middle-high school) THIS MAN SCREAMS AT THE TV “GOOOAAAAAAAAAL” WHEN SOCCER’S ON (he’s just like my dad for real- :0)

- He definitely listens to old fashioned Italian music, his mother raised him in it HE WILL DIE WITH IT IN HIS BLOOD. But he also likes other types of music (he mains Depeche Mode-)

- He has the most dankest most messed up shat up car you can ever imagine that’s STILL GOING, he treats his car like his child though, he cleans it and is EXTREMELY careful with his baby (He listens to his songs in there and bobs his head when he has a song he likes, but he looks really serious, like he’s gonna kill someone- but he’s still enjoying himself)

- I should also mention that he SUCKS at driving, man has a drivers license yet he’s dog at it?! This is also why his car is so jacked up because he kept crashing it when he was younger- I think he’s cooled down now but he still can’t park right- This is also why he rather would take his pizza delivery motorcycle or Stick just drives him (since he’s funnily enough the only good driver-)

- His house is pretty small, and a bit tight but it’s okay once you get used to it, he tries to stay organized but at times he does tend to leave clothes on the floor. Of course his garage is the cleanest thing known to man, a bunch of flags (a big ass Italian flag-) and signs that say “Man’s garage” or “Man cave”. He also has another fridge full of beers and sodas.

- Have I mentioned he likes beer?🍻

(- And when Peppino’s drunk he’s either two things, a silly drunk: he’s doing stupid shit-

….Or a flirty drunk 👀🔥)

- He still has his war gear in a closet, he keeps it for memories (the GOOD ones) and just cuz he thinks it might be important still.

- He keeps a shotgun underneath his bed (for protection of course-)

- He also has a punching bag in his basement, a big ol’ red one, and he has it there to take his anger out 🥊🔔

- I think he has a bit of anger issues, not too severe! Just that he can get mad easily if stuff just isn’t going right, which is also why he HATES The Noise and Pizza Head, they’re too chaotic for him-

- When Brick was gonna stay with them Peppino initially just wanted Brick away from him but he ended up like one of those Dads that have their pet on the couch watching TV. He also play fights with him too like: he’ll pretend to punch him or he wrestles with him for fun-

- He’s an asshole when he wants to be, one time he was eating with his friends at a McDonalds and they were getting breakfast, motherfucker ate half his friend’s hash-brown and put the half he didn’t eat outside the wrapper to make it look normal. (He did this when he was a teen but he can still be an ass like this-)

- He uses a lot of Italian hand gestures, he uses his hands A LOT he practically talks with them-

- He speaks very aggressively in Italian, the amount of times people thought he was angry and yelling at them even though he was just telling them to hand him a napkin. It’s hilarious, Gustavo is the only one to understand he’s not angry, he’s just talking- 😂

- This even applies to when he’s talking in English, HE STILL YELLS- Like his voice is a big BOOM, yeah he can calm it down but it’s still relatively loud, he’s only ever quiet when he NEEDS to be quiet-

Okay now for some Peppino and Gustavo together x] 💕💕💕

- Gustavo’s species has their own language but they can pick up on other languages pretty quickly, so when Peppino wanted to teach him Italian he started slowly and BAM 💥 not even a month passed and he’s speaking fluently! Peppino’s jaw dropped literally-

- Gus can speak his species language at times but only ever to himself.. He usually talks in English and Italian around Peppino (Gus when he’s angry talks really fast in his language, it’s best to just leave him be until he calms down…)

- They speak Italian to each other sometimes, they switch between English and Italian regularly, but they speak English mainly. They WILL however yell at each other in Italian, mostly so no one can understand their conversation if there is people around

- AND FINALLY- like I said with the Italian hand gestures, Peppino uses them A LOT, and he mainly uses them with the other Italians and Gustavo, BUT MAINLY Gustavo. He taught him every gesture in the book so Gus knows what he’s feeling just by hand gestures.

Even some…. Special ones 👀…..

OKAY THAT’S IT-

#Pizza Tower #Headcannons #MY HEADCANNONS???#This time with Peppino WAHOO-#I’m so sorry for writing so much my god-#I wrote a whole ass essay down there-#I’m very passionate about every headcannon about Peppino because these were all inspired by my Dad- 💀#I SWEAR THE STORY ABOUT THE HASH-BROWN MADE ME LAUGH-#I am also very passionate about the hand gestures- I’m so tempted to draw him doing Italian hand gestures- I WILL DO IT AT ONE POINT I WILL #Hehe alright I hope everyone likes them I spent a lot of time on this-

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satanic-fruitcake · 10 months

Text

6 notes? yeah that’ll do.

spoilers for… everything, all throughout, specifically The Peacekeeper Wars. Also a warning for a bit of mild sanism toward the end, used only for dramatic effect.

I’ll start this off with a general farscape world building theory, and that’s that most, if not all, of the less imaginatively designed species in farscape are simply like that because they’re part Sebacean. Descendants of Sebacean cross-breeding programs from when the Eidolons were trying to make adjustments to their physiology. the Baniks and Kalish, as well as many others, are the living results of this.

Over the thousands of cycles that have passed since these races came around, they’ve evolved, and devolved in completely unexpected ways, (more on that later) and their numbers have grown far greater than the Peacekeepers wanted. This is why, in the present, the PK’s oppose contamination so strongly. And why the Baniks and Kalish are conquered species’s, and kept in servitude. they’re a “mistake”.

I unfortunately don’t have any solid ideas about Kalish, (they have a pinkness about them, and look vaguely reptilian? i was thinking maybe the Pathfinders, but. ehhh.)

The Baniks however. Are none other than descendants of the Sebaceans and Eidolons themselves.

To explain this, i’m gonna need to talk about our beloved leather-clad half Sebacean half Scarran Scorpy.

Scarrans interrogate people by radiating immense heat that, somehow, makes people tell the truth. (this is farscape, don’t ask don’t tell) The Prodigal Grasshopper doesn’t have this ability, but he has something just as good. An unexpected result of his breeding gives him a built in lie detector. The Scarran’s ability is external, Scorpius’s ability is internal.

Eidolons bring peace externally because they emit a glow that evokes a feeling of calm and neutrality. Baniks inherited an internal version of this ability. “outsiders think that we do not feel, but it’s only that our feelings don’t always show.”

i think this makes sense with how Yondolaow addressed Stark with… familiarity, almost? he understood that him being a Stykera meant that he understood the psyche of those he passes over. This could also effect how Stark Wigged The Fuck Out when absorbing Yondolaow’s knowledge. And also why it worked, instead him just spontaneously combusting or something.

Now, about the Stykera. Stark’s character profile claims that a Stykera is simply a particularly special sub-species if Banik. I think that’s bullshit, in the sense that it’s a common, galaxy-wide misconception, and that there are even some Baniks who don’t know the truth. Also, i just kinda find that explanation boring. So, my theory is this:

this next part is in direct contradiction to Stark referring to his own body as a “molecular creation” but i’ll be honest. i just don’t give a shit.

The Stykera are different race to Baniks entirely. A formless, non-corporeal race who can only live in this realm by finding a body to house their soul. The Baniks, for whatever reason, perhaps their mental abilities and stoic fortitude, perhaps their peaceful ways due to their connection to Eidolons, are the only species able to house them.

The transference of souls - or possession, whatever word you prefer - happens at birth. The Stykera’s soul and the Banik child’s just. swap places. with the Banik starting the process of becoming a Stykera. Energy, able to view our realm but not experience it until however many cycles it takes for the Stykera inhabiting their body to die. They’re then transferred, randomly, into a Banik being born. and the cycle continues.

now we go into general headcanon territory.

This viewing of the world is vital, because so is their duty to the dying. and the only preparation Stykera get for the real world. and, hey, it’s more than humans get. Unfortunately, if Stykera are anything inherently, it’s emotional. empathetic. easily overwhelmed. They have an utter inability to develop a thick skin, to become desensitised, because it would interfere with their duty. Selflessly giving souls passage to the other side at the detriment to your own sanity requires boundless empathy. Banik wilful stoicism doesn’t come naturally to them, it has to be learned, with time, nurture and great self control. all of these are difficult to come by in slavery. Not to mention how few and far between Stykera are. Stark’s ability to achieve calmness and serenity when performing his duty is the best you can expect. from as early as birth, Stykera are so rarely sane.

…. so that’s my theory! thanks so much of you’ve read this far, please reblog if you like because ive had this rattling around in my head for months and it’s 2:40 am because it’s taken me nearly two hours to finally get it written down.

#i just really like possession where the possesser is as much of a victim as the possessed okay .#i also think that stark was originally a female banik but that’s just me hitting him with my transgender beam #who is the target audience for this? me. are there any other stark fans? hello?#farscape #stark #your daily dose of idiocy

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espys-art-stuff · 1 year

Text

It has occurred to me that I should probably... publish more of the random, insane things that go through my head rather than keep them locked up in my private digital notebooks forever. So with that said, please have this thing nobody asked for,

PREPARE

FOR MY GREAT EUROSLANDER POST

(disclaimer obvious satire piece is satire)

Directory of Europe (as written by an ignorant US tourist)

BRITISH ISLES, aka the only places we care about (wait they're islands?? I thou--)

England: Harry Potter Land and so London, very Posh, quite barmy out innit, god save the queen King, I want to hop into a queue and buy some fish and chips and good english tea, *waves the union jack aggressively*

(i feel so bri’ish!!1!11 did i do the accent right [is speaking cockney])

Ireland: EIRISH ((does several bad (scottish)ireland imitations)) and so beer and drienk, my grendfather was born ‘ere so I understind everythin’ aboot this playce

N. Ireland: I understand nothing about this place

Scotland: Aye Laddie, kilts and bagpipes and castles and ACCENTS (we're so scottish)

(wait you guys sound irish--)

Wales: tbh we didn't know you existed until we looked up the funny nonsense words

what do you mean there are native languages spoken in ENGland that aren’t english

THE SOUTH (Boonies)

Spain: Mexico 2.0

wtf do you mean it's more similar to california, california speaks Only English, a spanish-speaking country could never be as advanced

Italy: PIZZA (and old people) (and fascists), florida if floridians ate proper food

Greece: boring ruins and so poor, none of this was ever significant

Portugal: tbh we thought you were a territory of Brazil

Turkey: Earthquakes and Muslims (terrorists) (barbarians) (Iran begins here)

THE EAST (Mordor)

Hungary: We know nothing about it except that it's led by that one guy all our Conservatives really like for some reason, but hey he's White and European and Will Smith did a dance video in Budapest so they’re probably fine, also LOL they must be Hungry

Russia: Very Bad And Mean, We Boycott You For 1000 Years :( (but actually we still buy all your stuff and want your tourist traps and money)

Ukraine: *waves flags* (we did not care about you before but you're White and European and frankly Russia just isn't playing to our interests anymore, so we'll back your war while we look the other way on all the ones in those Non-White Countries)

Poland and like 70 other countries: Witcher 3 and commies

THE WEST (Civilised Countries)

Germany: yeah sorry like 85% of us still think you’re nazis, you're sort of just screwed on that front

France: PARIS and EIFFEL TOWER and ROMANCE (and also rude people)

Belgium+Luxembourg+Switzerland: Alps and croissants and swiss cheese and yodelling (and also rude people)

The Netherlands: 67,342 people skipped over this country because "the netherlands" sounds like the sticks

(we later figured out you were the dutch and we apologized that you have to live out in the sticks)

Austria: The Sound of Music

THE NORDICS (Socialist Paradise/Hell, speaks Weird Shit)

Denmark: we thought it was in America (the Actual America, not the rest of it) like all other good companies are tbh, but LEGOS

(you mean nothing to us otherwise)

Sweden: The ones who will take us, but too liberal and socialist high taxes and immigrant for our tastes (ALL (nonwhite) immigrants are illegal) (enlightened Conservatives STAY OUT)

Finland: The forgotten edge of the world, everyone here lives with eskimos and polar bears

Iceland: Hawaii vacation but Cold and Exotic

Norway: So rich and socialist, but they're White and European and sell oil so we can't knock it tbh

Greenland: the USA definitely claims this. we just haven't taken it back yet because there are absolutely no colonies living on this useless rock

(however once we begin shipping all the illegal immigrants out like how our lord and saviour Ron Desanctimonious has shown us, we will require it once again)

tune in next time for my post where I do all 50 states of the USA and destroy half the world as a result

#euroslander #worldslander #satire #shower thoughts #the weird shit that hangs around in my head until I have to post it

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craftycheetah · 2 years

Text

Alien Bakugou

Warnings: language, typical bakugou behavior just a little more feral

WC: 1172

Your widened eyes scanned over the figure, from head to toe. He was taller than you, much taller than you. Had to be a good 8 ft, maybe even a little more. What caught your attention were its eyes. Its irises were blood red, while its sclera was pitch black. They were the colors of nightmares and war. Despite the dark association, you couldn’t help but think they were beautiful. Surrounding its eyes was a lighter shade of black, not gray per se but more of a licorice black. The color outlined its face like a mask, filling in its area. Your eyes moved to the side. With this angle, you could see part of its back, and oh boy, were you not prepared to see it. Trailing along its back were spines. The spikes were multicolored, black with tips of red on them. They weren’t really long, but they were sharp as if one placement of your finger would cut you and cause blood to pool. Your eyes squinted as you took notice of a bright light behind him that was pulsating, going in and out as it looked like it was flickering. You could see chunks of some type of metal from the light radiating from it. Was that a… spaceship? You gulped nervously.

Your face pales as the figure is standing right in front of you, gripping the bat, mid-swing, to the point where it caves in on itself. “What. The. Fuck,” you think to yourself.

The figure growls at you, gripping the bat and snapping it in half with its bare hands, and glares harshly. That… That bat was made of metal...

“Itmf uz ftq mrfqdxurq ue idazs iuft kag, dumbass! Kag bgzk tgymz! Itmf ymwqe kag ftuzw kag omz fmwq yq paiz, tgt?!” it growls.

You wince at the foreign syllables harshly leaving its mouth as it yells at you, threatening you in its native tongue. Its growls and scolding words make you flinch where you stand. Through its verbal assault, you were able to recognize one word. A word that sets your mind ablaze. Glaring at him, you shoved what was left of the bat in its chest, lunging at it using a speed unknown to you. With the heat of a dozen disappointments and the fresh embarrassment of disrespected backing you, your words sharply left your mouth. “I don’t know who the hell- no. I don't know what the hell you think you are, but I do know good and damn well that you have no right to speak to me that way or call me a fucking dumbass!”

The creature growls at you opening its mouth before grunting softly and moving away from you to sit down against a tree.

Staring at it in anger and wonder, you notice it gripping its side. ‘Oh, shit, they’re hurt,’ you think, slightly feeling bad for them. ‘I can’t just leave them out here.’ Attempting to reach towards their wound, you flinch as he snaps at you. “Hey! Do you want me to help you or not?”

Katsuki glares at you as you walk away. “Bgzk tgymz. U paz'f zqqp tqd tqxb. U'xx nq ruzq az yk a— Rgow, ftue tgdfe…”

You sigh in annoyance as you make your way up the stairs to your bedroom, the floorboards creaking underneath you with every step. You should probably get that fixed sometime soon. As soon as you enter your room, you're crawling under your bed, grabbing the first aid kit. Off in the distance, you hear the creaking of your floorboards coming from the stairs- wait, what? Your brows furrowed in confusion as you analyzed the noise in your head. What possibly could that be? Your thoughts are interrupted as you feel a strong hand grab your ankle, pulling you out from under your bed as you clutched onto the first aid kit for dear life. Quickly, you flip over onto your back and send your feet flying into whoever grabbed you's direction. Your eyes widen, and you immediately stop as two hands grab your ankles, and you hear the familiar foreign language. “Oops. My bad..."

“Itmf mdq kag pauzs, tgymz?” it snarls.

“W-What are you doing here?! Your wounds! You need to sit down!”

"Shut up. Xagp. Faa xagp." (Loud. Too loud.)

You sighed and rolled your eyes, close to getting fed up with this… thing’s nonsense. How the hell did this happen? You had no idea. All you knew was that you had to help in the best way you could because that’s what you were raised to do, to always help others in need and to be there for loved ones. Unfortunately for you, you were raised to be a good person, and now that’s being put to the test by this creature landing in your backyard.

"Okay, listen, we're in my house, so you're either gonna behave your gigantic self, or you can sleep outside and let the government find and experiment on you. Your choice."

Bakugou huffs softly before sitting down in front of you. Opening the first aid kit, you grab gauze, cloth, and a travel-sized bottle of rubbing alcohol.

Reaching out to touch its wounds, you roll your eyes as it growls and chitters softly as a warning. “Oh shut up, ya big baby,” she huffs.

Tending to its wounds, you manage to stop the bleeding and clean him up. Pulling away, you sigh softly as you finish. “There we go. Alright, you can rest down he—Where’d he go….”

Shrugging, you make your way to your room and gasp as you open the door to see its hulking mass lying on your bed. “What the—! Hey! That's where I sleep! I said you sleep on the couch, not me!”

"Zaf mzkyadq, tgymz, fdk yahuzs yq ur kag imzf. Uf'e zaf sazzm tmbbqz."

“I can’t understand you….”

“Ftue ue yk zqef! Sqf kagd aiz.”

“If this… I’m not having no Walmart bargain bin, E.T-lookin’ wannabe steal my bed! Get out!”

“Za.”

“You’re an asshole,” you grumble, yanking your blanket off the bed and going downstairs to sleep on the couch.

Your eye twitched as you watched the creature’s face morph into a snarky look, its lips pulling back into a smile as he circled on your blankets before laying down, its garnet-red eyes closing as he dozed off into a peaceful dream.

You let out a deep groan as you made your way over to the couch, the soft chocolate cushions inviting you in as your face planted into the sofa, sinking slightly as you turned onto your side. You preferred to use the couch specifically for tv watching, but that'll have to do. Luckily, you picked out a comfortable sofa so sleeping on it was no problem.

You closed your eyes, and you decided to get some sleep of your own, the darkness eventually turning into your own dream.

You had no idea what you were going to do in the morning when you and the unknown creature woke up.

Translations:

Itmf uz ftq mrfqdxurq ue idazs iuft kag, dumbass! Kag bgzk tgymz! Itmf ymwqe kag ftuzw kag omz fmwq yq paiz, tgt?!= What in the afterlife is wrong with you, dumbass! You puny human! What makes you think you can take me down, huh?!

Bgzk tgymz. U paz'f zqqp tqd tqxb. U'xx nq ruzq az yk a— Rgow, ftue tgdfe… = Puny human. I don’t need her help. I’ll be fine on my o-Fuck this hurts…

Itmf mdq kag pauzs, tgymz? = What are you doing, human?

Xagp. Faa xagp. = Loud. Too loud.

Zaf mzkyadq, tgymz, fdk yahuzs yq ur kag imzf. Uf'e zaf sazzm tmbbqz. = Not anymore, human, try moving me if you want. It's not gonna happen.

Ftue ue yk zqef! Sqf kagd aiz. = This is my nest! Get your own.

Za = No

taglist: @milkmademozzarella @kirislilpebble @planetonet @deneuves @hanayanetwork @shibuyawardnetwork @http-404-error-unknown

Pt.2

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rnelodyy · 3 years

Text

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!tommy #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #i had a COMPLETELY different point that i wanted to make but then i thought about it and went w a i t #uhhh if you wanna hear my original point lemme know i guess #anyway c!dream is such an interesting character! i hate him!#little green bastard man #c!dream critical

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Rexwalker #Quinlan Vos #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #phoenix posts

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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wrenqueenisboss · 3 years

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DSMP Angsty Imagines - React to Your Death pt. 1 --- George

Part 1 to my series of “dsmp boys react to your death”: Pronouns used: they/them (if mentioned) Warnings: cursing, death, grief, arguing, yelling, panic, weapons Words: 1.2+

The list:

c!George - (you are currently on this post) c!Bench Trio (platonic) - (coming soon!) c!Wilbur - (coming soon!) c!Dream - (coming soon!) c!Technoblade - (coming soon!)

George was finally done with the fighting. So much warfare, so much death and destruction. It was too much. Even his former best friends, Dream and Sapnap had been swept up into the chaos. Well, Dream had actually been the cause of a lot of the deaths.

George Not-Found was done with the fighting, though. He wanted to keep you, the love of his life, safe. For so long, you had been begging him to move out of the SMP lands and live in the unoccupied lands outside of normal civilization. Your boyfriend hated the idea of leaving.

“All of my friends are here!” He’d protest. “George, all of your friends are either dead or criminals!” You couldn’t stop yourself from shouting back. It was true. Sapnap’s whereabouts remains ambiguous but Dream’s were well known. He had been locked in Pandora’s Vault. The notorious prison, made of mostly obsidian and Blackstone, was built with a seemingly immeasurable amount of traps. And yet, people still feared Dream’s escape.

George knew his former best friend was too far gone, but he hated it. He hated knowing the person he thought would be there through everything, was gone; had left for his own selfish gain.

Your shoulders slumped when you saw your boyfriend’s lip start to quiver. “George... I’m sorry. But I really do think we should move. It’s not safe here anymore.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, we’ll move.”

That was three months ago. Now, the two of you were living happily alone in your cottage. The two of you built it together and it was perfect. It surely wasn’t the biggest or most impressive dwelling on the whole server, but it was charming and suited both of your needs quite nicely.

“George, my love, I’m going to collect berries for breakfast. I’ll be back soon,” you announced, collecting your gear. You walked over to where your - now fiancé - was napping on the couch.

You scoffed playfully at his sleeping form, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Grabbing a random pen and post-it note off the coffee table, you wrote a note. The note explained where you were going, why, and when you expected to be back.

“I love you, George. Sleep well.” You added at the bottom with a smile.

Basket for berries swinging on your arm, light cloak on your shoulders, you left your charming house to go collect breakfast.

You did now realize that it would be the last time you’d see him.

Three hours later...

George Not-Found woke up with a start, tumbling ungracefully off the couch. Rubbing his elbow as he sat up, he looked around the house. It was empty.

“Y/n? Love?” he called into the empty air. He looked around some more, standing up and walking around.

A note on the table caught his eye. Your handwriting was spread over the small piece of paper. The message scrawled gracefully. “I’ve gone out to gather berries for breakfast,” he read aloud. “I should be back in an hour.” His heart began to drop. “I love you, George. Sleep well.”

His grip on the note went slack and it fluttered to the ground like a leaf. George frantically whipped his head around to look at the clock. It had been three hours since he fell asleep, and you weren’t in the house. Something was wrong.

George grabbed his sword, goggles, and some extra health potions off of the shelf by the door.

But as he closed the front door, a dagger with a note pinned to it stuck into the wood of the door caught his eye. The dagger was familiar, a polished silver handle set with diamonds and emeralds. The handwriting was even more familiar. But it wasn’t yours. It was Dream’s.

He ripped the dagger out of the door to read the note.

“Hey, George.

As you might have guessed by now, Y/n is gone. I’ve taken them. You shouldn’t have betrayed me, George. You knew that wouldn’t end well. Meet with me at the ruins of the community house tonight. Or else.”

George was so shocked. He knew something was wrong, but he really hadn’t expected Dream to be the cause of it. He hadn’t even realized he was on Dream’’s hit list - or list of enemies - to begin with.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The night was dark as the moon was only half full as George waited for Dream. The ruins of the community house sat still behind him. You could still see the burn marks on the pieces of the house that hadn’t been destroyed.

He was running his hands over a burned piece of wood when a voice made him turn around.

“Hello, George.”

He whipped around. “Dream.”

The man with the porcelain white mask visibly froze in surprise. He had never heard his former friend this serious before. Honestly, it was kind of terrifying. But the master manipulator pulled himself together.

“You seem thrilled to see me.”

But George wasn’t having it. He only wanted to know where Y/n was. Were they okay? Could he save them?

It was as if Dream could read his mind.

“You want Y/n.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a fact. Something so obvious it made no sense for Dream to say aloud.

“No shit,” George growled. “Where are they?”

The most wanted man on the server didn’t need to take off his mask for George to know he was smiling cruelly. His heart sank to his stomach, preparing for the worst. And the worst was what he got.

“They’re dead.”

Those two words, and everything seemed to stop. The world went quiet as George tried to take in the news. The words just didn’t seem to absorb into his brain. It made sense. What were you supposed to do upon hearing that the absolute love of your life had died? Just nod and move on with life? Hell no.

“Go, Dream.” George’s voice was hoarse, cracked with grief.

Dream tried to say something, but he was cut off.

“Just fucking go.”

So Dream left and George was left to process his feelings amongst the ruins alone.

Tears finally began to fall. His knees buckled and he crashed to the ground, bent over on the ground. The torrent of emotions - anger, frustration, grief, emptiness - cascaded over him.

He let out an earth-shattering scream. His throat burned but his sobs simply couldn’t carry the weight of his grief alone.

Holding himself in a tight hug as he rocked back and forth, George came to terms with your death.

You were gone. The love of his life was gone. Dead. Killed. Taken away from him. Your own life ripped away. And all because he hadn’t just agreed with you and moved away earlier, before the fighting and the wars got really bad.

“I’m sorry, darling.” his voice was carried with the wind. So heartbreaking that even the sky began to cry. The raindrops fell softly, as if they were keeping a vigil.

“You were right. We should have moved earlier. I should have listened. But I didn’t, and now you’re dead.”

He was cut off by his own sob, a wretched sound that echoed slightly off of the burned ruins of the community house.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He took a shaky breath. “I love you.”

#angsty #get ready for the angst #so much angst #cw: death #cw: grief #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #dsmp x reader #dsmp fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt x y/n #reader death #wren_queen stuff #wren_queen writes #angst series #imagine series #george lore #wrenqueenisboss

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theworldbrewery · 3 years

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over our last two sessions, I ran something a little different. Our cleric, Oggie, has a (complicated) relationship with this NPC, Elliot. Elliot is a gay half-elf man whose father is a politician and diplomat; Elliot’s father has decided that since Elliot has a criminal record (he was framed for treason) the best way to ensure he is provided for is to marry him off to another political family, neatly tucking him away where he can’t cause a scandal.

Now, his father isn’t too interested in Elliot’s desire for romance or attraction, so he’s arranged a marriage with a young woman from a prominent elven family. The party quickly decided that this cannot stand. They agreed to attend the wedding in order to prevent it from happening.

Upon arrival at the venue, however, a few key things were going to pop off. First, it turns out Oggie’s estranged family lives in the town. Second, the whole region is deeply haunted and extremely sinister. Third, messing up the bride’s life was a non-option, because when I introduced the character of the bride, a friend of ours came out of the bedroom where I’d stashed them and introduced themself as Gloria, the bride herself (an air genasi monk in a family of elves, another outsider).

this was already clearly a rousing success, but we still had to get through the wedding, and I had to run it in a way that felt dynamic and tense. People go from room to room and building to building, indoors and outdoors and making visits to the village. It’s the day of a wedding!

So I developed a method for running the Day of the Wedding, and I’m sharing it with you for any extended roleplay and intrigue encounters you want to tangle up in plot threads.

First things first: run it like a combat.

What I mean by that is when the party woke up on the day of the wedding, I asked them all to roll for initiative. Instead of a round taking six seconds, each round lasted one hour, enough time for a movement (go to 2 areas near one another or 1 place that’s a bit further away), an action (a primary roleplay scene or investigation), and a bonus action (a conversation with a fellow player character, a quick search of an area, etc.). As the DM, use your discretion to decide what constitutes a suitable bonus action vs action.

Now, unlike combat, this type of encounter should permit player characters to team up and act together. When a PC that is high in initiative order decides to do something, other PCs that rolled lower can opt to join them if they want to act in the same location or engage with the same NPCs. (This is a great option to keep the action moving and lets players work together more.)

In order to keep this situation rolling, I prepared a few key notes. I focused on regional effects; that is, the overall culture and vibe of the area. I decided early on that the region is haunted, and that the locals are suspicious, superstitious, and obsessed with cleanliness. These features are tied into the overall plot conflicts that would develop over time. I also chose to include the effects of the Haunted table from Tasha’s Cauldron to add some spiciness to my haunting. In essence, think of the tensions the NPCs in the region are already experiencing prior to the party getting involved. A recent assassination might make a court intrigue more complicated as they now distrust strangers, for instance, while a new trade war over tariffs can complicate a diplomatic mission.

Next, I considered my locations. In this instance, my locations included the inn where the party slept, various rooms in the manor house hosting the wedding, a handful of outdoor areas, and the chapel. I focused on creating detailed descriptions of the ambiance for each location.

Then, I wrote out a quick description of each major NPC - in this case, the wedding party, the family of the intended, and a few locals and guests. In a roleplay/intrigue scenario like this, it’s vital to include motivations, secrets, and goals for each of these NPCs, even if those goals are very simple. You’ll need them for the last step:

Create a round-by-round timeline. Write out your list of locations and pair them with the NPCs that will be there during each round (hour). In my notes, I added what the NPC was doing there or what they were thinking about--linking their motivation to their location. For example, a character in the garden was leaving an early-morning meeting with her lover, the new gardener, while the fathers of the bride and groom met in the library to discuss the cover-up they had just pulled off (a politician and wedding guest had died mysteriously at midnight, and to keep the wedding from being derailed, they had hidden the body and were intimidating the only witness).

Party members who arrived at each location were therefore entering existing scenes they didn’t have full context for. Each hour, the NPCs would move on to the next phase of their day, seek out other NPCs to interact with, etc. NPCs could still be influenced by the party’s actions, so each round you might adjust exactly what they’re doing or where they’ve gone--the beauty of improv!

Keep in mind that situations should still be developing when the party isn’t witnessing them. An NPC no one had spoken to yet turned out to have spent the morning searching for her missing father, which led the party to the gravesite that they’d spotted earlier in the game, while the gardener turned out to be a villain they’d met before who was acting in secret during the session! Use your best judgment, though. Just because you wrote content for an NPC doesn’t mean the party will engage with it, so follow their lead; sprinkle the clues, and then let the party’s focus drive which storylines get developed.

So long as every NPC has a goal or secret to influence their opinions and decisions, they will feel like nuanced actors within the roleplay scenario; the timeline you lay out in advance gives them a sort of “Artificial Intelligence” that can be influenced by the player’s actions.

Personally, I also recommend setting a natural deadline for the party. If my players didn’t stop the wedding by 1pm, for instance, the ceremony would go forward and they would either be forced to object in public or let the marriage take place. Thus, they only had 5 total “rounds” to disrupt things enough that the wedding would be called off.

You can create similar deadlines depending on the central goal of the party. A vote on whether to pass a controversial law could serve as one for a court intrigue arc, while a crime-solving arc might have a threatened time when a kidnapping victim will be murdered (”You have 24 hours to deliver the ransom”, for example). The sense of a ticking time-bomb gives the players a much-needed urgency. The round-by-round timeline also helps to ensure that you won’t have to continue prepping rounds ad infinitum; instead, you need only prepare up until shit pops off and the deadline is reached.

You may find you won’t reach the deadline, though. In this arc, the party discovered the corpse of a major politician who had died in the night and was secretly buried by the gardener. They used the cover-up as leverage to blackmail the parents of the bride and groom into calling off the marriage, which was helped along by the ranger revealing that Elliot’s father was concealing Elliot’s criminal record to keep the marriage arrangement intact. They managed to prevent the wedding with an hour to spare.

However, as Alice the sorcerer went downstairs to announce the cancellation, she spotted a person who looked just like her weaving through the crowd to leave the manor. She followed, and discovered that she was tracking the semi-villainous NPC who had crossed paths with the party a few times before, disguised as Alice. The NPC, Florian, had been playing the role of the gardener, and blackmailed the bride’s father into giving up a precious family heirloom in exchange for concealing the body; now that the cover-up has been revealed, they’re getting out of Dodge with their prize. This revelation serves as the plot hook for the next dungeon!

#dm tips #dm advice #rpgs #d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #roleplay #actual play

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

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okay, I want to hear about your thoughts on Renesmee wanting to eat Edward?? What's up with that. Also would love to hear about your opinion on this child in general. All the people in her life are hardcore projecting on her, what's the alien child's perspective on all this shit. Thanks for all the twilight meta its wild.

Thank you, glad you enjoy my rambling, strange, thoughts.

What’s Up With Renesmee Devouring Her Enemies?

So, this one’s actually a bit of headcanon on my end, not really supported by anything directly. We’re going way into left field with this.

But I do have this. Renesmee is a highly efficient predator, perhaps in a way more so than the vampire (although she is weaker and slower than vampires) and Renesmee is... not human, for whatever that means.

Everything we see of Renesmee’s early biological development, and what we see happening in Nahuel and his sisters, makes a lot of sense from a biological standpoint.

The mother is turned essentially into a hybrid incubator, such that even if she wanted to abort she likely would not be able to or would not survive it. The child grows at a rapid rate in the room and has to eat itself out, at which point it has a starter meal of the human mother. The child then grows absurdly rapidly to the point where, mentally and physically, it can survive on its own. Growth then slows and then stops when sexual maturity is reached, presumably for reproductive purposes.

Vampires cannot do a few things. They are a half-sterile race, only able to reproduce through humans and the previously male half of the human species. They also need external help to kill a fellow vampire. In other words, they have to light a fire.

Until you burn the pieces, the enemy vampire isn’t dead. Now, using fire as a tool is to date something only the human species has figured out. It is not intuitive and an odd coincidence that vampires had this prerequisite knowledge (I have thoughts on what vampirism even is and where it comes from).

I imagine, just as Renesmee presumably has reproductive capabilities that vampires lack, she also a has a toolset that vampires lack: the ability to kill a vampire without the need for fire.

Given that Renesmee’s able to eat human food, this implies she has a digestive that is able to break down nutrients. The reason vampires can’t eat other vampires is they lack this. Edward swallows pizza, he’s vomiting that shit back up three hours later and it’s going to be very solid and very gross. Whatever venom did to his innards, most of his vital human organs aren’t working anymore.

Given that Renesmee’s this mix of venom and who knows what kinds of fluids I believe her stomach is capable of breaking down and digesting vampire flesh. This seems to me the most obvious way to eliminate an enemy vampire when no tools are otherwise available.

Hence, instinctively, if Renesmee wants to murder Edward she will eat him.

(Also, as you can tell, the image is just horrifyingly delightful to me, and so it’s my go to response.)

As for why she would want to eat him, see here and here.

The Family and Renesmee

As you note, everyone in Renesmee’s life projects someone else onto her.

Not so much Carlisle, he just seems very bewildered and overwhelmed by everything at first, and one of the few who openly notes how not human Renesmee is and the implications of this (given the chromosome experiment, I’m sure Carlisle was expecting a squid).

Even in the early stages though we see Edward, Bella, Alice, and Rosalie as primary offenders. (I’d list Esme except Esme is... being Esme about it, so, she’s just floating through Renesmee’s life like her Cullen ghost self and not even at the point where she can project anything onto her. Besides, that’s what Edward’s for.)

Edward sees the best of both himself and Bella in Renesmee, a little intellectual who reads War and Peace at a few weeks old when she has no understanding of the concepts of War, Napoleon, Russia, or Peace. As Edward always does, he so obliviously projects onto her, that I imagine it doesn’t matter what Renesmee says or does around him and she quickly figures that out.

Bella’s left the planet. Renesmee’s this beautiful thing, that looks like Edward, that is her daughter. Bella has no idea what parenting is. She’s floating through life preparing herself to become Esme 2.0. It’s not so much that she projects onto Renesmee but that she... completely fails to connect her to reality. Renesmee is a concept to Bella. Renesmee might figure this out, but given her feelings for her mother, I imagine she’s far more conflicted about it. She probably wishes things could be different between them, and often tries to find ways to make it so, it just never works.

Alice treats Renesmee much as she treated Bella, as her little doll that she can dress in cute clothing. Beyond that, Renesmee is a nuisance who messes with Alice’s gift. Oh, Alice likes her well enough, but I don’t see them having an actual meaningful conversation or connection.

Rosalie’s probably the wort offender in the projection domain. She is absolutely projecting the ideal human child she never had onto Renesmee. When Renesmee inevitibly fails to live up to these perfect standards, which even a human child wouldn’t, I imagine Rosalie will get increasingly upset. Acknowledging Renesmee isn’t what she wanted either would probably break Rosalie, so she’s not going to do that, and instead try to get Renesmee to behave correctly. For however much she cares about Renesmee, I imagine Renesmee sours on her growing up, as she knows she will never be what Rosalie wishes she was. Grateful that Rosalie helped keep her alive, of course, but... she would also probably wonder, as fandom does, just how much Rosalie was hoping Bella would die in birth (for the record, I think this might have been an idle fantasy of Rosalie’s, but I don’t think she’d go this far.)

Then of course, there’s Jake. Woof, Jake. As I linked above, I think Renesmee will slowly become more and more disenchanted with Jake. She’ll either learn about or suspect her own gift, have no interest in having a romantic relationship with him, or learn about his checkered past with her mother. More Jake is...

Imprinting, at a very large distance, sounds nice but imagine what that means. You have this person who is utterly dependent on you, who will do whatever you want and be whatever you wish them to be. In other words, you have this codependent person you can never get rid of who is never authentic. They will never say no to you, will always do what you wish, and if you dare to tell them you want a little time to yourself they will probably combust into flames.

That’s not a good relationship for anyone: imprinter or imprintee.

Jake, in a sense, ceases to be a real person when it comes to Renesmee. Renesmee will figure that out and then... why should she live her life just to make this miserable man who once tried to murder her happy?

What Does This Do to Renesmee?

I imagine Renesmee grows up feeling very isolated.

She doesn’t really belong in the Cullens, for all that they’re the best fit she has. She certainly doesn’t belong with other imprintees in the tribe (and whatever occasional function she goes to with the Quileutes is probably a complete disaster), and she’s not human either.

I imagine her strongest relationships are Charlie Swan (who beyond the surrealness of his life I imagine takes Renesmee at very face value), Carlisle Cullen (who also seems to not project onto Renesmee and takes her at face value), and Bella (who she desperately wants a stronger relationship with but Bella’s not listening).

Well, Charlie at some point will die. He will not choose immortality. I imagine Renesmee never quite understands why he was allowed to choose death or what the purpose of the human species even is. To her, they are caterpillars who never went into the chrysalis. Given to Renesmee the Cullen diet is the norm, to her it would seem obvious that, yes, everyone in the world can turn into a vampire and if they ration animal resources correctly there’s no problem. Or, if not everyone, then certainly her grandfather need not die.

I’m sure Charlie tries to talk to Renesmee about this but given that he’s one of her few strong relationships in this world the talk of “I’m going to die some day, sorry kiddo” doesn’t go well.

So, I’m sure it takes Renesmee a very long time to recover from that blow, if, in fact, she ever really does. I’m sure a part of her will always grieve Charlie.

In time, I think she’ll leave the coven to go on a journey of self discovery. The coven will just be too damn suffocating and she needs to find out who she truly is. Now, if that’s before or after the inevitable collapse of the Volturi and destruction of human society is hard to say.

I will say that whatever the future holds for Renesmee, just like everyone else’s, it is unbearably bleak.

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 4 years

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Hi! What is your very specific Twilight AU?

okay, so. New Moon.

party disaster, dumping her and dipping, all happens normally.

but THEN. Bella finds out she’s pregnant.

(and I know you’re thinking- pre-marital sex?!?! Edward would NEVER! but listen. I am the author now. I’ve been around Christians my whole life. shut up!)

so anyway after a million pregnancy tests and a lot of googling about vampire baby legends, Bella’s like...well this is probably gonna be a situation,

Nessie doesn’t have an insane growth rate here because I hate that, so she has a normal amount of time to prepare, and she’s very...aware that the birth is gonna be Rough at best. So she goes to Jacob

who is NOT a wolf yet but Is aware of the pack and the treaty, and they are closer friends already, and she’s like ‘hey. paranormal emergency. you’re the only person in this town who enables me. help.’

and Jacob’s like I’m Fucking Fifteen and goes and gets Leah, since she’s technically an adult and a girl

(ms. meyer How did you make one of leah’s only 3 character traits ‘upset she’s infertile’ and then not have her support bella’s choices in breaking dawn please make it make sense)

so they start brainstorming solutions and the best they can work with is. Bella’s gotta ride out the pregnancy in hiding. they have no way of knowing whether she can survive the pregnancy and the only clue they have about whether the baby will be a monster or not is from google searches, but they also can’t exactly take her to an obgyn when her uterus feels like it’s calcified and her ribs are getting broken and she seems to be craving blood

So, Leah’s got her own little place. Bella moves in there, telling Charlie she wants to move back in with Renee (she knows her parents would never willingly call each other so as long as she keeps up communicating with both of them they should be none the wiser of her growing a little dracula in Leah Clearwater’s basement).

Leah has already defected from the wolf pack at this point (because...the Cullen’s left and she didn’t really like any of the guys anyway lmao) so they don’t run the risk of them hearing her thoughts while she’s in wolf form. She goes out and hunts animals, brings them back and her and Jake drain the blood from them so Bella can drink it. All three of them find this extremely disgusting obviously but Jake’s loyal and a little bit lovestruck, Leah’s a supportive friend and queen, and Bella’s just trying to keep her and her baby alive, and none of them feel like trying to rob a blood bank

Bella is 100% certain the baby will just be a baby who happens to like blood, like she was in bd, but the tentative plan is that if a crazy soulless monster comes out of her Leah will...handle that...

Which neither are thrilled about, so Bella’s just trying to focus on staying positive. And between that, trying to survive and stay hidden, Bella doesn’t really have time to...Check Out the way she did in new moon. Like, she’s absolutely still depressed, and she’s still getting an occasional Edward hallucination because carrying a vampire baby counts as reckless in many books, but she’s just more...resigned and pissed than anything. She’ll have days like the ‘possibilities’ scene, but more often than not she’s just telling the Edward hallucination to go fuck himself when he’s begging her to find the real him so they can have Carlisle deal with the pregnancy

at some point, Seth gets roped into the whole mess (he’s prone to just breaking into his sister’s house) but since he’s like, 13 and The Best Baby Boy he’s immediately supportive. He didn’t even fucking know about the wolves and the vampires until he walked in on a six months pregnant Bella drinking blood while his sister and Jacob are hacking away at a dead deer, but he’s like...you know when you were 13 and sneaking around about Anything made you feel like the coolest person alive? point is he’s helpful

AND he can get away with spending a lot of time at Leah’s house without anyone finding it weird, unlike Jacob, so he starts spending most of his free time there keeping Bella company and brightening her day up

HE is the one who enables her when she comes up with the name Renesmee lmao

(just because she hates Edward doesn’t mean Esme ever did anything wrong!)

“bella I’ll throw you out of this house if you don’t come up with a real name” “leah she’s white you can’t just disrespect her culture like this omg”

anyway these four become the DORKIEST and WEIRDEST little family it’s cute

so then. labor.

it’s less...graphic than in bd because Bella hasn’t been actively dying the whole pregnancy and she doesn’t snap her spine in half, but it’s still. bad.

she essentially delivers a rock that Nessie then begins chewing her way out of. she’s actively bleeding out. Jacob’s having a panic attack. Leah made Seth watch so he would never have unprotected sex and the scare tactic is working. Leah’s covered in Bella’s blood which is not great considering she’s Holding A Rock That A Vampire Is Emerging From

Leah’s been taking classes and researching deliveries so she needs to stitch Bella up and see what else is wrong but Seth is rocking back and forth on the floor crying and Jacob’s screaming and pacing too fast to grab so she’s like. Bella babe I know you’re dying but you need to hold this thing for me ksjdfllksf

so while she’s handling That, Bella’s got this weird little rock in her arms and is watching the baby slowly fight it’s way out like this is a very fucked up egg or something and she’s just. overwhelmed. maybe it’s the blood loss but she’s looking at the messy, scrunchy little face and she’s already in love and envisioning their lives together.

and then, you know, the baby bites her,

she has just enough time to think ‘how did we not think to prepare for that’ before she can feel the venom coursing through her. it’s just as bad as she remembers from James’ bite but somehow...easier to tolerate. she blacks out pretty quickly

the other 3 notice and are like : 👁👄👁

Jacob...literally explodes into a wolf On Spot

Seth darts out the fucking door he’s seen enough for one day

Leah, sole holder of the braincell, realizes Nessie just bit and isn’t drinking from Bella, and deduces this is like...a survival instinct or something. the baby instinctively changes it’s mother first thing. weirdly...touching?

So she gets the baby and checks that everything is physically okay with Bella (apart from you know. changing species) and is like...guess this is an issue for 3 days from now Leah

more immediate pressing issues: screaming new born baby and oh, yeah, the giant red wolf in the basement,

“Jacob I know this is disorienting but if you break anything in my house I’ll fucking kill you”

she really just leaves the poor boy to go get the baby cleaned up and warm up some of the frozen blood they’ve got in her fridge (RUINING HER TUPPERWARE, BELLA)

she’s not worried about the wolf pack mind meld yet because she knows Sam took the guys on a mission way farther up the coast for a few days and they’ll be too far away to hear Jake. hopefully, by the time they get back, Bella will be awake and they’ll have made an escape plan by then

and as she’s bottle feeding blood to the baby she’s thrilled that it seems to be like...relatively normal and not s horrific monster or anything. mission: unwillingly murder my best friend’s baby has been successfully canceled

“Oh Goddamn it....Renesmee DOES fit you...”

Seth, from where he’s cowering behind the couch: “told you”

so, Jake eventually calms down, they spend the next few days cooing over Nessie and brainstorming how to handle Bella when she wakes up a vampire, and also nicknaming Nessie ‘Nessie’ because they know Bella will find that intolerable and they feel she deserves karmic punishment for stressing them out so much lmao

so, three days are up. Seth’s upstairs putting on a way-too-elaborate puppet show for the baby with not a care in the world. Leah and Jake are in the basement because they know Bella probably won’t want their wolf blood and their ready to phase in case she gets a little aggressive

but she just wakes up and is like. hey! how’s it going? where’s my baby?

sjdhfksdj they were expecting feral but Bella still has her super self-control. she didn’t even realize she’d changed into a vampire until they told her lmao

Bella’s a little too freaked out to try hunting yet so they give her some of the stored blood they’ve been feeding Ness and she’s like. good to go. Leah’s about to scream like have the elders been exaggerating this whole time or is Bella truly a freak??? lol

So, they spend a couple days just...relaxing, Bella and Renesmee bonding, they’re trying to come up with fun places Bella can move to with the baby so no one she knows finds out, and every now and then Leah and Jake go out and she tries to help him get the wolf thing under control

and then,,,,the pack get back from their mission early

and immediately are able to read Jacob’s mind

so they head over to Start Shit because there’s two bloodsuckers on their land but,

the pack not attacking because Jake imprinted on Renesmee? tired. the pack not attacking because Jake’s Alpha Genes have taken over and declared Nessie and Bella as part of his Pack and attacking would literally start a war? inspired

so they hash the whole thing out....ultimately Sam decides Bella is more of a victim than a threat, and since neither her or Nessie seem to be going on a bloodlust rampage any time soon...he decides to grant them immunity from the whole ‘kill the vampires’ rule. He’ll let her and her daughter stay in La Push as long as they agree to stick to animals and only hunt out of town. PLUS from what little Bella knows about the Volturi, she’s worried about them finding out about Nessie, so they’ll offer protection if that does happen, in exchange for her being able to help them with intel on any other vampire threats in the area (you know like. if a nomad is fucking stuff up in a nearby city, they’ll send her to talk to them first before deciding if they need to intervene. Sam has become acutely aware he has a lot of teens and kids in his pack, so he’s trying to keep them out of fights as much as possible)

anyway that’s the story of Nessie gaining like 17 chaotic as hell ride or die uncles,

let’s fast forward a bit

it’s like 15 years later. Bella’s not living with Leah anymore, but she’s got a cute apartment in a nearby town, and owns and runs a bookstore on the first floor of it. she got her ged and did college online and teaches night classes at a community college. She’s still in contact with her parents, who Adore the life out of Nessie. She still helps the pack out and they’re all close. Nessie is a handful but in a fun and lovable way. They go on little weekend trips whenever they have time. Bella’s happy.

but then a. Situation. arises.

basically, the Volturi have been made aware of some unknown vampire chasing others out of the pacific northwest and conspiring with shapeshifters. and you know when Aro gets curious he tends to spin things dramatically. who’s to say this vampire isn’t conspiring against all vampires? against them? why has no one’s special talents worked on her? he simply must find out.

Bella and the Pack get word and decide their best course of action for now is to go on the run. they’re not gonna be able to take on a whole army but if they can bide some time and lay low they might be able to figure something out

except Bella is like....I have a teenage hybrid that the Volturi don’t know about yet...it would be EXTREMELY irresponsible to take her with me

but she can’t send Nessie to Charlie or Renee because they don’t know about her...dietary restrictions. She can’t stay with Billy or anyone else in La Push because the Volturi might trace the pack’s scent there and discover her. She’s panicking, they have to leave in a few days max and she can’t find a safe place for her daughter

and then she’s like.....fuck.

she had run into Jasper a couple of years ago- they have the same forgery guy and were heading to his building around the same time as a coincidence. She promised to forgive him for the party incident if he promised not to tell Edward he saw her and that she’s a vampire now. He agreed, but then told her Edward’s been living on his own for a while now and insisted on giving her his number...she never could bring herself to call it or delete it...but now...if she wants to be 100% Nessie is safe and protected...

fuck

So, the past 15 years have been fairly rough for Edward

he’s still convinced leaving in order to save Bella was the best course of action, but like...the vampires canonically mate for life. that’s his soulmate. he’s absolutely miserable without her. he’s thought about cracking and going to find her again but he always talks himself out of it, convinced she’d just tell him she hates him or something

so as stated in his patented Edward Cullen Self Loathing Guide, first thing to do is isolate yourself from all the lovebirds you usually live with. Sure, he keeps in contact, but...not well. he’s currently living alone and posing as a university student. He’s not even really sure what he’s supposed to be majoring in. He’s mostly been in a haze since he left Forks.

and one day....he gets a call from an unknown number. he ignores it, thinking it’s a spam call. but then it calls like 8 more times in a row and he figures answering might be a bit smarter than simply throwing it at the wall

And Edward...swears he came back to life and immediately had a heart attack the second he hears Bella’s voice

He feels breathless and disoriented the whole conversation, trying to figure out if his memory did her voice any justice, trying to rush out 15 years worth of apologies, trying to comprehend she’s actually speaking to him.

But Bella’s very blunt on the phone. She doesn’t want to let herself get emotional. She’s on a time limit, and she has to focus on getting her daughter to safety

And Edward swears he somehow misheard her the first ten or so times she told him. He had a daughter? that wasn’t possible

“she has the audacity to be your Evil Twin so I’m pretty sure it’s possible”

so she gives him a rundown. she needs to go into hiding, no I don’t need your help with that, gives him details about Nessie, what she’s like, what she likes to do, her diet, her favorite color, how annoyed she is by this whole situation, “Edward I know you don’t love me anymore, but I remember how protective you were, and that’s what I need Nessie to have right now. She needs you right now” and Edward wants so badly to refute Bella’s claim of lost love, to tell her he has absolutely no idea how to be a parent, but...her tone is aching so much he can barely speak. He can’t let Bella down again, and he can’t let this little girl he foolishly created and left down anymore than he already has, either.

So he agrees, she tells him to be at the airport in a few days, and hangs up.

Edward loses about half a day staring at a wall in shock, before he jumps into preparations.

Bella told him while their daughter possessed some speed and strength, hunting was fairly dangerous for her. She was more delicate than his kind, and had a heartbeat. Reheated blood bags had been their best option, and she also needed human food as well. He also had to get a room ready for her- he wandered around stores for hours, reading young girls minds to see if there was any furniture or decorations that were universally liked- which was of course, fruitless, but he did manage to find a handful of things he was sure Bella would have liked at that age, and prayed for the best. He somehow got himself covered in purple paint that was a nightmare to get off. Bella had sent him some forged documents claiming Nessie was his younger sister he’d won custody of, and he got her enrolled in a nearby school. He lived every day leading up to her arrival staving off a panic attack.

it wasn’t until he was on the way to the airport that he realized he forgot to inform his family about this life update. they must’ve been on a hunting trip, because he got nothing but voicemails

imagine being Carlisle and you come home to a voicemail from your son who’s banished himself from the family that’s just like ‘hi. you’re a grandfather now. I’m having a nervous breakdown and might crash my car. call me back at your earliest convenience I suppose” like what would you DO

after he gets to the airport he starts panicking again, realizing Bella had never actually sent him a picture, worrying about how he’d find her, but then- he sees a tiny girl with untamed, dark red curls, features strikingly similar to his own that are pulled into the expression Bella always made when she was reading, absently chewing on her lip, and before she looks at him with her mother’s big brown eyes, he already knows who he’s looking at, and he’s certain if he was human his tear ducts would be having a fit right now

Renesmee, however, seems less willing to have an emotional meeting. She mumbles out a simple greeting before gathering up her bags and heading for the door, Edward rushing behind her to try and help

listen. the awkwardness of Charlie trying to connect with Bella. but 10000x worse because of Edward’s overthinking, self-deprecating ass and Nessie being like ‘ah yes the guy who broke my pregnant teenage mothers heart, fantastic’ lmao

the car ride is p a i n f u l. Edward’s trying so hard for light conversation and Nessie’s barely giving one word answers. Bella had warned her about the mind reading so she was carefully keeping her mind blocked, which Edward is trying very hard to be understanding about instead of annoyed, but By God does he want to know everything about her

when they get back to his place, she quietly thanks him for the room and then promptly locks him out of it lol. He spends the rest of the day just pacing back and forth until he realizes he should eventually feed her lmao

and that’s...kinda how the first couple weeks go. she only emerges from her room if he bribes her with food, she awkwardly tries to dodge his questions, he drives her to school and then begs her to tell him how it went when he picks her up, he spends his college classes distracted because he’s freaking out constantly about how to successfully bond with her. His favorite time of day now is night, because she can’t block her mind while she’s asleep, and even if her dreams are all nonsense they’re still...part of her that he gets to know.

His family keeps begging him to let them meet her, but he’s pushing back because if she’s this bad at adjusting to one new family member, how is she going to handle six more?

(meanwhile Alice and Rose started a group chat with her and are having a ball clowning Edward lmao)

wait ksjflksd I think this vine perfectly sums up the dynamic im envisioning https://youtu.be/wQZIUHNORHg

anyway they....very slowly make some progress. much too slowly for Edward’s taste, but hey.

Like he finds out snacks she likes. or jewelry she likes. stuff like that and just...wordlessly leaves it around for her lmao. he thinks it’s like trying not to startle a deer, Nessie thinks it’s more like a cat trying to gift you a dead mouse, but either way it’s weirdly endearing.

He notices she always has a huffy little frown when he picks her up on Wednesdays. So instead of begging her for an ounce of information of her school life, he asks her one Wednesday morning if she’s excited for the day and she admits she has an elective class every Wednesday with a girl she doesn’t get along with.

He gets her school photos (and Weeps) and realizes apart from her room the home is fairly barren of decorations, so he buys a bunch of picture frames and hangs up the school shots, and some pictures of the Cullen’s over the years, and the few he has of Bella that he could never bear to part with. Other than catching her smiling at the prom picture of her parents, Nessie doesn’t say anything- but the next time he comes home from hunting, there’s a pile of pictures of her growing up on the table, and he starts weeping all over again as he hangs them up

(there’s one of her and Bella hugging and looking at the camera with identical grins and joy in their eyes, he can’t help but put that in his room. He hopes one day he’ll get to see a scene like that in person)

He starts trying to get her out of her room a little more- he still hasn’t managed to a get a ‘favorites’ list out of her, so he starts playing movies Bella loved, to see if any of them lure her out. some do, some don’t- he got halfway through a Lord of the Rings marathon, which was Torture in his opinion, but then Ness came out and quietly asked if he could restart it and suddenly they became his favorite movies ever.

Bella’s not able to contact her on a set schedule or anything because of her situation (and you can bet your ass Edward’s contacted every vampire he knows and ordered them to help her out if they come across her or the Volturi), and Edward realizes that’s probably taking a toll on the girl, so he starts telling her stories of her mother when he knew her in Forks. She’s particularly amused by the blood typing incident- the first time Edward hears Nessie properly laugh, he literally starts crying on the spot

could you imagine the sheer panic if she ever gets so much as a cold

And yes, she’s still pissed on Bella’s behalf, and yes, she specifically blasts 70s music because Bella told her he hates it one time, and yes, if he looks at her like he’s a kicked puppy one more time she might claw his eyes out, and yes, she refuses to introduce him to her friends from school because she Knows everyone will then start asking her about her ‘hot brother’ and she can’t live with that and also can’t live with him knowing that so she told him if he ever introduces himself to any of her friends she’ll set him on fire, and yes, she’s homesick 95% of the time but...he’s growing on her. like a mold, or something.

(okay, maybe when Seth tried to analyze why Mamma Mia is her favorite musical, he might have had a point. half a point. quarter of a point. shut up.)

And Edward’s still trying to not have a panic attack every time she’s out of his sight- he’s got Carlisle keeping tabs on the Volturi for him, and it’s not exactly hard for him to keep track of her through other people’s minds- but she’s so tiny and her heartbeat is Too Fast and what if she inherited her mother’s unlucky streak??

but they’re toeing the line of co-existing peacefully and Edward’s scared to push it past that

then he has to, because it turns out he sent her to one of Those Schools where the parents have to be involved in the school in some way or another and Nessie’s Annoyed

sdkjfsdkjf she keeps trying to get him to just sign up for like pta meetings or something and he’s like ‘I need you to understand you are the only person in this town I actually know or like I Cannot survive around fundraiser moms I can’t’

so she’s like ugh fine I’m in the drama club

listen.....Stage Parent Edward Cullen.......the power this holds...

that’s right this whole post was an elaborate ruse for me to make a musical theater headcanon again lmao

no okay but seriously he starts off just helping build sets and stuff like that but then midway through the year their music teacher gets fired and the schools like begging him to take over because they can’t find someone in enough time that’ll know the music for the show they’re doing and he’s like “I need you to understand Nessie will never talk to me again if I start actually working at her school” and they’re like “She also will never talk to you again if we have to cancel the big musical, though” and he’s like. fuck.

silent treatment for a week and a half

lmao so now he’s trying to juggle being an overly-enthusiastic stage parent who’s making costumes and sets and kinda crying backstage when he sees his daughter in her costume with also being the music director for the damn show and trying to teach a bunch of kids how to read sheet music

one day he ended up in a coffee shop with the hair and makeup moms, gossiping about the cast’s love lives, and he literally doesn’t know how he got there

is it wrong to pass Nessie in class even though she’s putting all the wrong answers on the test but he Knows she knows the right answers and is only answering wrong to try and get a rise out of him

Bella sneaks into town to see the show- they thought it would push their luck if the pack came, but they sent an ungodly amount of flowers and candy. When she snuck into the house while Ness was sleeping she Was Not expecting to find Edward up to his elbows in sequins, trying to fix a bedazzler he accidentally broke in frustration, muttering under his breath about how if Nessie’s romantic opposite in the show doesn’t keep his thoughts clean he’s gonna kill him- and it just cracks her up. She WAS nervous about seeing Edward again but now she’s assured he’s still a dork lol

So Edward freaks when he sees her but they don’t wanna wake Ness up so they’re trying to be quiet but like. they’re going through it

Like Bella Wants to be pissed at him but she can’t, she still loves him- and while she can’t just get over what he did to her, it’s also not lost on her that ‘leaving to protect someone I love’ is literally what she had to do to her daughter

And Edward....Edward, who only left to give Bella a chance at a safe, human life, seeing Bella in front of him as a vampire, knowing it’s his fault she ended up that way and she had to go through it alone, had to raise a baby herself because he’d made it so hard to find him...knowing if he’d just pulled his head out of his ass he would have been able to be there for her...would be able to form a coherent sentence around his love right now, would have long and fond memories of Nessie’s childhood, likely wouldn’t have to watch Bella hide from the Volturi...he’s back in a self-loathing spiral already

But they haven’t seen each other in so long and they just don’t want to...deal with the unpleasantness right now, so they just push it aside. Bella helps Edward with the costumes. Edward fills her in on what she’s been missing with Nessie. Bella tells him some stuff about when Ness was younger. They just spend the night talking, and it feels like no time has past between them at all- which just makes the heartaches a little stronger

When Nessie wakes up to her mother there she’s ecstatic- bubbly and loud and glued to Bella’s hip all day, giving her in depth play-by-plays of her school and rehearsals and friends she’s made, bouncing on her toes all morning, hyper, giggly, and- it kind of breaks Edward’s heart a little, even though he knows he hasn’t really...earned this side of his daughter, yet.

(at least he got his wish of seeing their twin smiles in person)

(he wishes he could see them every second of every day)

so the girls spend the day catching up while Edward mostly feels like a thirdwheel, and then they have to get Ness over to the school so she can get ready

Bella decides to hang out around the school theater before the show actually starts- she leans against the wall next to the piano, the two talking in hushed tones while Edward runs through songs. Bella really missed watching him play- the only thing that managed to drag her away from it was when Nessie called her to the dressing room to help with a hair emergency

she didn’t talk to him much at intermission, her attention being stolen by the rest of the Cullen family (who had been Very Loudly supporting the show so far, she knew Ness was probably dying of embarrassment backstage)

after the show, the three went back to Edward’s and just...talked. Nessie was gushing about the show and eating while her parents assured her she was the greatest actress ever born, simple stuff like that. she fell asleep sandwiched in between them on the couch

Bella realizes she’s never going to be able to bring herself to leave again if Nessie wakes up, and tells Edward as much. He clearly doesn’t want her to go just yet either, but...she’s on the run, it’s not like she has much choice

He has so much he wants to say to her but he just- can’t. it’s not the right time. but he’s hoping she can see that in his eyes

Bella shifts Nessie off her shoulder so Edward can hold her, and she gives him a light kiss and says ‘thank you, Edward’ before disappearing in a flash. she needed to go before she lost her nerve.

Edward can’t bring himself to let Nessie out of his arms, so instead of carrying her to bed he just stays there, holding her, trying his best not to think that that could be the last time for a long time he’d ever see his Bella again, trying not to let thoughts of a life he gave up unwittingly consume him

okay I didn’t mean for this to be So Long so I’m cutting it here uhh...let me know if anyone wants a part 2? sorry lmao

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #edbella #twilight saga #asks #molly mumbles #elephantlovingmouse

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

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No Returns or Exchanges - Fred Weasley

Title: No Returns or Exchanges Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N get to start their happily ever after A/N: this is for @mrs-fredweasley. I usually do my requests in the order I receive them, but she asked for some fluff with Fred and the reader getting married and having kids for her birthday, and since she’s my birthday twin I couldn’t resist! Feedback is always welcome and requests are open!

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“There you are, Mrs. Weasley,” Fred greets as he sneaks up behind Y/N and wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not Mrs. Weasley quite yet, Freddie,” Y/N teases as she turns around in his embrace. Her arms wind around Fred’s neck and she pulls him in for a brief kiss. “You’re about twelve hours too early.”

Fred starts to slowly sway them back and forth, humming quietly to the music drifting through the air from the large tent behind them. Fred and Y/N aren’t getting married until tomorrow, but Ginny, Y/N’s maid of honor, insisted on mixing some muggle wedding traditions in alongside the regular wizard ones. Tonight, had been what Ginny referred to as the rehearsal dinner, where the wedding party and their close family went through the ceremony that will take place tomorrow, before having a mini celebration together.

“Do I really have to go home without you?” Fred pouts. Another muggle tradition Ginny insisted on was that Y/N and Fred would not be allowed to see each other until Y/N was heading down the aisle towards him.

Y/N giggles and kisses Fred’s pout away. “I think it’ll be romantic. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, isn’t that what they say?” Y/N rolls her eyes playfully when Fred frowns at her. “Oh, come on, Freddie. It’s only one night apart.”

“When’s the last time we spent more than 1 hour apart outside of work?” Fred ask, looking down at Y/N expectantly. When she doesn’t answer he smiles. “Exactly. One night is going to feel like an eternity.”

“Okay so maybe it’ll be a bit hard,” Y/N concedes. “But after tomorrow we’ll get to spend every day for the rest of eternity together, that’s gotta be worth it, isn’t it? And have you forgotten that we’ll be spending the next two weeks completely alone together in a cabin in the woods.”

“How can I forget about that?” Fred muses. “Just me, you, and as little clothing as possible for two weeks straight. That’s the only kind of honeymoon I want.” Most of their friends and family were surprised that Fred and Y/N didn’t want to go on some adventurous honeymoon but wanted to just relax together in some secluded forest. But for them that seemed like the only option. It’s only been 13 months since the war ended, and after Fred’s near-death experience he and Y/N decided to take life slow for a bit.

“So that’s why you wanted to go somewhere secluded,” Y/N says, realization washing over her.

Fred laughs. “I may have had ulterior motives when I convinced you to book the cabin in the woods over the beach house.”

Y/N shakes her head fondly. “You’re a bit of a menace, you know that?”

“Yeah but I’m your menace. And you’re way past the return or exchange date so you’re stuck with me,” he jokes, leaning down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead.

“Oi, lover boy!” George calls from behind them. Y/N and Fred break apart so they can look at him. “Ginny says it’s time to go, and she’s already wacked me over the head once so get your arse over here before she does it again.”

“See you tomorrow?” Fred asks as he leans down to kiss Y/N briefly.

“Meet you at the altar,” she confirms with a smile.

“You sure you wanna marry my brother?” Ginny teases as they get ready to walk down the aisle. “Because I could cause a distraction if you wanna slip out the front door and run away.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and grabs the bouquet Ginny hands her. “Ha, ha. Very funny, Gin.”

Ginny beams at her before taking her place in line. Y/N takes a deep breath as the music starts, silently regretting that she chose to not have her dad walk her down the aisle. A few months ago, she had bashed the archaic notion of someone giving her away to Fred as if she were a piece of property, but as nerves start to bubble in her stomach she wishes she had someone by her side to calm her down. Everyone in front of her starts to slowly head towards the alter, and she fixes her dress one last time before she follows behind Ginny.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” Fred whispers as she takes his hands at the altar. There are tears in his eyes, and a few leak down his cheeks. “You’re absolutely stunning.”

Y/N blushes, trying to blink away her own tears as to not ruin her makeup. “You clean up quite nice as well, Freddie.”

Fred smiles down at her, maintaining eye contact as the official from the ministry starts the ceremony. Fred squeezes Y/N’s hands tightly as he talks, only half paying attention to what he’s saying. His thoughts are completely consumed with Y/N and how breathtakingly beautiful she is. The dress she picked out compliments all of her best features, and the veil cascading down her shoulders makes her look like a goddess. Fred has imagined this day over a dozen times since he proposed last year, but everything he thought of pales in comparison to how beautiful Y/N looks right now.

“Can I have the rings?” the officiant asks, pulling Fred’s thoughts fully to the ceremony. George digs around in his pocket for a moment before handing the delicate silver rings to the man. He hands the smaller one to Fred. “Now it’s my understanding that the bride and groom have prepared their own vows?” When Fred and Y/N nod, he smiles and motions for Fred to start.

“Y/N, I’ve been enamored with you since I was 11 years old, when you made your cauldron blow up and covered Snape head to toe in the worst smelling goo I’ve ever encountered – and that’s saying something,” Fred pauses as everyone chuckles, and he starts to slide the ring down Y/N’s finger. “When you agreed to accompany me to Hogsmeade during third year I felt like the luckiest guy in the world and I still do. I was so nervous, I had no idea how I managed to convince the pretties girl in school to go out with me, and all these years later I have no idea how I convinced you to marry me. But like I said last night, there’s no returns or exchanges you’re stuck with me for good now.”

Fred slides the ring down Y/N’s finger until it meets her engagement ring. “You’ve stuck by me through every risk I’ve taken and every dumb idea that’s popped into my mind. You were one of the first people to support my dream of opening the joke shop with George, and you were there to support me every step of the way. Every late-night George and I had planning things out or developing products you were right there with me, usually you were asleep, but it was still nice to have you there. You were always the first person to volunteer to test out a product and you were always there for me to vent to when something didn’t work out. You pushed me to leave school early with George, and once you moved in with us you were always there to snuggle with me after a long day.”

Fred takes a deep breath and brings one of his hands up to wipe away the tears Y/N has started to shed. “You gave up so much of your life to be there for me after I was crushed by that wall. No matter how hard I tried to get you to go back to work or just leave the house in general. You’ve always shown me unconditional love and support, and that’s what I’m promising to show you for the rest of our lives. No matter how crazy or hard or scary life gets, I’ll be there by your side, loving you and helping you through it.”

By the time the officiant is pronouncing them husband and wife, both Fred and Y/N are openly crying, but as they share their first kiss as husband and wife, neither of them really cares.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Fred greets with a smile as Y/N pushes the door to his office open. He pushes away from his desk slightly and pats his lap.

“Me too, I hate throwing up,” Y/N responds, taking a seat on Fred’s lap. She settles in and presses a kiss to his cheek. “How’s work going today, husband?” she asks with a giggle. They’ve been married for just over two months, and it still gives Y/N butterflies every time she refers to Fred as her husband.

Fred rolls his eyes and grabs Y/N’s face so he can press a kiss to her lips. “It’s been quite busy today wife. The restock of the new whizbang line already sold out.” Fred settles his hands on Y/N’s hips and kisses her again. “What about you? What have you been getting up to on your day off?”

“I had breakfast with Ginny and Hermione. Did some shopping,” she says casually pointing towards the bags she dropped near the door. “Nothing too crazy or exciting.”

Fred’s eyes light up at the sight of the bags. “Shopping, hm? Did you happen to pick up a present for your lovely, adorable, adoring husband while you were out?” he asks hopefully.

“Maybe,” Y/N muses with a wink. “You’ll have to wait until after work to find out.” Y/N giggles as Fred frowns and she kisses him one last time before standing up.

“You’re such a tease,” he scolds as Y/N gathers the bags in her hand.

“I know.” She waves at Fred and blows him a kiss before heading back into the joke shop and upstairs to their flat. They’re still living with George for the time being as they save up for a house, and as Y/N places her shopping bags on the bed she starts to wonder if they’ll have to start looking for one sooner rather than later.

Y/N sticks her hand in one of the bags and fumbles around a bit, humming as her hands closes around a rectangular cardboard box. Her hand shakes slightly as she pulls the pregnancy test out and starts to familiarize herself with the instructions. While her and Fred have already come to the conclusion that they both want a house full of children someday, she never imagined that they may be starting their family so soon after their wedding.

“Now or never,” Y/N mutters to herself as she heads towards the bathroom. Y/N thought they had been careful while on their honeymoon, she knows there were a few times they had forgotten to use the contraceptive charm in the heat of the moment, but she figured it would be okay. However, when her period never came she began to suspect that they weren’t in fact okay, and the random nausea spells she’s been having for the past week seemed to only solidify that fact.

After she’s closed and locked the door behind her, Y/N does what she needs to do and sets the pregnancy test on the counter face down. “Who knew three minutes could feel like a lifetime?” she asks to no one as she watches the time go by on her watch. When the three minutes is finally up Y/N’s hand starts to shake again as she reaches for the stick. She shuts her eyes tightly as she flips it over, and after a few deep breaths she finally takes a peek.

Pregnant.

Y/N starts to cry as a whirlwind of emotions flow through her. On one hand she’s so overwhelmingly happy, being a mother is something she’s always wanted and to be doing it with Fred makes her heart burst with joy. But she can’t help but also feel an intense bout of worry flowing through her. She and Fred are only 21, and they haven’t even been married six months yet. Y/N knows that Fred wants to be a dad, but she can’t help but worry that he’ll think this is a bad thing and that it’s far too soon for them to become parents.

“Hey, love. You left one of your bags downstairs,” Fred calls out as he walks through the door.

Y/N furiously wipes away her tears and sticks the pregnancy test in the back pocket of her jeans. She takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door, jumping slightly when she sees Fred. “You scared me, Freddie. I didn’t hear you come down the hall.”

Fred frowns at her. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?” When Y/N nods he gives her a look. “Were you throwing up again? You’re all pale, love. Are you sure we shouldn’t go see a muggle doctor or a healer or something?”

“I’m fine, love,” Y/N reassures, pushing past Fred. She starts to head down the hall when she feels Fred’s hand brush her ass. “What are you- oh,” she gasps, turning around to face Fred. He’s staring down at the pregnancy test in his hands. “Fred,” Y/N starts, not really sure what to say.

“Is this what I think it is?” Fred murmurs, looking up at Y/N. He grips the test in his hand tightly, tears starting to form in his eyes. “You’re pregnant?”

Y/N nods slowly as she bites her lip. “Yeah, I am.” Fred falls to his knees and brings Y/N close to him, shoving her shirt up a little. He starts to pepper kisses all over her warm skin, laughing as Y/N starts to giggle and squirm. “Fred! Fred stop that tickles!”

Fred presses one final kiss to her stomach before he stands up and kisses Y/N passionately. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant. I can’t believe we’re gonna have a baby.” Fred lets go of Y/N and starts to head towards the door. “I have to go tell George.”

“Freddie, wait,” Y/N calls with a laugh, chasing after him. She closes her hand around his wrist and pulls him back towards her. “You’re not mad? Or upset?”

Fred gives Y/N a look like she’s crazy. “Upset? Mad? Why would I be any of those things? You know I want to be a dad, love. We’ve talked about this before.”

“I dunno,” Y/N shrugs. “We’re young and we haven’t been married for that long. I just thought you wouldn’t think it’s the right time.”

Fred sighs and comes back towards Y/N, wrapping her up in a hug. “Love I don’t care about any of that. So, what we’ve only been married for two months? We’ve been as good as married since we were 18 when you first moved in here.” Fred presses a kiss to her forehead and smiles down at her. “Besides if we’re gonna have enough kids to fill a quidditch team we need to have them young, I can’t be an old man teaching my kids how to fly,” he jokes with a laugh.

“A whole quidditch team?” Y/N asks. When Fred gives her a wink Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you Fred Weasley.”

“Fred what are you doing?” Y/N murmurs around a yawn. She started to wake up after a warm heavy weight rested on her stomach, and when she finally opened her eyes she saw Fred half hanging off the bed as he laid on his front. He’d pushed her shirt up and his head is hovering over the swell of her stomach while his hand strokes it lightly.

“Talking to the baby,” he responds, as if the answer is obvious.

Y/N shifts so she’s laying on her elbows so that she can look down at him properly. “At 2 am?”

Fred nods, pressing a light kiss to her skin. “I couldn’t sleep. And I read in that muggle book Hermione gave us last week that the baby can hear things now, so I figured I’d try it out.”

Y/N chuckles brings a hand up to rub her stomach. “Well I think the baby likes the sound of your voice, they’ve been moving like crazy.” Early last week Y/N had started to feel the baby move around inside of her. The first time it happened it scared the shit out of her, but now she’s started to miss it when the baby is still.

“Really?” Fred asks, his eyes lighting up. The movements Y/N has been feeling are still far too light for Fred to feel from the outside, but every night he spends hours rubbing her bump to try and feel something.

“Yeah, really. My ribs have become a punching bag.” Y/N smiles as the baby lands a few kicks to her stomach. “Here, gimme your hand.

Fred gives Y/N the hand that isn’t already on her stomach, watching as she places it on the side of her bump. She presses his hand into her skin, and he holds his breath, hoping to feel something. “Holy shit,” he gasps as the skin beneath his hand moves ever so slightly. Fred watches his hand in awe, smiling as it moves lightly with each movement. “That’s so cool.”

Y/N laughs and lets go of Fred’s hand so she can run her hand through his hair. “Innit? Though it does feel kinda weird that it’s like, coming from inside of me. But it’s nice. Like I’m never alone.”

“Hey little one,” Fred coos against Y/N’s skin, pressing down against her stomach as he feels the baby kick him in response. “I’m your Daddy, and I can’t wait to meet you.” Fred presses a kiss to Y/N’s skin and tears form in his eyes when he feels a small movement against his mouth. “I know your Mummy is doing such an amazing job of growing you in there but hurry up and get out of there so I can hold you and play with you and kiss you and cuddle you.” Fred tears his eyes away from Y/N’s bump so he can wink at his wife. “Plus, the sooner you get out of there the sooner Daddy can give you a sibling.”

Y/N scoffs and flicks Fred on the forehead. “Can we finish making this one before you start planning the next?”

“What? There’s no harm in planning ahead,” he teases, crawling up the bed to kiss Y/N sweetly.

“Hi there little bug,” Fred coos, gently rocking his newborn daughter. She’s only a few hours old, and her big eyes are bright as she blinks up at Fred. “I’m your Daddy and I love you so much Miss Ellie belly.” Her actual name is Electra, but Fred has settled on calling her Ellie. Y/N had found her name in a baby book Hermione dropped off, and they both instantly fell in love with it. It means bright one, and after the dark times Fred and Y/N had survived in order to bring her into the world it seemed like the perfect fit.

Fred presses a kiss to her forehead, his heart melting as she makes a little noise. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers. “Just don’t tell Mummy I said that.”

“Maybe you should check to make sure Mummy is asleep before you start spilling your secrets,” Y/N responds with a laugh.

Fred turns around, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, love. I figured you’d be a goner after the past few days you’ve had.”

Y/N moves over to make room for Fred and pats the space next to her. “I was only in labor for what 36 hours? That’s nothing,” she says with a laugh.

Fred comes over and sits next to Y/N, cradling Ellie tightly against his chest. “Don’t downplay yourself, love. You’re an absolute superhero.” He begrudgingly passes the baby back to Y/N and wraps an arm around her, his other hand coming up to grab Ellie’s foot through the blanket she’s wrapped up in. “We wouldn’t have our perfect little angel without you.”

Y/N blushes, looking over at Fred. “You helped a little bit. And I did nearly break your hand while I was pushing.”

“Aw, Y/N. You flatter me,” Fred teases. He presses a kiss to her temple and takes a moment to just watch as Y/N cuddles Ellie close. “I didn’t know I could love something this much,” Fred says quietly, crying slightly for the second time that day. The first had been when the doctor placed Ellie in his arms for the first time. “But every time I look at her my heart feels like it’s going to burst from how much love is in it.”

“I know, right? Every time I look at her I feel like crying. She’s just so tiny and perfect and ours.” Y/N leans down and presses a kiss to Ellie’s forehead. “I almost can’t believe that we made her. I don’t know how you and I could make something so beautiful.”

Fred gently grabs Y/N’s chin and turns her head so he can kiss her passionately. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world, so it is no surprise that our daughter is the most beautiful little girl in the world.” Fred kisses Y/N again briefly, before letting go of her chin so he can stroke Ellie’s cheek. “How are you feeling, love? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m alright, Freddie, thank you,” Y/N says softly, looking back down at their daughter. “I actually feel really good. To be honest your Mum scared me a bit, I thought it would be way worse.”

Fred chuckles, melting as Ellie’s eyes flutter closed. “I think Healers have revolutionized childbirth in the twenty years it’s been since she had a baby.” He bites his lip, nudging Y/N so she’ll look at him. “So now that this one’s out, when can we start trying for number 2?”

“Y/N love, I’m home!” Fred calls, stepping out of their fireplace and into the living room. He dusts the ashes from his suit, frowning when his wife doesn’t answer him immediately. But it turns into a smile when he spots his daughter peering at him over top of her play pen.

“Ellie,” he coos, heading over to her. “Look at you, standing up on your own!” he praises, lifting her out and up into the air. He tosses her up gently, laughing as she giggles madly at him. “Where’s your Mummy?” he asks, settling the infant on his hip. He presses a kiss to her forehead, his stomach turning to mush when she cuddles into his chest. “Let’s go find her then, hm?”

Fred starts to explore the house, grinning as Ellie babbles baby nonsense into his skin. He can’t believe how fast the past 8 months have gone, and while he loves watching Ellie grow and learn new things, he misses the baby stage already. “What do you think Mummy’s doing?” he asks, nodding along to her babbles as if she’s actually answering him. “I think she might be hiding to scare Daddy. What do you think?”

After checking their downstairs Fred starts to head up the stairs, his fingers lightly digging into Ellie’s belly to tickle her. She shrieks with laughter, and it sounds like music in Fred’s ears. “Daddy misses you while he’s at work, Miss Ellie belly. I think I should take you with me tomorrow. What do you think? Do you wanna spend the day with Daddy and Uncle George at the joke shop?”

Fred peppers kisses to Ellie’s head as he walks down the hallway. The door to his and Y/N’s room is shut and as he goes to grab the doorknob it swings open and Y/N practically runs into him.

“Oh, Fred,” she gasps, holding something to her chest. “I didn’t hear you come in, love.” Fred eyes her wearily as Y/N leans forward to tickle Ellie’s stomach with her free hand and press kisses to her chubby cheeks. “Is your Daddy home, Miss Ellie? Did Daddy finally come home to see you?” she asks, laughing as Ellie giggles at her.

“What’s in your hand?” Fred asks.

Y/N looks up at him, trying to seem as innocent as possible. “Nothing,” she responds, showing him the hand that was on Ellie’s stomach.

Fred rolls his eyes playfully. “The other one, gorgeous.”

“Oh, um,” Y/N blushes and looks away from Fred as she takes her hand from her chest and opens her palm. A positive pregnancy test is laying in her hand, staring up at Fred.

Fred gasps. “Another one?”

Y/N nods and snuggles into Fred’s chest as he pulls her into a hug with his free hand. “Dunno why you’re so surprised, you’ve been trying to get me pregnant since Ellie was born.”

Fred laughs and leans down to kiss Y/N deeply. “Guess it’s time to start thinking about the next one then,” he teases.

Y/N glares at Fred. “Are you sure it’s not too late to return or exchange you?”

“Sorry love, I burned the receipt long ago,” Fred responds with a laugh, kissing Y/N again.

#fred weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley fluff #Fred Weasley fanfiction #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n #fw #golden

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